AN: This is in response to The Proposal Challenge over at WIKTT. I know Severus is a little OOC, but I couldn't figure out any other way to get a drink over his head…As always, characters do not belong to me, save Asta…who really belongs to Shae…well, the name, anyway. I have, of course, fulfilled every requirement detailed in the Challenge Writeup, along with ALL of the options.
The Sensible Voice
The sensible voice in her head came and told her to stop talking to herself. Hermione Granger frowned at her reflection and obediently shut her mouth, hmming taking the place of the coherent words she'd been spewing at herself moments earlier.
Her hair was wrapped in a towel, as was her body, and her bare feet made no sound against the carpet of the flat she shared with Asta Silvertree whilst at University.
"Something nice…not robes, Muggle," she mused, trying to figure out why Severus would have asked her to wear such a thing. Finally, she wrote it off as 'typical male' and pushed all of her dress robes to one side of the closet.
Almost immediately, a stunning burgundy-coloured evening gown practically jumped out at her, its gold trimmings twinkling brightly. She'd bought it months ago, on a whim, having seen it hanging on a rack, lonely and forlorn, every time she'd gone for the past half year.
Absently, Hermione wondered whether or not she'd actually gained weight at University, which many of her friends had complained about, and pulled it off the hanger. Hermione got dressed and paused, standing in front of the full-length mirror that Asta had insisted Hermione needed (Asta already had one).
"Beautiful," the mirror commented drowsily to her, and Hermione nodded in agreement.
The dress touched the floor, but just barely, and was trimmed with gold embroidery at every hem. Her shoulders were bare, but the dress was long-sleeved, the sleeves beginning just where the arms met the shoulders. Scooping low, exposing the beginning of her breasts, but just barely passing for modest, the cut was ideal for the display of a beautiful, elaborate necklace, and an updo of curls. Gold ribbons crisscrossed her back, sufficiently making up for the otherwise backless dress.
The empire waistline, too, was decorated with gold embroidery, which came to a V in the centre of the skirt and continued to wind down the rest of the dress, progressively growing thinner but more complex. Magic was apparent in the crafting, as there was no way to create such intricate stitching on crushed velvet as high-quality as this, without ruining the fabric. The magic also provided a built-in bra, as the backless dress negated the possibility of a bra or body-shaper.
Hermione headed into the unfogging bathroom to put up her hair, which she did quickly and neatly, pulling it up into a topknot of curls. Wisps of chocolate-coloured hair escaped the hairdo to become little ringlets framing her face. She applied a touch of eyeshadow and eyeliner before putting her 'trademark' shade of lipstick on, only to remove it (with the help of her wand) and apply a different shade.
The intercom of the flat rang and Hermione hurried to answer it, buzzing Severus up and quickly gathering together items that she tossed into her purse, and then on second thought abandoned.
A ring indicated that Severus had come to her door, and Hermione answered it to be greeted by her lover of two years, who kissed her soundly before presenting her with a bouquet of roses in a shade of red that matched her dress.
"You look beautiful," he said, "even if you are wearing Gryffindor colours."
Hermione laughed and hit him lightly on the arm before taking a good look at him.
"We must be going somewhere nice," she determined. "I've never seen you in a tux before." Hermione had taken one glance at him and known, from his level of discomfort (he was squirming around) to the cummerbund around his waist, that he was dressed in a tuxedo.
"Hopefully, you will again before long," said Severus. "Hermione, I had hoped that we might celebrate something tonight other than…" He paused, just long enough for Asta to come bursting in the door.
"Hiya, Hermione! Severus, how are you?" the bubbly redhead (whose family was related to the Weasleys) grinned at the two. "Mi, you look great, and Severus…wow! Mi, are you sure you can't share?" she joked. The Silvertrees were an American wizarding family, as old as the Malfoys and as rich as the Snapes, and Asta had brought with her to London all of the American exuberance Hermione had come to expect, after a year's cumulative studies in the States.
The moment had been effectively broken, and Severus smiled helplessly at Hermione. Her sensible voice was no longer quite so sensible, encouraging her to hex her roommate and apologise later. Instead, taking out a large black box from the pocket of his robes and handing it to her, Severus pulled her mind away from that train of thought. It sported a silver bow, which Hermione promptly dismissed, opening it. Upon a white satin cushion laid a gorgeous gold and diamond necklace, beautiful but simplistic, the ideal necklace to wear with her dress.
