Author's Note: Some elements of the epilogue of DH are present throughout, but obviously Snape lives and I've worked with a different timeline. This is my first attempt at a fic completely or mostly from SS's point of view, so hopefully I didn't bugger it up too much. There is some language, so if that isn't your thing, sorry! Also, he's a smoker in this one as well. This fic is inspired by the poem and short movie, Song of Lunch, except I take liberties with the time and their relationship, basing them on JK's characters. Thanks for reading- let me know what you think!
Five Years
The wind whipped through him like an icy gale, disturbing the scowl on his face and forcing him to shiver for a moment, thankful he wore so many layers. It was remarkably cold in Edinburgh for April, but Severus Snape didn't mind the cold so much as the blasted wind it had seemed to bring with it, requiring more than his typical scarf and umbrella, he wore leather gloves and a heavy overcoat as he walked down Princes Street, hoping to make it to the restaurant before she did.
She, Hermione, his mind raced over their history, strange couplings in the hospital wing, two years of entanglements and hushed moans, two years of his hands memorizing every inch of her flesh, his heart thawing marginally before he could no longer look at her as someone of nineteen and twenty; she was his second love, one he hadn't wanted to leave but had. That had been five years ago, her eyes filled with tears and anger, so completely awestruck that she didn't even say goodbye to him, she simply stood and walked away. They'd been walking by the Scott Monument, lounging in the sun on a particularly fine bench when he'd finally said what he'd been meaning to for weeks; he could no longer pretend their attachment would lead to anything more than what it was, and he knew she wanted more. She had always wanted more. Watching her walk away had been hard for him, but he knew in the long run that she would be happier if he cut her loose then instead of several years down the road when she'd become even more attached to him.
Running his hands over the letter he received in reply to his offer of lunch, Severus studied her script, the soft penmanship he remembered from her days as a student, all loops and curves, exactly how he recalled it to be. He wondered if she had changed much, was she still full of questions and life, so eager to meet each day as though it was her last. That ebullience had affected him for a while, he too began to greet days with open eyes and mind, but after she'd been gone for a while, it was easy to shut himself away. The only time they'd come across each other was at the Ministry when they'd received their Orders of Merlin. Her dress robes were maroon and silver, fitted softly against her body, the one he had once worshipped, and her lackeys were falling over themselves to help her, at least it had appeared that way to him as he watched them in stealth mode, his spy days giving him a great advantage. To everyone else she'd looked quite well put together, but Severus noted her hand trembling several times as she toasted with champagne. Merlin, he'd wanted to take her hand and whisk her away and take it all back, if only to see her at ease again, but he was steadfast, she wanted more. Instead, he went back to his flat with Professor Vector and had his wicked way with her, they'd done it many times before when they were both single and unwilling to didn't mind when Severus threw her out of his flat hours later, nor did she mind when he took her frequently at school, cooling their trysts when she found love two years ago, leaving Severus to find a new fuckbuddy.
Taking the seat facing the door, Severus looked over the menu as though he hadn't been to the restaurant many times. It had been their favorite when she stayed with him in Edinburgh, an italian joint with hideous decorations and even more ridiculous music. She had always gotten the caesar salad and eggplant parmesan, he the fried calamari and margherita pizza, which she stole bites of every damn time, even after he'd offered to share with her, she still stole bites because of his ridiculous habit of cutting his pizza and eating it with a fork. Lost in thought looking over the menu, he hadn't even noticed Hermione come in and take the seat across from him, that was until she reached across the table and softly ran her fingers across his, onyx eyes meeting chesnutt, almost as sinister as when she was a student.
"Drinks?" The waiter, not more than seventeen interrupted his sizing up of Hermione, she looked exactly the same.
"Wine?" She nodded no, and asked for water. "A red, the chateaux, one bottle." A gentle smile from him reminded him of their first real date, he'd taken her to see a play at the gallery in Old Town and she'd grasped his arm so tightly he thought she was terrified of walking around the safest city he'd ever lived in.
"You look well." Her voice brought him out of his memory, it was hard not to stare at her, the softness of her curls, the natural blush of her cheeks.
"You look exactly the same." Hermione placed her bag on the ground, he noted the three books sticking out from the zipper, of course she was carrying books, did she ever stop?
