I do not own Harry Potter or any of its characters; J. K. Rowling does. In addition, I do not make any profit from this fanfiction. I would like to thank my betas - Glorioux and Lima Bean. A special thanks goes also to my consultants Ignaty.

Chapter Thirteen

I love you - love you!

I know, I know - it ill becomes me,

I am too old, time to be wise...

But how? This love - it overcomes me,

A sickness this in passion's guise. *

All Is Fair

"Severus, wait. We need to talk about this, about us," whispered Hermione.

Do you remember our heroine saying that right after their scorching kiss in the Ministry's corridor? Oh well, unfortunately, I cannot tell you anything reassuring, my darlings – our lovers had not talked, even though they truly should have. Severus' sense of self- preservation, Hermione's work, jealousy and lousy planning had all contributed to the fact that the most needed and important conversation between them had not happened.

On that Thursday, Hermione had come to Severus about two hours later. Those two hours had been insanely agonizing for Severus. After he had left her in the Ministry's corridor, he was not sure if the witch would come or not. For the first time in their short history, she didn't go with him when he asked. The fact that the witch chose her work over him was unpleasant to say the least. And the knowledge that she went back to Lucius was simply slowly killing him.

You can imagine how torturously slowly those one hundred twenty minutes crept for Severus. His jealousy had entirely unnerved him and banished the last shreds of his self-control. By the end of his wait, our Potions master finally admitted to himself that he had indeed recognized with grim certainty the presence of the symptoms. It was there. Severus was positively sure that the greatest torment for his poor soul was at his door again. For the second time in his life, our wizard had fallen victim to this cruel burden. He had suffered from it once before, and it had nearly killed him then. There was no doubt in his mind that this wicked feeling would tear his poor, tortured soul to smithereens and then would make a fool out of him once again.

Alas, he knew precisely that it was too late for escape. The wizard was ultimately done for. Severus was in love.

In Love

Severus ambushed the witch the moment she stepped out of the fireplace. At first Hermione was determined to talk and kept trying to stop Severus' advances. Our wizard, however, was unwavering. His fingers caught her chin in the strong grip and his lips captured hers possessively. He was desperate, desperate to not let her talk, desperate to not let her go, desperate to have her, desperate to find a way to keep her forever. His lips were moving insistently, dominating her, forcing her to submit to him, trying to convey his message, his doubts, his need, his love. And only when he felt that she succumbed to his will, when the sounds of her whimpers and moans filled the air of his living room, only then did he gather her in his arms and take her to his bedroom.

You may guess, my darlings, that the night was spent in frantic lovemaking. Both missed the heat and the fire of their bodies terribly. During their two weeks apart, they managed to forget how well they fit together, and so they spent the night rediscovering their bliss. They found the intensity of their mutual pleasure, and more than once, they drowned in the sweet agony of their unity, their oneness. Over and over Severus made love to his witch, devouring every inch of her, forcing her to writhe and moan under his intense ministrations. Again and again his lioness was giving herself to him fully, completely disregarding the world beyond her lover's bedroom.

Early morning on Friday was hectic. Hermione was in a hurry, needing to rush to her flat first and to the Ministry. Watching her agitated darting through his bedroom, Severus felt the blunt ache of loneliness cloud his heart again. Cold fingers of inexplicable anxiety clasped his throat, squeezing it, making it hard to breathe. But of course, our ever-inscrutable wizard didn't yield and didn't show anything. He buried these feelings somewhere deep within him and didn't say a word to Hermione. He let her disappear in the Floo, though not before he kissed her good-bye. Or was it she who kissed him good-bye?

The moment she left, all kinds of troublesome suspicions filled his mind. One particularly unpleasant question had made him nauseous. What if Hermione was rushing not to work, but to Lucius? Severus unsuccessfully tried to suppress that thought. He supposedly trusted the witch, and yet the dragon of jealousy was there, wide-awake. And truly, how could he not be jealous when the simple recollection of Lucius' triumphant gaze and the kiss he placed on Hermione's lips made Severus' blood boil?

Later, on Friday afternoon, Severus received an owl from Hermione with a quick note that she had too much work and wouldn't be able to make it to his villa by dinnertime. The image of his witch working with Lucius in close proximity began to haunt him with renewed strength. Severus could see vividly how his former friend would cocoon Hermione in his artfully calculated, but deceitful flattery, coaxing her to give in, to trust him, to like him, want him and maybe even love him. This unfortunate combination of love and envy truly made his imagination go wild.

