Mist and Vapors

When late on the same afternoon the fireplace jumped to life in a rush of green flames, Hannah smiled as she saw the black-robed figure of the Potions master appear. After the awkwardness of having uttered those three little words the evening before, she really had expected him to skip their usual get-together for a cup of tea or a glass of wine and avoid her for a few days. Not that she at all minded being proven wrong in this case.

The smile dropped off her face as he stepped out onto the hearth, disdainfully brushing off the flecks of ashes that were the inevitable result of Floo travel. She looked him up and down - he was entirely too pale and pinched-looking.

Standing up, she came over and kissed him lightly. "I'm glad to see you," she said as she took him by the hand. "Are you all right? You don't look well."

"It's nothing," he said dismissively as they walked over to the sofa. "I'm just a bit tired." Hannah just gave a soft snort at his words, and then disappeared into the kitchen area as he sat down.

Severus sighed inwardly as he heard her rummage around in the cabinets. She was getting entirely too good at reading his body language. The truth was that his restless night had started to catch up with him, and his old injury, aggravated by the hours of standing over a cauldron brewing the Wolfsbane, ached more than usual. Not to mention that the thought of the conversation he was about to have with her had sat like a cold rock in his stomach all day.

Hannah had returned and now squatted down before him, one hand on his knee, the other holding out a tumbler of whisky to him. "Here. You look like you need it," she said. When he frowned at her, she smiled at him lopsidedly. "Sorry, Severus. I know I'm not supposed to fuss. But sometimes, I can't help it."

He took the tumbler from her with a curt nod of thanks. What was it they called whisky? Liquid courage? He smiled bitterly to himself. There was more than one potion that would be much more effective in that department had he needed the help. Yet there was no denying the whisky was welcome. He sipped the amber liquid appreciatively, feeling the pleasant heat as it ran down his throat and into his stomach.

"They work you too hard," she said, getting up off the floor and sitting down next to him. "You brewed Remus' Wolfsbane today, didn't you? Small wonder you're worn out. A few hundred students, potions for the hospital wing, hall patrols, Head of House duties - I don't think anyone else in this school works as hard as you. It's ridiculous, really. No teacher in a Muggle school would ever put up with the hours that you keep. - How about your dragon pox project? Are you going to have any time at all to work on that during break?"

He shook his head. "There are too many other things that need to be taken care of. It will have to wait until..." He shut his mouth abruptly. That complication could wait until he knew if telling her was relevant or not.

She didn't seem to have noticed. "Can you take the evening off? Why don't we just have the house-elves bring us up a tray for dinner, and you can relax for a while?"

He looked down at her with a smirk. "You said something earlier, I believe, about not fussing? - And I don't think it is advisable for both of us to miss dinner again, a second night in a row."

She was silent for a moment. "All right, then; if you think it is necessary, I'll go down by myself." Her voice sounded tired, and for a second there was a tone to it he didn't like, but it faded immediately. "You really should get some rest."

"I am quite capable of deciding when I need rest or not." There was a tinge of sharpness in his voice. He had found, to his surprise, that he in general didn't have the same reaction to her fussing that Pomfrey, McGonagall, or Dumbledore would have evoked had they spouted the same sentiments. But right now, she was pushing his limits.

"Fine, then." She stood up, her body tensing, and took the empty glass from him. "Never mind. I'm sorry."

He caught her by the wrist. "Don't. Sit down." Their eyes locked for a moment, and she didn't move. "Please," he added.

After another second, she relaxed, putting down the glass on the table and sitting back down next to him. She looked at her hands, folded in her lap, before lifting her eyes again. "Look, I know I fuss and worry too much, and that it doesn't exactly make you happy when I do that. But I'm scared, Severus." She leaned her head against his shoulder. "Pettigrew is still out there, and I feel like all I am doing is waiting for the other shoe to drop. Do you think he has given up?"

He slowly shook his head, regretfully. "No. I don't."

