Chapter Five

When Hermione returned home, she was no longer faking her migraine. It had become real, accompanied by knots in her stomach and a pressing urge to throw up.

"Tea," she said aloud. With a wave of her wand, she filled her kettle and brought it to a boil as she gathered her favorite mug, a tea bag, a sugar cube, and milk. She assembled her drink before moving onto the living room sofa to sort out her thoughts.

Guilt seemed to reign predominant. How could she have left him there alone, to die a painful death?

For years, she believed that she had done the right thing by leaving the shack with Harry and Ron when she did. After all, she had seen Severus die, had seen the light leave his eyes, witnessed his chest collapse and still as he took his final breath. They had been in the middle of a war and seeing him lay there still and unmoving seemed like confirmation enough that he was gone. Yes, there had been the matter of his missing body sometime later, but Hermione and the authorities assumed that one of the Death Eaters – hopefully, a friend, and not a foe - had come to collect the body.

Ever since he had resurfaced into her life during intermission at the Phantom of Opera, she knew, knowledgeably, that she and they had been wrong. Yet, until now, she had somehow managed to tap down her feelings of guilt for leaving his body – him - behind. She had let herself – needed to – believe that some powerful witch or wizard whose healing talents far outstripped her own had saved him.

Discovering it had been Daphne was like a physical blow to the solar plexus. Daphne was no mystical healer. She was bright, sure, but no more educated or talented at healing magic than Hermione herself. Anything Daphne had done to save his life was something Hermione could have done herself.

Hermione had never checked for a pulse. Catching her reflection in her television set, she glared. "So much for being the brightest witch of an age," she murmured. Her gaze trailed across the room to the roses he had given her days before. They were still as fresh as when he had brought them to her. He must have charmed them to stay that way.

Hermione placed her mug on the coffee table and laid back into the cushions of her sofa. Next came pain. The ache in her heart was as real as any physical blow. She was falling for him, fast and hard. It made sense. They had much in common and complemented one another in the ways they differed. The rapport between them was natural – they never seemed to struggle for conversation, and their physical exchanges were innate. Yes, if he would let her in, she knew it would be easy for her to fall in love with him.

Now… she groaned audibly as she tucked her knees into her chest. Discovering that it had been Daphne changed everything. How could Severus stand to look at her? To touch her? How could he bear to be around someone who had so callously turned her back and walked away?

Hermione slept fitfully, tossing and turning all night. It came as no surprise to her that when she woke the next morning, she still felt ill. She had never dealt well with anxiety.

As it was still early, she tried a bit of meditational breathing and yoga to calm her nerves. Instead, they had a counter effect on her; she gave up two minutes into her first lotus position.

Maybe breakfast would help. She made herself a portion of dry toast and a cup of tea; she felt too queasy for coffee. She broke her own rule and ate in her bedroom, watching the New Year's parade on the telly.

Around eleven, her mother called to invite her over to lunch. She respectfully declined.

"Oh, have you got plans?" her mother inquired. "With a certain dark-haired friend, perhaps?" She confirmed that she did.

"Good," her mother replied, sounding pleased. "Your father and I like him." Hermione winced. The last thing she needed was for her parents to form an attachment when he would soon withdraw as a fixture from her life. She tried to think of an appropriate reply when her mother continued. "Dad and I have tickets for the Beautiful and Damned the week after next. Perhaps you might ask your friend to join us?" Hermione promised she would, and begged off the call, claiming the need to get ready.

Hermione treated herself to a long, hot bath. Washing up in the scalding water helped, as she felt mildly human again when she emerged from the bathroom half an hour later. She searched her closet for some warm clothes and settled on dark blue jeans, a gray thermal Henley top and a thick cream-colored jumper paired with black dragon hide boots that Harry and Ginny had given her for Christmas.

By twelve-thirty, she was ready to go. She slipped on her brown leather jacket and apparated to the London zoo. It was hardly a romantic destination, but in her current state, she was truly at a loss for where else they might go.

She paid the cashier at the front, took her ticket, and headed inside. She began to wander aimlessly, wondering what she was going to say. She paused at the penguin exhibit – always a favorite – and leaned her forehead against the cool glass, watching the black and white birds dive into the freezing water and swim about.

"The zoo, Miss Granger, really?" she heard him chuckle as he came up behind her. He wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her gently away from the tank. She rested her head against his shoulder, enjoying the sensation of being enveloped in his arms.

"Happy New Year, Professor," she greeted him.

"Happy New Year," he repeated. He pushed her bushy hair back and kissed her forehead. She glanced up at him. He was smiling, his dark eyes trained on the penguins. He looked happy. Her mother was right. He was handsome, in a dashing sort of way. She turned in his arms, sliding her hands up his chest and around his neck. His coat collar was slightly gaping, and she could see the sweater she bought him peeking out from beneath it. She brushed her fingertips against the soft material.

