Fifteen

Disclaimer: All characters are the property of J.K. Rowling. I intend no infringement and am making no profit.

***

The day before I was due to begin my apprenticeship at St. Mungo's, I was lying comfortably in the cool grass beneath a tree near The Burrow. The boys...including Fred and George, who were by now far too rich to concern themselves with being at the store at all hours...were all playing Quidditch. Earlier that morning I had received an owl from my parents reporting that my grandmother was doing markedly better and that she had even regained consciousness sufficiently to warn me against abandoning school just to see her.

Chuckling, for I had always loved my grandmother and her rather harsh sense of humor, I had saved the letter and gathered up my books. The day after the party Mrs. Weasley had invited me to join her at Diagon Alley for some shopping, and I couldn't resist checking to see if my book order had arrived at Flourish & Blotts. Since I was now in possession of a fair variety of books, I wanted to read and take notes on as much as I possibly could before I began.

I'd gone through the most important of the group...Clinical Magic Practice for the New Apprentice...immediately and had finished the entire thing. I'd also finished off one other and was making considerable progress on the third when Ginny wandered up and sat down beside me.

"Hello," she greeted me with a smile, flopping down on the blanket beside me. She looked interestedly over my books and shook her head.

"You don't have to do any of this for an apprenticeship, you know. They're not going to quiz you on the first day before you've even handled a patient."

"It never hurts to be prepared," I pointed out, regretting instantly how brusque and distant I sounded. I put down my quill, flexing my hand experimentally. I had been alternating between reading and writing for nearly three hours; my hand was unbelievably stiff and sore.

"I'm sorry." She gave me another smile and a nod, suggesting that she understood it was stress affecting my behavior. "I'm just... nervous. I want to be as prepared as I can, and there's so much to learn..."

"I'm glad to see you're able to concentrate," she replied, leaning back against the tree. Her long hair snagged on a piece of bark and she sighed, untangling it. "Have you heard anything about your grandmother?"

I nodded, perking up. "My parents owled me this morning. She's making a remarkable recovery, apparently."

"Good! I'm glad to hear it." She was still eyeing me rather searchingly, and I didn't think I could stand to sit there while she observed me so closely.

"Gin, what is it? I can tell you want to ask me something." I shut the book I'd been using and reduced it and all my papers so that I could tuck them safely in my pocket.

She continued to regard me for a moment before saying slowly, "This thing with Snape..."

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. "You want to know to what extent I still care for him?"

"I think I know," she returned quietly. "I saw how you looked at him at the party. And I saw how he looked at you, too."

I chose not to pursue that particular avenue of thought for fear my hopes would elevate too drastically. "Does it bother you as much as it bothers the boys?"

She stared off into space for a moment, vaguely in the direction of the boys as they played. "I don't think it bothers me that much," she replied, "but you and I talk about stuff like this all the time. They don't know anything about you in that way."

"Nor do I want them to," I muttered dryly, "unless I have their assurance that they won't act like this. Harry's barely said a word to me since graduation. Ron is taking it better than I had expected," I admitted, "and I'm glad I was proven wrong about that. But Harry... He can't get over the thought that Snape is his eternal enemy, and I can't help but wonder if he'll ever be able to forgive me as well."

She put a comforting hand on my shoulder. "He doesn't hate you, Hermione. He's just confused. He doesn't understand how you could feel that way about someone who took part in so many horrible crimes, especially after you saw them all yourself. We didn't see what went on in his memories, but it doesn't take a lot to guess." A rather cold look had entered her eyes, and I attempted to calm myself before I became too defensive.

"You know..." I wasn't sure how to proceed; I'd felt such an enormous growth of compassion and admiration for Severus since witnessing his memories, but it was a paradox few others would understand, having not experienced a similar glimpse of his reactions. "He did do some terrible things, and logically, it should make me feel disgusted with him, not like this. But I can't help but admire him." I collapsed onto my back, staring at the sunlight diffusing through the leaves above me, casting mesmerizing patterns of light and dark. "He made one poor mistake, and he's spent the remainder of his life paying for it. And he has paid for it," I insisted vehemently, "many times over, but he can't forgive himself so he continues to suffer. He'd hate it if anyone confronted him about it, but he's got far more foolish Gryffindor 'nobility' than you or I."

