Hope is a Dangerous Thing

Twelve

2008

Severus closed the door to the Hospital Wing and remained standing in the hallway for several moments. There were thoughts jumbling about for supremacy, but he grit his teeth against them. What did Minerva mean by a gesture? What on earth was he supposed to do? He had no idea.

When he alighted from the Grand Staircase into the Entrance Hall, he came to another halt. His eyes were inexorably drawn to the stairs that led down into the dungeons. Was his subconscious mind telling him he should try and seek her out? Irrespective of grand gestures, he knew there was something he could prevail upon her for—something he was sure she would be happy to assist with.

He stepped towards the stairs, faltering indecisively, before rushing hurriedly down into the darkness. The sconces flared into life as he moved and by turns he felt foolish and hopeful.

He arrived soon at the door to his former office. It was only a punt on his part that it was now her office. There was a glow of light seeping from under the threshold and he knocked before he lost his courage. He decided he could always do a quick runner if the voice that replied belonged to someone else.

'Yes?'

Of course, it was her. Hardly knowing what he was about, he pushed the door open. She was sitting behind the desk, quill in hand, and a mountain of scrolls hovered nearby.

'Oh,' she said. 'Hello, again.'

'Please forgive my intrusion,' he began, closing the door. He looked around and must have failed to contain his faint horror.

'You like what I have done with the place?' she questioned, her face suddenly lighting up with humour.

'Merlin, Granger, it's almost inviting.'

She laughed. 'I'm very happy to hear you say so. Just wait until you see the classroom!'

He held up a warning hand. 'There's only so much trauma a man can take.'

She shrugged.

He decided not to stand on ceremony and simply took one of the comfortably upholstered chairs in front of her desk. 'Oh, Professor, no,' he sighed leaning forward. 'Not sweets, as well?' He lifted the lid on the jar and took out a Bertie Bott.

'Your reign of terror is merely the stuff of legend now.'

'But wonderfully embellished as well, I hope?'

'Do you think it really warranted embellishment?'

'Mm, probably not.'

She smiled to herself at that, asking lightly, 'What brings you down here?'

'You appeared upset earlier, I just thought to see that, well, you know…' He scowled inwardly at his fumbling of the words.

'Oh,' she said with a pleased smile, 'I am quite alright, thank you.' She glanced at the clock on the wall. 'In actual fact, I was about to return to my quarters, so you just caught me.'

Severus bit the inside of his lip, feeling he might be about to get the brush off.

'You, ah, may join me for a drink, if you have the time?'

She stood and gathered her things together, without looking at him. He relaxed his jaw and allowed himself a brief lift of his eyebrows. He certainly had not anticipated this turn of events.

'I have no wish to intrude.'

She smiled. 'You would not be intruding; come on.'

She extinguished the candles and he followed her out into the hallway. 'You haven't taken rooms in the dungeons, have you?' he asked doubtfully.

'Good Merlin, of course not.' She gave him a sideways look. 'I've got Minerva's old rooms.'

She must have caught sight of his answering frown, for her next words were: 'Just gets worse, doesn't it?'

'Indeed, I'm merely wondering when you are going to start wearing tartan.'

To his pleasure she cackled. 'I am quite sure that I shall never master the chic hairdo.'

Thankfully, he thought.

When they arrived he was relieved to note she had given Minerva's old rooms the same treatment as his old office, but, nevertheless, there was a certain air of familiarity that briefly disorientated him.

'This is where Minerva used to routinely demolish me at chess,' he observed grimly.

'Oh, really?'

'And try to get me to talk… She would take advantage of my need to excel at everything I do and catch me at my most distracted.'

Hermione set the fireplace into life and turned to look at him. There was a thoughtful expression on her face. 'I can't imagine she was successful at that too often.'

Severus let out a short chuckle and moved to stand in front of the flames—an open fire one of the few things he had missed from Hogwarts, he realised. She poured a glass of whiskey and held it out to him.

'Did she manage to get you to talk just now? She made no bones about questioning me.'

She returned to the sideboard and poured herself a glass of red wine. With her attention diverted, he summoned all of his courage to the fore.

'I confess, that is partly my other reason for seeking you out.'

He noted her back straightened up almost imperceptibly.

'Oh?' She turned around and gave him a surveying look.

He took a silent breath and ploughed on as best he could. 'I am sure Minerva has said much the same to you as she has to me. She cares a great deal about you and she has it in her mind now that we may… help each other. Well, you should know that I have given her an undertaking to earn your trust.'

