Title: Another Auld Lang Syne
Status: Complete
Category: Future Fic, Songfic (kinda)
Pairings: Hermione/Snape
Rating: PG
Spoilers: Small references of Half-Blood Prince.
Season/Sequel: Post Half-Blood Prince,
Summary: Ten years after the final battle, two members of the Order of The Phoenix reunite.
Content Warning:
Disclaimer: All publicly recognisable characters and places are the property of JK Rowling. This piece of fan fiction was created for entertainment not monetary purposes and no infringement on copyrights or trademarks was intended. Previously unrecognised characters and places, and this story, are copyrighted to the author. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
Author's Notes: This is my first HG/SS story I've written, and probably the last :) It was also loosely based on the Song 'Same Old Lang Syne' by Dan Fogelberg.
His ears were offended as soon as he entered, blasts of so-called 'Christmas Music' filtering through the large store. He brushed the remnants of the icy snow from his overcoat. The flakes of ice melted almost immediately as soon as he touched them and he grimaced as he rubbed his now wet hands surreptitiously down the front of his black coat.
All around him, people wandered through the store, picking up books and magazines, looking through metallic discs, C.D's he remembered, and totally engrossed in their own little worlds.
He almost snorted in disgust. He had not thought he would ever come back to this place, this world, and yet, now, it seemed to be a refuge from the mayhem and madness the Wizarding world now held for him.
As his gaze traversed the store, they stopped almost instantaneously on a figure near the back of the store.
He'd recognise that bushy hair and slight figure anywhere. He smiled ferally, as he stalked his prey, silently coming upon her, and within a few feet of her he could smell the familiar scent of lemon and herbs. She still used the same shampoo.
Hermione's eyes roamed the book shelves, her fingers dancing along the leather bound spines of the books as she greedily took in the hefty hoard before her eyes. Finally she selected a book, and snatching it form its place on the shelf, and flipped open the first few pages to begin reading.
A split second before she heard it, she felt a presence behind her, a familiar, secure presence, one from the past. But it couldn't possibly be him.
"Miss Granger."
That voice…
She turned around, her guarded disbelief instantly morphing into astonishment, as her eyes widened in recognition.
"Profesor Snape!"
Her surprise at meeting the Potions Master in the Muggle World was exceeded by her surprise at seeing him dressed so casually. Gone were the long black, flowing robes, that made him seem so overpowering and fearful. In their place were a pair of black trousers, white buttoned shirt, and a long black coat, topped with fine leather gloves and a dark green scarf, the only splash of colour he allowed on his person.
The instant urge she felt to move towards him was tampered somewhat by the contents of her bag spilling at her feet.
She blushed as he cocked an eyebrow, "forgive me, I just didn't expect to be running into you today. It's… a surprise," she said quietly bending down to retrieve her items. His hand brushed her knuckles accidentally as he retrieved a few scattered coins and handed them to her. She drew her hand back as if she'd been scorched and he cleared his throat uncomfortably before they both stood upright again.
"No doubt. It has been a long time since our paths last crossed."
"Yes," she looked away, and her grip tightened on the book in her hand, "a long time. I," she bit her lip, reminiscent of her schoolgirl days, and determinedly met his gaze, "how have you been?"
"Quite well. And you?"
"Good. I've just been visiting my sister, and thought I'd take in some shopping on the way home."
"So I see," he helped her to her feet, his face as inscrutable as ever, and his thumb lightly brushed over her knuckles.
"I wonder if you would care to go for a drink?" she blurted out, pulling her hand out of his grip.
If he was surprised by her request, neither his eyes nor his expression betrayed him. Instead, he tilted his head in agreement, his dark locks, now dusted with silver, briefly obscuring his features.
"It would be my pleasure."
She smiled warmly at him, "just let me pay for this," she said, indicating towards the volume in her grasp.
He nodded approvingly when he read the title.
"'Poetry of Lord Byron.' Excellent choice."
"Well, thank you. Now I definitely will buy it," she replied sardonically, and he smiled in response.
When they left the shop, he turned to her and addressed her, "I wonder… would you mind if we perhaps attended somewhere quieter than some of the closer pubs?"
"No, anywhere is fine with me."
"I was thinking perhaps of the muggle establishment around the corner, 'The Horse & Hare'?"
Her eyes lit in recognition, "of course. Actually, it's one of my favourites."
