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“I knew I’d find you in here.” Hermione somehow managed to capture both the essence of a woman proven right once again, and the tone of a woman who had wanted to be wrong .
Finding Severus Snape alone in the Malfoy Manor library meant that Hermione’s attempts to get him to socialise were failing, again.
In the long years since the Half-Blood Prince and the Golden Girl had walked the halls of Hogwarts at the same time, the Wizarding World of Great Britain had changed, again.
In the aftermath of the Battle of Hogwarts, chaos ensued. For it was an aftermath - in that after the war there was maths to do; count the dead; finance the rebuilding of Hogwarts; solve the issue of a field hospital; evaluate war crimes. Simply put, it had been chaos.
It was not the kind of chaos that had reigned under You-Know-Who. No, Voldemort's chaos was violent, focused on its goal but aimless in its journey. Not unlike a hurricane. No, the chaos of post-war was chaotic in the way that the concourse of Kings Cross is practically manic on 1st September. Innumerable people, couples, and families with suitcases, shopping bags, and children in hand, all travelling at max velocity towards a thousand unique destinations. Criss-crossing past each other as they weave and crush and stumble onwards in their journey. A veritable mass of movement.
And Hermione Granger had been at the centre of it all. When Severus Snape arrived at the field hospital a mere shell of a man, she had barked orders at every healer present to direct their efforts to saving his life. When the list of the dead was triple-counted and finalised, she lobbied the remaining members of the Sacred 28 to contribute to a new memorial in their honour, next to donate to the restoration efforts at Hogwarts, and let’s not forget the donations to the Muggleborn Integration Initiative.
Hermione Granger project managed it all. Right at the helm, armed with research and an associated opinion that she wasn’t afraid to share.
That was how she met Draco after all, when she really met him. Standing outside the gates of Malfoy Manor ready to implore him to donate to the memorial fund. Later, Draco would say it came across more of a demand anyway.
Hermione would say her charismatic approach was what convinced him. Before they knew it, and repeated exposure certainly helped, Hermione and Draco found themselves in the position to call their connection - a friendship. A re-introduction to Harry Potter himself was all it took for worlds to collide and while it took the boys another 5 years to dive head first into what everyone around them could see, when Hermione stood beside Draco and made eye contact with Ron beside Harry on the boys’ special day she could neither suppress her smile nor her tears.
And that was how Hermione found herself readily acquainted with the Malfoy Manor library. Once it became obvious that merging social circles left all of their venues obnoxiously too small to fit everyone, Malfoy Manor was regularly offered up to fit the needs of the community. The Drawing Room and Dungeons destroyed in years past as part of the reparations of post-war, the space became familiar to Hermione, almost homely.
She often ended evenings curled up with an ancient text while gatherings wrapped up downstairs, Harry and Draco would then find her in the library, their final guest of the night where they would wind down before inevitably insisting she stayed the night in the ‘guest room’ that had unofficially been hers for years.
While her private life was outrageously warm and loving, it was not, however, romantic. Hermione enjoyed working passionately towards a goal, a feat, a cause . To all those who had believed she would find herself in the Ministry after the dust had settled, Hermione had enjoyed scoffing at them on occasion.
While she often consulted various departments within the Ministry, after her third short-term contract with the Department of Mysteries was extended, they’d placed an employee contract in front of her and she conceded that it was time to embrace the ministry as her permanent challenge. Hermione was the youngest Unspeakable the department had ever had, and once she was through the red tape and no longer an outside consultant, the department truly opened its doors to her and she was enamoured by the innovative work there. It was quite the relief really, she needed the thrill of the chase long after her school days were behind her.
Which is how Severus Snape found himself the focus of one witch’s meddling. Severus Snape was her current project. She would get him socialising if it killed her. And maybe it would.
Finally free from his promise to keep an eye on Harry, once he had recovered from his injuries, Snape had stepped down from his position amongst the Hogwarts staff, much to his immediate and quite visceral relief.
Finding himself without a family after the war, with Azkaban offering few visiting hours to engage with the Malfoy patriarch, Draco had sought out Snape’s company. Finding companionship in someone who knew what it was like on the dark side of the war, Draco thanked Snape for what he’d done for him. That initial conversation somehow found Severus Snape with new employment, oh how he wished he’d taken an extended holiday first. The very next week he began his role as Potions Master at the new Apothecary in Diagon Alley, owned by none other than Draco Malfoy himself.
By proximity, Severus Snape found himself adopted by the ragtag group of survivors and so began the invitations. Birthday parties. Christmas Dinners. New Year’s celebrations. With a family as big as the one Harry and Draco surrounded themselves with, there was always someone, or something, to celebrate. The manor came alive in the decade since the war and Draco was immensely pleased to paint the walls in love, rather than blood.
