Hope For Better

17. That one blond git (And his lovey wife)

The dress was beautiful. Gold embroidery danced in swirling patterns of leaves and vines over the shimmering red fabric that clung to Hermione’s form. It was almost a sin the way the color complimented the skin of her shoulders. The collar was the same golden ribbon of dancing leaves. It criss crossed over her chest before wrapping around her neck like a halter. A little pink scar peaked out from her collarbone, but Severus wasn't going to point that out. He wouldn't do anything that could make her uncomfortable. Tonight was about her and her happiness. No need to ruin it with something as trivial as a noticeable scar, especially when she was so stunning in that gown that no one would give the scar a second thought.

He shook off any thought of his love hurting herself and the reasons behind it. Those reasons wouldn't exist after tonight anyways. He would never distance himself from her again… at least not willingly.

He stood behind her as she admired herself in the mirror, trying not to smile too brightly at the sight before him. Her face was bright and happy, and her thoughts were filled with love and joy. She knew she looked good and he could tell that it had surprised her. Hermione had never been fond of her own appearance. Tonight, in that dress though, she felt like a princess… and Severus heard her thoughts more than once envisioning him as her prince.

Severus was truly amazed by the way she saw him. He couldn't believe she felt that way about him but rarely had a positive thought about herself. How could she look at herself and think she wasn't worthy of him? How could she look at him and think that he was too good for her? How could she when he knew that the opposite was true?

Her eyes flicked up to his in the mirror as he wrapped his arms around her waist and kissed the top of her head. He loved the way his head felt lighter with her in his arms. Her heart swelled and he chuckled when her mind became foggy. The only clear picture he could get was a flicker of images of the moment running through her overactive brain.

One second her focus was on the feeling of his hands grazing over her hips before resting one over the other on her belly. Then she was swooning over the sensation of his body pressed up against her back. Then it was the gentleness of it all when he finally rested his chin on top of her bushy head. The last picture he saw was his own face… his black eyes softer than usual, his thin lips upturned hinting a smile, the blush on his own usually pale face. He felt her love and he knew that he was doing the right thing, and that put his mind at ease.

At this moment his conscience went silent. He felt no guilt for loving the girl before him. He didn't feel wrong for wanting her. There was no longer a weight sitting on his shoulders when he heard her longing thoughts. The things that held him back before became irrelevant at that moment. Screw propriety, screw age, screw morals, screw everything but his undying love for her. She was everything. His student, his friend, his family, his bonded, his… Hermione.

He was snapped out of his thoughts by her lovely voice.

“The dress is quite lovely, Severus… but what is it for?” The ever-curious Hermione Granger asked of his gift.

Severus smiled. He couldn't help it. She was just so damn perfect.

He buried his face in her hair and began swaying. Of course, he was nervous. How could he not be? He'd never asked someone out before. Oh, but as nervous as he was, he was even more so determined.