The Decision

Severus sighed as he unlocked the door to his home on Spinner's End. It had been a week since Hermione had left him in the Hospital Garden with that resolute look in her eye. Since then, he had neither seen nor heard from her. He would be hard-pressed to admit to himself how unbearable her absence had become, but he would at least recognize the frustration he felt at being left waiting for her response.

Dropping his briefcase to the side as he entered his home, he made his way to the sitting room and collapsed into his familiar tattered armchair. He had spent the first few days following their discussion distracting himself with copious amounts of brewing at work and going straight to bed at home. After four days of that, however, he could no longer distract himself. Thus, the last few evenings he could be found slouched in his armchair and brooding for what seemed like hours. In particular, he had taken to imagining what she was doing right at that moment. Perhaps the most disturbing and yet continuous of the images was one of Hermione and Weasley, sitting on their bench in the Hospital Garden, her head nestled on his shoulder while they made amends and planned their future together. The thought made Severus sick, but as the days ran into one another, his hope began to ebb.

It was during one of these melancholic thoughts that he heard a soft rap at the door. Groaning, he stood up and grabbed his wand, wondering who it could possibly be. Very few people knew that Severus lived in his family home, a dilapidated two story in the midst of an abandoned mill town. Of those few, most were dead. Approaching the door, Severus imagined he would find a gang of Muggle adolescents, possibly hoping to irritate the old man in the creepy house. Well, he thought to himself ruefully as he gripped his wand tighter, won't they be surprised. However, as he peered through the peep hole of the rough, wooden door, it was he who was met with a surprise.

Standing on his doorstep was a small figure with brown curly hair sticking every which way from the top of her head. Despite his shock, Severus fixed his face with a look of intense annoyance and wrenched open the door. About to speak, he was cut off by Hermione, who pushed straight past him and into the hallway.

"I can't believe you have no wards around this place!" she exclaimed, looking both nervous and slightly lost. Her lime green robes were disheveled, and her "Healer-in-Training" badge hung askew. She ran a hand through her curly mane as she looked around the room. It seemed such an entrance had no immediate follow-up. Similarly unsure of what to do or say next, Severus cleared his throat.

"Now that you've invited yourself into my house, may I offer you a seat?" he asked, raising a single eyebrow and gesturing to the sitting room on the right. Blushing and ducking her head, Hermione muttered a "thank you" and meekly made her way into the room on the left. She paused to take in the room's décor before perching herself on the edge of a tattered, moss green couch.

As Hermione proceeded to examine her hands thoroughly, Severus glanced around the room. Padded in leatherbounds and furnished with old, decaying furniture, it certainly wasn't much to look at. In truth, he had never expected to have any guests in the room, much less Hermione Granger, so it had never occurred to him to make any improvements.

His reverie was interrupted by the sound of Hermione clearing her throat, her courage returning.

"You have a beautiful home," she said conversationally, looking as if she were desperately trying to hide her discomfort.

"It's my parents' home, the Snape Family Estate, if you will," he replied sardonically. "I inherited it upon their death. Very few people know of it, so you can imagine my surprise when you turned up on my door step."

"Harry told me where you live," she admitted, a look of guilt flitting across her features. "But I promised that I wouldn't reveal it to anyone, and I won't!" She said the last bit with such earnestness, Severus could almost ignore his bubbling anger towards Potter. Well, that's what I get for trusting Potter, he thought bitterly. Months before he had made an acquaintance with Hermione, Potter had similarly turned up at his door with a lost and nervous look. He wanted to make amends, he had said, let bygones be bygones. Before throwing him out of his house with a brief but firm acceptance, Severus had Potter swear that he would never reveal his location to anyone.

An awkward silence descended upon the room once more. Looking across the wobbly coffee table which separated them, Severus found Hermione once more making a close examination of her folded hands. Meanwhile, he felt as if he might jump out of his skin in anticipation and anxiety. Why was she prolonging this? Was it a 'no' then?

