Please

* * *

She did not get a wink of sleep… Every time Hermione closed her eyes, her mind filled itself with images of Severus’ dead body on the ground, of his lifeless eyes, crying with blood, of him striking down Dumbledore, of Bellatrix's mad cackling, of Death Eaters torturing kids, and many other merry things. Dreamless sleep would’ve been very handy that night but, unfortunately, she gave the last dose she had on her person to Severus. He needed it more. Hermione had one vial of standard Dreamless sleep in her trunk in Gryffindor tower but she always had a terrible headache in the morning if she took it, so she preferred the slightly modified milder version that was used in St. Amandus. Not to mention that going somewhere would mean leaving Severus, and that defied the whole point of her staying here in the first place. She could've easily transfigured something into a bed in the nearest classroom and slept there, but being alone was the last thing that Severus needed after a suicide attempt and in light of Dumbledore's demise looming over him. Over them all really. Hermione couldn't imagine what chaos the old goat's death would cause. The consequences might be disastrous. They already very nearly were. Anger filled her once again at the thought of that bloody bastard. How dare he? She would never forget that night. How she grabbed Severus at the last possible second. The fact that she was a witch and was perfectly capable of catching the man mid-flight slipped Hermione’s brain the moment she saw Severus sliding away… She was decidedly not proud of that. No, ma'am. First year all over again. Only now Hermione had sixteen more years of experience and a number of scars to show for it. So fucking stupid. “Your stupidity could’ve cost a man’s life, Granger… And you call yourself a smart person.” Hermione turned on the couch where she slept (tried to, at least) for the umpteenth time, battling tears. She would not cry. Not again. Distracting herself, Hermione changed the train of thoughts and started replaying in mind their friendly conversation after all the confessions were made and all tears were dry. The way he looked at her with so much trust and, dare she say it, hope, made Hermione's heart clench. It was the first time that she saw that usually guarded man so open, and the fact he let her — of all people — to get this close, it… Let's just say that Hermione was deeply grateful for the chance to really get to know the professor. He called her his angel. She was no angel, really. Years of turning, along with her work in the hospital and later as a cursebreaker made her skin thick. Hermione was a cynical, almost cold, absolutely no-nonsense person. And thanks to her Defense apprenticeship and the Mistress she studied under, she was calculating, meticulous and ruthless. She could do things the others refused to, that's what made her one of the best mediwitches in Europe, that's what made her just as famous a cursebreaker as Belmont herself. Hermione never saw herself as an angel, but knowing the Bible, maybe Severus was right in calling her so. She'll be anyone for him anyway. That was clear as day. Hermione couldn't for the life of her pinpoint the moment when her obsession with Severus started, but she'll be damned if she'll let the man of so many of her dreams become a murderer of Albus fucking Dumbledore when it caused him so much stress. With new resolution, Hermione summoned a vial of Calming Draught from her conveniently bottomless pockets, downed it in one gulp, allowing herself only a moment to enjoy the warmth, and then began planning things for the first turn tomorrow. Half an hour later, at 1 am, she finally fell asleep. It didn't last long — the Calming Draught could only do so much — and with a pounding heart, Hermione jerked awake from a nightmare. The wristwatch on the coffee table nearby showed only four in the morning. There was no point in trying to fall asleep again since they soon needed to leave the quarters anyway, so she stood up, returned the 'bed' to its original state, and went to the bathroom. In other circumstances, she'd spend some time satisfying her curiosity and snooping around in Severus’ rooms, but today her mind was too preoccupied to notice such trivial things as the color of the walls or scents of shampoo. Hermione practically stumbled inside, not even looking in the mirror, mechanically brushed her teeth, took a long contrast shower to wake herself up enough to be able to function for several hours at least, and returned to the living room to change into muggle clothes. It was still too early to wake Severus up, so Hermione decided to kill the time with something useful. She sat down on the couch, cast a Muffliato around herself, and called for Dobby, asking him to bring her a necklace with a simple white stone on a thin metal chain from her trunk in the Gryffindor dorm, then set to work on respelling it. Forty minutes later, at about five-fifteen, Hermione lifted the silencing charm and ventured into the bedroom where Severus still slept peacefully. He was on his side, facing the door, snuggling into the sheets, one arm tucked under the pillow, another rested near his chin. The coziest Hermine ever saw the man. It was such a pity that she needed to wake him… Hermione walked into the room and reached toward his shoulder to shake him, but stopped herself. There was no way of knowing how he'd react, and react he will. Severus Snape no doubt had incredible reflexes, not to mention, was an exceptionally proud man, and the previous night was emotional and highly embarrassing for him if anything. Well… There wasn't much she could do about it. Simply setting an alarm and leaving him alone with a note or something similar wasn't an option — it would only send the wrong message. If Hermione wanted to show Severus that she cared and that she will stay no matter what, she had to risk his foul mood. Taking a deep breath, Hermione knelt near the bed, so when he opened his eyes he'd immediately see her, and deciding against physical contact, drawled: "Rise and shine, dear."

