"Would you stop trying to carve in runes into my carpet?"
She looked up blankly, temporarily stunned into silence and a stationary stance.
He could just feel the headache threatening; sighing, he pinched the bridge of his nose, to try and stave it. In the meanwhile, Hermione went to settle on the couch, wringing her hands and muttering about how she shouldn't have skipped some question or the other.
Personally, Severus knew that was a joke; no one accused Granger of missing a question, and lived to tell about it; no one except herself. And everyone knew she was along the same levels of Paranoia as one late Alastor Moody.
"Hermione."
No response.
"Granger!" He stood up, disturbing the papers he was working on, "Stop it!"
"What if I fail?!"
"It doesn't help with you moping around this way!"
Which Severus instantly knew, was the very wrong answer to say. Before he could say anything to alleviate it, brown eyes went dangerously bright, and her lower lip quivered. Severus mentally kicked himself, but honestly! She was getting on his last raw nerve.
He cursed all educational boards that took three weeks to grade Master exams and Thesis. Couldn't they bloody well just get it over with quickly? They were magical for Circe's sake! Did it really take three weeks of insufferable torture to tell the insufferable torturers to bugger off with their exam results?
He approached the now sobbing girl...err... woman, cautious and resigned. Ever since, he thought to himself and smiled mirthlessly, that fateful night, he had oftentimes seen the little girl worrying about her marks and fretting over her papers.
It was a bitter reminder of the fact that she had been his student; still was, technically, till the results were through. He cursed the Board of Magical Education again.
Where were those blasted owls? He knew she would have secured top rank, but she didn't believe it. She had responded to the one time he had said it aloud out of frustration, with "you're just saying that to be nice," to which he had sneered and reminded her just how much of a bastard he really was.
He mentally snorted. Nice and him? Probably not, even if his life depended on it.
He mercilessly stomped that small voice that said that perhaps that was not true, into the ground of his mental graveyard.
He sat down beside her and told her as gently as he could, "it will be alright, Hermione, you'll know soon enough."
She only sobbed harder and threw her arms around his neck, wetting his shoulder-chest with warm tears. He tried not to sneeze at the sudden attack on his nostrils by bushy brown hair, and adjusted the awkward embrace to be more comfortable.
Gently smoothing her hair, he pressed a kiss to the top of her head, firmly ignoring the suicidal cry of his ever-so-sharp nature, and the triumphant whoop of the newly un-dead small voice, see previous murder of.
"There, there," he soothed not really knowing what else to say.
She mumbled something into his chest, and he smiled slightly; "Pardon? I don't speak Mumble very well."
To which she pinched his neck slightly.
"OW!"
"Git."
"Know-it-all."
"Berk."
"Woman," and then shortly, "OW! Stop pinching me!"
He could feel her smile against his shirt. It was worth it, he decided, to make a fool of himself once a while, if it was of course secret and never heard of outside the room.
"You think I would fail."
"Haven't I made it clear to you before?"
"But what if I do?"
He pulled back and she finally met his eyes; so brown, still misted over, scared, vulnerable...
He didn't remember even finishing that thought, seeing that his mind was currently occupied with exploring the taste of her lips and the hint of tea and lemon, and the scent of her hair, and how much he loved kissing her. This was gentle, and tender and passionate and he wanted to show her that he was there, no matter what...
He pulled back abruptly, and confused brown eyes met startled black ones. Where did that train of thought come from?
She met his gaze, kept it that way. At least the fear had faded, taken over by curiosity.
"Marry me, Hermione."
She looked stunned, and he supposed he did too. He had no idea where that came from either. It was really disturbing that his mind was plotting with his tongue against him. It was not fair, not one bit! He would have stomped a foot, had his company been naught but himself.
He refrained, but only just.
The stunned expression melted into one of anger and petulance. Oh, Oh.
He should really learn to shut up, or rather get his faculties under control, in future to prevent such suicidal moves, if he ever survived this one.
"I don't need you to make things all better! Not you, for pity!"
What? He did nothing as she got up to storm out. He sighed. This was becoming a habit.
