Isn't He Lovely-Professor Snape

Deathly Hallows Pt 25

Severus stands to my right, his expression mirroring the shock and weight of the memories I have just witnessed. Tears stream down my face as I grapple with the flood of emotions surging within me, trying to comprehend his past. Without hesitation, I run to him and envelop him in a tight embrace, a silent reassurance that forgiveness outweighs the shadows of our shared history. In that moment, words feel inadequate, and the solace of the embrace becomes the bridge to healing wounds that have long remained unspoken.

As I embrace Severus, his scent is strong—a heady mixture of potions ingredients, the subtle essence of parchment, and a trace of something uniquely his own. It's a scent that carries the weight of years spent in the world of magic, a comforting familiarity that grounds me in the reality of our shared existence.

His arms, strong and protective, encircle me with a firm yet gentle hold. The sensation of being held close and tight is a reassuring anchor amidst the emotional tumult. He has one arm around my waist, the other holding the back of my head. In that embrace, I sense a vulnerability beneath the layers of a guarded exterior—a silent admission of the complexities etched into his very being. The closeness allows me to feel the rise and fall of his chest. It's an intimate connection that transcends spoken words, weaving an unspoken narrative of understanding and acceptance.

Amidst the quiet, broken only by the subtle cadence of my sobs, Severus whispers, "Niamh, there's so much I need to say," his voice bearing the weight of remorse and longing. I manage to stammer through my tears and look up at him "I forgive you, Severus. I understand now." He tightens his embrace, pulling my head back to his chest, and in that tender closeness, the unspoken dialogue between us speaks louder than words.

Swiftly and calmly, Severus' takes his hand from my head and brings it to grab my chin. While it is both commanding and gentle, his thumb delicately sweeps away the remnants of tears that had traced my cheeks. Our eyes, twin pools reflecting shared emotions, lock with an intensity that surpasses the physicality of the embrace.

As his lips meet mine, there's a fusion of passion and tenderness—a careful dance between desire and reassurance. The scent of his familiar cologne, the texture of his robes beneath my fingertips, and the comforting weight of his embrace form a sensory symphony that encapsulates the depth of our connection.

This kiss, far beyond a mere gesture, becomes a profound articulation of our journey—a narrative etched in every shared hardship, every sacrifice made for love. The tenderness in Severus' touch extends beyond the physical, transcending into the realm of emotions, where forgiveness, understanding, and an unspoken promise intertwine.

Severus's gaze, filled with a complex array of emotions, meets my questioning eyes as we draw away from the passionate kiss. "Why did you let everyone believe you were a villain?" I inquire, the confusion evident in my voice. He gently shakes off the question, responding cryptically, "This is the way it has to be, Niamh."

I press for more clarity, but Severus remains elusive. Instead, he leans down and places a tender kiss on the top of my head, leaving me with a mix of emotions and unanswered questions. As he continues to hold me tight, the looming battle and the need to find Harry pressing heavily on my mind.

With a steadying breath, I address Severus, the question heavy with apprehension. "Does this mean Harry is going to die today?" His response, a resigned sigh, carries the weight of an inevitability we cannot escape. My mind races, scrambling for a way to avert the grim prophecy, to rewrite the course of destiny. The urgency propels me into a mental labyrinth, exploring every possible avenue to prevent the impending tragedy.

Severus, his grip firm yet gentle, pulls me closer, his voice a soothing anchor in the tempest of urgency. "The time is not right," he replies, after hearing my thoughts.