A/N: Firstly, I make no money from this story and I thank JKR for the gift of her characters.
Secondly, this is my first foray in to published fan fiction, though I have numerous stories in various states of undress. Please go easy on me as I have no beta to tidy up my messes :)
SS
The man walked a little further on, making a distinct effort not to turn and steal a glance the object which had caught his attention. It had been quite sometime, he mused as he took several calculated steps around the corner, since he had set his eyes upon her radiant countenance.
Once out of sight he stopped and took a deep breath, sagging slightly against the wall as took a moment to collect his thoughts. How lovely she had looked just now, talking animatedly with her colleagues and friends. Was it too much to assume that they had been enraptured by her every word? Was he wrong to say that they must have thanked Merlin for the opportunity to spend those few minutes in her company? He closed his eyes, ran his hand down his face slowly and let his head drop in a moment of rationalisation: what a fool he had become to allow himself to think such insipid thoughts.
He visibly gathered himself and brushed the sleeves of his dress robes; as his fingers passed over the smooth fabric he was reminded of how much he loathed these occasions. Ministry functions, in his mind, only served those who enjoyed patting themselves on the back. Here he was, dressed in he his finely tailored dress robes, being talked at by various high ranking Ministry officials, desperate for their picture to be taken with him for the morning's Prophet. In Merlin's name, how had he sunk so low?
It was true to say that he wouldn't always have loathed these events; if he had been told at seventeen that the Minster for Educational Excellence would have sought out his opinion in a room full of his contemporaries, he would have swelled with pride. If he had known then that the editor of L'alchemie would have spent the better part of the evening begging him to write a guest editorial, he would have allowed him to ask once more before relenting. Times had changed; he had changed.
His attention was momentarily caught by an approaching waiter with a tray of champagne flutes; he couldn't have been older than nineteen years old. He noticed the boy's nostrils flair and his pace falter slightly as their eyes met. For a moment he wondered if he had taught this boy, but remembering it had been a little over ten years since the end of the war, and thus his own tenure as a teaching professional, he knew it to be impossible. He took one of the ornate flutes from the waiter's proffered tray and took a sip; it was a little sweet for his taste, but otherwise satisfactory. He glanced at the back of the retreating waiter and admired the way he was able to walk with a tray laden with full champagne flutes without spilling a drop – Charms were useful after all.
The man took another deep breath and a sip of his champagne; he resolved to return immediately to the reception foyer to mingle; perhaps he would seek out the familiar company of Minerva McGonagall, or another of his former colleagues.
"Severus Snape you sly fox, I didn't expect you to be here this evening!" came an excited cry from within the crowd.
He watched as the rather shapely form of Septima Vector appeared, flute of champagne in hand. Her long dark hair framed her face and gave her a rather elegant appearance.
"Septima, it is lovely to see you," he replied honestly. "How have you been these many years?"
She smiled warmly, "Severus, it must be five or six years since we have last spoken. You look well."
"It is kind of you to say Septima," he replied. "I dare say I have a few more grey hairs." He noticed how little she had changed in that time and wondered if he appeared as unchanged. "Are you still teaching?" he asked.
"Indeed, I am still at Hogwarts, goodness only knows what I would do if I didn't teach," she replied. "What are you up to these days? You have been conspicuous in your absence at these functions."
He did he best to hide his discomfort. "I was asked to attend by the Minister; he has a delegation from Hungary here to discuss the importation of Horntails for research purposes and for reasons I cannot understand, he seems to think that I can influence a favourable decision."
Septima smiled knowingly, "Severus, don't be so modest."
"If you are trying to imply that I am in some sort of position of influence these days, you are very much mistaken." He drank the remaining champagne in his glass in one quick mouthful, before continuing, "I merely hold an advisory position."
Septima looked back at him and appeared unconvinced at his argument. "Have you seen any of the others? I came with Polmona, but Sybil, Filius and Rolanda did say they would be here this evening."
