JUST ONE NIGHT
He's currently the Hogwarts' Headmaster. She's the youngest ever Minister for Magic. They're both trapped in unhappy marriages, but now would not be a good time for either to leave. After a heated argument one evening, they find themselves inexplicably drawn together, seeking solace and satiation... but "just one night" turns into much, much more. Story of an unforgettable - and unforgivable - affair.
HGSS (SNAMIONE)
PWP: Romance & Hurt/Comfort
Notes:
This chapter is smut-free but future ones are lemon-heavy. Fic is M-Rated and plot is largely secondary.
Some references to past child abuse and sexual assault but not graphic or explicit. May contain a *light* foray into the world of BDSM in later chapters.
No in-chapter Trigger Warnings. The above covers the entire fic. Please be advised.
DH compliant save for Snape's death. Somewhat canon with Epilogue and Cursed Child.
Also, I'm not a fan of Ron, so if he's one of your favorites, be forewarned. (Sorry.)
JUST ONE NIGHT
CHAPTER ONE:
ONE NIGHT
OCTOBER 2010
"She wants another child."
Severus' words were spoken so quietly, Hermione nearly mistook them for her own thoughts. He was on his back in the dark, facing the ceiling, his face emotionless. She was on her back beside him, her head on the pillow he'd purchased only after this – whatever it was – started between them two years ago, a gift for her neither ever acknowledged, though she appreciated it. They were protected from the cool chill of the castle by the heavily weighted blanket over their naked bodies, though it was dampened by their sweat and could not cover up their mutually committed sins. Across the room beyond the foot of the bed, stars were visible through large windows. The only other light in the room came from a dying fire, one he could stoke with the simple twitch of his wand, but he chose not to. She was beside him in his bed at Hogwarts, a bed nearly as familiar to her as her own, and yet completely foreign.
"And you?" she asked after a pause, directing her words into the darkness above her head. "Do you desire another child, Headmaster?"
"I did not desire the first, nor did I ask for the second," he answered, his voice deep and without inflection. "Delphini was forced upon me by a madman seeking a gift for his most devout follower. Iris was... a surprise."
"And yet you've raised them." She tried not to picture her own children as they spoke, for to see their faces in her mind's eye would bring up the ever-present but forcibly repressed guilt she always carried around with her, like the magical bag she'd taken on the run with Harry during what should have been their seventh year. Her children meant the world to her, bright spots in a dark world without her parents.
She, like Severus, had two: Rose, with her wide brown eyes and freckled face, and Hugo, with his missing front teeth and ears that stuck out. She gave little emotional consideration to her cuckolded husband, for she knew he'd long been seeking satisfaction elsewhere, but she couldn't stomach the thought of hurting the two little people who meant more to her than anyone else in the world ever could. She had to be leaving soon. She couldn't stay out all night. Not again.
"Do you love them?"
She'd never asked him such a deeply personal question before. They rarely discussed anything personal. During daylight hours, their interactions were strictly professional. She was the Minister for Magic, elected two years ago, only a decade after the end of the second war with the Dark Lord Voldemort. He was the Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, returned to the post four years ago upon the death of Minerva McGonagall. Aside from a polite, "How is your family?" or "How have you been?" they did not pry into each other's business. They met, they worked, and they parted ways.
Except when they didn't part ways.
Except when they ended up in bed.
"I love them as much as I'm able," he answered finally, after a too-long pause. "I genuinely wish I could be a better father but children make me uncomfortable. I do not know how to interact with them, as the only attention I received from my own father was brutally negative. I am unable to show adequate affection, as the little one's mother laments and about which the elder's aunt has long lectured me. When I see Delphini in the Great Hall, I greet her as I might any other student, and she replies, 'Afternoon, Father,' but the word Father... she could be addressing anyone. Substitute another title – Headmaster, Healer, Professor, Minister – and there it would be: the same polite detachment."
"What of Iris?"
There was a part of Hermione, the smallest, most beaten down desperate and depressed attention-starved part of her, that wanted to roll onto her side and throw an arm around his body, to rest her head on the center of his chest, to be held by him as one would be a lover, or even a friend, but she knew he would eschew such contact and she did not relish the thought of being unceremoniously ejected from his bed any sooner than absolutely necessary. However, unable to stop herself, her hand inched away from her hip, just a bit, flat against the mattress until her pinky finger was barely brushing against his. If he felt this light touch, he did not indicate.
