Severus was going through a living hell. He hated everything. Nothing pleased him. None of his students were able to satisfy him during classes. He avoided anything that reminded him of Hermione when he could help it, but he was surrounded by such things, and failed miserably at every turn. Any student who was in Gryffindor grew to hate the potions master again, though they had tried not to after what he did for the war. He was savagely cruel to any student from Gryffindor house, because they reminded him of her. The other houses just reminded him that there was a Gryffindor house, which of course, led to thoughts about her. Any female student made him think of her and any male student made him hate them simply because they still had their whole lives ahead of them and they would certainly find love, but he never could.
Furthermore, he could never hate her, because this was not her fault. So his wrath was unleashed on anyone but her. As well as failing to avoid thoughts of her when she herself wasn't there, mealtimes and staff meetings and Quidditch matches and any other kind of gathering was sure to bring her presence. Even more than he hated the fact that she could never be his, he hated himself. While he knew that she herself was in misery and did not want her to suffer alone, he wished he could be cold and cruel and just forget his love for her. But the very sight of her was torture. Even when her face was one in a sea of others, his eyes were drawn to her of their own accord and he could always find her, and it seemed that she was always, even now, in her misery, the most beautiful thing he had ever and would ever see. When she was near him—as she was at every meal because of the seating arrangement—he could feel her presence and it was like a warm glow. However, he was unable to enjoy the warmth, because it only caused him pain.
More than he hated the way he felt, he hated himself for what he had done to her. She did not come out of her room for meals or anything on the weekends, unless there was a staff meeting and it was absolutely necessary. She came from her room every morning on weekdays and walked straight to breakfast, often walking with Longbottom and talking to him amiably. She actually looked happy and healthy during her time with him. They would go to the Great Hall and sit down, and she would offer the potions teacher a stilted, "Good morning, Severus," to which he would nod stiffly and reply, "Good morning."
Then she would undergo the torture of sitting so close to him throughout the meal, rising to leave as soon as she had eaten. She would leave the Great Hall and go straight to her classroom alone, where she would grade papers or do whatever she must until her first class of students came. He had checked on her—without her knowledge, of course—throughout the day multiple times, and every time it was the same. She would clean the papers off the floor between classes and start grading homework. If that failed to take up the time she had, she would sit pensively, staring at nothing in particular with her eyes unfocused. Severus had seen her like this so many times, and no matter how much he tried not to believe himself, he knew her thoughts were of him at those times.
She would go to lunch in the Great Hall, going through yet another struggle that was painfully obvious to Severus, but completely undetected by the others, staff or student. She would eat and leave as soon as she had finished, getting back to her classroom immediately. When classes were over for the day she would have some free time and grade whatever homework there was, cleaning the classroom and leaving for dinner in the Great Hall. Again, she would experience torture at being so near to Severus, and left as soon as she was finished eating. This time, however, she would go straight to her rooms in the teachers' quarters in the dungeons and disappear for the night.
Severus had watched her carefully since she'd come to his classroom for the second time and he had pushed her away again. The knowledge that she had in fact realized his lies and his reasons behind them made him ache even more, because she had come so close to the truth and he had been forced to push her away yet again. He had spied on her the first couple of days and knew her routine. The only place he had never watched her was her rooms, and even if he had been sick enough to try to break into her privacy, there were protective enchantments in the walls to stop him. Of course, he'd never even let it cross his mind to watch her there, because that was her own space and he had no right to intrude.
Hermione was going through just as much hell as Severus was. She was just as depressed and miserable as he, though she never dreamed of taking it out on her students. And she never feared taking it out on him. She hated him so very much now, but it didn't seem to reduce the amount that she loved him at all. And she hated herself because of it. She wanted nothing to do with the potions master, and at the same time everything to do with the man. She hated anything that reminded her of him—though most everything did—and avoided him at all cost when she could. But even as she avoided him, she was drawn to him and longed to be near him.