"You wore the sweater," she said.

He nodded. "I promised I would." He paused. "It's very comfortable. Thank you again."

She smiled. At least she had gotten that right. They continued watching the penguins for a bit, and then she asked how his trip had been.

"It went well. It's quite a bit warmer in Palermo right now than it is here." He patted the pocket of his coat. "I brought you back a few things for your empty cupboards; cured meats, cheeses, olive oil, truffles, and pasta. I could make you dinner if you wish."

She wanted to cry. He really was perfect for her, and now she was going to lose him, all because of her own ignorant stupidity. She forced herself to contain her emotions and buried her face in his chest.

"Hermione?"

"I missed you," she mumbled against him. His grip tightened.

"And I, you," he replied. He lifted her head, studying her face. "You're upset."

"No," she said quickly. She raised herself onto the balls of her feet, closing the slight distance between them, and brushed a kiss across his lips. She saw his eyebrow quirk, but he let the matter drop. Lacing her fingers through his, he tugged her onward.

"Come," he said. "As long as we're here, I'd like to see the giraffes." He gazed about in wonder, looking like a Muggleborn on their first trip to Diagon Alley. "I haven't been to the zoo since I was a lad."

After two hours of observing creatures great and small – they skipped the reptile house for obvious reasons – his patience with her unnatural behavior wore thin.

Standing in front of the lion exhibit – her house animal – he glared down at her. "What is it?" he demanded.

She forced a blank expression. "What is what?" she asked blandly.

"What is wrong with you?" He was practically snarling, and she was forcibly reminded of her days as his student. "You've been acting strangely since I arrived."

Had she? She had been trying so hard to act normal.

"You've hardly spoken five words together," he continued. He placed his hands on her shoulders and softened his tone. "Hermione, please. Kindly tell me what I've done to upset you."

It was true; she had been quiet. She had been so intently focused on savoring what she was sure would be her last moments with him that she had barely spoken in favor of watching him take pleasure in his surroundings. She sighed. "Severus, you have not done anything wrong."

He frowned. "Is this because I was away for a few days? I thought you understood I had a previous engagement. I was meant to leave before Christmas, but I delayed my trip to see you, and to set things right before I left."

He wanted to set things right? Ironic, considering. She sighed and sat down on the little bench behind her. She tugged his hand, silently begging him to join her. He did.

"You have not done anything wrong," she repeated. She paused, trying to find the right words. None was forthcoming.

"If I haven't done anything wrong, then what is the matter?" When she continued to hold her tongue, aggravation crept back across his features. "Aren't you bloody Gryffindors meant to be brave?" He muttered. "Almost to the point of idiotic?"

She deserved his rebuke and more. She exhaled deeply averting her gaze toward a lioness playing with one of her cubs before charged ahead. "I saw Daphne last night at the Ministry Ball."

"The New Year's Ball?" he asked. He sounded genuinely confused. She nodded. "Forgive me; I fail to see the connection."

He was going to make this hard for her. Fine. "I know, Severus," she said meaningfully. "I know it was she who saved your life."

"Ah," he replied. She braced herself for his anger. Instead, he reached for her, turning her to face him. He searched her eyes. He must have found what he was looking for because he nodded and stood. "Come with me," he said, offering her his hand. She took it, and he drew her to her feet. "It seems this conversation will not wait any longer." He pulled her toward a concealed corner of the exhibit. When he seemed sure no one was watching them, he wrapped her in his arms and Disapparated them away.

He had taken them to a sitting room. "Sit," he commanded, releasing her from his grasp. When she did not, he repeated himself, pointing to a worn brown leather chesterfield sofa adding, "Please."

She sat.

"Don't go anywhere." He said. He took off his coat and tossed it on a dark blue wingchair before exiting the room. He returned moments later with a silver tea service and a packet of biscuits. Seeing that she had not moved, he scowled. "Make yourself comfortable, Miss Granger."

Hermione slipped off her jacket. "Where are we?" she asked.

"My flat in Fulham," he replied. He set down the tea tray and waved his wand at the fireplace. A fire started instantly.

Hermione looked around. The sitting room was not overly large – perhaps a bit bigger than hers was – but had large picture windows that made it feel roomier. Bookshelves lined the walls; a cursory glance showed his collection included Muggle novels as well as ancient and arcane magical texts. He also had many plants – in floor pots, on pedestals, hanging in front of the windows. Most surprisingly, he owned an upright piano.

He took a seat across from her in a second wingchair. As he poured her a cup of tea, she jerked her chin toward the piano. "Do you play?" she asked.