The entered the quiet, dark pub in a side street, it's welcoming heat warming their cold limbs. They settled on a booth in the far corner of the bar, the dark wine velvet cushioning and oak tables giving the building an air of cosiness. Their drinks were ordered and delivered in a timely fashion, much to the professor's relief.
An embarrassed silence settled over them, neither seeming quite sure what to say to the other.
"So," Hermione began, "how have you been? I haven't seen you at any of the ceremonies or anniversary celebrations."
He visibly shuddered at the thought, "nor are you likely to. The pompous, triumphant pandering is of no interest to me. I would as soon forget about the past and live a quiet life without ever having to hear the names Voldemort or Harry Potter!"
He spat the two names out, but the malice in his voice held more contempt for the people constantly speaking of that time, than any real dislike for the hero who had saved the wizarding world.
"Forgive me. That was unfair of me."
She shrugged her shoulders lightly, "I don't mind."
"How is he? Is he still," his lips turned down into a sneer, "happily married?"
"Yes, he is. Ginny's expecting again. I think she's secretly hoping for a girl, after two boys, but Harry couldn't care less. James and Albus are a handful though. Honestly, I don't know how Molly Weasley ever managed to bring up her brood without being admitted to St. Mungos! Thankfully, Ron doesn't seem to have the same yearning to repopulate the world!"
"Ah, Mr Weasley. I had heard you had become... closer."
"Yes," her eyes met his and her lips curved slightly into what could be considered a smile, "as close as we could be."
"You married him, then?" Snape said silkily, voice cool.
She nodded, tucking a wayward strand of hair behind her ear, her hands playing with the coaster resting on the tabletop.
"Yes, I did."
"And you are happy?"
She hesitated for a moment before replying, "Ron loves me very much."
His sharp eyes immediately caught her chocolate ones, and she felt pinned by his boring, ebony gaze.
"I do not believe I questioned Mr Weasley's affection for you, rather the state of your well being."
"I love him," she defended staunchly. He merely cocked an eyebrow and she rolled her eyes, "but not in the same way that he loves me," she finally confessed with a sigh. Sitting back in her seat she smiled wryly at him, "there, I said it. You know I never did like to lie," then adding quietly, "especially not to you."
"Indeed not," he conceded uncomfortably, "But if you are unhappy then why-"
"We have a daughter."
He froze, a moment captured in time, "a child," he whispered.
She nodded, "her name's Tabitha" and he sat back in his seat, an eyebrow raised sardonically.
Seeming to recover his composure, a sneer graced his features. "And has this poor child inherited the garish Weasley hair?"
Hermione grimaced in response, "no, unfortunately, it is her mother's untameable, unmanageable hair she now has."
He folded his arms across his chest, a smirk on his face as he looked at her through hooded eyes. "And would this be the only irritating aspect of her mother she has picked up? Or should I live in fear that in a few short years time, I will be inflicted with a new generation of know-it-all's with nothing better to do with their time than obscure my gaze of the class with frustratingly annoying hand waving?"
"She has an inquiring mind," Hermione conceded, "but that's not a bad thing. We both know I was the best student you'd ever taught." She grinned warmly at him, a twinkle in her eye reminiscent of Albus Dumbledore.
"I do not recall making any such pronouncements, Miss Granger," he replied derisively.
She rolled her eyes and grinned cheekily at him, "you didn't have to. We all knew it."
He rolled his eyes and snorted derisively.
"What brings you to the Muggle world anyway, professor?"
He shifted a little uncomfortably in his seat and replied falteringly, "I have found since the fall of the Dark Lord, that I am easily recognised…and subject to the false admiration of many of the idiotic of the Wizarding World. The muggle world is only the one in which I can peruse at my leisure without fear of falling victim to the advances of some over exuberant child."
"I understand," Hermione said, before her eyes twinkled teasingly, "Tabitha has the Severus Snape doll, you know."
He shuddered visibly in response, "do not remind me of its existence. They had the gall to request my presence at the launch of the 'Order of The Phoenix Doll Collection'."
His voice dripped with disdain and he couldn't have kept the sneer from his face had he wished to do so, "I regrettably declined."
Hermione sent him a small smile, "I remember you weren't there of course. It was practically mandatory that Ron and I attend," she grimaced recollecting the evening of self-congratulatory preening and back slapping, "I would have been quite happy to stay at home, but I felt obliged to attend for Harry's sake."
