Chapter Four

The characters and canon situations in the following story belong solely to J.K. Rowling, Scholastic, and WB. I am not making any money from the publishing or writing of this story.

Lost to the empty solitude that comes in aftermath of a good cry, Hermione sat staring with cold eyes at the flames dancing in her hearth before a quick rapping at her door cause her to startle. Her eyes flew to the door, glinting hard at the ancient wood from which the offending noise had come. Knowing she was neither fit to be seen nor able to converse with any amount of civility, she turned back toward the fire and ignored the door and the person on the other side of it.

Again, a knock sounded.

Hermione shifted but did not turn to look at the door. Instead, she straightened herself with a small grimace and kept her eyes locked on the flames. They flickered before her, mimicking the raw emotions still simmering and churning within her. Waiting in quiet agony for the intruding person to give up and leave her in peace, she sat in silence. She knew that eventually they would get the message that she had no desire for company.

The sound came again, this time louder than before, and it succeeded in breaking through her stupor, causing her to let out a small yelp.

"Hermione," called a deep voice in the hall. "I know you're in there!"

Immediately, her eyes widened, and her face paled.

It's him. Oh, Circes!

Quickly, what do I do? Answer it? No. No. No.

Hermione winced as the sound, which was now more a pounding than polite knock, echoed off the walls of her rooms. This time it did not cease after a few repetitions but continued on for some time.

Hermione sighed and for once was thankful that her rooms weren't in a well-travelled area of the castle, for it seemed he was intent on making a scene. Slowly, she rose from the settee on shaking legs. Hermione straightened her clothes to the best of her ability, and then with as much strength as she could muster, she made her way to the door and flung it open.

"What?" she demanded feebly. "Come to mock me?"

Severus was stunned speechless. Just as he had moved his fist to pound on the door yet another time, it had been flung open and before him stood Hermione, her wild beauty striking him in a single blow.

She looked up to him with fierce, sad eyes that were swollen and red. Her hair, which had in the last few days reminded him much of her school days, was now in complete disarray, and her clothes, which were normally impeccable, were now crumpled and creased. But the most prominent feature he could see upon her was the tear tracks staining her cheeks. She stood before him like a fallen and wild angel ready for a final battle, and he couldn't help but feel inadequate to the task set before him. His eyes locked on her as he stared intensely.

Hermione stood stubbornly before him, his gaze heavy upon her, stirring things in her that she had long repressed, things she had taught herself to live without. Gradually, she felt her cheeks begin to grow hot, her heart to twinge, and her breath to catch. Tightening her eyes against the onslaught, she gasped out a harsh but breathy, "Well?"

Severus startled out of his scrutiny of her. "Well, what?" he muttered with exasperation in his voice.

"What do you mean? You are the one who was banging on my door, demanding I open it," she said, frustrated. "Obviously you've finished it, and you've come to mock me."

Severus took a deep breath, his eyes darting away from her and to the empty corridor behind him. He ground out in a voice that was little more than a hushed growl, "Can we not do this in the hall?"

Hermione, though upset, realised the wisdom of his words, and with a small nod, she stepped back, allowing him entrance into her rooms. His eyes quickly scanned the domain of the fascinating witch as he walked passed her. In his typical quiet and dignified manner, he did not stand upon ceremony or wait for an invitation to sit. Instead, he planted himself firmly on her settee and then fixed his expectant eyes upon Hermione as she stood by the door struggling with what to do with herself. Finally, she too walked to the settee and sat, silent and waiting for whatever words he felt he needed to express.

As he watched her walk across the room and then sit, he was surprised by her utterly defeated air. Where was the confident woman from the past weeks? She seemed completely resigned to whatever fate held for her. It was all very unlike what he knew of her.

Moments ticked by as they sat, both unsure of what to say or do. Then he spoke, his voice a quiet wave from his lips, breaking the thick silence that had settled between them.

"Hermione, when I started working through the puzzle it was simply because I enjoy a challenge. However, when I actually studied the equation itself, I was stunned. It is..." He paused, trying to grasp at an adequate way to show her what he thought of her puzzle. "Well, for lack of a better term, it is bloody brilliant. I have never seen such an intricately wrought piece of Arithmantic magic. It did not cross my mind until I saw your reaction after I hit the first fail-safe that there was a secret involved. A secret you are clearly not comfortable sharing."

His eyes closed for a moment as his hand found the bridge of his nose, and he took in a deep breath. "It was never my intent to hurt you or seek out your secret. I respect you too much to do that. In the last few weeks, I thought that we'd become something close to friends, and as such, I would never invade your privacy."

"I don't understand," Hermione said, the confusion clear in her voice.

Severus looked up from the spot he'd been unconsciously studying on the floor. Her voice sounded too broken and timid. It hurt that he'd inadvertently caused her so much distress. Reaching across the sofa and taking her hand in his, he noted that it was soft and small and fit perfectly in his. As his thumb began drawing small, comforting circles on the back of her hand, his eyes looked into hers.

