Whispers in Time

~*~

"The ingredients were all perfect, the measurements exact. So where did I go wrong?"

Seven: Hermione and Severus

She set her bags down in the empty hallway and waited. It wasn't long before she heard the oh so familiar step along the corridor. She smoothed her dress, the color of wild poppy flowers, and fixed her headband nervously. As the footsteps rounded the corner, she pulled herself up as tall as she could.

The footsteps stopped a few feet from her and she looked at him. "Hello, Severus," she said emotionlessly. He was surprised to see her there and said nothing. All of the planned small talk she had in her mind seemed to slip out of her head and left her with nothing to say. They stood in silence for a few moments before her will failed and she looked away, defeated. "I...I didn't know the new password..." She trialed off, eyes still fixed on the floor.

He finally willed himself to move. He came to her and picked up her bags. Her golden dress seemed so bright to him. It was as though she was clothed in the sunshine he had so desperately missed since she, and the summer, had gone away and left him alone. As he stood up, he spotted the headband, a rich shade of yellow-gold, matching her dress, with an intricate silver design that twisted every way like a serpent. He didn't have to look very close to know that it was, in fact, a serpent that matched her bracelet. He had given her the bracelet months ago.

She followed half a pace behind him in silence. Her heels clicked hollowly along the floor, echoing down the hall, an auditory reminder of the cold, uncomfortable silence. He opened the door with his wand as anyone else would with a key. The room was exactly how she had left it all those months ago. The deep red curtains were drawn, so the only light in the room came through the door she had just entered through.

He set her things down and began to leave. She looked up at him with wide eyes full of words her throat could not say. He paused and looked her in the eyes. Some of the things he saw there seemed to pour out and float around him in the air sure as if she had said the words for real. When neither said anything, he broke eye contact with a nod and walked out of the room, shutting the door behind him. Now, the words she had locked in her eyes came out as salt-water messages falling to their demise on the floor.

~*~

The first meeting back was awkward and she couldn't look at Severus. She talked about the work she had done the past half-year in Africa and Eastern Asia. The other teachers were very interested in her work as it was quite extraordinary. Most of the staff in the room thought she had left for this study because things just fell together that way. But she knew it wasn't true. Severus knew it wasn't true. Minerva and Albus knew it wasn't true.

After the main business, Albus asked her to stay behind, which she did. He fixed her with his piercing stare and talked in poetic circles about the situation with Severus. She listened and nodded along, but he had said it all to her before. But she hadn't really known how to listen back then. Now she had listened to it so much in her head that hearing it again did nothing new for her.

At dinner she took her old seat, which had been saved for her, next to Minerva. And, as always, Severus took his across from Minerva, next to the Headmaster. They ate with little change in atmosphere--talking politely about the everyday things within the school. Tomorrow the children would be arriving and school would start for the year. Most teachers' lessons were ready for the year and so there was a tangible feeling of leisure in the air. She excused herself from dinner before dessert, citing lessons she had to finish planning. She felt his eyes on her until she was gone from the room.

He knocked on her door sometime later that night. She had left the door unlocked, so when she did not open it, he let himself in. She was folded up comfortably in a large, dark green armchair staring at something on the table next to her. The lights danced off her dress, making her look ethereal and transcendent and out of place and awkward compared to the dark, lavish colors of the room. She didn't seem to notice his entrance; she was too absorbed in whatever she was looking at.

As he got closer to her, he could see what she was looking at: a still frame picture of the two of them from last fall. They were sitting on a black leather couch in the Staff Lounge. He was in his traditional casual black robe with black slacks and a deep green button down shirt. She was leaning against him, shoulder to shoulder, her curled hair falling across his shoulder. She wore her black robe open, showing her dress, rich lavender with silver and magenta accents. Due to the way they were slumped together, the photograph looked as though they created a vortex in the room, sucking all things towards their presence. While her smile was brilliantly white, full of teeth, his mouth was closed and leaned towards being a smirk. All the same, he looked happy. He still considered it one of the only good pictures of him over the age of twelve.

He stopped by her side but she did not look up. She had known it was him the moment he had shut the door. He had this way of doing it no one else could match. He placed it gently in its frame and brushed his fingers from it slowly, feeling the wood. He looked down at her, face hidden by loose curls, and noted the way she was curled up like a small child who was neglected. He had spent years in such a position but had rarely seen her take it. It meant she was crying.

"I don't understand," he began. "I mean; it really makes no sense, you know? I mean, the ingredients were all perfect, the measurements exact. So where did I go wrong?" She could not answer; she was choking on the sob threatening to escape from her. He continued calmly, "I did everything you needed, everything you wanted, it was exact. You said it yourself." At which point the sob did indeed escape, echoing around the room, hollow sounding. He sighed. "Why did you leave me, Hermione?"

Now she did look up. Her eyes were red from crying and he could see where her tears had slid down her face as clear as if they were each sharp blades cutting their way down her flesh. He repeated his question and she sobbed loudly, burying her head into the crook of her arm. He had to stop himself from touching her; he would not until she answered the question that had plagued him for eight months. When she made no movement to get up, he pulled a chair across from hers and sat down. He would sit here all night, if he had to, to get an answer.

It was some time later, minutes, hours, decades, he couldn't be sure, when she finally looked at him again. Her face had dried of tears, leaving behind trails of misery. "I'm twenty-four," she began, her voice cracking. "I loved you, I still love you. But-" she broke eye contact and looked down, "Twenty-four is so young. I felt...I felt like I was missing things. Like I hadn't lived any. I left this school, only to return to teach three years later. I never did anything; I never went anywhere." She started crying again. "I thought that if I went out in the world, and saw everything and did everything, then I could really settle down here and be happy."

He felt very distant from her now. He understood her logic; he had joined the Death Eaters under such logic. But it hurt all the same that she was not happy with him. He let himself ask the only appropriate question. "Then why did you come back?"

She wiped at her tears with the back of her hand. "Don't you see, Severus? I wasn't happy. I was miserable. I was seeing the world, but you weren't there. The world was empty without you. My world is empty without you." He looked down at the skirt of her dress where tiny droplets of water were landing, causing darkened spots on her dress.

He took her hand and pulled it slightly, jerking it out from where she was leaning on it. It caught her by surprise and her expressions wavered. He brought the hand to him. He leaned down and kissed it, never losing eye contact with her. He continued, kissing each finger separately. With each touch of him lips she choked out sobs of relief. When he finished kissing the pads of her fingers, he pulled on the arm again. It pulled her forward to him. He wrapped one arm around her waist and pulled her closer. As she came to him, his hand still holding her wrist slid up her arm; he placed it on the back of her head.

He kissed her slowly, shattering her heart with guilt for leaving him. She cried silently now, and he kissed each tear away. Lips still to her cheek, he whispered, "My world doesn't work without you, Hermione. It doesn't turn and the sun never rises unless you ask it to."

She laughed as she cried. "I'm asking now." And when she kissed him, he saw hundreds of brilliant colors explode behind his eyelids.

~Fini~