"Yes, I'm sure Mr Potter needed all the support he could get to protect him from the throngs of adulating simpletons."
"Severus!" she admonished him, "you know Harry doesn't like to be the centre of attention."
"He has yet to prove it to me."
She sighed in exasperation and shook her head, "I won't even bother to argue with you, I know how stubborn you are."
He snorted, "as if you are much better. You're like a hippogriff with a bad temper if anyone tries to sway you from a path you've determined is the right one."
She bit the inside of her cheek before answering. "Do you know, when Tabitha first got the Snape doll, I thought the likeness quite uncanny. They have managed to capture your sneer almost perfectly! Although, after talking with you again I know now nothing could compare to the real thing," she added cheekily.
"At least I have some reason for being then," he sighed dramatically, "it would be quite disheartening to be so easily replaced."
She laughed quietly, until it tapered out and they lapsed into silence again. While at first it was a companionable silence, it was quickly drifting into the uncomfortable variety.
"I saw your book in Diagon Alley," Hermione ventured, "The progress you've made in your research is astounding. Remus has told me himself how much he, and others like him, owe you for what you've done with the Wolfsbane potion. The fact that they only need to take it every three months has brought them greater freedom, and eased their minds of some of their worries. It's a huge step in the right direction to finding a cure."
He frowned at her, and shifted a little uncomfortably in the chair. "While I admit it has been a worthwhile endeavour researching more into the Wolfsbane potion, I must make it clear that I cannot foresee any time soon when there will be a miracle cure for lycanthropy. It is far too complex, almost as if changing a very person's DNA."
She nodded understandingly and grasped for a different subject to discuss. "It's New Year's Eve."
"I see you are as observant as ever, Hermione," he said, while she shot him an annoyed look.
"I was just wondering if you were going to do anything for it. Professor McGonagall is hosting a traditional Scottish party, and we've all been invited."
"Parties are not something I particularly relish. Although I have received Minerva's kind invitation, I'm afraid I will be forced to decline."
"Oh," she tried to hide the disappointment from her face and forced a smile on her face, "we'd all have been so glad to see you, but if you've something else planned…"
"Yes," his answer was clipped and short, and he regretted it after seeing a brief flash of hurt cross her face. Finally he relented, "I am spending the New Year with my Godson and his family."
Hermione's face registered her surprise, "I didn't realise Draco was back again."
Snape nodded curtly, "just for a short while. He will be returning to Italy tomorrow evening."
She nodded and glancing at the clock, gasped. "I didn't realise it was so late! I'm afraid I have to go. I'm still not entirely sure what I'm wearing this evening, and I've to get an apple pie for Molly."
Hurriedly, she pulled her scarf around her neck and put on her long coat. He nodded his head once in agreement and, in a slower and more deliberate manner, got ready to face the cold outdoors again, and followed her into the snow paved streets. The street outside the pub was quiet, and quite dark, in stark contrast to the bustling streets a few short feet away.
Snape looked down at the petite woman at his side. Her chestnut hair was like a soft halo around her head. He was transported to those days, so long ago now, when she'd been the only one of the Order willing to listen to his story and staunchly defend him to those who still believed him a duplicitous traitor.
There had been a sliver of hope back then, that should he survive the inevitable battle that was to come, the close friendship they had developed could have grown into something more. And perhaps it would have, had it not been for that night before the battle. The night all his fears and worries seemed to come to the forefront of his mind and stayed there until she had brushed them aside.
"Hermione," he ventured eventually, the hesitation obvious in his voice, "we have never spoken of….that night, and I feel as though we must."
"No," she responded quickly and vehemently, "there is no need. It's in the past, let us leave it there."
"I cannot allow myself to go on and ignore the injustices I committed," he said , frustration evident in his voice.
"Injustices?" her eyebrows screwed downwards in confusion.
"Yes, my behaviour that evening was inexcusable. I cannot think on it without abhorrence. That I would take advantage of your kindess and compassionate nature, is something I cannot easily forgive myself for."
"Taking advantage of me?" her eyes flashed dangerously. "You know that is not true. I wanted it as much as you did. Had wanted it for some time."
As quickly as her ire had risen, it disappeared again. Snape openly stared at her in amazement. All the years he had condemned himself for taking advantage of the young woman who had only a few months before been his student, had caused a sour taste in his mouth. That she had not only accepted his advances, but had in fact welcomed them caused him some astonishment.