She was completely unaware of the fact that he had spied on her. As far as she knew, he could care less how she felt and despised her for throwing herself at him as she had. She thought he hated her for caring. But even as she was unaware of his careful watch being kept on her, he was unaware that she often wandered the dungeon at night, lost in thought. During those times, she was always under a disillusionment charm and constantly throwing glances over her shoulder and pointing her wand away from her, whispering the counter charm to be sure she had no unwanted follower.
And so another month passed, with both of them severely depressed and miserable, only escaping the pain from the seemingly gaping holes torn through their chests when they slept at night. And even then, they were only free of the aches and pains when their dreams held each other, but the arguments and the hate and the hurt were gone.
Hermione sipped tea and tried to read the Daily Prophet, which she'd spread across the bed in front of her. Kreacher stood on the trunk at the foot of the bed, watching her. He fingered the locket on his chest and clutched the wooden bedpost. Hermione looked past the paper at him and asked, "Kreacher, what are you doing?"
He bowed his head, looking back up before he said, "Kreacher is watching."
"And what are you watching for?" she asked, though she already knew the answer. She had heard it every day for a month, but for some reason she found solace in the house elf's next words.
"As Kreacher has told mistress many times before, Kreacher is watching his mistress at the request of Mister Snape."
She decided to question him further after this, though she never had before. "And do you know why he wants you to watch me?"
Kreacher looked at her steadily, his eyes watery. The long white hair growing out of his ears swayed slightly as he lower his chin to look at her better. "Kreacher," he said slowly, "does not know Mister Snape's intentions. But Kreacher does know that mister Snape worries for Mistress' being well. Mister Snape comes to the kitchens to ask Kreacher about Mistress' health nearly every night."
This was new information. Hermione had never questioned the elf further than why he was watching her. "H- he asks after me?" Hermione asked, surprised.
The elf nodded. "Yes, Mistress," he said, repeating, "Mister Snape asks Kreacher about Mistress' health nearly every night."
"And you say he worries for me?"
"Yes," he said, bowing his head.
Hermione fell silent, her eyes unfocusing once more. She stared at the elf but did not see.
Meanwhile, Severus was in the teachers' lounge, on his way to the Great Hall for dinner. Hermione hadn't showed for any of the meals that day, but it was Saturday, so her absence could only be expected. And yet he found himself turning to gaze at her door, wishing that she would open it and enter the lounge but also wanting her to stay in her rooms and away from him.
Sighing, he turned and left the lounge, making his way to the Great Hall. As he walked up the stairs he remembered how, at the beginning of the summer, he had been too weak even to walk up those steps without Hermione's careful, patient assistance. It was because of her he was alive, he reminded himself. But he hated that; if he had died she would still be with Weasley, or with some other young man, not longing for the love of one who was old enough to be her own father. If he had died, then neither of them would feel as they did now. Had he been deranged enough to consider suicide, it would only have ended his suffering; Hermione would never let him go, even if he died, and he knew it. Loathing life itself and the existence of love or emotions, he entered the Great Hall and wiped grins off of students' faces with a murderous glare.
He sat in his usual place, noting that, as always on the weekends and in Hermione's absence, Longbottom flinched upon his approach because Hermione was not there between them. "Good evening, Longbottom," Severus said coldly.
"Er, e- evening, s- sir," the young man stammered, white in the face and looking terrified.
Pleased that he had thoroughly frightened the boy, Severus turned back to his plate, and watched as the headmistress sat after addressing the students. Then food appeared on all of the tables and the meal began. Severus ate, though he had no appetite, as always, and when he had finished he left the table and walked towards the staff rooms. He was so shocked when he turned the familiar corner after the stairs that he stopped in his tracks.
Hermione was rushing down the corridor, the hood of her cloak pulled over her head, hurrying towards the stairs. It was obvious she was going out of the castle, because she was wearing gloves and a scarf along with her cloak.
