A Time for Understanding

Chapter 15: A Kiss

Night had found its way into the woods, darkness combing a path through the thick foliage and creating phantoms upon the forest floor. Despite the shade, damp drops of dew were yet discernible, glistening atop bended blades of grass that rustled even under the heavy weight of the water. Mirroring the night sky, the tiny puddles reflected manifold shades of blue that danced across a pale, worn face.

He sat quiet and alone, back fitted against the bark of a gnarled old elm as he waited for morning. Despite the light rainfall, the ground beneath the tree remained dry-- the great stretch of branches and their leaves effectively protecting the ground from any water. Severus leaned further into the trunk, closing his eyes as the smell of wet earth rose up to greet his nostrils. He inhaled great lungfuls of it, savoring the heady scent whilst trying to disregard the distracting sounds of clicking and chirping coming from the undergrowth nearby. He had thought the soothing sound of crickets might help to ease that which ailed him. Unfortunately, it had done a poor job of it, only adding to the turmoil roiling within his skull. He grimaced suddenly, his lips tightening grimly. Bringing his hand to his arm, Severus applied firm pressure to the cloth covering the area that had steadily burned for the majority of the night.

A flicker at the corner of his eye distracted him from the pain. He'd taken his place here a while ago, yet it seemed only the moths and occasional night flyers dared to disturb his solemn sentry. He watched them weave their way in the darkness, their flickering lights calling to a potential mate. They languidly drifted towards the lonely figuring sitting among the moss and lichen, only to be brushed away by a bothered hand. Unwelcome, they fluttered away, fading into the night. Severus scowled as he watched them withdraw.

He'd been outside for hours now, had seen the sun shed its last rays through the dense condensation of branches and leaves. It was only when the last bit of light had died away that he'd felt at all comfortable, becoming one with the nocturnal landscape. He'd needed this peace, needed to retreat from the voices in the cabin-- from the misunderstandings and fearful eyes. Severus sighed, leaning further into the tree as he recognized the stirrings of a headache begin at the base of his skull.

How could she think he would hurt her? It's true--he was a reactionary man, difficult and unpredictable. But during the past month they had come to an understanding, a truce. More than that, even. He frowned, shaking the thought from his head. It was inappropriate to think such things. Truth be told, until now he'd barely thought of appropriateness concerning his relationship with her, never having the time, and therefore not the realization that went along with it. Somehow she'd gotten close to him without either doing anything unseemly. There had been the occasional touch, but always innocent in intention. He hadn't even realized there was something there until it was too late. Such unawareness ill befit a spy. He grimaced. Perhaps that was why he was a spy no longer.

The faint creak of an opening door interrupted his thoughts. He heard footsteps approaching, the muffled sound of steps occasionally sinking into the softened ground. They drew closer, and he was soon able to discern a small, feminine form making its way through the shadows onto firmer soil.

He drew his brows together crossly. "Ms. Granger, I am in no way desirous of your presence this evening." His voice cut across the muggy air impatiently, but her body kept its steady approach until she stood before him, the light from the stars not enough to illuminate her face.

Her slight body stood towering over his seated form. She looked down at him, and though Severus tried, it was too dark to try to read the depths of those brown eyes. There was a slight hesitation, and then, decision made, she sank to her knees in an effort to get comfortable.

"Here," she said, proffering something in her outreached hand. "We found some tea in the cupboard. The boys and I decided that the amount of magic needed to fix it wasn't enough to be a danger." She quietly waited for his response. When none came, she lowered her voice edgily. "We haven't eaten all day. Won't you at least have something to drink?"

Severus wanted to refuse her, but the amount of concern in her voice tugged at him, although he wondered why she would bother to feign concern over someone she feared. Against all instinct, he roughly took hold of the mug, liquid sloshing over the sides at the forceful transfer of ownership.

He turned to face her, in his dark eyes an unmistakable storm. He took a heavy swig of the stale, bitter beverage, draining it in one violent gulp. Tossing the container into the darkness, he heard it shatter as it hit upon something hard. "Satisfied, Ms. Granger? You may return to the cabin for the evening satisfied in the fact that during the night I shall not perish from dehydration." He archly looked away from her.

He heard her give a soft sigh, and then heard the rustle of fabric as she took a seat next to him.

"I'm not exactly wanted in there," she admitted.

