Hermione opened her eyes, blinking to clear her vision. She focused on the room and realized she was in her own rooms in the teachers' quarters. The bedroom looked familiar and the orbs on the ceiling were glowing dimly, brightening the room with just enough firelight-colored glow to see.
Hermione's attention was taken from the bedroom's features when she felt something lightly squeeze her hand. She looked down and saw that her hand was held in a larger, paler one. She caught sight of the black cloak that covered the wrist of whoever held her hand, and her eyes followed the dark fabric up, along the arm of the person. They led her to be looking into the face of the man she'd feared she would never see again. He wasn't looking at her, but had his pale face turned downward and his dark eyes unfocused. He looked deep in thought, lost in his musing and unaware of his surroundings.
There were circles under his eyes, darker than usual and presumably from worry or lack of sleep. There was an open potions book in his lap, and she watched as he shifted in his seat, turning his eyes to it. When he shifted his position in his chair beside the bed he squeezed her hand lightly again, probably without meaning to. His eyes followed the lines of words, but she could see in them that he wasn't seeing the words at all or taking in their meaning. He seemed unable to do such a thing.
Hermione wondered, was she dead? Was this heaven or some kind of afterlife? Was Severus dead? Were they both ghosts? If they were, then would they be bound to Hogwarts, or could they come and go as they pleased?
She watched Severus as she thought, and as soon as she focused on his face again all of her thoughts and ponderings settled on the breeze. She found herself admiring his face, the very same face she had hated and been disgusted by at times in the past. His pale skin seemed to glow in the low light, just as it had so many months before when she'd cared for him while he was suffering from the dark mark and its pain. His hooked nose didn't seem half as ugly and bent as it had when she was a student. His long hair looked sleek and clean, and it wasn't tangled or greasy. His eyes were dark, but they weren't black. Rather, they were the melted chocolate color that had always transfixed her and made her worries vanish and disappear because those eyes were so wonderful to look at.
The long fingers of his free hand were holding the potions book on his knee, and the fingers on his other hand were wrapped around her hand gently. She found his touch comforting and almost felt as if there was peace and healing spreading through her from the hand that he was touching. His grip on her hand tightened suddenly as he closed the book with a thump and dropped it onto the floor beside his chair. In spite of his obviously being upset and his apparent desire to throw the book across the room for some reason, he did all of these things rather quietly. As soon as he realized he was holding her hand tighter his eyes turned to her hand and he loosened his grip. He started to let go and pull his hand away, and Hermione felt as she had the day he came to her rooms to confess his love for her and admit that he had lied; if she let go of him now, he might be gone and never be hers again.
It didn't take as much effort as she expected, and she bit her lip, grabbing his hand to keep him from drawing it away. As soon as she moved he froze, and she laced her fingers through his. He set his hand on the edge of the bed along with hers, squeezing hers lightly, but his eyes weren't on their hands anymore. She looked up into his face, and he was looking back.
They stared at each other in silence for a few moments.
Severus looked down at her. There were no words to express how relieved he was to see her brown eyes staring back at him, bright and full of questions. And she was biting her lip. He said nothing about this, but did raise an eyebrow and smirk at her.
Rather than asking what had happened after she died—if that was what had happened—she stopped biting her lip when he raised his eyebrow and raised her own, asking, "What are you doing in my rooms?"
Of all the questions she could have asked first, this was not what Severus expected. He rolled his eyes. "Minerva decided—against Pomfrey's arguing, and only because of Albus' insisting—that I should be your caretaker and nurse you back to health."
Hermione processed this information. So she wasn't dead then. And now their positions had been switched; once upon a time it was she who sat by the bedside and tended carefully to the weak person in the bed. "Nurse me back," she mumbled, looking away from his face before jerking her head around to face him and exclaiming, "But, what about classes? What day is it?"
Severus rolled his eyes again and then smirked down at her. "Of all the things you could be concerned about, you worry over classes?" he asked, his amusement thick in his voice.
She waited impatiently for him to answer her questions.
Seeing this, he said, "Today is Sunday."
She stared into space for a moment and then looked back to him again. "But then did everything happen yesterday?"
He raised his eyebrows, silently asking whether she knew the answer to her own question.
Her mouth opened in surprise. "It's been a week," she said matter-of-factly.
He nodded. Before she could ask about classes, he supplied generously, "Minerva has taken over transfiguration until you recover and are able to teach again. And while I am caring for you, a rather . . . unexpected . . . someone has taken over defense against the dark arts so that Slughorn is able to teach potions in my place."
