V. Never Coming Home

V – Never Coming Home

"Nemo, you may be an intelligent man, but when it comes to this, you may be the biggest idiot to walk the planet. You were supposed to apologize to her!" Kat harangued him as she bound his hand.

"What the hell do you know?" Severus snarled.

"I'm female; I know quite a bit," Kat replied implacably. "It doesn't matter if it was her fault . . ."

"She's sleeping with Weasley!" Severus was indignant. He winced as she tightened the bandage with a little more force than necessary.

"Stick boy?"

"Yes." He eyed his boss levelly. She stared back at him, taking in the bloodstained shirt, the ruined trousers and disheveled hair for a long moment.

"Did it occur to you that she's doing it on purpose?" Kat asked as she began to clear up the bandages and antiseptic.

"What?" Severus snorted, turning away. "Of course, one would have to do it deliberately in order to have conjugal relations with that creature. She might have been insane, but nobody could fuck that twit accidentally."

"No, idiot." Severus flinched from her tone, but Kat continued, "I mean, did it occur to you that she's sleeping with stick boy because you won't have her?"

"She wanted . . ." He spluttered, turning to confront the harridan's statement. There was no way that he was going to lose two arguments that day.

"You. And you were an asshole." Kat finished his sentence.

"She didn't let me . . ." Severus smacked his palm on the table and winced.

"How long have you been in love with her? Does she know?" Kat demanded, leaning closer to him, eyebrow raised. For the second time that day, Severus felt completely wrong-footed. He looked down at his ruined clothing.

"I was never in love with her! She had a deluded, adolescent fantasy." Severus stood. He had the height advantage on Kat, and looming over her, he mustered his threatening scowl. He crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow.

"So you took advantage of her," Kat concluded, completely unmoved.

"No! I never . . ."

Kat's stare rivaled a Basilisk's.

"She approached me," Severus finished lamely, drawing his uninjured hand through the dark hair hanging loose around his shoulders.

"And then, you left her in worse shape than you found her." Kat's tone was icy. "Nicely done, Nemo."

"Kat, I have sat here long enough listening to your inane drivel," Severus roared, losing his temper. "There was nothing significant between me and Miss Granger then; there is nothing now. You will be so kind as to keep your interfering nose out of my business and let my past alone." He shoved the chair back beneath the table with force and stalked out of the bar, flip-flops squelching, hair flopping limply.

"At least apologize to her, you moron!" Kat's last piece of advice was shouted at his retreating form, cut off by the slam of the screen door.

Severus spent an hour on the beach pacing and throwing rocks at crabs and washed up jellyfish before he accepted that the damn woman was right.

His bloodstained white short-sleeved shirt, dishwater damp khaki trousers, and flip-flops did not billow as impressively as teaching robes, but Severus gave it a go as he strode up the beach to the bar and picked up the telephone.

Miss Granger came back the next morning, looking apprehensive. Severus' stomach twisted uncomfortably when he saw the lines of worry on her face. He dismissed the notion; she was just as much at fault as he.

"Severus, I got your message. We're not staying; we're leaving today, but I just wanted to tell you: whatever it is, whatever's going on in your head, it's okay. I accept your apology. I'm sorry, too. And I'll be here for you, no matter what." It all came out in a rush. Severus twitched the corner of his mouth: a noncommittal smirk.

She was twisting her wand in her hands, betraying her anxiety. His heart lurched and guilt choked him. After their fight yesterday, a penitent, apprehensive Hermione was a terrible sight for him to behold. Fiery, angry Hermione was satisfying to fight with – this version made his stomach clench with worry. How could he be the author of this? Kat was right: he was an idiot. Worse, he had been a fool.

"There is one thing, Miss Granger, that I could use. It isn't much, but if you get the opportunity, I would appreciate it." He found his voice was rasping again: years on the island had gone a long way to healing it, but now he was croaking like one of the thrice-damned tree frogs that lived in the scrubland outside.

"Yes, Severus?"

He cleared his throat. "Decent tea."

Her smile made Severus feel like he had won an Order of Merlin.

"I'll see what I can do."

He wasn't expecting her to come back, but she did. It was Christmas Eve, and she was alone.

Kat had disappeared for the holiday, saying that she had to visit her brother in Montreal, of all places, but Severus suspected that she had a lover – nowhere near Quebec. He was pleased to discover that it didn't bother him as much as it would have when he'd first come to the island.

Before she left, Kat had set up a plastic Christmas tree on the coffee table in his corner and taught an unwilling Severus how to play Christmas music on their tiny stereo set. The locals seemed to appreciate the trappings of the season, even if the temperature remained well into the nineties.

Severus closed the bar early on Christmas Eve and was lounging shirtless on his sofa with Dickens and brandy when he was roused from his torpor by a tentative knocking on the door.

Irritably, he hauled himself from his couch and opened the door, ready to give the intruder the tongue-lashing of his or her lifetime. Any vituperation died on his lips when he saw Miss Granger standing there in a woolly jumper, jeans, and heavy boots.

"Since you've come all this way, you might as well come in," he grumbled at her. "And take some clothes off before you die of heatstroke."

