Chapter 20

Harry seems to be struggling with concentration the most. It could have something to do with that part of the Dark Lord inside his mind, but each time that she looks up, he's looking everywhere but at the open book in front of him.

'Harry, concentrate,' she whispers to him, not wanting to disturb Luna and Ron's reading.

A little startled, Harry looks across to her, then turns to Ron, only to return to her and whisper, 'Ron's fooling around too.'

True enough, when she directs her attention to Ron, he's not reading more than absently tracing his fingers over the words in the book, the sight of which irritates her enough to close and gather all three of her books together. In the next second, she pushes out of her chair and leaves them for the kitchen, which she passes through for the first step leading outside. Just as she is sitting down, Harry speaks from behind her.

'How do you read so much?'

'We need to know other things as well,' she answers without looking back. 'It's not all about finding those things.'

'And that book?' he asks once he takes up a place next to her. 'You still read it?'

Can't he see the book? Of course, she still reads it.

'It has a lot of useful information,' she answers him, beginning to close it instead of giving him a short response.

'Did you get it from Snape?' he asks a bit hesitantly, even shifting a little bit. 'I only mean... It can't be a library book when you've had it for so long.'

'It's a very useful book, Harry,' she softly argues, hoping that her eyes are pleading enough with him. 'We're dealing with dark magic and - '

'I know,' he accepts, effectively cutting her off. 'I'm just glad that you got to steal it from him.'

'I didn't steal it!'

He flinches at her tone, making like she'll hit him as he says, 'Okay, sorry. You don't steal. Least of all from Snape... And his potions' store...'

This Harry.

All right, fine, he has a point. She's taken things that never belonged to her, but this book, he gave to her. To her, especially now that she's away from him, it's like a present. For that reason, it's very important that he doesn't believe her to have taken it without his permission.

'Forget it,' she dismisses, turning back to her book to open it, except Harry places his hand on her book to keep her from getting immersed in it.

'Wait, Hermione…' he pleads with her. 'There's a reason I can't concentrate, so uh, I wanted to know about you and Ron.'

Gosh, she's so tired of this thing with Ron.

'We're nothing,' she shakes her head with a bit of sadness. 'We're friends, of course, but that's all.'

'He doesn't think so,' he reminds her, but he's at least sympathetic about it.

'I don't like him anymore,' she confesses with sinking shoulders.

'Yeah,' he scratches the back of his head. 'I wanted to ask about that. I've guessed for a while that you don't, and... Hermione, I snogged Ginny twice...'

She knows, comes the thought during his pause.

'But it's weird...' he carries on, looking at his hands. 'All the time that she was dating those boys, I wanted her to notice me, but now...' he pauses again, this time looking at her with a lost expression, and her sympathy just overflows for him.

'Don't you want that anymore?' she asks with proper concern, perfectly understanding what it's like to be unsure.

'Can we...' he asks and then spies behind them, where he either finds what he was looking for or something frightens him, because he suddenly gets up, inviting, 'Let's go,' and taking the lead away from the steps.

Although a little lost, she quickly gets up, pushing her precious book onto the step, then rushes to catch up with him and ask, 'Are you afraid that Ron might hear?'

Is he worried about what Ron would think about him kissing his sister?

'No!' he quickly answers, only to change to a soft, 'I mean not anymore. I was a little before, but now… Hermione, do you like Luna?'

Luna?

'She's…' is all that she can say for now.

Luna isn't a bad person, actually. She's very loyal and respectful, and... She's starting to wonder if she hasn't been unfair to Luna all the time that people were being mean to her, and she never stood up for her. Because from what she's gathered these days, Luna's really just herself and nothing else, in a small way, reminding her of Severus, just so himself as he is, without being apologetic about it; how then can she fault Luna when she accepts Severus as he is?

'I know. She's strange,' Harry agrees even without her completing her sentence, 'but it's always so easy talking to her. I'm never afraid of talking to her. I still think she's a bit coo-coo, but it's so easy to tell her everything when she asks. She really listens to me, and I think...'

He pauses there and as he does, looks at her like he needs her to complete his train of thought for him, but she only keeps her eyes on him expectantly to keep from jumping to conclusions.

'I was just wondering if maybe I like her,' he shrugs, choosing there to stand and then looks back as if to make sure that they're far enough for him to say what he just did. 'I hugged her last night,' he confesses, still looking that way. 'We were talking, and it just happened.'

Things don't just happen, she replies in her head.

There's always a reason to everything happening, whether one is aware of the reason or not. Even so, she can't to say that to a clearly conflicted Harry, which is why she pulls him down to sit cross-legged on the ground with her. For a little bit, she only studies his face, realising that just like she's growing older, he's also doing the same, probably discovering things about his feelings in a way that he can't ignore.

'Harry…' she then gathers herself enough to say. 'Do you think that you love Ginny?'

Honestly, as much as she's asking for his truthful answer, she's also asking for herself, or more accurately, for her own incertitude. Funny that she'd be uncertain about something, but she really is. On this one, she has as many answers as she's been able to give herself over the days, which are none. All that she really knows is that love is the stronger and much deeper version of liking someone, and not much more than that.

'I don't know,' he replies too quickly. 'You know everything, Hermione, not me. What's it like to love someone?'

She doesn't know, not really, and so with a faint smile directed at his compliment, she confesses, 'I'm not sure. I've been thinking a lot about it of late. Do you think we're too young to understand it?' her eyes search his face. 'I mean, I always thought that I'd like Ron for all my life, but I don't anymore –'

There'd been a time when she would've given up reading for a week just to have Ron see her the way that he sees her now, a time when even a chaste kiss on her hand would've made her bold enough not to revise three weeks before an exam – that much she'd wanted him to acknowledge her.

