Chapter 46

“I don’t like him.”

“It’s not necessary that you like him, Hermione.”

“Yes, but…”

“There is no ‘but.’ He is a cold man, but he’ll be fair.”

“I don’t like the way he looks at me.”

“He hates women.”

“Then why on earth did you choose him?”

“He won’t make it easy on you, as I’m liable to do.”

“Severus, you’ve never made anything easy on anyone a day in your life.”

“Yes, well, I run the risk with you, and I will not allow my feelings to jeopardize your internship.”

“Well, I still don’t like him,” Hermione finished with a huff.

“You’re entitled,” Severus replied plainly, but with a tone that very much insinuated that the conversation was over.

The fire in the hearth in Severus’ rooms burned brightly, ‘Wen lay curled up at his feet, and Hermione would have felt everything nearly as perfect as one could hope for if it weren’t for the queasy feeling that rose up in her stomach every time she thought about Vronsky.

She tried to go back to reading the book in her lap, but her mind whirled with a thousand questions, dozens of worst case scenarios, and the very unfortunate feeling that she would very much regret her required weekly sessions with Vronsky.

His research was fascinating, and she hoped that some of it might even be applicable to Severus’ condition. Phoenix tears did cure almost anything, after all. Who knew that there were things they might not? Well, Vronsky, evidently. Leave it up to Vladimir Vronsky to find things that phoenix tears wouldn’t heal. The man was a bloody kill-joy if ever she saw one.

“He comes highly recommended, Hermione,” Severus suddenly interjected as though reading her thoughts.

She scowled at him. “I told you not to do that.”

“Do what?” he asked innocently.

“Read my thoughts…”

The corner of his mouth twitched. “Then stop making it so easy.”

“Insufferable man,” she muttered, and he smiled outright, then.

“He’s very well known in Russia and Hungary. Igor Karkaroff had nothing but good things to say about the man.”

“Oh, yes, Severus, because Igor Karkaroff was just the epitome of a good judge of character!”

It was his turn to scowl, but he didn’t say anything, just took another sip of his tea and turned to stare into the hearth.

“I saw you just itching to hex Vronsky today, and don’t deny it,” Hermione said after a moment or two of silence. She wasn’t quite willing to admit defeat just yet.

His eyes snapped back to hers, but he looked away again quickly. “I don’t know what you are talking about.”

“When he made that comment about our relationship being disgusting, or wholly inappropriate, or whatever it was he said. I saw you standing there, all tense and twitchy. You wanted to hex every last ounce of magic right out of him.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“I’m not, and you know it.”

“He’s right, it is highly inappropriate. The man has a right to express the obvious.”

Hermione sighed. “I’m not getting back into that conversation again.”

“What conversation?”

“The one in which you list all the reasons why you are a dirty old man, and why I shouldn’t possibly want to be with you.”

“Well, there are dozens, and you should look at them realistically, Hermione. I don’t…”

“I told you, I’m not having this conversation.”

Severus frowned. “Vronsky sees it. Weatherly sees it. All of your friends even see it, Hermione. Why on earth do you insist upon…?”

“Luna Lovegood thinks we’re lovely together.”

“Luna Lovegood is a bloody hippy. She would think that anything having to do with love was ‘lovely.’ But people can’t live that way in the real world.”

“What real world?”

“This!” he exclaimed motioning around them, as though that should explain it. “Not some rainbow-hued fantasy world filled with pygmy puffs and sugar plums, or whatever the hell kind of universe Lovegood has created for her and Longbottom! That sort of thing can’t last. Life catches up with you. The real world catches up, Hermione, and when it does, all those spun-glass castle walls, all those illusions just shatter, leaving you with nothing!”

Hermione slumped back in her chair and observed him. His face was almost purple with the intensity of his protestations. She wasn’t sure what was sadder, the fact that he was still expending so much emotional energy on this argument, or the fact that he truly believed each and every thing that had just come out of his mouth. She was inclined to think the latter.

“That’s an awfully cynical way of viewing the world, Severus.”

“It is a realistic way of viewing the world. You are young. You don’t realize yet that all the tripe you are fed in school about how you can ‘have anything you want, all you have to do is want it badly enough, work hard enough for it’ is nothing but a complete and utter lie.”

“I don’t believe that. True, our dreams don’t always turn out the way we thought, but I am very happy with my life at present, so I refuse to believe that we cannot have good in our lives and that every moment is just a pause until the other shoe drops. That’s just as ridiculous as believing that the world is perfect.”

“Humph…” was the only response she got.

“You know what I think, Severus?”

“No, but I’m sure you are about to tell me.”

“I think that you do have hope—at least for you and I—and you’re just not willing to admit to it.”

“You are entitled to think that.”

