A/N: You may have noticed I changed the rating from T to M. This is not because of this chapter, but I always had plans to change it at some point. Might as well be while I'm thinking about it.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Severus was in hell.
The Christmas holiday had come and gone, and life at the cottage had more or less returned to normal. Hermione shared his meals, assisted him in the lab, and would join him in the living room in the evenings. She sought him out in the mornings, and drew out her late night reading until he decided to retire to his room. She spoke with him often, eager to discuss the notes he had written for her or to ask about his research with the Aequationes Temporum, and he couldn't help to feel a flash of hope that she was making the decision to stay. Yet there were times she grew silent, deep in contemplation as she stared off into nothingness, and he grew fearful she would choose to leave.
In the evenings, when he would study the Aequationes Temporum in his chair or at his desk, she would join him, sprawled on the couch nearby. She was taking her time going over the book he gave her- again- asking him to elaborate on his notes and sharing her own thoughts on the subject. Eventually, he would tire of her questions and tell her to read something else, and she would close the book with an apology and a smile before summoning another to her. While it would not stop her audible contemplations, it did give him the option to tune it out if he so chose- though, he rarely did. Instead, he often found himself unable to hold back, and as they went back and forth on theories and histories and the like, his own work was left forgotten.
The ease in which they had fallen into a comfortable coexistence did not pass Severus' notice, and as each day passed, he was more and more aware of how utterly dependent he was becoming of her presence. Those moments she stepped out of the lab were a particular challenge for him, as he had grown used to the sounds of her careful ingredient preparation or her near-silent mutterings to herself. Without them, the air around him grew stagnant and stifling. His mind kept drifting to dangerous places without her distractions, and no amount of shielding seemed to help him focus.
When Minerva had visited on Sunday, she had expected an answer from Hermione. It was with his cumulative relief and worry that she still did not have one to give. No answer meant she hadn't decided to leave; no answer also meant that she may yet choose to go.
With that in mind, Severus made every attempt to remain civil and lighthearted around her. Not to show her what she would be missing, but to not give her any unnecessary reason to leave. Though her indecision drove him nearly mad, he did not ask her about it until two days before her deadline.
They were brewing, and his potion had just completed. After dousing the flame, he leaned up against the table behind him and crossed his arms, watching Hermione as she counted her stirs. As she pulled the rod from the mixture, he asked suddenly, "Are you going to make your decision before entering the floo or are you just going to let the flames choose for you?"
She was incredibly taken aback by his question, her head whipping up and her eyebrows raised nearly to her hairline. "What- I'm sorry?"
"I'm just wondering what will happen two days from now when you still don't know what you're going to do."
"I don't-" Looking down at her potion, she grabbed the next ingredient and started to sprinkle the powder on its surface. "It isn't a decision I'm taking lightly."
"I'm not telling you to take it lightly." Uncrossing his arms, he placed his hands on the edge of the table he leaned against. "I'm just confused as to why it's such a difficult decision to make."
Her jaw set, she kept her eyes focused on her brewing.
When she didn't say anything in response, he asked, "Why is it so difficult a decision?"
Setting the dish down harder than necessary, she whipped her head towards him. "I thought my decision didn't matter to you."
His brow raised at her surprisingly harsh tone. "I said it was your decision to make."
"Well, maybe I could use a little help in making it," she snapped.
"What do you want from me, Hermione?" he asked harshly. "Do you want me to make the decision for you?"
"No, of course not," she replied tersely, "but it would help me to know if you'd be happier without me being here!"
"Have I not made myself abundantly clear?" He took a step closer so that he was standing on the opposite side of the table from her. "That is not a concern of mine- that has never been a concern of mine. You are welcome as long as you wish to stay."
She threw her hands up in the air. "Severus, that isn't an answer! Do you want me to go or not?"
I want you to stay! he nearly shouted, but he caught himself, his jaw snapping closed. "I want you to make the decision that is right for you," he said instead, "regardless of anyone else."
Letting out an annoyed breath, she glared at him from across the cauldron. "Don't you have a potion to decant?"
Narrowing his eyes, he turned from her abruptly and returned to his potion.
They didn't speak for the rest of the day.
The morning after, Hermione opted not to join him in the lab, claiming to feel a bit under the weather. He didn't think anything of it, until he stepped into his living room later that evening and froze at the sight before him.
Every bit of Christmas decoration had been removed. No longer were the windows draped in garland or snowing artificially; no longer were there twinkling lights or bows adorning the tops of his bookshelves or mantle. Even the blanket and golden pillows had been removed, and his couch looked oddly bare because of it. In fact, the whole room looked bare, as if the life had been sucked out of the very walls. His heart sank at the sight.