'- And remember, you liked Cho first and then Ginny, and now you think that you like Luna. My mum says that there are certain things about being an adult that have nothing to do with age, and I've just been wondering if we'll keep on changing our minds about fancying someone because we're young.'

It won't be like that, she hopes.

She'd simply hate it if she couldn't rely on her own feelings.

The idea that one day, she could stop liking Severus very much, stop wanting to discover everything there is to do about him, stop wanting to spend time with him, stop caring about what happens with his life, stop thinking about him, is unfathomable to her.

'I don't know, Hermione,' Harry shrugs after the short questioning silence. 'When Dumbledore was showing me Vol -' he gasps at the near slip, hastily stopping himself from getting them in trouble again. 'I mean You-Know-Who's mother's memory, he said something about love afterwards. She was also young when she fell in love with the Muggle boy, You-Know-Who's father, so I think it's normal to fall in love so young. My parents got married from school and they loved each other.'

Normal, yes, that she can agree with.

Her concern is if they might change their minds later on, given their own experiences as proof.

'My parents only were with each other as well,' she supports. 'But look at Ginny, she's dated a few boys already, even though she's always liked you.'

And that's not to mention herself. It's a little shameful to think about now, but back then, even liking Ron, she dated Viktor only because he showed genuine interest in her.

'Yeah,' he chuckles. 'I wish it was just like Quidditch where I just search for the Snitch, catch it, and that's all.'

He's right; why couldn't love be as precise as Potions or Arithmancy, or even as unchanging as History? She's heard of Muggles getting divorced after decades, then remarrying afterwards, so why would something that happens to much older adults not be possible for younger adults?

'I wish it was a like a book as well,' she lets out a little laugh of her own as she looks out in front, imagining the idea of love being a book – she'd only have to read it to understand it off by heart.

'I don't know if that's such a good idea, Hermione,' he lets out, sounding a bit too hesitant that she's forced to look at his face.

'What do you mean?' she frowns at his uncertain expression.

'Well, Hermione…' he begins like he's afraid of her. 'You and books… You'd love every book that you came across.'

Idiot, she suddenly explodes into a deep, chest-shaking laugh, that's not even what she meant.

She laughs just like that for a moment, unable to look at Harry as she thoroughly enjoys the tiny taste of unfiltered contentment after what's felt like so long. Since the Malfoys, light moments have been hard to come by for all of them, so she's very thankful that he made a stupid joke that's led to her laughing.

Eventually, her laughter dies down, allowing her enough of a breath to tell him, 'That's silly. I only like one person now.'

'Who do you like?' he asks with keen interest. 'Is it Viktor?'

'It's not,' she answers, which makes Harry eye her carefully, as though he knows something about what she's hiding.

'You saw him after the Malfoys?' he asks, sounding convinced of the fact rather than questioning it. 'Wherever you went, was he there?'

'Yes,' she answers.

The short admittance effectively transports her back to him letting it slip that he loves her, and that just as consequently causing some heat to creep up on her skin, because her? Off all the people that have passed through his life, and considering how much he dislikes everyone, he chose her? Yeah, she's always achieved better than the bare maximum, but for Severus Snape - the man who's had more life experience than her and knows what love is – to actually love her and then say it so unawares…? It just makes her hot all over…

'But it's not Viktor?' he pushes.

'No,' she confirms, because no thought about Viktor ever made her feel the good sort of hot. Also, if she's going to keep Harry from listing possible candidates, being firm about her answer is the only way to go. That and changing the subject with, 'What will you do about Luna?'

'I don't know,' he shrugs, turning back the way they came, and with a frightened gasp adds, 'She's coming over here,' before scrambling onto his feet.

For the simple fact she's determined on steering away from her relationship with Severus, she gets onto her feet as well, joining him in watching Luna approach them.

'What should I say to her?' he nervously asks.

How should she know that?

'Maybe first wait for her to say why she came?' is her suggestion.

'Oh, yeah. You're right,' he chuckles as nervously as he sounded before, just then beginning to dust off the back of his trousers.

It's actually cute how nervous he is. Not that she can blame him for behaving like that, when she'd also felt her portion of nervousness after she'd cried in front of Severus for the first time. And so in silence, she observes him attempt to groom himself before Luna reaches them, but she does that just as he's bringing his hands to smooth out the front of his shirt.

'Luna,' he awkwardly lets out to welcome her.

'Harry,' she shows him a polite smile. 'Ronald sent me.'

'Oh, uh, I'll go,' he gets out in a rush, looking from Luna to her. 'You stay, Luna. I know what his problem is.'

'Yes,' she nods in a way that's just as innocent as it is emphatic. 'He's wondering why you wanted privacy away from us. Ronald was upset that you went without him the other day, Hermione,' she says looking directly at her. 'Where did you go?'

'I'm going,' Harry volunteers again and then takes off with her eyes seeing him off into the near distance.

Really, Ronald can be too much when he chooses to be, she complains, returning her eyes to Luna. It was days ago that she went to see Severus; he should have let it go like she asked him to.

'I went to Hogwarts,' she tells Luna despite her thoughts on the subject – Luna's not at fault here, she's only speaking the words that Ron fed her.

'Oh!' Luna lights up, fascinated, it seems. 'Did you see anyone you know? Are they all right, do you know?'

'I don't know how they are,' she carefully chooses to say instead of lying about seeing anyone.

'And the headmaster, did you see him?'

It's a curious little question, one that does curious little things to her heart enough to make it jump, but to hide it, she asks a cool, 'Why do you ask?'

