“You look bloody awful.”
Hermione scowled at the man standing in her office doorway. She ground her teeth, tempted to just hex him until he got the memo and left. Unfortunately the heart of the ministry of magic was not the place to do so.
“What do you want,” she ground out, looking back at the file on her desk. “And more importantly, how did you even get in here?”
Someone cleared their throat, and Hermione glanced back up to see Neville over Draco’s shoulder. Sighing, she put the folder aside and waved them in, Neville shutting the door behind him with a click and a silencing charm.
He crossed his arms as he leaned his back against the door, looking larger than life in his formal auror uniform. Draco however, threw himself carelessly in one of the chairs across from her.
“I went to the house last Monday, found my father and Severus looking like someone died. I couldn’t even get my father out of bed and Severus hasn’t been in that black of a mood since he woke up not dead. Then yesterday I hear from Pansy that this one,” he jerked his thumb over his shoulder at Neville, who scowled at the back of Draco’s head, “said you looked the same for the past two weeks. Two plus two, Granger.” He settled back into the chair, waiting expectantly.
Hermione just glared back at him, trying to push away the churning in her stomach from knowing how her leaving had affected Lucius and Severus. Draco stared back, his cool gaze so reminiscent of Lucius she had to avert her gaze.
“So you let him in?” She turned her attention to Neville.
He glared at the back of Draco’s head again. “Not exactly. He ferreted his way in past security and used me to get past your secretary. One word and I’m happy to arrest him for you.”
“Pansy wouldn’t be best pleased,” Draco said coolly, narrowing his eyes.
“She can’t fault me for following orders,” he retorted, and Draco twisted in his seat to give him a rude gesture.
Hermione sighed, pressing the heels of her hands into her eyes until she saw stars.
“I let myself forget who they are and what they’ve done,” she said, hands still covering her eyes. She didn’t need to see the incensed expression of either of the men in front of her. “I was reminded and realized that I was attempting to live in a bubble but that’s not how real life works.”
Someone, probably Draco, snorted derisively.
“What did they do? Threaten to kill someone for you?”
Definitely Draco.
“No, I found your father’s Azkaban tattoo with my tongue.” Hermione slammed her palms down on the desk, glaring at Draco, who curled his lip in disgust. “You fucking asked,” she reminded him, and he waved her off, his expression returning to neutral disinterest.
Behind him, Neville was flushed and had his eyes trained on an empty corner of her desk.
“We all walked away from that bloody tyrant with scars,” Draco said shortly. “Have you ever asked him how he feels seeing yours?” His grey eyes dropped to her left arm, which she instinctively pulled against her body.
Shame flashed through her body, settling like a block of ice in her stomach.
Draco stood, shaking out his blazer and squaring his shoulders. “If you do go back, make sure it’s for good. He might survive this once. He won’t a second time. Severus… I couldn’t say.”
He turned towards the door, and waited for Neville to step aside, allowing him access to the door. He turned, just before closing it behind him. “Longbottom. Granger. Let’s not ever do this again.”
Neville kicked the door shut in his face, locked the door, and refreshed the silencing charm before collapsing in the chair beside the one Draco had just vacated.
Neville pinched the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes shut. “I’m sorry,” he started, and Hermione sighed, cutting him off.
“He’s impossible. It’s not your fault.”
Neville dropped his hand, leaning forward to brace his elbows on his knees, hands clasped. Hermione recognized his guilt at once.
“Except you’re not apologizing for him, are you?” She asked softly, and her heart sunk when he shook his head.
Eyes trained on his hands clasped loosely before him, she finally noticed how tired he looked. Dark circles under his hazel eyes made them look dull, and though his uniform was neatly pressed, it seemed to sit heavily on his shoulders.
“I’m turning in my notice tonight,” he told her, his shoulders slumping even more. “Minerva approached me last year, offering Pomona’s position. She’s retiring. I told her I’d think about it, but it became abundantly clear that I need to take her up on the offer.”
Hermione nodded, smiling sadly. “I’ll miss you here, but you’ll be a fantastic teacher.” Neville looked up, relief washing over his features when he realized she wasn’t going to attempt to talk him out of it.
“Harry wanted me to stay. Pansy’s been silent on the matter. I was worried you’d be…” He trailed off, and Hermione leaned forward.
“Disappointed?” She offered, and he nodded.
She shook her head. “I know you’re a great Auror but your heart isn’t really in it. You’ll be happier at Hogwarts, I think. And those students need someone like you.”
He smiled, eyes brightening. “I told Harry I’d still help with the new recruits in the summers, so I’ll be back. But this…” he let out a long breath, and it looked as if a great weight had been lifted. “I’m excited.” His smile reminded her so much of the boy she’d met on the Hogwarts express after they’d found Trevor together.
She stood, and came around the desk to give him a hug. “I’m so glad,” she told him, though her eyes filled with tears.
He hugged her back, warm and familiar, though her heart ached to be held by someone else.
When she released him, several tears had slipped down her cheeks, and he offered her a clean handkerchief.
“Thanks,” she laughed, dabbing at the wet spots on her face, but he cocked his head, looking deep into her soul like only he could.
“What was it really?”
He didn’t have to elaborate more. She knew exactly what he meant.
“I did find the tattoo,” she sighed, perching on the edge of her desk, and keeping her eyes on the handkerchief in her hands. “Even though I logically knew it was there… Seeing it made it real. We were in bed and it shocked me. I took a while to think, and then I realized that my career wouldn’t survive the public knowing. I can’t imagine trying to keep my life a secret. Even you, Harry, Ron, and Luna expressed your doubts from the very beginning, and you’re my best friends. What will a snake like Skeeter say? Is it fair to put them through that kind of scrutiny when they’re so careful to keep their lives private?”