Hermione nodded, though she didn't know who the new defense against the dark arts teacher was. Professor Slughorn had been teaching that class, but he had taught potions at Hogwarts in the past and Hermione wasn't surprised that he had taken the chance to go back for just a bit. "Who's taken over for Slughorn?"
Severus smirked down at her and said, "Malfoy," without any apparent interest in the subject.
Hermione stared at him. "Draco?"
He nodded, obviously amused by her stunned reaction.
"When did he get here? When did he leave Saint Mungo's? Merlin, what's Minerva thinking, letting him teach?!"
Severus smirked at her once more. He explained that it was Draco who had saved them the night they were in the Chamber of Secrets and told her everything that had happened there. She listened with rapt attention, eyes wide as the story unfolded.
Severus had taken her to the hospital ward in the school and to Madam Pomfrey, leaving her there to go back to the headmistress' office. He and Draco had been on their way to the door of McGonagall's office to leave for their rooms when Pomfrey's patronus flew through the door and announced that Hermione was, in fact, alive, though only just barely. The witch had been completely flabbergasted by the fact that Hermione had survived. The three people in the office had then quite literally run up to the hospital ward and stood around Hermione's bed.
Severus recalled feeling more than panicked as he hurried with the other two; if Hermione was alive, then was she going to recover? And if she had died and it was a mistake, he didn't think he could bear to see her like that after so much hope had coursed through him in such a short time.
Draco had come back to Hogwarts as soon as he was released from the hospital because he wanted, against his mother's desires, to come and thank Hermione for saving his life. He also wanted to stand in front of the school—this was also something his mother objected to—and tell all of them there just how sorry he was that he had ever been involved with the dark lord and that he could never give back the people who were killed because of the things that he did, but that he could only give them his most sincere apology. He had been on his way down to the teachers' lounge after stopping in the headmistress' office and asking where he ought to stay the night and apologizing to her. That was when he passed Moaning Myrtle's bathroom and decided he had felt like being nice and stepping inside to say hello.
He had taken one look at the open tunnel to the Chamber of Secrets and known what it was and that whoever was down there hadn't told McGonagall. Suspecting that it was a couple of disobedient students, he had gone down with his wand drawn and under a disillusionment charm. The entrance to the chamber itself had also been open and waiting, and he'd slipped inside as quietly as possible. He found Severus and Hermione and of course he recognized Rookwood and his accomplice. He'd known what was happening immediately and stopped using the disillusionment charm, petrifying the shorter death eater and disarming Rookwood.
Severus had already explained what happened after that, including the things Draco had said, even though he knew that the young man probably wouldn't have wanted them repeated. When she heard what the boy she'd once considered an enemy had said to her supposedly dead body, there were tears in her eyes. "I need to thank him," she said.
Severus smirked and said, "I'm sure that there will be a long line of people waiting to see you once the news gets out that you're conscious."
Then the story went on. After they had gotten to the hospital ward and found Hermione alive, Severus had argued that she would be more comfortable in her own quarters than in the hospital ward if she was going to recover, and had suggested getting someone to take care of her there. He had never even thought to volunteer himself, but Minerva had agreed that Hermione would want to be in her own rooms and they had all gone back to her office to talk once Hermione was in a more stable state. Then, to all of their surprise, the portrait of Dumbledore had told Severus that he was going to take care of her. He hadn't even said a word about it to McGonagall or asked Severus if that was what the potion master would be comfortable doing, and had given It as an order. Severus hadn't argued, and there had ensued a long quarrel between the headmistress and the healer over whether Hermione should stay in the hospital ward or not, and then another argument between the headmistress and Dumbledore over who was in charge and whether Severus should look after Hermione.
Kingsley had come and taken the remaining death eater to Azkaban after getting a full report from Draco and Severus about what had happened. The Minister had looked at Draco a bit differently after hearing his story and what he had done, and there was some surprised—but pleased—respect in his eyes.
McGonagall had said that she would teach in Hermione's place until she was well and asked Slughorn the following day if he would teach potions. She had planned on asking another old friend to come and teach defense against the dark arts, and Draco had offered to take care of it in the two days before the friend was to arrive. Minerva had agreed, not even worried that something would go wrong, and had checked up on his classes regularly.