Without really knowing why, Severus stepped in front of her. She saw him just in time to stop without running into him. She looked up and her face turned white, and she stumbled back a few steps. Severus would have felt a savage pleasure at this reaction to his presence had she been a student, but now it was like something had torn the wounds in his chest wide open once again. Seeing her stumble away from him as she did, he flashed back to when she had come careening around a corner all those weeks before and rushed right into him. That had been back at the start of this misery. Still having no clue why he did it, he said coldly, "Going somewhere, Granger?"
Her eyes were wide, and her cheeks were still unnaturally pale. She blinked rapidly and said, seeming to regain her ability to speak, "Yes." She looked a bit more recovered from her shock of meeting him, but her voice was still meek and quiet.
"And where might that be?" he asked.
"To Saint Mungo's, if you must know," she said, sounding a bit irritated for once.
"Your parents?" he asked.
She nodded. "And Neville's," she added.
He narrowed his eyes, brow creasing. Longbottom would accompany her? Just as he raised his eyebrows at her, the very person they were speaking of entered the corridor from the secret entrance to the teachers' lounge. Severus glared at him with loathing when he walked up, standing nervously beside Hermione. It was obvious that he only felt safe around Severus when she was there. "Longbottom," Severus said shortly.
"S- sir," he greeted him in return.
Severus growled and swept past them. He had to exercise all of his willpower to keep walking past Hermione, because as he passed, her scent caught him full in the face and he wanted so badly to turn and enjoy it. So Longbottom was going to Saint Mungo's with her . . . Severus didn't know what he thought of that. Part of him was insanely jealous of the boy, and part of him was thoroughly abhorred with the idea of being alone with Hermione for any length of time. Sighing, he glimpsed them out of the corner of his eye as he turned to enter the teachers' lounge. They were walking side by side, rather quickly, towards the stairs.
Hermione spent only an hour with her parents and Neville's. The healer there was kind enough to allow them the late evening visit but could only give them a short amount of time. They were thankful all the same. When Hermione got back to the school, all was quiet. All of the students were in bed or in their common rooms, and the teachers were either in their rooms or patrolling the halls. They passed Filch in one of the corridors on their way to the dungeons, and at first he thought they were students. He ran forward, waving the lantern in his hand and screaming, "STUDENTS OUT OF BED! STUDENTS IN THE CORRIDORS!"
His face fell when he found that they were in fact teachers, but Neville looked scared to death of him in spite of this. "W- we weren't doing anything wrong," the young man stuttered, but Hermione interrupted.
"Good evening, Argus," she said sweetly.
The groundskeeper looked taken aback. "Er, evenin'," he mumbled as he walked away.
"Neville," she scolded her friend gently when they were on their way again. "You need to stop thinking like a student. Argus and Severus and all of them are our colleagues now, not our professors. They can't do anything to us." Even as she said the last sentence, she felt her heart ache. They could do nothing to Neville, but Severus had already done far too much to her.
They made it back to the lounge and nodded to one another without a word, going their separate ways to their rooms. Hermione had a surprisingly restful night, but she still woke in the morning wishing Severus was not so distant and that he loved her, as she had dreamed, and not hated her, as was reality.
She rose and bathed, dressing in comfortable muggle clothing because she would be spending the day in her room again. She didn't make her bed because she was going to climb right back into it, and magically dried her hair and brushed it before brushing her teeth. Then she did just as she had planned, climbing into bed and reading the parts of the Daily Prophet that she hadn't paid much attention to the day before. Kreacher appeared soon enough with her usual morning tea, and a glance at the clock told her that breakfast would start soon enough in the Great Hall, though she would be missing it. "You may go," she told Kreacher, and smiled sadly without looking up. There was a crack as he disapparated and then all was quiet.