At this point, talking it over would be the best route for the Potions master. Alas, with the fact that Hermione maniacally had continued working through the weekend, and thus, was coming to Severus only at night, there were not actually many opportunities for him to discuss their relationship with the witch. Moreover, unsurprisingly, her departure for work on Saturday and Sunday, and the knowledge that she was engaged in the preparations for her grand summit at Malfoy Manor, infuriated our Potions master immensely. Luckily, this time he managed to remain silent about it, keeping his temper and resentment in check. Hermione did come back to him every night, after all. Hence, Severus once again chose the road that he knew best, the road paved with lovemaking instead of conversation. But was it still just sex and not lovemaking as long as the four-letter word had not been spoken? That particular moment was not clear to him. Our wizard knew precisely how he felt about Hermione. The evident problem was that he wasn't quite ready to hear how she felt about him.

Then Monday had come, and with all the agitation of the preparations, Hermione became even more engrossed in her work. She did stay the night on Monday, but then on Tuesday she came for just a few short hours to eat dinner with Severus, after which she frantically ran home, saying that she would need to work all night and would be at the Ministry early in the morning.

Therefore, on Wednesday morning, five days after Hermione's second presentation and a day before her next one, our lovers had not progressed in their relationship. Mainly, they hadn't had a talk. A positive aspect however, was that they had managed to avoid fighting for those five days. Actually, it was quite an achievement, considering their hot tempers and history.

And War

It was already Wednesday afternoon, when loud noises from another side of the villa stole Severus' attention. He was at his usual occupation at this hour – potion-making. Due to the distant location of his laboratory, he couldn't immediately identify the source and the origin of the noise. Being caught in the middle of the brewing process, the Potions master didn't pay much attention to the sounds, deciding that perhaps his pesky house-elf was up to something again.

When, however, after a short while, the sounds transformed into an outright racket, Severus swore under his breath, removed the cauldron filled with simmering potion from the heat and, with an exasperated swirl of his stark black work robes, ventured to investigate the cause of the noises.

Flustered by a sudden interruption, our Potions master at last arrived at the epicentre of the commotion, and the sight that met his eyes made him stop dead in his tracks. It was comical and somewhat disturbing at the same time. There, in the middle of his living room stood extremely irritated, slightly flushed Lucius Malfoy. Severus seriously doubted that he had ever seen Lucius flushed before. Right in front of him with his small arms placed boldly on his hips, stood Casimir. The two were nose to nose. The haughty blonde was hovering and huffing with fury, and the little elf in his most authoritative pose was evidently enjoying the confrontation. Both failed to notice Severus, so he stopped in the shadows of the corridor and watched the pandemonium unfold.

"I am telling you for the last time, you blasted, useless creature, go and get your Master. Or, let me in, and I will find him myself," hissed the blond-haired wizard menacingly.

"Me tells you many times, mister Lucius, Master is very busy. Mister Lucius needs to come later. No, Mister Lucius needs to send an owl to Master," firmly replied the elf, not moving even an inch from his strategically situated position directly in front of the door.

Lucius, who apparently had lost his patience altogether by this point, drew his wand in one quick, fluid motion and pointed it towards Casimir's nose. And that was Severus' cue for immediate intervention. Lucius Malfoy was a powerful, dark wizard, who certainly had the capacity for volatile anger, and even though, Casimir did annoy the hell out of Severus quite often, our Potions master was used to his elf, and was not at all partial to the idea of losing him. So, he urgently stepped into the room, making his presence known to both bickering parties.

"Is there any specific reason why you are harassing my elf, Lucius?" uttered the wizard snidely, arching his eyebrow quizzically at his former friend.

"Your servant, Severus, is not trained properly. He refused to announce me, and refused to let me in to look for you," drawled Lucius. Lord Malfoy had visibly relaxed the moment Severus made his appearance. His grey eyes focused on his former friend and the mocking smile touched his lips, as he continued, "Or, was he carrying out your orders? What is this, Severus? Are you cowardly hiding behind the elf's back now?"

Ignoring Lucius' implications for now, Severus turned to his house-elf, "Explain yourself, Casimir. I do not recall authorizing you to make decisions about my visitors." At this, Casimir, with a conspiratorial smile on his wrinkled face, moved closer to him, and slowly, emphasising each word, as if he was trying to convey a relevant message to his rather slow-witted Master, said, "But... Master... is...busy. Mister Lucius sends owl to Master and Master reads and answers afterwards."