* * *

There was someone in his room. His still sleepy brain registered the alien sound but didn't seem to be able to identify the source. That was highly worrisome indeed. Additionally, his mind felt cloggy. That meant that Severus was under influence of something but he did not recall being summoned or ingesting anything at Hogwarts. There was something important about last night, though, he was sure of it, but the information continued to evade him. "Open your eyes, Severus, I can see that you're not sleeping anymore," said the voice a little louder. He knew that voice. Severus’ eyes flew open, and the first thing his gaze landed upon was the Granger girl's smiling face. Kind of. It was more like the face of a Granger woman. Severus scowled at the strange student-not-a-student and opened his mouth to demand an explanation when said explanation hit him on its own volition with the force of Hogwarts Express full speed. Last night. The Astronomy tower. His angel. She was his angel. And she was still here. Unbelievable. Or was she? Needing to reassure himself that it was a reality and not some twisted form of hallucination, Severus gingerly reached forward and placed his hand on her cheek. Real, warm, human cheek. Hermione let out a breath, and her smile widened. "How are you?" she asked and Severus nodded in response, not wanting to speak just yet. "I know it's still very early but you need to get up, dear. We have to leave before the past-us come," she said, rising from the floor. "You do realize how ludicrous that sounds, don't you?" he asked after a moment, looking at her retreating form. Hermione chuckled and glanced back as she exited the room. "I do know, actually. Welcome to my world. Get up, I'll be waiting in the living room. We need to talk." And the door quietly snapped shut behind her. At the mention of 'the talk', shame flooded Severus. He knew what she wanted to talk about and did not like it one iota. He also knew that he had problems — Severus was far from stupid after all — but it was one thing to just be aware of it, and completely another to be considered a mental case by the actual mediwitch who would want him to do something about it. Or worse… What if she wanted to tell him that she changed her mind, that she wanted to leave and forget him like a bad dream? Would his psych survive that blow? Most likely not. Everything in Severus screamed to go there and in pretty colorful expressions point out a direction where she should go with her talks, to push Granger away with all his might and never let her get close again, lest it’ll be too late. He would not be subjected to her pity and embarrassed by being treated as a psychiatric patient. Fueled by this decision, Severus rose from the bed and made his way toward the exit. He opened the door and inhaled, preparing to start his angry tirade but found himself unable to do so. Hermione sat on the couch with her legs pressed to her chest, chin rested on her knees, and her long soft-looking curls spread all around her shoulders. She was reading some book and smiling fondly at the contents. The image of her smiling like that at him not five minutes ago popped up in Severus' mind unbidden. He could not remember the last time anyone smiled while looking at him. Especially not that way. The desperate need to keep her in his life for as long as he could warred with the sheer terror of this completely new situation Severus found himself in. What an idiot he was… Maybe letting Hermione help him would not be such a bad idea — she already saw him at his lowest, knew his worst sins, past and future, and hadn't turned away. Plus they spent several hours last night just chatting amiably, like old friends do, which wasn't the worst thing. And he could certainly use a friend. With that thought his anger evaporated. It would be incredibly foolish to miss the only chance of having something good in life. Even in the form of a misbehaving student. Besides, for some reason, it was easy to separate the grown woman she really was from the annoying teen that sat in his class. All that felt like a lifetime ago already. And if he managed to convince Hermione to test out of school this year, things would become even easier because no matter the outcome of his confrontation with Dumbledore today and the course of the stupid war in general, Hermione Granger would have no need to ever return to this blasted place as a student. The sound of a page being turned made Severus realize that he was standing in a doorway, gaping like a moron. He quickly averted his gaze and quietly slipped into the bathroom next door, missing the knowing smirk on Hermione's face. Severus leaned on the sink and took a deep breath, looking at himself in the mirror — something he didn't dare to do yesterday. Didn't want to see after everything that happened. The face that looked back, though, was the same thin, shallow, and pale, as always, and it was disconcerting. Severus felt so different now and didn't understand whether it was because of his attempt on his own life or because of everything that transpired afterward. Probably both, he presumed. Not wishing to dwell on that, Severus turned the water on and jumped into the shower. He washed thoroughly, especially his hair, trying to ignore the reason for all that preening that currently sat on the couch behind one flimsy door. But Severus did want to look nice, as nice as he could anyway, simply because she deserved the effort. And because he didn’t want any reminders of The Incident. Several minutes later, satisfied, Severus slipped on the dark gray bathrobe and made his way into the bedroom to change. He opened the wardrobe, looked over the assortment of the identical robes, frock coats, shirts, and his other usual clothing, and immediately felt a strong desire to burn it all. He suddenly realized that he despised the person he spent so much time and effort creating. That person led him to this disaster. Not even trying to force himself, Severus chose only a white long-sleeved polo shirt, navy slacks that he never wore here because they weren't black, forgoing even his usual billowing cloak. Severus knew