'I don't know,' comes the dreamy reply. 'I suddenly remembered how furious he was with you once. I heard some of the professors complaining about Professor Snape during that time. Had you done something to him?'

'It wasn't on purpose,' she replies, although not because she's still sensitive about being accused of that - it's that she needs to defend herself from that reputation.

'You really shouldn't upset your teachers,' Luna unabashedly advises. 'Professor Snape is also your teacher. Or he was.'

At that, a quiet bout of laughter escapes her, showing just how tickled she is by Luna's innocent bluntness, although still manages to say, 'I'll try not to,' to her.

'All right,' Luna nods as her laughter dies down.

'Let's go back inside?' she offers, finding that she doesn't have anything else to say.

'Actually…' Luna begins, her hand reaching out to touch her, but doesn't make contact – it only hovers close to her arm. 'I was wondering if Harry has told you?'

About the hug, yes, she nods.

'I didn't like him like that before,' Luna continues. 'He thinks that I am sick inside the head, of course, but he's still nice to me. He's always been nice to me. He took me to the Yule Ball, remember?'

She's unsure of what to say to the confession, so she answers with a neutral, 'Harry's a good person.'

'It's all right if you don't know what to say to me,' Luna lightly laughs. 'I only thought that you'd want to hear my side of things as well. Daddy always says that good journalism is getting the stifled side of things more than the popular side.'

'Thank you for telling me,' she says, also making the sincere note to be more attentive to Luna from now onwards.

'I wanted to,' Luna softly dismisses. 'Let's go inside.'

26Chapters

Remembering how he lured her away from the heart of the wedding to where they could be alone, she should've known that it was him. That a little blue butterfly suddenly appeared only to flap distractingly all around her, should've been the first giveaway. It wasn't, though, for all her perception and attention to irregularities. If not for Luna passing by and telling her to follow the butterfly, she would've missed him.

Would've, but didn't, she reminds herself.

Making her way to him, she can only thank goodness for that. How much long would she have had to wait before seeing him again, if he didn't come now? Their relationship isn't properly open that they can see each other whenever they feel like it, and even it was, they both have their respective duties to prioritise before each other. It's taking that into consideration, that she can't help it help look down to hide her goofy smile.

It's sweet of him to have come for no reason like this.

It just isn't like him to find her unless something's brought -

Oh no, she hurriedly shoots her head up, completely losing her smile as the terrible thought that something happened crosses her mind.

'Is something wrong?' she asks long before she's close enough, pushing her feet to leap towards him and be close enough to hear his desperate answer.

He's apparently unbothered by her rushing, because he doesn't answer her until she's right before him, their eyes directly set on each other and his relaxed expression undeniable.

'I found you,' he says simply.

'Oh,' she lightly gasps, realising that he only came because he could.

He's so sweet, but…

Please, he mustn't notice her unkemptness.

Now that they're close, she really should've put on some perfume this morning. And washed her hair in the last days. She also should've chosen better clothes than loose jeans and a random T-Shirt of a boring greyish-green colour…

'You found me,' she repeats in the hope that she'll dissuade him from studying her.

'I also found out what you're doing with Potter and Weasley,' he tells her, taken her aback.

'How?' she exclaims, taking a step back from him.

Was it something that she did? Was it because she went to him after Bellatrix? Did she give him as many clues as he needed to put together to figure it out? Harry will never forgive her for it if she did.

'I have a mind,' he shrugs, easily reaching out and pulling her back to him. 'Albus didn't deny my suspicions either.'

Oh, good, she audibly breathes out, she's not at fault.

For a moment there, she was ready to stop meeting with him if it meant inadvertently giving up their secret. She trusts Severus, maybe even more than she trusts Harry, but the promise that she made to Harry and Ron isn't one that she ever plans breaking, just like she never broke any promise that she made to Severus.

But, knowing about their hunt, will he –

'Is that why you're here?'

She doesn't know, maybe to help them or pass along some information? It would be nice if he could help them – he knows everything about everything!

'No,' he answers, oddly frowning as his hold on her tightens – is he offended? 'I want that you come with me.'

Why? The word is sharply on the tip of her tongue, just waiting for her mouth to open to spring out, only, when her mouth does open, what comes out is a testing, 'To Hogwarts?'

'No,' he replies in a low, leisurely tone. 'I have time today.'

So then, 'Your house?' she asks, already singing with joy at the prospect - she could jump on him!

'Come,' he agrees with a slight nod, giving her arm a light squeeze before slipping his hand into hers for their journey.

Like that, the implication is clear, and because of it, cold panic settles into her much too quickly, making her pull her hand free from his without considering how it might look to him. She jumps back from him too, not quite trusting that he won't pull her back and take them through space into his house before she even blinks.

'Can I meet you there?' she supplies to his questioning expression.

His expression remains the same, neither deepening nor lessening, and she can only count herself as lucky that he nods and says, 'Don't take too long,' as if she would do something so wasteful and stupid.

'I won't,' leaves her mouth in an embarrassing rasp, which intrigues him to the point of eyeing her for a bit.

'Hmm, don't,' he says and then he's gone from her sight, never seeing her triumphant smile.

Ooh, she can't wait! He'll see, she'll take a proper bath, wash her hair, smell nice as well, and then they can spend the rest of the day together.

26Chapters

He has no shame, she muses with mild fondness as she lightly assesses his measured approach, to think that he told her not to take too long to get here.

'I was detained,' he excuses before reaching her, apparently only needing one amused look at her to determine her thoughts.

'I didn't say anything,' she denies, safely keeping a sly smile from showing on her face by pulling her lips to one side to one side of it.