It was Harry’s birthday. Again. And Draco always found himself going overboard for Harry’s birthday in particular. The manor had been decked in red and gold, a life-sife quidditch pitch established on the grounds and a banquet fit for royalty displayed in the ballroom. Their full circle had made the effort to attend, the Weasleys filled the Quidditch pitch with more bravado than skill and Harry’s auror colleagues bulked up the rest of the team. Of course they’d chosen to play shirts v skins, how juvenile.
In explicit contrast, the Hogwarts professors were engaged in a lively game of life-size Wizard Chess on the lawn, while harmless in this iteration, Headmistress Minerva was refereeing just in case. Upon reflection, Hermione wasn’t sure the Quidditch game even had a referee, unless Mrs Weasley with a red-headed babe in arms shouting into the sky could be considered appropriate monitoring?
Over the course of the evening Hermione had kept initiating conversation between Severus Snape and, well, anyone in her vicinity at the time.
With Mrs Weasley she’d initiated a discussion on the Apothecary’s latest treatment for colic, bringing Snape into the fold by asking how many eyes of newt each batch took. A man of few words, he answered succinctly.
“Three.”
“Are you sure? I could have sworn Draco mentioned something about 3.5 and that the difficulties of precisely halving a retina were slowing production?” Hermione’s head tilted to the side as it did when her brain was active.
“I’m quite sure, Miss Granger.” He drawled. Hermione opened her mouth as if to protest and he cut her off. “Since I did create the recipe myself.” He levelled her with a calm gaze and appreciated the slight flush that rose on her cheeks.
“I wasn’t doubting your mind, Severus, Merlin knows it would be an error to do so. I was simply doubting my own. I remember suggesting a number of spells to Draco when he came to me with the retina issue. What potion was that for?” Her curiosity knew no bounds.
Hermione failed to notice that she hadn’t succeeded in bringing Snape into a conversation with Mrs Weasley, she had simply begun a conversation with him herself. With a smile, Mrs Weasley walked away bouncing the babe in the direction of Ginny who had just landed after scoring an excellent goal. Neither he nor Hermione had seen it.
It was Snape’s turn to flush slightly.
“Against his better judgement, Draco is calling it ‘slip’n’slide’.” He grimaced and avoided her gaze.
Hermione was never good at subtlety, she worked best with data that was out in the open for her to analyse, and so she missed Snape’s attempt to dismiss speaking on the topic further.
“A waterslide in a bottle! Oh how fun!” Hermione grabbed him by the wrist and in her enthusiasm made to drag him away from the pitch. “We’ll have to try it out on the hill for the kids! It’s sweltering, it’s the perfect time to try it!”
Having difficulty pulling him in the direction she wanted, Hermione turned back to face him but didn’t let go of his wrist, almost forgetting she had hold of him at all.
He couldn’t forget.
“It’s not that kind– its not for children.” He stuttered, considerably out of character.
Hermione looked at him and furrowed a brow in confusion. She gave him a look up and down almost as if to check that it was indeed Severus Snape stood before her, a man so rarely lost for words, in fact, they usually presented themselves to him so freely on account of his infamous sarcasm and wit.
His black shirt and trousers seemed very Snape-like, although less formal as in the Hogwarts days, and raised no cause for concern. The scar on his neck gave him quite the rugged visage and Hermione predicted his long fingers could still dance around a cauldron as elegantly as ever.
But now that she was truly looking at him, his face was not quite the same as it had been during the war. No longer a dungeon resident, his skin had life to it, and his eyes held light, reflecting the warm summer sunshine. And he was looking right at her.
His mouth had an awkward quirk to it as he floundered, trying to decide what to say - now that, that was the least Severus Snape trait about him. She raised an eyebrow at him, enjoying the silent conversation they were sharing. What, indeed, was making her old professor squirm?
He sighed.
“It’s a potion to enhance…the intimate experience.” He confessed reluctantly, but maintained eye contact so he could see that he still wasn’t getting it. Steeling himself, he tried not to stare too intently at the witch. “It’s a female lubrication potion.” He ground out his final sentence through a tight jaw. Merlin save him.
“Draco predicts it will sell well?” The smirk on her lips was small but it was definitely there. Her barely hidden mirth surprised him.
“It was not Draco’s idea.” He admitted.
The sound Hermione made next balanced between a scoff, a chuckle and a choking sound, her eyebrows high in her hairline. Snape relished in the ability to knock her off guard, embarrassed though he was with the topic. Hermione had no unbidden emotions, he enjoyed being the reason she laughed.
“My, my, my Severus Snape. What else don’t I know about you?” Her eyes twinkled as she said it. Little did they both know how much they were about to discover.
