A year after the final battle and all was whole again at Hogwarts. With the passing of Dumbledore, McGonagall was appointed Headmistress. While Severus Snape could have also been appointed, he eagerly reaccept his post as Potions Professor, citing that only he could prevent the little scoundrels from blowing up their newly rebuilt school.
In reality, Snape missed the familiarity of it all. After the war, everything changed for him. His purpose for living and his alter ego as a double agent were now obsolete and he clung on to the only thing that was familiar.
Despite his love of the familiar, things around him continued to, unfortunately, change. While he still sat next to McGonagall, she was now in the Headmistress' seat. And her old position was now being filled in my newly graduated Gryffindor, Hermione Granger.
She now took the title of the youngest professor to grace the halls of Hogwarts and despite what others may think, he held do ill will towards the intelligent young woman. Quite the contrary. He found her to be fascinating.
She was much like him but she was also so different. While they both strive to pursue knowledge, she made friends in her pursuit while he alienated him. Or perhaps it was simply that she was far kinder and less frustrated by others.
Yes that was it, she was not an old bitter man who grew up unloved. She was loved by all, as far as he could tell. And she loved all with all of herself.
He watched as her petite and dainty hand held her cutlery. He knew that their appearances were deceiving as he had felt her grip on his hand once.
If had been right after the war and she had been by his bed side taking over the watch. She held onto his hand tightly as she told him all of the things she appreciated that he did. He wasn't exactly conscious for most of it. But he remembered her warm hands around his.
He didn't know when it happened, but suddenly, her hair no longer reminded him of a hornet's nest and instead reminded him of a lion's mane. Her eyes, such a common brown colour, now reminded him of strong tea with a dash of milk. He never did take milk with his tea, well not until recently.
But it was her smile that he was truly in love with. It capture a kind of freedom and authenticity that he believed was long lost to the world. She was always so quick to smile, even to him. Sometimes when she smiled, he would find himself physically pulled towards her but he always stopped before he did anything foolish like smile back or worse, as her for tea.
No he would never truly indulge in his fantasies. For these thoughts about her and these feelings were much like his annoyance and anger towards Longbottom. Sure, it is almost cathartic to imagine simply throwing the boy out of the room or banishing him with a wave of the wand. But he never did. Because he understood the consequences. Some things were just better left as fantasies.
So he watched her discreetly. He watched as she picked at her chicken pot pie and avoided all the carrots. No one ever saw him look and no one was the wise.
Or so he thought.
Headmistress McGonagall, like her predecessor, found that in times of peace there was not much to occupy a Headmistress' time. She now understood why Albus meddled so much. From her position, she saw so much. And it was simply frustrating.
She glanced to her left to the two of the most infuriating individuals she'd ever met. For two people so smart, they were awfully dense.
She remembered watching them in the library. They always did this little dance of sort. It was almost like Severus' mating dance. She'd hoped that in 20 years the man would have learned how to behave around women he liked. But alas.
As Hermione approached the large empty table he was hoarding, Severus would quickly glance up at her discreetly and tense. Of course, Hermione would never notice.
She would always politely inquire, "May I sit here?" or sometimes, "I thought you could use some company."
He'd never look up at her when she spoke. Instead, he just stared at his book, still very tense.
When she settled into her books or work or whatever it was she was doing, Severus would glance up frequently at her and focus very hard on something in the air. It was as if he was going to speak to her, but he never did. Instead, he would always pack his things within the first 10 minutes of her settling down and quickly hurrying away.
Then Hermione would be left to watch him leave with a sad little look on her face.
Minerva McGonagall was a cool and collected woman. Raise by a strict Scottish family. But even she couldn't keep her cool after watching that train wreck.
At first, she tried to discreetly broach the subject with the two.
During a Quiditch game, she positioned herself and Severus right across from Hermione. They could see her clearly as she sat by herself on the top row, with her red and gold scarf wrapped tightly around her.