"I read your recent journal articles on acromantula venom; did Hagrid get a new pet?" The waiter interrupted them again, uncorking both bottle and pouring a snifter for Severus, who promptly swirled his glass and took a deep breath, breathing in the delicious scent of the red wine.
"It hasn't had enough time to breath, but it's passable."
"Hagrid?" Hermione took a sip of the wine, smiling at him again, tucking a stray curl behind her ear, and gazing through her eyelashes at him, she handed the glass back to him,and returned to her water. It was unnerving for a moment, so he took another large gulp of the wine, why was he so uncomfortable and awkward?
"Yes, he did, but it was one of Aragog's offspring who I used for the study. McGonagall was not pleased that so many carcasses were in the laboratory, but what can she do, I'm the only professor who still publishes regularly." He was vain when it suited him, something he knew Hermione had enjoyed about him when they'd been together.
"Flitwick just published an article as well, in fact I co-wrote it with him."
"Be that as it may, it's his first publishment in what, thirty years, you weren't even born when he published the last one." He noted her face dropping, his words always finding a way to hit her in the keenest way, chipping away at her optimism and sense of pride. The waiter returned.
"Have you had a chance to decide what you'd like?" His hand held a small notepad, a garish orange color.
"I'll have the...hmm...you can order first, Severus."
"The calamari and margherita pizza, extra basil." He watched her eyes scanning the menu which hadn't changed in years, she was nervous. If he'd been able to feel her pulse, he knew it would be racing.
"The caesar salad and manicotti, please." Folding her menu, she took another sip of her wine and wiped her mouth, finally finding his eyes again, boring a hole through her robes.
"No eggplant parm?" She ignored him and charged on.
"I was surprised you picked this place, I seem to remember you hating the service the last time." Yes, the last time, when he'd kicked her out of his life. Everything about that day had been perfect, aside from their service and of course his subsequent dismissal of her feelings and her presence from his life.
"Nostalgia means something, I guess." Another sip of wine, conversations around them drowning out the echo in his brain of her 'I love yous', her voice like caramel against his ear, her body writhing beneath his, her hands as masterful as his.
"I wonder if Louis still plays music on Fridays, he was such a laugh. Ron and Harry…" The immediate sneer of his mouth stopped her, so she quieted herself, trying not to make things worse. Folding her arms across her chest, Severus saw it...a diamond solitaire on her ring finger, shining bright enough to catch his eye.
"That's new." He spat, filling his glass, drinking quickly as he did. One bottle was almost gone.
"Yes, we're getting married in June." He wanted to ask, 'to whom', but he didn't really care, it wasn't himself so it didn't matter. She was free to marry whomever she wanted, though he knew she was most likely going to destroy anyone she married with her brilliance.
"Congratulations." But he didn't mean it, he wanted her to be miserable, to have lost it all when he told her goodbye.
"I'm moving to a new department, Magical Cooperation, deputy head, that'll be in July when we come home from Spain. Oh, and Molly and Arthur told me to remind you that they're expecting you next week, cryptic though they were." His gentle nod meant he wouldn't be telling her why, but from her facial expressions, he guessed that her betrothed was Ronald Weasley. He was sick.
"Molly also said she had some new herbs for you, something about a delicate, something. Sorry, I should've written it down, normally I'd have no trouble remembering but she and I were talking about so many other things with the wedding and all, I apologize." He drained his wine once more, it was Ronald Fucking Weasley, and she would be miserable for the rest of her life. He imagined her with seven children, all red-headed and deplorable, her fine figure ruined by years of birthing Weasleys and her mind, her brilliant mind, reduced to a nursery rhyme, mimicking the songs of his youth.
"Here you go." The waiter was nice enough, but Severus was tired of the interruptions. As she had done before, Hermione placed several calamata olives on Severus's plate and took two calamari, without asking.
"Will you ever order your own damn food?" He snapped, but she didn't quake.
"You knew what you were getting yourself into, Severus, remember you sent me a letter of invitation, why did you, by the way? We haven't seen each other in, what, four years?" Taking a bite of salad, he watched as her mouth encircled the fork, her soft lips, the ones he'd once cherished.
"Nostalgia, I guess, just like this ruddy place." He went to pour more wine into her glass and his, but she declined, putting her hand over the glass and watching as his temper flared.