Severus turned to sneer at her. "Oh my. Dissention among the ranks, is there? Potter not putting up with your blether today? Excuse me if I've other things to be concerned about besides your societal failures."

A wounded expression crossed Hermione's face, and she remained quiet. The two sat in silence, which soon became painfully uncomfortable.

"Have you nowhere else to be?"

"I'm not on the best of terms with Ron and Neville at the moment, Professor. And I rather thought I'd come here and try to work things out with you, rather than stay inside and continue to argue."

"There is nothing to work out, Ms. Granger," he spit.

"Fine," she answered testily.

Severus expected her to get up and leave, but she didn't. Her arms were firmly crossed underneath her chest and her head was held high in annoyance, but she stayed.

There was silence for a bit, and then a sigh. "It doesn't seem real, does it?" Hermione asked in a thoughtful voice. When she received no answer, she continued speaking. "I mean, my entire experience in the magical world has been leading up to this day. And by tomorrow night that world will have changed..." She turned to look at him. "It just doesn't seem real--to finally get what we've been waiting for."

She was right. In their current environment, so soft and peaceful, the realities of the morning seemed quite a ways away. And he suddenly felt very sorry that she should live through this.

"I assure you, Hermione. It will be very real come morning."

Hearing her first name, Hermione turned to him, hoping he was now more receptive to a discussion. Before she was able to speak, she noticed Severus frown slightly as he tried to inconspicuously adjust the sleeve of his robe. His jaw clenched suddenly at the movement, no matter how minor.

"Is something wrong?"

Severus avoided her face, so open and concerned for him. "No," he answered gruffly.

"It's your arm, isn't it?" She stared at it, biting her lip. "He's hurting you." It wasn't a question, but a statement--one filled with sad acceptance.

He looked at her intently, and she raised her head to meet his gaze.

She offered a small hand to him. "May I?"

"Why?" he asked, utterly disgruntled.

There was a hint of a smile on her face as she teased, "Cold hands, remember?"

Severus scowled. "I do not want your pity, Ms. Granger."

"That's not what this is," she said with a small sigh of exasperation.

Severus looked at her darkly, pausing for a long moment before extending his arm.

Hermione's lips twitched in a smile. He had not completely closed himself off to her , then. She inched closer to him, their sides grazing each other gently. She slowly drew his arm into her lap, rolling the sleeve up to his elbow. Now exposed, the underlying skin shone white in the darkness, marred only by the ominous black ink lying not so dormantly under the layer of smooth flesh. She brushed the skin softly, and then firmly placed her hand over the darkened spot.

Severus started slightly. She was right. Sitting in that cold cabin for the day had had left its mark on her. Her hands were wonderfully cool, her touch soothing away the painful reminder of his past. He let out a somewhat shaky sigh and closed his eyes, knowing she wouldn't notice in the dark. It was so foreign-- having someone touch him so willingly. Strange that she should, if she was afraid of him. And yet how many times had she shown her concern? Furrowing his brow, Severus willed the confusion to go away, instead concentrating on the familiar gentleness of her fingers.

"May I ask you a question?" she asked.

Severus nodded distractedly, opening his eyes to examine her hand covering his mark, whose terrible throbbing was slowly coming to an end.

"How did you know that Hogwarts was going to be attacked? You're not a spy anymore. That information can't have come easily."

He sighed, addressing her with reluctance. "There are ways other than spying in which one can extract information. None of them pleasant," he added warily.

Hermione frowned, not grasping what he meant. A moment later her brows rose in understanding. She met his eyes, and an involuntary shudder ran through her as she thought of the methods he had employed to gain that bit of information. She faintly increased her hold on him, wishing she could console him over the awful task he had been burdened with.

"And that's how you were injured," she whispered softly.

He felt the slight tremor of her body, mistaking it for disgust. "I imagine you are horrified," he stated dispassionately.

"Don't think I'm under the illusion that you are an innocent," she said dryly. "I think we've well moved passed that point in our relationship."

"At least I know what you think of me then," he answered quietly.

"I didn't mean it like that, and you know it," she corrected, meanwhile cushioning her head against his shoulder. Her left hand having absorbed the heat of his arm, she switched to the right, and a whole new infusion of coolness caressed his skin.

Severus stiffened as her hair reached out to tickle his jaw. He waited for a moment until he felt able to speak. "What did you mean?" he asked carefully.