"A little," he replied. "You?"

"Not at all," she admitted. "I had hoped to learn, but…"

"But?"

She shrugged. "Minerva McGonagall showed up at my parent's front door and informed us that I was a witch, and accepted to Hogwarts." He nodded and nudged the sugar bowl closer toward her. She plucked a cube out and added it to her tea.

They sat drinking their tea for what felt like an eternity but really could not have been more than a minute or two. At last, he put his cup down and leaned back in his seat.

"Tell me what happened at the Ball."

She was tempted to stall, to tell him all the details of her evening, but she knew he would not have borne it. "I met Daphne in the ladies. She was wearing the bracelet you purchased at Camden Market." He made no response, so she continued. "She said it was a gift from a friend she had once helped out of a difficult situation, and … it all came together."

"I see," Severus said quietly. He steepled his fingertips. "Well. You always were exceptionally bright."

"Severus."

"What?" he asked with a shrug. "You were. You are." He dropped his hands to his knees. "Yes, Hermione. It was Daphne who saved me."

"How?"

He raised an eyebrow. "As I was unconscious at the time, you'll forgive me the particulars. Let us leave it at this; I remember the snake striking me. I remember you, Potter and Weasley inside the shack. I remember giving Potter my memories. I remember Lily's eyes..." he paused. "I thought I heard her voice, calling me, telling me that I had done my part, and now, at long last, I could rest. I tried to go to her…,"

Lily. Always. Despite herself, Hermione could feel the jealousy creep into her chest.

"Then someone stopped me. I heard them shout my name and pound on my chest, felt them shove a bezoar down my throat, followed by numerous potions. A second person arrived shortly after to help the first. They applied dittany to my wounds and immobilized me so I could not move. After that, I fell back into unconsciousness. Nearly two months later, I awoke to find myself in a guest suite at the Greengrass' home in Cambridge."

Hermione's eyes grew wide. "She brought you to her parents' home?"

"Yes," he said, nodding. "She felt it would be the safest place to bring me. She knew no one at her parents' home would ever allow harm to come to me, no matter what part I might have played in the war."

Hermione would never have thought to bring her teacher, a possible Death Eater, to her home. "How?" she asked quietly.

He raised his left hand to rub at his temples. "Very simply," he said. "Miss Greengrass is my cousin."

Hermione stared at him, dumbstruck. "I'm sorry, what?"

"Daphne Greengrass is my cousin."

Hermione gawped at him. "Daphne is your cousin?" she repeated.

He nodded. "Second cousin once removed, I believe is the proper term," he replied. "Her great-grandfather Hadrian was the eldest brother of my grandfather Rufus Prince."

After his confession, Severus decided it was best they continue their discussion over a late lunch. He left Hermione in the sitting room to collect her thoughts while he went into the kitchen to order them takeaway. When he returned, he sat down on the opposite end of the sofa.

"The food should be here in half an hour," he said quietly. "What else do you wish to know?"

Everything, she thought. She wanted to know everything. Yet, she was still terrified of driving him away. He must have seen it in her eyes because he drew closer to her.

"Hermione," he said. "Do you…I mean…," he sighed. "You care for me, yes? The other night, it wasn't a one-off, was it?"

Her eyes grew wide. "Of course it wasn't!" She replied. She reached for his hand. "Severus, I'm quite attached to you," she admitted. "Since finding out about Daphne last night, I've been terrified that you're going to end things with me before they've had a chance to properly start."

"For Daphne?" he asked, genuinely confused. "I've just told you she's my cousin." He paused, and added, "And very much engaged to Adrian Pucey."

Hermione shook her head. "Not for Daphne," she replied. "Because of Daphne."

"Explain."

"Because she went to find you, and I … left."

He pulled her into his arms, kissing her gently. "Hermione, I'm only going to say this once," he said. "You did everything right. Potter needed to see the memories I gave him, and you know if you had insisted on staying with me in the shack, he would have stayed, too, to keep you safe. He would not have viewed them on time to understand what needed to be done."

She nodded. What he said made sense, but her guilt did not abate. "But, Daphne,"

"Daphne had a reason to come find me," he said insistently. "She told me later that she saw everything. She saw Voldemort leave the shack, and saw you and your friends kneeling over me after. She had reason to believe I was in danger – no, not from you– this goes back further." He paused, choosing his words carefully. "Do you know who Daphne's parents are?"

Hermione did not.

"My cousin Julian is an author. He specializes in research on magic found in native cultures. I am surprised you have never read any of his books. Iris, his wife, is the head Potions Mistress at St. Mungo's."

