Faded Smile

by Gilly

author's note- This is my first attempt at a Hermione/Snape pairing, but is far from my first fan fiction. I will admit, though, that I've stuck mainly to writing Buffy stories. I have never felt I could capture the Harry Potter characters as easily as I do the Buffy ones. Be kind in any flames you wish to direct my way!

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An older gentleman stooped over his desk, as he rummaged to the bottom of his large drawer. It was a deep drawer, but it only held a few objects. A grey cardigan sweater with a maroon and gold patch, a photo album, a bottle of perfume, and lastly, an unknown object, wrapped in cloth.

Severus Snape pulled the item out, and sat it down on the desk. There, he studied it for several long moments, before moving to sit at the desk. He carefully un-wrapped the item, which came to be a picture frame. While it was still face down, the gentleman closed his eyes and drew in a slow breath. He then turned it over.

His deep obsidian eyes stared at the picture once more, a small sad smile on his lips as he looked at the young girl spinning slowly in the Hogwarts courtyard, with snow falling gracefully around her. Her head was tilted upwards, her arms outstretched as she danced in the snow. Hermione Granger’s long brown curls shimmered with flecks of snow. On and on she danced, stopping occasionally to smile at the camera, before she started up again.

The smile faded as he set the picture down on the cloth, and once more wrapped it up. It took only a moment longer to place it back at the bottom of the drawer. His fingers danced across the objects before plucking out the bottle of perfume, and then the obviously feminine sweater. A quick spray on the sweater, and her scent came back to him.

Severus was drowning, falling deeply into a pit, his mind spiraling out of control as he brought forth his memories of her. He didn’t allow himself to think of her often, but when he did, he made certain to remember everything. Everything, that is, except Hermoine’s death.

It had been forbidden when it started, him being her Potions master, and she being the know-it-all student. Somewhere along the way, the line between annoyance, and admiration blurred, and even further along, admiration turned into something more. It was on the eve of her leaving the castle before either of them acted upon the feelings.

One short night was what they had together, a night where Severus was younger, and Hermione was older, a night where age and relationship meant nothing to them. He was a teacher still, but no longer in the capacity that she had first met him. No, indeed, he taught her, but potions were no where on the list.

All too soon, she was gone, and neither was brave enough to ask for more. Severus pushed her out the door the next morning, wished her well, and closed the door on her. She could be heard out there still, standing there, staring at the door. But he couldn’t make himself open it up to her.

Eventually, Hermione left, both his rooms, and the castle. Left behind was the sweater, this sweater. The other objects, the perfume, the framed photo, and the album, those were acquired later.

In the fall, she did as most of her class mates did, and went off to school at a wizarding university. He longed to write to her, to find her, to bring her to him. But he wouldn’t. Hermione showed no interest in being there, had in fact made no contact since that morning. He wouldn’t be the one to break. She either wanted him, as well, or she did not.

Time moved on, and his thoughts of her slowed, so that he thought of her once or twice a week, instead of once or twice a day. Severus moved on, and urged himself to forget her completely. Just as he started to, she had come back.

By the time Hermione came back, it had been nearly three full years since that night. They fought, they screamed, they yelled, and they argued. In the end, they had more time together. Years, in fact. The items in the drawer were all he saved of her. The rest was boxed up, and taken away, so that he could once more try and forget her.

But that wasn’t possible, and so instead, he brought out these objects once in a while, and allowed the memories to over take him, before once more shutting her out of his life.

Without glancing at the album at all, as Severus looked at that more often than the other items, he closed away her things, and locked the drawer once more. Taking another minute to compose himself, he stood, and walked towards the door leading to his living quarters, previously their living quarters.

When Hermione had returned, it was not alone. With her was a charming little girl, just barely two years old, with shiny thin black curls, and bright brown eyes. His, she said, his daughter. That was the source of the arguments, but they ended soon enough, and he accepted her into his life, both of them. His girls.

When it was all said and done, they were married, and they had almost four years together. Hermione had gotten pregnant again, and both were happy. Lizbeth, their daughter, looked forward to becoming a big sister. But something went wrong this time.

She sent Lizbeth out to him, in the middle of class, a smudge of blood on her sweet soft cheek. Severus stared at her a moment, trying to comprehend what Lizbeth was saying, why there was blood on her cheek. It sunk in finally, and he left class without even dismissing it.

He found her in the bed, clutching her growing belly. Hermione had been lying on her side, curled around her belly, and he could see a growing wetness under her on the blanket. It was only when she pulled her hands away to reach for him, that the severity of the situation hit him.

It was blood, and it coated her hands, the bed underneath, her clothing. He floo’d for Poppy, but it was too late. She was weak from the sudden blood loss, and wracked with pain. Too quickly, Hermione was gone from him, her and their unborn child, another daughter. Emily, that had been the name they had decided on.

Both were buried over the next few days, leaving Severus and Lizbeth alone, with only memories of Hermione. And now, it was the eve of another school year, and it was his daughter’s turn to start the school. He would be completely alone again, with only her memories to keep him warm.

Lizbeth’s soft voice startled Severus out of his thoughts as she called through the door. He opened it and looked down at her, his Lizbeth. Her thin curls had grown thick, and lay in shiny waves down her back, each ending in a tight spiral. Her face was much like Hermione’s, though she had his mouth.

“Daddy?” She asked him softly as he studied her so intently. With a faded smile on his lips, he shook his head.

“It’s nothing, princess. Let’s finish packing your trunk, shall we?”

~

His life would never be the same, because of one night, and the love of his life. But things would get better. They always did.

~The End~