"I'm afraid my nerves are just a tad frayed at the moment. So, if I overreact and carry on a bit, could you just ignore me? Please?" She smiled at him lopsidedly. "Even if it doesn't do anything else, it makes me feel better. I'll try not to, but it's hard right now." She watched as he reached over and covered her folded hands with his, his long, thin fingers curling protectively around hers. "I have nightmares sometimes. About what he did. About what he could do. The idea of anything happening to you terrifies me."

Severus tightened his hand over hers. "Hogwarts is the safest place we could be. And you needn't worry, I can take care of myself."

"I know you can. It's just that Pettigrew doesn't fight fair. And that gives him an advantage, doesn't it?" She looked up at him with a small smile. "Don't mind me. I suppose when you care about someone, worrying is just part of the territory..." Her voice faded out.

Letting go of her hands, Severus got up from the sofa. He walked over to the window, and, pulling the curtain to the side, looked out, trying to buy time. This would not be easy.

She looked at him questioningly as she sat up, her eyebrows drawing together. "What are you doing?"

"There is something I need to talk to you about," he cut her off. "Something you have to understand..."

He paused. How to do this? The direct approach would be best, he decided. He took a deep breath. "There are things about me that you do not know."

Hannah looked at him warily. He turned to her abruptly, letting go of the curtain. "You know that I was a Death Eater."

"Yes." She regarded him steadily. "I do know that."

"You have to realize - I was very young then. He offered me power..." He was pacing now, back and forth in front of the fireplace, his hands clasped behind his back.

"Go on," she said quietly.

"I knew what I was doing. There is no excuse, nothing I could offer as justification for my actions."

"As you said, you were very young. You have changed since then."

"I don't think you realize..." He stopped. "There are things I have done. Terrible things."

She stood up as well, walked over to him, and put a hand on his arm. "Severus, I know what Death Eaters do," she said quietly.

"Do you? I wonder, do you really understand?" He turned to her, his black eyes boring into hers, willing her to see. "I appreciate the affection you have shown me, but if I...if we..." He cleared his throat. "You should know exactly what you are up against. I am not a good man, Hannah." The words came out raw. "Those accusations in the Daily Prophet may not be true now, but they would have been at one point in my life. If they threw me into Azkaban tomorrow, I would deserve every minute and hour of my sentence. I have..."

"Wait." Hannah gently put the fingertips of her right hand across his mouth. "Before you continue, let me say this - if you need to tell me, I will listen. But, Severus, I don't need to hear. I told you, I know what Death Eaters do. But that is not who you are any more. You made your choice in that matter a long time ago. I don't need the details. Unless you need for me to know them."

He looked into her eyes for a long moment. "No," he said in a near whisper. "I don't."

"All right, then," she said softly. His arms wrapped around her as she leaned against him, her head on his chest. For a moment, he rested his face against her hair. Then, with an effort, he took a step back, holding her by her upper arms.

"I am not yet finished. It didn't end then. I was Dumbledore's spy among the Death Eaters for the last few years. To maintain that cover, there were things I had to do...." Things I have done. Things I had to do. Feeble words for the atrocities he had witnessed as a helpless observer and committed as an active participant, for the images and sounds that resurfaced in his nightmares.

"It wasn't your choice. You did what you had to."

"I tried to avoid what I could, but there were times... I killed, Hannah, and I tortured, just like any other Death Eater. No difference. People died because of me."

She looked up at him, her eyes shadowed. "But how many people are alive because of you? Don't you realize that if it weren't for you, we might still be at war?"

"Does it matter?" he asked harshly. "If a man pulls ten drowning people from a lake, and then goes on to strangle another one, will they not still throw him into Azkaban for life?"

"Would they see it the same way if the only possible chance to save those ten would be to kill the one?" Her voice was quiet. "I think it makes a difference."

"Do you think it makes a difference to the one who was killed?" There was that awful look in eyes again, and Hannah could not bear it. She lightly put her hand against his face as she met his gaze.