Crookshanks curled up in the blankets beside her, and she stroked his fur absently while she read the articles in the paper. When she had finished with the Prophet she folded it and set it on the floor beside her bed, picking up and opening the Quibbler. She got both magazines, though the one she was reading at the moment was always more enjoyable because Rita Skeeter was still writing for the Prophet. She did get both papers, though, just to see what the news was. She let herself get lost in an article about wrack spurts, though she had no idea what she was reading.
Severus left his rooms and found most of the other staff in the teachers' lounge. They filed out the door into the corridor beyond one by one, but something held him in the lounge until he was quite alone. He turned and looked towards the door beside the fireplace, the one with the graceful otter carved into its front. He had been through a month—and more—of hell because of the young woman who was sitting behind that door in her rooms. He guessed that she would be in bed, reading a book or a newspaper, scratching that orange cat behind the ears as she sipped tea.
He tried to walk out of the lounge, to the door—which was closed—but could not. He found himself rooted to the spot, staring at Hermione's door. He was suddenly overwhelmed with the feeling that he ought to get down on his knees and beg for her forgiveness because he had lied to her and broken her heart and put her through so much misery. But he couldn't do that; this was for her own good. The voice in the back of his head that had not bothered him for some time whispered to him.
All your life, spent making sacrifices for others. Be selfish for once. Do something for yourself, Severus. You know she would accept your apology. You know you want to apologize. Be selfish. Accept her love. Do it.
As the last words faded in his mind, he gazed longingly at the door before him and suddenly realized that his feet had carried him there without his consent. He would do it. He would be selfish for once. He would forget about his decision to make her life better by forcing her to live without him and he would go and apologize to her.
He lifted his hand to knock.
Hermione looked up from the paper when someone rapped on the door. She glanced at the clock and frowned; everyone should be at breakfast. Getting out of bed, she walked to the door. She opened it halfway and stared in surprise at Severus, who was waiting for her to answer. "Severus?" she breathed in surprise.
His eyes were dark chocolate coloured again. She waited for him to say something. "May I come in?" the words were out of his mouth before he'd thought so say them.
Her shock was obvious in her expression. "W- what?"
"May I come in," he repeated, though his voice was gentle, and not cold.
Hermione opened the door wider in her surprise, wanting to be far away from him and also very close to him at the same time. He stepped inside and she closed the door behind him. Then she turned, looking at him expectantly. To her surprise, his eyes were welling up with tears. He did nothing to stop them or the color of his eyes, or the expression on his face. And at once, he had dropped onto his knees before her and grabbed her hands in his own, bowing his head and letting his forehead rest against the back of her hands. "I don't expect you to forgive me," he said, his voice cracking with emotion, "but I came to say that I am truly sorry."
Hermione was taken aback. She was too shocked to speak or to move. She stared at the top of his head, where his greasy hair shook and trembled along with the rest of him. He didn't wait for her to respond.
"You were right when you came to my classroom," he said hoarsely. "I lied. I made you think something that wasn't true. I loved you then, and I thought myself undeserving."
He didn't raise his head to look at her when she spoke. "I was right," she repeated softly, still staring at the top of his head. Her voice was hardly more than a whisper.
He nodded against her hand briefly. "You were right. You are right. I do love you, Hermione."
Tears were sliding down her cheeks now. "But if you thought yourself undeserving, then has your opinion changed or-"
"I think myself undeserving now," he cut in hoarsely.
"Then why . . .?"
He looked up into her face now, and tears were sliding down his own cheeks. "I needed to apologize and tell you the truth," he said, now whispering.
The part of her that hated him was taking over. "Well," she said, nodding towards the door expectantly, "You've apologized. I know the truth."
He looked as if she'd slapped him hard across the face. For once, his emotions were plainly visible in is expression. Hermione found disbelief, distress, and unfathomable pain there. "If you want me to leave," he said slowly, hoarsely, "then I will."
She bit her lip and swallowed, looking at him. The two sides of her were warring in her head; she loved him, but she also hated him. She shook her head hesitantly. "I . . ." but she never finished. He rose to his feet and stood before her, and now it was she who looked up into his face. His smell was all around her, and his face was still wet with tears. His eyes were the deepest, darkest, most beautiful chocolate she'd ever seen.