Sinking heavily into his desk chair, he looked around the sparse room and put his hands over his nose and mouth. If nothing else, this was proof that she had finally made her decision. She was going to leave tomorrow, and he would be alone once more- only this time, it would be much, much harder to bear.
This was it- this was the day she made the choice.
She hadn't been able to face Severus after their spat the other day. She couldn't stand being in the same room as him, hoping that he would ask her to stay but knowing that he wouldn't. She had practically begged him in his lab to give her an honest answer, and still he shied away from it. Was he afraid to tell her to leave? Or was he afraid of what she would think if he asked her to stay?
She stared out her second-story window for what may well be the last time, watching as Crookshanks ran spastically through the snow. These rooms had become a home to her, more than her school dorms ever had. She assumed that part of it, at least, was due to the fact that they were inhabited by her and her alone, regardless of the fact that they were technically a part of Severus' home. But more than that, these rooms suited her- from the layout to the color scheme, it was obvious that it was built with her in mind.
She took in the desk, still piled high with books both borrowed and owned; the soft armchair in the corner, covered in a healthy coating of orange fur; the bedside table, where her wand rested on the Defensive Strategies Guide; and the bed, smaller yet more comfortable than the beds in her dorm, her violet blanket folded in half and draped across the end. The door had been removed shortly after their explosive fight, yet she had kept the curtains across the open banister area. They added a sense of separation to the bedroom corner she had come to like. Tied back at the moment, the room felt open and welcoming.
It was hard for her to imagine packing a single item away; hard to stomach the thought of changing a single thing.
An alarm went off in the lab below her, and she caught a glimpse of Severus walking down the hall to tend to a potion. She eyed the small clock on her desk and frowned at the time. She had a little under an hour to make her decision, and if she still hadn't by the time McGonagall walked through the floo, she wasn't sure what she would say, let alone do.
Well, regardless, Crooks needs to come back inside, she thought to herself as she slowly descended the steps. Instead of going to the back door, however, she hesitated at the doorway of the living room.
Knowing Severus was in his lab, she entered the room and walked around the perimeter, memorizing everything as best she could. In all the time she had been here, she had never really studied the contents of his curio cabinet, but she did so now as she stood before the glass with her arms tightly crossed. A few books on stands, what looked to be a jewelry box, and a photograph of a woman she recognized as his mother were the main focus of the shelves, with smaller, less identifiable items scattered throughout. One particular piece looked to be made out of bone, and she could neither identify the purpose of said item or the source of the material- she shuddered, hoping it was the bone of an animal but unable to tell for sure.
Turning away from the curio, she faced his bookshelves instead. While the items in the cabinet were a reflection of who he once was, these shelves reflected the man she knew him to be now. Passionate in the face of knowledge, he was much like her in the vast array of topics that interested him. She could read his mood by the book he chose, could guess at his current research by the number of tomes stacked on his desk. She noted the holes in the shelves, and knew that even if she chose to stay now, one day she would have to return the books she had borrowed. Even giving up that much of him made her stomach twist unpleasantly.
With a long, sad sigh, she turned from the shelves and moved to the dying fire. It was chilly in the room, and she added another log onto the flames. Standing on the hearth, arms crossed once more, she watched the log as it began to glow, getting lost in her own deliberations.
She was so deep in thought, that she hadn't heard him come in until he spoke her name.
"Hermione?"
Nearly jumping out of her skin, she twirled around and clutched her chest. "Don't do that!"
A half-hearted smirk crossing his face, he looked her over from his spot by the doorway. "Is something the matter?"
"No, I..." Sighing as she turned back to the fire, she said, "I was just thinking."
He was silent long enough that she looked over her shoulder. He was leaning against the doorjamb with his arms crossed, staring at her with a mix of what looked to be resignation and trepidation. "You're leaving, then?"
She shook her head, looking down at the ground. "I don't know. Maybe."
A pause. "You're running out of time to figure it out."
"I know that."
She heard him step closer to her, rounding the couch, but she kept her eyes on the flames in front of her. "What could possibly make this decision this difficult for you?" His voice was tight, as if he were holding back his frustration, and she wished he wouldn't. She wished he would yell, or tell her to go, or give her something besides blind acceptance of whatever she chose. When she didn't answer, he asked, "Hermione?"
Turning from him and the fire, she took a step towards the window and bent her head down to hide the tears that threatened to fall. "It just is," she whispered, and flinched at his sigh of exasperation.
"If you're afraid of offending me, I promise you I've accepted either outcome." When she shook her head, he stepped closer. "Then what is it?"
His mere presence was sending her heart into palpitations, and as he approached her she could smell the patchouli and herbs she had learned to associate with him. Her breath caught in her throat as she fought her desires, both for him and to stay, and she walked briskly over to the other end of the room, standing in front of the bookshelves.