"Mi!" exclaimed Asta. "That would go perfectly with your dress!" she exclaimed, and Hermione nodded, speechless.
"Severus," she whispered. "Where did you get this?"
"It's a family heirloom," he said. "I thought you should have it."
"Thank you," Hermione said. "Put it on for me?"
He obediently lifted the necklace from the box and fastened it around Hermione's neck. "It's been charmed to be weightless," he added, when Hermione gasped at the lack of difference of weight on her neck now and earlier.
"It's beautiful," she said. "Thank you so much."
"Of course, my dear," said Severus, bowing formally. "Now, would you like to go?"
"Let me get a cloak and my shoes…do you want to leave your robes here, if we're going to a Muggle place?" Hermione retreated into her room to find a pair of high-heeled shoes and a cloak that would suit the dress.
Asta looked at Severus. "Glad to see you're taking my suggestion," she said to him.
He scowled. "Of all the places, I still do not see why I need to take her on a Muggle date…she has never had a problem with wizarding dates."
Asta sighed. "Just trust me on this one, okay? Dad took Mum on a Muggle date when he proposed to her. And they're both pureblood!"
Severus sighed. "Your parents, Miss Silvertree, are both Muggle-culture aficionados."
"Still!" insisted Asta.
"If you say so."
**********
"That was wonderful, Severus!" Hermione laughed as they left the theatre. She looked puzzled. "But…why 'A Midsummer Night's Dream'?"
"Don't you remember, my dear Hermia?" Severus asked, using his seldom-employed nickname for her. "It was play we saw on our first date."
"Of course I remember, don't be silly…but why now?"
"Hermione…" Severus turned to her, taking both her hands in his. "I love you," he said finally, after a long pause. "More than words can say."
She smiled at him. "Me too." Reaching up, she stood on her tiptoes and feathered a kiss over the tip of his distinctively hawkish nose.
"I…you know, it's our two-year anniversary…I just thought…"
Hermione blinked owlishly for a moment, then paused and smiled brightly at him once more. "I know, Severus. Thank you. I didn't mean to make you nervous, you know, I just wondered."
He smiled back, reassured. "Shall we go to dinner, then, milady?" He offered his arm and Hermione threaded her own through the crook of his elbow, and they strolled off into the streets of Manhattan.
**********
"Snape, for two?" Severus asked the maitre d', who looked back and forth between the two.
"Just two?" he blinked behind his glasses, obviously taking note of the age difference, before looking down at his sheet.
"Yes," muttered Severus to Hermione, "that's all, folks."
She giggled quietly behind her hand, and the maitre d' looked at them curiously before nodding.
"Right this way, please."
The man seated them at a cozy booth for two with a window view, which overlooked the coast as well as part of the city, and Hermione marveled at the view for a moment before looking back at Severus. "This is amazing," she said.
They placed their orders just as one Asta Silvertree approached the very same maitre d' that had looked at the couple doubtfully.
"I'll just be seated at the bar," she said. "Thanks, I know the way in."
Asta showed herself in, strolling to the bar and pulling out her wand. She waved it over herself, murmuring something quietly, making sure no-one noticed her. She turned into a potted plant, which suddenly sprouted legs and made its way carefully over to the small partition that separated the bar from the regular dining area, and chose a nice, cosy spot in perfect view of one Severus Snape and one Hermione Granger.
"Which year is this?" Hermione inquired of the server, as she lifted the wine goblet and swirled the red wine around in the crystal, sniffing at it delicately.
"1982, Miss. Vintage year, you know."
"Yes, I know," she said with a glance at him, and took a small sip, then nodded to the waiter, who filled her glass and then Severus'…and left the bottle on the table.
Hermione's eyes widened as she stared at Severus, then they slowly narrowed. "The entire bottle?" she asked curiously. "Of a vintage '82 Pinot Noir?"
Her lover gulped and the plant seemed to snigger to itself.
"Yes?" he replied uncertainly.
Hermione's stare turned hard. "Okay, the gig is up. You're spoiling me, what have you done wrong?" she scrutinised him carefully. "Is it Harry and Ron again? Which hex was it this time? And did they deserve it?"
"Hermione!" protested Severus. "I haven't done anything!" He paused, just as Hermione looked at him skeptically. "Well, there was the jelly-legs curse that I hit Weasley with," he admitted.
"And???"