“If you didn’t,” she continued, ignoring him, “then you wouldn’t have made love to me last night, because what would be the point of getting close, if I was just going to be snatched away again.”

“There would be no point, but I—well, logic seems to lose a little of its sway over me where you are concerned, Granger. I—I’m only too aware that I am courting disaster, but I just don’t seem able to…” His voice trailed off, and he simply stared down at the cup of tea cradled between his hands.

“To what?” she urged softly; more than a little curious.

He shook his head.

“You just don’t seem able to what, Severus?” she asked again.

“I—I can’t seem to give up the dream of you, Granger. This is like a dream, all of this, and I know that it will end, that it must, of necessity, end, just like all dreams do, but it seems that I prefer to remain in willful denial. I prefer to hope and wish and dream. Apparently, I’ve run a little mad. It isn’t like me at all…”

She smiled. “Of course it is; you’ve just never realized it before. You wouldn’t have made it this far if it weren’t for hope. You hope without realizing it. You hope despite all your best efforts not to…” Getting to her feet, she walked over to his chair and lifted the tea cup from his hands, setting it on the table before she sat down in his lap. He looked a tad shocked.

Wrapping her arms around his neck, she leaned down and kissed him on the nose. “Hope’s got its insidious little claws in you, Severus, and she’s refusing to let you go. I suppose you can continue to fight her,” she whispered. “But don’t you think it might be nicer to just…” Leaning down, she kissed him slowly and tenderly before pulling away again and smiling at his closed eyes and almost intoxicated mien. “Give in…” she finished.

His eyes slid open a little, but they were still hooded, and she could see them darkening with desire. “Insufferable little—temptress…” he murmured.

She smiled. “Yes, well, you’re out of luck, I’m afraid, Severus, because hope is something I will never stop trying to tempt you with.”

She felt his arms snake around her waist and pull her closer. “Idealistic Gryffindor,” he grumbled, his lips only inches from hers.

“Cynical Slytherin,” she teased back, and then his lips were on hers, and she was drowning in his kisses once again. She had no idea how long he kissed her, but she felt heady and even a tad euphoric when he finally pulled away.

He observed her. “We need to get back to work in earnest tomorrow. No more of these wastes of time.”

“That was hardly a waste of time,” she challenged, her head spinning a little as she sat back in his lap.

“You know what I mean,” he replied seriously, and she nodded.

“Yes.”

“I am going to tell you something. You deserve to know it. I thought of keeping it from you because I know how you worry, but in the end, I think it is better that you know.”

Hermione felt her stomach clench with worry. “What? What is it?”

“I had another attack last night while you slept.”

“What?!” She sat up fully, her hands reaching out of their own volition, brushing lightly over his face, his neck, his shoulders, as though somehow hoping that she might find the cause of the attack and hex it out of existence. “No… are you sure?”

“Yes.” Her hands had returned to his face, now, and he reached up and took her by the wrists, pulling them away. “It is natural to hope, to need hope in situations such as these, but we must be realistic, as well, Hermione. We must plan what might happen if …”

She shook her head, fighting back tears.

His hands slid away from her wrists until he had both her hands held firmly but tenderly in his. “Yes, Hermione. You mustn’t forget that death is still a possibility. As much as you may wish its opposite. As much as I might wish for its opposite—the fact still remains that it is a possible outcome of this situation.”

Hermione felt warmed by the fact that he had just openly admitted to wanting to live for her, but any joy she might have felt was instantly overwhelmed with worry for his condition. “What are you saying?” she finally managed.

“I’m saying we should be prepared…” He shifted a little beneath her. “Here now, get up and go sit on the sofa. I have something to show you; I’ll be right back.”

She did as he had asked.

Severus disappeared into the bedroom, and when he returned, he was carrying a familiar letter in his hands. He held it out to her. “I want you to read this.”

She took it from him and stared down at it for a moment before looking back up at him. “I’ve already read it.”

He arched a brow.

“When you Apparated to Spinner’s End without telling me where you were going. You were so ill, and I was worried. I looked everywhere for some clue of where you might have gone. I—I didn’t mean to read it, but—well, it had my name on it, and I thought that maybe…”

She saw the corner of his mouth twitch. After a moment, he sobered and sat down beside her on the sofa. “If you have already read it, then you know that I am leaving you everything, or nearly everything. It’s been arranged with my solicitor. There is nothing else you need do.”

“I don’t care about that,” she whispered desperately. “I would rather have you than all these books, and your house, and…”

“But I care,” he replied. “I care that you have things to remind you of me, and not small pathetic scraps like those things of Lily’s I keep in that trunk at Spinner’s End. Real, tangible things: books I have read, rooms I have lived in, research that has been the better part of my life these last months. And I want you to have whatever meager monetary support I can leave you. It is not easy being alone in this world. Even if you are highly intelligent and have a satisfying career, that does not always guarantee sufficient monetary compensation. You might be glad to have a little supplemental income.”