"I…had no idea. I wished to speak to you the following morning but there seemed to time. The werewolf walking in like that…"
Hermione blushed at the memory of her former teacher, and friend, Remus Lupin walking in on a half dressed Hermione Granger and Severus Snape. If she hadn't been so embarrassed she would have laughed at the picture his face presented.
"I know, and then the battle with Voldemort, and then-"
"Mr Weasley was injured and you had to care for him."
She glanced up at him in surprise, "you were there? I thought you disappeared after the battle. I went looking for you after Ron was out of danger, but Professor McGonagall said you had needed some time alone."
"I prefer to lick my wounds in private," he replied defensively.
"That's understandable. Though why you had to live the rest of life a recluse is less so," she couldn't help the note of bitterness in her voice, and quickly shut her mouth before she said anything else.
"I believe I have played my part for the Wizarding world, is it too much to ask for a little privacy now that it is done?"
"No, it's not," she replied soothingly, "I'm sorry, it's just…you didn't have to be alone. Any of us would have gladly welcomed you back."
He snorted, flexing his fingers beneath the leather gloves, "I would hardly believe that to be true."
"Well, maybe not all, it took Harry a long time to understand about Dumbledore, but there were others. Arthur & Molly Weasley, Professor McGonagall, me. Any of us would have been there for you had you asked."
"I didn't need anyone," he replied tersely, refusing to look at her.
"Severus," she placed her hand gently, but firmly, on his forearm and he looked down at it in surprise before raising his head to look at her wide, expressive eyes.
"Severus, I wish you'd come to me."
His chest tightened at her admission, her face so open and expressive. Her teeth nipped lightly at her lower lip in indecision, the fullness of her lower lip caught between the now perfect, pearly white teeth. As if in a trance, his right index finger lifted of its own accord and traced the smooth skin of that lip.
Startled, she looked up at him, the hand that rested on his lower arm creeping up towards his shoulder, while her other traced the distinctive scar down his cheek. Encouraged by her movements, he lowered his face to hers; his eyes now level with her dark ones.
"Hermione," his voice sent a shiver down her spine and she quickly stopped whatever he was going to say, by brining his face even closer and brushing her lips against his slightly chapped ones. Her heart beating wildly, she felt his long, warm fingers at her back pulling her closer to him and she gave into that smouldering desire inside her he'd always been able to awaken.
Finally, needing to breathe, they pulled apart, his forehead touching hers as she closed her eyes and breathed deeply.
She knew morally what she had done was wrong. She was a married woman, a mother, and yet here she was making out with her former teacher and one-time lover outside a dark muggle pub, while the snow fell around them.
She felt the hot sting of tears behind her eyes, things could have been so different, if only he hadn't disappeared after the battle, or if she'd insisted that Professor McGonagall had told her where he was, or if Remus hadn't walked in on them earlier, or if…..
There were so many 'if's it wasn't worth thinking about it.
She wished things had been different but she was glad they weren't. She had a good life, with a good man who loved her, and a daughter she loved more than anything on this earth.
Shaking her head she stepped away from the warmth of his arms and looked at him with all the determination and regret, and love she had ever felt where this man was concerned.
"I have to go," she said quietly, her voice raspy with suppressed tears.
"I know," he replied, equally quietly, but quite shaky. Her eyes, shining brightly, looked up at him, like two beams of light in the darkened street. Carefully, and with shaking fingers, he brushed a lock of hair behind her ear and caressed her cheek, before forcefully pulling his hand back, his clenched fists held at his side.
"Goodbye, Hermione."
"Goodbye, Seversus."
She leaned up and kissed him on the cheek before quickly turning away and walking into the main crowded street.
He watched her go, his eyes following her familiar shape until she disappeared among the throng of people milling down the streets.
For a moment, it was ten years ago, and he felt that old, familiar pain, as he watched her walk away, to a life with another man, a life that would be better and happier without him in it.
A clock in the distance chimed the hour, only four more until the start of a new day and a new year.
The corners of his lips curved upwards, it was time to start looking towards the future and stop living in the past.
Although…he could still accept McGonagall's invitation…. A feral smile spread across his face, maybe it was time to catch up with some old acquaintances.
Finis
© 2006 Copyright held by the author.