"And nothing!" he insisted. "I promise! And Weasley and I were having a practice duel, I swear!"
The sensible voice told her that there had to be something more. But she didn't think Severus was lying to her. "Alright," she conceded, patting his hand. "I believe you, but you'd better also believe that I'm going to ask Ron." She sighed. "That is, if he will talk to me for dating the man who probably beat him in dueling with just the jelly-legs curse."
Severus laughed, and the tension was broken. Hermione smiled and looked around.
"This really is a very nice place," she said, and then paused uncomfortably.
"You're going to call me crazy."
"I would never do such a thing!"
"Are you sure?"
"Well…no," admitted Severus.
She rolled her eyes. "And I hate to say it, but…"
"But what?"
"I think that plant is looking at you funny."
He nearly spit out his wine. "What? Hermione, are you alright? How much wine have you had?"
"No, really!" insisted Hermione. "And was it even there when we came in? I think my dress brushed the corner of that wall, there was no plant there earlier!"
"Hermione, darling, please, think about it."
"I guess you're right," she said reluctantly. "But that doesn't mean it isn't!"
Severus sighed and motioned for the bartender to send someone over with a drink.
When it arrived, he promptly splashed it on his head.
**********
By the dessert course, Severus had determined that some women just were not supposed to be proposed to.
Hermione Granger had to be one of them.
"Hermione, have I told you lately that I love you?" he asked, and she laughed, glancing at her watch.
"Erm…well, not in the last two minutes, no. Severus, why don't you just ask for it?" she asked, and he managed to look puzzled.
"For what?"
"Whatever it is you've been trying to ask for!"
"I'm not sure what you mean," he said uneasily, as the waiter brought up the slice of rich chocolate cake that Hermione insisted they share.
"If you say so," said Hermione, smiling knowingly. Severus had to wonder if she'd been taking lessons from Albus, as Hermione took a bite of the cake and pushed it towards him.
Between the two of them, they managed to eat the entire slice of cake; Severus, however, suspected he'd had a bit more than 2/3 of the cake, whereas Hermione had had a bit less than 1/3.
He took care of the cheque and they headed outside again.
The potted plant turned back into Asta as they left the restaurant.
It had started raining lightly, and Severus transfigured a tissue into an umbrella for himself and Hermione, as they took a walk along the ocean-side of New York City (there being, of course, no beaches to walk along).
"Hermione," he said suddenly, turning to her.
"Yes?"
"Remember what you said earlier…?"
He was too vague for Hermione to be entirely sure, but, sensing a Moment approaching, just nodded wordlessly.
"Well, I lied."
"You what? So I was right, you have been dueling Harry!"
"No!" Severus jumped in. "About the question!"
"Oh…sorry," Hermione smiled sheepishly. "You know I just don't like you and Harry and Ron fighting."
"I know…but the question…"
"Oh, yes." She smiled up at him reassuringly. "What is it? You know you can ask me anything."
"Hermione, I…I…er…" he sighed and stamped his foot, frustrated. "Oh, sod this, I'm going back to just shagging you senseless!"
She giggled. "Not that that would be a bad thing, of course, but…" she paused and looked shyly up at him. "I'm rather curious to know what you wanted to ask me."
"I…"
"Severus, just ask! The worst that could happen is I say no!"
He blanched.
"Oh…" she realised what it was. "Or, rather, the only thing that would happen is I say yes, of course," she amended. "But I would like to hear you ask it."
"Oh, alright…" He handed the umbrella to her. "Hold this, please," he said, and she took it, smiling.
He reached into his pocket and took out a small black box, dropping to one knee. "Hermione Granger, you would make me the happiest man alive if you would marry me." Severus flipped the box open to reveal a beautiful solitaire diamond set in platinum twisted with gold, flanked by two smaller diamonds – his family's traditional engagement ring.
The simplicity of his request, and its wording, shocked Hermione. The earnestness with which her beloved looked up at her touched her deeply. The beauty of the ring and the symbolism of the platinum (for Slytherin) and gold (for Gryffindor) made her gasp.
The umbrella fell from Hermione's senseless fingers as she dropped to the same level as Severus and threw her arms around his neck. "Yes," she whispered, and he lifted her up, not caring about the rain, not caring about the umbrella, forgotten where it was laying on the wet ground and suddenly turning back into the tissue it had been.
The sensible voice in her head came and told her to stop talking and just kiss him.
So she did.