this little act of rebellion wouldn't be appreciated, most of all by Dumbledore, but in all honesty, he couldn't care less. Not today. Besides, tomorrow no one will remember clothes even if he would prowl the halls in a pink tutu the whole day. Smirking at the image, Severus closed the wardrobe and came to the door, suddenly feeling self-conscious. But after a moment, scolding himself for being stupid, he opened it and stepped outside. Hermione welcomed him with a wide grin, and Severus let out a breath he was holding, relaxing a little bit. She obviously approved, and the others did not really matter. That thought unsettled him again, and Severus cleared his throat to compose himself. "You wanted to talk." Better get this over with quickly. Hermione's smile faded slightly and she sighed. "Yes. Let's go to the Room of Requirement, no one will bother us there." She put her book and the necklace of some kind that she was fiddling with when Severus came out of the bedroom back into her pocket. They made their way up to the seventh floor in silence. The castle was empty and quiet, even portraits were still asleep which was slightly unusual but fitting somehow. Despite his earlier decision to let Hermione help him, Severus felt like he was marching straight to his doom. Why on earth did he agree to it? It was sheer madness. All of it. He shouldn't have agreed. He shouldn't have. Shouldn't have. Maybe it wasn't too late to back out… Warm fingers intertwined themselves with his and squeezed slightly, and Severus let out a small shaky sigh. It would be alright. The room greeted them with a cozy little space: a roaring fireplace, a set of matching deep green couch and arm-chairs, a standard-lamp standing on the floor between them, illuminating the room with a warm saffron light, and a large top-to-bottom window on the opposite wall, now draped almost all the way with thick heavy curtains. A tea-set and a plate full of small sandwiches were placed on the coffee table. Hermione dragged Severus inside and immediately took a seat on the corner of the couch, only then letting go of his hand. Severus stood in indecision for a moment before sitting down next to her, close but not touching, staring resolutely at the fire. He will not start this conversation. No, thank you. "Tea?" asked Hermione quietly, clinking with cups and spoons. Severus turned his head and watched in astonishment how she made him a cup exactly the way he preferred it: a splash of milk and no sugar. "You know how I like my tea?" mumbled Severus when Hermione held out a cup to him, feeling dumb. Obviously, she knew. She just shrugged, taking a sip from her own cup. "I know a lot of things about many people. I've spent years watching you guys. And I have an eidetic memory, so I can't really help but remember it all," she paused and looked at Severus intently. Interesting. "But we'll discuss my observations another day if you don't mind. I don't have much time right now, so I'd like to get straight to the point." With a world-weary sigh, he shifted his gaze back to the fire and pointedly kept it there, not gracing Hermione with any answer. "Severus… What happened last night must not be repeated," she said steadily but quietly. "And why would you care?" he growled bitterly without actually thinking first but regretted the outburst immediately, and added in a more normal voice: "It won't." For a long moment, Hermione just looked at him, not saying a word, and that gaze burned a new hole in his already battered soul. "I'm sorry," whispered Severus, darting a glance in her direction to see how mad she was. But there was no trace of anger on Hermione’s face. In fact, there was no trace of any strong emotion, just her usual normal self. As if they were discussing the weather. "It's alright. I understand your confusion. It would've been strange if you weren't really. And I want you to know that I'll gladly answer any questions you may have. I only ask that you consider answering mine in return." Severus dropped his eyes on the floor near the fireplace, watching the odd dance of light on the gray stone. "And if I decide not to?" "It doesn't have to be me. And it doesn't have to be now. But you need to talk to somebody. All those things that you're bottling inside for years, they're destroying you. You're a smart man, Severus, you know I'm right." He didn't reply, and silence fell between them for several minutes. Hermione didn't seem bothered by it in the least, calmly drinking her tea with sandwiches, while Severus did not even touch his. He contemplated her words… And had no idea why. Well, maybe just a tiny one, something to do with the overwhelming all-consuming fear that gripped his guts with its icy tentacles and refused to let go. Severus already thought it through earlier and decided to give Hermione a chance. In fact, he walked here, expecting her to start right away, not give him a warning and time to come to terms with everything, not to mention, give him an actual choice in the matter. But, being a mediwitch, Hermione probably knew what she was doing. And then his treacherous brain supplied another way of self-torture. What if all this was just a mediwitch taking care of a patient, and there was no friendship that, as Severus suddenly realized, he already subconsciously started to count upon? She's been so supportive and seemed to be genuinely worried about him and interested in his fate and well-being, so he just assumed that Hermione wanted to be his friend. But what if she didn't? And why would she? Mortified even more, Severus froze. Friendship was not a one-sided thing, and as of yet he did nothing but receive everything Hermione so freely offered, not reciprocating in the slightest. That would not do. He couldn't lose her, not now. It was selfish, Severus knew, but didn't he earn the right to be selfish if only just this once? Severus wasn't quite ready to discuss his endless issues but needed to say something, so he looked her over, deciding on the best approach, and then going for the obvious one. Health. "You look tired. Didn't sleep well?" he asked, breaking the silence. Hermione glanced at