More tears trickled down her cheers, and Neville sighed.
“I can’t believe I’m saying this but Draco has a point. Have you asked them how they feel about it?”
Hermione shook her head, eyes still on the twisted scrap of cotton in her hands.
“I know it’s not even close to the same, but Pansy and I had to have a similar conversation when we started getting serious,” Neville offered. “She likes her privacy but the world doesn’t like to give that to us.”
He meant the war heroes. The group of them who’d been credited with the Dark Lord’s downfall. They’d thought the interest would die down, but they’d found out the hard way that their every move was scrutinized. Ron had gotten off easy when he’d chosen the Hufflepuff house darling, but Harry and even Neville had been ripped to shreds for their choices in dates, especially when they’d been seen with the children of Death Eaters.
Hermione was dancing with fire by not choosing a child of one, but two marked men of Voldemort’s inner circle. Order of Merlin or not, Severus had played his part well, and many still distrusted him. Lucius was even more dangerous, after spending so many years as his lieutenant.
“Pansy told me once that she’d leave if she thought it would be better for me. It took a long time to convince her that I loved her more than I liked my reputation. Sometimes I think she’s still afraid that I’ll decide that she’s not worth it. What she doesn’t seem to understand is that I’m just as afraid that she’ll realize that she could leave me and live in peace.” He shrugged, eyes distant.
“She’d do anything for you,” Hermione said quietly, and Neville focused on her face.
“Just like Lucius and Snape would do for you?”
“It’s been two weeks and I haven’t heard a word from either of them. I don’t know if they even want to try,” she admitted, and Neville raised an eyebrow.
“If I’ve learned anything about Slytherins since Pansy, it’s that they play it safe. If you told them it was over, they’re not going to try to make you change your mind. Apparently that’s a Gryffindor thing.” He rolled his eyes, but looked back with sympathy. “You heard Draco. They miss you, but they don’t want to push the matter if they think you’ll reject them again.”
She twisted the handkerchief in her hands, mulling over his words long after he murmured he needed to go to be on time for a court case. He gave her another hug, and left her in the quiet of her office.
He must have told her secretary she didn’t wish to be bothered, because nobody else darkened her doorway, and when she left long after everyone else, she saw a stack of messages waiting for her to come back to on Monday.
Flooing back to her flat made her chest ache, and she couldn’t believe that she missed the manor. More than the manor, she missed the two men in it. The last two weeks had felt like an eternity.
Neville’s words kept echoing in her ears, and it was after midnight when she scribbled a note, and her eagle owl took off through the window, carrying her heart with it.
The owl returned quickly, the reply in spiky black handwriting on the back of her own hastily written letter.
Clutching it in her fist, she stepped through the floo, and stepped out into the marble entry way she’d come to be so accustomed to.
Severus stood in the doorway, his arms crossed over his chest, thick black robes deepening the shadows around him.
His face didn’t betray his thoughts, but then it rarely did, and never when he was hurt. “You found your way back.”
The statement made her want to cringe away, but she nodded, searching his face for any sign that the man she’d fallen so hard for was still inside.
“Would you believe me if I said I left because I thought it was what was best?” Her voice trembled, and Severus’s brow creased as he frowned.
“I came to find out if I was taking away your choices unfairly.” Hermione felt the tears gathering in her eyes, and she flicked away the one that fell, averting her eyes from Severus’s still frame.
“Explain.” His tone left no room for argument, even if she’d wanted to, though it was less harsh than she’d have expected.
“The tattoo surprised me. Not because I didn’t know, but because I did know. And it reminded me that so did everyone else. Our lives extend beyond the boundaries of this house, and the moment anyone out there finds out, neither of you will know peace.” More tears fell. “I know how much you value that peace, Severus. Lucius too. You’re both rarely seen in public, and when you are, nothing betrays what may be going on in your life.”
She shifted on her feet, wishing she had Neville’s handkerchief from earlier. She flicked the tears angrily from her cheeks.
“I won’t ask you to give that up. Either of you. I’m sorry I ran, but I’m not sorry I did it to protect you.”
Breath froze in her chest when he stepped closer. “And should we refuse?”
Hermione blinked, confused.
He took another step forward, until he was close enough she could have reached out and brushed her fingers along the black wool. “I have had my peace because I have had you, Hermione. You don’t seem to understand that privacy does not equate to peace.”
He stepped forward again, so close that Hermione could feel the whisper of his robes over the toes of her shoes.
“You are my peace,” he breathed. “I can say with certainty that Lucius would say the same.”
Guilt rushed through her again, and more tears slipped down her cheeks. “But I hurt him.”
Severus’s fathomless black eyes pulled her in, until she could feel his chest brush hers as they breathed. “He thought he hurt you, petite.”
His pet name for her seemed to wrap around her like Devil’s Snare, making it difficult to draw breath.
“He will not forgive himself because you are the peace we have been searching for, and he believes he is the reason you walked away.”
Something flickered in his eyes, and Hermione shook her head. “Neither of you hurt me. Or scare me. I’ve missed you every second and I wish I hadn’t left.”
Cool fingers traced over her forearm and down to her wrist. His fingers closed around it, and she leaned forward, resting her cheek against his chest. “Please forgive me,” she whispered, too afraid to look up, until she felt his lips on her hair, and he was lacing his fingers through hers. He was far more gentle than his demeanor would lead one to believe, but she loved this unexpected side of him.
“As long as you always come back, I will always forgive.”