She was staring at him blankly now, making him uncomfortable and unsure even in his own mind what exactly it was he was suggesting.

'That is to say, with your agreement, of course.' He loosened his grip on the tumbler, feeling he was about to shatter it. 'If that is too much of an imposition for you to bear, it seems to me we still have it in our power to ease Minerva's mind somewhat, before she… I would like to be able to do that for her, and I think you would, too.'

Her eyes had dropped away from him and were now directed at the floor. She was unmoving, apart from some shallow breaths, until she finally raised her glass to her mouth. It was not quite a gulp she took, but he felt it was not far from it. When she glanced towards him again, her eyes were glassy.

'We will not mislead her,' she said quietly, setting her glass down. 'We will tell her the truth.'

He felt his throat tighten with hope. 'Which is?'

She shrugged her shoulders and started towards him with purpose. 'You tell me,' she said plainly, 'to what end do you intend to earn my trust? How do you intend to earn my trust?'

He was able to look at her, but for several reasons was unable to speak. She ventured on, nevertheless.

'You are prepared to give up your peace and solitude, are you?'

He said nothing.

Her look became challenging. 'And for what, exactly? Not simply to fulfil yet another promise, surely?'

'No.' He burst out, without processing it, fighting not to physically leap out of the way of her intense study.

'You must see that I am everything you walked away from, don't you? Even more now than I was then.'

'Whatever you ask of me, I will do it.'

She sighed and shook her head sadly. 'I am not going to extort promises and vows from you.'

He made to speak but realised belatedly he had no idea what to say.

She took pity on him. 'You have to want this—for yourself. You tell me what would make you happy.'

He had to look away then, feeling he might not be able to muster the correct response. Hell, he had no idea how to respond. What did he want? How could he really know, if he had never had it before? He knew his life was at odds with hers, but it did not mean they were incompatible. He was prepared to face the wizarding world again if it meant maintaining a relationship with her.

'It may be a peaceful existence, but it remains a lonely one.'

'Then… get a dog.'

He detected no facetiousness in her tone, and he considered that she was waiting for something else from him. He thought he knew what the real issue was.

'You worry that, at some point, I will decide it isn't worth the hassle.' It annoyed him to say it, but only because he knew it was his fault.

'Wouldn't you?' she asked quietly.

Of course he would.

Severus glanced away from her, clenching his jaw. She was too close, filling his senses to the point his brain now seemed not to work, and looking keenly at him with that perpetual empathy that had always, by turns, fascinated and disturbed him. Then, suddenly, there was the light touch of fingers at his chin, nudging him back to face her. Her thumb brushed over his jaw, the lightest of touches, but his whole body suddenly felt in pain—exquisite pain.

With her other hand she took his glass from him, sipping from it, before setting it on the mantelpiece. When that hand seemed to come towards him too, he felt a sudden pulse of fear.

'Do you mean to torment me?' he whispered, thinking he could not be sure of her intentions. He wondered wildly if she intended some form of cruel payback. He was sure he could not take it.

She was surprised, briefly, before smiling sadly and shaking her head. 'No.'

Too late, he realised he had disrupted her impetus and she withdrew before he could react. She had meant to kiss him, he was sure, and he had thwarted it.

While her back was turned, he snatched up his tumbler and downed it swiftly. 'I am sorry,' he managed to say. 'I am not accustomed to…' The emptiness was all he knew. To feel suddenly a whole plethora of emotion that he was hard pressed to name, let alone understand… The pulse in his neck hurt, his stomach was in knots, and a vice-like pressure was pushing down at his chest.

'It is overwhelming,' she offered conciliatorily, considering him carefully from where she stood.

He nodded. He found he did not mind admitting this to her.

'Twas ever thus,' Hermione murmured dryly to herself, taking up her wine glass. She turned towards him, but instead of approaching him again, she chose to sit on the settee, sitting with her legs crossed beneath her and her back resting against the arm. She motioned her hand towards the opposite end and, somewhat automatically, he did as he was told. The carafe of whiskey floated towards him and as it distilled itself into his glass, he rather thought at this rate he would not see The Hog's Head again tonight.

'Let's start again.' She cleared her throat and then pressed a chuckle away from her mouth. 'I'm sorry if I'm a little, ah, intense.'

'I do not desire an apology—far from it.'