They stared at each other in silence for a few moments. And then one of the sides battling within Hermione's head became the victor. Severus could see this in her eyes, but he was unsure; which side had won?
He got his answer when, with a half gasp, half whimper, Hermione threw herself into his arms and began to cry. He wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her closer. One of his hands stroked the ends of her soft curly hair that fell down her back, and he bowed his head and let his forehead rest on the top of her head, his nose buried in her hair. The relief he felt because she had accepted his apology and she still wanted him was overpowering. He realized he'd been holding his breath as he waited for her answer and now he let it out in a sigh. His chest heaved as he did, and his shoulders moved as well.
Hermione buried her face in his chest and cried until no more tears would come, clutching the edges of his cloak and so afraid to let go that she couldn't bring herself to loosen her grip even slightly. Severus noticed this, and said softly, "You can let go. I will not."
Sniffing, she loosened her hold, but did not let go of the fabric completely. His voice had sent vibrations across her scalp and left chills running down her spine. "Promise me," she whispered into his chest.
"I will not let you go," he whispered back, "not ever."
"Promise," she repeated softly.
He sighed deeply once more, and her head rose and fell with his chest. "I promise," he said at last.
She sighed into his chest, satisfied. Both of them knew that he would have to let her leave his arms at some point eventually, but there was more to the promise than the physical; he would never let her go—or try, anyways—again. He would always love her, and never leave her. She smiled into his clothes and raised her head to look up at him. He let his chin slip off of her head when she raised it, and he looked into her eyes. Then he lifted his hand and deftly brushed the tears from her cheeks with his fingers.
She sighed again, sniffing slightly and staring into his eyes, which were still like melted chocolate. She rested her cheek against his chest then, so that she could continue to look up into his face. The corners of his mouth twitched in a slight smile. She couldn't smile; she was too relieved to do anything other than watch him and pray that he wouldn't vanish and become nothing when she blinked and looked away for a split second.
She was a bit more than surprised when he bent down and actually swept her up into his arms, and she clutched at his shoulders, wide-eyed and bewildered as he carried her to the couch in front of the fire. He set her down first, in the middle of it, and then seated himself against the cushion and arm rest. He lifted his arm and set it on the back of the couch, inviting her closer. She didn't hesitate in the least and moved beside him, curling up against his side. He put his arm around her and pulled her more snugly against him. Hermione had no idea how long this would last, but all she knew was that she was there, in his arms, and she was surrounded by nothing but utter bliss and peacefulness.
She was surprised when Severus said quietly, "Call Kreacher."
Hermione didn't know what he was thinking, but she did not question him. "Kreacher," she said quietly, her voice a bit hoarse from the crying she'd just done. There was a loud crack and the elf appeared. His eyes widened at the sight of the two people curled up on the couch together. Hermione said, "Kreacher, you must tell no one of this," and the house elf nodded his large head, though he still looked surprised.
"Tell him to go and tell McGonagall that I'm not feeling well and will be in my rooms for the rest of the day. I do not wish to be disturbed." Severus said, looking at Hermione, though her eyes were on the elf.
"Kreacher, you will do as Severus has said; go tell the headmistress that he is ill and will stay in his rooms all day. Tell her he doesn't want to be disturbed."
The elf gazed at the two for a moment longer and then disapparated with another loud crack.
"You're staying?" Hermione asked, turning and gazing into Severus' eyes.
He stared at her steadily for a few moments and then said, "If that is what you want."
She nodded, resting her head on his shoulder and glancing down at his hands. The one was curled around her shoulder with his arm around her, but the other rested in his lap. She reached out and took it, pulling it into her own lap. His hand was large and very pale compared to hers. She was surprised by how soft it was, but then remembered that wizards never toiled like muggles did for a living, and that he was a potions master, not a farmer who used his hands on things that would harden them. She took his one hand in both of her own, lifting it and pressing his palm against her chest, just below her collar bone.
