A/N: The characters and world all belong to JK Rowling. I'm just borrowing them for a bit. I ought to be finishing my other fic right now, but when I was driving up to visit family this crossed my mind, so, here it is. Apologies for not having a beta.
Phase 1 of Plan C
"Honestly, Severus, why don't you just ask me to move in?"
He choked on his tea, it was too hot anyway, but a waste of Darjeeling.
"Don't look so surprised. I practically live here anyway." He looked like he was about to interrupt but her stern look quieted him, "I'm here before you wake up to make breakfast and begin researching and I stay until at least 11 because you insist on drinks. I practically splinch myself three times a week."
"I'm sorry that my invitation for you to join me for after dinner drinks has been causing you trouble. I shall not ask again."
"Oh you stupid man, I like having drinks with you. I don't like the possibility of splinching myself." He was making this more difficult than she had initially anticipated. He of all people would see the logic of it. She raised the ante.
"Look, I need a place to stay. I've been with Harry and Ginny in Grimmauld Place for ages and their non-stop love fest is getting old. And my constantly walking in on them in nefarious positions makes the idea of gouging my eyes out like fucking Oedipus very tempting. I haven't been able to bring myself to eat in the kitchen for weeks." His facial expression was what she was hoping it would be. "Please, Severus. I'll pay rent, so long as it's reasonable. I already make you breakfast for free. And clean your home, keep in mind."
He pursed his lips, looking very sour indeed. She swirled her finger around the rim of her glass, waiting nervously.
"Fine. But you must keep out of my way and respect my privacy. I don't want to be waken up at all hours of the night because you feel like a chat." She chuckled at him; he had fallen asleep on the couch one time and she had woken him to ask him where he kept his teapot. He had started roaring about how his time was precious and should not be interrupted for "inane chatter," he was on the verge of throwing her out, but she had chucked a book at his head. He had quieted long enough for her to make tea and when he tasted her Darjeeling, he privileged her to a laugh about it.
"Rent will be 10 galleons a month, so long as you continue to brew excellent tea, make breakfast, and clean."
She smiled, he wanted her there. Phase One complete.
"Thank you. I'll move my things this weekend."
Phase 2 of Plan C
Ginny and Harry were very good at pretending they were sad to see her go. Their identical nose wrinkling (Gods, they were such a couple) when she told them she would be moving the Spinner's End had indeed been genuine. But all parties knew that she didn't want to be there as much as they didn't want her there. So, Harry and Ron helped her move her things on Saturday morning, lured with promises of breakfast. She would even make omelets. With bacon.
Ron, quickly followed by Harry, stepped into the living room of Spinner's End caring boxes filled with all Hermione's belongings (mostly books), and she followed quickly through the floo. Dusting off the soot, she glanced around excitedly. She had no idea where she'd actually be sleeping.
Snape walked out of the kitchen holding his teapot, looking groggy. "We are not doing anything before you make me tea." She rolled her eyes. Severus Snape. He had been able to dupe the most powerful wizards in the world, lived as a spy (triple crossing, no less) for over a decade, managed to remain mostly unscathed by Neville Longbottom whilst teaching him potions, and survived a murder attempt by a giant and very poisonous snake. He ought to be able to brew tea on his own.
"Can't we at least put these in her room, they're heavy," whined Ron. Harry nodded in agreement, but knew better than to vocalize. Severus's eyes narrowed.
"Then put them down, Weasley. Tea. Now, Miss Granger." She walked past him, making sure that he could hear her muttering about being made into a house elf named Minny, and set the stove on. She made tea the muggle way, it reminded her of her mum.
They sat around the battered kitchen table in quiet enjoyment of a truly splendid brew, sipping on their respective cups. They only noise came from Ron's stomach as it gurgled loudly. Several times.
When the pot was finally empty, Severus stood and the trio followed suit.
"This way, Hermione. Potter, Weasley, you will remain here. You are not to receive a tour of my upstairs." He turned to the stairway, then as an afterthought, "don't touch anything." She hid her laughter in a cough.
The upstairs of his house was small, it was nothing more than a dark corridor with four doors. She had only been up here once before to fetch a book from the room she knew to be his private study. He pointed to the farthest one, "that is my room. You may not enter without my permission. Unless I'm dying." He turned and pointed at the door next to it, "That is the bathroom. We will have to … share. I expect to not find any curly brown hair clogging my drain." He turned again to the door she knew, "my private study. Also not to be entered without my permission." That left the room opposite the bathroom and adjacent to his own. He strode over to it quickly and opened the door. "This is your room. It was mine as a child. I will respect your boundaries so long as you do mine."
She looked around, it was smaller than her room at Grimmauld place. It had a single bed (she would have to engorgio that next chance she had) flanked by two windows. There was enough light, a closet, and there was an empty bookshelf she could fill. There was merely another chair for furniture, with a quilt draped over the back. There was no evidence that Severus had ever set foot in this room, but it didn't bother her. She smiled up at him, "thank you, its lovely."
Phase two complete. She hugged him.
Phase 3 of Plan C
Living together had no immediate impact on their relationship. Since the two began working together they had formed a rather tight friendship. Both had felt trepidation at first, but after several rows, tea brewing, and book sharing they had fallen into an easy companionship. It did not seem to be disturbed by now living in close quarters.