"Okay…,"

"I went to them over Christmas – something I admit I had not done since your class started at Hogwarts - and asked to borrow one of Julian's books on snakes. He and Iris became suspicious that I was in danger – though they have never been supporters of the Dark Lord, they knew about Nagini - and told Daphne and Astoria to keep an eye on me. Both girls began to carry bezoars with them at all times, and an assortment of potions that Iris prepared."

"Do you know who came to help Daphne?"

"Yes. I found out later that Astoria risked apparating home to fetch her parents. When they arrived in Hogsmeade, Miss Davis told them about Daphne sneaking off to the shack. Julian went after her, and found the pair of us."

Hermione knew it was tremendously petty, but she was mollified that Daphne's parents were involved. She ran her hand along the column of his throat, to the faint silvery scar where Nagini had bitten him.

"How did they know how to heal you?"

"Trial and error. Are you acquainted with Daphne's eldest sister, Phoebe?" Hermione shook her head, and he continued. "Phoebe is the team healer for the Holyhead Harpies. She happened to be on leave during my, er, illness, having just given birth to her first child, and took charge of my healing."

The doorbell rang. He excused himself to go answer it. He returned a few minutes later, with a brown paper bag.

"I hope you like Chinese," he said, sitting back down beside her and unloading the food onto the coffee table. "I'm afraid Jade Garden was the only place I knew that would be open and delivering." She assured him whatever he ordered would be fine, and they took a break from their conversation to eat. When they finished, he banished their mess to the kitchen and looked at her. The expression on her face must have revealed she had more to ask.

Shaking his head, he readjusted them so he was laying along the length of the sofa. He pulled her into his arms, curling her into his side.

"What else do you wish to know?" he asked, running his hand along her back.

"What happened next? Who else knows that you are still alive?"

He frowned in thought. "Not many, I expect. I spent the better part of a year convalescing at Julian's. The family kept it quiet; the girls and their husbands knew, and Julian's sister Vivienne and her family." He paused, as if unsure how to continue. "When I felt stronger, Theia arranged for a portkey to Italy so I could see my mother."

Hermione gasped in surprise. "Your mother is still alive?"

"Yes," he said with a nod. "It was she who I was just visiting in Palermo."

"Oh."

He chuckled. "Yes, oh," he said teasingly. "Were you afraid I'd gone to visit an old lover?"

She blushed. The thought may have crossed her mind.

"I stayed with my mother for nearly another year. I had barely spent any time with her since becoming Dumbledore's pawn. We never did have an easy relationship… but that's a story for another time, I think."

She nodded, and he continued. "After Palermo, I moved around Italy. I spent two years living more or less like a Muggle, just exploring the country, the culture and learning Italian."

"Sounds wonderful," she said wistfully.

"It was, but I was a nomad. Not having a home of my own soon grew tiring. I very nearly purchased one in a small town called Limone on Lake Garda, but when I started packing my rented flat in Milan, I came upon the travel guide Dumbledore gave me – yes, I had my meager possessions, Miss Granger, for Minerva had returned my belongings to my mother after my greatly exaggerated death." He wiggled his eyebrows, and she laughed, despite herself. "I realized that I had never really bothered to properly explore London, and so, I passed on the villa and returned to England. I had only planned to stay a few months, but then…,"

"But what?"

He wrapped both of his arms around her and kissed her silent.

"Then I kept running into you. The first time was unsettling, as I am sure you know, given my abrupt departure from Les Misérables."

She sighed. "It's such a good show. You really must go back and see the second act."

"You'll take me, I'm sure." She would if he would allow her. "When you kept appearing everywhere I went – the ballet, the theatre, galleries – I decided there had to be a reason for it. It did not seem like you were following me – honestly, I am not even sure how you would have been able to - but I had to make sure. That is when I approached you at the Phantom of the Opera. When I did not detect any sort of spell work from you – just a young woman honestly enjoying an afternoon at the theatre with her mother, I realized it was the book, and that I was unknowingly following you. I skipped La Boheme the next week, for reasons I've already disclosed to you, but the week after that I found you, alone, at the cinema watching that incredibly saccharine movie."

"You liked it," she said.

"I did not," he replied. "But I did enjoy having lunch with you afterward. I found you to be exceedingly good company, which should be no surprise, as you are smart, well-read, cultured, adventurous, and you laugh easily at life's absurdities. You were everything I had always hoped for in a partner but had given up on ever having for myself," he blushed and considered he was perhaps being a little too transparent. Still, he persisted. "The fact that you are beautiful just made it easier to stop seeing you as my former student and Potter's Know-It-All best friend, and accept you as you are."

Hermione flushed. Summoning all of her Gryffindor bravery once more, she put a finger to his lips. "I think that's enough answers for tonight, Professor," she said and kissed him with all the passion she felt.