He raised an eyebrow at her, bemused and puzzled over this action. But she didn't notice and leaned against him, closing her eyes and listening to the sound of his heartbeat. Her head was on his shoulder, and he turned his head and pressed his lips against the top of her head. He looked down at their interlaced hands and smirked; both of hers could easily fit into his one. He set his chin on the top of her head and allowed himself to relax.
This was perfect; they could sit there together all day. Perhaps they would talk, maybe sit in silence for a while. They could even fall asleep curled up like this and both would be satisfied. There was no real need for words, no need for kisses or anything more than to simply be in one another's presence. It was enough. Severus found himself suddenly at peace, his mind free of worries or cares, and the hole in his chest seemed to have closed off for good. He let his head rest against Hermione's and closed his eyes as well.
Neither were sure when, but both drifted off at some point. It was Hermione who woke first. She looked up into his face and saw, for the first time, the younger Severus Snape shining through the older. His face was free of stress and worry, or concern of any kind. He was no longer stiff and cold, but warm and relaxed beside her. He looked peaceful as he slept. Then his eyes fluttered open and he was looking back at her. His face flushed slightly at first, and he was obviously uncomfortable to find that she'd been watching him sleep. A smile tugged at her lips.
"I took care of you and lived in the chair by your bed and fed you and bathed you when you were lying there, half naked and unable to take care of yourself, and here you're self-conscious about sleeping in front of me?" she asked.
The corners of his mouth turned up a bit as well.
"You slept in front of me then," Hermione insisted quietly.
He shook his head lightly. "I did in the last days before you healed me; I was too weak to help it. But before then, I would never sleep while you were awake and would only close my eyes."
Hermione felt her face colour slightly. She bit her lip.
Severus rolled his eyes. "Will you stop doing that?"
She was surprised. "Doing what?"
"Biting your lip. Why must you abuse it so?" he muttered, his voice harder than it had been only moments before.
She decided they could get back to his not sleeping later and smiled teasingly. "I suppose I do bite it often . . ." she said slowly.
"Often," he scoffed, "You never let the damned thing heal from your constant mishandling of it."
She laughed though his tone was harsh. "Mishandling," she repeated, smiling. Her eyes were shining with mirth and laughter, but he did not look amused in the least as she added, "Well, how am I supposed to treat my lips then?"
He raised his eyebrows at her and pulled his hand gently from her grip to brush a stray curl out of her eyes. Now there was something mysterious in his eyes. "Would it be quite all right if I showed you?" he asked after a moment of staring at her.
Her smile faded slowly, and this time she raised her eyebrows. "Mhm," she nodded once.
He did not smile, but leaned forward until his nose touched hers and he leaned his forehead against hers, staring into her eyes. She had no idea how unsure of himself he was. This was only the third time he'd kissed, and he was completely inexperienced. He was very worried that he would disappoint her, sure that she'd snogged Weasley enough times to know what she was doing, though he hadn't even a clue. Apologizing with his eyes for his hesitation and in advance for his failure to please, he closed the gap between them and pressed his lips against hers.
She had half expected him to kiss her after the way the conversation was going, but she was surprised by how hesitant he had been. Had that been actual fear in his eyes? She smiled; he must think himself inexperienced and unworthy once again. Annoyed with his constant misjudgment and ill appreciation of his own abilities, she kissed him back and wrapped her arms around his neck. He was slow, careful, almost cautious at first, before seemingly deciding that perhaps he wasn't quite as bad at this as he'd first thought.
It was the first time they'd kissed in nearly two months, and the first time since then that both were able to completely lose themselves in one another. They didn't care where they were, as long as they were alone. They had accepted who they themselves were, but it was more. Hermione accepted at last that she did truly love Severus Snape, no matter how much older than her he may be. Severus finally allowed himself to accept that he loved Hermione, though she may be younger and less mature at times.
