Profound Communication

Chapter 22

This is a story by the great Marisol, a German FF writer whose stories can be found at http://www.harrypotter-xperts.de/fanfiction?author=17037

Translated from German into English by Muggline

Disclaimer: Neither Marisol nor Muggline are making any money out of this. Everything you recognise belongs to J.K. Rowling.

A/N: Kudos to Prof. M Mc Gonagall – she really had a hard time with this one! I promise I will never again translate after midnight ;-)

Chapter 22 – Profound Communication

Surprised, Hermione turned around and met his searching gaze. He seemed puzzled and amused, but before he had a chance to ask, she softly said, "The thought of returning to my cold, empty flat with no one to talk about what happened... it's just so depressing to me right now." Severus studied her face attentively, and as usual, she was unable to discern what was going on behind his façade.

But he nodded and made an inviting gesture towards his threadbare sofa. Sitting down, she saw that he had pulled up one of his eyebrows while taking a seat next to her. "I am very surprised," he said slowly, "that you seem to prefer my company to your certainly much more comfortable flat."

"You don't know my place," she said evasively while she felt her cheeks turn pink. How could she possibly explain to him that she didn't care about his house's condition at all as long as she could be with him, knowing that he must have started to see her in a different light?

To her immense relief, he refrained from digging any deeper but asked whether she would like some refreshments. "I haven't had any tea all day long," she said.

He disappeared in the kitchen and returned some moments later, two filled cups floating in the air behind him. When the cups settled themselves smoothly on the ramshackle table, she was quite astonished to see a box of chocolate cakes in their wake. "They're quite good," he assured her, misinterpreting her surprised gaze.

"I know. I am just perplexed to learn that you like chocolate," she replied.

"Well, everyone does," he answered with a frown. "What did you think I'd like? Beetles?"

His taunting tone made her cringe, and she smiled apologetically. They drank their tea in silence for a while until Hermione said, "I am so glad that Albus is over the worst part of it. I simply can't imagine what would have happened if you hadn't managed to finish the antidote on time..."

Lost in his own thoughts and looking towards his cup with unseeing eyes, he stirred his tea. She even thought that he wouldn't answer for a moment, but then she heard him say, almost in a whisper, "It might have been too late without your help."

"I... but I didn't do much," she replied hastily. But her stomach felt as if it were on a roller-coaster ride. She was shocked and fascinated by the impact of his praise.

"You have done some very good work, Hermione," he said calmly. "I am not prone to false flattery, but I do acknowledge a good performance." He lifted his head to look at her, and she blushed under his scrutiny.

"Thank you," she managed to whisper. "I would have done anything to help him. Just thinking about what would have happened if Albus had not survived..." She swallowed hard and started kneading her hands. "Every good, important or meaningful thing that has ever happened in my life is somehow connected to Harry... and to Ginny and Ron, of course. I know that their lives would never have been the same without Albus. And I am so immensely grateful that you made it... that we made it."

This time, he actually didn't answer. However, she felt that she understood what he was thinking. Maybe he was unable to express what his godson meant to him, maybe he didn't want to express it. It didn't matter. She felt that they had never understood each other better than in this moment.

oOoOoOoOo

The teacups were empty, the cookies eaten and everything was said and done. Hermione had no reason to stay, but something deep inside of her stubbornly refused to accept the notion of going home. "May I ask you something?" she said tentatively.

"You may," he replied with a hint of a smile on his lips. "I won't promise to answer, however."

"Why did you choose Potions as a profession?"

He lowered his head a little and thought about it for some seconds. Then he said, "Because I have been fascinated by Potions since I came to Hogwarts as a child. It was something that I could do just as naturally as I could breathe or walk." Every other person would have exuded an air of arrogance or supremacy at this statement. Coming from Severus, it sounded completely natural. Hermione nodded and was surprised to hear him continue. "Indeed, I once pondered working as an Unspeakable at the Department of Mysteries."

Hermione did not even notice her jaw drop when she stared at him. "An Unspeakable? I've read hundreds of books because I wanted to find out what they do, but I haven't found anything!"

"Must be why they're called Unspeakables, right?" he deadpanned.

"It was easier to get information on Horcruxes!" she said. "There's not one magical library in London that I did not search for information about the Department of Mysteries."

"So there are mysteries that one Hermione Granger cannot solve with the help of her precious books," Severus said with his trademark sneer, but there was no spiteful expression in his gaze when he looked at her.

"But what do Unspeakables do? And how did you get the information?" she insisted.