She had been astounded by this new person she was seeing; this was not the Draco Malfoy who had grown up coming to Hogwarts or the one who had tried and failed to kill Dumbledore. This wasn't a boy, but a man. And this man had his own new set of standards that he was living up to. His classes went well, and he was exceptionally patient with his students and good at teaching them. He hadn't even gotten upset or angry when someone talked loudly on their way out of class about his past wrongdoings.
It was Minerva who asked if he would keep teaching the class until Hermione was well and Slughorn could take over again. Draco had been hesitant to accept, explaining that his mother wanted him home and that he didn't feel in the least bit worthy of taking over the position of defense against the dark arts teacher, as it had been taken by so many great witches and wizards before him. (He had remarked here to the headmistress that the 'great witches and wizards' didn't include Umbridge)
He had eventually accepted though, at her insistence. Hermione was pleased to find that he hadn't asked for the temporary job, but been asked, begged even, to take it. It did sound as if he had changed and wasn't the same Draco she had known.
When the tale was done being told and Hermione's questions had been answered, there was silence for a while. Hermione glanced at the clock. It was very early in the morning. "It's early," she commented.
Severus nodded. His eyes hadn't left her face since he'd found that she was conscious.
"Why weren't you sleeping?" she asked.
He smirked. "I couldn't."
"And why not?"
He sighed and looked down at her. "I thought I'd lost you. For sure. And I keep . . . reliving it all."
Hermione blinked and squirmed in bed. He looked at her strangely. "Is something the matter?"
"Can you prop me up against my pillows?" she asked.
He did as she asked, and then sat back in his chair when he had finished. She felt better, sitting up. She turned and looked at him after a moment. "I'm sorry."
He blinked in surprise, still looking at her face. "What?"
She smiled, but it was a sad smile. "I'm sorry."
"And what could you possibly be sorry for?" he asked.
She looked down and then back up again. "It's my fault that-"
"No." He stopped her from saying more. "If anyone is to blame for what happened a week ago, it is myself. Not you. It was never you."
Hermione sighed, knowing that it was no point to argue with him, and stayed silent. After a while she asked, "If Rookwood's plan had actually been finished, and we'd both been killed . . . what . . . what would your greatest regret be?"
He was quiet for a moment, looking at her for a long time before blinking and saying, "That . . . is an interesting question."
Hermione frowned and squirmed where she sat until she was facing him more. "You aren't going to tell me?"
Now he frowned as well, though it wasn't from agitation. He seemed thoughtful and disappointed in himself rather than her. "No. But not for the reasons you assume. I would tell you anything you asked, answer any question, but I can only do that truthfully if I have an answer. I don't believe I know what I would regret most. I have done many terrible things in my life worth regretting," he mused, still watching her face.
"Stop," she said, looking irked.
He raised his eyebrows. "What was it that I did to make you upset?"
She bit her lip and then looked him in the eye, taking his one hand in both of hers. "You were thinking over all the things worth regretting."
He smirked at her. "Is that not what you asked me to do?"
She glared at him, though it wasn't genuine. "I asked you to answer a question, not to mull over every little thing you've ever done wrong."
He continued to smirk at her, and she blew a stray curl out of her face and rolled her eyes at him. He let his gaze drop to their hands, where she was still clinging to his tightly. Then his eyes returned to hers and he turned her own question on her. "If we had died," the last word came out softly, "what is it that you would regret most?"
Hermione bit her lip, thinking. She ignored his scowl that told her how much he disliked that she was "abusing" her lips again. She thought for only a moment before she stopped biting her lip and said, "I never made you smile."
He blinked in surprise. "What did you say?"
Hermione smiled at him gloomily. "I never made you smile. I would regret that most."
He blinked again and raised his eyebrows. "Out of the many things that you could regret about your life, you think you would regret failing to make me smile the most?" He sounded incredulous.
Hermione smiled, and it was a more pleased smile now. She said firmly, "No. I don't think that's what I would regret, I know it is. I did regret it. I thought I was dying, you know."
The matter-of-fact way she said it made the muscles in his neck twitch as he visibly clenched his jaw and unclenched it. She spoke so easily about her own death, as if it was all so much fun they had shared together. He shook his head at her and asked, "Why would you regret that more than loving me?"
Hermione laughed, but it was short and disbelieving. "What? No. Severus," she let go of his hand with one of her own and placed it on his cheek, as he was sitting close enough to reach, "I never regretted loving you. Never."