The next conversation that Hermione and Snape found themselves in was, unfortunately for him, with another Weasley. Ginny Weasley dismounted her broom with the practised ease that only a professional Quidditch player ever truly masters, equally at home in the air as on land.
“I told Harry that a brief stint as star Seeker when we were children doesn’t make him a match for the Harpies’ Chaser today .” She grouched.
“Another win, Gin?” Hermione mock saluted her friend as the young woman walked over to where Hermione and Snape were sat on a picnic table near the Quidditch pitch.
“You know me, gorgeous, I always come out on top!” Ginny topped off her statement with a dramatic wink in Hermione’s direction at the innuendo which for some unknown, professor-shaped reason, made Hermione blush and splutter her sip of wine over the table. Ginny pretended not to notice.
Settling onto the bench opposite Hermione with a rather unladylike groan, Ginny nodded in Snape’s direction across the table. Unable to ignore the fact that the two had sat adjacent to each other instead of opposite one another as most people would have done.
“Not unlike our friend here. Eh, Professor? You always know how to survive, make it out on top so to speak?” It was times like these that Snape wished he’d stayed in teaching. Leaving the profession somehow opened up the invitation for ex-students to be far too familiar with him.
“We’re friends now are we, Miss Weasley?” He was sharp, but over the years he had lost his bite and he knew it.
“Well, I wouldn’t say we’re quite as close as you and... Miss Granger seem to be.” A pointed look at Hermione had her flush growing across her chest to her neck. “But here we are at a mutual friend’s birthday, making us friends by association at the very least.” She concluded with a conspiratorial chuckle.
“Delighted.”
“Oh, I’m sure you are.” The grin on the girl’s face conveyed her message clear enough and before Hermione could get a single word in to defend herself Ginny leapt up with a righteous fist in the air.
“Now listen here Birthday Boy, I can hear you over there! Just because we’re celebrating you, doesn’t mean you can call a re-match just because you lost. Shirts won fair and square! Right George?” And she was off, bounding back towards the pitch to defend her victory, leaving the two sat quite on the edge of their seats, unsure how to traverse the newly rocky terrain. Ginny’s words had brought attention to the tension they had been successfully ignoring all day.
Hermione looked up from where she’d focused her gaze on her lap to find he was already looking in her direction. Perhaps there was a relaxed look to him, his shoulders seemed low and maybe the corners of his mouth were turned upwards?
Parting her lips, about to break the silence that had stretched before them with Ginny’s absence, Hermione was cut off by Minerva replacing Ginny on the bench. Hermione took another sip of her drink instead.
“I forgot quite how ruthless wizard chess is! Hermione dear, was it really that frightful all those years ago?”
Hermione recalled her first year in the castle, the three-headed dog and the treasure it guarded. Remembering the protections each of the teachers had laid in waiting to protect it.
“I think we should have been more frightened than we were!” The trio made supporting huffs of agreement, all recalling the blazing path the children had forged over their years at the school.
“Hermione, I know this isn’t really the time,” Minerva began and Hermione stiffened, sensing the change in her tone “and I’m sorry it took me all these years to verbalise it, but Albus, incredible though he was, should never have put the weight of the wizarding world on your shoulders.” She reached across the table and clasped Hermione’s hand in her own.
Conversations like this were more frequent in the immediate years after the war, but that didn’t make them any easier to navigate. Hermione kept her fingers light in Minerva’s hand but the rest of her body held stiff.
She felt a different, warm hand land on her thigh under the table, a calm breeze ruffled her curls and she took a deep rejuvenating breath in. Snape didn’t squeeze her thigh, just settled his large hand across the denim of her jeans and let the weight of it root her to the present day before she could get lost in memories of the past.
“I was angry for a long time, Minerva,” a soft smile met the warm gaze of her wise friend, “but he’s not here to take the verbal spar that I’m so desperate to have. Over the years I suppose the anger has filtered out, and now all I hold onto is that I’m so glad he did trust us with the responsibility. Look around.” She gestured to the party on the manor grounds. “Would we even be here if he hadn’t?”
Hermione settled her gaze back on Minerva, lifting an eyebrow in both jest and warning before she continued. “Although, do expect me to come calling at the castle if I hear that you’re employing the techniques of your predecessor and sending children on quests alongside their studies.” She teased.
Minerva chuckled and held her hands up in mock surrender.
“I know very few people who could have reached the Philosopher's Stone in their first year, Hermione, or ridden a dragon out of the most protected vaults of Gringotts, survived an evening with Bellatrix in this very Manor, hunted and destroyed the horcruxes.” She tightened her grip on Hermione’s hand, seemingly ignoring Hermione’s discomfort in an awkward but well-meaning attempt to sing her praises.
