Eight and a half years (гет)

‘He’s changed so much, I barely recognised him.’ Severus felt winded by the words and had to steady himself against the wall for a moment, hanging his head in the dark hallway. So that’s what she thought of him, now. Eight and a half years had passed, and she was as glorious as ever, perhaps more so now, radiant and powerful, eyes sparking with life. Severus had known, of course, that he had not changed for the better. His prominent features had once been softened by a boyish charm, his face often animated and hopeful. Not so now. Now, he knew, he was haggard looking, deep creases on his forehead and around his mouth making him look severe and unhappy. His skin was sallow and often too dry, his hair perpetually greasy looking. He looked worn and tired and like a man of 45, not 33.
In which Hermione and Severus had fallen in love in the past, and Severus had given her up. Severus cannot forget, and Hermione cannot forgive.