He frowned. "Not even when you were lying on the ground, too weak to express your pain by crying out and shaking because you didn't have the strength to twitch and twist to try and dispel the pain? Not even when you knew you were about to die? Not even when you knew that no matter how determined you were or loyal or good or strong, you would still die eventually? Not even when the world was going dark and the last face you saw was that of the man torturing you?"
His chest was heaving slightly with emotion. Hermione rubbed her thumb gently on his cheek. "Not even then," she whispered. His eyes had roamed the room as he talked, but they flicked back to her face when she spoke.
"You should have regretted it," he said sharply.
Hermione didn't flinch at his words. "I don't," she said simply. "And that's the end of it."
His face cleared, but only for his brow to crease once more as he asked, "Why would you regret that I hadn't smiled, when you could regret anything else. Surely it's not that important to you?"
Hermione smiled. "Of course it's that important to me. I wouldn't have regretted it as I did if it wasn't. And there are other things that might seem more important, but I would regret not making you smile more than those."
He shook his head at her again. Then, much to her amusement, he tried to smile. Of course, as it wasn't real, it was twisted and fake and looked rather gruesome.
"Stop," she said, laughing and gently pushing on his cheek to try and get him to obey.
Instead, he pulled his hand from her grasp and took the hand from his cheek in his own. She stopped fighting him and watched to see what he was doing. He lifted it and pressed his lips against the palm, closing her hand and completely enveloping it in both of his. She smiled lightly, biting her lip again. He scowled at her, not at all pleased with what she was doing. She shook her head lightly and continued to bite her lip just to annoy him. He rolled his eyes at her.
She had died. He had lost her. And then he had gotten a second chance. He wasn't going to mess things up this time. He had decided that, no matter how unsure and nervous he felt, he wasn't going to hold back based on his own fear. He would show her how much she meant to him.
She stopped biting her lip and smiled at him. Then her smile faded, and he watched her face, wondering what she was thinking. "Severus," she said after a while.
He had looked back down at her hand again and returned his gaze to her face so that they were looking into each other's eyes. "Hmm?"
"I don't feel so weak . . . do you think . . . I could try to walk?"
He sighed, smirking at her, and in response he put the hand of hers that he was holding on his shoulder and let it go, reaching for the other and putting it on his other shoulder. "Madam Pomfrey will kill me if she finds out about this," he said as he moved forward off of his chair and closer to the bed. He put his hands on her waist as she wriggled to the bedside and slipped off the edge and onto her bare feet.
She held onto his shoulders and he onto her waist, and after a moment or two she stood on her own, steadying herself by holding on to him. He walked backwards and she followed him, taking slow, small steps, faltering and stumbling here and there, but always he caught her. They walked a small circle around the bedroom floor and then he took her back towards the bed. Halfway there she stumbled and fell against him, but didn't move away. He smirked when she stood on her toes and locked her arms around his neck to hold herself up, still leaning against him. He let go off her waist and instead wrapped his arms around her, holding her close. The last time she'd been in his arms he was carrying her to the hospital ward, sure that she was dead and gone forever.
Hermione pressed her face into his chest and breathed in his scent, letting herself lean completely on him and closing her eyes, smiling into the fabric of his shirt. He let his chin rest on the top of her head and buried his nose in her hair, closing his eyes as well. They stood for a few precious moments like that, silent, lost in a world that only they shared, together. Hermione bit her lip, though he couldn't see it. Then she said, "I love you," into his shirt.
Her words were muffled by the fabric, but he heard. Those words he had thought only a week before that he would never hear from her lips again. He leaned away from her, still holding her up but not pressed against her any longer, and said, "You shouldn't."
She rolled her eyes and looked away. "I disagree," she said, looking back and staring into his eyes.
He smirked. "Back to bed with you; you've been sedentary for a week. I don't think it would be wise for you to go waltzing around after not moving at all for so long."
Hermione rolled her eyes again and tossed her head so her hair fell away over her shoulders and wasn't in her face anymore. At his words, she asked, "Did you ever go to a dance when you were a student here?"
He raised his eyebrows at her. "I believe you already know the answer to that."
She pouted, not liking that he hadn't really answered her question, and decided to use his often-given answer for statements about himself. "Do I?" she asked, eyes glinting.
He smirked as he leaned down and picked her up in his arms. He turned to face the bed and said, "Perhaps."
She repeated her question, "Did you ever go to a dance or a ball or something, though?"