She picked her head up from his shoulder and looked up at him solemnly. "It means that I know you. Which is a feat in itself, because you are a very difficult man to understand. But I think I do. Or at least, I'm getting there." She gave him a small smile of appreciation. "You are a good man, Severus Snape."

Turning his head from her, Severus slowly disengaged his arm from her hands, trying to break the connection of their stare and distance himself from the strange, unfamiliar feeling in his chest.

He felt those cool fingers on his cheek, drawing his face to stare at hers once more.

"I need you to know something," she murmured. "I'm not afraid of you. In there..." She looked towards the cabin, and then shook her head. "You painted quite the vivid picture. But did you even bother to think that I might count you among the friends I worry for?" Her thumb grazed softly against his cheek. "I could never fear you. Not when I've come to care for you so very much."

Severus' brows rose in surprise, a look of realization forming upon his face. "Hermione..." he whispered in a quiet warning.

"I never want you to think anything like that again," she interrupted. "And please, don't tell me how I shouldn't say such things to you. Because tomorrow..." Her voice caught, and she shook her head violently. "I needed to say it. And you need to know it."

Hermione watched him patiently, trying to gauge his reaction. He sat stolid and unmoving, the utter honesty of her words stunning him into silence. When she realized he would make no effort to speak, she let her head fall back onto his shoulder, wanting him to have time to absorb her words, praying that she had not said too much.

It was long minutes before Severus moved, taking an uncontrolled and shivering breath. Slowly, he reclined his head against the tree trunk, letting it loll slightly to the side so that his cheek just barely grazed the top of Hermione's head. Shutting his eyes, he once again breathed in the wet smell of the grass, combined now with the wonderful human scent of the woman beside him. Slowly drifting from consciousness, the last thing he was aware of was the gentle sound of the crickets.

Hermione lay calm and still, trying her best not to wake the sleeping man beside her. He was lying with his head close to her own, lips open every so slightly, yet enough so that she felt every warm exhalation of breath escaping his mouth.

He must have been exhausted. She had thought it sweet when his head had come to nestle atop her own. But soon his breath had become so even, his body so relaxed, that she knew he had fallen asleep. Not wanting him to rest against the knotted wood of the tree, she had gently reclined against the soft grass, taking his body with her in a slow descent towards the ground.

Her eyes glittered warmly as he made a small noise in his sleep, unconsciously rolling closer to her. It had been so many nights ago when she had felt the first stirrings of wanting to comfort him. It had been a simple wish. She'd merely desired to give him the human support and caring that she doubted he was receiving elsewhere. Never had she thought it would come to this; for innocent compassion had yielded into something much greater. And as she looked at him now, she was more than willing to admit it.

She was so close to his body. They were no longer touching, but she felt the heat radiating off of him nonetheless. She had the wild notion to kiss his eyelids, which fluttered ever so often, but was nowhere near so daring. She would settle for a small touch though. Her shaking hand trembled its way towards his cheek, hovering carefully before finally making contact with the warmth of his skin. She inhaled through her teeth, hoping he wouldn't wake. When he failed to stir, she trailed her fingertips across his cheekbone, and investigated the small lines near the corner of his eye. She stroked his hair gently, grazing the dark, unkempt strands ever so lightly.

Conscience pervaded her enjoyment-- she imagined he wouldn't care to know his personal space was being invaded in such a fashion, and reluctantly Hermione removed her hand. The loss of contact made her cold. Soon she found herself touching him again, just a whisper of her fingers against his face. She became lost in the contours and dips of his features, the soft skin of this hard man, so warm and pliant under her caresses.

Upon stirring, the first thing Severus realized was that he had sunk to a resting position upon the ground. So exhausted, it took nearly a full minute for him to register the feeling of fingers making a slow, meandering path through his hair. Still encompassed by the spell of sleep, he accepted the touch, though not unquestioningly.

Fighting the desire for further rest, he peered out of heavy lids to identify the culprit. It was Hermione, appearing so peaceful as she studied him. The humidity had made her hair puff out about her, a halo that framed her face in a riotous tangle of curls. Her eyes were open wide, and he could see she was breathing in short, winded breaths. She'd not yet realized he was awake.

Her hands had grown careless, beginning to apply more pressure as they traced their way down his jaw, taking note of the varying angles and textures. Severus closed his eyes once more, reveling in the feeling of her gentle explorations of his skin. Her hand had soaked in his heat nicely, those warm fingers feeling wonderful as they grazed his brow.