“Formidable.” It was one lilting word from the man to her side but it lit Hermione alight like lightning. She kept looking ahead at Minerva, whose eyes flicked to Snape, surprised by his addition to the conversation and consequently reminded of his presence. She looked back to Hermione, curious, then returned to her train of thought.
“Hermione, we don’t say it enough - thank you.” Minerva’s expression was sincere.
Before Hermione could modestly protest that it was nothing really, as she was prone to do, Snape decided to participate in the conversation.
“Yes, it was reassuring that at least someone in my classroom could string a coherent thought together.” Snape’s drawl sang from her side and his subtle flattery felt more important than anything she’d ever heard - because it came from him . She still couldn’t look at him.
Hermione blushed, truly blushed. There was no hiding from Minerva that she understood just how rare it was for Snape to praise his students to this day, and that Hermione relished the feeling it gave her to know that even back then he’d recognised her intellect, even if he’d been reluctant to admit it in the past.
To all of their surprise, he didn’t stop there. Perhaps her mission to get Snape socialising was working .
“In all my decades in those bloody dungeons, only 2 of my students ever became Unspeakables in the Department of Mysteries. I should hope that they’re keeping our Golden Girl’s mind occupied.” He turned towards Hermione, his hand slid further around her thigh as he did, no longer rested atop, but wrapped around her leg.
Our. Both his words and his grip had turned slightly…possessive. Hermione found she didn’t mind at all. Not one bit.
She looked up at him from under the receding pink in her cheeks. He lowered his voice as he continued.
“The curiosity is…unbearable. Atleast in that blasted castle, what you were doing was right – “ he paused and swept his gaze down to his own hand on her thigh, “under my nose.”
Minerva cleared her throat and the two turned to face her, Snape subtly removed his hand.
“Well Severus, I’m pleased to see that you’re finally defrosting from the ice of the dungeons. Malfoy must treat you well? The potions lab is above sea level, yes?”
And then Snape laughed. The sound shocked Hermione but delighted something deep within her.
“Minerva, I assure you, I am employee of the month, every month.” The arrogance of his statement was balanced out by the twinkle in his eye.
Before Minerva could volley in return, Harry slammed his hands down on the table between Minerva and Hermione.
“Well this is not on at all, Miss Granger,” he teased, sounding much too like a teacher and causing flashbacks to their school days, for a second Hermione thought he had seen Snape’s hand on her, “it’s my birthday and your glass is most definitely empty!” Her friend dramatically finished with a flourish.
Relieved, Hermione held her empty glass up, resting her elbow on the table and allowing the weight of the wine glass to dance in a figure eight.
“Draco! ‘Mione needs more wine!” Harry called to his love.
“Merlin, am I glad your birthday is once per calendar year, you become delightful bossy.” Giving Hermione a refill he leaned down to press a kiss into her curls.
Grabbing Draco around the back of the neck, Harry gazed at him with what were, undeniably, bedroom eyes. “Would you like to see how bossy I can–”
“Harry Pott–”
“50 points from Gryffind–!”
“ Muffiliato !” Hermione’s quick wandwork saved the rest of them from whatever was about to be said.
Minerva stood quickly and nodded her head to Hermione in relieved thanks and began to walk back towards the Manor, “On that note, I will be finding the buffet.”
“Excellent, Miss Granger, it seems the Ministry are keeping you well-oiled indeed.” Snape may as well have whispered in her ear, the way his comment sent a velvet shiver down her spine.
With a smack to the back of Harry’s head as she passed, Hermione tried to dull the pleased smile on her face as she headed towards George and Angelina, planning to coo over some babies for a while under the setting sun to justify the grin fighting to break through.
And so the night had seemed to conclude. Hermione could not see Snape in the sitting room where the stragglers lounged on sofas and accepted the proffered water from the elves. The people still hanging around Malfoy Manor at this hour were the ones that were practically family to Draco and Harry.
What did it say that both Hermione and Snape had not yet left the building?
He looked up from his book to the witch making her way towards him, immediately noting the enhanced rouge on her cheeks. The culprit clasped delicately between the fingers of her left hand, the remaining wine sloshed precariously as she crossed the room to join him on the sofa.
“Searching me out, Miss Granger? Need I remind you that my company is not as entertaining, nor as…” he hesitated, grimacing at the thought of the tie-breaker round of exploding snap in play, “riotus as the crowd downstairs.” He didn’t intend to suggest that her time was better spent elsewhere, but old habits die hard. He certainly didn’t want her to leave.
Hermione reached towards the coffee table, picking up her latest book and settled back into the sofa at his side, tucking her feet underneath her, her mismatched covered toes wiggling as she settled in.