Ginny chuckled. "Yes, he would hate being told that."

"And I know," I continued, "because I've heard him say it, what he wants in a relationship. I know he values privacy and tranquility above all else, and I know he's precisely the type of person I want to be with because he wants to be left alone just as much as I do. He wants companionship, but not to the point where it's stifling. He wants to be able to focus mostly on his work but to have someone to come home to as well."

"And that's exactly what you want." It was not a question.

"Yes. I'm not..." I propped myself up on my elbow, wondering how to best express my feelings without giving Ginny the impression that I was denigrating her choice of lifestyle. "I'm not as selfless as you and Luna, Gin. I don't think I want a family or that kind of busy life because I just... At the end of the day, the most important thing to me is that I can be by myself and work, and I refuse to believe that that makes me crazy."

"No," she agreed, "it doesn't. But do you know for sure that it's what he wants?"

"I think he would understand. Professor McGonagall told me once that he'd said to her he wanted to find someone if he survived the war, maybe get married. She made it sound as though he's not entirely certain whether he wants a family, but I'd be willing to find out."

From the makeshift Quidditch pitch, Ron let out a howl of consternation as whomever he'd been opposing made a goal. I saw Harry jumping around excitedly and surmised that he was pleased with the outcome.

"I feel terrible even thinking about this." The boys had been an integral part of my life for so long that it was virtually impossible for me to imagine breaking ties with them entirely over a man. It was exactly the sort of thing I had always deemed unforgivably foolish, and yet here I was, contemplating the possibility myself. "I can't imagine them not speaking to me for years on end, you know?"

"Hermione, I don't..." Ginny threw up her hands in frustration and leaned forward earnestly. "I know you're worried about the boys, but I don't think you understand that it's their pride that's hurt. They're not trying to hurt yours. They just can't deal with the fact that you loving him is forcing them to reconsider what kind of person he might be."

"I understand that, but I feel terribly selfish even contemplating a relationship with him if it would put them through such pain."

"They'll get over it," she said dismissively. "And it will take them as long as they want it to. They can choose to accept it right away and move on, or they can choose to be idiots about it. It's their choice."

I couldn't suppress a smile. Ginny had an enviable way of reducing any conundrum to its most simplistic state, and I admired the wisdom in her viewpoint. "And what about you?" I asked finally, turning to meet her eyes. They were filled with uncertainty. "Is there anything you have to get over?"

She clasped her hands in her lap and spent a few moments watching the boys as well. "I just want you to be sure that he's really what you want. You've been so happy lately, Hermione, and... Maybe that is him, but I don't think he's the only one responsible for it. Last summer after the battle and everything, you smiled...really smiled...for the first time in years. You were happy. You giggled and you talked about what you wanted to do for the future, and you seemed like you were finally able to really have some fun.

"But now..." She shook her head, visibly disgusted with her own inability to articulate her thoughts. "When we were singing along with your CD and Remus and Tonks walked in, you thought at first that it was him, didn't you?"

I recollected immediately the moment to which she was referring. I had turned and caught sight of a tall male form entering the room, and I had automatically, through a combination of hope and fear, assumed it to be Severus.

"Yes, I did."

"And you stopped. You immediately stopped and acted like you were embarrassed to be seen having any real fun. If you do end up in a relationship with him, is that what you're going to be like? Afraid to have any fun and be yourself?"

Her voice sounded dangerously close to becoming tearful, so I sat up, gripped her shoulders gently, and looked straight into her eyes.

"No," I promised her, "that's not how it's going to be."

"How do you know that?" she demanded almost angrily. "If you'd be embarrassed to have him see you singing along with Muggle music, what do you think it's going to be like the rest of the time? Are you going to be ashamed to read Muggle books...or anything he doesn't approve of or agree with, for that matter?"

I sat back, sobered. I wanted to believe that I would be strong enough to turn away from him if he were so disapproving of me as a person, but how was I to know how I would react?