He set her down on the bed and sighed when she refused to take her arms from around his neck. She held on to his shoulders and he took her hands from him one at a time, sitting back down in his chair. She gazed at him until he said, "I never went to a dance. There was a yule ball here when I was in school because of the Triwizard Tournament."
"Why didn't you go?" she asked.
He smirked. "I had only one girl I was willing to go with, and if she wasn't going with me then I was not going at all. Naturally, she was asked first by another boy, one who she actually liked in that way."
Hermione bit her lip. She knew he was talking about Harry's mum. "Lily," she said quietly.
"Yes, Lily," he said after a moment.
"A Gryffindor," Hermione said.
"A Gryffindor," he agreed.
"And a mudblood, like me," Hermione said.
Severus stiffened at the word. "No."
Hermione tilted her head to the side and looked at him quizzically. "No?"
Severus smirked. "She was a muggleborn. Like you."
"Like I said," Hermione nodded, "A mud-"
"No," he said again. Hermione waited, and he sighed. "I don't much care for the word. No wizard—pureblood, muggleborn, or half blood—is better than the other because of their birth." He looked away and Hermione watched his expression when he added, "Children don't have the privilege of choosing their parents."
Hermione looked at him in silence. Then her voice dropped and she asked softly, "What were they like?"
Severus' head jerked back and he looked at her. His eyes were momentarily dark, cold black again, but then they melted into brown once more. "My mother and father," he said, letting out his breath slowly, "were perhaps not the people I would have chosen if I'd had a choice."
Hermione waited in silence.
"My mother was a witch, as you know," he raised his eyebrows, and Hermione knew that he was aware of Harry's temporary possession of his old potions book and of her research on "The Half Blood Prince" that had led her to his mother's name. "She married a muggle man and didn't tell him until after they were wed that she had magical abilities. He hated magic and anything to do with it. My mother didn't dare tell him the truth when he asked whether she would pass on her abilities if they had children.
"He was a drunk, at least when I was growing up. He hated me as soon as he realized that I could do things like my mother could. He was abusive, cold, hard, never sober, and always short with us, my mother and me. She told me about a great wizarding school called Hogwarts, and from that moment on it was all I looked forward to. When my eleventh birthday came around I was so afraid that I wouldn't get the acceptance letter that I almost didn't get up in the morning."
"But you got it," Hermione said quietly.
He nodded. "I met Lily before then. I knew she was a witch, and we became friends before our letters came. After our first year, Hogwarts was all I had to look forward to. I could never wait to come back. It was my escape, the only time I could get away from home for very long. And my father hated magic, so I was not allowed to use it in the house or whenever he was around."
Hermione remembered what Harry had told her about Severus' memories, between the last one's he'd given and the ones Harry had seen by accident in the pensieve in his office one day after they practiced legilimency together. Severus had been bullied and abused at Hogwarts as well, but it was nothing compared to his home life.
"One year I came home from school and it was Lily's parents who brought be back because my own didn't show. I got to the house and found him, drunk, furious, yelling as always. She was gone." He stopped, staring dully into the distance.
Hermione felt a lump growing in her throat. His mother had been gone when he came home?
Severus took another deep breath and went on, "It was him. He did it. Killed her in his anger one day while I was gone. No one even sent me a letter to tell me or bring me home from school when it happened. She'd been gone for months when I made it home and found out." There was a pause, and then he said, unclenching his jaw, "I hated that man until the day he died."
"You carry his name," Hermione said quietly. "Why, if you hated him?"
He grimaced. "My mother gave it to me. I would have changed it, but didn't feel that I had the right to undo anything she had done. But I hated him. I hated his name. Everything about him." He looked back to Hermione. "I called myself the Half Blood Prince for a reason."
Hermione watched his face. Many conflicting emotions played across his features. He suddenly looked up at her and asked, "Doesn't it bother you?"
Hermione was abashed. "Wh- what?"
"Does it bother you, talking about Lily?"
"Lily?" Hermione looked at him and shook her head.
He looked at her strangely. "You ask about her freely, so I thought as much. It just seems as if you would feel . . ." he trailed off for lack of the proper word.
Hermione gave a small, crooked smile. "You thought I would be jealous, or feel awkward or strange, talking about her. Because you loved her first?"
Severus watched her face, but she didn't look upset. "That is what I assumed, yes."