“Oh stop, can’t you tell what time it is?” She gesticulated in the direction of her book, an eyebrow raised expectantly. When no answer was forthcoming, Hermione released a breathy chuckle as if in cahoots with herself. “It’s tipsy reading time, of course!”. She nudged his shoulder and continued “I’m the perfect level of drunk for the world to spin while the words stay still.“
Not only was the notion ludicrous, but he couldn’t help but rub his shoulder where she’d made contact, rubbing away the electricity that had seemed to gather at her touch. It didn’t seem to abate the sensation, rather spread it’s warmth across his arm to his elbow where it hit the nerve and zapped through to his fingers.
“Oh Professor, it’s particularly enjoyable when reading muggle novels about fantasy lands because everything simply disappears and the characters seem to come to life in my periphery.” She didn’t wait for acknowledgement of her imaginative stance on drunken reading and dove head first into whatever world awaited her between the pages.
This meant she didn’t notice him swirl his whiskey idly around its glass with the hand that rested on the arm of the sofa, nor the pensive gaze in his eyes as he watched the amber liquid tumble over the ice in soft waves. He took an additional sip before he continued.
“Hermione, I haven’t been your professor for a very long time. You may-” Hermione’s head whipped in his direction and he pushed all the air in his lungs out as he corrected himself, “I insist, call me Severus.” A braver man than he would have looked at her after requesting something so personal. Severus did not.
That unyielding Gryffindor warmth rescued the moment from awkwardness as a soft smile climbed from the corner of Hermione’s lips to engulf her whole face. Severus could feel the heat from her building joy and, much like a sunflower can’t resist the pull of the sun, he turned to face her.
“Only if you refrain from calling me ‘Miss Granger’ ever again.” She teased. “Oh don’t look so put out! It makes me feel 12 again, I can’t bear it.”
“I apologise, that was not my intent-”
“No of course it wasn’t, you were just trying to be ‘proper’.” Her lip quirked into a half smirk, and even Severus understood that a completely sober Hermione would not have permitted the next thought to be uttered aloud. “So have you decided it’s time to stop being so ‘proper’ with me?”
Severus had fought over the years to fight the constant urge to occlude and was largely proud of these efforts to allow his feelings to shine through, but in that very moment he rather wished he had never torn down those walls as his mouth opened and closed, unable to actually speak a single word.
“Well I’m glad atleast!” She praised. “I can actually get comfortable now.” And that she did.
Wasting no time she swung her legs in the opposite direction and shifted her hips back to provide space between the two of them for her body to rest. She tugged a side cushion between them to rest against his thigh and settled her head atop it with a sigh. Seeming to remember something, she jerked forward towards the table while remaining horizontal, retrieved her wine glass and tipped the remaining liquid back with a toss of her wild curls, making them fan across his lap and the pages of his own book.
Seemingly content that no more forgotten tasks would rouse her, she relaxed back into the cushion against his thigh and returned to her book.
Severus tried not to breathe too loud. A difficult task when a gent’s heart starts racing.
Eventually he resumed his own reading and they enjoyed the companionship in near silence, the crackle of the fire notwithstanding. He could see her book began to dip as if she was putting it down before it would return to its original position. It happened again and was quickly snapped back into place with a huff. Perhaps the tome was too heavy for an intoxicated witch?
As the book went to make an increasingly fast descent towards the floor, Severus caught the pages in his hand before it could be lost to the abyss and the movement shocked the witch at his side who had, very clearly, been falling asleep. Severus set his whiskey on the table, rested his own book in its place on the arm of the sofa and gently tucked the packet of her novel into the page before closing it and placing it on the table.
With a string of unintelligible grumbles Hermione seemed to decide to make herself a veritable nest, flipping over to face the back of the sofa, groaning as she moved the cushion into his lap where his book had just vacated and promptly dropped her head on top of it, surprising only him, it seemed. Curling her legs inwards she tucked her arms into herself and continued the drunken ramblings he couldn’t quite hear. As she nestled her head to get comfy, Severus looked at the young woman in shock, unsure where his left arm should go. Trying not to overthink it, he calmly rested his palm on her shoulder and draped his arm along her side.
In seconds, her breathing settled and he knew that she was away with the fairies, the ones in dreamland at least.
He couldn’t be sure how much time passed before the door to the library opened once more and he turned to see Minerva’s eyes brighten in recognition as she saw him.
“Just the man in question, Severus, I was looking for you in order to wish you well as I intend to make my leave shortly.” The woman continually ‘wished him well’ at any opportunity, perpetually disappointed when he refused, year after year, to return to his post as Hogwarts Potion Master.
He stilled as she made it close enough to see the position he was in on the sofa.
“Severus! Merlin, and I thought I was imagining it. You were flirting with her!” Minerva shook her head voraciously but her eyes didn’t move from the hand at Hermione’s shoulder, and her head in his lap.