When the kiss ended it wasn't truly awkward as much as the innocence of two people who were unsure of how to act then. Hermione giggled shyly and looked down, and Severus raised an eyebrow at her while another slight smile tugged at his lips. Hermione realized that she hadn't yet managed to get him to genuinely smile, and decided she ought to try. As a result, they spent the next few hours engaged in witty conversation.
Kreacher brought them lunch and then tea and scones in the middle of the afternoon. He also brought two trays of food for them to eat for dinner, and the two of them never left the couch in Hermione's study the entire time Severus was there. After each meal they would continue with the conversation, trying to outdo one another.
When at last they looked at the clock, it was after nine o'clock in the evening. "It will be empty," Severus said, referring to the lounge outside.
Hermione bit her lip as they stood and smiled when he scowled at her for it. Then her expression darkened.
"Are you quite all right?" Severus asked, walking to her and placing a hand on her cheek reluctantly. He was still very unsure of himself and awkward with these things, but he was learning to be bolder.
Hermione sighed. "I'm fine, I just . . ." she looked up into his face, "don't want you to go."
He nodded and said, "I am loath to leave, myself."
She gave a small smile, but he took his hand from her face and it faded.
"You realize that I am the potions master," he said, waiting for her to catch on.
She did. She remembered that in all of her years as a student, he had never been ill or unwell. She nodded slowly, waiting for him to finish.
"I cannot be ailing every weekend," he said, and she bit her lip again. He ignored it, irksome though he found it, and said, "No one can know of this, though I trust that you hadn't the mind to tell?"
She shook her head. "I won't tell."
He nodded. "I don't know how soon I will be alone with you long enough to give even a brief embrace."
She smiled small again and said, "But you will love me from afar. It is enough."
His eyes smiled, though his mouth did not, reminding Hermione that so far she had still failed to get a sincere, real smile from him. "That it is," he agreed. Then he kissed her gently, shortly but sweetly, and straightened. There was no one in the lounge, they were sure, but he put a disillusionment charm on himself none the less.
Hermione opened her door and found the lounge completely deserted, and she felt Severus as he walked by, reaching out an invisible hand and brushing her cheek with his fingertips before he was gone and she could see him no more. His door opened and closed, though she could not see him enter, and she closed her door, turning back to her bedroom. She went to the bathroom and brushed her teeth and her hair, returning to her bedroom to change when she had finished. Then she turned out the lights and curled up in bed, for the first time not aching and afraid of the dreams of Severus that would haunt her. She smiled into the darkness and drifted off to sleep, missing the familiar scent of the professor and pressing her face into her pillow as she slipped away from consciousness.
Severus made it back to his rooms, changing and cleaning himself up as well. He vowed—though quite reluctantly—that in the morning he would bathe and wash his hair until it was no longer greasy. Sighing, he slid under the blankets on his bed and shook his head at the darkness around him, picturing Hermione's smiling face and smirking before he fell asleep himself.
So I thought it might be fitting for me to write and publish the 15th chapter today, because today is my 15th birthday.. But here it is! I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!
About the chapter: I originally planned to have Hermione come back to Severus yet again and this time convince him, but then I realized how important it would be for Severus to be the one who instigated their reunion. The way I see it, by making his decision to 'be selfish for once' and actually go and tell Hermione the truth and ask her forgiveness, Severus has grown personally; he's finally accepting the fact that everything he does doesn't have to be for others, and he can do something for himself. Also, he was too proud and still the bully that Harry grew up with, and by taking the chance and giving Hermione the choice to reject him or love him, he is growing out of that and really becoming his own man. I thought that it was an important part of his development as a dinamic character.
Please review if you have a moment! Each and every review means so much and makes my day, and already I've had the best birthday ever because I woke up to plenty of reviews on yesterday's chapter! Thanks again to all of you for reading and/or reviewing! I love you all so very much! ~Taelr