Disclaimer: All characters mentioned belong to the brilliant Ms. Rowling. Only the plot belongs to me. No money is being made from the publication of this story.

I'll Be Yours

By: Laina

Another pointless ball, another pointless night, and not one bloody reason for him to be there. What was the point in being there? Another handshake? Another pat on the back for a job well done? He didn't need that. He didn't need any of it. He needed a tall glass of wine, satin sheets, a warm fire, and ideally, a warm body to occupy the sheets along with him.

He snorted into his drink. Not bloody likely. He knew what women thought of him. Greasy, callous, unfeeling...the list went on and on. Oh sure, there had been the occasional conquest after the defeat of the Dark Lord, but that was just sex. Those women wouldn't have been caught dead with him if he hadn't been officially "the man who finally sent He Who Must Not Be Named to Hell in a handbasket." One night, one picture in the Daily Prophet, then nothing. Goodbye, Snape. Thanks for the publicity.  Oh yeah, the fuck was nice, too… Well no more of that.

He slammed his drink onto the bar in disgust, startling the bartender into dropping the glass he had been polishing. It hit the floor with a resounding crack that seemed to echo through the crowded ballroom. Snape glared at the young man, then glared around at all the faces that had turned, wands ready, looking for the origin of the noise.

A collective sigh of relief could be heard as they discovered that the sound was no more threatening than a glass breaking on the hardwood floor, not a rogue Death Eater apparating in on their festivities. Snape shook his head in disgust. Well, it was to be expected after everything they had been through. People were still on their guard, not willing to let defenses drop for even a moment. About bloody time, too, Snape thought.

He pushed away from the bar, then strode purposefully across the room, looking for a secluded corner to hide away in until it would be appropriate for him to take his leave. Hands seemed to come out of nowhere, reaching in to shake his hand and offer meaningless congratulations, or slapping him roughly on the back as he strode past. He tried putting on his most fearsome classroom face, but to no avail.

"Severus! Come over here, old chap."

He turned at the voice and groaned. Remus Lupin was beckoning him over to a crowded table, waving frantically from across the room. He considered simply ignoring the summons and walking the other way, but something, or rather somebody, caught his eye. Hermione Granger, seated between Ron Weasley and Harry Potter, looking for all the world as if she would rather be anywhere but where she was, and looking more beautiful...and more lost and alone, than he had ever seen her. A dark angel in shimmering black, outshining everyone in the room.

He made his way slowly through the maze of tables then took the seat offered to him between Lupin and Bill Weasley...directly across the table from Hermione. She looked up at him as he took his seat, smiled briefly, then looked right back down at her napkin. What could possibly be wrong? His eyes narrowed as he watched her look over at Harry, smiling beautifully, only to see him lean over and kiss Ginny Weasley. She looked as if she had been struck. So that was the problem.

"Professor!" Bill Weasley exclaimed, wringing his hand, "How are you? Excellent to see you here!"

"I'm well, Weasley, thank you," he said, running a hand through his hair. "A bit tired of these affairs, but I'm coping."

"We were afraid you wouldn't come tonight," Remus said, sitting back down in his chair and swinging an arm around a young woman seated to his left. Tonks, he thought her name was. The Auror.

"I seriously considered it," he admitted, smirking at Remus, "but Albus persuaded me to attend."

"Ah, yes, we all know about his powers of persuasion. You'd do better resisting a fully grown Devil's Snare."

Everyone at the table laughed at Remus's comment, even Hermione. Although he noticed that her eyes remained as dead as they had been a moment before. But that smile was absolutely breathtaking. He found himself losing the conversation going on around him as he watched Hermione. She kept smiling over at Harry, or touching him lightly on the arm to get his attention. Severus nearly growled out loud when Harry shook off her hand, told her to stop bothering him, then turned back to the Weasley girl without even a second glance at Hermione. Bloody Potter...didn't he realize what a magnificent creature was sitting right beside him? What a brilliant person she was? He never would have admitted to it, but he treasured the classes he had with her. Her knowledge and thirst for learning was astounding, nearly surpassing his own achievements in the academic world. Every teacher wanted a student like her. And he had been pleasantly surprised when, in her seventh year, she had come to him for a recommendation to Alchema Academia, a school renowned for Potions research and study. The school that he himself had attended after Hogwarts. She never got to see the letter he sent the school, assuming that he had barely acknowledged her academic prowess in the text, but he had sent a shining recommendation, commending her for her brilliance, and telling the Headmaster in no uncertain terms that Hermione Granger would be the most brilliant student he would ever take on. Of course she had been accepted. The day she received her letter of acceptance was the day he had lost his heart to her. She had come bursting into his office, tears of joy running down her smooth cheeks, one of those breathtaking smiles on her face. She never spoke a word, simply walked over to where he was standing, then reached up and wrapped her arms around him and sobbed into his shoulder, her hot tears running down his collarbone and onto his chest. He held her softly until she stopped crying and pulled back. She had stood on tiptoe and kissed him on the cheek, smiled once again, then turned and walked out of his office and life. He didn't see her for another four years, and by that time they were so caught up in the war that he didn't have time to even think of her. But now, seeing her for the first time since it had all ended, brought the feelings from that day tumbling back...forcefully. And he'd be damned if he let Potter make her feel less than what she was.