He didn't say anything if he noticed or was bothered by her things slowly taking over his bathroom. There was never any hair in the drain, after all. She didn't say anything about him needing to be on a constant supply of tea, now that she was available whenever he needed her. Nor did he comment about finding her hair on his clothes more often than not. Nor did she comment about the footsteps she would hear pause outside her room before he went to bed every night.
However, the most surprising thing neither party commented on was the various states of undress he would constantly find her in. She was beginning to think that the very promising Plan C was going to be another failure.
On a Saturday afternoon he could walk in to the library for a book and find her fresh out of the shower, long brown hair wet and tumbling down her back, drops of water trailing between her breasts and down her legs, a yellow towel barely retaining her modesty.
"Oh, Severus!" she would say in surprise (she did not know if he doubted its sincerity) "I promise not to be dripping on your books, I was thinking about the mandrakes in the shower and I just had to come down and look up the specifics of their seeding."
On a Wednesday morning he could come down for breakfast and find her sitting on the counter in a flannel bathrobe. She would cross her legs as she put down the paper to bid him good morning and a naked, creamy leg would come out of the folds, resting upon the covered one.
"You ought to read the personals in the Prophet today. Column D, fourth row. Man seeking companion for travels. Lederhosen and chess skills a must. Destiny is calling you."
Late Monday night he might come down from his study for a bite to eat and find her already in the kitchen. In only a tanktop that would ride up around her waist and shorts that might as well not be on her at all.
"Are you hungry too? I was just about to make some toast. Great minds think alike."
Weeks of this passed and nothing was said. Hermione continued to show up in unexpected places wearing practically nothing and he continued to say nothing. How could he have no reaction? He ought to at least be annoyed, she thought irritably.
Nothing changed between them until the fifth Friday of their living together. They had been working on a particularly odious smelling potion and she had been forced to shower to get the smell out of her hair. She was exiting the bathroom, the same yellow towel wrapped precariously around her, and she ran smack into Severus.
She made a strangled sort of cry and dropped the towel, his body pressed against hers was the only thing holding it up. Like lightning, both his hands were around her shoulders and she was pushed up against the door of the bathroom. Her damp hair made a squelching noise and her heartbeat was going twice its normal speed. As their weights shifted, the towel began to slip.
"Why is it, Hermione," he hissed, "that whenever I try to go anywhere in my own home, I can't help but run into you?" Her eyes were wide, she couldn't read the expression on his face.
"I live here now," she answered meekly. The towel slipped more.
"Miss Granger, it seems that whenever I round a corner you are there in some sort of dishabille." Her cheeks flushed furiously. He finally said something. And this time it wasn't planned. She couldn't find words.
"You must stop, Hermione. You are driving me absolutely insane." His face was inches from hers, his voice so low and silky. Then her towel fell.
Severus Snape growled. She stood, frozen as his eyes raked over her flushed and very exposed body. His black eyes glittered and he was still this close to her, she could feel his breath on her lips and she couldn't move. Couldn't choke out any sort of words to justify herself. She stood naked in the hallway and moments passed and his eyes didn't leave hers.
Then he was gone with a slam of his bedroom door and she was alone, suddenly cold now that he wasn't there, and still dripping wet. She gathered her towel around her and noticed she was crying.
She quietly crossed the hallway into her room, and stopped. What was she doing? She was Hermione Jean Granger, and this was not acceptable. She did not just retreat. This would be her third failed plan if she just gave up. She wiped her eyes and straightened her posture, further securing the towel around her.
She then stormed out of her room, knocked twice on his door and swung it open.
He was on his large bed with his head in his hands. She couldn't see his face at all.
"Severus Snape!" she cried, crossing over to him. His head shot up, black eyes narrowed on her.
"How dare you do that to me?" His face warred for an expression, before fixing on a snarl.
"Yes, all the times you have found me practically naked around your house have been on purpose. And do you want to know why? So you would do exactly what you did just then. Except with one crucial difference."
"What" he spat, it wasn't even a question.
She wasn't a Gryffindor for nothing. In three quick steps she was in front of him. She dropped her towel, took his face in her hands and kissed him.
He didn't move and she thought she had just ruined everything, and then he made that same feral growl she'd heard before and his tongue was on her lips and it was good, good, good.
They broke apart, gasping.
"Hermione," her name trembled off his swollen lips like a prayer and she felt her knees go weak.
"Severus," she sighed back, their foreheads touched.
"So, my wandering about the house with no clothes worked?" She said suddenly, pulling away with a smile.
"I told you it was making me insane." He leaned toward her, trying to capture her lips. She evaded him.
"Promise me you're not just using me for tea."
"I can't promise that, but I assure you my affection is more encompassing." Hermione rolled her eyes with a smile.
"How encompassing?" He growled in frustration.
"All encompassing. I have loved you since you had the audacity to throw a book at my head and leave a bump and all your ridiculous, cheeky, Gryffindor antics have only had the frustrating ability to feed the fire. Now kiss me properly."
"I love you too, you crazy man." He rolled his eyes and cupped her bum, trying to gather her in his arms.
She laughed with joy, peppering his face with kisses, and let him pull her to him and onto his bed and suddenly he was wearing far too much clothing…
Phase 3 complete. Plan C successful.