She could tell he hadn't followed her, still standing in the same spot she had just vacated. It was a long time before he said anything, and she fought all temptation to look behind her; she didn't want to see the anger in his eyes at her indecision.
When he spoke, though, it wasn't in anger, but in trepidation. "Hermione," he said softly, "tell me what's wrong."
She laughed, a short, bitter laugh that sounded out of place coming from her. "What isn't wrong?" she lamented, finally turning to face him. "Just look at this past year and tell me what was right about it.
"Do you know how I started the year off, Severus?" she asked him, pulling her arms tightly against her. "I started it out on the run- fearing for my life, starving, surviving on mushrooms from the woods. I was captured, tortured, and went to war. I fought in and survived the biggest battle many of us will ever see, and I had to bear witness as many of my friends did not. I buried them, one by one, and I had to survive that as well. Then, when I thought the world might be able to right itself, I was attacked not once, but twice, by death eaters on a revenge kick.
"What's wrong," she continued as he stared at her in shock, "is that I lost my magic, I lost my boyfriend, I lost my bloody school, all because of a war I had no business participating in yet I gave myself to it- I was willing to die for the cause, Severus, as a child I was ready to die for what I knew was right! What's wrong is that I have never, not once, been able to say I've felt entirely safe in the wizarding world, but it would somehow be worse for me in the muggle world! What's wrong is that the only thing that went right this year was you!"
He was deathly still as she ranted, the shock of her words silencing anything he might have said in reply, and she was only vaguely aware of the tears dripping down her face as she continued. "The first true joy I felt this year was the moment you woke up in hospital, did you know that? We had just defeated the Dark Lord himself, and I couldn't bring myself to care. Perhaps I knew it wouldn't be the end- perhaps I had some deep-rooted intuition that told me that I wouldn't have a chance to rest yet. Regardless, I didn't feel any sense of joy until you opened your eyes."
She angrily wiped her tears away, staring at his still form, his wide, panicked eyes. "Nothing in this year has felt more right than you. Nothing. And I'm supposed to walk away from that?" She shook her head. "You ask me why this decision is so hard for me to make. It's because of you."
Severus was breathing rapidly, his hands shaking at his sides. He opened his mouth to speak, but closed it again. Opened it once more. "What are you telling me?" he asked, his voice oddly hoarse. "I don't understand-"
"Severus, I'm telling you that I love you!"
She felt a weight lift from her chest as her admission flew from her completely unbidden, and watched as it seemed to root him to the spot. He had frozen even more completely than he had before, aside from the tremor in his hands which, as she watched, grew stronger. He stumbled back, as if his legs had nearly given out, and he caught himself with a hand to the back of his chair. His throat worked as he struggled to swallow, and his voice was thin as he whispered one word: "What?"
Taking a deep breath, she finally admitted in as many words what had always been the answer to her indecision. "I'm in love with you, Severus, and I do not want to leave you."
In the heartbeat that followed, Hermione resolved herself to a harsh rebuke- laughter, or anger, anything unpleasant enough to cause her to flee. In that single heartbeat, she held her breath, expecting the worst, knowing that regardless of what she wanted, her decision had been made to go. In that heartbeat, she let loose that last scrap of hope.
Then he was moving, crossing the room in three full strides; and as his hands wound through her hair, as she looked up into his eyes, she had time only to notice the sheer and burning hunger they held before his lips were on hers.
She had only one passing thought in her head as her back hit the bookshelf, and that was that this was possibly the last thing she had been expecting- and then the sensations took over, and she couldn't think any longer.
She took in every one. The feel of his hands gripping her head, the way his lips slid across hers, the way his harsh breaths matched her own; the soft swipe of his tongue as he asked permission, the way it slid against her own when she opened to him, tasting of tea and mint and some spice she couldn't identify; the way he pressed her so firmly against the shelves that she could feel how much he wanted her-
One of his hands was moving now, trailing down her side until it wrapped around her hip, pulling her closer. She gripped the front of his shirt, pushing up into his bruising kisses as she returned them in equal fervor. If it weren't for the bookcase behind her, she didn't know if she would still be standing, and she used that brace to her advantage as she wrapped her leg around him, pushing her even more solidly into his arousal, and she swallowed his groan as he rocked against her.
Her hands were in his hair now, holding him in place as she nipped his lower lip, causing him to hiss and respond in kind. He pulled back briefly, panting, as he stared into her eyes, and he rested his forehead against hers as they each fought for the breath to say something- anything-
The fire turned green, and he was gone, throwing himself across the room in an instant.
