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The Letter by Sicaria [Reviews - 76]

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Author's Notes: My friend Lola looked this over for me to make sure it wasn't too screwed up. Yes, this is the conclusion to this story. I had intended on making it longer, but this ending hit me like a lorry out of nowhere...and I like it, damn it. I hope you do, too. Please review. They're like birthday presents every day of the year. Lol. Enjoy!

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Monday evening had come around faster than Hermione had anticipated. She wasn’t quite sure if she was prepared to meet the person who had written the quickly scrawled notes, but she was going nonetheless.

Terry had called several times to make sure she was still going. Hermione had to laugh. He was really rooting for this whole experience to turn out well for her. She hadn’t had much of a social life recently, and any human contact was a plus; at least it was a plus in Terry’s book. Hermione liked to be more particular about who she spent her free time with, but Terry assured her she could put her unreasonable standards aside for tonight and still be a good, decent person in the morning.

Hermione sat at her vanity, and put small, diamond studs into her ears. She pulled gently at her hair, which looked less unruly than it usually did. It was only seven o’clock. Sighing, she picked up the brush and began running it through her hair once again. She was incredibly nervous about the whole experience. Hermione wasn’t sure if meeting the person who she had on a whim struck up a scattered correspondence with was a good idea. What if they turned out to be weird? What if they turned out to be horribly unfriendly? What if they turned out to know Hermione?

This last thought made Hermione shudder as she pictured Justin Flinch-Fletchly walking up to her in the café. It wouldn’t be the worst case scenario, but she wasn’t sure she could make small talk with a Hufflepuff for an hour. Finally, sighing, she got up and went to grab her light coat. She straightened the knee length grey skirt she wore, and adjusted her black turtle neck. Hermione hadn’t been sure of what to wear, so she chose business casual. She didn’t want to be over dressed, but she didn’t want to be under dressed either. She could always lie and say she had come directly from work, at any rate.

She slipped on her coat, grabbed her purse and keys, and left for her little café and to meet the mystery stranger. She would be quite early, but she couldn’t see that posing any problems at all. A little coffee to take the edge off her nerves was exactly what she needed.

*********************

Severus Snape had slipped on his long, black coat, and had slipped out of the building. Of course Dumbledore knew he was leaving, but he hadn’t wanted to make a production of the situation by informing the man personally. ‘Let him guess,’ Severus sneered to himself, knowing full well that the next time he saw Dumbledore he would tell him everything. Albus Dumbledore had always had that affect on Severus.

Severus walked into the Three Broomsticks to connect to the floo network. He barely inclined his head to Madame Rosmerta before plunking down some coins on the table and grabbing a fistful of floo powder. He called out the name of a small inn close to the café and stepped into the flames.

He emerged, dusted himself off, and walked out of the door. It was just barely eight o’clock. Frowning slightly, he hurried his step, not wanting to keep his mystery correspondent waiting.

Severus was so deep in thought that he barely glanced in the windows of the small café before entering the small establishment.

“Merlin’s Beard!” Severus hissed, and stepped quickly into the shadows next to the entrance. Unless his eyes had deceived him, his mystery correspondent was none other than Hermione Granger.

Not willing to believe this turn of events, Severus crossed the street and stood in the shadows of a small newspaper stand, but from where he could still see into the small café. He observed from afar what Miss Granger was wearing, and decided that the outfit could go to either conclusion; if she was or wasn’t his mystery correspondent. It was then that she checked her watch and glanced at the door.

“No,” Severus breathed. “It can’t be.”

But he knew it was. He knew that all of the pieces fit together as he remembered their encounter at the same table not more than a month ago. Severus berated himself. He should have known then; he should have guessed.

But he hadn’t.

So now he stood in the darkness, watching the woman he could never, would never, approach.

*******************

Hermione checked her watch once again and saw that it was now almost nine o’clock. An angry and embarrassed blush crept into her checks as she dug through her purse for money to pay for the now cold and half full cup of coffee sitting in front of her.

