The clock on the mantle showed half past two in the morning, but still she did not sleep. The curtains on her bedroom window let just enough moonlight into the room to illuminate the sleeping form of her lover. The mask of sleep softened the harsh features of his face, making him appear relaxed, a younger version of himself.

Most people would say her lover was not an attractive man. And he wasn't, at least not conventionally. But Hermione found him beautiful. His pale skin glowed in the moonlight, no longer sallow as it once was, but a stark contrast to the inky black of his hair and eyes. His hooked nose and his thin, yet shapely lips, gave him a very regal appearance.

His looks however, were not what attracted her the most. She valued his intelligence, his witty repertoire, the poetic way he had of speaking with that sensual voice of his, far above his physical attributes. She hadn't found a single other person who rivaled her in intellect. He was the only person whose library vastly outnumbered hers. They spent many nights together simply curled up in armchairs reading. Neither of them felt the need to go out very often. They were content to stay in and do research together.

She reached out a hand and lightly traced her fingers down his body. Down his neck, past the ragged scars left by the night of the Battle. Down his shoulder, the wiry muscle of his bicep, over the slightly faded Dark Mark on his forearm. Her fingers softly stroked his hands, from his wrist to the tips of each of his long, dexterous fingers. Fingers littered with tiny scars from nicks and cuts acquired during decades of potion making. She often contemplated the hands of Severus Snape. They were hands of many talents. Hands that chopped, peeled, and stirred with such precision. Hands that caressed her face, roamed over her body, and made her quiver with desire. Those very same hands had taken part in terrible things during his time as a Death Eater and spy. She didn't mind that.

She loved him. A fact she had realized on an unremarkable night. They had been bickering in the produce aisle of the muggle grocery shop, because of course Hermione refused to have house elves around, and she much preferred the muggle grocery shops she went to as a child over the magical ones she had visited on occasion. Severus had been grumbling the whole time about the 'ridiculous muggle garb' she had insisted he wear.

"Are you about finished woman? I look like an imbecile!" He stood stiffly beside her in dark jeans and a black t-shirt.

"Oh Severus, you look perfectly handsome. Now hush and quit acting like a child!" Hermione chided.

"I'm acting like a child? You're the one who insisted I accompany you on this errand. I would've thought an over achiever like you could complete the simple task of grocery shopping on your own, but I was obviously mistaken."

"Well then I suppose this is the last time I invite you to go anywhere with me! I'll have you know that I brought you along to spend some time together, you know, like regular couples do." She huffed.

"You must have mistaken me for someone who wishes to do what 'regular couples do' " He sneered. "I don't have time to entertain your ridiculous ideals. I have no earthly idea why you would want to be seen spending time with me anyway. The Gryffindor Princess out with the Greasy Bat of the Dungeons. A man twice your age. No doubt people must think you're being paid to accompany me." He turned away to leave when Hermione shouted,

"Because I'm in love with you, you daft man! Did it ever occur to you that that's why I want to spend time with you? I don't give a rat's arse what anyone thinks!" He froze, then slowly turned around. Her tear filled eyes looked just as surprised about what she had said as he was.

"What did you say?"

"I said… I said I'm in love with you. Clearly you don't feel the same way, so I suppose i'll just be going then." She spun around and marched down the aisle. She had only taken a few steps before he caught up to her and stopped her with a hand on her arm. She opened her mouth to tell him to let go of her, but before she could speak his lips were crashing over hers. She was so startled she dropped her shopping basket, its contents spilled out and rolled down the aisle.

Several shoppers cleared their throats as they passed the couple snogging in the middle of the shop. Severus spun them away mid kiss back to Hermione's flat. That night they feverishly made love up against the wall of her living room.

Yes she loved him. She loved him when he sat in silence next to her. She loved him when he cooked her favorite foods and then grunted in response when she thanked him. She loved him when he took her breath away with his rich, velvety voice. She loved him when he was doubting himself and her love for him, and took it out on her in empty insults she knew he didn't mean. It was his defense mechanism. She knew his difficult life had conditioned him to be distrustful of others. Especially those that claimed to care for him. After all that had happened with Voldemort and Dumbledore it was no surprise he found it hard to believe she didn't have ulterior motives. So she was patient with him. When he convinced himself he was unlovable she looked for ways to prove him wrong.

Severus pulled himself out of her mind. She had given him yet another glimpse into her thoughts and memories, to reassure him her feelings were authentic. It was baffling to see himself from her point of view. In his eyes he was a bitter, caustic, ugly, mistake of a man. He didn't deserve her love. He often found himself being outright mean to her for no other reason besides his own self destructive behavior of pushing people away. It was much easier to stay alone than to be given a taste of her love, only for her to come to her senses one day and leave. Loneliness was a pain he was familiar with, a pain he welcomed. Heartbreak was a pain he never wanted to endure again.

He knew he should cut it off, be the one to end it, to save himself the agony later on. But he was a weak man, and he couldn't bring himself to do it. He was a selfish man, and he wanted her all to himself. He couldn't picture a life without her anymore. He had grown too accustomed to her soft fair skin brushing against his, her wild bushy curls that always ended up in his face in the night, her delicate, ink smudged fingers, and the stubborn way she insisted upon caring for him.

She was all fiery passion and she ignited his soul. She had awakened something he never knew existed inside of him. He was still very much the same sardonic man; scathing, bitter remarks always on the tip of his tongue. But there was something softer about him. A side of him that no one but her had ever, and would ever, be a witness to.

He found himself entertaining ridiculous sentimental thoughts when he lay awake at night. Something he had always mocked in the past, and would never admit to in the light of day. He was dreaming of their future together, desperately clinging onto the hope that she might never realize the man she loved was not worthy of it.

Yes he loved her. He loved her when she was being a bossy swot, mistaking him for one of her little Gryffindor friends. He loved her when she was a hormonal mess, confusing the piss out of him with her tears. He loved her when she stuck by him through all the shite he put her through. He loved her when she undressed before him in the soft candlelight of their bedroom, slowly revealing her soft feminine curves, driving him mad with desire. He loved her the most when she would hold him against her breast at night, stroking his greasy hair, comforting him in a way no woman ever had before.

Tonight she slid beneath the sheets next to him, and laid her head on his chest. Her soft chestnut-eyes were already lidded with fatigue. How she fell asleep so quickly most nights was a mystery to him.

"I love you Severus," she murmured before her eyes fluttered shut.

His heart swelled in his chest. He waited until her breathing was even, and he was sure she had fallen asleep. Only then did he press a kiss to the mass of curls atop her head, breathing in the sweet scent of her lavender shampoo.

"I love you too," He whispered.