The room spun as Hermione tried to make sense of what was happening, and as she saw her headmistress step out of the floo and dust off her robes, she quickly turned to face the books she had so recently been shoved against, the heat of her blush burning her cheeks. "You would think someone would have found a way to make floo travel cleaner by now," the older woman was muttering, before asking more clearly, "Severus where are you going?"
"Potion," he shot back distractedly, and Hermione could hear his heavy footsteps hurrying down the hall. She felt his departure like a hollow weight, and leaned her head against the shelf as she took a deep breath. Of course this would happen right before she was supposed to leave. And of course she had no one to blame but herself.
"I swear, a blast ended skrewt has better manners than that man," McGonagall griped as she stepped closer to Hermione. "Something interesting on those shelves, Hermione?"
Wiping her face quickly- and praying her expression didn't scream 'Well Snogged'- she turned from the bookshelves. "Nothing more than usual," she answered as steadily as she could, and inwardly cringed at McGonagall's sudden frown. "Professor?"
"What did he do now?"
It took her a moment to remember that she had been crying. Thank the gods for that, she thought as she rubbed her eyes. It can't be that noticeable that I've just been snogged into next week. "He didn't do anything," she lied- he had actually done quite a lot- and racked her brain for a probable situation. "We were just talking, and- and I'm afraid I got a bit emotional."
"Hence his abrupt departure once someone more familiar with human emotions made themselves present, I presume." McGonagall turned towards the hall and shouted, "You could at least see her off!"
As a door opened in the hall, the Headmistress turned towards her once more. "Now, I assume by the lack of luggage and angered feline that you've decided to stay?"
Behind McGonagall, Severus was standing awkwardly in the doorway, his arms tightly crossed against his chest. When she met his eyes, he nodded once, an unreadable expression on his face. "Yes," she said aloud, turning back to McGonagall. "I... I'll make my excuses to Mrs Weasley tonight. I'm sorry for taking so long."
"Well, the important thing is a decision has been reached," McGonagall shrugged, turning towards the fireplace. "Shall we be off, then?"
Looking back at Severus, she gave him a shy smile. "See you tomorrow," she said uncertainly, and the corner of his mouth twitched.
"Tomorrow," he said, and she could feel his eyes on her until the moment she floo'd away.
And just like that, she was gone.
His breath left him and he collapsed against the doorjamb, hands rising to cover his mouth. Hands that were still shaking, he noticed absently. What had just happened?
What had he done?
"I'm in love with you, Severus, and I do not want to leave you."
Those words, those two declarations, had been spoken with so much assurance and passion that he had lost all control of himself. Something had snapped, some frayed ribbon of restraint that had held him in place at her first admittance, and he gave in to what he had been fighting for far too long- what she seemed to have been fighting as well.
His legs were on the verge of giving out; he stumbled to the couch, sinking onto the cushions with no amount of grace whatsoever. He held his head in his trembling hands, attempting to breathe past the heady mixture of panic and exhilaration tightening his chest.
He had never meant for this to happen. Oh, he wanted it to- he desired it beyond belief- but he had never meant to give in to that desire. And now that he had, he had no idea what would happen next.
He needed to calm down, first of all. Summoning the bottle of firewhisky and a glass, he set them both in front of him and popped the bottle. Instead of pouring the drink, however, he stared into the amber liquid, and his thoughts drifted towards another course of action.
He could go after her.
He knew exactly where she was. It would be so easy, to walk right through that fireplace and grab her arm, to pull her back here and...
And what? Continue what they had been doing? No, what they needed to do was figure out what exactly had just happened. They needed to talk.
But what would he even say? That he cared for her in return? Surely she knew that now. That he wanted her to stay as badly as she did? He had told her that as well, just not so much in words.
He flushed as he remembered his body's immediate reaction to kissing her, and how fervently she seemed to desire it. If he closed his eyes, he could still feel her against him, fingers tangling in his hair and leg wrapped around his hip. The way that move had pushed them together... the memory alone left him dizzy, and more than anything he wanted to follow her through the flames and pull her to him once again.
The only problem was, she wasn't alone.
No, not only was she in the company of her annoying best friends, she was also amongst the largest wizarding family in the blasted country. Plus Minerva, who was probably well aware of what had happened- she knew everything else about his life before he did, it was only fitting- and whoever else Potter had managed to talk into celebrating the pointless holiday with him. No one there was a threat to him, of course, but to pursue Hermione in the midst of their celebration...
It would send exactly the right message to the wrong group of people. If there was anything to tell in the future, he wanted Hermione to be the one to do it. He wouldn't take that from her.
Would there be anything to tell? Gods, he wanted there to be. But still, none of what happened today changed any of his prior inhibitions on the subject. He was done obsessing over why they shouldn't be together; he knew well enough why. He just needed to make sure she knew it.