Hermione quaked as intense agitation pulsed through her.

What is happening here?

Only moments ago she'd been lost in despair, and then, suddenly, he was here with her, holding her hand.

"I didn't finish it, Hermione," he told her, squeezing her hand softly. "The secret is yours, and obviously it is one that you are not ready to share. It is not my place to take it from you, and certainly not for the pleasure of solving a puzzle."

As relief flooded her she felt her eyes once again began to well up with tears. It was safe. He did not know.

"I don't understand," she said. Seeing the puzzled look growing on his face, she realised he need further clarification. "You did that for me? Why would you do that?"

"Well," he said before taking a deep breath, "when I eventually remembered that there was a secret involved, I thought to lessen your pain by solving it as quickly as possible. I reasoned that no matter what the secret was, I would safeguard it as my own. However, when you came in to the Great Hall, the look in your eyes was enough to stay my hand. It sickened me to know that something I was doing had caused that, had caused you such distress. Honestly, I could not bear it. No puzzle is worth that, Hermione. You are worth more than that."

Hermione gasped and her face immediately grew pale. His words processed through her stress-addled mind, echoing within her and forever changing her understanding of the man sitting next to her.

Struck by this flash of insight, Hermione watched as her vision momentarily grew dark and the world around her started to swim. Swaying slightly, she took a deep breath and was relieved when the room again steadied and her rooms again appeared before her. And in that moment, with her head light, world spinning, and heart aching, she finally knew that it was time. The time that she had never thought would come was here.

"Severus," she said, her voice a mere whisper, "where are your papers?"

Solemnly, he reached into his robe and withdrew a bundle of parchment, offering it to her.

Shaking her head, she sent him a weak smile. "I didn't understand before, but now I do. You need to finish it. I want you to finished it," she said as she sniffled. Sensing his reluctance, she continued, her voice and demeanor growing stronger and more peaceful by the second. "I need you to, Severus. I don't want my secret anymore."

Severus studied her for a moment, searching her face for any hesitation, and when he found none, he asked with grave sincerity, "Are you sure?"

Hermione simply gave him a small, confident nod and then allowed her eyes to fall to the crumpled parchment in his hands, waiting for him to take action.

Placing the bundle of parchment on the table and drawing out the self-inking quill he'd been using earlier, he turned and began his work. For many minutes he wrote, placing number after number, value after value, and rune after rune. When he finally he reached the end, he carefully drew the closing symbol and activated the magic that would unlock the secret message. As his quill left the parchment, his eyes looked to Hermione.

She was fixedly watching the magical numbers on the paper swirl and twist. "It still amazes me," she whispered, "the magic of numbers." As if she could feel his eyes on her, she looked up and smiled before gesturing to the paper.

Severus looked down and could see that it was coming to the end of the magic. The decoding would be complete in seconds. The numbers swirled in the middle of the page until they were a maelstrom of ink, and then, as the blur of ink slowly separated into swirling letters, four words floated into the centre of the page.

I love Severus Snape.

Severus felt the world drop out from underneath him and his brain completely shut down. The entirety of his awareness instantly shrunk down to the four little words on the paper before him.

She loves me?! he cried in his mind. Surely, she is mistaken. What could she possibly love about me?

His eyes darted up in confusion. Again, searching her face as he thought about the woman in question, the woman nervously sitting next to him.

Is she serious? Could this be a mistake of some sort? A prank? No, that couldn't be right, not after her reaction in the Great Hall.

He shook his head, trying to understand the input he was receiving and failing utterly. There was no doubt that she was sincere. He checked the parchment again. Perhaps he had read it wrong. But no, the four words stood unchanged before him.

I love Severus Snape.

His chest tightened, reminding him that he'd not taken in a breath recently. Gasping, he looked up from the paper, his wide eyes meeting hers.

"Severus?" she whispered.

His face was growing flush, and the furrowing of his brow was growing deeper with each passing second.

"Truly?" he asked, his voice cracking.

Hermione nodded as her eyes filled with tears. Biting her lip, she sat for a moment, not sure where to look, what to say, or how to say it. She knew she could not leave things as they were. Finally, taking a deep breath, she steeled herself internally and said, "Don't worry. I'm not looking for a declaration in return. I know you don't return the sentiments, and honestly, I have never really held much hope for it anyway. But after these last five weeks... And then today... I thought maybe it was time for me to stop hiding. You deserve that much, and perhaps, someday..."

For a time, thick silence once again stretched between them, the air standing heavy around them, keeping them in place.

Inside, she could feel the weight and creep of dread start to tingle in the depths of her stomach. She knew that this wouldn't last, this quiet moment of uncertainty, and she resolved that when he finally spoke, when he finally broke what was left of her heart, she would willingly take whatever words he gave her. It was the least she could do.

