Chapter 14
Severus squints against the harsh glow of sunset as the ferry drifts along the calm waters of the Adriatic Sea, casting another subtle cooling charm as a warm breeze caresses his skin. He is still unused to the persistent sheen of sweat the balmy air conjures on one’s person here, but a smile tugs at his mouth as the limestone-dotted coastline of Dubrovnik sharpens before them.
Just weeks ago, Severus packed a single bag (which, he briefly mused at the time, is much more poetic when one does not possess the ability to perform extension charms) and left everything else behind, including his title as Headmaster. In those weeks, he traded his signature woolen armor for airy linens and scoured the most remote parts of the Dinaric Alps until he found what must be the most illusive leaf in existence and stuffed every empty jar and vial in his satchel with the damn things.
All-the-while dreaming, always dreaming, of holding Hermione in his arms again.
But now that he is closer to that moment, as he steps onto the dock and wanders through these cobblestoned streets, a stubborn doubt begins to take root somewhere deep in his chest.
Will she be angry with him? Did he take too long? Does she still need or even want him, is this an awful and utterly ridiculous idea, is he absolutely insane to think this could possibly work, is he too late?
Severus scowls at himself, attempting to fling such thoughts from his mind. None of it matters, he continues to remind himself— He’s here, now.
No, only one question matters in this moment— and that is where the nearest library might be.
It didn’t take long for Severus to locate her. He first spotted her leaving a bookstore, wanting nothing more than to run to her right then and there and beg for her forgiveness. However, he continued to convince himself, for one flimsy reason or another, that it would be prudent to wait and to watch before making his presence known.
But tonight, hours after the lights have gone out in her decrepit yet admittedly charming apartment, he steels himself and makes his way to her door, hope squeezing tightly at his chest as her wards yield instantly to him.
One would think she had lived here for years, the way she has made this place her own, with countless books strewn about and filling the shelves and her warm scent permeating the air. When he slips into her room, it is everything and nothing like the time he first visited her sleeping form in the castle, his dark gaze tracing the same soft curve of her cheek, the same smooth slope of her delicate nose, the gentle swell of her lower lip… Yet where hatred once burned in his veins, there is only an aching fondness, and even his hands seem less bloodied somehow than they were once before.
Perhaps not fondness. No, he… He loves her.
Perhaps, he thinks. He is still unused to the word.
But suddenly he can see his books here, too, scattered amongst hers, and his tea cup sitting next to her own by the kettle every morning, and her wild hair spilling across his pillow and nearly smothering him every night, and—
And yes. He ardently, deeply, heart-wrenchingly loves her.
The next morning, Severus forces himself to sit in her usual seat on the patio of the quaint cafe she visits every morning, his hand certainly not trembling each time he raises his coffee to his lips.
He had left the Macedonian Silverleaf on her nightstand last night, fully planning to be waiting in her living room once she awoke. Yet with the early rising of the sun, so too rose his fears.
She should be here any minute, he thinks as he fights the urge to flee. Perhaps a sticking charm—
“You’re here.”
Severus nearly jumps at the sound of those whispered words, his heart suddenly pounding and his head dips briefly before he rises from his chair and turns to face her.
“You’re actually here,” She says again, louder this time.
“I’m here,” He murmurs, simply staring back into her wide-eyed gaze as every word he rehearsed flies from his mind.
“I…”
Say something, damn it!
“Well, I wondered if you wouldn’t mind sharing your table with me today, Miss…?” He finally says, praying to everything holy that his expression isn’t as desperately hopeful as it feels as he extends a hand to her.
Luckily, he soon remembers how to breathe when a broad smile breaks out across her face and she takes his hand.
“Hermione,” She laughs, “Hermione Granger. And you, Sir?”
“Severus Snape,” He practically sighs, matching her smile. “Pleasure to meet you, Hermione.”
He immediately misses her touch when she drops his hand.
“What brings you to these parts, Severus?”
“Well, some stubborn witch once promised I could find a fresh start here,” he says, stepping closer to sweep a stray curl from her face and chuckling as she gives an exasperated huff. Gently cupping a hand to her face, he smoothes his thumb across her cheek, brushing away the stray tear there.
“And I’ve come to deliver something she’s been missing,” He adds softly, positively drowning in amber as he searches her glistening gaze.
The words have scarcely left him before her feet are off the ground, her arms winding tightly around his neck, and he swiftly catches her against him with a surprised laugh rumbling in his chest as he folds her into his arms.
“If that is still your wish, of course,” He murmurs into her hair, his arms tightening around her.
“You’ll stay, Severus?” She finally asks, both hopeful and apprehensive, as she raises her head to peer at him while her feet return to the ground.
His expression softens then, a pang of guilt tightening in his chest. He reaches up to gently cradle her head between his hands, his fingers threading through her hair as he draws her lips against his in a slow yet desperate kiss as if it could somehow convince her of the honesty of his regret where the correct words have failed him. As if he could pour all the words and emotions and promises he has yet to convey into her very soul so that she might believe him when he tells her that he has no intention of ever leaving her side again, so long as she will have him.
As if it could tell her that he loves her.
“Always, Hermione.”
The End
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