Author's Note: So sorry for the delay, friends. Getting ready to finish school and get married and all that. I hope you enjoy this! I'm already working on Chapter 11 so that should be out much more quickly now. Love you all!

Chapter 10: You Belong with Me

"Love- we need it now

Let's hope for some

Cause oh, we're bleeding out

I belong with you, you belong with me."

-The Lumineers, "Ho Hey"

"Go on," he said, and the grey owl pushed heavily off his arm and out into the blue morning light. He climbed back in bed, watching it soar and circle the astronomy tower before ducking into an open window.

He smiled to himself at the image her waking up to the owl carrying his message, stretching out in the big bed in her head girl room. Still, he wished he could have just rolled over and whispered the words in her ear, that he could wake holding her. But she had yet to convince him to let her stay; he was too afraid to fall asleep with her.

The Christmas holidays were winding down, and students and professors were trickling back to Hogwarts; still few enough that their time together went unnoticed, but Severus worried that soon, he may see Hermione much less frequently.

They hadn't spoken about allowing others in on the secret of their relationship, nor had they defined it. Severus detested the word "girlfriend;" it sounded juvenile and petty. What Hermione was to him was so much more, and he was tentatively beginning to believe she felt the same way. Would she want to call him her boyfriend? What's more, to whom would she use that term? It was understood, Severus knew, that their relationship, in whatever terms, would need to remain unrevealed so long as she was a student. And then?

Severus leaned back against the pillows. Well, I suppose it's better this way. She didn't need the shadow of his reputation on her life. Severus wondered vaguely if she was ashamed of him. He wasn't sure, but it seemed likely; he was everything to be ashamed of.

But for him... no. He wanted to take her out and kiss her in public and have the whole wizarding world know that he had done something (what, he still wasn't sure) to deserve her, that she saw something in him to care for, so maybe he wasn't as horrible as everyone thought. Perhaps if Hermione could accept him, so too could the rest of their world.

Unfortunately, Severus understood that it didn't work like that. She would have to obliviate every witch and wizard in Europe to make them stop hating him. On the contrary, her own reputation was likely to suffer by association. That's why their relationship had to remain a secret.

But that was fine, because she belonged to him.

There was a slight rustling in the kitchen, but before Severus could climb out of bed and investigate, Hermione appeared in his bedroom doorway, looking quite lovely in her pink striped pajamas.

"I thought I wrote 'nine?'" Severus was surprised but thrilled to see her.

She shrugged, climbing into bed next to him. "I didn't want to wait. And anyway, I knew you were already up." She shimmied between the sheets and closer to Severus, tucking herself up under his arm. She kissed his cheek. "Do you want me to leave?"

Severus growled and wrapped her so tightly in his arms that she couldn't have gone even if she wasn't being coy.

Hermione giggled as she snuggled against him, and he wound his hand up under her top, resting it against her ribs.

"Severus!" She gasped, squirming, "your hands are freezing!"

"Mmmph," he mumbled into her neck, tucking his cold hand more securely between her and the bed. She shivered and he pulled her in closer, conscious of his growing erection, which pressed against her bottom. This did not escape Hermione; she wriggled playfully against him.

"Mmm," she said playfully.

Severus pushed her hips away from his. "Sorry," he whispered.

Hermione rolled over so that they lay face-to-face under the covers. She gently thumbed his cheek. "What are you apologizing for?" she asked, brows knitted.

Severus shrugged. "I can't help myself."

"I don't want you to!" She laughed.

"It's too soon."

Hermione sighed dramatically, flopping onto her back. "How many times do I have to say it, Severus?" she exclaimed, exasperated. "I am an adult, I can make my own decisions, and I want this." She faced him, sliding her own hands under his shirt. "I want you."

He wanted her, too. So badly. But he couldn't shake the fear that if she really knew him-all of him-that she might not want him for long.

It wasn't that he was self-conscious of his scars; no, he wasn't that vain. But the stories behind them were more than he cared to burden Hermione with. He couldn't stand to have her pitying him. All he wanted was to move forward, her by his side, and forget everything else. But he was a coward.