A sudden surge of affection replaced his need for retaining any air of disinterestedness. No one had ever looked at him like that or cared for him so openly. And should morning not go well, no one might ever again. Larger reservations aside, Severus stirred. His heart beat rapidly as he watched his arm making its way to her. Shaking fingers closed around her slender hand, removing it from its place upon his cheek and slowing drawing it to his lips, where he brushed a chaste, thankful kiss on the inside of her palm.

Hermione gasped sharply at the unexpected contact, her eyes instantly connecting with his. She cringed inwardly, and despite the kiss, waited for the chastisement of her actions. When she received none, she searched his face, and this time he did not break their gaze. She smiled then, moving further into the curve of his body, her face so very close to his. Severus felt her warm breath caressing his skin, her scent and heat invading his senses. She continued her caresses upon his cheek, now knowing he was aware of her touch. Her hand lingered longer on his face, learning the dips and lines, taking in the feel of him. The last vestiges of sleep fell from his being as he watched the look in her eyes change from innocent affection to something else. He felt his breath picking up pace as her hand traveled from his cheek down to his lips, tracing the tiny dip below his mouth.

Severus squeezed his eyes shut, trying to control his breathing as he sensed her draw even closer. He felt a hand come to rest gently on his shoulder, fingers softly digging into the cloth covering his skin. There was nothing for a moment, and then suddenly there were lips, soft and moist pressing against the skin next to his mouth. They lingered there for a while, Severus' own lips parting slightly as a small sound of satisfaction escaped his mouth. He felt Hermione smile against his skin, and her head slowly traverse to the other side of his face where she left a similar kiss, gently nuzzling the slightly rough skin there, eliciting another soft breath from her companion.

Hermione moved back in order to see dark eyes staring at her with unmistakable longing. Her mouth twitched in a nervous smile, and she tilted her head to look at him. Severus simply stared at the woman above him, forgetting to breathe as his heart thundered in his chest, the affection he'd tried not to acknowledge now overwhelming him. He reached his hand towards her, his long fingers trailing warmth down her face. Hermione leaned into his touch, eyes closed. Severus' hand moved to cup the back of her head, slowly he drawing her closer to him. He stopped the gentle pull when she was a mere few inches from his face. Her eyelids fluttered open, and she looked at him questioningly.

"Hermione..." he breathed, trying to find the words to express what he felt. Hermione fondly smirked at his lack of words, nodding her head in understanding. She let her thumb run across his chin, Severus echoing the motion a moment later. He paused then, watching in wonder the woman above him, not surprised when the gap between them was closed, her lips finally meeting his own. They grazed him every so slightly, just barely brushing his skin. Inhaling deeply, he fiercely returned the kiss as he pressed into her, his hands dragging her slight body to him, holding her tightly as he gently squeezed her back and ran his hands along her sides. He ached as she filled his mouth with a soft sweetness that tangled with the bitter remnants of tea. Their kiss was fervent-- her hands tangled in the back of his head, his tongue hopelessly twined with her own as he learned her taste.

A fierce feeling of want suddenly shot through him, startling him from her even as his nerves pulsed with excitement. Severus broke away, panting heavily as he stared at Hermione in stunned silence. She looked at him for a long while, her lips swollen, red and beautiful. A sad smile flittered across her face as she watched him. She ran her hand down the side of his face tenderly, leaning in leisurely to kiss the cool tip of his nose. Her whisper sent shivers up his spine as she moved close to his ear, her breath warm upon his temple. "This is not a goodbye, Severus." She drew back to look at him meaningfully and saw confusion there. She sighed, stroking his face one more time before resting the weight of her head upon his chest. She closed her eyes, listening to the rapid thumping of his heart that signified he was even less composed then he pretended.

Severus tensed, taking a few deep breaths as he glanced down at the feminine form resting upon him. He looked at her thoughtfully for a long while, his arms hanging listlessly at his sides as he tried to come to a decision. Another brief look and an almost indiscernible nod later, he settled them lightly around her, placing his hands gently on her back. Very soon he found himself rubbing his hands up and down her spine in soothing, random swirls. She sighed contentedly, becoming unaware of his ministrations as she drifted into sleep. Severus, however, stayed awake, pondering over her words as his eyes watched the line above the trees, waiting for the sun.