"Hermione," Severus said, persisting to keep his voice gentle despite his worry. "Why are you here?"

During his hours of armchair brooding, he had imagined several ways Hermione would announce her decision. When he was feeling optimistic, he would imagine her approaching him with a wide smile, the kind she used when they passed in the hallway or met in the garden, and she would say that she realized there could be no one else for her, except him. Would he like to join her for a glass of wine and the new edition of "Elixirs and Draughts?" Of course, there was the alternative. Approaching him with a look of pity, she would say in her most even of voices that she simply had to choose Ron, the less old, ugly, and misanthropic of the two. However, not once had he imagined what happened next.

Releasing a deep sob, Hermione hastily covered her face with her hands and began crying. Severus froze, unsure how to react or what this meant. Luckily, the crying was short-lived, and she began wiping the tears tracking down her face. Finally able to react, Severus transfigured a scrap paper into a handkerchief and handed it to a sniffling Hermione. Taking it gratefully, she blew her nose and then met his questioning glance.

"I'm sorry," she apologized, continuing to sniffle. "I've just broken up with Ron." Instead of responding, Severus stood abruptly.

"Would you like something to drink, some tea, perhaps?" he asked hoarsely. With a slight smile, she nodded.

"Right," he responded and left for the kitchen. When he reached his destination, Severus mechanically took the rusty kettle from the stove and filled it with water from the tap, before replacing it on the burner and turning a knob to adjust the temperature. With the water set to heat, Severus leaned on a nearby kitchen counter, folded his arms in front of him, and considered the revelation of only minutes before. She had left Weasley and she was here now. Sighing, he contemplated his next move. Should I even make a move? The whistling of the kettle interrupted his thoughts, and he removed two mugs from an above cabinet and prepared her tea in a practiced manner.

Ready to return to the sitting room, gripping the handle of a mug with each hand, Severus took a deep breath. However, before he left, he was struck with a realization. She was there for him! All of this self-doubt was ridiculous. He was Severus Snape, Order of Merlin recipient, and a "hero" of the war. It was time he stopped approaching this like the abused teenager he had been all those years ago and started acting like the man he had become. With this new burst of confidence, Severus returned to the sitting room.

Unfortunately, this confidence was to be short-lived. Instead of perched on the couch, Severus found Hermione standing beside one of his bookcases, staring intently at the only framed picture in the house. Noticing his presence, she looked up from the photo and met his deer-in-the-headlights look from across the room.

"Is this Lily Potter, Harry's mother?" she asked quietly.

"Yes," he responded, the mugs shaking slightly in his hands. Internally, he wondered if this whole affair could somehow become any more awkward. Of course, she knew, everyone knew. Bloody Potter, he thought again.

"Do you still think about her?" The question left her lips in a whisper as she glanced down at the photo once more. Repressing the urge to growl in frustration, Severus walked behind where she stood and looked over her shoulder at Lily Potter. Though it was taken with a Muggle camera, it seemed as if fourteen-year-old Lily's green eyes truly were sparkling and that her dark red hair was moving in the breeze.

"Not as often as I used to," he confessed. Tearing her eyes from the photo, Hermione turned her head to look at him as he continued. "I suppose you never completely forget your first love. But, it can't compare to finding new love."

With a look of understanding, Hermione placed the framed photo back on a nearby shelf and followed Severus back to the couch, sitting to his left. Taking the proffered mug, she blew the steam off the top and took a sip.

"I'm really sorry for all of this," she apologized again, placing her mug on the coffee table. "I missed you all week and then finally got the courage to break up with Ron outside the hospital today. You can imagine how that went, and, well, I just wanted to be near you." Feeling the triumph he had mustered in the kitchen returning to his chest, Severus placed his mug on the table next to hers.

"And how do you feel now?" he asked softly. Instead of responding automatically, Hermione scooted closer to him on the couch. Nestling her head on his left shoulder, she gave her reply.