him, surprised. "Not particularly, no. Why?" Severus shrugged. "You can worry about me, but I can't worry about you?" He tried to look impassive but didn't know how well he managed without the support of Occlumency. Judging by the knowing glint in Hermione's too-perceptive eyes, not particularly. But did he care about it? No. Severus was so tired of hiding. And with this one woman at least, he could be himself. For as much as he could anyway. He rebelled with clothing today, why not rebel with this too? "Of course, you can. You just changed the topic unexpectedly, that's all," replied Hermione, placing her cup on the table. And he couldn't help but notice that she allowed that change, and breathed in relief. "You need to eat something, dear. Don't think that I'm going to just sit by and watch you continue to starve yourself. That ends now," Hermione said, pushing the plate toward him, apparently having no wish to elaborate on her sleep or lack of thereof. "Eat, Severus, before I put you on a nutrient potion," she added playfully but her eyes betrayed how serious she actually was. He scowled at her but obeyed and took one sandwich. While he ate, Hermione peppered him with questions about his health condition — "I am fine, Madam…" — when did he do his last check-up — "Two months ago, after a particularly harsh summon," — what potions did he currently take — "I don't have a habit of taking unnecessary medication," — and million other inane (compared to the previous ones) things. Severus dutifully answered, reluctantly at first, of course, but nonetheless gradually relaxing bit by bit and sinking deeper into the soft couch. "Not that I don't trust Poppy Pomfrey, but I'd like to do a full check-up myself. Would you allow me to?" Hermione asked at last. Severus measured her with a heavy gaze. Even being strangely okay with the interrogation, he was reluctant to agree, since it was a whole new level of things. Severus wasn't sure if he wanted Hermione to see the extent to which he was injured throughout his life, and there was no doubt that she'd want to know his full medical history. No one knew that, except Pomfrey, and only because she worked here when Severus attended school and there was nothing he could do to prevent it. Why should he hide his past, though? Secrets always ruined everything, he learned that very early in life. "I won't look too deep, only your current condition, I promise," added Hermione, apparently taking his silence for what it was. On the other hand, why did she have an interest in his life and secrets? That little persistent voice in his head that always warned him to stay away, that saved him so many times already couldn't shut up, filling his mind with a million 'what-ifs'. He had to know. If only to assure himself that he did not make a mistake in trusting her and get rid of at least that fear. "What's with all that mothering, Granger?" Severus asked, placing the empty cup on the table. "Why do you want to do it?" Hermione frowned. "I told you why. I care about you." "Yes, but why? Why? You promised to answer questions but all you did so far was sidestep them. Yet, you ask me to lay myself bare before you…" Severus knew it wasn't exactly how things really were but was willing to take the risk of her noticing and calling him on it. It wasn't fair to her, but Severus simply needed to know her true motives before deciding to place himself in her hands completely and consciously this time. Hermione got up and walked toward the window, opening the curtains with a wave of her hand, filling the room with the morning light, while Severus talked. She stood there for what seemed like an eternity with her arms crossed on her chest, silently looking out at the grounds. She was nervous, he could tell, and it made him uneasy at first, and then, as seconds ticked by and nothing changed, to slowly start to panic, imagining all sorts of scenarios, the most prominent of them being that she was asked to keep an eye on him by the old nutter. Somehow that thought made Severus feel let down. Hermione turned around and locked eyes with him, searching for something in his gaze — which made Severus' heart skip a beat — then sighed and turned back to the window, finally starting to talk quietly. "I don't know how it started, when, or why, mind you. It was so gradual and I was so preoccupied with everything, I didn't really notice. Of course, I always respected you, you're a teacher, no matter how horrid your attitude in class is. It's ingrained in me," she chuckled. "I understand the need for an iron hand in potions especially, in DADA too. Maybe not that iron but it's not my place to judge you, so I won't. Anyway, respect quickly turned into admiration, as soon as it became apparent how intelligent and skillful you are. But at some point, it grew into something more. It was a natural progression, I suppose. Watching you demonstrate something turned into watching just your elegant hands. Listening to you explaining things turned into listening to your deep silky voice." Hermione turned around and looked at him again. Severus' lungs froze, unable to draw breath. She couldn't possibly mean what it seemed she meant, could she? "That night in my third year when you shielded us from Remus, I stood right behind you, pressed to your back. I felt you trembling," she whispered, not breaking eye contact, and every word dropped heavily somewhere deep inside him. "After everything you've done for us, for me, how could I not start to care? "I tried to fight it, you know. I tried to find someone else to divert my attention from you. It didn't work, obviously. None of them reached a high enough level on my personal Snape-scale. One was too dull, another — too stupid, and so on, so I gave up on that." Hermione stopped and inhaled slowly. "Do you see where I'm going with this? Do you wish me to stop now? I can stop, leave it all unsaid. I don't want to burden you with this, it's the last thing you need right now." Severus sat frozen, listening to his wildly pounding heart and trying to make sense of it all. Burden him? How could somebody's care be a burden? Was she insane? If he guessed correctly, of