'Let us just say that it has been a long time since I have had… company.' She gave a wry smile.

'Why is that?'

Her head snapped up a little in surprise at his question. 'Oh… I suppose it wasn't a priority, and, besides, there is not much scope here at Hogwarts, you know?' She sipped her wine. 'So, perhaps we are not so very different on that score.'

'You have been married,' he scoffed.

'Ah, yes,' she said, nodding, 'that.'

'I have no wish for the gory details; I simply cannot fathom why you would do it.'

As soon as he said it he thought he might be pushing his luck slightly, but from her expression, he saw she had taken it in the humour he had intended. No doubt the wine helped.

'Well, there we are, Severus, that is the unfathomable conundrum that remains for us to solve. Why is it we put ourselves through this torment? Is it simply for the need to feel loved and to be wanted? Or for the desire to feel that we are not alone in this world—that there is someone with whom you can simply be yourself? Or is it so we have a distraction from ourselves?' She looked at him, but it was a vaguely unseeing look, as though she spoke to herself. With a blink, she continued. 'Some of us find it, some of us don't. Some of us are so desperate for it we seek it in the wrong place—usually catches up with you in the end, mind.'

He didn't know what to say to that.

'I can be on my own now,' she added. 'I am used to it.'

Suddenly, she jumped to her feet and rather than Summon the wine bottle, she crossed over to the sideboard to recharge her glass, talking as she did so.

'I will never again settle for anything less than what I want and what I deserve.' Her voice was quiet as she seemed to labour over the wine. He could not judge her expression as she continued. 'I do not wish to ever have to temper myself for anyone; I wish to be me—unapologetically.'

There was a small smile around her mouth as she faced him again. 'Not too much to ask for, is it?'

It was something about her sudden air of vulnerability that found him getting to his feet and moving to stand before her.

'Well?' she prompted.

'To answer your question, no, it isn't too much, but I can't imagine it is all you are asking for?'

She laughed, poking his shoulder with a finger. 'Ah, see, you know more than you think! Of course there's more. Let's see, there is respect, humour, intelligence, patience, thoughtfulness, empathy, compromise, romance…'

She ticked each one off her fingers.

'What else?' he questioned with interest.

'Love,' she said, a little wistfully, taking a drink from her glass, 'and passion, of course.'

She looked squarely at him and an invisible hand closed at his throat as his thoughts ran amok.

'That's a daunting list, Granger, it really is.' He swallowed his whiskey down in one go and placed the tumbler to the side, deciding he would imbibe no more tonight.

'You don't look daunted.'

'Alas, a long perfected art of mine.'

She inclined her head in acknowledgement, smiling.

They keep coming back to the same thing, he realised. It was obvious to him right then that he would have no better opportunity than this, and if he did not say the right thing now he would regret it forever.

'You continue to wonder at the choices I made, the way I choose to live, and what kept me there for so long—what keeps me there. Well, I shall tell you.'

She put her glass down and looked at him with interest.

'I have built a life where I live freely,' he continued. 'Days go by where I do not even think about magic. I think of the past, but I am not beholden to it. I think of my regrets, but I do not obsess over them. And if I do not have happiness, I have peace.' He hesitated over his following words. 'My greatest fear is that one day something happens that exposes it all as a charade, and, suddenly, I am back at the start, angry and bitter. Hiding is not the answer, though, from you or from anything else.'

Her eyes shone a little and he momentarily felt uncomfortable at opening himself so directly.

'You asked me what would make me happy, well the answer is obvious—it is you. It may be a lonely life, but I would never wish to share it with just anyone. Only you. And, whether you become Queen of this castle or not, it makes no difference to me. I am not afraid of Hogwarts, Hermione, or the Wizarding World, or to put myself back out there.'

It was quite novel to see her so dazed for once, he realised.

'Besides, you get time off,' he stated lightly, 'Durham is but a short broom ride for the ardent admirer…'

She gave a surprised laugh. 'I do not fly very well,' she admitted, with a small distasteful shiver.

'Then, I shall simply have to come and collect you.'

She smiled. 'That is agreeable.'

'Is it?'

She seemed to assess him thoughtfully. 'Yes, it is; I would like nothing more than to share in your existence.'

That rather took his breath from him a little. Was this it, then? Was this the understanding Minerva referred to? Was this the moment he had imagined as being totally beyond his reach until he had set eyes upon her again? And what to do now? He had let his insecurities get the better of himself earlier and from the way she held herself now, with an air of reserve, he was quite sure she was determined to hold her ground this time. It was no good, he had to know.