"What an entertaining threesome that promises to be," Severus mused, "I didn't think Filius had it in him."
Septima laughed, "Don' be so rude," she scolded unconvincingly. "Minerva is also attending, but she did mention that they might arrive a little later than the others... the Headmistress' work is never done, so it seems."
"Quite," replied Severus knowingly. He looked around the room, hoping to spot Minerva in the crowd. "I was hoping to speak with her this evening, do you know what time she is expected?"
"I think she said she would arrive around half past nine. Is my company not good enough for you?" Septima chided, lightly. "
"You know very well that isn't the case," he replied, honestly. "I always considered we got on rather well, for the most part..."
The conversation took an awkward pause as they both appeared uncomfortable with the reminder of is own year as Headmaster. Septima had been particularly difficult during that year, but he would admit to having rather admired her tenacity.
"Perhaps we got on so well due to our proclivity for discipline and a challenging homework schedule." Septima replied diplomatically.
"Homework and detentions," he nodded in agreement, "that must be it."
"Did you bring anyone with you this evening? I've heard you're a popular man these days," she teased, changing the subject.
Severus rolled his eyes. "Don't believe everything you read in the gossip columns, you should know better than that."
"You mean you haven't taken up with Claudia Collingbourne?" She gasped for dramatic effect before bursting into a high pitched giggle.
Severus would have rather not be reminded of Claudia Collingbourne and her desperate efforts to be seen with him at every opportunity. It had eventually transpired that she was a cousin of his departmental secretary, which is how she always seemed to know which functions he was attending. Needless to say he acquired a new secretary, one without ambitious relatives.
It wasn't that she was unattractive, he reflected, but he wasn't the sort of man who entertained publicity hungry witches in his bed – no matter how persistent they appeared. Eventually she had set her sights on Domitius Dacre, a Beater with the Appleby Arrows, much to his own relief.
"As you see, I am unencumbered Septima." he replied as he placed his champagne flute on a passing waiter's tray.
"There must be someone Severus, an eligible bachelor such as yourself mustn't be short of prospects."
He sighed. "Let us not saunter down that particular path and instead let us simply content ourselves in the knowledge that I find myself more satisfied with life than I could have expected under the circumstances," he replied evenly. "I find that I do not require the complication of a relationship."
He was lying to himself, but she didn't have to know his deepest secrets. She didn't didn't need to know how dangerously close he was to repeating his past mistakes. It was pure folly.
"You know what your problem is Severus?" asked Septima conversationally.
"Oh do please enlighten me," he replied sarcastically.
"You just haven't met the right witch. When you met the right one, you'll change your mind."
Severus raised a dismissive eyebrow at her wagging finger. "Anything you say Septima."
"Severus, you old rogue," called a familiar feminine voice with a distinctive Scottish burr.
He turned his had to see Minerva approaching ready to greet him warmly; before he had time to reply he was swallowed in her arms, in a heartfelt and honest embrace.
She gripped his arms tightly and took a step back to inspect him appraisingly. "You look very well Severus." she commented with a smile. "Are you well?"
"I am as well as can be expected Minerva, thank you." he replied, somewhat taken aback by her overly familiar manner.
"From anyone else I would be worried, but I think from you... that is as good as saying that all is well, is it not?" she asked.
"I suppose that it is, yes." Severus glanced at Septima who seemed most amused at their little exchange.
"I am going to get another drink," said Septima, extracting herself from the conversation. "It was wonderful to see you again Severus... and don't forget what I said," she added, tapping him on the shoulder as she left.
"Now that sounds interesting," Minerva probed curiously.
Severus scowled. "Don't even bother to enquire," he answered. "Tell me, how is Hogwarts fairing these days? I hear the Governors are very enthusiastic about your reforms of the selection of Prefects."
"Oh well, you know how difficult it can be to get changes through," replied Minerva. "I've spent the best part of the last four years trying make these reforms and have been completely ignored. Emilius Inglethorpe gets involved and suddenly everyone is nodding enthusiastically and waving the reforms through. A complete bureaucratic mess you understand."