'Hmpf!' softly leaves him, his eyes sceptically roaming her face as if to say that she didn't need to say anything, that he read it all right on her face.

Hmpf himself, she's not that transparent.

If she was, he'd have taken appreciative note of the effort that she made to change her clothes, wash her hair and apply some perfume. It's the same perfume that she wore on the night of the wedding, when he told her that she looked lovely, so he should've noticed if she was so obvious.

Never mind then, if he won't notice, she decides. Instead, she focuses her eyes on him busying himself with opening the door. Really, it's more important that he wants to spend the last day of the weekend with her. Just look at him, he made the effort, and he's opened the door for her...

'Go on,' he tells her, only to keep her back with his arm blocking the way when she tries to cross into the house.

'What?' her heart immediately jumps. 'You won't stay?'

Since he was supposedly detained, can she be sure that he won't have to suddenly leave?

'I'm staying,' he returns, but doesn't move his arm away.

'Okay, so?' she searches his face; what's wrong?

He's beginning to make her very nervous.

'I couldn't find anything for your voice,' he sounds to apologise, softly so. 'Poppy carries only cough remedies.'

Her voice, he noticed her voice's decline?

It's a miracle that her throat didn't tear apart after screaming for so long that day, and because of that, she didn't mind it so much that only her voice was affected to a scratchy rasp after the first night. Since then, she hardly paid attention to her nasal-sounding voice, but apparently, it hasn't returned to normal in seven days.

He was attentive to that, not her stupid superficial appearance.

'It's okay,' she lets out softly. 'You did enough for me when you didn't have to.'

'Inside,' he answers her, showing her inside with his head and dropping his arm.

No, she doesn't have a specific thing in mind to do while here, although knowing that she has the freedom to go wherever she feels like heading to first, freely steps inside.

26Chapters

'Cards?' he asks, intently watching her from where he's standing.

In his environment, in his own home, and not so restricted to close himself off, he's rather appealing to her. Just everything about him standing there, slowly rotating the small glass of alcohol in his hand, with his eyes so focused on her at his small table, is all so appealing, rather attractive to her.

'No, not even cards,' she surprises herself with answering so evenly despite the thoughts in her head. 'I wasn't allowed to play with them. Besides, I had no one to play card games with. I mostly got puzzles.'

She preferred those to spending time with the mean and entitled children in her neighbourhood, actually.

'Not even Go Fish?' he insists, the idea that she never learned how to play cards evidently still incomprehensible to him.

'Only puzzles,' she repeats.

'Next, you'll tell me that you've never had a Cadbury Chomp,' he drawls, shaking his head in disbelief before taking a short sip and fixing her a long look.

Ugh, she cringes at the mention, crumpling her nose in protest as she says, 'I don't like wafer biscuits or caramel.'

'You joke!' he exclaims as though traumatised.

More than that, he takes a long sip from his glass, and then walks over to her to set his nearly empty glass down and looks her right in the eyes, clearly looking for her something. What, all that because she hasn't bothered to play cards in her life, and she doesn't like his possible-favourite chocolate? Her eyes go from his to his glass and then back to him, wondering if he'll take another sip from it if he doesn't find what he's looking from her.

'You will not be drinking,' he tells her flatly, his eyes darting to his glass.

'I won't drink until I finish school,' she proudly counters, very pleased that she hasn't yet developed a curiosity for tasting alcohol even after all the times that she's been with him, and he drank the same amber liquid. 'It isn't right to attend school, wear uniform and do things that I shouldn't, my mum says.'

All right, fine, she's kissed deeply, she's also briefly wondered if she could have sex, but in her heart of hearts, there's a way that she wants to do things, and if she can help it, she'll do them according to her plans.

'Well, mine used to play Go Fish,' he delivers, challenging her with an eyebrow as he pulls out his chair at last.

Obviously, whether he believes her about drinking or not, he's clearly not looking to argue about it with her yet, not when he's already summoning a deck of cards.

'Is Go Fish anything like Poker? I've seen that played on telly.'

'It's Go Fish,' he shrugs, taking another – final – sip just as the deck settles on the table between them.

'So, you like it?' she asks with her eyes keenly set on the now self-shuffling deck.

His deep, quite unfiltered, 'I do,' touches her shift her gaze back to him, and again, observing him admit to something so normal, strikes him very appealing to her.

'Okay, teach me,' she lightly clears her throat, 'but if I don't like it...'

His response is only to smirk a little thing of amusement, not even lifting his eyes to her, but still, it does something to her. If people, namely Harry and Ron, knew that he could do such simple things as card games and be relaxed, not constantly sour and scowling, and how appealing he is in his own environment…

26Chapters

Convincing him to come to her house didn't take much, thankfully. She'd been afraid that she'd have to nag him until he grew tired, but really, all it took was her pointing out that since he had no telly, they should go to her house to watch some. Then up from his seat he was, grabbing his coat in succession, telling her to take his hand and not long after that, they were landing in her neighbourhood. Now here they are, walking in through the gate, and she couldn't be happier.

'This way, Professor,' she teasingly ushers him about over her shoulder as she takes half steps down the stone pathway to the front door.

'Of course,' he says from behind her along with the sound of the closing gate, 'only, do mind the lion over there.'

'Lion?' she gasps, nearly jumping out of her skin with sudden fright.

The possibility of a wild animal actually being in her house is too real, that not even thinking about it, she halts her steps, pulling out her wand as she does before hastily making her eyes dart all over searching for it. So many strange things have been happening of late, and though she wouldn't like to harm a lion, she isn't going to let it attack her just like that.