"It makes a difference to me. You are a good man."

"Were you not listening just now? I told you who I was, what I have done..."

"And I know there is more to the man that you are now than that. Much more."

He turned away in a jerking movement. She was not making this any easier. As he turned, he caught their reflection in the mirror. With a rough motion, he took her by the shoulders and turned her so that she could see it, too.

"Look," he demanded, pointing at the reflection. "Just look - look at the man I am now..." There was bitterness in his voice. "Most of the wizarding world sees me as contemptible - a Death Eater and murderer who got away with it. They would think of you the same way if..."

"I don't really care," she interrupted him again. "I don't really care if other people believe that garbage in the Prophet. So what if they believe twisted facts and half-truth? I wish they wouldn't, but at least I know better."

"Dumbledore still receives owls on a regular basis demanding my dismissal."

"So what? He isn't going to listen, either. He knows better, too."

"You wouldn't be happy with me. I am not pleasant to be around. I seem to manage to upset you quite regularly."

"You haven't heard me complain, have you?" She smiled wryly. "Well, at least not much. I manage to annoy you often enough, don't I? That's just real life. I'm not expecting perfection."

For a moment, they were silent.

"Look, Severus, in a couple of months it will be a year since I've known you. I think I have seen the good, the bad, and the ugly in that time, don't you think? It's not as if you had ever pretended to be a sweetness-and-light kind of man." A grin flitted across her face. "And I have to admit, some of the times I find you most attractive are when you are in full swoop-and-scowl mode, striding down the corridor, robe billowing behind you..."

"Attractive?" he said, disbelievingly. "And I supposed next you will tell me that you consider my nose one of my best assets?" His voice dripped with sarcasm.

Hannah looked up at him with a stubborn expression. "As a matter of fact, I like your nose."

Snape snorted, his eyes narrowing. "If I ever had any doubts about the fact that my appearance is considered far from desirable, they would have been put to rest long ago by the decidedly uncomplimentary comments regarding my person that I have been subjected to over the years."

"So you aren't handsome. That doesn't mean you aren't attractive to me. I like your face. It's part of who you are. If tomorrow some spell permanently transfigured you into one of those insipid Most Charming Smile winners that Witch Weekly likes to put on the cover, I would sorely miss your nose. And the rest of your face." She had that mulish look on her face again.

His lips curled into a sneer. "I suppose Pettigrew was right, then. There is no accounting for taste..." At that, he saw the first real anger in her face.

"Stop," she hissed, her eyes blazing. "Good Lord, Severus, one more word like that out of you and I don't know what I will do." She looked at their reflection in the mirror again. "Heavens, how can what you see and what I see be so different?"

"What do you see, then?" Severus asked roughly. "How can it..."

"What I see," the mirror interrupted him in a languid voice, "are two people who are talking entirely too much. While all this soul searching is quite fascinating, Sir, I am not at all sure that you are choosing the right approach here if your goal is a satisfying progression in the relationship. - If I could give you a small piece of advice, attention to better personal hygiene, especially regarding the hair, might make her more receptive to less talk and more action, if you catch my drift? Anyways, I highly recommend..."

"Severus, could you shut the damn mirror up?" Hannah hissed loudly, looking like she was about at the end of her rope.

With a smirk, Severus took out his wand, and after a muttered 'Silencio', there was blessed silence.

"Thank you," Hannah said in a clipped voice. "Any way to make that spell permanent?"

"I am sure something can be arranged."

They stood still, looking at each other self-consciously.

"Look, Severus," she finally said, taking a deep breath. "It is not like I am blind to your faults. You can be petty, pedantic, and petulant. You are suspicious, sharp-tongued, prone to believe the worst, and you have a nasty temper. I could go on. There is this hardness and sharpness to you that I think will always be there. You would never have survived this long without it, and so I am grateful for that.

