Of Progress and Pursuit
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Black tea with honey swirling in it - that's what her eyes reminded him of. The sun caressing her smiling face made them look even more golden than they usually were, and the freckles on her nose had become more apparent during the summer.
She noticed him looking at her, while they were sitting on a cliff overlooking the ocean, but didn't say a word; she just reached for his hand beside her and directed her grateful smile at him. The wind that played with her open hair, which she had barely managed to tame in all those years he knew her, brought a salty, cooling breeze with it, that was more than welcome in the heat of the afternoon sun.
She seemed happy. He most certainly was. It was not the high he had felt when he discovered he had fallen for her. It was not the burning passion of showing his dedication to her through the language of his body. No, it was a constant feeling of deep fulfillment and gratefulness. This feeling had not left him in difficult moments; it did not vanish when they were arguing and trying to control their impulses of being cruel - it was always there: The love the Ancient Greek called Agape. Unconditional love. He did not expect anything from her - he would love her, whatever she might choose to do to him, and he somehow knew she felt the same.
Did he understand why she felt the way she did? He would've to negate in the case of someone asking him about it. It was not that he felt unworthy in general, but rather that he questioned his capability of letting go of his selfishness and past enough, in order to pursue her well-being.
His free hand was playing with the ring hidden in his trousers' pocket. Pater Aloysius' quotation of the Bible came to mind.
"If I speak in the tongues of men and of angels, but have not love, I am a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal. And if I have prophetic powers, and understand all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have all faith, so as to remove mountains, but have not love, I am nothing. If I give away all I have, and if I deliver my body to be burned, but have not love, I gain nothing.
Love is patient and kind; love is not jealous or boastful; it is not arrogant or rude. Love does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful; it does not rejoice at wrong, but rejoices in the right. Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.
Love never ends; as for prophecies, they will pass away; as for tongues, they will cease; as for knowledge, it will pass away. For our knowledge is imperfect and our prophecy is imperfect; but when the perfect comes, the imperfect will pass away. When I was a child, I spoke like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child; when I became a man, I gave up childish ways. For now we see in a mirror dimly, but then face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall understand fully, even as I have been fully understood. So faith, hope, love abide, these three; but the greatest of these is love." (1)
As a man who prized his intellect, he had learned those words to be true. Hermione had lead him to discoveries beyond his past self's boldest imaginations. If he replaced "Love" with Hermione, all of the descriptions would remain. Hermione was patient and kind, not jealous or boastful, not arrogant or rude, not irritable or resentful - she rejoiced in the good and fought Evil. Could he say the same about himself? He was a man lacking in virtue, but he had improved in his behavior towards her, enriched by her light. She had set standards which he unspoken yearned to reach, becoming more patient with her and less resentful and rude. In his essence he would remain the same man the world knew, but his love for her was pure.
With this knowledge he felt confident in his decision to propose. He never had questioned if he could commit to her, but he had wrestled with himself when it came to the question of being able to give her what she deserved. Was it prideful to think one could end up being above making mistakes? It seemed probable. He would not give into the illusion of becoming a flawless example, but he would try to leave behind what could destroy him and those dear to him.
"I love you." The words left him barely audibly, but she caught them. Her bright smile turned soft, her eyes speaking of surprise. Severus Snape had never said those words lightly; in the one and a half years they had been courting he had said them only twice. Before she could form a reply, his serious face looked down - leading her to follow his gaze.
Twisting his fate between his fingers - that's how it felt to him, holding up the beautiful golden diamond ring. "I could explain the complex processes which were involved in coming to the conclusion I've drawn, but I'd rather do so another time, if that is agreeable to you." He paused; his dark eyes taking in her astonishment once more. "You are Love, Hermione. You are a whirlwind of intellect and a heart with two legs. Life is... not merely bearable with you, but rather a source of great thankfulness. I intend to indulge my selfishness by asking you for your hand in marriage, but I can assure you that my desires are not merely born of possessiveness." He stopped once more, not sure if he should show weakness by speaking what was coursing through his mind. Sighing he continued. "The sun, the ocean - everything is pleasing to the eye, but you are truly beautiful." Now the witch looked truly perplexed. He chuckled darkly, one corner of his mouth raised slightly. "No more words worthy of ruining my reputation will leave my mouth, but I want to ask the question I already hinted at." His hands, which she so often took in with keen interest, captured hers; the ring held above their joined hands. "Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?"
The smile which had long vanished from her face returned with tears in her eyes, and a nod from her head. The wild curly mane whipping around her due to the wind. "Nothing would make me happier, Severus."
Although he had assumed she would agree - there was not a chance he would have asked her for her hand in marriage, if he had doubted her positive response - relief overcame him. With a short nod, more to himself than to anyone else, he slid the ring over her delicate finger, proceeding to hold her hand in both of his. They didn't share many more words for a while, succumbing to their inner grateful peacefulness instead, while sitting side by side observing the seagulls flying over the glittering surface of the sea. Her head was resting on his shoulder, their arms intertwined, and their thoughts shared but not shared.
(1) 1. Corinthians 13 (RSV)