With a long, tired sigh, he leaned back into the couch and put his hands over his face. They had so much to talk about, he wasn't even sure where they would begin.
At least he had until tomorrow to think about it.
When Hermione popped through the floo behind the Headmistress, she was instantly overcome by the chaos before her.
The entire kitchen was packed. The long table had made its return, and was heavily weighed down with food that filled the air with varying and delectable smells. Laughter and shouting filled the air, and Hermione couldn't make sense of any of it as she stepped properly into the room. It seemed like everyone had already arrived, and they sat at the table or stood to the side, lost in their conversations with each other.
The red hair smattering around the packed room was joined by a few Order members as well as some former classmates- Neville and Luna she knew would be there, but there was also Dean Thomas, Seamus Finnigan, and Lee Jordan, who lingered near the twins.
It took a moment for her to be noticed, but once she was, she found herself thoroughly surrounded.
"Hermione!" Harry shouted, shoving past Percy to get to her and pulling her into a tight embrace.
Ginny ran up right behind Harry, wrapping her arms around her the moment he let go. "I've missed you so much!"
"Oh Hermione," Mrs Weasley crooned as she bustled over to her, pulling her into yet another hug, "We're so glad to see you!"
"Hey, Hermione!" Shouted Neville from halfway across the room, Luna waving at his side. "Long time no see!" She offered him an awkward smile, forcing herself to take a breath as she returned his wave unsteadily.
"You all right there, 'Mione?" George called over his mother's shoulder, a plate of colorful confection in his hands. "You look a bit spooked."
"Yeah," added Fred, floating at his side. "You look like you've seen a Me!"
"Fred!" Mrs Weasley shouted, turning around and swatting a rag at her ghostly son, who floated down the length of the table to get away from her. "That is not funny!"
"Oh, lighten up, Mum," he called out to her as Lee Jordan threw a small pastry through his head. "That joke kills down at the shop!"
"Yeah," added George with a wink Hermione's way, "It positively slays!"
"Are you okay?" a voice asked to her left as the attention centered around the twins, and she turned quickly to see that Ron had made it over to her as well. "You look... pale."
Hardly able to think over the commotion, she nodded. "I'm just... overwhelmed, I think," she admitted, knowing it was more than that. How was she supposed to go from being in Severus' arms to... all of this?
"Well yeah, you've been in a quiet house with Snape all this time," Ginny said as she dragged her down to a seat near the end of the table. "What's it like to be in absolute silence? I'm afraid I'll never know."
"Hey Granger!" greeted Seamus as he plopped down next to her and draped his arm across her shoulders. "It's true then? Are you really shacking up with Snape?"
"OI!" Shouted Ron, as Hermione flushed scarlet and choked on air. "What the fuck is wrong with you?"
Ginny reached around Hermione and smacked the back of the boy's head. "Don't be gross, Finnigan!"
"What? I'm just catching up with my good friend 'Mione!" Seamus waggled his eyebrows up and down as he leaned in closer. "So, what's he like?"
Harry grabbed Ron's arm before he could leap over the table and strangle Seamus with his bare hands.
"DEAN!" Ginny shouted down the table. "COME GET YOUR BOYFRIEND!"
With a dramatic sigh, Dean walked over and pulled Seamus up by the arm. "I really hate it when you call him that," he grumbled as he glared at Ginny, dragging his snickering friend across the room with him.
"What, am I not good enough for you?" Their Irish friend teased, before receiving another smack to his head as he was forced into a seat near Neville.
Harry looked over apologetically. "Sorry, 'Mione. He overheard Ron and I talking about it."
"I told you two idiots to shut it," grumbled Ginny as she picked at her plate. "Don't worry, Hermione. I'll make sure Dean has a tight hold of his leash tonight."
She just gave a weak smile in return.
Hermione sat in her seat, her friends' conversation drifting past her as she slowly became more and more anxious with all that was happening around her. The energy buzzing about the room would have been difficult to face if she hadn't just admitted her feelings to Severus, but given what had happened, and what Seamus had insinuated, she started to have trouble focusing under the weight of it all. In a terrifyingly familiar way, her chest began to tighten and she struggled to breathe.
She hadn't had a panic attack in so long- why now? Was it truly because she wasn't used to the mayhem of a proper gathering? Did her isolated stay with Severus affect her ability to socialize so much, that being around a large group of people now sent her panicking? Or had Seamus' teasing hit a little too close to home? She forced a smile on her face as Mrs Weasley set a plate of food in front of her, but the smell of the roast immediately turned her stomach. She squeezed her eyes shut and turned away from the meat.
