The Space Between

Hogwarts was a bustle of activity on the first day of classes after winter break. The halls rang with the chatter of students hurrying from class to class, while the teachers had their work cut out for them as they tried to get their pupils' minds off the recent holiday and back on their studies. Madame Pomfrey had a busy day as well--with the children's spirits so high, there was always a rush in the Hospital wing. She spent most of the day dealing with scrapes, bruises, and hexes gone awry. Even Albus had more to do than usual--with his Potions Professor out of action, he had asked Remus Lupin to take the lower level classes. Unfortunately, there were few able to handle the potions taught to the upper levels, so Albus took those on himself.

There was one place in the midst of this activity which was strangely calm. Far below the hustle and bustle of the main floors, the Potion master's dungeon chambers were unusually quiet. The man himself was in his bed, propped up on pillows as he attempted to read. Severus would have liked to have some more interesting employment to distract himself from his thoughts, but each time he rose and attempted to do anything more strenuous than stumble to the lav, a small delegation of house elves popped into his rooms and scolded him back into bed. Poppy might have no time to visit the recuperating Professor herself, but she'd obviously left the house elves strict instructions. He couldn't even hex the little beasts, as Albus had put Severus' wand away in a drawer of his desk and the troublesome creatures wouldn't let him wander as far as his study. Always an energetic man, Severus found the forced bed rest extremely tiresome. As his solitary day wore on, he did far too little reading and far too much thinking.

Severus had escaped Azkaban remarkably unscathed; that is not to say that he came away unaffected. Had he been able to return to his usual routine and pursuits, these effects would've faded gradually and, most likely, caused him little trouble. As things stood, Severus returned from Azkaban to a solitary period of inaction, leaving him far too much time to think. Dementors have a detrimental and lasting effect on humans. Even if one escapes insanity, prolonged exposure to such fiends causes a heaviness of spirit which no amount of chocolate can easily alleviate.

Severus Snape was a brave man. Honorable, intelligent, and sly, as well as an accomplished duelist, he was as at home in battle as before a simmering cauldron. Respected as a scholar, Snape's potion work was above reproach; his research had been published in all the discerning Potions journals. In his own way, Severus Snape was an amazing man, however, there was one area where the formidable man was completely out of his depth. Severus knew very little about women, and almost nothing about love.

Severus did not realize how out of his depth he was with the subject. He rather naively assumed his well-developed powers of logic would serve him well in this area, as they had in the rest of his life. He really couldn't be blamed for not understanding logic has little to do with matters of the heart.

Having awoken that morning screaming from a dream where he was back in his squalid cell at the mercy of the Dementors, Severus spent the first hour of his day simply relieved to be home. His relief turned to thoughts of exactly how his freedom had been won. The next hour was spent blissfully re-living every moment, every word, and every touch he'd shared with his beloved rescuer. As the day wore on, his pleasant reflections turned more serious and Severus took to fretting over his situation.

I may no longer be a spy, but that does not change the fact that my days are numbered. If anything, my death is more of a certainty now I've been found out. The Dark Lord will never rest until he feels I've paid for the horrendous crime of realizing he's an insane bastard. He'll use every power in his command to make sure I'm killed--actually, if I can manage to stay alive until the final battle, that may prove very useful. I'd be quite the distraction to the damned madman. I've no chance of besting the beast, but I could hold my own long enough to draw his fire and give the others a chance to act. That bears some serious thought.

I've another issue which bears serious thought: what the bloody hell am I going to do about the vixen? Last night was enchanting...had I not been so exhausted I would've taken things well past the point of no return. Hermione insists she would have fallen in love with me no matter what, but what if that isn't true? I've stolen her heart--I cannot change that--now shall I destroy her innocence as well, leaving her without even that when I meet my demise? Every fucking thing I've ever touched in my life I have sullied in some way. I will not do the same to Hermione. She is young; she doesn't understand the consequences of giving herself to me--body as well as heart--only to have me leave her. No, I won't besmirch her in any fashion. Hermione will hurt when I die--I cannot save her from that, but I can save her from giving her innocence to a man who won't be around long enough to make it worth the loss. I will simply have to convince her it's for the best. When I die, she will grieve, then she will move on. Such a lovely young woman will have no great difficulty finding love again. My duty is to ensure that she has as little to regret about our...association...as possible.