"Does your fiance know you're here?" He boldly asked, trying to unnerve her.
"Of course, I don't keep anything from Ron." Gods, she'd said it...Ronald Fucking Weasley. He leaned back in his chair slightly, observing how content she appeared, her face as exuberant as it had always been. When he'd stared long enough, drowning out whatever she was babbling on about, he excused himself from the table and went to the washroom. The wine was overpowering his sensibilities, he didn't want to tell her what an idiot she was for marrying the redheaded nuisance, he didn't want to tell her how much he missed her or how beautiful she was, even more so than when she was younger. Instead, he pissed and washed his hands, finally settling back at the table, their entrees before him.
"I like your hair like this, it's different." Hermione finally said, breaking the awkward silence, at least for the moment in which it was said. But Severus did nothing but nod, cutting his pizza carefully, watching her eat her manicotti, each slice the precision of potions work. When she stole a piece of his pizza, he scowled but knew there was no helping it, she was the same person, at least fundamentally.
"Harry's had a son, James, he is a butterball and so like Harry's mother. I guess Ginny's genes are congruent to Lily's because James has Lily's exact hair and eye color, it's striking seeing him. Do you want to see?" Hermione reached for her bag, not waiting for Severus to answer, and pulled from it a picture of a chubby baby of six months with red hair, not quite Weasley red, but certainly the same shade as his grandmother's and those green eyes, eyes he'd know anywhere. Apparently Potter really hadn't told Hermione everything from the pensieve, all his memories they'd collected the night of his attempted death. He'd told her some stories about Lily and his devotion to her, but not to the extent that Potter had seen in his memories.
"Another James Potter, I hope I'm retired before he comes to Hogwarts." Handing the photo back to Hermione, Snape couldn't get the eyes out of his mind, eyes he'd loved for so long and hated. Now he saw only large, doe eyes, meeting his in equal measure. She had become unreadable.
"What would you do?" But he barely registered her question, he was focused on Lily's eyes.
"Severus? Where are you? Am I that boring?" She'd covered his resting hand with hers, massaging his palm with her thumb, and finally getting his attention.
"The wine." He replied, sipping more and refusing to answer her question. What did she care what he did when he left Hogwarts? She'd be married and three kids into her own Weasley quidditch team when he finally left the blasted school he'd devoted too much of his life to.
"I'm publishing another article in Potions Quarterly, next cycle. Viktor Krum's brother, Sergei came to the Ministry last November and we started talking about the addictive nature of Dreamless Sleep, anyway, we began trials the next month. I cannot wait to go over the data." Potions? When had she ever given a fig about potions. Was she just trying to rile him up?
"Sergei Krum brewed with you?"
"Yes, am I that terrible a brewer? I did receive top NEWTs in all my subjects, Severus. And I've yet to kill anyone, well at least with a potion."
"It just seemed out of your realm, I meant no offense." Her realm was charms and arithmancy, ancient runes. She'd shied away any time he'd asked her for assistance with his brewing and as if she could read his mind, she suddenly said; "You were frightening in the lab, I worried I'd destroy your work, if you must know. But now, I don't mind getting in the lab and brewing, especially with Sergei, he's intuitive where I still have trouble not following explicit directions." His interest was piqued, was she buggering Mr. Krum?
"That's all he does, huh, intuit potions?"
"If you're going to be nasty...I don't screw around in my relationships, Severus." The implication was that he did, that he'd stepped out on her. Had he? He thought back.
"I bet Mr. Krum would be a happier man if you did." He heard her snort and saw her eyes roll, obviously annoyed at his teasing, but he was enjoying the banter, he missed how indignant she became when challenged.
"If wasn't gay, I'd say so, but as he'd rather you shag him, I doubt my advances would be met with anything but horror." Finishing the last of her water, he felt his eyes swimming but poured more into his glass. Her hands gripped the stem of the empty water glass tightly, she was wound up now, the exact mood he would've normally taken her from the restaurant and barely made it to his flat before destroying her clothes in heated escape. What he'd give to take her, right there on the table.
"Well, you're a fount of knowledge as usual, will you be presenting this article in Munich?"
"No, Sergei will be, I unfortunately have new responsibilities that won't allow me to travel in November." Her ruddy husband probably doesn't want her traveling, he surmised, and she'd follow his orders, just as she had with him. He wondered where her Gryffindor spirit had gone, so willing to acquiesce to a man.