“Minerva, don’t get ahead of yourself. And certainly stop shouting, you’ll wake her.” He admonished, while he instinctively dropped his hand to her waist as if he could better protect her from their visitor there. His fingers found the skin of her middle where her shirt had ridden up and began to rhythmically pass his fingers back and forth under the hem, whether to soothe the sleeping young woman or himself, he did not know.
“You’re almost twice her age, Severus!” Minerva chastised.
“I am aware, Minnie.” His tone was clipped.
“You were her teacher.” There was ice on Minerva’s words.
“And yet a decade has lapsed since then.”
“What is this?”
“Nothing yet, and it won’t be if you wake her and scare her off!” There was fire on his breath, he was sure of it. His eyes were clear as he stared down his ex-colleague, and friend. If Minerva couldn’t comprehend whatever was growing between them, then who would?
Softer now, he allowed a bit of hope to tinge his words.
“It may go no further than a nap on the sofa but if any other choices are to be made, we are both grown adults Minnie, stop treating us like we’re randy sixth years.”
“But Severus, Hermione is barely 27, she’s still a young woman with plenty going for her. She’s the Golden Girl for goodness sake!”
“And I’m a disgraced former death eater? Thank you for fleshing that out. I had almost forgotten.” The spite in his voice had crept back in, there was no way she was still asleep.
“She’s so young, Severus.” Minerva had gathered her wits, but her sentence had an edge that felt almost like an unfinished question.
“Ah so she was old enough to be a soldier in your war at 16. But she’s not old enough to chose whose arms she lays in at 27? An ounce of hypocrisy persists, I see.”
“Oh don’t be crass, it’s unbecoming.” She was dismissive now, her voice breathy as the energy in her seemed to disperse.
Snape sighed, focused on the soft skin under his fingertips.
“I won’t hurt her, Minnie.” He looked over to Minerva who now stood by the door. “You have my word.”
A single nod was all the response he got before she moved away and the library door clicked shut behind her.
“You can stop pretending to be asleep now.” He felt her small gasp as she realised that he knew she was awake.
Already half wrapped around him Hermione opened her eyes and lifted her head to meet his hesitant gaze.
“Oh, Severus,” she whispered, before inclining her head to meet his lips.
They met softly, it had been a long time since Severus had held a woman tenderly in his arms and he’d meant it when he’d said that this wasn’t yet something , so he wasn’t going to do anything that could cross any lines she may want to draw. He hoped that there would be very few lines, no lines, because this felt magnetic.
His hand cupped the side of her face as he held her up to meet him. Her hand rested on his chest and she was thrilled to feel his racing heart. Hermione Granger, setting Severus Snape aflame - who would have thought?
He kept a tight rein on his urges, now that he’d practically admitted to Hermione via Minerva that he was interested, he found it hard to resist her. Severus was a sensible man, a kiss didn’t promise more, but oh how his body reacted to her small hands gripping the front of his robes to pull herself up to meet him.
He was thankful for the cushion across his lap for maintaining his modesty. It would not do for Hermione to see or, Merlin forbid, feel quite how he was responding to her.
Severus pulled back and revelled in the colour in her cheeks and the heat in her gaze. He was enamoured by the expression on her face, she truly did wear her heart on her sleeve. It was as if she had forgone all control over her facial muscles and her mouth hung open in soft surprise, her eyes were relaxed but ardent as she looked from his eyes, to his lips and back again. For perhaps the first time in her life, Hermione Granger wasn’t thinking, she was simply feeling.
If she never let him kiss her again he was going to make the most of this. Severus pressed a chaste kiss to her lips, then moved left to press a kiss to the corner of her mouth next to her jaw, before settling behind her ear to draw soft whimpers from the witch in his arms.
He wished he could see her face but the sounds she made as he licked and kissed her warm skin would sustain him for a lifetime. He was pulled from his thoughts when Hermione attempted to have a ‘what are we’ conversation in the middle of what was, objectively, a pretty decent snog.
“Severus,” at the sound of his name from her lips, breathy with need but determined to speak with him, he began to nip at the delicate skin beneath her ear, “this isn’t nothing.”
He groaned and pulled her up so that she could move to settle on his lap, he knocked the cushion to the floor, eager to feel her pressed against him. She smiled as she let him pull her back towards him. Empowered by her statement, confirming that there were no lines that he had to fear crossing, he needed her to feel how hard she made him.
He pulled her down to straddle him and sighed at how perfect it felt to be nestled between her thighs, her mouth fell open as she discovered how aroused he really was. She felt him rock hard beneath her, in more ways than one, her hands on his firm chest and she gazed at him with fervent desire. Severus was beginning to think that the feeling wasn’t merely a fleeting bodily passion.