course, and Hermione was talking about what he thought. Silence that stretched between them was uncomfortable, to say the least. Hermione was looking at him expectantly, waiting for Merlin only knew what, also not moving. Severus couldn't force any words out of his mouth, and even if he could, he didn't know what exactly to say. Ask to continue? Even thinking about it made his heart rate jump up to the point of almost a heart attack. But he equally couldn't tell her to stop… He got so close to… to having his biggest deepest wish being fulfilled, stopping now seemed like the dumbest thing ever. Severus wanted to run away and was afraid to let Hermione out of his sight at the same time. What the fuck was he supposed to do? So he just looked at her, hoping beyond hope that she'd understand that unresolvable turmoil and make a decision. After another incomprehensible amount of time, Hermione got closer, sat down on the coffee table opposite him, and took both his hands in hers. Breathing hard, Severus tried to get rid of the black dots that clouded his vision but none of his attempts worked. "Calm down, dear," said Hermione, giving him a vial of Calming Draught, which Severus immediately snatched and downed in one gulp. "Deep breath, that's it," she continued. "Okay now?" He only nodded. "Alright," smiled Hermione and looked at him for a long moment, seemingly gathering courage or searching for the right words. "I love you, Severus. I think you’re one of the most wonderful, intelligent, and frustrating people in the world." He inhaled sharply but Hermione placed a finger on his lips to prevent him from talking. "Shhh… Don't," she breathed. "Don't say anything. You don't have to. I don't expect you to reciprocate. It's ok. I've made peace with my feelings years ago, you know. I was content with just watching you from afar, from the shadows helping you take your rightful place in our society, but if you'd let me become your friend while I do that, I'd be the happiest, of course." Despite all mental preparations, hearing those words still shook Severus to the core. She loved him? Him who was not loved even by his own mother? Hermione gently cupped his cheeks, gingerly stroked both sides of his head, tucking his hair behind his ears, and pressed her forehead to his for a few moments. “I love you. I love you so so much,” she whispered again, then pulled away a little to be able to look Severus in the eyes. “I didn’t tell you this because I want you to do something about it, you hear me? I told you because you deserve to know, because you need to hear it. Do you understand, Severus?” He gulped and nodded. Hermione smiled her beautiful warm smile and sat upright, once again taking his hands in hers. “I need to go… But I’ll see you after your last class of the day, okay?” She squeezed his hands, got up, and walked toward the door. “Everything will be fine, you’ll see,” promised Hermione one more time before silently vanishing in the hall. Severus sat there in a daze for several more minutes. What the hell has just happened? And more importantly, what did it mean? That she would stay? The longer he thought about it, turned Hermione’s words in his head, replaying them again and again, searching for any hints of insincerity and finding none, the calmer he became. For the first time in many years, Severus felt true hope for a better future, for any future. He couldn’t bring himself to imagine them as a pair, not yet at least, but even if he never managed to overcome his many fears and issues concerning that, Hermione just promised to be his friend. Severus Snape had a true friend. That in itself was unbelievable. Not to mention, it was far easier to achieve, since they already made good progress down that particular road. Severus only hoped that she’d be able to forgive him when he’d unavoidably screw things up, and vowed to himself to control his bloody temper and anxiety… Checking the time — it was only 6:40 — he strode to the bookshelves that covered the wall opposite the fireplace and took one of the books, not even caring what it was. The Room couldn’t have chosen anything bad. Then he dropped his boots and half-sat half-lay on the couch, opening the book — an old muggle classic — on a random page and getting lost in the eternal words, distracting himself from thoughts about Hermione. There was plenty of time before breakfast (which she undoubtedly expected him to attend if her threats about nutrient potions were to be believed) and no point in spending it worrying himself sick about something he had no control over. Fifty minutes later, Severus decided that it was time to face the world, shelved the book, and started his long way to the Great Hall. Everything was fine until about halfway down he met several third-year Ravenclaws who, the moment they spotted the professor, stopped on their way, bulging their eyes at him in utter shock. Severus scowled at the baboons but walked past them, not saying a word. By the moment he reached the Great Hall though he was hard-pressed not to turn around and bolt to his rooms if not to hide but at the very least to put on his usual attire. Because absolutely everyone was bloody staring, and without Occlumency — when Severus found himself actually caring about all that nonsense — it was not so easy to endure. It was like back in his school days when everyone stared at the ugly, greasy, miserable sod in what looked like hand-me-hand-me-downs. Especially during his upper years when Severus had been growing seemingly several inches per hour no less but due to the lack of food, was becoming more and more like a skeleton wrapped up in pale yellowish skin, which did nothing to improve the image. His beloved mother opened her veins as a greeting gift to her son when he returned to the house after his fifth year, and having no wish to see daddy dearest, nor the house itself, Severus practically lived on the streets for two summers, not particularly caring about his state. Shaking off the unpleasant memories, he occluded, though not as strongly as usual, just locking all the bad stuff away and allowing himself to continue to feel things. He had