*****************************

Unlike Severus, Hermione had a wonderful day. Bored with her classes, she found her thoughts drifting with increasing frequency to the man who fretted in the dungeons. It amazed her how quickly one's spirit can rise from despair to elation. Only yesterday her life had seemed over, now Severus was home safe and he was no longer a spy. The memory of their kisses was a light in her heart. The memory of feeling his body writhing beneath her own sent tingles of excitement through her whole being. Barely able to pay attention in class, Hermione suffered through the day, waiting impatiently for it to end so she could make her way down to Severus.

At last, donning Harry's invisibility cloak and making her way to the dungeons, Hermione could barely calm the wild beating of her heart.

Severus had at last been cleared by Poppy to leave his bed. When Hermione entered his study and threw off the invisibility cloak, she found Severus pacing before the fire. Stopping as if frozen in place, he stared at Hermione, his expression unreadable. If his odd behavior even registered with Hermione, she didn't show it. Thrilled to see him on his feet and looking so well, Hermione did what she'd wished to do all that long day. Rushing to the enigmatic man, she threw her arms around his waist in a tight hug. Feeling his body stiffen in response, Hermione wondered what was amiss. Her puzzlement grew as she felt that familiar, but unexpected, awkward pat on her shoulder. After the events last night, why wasn't he embracing her in return? A brief probe of her Empathic power did nothing to enlighten her. All she could feel was that comforting, if distracting, wall of protectiveness.

"Severus, what is wrong?"

"Miss Granger..."

"My name is Hermione. I thought we made it clear last night that I am no longer your student."

"Be that as it may," Severus said as he gently unwound himself from Hermione's arms, "we need to talk. I think it necessary to keep up proper forms."

"Whatever is wrong, I would feel more comfortable discussing it if you would address me by name. We are friends at least, aren't we?"

"Yes...Hermione...we are friends. Would you care to sit down? Can I offer you some tea?"

Becoming a little frightened by his attitude, Hermione declined tea and sat down on the sofa. She was further distressed when Severus did not join her, but resolutely sat in one of the black leather arm chairs.

"Hermione," Severus began, looking into her eyes with an expression of resigned sadness, "as...enjoyable as last night was...I do not feel that I can continue such a relationship with you with a clear conscience."

Alarmed now, Hermione bit back a gasp as she made every attempt to remain calm. "I don't understand. I admit, while you were still a spy any attempt to...deepen our relationship could have had dangerous consequences. But you are a spy no longer--why should we refuse ourselves something we both want?"

Hermione looked so innocently insecure when she made that last statement, that it took Severus every ounce of his will to stop himself from taking the young witch into his arms and proving to her just how much he did want her. That would never do. As little as he would enjoy the pain his words would inflict on her, he must stay strong. It would be better for her in the end. "Hermione, as much as we both do want this," he couldn't help but reassure her, "it simply isn't wise. I may not be a spy any longer, but I am still a marked man. There is no conceivable way that I will survive the final battle with Voldemort..."

"You can't know that!" Hermione interrupted.

"Of course I can," he snapped, beginning to lose his façade of calm. "I am a marked man, Hermione. When I show up at the final battle Voldemort will do all he can to ensure my death. One does not go against that madman without serious repercussions."

"Then don't go!" Hermione snapped back. "If what you say is true, then you can be little help to the battle anyway. Stay here...stay safe," she pleaded.

"Absolutely not!" he shouted, rising to his feet in anger. In a vain attempt to still his sudden ferocity, Severus resumed pacing before the fire. After a moment of silent pacing, he turned his back to the fire to regard her with flashing eyes. "On a strategic note, my very presence might drive Voldemort to make serious mistakes in order to get to me. All that aside, I have a chance to do something I have been denied my whole adult life. For once, for once in my whole blasted life, when I go to fight this time I shall be able to stand proudly at the side of the people I care about. I shall be able to stand up and fight for what I know is right. I have to do this. Can you understand?"