"Well, I could tell you," he drawled. "But I'm afraid I would have to kill you afterwards." She realised that he was pulling her leg and blushed once more. He seemed to have pity on her because he leaned towards her and said, "You know the veil that became the inevitable fate of Sirius Black?" He frowned while speaking the name, but Hermione ignored it and waited for his explanations. "Nobody who goes through the veil will ever return," he stated. "Nobody, except the Unspeakables, knows what is behind this veil and what kind of world lies there. They are the only ones who know the magic that enables them to wander between those worlds... They can go through the veil and return. But nobody knows what they do there and under what circumstances. It's one of the best-kept secrets of the magical world."

Hermione had not realised that she was holding her breath until she let it out with a hiss. "And you applied?" she asked tensely.

He nodded. "However, I don't have the magic needed to be an Unspeakable. This kind of magic cannot be learnt; it is innate. When I applied with the Ministry, they found out during a test. I became a teacher shortly afterwards."

"But why did you want to become an Unspeakable?" she interrogated further. The things she had heard kept whirling around in her mind, and she asked herself how he might have managed to get this information.

She looked up and saw that his expression was tense and dismissive now. She realised that she had prodded too much into his personal life. "I'm sorry," she said. "I didn't mean to be too curious." In her mind, a realisation slowly dawned. His wish to work as an Unspeakable must have been shortly before he started working at Hogwarts – just after Lily and James had been murdered. Lily, she thought, and she smiled sadly when it hit her. This had been the reason for his application – the desperate hope to walk beyond the veil and visit her in the land of the dead.

Hermione did not dare to look him in the eyes. She feared that she might see things she did not want to see, but she also feared that he would be able to discern her own feelings. Lily was the beginning and the end of everything, and Severus's entire being was related to her in one way or another. The thought that his feelings for Harry's mother would always be there under the surface, no matter how much time passed, made her stomach constrict painfully. So why do you mind? a little voice inside of her said. Because you hope that he might develop feelings for you at some point? The thought wasn't all that new to her. When forced to admit it, she knew that she had already felt it during their embrace after his return from St. Mungo's.

"A Sickle for your thoughts," she heard him say. When she looked up, the dismissive expression had vanished, and he looked at her with a penetrating gaze.

"I could tell you..." she half whispered, "but I'm afraid I would have to kill you afterwards." He laughed, and she realised that this was one of the very few instances when his laughter was neither mocking nor derisive. "Such a shame," she murmured.

"What?"

"It's a pity you don't laugh like this more often." His impenetrable gaze locked on her face, but though she felt the embarrassment turn her ears bright red, she did not look away. "I mean, now that the worst is over, we'd have every reason to laugh, dance and be happy."

"I usually don't dance or laugh," he said softly.

"Nor are you happy," she added and almost regretted it when she saw his eyebrow rise. "It's a shame," she repeated, her voice becoming lower and lower. "I wish you were happy."

"You do?" he asked. "Why?"

"Well... because you aren't," was all that she said. He seemed to think about it for a while. Something wild started fluttering inside of her when his facial expression became very soft for one small, almost imperceptible moment. For the first time ever, it seemed he didn't know what to say.

Her heart leapt excitedly when she pushed all rational thoughts aside and let her actions be guided by her instincts. She leaned towards him and, taking advantage of his stupefaction, gave him a peck on the cheek. She heard the blood rush in her ears, and she felt hot and cold at the same time while she desperately tried to remember how this breathing thing was supposed to be done.

Slowly, very slowly, he lifted his hand and touched his cheek where her lips had touched his skin. "Why did you do that?" His voice conveyed nothing but extreme confusion.

"Because I wanted to," she whispered. She could see that he was flabbergasted. Well, she had surprised herself – and the irrational part of her consciousness told her to go on with it before her common sense had a chance to recover. So she leaned towards him again, and this time her lips did not meet his cheek – but his mouth. He froze, but did not push her away. So she became bolder and pressed her lips more firmly to his. Her hands moved to his shoulders, and then she felt his mouth open very slightly. Whether it was an intuitive reaction or something he wanted to do – she did not care. It was as if she was tasting some fruit she had never seen before. A fruit whose aroma she had been thinking about for a very long time and which turned out to be completely different from her expectations. She was unable to tell whether it tasted good or bad, it was just... different. Not unsavoury, simply different. It made her want to taste more.

Her hands were lying loosely on his shoulders. She expected him to reject her at any moment, but the longer it lasted, the less she doubted. Her doubts vanished entirely when he started kissing her back. They were both a little inept – he even more than she – but the kiss lasted. She asked herself what he might be thinking... whether he really wanted her, if it had simply been a very long time since he'd had a young woman in his arms or whether it was all due to the very special circumstances. Her left hand started moving down his shoulder to his forearm, and when he did not protest, she kept on caressing his arm in slow movements. She started at his elbow and moved her hand upwards until she reached his neck, where she started drawing small circles with her fingers, up and down, over and over again. Severus didn't seem to know what to do with his hands. Then his fingers buried themselves in her hair, and she revelled in the thought that he might have wanted to do this for quite a while...