Shadows of Redemption (Part IV)

The new year began with tension thick in the air. Hermione and Snape's evenings had taken on a new intimacy—not in grand gestures but in the small ways they leaned into each other's presence. A hand brushing as they passed a book, shared cups of tea, and lingering looks that neither dared acknowledge.

But not everyone was blind to their connection. Ron had noticed.

One weekend, Hermione agreed to meet Harry and Ron in Hogsmeade for drinks at the Three Broomsticks. She had hoped the outing would be a welcome distraction, but it quickly took a sour turn.

"Blimey, Hermione," Ron said after their second round of Butterbeer, "you've barely said two words to me lately. What've you been so busy with up in the castle?"

Hermione hesitated, her cheeks reddening. "Research," she said vaguely, taking a long sip from her mug.

Ron leaned forward, his expression suspicious. "Research, huh? Is this about Snape?"

Harry, sensing danger, shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Ron—"

"No, Harry, I want to know," Ron pressed, his voice rising. "What's going on, Hermione? You've been sneaking around with him—the same git who made our lives miserable for seven years!"

Hermione's temper flared. "That's enough, Ron. You don't know what you're talking about."

"Don't I?" he shot back. "I know you, Hermione. You've got a bleeding heart for lost causes, but this—this is Snape we're talking about!"

Hermione stood abruptly, the legs of her chair scraping against the floor. "And what if it is? What if I'm spending time with him? It's none of your business."

Ron's face flushed with anger. "It is my business! You're my—" He faltered, then pushed forward. "You're supposed to be with me, Hermione. Everyone knows it. Harry knows it."

Harry's eyes widened in panic. "Er, actually—"

"Stop," Hermione said firmly, cutting Ron off. "You don't get to decide that for me. Ron, I care about you, but we are never going to be a couple. I don't feel that way about you, and I never have."

Ron looked as though she'd slapped him. "You're choosing him over me?"

Hermione's voice softened. "This isn't about choosing. It's about me knowing my own heart."

Before Ron could respond, Hermione turned and walked out, her heart pounding. She hadn't expected the confrontation to happen like this, but she didn't regret what she'd said.

At that same time, Professor McGonagall summoned Snape to her office. He entered to find her seated at her desk, her expression unusually stern.

"Severus," she began, her voice carefully measured, "there are… whispers about your interactions with Miss Granger."

Snape stiffened, his usual mask of indifference sliding into place. "If there are rumors, Minerva, I assure you they are baseless."

McGonagall's gaze softened, but her tone remained firm. "I know Hermione. She's brilliant and headstrong, but she's still young. And you—well, your history makes this situation… delicate."

"I am well aware of my reputation," Snape said coldly. "I don't need a lecture."

"This isn't a lecture," McGonagall replied sharply. "It's a warning. If this goes too far, it will ruin both of you."

Snape opened his mouth to retort but froze when the door burst open. Hermione stood in the doorway, her face flushed with anger.

"Don't you dare blame him," she said, her voice trembling with passion. "If anyone's at fault, it's me."

"Miss Granger—" McGonagall began, but Hermione cut her off.

"No, Professor, you need to hear this. Severus Snape has spent his entire life sacrificing for others. He's been vilified, misunderstood, and left to suffer alone. And you—" her gaze swept to McGonagall and then to Ron, who had apparently followed her and stood frozen in the hallway, "—you think he doesn't deserve to be happy because of who he used to be? Because of mistakes he made decades ago?"

"Hermione," Snape murmured, his voice a warning, but she ignored him.

"I'm tired of people judging him without knowing the full story. Without knowing the good he's done. He saved all of us, and yet he's treated like a pariah. Well, not anymore. Not by me."

The room fell silent, Hermione's words hanging in the air like a challenge. Snape's dark eyes were locked on her, his expression unreadable.

McGonagall cleared her throat, clearly taken aback. "Hermione, I understand your perspective, but—"

"No," Hermione said firmly. "I won't let you talk me out of this. Severus deserves someone who sees him for who he really is. And I… I care about him."

A flicker of something broke through Snape's stoic mask—shock, perhaps, or disbelief. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came.

Ron's voice, bitter and accusing, broke the silence. "This is mad. Absolutely mad."

"Ron, I've said my piece to you already," Hermione said, turning to face him. "You need to accept it and move on."

With that, she stepped back into the room, standing closer to Snape than she ever had in front of others. Her hand found his, and to her surprise, he didn't pull away.

"Severus," she said softly, looking up at him, "you don't have to say anything right now. Just… know that I mean it."

For a long moment, he said nothing, his dark eyes searching hers. Then, slowly, he nodded.

"Thank you," he murmured, his voice barely audible but filled with a weight of emotion she'd never heard before.

Later that night, as they sat by the fire in his office, Snape finally spoke.

"No one has ever stood up for me like that," he said, his voice quiet. "Not even Lily."

Hermione reached out, her hand covering his. "You deserve it, Severus. More than anyone."

He looked at her then, truly looked at her, and for the first time, the walls he had so carefully built began to crumble. Without thinking, he leaned forward, his lips brushing hers in a kiss that was both hesitant and filled with years of pent-up emotion.

When they pulled apart, Hermione smiled, her heart racing. "About time," she teased.

Snape let out a breath that could almost be called a laugh. "You are insufferable."

"And you love it."

For once, he didn't argue.