a right to feel things on his last day of peace, hadn't he? Severus walked into the Hall through the staff entrance, as usual, and took his seat at the High table, doing his best to ignore the stares and the deathly silence that fell among all present. He glanced at the unusually quiet students, trying to catch her. Teen-Hermione — Granger — was sitting at the Gryffindor table facing him with shock written on her young features, mirroring the rest of her school-mates. That made Severus doubt his sanity for a moment. It passed quickly when he noticed her slightly raised eyebrow, questioning his direct stare. Feeling foolish, he turned his attention to breakfast. He wasn't hungry, but knowing that Hermione probably watched his every move and not wishing to test her affection with a pointless raw on the very first day, he made himself a cup of strong black coffee and placed several pieces of fruit on the plate before him. "Khm," sounded from Severus' left, forcing the professor to turn his head in that direction and look at Minerva. "Did you want something?" he asked, arching an eyebrow. McGonagall inhaled, preparing to bombard her colleague with no doubt stupid questions but stopped herself and instead glared at the still shocked students, making them one by one turn to their own food. Several moments later the Hall was filled with the usual buzz of chatter and laughter. "So what happened?" asked Minerva cautiously, filling her plate. Months of him viciously biting everyone's heads off in response to the most simple and innocent questions taught McGonagall to keep her witty and funny remarks to herself, and for that Severus was grateful. "I've no idea what you're talking about, woman," he replied, calmly taking a sip. "Oh, come off it," she huffed. "You know perfectly well what am I talking about, Severus. We've been sitting at this table, on these exact places, to be precise, for over a decade and this is the first time when I see you like this. Come to think of it, this is the first time ever when I see you without your black ammunition. And I remember you as a scrawny eleven-year-old." "Don't remind me," mumbled Severus. "I'm sick and tired of black and buttons, that's what happened. Don't ask me stupid questions, Minerva. I want to enjoy the day while I can, and you are not helping," he growled, scowling at her for good measure. McGonagall, as smart as she was, had enough sense to leave Severus be, allowing him to quickly eat his fruit in peace and leave the Hall to start preparing for his first class of the last day before the final exams of the year. All that time Severus ignored one particularly burning gaze, not wishing to deal, or even look at the Headmaster before their fateful meeting at the top of the blasted Astronomy tower at midnight. To Severus' satisfaction, all classes went smoothly. Students were terrified of him far more than usual simply because the old version of professor Snape was well-studied and predictable, unlike the new one. They didn't know what to expect, therefore no one dared to pip out of turn, look where wasn't supposed to, or breathe louder than was allowed. They even answered his questions more or less correctly, though from where did that sudden collective burst of knowledge go, Severus had no idea… At least until lunch break where he had the pleasure of watching the entirety of Gryffindor and Slytherin sixth-years who had DADA right after break and Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff third-years who had his lesson during the last period of the day, frantically flipping pages of their assigned texts. To say that the staff was amused by this turn of events was to say nothing. Minerva positively brimmed with cheerfulness, sloshing it all around the High table. Strangely enough, Severus didn't mind that. He looked at his colleagues, congratulating him with this essentially effortless success, and felt his chest swelling with warmth at being included, finally, being counted as one of their own, and at the same time with sadness. Tomorrow they all will hate him. Unable to stand this anymore, Severus pushed his half-eaten plate away, rose from his seat, and made his way to the staff exit with one last glance at Granger who was also very amused with her classmates' antics. She caught his gaze, smiling slightly. Come tomorrow, at least he will still have her, and, Merlin, he was grateful. The next period was even more satisfying than the rest of them. Severus enjoyed himself immensely, stubbornly ignoring Potter's angry stares, which made the stupid boy even angrier. More so, for the first time in six years, he had the pleasure of watching the brat stutter and trail off in a way that would've made Longbottom green with envy when he at long last exploded and Severus simply raised an eyebrow instead of a reply. And, of course, he got to see Hermione, even if glamoured as her extremely annoying younger version. But looking closer, Severus could still see his angel somewhere in there. In her eyes, shining with intelligence; in her soft curls that spread all around her thin shoulders just like this morning; in her hands, carefully writing down his every word, though he was sure that she already knew all that and much more, having a mastery in Defense. Severus never noticed before how beautiful she was — he simply had no need in looking. Now he couldn't force himself to stop watching her. If not with his eyes (it was too risky), then in his memory. He replayed Hermione's confession in his mind what seemed like a hundred of times already, remembering her loving gaze and soft caresses. Basking in her affections, so freely bestowed upon him. At the end of the lesson, he couldn't contain himself any longer and attacked her with questions, trying to get a rise out of her. And Potter, of course. Granger obliged, huffing in annoyance and replying with more and more cheek, to the utter horror of the rest of the class. But despite all pretenses, Severus could see the merry in her eyes. She was having as much fun with this as he did. After his last class, which couldn't go fast enough, Severus sat behind his desk, watching with raising