"Honestly, I feel sad. He's been one of my best friends forever, and now... " She trailed off. Reaching his arm around her shoulders, he pulled her closer to him and she let out a contented sigh.

"I'm also rather hopeful," she continued as she turned her head to meet his gaze, a small smile finally gracing her lips. It wasn't the wide grin he had been hoping for, but Severus would gladly hold that image in his mind for the rest of his life.

"Could we take it slow?" Hermione asked, settling her head back down on his shoulder.

"As slow as you'd like," he replied as soft curls tickled his chin. Closing his eyes, Severus could almost imagine that they were in the Hospital Garden, sitting on their bench, making amends and planning their future.

Severus employed all of his skill in stealth as he unlocked the door to his home on Spinner's End. It was half past midnight, and he had no desire to wake the home's other occupant. The week had been full of late-night brewing as an outbreak of a rare and extremely amusing wizard flu had the hospital jam-packed with patients, more frantic about their literal running noses than their mild fevers and aching joints. Careful to unravel his scarf and remove his heavy winter coat without so much as a creak from the floor boards, he left them on the coat rack by the door and made his way to his bed, pausing to peek into the dimmed sitting room.

The room was neat, with a soft red throw blanket covering the back of a caramel-colored leather couch at its center. The matching armchair sat naked, separated from its mate by a new, sturdy coffee table. He had been hesitant about the purchase of new furniture, but as Hermione had put it that day in the store, it was time he stopped denying himself comfort and make the house a home. Never had he felt so motivated.

Continuing his journey, Severus mounted the stairs with the lightest of strides, as if daring one of the steps to emit a squeak. Reaching the door to his bedroom at the top of the stairs, he turned the knob and pushed the door open lightly, slowly revealing his bed and a sleeping Hermione shrouded in the covers. As tired as he was, he couldn't help but lean on the door frame and admire the sleeping woman. He had agreed to take things slow, and he had for several weeks, to her great annoyance. In fact, it was in a fit of frustration during their fourth week of dating that she had caught him completely off-guard and kissed him for the first time. After that, he got the hint, and things had been progressing rather nicely over the last six months.

It was only in the last month that they hit another bump in the road. Over dinner one evening, Hermione asked if she could move in. It seemed living with your ex's sister made life endlessly awkward. He had said yes with little hesitation at the time but later that evening found himself wondering what he had gotten himself into. While he thrived in her company, he was still a very solitary man. Would he get sick of her, or worse, would she get tired of him?

Standing in the entrance of his bedroom, Severus knew more than ever that despite their disagreements, he could never get tired of Hermione Granger.

"Severus, is that you?" asked a voice buried in the covers. A ruffled Hermione pulled down the bed covers and squinted towards him.

"Sorry," Severus apologized, gesturing for her to lie back down. He sat on the edge of the bed to take off his shoes and felt little sparks along his back as Hermione ran her fingertips along his spine in a soothing manner.

"You must be exhausted," he heard her say behind him, a yawn punctuating the statement.

"Well, at least I didn't have to spend the day chasing anyone's nose," Severus replied, looking back with a small smirk. Groaning, she dropped his hand from her back.

"Don't remind me," she muttered.

Electing to skip changing and simply take off his shirt, Severus moved under the covers next to Hermione. Leaning over, she greeted him with a languid kiss before rolling to her side. Following her, he snuggled against her, her back meeting his chest.

"Goodnight, Severus," she mumbled sleepily, quickly falling back to sleep.

"Goodnight, Hermione," Severus replied as he wrapped his right arm around her torso and settled his head behind hers, her dark curls engulfing his nose. Perhaps his favorite part of having her for a roommate (okay, maybe second favorite) was the nightly privilege of being able to sniff her hair without embarrassment. His last thought before drifting to sleep that night was, Yes, it definitely smells like grapefruit.

A/N: Thank you to my betas justine34 and lilyshadowwriter16 for their editing and encouragement. This is the concluding chapter of the story, so I hope you've enjoyed it!