Severus knew only too well the machinations of any Ministry controlled entity. It was a political game of who you knew and where they were going. Fortunately for Minerva, Inglethorpe's grandaughter played Quidditch with the Minster's niece.
"I am pleased to hear your efforts weren't for nought." He respected Minerva, her earnest efforts to offer her students the best education and preparation for their adulthood were to be admired.
"You couldn't be tempted back for a term or two?" Minerva asked wryly.
"My dear Minerva, Merlin himself couldn't tempt me back to Hogwarts." As he replied he noticed her, standing but ten feet behind his former colleague, engaged in conversation with a man who looked distinctly like a Seamus Finnegan. Who would have thought that he would ever think of Seamus Finnegan as a man? Momentarily, he wondered what Finnegan had done to be rewarded with her undivided attention, for she was most animated in their exchange.
Severus allowed himself a moment to set his gaze upon her and to drink in her features. It was so rare that he saw her that he suddenly felt compelled to memorise each and every feature. How the ringlets of her hair framed her face; how her eyes came alive when she smiled; how her unblemished skin glowed against the silky black of her dress robes. He stilled his breathing for a moment lest he disturb the scene before him in some way.
"Severus, are you even listening to me?"
He regathered his thoughts at the sound of his name. "I am sorry Minerva, what where you saying?"
Minerva spun around to see what , or who, had commanded his attention.
"Hermione!" Minerva announced loudly.
He watched as her gaze lift upon hearing her name; he presumed she had known immediately that it was her former head of house.
Temporarily abandoned by Minerva, in favour of her star pupil; it was as if the scene played out in slow motion before him. As they embraced Granger looked over Minerva's shoulder, her gaze locked with his own. He willed himself to maintain his usual austere countenance, lest she discover his secret, but then she smiled and it was beautiful.
"Mr Snape," she extracted herself from Minerva's grasp and approached him gracefully. "How are you? Are you still in the Department of International Magical Cooperation?"
Severus inclined his head in admission. "I am indeed, Miss Granger."
"If that's the case, I must come and see you next week; I am having a nightmare trying to access some patent records in Athens."
He looked down at her, how was it that she could make the very thought of patent records sound like a gift from Merlin himself. "Of course, I have on office on level five, opposite Lucilla Madingly, if you are familiar with her at all."
"Who isn't familiar with Lucilla?" she grinned. "If I have to hear Percy gush over her one more time, I shall be forced to hex his mouth shut."
"I did wonder why he has been passing by my office so much recently." Percy Weasley really was an irritating little toad. Thankfully they didn't cross paths very often, but he had an overly confident way about him that Severus couldn't abide. "You can put him out of his misery next time you speak to him, as I am reliably informed that Lucilla is otherwise engaged."
"With you perhaps?" she replied all to quickly.
He could tell that she was teasing him."With me? Merlin forbid, no, I understand she is with some oaf from Sport and Games."
Witches such as Lucilla Madingly didn't step out with wizards such as Severus Snape, no matter how renowned he was, or how tragic his past. He allowed himself, just for a moment, the luxury of wondering what sort of wizard attracted the delectable Hermione Granger.
He tried to recall the name of wizards she had been connected to in the past. Perhaps her partner would be a notable Quidditch player, like that Krum fellow, or perhaps a homely little dunderhead like Ronald Weasley? Actually, he couldn't recall seeing her name in connection with anyone since her separation from Weasley a few years years ago. Whoever he was, Severus hoped he realised what a precious gift he had been given.
As if on a cue a swarthy young wizard with immaculately coiffured black hair and a neatly trimmed beard approached and handed Granger a glass of punch. Severus immediately decided he was a cretin.
"Zhere you are 'Ermione, I 'av been looking for you."
"Sorry," she apologised, taking the glass from his hand. "I just saw Mr Snape and wanted to say hello." She turned to introduce them. "Minerva, Mr Snape, this is Gaston Peltier, a contemporary from the French Ministry. We're working on an exchange programme for some of our developers."