'You can't find it?' he quietly asks, and while his sudden closeness does make her jump, his arm swiftly wrapping around her front - protecting her into him, has the right effect to quell a bit of her fright.

'No,' she returns in a careful whisper; where is it?

'No?' he wonders, sounding disbelieving. 'I could've sworn that I saw one under all that forest.'

Forest?

The one word, added to the visual of roughly overgrown grass in the yard, plays so unexpectedly on a particular nerve of hers that piqued, she tries to push out of his hold to no success.

'Hm-mmghm, don't,' he denies her, pulling her even closer, but she only takes that as a challenge to aim her wand at the grass with her mind concentrating on the spell that she's used to cut Harry's hair in the past.

'I'll do it,' he whispers close to her ear, his smooth offer – apology, maybe - effectively stalling her, and if not that, the tip of his own wand pushing hers down, would've.

It's not fair, she internally resigns to his pull, he can't just win her over like this. That wasn't a very nice joke. She knows that she could've done better to look after her home, he shouldn't have made any comment about it. Doesn't he know that she's purposely kept herself from thinking about this house ever since she left it?

'I can do it,' she tries even as weak to protesting as she feels.

He doesn't hear her one bit as he instead whispers a long string of syllables, each succeeding the other with a calm fluidity into her very ears, and then passing through them down into her veins, where they make her blood tingle and her skin hypersensitive.

That, what she's watching in action, can't be a simple trimming spell; his precision is too great and the effect, very impressive.

That being so, she thoughtlessly leans back into him, and struggles with herself on whether to close her eyes and take in the smell of the cut grass or to keep watching his spell cutting along, then vanish the mess behind it, all the while moving along the grass in a controlled manner. Honestly, she just can't decide which is more precious than the other; watching his magic at work in the shadow of his frame with one of his arms keeping her held there, or that resulting heavenly smell.

'Mmhhm,' she inhales, daring to close her eyes for just the little bit necessary to thoroughly enjoy its effect, 'that's a very good smell.'

She could smell it forever.

Right from where she is too.

'You?' he softly asks, right then ducking his head closer to hers as if to prove his point, but somewhere somehow, something's wrong about that, because something stirs somewhere much lower than her abdomen and -

'No, the grass,' she rasps, suddenly feeling out of breath.

This feeling is what? Playing with her breathing even?

It's nothing like the discomfort that comes before her cycle, but it's there, in that place, fluttering so – Oh, she can't think of a word for it now, but it seems to be pulling downwards and – Oh, what is it?

'I only smell you,' he whispers, causing her breath to catch on its way out and just when she thinks he can't fluster her anymore, he draws back from her only to press back into her with a mounting motion – he does it once, and then a second, much slower time.

Oh! He should do that again!

Forget the grass' smell and his magic in action, she likes this!

She likes it so much that when he stops, the hand on her waist gripping her hard, instead of protesting, she takes it upon herself to continue with what he started. Set on it, she pushes her body as away from him as his firm hold will allow her, only to slowly bring her body back in a haphazard rubbing motion that creates the slow friction that she'd been craving for. The long, quite loud breath of satisfaction that leaves her as the result, comes from even the deepest of her bones and travels all the way to her eyes, weakening them to lazily shut.

Then she does it again, making sure to keep her eyes closed for an enhanced experience.

Then again, her breathing getting louder and her hand clutching onto her wand for support.

And then, a softly-sounding-to-protest, 'Finished,' from him brings out a deeper groan as it's followed by him taking his arm away from her, forcing her eyes open. Pulling in a frustrated breath, she turns to him in the mind to ask him what he's doing, but his commanding, 'Open the door,' stops her from questioning him.

'Right,' she clears her throat, surprising herself with how embarrassed she suddenly feels about her behaviour.

That's never happened to her before. It wasn't unpleasant, it's only never happened to he before. It's just as well that he releases her completely, because as flustered as she is, she doesn't want to imagine what she would've continued to do out here in the open. For that reason, there's an oddly relieving part to her hurriedly turning away from him and escaping to the door. She must admit, though, that being so flustered still and carrying a bit of embarrassment while fumbling in her bag for the keys is a little exciting to her.

'It feels like I'm sneaking a boy in the house while my parents are away,' she giggles to herself, just then getting the door open and pushing it inside and looking back at him to invite, 'Come in.'

With a raised and challenging eyebrow, he remarks, 'I am no boy,' and then steps in after her.

'I know,' she rolls her eyes. 'I just wanted to say that.'

'And where are your parents?' he questions, shutting the door behind him. 'Surely not work at this time of day, on a Sunday. As for the neglected grass...'

'My parents are somewhere else,' she answers with a frown, at least remembering not to get emotional like she did over the lion joke. 'It was better that they left here.'

For a moment, he only watches her carefully. As he does, her mind wonders about him watching her, about what he could be concluding without asking her for the specifics, and deciding that she might just cry if he ends up feeling sorry for her and her parents, she looks away from him. That is all it takes for him to cross to her and direct her eyes to him by her chin.

'The Dark Lord spares no mercy for anyone,' he carefully tells her. 'Whatever difficult thing you have to do and endure during this, take solace in that.'

'I did the right thing?' she asks, desperately needing his opinion to validate her actions.

Only his expert opinion could put her at ease about what she did.

'Possibly the only thing that you could've done for them,' he nods and drops his hand from her chin. 'But you do know, don't you?'

'What?'

'Whatever it is that you need, you should find me,' he clarifies. 'Don't ever hesitate.'

'Thank you, Severus,' heartily leaves her, coming straight from her heart, to which he responds with a small smile.

'Shall we?' he shifts the conversation by gesturing to the waiting house, giving her the distinct feeling that he doesn't want her to thank him.