"Pity, they do an amazing banquet."
"I'm afraid I won't be thinking about banquets or potions, for that matter, come November, but it will be a shame to miss the panel. I attended two years ago when Dmitri Smirnov gave the panel; that was fascinating."
"Smirnov, fascinating...you're job must be dreadfully dull." Another snort and eye roll, a gentle hand at her abdomen and one on her glass, hoping their waiter would refill it with water. Her behavior suddenly seemed off, like she was trying to hide something from him. He studied her face, the same blush as when she'd entered, but there was something else, a hidden happiness or contentment he hadn't wanted to see and he figure, it seemed more mature, as though she'd finally developed into a woman and not the girl he'd stolen from Madame Pomfrey during her extra year.
"Are you seeing anyone?" He looked at her shocked that she'd want to know.
"Not often enough."
"So no, I wish you'd find someone." She patronized him with the gentle rub of her hand on his, but he wanted to figure her secret out before he let himself get lost in her touch.
"I am not like you, Hermione, I do not crave a partner, well not permanently. I've served enough masters for two lifetimes."
"You don't have to end up with someone who wants to control you, you know. As far as I can remember, you have been the dominant one in every relationship you've told me about. Honestly, you act like having someone love you is a prison sentence." Taking her napkin, she wiped her lips and shoved her food away, looking almost disgusted with him.
"It feels like it sometimes."
"Far be it for me to give you advice, I've made plenty of mistakes, but having someone around isn't a prison sentence if it's the right person. You just haven't found her yet." He drank the last of the wine and scowled, she was a romantic through and through.
"I thought you'd be angrier." He spat, the wine speaking for him.
"You didn't break me, Severus. I am not glass, I am elastic and I will always bounce back, I will fight for what I want, even if I make mistakes and ruin my life, I will keep fighting." Ruin her life?
"What have you done to ruin your life?"
"It's figure of speech, you bloody git." He reached for her hand, a moment of weakness.
"I didn't break you?"
"Did I seem that fragile? Do I now?" He ran his thumb over her knuckles, wondering if she was being completely truthful.
"It was sudden and abrupt but expected, I knew you didn't love me and I should've been stronger, I should've left before you ended things, but I didn't. You didn't break me, even though it seems like that's what you apparently wanted." He dropped her hand and folded his arms across his chest, his defensive pose. Hers mimicked his, the swell of her breasts evident. He did love her, though, he had for over six years, but love did not equate stability or the freedom he thought he needed.
"I didn't want to hurt you." But he did and he knew it, she couldn't hide that old hurt from her face as he studied sat in silence, staring at one another in fitful anger and annoyance, Hermione's eyes larger than he remembered them for the moment. He excused himself and went to the washroom once again, this time practically staggering as he did, the wine taking precedence over his senses, forcing him to sit against the wall. He didn't know how long he was there, on the floor, but when he finally returned to the table, she was gone. Their plates were cleared and the bill taken care of. He found a simply note the waiter left on his side of the table.
S- thank you for lunch. Be well. Yours, H
Be well? Thank you for lunch? She'd left, had he really been gone that long? He went over their conversation, her movements and pauses, the way she held herself even when she was angry with him, and that stupid ring. He couldn't figure her out, though he replayed the lunch over and over.
In early June, he saw their announcement in the Daily Prophet, a simple kiss between two old friends, apparently destined for marital bliss. Ronald had one arm round her shoulders and the other on her stomach, as the picture moved they kissed and both looked to his hand…'she's pregnant!' he thought, finally putting all the pieces together. It was why she'd only had one sip of wine and why she seemed more voluptuous, why she couldn't travel in November, and why her job was changing to something far less dangerous. She'd ruined her life by getting knocked up by a Weasley, she'd practically admitted it to him during her tirade against him, but he was angrier than he had a right to be. Throwing the paper into the fire, he swore and fell back against his leather chair, furious at himself and her; her for making idiotic choices and he for being entirely too selfish. Taking a cigarette from his breast pocket, he lit it and took a long drag, trying to imagine Hermione pregnant, sullying herself with a Weasley for life, and it made him ill. The first week of November, he found a tiny birth announcement for Rose Granger-Weasley, at least she'd had the good sense to keep her name.