She put the money on the table and stood up, swinging the purse over her shoulder. Quickly walking to the door so that no one might see the tears pricking at her eyes, she exited the small shop and headed up the street toward her apartment.

Hermione reached her home fifteen minutes later and unlocked the door. Her answering machine blinked, letting her know that she had messages. She pressed the play button and Terry’s cheerful voice blared out, asking her how her evening went. A tear trickled down her cheek as she realized she was too embarrassed to call him and tell him the truth. She would put it off until morning.

It was only when she started slipping off her shoes that she remembered she had left her coat at the café.

**************************

Severus watched Miss Granger emerge from the restaurant and hurry up the street, her heels clacking against the pavement in the still night air. It was only after she had turned the corner that he moved from his hiding place and into the light from the café. He had only an hour before they closed, but he felt it would be a sufficient amount of time in which to write a short letter expressing his greatest regrets, while stating clearly that he never wished to set up a meeting again.

Severus ordered a cup of coffee and sat down at his table, pen and napkin in hand, poised to write the letter that would shut off his contact from Miss Granger, quite possibly forever.

For some reason he struggled with what to say. He couldn’t find the right words to express what he wanted to indicate to Miss Granger, and this worried him. He had never been careful about his words with a student before. Severus shook his head and brought the pen back to the napkin. But try as he might, he couldn’t think of anything that sounded contrite, and sorry he did want to seem.

‘Blast the girl,’ he thought to himself, picturing in his head the fourth year with big teeth. It was while he was searching for the right words that Miss Granger, the woman, stepped into the café, dripping wet with the sudden downpour that had rolled in, and disbelief written clearly on her face.

**********************************

‘I could still leave,’ Hermione said to herself, even as her feet brought her closer to Professor Snape, her potions professor from Hogwarts. ‘I can still leave.’

She saw Professor Snape raise the pen and scribble something onto the small napkin in front of him, and she saw the same untidy scrawl that had been on the napkins she had replied to; the napkins that were from her mystery author.

Hermione approached the table, and reached under it to grab her coat.

“Miss Granger!” Professor Snape exploded, shock and embarrassment at being caught off guard and in the act motivating his response to seeing the soaking wet woman in front of him.

“I’m so sorry to disturb you,” she said, clearly trying to keep her voice under control as her eyes filled with tears. She turned and bolted from the café into the pouring rain. Snape quickly slammed quite a large sum of money onto the table and raced after her into the sudden shower.

“Miss Granger!” he called, and her steps faltered as she turned to face him, blinking to keep the water out of her eyes.

“How long did you know?” she demanded, shouting a bit to be heard over the rain. A streetlamp was their only light as the café began shutting off its lights. The rain was invisible except in the pool of light emanating from the post. “Was this a joke?” she shouted at him, fury gripping her tightly as she walked toward him.

“No!” Severus shouted at her, as she approached. His voice seemed to catch in his throat as he finally noticed that Miss Granger had changed considerably from the small girl he had once known. “I…I only knew, tonight.”

“How?” Hermione asked, shaking her head softly, the wobble in her voice barely audible over the torrent of rain.

“I watched you. Gods, Hermione, I watched you in the café, from over there,” Severus said, pointing to the small news stand.

Hermione let out a strangled sort of laugh. “This would never have worked!” she shouted up at the night sky, rain pouring down onto her upturned face. She lowered her head to look back at Severus. “Nothing we could have done could have made this work,” she said in a calmer manner, looking Severus in the eye. “Good-bye, Professor Snape.”

She turned and walked away, up the street, as Severus stood there in the downpour watching her go, the now sodden napkin still clutched in his fist. The ink from the words “I love you, Hermione” dripped slowly onto the pavement from his clenched fist to join the onslaught of water that would, eventually, somehow, join the sea.

Fin


The Letter by Sicaria [Reviews - 76]

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