She accepts that, going straight to the fridge first. He'd probably like a full tour of the house, she tells herself, but after eleven rounds of Go Fish and nothing but water to drink at his house, she'd like something sweeter to drink.

'I'm so stupid. I forgot about this,' she exclaims, her eyes scanning the open fridge. 'I'm taking some of this food in here. I didn't want the house to look like we weren't coming back in case someone came in, so I couldn't take much, but I'll take some now. It's always nice when we can have a normal meal.'

He takes her by surprise when he comes up behind her, partly trapping her between the cold of the fridge and the heat of his body, drawing a soft gasp from here.

'There's nothing fresh in there, if you can't see,' he coolly utters.

'I can't take the cabbage and tomatoes, obviously, but the carrots look all right. Look, even the corn could be okay.'

'Poison yourself, then,' he says, 'but know that I will not move a finger to counter your poisoning.'

'That's mean. And after you just said that you'll always be here for me,' she replies, going along with his game. 'Besides Slughorn let me keep a lot of potions when I brewed, not like you.'

She doesn't think anything of it when he doesn't immediately have a reply for her. When she feels him step away, however, a light switches on her mind, reminding her of his aversion to her attention and praise straying to another person right after being fully invested in him. To rectify that, she faces him, hoping to assure him that she was only joking.

'He never had me brew anything against poison,' she tries, except he only remains as he is, quiet and unmoved. 'I'm not allowed to talk about Slughorn?' she wants to know.

'Did I say you couldn't?' he shoots back with a hard frown, something that she doesn't appreciate in the least.

Having completely forgotten about her earlier sensitivity to his lion joke, she heartily wonders if he must be so sensitive about a small thing.

'No, but you're quiet.'

'My experiences have taught me many things,' he begins to explain himself, 'some of which I am hard to let go of yet. I don't mean to make you feel as though you have to choose.'

'Okay,' she shrugs, relenting and pushing the fridge closed behind her, 'but I don't want to talk about things that will upset you.'

In response, he shakes his head as if to argue with her on that, and then offers, 'You've proven to me who you are. I know who you are. Know, however, that while I am unaccustomed to all that you bring with you, I am capable of making a better attempt concerning it.'

Goodness, Severus Snape, she smiles to herself, he couldn't just have said the clear thing? But then again, would he be himself if did? Doesn't she like him just as he is already?

'I'll try to be more careful as well,' she promises. 'I know there are things that you can't tell me, but I won't tell anyone if you do. I promise.'

'I'm aware,' he nods, 'but unfortunately, that does not make any change. What I can and cannot say has been planned beforehand. Again, I can leave it up to you to accept and believe the little that I can tell you.'

The little that he can tell her? There's something very particular, in no way small, that he said to her and now that they're on the matter...

'About that...' she brings up. 'I have a question.'

'Ask.'

'Well, you said something to me at Grimmauld Place the other day,' evenly leaves her, 'and I don't know if you realised that you did. It didn't seem like it, so, um, I only wanted to know if that's how you really feel about me.'

If he has ever looked blanker than he does right now, looking at her as though she just spoke a foreign language, she'll never believe it; he clearly said it, she heard him say it.

'You said that if you don't die...' she pauses to give him some time to hopefully get an idea of where she's going. Still, he remains blank, leaving her no other choice but to say it all. 'You said that you would love me for the rest of your life.'

Astonishingly, his expression doesn't change, and if not for his disbelieving, 'I did?' she would think that her words had no effect on him whatsoever.

'Did you mean it?' she hastily asks rather than confirm that he did - he knows that she wouldn't lie to him about something like that anyway.

'Does it bother you?' he asks in return, slanting his head to one side.

Why, will he take it back if it does?

'No, but…' she looks down, embarrassed at her own uncertainty when she always has an answer for everything. She's not so the know it all now, is she? 'I don't know if I do. About you, I mean,' she gets out in a nervous rush.

It's not so nice to admit it, especially after all the times that she wanted to hear him confess his feelings, but she's worried that she might not love him. So far, she knows that she likes him very much, and it doesn't feel like she'll ever stop, but what if that's not enough to constitute love for him? Can she even say that she loves him when she hasn't truly thought of having sex with him like it happens in those romance novels? As far as she's understood, love and sex complement each other, so what does that say about her?

'Hmm, is that all?' he wonders with no hint of mockery in his voice and all the patience in his eyes.

'But what if don't?' she softly grinds out, making it as clear as she needs it to be for him.

'Then I will bewitch you to do so. Countless have accused me of the deed already,' he delivers with light mirth in his tone, something that helps her feel a little better about her uncertainty.

'Countless?' she snorts - Dumbledore and Ron are countless to him? 'You wouldn't do that.'

'No, I wouldn't,' he solemnly admits. 'It's plenty how you see me now. I wouldn't demand for more. Believe that.'

Yes, but, 'I want to,' she whispers, partly hoping that he doesn't hear her.

Whatever it's truly like to love someone, she wants to do it, and she wants it to happen naturally without any circumstance pushing her to do it. It wouldn't be fair that he loves her simply because she is, while she loves him because of one reason or another. She wouldn't want to do that to him. He, on the other hand, seems to have no problem with her struggle, because in one short step, he swoops in to catch her in a kiss as his arms wind around her, one of them gripping at her waist and the other running up her back.

She readily accepts him, fully opening her lips into the kiss and bringing her hands up to his face to hold it steady for a moment. Then the next thing that she knows, one of her hands is buried in his hair, lightly caressing his scalp and making him groan in response. His groan in particular, somehow brings her the thought that she is the naughty child using her parents' home to invite a boy over while they are away. It's such a random thought, sparking too, that she suddenly pulls away in favour of a little laugh at her own situation.