anticipation mixt with worry how third-years bolted through the door one by one, sometimes several at once — which would leave many of them nice bruises tomorrow — with relief evident on their faces, though no one still dared to speak. Hermione promised to come after his last class, and with nothing to do, Severus strode up the stairs into his office, determined to occupy his mind. He sat behind his desk and pulled the last stack of essays that he had to grade this year, hopefully, the last stack of essays ever. The headmaster did not have to grade anything, thankfully. "Severus." Swearing mentally, Severus raised his eyes at Dumbledore who stood in the doorframe, looking grim without his maddening twinkle. "Do you think it is wise?" Dumbledore spoke calmly but Severus knew better than to believe appearances. "Did you want something? Headmaster," he drawled in reply, choosing to ignore the uncomfortable topic. He won't let the old man take Hermione away. "I want to hear the answer to my question, my boy." Severus wasn't the only one who was determined to have things his way then. Fine. "And I want ice cream. Would you be so kind?" Severus raised an eyebrow and stood up, crossing his arms on his chest. "With pineapple if you please." "Severus—" "No. I am sick of this, Albus. I will proceed according to your plan if only to rid myself of your infernal machinations, but I owe you nothing else, least of all answers, especially since it is a private matter. I'm a boy no longer, old man, and I've certainly never been yours." "Whose are you then? Not dear Tom's by any chance?" "I am my own," growled Severus. "You've finally lost your mind if you think otherwise." They both stood rigidly, gazes locked in a silent battle of wills. The tension in the room built up exponentially, making the air thick with magic to the point when it was hard to draw breath. Severus didn't know exactly for how long it continued but at the moment when it reached its peak, it was broken by a sudden knock on the door. "Enter," he snapped at whoever it was, and was immensely relieved to see Miss Granger walking in. She stopped just inside the door, glanced apprehensively at both men, and gulped audibly. "Is it…" she stammered, blushing, "is it a bad time, professor? I just wanted to ask you a question about the exam, but I can come later." Severus was impressed. "On the contrary, Miss Granger. It is a perfect time," he said to her, but looking at Dumbledore. "If that is all, Headmaster? I'm quite busy at the moment, as you can see." Dumbledore bowed his head slightly and without another word slipped out of the office, clearly not happy about the interruption. Hermione dropped her glamor the moment the door out of the classroom closed and sat on one of the chairs in front of the desk. "Manipulative old goat…" grumbled Severus, sinking in his own chair tiredly. "What did he want?" asked Hermione, leaning forward and reaching her hand to him. That simple gesture of comfort, of friendship, shook Severus one more time. It was real. She was real. Instantly forgetting about Dumbledore, he gingerly took the offered hand in both his and smiled slightly, looking at it. "Severus," Hermione tried again, startling him out of thoughts. "Nothing unusual, I assure you. He wanted to know what the hell I was thinking, attracting that much attention today of all days." "And what did you say?" Severus snorted. "That it's none of his business, naturally." "So that's why he looked like he just ate an actual lemon instead of his beloved lemon drops?" smirked Hermione, leaning back on her chair. Severus nodded. “How are you holding up?” He looked at her for a long moment, then shrugged before replying, “As fine as could be expected, I suppose.” He sighed. “He’s right, you know. I shouldn’t have done it. There’s no way the Dark Lord will let this slide and who knows what will get into his head when he hears the fascinating news.” “Don’t worry, dear, we’ll make you a perfectly believable cover for this change. Just not right now, one thing at a time, alright? Do you have something urgent to do?” she asked. Severus glanced at the stack of essays, then back at her. To hell with it all. “No, not really. Why?” Hermione stood up and reached for him. “I was just thinking, I’m sick of this place, and you must be too. Plus you could definitely do with a distraction, and we both are in dire need of some fresh air. So why don’t we take a nice long walk into the Forest? I know a few good spots which we could raid for potion ingredients that I bet even you didn’t know existed,” she grinned at his arched eyebrows. “What do you say? I promise we’ll be back at sunset.” It did sound good. It sounded amazing, and Severus did not hesitate to inform Hermione of such. So ten minutes later, after at Hermione’s request, Dobby delivered a picnic basket with some food, they both strode leisurely through Hogwarts’ many secret passages toward the Forbidden forest, chatting all the way. It was a pleasant evening: the weather was nice, the breeze — warm, and the grounds calm and quiet. Though the last one might have something to do with the fact that they emerged from the tunnel under the shadows of the trees, still technically at the edge of the forest but deep enough so no one would notice. Severus used that passage to answer summons since Dumbledore was oh so generous to make an appariting spot near the exit. Hermione seemed to instantly know where they were and without a moment of hesitation led them further away from the sunlight. Severus followed without questions — he could navigate in this place with his eyes closed, so many times had he visited it in the past decade and a half. But after an hour or so, she suddenly took one turn, then another, and the other one, and, looking around in astonishment, Severus realized that he indeed has never been here before. And a pity, that. They stood in a small round clearing, thickly covered in bluebells. And not just any bluebells one might find in any forest, those particular bluebells belonged to a very rare and very valuable sort of magical plants, bred specifically for the purposes of potion making two