Judging Books By Their Cover

Hermione woke slowly, her mind sharpening gradually as her body rebelled against it. Between her covers and Severus’ body, it was nice and toasty in her bed. She had little to worry about compared to her normal stresses, as there were no classes that day and no assignments due anytime soon. She would get further ahead in her reading sometime later, but that was nothing to concern herself with at the moment. She heard Severus mumbling in his sleep and tossing around somewhat, convincing her that her presence wasn’t enough to banish bad dreams.

Wanting to allow him to continue sleeping, as he had seemed to her terribly lacking in sleep, she merely snuggled closer to him and tried to will herself back to sleep. It was of little use, the more her mind started going, but she wasn’t going to complain over the opportunity to lay in his arms.

She heard him mumbling again. This time more clearly and louder. “No... Lily... my love...”

Hermione’s eyes shot wide open, and her mind was fully alert. She had felt so happy after their talk yesterday, so at ease, and now here she was laying in his arms while he dreamt about losing another woman. She wasn’t stupid. She’d heard enough of his past from others to know the Lily he spoke of had to be Harry’s mother, who he had likely loved. She knew it must have hurt him to lose her, but she was not prepared to have him still want Lily when it was she, Hermione, who was still here and wanted so much for him to care for her. Not that she was falling for him. She repeatedly told herself that could not be. But her pride certainly wasn’t happy about it. Hermione wasn’t sure whether to scream or cry, and as he was asleep and very much unaware of what he was doing, she soon found herself silently crying her eyes out.

The ferocity of her crying caused her to shake, and soon enough Severus was awake and begging her to tell him what was wrong. She knew he would be confused, not sure what had gone so terribly wrong, but she had a difficult time pitying him for that. It was, after all, entirely his fault that she was crying. His first few tries she either refused to answer or claimed that nothing was wrong, but finally he forced her to look him in the eyes and asked her very firmly what was wrong.

“Nothing,” she said harshly, bitterness seeping out in her voice. “Except that here I lay in my bed with you here beside me after a night of you fucking me and I get to wake up to you crying out in your sleep for someone else entirely.”

His expression switched quickly from surprise, to confusion, to anger, and finally to nothing at all. Whatever he felt, he was well and truly hiding it from her. “Whatever are you referring to?” he eventually asked. “What person would I ever be calling out for.”

Only one word was necessary. One name. As she spoke it the tears started all over again, and became worse than before. She hadn’t been prepared for it to bother her so much. “Lily.”

He said nothing, just stared at her and then sat up in the bed. His arms were no longer around her, and he had finally looked away, and now she felt worse for it. Looking her in the eye had fooled her into thinking he might tell her something even somewhat true. His arms around her had fooled her into thinking he might somewhat care. But here he was withdrawn and not bothering to deny that he loved someone else. Hermione’s bitterness overwhelmed her, and her words began to flow without thought. “Is that why you tell me when we are fucking that I am beautiful? Because it isn’t me you are seeing, but her? I have heard she was quite lovely, so I guess I shouldn’t be so surprised that you would want to think of her instead of me, but you could at least have the decency to tell me that instead of letting me think you actually cared for me. I feel like such an idiot for really thinking that...”

“Hermione, shut up,” he said, interrupting her tirade.

“I won’t shut up,” she said, raising her voice even louder. “It’s absolutely despicable and what’s worse is that I fell for it. It was stupid of me but I really did.”

“Hermione...”

“You shut up!” she screamed. Lowering her voice only enough that the neighbors wouldn’t be able to make out her actual words, she threw his clothes at him and firmly told him to get out.

“Just listen to me,” he pleaded.

“No. Get the fuck out of my home.”

He tried pleading with her awhile long, but finally left her alone. While he was there she had been furious, but as soon as he left she fell to the floor and returned to her uncontrollable sobbing. Hours later she rose from the floor, walked quietly to the shower, and attempted to wash every reminder of Severus Snape away. She felt heartbroken and betrayed. When she eventually wandered downstairs she found her mother waiting for her with a hot cup of tea.

“I heard you screaming at someone earlier,” her mother said gently. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No, mom,” Hermione said wearily. “It was just a dream. Just a very bad dream.”

Perhaps her mother knew better, as she had known how miserable Hermione had been during her break thus far. But the Grangers were used to oddities from their daughter, regardless of how much they loved her. So where in another situation the issue may have been pursued, in this one it was left alone.

There were so many things that ran through Severus’ mind to say at that moment. Excuses, explanations, entreaties. It hurt him more than he would have expected to see the woman before him so distraught. He wanted to hold her, pull her close, and kiss the tears away. But he couldn’t. He had seen the betrayed look in her eyes, and knew that she wouldn’t believe anything he said just then anyway. What was there to say?

There was always the truth, he supposed. Sometimes, though, truth is not only stranger than fiction, it’s also much harder to admit to. Yes, he had loved Lily. As a young man he had pictured marrying her and starting a family, until Potter had gotten in the way. In recent years Severus had accepted the fact that he didn’t love Lily like that. He loved her for caring for him when no one else did, for being there as his only real friend.

But as a lover? No, he had accepted that they were never meant for such a relationship as that. And now he had Hermione – a beautiful woman who cared for him and he had begun to see very much as a lover. More than a simple lover, really, because he never wanted to let her go.

