Hilltop Cottage

A/N: Another cliffie and I apologise, but it's Christmas!

---

Hermione’s confident determination left her as soon as she walked down Spinnerbottom. She started to shiver and pulled her cardigan around her tightly as she walked slowly around the corner and into Spinner’s End. She stared at the row of houses and panicked as she realised she didn’t know which house was his. She closed her eyes tightly and brought to mind the photograph of Bertram Mellor, the sad face of Severus peering out of the grimy window behind him. She stared at the front of the houses, bathed in the shimmering orange glow of the streetlights, until she saw it. Her heart lurched a little. She felt that she was impinging on his territory a little bit, but she needed to know what was happening. When all was said and done, relationship or no, Hermione still wanted Severus in her life.

She walked slowly to the door and felt the crackle of magic as she stepped within the boundary of his wards. It was powerful, but she supposed it had to be during the war. Old habits must die hard. She paused before knocking because she was certain he would already be aware of her presence on his doorstep. The type of wards he used would give him both prior warning, and the chance for escape. She knocked lightly on the faded paintwork.

Hermione was wondering if he had already used his Floo to run away from her when she heard the door latch click. Severus opened the door so quickly; she barely had time to catch her breath before he grabbed her by her arm and dragged her into the house forcefully. He slammed the door so loudly that he made the house reverberate with the noise of it.

‘What the hell is wrong with you?’ Hermione turned on him, rubbing her arm where he had grabbed her.

‘Why are you here?’ Severus folded him arms across his chest and peered down at her coldly.

Hermione took a step back, biting her lip to stop herself from crying in front of him yet again.

‘You didn’t come tonight. I was worried,’ she said quietly, staring warily at him.

Severus snorted and paced across the room, leaning against the mantle and looking down into the embers of his fire. He was confused by her presence, not just in his house but because he had thought that she had gone for good, and now, suddenly, she was here, accusing him and claiming concern.

His anger found an outlet, and he turned to her, his face contorted in an ugly snarl.

‘Worried you would be found out, I should think,’ he bit out.

‘Found out?’ Hermione asked him, puzzled. ‘What on earth are you talking about, Severus?’

‘Do not say my name,’ he murmured slowly, his eyes narrowed. He approached her slowly, pinning her with his gaze, and wave upon wave of anger, mixed with his magic, was overwhelming her.

Hermione’s feet felt as if they had taken root in his threadbare carpet, and as she looked up into his face, she was forcefully reminded of the Severus of her dream, cold and unfeeling, telling her that he didn’t need her. Her face paled.

‘Please, tell me what’s wrong, Severus,’ she whispered.

His eyes hardened as he stared down at her, and he dipped his head to her ear.

‘I know that you left, witch,’ he whispered.

Hermione shivered at the malice in his voice, but she felt relief wash over her. The decapitated flowers and his absence tonight, it all made sense, and she felt a huge rush of affection for him.

She hadn’t told him she was going to Diagon Alley, and how like him it would be to make assumptions. How bereft he must have felt, after all of her begging and pleading, to think she had abandoned him.

‘Who told you?’ she asked him lightly, treading carefully. He was still a coiled spring, and she had no idea how to unravel the mess they had found themselves in.

‘That is not important. The fact is, I know. I accept it. You can leave now,’ he stated flatly, taking a step towards the door.

‘What about being friends?’ she said softly.

Severus paused, glancing over his shoulder at her. ‘Friends do not leave without explaining their absence. Only cowards walk away from what they cannot face,’ he whispered.

Sensing that the fight was out of him, Hermione laughed lightly and placed her hand on his shoulder.

‘I only went shopping, Severus. I wasn’t leaving you.’ Hermione rested her head against him and felt a shudder beneath her.

Tentatively, she put her arms around him and turned him to her. His face was pale, his body limp, and he looked down at her with a mix of relief and pain. His eyes explored hers for some sign of dishonesty and found none. And yet, Hermione knew that trust was hard earned where Severus was concerned.

‘You can see, if you want to,’ she whispered.

Severus didn’t hesitate. Staring deeply into her eyes, he whispered ‘Legilimens’ just as he felt her arms snake about his waist softly. He pushed the feeling away. He would not be distracted from his task. He wanted to believe her, but words were not enough. He needed to know.

Hermione gripped the back of Severus’s shirt as she felt him invade her mind. He wasn’t being careful in his urgent quest for the truth, and amongst her memories of her transforming herself in the Leaky Cauldron and her thoughts of him when she bought him the book -- bang goes that surprise, she thought ruefully -- he was also privy to the thoughts and dreams she’d had recently, the majority of which involved him.

Desperately, Hermione tried to hide the secret part of her, the part she hadn’t even dared to admit consciously to herself, but she couldn’t. He was peeling away the layers of her very self as if peeling an onion, and there at the core was the truth of it.

She loved him, and she had done for many years. And now not only was Hermione forced to face it, but Severus knew it too, and she hadn’t even said the words out loud.

He withdrew from her mind much more slowly than he had entered it, delicately pulling his thoughts away from hers until they were standing before each other. Hermione felt naked in front of him. Tears filled her eyes, and she averted her gaze, loosening her grip and moving away from him.

‘Forgive me, Hermione,’ he whispered hoarsely, grabbing hold of her hand and pulling her back to him. He wrapped his arms around her and held her firmly, hugging her close and nuzzling his nose in her hair. It felt smooth, and he opened his eyes to look at it.

‘Your hair is different,’ his whispered softly.

‘Yes,’ she answered, still unsure as to where this was going.

Severus tipped her chin upwards and looked down at her, his eyes on her lips. Hermione smiled slightly, relaxing in his arms, and as their lips met briefly, a small groan escaped her. Wrapping her arms around him again, she initiated another kiss, urgent this time, her mouth parting to allow her tongue to probe at his lips purposefully. Severus gasped and opened his mouth, searching for her tongue with his own and growling lightly as they jousted. His hands slid to her hair and slipped through her smooth tresses, and he held her head firmly in place as he started yet another assault on her delicious mouth.

Hermione gasped as she felt him pushing her backwards. Her shoulder blades pressed firmly against the wall, and his left leg shifted until his thigh was pushing against her pubic mound. Hermione’s hands explored his chest, rippling, wiry tautness beneath his shirt, and she brushed her palm across his nipples as he planted firm, need driven kisses onto her throbbing pink lips. Finding his buttons, Hermione kissed Severus firmly while her fingers nimbly pushed each tiny circle of plastic through its designated hole. As her hands found his skin, Severus pulled away abruptly and stared down at them as if realising he was half undressed for the first time. He lifted his gaze, and Hermione stared deeply into his eyes, willing him to see the offer she was making him and begging him to just take it, take her, anywhere, everywhere, but please…

‘Take me, Severus,’ she whispered.

Severus gaped at her for a moment, knowing what she saying and not quite believing his ears. God knows he wanted to make love to her, but she was still a virgin and he was woefully inexperienced. It could all go so disastrously wrong, and they had only just got over one precipice. He didn’t feel ready to tip into another.

‘Hermione, I...’ he stuttered huskily, interrupted by her pale finger on his mouth.

‘Let’s find a bed,’ she said softly, taking his hand in hers and leading him towards the narrow staircase. She paused briefly and nodded at him to go first with a sweet, warm smile, and he shot her a sideways glance, smiling wryly back at her.

The damn witch always got her own bloody way.