"Stop." He pulled away and got out of the bed. "I'm sorry, I just can't."

Hermione sat up in bed, looking utterly dejected. "Why not?" Her tone had gone from indignant to hurt, and Severus regretted it.

He didn't answer.

"Why not?" She repeated. "Severus, Why won't you let me take off your shirt?"

He didn't answer. So she'd noticed a pattern.

"It's not a big deal," she said, winding her hands in the sheets.

He was becoming frustrated, the heat rising in his face. He couldn't speak, couldn't find the words to explain to her why it was a big deal, why he feared his mutilated body would somehow tell her who he really was. And then she'd leave.

"How do you know?" he asked, whispering to the floor.

"What?"

"How do you know?!" he almost yelled at her. She looked scared. "How do you know it isn't a big deal?!"

She watched her hands, tangled in the covers, for a long time. Then she climbed out of bed and stood before him, her hands on her hips.

"Because I've seen you shirtless before."

"What? No you haven't."

"Yes I have."

"When, may I ask, did that occur?"

"When I came to St. Mungo's."

"Oh. Right" Severus considered her brave eyes and the touches of

apprehensiveness behind them. He thought of that awkward morning: Weasley's foul expression and Potter's handshake and... "Wait, I was wearing a hospital robe when you were there." There was a tense silence for a moment before she answered.

"Not the first time," she nearly whispered. He stared at her, confused.

"You came before?" His stomach dropped. If she had been there before he was

conscious, she would have seen...

"Yes." She whispered, lowering her eyes to the ground.

"Alone?"

"Yes."

"And I was..." He trailed off. His insides twisted in pain at the thought of what

she'd seen: an emaciated and pale version of himself suffering the worst physical

pain he'd ever known, writhing and thrashing and...

She nodded.

"Oh, fuck." She saw me, all that pain...

"Y-yes. I... I didn't know you weren't well. I just knew you were there, and I wanted to talk to you, so I went... they hardly let me in to see you..." She spoke rapidly as a blush rose to her cheeks. " I was just there for a moment, and I..."

"Stop."

She stood frozen there in her pajamas, her hands half-reaching to him and tears pooling in her eyes. "Severus," he lips moved, but no sound came out.

Severus struggled to remember. He found bits and pieces of those weeks in the hospital: cursing the Healers, vomiting after every meal, and the pain. Oh, the pain. As though someone held a searing knife to his throat and slashed it over and over again. He couldn't breathe, he couldn't sleep. He couldn't think.

But nowhere in those memories could he find Hermione, not until she visited with Potter and Weasley. But she'd been there. And she'd seen him at his absolute worst: struggling to live when he wanted so badly to die.

He sank into his chair, his head resting in his hands. All this time, she's know. She's know the very worst of you, and yet here she is in your room, your bed, claiming to want you.

Severus didn't move for a long time, not even when Hermione knelt timidly before him and found the back of his neck beneath his hair, caressing the skin there. It felt nice, but he couldn't meet her eyes.

"Why didn't you tell me?" he whispered after a long time.

"I was scared."

"Of me?"

She smiled sadly. "No, of course not."

"Of what then?"

Hermione was quiet, stroking his neck. Finally, she spoke.

"I was afraid that I knew, even then, that I was in love with you."

His head snapped up, his eyes wide. "You're in love with me?"

She nodded, biting her bottom lip.

"Are you sure?"

She laughed, the tears in her eyes finally spilling over. "Yes, of course I'm sure!"

"Even though you know... everything?" He couldn't bring himself to accept what she said.

"Severus!" She was laughing and crying, looking at him as though he was the daftest person she'd met. "This is not an exam! I love you, alright?"

He nodded, now unable to speak. Did her love her too? It was overwhelming, to suddenly realize he might, only after discovering he had no secrets from her after all.

He wound his hands in her hair, looking into her eyes and wanting terribly badly to kiss her.

"Hermione," he nearly whispered, "I have no desire to be apart from you ever again. I find you inexplicably fascinating and painfully attractive, and when I think of you, I often feel as though I'm about to explode. Is that love?" He asked genuinely, for he feared he wasn't quite sure.

