Wind rustled through the trees, gently brushing past green leaves in the last days of summer. A quiet bustle ran about from the main road in town, down a small cobblestone pavement, two unlikely strangers were seated beside one another in a forlorn coffee shop that had seen better days. Tumbles of curled brown hair caught his eye first as he entered, a reminiscent air lurked in the back of his mind, before he dismissed the notion, turning to order.
"Chai, no milk." His heavy tones were quiet, silken and the waitress blinked twice before going to make his beverage.
There were few seats left in the shop, his favourite being situated near the mass of tangles on the far corner of the room. Determined not to be left situated on a lumpy armchair he weaved his way past rickety tables, seating himself with a subtle flourish. For a moment he wished for his teaching robes, swirled at his feet, claiming his place, but the woman who belonged to the head of hair had not turned to see the man in dark slacks and a grey sweater.
It was instead the voice that had alerted her, the infamous voice that roused her from the novel she was absorbing.
"Chai?"
"Here."
One word and her head snapped, staring into bottomless eyes above a hooked nose. His hair was longer than she remembered with gentle streaks of dark grey, pulled into a bun, highlighting the sharp angles of his face, although he seemed less gaunt than the war years, as though he was healthy. His voice had not changed, resonant and deep, it vibrated through the room, calling for her attention. It was in that moment, he also remembered, eager eyes that had not lost their shine, although lines creased around the edges, betraying the many years that had passed.
"Miss Granger."
She felt thirteen again, with bucked teeth and a need to please.
"Professor Snape."
There was a nod to her smile, before both turned back to either cup of tea.
The next week, Monday morning, 8:15am, precisely six days, twenty-three hours and forty-five minutes since she had left the coffee shop, Hermione Granger sat, in the exact same spot, with her coffee ordered, book in hand, barely taking in the words, wondering whether or not he would be back.
Severus Snape on the other hand, was strolling down the side walk, reluctant to let such an encounter distrub his usual pitstop for a morning tea, and so strode right in, ordered his usual and sat down across from a grinning Hermione that was hiding behind her hair.
"Good morning, Professor."
She had caught him off guard, he had not expected there to be initiated contact, let alone further pushing from the last interaction, he had not allowed the possibility of it to cross his mind. All memories of the war years he tried to part with, to leave be and let rest, only to resurface with his demons in the dead of night. Hermione Granger however, seemed intent on making herself known.
"Do you come here often?" Her voice, unlike what he remembered, had gained confidence, not from arrogance, but the tone that shows that you know what you know, from years of work and effort, not the childish arrogance she had in her youth.
"Yes, to the morning, and to my frequenting's of this establishment." His tone had drawled on, and Hermione continued to stare, wondering where this man had disappeared to since the last battle, since the shrieking shack, since her last encounter with a man's life hanging on by a thread.
Whilst he was looking into brown eyes, finding himself rather entranced, he remembered, soft hands and a whimpering voice, bezoars and hasty patch jobs. His fingers reached to flutter along his neck, faint scars still present this many years later. This did not go unnoticed by the witch, eyeing his movement and realising that he too remembered their last encounter.
A young waitress despotised the Professors drink by him.
"What do you drink?" Hermione's last-ditch attempt for this morning.
"Chai."
"Ah."
The two went back to their respective business, but neither could concentrate on anything but the other.