'We could have done this at my house,' he jokes according to her little mirth. 'You lured me here for no reason.'

'You kissed me,' she reminds him, her small laugh still persisting.

Even so, she manages to take him by the hand and lead him to the sitting room, where she leaves him to choose a seat while she gets the telly ready. Finishing with it, she takes a seat next to him, liking that he took the bigger couch for them to sit on, taking it a step further and leans into him. After doing what she did with him outside, this should be a small thing. It apparently is, for he twists his body just a little bit, but it's still enough for her to fall back into his lap. As if prepared for her fall, his arms get to adjusting her into a better position, with her head supported by the couch's arm. Like that, she vaguely hears the sound of people talking on telly, but having the newfound view of his face from the chin up, and him staring down at her, – appreciatively, it looks like - she doesn't care much about them anymore.

'Let's watch,' he nods towards the screen, but his eyes don't leave her face at all.

Also not taking her eyes off him, she strains her ears to hear what is being said and from the sound of it, it's the omnibus of that weekly drama. The one thing that she can appreciate about the channel playing, is how considerate they are of their viewers by providing all five daily episodes on a Sunday for those who never got a chance to see them during the week. As for her who's been away from home for months, though...

'The last time that I watched with Dad, Maura was going to marry Johannes,' she remarks more in response to Maura's voice on the screen, because as long as he doesn't stop looking down at her, she won't take her eyes off him either.

'Tell me about it?' he requests, his eyes only fleeting to the screen for a second and then return to her entirely.

'Oh, well, there's Johannes, the only living descendant of ancient royal blood...' she begins her narration from what she learned from her dad – her dad who's watched it from the beginning for its archaic element.

On and on she narrates the drama's history to him, and with the help of his grunts here and there, she accepts his investment in it. That is how she finally shifts her head towards the screen to catch up with what's happening in the drama. While catching up, in between hoping that her dad has found another anciently themed drama to watch on Sundays, she here and there remembers a piece of information, and happily she gives to him, to fill him in. She carries on like that, not paying him much attention, except for lightly fiddling with his fingers on her stomach, until she looks up just to look at him and finds his head resting back with his eyes closed.

'Severus?' she softly calls, half of her in disbelief and the other just...

Has he really fallen asleep? Was she talking too much that she bored him to sleep? She wouldn't have guessed that from his breathing, because it never actually changed – he tricked her into believing that he was conscious! Who sleeps so soundly without their breathing changing? It bothers her so much that she makes a show of moving off his lap, irritated and wishing that her ruckus will disturb him. It doesn't, she finds, and because it doesn't, she moves all the way to the other end of the couch and changes the channel.

Hmpf! What does he think, that she's interested in watching something that he might ask her about once he's awake? Well, he's wrong! She'll watch the news instead and when he wakes up, he'll see that she moved away from him, he'll see that she's watching the news, and he'll be too ashamed to ask her if ever Johannes spoke to his advisor. Taking one last look at him with a frown, she tucks her feet under her, and then folds her arms with as much irritation as she feels for him right now.

26Chapters

It was three hours.

Some ten minutes have passed since then, but it was three whole hours that he slept on the couch. She watched an hour of the news, learning that the Muggle world is just as uncertain and inexplicably gloomy as the wizarding world. In the second hour, she decided to prepare them a meal, where she learned that as far as cooking spaghetti goes, the instructions are rubbish, resulting in her being rubbish at making it. The third hour came and went, at least leaving her some fruit - busy heating up in the microwave beside her - to show off to him now that he's awake.

'You fell asleep,' is the first thing to leave her mouth as he walks in through the kitchen door.

She doesn't want to sound accusing, but he really just fell asleep like that. When she fell asleep at his house, she at least had the decency to do it on a bed, not while he believed that she was still paying attention to him.

'I seem only to do that when I'm with you,' comes his quiet reply before he takes a seat at the table.

He says it normally, like it's nothing, she notes, but his long breath afterwards makes her feel bad for making him feel bad about falling asleep.

'You don't sleep well?' her eyes search his face, only that she was closer to him.

Sighing, he says, 'Believe me, there is no news there. I've been sleeping splendidly, if you include my many worries,' he says with a light note of disdain. 'As I've been doing splendidly, if you include Minerva's constant hostility.'

Why he would say something so contradictory in such an unbothered tone?

'She's being mean to you?'

She's more shocked than disbelieving of the notion, because it's not what she expected to her. McGonagall can be set in her ways, but to actually be horrible to Severus to the point that it affects his daily state of being?

'You remain the only one who isn't,' is his even response, but it does nothing to appease the concern that's arisen for him.

Before she can reply that, though, the microwave's sharp 'Ding' interrupts her, making her jump to quickly open it and pull out his plate. With the plate in her hands, she crosses the short space separating the table from the cupboards to slide it over to him. She doesn't see if he reaches for it or not, because she turns away for a fork from the cutlery drawer, and with that secured in her hand, rushes over to the fridge for the jug of pineapple squash concentrate. First grabbing a long glass from the dish rack on the way back to him, she then finally comes around to his side of the table, setting them in front of him.

'I made some lunch,' she says, looking at him for a response.

It's not the sort of meal that he would have made at his house, so she honestly only wants his verdict on her tuna and frozen mixed veggies, especially since he didn't approve of the vegetables in the fridge.

'Thank you,' he acknowledges as he reaches for the fork, digging it into the plate without further contemplation.

'I made some pudding as well,' she cleverly offers just in case he doesn't like the food – he'll at least have something tasty to look forward to if her food doesn't please him.