He said nothing as his eyes studied her. They were filled with innumerable questions that he couldn't begin to understand how to voice. This was a completely new situation for him. What was he to do?

When he finally did speak, the inadequacy of his words left him feeling like a dunderheaded adolescent. "Hermione. I don't know what to say," he heard his lips utter before he stop them. Then, as he had before, he acted without thinking, his hand reach forward and grasped hers as words continued to tumble from his lips, clarifying things that he'd felt but never truly understood.

"I have to confess that I did not see you as anything more than a former student until I started working on your equation. I had kept away from you for the same reasons that I have pushed everyone away in my life. I was under the impression that my life was good enough as it was and that I didn't need anyone else in it to be happy. But then, once I started working on the puzzle, I found myself unaccountably fascinated by your mind, by you. Your Arithmancy truly is a work of art, and the fact that its entire purpose it is to protect such a message..." His voice trailed off, not quite sure if he could voice exactly how he felt about that particular aspect of the turn of events, not sure if he even understood how he felt about the events anyway. After a few breaths he picked up the account of his actions and intent these past weeks.

"We've worked together for five years, and I never saw you for who you were. However, from the moment you walked in the Great Hall all those weeks ago, I must confess that you were all I could see. It was as if the curtains had been thrown back, and I could not help but see the light that you brought into the world. After that I was flooded with the absurd need to speak to you. I wanted to know how your brain worked, to understand your opinions and motivations, to better know you. And so, I asked you to sit with me, only to be drawn in further. There were times when I would find myself wondering what you would think about the essay or journal article that I had just read. I don't do that; I do not seek the opinions of others. I should not care, but for some reason that I do not fully understand, I do. It was as if the equation was telling me the message long before I ever finished it, driving and feeding this obsession. And tonight... The knowledge that I was doing something which caused you to hurt... That is why I didn't finish it. It wasn't worth it."

The tears which had been slowly filling her eyes finally reached their limit, and her tears began to drop, falling to wet her cheeks. Gently, he reached up with his free hand and wiped them away, "Do you not see, Hermione? My heart is already yours."

His words echoed around her, slamming into her with such force and veracity that her vision started to swim and a guttural sob instantly leapt forward in her chest. With a sharp and jarring jerk, Hermione wrenched herself from the settee and turned away from him, hiding the intensity of her reaction as best she could. Collapsing to her knees, she began to shake as she wept loudly into her hands.

Severus lowered himself to the floor beside her as his heart pounded in his chest. Desperately he pleaded, "Hermione, I am sorry. I didn't know before. I was fool not to see, to waste years being blind to you. But I see you now. You are a beautiful, brilliant woman, who is kind and generous and a fabulous teacher. Would you be willing to accept the favour of my attentions, as a friend, as a suitor, as a lover? Hell, I would happily take you as my wife if you deemed it acceptable, but please don't hide from me."

Her sobbing shook with renewed vigour as he fell silent, and he could not tell if it was from relief or distress. Reaching for her shoulders, he gently turned her toward him, and when she looked up, it was with a watery, shaky smile. Words were lost to her as she nodded and allowed him to pull her into his arms. Neither of them could describe the feelings they currently were experiencing. Joy, happiness, contentment, and relief were all there, but there was something more. Completeness.

Reverently, Severus pressed a kiss into her hair before moving on to her ear where he whispered, "You are a mess, my dear." His hand stroked her wild hair in a futile effort to tame it.

Hermione snorted and gently hit him in the arm. "Not my fault. I've had no sleep and more than a few cries."

"Indeed. And still you are as beautiful as ever," he teased.

Hermione let out a wet snort and then quickly grabbed a tissue. Between blows she said, "I'm not sure if that is a compliment or not, snarky Potions Master."

"Now that is true. I cannot deny it," he sighed dramatically with an eyebrow raised.

"Oh, Merlin! Can you imagine Harry and Ron's reactions?" Hermione asked before collapsing against Severus in a fit of heady giggles.

"Your friends will get over it eventually, I'm sure. You, however..."

Hermione's fit ended suddenly as she felt his lips press into her neck. As she snuggled up against him, she whispered, "I have no desire to ever get over this, Severus."

Slowly, he gathered her in his arms and moved them both back onto the settee. "And for that, I am profoundly grateful."

As she sat in his lap with her face inches from his, she could feel the warmth of their mingling breath stirring between them. Carefully bringing her hand up to stroke his cheek, Hermione touched him with reverent wonder, relishing the fact that she could finally take the liberties she had always longed for.

Then his lips were upon hers, soft, warm, and gentle. With eyes fluttering closed, she savoured the feeling and taste of the man she loved. As they kissed each other with light touches that burned with inner heat, they both knew that nothing would ever be the same for them again. After a lifetime of being lost, they had finally come home.