Severus turned on his bare heel and stalked back to his couch, not waiting to see if she followed. He knew she would: he had seen her appraising look at his shirtless torso before he turned. At least he was wearing knit shorts: it was warm enough for him to consider sleeping nude.

"Weasley did not come with you this time?" he asked, trying to inject as much venom as he could into the question.

"Ronald? No. We've split up. Again." Miss Granger's tone was neither annoyed nor subdued. Severus took it as a good sign.

"How many times does that make it since I last saw you?" He kept his tone neutral, ignoring the flutter of hope.

"What?"

"You said 'again'; that leads me to believe that it's a common occurrence." Pedantic always became him. Had he been teaching, he would have drawn his robes around him. As he was half-naked, Severus settled for sinking elegantly onto the couch, marking his place with graceful hands and closing his book.

"Not that it's any of your business, but this one's permanent. Four." Her tone was snippy but lacked any real force. Miss Granger seemed to be having difficulty controlling the pitch of her voice. Interesting.

Severus grunted: there was no need to over-commit himself in this little tango they were dancing. Miss Granger took a deep breath and held out the white cardboard box.

"Look, I brought you some tea." She smiled.

Severus knew she felt incongruous in her winter clothes, holding out a small box in the middle of a tropical bar. "That was kind of you." Severus motioned her to the chair. There was no need to be rude. Yet.

"Kindness had nothing to do with it. I wanted to see you." Miss Granger settled herself, bending down to peel off her shoes and socks and wriggling her toes against the concrete floor. "It's awfully warm here, isn't it?"

Severus ignored the question. "You've seen me. What else did you want? Or do I want to know?" He was acutely conscious of his undressed state, his lank hair, the vast gulf between the two of them.

"I wanted to wish you a Happy Christmas."

"Which you've also done. Was there anything else?" Does she want to stay? Do I want her to stay? Can I make her stay? It doesn't have to be long, just for the rest of my life.

"Severus," she began.

"Yes?" he replied. What more could she possibly have to say?

"Severus, why? Why here? Why with that woman? Are you sleeping with her?" Miss Granger looked sad, uncomfortable, and curious, all at the same time.

"Is it your business?" He raised an inquisitive eyebrow, designed to intimidate even the most poised of students.

Miss Granger flushed. "Don't . . . I just want to know."

"Still the scholar, then." He smiled gently.

Miss Granger looked thrown for a moment and then recovered. Severus could see her ticking off an item in her mind. Bloody girl had always had a checklist for everything: even fights with ex-lovers. She wriggled out of her jumper; she was wearing a tee shirt underneath it. Not that it helped the situation; the tee shirt left a tempting portion of her midriff bare, as well as flattering her chest. Severus had been celibate for quite some time, and the presence of an ex-lover was, at least on this night, a bit of a strain on his self-control.

"So," she continued.

"Yes." He nodded, shifting on the couch.

"Why here?"

"It's as good a place as any. Kat doesn't ask questions, and nobody here knows or gives a toss about The D- Voldemort, or Potter, or potions, or magic or any of that. The weather's fairly nice, too." Severus ticked the points off on his fingers, hoping she hadn't noticed the slip on the late, unlamented Dark Lunatic's name.

"You mean, you haven't done any magic?" Miss Granger's eyes widened in disbelief.

"I haven't since I've come here." He hadn't thought about it since he last saw her. His wand was happy beneath the sofa, and he didn't dare try to use his magic, lest he discover it was gone. He decided that he didn't need to share that bit of information with Miss Granger.

"Where's your wand?"

"In a box, under the sofa. I found I couldn't completely get rid of it. Perhaps in another ten years but not now." Ten years from now he didn't wish to contemplate. Surviving the next twenty minutes was challenge enough.

"How?"

"Very easily." That was a lie, but again, she didn't need to know it. "Do you know, Miss Granger, what my name is here?"

"No, I don't think . . ."

"It's not Severus. Here, they've never heard of Severus Snape, bat of the dungeons, spy, Death Eater, murderer, Order of Merlin nominee, snakebite survivor, any of that. Here, I'm Nobody. And I like it that way." Severus sat forward, resting his arms on his knees, staring at her intently.

"Nobody?"

"Nemo, specifically. Latin for nobody." He leaned back against the sofa, stretching his long legs. Miss Granger's eyes followed his every move. So, she is interested, he thought. Good.

He looked at her, and again he saw the lines around her eyes, the new set to her mouth, the way she carried herself more confidently. Leaving Weasley (or being left by him) had done her good, even if it had harmed her at the same time. Severus cringed internally; he hadn't done the girl any favors, either. God, will she ever forgive me?

"Severus?" She held his gaze.

"Yes?" What did she want now? Severus felt his chest tighten as he looked at her eyes: still the color of the decent tea she had brought him.

"I'd like a cup of tea." Miss Granger smiled.

Severus started, sitting up straighter, brushing his dark hair from his eyes. "You . . . what?" That was not what he had expected her to say.

