52. Rain

"SEVERUS!"

My voice came out of me like the wind, like the thunder as I ran out of the castle into the violent storm.

"SEVERUS!"

I opened my throat, my whole body, certain for a moment from the strength of my sound that he could have heard me from miles away.

I ran down the hillside, almost slipping twice. The grass was soaked–and so was I, within my first minute under the cold downpour. It was difficult to see very far through the rain, and even if he had been calling back to me, I wouldn't have been able to trace the sound underneath the ubiquitous thunder.

"SEVERUS!"

As fast as my legs could carry me, I ran towards the woods by the lake. Under the cover of the green-clothed trees the rain was lighter, but only slightly. There were small shuffling noises in the underbrush as I raced down the path. I was moving with blind instinct, trusting that my body somehow knew where to find him.

I had once sprinted into the woods in pursuit of a poor imitation of Fred, roaring his name. I had run through pine-forest darkness, desperate to catch the grey wolf I'd believed would lead me to Remus. Now I shouted a new name, and it stood for a man I knew was real, was breathing.

He was there, in the open, near the copse of trees that stood by the lakeside, drawing the water into their roots. Raindrops struck the water violently, water piercing water, a thousand arrows against an impenetrable foe. Lightning threw itself across the black clouds, and thunder followed on its heels, booming.

"SEVERUS!"

Rain was flowing down his face, plastering his hair to his cheeks. He turned as I ran to him, my heart hammering, and my body was stopped short by his dooming black glare.

His eyes begged me to give up on him, to declare my hatred and then flee. The darkness in them deepened, wanting me destroyed by what he had allowed me to see. His face was harder and darker than I had ever witnessed it–but what he had given me could not be erased or taken back. Underneath this warrior's shield I saw his brokenness, his need to be healed.

I stared with all my might into his eyes as the thunder crashed and roared, willing the barrier to finally break down, willing away this dark part of him which sought only to destroy his soul.

"I AM STRONGER THAN YOU THINK!" I shouted over the storm.

At last the wicked part of him could stand no longer. I watched it shatter as Severus began to cry under the rain. In his heaving shoulders, the exhaustion of his gasping mouth, I saw the young boy. I yearned to embrace him. But not yet.

"I'm sorry–" I shouted. "I was blind!"

A single word managed through his sobs. "Yes."

"It was hard to see, through how you treated me!"

"Yes."

Tears streamed down his face, lost in the rain. I went to him and he did not flinch, did not draw away. He lifted his flooded eyes to me, and I held his face with my hands. The thunder cracked overhead and the rain seemed to double its force. "Severus! Will you say it!"

His big hands pressed over mine. His mouth trembled with fear.

"It's safe!" I shouted, feeling my own tears, warm upon my freezing face. "I'm safe!"

"I…"

He reached forward to touch my cheek, and the words broke out of him like long-held prisoners, falsely accused, testing their pale eyes against the light.

"I love you."

His confession brought on a hard wave of tears, and I made myself part of his body as he collapsed over my shoulder, gathering me into him desperately, repetitions of the words lost among his incoherent sobs. I clung to him, my mouth open against his shoulder. We were being cleansed, forgiven by the water flooding from the torn sky.

Neither of us would be capable of instant change. The way Severus felt could not change the fact that he struggled to show it. My inability to fully trust was almost as strangling as his. But I understood now with my whole throbbing heart that he loved me. He loved me, and some deeply hidden part of him always had. I vowed then and there that I would never expect anything from him but this silent truth.

I held him with all of my strength, and lifted my mouth to his ear. "Please," I called, as the thunder was rolling. "Believe that I love you, too."

He looked down at me, and I saw my eyes reflected in his own, and knew that it was my very soul which had spoken.

When we had argued on the hill, I had told him it was impossible. I had been stubborn, desperate to shun any sign of love–of dependence–which tried to stream in through the cracks of my past.

But perhaps love was not dependence. Perhaps it was a very unique and very great strength.

I did not know how long Severus had been outside in the cold and the rain. He was convulsing with shivers as he sobbed, and my whole body tingled with fear for him.

"We have to go inside," I told him.

We walked back to the castle, and I held onto him all the way. Had I been able, I would have carried him.

His body was stiff from the cold, and I could tell he was too numb to help himself. I took off his sopping clothes with my still-living fingers, dried him and warmed him with my wand, and then did the same to myself. He sat unclothed on the edge of the bed, shivering while I bent down to light a fire. Once the flames had caught on I went to him and supported some of his weight while I helped him under the blankets. He held onto my arm and wouldn't let go, so I slipped into the bed beside him and held his naked body against mine. We slowly warmed each other.

I had no idea what time it was, but knew it was very late, possibly past midnight. The exhaustion that might have claimed my body upon lying down was replaced by an energy, a purpose. Severus's hands were shaking and I held them tight against my chest. I relaxed my muscles so that my magic could flow through my skin to his, replenishing his heat.