“This could be something, Severus. You, me,” she pulled back to look him in the eye, forcing him to look up at her, as she ground her core down on him and moaned as she spoke, “us.” Her mane fell around them as she used two small hands on either side of his face to pull his lips back to hers as if the brief respite had been enough to teach her that she much preferred kissing him than being without the touch of his lips.
He could feel her fingers in his hair and was convinced that he felt lighter because of it. His hands rested on her hips and he pulled her down against him and moaned into her mouth at the glorious pressure.
It had taken years for Severus’ animosity towards Harry to ease, but it was what happened next that almost set them back years in their burgeoning friendship. A drunken Potter stormed into the library like a herd of hippogriffs and the shock of the intrusion sent Hermione propelling herself backwards onto the sofa like she’d been caught doing something wrong. Severus frowned. It was likely that his long gone murderous thoughts had returned and were circling his mind at that very moment, unfortunately, those were not the only feelings that returned.
The shame he had spent his youth wrapped up in, threatened to envelop him once more as he looked at the embarrassed expression on Hermione’s face. He supposed it had only been a matter of time before she realised pursuing him was a shameful endeavour.
Harry seemed to shake some of his boozy haze away as he digested the scene in front of him. Hermione had backed away on the sofa but one leg was still strewn over Severus’ lap as she couldn’t entangle herself quick enough in the wake of their unexpected visitor. Both of their hair was dishevelled and their lips were deep with an unmissable bee sting swell.
Harry choked.
Draco had followed into the library for their post-party ritual and had caught Harry’s strained sound.
“Harry? You okay?” He questioned the birthday boy as he approached but all Potter could manage was a pained grunt and a gesture in front of him to where Hermione and Severus were frozen in place.
Draco shook his head as if to clear his focus once he noticed the compromising position the two were in. “Bollocks, I owe Molly 10 galleons.” He grumbled.
“What?” Three voices questioned, with various levels of indignity.
Then the signature Malfoy smirk came out to play, he wrapped an arm around Harry’s shoulders and pulled him into his side. Perhaps it was an intentional tactic to get his love restrained before the conversation continued and a drunk birthday boy made bad choices.
“Well, Granger, you have been parading him around the garden. People were bound to talk.” His voice sang with teasing.
“Yes! To him.” She insisted, pointing at the man in question, who moved his hand to rub her ankle since her leg remained across him.
“For that to work, Granger, you would have to let them get a word in edgeways.”
Draco added raised eyebrows to the smirk and Hermione could do nothing but huff and attempt to defend herself but everytime she opened her mouth, no defence arose.
That was when Severus looked back at her and his shrivelled heart began to swell. He realised that she’d not been embarrassed by him, but about being caught heavy petting in the library. He looked at her, she was not denying that she’d commandeered most of his attention all night, simply chastised that she hadn’t been subtle.
While his worries faded, it reignited his irritation with Potter as he realised quite the extent of the cockblocking that the boy had forced on him.
“Well don’t mind us, I’ll be taking the birthday boy to bed.” Draco began to turn his man from the room despite the protests coming thick and fast from him.
“They can’t fuck in our library!” Harry whined like a petulant toddler.
“Oh like we haven’t already christened every surface in this whole manor.” Draco chuckled but at the quite frankly, horrified, expression on Harry’s face, Draco sighed and over his shoulder spoke to Hermione directly.
“Your room might be best for whatever it is you have planned.” It was more a direction than a suggestion and before Hermione could respond, the couple were gone and the silence seemed to jump out and swallow the remaining two whole.
They were still connected by her leg over his lap and his hand tracing the skin of her ankle. Unbeknownst to them both, it was this contact that was tethering each of them. It was as if neither wanted to make the first move and admit to having anything further ‘planned’, it wasn’t as if they’d spoken about it.
And then her Gryffindor bravery arrived to save them both.
“Two doors down, on the left.” She’d spoken slowly, clearly, but Severus did not mistake it for confidence. She was bravely extending the invitation, without expectation. She rose, and he missed her contact already. She did not look back at him as she swiftly made for the door.
Severus felt the heavy thud of his own heartbeat as he acknowledged his raging thoughts as innocuous fears and put them to the side. He cast aside his doubts, focusing on how Hermione had not found him repulsive or regarded him with irritation as most did. Instead she had sought him out all evening as if drawn to converse with him, perhaps because she actively enjoyed doing so.
He enjoyed her company. He was sure of it. He enjoyed when intelligent conversation flowed from her lips; when they parted to release a laugh; and when those very same lips were pressed against his own. Severus didn’t have to deny himself the pleasures of life anymore. A warm, beautiful witch had just extended an invite to her chambers and who was he to deny her wishes.