It took all her power not to leap up from the sofa and wrap her arms around him. She understood that a hug was not what he needed now. "Of course I understand. You are an honorable man, Severus Snape; it is one of the many reasons that I fell in love with you. Forgive me, it was selfish of me to even suggest you do anything other than be the brave man you are."

Temporarily mollified, Severus returned to sit in the chair. His composure would not last long.

"I understand that things will be dangerous for you, but the war is dangerous for us all. I don't understand why you think this must change what we have between us."

"All I wish is to spare you as much pain at that separating as possible," he said simply. "It isn't fair for me to take this relationship farther when I know you will only be that much more hurt when I leave you."

"Severus," she said, the pitch of her voice going a bit high in exasperation, "even if you are right about not surviving, it doesn't work that way. I am already in love with you; I will already be hurt. Denying me the joy of physically expressing how I feel about you will not lessen my pain. It will only cause me despair that I was not able to take full advantage of every moment I was lucky enough to have you by my side."

"Forgive me, Hermione, but you simply don't have the life experience to make that choice."

"I beg your pardon?" she snapped.

"Hermione, you are only seventeen years old. You could not possibly understand the repercussions such a thing..."

"And you do?" Hermione interrupted, nearly shouting. "Forgive me, Severus, but while I find you brilliant in many things, I think what you know about love wouldn't fill twelve inches of parchment."

"Be that as it may," he growled, "I think, in this case, I am more qualified to know what's best for you."

This time it was Hermione who leapt to her feet in anger. "How dare you! How dare you think for one moment that you know more about what's best for me than I know myself! I assure you, I do not in any way need some male to make my decisions for me. I am quite able to make up my own mind. I would think you would respect me enough not to attempt to make decisions on my behalf."

Severus rose to his feet to face her. What had begun as a calm discussion was fast approaching an all out row as they shouted into one another's face. "Someone has to make decisions for you, as you appear far too insipidly stupid about this whole situation to make the obvious logical choice!" he bellowed.

"Logical? You call your stand logical?" Hermione screamed back. "What sort of twisted logic have you used to decide what's best for me? No couple's future is certain, you bloody idiot! You might die in the final battle. I could get flattened by the Knightbus tomorrow. There are no blasted guarantees! Why is it more logical to deny what we both want because of things which may or may not happen?"

"The odds state..."

"Love is not ruled by odds and statistics, Severus!"

"Spoken like a true imbecile, when the logic of a debate is not going her way," he hissed.

Hermione's face suddenly went calm, the volume of her voice dropped so low it sounded little louder than a whisper. "Is this what you think of me then? Do you think me so moronic that I cannot make my own life choices? I don't buy that, Severus. I think you are simply afraid to finish what we started."

"I'm no bloody coward, Hermione," he snapped, his voice going dangerously low.

"Perhaps not on the battlefield, but pushing me away 'for my own good' is the highest form of cowardice. You would have me act as if you are dead already, when every day should be precious to us."

"My mind is made up. I will not be swayed."

"Obviously. And equally obvious to me is how unimportant my feelings on the matter are to you," Hermione hissed.

"I never said your feelings were unimportant," Severus shouted.

"You didn't have to, you pathetic man. You made that perfectly clear when you decided to take my choice in the matter away from me." Hermione shouted back.

"Get out!" he screeched.

"Oh, I will. Believe me--you won't have to worry about pushing me away ever again," Hermione snapped as she stormed for the door. Opening it, she turned back for one last shot. "You act as if you are dead already. If you do die, I wonder if you'll notice the difference."

The slam of the door as Hermione left was answered by a resounding crash as Severus hefted the coffee table and threw it at the door, smashing it into kindling. The coffee table was shortly followed by one of the armchairs and then every object in Severus' reach that he could lift. Eventually, he stopped from sheer exhaustion. Ignoring the debris, Severus made his way to the liquor cabinet, thankful his store of firewhisky had escaped his wrath unscathed.