13th January, 2000. 11:12 a.m.
“Severus,” she breathed as Harry and Draco hurried out of the door. The entire conversation had left her dumbfounded, and she felt herself inwardly reeling. She almost leapt at him to cling to him for support, but one look at him told her he was feeling just the same way.
“Hermione,” he replied, looking almost wounded, leaning heavily on the high back of one of the armchairs—<i>her</i> armchair. She couldn't understand why <i>he</i> was responding with such shock. After all, he had been in control. It had been his choice to tell Harry all those things!
“You shouldn’t have heard any of that. You weren’t supposed to…”
Oh. But what sort of excuse was that? Did it make it better for him to lie and take all that guilt and responsibility onto himself as long as she didn't know about it? No! This was just sheer madness. Didn't he know—
“How could you tell him that it was <i>you</i>?" she burst out. "Do you know what you’re risking? I would never want anything to happen to you… I couldn’t bear it if—”
“Hermione, don’t say the word!”
She couldn't not comply with such a pained cry, and so her mouth snapped shut, and the word ‘Azkaban’ lay unspoken on the air. She couldn’t bear the silence, however, and she continued by asking the one question that had been pounding through her mind since she'd caught the very first word of the men's conversation through the door: “Why?”
He turned his entire body to face her now, a pained expression on his face that somehow matched her own. “Why do you <i>think</i>? The same reason you thought it was okay to act all lovey-dovey!”
Severus waited for the screech of insolent distaste or the petulant annoyance. Neither came. Apparently, Hermione was going to ignore what he’d just said. Or maybe she hadn't heard. Maybe her mind was reeling as much as his. Maybe she had already skipped to the next question.
She paced back and forth in front of him a little and then said in an angry voice, “I don’t see why you had to tell him anything at all. I thought that there was no evidence, that everything was going to be okay. Why would you tell Harry?”
“Because he already knows, Hermione. He can already sense it.” Severus finally slumped down into the armchair that had been his prop, disregarding the fact that it was ‘her’ armchair. They were all his, if you wanted to get technical, after all. Right now, he just needed to take the weight off his feet, if he couldn't take it off his shoulders.
“What do you mean? How can he know?” she asked in a high-pitched voice. Now, he could see a look of total panic and frenzy threatening to take over her face.
“Don’t panic. I had—have a plan. It’s still going to be okay,” he assured her, even though, after the debacle just now, he wasn’t entirely convinced anymore. He’d <i>thought</i> he had a plan. But now, Harry was gone, and his plan had been disrupted. The Aurors could be at their door at any second, but he had had the feeling, when Harry was marching to the door, that he would come back and that this would all be okay. This all <i>had</i> to be okay.
“Is that why you told Harry all of that… stuff?” she demanded, coming in between him and the coffee table and squatting down to sit upon it. Their knees and legs jostled for space, and if he leaned forward, rather than slumping lifelessly on the back of the chair, he could kiss her with ease. It was a bizarre detail for him to focus on, but suddenly he could barely drive out of his mind the urge to do it. He could almost feel his muscles tense to make the movement, but his stress, his confusion, had beaten all the strength out of them, and he didn't move at all.
Instead, all he said was, “Yes.”
“That was part of your plan?" Hermione continued ranting. Apparently, their proximity did not affect her, and Severus was surprised to find this thought paining him. She was continuing, however, and he supposed that he should forgive her insensitivity given the situation. "You thought that telling him that I tried to seduce you would <i>help</i>? I noticed you didn’t tell him your moral pose has since broken. I guess that’s one thing to be grateful for!” she snapped.
Ah.
“Such little faith, Hermione? I knew what I was doing…”
“Until I came in? Oh, that’s right, I ruined everything, didn’t I?”
“No, Hermione.”
“Yes, I did. Let’s face it, I ruined everything for you, and I’ve been ruining your life for a long time now. You might never have been captured if it hadn’t been for me! You could have escaped somehow, been free, not had to… And then you wouldn’t be stuck here having to wrap me up in cotton wool to stop me ruining everything, and you wouldn’t have fallen in love with me and—”
“Stop!” The words on her lips, the words on her lips with <i>that</i> tone… They were just too much. It pained him to hear her like this. There was a twisted logic in what she said, but it wasn’t true. Hadn’t she understood anything? “Hermione,” he breathed, trying to still his thumping heart, which was rushing with adrenaline. “Have you not listened to a word I’ve told you over the past day or so? None of this was your fault. If anything, it’s all <i>my</i> fault. I could have done more to save you. I could have kept <i>you</i> from Azkaban. I could have stopped you ever having to fall into bed with me to…”
“I <i>like</i> falling into bed with you,” was the petulant interruption. Sometimes, her childlikeness surprised him. It was her default response to all things that pained her or troubled her. It was what led to her impulsive decisions to seduce him. Or kill Ron. Yes, there was no forgetting about that. As much as he’d dearly love to take her in his arms and stroke her hair and end this crisis for her… He couldn’t right now. He had to stick to the plan. There was a way out, but it was dangerous and painful.
“Hermione, our relationship is complicated.” He began to pick his words with care now. He wanted her to know that he loved her, yes. Deep down, he was glad of his slip that night. But he wanted her to know she didn't have to love him back. She didn't <i>owe</i> him anything. “Right now, we have other things to see to, but when they’re over—and I promise you, I <i>will</i> deal with them, and they <i>will</i> be over soon—we can talk about this, yes?” He punctuated ‘this’ with a gesture of his hand between the two of them.
“Severus.” She let out his name like a crying prayer, and again he felt the urge to pull her to him and comfort her and had to push it down. “I need to know that you’re on my side.”
Now, he could not resist the only way he could think of to properly answer that question, and his exhausted muscles suddenly surged to life. Leaning forward, he sealed his dedication to her with a kiss, and the palpable wave of relief that came over her led to her body giving a shudder and falling into his own. He caught her in his arms and now gave himself a brief moment to stroke her hair. Yes, he loved her. Yes, she knew. Whether or not she loved him too was extraneous information right now. And she knew that too. Everything <i>was</i> going to be all right. And right now he didn’t want her to answer that unspoken question: 'do you love me?' He didn't want to be distracted by the truth—whatever it might be—or any lies she might feel obliged to tell because of the situations. If she wanted to, she could break his heart once he’d saved her. Once he’d saved all three of them from Azkaban. He hoped and prayed that would be a ‘once’ and not an ‘if’.