"Gin..."

"We're finally starting to see what kind of person you are, Hermione...beyond the books and the studying and talking about professions and scholarships. You're finally starting to have fun, and I can tell that you want to. You like to study, and you like to be alone, but I think you're convinced that you have far more in common with him than you actually do. You like to laugh, and sing, and be with your friends. How do you think he's going to take that part of you?"

"If he can't," I began in slow, measured tones, "then clearly we can't be together. It's as simple as that."

"I hope you're right." Her voice had fallen flat, completely devoid of either anger or disappointment, but she stared into the distance over my shoulder with an expression of such emptiness.

***

While Ginny's remarks had certainly caused me to go through a period of intense reevaluation, I began my apprenticeship the next day with the unshakable knowledge that I still cared for him very deeply, possibly loved him. I knew that the best way to ensure I didn't lose track of myself in my urge to further whatever promise lay between us was to focus on my studies, and so I threw myself into my work wholeheartedly. A week passed by busily, and the Healers at St. Mungo's had no shortage of praise for my single-minded concentration and hard work.

I spent my evenings seated on my small, comfortable couch in the flat the Consortium had arranged for me. I read through my books, preparing for the next day's trials. I was enthralled by my work, but once a week had passed, I was struck overnight by the rather intense craving to visit my friends.

As Harry and Ron had the remainder of the summer to themselves and weren't due to start training until the fall, I woke up Saturday feeling determined to pay them a visit; perhaps they would join me for supper. I had already assured the Healers that I would remain available during the day should they require me or feel that I would benefit from any particular challenge that arose, but my on-call hours ended at five o'clock.

At five-fifteen, I changed into a loose, comfortable cotton skirt, one of the few I owned, and T-shirt. I meandered into the living room to Floo Harry and Ron at The Burrow. When Molly responded and told me they'd already taken Ginny and Luna out for the evening, I hastily decided that I did not care to be a fifth wheel.

"Are you sure you wouldn't like to join them?" she entreated. "They'd love to see you, I'm sure. I know where they've gone..."

"That's all right," I insisted. "It was foolish of me not to call earlier. Will they be home tomorrow?"

"I don't know about tomorrow morning, but they'll be here for supper at five. Would you care to join us?"

Thrilled with the idea of a day to myself...to spend walking and reading, enjoying the beautiful weather...followed by a luxurious Sunday supper at The Burrow, I nodded enthusiastically. "I'd love to. Thank you, Mrs. Weasley."

She shook her head fondly. "Really, dear, I've told you a hundred times: call me Molly! And you're more than welcome. We're all very anxious to hear how your apprenticeship has been going!"

We exchanged pleasant goodbyes, and I spent a moment peering out at the streets of London while deliberating what I should do with myself. I was admittedly very hungry, and so I decided to go in search of food. After that, perhaps, more inspiration would come to me.

I was standing in the hallway, locking up the door of my flat, when I heard footsteps progressing toward me. I turned to find Severus, looking rather foreboding in dark Muggle clothing, directly beside me.

"Hello!" I exclaimed, startled. "It's good to see you." I was pleased to find that no sarcastic response followed my heartfelt greeting. Instead, he inclined his head politely and held out a small envelope.

"It is from Poppy," he intoned deeply. "I suspect it is in regard to the mediwitch position at Hogwarts."

Pleased, I accepted the missive and tucked it into my purse. "Thank you. I was just going out, actually, but I'll read it later and send her a response right away."

He nodded again, and I realized that despite his rather haughty air of indifference, he seemed genuinely reluctant to leave.

"Why did she ask you to deliver it?" I inquired, hoping the question sounded more innocent once it had passed from my lips than it seemed in my mind. I would have liked nothing more than for him to have contrived a reason to pass by my neighborhood, but of course a perfectly logical answer was promptly forthcoming.

"I have been shopping for supplies in Diagon Alley," he replied simply. "Rather than have her utilize one of the school owls, I offered to deliver it myself."

That was actually a rather stark admission for him. Doubly pleased, I hoisted my purse further over my shoulder and steeled myself for the inevitable rejection.