"I'd like a cup of tea. It's Christmas, and you're alone. People shouldn't be alone on Christmas, and I'd . . . like some tea." She finished with a lopsided grin, acknowledging the weakness of her argument. Severus' mouth twitched again.

"You don't have a horde of admirers waiting to greet you?" He snorted, folding his arms across his bare chest.

"No. The only person I want to spend my Christmas Eve with is a crotchety old bastard who answers to a damn fool name." Miss Granger smiled, and Severus, for the second time in his life, was lost.

"Here," he said. "It's too hot for tea, but I do have some Christmas brandy." He rose gracefully and stalked over to the bar to fetch another glass. "I don't have a snifter. Will a highball glass do?" As he turned, raising an eyebrow, he was met with Miss Granger's stare of blank incomprehension. The know-it-all obviously didn't know her booze.

"I've never imagined you to be an island type." Miss Granger was deep into her third glass of brandy.

"I came here years ago: before the end of the war. I needed a break. After . . . I needed a place to go. Kat offered me a job." Severus had mellowed, as well. Still stretched out on his sofa, he rested his dark head on the sofa's arm and watched the woman across from him.

"Are you sleeping with her?" She wriggled back into the comfortable cushions of the armchair. Cupping her glass, she looked vulnerable.

"You've asked me that already." Severus held his drink up to the light, watching the liquid swirl in the glass. Was it his third or fourth?

"And you never answered me." She might look vulnerable, but Miss Granger was tough.

"No." It was too hot to fight. Severus closed his eyes.

"No, you're not sleeping with her? Or no, you're not going to answer?"

He opened his eyes and watched her. Miss Granger's brown eyes were hard. "Yes," he replied peaceably, watching her reaction carefully.

"Severus Snape! You're still an awkward bastard!" Miss Granger smiled at him.

Severus smirked, but there was no malice in it. "Fine. I'll answer your questions if you answer mine. When did you finally get tired of Weasley?" He held his breath; it was a question to which he wanted the answer, but he wasn't sure he had the courage to ask the follow-up question: Will you ever tire of me?

"When he made the 'I forgive you' move one too many times. I finally rented my own flat and moved out. So, are you sleeping with her?" She leaned forward, refilling her glass.

Severus followed suit. The girl was still persistent; he was also forced to give her that. Just his sort of woman: brave, tough, persistent, beautiful. "No, I'm not. It doesn't mean that I didn't try. But I haven't tried to sleep with her in years." Severus smiled, recalling Kat's charms. He regretted many things in his life; missing his opportunity with Kat, if he had ever had one, was one of them.

"Do you love her?" She leaned back, waiting for his reply. Was she holding her breath?

"I did, once, I think. I don't know. She's a force of nature: not even I can intimidate her."

Miss Granger giggled.

Severus paused, recalling her earlier statement. If he was going to get out of this situation with any dignity or credit, he needed to change the subject at once. "Rented your own flat and then moved out?" he asked.

"I'm a planner, Severus. Anyway, I still work for Arthur in the Ministry. Molly wanted him to fire me, but you know Arthur . . ."

"Not anymore." Severus cut her off, staring moodily at his brandy.

"No, I suppose not. There's no chance of you ever coming . . ." Miss Granger – no, that wasn't her name – sighed.

"No, Miss – Hermione, there isn't." Severus couldn't look up.

"Say it again, Severus." Hermione stood and moved to sit on the other end of the sofa.

Severus sat up and shifted to accommodate her. "What?" Severus raised his eyes.

She was looking at him intently. "Say 'Hermione.' I don't think you've ever done that before." She smiled.

"Hermione," he said again. He decided the name felt nice coming from his mouth.

"Severus . . ." Her voice was a whisper.

"Yes?" Severus was holding his breath. He could smell her shampoo and body wash, feel her breath on his face.

"You've never said 'yes,' either." Hermione brushed his dark hair from his face and kissed him, gently, slowly, tentatively. "You shouldn't be here alone."

"I'm not alone." Severus kissed the base of her throat, savoring the curve.

"But . . ."

Hermione's answer was lost in a gasp as Severus moved upwards and began to nibble on her ear before he grasped her head in both of his hands and found her mouth with his. Her response to his kiss was overwhelming. Severus found that her mouth tasted of brandy and toothpaste.

Later, he found that her body tasted of redemption.

It was later, much later, actually. The tree frogs and crickets were rioting outside the Quonset hut that was currently a bar, which at one point had been a nursery school, a whorehouse, and a pet store. Inside, Hermione's head was pillowed on Severus' shoulder.

On the brink of sleep, Severus whispered into her ear, "I love you."

"Hmmm?" she asked sleepily.

"You were right," he murmured.

"Of course I was," she mumbled. Then she paused and asked, "Right about what?"

"That I shouldn't be here alone." To further his point, he began to nuzzle her ear, making her giggle sleepily.

"Oh. That." Hermione sighed in pleasure as his hand strayed over her stomach and lower. There was a pause as Severus drew a deep breath. Gathering his courage, he whispered:

"Stay. Please?"

AN: Thanks to my superior betas who pummeled this into shape. And thanks to you, oh my reader, for coming along with me on Severus Snape's vacation.