Hermione nodded but said, "You were wrong. I respect her. And you. I don't feel strange talking about her."
Severus studied her expression and nodded. "You're so like her in some ways," he remarked quietly after a moment.
This surprised Hermione. "I'm honored that you think so."
He smirked and raised his eyebrows. Hermione opened her mouth to say more but closed it when she looked at the clock. He turned to look as well. He shook his head before she even asked. "No."
"But, I want to go to breakfast!" she insisted, pouting.
"You practically carried me up the stairs to the Great Hall once, and I could carry you but I think it's best you stay and eat here until you can walk on your own," he said calmly.
She frowned at him. But then it faded.
He leaned forward and she started edging towards the side of the bed, hoping he wouldn't notice. But as he was watching her, he saw what she was doing before she started doing it. She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, and he was actually looking at the clock rather than her, so she started to slip off the edge of the bed and-
Severus put his hand on her arm to stop her. His face was stern but his eyes were melted still and glinting with some sort of emotion. Hermione would have called it mischief had she not been convinced that Severus wasn't one who could be labeled as mischievous. "Please, stay in bed."
Hermione opened her mouth to argue when the door to the rooms opened and the headmistress appeared a moment later, pointing her wand at a tray of food that floated beside her. She saw Hermione and brightened immediately. "How do you feel?" she asked.
Hermione smiled. "Quite well, thanks."
Minerva nodded and set the tray on the bedside table, not noticing when Hermione scooted back over to where she belonged, on the middle of the mattress. The headmistress duplicated the tray and the food on it so there were meals for both of the people in the room with her, and then she turned on the man sitting in the chair beside the bed. "Severus," she scolded, "You were told to notify us as soon as she woke! How long has she been conscious?"
Severus replied, but Hermione wasn't listening. She moved along the top of her sheets to the edge of the bed, slipping to the floor behind the headmistress and keeping her feet, feeling like a toddler as she tottered across the floor on tiptoe towards the bathroom door. Severus was listening to Minerva and answering her, but his eyes followed Hermione's progress across the room. She reached the bathroom without falling and closed the door behind her.
Out in the bedroom, Minerva was still scolding Severus. "Has she been out of bed already?" she asked, narrowing her eyes suspiciously.
"Of course not," Severus drawled. "You were quite clear about that; she is to stay in bed until Madam Pomfrey has decided she's well enough to leave."
The headmistress had leaned forward threateningly, and now backed off a bit. She nodded, looking satisfied, and turned to the bed. "You heard him, Hermione. No getting out of-" she stopped short, staring at the empty bed. "Merlin!" she shouted, turning on Severus. "WHERE IS SHE?!"
"It would appear," he said slowly, as if seriously considering where Hermione could have gone, "That she has left her bed."
The headmistress saw that the bathroom door was closed and ran to it, rapping on it sharply. Severus remained in his seat, smirking at the witch. He'd never seen her this way; she must really be concerned for Hermione. "Are you quite alright?" Hermione asked, opening the door and stepping out in front of Minerva.
The headmistress nodded dumbly for a moment. Hermione took her arm, looking like she pitied the older witch, and they walked back to the bed and Severus together. When Minerva left them to eat their food, Hermione sat on the edge of her bed and Severus sat in his chair. Hermione took a bite of her hot scone and said, "Now I'm sure that I'm not dead."
Severus looked amused. He hadn't taken his eyes off of her since he found that she was awake, as long as she was in the same room as him. When they had finished eating, Crookshanks jumped onto her bed with a meow, apparently having decided to show himself in spite of the strange man in their room. Hermione stroked the cat and read the newspapers, all of which were announcing in bold print that she and Severus had nearly died and that Rookwood was no longer on the loose. And all the while Severus didn't look away from her. Just as she had feared that if she let go of him he would vanish, he feared that if he looked away, she would be gone from his life forever, nothing but a memory.
She felt his gaze intensify and looked up. She looked at him questioningly. "Is something wrong?" she asked.
He gave an almost indiscernible shake of his head. They were both silent for a moment, gazing into each other's eyes. Severus blinked and looked away momentarily, but then he caught and held her gaze again. "I love you."
A smile tugged at the corners of Hermione's mouth when he said it. Not breaking eye contact, she said, "I love you."
Hello everyone! Please, pretty please, review if you have the time? I would love to know what you think of this chapter! There are still more to come, so thank you for sticking with me so far and please keep reading in the future! I love you all! ~Taelr