As he got his breath back he began to cry again. He held me tightly, his tears streaming onto my shoulder. I tangled my legs with his, pressing my palms into the trembling muscles of his back. His pain was pouring out of him and washing over me in waves.

"Shh… Shh, Severus…"

"You brought me back," he said through his sobs, his lips against my hair. "You brought me back to life, and I cannot forgive you."

Then he gasped and sank back into incapacitating tears.

I understood what he meant. There was no way not to understand him now. He had been dead to his emotions for so long, and now to be forced into feeling them must have been terrifying. My name had been the first words he'd spoken after waking from near-death. He had given everything up, just to have it all thrust back upon his heart again. I held him tighter, protecting him.

Very slowly, after a long hour of tears, his body began to lose its tension, and he faded into sleep. I stayed awake holding him until the sky outside became blue again, and then finally sank away after him.

He was still asleep when I awoke, broad daylight sighing in through the window. His rest was deep, his face relaxed and weak. It was the helpless sleep of a child after a long fever. I had no desire or need to disentangle myself from his body, and so I allowed my mind to drift until he stirred. Even once we were both awake we couldn't bear to leave the bed. We were silent. He held me. I held him.

I began to think of how to speak of what I had seen in the pensieve. There were certain things I would never ask questions about. Such as the two women; the first when he was in Voldemort's ranks, and the second after he began teaching. I could tell from seeing glimpses that they had been toxic affairs, full of pain and regret. But there was one thing I had to say.

"You don't have to keep that awful house," I whispered, after a long time in silence. His breathing quieted infinitesimally, showing me he was listening. "Only pain lives there. It's no place to store her memory."

He did not answer, but from the way his hands increased their gentle pressure on my back, I knew he was not upset that I had spoken my thoughts.

We remained in bed until we became hungry and were forced to our feet. We were both very quiet and tentative, worried that this gentleness and openness would disappear as soon as we reentered the world. I took his hand. "The sun is warm. Let's go for a walk."

"Yes," he said.

And we helped each other into our clothes.

The full moon of the thirtieth came and went, and before any of us knew it it was the second of May; the first anniversary of the final battle. It was in all the papers, and there was a memorial celebration in Diagon Alley. I wondered how George was doing, and also thought of Andromeda. It was difficult to believe that Fred had died one year ago–it seemed like a lifetime ago.

Severus disappeared from Hogwarts for the day, and did not return until the following morning. Even when his days away increased in number, I did not become worried. I understood that he needed a certain amount of distance in order to maintain the tenderness he had when he was with me.

In his absence, I worked to more closely befriend the two wolves, which Hagrid had yet to name, and worked hard on my own lesson plans, sometimes referring to the notes Severus had left me for help. I saw his handwriting now in an entirely new way. It held one of the many hidden keys to his soul.

I also left Hogwarts often, to visit my family and to watch Teddy for Andromeda while she went to meet with Gabriel on the northern coast of France. Severus and I only saw each other sometimes, when we were both together at the castle, and questions were never asked about where we had been, where we were going (though I still liked to tell him, knowing that he cared). This new freedom from his suspicion was a great relief.

His hard-heartedness did not simply disintegrate overnight. He was still very stoic and difficult sometimes, and a small part of me remained anxious that he would suddenly cut me off again. I could not forget that he was much older than me, and his heart had held its pains for much longer than mine had even been beating. But, for all of this, he was never aggressive, never raised his voice, never turned away from me completely. We passed our first week without a single argument, then our second, our third…

At first I tiptoed around our connection, afraid to shatter the sense of balance which had entered it. Only after some time was I able to see that our mutual trust was slowly strengthening, like a vine that wraps around a young tree. Then, with that knowledge, I could be myself again.

The whole month of May swam by in this manner. I was able to breathe more easily, having more time with Molly and Ginny, sometimes bringing Teddy to the Burrow while Andromeda was away.

When I was with Severus we would sit in quiet rooms together, go on quiet walks. There was not much to say, but our understanding of one another was intimate. I loved our walks most of all. We formed a ritual of silently picking up small things and studying them in our palms before gifting them to each other. Snail shells, stones.

Though my desire for his body was deeper than ever, I was afraid to have sex with him now that we were so exposed to one another. It was already so much more intense to be near him since the night of the pensieve. I was so overcome by his presence, his eyes, his scent, that sometimes I had to go home just to return my senses to order. To have him inside of me would have been too much–would have destroyed me. I sensed from his actions, his few words, his carefulness with his body, that he felt the same.

We did not sleep in the same bed but for one night when, kept awake by the restless wind outside, I went by candlelight down the stairs of the tower only to find him halfway up, on his way to knock on my door. We ascended the stairs together and held each other silently as the wind turned softly to rain.