Chapter Text
A/N: Well, I seem to be back again, don't I? While I enjoy writing the books I publish, I can't seem to entirely leave the Potterverse. It's just so much fun. I've been a bit bogged down in book three of my series, and I felt a little break to have some fun was in order. A wee little plot bunny was nipping at my heels and I simply couldn't ignore him.
I'm not sure how long this fic will be. We'll see. I've decided there will be lemons, but don't expect us to jump straight into Lemontown. I'm Slytherin, through and through, and I love to make you wait. This story grew out of a couple of well-worn tropes I'm fond of. I always wanted to make my own spin on them. We should have fun, if you want to come along for the ride.
I'm posting without a beta, so any mistakes are my own.
Obligatory Disclaimer: They are not mine, I only take them out to play.
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The rain did not fall so much as ooze out of the leaden sky as Hermione Granger hurried along the sidewalk in the Muggle part of London. She wondered again if she was mad to be taking classes at a non-magical University. It was far from any point safe enough to risk Apparating in front of veritable herds of non-magic folk. On most days, she was quite content with the walk from the Leaky Cauldron and back again at the end of the day. It gave her time to think about what she truly wanted to do with the rest of her life, now that she was single and owed no one and no place anything at all.
Working at the Ministry had not been the exciting career she'd hoped it would be. With Voldemort long dead, and the rest of the Death Eaters either deceased or in prison, the wizarding world was enjoying a glorious period of peacetime. The Ministry ticked along with little problem. Working under a plethora of older male wizards who didn't want a young upstart witch upsetting their ponderous applecart, Hermione did little more than tedious paperwork and never-ending filing. Her many attempts to improve the lives of minority magical beings were met with stalwart resistance from elders more than content to leave things the way they were.
When her relationship with Ronald Weasley had ended in the most spectacular row of their entire courtship, Hermione had spent several weeks in her small flat crying into assorted pints of ice cream. Eventually, she had surfaced from her frozen dairy-filled haze of sorrow and regret. The very next morning, she had walked into the Ministry with her head held high to turn in her letter of resignation.
At loose ends, her parents had encouraged her to take a few classes at a Muggle University. At first, she had balked at the idea. She was a witch and uninterested in returning to the Muggle world full-time. Her parents understood this but insisted the experience would be good for her. She could revisit her Muggle roots and have something interesting to do with her days that provided her with a little structure and a reason to leave the house.
A little structure and normality never hurt anyone, her practical mind had reassured her. With her entire life turned on its ear, a return to classwork seemed strangely comforting. She signed up for a brace of classes which interested her, one was of English folklore and the other an intro to botany, and found that she enjoyed both enormously. Though she had no plans to get a formal degree from a Muggle institution, the classes were interesting to her and the normality of schoolwork a balm to her bruised soul.
This then was how she found herself walking down a sidewalk in such dreary weather, having second thoughts about her Muggle studies. Though only three o'clock in the afternoon, the day was gray and foggy. The heavy mist falling from the heavens made it even more difficult to see more than a few feet in front of her. It was little surprise that as she hurried around a corner, her thoughts on getting to the warmth of the Leaky Cauldron, that she ran right into a tall man coming from the other side.
Indeed, the man was so much taller than she was, it was a bit like running into a wall. She practically bounced off his chest, losing her footing on the wet pavement. She might have tumbled onto her arse if it hadn't been for strong hands that gripped her by the elbows as she found her balance.
"In weather such as this," the man grumbled, irritation clear in the clipped syllables, "things would go much more smoothly if people could possibly look where they are bloody well going."
The voice was brusque, but the hands had been gentle and firm when they saved her from taking a tumble. While her first instinct had been to snap back that he had run into her equally as much as she had run into him, she bit back the quick retort. Raising her glance to his face, her apology died on her lips. A soft exclamation of surprise huffed from her mouth. Realizing her jaw was gaping open, she quickly closed it with a quiet click of teeth.
The man still holding her elbows regarded her with a slight scowl on his angular features. His eyes held an expression of impatience, but there was no hint of recognition as he stared down at her. Her glance flicked to his neck, but the man who bore a startling resemblance to Severus Snape was wearing a black Muggle turtleneck under his dark brown trenchcoat. If he had a scar from Nagini's fangs, she couldn't see it. The scowl deepened further as Hermione stood trembling, and she hastened to find her tongue as well as her manners.
"I'm so very sorry, sir," she managed to squeak out. Clearing her throat, she tried again. "I was in a hurry because of the rain, but that's no excuse to go careening into people. Are you quite all right? I didn't hurt you?"
The scowl softened immediately at her solicitous words and the voice that followed was far less sharp.
"I am fine. I'd like to think I am made stoutly enough that a tiny slip of a young woman such as yourself couldn't cause me an injury, even if you…hmm…careened into me."