"Iris turned five shortly before term began. I see her only in the summers and when she visits over Christmas. I hardly know her and she does not seem to know what to make of me. When I am around, she regards me as one might a strange dog, as if she'd like to approach, as if she's hoping for affection, but is afraid I may bite. I buy her Chocolate Frogs and Ice Mice and tell her that she's grown, I give her mother money for her care, I write the girl that I love her, and I hope it's enough."
"Have you spoken with Narcissa and Lucius about Delphini?"
"No. My attempts to contribute to her care – financially – have been rebuked, as they see any monetary offer as an insult. Narcissa encouraged me to visit during the summer to see her away from an academic atmosphere, which I did, several times, but I have little to discuss with the girl. She is aware that I loathed her mother. She has no interest in playing the role of Big Sister. And she no longer seems inexplicably excited to see me, as she was in her younger years. When she asks me questions, they're about Potions or Defense or Charms, as she strives for high marks, but she does not seem to concern herself with me as anything more than a fountain of information capable of rewarding or deducting House Points."
Hermione couldn't help letting out a small sigh. She imagined this apparent disinterest of his must be much tougher on the Snape girls than he realized, but she also knew, from over two years of having been with him in this way, of listening to him speak of them only when at his most open and vulnerable, that he cared more than he let on. He was afraid to fail at fatherhood, afraid to hurt them, so he kept his distance, assuring Hermione that both girls were better off this way, but they both knew this was a lie he told himself.
"Have you told Hestia of your disinterest in the possibility of more children?" She did not enquire as to whether he loved his wife, Hestia Jones, former Auror, for she was certain the answer would be no... and yet she was afraid the answer might be yes.
"I've told Hestia in no uncertain terms that she is not to conceive again unless she finds another man with whom to do so, and further stated if she would like a divorce I would graciously grant her one. She said that wouldn't be necessary, but I believe she intends to wear me down until I consent to..." He cleared his throat and closed his eyes. "Clearly, she is a persuasive witch."
"She should marry Ron." Hermione boldly slipped her hand over his between them on the bed. Strange that their nakedness should not be cause for embarrassment or indicative of intimacy, but a hand over a hand could potentially mean so much. She was pleasantly surprised when he allowed this contact. "Ron may want more children."
"But not by you?"
"I have a daughter, I have a son, and I have the career I only hardly dared to dream about during my Hogwarts days. I am content."
"Are you, Minister? Are you content?"
"Yes," she insisted, but something in his tone – a subtle change, an indescribable one – made her breath hitch in her throat. The truth was, she was not content, had not been for several years, since before this inexplicable affair commenced, which was what led her into his arms, and, shortly thereafter, his bed, in the first place. She wondered whether he would believe her. She soon got her answer.
"In general, Minister, I make it a habit not to bed women who lie to me."
Fuck.
"In that case, Headmaster, I shall take my leave." She moved to slide out from under the warmth of his bedclothes, intending to dress, walk to Hogsmeade, and apparate home to her husband, but to her shock he gripped the hand that had been atop his.
"Stay," he said, an urgency in his tone that she needed to hear. "It's just one night."
"It's always 'just one night' with you," she replied, but she returned to her back under the blanket, her heart fluttering when he did not release her hand. "I'll send my husband a message by Patronus informing him I've been called away on Ministry business."
"Tell him not to worry," said Severus, though they both knew the man would not worry. "Tell him it's just one night."
A/N:
This fic is Hermione/Severus (obviously) and takes place between 2008-2013, jumping back and forth in time and opening in October 2010. The back story will be explained later, but be aware from Go that this is a fic about two unhappily married adults engaging in an affair, so if cheating is super off-putting for you, you may not wish to continue this one. This is also M- Rated and will be much more lemon-heavy than my current WIPs: Stages of Grief and All Roads Lead to Rome. Some chapters will be more PwithoutP than PwithP. Very few, like this one, will not have any smut stuff, but most will have at least one citrus scene. Chapters are relatively short (1000-3000 words) and I'm anticipating updating only 1x per week once Stages of Grief is complete so I can also refocus on All Roads Lead to Rome, which has been giving me trouble as of late.
Thanks for reading! As always, I shamelessly beg of you, please review!
-AL