Chapter 13

Chapter 13

Severus continued making the potion by rote, the familiar motions of chopping and stirring helping him to keep his temper in check as he considered the situation. He felt he had begun to know her, and after her apparent guilt over her little chair spells, it seemed odd that she would attempt a deception such as this one.

He ruthlessly suppressed his anger – he had begun to trust her, and if his analysis was correct, this would be a major betrayal. She couldn't be planning to do this to him. She said she wanted him to trust her, and she had to know that if she did this, he would never trust her.

She must be feeling desperate, he realized. She must have some reason to think she was going to have to be in the presence of both him and Potter, sometime soon – probably for an extended period of time. And she must feel incapable of handling their sniping at one another. His anger eased, just a bit, as he considered how upset she must be about this.

He glanced across the room to where she was seated, reading through another chapter of the manuscript. He had two options – he could ask her about it or he could wait and see if she tried to slip him something – or if Potter showed up and he found himself thinking of the arrogant pain in the ass as his brother, since that was how she seemed to see Potter.

He suddenly wondered how she saw him – how Potter might see him if she succeeded in slipping him the potion. Frowning, he thought back over how she had described the problem. Two friends ... constantly at each other's throats ... she loves them both, and she really doesn't want to hurt either one ...

His anger abated a bit more. If this potion really was for him and Potter, then she not only thought of him as her friend, but she loved him and didn't want to hurt him by choosing Potter over him. He already knew that she loved Potter like a brother – well, the idea that she might love him like a brother, too, wasn't all that palatable, really. But if she cared about him as much as she did about Potter, to the point where she felt like she had no way out but to dose them both – well, that was ... unexpectedly pleasing to him.

Just as long as it wasn't a sibling thing.

Still, he hadn't yet decided whether to let her go ahead and use the potion or to simply ask her about it. He thought about it for awhile, then decided she would probably wind up confessing to him herself before she ever used it. Unfortunately, she would probably torture herself with guilt before she ever got around to it, if the chair-spells were any indication. She was just too honest for her own good, he decided.

Normally, he would have let her make herself miserable for a while, but now, he found that he couldn't do it. He finally acknowledged that he would have to ask her about it, because he cared too much about her to let her do that to herself. Part of him was convinced he was a fool, but more of him recognized what a difficult position he and Potter had put her in by waging war around and through her – a person that, according to her, they both cared about.

Finally, having decided on a course of action, he tried to make it as painless as possible for her. "Hermione?" he asked.

She looked up from the book. "Yes?"

"Is this potion actually for Potter and me?" No point in peeling the plaster off slowly – that would only hurt more. It was best to just grab an end and rip.

She went white, opened her mouth and closed it again. Her eyes welled up with tears. She looked away. "Yes," she finally whispered, tears starting to spill over. "It is. I'm sorry." She stood up and headed toward the door, her posture defeated.

"Where are you going?" he demanded, stopping her in her tracks.

"I assumed you were about to kick me out and tell me never to come back again," she said, still in a whisper.

"You should never assume, Hermione – have I taught you nothing?"

"Look, I know you probably hate me right now, but I wasn't trying to hurt you or make you mad. It's just –" She stopped, shrugged. "I guess it doesn't really matter now," she said mournfully. "You'll never trust me again, anyway."

"Hermione," he sighed. "Turn around and look at me, please." She didn't move for a long minute. "Please look at me," he said again.

Finally, she turned around, and he could see her steel herself to look at him. He crossed to her and held her gaze, willing her to hear and understand him. "I did not bring this up because I thought you were going to actually go through with it. You're far too honest to do anything that deceitful."

"But I –"

He cut her off, shaking his head. "I'm talking now, so you be quiet and listen. I am bringing this up simply because you would most likely have tortured yourself for however much time there is between now and when Potter arrives – I assume he is planning a visit?" She nodded slightly. "I did not want you to make yourself miserable for something that you wouldn't have done anyway."

"How do you –" she began, but stopped, apparently realizing that he hadn't yet given her permission to speak.

He answered the question she hadn't finished asking. "How do I know you wouldn't have done it?" He smiled ruefully. "Apparently I recognize your innate honesty more than you do. You couldn't even stand the guilt of the simple spell you used to ensure I sat with you at meals. How in the name of Merlin did you think you were going to manage to keep something like this to yourself? You would have driven yourself mad in a matter of days, and when the time came, you wouldn't have done it anyway." He fell silent and when she didn't say anything, he said, "Do you have anything to say now?"

"I'm sorry," she said through her tears. "I already felt guilty when I asked you about it. But then I thought about how it would be for me – torn between you and Harry, probably hurting both of you, having both of you mad at me, and I just couldn't take it."

"Obviously," he said dryly.

She sniffed. "So does this mean you don't hate me?"

He sighed again. "For whatever reason, which I will never understand, you care deeply for Potter. However, if I understood you correctly earlier, this is only a problem for you because you also care for me. That being the case, I recognize that you were in an untenable position, which is partly because of my refusal to be civil to your friend. I will endeavor to change that, so that you won't feel the need to do this to yourself again." Her tears increased, and he paused to conjure and hand her a handkerchief, then continued, "That being said, I hope you don't expect me to grow to like him – that would be asking too much. And even if I'm civil to him, he will likely continue to be nasty to me, so perhaps you could try asking him to be civil, even if you think he won't do it."

Her tears increased again. "I know he won't. Maybe I should just tell him not to come," she said.

"No, you shouldn't," he said, much to his own disgust. "I'm sure you want to see him. When is he coming?"

"Weekend after next."

"All right, to make it easier for you, I will plan to spend that weekend away from Hogwarts. I shall visit my house at Spinner's End."

"No, Severus! You shouldn't have to leave just because Harry's coming!" she protested through her tears.

"I will not stay here and watch you torture yourself trying to keep us both happy," he insisted.

"But ... it's not fair for you to have to leave. Maybe I should tell Harry I'll visit him instead."

"That is unnecessary, Hermione. I'll be fine at Spinner's End."

"No!" she insisted. "Let me talk to Harry. I'm sure I can convince him to be civil." Never mind that moments ago, she was convinced she couldn't, he thought.

But the idea of him leaving seemed only to be upsetting her more. "Hermione, I'm trying to make this easier for you. Why won't you let me?" Seeing that she had soaked through the handkerchief, he conjured another one and handed it to her.

She took it absently and swiped at her cheeks again. "I don't want you to leave," she wailed.

"It's for two days, Hermione. Not forever – just two days." He couldn't understand why she was so upset.

"I don't care," she insisted. "I don't want you to leave. I just don't."

"Why on earth not? I left for almost two months this summer, and you did, too. You were fine. You'll be fine for two days."

"But I wasn't in love with you, then!" she burst out, then clapped her hand over her mouth, eyes wide as saucers. She whipped around to leave, but he immediately used a non-verbal charm to lock the door before she could open it.

"What did you just say?" he asked in a low, urgent tone, stepping close behind her. "Say that again," he demanded in a whisper near her ear.

"No," she said petulantly. "I don't want to. It was embarrassing enough the first time."

"Say it again," he demanded, turning her to face him. "I don't think I heard you right, so I need you to say it again."

"Fine," she spat out. "I'm in love with you. Are you happy now?"

"Very," he assured her, and then he kissed her.