centuries ago. Sprout would kill for just one plant. And Slughorn probably too, come to think of it. Being far from foolish, Severus dropped to the ground, harvesting as many of the flowers as he could carry without contaminating them. Hermione followed his lead, carefully digging plants so as not to damage the roots, and storing them away in a special container she brought, after placing them under stasis, of course. Half an hour of silent diligent work later, tired but pleased, they both sat side by side at the edge of the clearing, leaning on a broad tree trunk. Hermione took the picnic basket out and opened it, inviting Severus to have something to eat. “Thank you, Hermione,” he said quietly, finishing his third sandwich (he suddenly felt rather ravenous). “It’s beautiful here.” She just smiled in response and leaned her head on his shoulder. “It is,” she said. “And very peaceful. I love this place. Found it almost ten years ago when I was starting my internship in St. Amandus. We called it ‘Asylum’ among ourselves,” she chuckled. “You can imagine why I wanted peace.” Severus snorted. “I can’t, actually. You’ll have to tell me about it.” “Some other day, then. It’s starting to get dark, we should probably head back.” “I don’t want to go back,” he whispered, closing his eyes. Hermione shifted so she’d sit before him and touched his shoulder, sighing. “Severus. I know that trust is not something one should ever give lightly, especially at times like this, and under normal circumstances, I’d never ask this of you. But these aren’t normal circumstances, so… Please. Please… Just this once. Trust me. Everything will be fine. I’ll be damned if I allow anyone to harm you or those you hold dear. Everything will be fine.” He just looked at her, not knowing what to say. In many ways, those words were even more precious than any love confessions, and they hit Severus hard. She’s planning to do something for him, or more likely — judging by her confidence — already did, that was obvious, and though it was a worrisome thought in itself, it was a definite proof of Hermione’s earlier words. And it was so fucking overwhelming that for the first time in his life, Severus’ brain drew completely blank. Not even a single profanity could be heard echoing in that formidable mind. That’s why the next moment Severus found himself hugging the small witch fiercely, unable and unwilling to let her go. The way back flew much faster and quieter than the way to the clearing. Despite Hermione’s best efforts, the anxiety levels grew with the speed of light. As grateful as Severus was, something had to happen regardless. He, or Hermione, will have to do something about the situation because he was pretty sure it won’t just magically resolve itself. And that Goddamn suspense was killing him. By the time they returned to the tunnel that led to his rooms, the forest became almost pitch-black. At one moment, they had to disillusion themselves and hide for several eternal minutes because Hagrid very nearly spotted them during his nightly rounds around the ground, which definitely didn’t improve anyone’s mood. Severus noticed that Hermione also became a little distant at some point, chalking it off as a sign of occlusion and therefore worry. The trek up through the castle seemed endless. A new form of truly cruel torture no less. Hermione tagged along with him, keeping quiet. He should’ve sent her to her dormitory, Severus knew but didn’t have the strength to do that. It was after 10 pm already, so that meant that he had a little under two hours before The Event, and he had no wish to spend them alone and brooding in his rooms. After they crossed the threshold to his quarters, Severus calmed down a bit. These rooms were exactly the same rooms where he lived while teaching potions, relocated from the dungeons per Severus’ request. They were his home. Add to it Hermione's presence, and no worries were left in the world. The two of them sat down on the couch in front of the blazing fire, not talking, simply enjoying the last moments of peace in each other's company. It will not last long, Severus knew that by experience. It was foolish to waste time when there was so much he wanted to say before it was too late, but breaking this warm comfortable silence seemed inhuman. So it was only about a half-hour later that he managed to convince himself that he mustn’t wait any longer. “Hermione,” he started, realizing all of a sudden that he knew not what exactly he intended to say. She turned her caramel eyes, looking straight at him. Through him. And then smiled. Severus didn’t know what to do. He was completely lost… again. No words came to mind, they were not needed. His angel saw him clearly in all his ugly miserable glory, of that there was no doubt. How could she possibly love him?.. “I am not worthy of you…” Severus whispered after a minute, not breaking eye contact. “I am too broken. And too weak.” Hermione kept quiet for a long time, studying him. It felt highly uncomfortable but fitting, so he didn’t protest. “We are all broken, dear. We are all weak,” she said finally. “Not you. You’re beautiful. You’re an angel, Hermione, you shouldn’t flounder in that shit with me.” “Do you know what angels are, Severus?” she asked, turning to him fully. “They are soldiers. Warriors. Guardians.” She stroked his cheek gently, letting the gestures fill in the gaps that left her words. He nodded and inhaled, intending to reply in kind but at that moment something noticeably shifted in the castle’s magic. The wards felt heavier, more grim, alarming, and a beautiful song sounded from everywhere at once, touching Severus’ very soul. Phoenixes' songs always did. Dumbledore. Shocked, he stared at absolutely calm Hermione but didn't have time to utter a word because his floo flared to life and McGonagall's panicked head materialized in the room. “Severus!” exclaimed the old witch. “Severus, Albus is dead!” He ignored the shouting from the fireplace, with downing horror piecing things together, and jumped from the couch, grabbing Hermione by her shoulders and shaking her for good measure. "WHAT HAVE YOU DONE, YOU DAFT WOMAN?!"