Slowly, she nodded. "Professor, I'm afraid it just might be."

He pulled her against him. "Well then Miss Granger, I must inform you that I am completely and irrevocably in love with you."

Severus sat on the edge of the bed, hands on his knees.

"Go easy on me," he told her. "I'm still a little nervous."

She kissed his forehead in response.

He warily pulled up the hem of his shirt, slowly pulling the black fabric over his head. He looked at neither himself nor her, but at a spot past her elbow. It was strange, after a lifetime of hiding, to bare himself to someone.

Her warm hands came to rest on his shoulders, and he relaxed a little. Slowly, she traced the fingertips of one hand from his left ear to his right shoulder. The worst, first.

"Nagini," she said. It wasn't a question, but he nodded.

She climbed around him and onto the bed, her hands never leaving his skin. The only thing that makes this bearable.

He felt her fingers along the thin white line, healed cleanly, on his left shoulder blade.

"Dolohov. His was worse." Her lips replaced her hands as she kissed the scar. Mmm.

Then was the jagged but shorter pink scar on his ribs. Her hands felt nice, but this was difficult.

"Voldemort. Or actually he had Yaxley do it. But I always hated the Imperious Curse, and I wouldn't go easily." She didn't speak, but kissed that one too.

Her fingers found the stretched pink line along the waistband of his pants, and he breathed in sharply, shaking his head. No, not that one. I can't.

Hermione wound her arms around his shoulders, holding him from behind.

"No secrets," she whispered in his ear, repeating what he'd said earlier when he'd suggested this activity. He nodded and she let go, tracing the line again. "It looks old, "she remarked, "like it happened when you were a kid."

"It was my mother."

She said nothing, just bent to kiss his back.

She moved on quickly, finding a short, thick purple knot near the base of his neck.

"Cruciatus. Can't remember who exactly... one of the Death Eaters." She kissed it.

Then a oddly-shaped white line made almost a spiral on his ribs.

"That one was actually the Dark Lord," he told her. "All kinds of dark magic, to test my loyalty after he killed Lily."

It was out before he knew what he'd done. Hermione's fingers stopped moving, and he felt her tense behind him. She was still for a moment.

"Hermione?"

"Go on... I... it's okay." she began to trace another scar. But her voice was strained.

"I'm sorry," he offered.

"You don't have to be sorry," she told him, dotting a kiss at the center of the spiral. "You loved her, I understand."

They continued their morbid game, Hermione tracing and kissing the scars and Severus telling sometimes painful stories about their origins. But now he could only think of Lily. Had he really loved her? He'd certainly thought he had. But Lily had never loved him. Hermione did: part of the reason he loved her was because she loved him in return. He wasn't sure if it was possible, after all, to love someone the way he had thought he loved Lily. For that's what it was afterall, right? Hadn't he loved only the thought of her?

Hermione finished off the game with a kiss to his left palm, the scar there gained from a nasty duel in his Hogwarts years.

"My turn," she announced, rolling up her sleeves. She extended her arm to him, her "MUDBLOOD" scar standing out pink against her skin. "This one, you already know about," she began, "and this one," she pointed to a white patch on her elbow, "was from roller skating when I was six, so we'll skip that one."

"Hermione." She stopped examining her body and looked up at him.

"Hmm?"

"I have to ask you a question."

"Alright." She looked apprehensive.

"Um, do you... I mean, when you were together, did you love Weasley?" The words were hard to say; he didn't want to think about it.

She rolled her eyes. "Severus, please..."

"No really, I want to know."

She glared at him. "No, I didn't."

"Are you sure?" He wouldn't meet her eyes.

"What? Yes, of course I'm sure!"

"What about Krum?"

"Severus!" She rolled over and pinned him to the bed, her hips over his and her hands holding his wrists down. "Look at me!" she ordered. He gazed up into her hazel eyes, full of fire, and she lowered her face to his, aligning them nose to nose. "You," she whispered, "are the only man I've ever loved. My very first, as infuriating as you are."

He smiled up at her, the grin uncomfortable on his normally grim face.

"Hermione," he told her, "I think you're my very first as well."