"I was just going to find some supper," I offered. "Have you eaten?"

"No, I have not. What did you have in mind?"

Trying not to choke on my own feeling of shock, I forged ahead. "I had a craving for Greek food, actually, but.... Well, it doesn't really matter to me. Is there anything you're particularly fond of?"

He studied me for a moment with an inscrutable look in his eyes before replying in an unusually deep tone, "I think that can be arranged. Follow me."

We exited the building and began walking through several streets. He was striding more slowly than normal, I noted, likely to accommodate my much shorter legs. I began to feel somewhat apprehensive, wondering where he intended to take me and whether it might not have been best for me to change.

"I'm sorry to interrupt you," I began, "but am I dressed appropriately for wherever it is we're going?"

"Adequately."

A little put off by his refusal to divulge the location when it was obvious I was terribly curious, I tried to shrug off my indecision and follow him confidently. Finally he reached a rather dirty, abandoned old alley and halted suddenly. He held out a hand wordlessly, and I realized that he was once again urging me to move forwards in order to Side-Along Apparate. I moved slowly into the circle of his arms, and his hand landed, gently but firmly, on the curve of my back as we disappeared. I felt a moment of disorientation when we landed before noticing that he'd taken us quite far indeed.

I stared in awe at the beautiful seaside cliff before us. We were just outside a small cottage, tiny but clearly well cared for, and the sea air was delicious on the tongue.

"Where are we?" I asked breathlessly. He, too, seemed to be admiring the view, though much more perfunctorily than me. I got the impression he was totally familiar with the location.

"My late grandmother's home," he replied, and I turned slowly in a full circle to drink in my surroundings. That would explain his comfort and familiarity. The air was impossibly warm and balmy. I took in a deep breath and pushed back my hair to obtain a better view of the ocean.

"Are we in Greece?" I asked in sudden revelation.

"My grandmother was Greek, so yes, that is a fair assumption." He was already leading the way into the cottage, which I found to be immaculately clean. I was surprised to find that a small house-elf ventured out to greet Severus, who quietly requested dinner to be served as soon as possible. The elf bobbed its head obediently and disappeared through a nearby door, which I presumed to be the entrance to the kitchen.

I spent an awkward few moments both admiring the beautiful simplicity of his home and questioning whether it could all be real. His financial situation in the aftermath of the war had not exactly been a circumspectly kept secret; I was astonished that he could possibly afford to reside anywhere other than Hogwarts let alone afford the assistance of a house-elf.

He stood in the center of the living area, his dark clothes and countenance startlingly opposite the open, breezy quality of the home. "Sit down, Miss Granger," he said rather imperiously. "The furniture is not toxic."

So we're back to 'Miss Granger' now, I thought with a resigned sigh, taking a seat in a nearby chair and crossing my legs, fussing momentarily with my skirt. I should have been less obvious in my bewilderment.

"So," I ventured as he took a seat himself, somehow managing to contain his long frame within the tiny chair, "how long have you lived here?"

A very small, sardonic smile quirked his lips. I should never have deluded myself into believing that I could conceal from him the real significance of my question.

"If you are inquiring as to how the Wizarding community's biggest social pariah managed to afford this"...he waved a hand demonstratively around the exquisite living area..."I cannot lie and claim that I bought it from her. I inherited it after she died last summer."

Mentally I tabulated the series of events surrounding his capture. "Did you have any idea before you were caught that you would inherit it?"

I expected some sort of irritation or retaliation at the blunt mention of events that were in no way my business and for which he probably still berated himself daily; but he just shook his head silently and rose from his seat, walking briskly over to a small bar area beneath the full window. He poured himself a glass of liquor and glanced at me questioningly. I shook my head, feeling that muddling my thoughts with alcohol would be a poor idea indeed. I wanted to be fully awake and cognizant of anything that should transpire between the two of us, even if it was restricted solely to discussion.

