Severus stood by the slightly opened window, breathing in the fresh pre-dawn air, filled with the scent of herbs growing in Hermione's orchard. She had a vast land here, Severus felt a tang of pride in his heart when he observed the garden with a pensive gaze. There were plants in every corner he noticed, and some of them he recognized, like the white flowers which were used to cure a number of illnesses. Some had green leaves, others pink petals, and a few looked entirely different. There was a rose bush that was covered with tiny orange blooms, and another with purple ones, she liked toying with magical greenery, creating and modifying the already existing forms. All thanks to her friendship with Longbottom, sod him. Severus suppressed a sigh. Who would have thought? It was the bane of his teaching existence, Neville Long-bloody-bottom who helped cure both, Severus' post-war wounds and Hermione's parents. It was his exotic herbs that helped create the base for Memory potions.
Surprisingly, Snape wasn't even jealous. Time had definitely changed the whole lot of them. Even Longbottom no longer seemed the insufferable idiot he'd been. Now he was serious, a real man with responsibility, an adult who was trying to protect people and care about his students. Snape had strong suspicions that Minerva would name him her successor when the time would come. The next Head of Gryffindor.
One unnoticeable moment, like a flap of butterfly wings, could change the outcome of some grand situation. For example, Hermione once told that very same Longbottom about the misfortune of her parent's modified memories. Or Draco, Snape's godson, making friends with Hermione once the trials over his own parents were over and Draco was drinking his stress away with elven mead at Hogwart's kitchens. His witch joined his godson, they had drunk themselves blind and surprisingly acquired friendship as a bonus.
Since when Hermione had turned into being Severus' witch? The slip of his tongue, even if he was having a conversation with his inner voice right now, didn't surprise him at all. He didn't know what it was exactly he felt for Hermione, but he didn't mind developing those feelings further. Gratitude. Warmth. Deep connection. Admiration. Confusion. Affection. A feeling of safety. He wasn't the most romantic soul, hell, in the previous timeline he barely could put the words "affection" and "Severus Snape" in the tome one thousand pages thick. Yet, he liked what he felt about her. And that night, the only night they spent together still lingered in Severus' sensory memory. The way her body fit perfectly into his lean frame. The touch of her lips, hesitating over his too pale skin. Her gentle nuzzling against his throat until he gave in, giving in to the sensation of her mouth on his neck. The way her arms wrapped themselves firmly around him while her fingers played absentmindedly with his silken locks. Those simple touches left him speechless. The look of awe in her big and sad amber eyes. The way fire reflected in her gaze, hen she hid in his embrace. The little, tiny smile on her lips as she snuggled into his chest... She didn't try to deny it any longer, she knew it was true. And Severus was certain as well.
So he decided, that there was nothing left to lose. If he loved Hermione Granger – no, if he loved Hermione – he should at least gather his wits and had a serious talk with her. He had to find the courage to admit that he was a fool, too noble to accept his own happiness. It was time to be honest with himself and with his love.
He gently moved her hand away so as not to wake her up and sat upright on the couch, facing her, curling neatly beside him, legs tangled together, her right palm cushioning her cheek on the pillow. It wasn't easy. Every second of their intimacy still felt surreal to him. The warmth spread in his heart again, when he remembered that particular flap of butterfly wings that changed their "Master-Apprentice" relationship into a friendship.
The anniversary of Dumbledore's death was approaching with the inevitability of doom, hanging over Severus' head. He was particularly mood two weeks prior, snapping at each and everyone, Hermione included. His too-eager Apprentice was an easy target, for she always eyed him with that too understanding look in her eyes, that made Severus ashamed of himself. Yet, he went on with his terrible temper. In fact, he was a complete mess during those days, pacing the halls, and snarling at everyone and none in particular. Of course, Granger had nothing to do with his anger. It was humiliating yet relieving. His dark thoughts began to fade away.
So, the evening of the anniversary found Severus sitting in his cold chambers, the windows wide open, letting the wind and stormy weather in. Snape had been smoking, playing with the charm that the late Headmaster had taught him in a fit of senility. The plums of smoke turned into snakes and lizards before fading away high up in the nightly skies. This strange state of trance calmed Snape's heavy thoughts. As if by some mysterious coincidence, the doors to his chambers opened, the wards letting Hermione in. She stepped in quietly, and the tray of something steaming in porcelain cups followed her. She shivered but didn't make an attempt to invade his privacy by closing the windows. She sat on the nearby chair and sipped from her cup.
"My Granny used to say that there's no problem that herbal tea couldn't cure. Insane and overly optimistic it might have sounded back that time, but during my darkest days, I often remembered her words... So, I decided to give it a try tonight."
She sat quietly by Snape, sharing his mourning. For both of them had the reason to mourn on that stormy night. Neither of them spoke a single word. They simply drank their tea and watched the clouds passing by outside, occasionally stopping in front of the windows to let more raindrops down. Empty shells of people they once had been, they found comfort in their mutual presence. Finally, Hermione broke the silence,
"I never realized just how lonely you must have been..."
"I don't need your pity, Granger."
She laughed humourlessly. Severus could tell that she had been crying.
"You've been alone for too long."
It was as if a switch had been flipped within him. Severus spared her a sideways glance, shrugged, and lit the fire in the fireplace with a careless flick of his wrist. Hermione stopped shivering, wiped her tears with the back of her hand, and smiled at him.