I'm sure it had nothing to do with the kiss you can't stop thinking about, she thought self-deprecatingly as she put her head in her hands, willing the room to stop spinning. I just need- I need a minute of quiet. I need to process what the hell happened.
"Hermione?"
She hadn't realized she had stood, but as she looked down at her concerned friends, she tried to look calm. "I just need the toilet," she managed, hurrying away from the table and shoving through the kitchen door.
The door wasn't even closed before she was halfway to the main floor, and she rushed into the foyer of Grimmauld Place. Stumbling over to the stairs, she sank down onto the bottom step and took in as deep a breath as her tight chest would allow. She squeezed her eyes shut, attempting to pull up her shield, but it kept slipping away as she spiraled, reliving the moment she admitted everything, and the moment he crossed the room.
What did it mean? Did he love her, too? When had that happened? And what had possessed her to admit to it all in the first place?
She couldn't say she regretted it. She meant every word she said. And the result of those words... her face warmed, and she knew it wasn't the fact that she couldn't damn well breathe that made her flush.
She could still taste him. She could still smell him on her. She could still feel him, his hands in her hair- on her hip, pulling her close-
He had wanted her, truly wanted her, and she had responded without thinking.
Looking around her, she took in the clean carpets and rich blue wallpaper, the chandelier twinkling peacefully above. Why was she here? Why had she come, after that? How had she been able to walk into that fireplace and floo away?
Her breaths were coming easier now, and with that relief her thoughts began to race. What would have happened if she'd stayed? Would they have picked up where they left off? Not likely; knowing Severus, he would have retreated immediately. Maybe it was better this way- maybe the separation would give him time to work things through. It had been helpful in the past, giving him space. She would be back soon enough.
Oh, no. Putting her face in her hands, she groaned into her palms. I still have to talk to Mrs Weasley.
The kitchen door opened, and for a brief moment before it closed again the rowdy conversations filled the foyer. She looked around the banister, and wasn't the least bit surprised to see Ginny approaching her. "Hey," she greeted, scooting over to give her friend room to sit.
"Hey," Ginny replied as she joined her. "Are you all right?"
"Yes, I'm... this is just more than I expected," she tried to explain. "You were right- it's so quiet at Severus's. No wonder he hated coming here."
The door opened again, the sounds of the kitchen filling the space once more, and two sets of footsteps climbed the stairs. "I knew you didn't need the toilet," Ron said as they approached.
"Well spotted," she smirked, the humor not reaching her eyes.
"What's wrong?" Harry asked, stepping over Ginny to sit on the step behind her. The redhead leaned back against him and he put his arms around her shoulders; Hermione looked away quickly, thinking of the arms she had been in not long before. Gods, she wanted to go back.
"You lot are too loud," Ginny answered for her, closing her eyes as she leaned back against her boyfriend. "I keep telling you to shut it. Now look what happened."
"Nothing happened," Hermione muttered, frowning at the floor. "I just wasn't prepared."
"You never used to have to prepare for us." Ron, leaning against the wall nearby, gently kicked the toe of her shoe. "What's changed?"
Yeah, like I'm going to tell any of you that I just admitted my undying love to Severus Snape and had to walk away from the best kiss of my life. "I wasn't feeling great before I came over," she fibbed, rubbing her stomach- which was, coincidentally, churning. "I guess that doesn't help anything."
"Are you sick?" Ginny opened her eyes, sticking her hand out and resting it on Hermione's forehead.
"God, could you be less like Mum?" Ron's face twisted into a grimace, and then into one of pain as Ginny kicked him in the shin. "Oi! That hurt!"
"Then choose your words more carefully next time."
"I think it might be something I ate," she interrupted before the siblings got too far into their bickering. "I took a gamble on some produce that probably should have been binned."
"I guess the room full of food isn't helping, huh?" Harry asked. She shook her head, and he gestured up the stairs. "We're all meeting in the drawing room after. The four of us can go up now if you'd like."
"That'd be great, yeah," she nodded, standing with the others and moving up the stairs.
Three hours later, Hermione had finally had enough. She'd mingled, she'd eaten, and she had given her thanks and apologies to Mrs Weasley, and nothing had been able to keep her mind distracted from what had happened earlier- especially with Seamus wagging his eyebrows at her whenever he caught her eye. If I could get away with one little stinging jinx, she fumed as she returned another of his looks with a fed up glare.
Pulling Harry and Ginny to the side- Ron had left an hour ago to meet up with Claire- she said quietly, "I need to head back. I'm sorry."
"Do you still feel sick?" Harry's eyes moved over her, and she hesitated.
"I don't feel like I can stay," was all she said. "Thank you for having me. I'll..."
"I can't believe you turned down Mrs Weasley," Harry said not for the first time that evening. "I was looking forward to seeing you more. I don't know when I'll get the chance to again."