"Five galleon on Ravenclaw," McGonagall told Snape to begin a conversation.
"Ten," he upped the stakes. "Hufflepuff. I believe Ms. Stiles is quite a seeker."
"So you do acknowledge talent from other houses then?" she teased him.
"I am nothing if not fair," he joked to her. They both knew of his blatant favouritism prior to the end of the war. But that was over now, more or less.
"So will you finally acknowledge that Ms. Granger is by far the brightest witch we've receive in a decade?"
"How could I not," he sighed. "Her NEWTs speak for themselves."
"She's quite beautiful too," McGonagall told him nonchalantly.
He didn't respond, instead he gave a slight shrug and seemed to focus on the game a bit more. She knew this was all an act. For a Slytherin, he was rather bad at this. She knew he was feigning interest because the snitch-chase was out of sight and the only thing to be watched on the field was Mr. Dykes and Ms. Walsh throwing the quaffle back and forth. Watching paint dry would be equally as exciting.
"Any man who she ends up with will be very fortunate," she pushed on.
Severus didn't even deem to shrug on this one, instead he stared at the field even more intensely. She older woman sighed and resigned herself to also stare at the very slow game.
A few days later McGonagall changed her tactics. Instead of speaking with Severus about it, she chose to speak to the female counterpart.
Of course, speaking with Hermione was far more pleasant, but not any less infuriating.
"Hermione dear," the older woman began as they sat down to have their customary Sunday afternoon tea. "I hope you are feeling accepted here. I know this is your first year here and sitting next to Professor Snape during meals cannot always be easy. That dour man…"
As McGonagall expected, Hermione spoke up in his defence quite readily.
"Oh no!" she all but exclaimed. "Professor Snape is quite a nice meal time conversationalist. Admittedly, he does not say much but he is quite witty when he chooses to speak. I believe he simply enjoys solitude. He has been nothing but polite."
"No one ever accused that man of lacking propriety," she agreed. "However, I do wish he participated in social outings a little more. You could ask him…"
"I do not believe that would be such a good idea Minerva," Hermione spoke up. "He seems to still see me as his student. While I am grateful that he tolerates me, I cannot say how much further his congeniality extends."
"Pish posh," Minerva argued. "Severus respects you a great deal."
"I can only wish," Hermione sighed with finality. Then she promptly changed the conversation topics far away from their favourite dour potion master.
And that was when Minerva had had enough.
The war was over, they were young. But why did they have to make things so complicated?
She sat in her office on a sunny Saturday morning and simply pondered. Sure, there was a stack of bureaucratic nonsense she had to fill in, but this was far more interesting.
"Oh dear," she sighed. "I've become Albus…"
"And a jolly good day to you too dear Minerva," the painting of her predecessor spoke up. "Now tell me what it is that ails you."
"Oh you'll think me emotional and meddling," she began. "But then again you are the man who played match maker for half of Hogwarts, including several House elves if I remember correctly."
"It's a talent," he beamed.
"Do lend your talent then," she began to explain the situation with Severus and Hermione and her associated frustration over their denseness.
"Perhaps it would be best to let things run their course?" Albus pointed out. "In my experience, manipulating Severus has been a feat."
"I will not watch them moon at each other until I retire," she told him determinately. "I have half a mind to simply lock them in a cupboard and dousing them both with Veritasium."
"That is one option," Albus tiptoes around her frustration. "Perhaps a simply push will do though. How about a Yule Ball? We haven't had one of those in a few years. Let the two of them organise it, between the flowers, the shining gowns, and the copious amount of alcohol that will most likely be sneaked in, something it bound to happen."
"A Yule Ball…" she considered this happily. She did always love formal events.
She quickly wrote two identical messages and asked Dolly to deliver them to her new favourite couple to be.
My office, Monday (October 16) at 7pm. Thank you. Headmistress McGonagall.
There! That sounded just official and abrupt enough to have them both running over here.