"I did not," he affirmed when he'd once again sat down. "When I was released from Azkaban, I received the news. I have always lived frugally at Hogwarts, and my room and board is provided. Thus I had just enough money to repair it to my liking," he explained in an almost bored tone. "The house-elf is here only once per week. We are fortunate that you happened to experience your craving on the evening she is here."

Our eyes met, and a moment of light humor passed between us. I smiled and continued.

"Do you have any other relatives now that your grandmother has passed away?" I asked softly. I knew both his parents to be dead, and I'd had no idea that he even had a grandmother still alive up until the year before. I suspected no one knew much of his enigmatic past; undoubtedly I knew more than most.

"No. She was my last living relative." He sipped at the liquid again, swirling the glass methodically with long, slender fingers. "She lived in England for many years after meeting my grandfather. Upon his death, she chose to return to her home. I imagine she hoped my father would return with her and choose to begin a family here."

"But he remained in England?"

Severus paused for a moment. "I do not know exactly how events passed. I knew very little of my father. I never cared to ask."

I certainly couldn't blame him for that. He read the silent concurrence in my eyes, and it seemed to spur him on slightly.

"He may have joined my grandmother here for some time. Truly I do not know. At some point he would have returned to England, where he met my mother."

The house-elf pattered in demurely, carrying a glass of water, which I accepted gratefully. She was apparently somewhat used to Severus' routine, even if their days at the cottage did not often coincide. I thanked the tiny creature, who offered me a bright smile and a nod before retreating to the kitchen.

His eyes followed the movement of the glass to my lips. I cradled it in my hand and looked at him expectantly. He seemed momentarily taken aback by my silence, as if quite reticent to continue, but after another sip of his own, he did so.

"I was never here as a child," he admitted quietly. "My grandmother did not agree with my father's choices," he related rather scornfully, "and they broke off all contact. I suspect she chose to bequeath the cottage to me in the hope that I might fulfill the expectation my father did not."

"Settle here, you mean?"

He nodded shortly. "Needless to say, she did not know me at all."

He measured sharply my reaction to the remark, and I derived a certain perverse amusement from the thought that he expected me to automatically either agree with his choice or his grandmother's. I simply nodded and looked around, feeling utterly taken in by the home's quiet and charm.

"It's a lovely place to live," I remarked softly, "even if you don't necessarily want to share it with anyone."

"I never said that I did not."

Wordlessly I watched him watching me, the tension unbroken for several long seconds before the house-elf reappeared, announcing that dinner was prepared. He rose swiftly to his feet and led me outside, where our dinner had been arrayed on a small table. The terrace area overlooked the steep cliffs and the breathtaking, turquoise expanse of the ocean. I spent nearly a full minute entranced by the view before I realized that he was still standing patiently beside me, having pulled out my chair for me.

I mumbled an embarrassed apology and took my seat, still unable to rip my gaze away from everything. The food was amazing and delicious; the weather was warm and could not possibly have been more perfect. I was overcome by a feeling of deep, lasting contentment that must have been effortlessly readable on my face.

"May I assume from your gawking that you approve?" he asked dryly, elegantly sipping at a glass of wine that had appeared in front of him. Giving in to my desire to fully enjoy everything before me, damn the consequences, I sipped at my own wine and nodded enthusiastically.

"It's beautiful, Severus. You must love coming here on weekends and such..."

I noted with a panicked feeling that his glass had stopped halfway to his mouth, and he was regarding me very intensely once again. Feeling pierced by his gaze, I realized that I'd called him by his first name when he had had the propriety to call me 'Miss Granger' earlier. I blushed, sensing that my cheeks were dangerously close to the rich hue of the wine.

"I'm sorry," I said immediately. "I... At the party you said..."

"I did," he affirmed, finally drinking and placing the glass once again on the table. "That is not why I was staring at you."

He had a way, I reflected dazedly, of managing to alter the entire undertone of his voice without really changing the pitch. It had not deepened, but something about the way in which he delivered the confession was singularly erotic.

"Then why?"

He studied his plate. "You're very attractive when you're taken in by something."