Severus made sure to note the cretin's limp and sweaty handshake.
"It is good to meet you Monsieur Snape, I 'ave 'eard a lot about you, even in France."
He hated when strangers said things like that him, it was surely followed by a pitying glance as they silently recalled his history with Lily Potter. He loathed it.
"It is lovely to meet you Mr Peltier," interrupted Minerva enthusiastically. "Are you in London for long?"
"I am returning to Paris on Monday; it iz a pity I must go so soon, as 'Ermione 'as been such a generous 'ostess." Severus watched as he placed his hand on the small of Granger's back. "Maybe next time I can persuade 'Ermione to come to Paris."
"Oh well, we shall have to see." Granger replied, wearing what Severus was sure was a false smile. It appeared he wasn't the only person in the room that considered Gaston Peltier to be a cretin of the highest order.
"I have someone I simply must introduce you to Mr Peltier; he has a fascination with all thing Parisian," said Minerva. "Would you mind?"
"Lead ze way madam, it would be my pleasure." he replied. "Please excuze me 'Ermione, I must do my duty for Anglo-French relations."
As he moved to walk away Severus was sure he saw the idiot wink at her.
"What a thoroughly loathsome little man," he muttered, more to himself than to Granger.
"That's a little petty," Granger defended, "he's just trying to be friendly."
"I think you have known me long enough to know that I am petty; I have always been petty and I am quite likely to continue being petty." Severus felt himself stand a little taller. "Secondly, I dare to suggest that that man is attempting to overstep his boundaries."
He prepared himself for her flight back into the room to rejoin her friends, but to his amazement, she laughed.
"I should know better than to try and fool you Mr Snape, you are right, he is revolting," she agreed. "He just won't stop following me around. I thought that by bringing him with me this evening, that he would find a distraction, if you know what I mean?"
"Then we can only hope that Minvera's Francophile is verbose and interested in Parisian dunderheads," he commented, noting that her glass was almost empty. "Would you like another glass of punch?" he asked.
"That's very kind of you, but I think I'll pass this round if you don't mind. It is rather strong and I think it is going to my head."
For a moment he felt the sting of her rebuff, but something about the way she averted her gaze led him to surmise that it wasn't a personal rejection.
"I... I should really go and find Felix," He watched as she picked at the corner of her purse. "It was lovely to see you again Mr Snape, I will come and visit you in your office next week about those patents, if you don't mind?"
"Not at all, Miss Granger," he replied, admiring the cut of her robes as she walked away. She was surely a divine creature.
SS
He'd spent most of the rest of the evening trapped in tedious conversation with the Minister and the Hungarian delegation. As it turned out they were quite willing to import up to three Horntails a year, the only condition being that Mr Harry Potter, the saviour of the world, attend the Hungarian Minister's National Security Conference. Much as Severus loathed to admit it, he has a reasonable working relationship with Mr Potter and he was confident that he would be able to obtain his agreement. The Hungarians were particularly excitable about the arrangement, much to Severus' disdain.
He had taken the opportunity to step outside for some fresh air, there was only so much polite conversation he could take for one night. The moon was particularly bright and seemed to illuminate the compact garden as he gathered his robes around him and sat on one of the stone benches.
It hadn't been a completely disastrous affair, he reflected; he'd achieved the desired outcome for the Minister, he'd managed to speak to his esteemed former colleagues, and he'd managed to hold a conversation with Granger, without making an utter fool of himself. He played with the cuff of his shirt as he replayed their conversation in his mind; he even had the promise of her attending him in his office next week, perhaps that would give him enough to live with for another couple of years. He would carry on with his life and she would carry on with her own; perhaps they might meet in the lift on occasion and share pleasantries, that was sure to be enough for him.
Severus knew this had to be the case because there was one certainly which he knew to be true – he would never, ever, get what he desired.