He only nods along with taking another forkful into his mouth, and because he's showing no signs of disliking the food, she allows him a few more bites in silence. He's really something, this man, and it's in moments like now, when she's witnessing this side of him, that she marvels most about him. For one thing, his casual manner about everything only makes her more intrigued to get to the deepest part of him.

'Severus?' she calls, also leaning on the table next to him for a better look at him. 'Do you want to talk about it? Anything, I mean.'

Although he doesn't stop eating, he does look her way here, his eyes enlarging only a little bit to show his surprise at the offer.

'As I should ask if you want to talk about what you're doing,' he returns, though not quite dismissively.

'I promised not to tell anyone,' she apologetically begins. 'We're moving along with clues and ideas, but I'm not supposed to talk about it with other people. Even Luna doesn't know, and she's been helping us with reading the past week.'

There's something in his eyes as he regards her, a particular tint of reservation in that that feels to her like he has something very specific to say about what she just mentioned, but then he blinks and it disappears. He turns his face to his food again, much like he's shaking that previous thought away to rather take three more forks into his mother in its place before setting the fork down to pour himself some squash.

'No one understands more than I what it is to guard secrets,' he breathes, his eyes set on the air in front of him and his glass loosely held in his hand now. 'I cannot force you to tell me that which you are under oath to guard. I must only trust that you will take proper care of yourself and those idiot friends of yours.'

She has to, whether she likes it or not.

And she will, she promises.

She doesn't say that to him, however, not even as he finishes gulping down some squash and returns his eyes to her.

'Do you think that one day we'll be able to tell each other everything?' comes out of her mouth after all, partly due to his attention on her.

'I wonder,' he simply states, simply pouring squash down his throat afterwards as well.

As always, she can't expect him to tell her about anything in depth, but this time, she's not ready to accept a general gist of what he thinks of the future. She's said nothing about him alluding to his death up to now, but she won't let the chance to bring it up now go. It'll concern her too if he happens to die.

'Why?' she softly demands. 'Is it because you think that you'll die?'

'But can I truly hope to live, Miss?' he asks, his tone scratchy with unexpected emotion. 'It's a wonder that I survived the first time. My position is unpredictable. The Order doesn't fully trust me, neither do the majority of the other side, and constantly, I am forced between two groups who wish me no good. Should I really have the hope for a further life? At either conclusion, of what benefit will my role be?'

That's so vulnerable of him to admit, and with such dull certainty about it. For such a great wizard, put in the middle of two greater wizards, one bent on dominating the world and the one determined to keep that from happening, how does he have such little faith in himself? He also refused her calling him extraordinary that night in the forest, but to be so resigned to the possibility of death? Doesn't he care if he dies?

'I don't –' she tries to speak only to choke, so she swallows and then tries again. 'I only want you to live, Severus. I don't want you to die.'

Setting his glass down, he silently studies her, and it occurs to her just then what he might be thinking. Doing what she's doing with Harry, also considering what happened with Bellatrix last Saturday, she's just as at risk of dying along with Harry as he is. She imagines that in his silence, he's only being, and really, he shouldn't say anything in any case. There's no question about it, if it meant the Dark Lord's fall, she'd be willing to die. Even so, though, she needs to know how much worse it can get.

'Could you tell me about the first time that the Dark Lord rose to power then?' she requests. 'Was it like this?'

She's beginning to put together that in the end, they can only live until they fall down, expected or unexpectedly, and so in place of falsely assuring her, would he tell her the extent to which the Dark Lord can go to get what he wants?

26Chapters

She isn't sneaking in per se. To a waiting Ron specifically catching her just as she finishes whispering the last of the door's wards, however, it may look like she is. Her startled, 'Ron!' must not help her case either, she imagines.

'Where were you?' he answers her gasp, his entire stance strangely reminding her of Neville standing up to the three of them in their first year.

How she hopes that he hasn't been waiting all day for her. She did tell them that she would take a while when she left.

'I went to my house,' she tells him.

He visibly relaxes at hearing that, actually softening, a simple act that grants her the proper freedom to move away from the door. In fact, since he doesn't say anything else to her, he only follows her with his eyes, she carries on walking towards him. Two footsteps past him, though, the quiet concern in his tone stops her more than his words do.

'Nothing happened, yeah?'

'No, I'm fine,' she answers, following it with facing him directly.

She really is - she's better than fine, to be honest. Nothing bad happened to her while she was away from them.

'Yeah, I can tell,' he responds flatly.

From his comment, as well as looking at his changed face, she can just tell that he hadn't expected her to say anything else, which somehow doesn't sit well with him, but what should she do about that? It would be so easy to ask him if there's something specific that he means with that, although briefly thinking about the sort of talk that her question might veer them into, she decides it more prudent to just let him be. He's probably right as it is anyway, and if she can't hide Severus' effect on her, why should she bother to deny it?

What does he want he to say actually?

'We left you some food by the way,' he weakly offers to her silence, showing his hand to the kitchen. 'Everyone's already gone to bed, but I could sit with you if you –'

'I'm not hungry,' she hurries to refuse, as she doesn't feel up to staying up alone with him. 'Thank you, but...'

'Yeah, fine,' he flatly mumbles, the added, 'Night,' sounding too tight to be cordial and strangely dampening her spirit as he shuffles off the other way.

Ron.

Hearing him give up so easily, being so defeated...

Her chest feels...

'Goodnight,' she manages to whisper through her strained throat, and if he doesn't hear her, she can't blame him.

What is she doing with her life that she can't just be straightforward and tell him the truth? It's not even nice to keep rejecting him yet she can't stop being a coward.