Ginny rolled her eyes before pulling Hermione into a hug. "Go- we'll make your excuses for you. I hope whatever is bothering you gets better."
Hermione gave her a nervous smile. We're about to find out.
She stepped back from her friends, waving, and forced her way through the crowd. When she was finally standing before the fire in the kitchen, she paused.
It was still an hour or so until midnight. Severus was surely still awake. Was she ready to confront him?
"Only one way to know," she muttered under her breath as she threw the dust into the fire.
And appeared in the familiar living room, staring at a very awake and very surprised Severus.
Severus had been staring at the same page for the past forty minutes when the sound of the floo activating startled him out of his thoughts. Seeing the physical manifestation of the topic of his ruminations before him, his mind went into overdrive.
Had something happened? She looked unharmed and unshaken- at least, no more shaken than when she had left a mere four hours ago- but that didn't mean she was safe. Where was Minerva?
Hermione remained frozen on the hearth before him. "Hey," she greeted weakly, giving him a small, awkward smile.
"Welcome back," he returned, closing the book he had balanced on his lap. "Has something happened?"
Her smile grew more natural, a touch of relief relaxing her features. "No, nothing has happened."
"And yet you're back so soon."
"Yes, I..." blushing, she twisted her fingers together, and as usual the movement caught his attention. What those fingers had been twisting into earlier...
She continued speaking, and his eyes moved from her hands to her face again. "I figured it was more important to come back here. To you." At his silence, she added, "To talk."
"Ah." Clearing his throat, he set his book aside and gestured to the other side of the couch. "I must say we have plenty to discuss." He turned his body towards her as she sat, and fought the urge to reach out to her, instead folding his hands in his lap. "I should admit, however, that I don't know where to start."
"I do." Tucking a leg under her, she leaned against the cushions and stared at her hands, still twisting away. This time she added the bit lip for good measure.
When she didn't say anything, he tilted his head. "Would you like to share with the class?"
Snorting, she glanced up at him before studying her hands again. "You know my feelings for you," she started slowly, and his stomach swooped at the knowledge that she... that she... gods, he couldn't think it even now. "I made myself clear, I think, on what I feel for you."
"You have." His voice, low and soft, encouraged her to continue. When she picked up her head and met his eyes, he saw the worry behind them as clear as day.
"Severus, what do you feel for me?"
He exhaled, considering. "Adoration. Fondness. Attachment." He paused, then added, "Awe."
"Awe?"
He frowned. "You have no idea how amazing you are, do you?"
Her face reddened again, and she dipped her head to hide it. He finally allowed himself to reach out, lifting her chin so that she could meet his eyes. "You're incredible, Hermione- truly awe-inspiring; and the fact that you doubt me in this is a tragedy."
"You see all that in me?" she whispered, and he gave her a lopsided smile.
"All of that and more."
Admitting that truth, finally, after all this time, was one of the most freeing feelings he had ever experienced. And yet, it could not last.
He dropped his hand.
Turned from her.
"It doesn't matter, though."
He heard the slight catch in her breath, and closed his eyes against the pain he must inflict on her now. "What doesn't matter?" she asked, breathless.
Standing, he moved to the fireplace. Staring into the flames, he conjured all of his strength and told her, "My feelings for you do not matter, Hermione, because what happened earlier cannot happen again."
He couldn't look at her. Couldn't look at the devastation on her face. This was necessary, he told himself; he knew that, but it didn't make it any easier. Every bit of him struggled against the words he spoke, but he knew this to be the right thing to do.
It was a long time before she said anything. Her voice was calmer than he had expected when she simply asked, "Why not?"
He knew the question was coming, and had prepared an answer. "There are many reasons, least of which being the fact that I am twenty years older than you."
"What if that doesn't bother me?"
He ignored the spark of hope. "And what if it bothers me?"
"Does it?"
He turned to her then. Her head was tilted, studying him, and a frown creased her forehead. "Does it bother you that I'm so young?"
"Sometimes," he admitted, turning back to the fire. "Sometimes I look at you, and all I see is the student in my classroom."
"But you don't see me as your student all the time?"
He closed his eyes again. She wasn't going to make this easy. "No. But that is beside the-"
"Sometimes I see you as my professor still," she interrupted. "When you're brewing, especially. I used to watch your hands when you demonstrated for us. It's always been fascinating to me, watching you work."
Her admittance sent a wave of fear through his skin and he turned to her abruptly. "Did your feelings for me start when you were still my student?"
She shook her head, smiling softly. "No, not at all," she assured him, a hint of mirth in her eyes. "I still saw you as the same ruddy bastard my friends did, albeit with a bit more respect. But I always did... like to watch you work."
