At the Shore of The Heart

Minerva stared after Hermione in surprise. The room was still reverberating from the slamming of the door, and Severus closed his eyes slightly and felt the panic rising in his throat. He should have just written to her and damn the consequences, and he knew with deep certainty that his own selfishness had affected her more deeply than he had begun to imagine.



‘What on earth was that about Severus?’ Minerva demanded.



He snapped his eyes open and looked at her, pinching the bridge of his nose slightly.



‘It was about me,’ he murmured quietly. ‘I have been a coward, and a fool.’



‘Are you telling me that there is something between the two of you?’ She stared at him in horror.



‘Hermione is no longer a child, Minerva. But it’s not what you think. However,’ his shoulders slumped as he sank into the chair by Minerva’s desk, ‘I have not behaved well. And it would seem I am not to be forgiven easily.’



‘I think you had better explain, Severus. Before I lose another medi-witch,’ Minerva sighed with exasperation.



Severus looked up at Minerva sheepishly, and started at the beginning.





*********





Hermione was shaking as she walked quickly to her quarters. She’d had no idea that Severus had been considering returning to his old post. He had never discussed Minerva’s correspondence with her, had never sought her opinion. If had asked her she would have encouraged him to come back, certainly. But he hadn’t needed her, obviously.



Reaching her rooms, she walked inside, unconsciously warding the door. She didn’t look around the tastefully decorated space with its large window, comfortable sofa and large, inviting bed. She didn’t notice the well-stocked bookshelves along the back wall, nor did she explore the ample bathroom with its luxurious bath and separate shower. Hermione was in a daze.



She sat on the sofa and stared into space. Her mouth was dry and her stomach was screaming with pain. She was under the same roof as the man she had longed for since leaving Italy, and it was almost unbearable. Hermione knew she couldn’t stay, wouldn’t stay. No matter how much Minerva tried to persuade her.



******



Minerva observed Severus across her desk and a small smile played across her lips.



‘You will have to go to her, you know,’ she said softly.



‘I cannot. It’s too late to make amends for what I did. And my wife has only been dead just over a year. It would be too soon,’ he said sadly.



‘Too soon? Stuff and nonsense, Severus. You had no idea you would fall for the girl, and you, of all people, should know that life is too short to pass up even the slightest chance of happiness. What are you waiting for? Lucy cannot give you permission, Severus. But I know she would want you to be happy,’ Minerva whispered.



‘I still love Lucy, Minerva,’ Severus said softly.



‘Of course you do. But it is possible to love more than one person at the same time. You do have room in your heart for Hermione, Severus,’ Minerva said gently.



Severus looked up at her as her words sank in. Minerva was right, of course. He had been holding back, because his sense of right and wrong had told him it wasn’t the time. And yet, he hadn’t stopped thinking about her. Even during Potions classes his eyes would occasionally drift to the back of the classroom and expect to find her bushy head bent over her cauldron, her face screwed up in concentration. Everywhere he went, he was constantly reminded of her, forced to think of her. And he had missed her terribly.



He hoped he wasn’t too late.



He stood abruptly and Minerva jumped in shock. ‘I must go,’ he said.



‘To see Hermione?’ Minerva asked him hopefully.



‘Yes,’ he said quietly, ‘to see Hermione.’





*********



Severus walked quickly to the hospital wing. His heart was beating madly, and the words ‘I love you’ sat on the tip of his tongue, ready to be blurted out if he had the opportunity. Knowing the witch as he did, she could very well have left already. Or she could be lying in wait, ready to hex him when he least expected it. The image of a vexed Hermione flashed through his head, hair flying, hands on hips, amber eyes flashing with ire, and he chuckled to himself.



When he arrived at her door, he paused briefly before taking a deep breath and then knocking softly. After an agonising wait, Hermione slowly opened the door. She peered up at him, and he could see by her bloodshot eyes and the telltale lines running down her face, that she had been crying.



‘Can I come in?’ he said softly.



‘What for?’ Hermione whispered, her bottom lip trembling.



‘We need to talk, Hermione,’ he said. He was shocked as he looked at her more closely. There were dark shadows under her eyes, and she looked thinner than he remembered. Her hair was almost wiry and no longer styled in sleek, smooth waves.



‘What did you want to talk about?’ she murmured, looking at his feet.



‘Us,’ he whispered hoarsely, as the enormity of his feeling threatened to overwhelm him in the face of Hermione’s obviously vulnerable state.



Hermione gaped at him for a brief moment, and then stepped aside to let him in.







*******



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