He couldn't meet my eyes, and I was pleased to note that, judging by the way he'd halted uncharacterstically, attractive was likely not the first word that had sprung into his mind; but I was exceedingly touched nonetheless, and I told him so. We finished our meal in relative silence, the serenity broken only by the house-elf, who was evidently very anxious that I should enjoy my meal in her master's home. I assured her repeatedly that it could not have been more to my satisfaction. Severus finally bade her leave for the evening when she had interrupted us one time too many.

We heard the soft pop of her Disapparition and finished eating. With a flick of his wand, the dishes disappeared, and he quietly informed me that he was going to make coffee.

Wanting to remain on the lovely terrace but simultaneously desperate to be near him, I followed him into the kitchen and looked around. It was small but fully functional, and the house-elf had clearly made the best of what space she'd been afforded. I lounged against one of the counters, relishing the fresh scent of the air and the pervading feeling of isolation and tranquility. I could imagine waking every morning and enjoying a meal in this kitchen, followed by a day of uninterrupted reading on the terrace. It was the closest approximation of my dream home I'd ever encountered.

Too late I realized that I had migrated during my wondering, and Severus, who was attending to his coffee mug, was now very close to me. Though I had my back to the counter, our shoulders were brushing. My breath caught in my throat, and I looked up to apologize. The words were cut short when I found that he had abandoned his coffee altogether and was watching me with unabashed interest.

At some point his arms moved, though I don't deny I was far too mesmerized by his gaze to take note of them. Suddenly he was in front of me, his arms pinning me to the counter. The warmth of his body and the light scent of his aftershave enveloped us both. I drank it in, longing to have the presence of mind to say something. Before I could convince myself to speak, his head inclined and our lips met.

I was drugged by it. It was not my first kiss, but compared to the others I'd received, it may as well have been. His lips were firm and unyielding, but their touch was in no way demanding. I moaned, thrilled and desperate for more, as he leaned in further, his hands beginning to skim their way lightly, torturously, along my forearms.

Emboldened by his touch, I wrested my arms free, wrapping them around his neck and tangling them in his hair. It had grown a bit since Valentine's evening, and it was the ideal length to course my fingers through. With a deft movement of his lips he parted mine fully, and my knees threatened to give way beneath me when, all pretense of chastity abandoned, I felt the long, firm heat of his body pressing insistently into mine.

Minutes passed uncounted. Finally, breathless, we pulled apart. His hands remained locked around my waist, the long span of his fingers splayed across my back. I was panting...I couldn't have quieted my breathing if I'd tried...and I didn't think I could continue to exist if he didn't resume kissing me.

"What is it you want?" His voice was thick and husky, deeper than I'd ever heard it. Intimacy had laid bare the emotions in his eyes, the desire and uncertainty starkly reflected.

"You," I managed through gasps, jolted by how raw my own voice sounded. "Everything about you. I want you."

We remained that way, his face suddenly expressive, every moment of his longing and indecision mirrored by the curve of his lips and the way his chest rose and fell. I brought my hands slowly to his shoulders and down his arms, mimicking the dexterous caresses he'd treated me to moments prior. A slight shiver seemed to pass through his upper body, and then he tore himself away from me.

"Severus..." I hadn't intentionally tried to say his name in that manner; it had simply come out of its own accord. I drew out the last syllable, practically begging him. I hated to imagine what he must think of me, offering myself to him in his kitchen over coffee, but it couldn't have been more obvious that he wanted it as well.

"I think," he murmured, his voice melting the last of my resolve, "that I should take you home before you do something you regret."

"I won't regret it."

"Perhaps not," he conceded, "but I do not wish to do this before we have clarified some issues."

My stomach plummeted to the floor. "What issues?"

He did not reply but led me insistently from the house, where he once again Apparated us, this time back to London. After following the roundabout path back to my flat, he led me to my door, where we paused. I stared at him again, making no attempt to disguise my hunger. Though he did not vocally reply, I could actually track the change in his eyes, the hard, reflective surfaces melting to liquid black pools as he became increasingly aroused. I wanted to touch him, to run my hands over his entire body in an attempt to make him share the desperation that continued to make my heart race.

"I will speak with you soon," he assured me, and then he turned on his heel and left.