He was jolted back into awareness by a hand coming down on his shoulder. Lupin was gazing at him questioningly.

"What is it?" Severus asked, annoyed at being jarred out of his thoughts.

"I was asking if there were any special ladies in your life," Lupin repeated, grinning roguishly. "We all saw your numerous Prophet snapshots, Snape."

He grimaced, reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose. These conversations always gave him a tension headache.

"No, Lupin, no special ladies," he replied, frowning. "And as for my appearances in the Prophet," he paused, not sure if he should go on. To Hell with it... "Those particular women only wanted one thing."

"Your babies?" Ron Weasley asked, roaring with laughter. Hermione glared over at him, shaking her head.

"No Mr. Weasley," he drawled, raising an eyebrow at him, "they did not want my sperm. I was referring to publicity. They wanted the publicity that came with being seen with me."

"Really," Harry drawled, finally tearing his attention away from Ginny. "I'll bet you loved that, didn't you? Finally women gave a damn about you, greasy hair, big nose and all."

There was a collective gasp at the table. They knew he had gone too far. Hermione had her fists clenched on the table in front of her, bright circles of red on her cheeks, eyes sparking with anger.

"I've come to expect things like that to come out of your mouth, Mr. Potter," Snape said, his voice silkily smooth and dangerous. "But of course you speak from experience, don't you? You know exactly what it's like, waking up in an empty bed in an unfamiliar hotel room, with no sign of your companion from the night before, don't you?" Snape paused, glaring icily across the table at the younger man. "Just because you like it, don't assume the same callous behavior from me."

Harry pushed his chair back and stood, reaching down for Ginny's hand, his face white, stricken.

"I don't have to take this," he said, glaring down at Snape.

"Harry please, sit back down," Hermione begged, standing up and taking hold of his arm. "There's no need for you to leave."

"Leave it, Hermione," he snapped, jerking his arm out of her grasp and stepping back, glaring coldly at her. "Come on, Ginny."

He turned and stalked off across the ballroom, pulling Ginny along behind him. Hermione remained standing for a moment, staring after Harry, tears filling her lovely brown eyes.

"Excuse me," she whispered, turning around and sweeping through the tables and out a side door, her dress swirling around her legs as she moved.

The table was silent, everyone looking around at everyone else, eyes wide.

"You'll have to excuse him, Professor," Ron Weasley finally said, breaking the uncomfortable silence. "You could say that his ego's been bruised after what you did. Everyone expected him to be the one to finally kill Voldemort and I think he did, too."

"Don't apologize for him, Weasley," Snape said, leaning back in his chair. "Harry Potter and I have never gotten along. There is no need for you to take responsibility."

He pushed back his chair and stood, nodding courteously at the remaining occupants of the table.

"I believe I will be taking my leave now. Enjoy the rest of your evening."

He turned around in a swirling of black robes, then made his way to the doors Hermione had exited through just moments before. He had every intention of finding her and pounding some sense into her head...well, maybe not pounding. Kissing some sense into her sounded about right... Why was she wasting her time mooning after Potter? Couldn't she see how base and low he was compared to her? He snorted softly, shaking his head. Of course not. Hermione was one of those annoying people who always looked for the good in others, completely disregarding any wrongs committed against them. He supposed there was something to say about not holding grudges, but one could only take so much.

He stopped at a "T" in the path, debating whether to go the left branch or the right. A faint sob, almost too distant to hear, made up his mind for him. He turned to the left, following the straight cobblestone path, shrouded on both sides by towering shrubs, making him feel as if he were wandering through a gigantic maze. As he drew farther down the path, the choked sobs and sniffles grew louder, drawing him deeper into the gardens. He emerged through a door nearly hidden by hanging vines into a small garden walled on all four sides. A small form was huddled on a stone bench, directly in the center of the garden, back turned toward the door. He stepped silently onto the soft grass, making his way closer to Hermione. He stopped directly behind her.

"He doesn't deserve you, you know."

She whirled around on the bench, shock and surprise clearly etched on her tear-stained face.

"I don't know what you're talking about," she whispered, turning her back on him once again, her shoulders shaking slightly.

"Don't you?" he asked, taking another step closer to her. He crouched down behind her and rested his chin on his folded hands. "Oh, but I think you do, Miss Granger. I saw the way he treated you. I saw the hurt in your eyes when he rejected you."