"And you see," she continued, "that isn't all there is. The man who was willing to die so I could be safe - that was you. The man who holds me and lets me cry when I have had a bad day, who listens to me, who gives me good advice, who makes me laugh, that is you, too." She reached up again, her hand caressing his face. "What else can I say? There's so much to love about you - your courage, your sense of honor, your strength, your skill. I could go on. I would trust you with anything. You have this dry, backhanded sense of humor, and I enjoy talking to you more than I can say. You're a better friend than I could have hoped for." Her fingertip ran over his eyebrow, and her voice dropped down to a soft murmur. "And you have wonderful eyes."

At that, Severus turned away abruptly. "I assure you, there is no need for flattery."

Hannah's mouth narrowed. "And I assure you, Severus, that nothing I have said was in the least designed to flatter."

Severus took a step back, dropping his hands to his side. Hannah could see his jaw working for a moment before he spoke quietly, his voice sounding like sandpaper. "Believe me, Hannah, this would be a mistake. You don't want me."

"I'm afraid you have your pronouns mixed up," she said softly, tears pricking at the back of her eyes.

His eyes narrowed, and a frown line appeared between his eyebrows. "What do you mean?"

"It seems to me," she said carefully, "as if you are trying your best to talk me out of you. And I don't want to be talked out of you. So it appears to me as if it is you who maybe doesn't want me. And that this is your way of trying to let me down easy. In which case I would prefer you to just tell me and get it over with."

She looked up into his dark eyes as she spoke, trying to keep the quiver out of her voice, wondering if he knew that he was holding her heart in his hand right now, that some of her dearest dreams were hanging in the balance of this moment.

"Why," - he frowned slightly, as if puzzled, - "would you think that?"

She shrugged helplessly. "You have been taking pains to make sure no one sees us together, and you won't say more than two words to me in public. I mean, I am a Squib, you're a wizard...I keep expecting you to change your mind...really, I wouldn't blame you..."

"No." He shook his head firmly. "You quite mistake my intentions."

Slowly, Hannah let out a breath. "Well, I'm happy to hear that," she said with a wobble in her voice. "Because you see, Severus, you are sort of 'it' for me. You would be terribly hard to get over."

Two tears spilled over her cheeks as she looked up at him with a shaky smile. And for a moment he got the impression that she was fragile like spun glass right now, that one word from him could crush her.

When he had first started practicing with a wand as a young boy, he had taken rocks and lined them up on top of the fence behind the house, and then tried to blast them off, learning to direct the spell with precision and focus. Again and again, he had set the rocks up, in a neat line, one after another. If he closed his eyes, he could picture them, outlined dark against the bright sky...

She had set out for him in the last few minutes - was it only minutes? - exactly how she thought of him, felt about him; pieces of her heart, open and exposed, lined up in plain sight, for him to do with as he pleased.

Severus, his face set tight, looked at her in aching incomprehension. How could she? How could she want him that much? In spite of everything he had done, everything he had told her?

She was still standing there, looking up at him with a still face, waiting. She hadn't bothered to wipe the tears away. And the silence was stretching out too long. It was up to him now...

He held out his arm. "Come here," he said. She came quietly, and he pulled her against him, cradling her face against his chest, his hands running over her hair and back. She exhaled softly as he held her tight, and he could feel her relax against him, her body growing soft and pliant in his arms.

He lowered his mouth against her hair, thoughts still swirling in confusion. "Why?" he murmured. "Why me?"

She freed herself from his embrace just enough so that she could lean back a little and look up at into his eyes. "I don't know if I can explain it," she said hesitantly. "The best explanation I can think of is this: That there was this empty space for someone to love, and when I met you, something inside me took the measure of you and decided that you fit perfectly...hard angles, sharp edges, and all. It isn't something that can be summed up in a logical way. You just - fit."

As he pulled her back against him, it was as if something suddenly shifted into place. All the uneasiness and turmoil faded away, and he knew that this was perfect and right.

Because she fit, too.