Severus had learned long ago to have soundless steps, he silently made his way to the room he knew contained Hermione Granger. How would she wait for him? Severus would have a heart attack if he opened the door and found her disrobed already, with a nervous swallow he raised his hand to knock. The door swung open.
He would have been blind to not see the relief on her face, that he had not rejected her.
They met halfway across the room and they collided. They clung to each other, taking solace in each other’s presence. They searched for it in their mouths. They roamed each other’s arms, backs, and necks trying to feel how real it was to be in each other's arms.
Neither really knew how long the desire had been there, but now they were acting on it, the question of why they waited so long seemed to dance around the room.
They broke apart only to begin to remove their layers. Severus had never struggled with his buttons until then and ended up spelling them apart in his haste. Hermione hopped around the room desperately trying to rid herself of her jeans, Severus caught her as she made to fall face first to the ground. He lifted her bridal style and she’d be lying if she hadn’t swoon at his hidden strength. He rested her on the bed and she held her breath at the view of his lean body at her feet clad in only his undershorts, pulling her jeans down her calves and the electric touch his long fingers left in his wake.
She couldn’t help but move her eyes to the sizeable bulge kept hidden by his final layer of clothing. The tension in the room was palpable. The sexual tension was unbearable. Severus broke both by crawling up her frame to hold himself above her and return to their searing kiss.
Immediately, she parted her legs and one of her hands found purchase on his hip to pull him to meet her, she groaned against his lips and he stilled. She grasped again at his hips and made to grind herself against him. He rested his forehead against hers and ground against her once more, to their mutual delight.
At the pause in their kiss, Hermione had taken inspiration from his actions earlier and laved his ear and jawline with affection. Resting her swollen lips against his ear she whispered her desire to him.
“I need you.” She matched the confession with a tilt of her hips and Severus knew that he would give her what she needed, anything and everything that she needed.
He’d been a fool to deny himself this gift. He would waste no more time.
Severus reached behind her and lifted her upper body to meet his, he fumbled with the clasp of her bra and hated that his inexperience showed in his floundering. She didn’t stop gifting him with her soft lips as she reached behind herself to assist him.
Once she was free of the wretched garment he paused, taking in the sight of her peaked breasts sitting round against her chest. He followed the smooth panes of skin to her rounded hips where sweet cotton underwear decorated her derriere.
“When did the fates change their tune?” Severus wondered aloud, reverently. “They’ve never been so generous.” He muttered as he pounced like a prized feline on her breasts.
Hermione felt the instinct to throw her head back and revel in the sensation but she fought the urge because she had to watch. He swirled his tongue deftly around her pert nipple and she threaded a hand through his hair and held him tightly to her breast. She arched her back and pressed into his body.
Hermione’s nerve endings were alive and when his eyes opened and looked up at her from where his hot mouth covered her chest, she felt a tightening in her core that she couldn’t ignore.
He lifted up his body while he left kisses across her chest and pushed her underwear down her legs. Hesitantly, his deft fingers traced back up her legs and rested over her mound. It was a claiming gesture and Hermione bucked her hips in response. Severus slid a finger down to part her and his heart sang at the heat already pooled there, for him.
“My girl, I can feel how you respond to me.” His voice was husky with desire, and pride.
Severus moved back up to kissing her neck and relished in the whimpers he elicited from his witch.
He delved deeper and sunk a single digit into her hot, wet centre. He couldn’t imagine how delicious she would feel wrapped around him, but he wanted to. He withdrew and used the slick from within her to circle her bud. She preened and he swallowed the sound with his mouth.
At this, she did throw her head back, her body forcing her eyes closed as she was overwhelmed with his attention. His touch lightened and it sent sparks through her core and she stilled, the feeling it sent barreling through her was easily confused as panic and she began desperately clawing at him.
“Now, please Severus, don’t tease me any longer.” Her voice betrayed her, thick with desperation. She frantically reached to shed him of that last damned layer.
He briefly got to enjoy the sight of him hard within her small hand before she was guiding him to her entrance.
They paused as one, then they shared a heated smile before Severus pushed forward to make himself a home within her. They gasped together as their bodies joined. They moved as one, slowly at first, as they learned how it felt to make love, before they discovered how to make eyes roll and hearts thunder,
It was a slow discovery and they enjoyed it. He enjoyed when she climbed atop him and he could watch her breasts bounce and see her face as he reached between them and took her to new heights as his cock repeatedly filled her.
It was the look on her face when she came that finally sent him over the edge too.
He pulled her down on top of him and wrapped his arms around her.
“Thank you.” He whispered in her ear. She smiled against his chest and fell into a peaceful sleep, content that while she had not made him any new friends, she had got him to do far more than simply talk to her.