Chapter 10
Not but a few days later, Severus finds a book missing from his personal library— An Anthology of the World’s Darkest Known Artifacts— with her black button sitting in its place.
That very same day, Hermione is secluded to a private room in the hospital wing— the very same room Miss Parkinson had occupied just days earlier before being sent to the critical care unit at St. Mungo’s. It appears, however unlikely, that another student had somehow gotten their hands on a pinch of Angel’s Trumpet and slipped it into Miss Granger’s morning tea…
And that very night, with so many witnesses to verify the whereabouts of one Miss Hermione Granger, Severus took it upon himself to go snake hunting in a raven’s nest, with high hopes of finally laying to rest the little witch’s righteous vendetta.
Oh, these violent, brutal delights, he thinks as he watches her toss fitfully in her sleep… will get us both killed someday.
And yes, he hates her for it, a part of him still raging however weakly against the stranglehold she has around him… But he still believes that she deserves the world. And he would still give it to her if he could, if she so wished.
And so if it is vengeance that she wants, he’ll give her that, too. Because she deserves it— More-so than the rest of them.
Severus places the Ravenclaw pin on the nightstand with a soft clink, waking her from her shallow slumber. He watches as she groggily peers at the silver piece before blinking up at him.
“Am I still hallucinating?” She asks in a hushed whisper.
“Yes,” he lies after a brief moment of consideration. She smiles broadly as he gently sweeps a stray curl from her eyes, clearly still somewhat impaired.
“Well in that case,” she says, sidling over to the far end of the bed, “Hop in.”
Severus suppresses a smile of his own, hiding it with a sigh as he raises the thin quilt and climbs in next to her. Hermione raises his arm to quickly and clumsily tuck herself against his side, looking up at him with a cheeky grin and he can’t help but to laugh, hoping she might not remember this in the morning.
“Do you remember what you said to me last time we were here?” She asks quietly, her hand briefly grazing down her chest where her scar from the battle at the ministry lies.
“I believe I called you a fool, Miss Granger,” he murmurs, drawing his thumb in slow circles on her hip where his hand rests.
“And when I asked why you even bothered to look after me, you said, “Because you would make a terrible martyr, Miss Granger,”” She says with a poor impression of himself, bursting into laughter as she looks up at his raised brow and poorly hidden grin. “And then you read to me—“
“Only after your incessant pestering—“
“—All-the-while swearing you didn’t make a habit of reading romantic mysteries,” Hermione says, still chuckling.
“I didn’t swear,” He grins, rolling his eyes.
“Well regardless, I liked it,” she says quietly, her smile softening as she searches his gaze. “And then… you kissed me.”
Severus’s eyes dart to the ceiling. “I thought you were asleep,” he murmurs.
“I was… I thought it had only been a dream until now.”
“You should sleep now,” He says after finally meeting her gaze again, tightening his arms around her as she turns her face from his and nestles herself into a more comfortable position against his side.
“Wouldn’t it be nice to just start fresh, Severus?” She asks sleepily, drawing patterns along his chest with her fingertips. “To just forget all this here and leave?”
“You’ve become maudlin in your old age, Hermione.”
He feels her smile against his chest before she continues, “You know there are people who just travel wherever they please? Solving mysteries and such… There’s this giant library in Turkey where for centuries, people have come from all over the world to help catalogue and curse-break thousands of odd magical texts. And some people spend a lifetime studying the properties of rare and newly discovered plants that only grow in the Dinaric Alps…”
Severus allows himself to smile while he listens, continuing to rub soothing circles against her hip with his thumb, imagining what such a life would feel like at her side as her breathing slows and her voice grows softer.
“Doesn’t that sound lovely, Severus?" She asks, just barely audible now.
“Quite lovely, Hermione,” He whispers once she’s fallen asleep.
***