He dipped his head, pausing expectantly, but she nodded immediately. He kissed her; a gentle touch at first. He tried it again, more firmly, and she responded in a way that made his heart thud painfully, even regretfully. It was a relief to finally feel that their connection, the one he remembered, the one he thought he might have imagined, was something altogether pale compared to how it felt in real time. He eased away slightly, remembering the anguished sense of relief he had felt when she had run off, the first time around. Now, he hoped for a rather different outcome.

He sensed her thoughts might have followed his own, for she smiled and quickly closed the gap between them again. This was something else now, different in its depth and need. His hands seemed to know what to do without his input and one came to rest at the back of her head, the other at her waist. To hold her to him was also completely new; this he could not have imagined with any accuracy.

When she broke away, her forehead came to rest on his shoulder. Squeezing her gently, he tilted his head to lean his cheek into her hair, feeling that he must never open his eyes again, lest he lose all sense and memory of how it felt to be in receipt of such tenderness. And to bestow it, too—he hoped that novelty would never wear off.

'See?' He heard himself sigh softly. 'The truth is, if I couldn't have had this, then I didn't want any of it.'

He had said it, finally. The only reason that really mattered as to why he ran away from her—why he had rejected her friendship.

He pulled away to look at her directly. 'Do you understand?'

She nodded.

'Do you?'

'Yes,' she whispered firmly, as her arms came up around his neck and suddenly they were kissing again. With his arms around her body tightly, feeling the warmth of her, her fingers in his hair at his neck, he thought he could easily collapse. He stopped for a breath, blinking, fighting a surge of emotion that he was not familiar with. He felt he could be literally undone.

She relaxed back onto her feet and looked at him, her hands moving down to his shoulders where she gave them a squeeze. There was a satisfied smile on her face—the brightest smile he had seen her wear since his return.

Then her hands moved down to the tie around his neck, tugging at one end to loosen it. 'Do you know what else I understand?' she whispered. 'We talk entirely too much.' She punctuated that with a kiss.

He was well aware they talked too much, but if he read her intentions correctly he wasn't sure talking was a bad thing. 'I did not come here tonight with the intention of….'

'I know,' she agreed, 'neither did I bring you here with that intention.'

She looked at him, into him, and he tried to ease his mind.

'Funny how things pan out,' he managed to say.

'Is it?' Her eyebrows rose as she succeeded in pulling the tie away completely. 'Not when you consider how many times I thought about doing this. I mean, what do you think I thought about for the rest of that night, all of those years ago?'

Her fingers moved now to the buttons at his collar and part of him thought that he should intervene, but his faculties were long deserted and he could only swallow the lump in his throat.

'You thought about it, too,' she stated, pausing in her ministrations.

'Yes,' he managed to force out.

This pleased her and she kissed him again, her hands gripping tightly at his collar. The urgency of it warmed him in a way that was undeniably foreign, but clearly had the potential to be addictive. Never did he want to be without this feeling, he thought. And despite how close he already held her, she pushed herself against him even more firmly, before pulling away roughly, uttering the most exquisite whimper as she did so.

Surely sensing his reserve, she suddenly hugged him reassuringly. 'I think we have waited long enough, don't you?'

He rested his head against hers, with his eyes closed, knowing that she was right. 'It is too much, and yet… it is not enough,' he whispered, whether to himself or to her, he was unsure. 'Well, then, teach me all of it,' he murmured into her, 'all that I have missed out on.'

She lifted her head away to look at him. 'This is what you want?'

He nodded. 'Please.'

He was rewarded with the softest of kisses. Then as their eyes met, her expression became unusually suggestive. 'Luckily for you, I am a really good teacher.'

He considered her, before leaning down and whispering, 'I've heard rumours you can be a little strict.'

To his delight, her cheeks immediately turned pink.

Well, novice he may be, but he was no dunderhead. He would not let her keep the upper hand for too long. And yet, as he looked at her, he felt no fear at yielding himself to her. In fact, he found his thoughts not to be intrusive for once, not forging ahead, trying to anticipate, worry, or manipulate the situation at hand. His thoughts were only for her and for him, together, as they stood there, coupled with the sensation that, noticeably, he felt lighter than air.

He must be happy, he concluded.