Melting
Hermione looked at the candle burning in front of her. She passed her hand idly over the flame, not caring whether her skin was burning or not.
The few moments she found herself alone, she thought about him. And it was maddening; for Merlin’s sake, he disoriented her.
Mind-absently, she lifted her head in order to look at the far side of the tent, at her boys, peacefully napping as if the three of them were back in the Gryffindor dorms and not in a tent in the middle of nowhere. Poor, innocent boys, their youth was taken from them far too soon.
The witch kept on staring at the flame dancing over the candle, melting it. How fitting it was for the candle; but oh, how quickly the flame diminished its reason for existence.
She felt the same way about her, about him.
I only trust you with this secret, Miss Granger, the late Albus Dumbledore had told her a few months before his end. Severus will need a capable ally, one that will help him help Harry in his cause. And you are the one I shall trust with this. And she, shocked and curious, had sworn her loyalty, as Dumbledore explained all the ways Severus Snape had fooled all the world twice, but had garnered all the hate upon his shoulders, something that would get worse soon as he was tasked to end Dumbledore’s suffering and make it seem like a cold-blooded murder.
And so, Hermione had taken those secrets upon her; along with the realisation that Severus Snape wasn’t the taciturn man she once believed him to be. He was only…a man lost inside his own high walls, and she, despite everything, wanted to get past those walls and know him better.
She wouldn’t admit it to no one, let alone to herself, but…There was something in her for him; something she couldn’t name. Not yet.
So, she kept staring at the candle, at its flame dancing, lowering it. And maybe, just maybe, she thought of herself as the flame dancing over the candle, lowering it to something more vulnerable.
If you find yourself in need of help, blow out the candle and ask the smoke to find me but ask quickly. It can’t stay long, Severus had told her during the last time they had met. Following Dumbledore’s confession, she had spent the next few months meeting in secret with Snape; getting advice, learning important skills and defensive spells, and just…speaking with that man. Knowing him better, to the point that he stopped being Professor Snape and became Severus to her. But then, before this evolved, the world as they knew it came to an end.
Without thinking much about it, Hermione blew the candle and whispered his name, and it wasn’t long before his shadow was cast outside their tent.
“Granger, are you losing your sanity?” he muttered, as he looked at her, and it was obvious that he was assessing her state of being, whether she had any injuries or anything that was life-threatening. “If Potter sees me, he will–”
But Hermione interrupted him; it might be the last time she saw him, who knew? So, she would do the one thing she was pondering about.
She surged forward and buried her face against his robes. They smelled like dittany, and she found that this scent quieted the raging thoughts into her head.
At first, there was no reaction from his front, except a sharp breath. Then, tentatively, his arms wrapped around her and held her close; perhaps, sensing that she needed this comfort as much as he needed it.
“You’ve grown thinner,” she mumbled quietly. “I’m sorry, I just…wanted to know you are still okay.”
His arms tightened around her, and for a moment, all her fears went silent.