A small sob escaped her throat.

"What would you know about it?" she asked, turning accusing eyes on him.

"I know plenty, Miss Granger," he said softly, frowning. "I know how it feels to have the person you admire ignore you, toss you off to the side like so much waste." He stood up and sat down on the bench next to her, facing toward the door. "It hurts, I know. Rejection is never painless."

"I don't understand," she whispered, shaking her head. "I've given him everything for so long. We were supposed to end up together. He wasn't supposed to not love me! Everyone expected us to..."

"Stop. Right there, Miss Granger. Never allow yourself to be handed your future by others. And never do something, especially love someone, because it is expected of you."

"I didn't just love him because it was expected!" she cried. "I loved him because I felt it! Because I knew it was meant to be."

"Did you? Or were you feeling what others forced upon you?" He turned to face her. "Don't live your life based on the way things are supposed to be. You deserve so much more than that."

She looked up at him incredulously. The tears had finally stopped.

"I do?" she asked, wiping her eyes. He handed her a soft white handkerchief before speaking.

"Of course you do, Miss Granger," he said, cocking his head to the side appraisingly. "Nobody deserves to have their life mapped out without their consent, especially you."

She gave a short bark of laughter at that, surprising Snape.

"Especially me, Professor?" she asked, laughing again. She turned sober eyes on him. "Why are you here? You never wanted to help me or acknowledge me at Hogwarts. What makes today so different?"

He couldn't speak for several moments. He had to weigh his words very carefully here.

"I find myself liberated at last, Miss Granger," he said, smiling lightly at her. Her eyes widened at the smile. "Yes, I do smile sometimes. I even make the occasional joke...but don't you dare tell a soul or I will deduct points from Gryffindor."

She chuckled.

"You can't do that," she said, smiling. "I'm not a Gryffindor anymore."

"Indeed," he whispered. He cleared his throat and looked away. "As I was saying, I find myself liberated at last. No more do I live in two different worlds, with two different identities, walking the thin line between life and death." He looked down at his clasped hands. "I'm free to be who I wish, say whatever is on my mind..." He looked over at her sharply. "...And comfort an aching soul that is so much like my own. And you're wrong about Hogwarts."

"What?"

"You're wrong, Miss Granger, I didn't despise you or hate having you in my class. In fact, you were the highlight of my days."

She blushed and looked away.

"Do you honestly think I could overlook your talent? Or that I enjoyed coddling Malfoy and the other Slytherins while someone as brilliant as you was overlooked?"

She turned and looked into his eyes for several moments, not blinking, holding him spellbound in her deep chocolate pools.

"No," she whispered finally, smiling. "I can see it in your eyes that you're telling the truth." She paused, folding the handkerchief in her lap. "You were the reason I was accepted into Alchema Academia after all." She stood up and took a few steps away from the bench, silhouetted in the moonlight shining down into the enclosed space. "But I still don't know why you're here." Her voice was shaking again.

"Because you are diamonds to his lead," he whispered, still seated at the bench. "Because a mind like yours does not deserve the shame of being melded with his. Because you are so high above everyone else. Potter does not deserve…no…no man deserves to have a gift of a woman such as you in his life."

Her breath hitched in her throat, her shoulders shaking with silent tears. He stood and came to stand behind her, offering comfort, but not reaching out as he so burned to do.

"Let him go, Hermione," he whispered.

She turned to face him, a look of wonder on her face. She reached up with her right hand and slowly ran her fingers down his cheek, then his neck, her eyes following her hand's movement. He couldn't move...he couldn't breathe. What could she possibly be doing? She finally looked back up at him, her hands falling limply at her sides.

"I just did."

This time the breath hitched in his throat.

"What?"

She reached up and placed her palms on his chest, looking him squarely in the eyes.

"I let him go," she whispered, smiling. "I let him go...Severus I let him go..."

He couldn't think of anything to say.

She slid her arms up behind his neck, then gently craned up as though she would kiss him on the cheek. She paused...then pressed her lips softly to his. His arms instinctively came around her waist, cradling her gently against his body. She pulled back and smiled up at him, tears shining in her eyes. But she didn't move away from his embrace.

"What did I do to deserve this?" she asked, wonder in her voice.

He reached up and stroked a hand gently over her smooth cheek, then ran his thumb over her moist lips. He pulled her in close again, capturing her mouth in a soft, slow kiss, his fingers running through her soft hair and over her neck. When they pulled apart both were breathless.

"You existed, Hermione," he answered, smiling tenderly, "and that was all it took."

If you're a heart without a home

A rebel without a cause

If you feel as though you're always stranded on the shore

Like a thief in the night

Let me steal your heart away

Baby if a reason's what you're looking for,

I'll be yours

~Nick Carter - Heart Without A Home (I'll Be Yours)