He blinked slowly before looking out the window. He hadn't known... how had he not noticed?
"I guess what I'm trying to say," Hermione continued, "is that yes, we have a rather unusual relationship, but it doesn't bother me. What matters isn't how we got here; what matters is that we're here now."
"And where are we?"
She paused. "Isn't that what we're trying to figure out?" When he didn't reply, she asked, "What other reasons do you have for us not to be together?"
Together. He had never been a part of a 'together' before. Why did that sound so... fitting? He shook his head, clearing out his desires and focusing on the task at hand. "You have an ambitious future career in mind, in the Ministry of all places." Frowning her way, he said, "Your success would suffer if you were involved with me."
Her brow furrowed in confusion. "Severus, that doesn't make any sense."
"That's because you haven't worked with the Ministry before." Shaking his head, he started to pace. "The politics of the Ministry are such that they will attack you for not just your policies, but who you are as a person. Grudges are held, and held hard. Anyone that has dealt with me in the past, who has heard of me or was taught under me, would be far less inclined to work with you."
"You can't possibly know that."
"I know this to be fact." He paused in front of her then. "If we were involved, it would affect your position in the Ministry simply because of the hatred many have in their hearts for me."
She shook her head. "Severus, you're a war hero. Your truth is well known! If anything, you would better my chances at success!"
"Don't be naïve," he growled, pacing once more. "You know as well as I that there will always be doubters, always be rumors explaining away all my good deeds. That doesn't even take into account those who had the misfortune of being under my tutelage. You will make few friends in the Ministry, Hermione, if I am by your side; I guarantee it."
She stood then, reaching out for his arm as he paced by. He halted, and she held his gaze forcefully as she argued, "And I guarantee that I will make few friends regardless. You know the only reason I have any friends at all is because Harry and Ron took pity on me in our first year. If I didn't have them at my side, no one else would have stepped up to take their place."
"And then there's the matter of your friends," he continued, as if they had completed that last bit of discussion. "What would Potter and Weasley do once they found out you were involved with the hated Professor Snape? Would they leave the room before vomiting or would they do it on your shoes?"
"What business is it of theirs?" she argued, and he let out a cruel bark of a laugh.
"When have they ever minded their own business?" Leaning closer so that he was practically looming over her, he continued with a sneer. "The looks of disgust you may be able to handle, but could you handle the accusations? Could you convince them you weren't coerced, that the Greasy Bat from the Dungeons didn't take advantage of your living arrangement and slip you something, or worse, manage to convince you that you wanted it using only his poisonous words?"
"Don't speak of us like that," she whispered, eyes wide and brimming with hurt.
"Why not? They will." Grabbing her arms, he stared hard into her eyes, begging her to see reason. "If we are together, no one will understand. You will be outcast by your friends. You will face accusation after accusation, and I will face many, many angry interactions from people coming to your defense. They will try to talk you out of being with me- as they well should- just on the prospect of who I am and who you are."
"What if I don't care about any of that?" Shoving his hands off of her, she crossed her arms and held her own. "What if none of that bothers me, because I know that my life will be difficult regardless? Do you even know what I want to do in the ministry? I want to uproot lifetimes of prejudices and mistreatment- I want to free house elves, liberate goblins, and set up funds for werewolf support. I want to do all this and more, as the Know-It-All Muggleborn known only for her over-excitement in school and the fact that she was friends with Harry freaking Potter!
"Do you know what the papers have said about me already?" she continued, interrupting his retort. "I was ostracized many times by not only Harry and Ron, but even Mrs Weasley, because of some of the things that were written about me. I know what subtle hatred looks like, and I will be damned if I cave because of it. I love you, Severus, and that isn't going to change, so stop trying to convince me otherwise!"
He growled, turning from her briefly before whipping his head back towards her. "You will change your mind, Hermione, when you have to face reality. When your friends refuse to listen, and you're alone with only myself as company, you will look upon me with regret. When your appeals are denied, you will sit in your office, and you will be forced to wonder if it's because of pureblood stubbornness or if it's because of me."
"One would think you were pureblood with how stubborn you are!" she snapped at him, and he glowered.
"Ah yes, my disposition. The final reason I will not allow this to happen-"
He was cut off not by her words, but by her hands grabbing his head and pulling his lips down to hers. She kissed him, fiercely, and demanded as she pulled away, "Stop inventing reasons to deny yourself happiness!"
This close, his eyes swallowed hers. This close, he could feel her breath on his cheeks, as she stared him down with intense determination. This close, that final bit of sanity snapped.
And as he wrapped his arms around her, as he returned her kiss with a fiery passion, he knew full well that he was damned.
A/N 2: I have never been more nervous to hear from you all.