A soft chuckle ended the statement, and Hermione had to use all of her wits not to gape at the poor man again. However uncanny the resemblance, this could not be her stern former potions professor. It was clear he didn't recognize her at all, and she hadn't really changed all that much in the five years since Voldemort was defeated and Severus Snape had died. Despite all the allure of such logic, she remained gobsmacked by the resemblance. The eyes were as black as those of her former professor. The hair was a bit long, hanging in slight waves just past the man's ears, but nowhere near the length Snape had worn it. There were matching streaks of gray in the dark hair at each temple, which made him look quite distinguished. The face was as angular as Snape's and the nose as large, but his features were not nearly as gaunt and laugh lines at the corners of his eyes softened his expression considerably. It was uncanny, this resemblance to a dead man. Still staring, she felt herself tremble again in reaction.
He remained steadying Hermione with a firm but gentle hand on both her elbows. One of his eyebrows rose in a distractingly familiar gesture as he felt her shiver.
"You're freezing," the man remarked, his tone of voice clipped but not unkind. He clucked his tongue at her and shook his head gently. "Little wonder with only a sweater in this rain. Come along with me then."
There was no possible way Hermione could explain to this man that she had a shielding charm on her long, form-fitting cardigan sweater. He seemed to be a Muggle. Before she was quite aware of what had happened, the tall man had tucked one of her hands into the crook of his arm and was leading her down the sidewalk. He drew her up to the stoop of a shop with a cheerful yellow and white exterior. As distracted as she was, she didn't realize what sort of shop it was until he bustled her inside.
"You work at a bookshop?" Hermione blurted with little finesse.
"Oh, it's much worse than that, my dear," he said, and then chuckled softly again. "I own this bookshop."
Motioning her to an easy chair in a comfy reading nook by the front window of the tidy shop, the man then hung his trench coat on a hook near the door and turned to the smiling young woman standing behind the counter.
"Marta, could you get my friend a cup of tea, please? The poor girl is chilled from our lovely spring weather."
"Of course, Steven. Happy to help."
Turning back to his visitor, the man walked to the reading nook and took a chair near her. He was wearing dark blue jeans along with the black turtleneck, and a pair of faded and worn black boots.
"Steven?" Hermione inquired politely.
"Of course, where are my manners? My only defense is that I am little used to having a pretty young woman pressed against me in the rain. Steven Sondheim at your service."
He leaned forward, offering his hand and clasping hers warmly for a moment before leaning back again in his chair.
"Steven Sondheim, really?" Hermione couldn't help smiling at him.
Leaning forward again, he murmured, "Not the famous one, I'm afraid."
Then he winked at her, which made a giggle burble out before she could quell it. She couldn't help it. The man was the spitting image of Severus Snape, right down to the voice, and he seemed to be flirting with her.
"My name is Hermione. Hermione Granger. Very pleased to meet you."
"Likewise, I'm certain. Hermione…hmm…it's lovely, of course, but I hardly think it gives you any right to giggle at someone else's name."
The words were teasing and his tone was light. She laughed right out loud and his answering smile made her heart skip a beat. He could not be Severus Snape. Never had she seen her frightful professor smile like that. Perhaps he was some relation? Had Snape had any brothers or even a cousin? His father had been a Muggle, so it was certainly possible Snape had non-magical relatives. Which such a strong resemblance, she rather thought his having a twin would be more likely.
He hadn't recognized her name. Why should he? Steven acted as if he had never seen her in his life, and he probably hadn't.
The tea arrived and they chatted as they sipped. He told her about running a bookshop and she spoke of her university classes and her lifelong love of reading. The conversation turned to favorite books and they discovered they had several in common. Though she enjoyed the conversation immensely, Steven's resemblance to Snape was disquieting. It was a puzzle she wanted an answer to. Making her mind up about a suitable course of action, she excused herself, saying she had a previous engagement with a friend.
"A boyfriend?" he asked, as he walked her to the door of the shop. His tone was light, but the look in his eyes was more serious.
"No, not a boyfriend," Hermione replied with some feeling. "Er…there was a boyfriend, but we broke up several months ago."
"Sorry to hear it."
"Are you sorry?" she asked with a raised eyebrow.
"Not particularly," he admitted bluntly. "But I'm sorry if you're sad about it."
"I was, but it's funny, I don't seem to be at all sad about it at the moment."
"Good." Lifting her hand, Steven pressed his lips to it briefly. "Until next time, then."
"Until next time," she agreed, then turned and swept out the door.
Forget slogging to the Leaky Cauldron. She had to get out of here and find out what the hell was going on. Visibility was still dismal on this dreary day, and the sidewalks were even emptier than before she had run into a man who looked far too much like Severus Snape. Hurrying towards the nearest alleyway, Hermione glanced around before slipping into it. When she was far enough into the empty alleyway to be reasonably certain she would be unseen, she made a graceful turn and disappeared with a loud pop of sound