For a few long moments, Severus silently looked at his enthusiastically nodding elf, pinching the bridge of his enormous nose in bewilderment. Soon, however, the surprised facial expression faded, and the black-haired wizard scowled darkly at his servant. Noticing the signs of his Master's irritability, Casimir stopped nodding and literally shrunk under Severus' displeased frown, perhaps finally realizing that he had gone just a hair too far. Still, the creature made the last attempt to turn the situation around, mumbling in a scarcely audible whisper, "But Mister Lucius wants Master's Missy. Mister Lucius is bad for Master, please Master, Mister Lucius must go. Master should listen to Casimir."

"Oh, this is precious. It is delightful to see that your elf is like a mother to you, Severus," commented Lucius sarcastically smirking. This was the last straw. Severus had quite enough of this nonsensical event. Thus, he barked to his elf, "Casimir, go now. I will deal with you later." The little creature drew a loud, defeated sigh, and, melancholically dragging his feet, slowly walked out of the room. When Casimir's slumped shoulders had disappeared in the dimness of the corridor, Severus turned to his former friend and asked in a clipped tone, "Why are you here, Lucius?"

"Tsk, tsk, tsk, Severus, such a hostile tone towards an old friend. What has happened to us? Mm? We were friends and all it took one young Gryffindor with a pert bottom to come between us, and the whole friendship perished in a minute," languidly drawled the blond wizard, his smirk widening on his face. As Hermione's heart-shaped, and indeed, nicely pert bum, was especially dear to Severus' heart, the mere mentioning of her asset was enough for him to go berserk. A low rumble was born deep in the wizard's chest, and Severus growled, "Stop wasting my time and testing my patience, Lucius. What do you want?"

"I brought you an invitation to Hermione's final presentation, Severus. I assumed that you would like to be present at this soiree, taking into the consideration that you two are involved..." At this Lucius trailed off, fishing the invitation out of the chest pocket of his waist coat and offering it to Severus. With the sour, acid taste of impending dread, our Potions master reluctantly accepted the colourful parchment from the blond wizard.

Just one glance at it made Severus' heart tighten painfully in his chest. There, on the cover, was a picture of smiling Hermione, with Lucius standing right beside her and their hands intertwined. Severus couldn't take his eyes off the witch's face. She looked beautiful, content, happy. All the doubts and concerns that had been eating him since last Thursday returned, tearing his poor soul apart. In his state of deep conflict with himself, he didn't notice that Lucius had come closer to him. The blond wizard looked over Severus' shoulder at the picture and commented, "Beautiful isn't she?" Then, not waiting for an answer, Lucius asked, "Do you love her, Severus?"

This question tore Severus from his trance, and he glared at his former friend, "You are not in a position to ask any questions, Lucius. If you are through, I would rather bid you good-bye than continue this dialogue," replied the black-haired wizard. Lucius, however, appeared perfectly unperturbed by Severus' dismissal, and continued calmly, looking straight into angry black eyes of the Potions master, "I know you do, Severus. We have known each other for too long, old friend. You are rather obvious."

Then, using the next second's silence, Lord Malfoy redirected his attention to Hermione's picture again. "Look at her, Severus. Look at how happy, how content she appears. Can you really give her what she needs? Think about it. You love her. Do the right thing, my friend. Allow her to achieve what she wants. Do you truly want to bury her here with you? I can make her happy and you know that. She will blossom with me. She will have everything she wants – political career, marriage, children, social standing. Can you provide all these? Don't think so." Lucius tried to say something else, but the low, hoarse growl of his former friend interrupted his monologue.

"Get out! Get out, Lucius! Get out, while you are still in one piece. You are not worthy of Hermione. You are a lying, deceiving, manipulative arse. What did you do to gain her trust? Did you falsify something? How did you manipulate her into this? Tell me," uttered Severus, slowly pushing each word through his clenched teeth. It was obvious that he was exercising all his self-control in order not to physically strangle Lucius.

"I did what I did, Severus. There is no need for you to know exactly what. The point is that I am a better match for the witch. I know that, and you know that." His arrogant smirk changed to a smug, triumphal smile. Severus' demeanour, on the other hand, became totally unreadable, and the clenching and unclenching of his jaw was the only clue to his feelings. With measured steps, Severus walked to the fireplace and said, pointing towards the Floo, "Leave now, Lucius."

Lucius hid his smile under a mockingly hurt facial expression and replied, "Very well, I can clearly see that I am not welcome here. I will not take any more of your time. Have a good day, Severus. Hope you will think about my words and will chose as a man who wants only the best for his beloved. Don't cut her wings, Severus. Let her fly. Do not burden her with your love." And with that, Lord Malfoy stepped into the Floo and disappeared.

Sudden apathy engulfed the Potions master. He sunk into his armchair and sat there in silence for a long, long, long time.

* A. S. Pushkin