His Future

Unspoken Bonds

The walk to the Head Dorms was quiet, the kind of silence that felt comfortable, yet brimming with unspoken thoughts. Hermione and Severus walked side by side, their hands still clasped together, the warmth between them growing with each step.

As they approached the portrait that guarded the entrance to her rooms, Hermione spoke softly, her voice almost a whisper, though her grip on his hand remained steady. "Amor numquam moritur," she said, the words flowing from her lips as if they were a prayer, a promise. 'Love never dies.'

Severus glanced at the girl sitting on a swing beneath the large, gnarled tree that shaded the entrance. With a small, amused tilt of his head, he looked back at Hermione. "I'll change the password to something more easily remembered," she added with a smile, brushing her fingers lightly against the portrait.

"No, it's fine," Severus replied with a slight chuckle. "I think I can remember that."

Hermione gave him a knowing smile as she pulled him through the portrait. The common room was exactly as he hoped: a sea of dark greens and blacks, the décor unmistakably Slytherin. He almost felt an overwhelming sense of relief. 'Thank the gods. She's one of us.'

"Come this way," Hermione said, tugging on his hand gently. "I'll show you my room and the bathroom. Then we can get cleaned up and talk."

Severus allowed her to lead him to the door on the left side of the room. When Hermione opened it, he followed her inside, taking in the space. Her bedroom walls were a soft, calming grey, the bed covered in sky-blue linens that contrasted beautifully with the navy blue curtains. He blinked, unsure for a moment. 'Is she a Ravenclaw, after all?'

Hermione, as if reading his mind, smiled. "We can always change the colors, you know. I know you prefer black," she said lightly, standing by the doorframe, watching as Severus wandered further into the room.

Severus, however, was far more interested in the bookshelves that lined the walls. His fingers brushed along the spines of the countless volumes that filled the shelves, a soft sigh escaping his lips as he admired the vast collection. He couldn't help but feel a flicker of something—perhaps nostalgia—at the sight. He had often lost himself in books as a child, and here was Hermione, someone he had admired for years, and she was surrounded by them as well.

He pulled a book off the shelf, examining it for a moment before setting it back with a quiet thud. "Do you read a lot?" he asked, his voice quieter than usual.

Hermione chuckled, her smile wide and easy. "You could say that. After all, I am an insufferable know-it-all," she said with mock arrogance, before adding with a playful glint in her eyes, "or, as most people like to call me, the brightest witch of my age."

Severus smirked at her, leaning against the bookshelf. "An insufferable know-it-all? Who would call you such a name?" he asked, his eyes glimmering with the faintest hint of amusement.

Hermione's eyes sparkled, her voice full of affection as she replied, "You."

Severus' brows furrowed. "Me? When did I ever call you that?"

Hermione stood, walking toward him as if pulled by some invisible force. She took his hands in hers and gently tugged him closer, her smile now soft with fondness. "I believe it was in my third year. You took over a class when another professor was sick," she said, her voice laced with nostalgia as her gaze fell to their joined hands.

Severus, his heart heavy with something he couldn't quite name, stood still for a moment before placing his hand gently under her chin. He lifted her eyes to meet his, the touch surprisingly tender. "If I called you that, Hermione, I meant it in the most... loving and admiring way." His voice dropped to a whisper, almost as if the words were too fragile to speak. "I could see how frustrating it must have been for you, having those feelings while still so young. I would have been upset with myself too—feeling this way about a student. I would have pushed you away, kept you at a distance, because I didn't know how else to protect myself."

Hermione inhaled sharply, the weight of his words settling heavily in the room between them. She looked into his eyes—dark, full of pain, and yet, something else, something that had been buried for far too long. A longing. A fear.

"Feelings?" Hermione whispered, her voice barely audible. She held her breath as she waited for his answer, her heart thudding loudly in her chest.

Severus' hand lingered beneath her chin, his thumb gently brushing her skin as he searched her eyes. "Yes," he said quietly, his voice rough. "Feelings I never thought I'd be allowed to have. Feelings that would only hurt, that would only lead to disappointment."

Hermione's hand, which had been holding his so tightly, now slipped free, but she didn't pull away. Instead, her fingers gently traced the back of his hand, the gesture so soft and yet so full of meaning. "And now?" she asked, her voice trembling slightly as she leaned ever so slightly closer to him.