And the disturbing part was, he wanted to stop her. "Where's your self respect man! Not a shred of dignity, have you?" his hysterical mind screamed as he automatically got up to catch her before she left and warded her Floo. Again.
The last time was lesson enough. Right nasty piece of work that curse was. Couldn't stop himself from uttering random words for nearly a day after.
She later (unjustly smug she was about it too) explained that it was a good lesson to be stuck with saying things you possibly regret, seeing that he had a habit of cutting with words.
He hadn't spoken to her for a week after that.
Here they were again.
"I'm not joking!" he said, surprised by his own vehemence, catching her arms and forcing her to look at him.
"Severus, I don't want you to do it to make me feel better. I know you want to tell me that in case I fail, this will somehow make it better bearable. This will not, in any case, do so."
"Hermione," he searched for words and let her go. At least she wasn't crying anymore.
"Severus..." she said, "I love you, and I have said it enough times, but..."
"You don't want to marry me. I get it," he let her go, suddenly cold and distant. Hermione felt lost.
"I want to."
"Now it is you who wishes to pity me?" he turned back to her and sneered his best one. "Be that as it may, I do not require your pity. You may leave if you wish." He spun on his heel and tried to leave before his emotions were given away.
He wanted to kill something; slowly and painfully.
Right now, it would have to be his non-bastard side. It was that which has made him see this ... this... humiliation.
No longer. Not anymore. Fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice, shame on me.
His haste was fuelled by his anger, which was quickly morphing into the feeling he had locked away so many years ago, behind stony eyes and expressionless face.
"Severus!"
He walked on. He passed a mirror, glancing to see his hair glowing, casting an eerie light on his face, twisted into a mask of self loathing.
He felt her behind him, and opened his mouth to tell her to stay away, for her own good.
She opened hers first; in a scream that jolted him out of his trance, and whipped him around in time to see her be thrown into the nearest wall, clutching her hand to her chest, face contorted with pain.
"Hermione," he said , once he was able to make sure he was in control. She looked up and for an instant he didn't recognise her.
Face twisted into a cynical smile that looked ugly on a face that was meant to only smile in kindness and joy, Hermione Granger looked at him with a deep look of pure and utter sorrow.
He had caused this, he thought, when he was too lost to notice that she was only trying to reach out to him.
In that moment, time was frozen, and the distance stretched between them, yawning like a widening rift. He knew that if he didn't move now, it would be too wide for him to cross again.
How did it come to this?
His feet carried him forward, and it saddened him that she visibly flinched, like the wounded animal would, when he kneeled in front of her.
"I'm..." he hesitated and looked away; it was hard enough to look at her.
He didn't have to finish that statement. "Don't" she said sharply, and brought her un-injured hand to touch his face. "That you're here, is enough," she smiled at him, and there was so much kindness in her touch and smile that Severus was afraid he would drown.
He nodded quietly and took her hand in his, singing softly while he traced his wand over the charred angry skin there.
She felt more than she saw the single drop of liquid that fell to the sensitive skin of her palm. She didn't say a word, but she couldn't help but touch the top of his bent head, leaving her fingers to just graze the fine strands. She felt him tense but only for half a moment, before the singing resumed.
The skin would be tender, but not for more than two days or so, judging by the amount of effort he had to put in to heal it. It was highly surprising, that he could still lose control, what was unsurprising was why he had lost it. He hadn't felt this strongly about losing someone in over eight years.
He had killed the last one himself.
He was broken from his reverie when he heard someone call his name. Bringing himself to the present, he watched the play of emotions on her fair flawless face.
"Marry me."
Severus was lost for words. And then it struck him as her apology for earlier. He had the opportunity to turn her down this time, he could sneer in her face, mock her girlish dreams, or he could just walk away without a word.
He could break her.
"If that's what you wish," he said instead, and watched as her face glowed like a spring morning sun. He couldn't help but smile in return, and try not to wince at the sudden force in her embrace.
He felt, at this moment, like he had wanted to feel all these years; the kind he came so close to with all his achievements, but never really reached the goal. He felt free, he felt cared for, and he felt not just like a pawn, or a rich benefactor or someone with power.
He felt happy.