She ignored him. “Tell me about this attack. How bad was it?”

“It is hard to say. It felt like last time, but I never know. I was stiff and sore when I awoke this morning. I assume it went on for some time.”

“Wake me if you feel one coming on again!”

“Why, so you can call a Healer and have me toted off to St. Mungo’s again?”

She frowned. “That’s not fair, Severus. I didn’t know what to do, then. I am better prepared this time, and I know how much you wish to avoid St. Mungo’s. I just don’t want you to be alone. Even if you aren’t aware of my presence, I—I think it’s only right that you should have someone to hold your hand through it. No one should have to suffer alone.”

“You were right next to me in the bed last night, Granger.”

“But that’s not the same.”

He sighed. “I fail to see how you being awake would make a difference, except perhaps to you. I would, after all, provide you one more thing to worry about, and one more thing for you to try to ‘fix.’”

“Fine. Don’t wake me, then, and if you never wake up from the next attack, then you can just—die—alone…” Her voice caught, and she wiped angrily at the tears rising in her eyes.

“I thought I wasn’t going to die, Hermione. I thought that you were personally going to see to that,” he said. Something in his voice had softened.

“Well, apparently you don’t care, so I must bow to your wishes. If you want to die alone, then just go right ahead,” she muttered miserably.

He smiled weakly at her pouting and squeezed her hands a little. “I do care, Hermione. For your sake, I do care. I only mean that you should not bear the weight of the outcome of this situation alone. If you do, and I do not survive this, you will blame yourself, and such guilt is a heavy burden, a burden I would never want you to have to bear.”

She opened her mouth to object, but he cut her off. “Don’t try to deny it. I see it. We are enough alike that I can recognize when you are depending on your intellect to solve a problem. And who can blame you? At this point, there has been nary a problem that prodigious mind of yours couldn’t solve, but you are young, and eventually, you will learn that there are sometimes problems with no answer, or problems with answers determined to elude us until it is too late…”

“So I should just give up!” she bit out, finally finding a pause to interrupt.

“No, but you mustn’t blame yourself if a solution is not forthcoming, and you must not feel that you are the only one equipped to fix this problem, Hermione.”

She stared into his dark eyes and felt the heat of her cheeks begin to cool along with her irritation. “I—I just don’t want to lose you…” she whispered.

A sort of sadness passed over his eyes, and he leaned forward, pressing his lips to her forehead. “I know.” And his hands released hers and reached up to wrap around her waist again, pulling her against him until her head rested on his shoulder, her nose and lips pressed up against the puckered and scarred flesh at his neck.

It struck her then how much they both had changed. There was not a student who had ever suffered under Severus’ tutelage who would ever, in a million years, have believed that he could be so tender, so open. She herself would not have believed it a few months prior. She supposed that it just went to show that you should never judge a book by its cover, or its prologue, or even its first few chapters. One had to get into the meat of the narrative, to delve into its soul if you were ever to truly know what the story was about, and Severus was a book that she knew she could and would enjoy exploring for years to come.

She had changed, too. Even Harry, and Ginny, Luna and Neville had noticed it at New Year’s. It was strange, as much as she worried almost constantly about Severus’ health, as much as he accused her of wanting too much to fix things, she had to admit that she was much less bossy than she had been even a year prior. There was something about loving Severus that made the need to control everything much less pressing. Loving him seemed to have drained much of the fear out of her. He calmed her in ways she didn’t understand.

It all had to mean something. If they had both changed so much for the better in only a few months’ time, then it must mean that they were good for one another, and if they were good for one another, then whatever powers that existed in the universe couldn’t possibly intend for them to be parted again so soon.

Such thinking was just the idealistic and unrealistic Gryffindor tripe that Severus liked to always chide her about, but she couldn’t help it. She realized, suddenly, that she had never really loved anyone before this. She had thought herself in love with Ron, but that had been more of a friendship with some side benefits. This—this thing she felt for Severus seemed to grip her body and soul and turn her inside out, transforming her into a new and almost unrecognizable version of herself.

She could no more imagine losing him now than she could imagine losing her own soul. “I love you,” she whispered against his skin, and she felt him swallow.

“I know.”

Author's Note: I apologize , buy due to a deeply painful personal loss this week (week of 05/11/09), “Solace” will be on hold until further notice.

When I feel up to writing a new chapter I will delete this message, and post the next chapter in it's place. I want to thank everyone who has been faithfully reading, and to apologize for any disappointment this might cause.