So how could he explain that his dream hadn’t been what she thought? Especially when he wasn’t entirely sure what all he had said? The nightmare had been plaguing him for weeks, but it was the first time it had bothered him while they slept in the same bed. It was always the same dream. He would see himself as a boy, making friends with Lily when she lived next door. Then it would fast forward to the night of her death, when Voldemort had taken from him the one thing that proved to him that he was still capable of feeling something other than hate. He would see Lily’s body, dead on the floor, and then the body would change. He would see Hermione, laying there lifeless, and he would feel as though his heart had stopped. He would run towards her, but somehow in the dream world he could get no closer to her regardless of how fast he run. It was then that he would inevitably wake.

How do you explain something like that? Better yet, how could he convince her of how much he... well... how much he loved her? That self knowledge was bad enough, but the fact that she had no reason to believe him was worse. He drank bottles of Ogden’s in his dungeon rooms until he passed out, trying to escape what he had done.

Days passed, and finally he could bear things no longer. He dragged himself out of bed, preparing himself for what he knew he had to do. He went and chose some muggle clothes to wear, hoping that showing a different side of him might cause her to believe him more readily. It was a foolish hope, but then he was a fool in love. He chose black jeans and a Slytherin green sweater. Over this he pulled on a black leather jacket, and pulled his somewhat long hair back and tied it at the nape of his neck. Looking at his reflection in the mirror, he was somewhat surprised to see that the clothes probably took a decade off his age. Severus normally dressed for comfort and to scare people as the “bat of the dungeons.” He had almost forgotten how he looked any other way.

He went and poured himself a shot of firewhiskey before leaving. His nerves were all over the place, and he needed to be able to say all the things that were on his mind. Disapparating loudly, he found himself moments later outside of Hermione Granger’s home. He hadn’t figured out yet just how he was going to get her to talk to him, but figured he could make things up as he went. As it happened, things were far easier than he had expected. Walking up the front steps and knocking loudly, the door soon opened and revealed a pajama-clad Hermione whose hair was up in a ponytail and even messier than usual. Severus thought she looked quite pretty so disarrayed, aside from the dark circles under her eyes that betrayed how she had been crying, but knew he had to do something quickly to prevent her promptly slamming the door in his face.

Going for a good shocking effect, Severus got down on his knees. He felt the wet snow seeping through his trousers but ignored it. “Please hear me out, Hermione.”

She looked at him, horrified, then glanced around the neighborhood. “If you are going to act like that then do it inside where the neighbors can’t see you,” she said, opening the door wider. “Just do it quickly, and leave me be.”

“Will your parents mind?” he asked, not sure how he would explain himself to her family. After all, if for whatever reason a professor saw fit to visit a student at their home, it generally didn’t include said professor getting on his knees and begging.

“It’s Monday, Severus,” she said impatiently. “They have jobs and can’t afford that long of a holiday. I, however, had planned on enjoying the rest of my holiday by sleeping in.”

He was getting nowhere, and he knew it. Fine, if she was going to act cold and unconcerned, then he would say what he came to say and be done with it. “I dream about Lily’s death, yes. I have ever since she died. But it has become worse these past weeks because the dreams have changed and now I see someone laying there dead who I love more than Lily.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Who else do you picture when fucking me?”

“No one else,” he growled. “Why is it you could overlook my faults enough to sleep with me but can’t believe that I might actually care about you?”

“Oh, I believe you care...” she said, glaring at him. “Care about whether I’m there to get you off.”

“Listen to me, witch,” he said, backing her up against the hallway wall. “I do enjoy sleeping with you, or whatever term you wish to use for those actions. I enjoy waking up in the morning to find you curled up beside me. I have grown attached to the idea of having you there physically, but it is not the only reason I care. I love you, Hermione, as much as the situation doesn’t entirely make sense to me. You are the only one to ever understand me, and whether it was due to the spell or not, it is inevitable that I would feel affection towards you. Nearly hate myself for it, but that doesn’t matter anymore.”

Hermione relaxed, and a tenderness entered her eyes though she still held the rest of her expression quite controlled. “Why hate yourself?”

“Because you are my student. I am old enough to be your father. I have a dark past that you don’t need to have holding you back or pulling you down. You deserve a young wizard who is charming and handsome. Someone you could go out in public with without shame. Someone who—“

“Severus,” she interrupted.

“Yes?”

“Shut up,” she said, kissing him gently. “I won’t be your student much longer. You aren’t my father and neither would I wish for a wizard my age. Everyone has a past, and the fact that yours was more painful and dark than most only shows me how strong of a man you are. You are charming and handsome when you want to be, though I suppose I won’t tell the rest of the wizarding world your secret if you don’t want them to know it. And if it wasn’t for my wishing to protect your reputation as a Hogwarts professor, there is no reason I would want to avoid being in public with you.”

“But—“

She raised a finger and gently placed it on his lips. “No, I am still talking. I have known for awhile that I love you, though this is the first time I’ve admitted it to myself. However, I will not accept being a substitute for a woman you lost years ago, and I will also not accept you being with me simply because I’m a young, foolishly willing witch. It scared me to think either of those could be the case.”

“Never,” said Severus, holding her close.