Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters mentioned here. The HP universe belongs to J. K. Rowling.
A/N: This was written as a gift for Alienor77310 in the SS/HG Gift Exchange on LiveJournal. Her prompt was: SS/HG/HP threesome: either two of the three are an established couple and take in the third, who is wounded/homeless/amnesiac/... The third one heals/recovers, and they discover in the process that they're even happier when they are three.
Huge thanks to my wonderful betas, refya and JunoMagic.
Chapter 1
"Hermione? You up there?"
Hermione put her book down.
Sometimes she wished they hadn't succeeded in silencing Mrs Black's portrait. She could have spent almost two more minutes reading if Harry had been forced to come up instead of calling from downstairs.
"Yeah, I'm here," she called back, patting Crookshanks, who looked somewhat put off by the disruption.
Harry must have taken the stairs two at a time, considering the way his feet thudded noisily on the steps and the speed at which he appeared at the drawing room door, winded and gasping for air.
"Guess what I just found out?"
He looked both excited and full of indignation. One of his more endearing looks, Hermione thought, even if sometimes annoying.
"Something to do with Snape?" she guessed, knowing that Harry's plans for the day had included a visit to St Mungo's.
"Yeah, I'm just back from there – sorry, didn't make it to Diagon Alley today, but we can go get the stuff you wanted tomorrow—" He took a deep breath, visibly forcing himself to calm down. "Look, I'd better get us something to drink first, I'm dying of thirst here. Butterbeer or pumpkin juice?"
"Butterbeer, if we've still got some."
"Sure!" Already Harry was half-way down the stairs again.
If Harry didn't even bother calling for Kreacher, the news must be quite something. Or perhaps he just needed a moment to collect himself.
Hermione flicked her wand and lit the fire – although the weather had been unusually balmy for October, Grimmauld Place never seemed to warm up properly.
"Anyway, as I was saying," Harry started, handing Hermione her bottle of Butterbeer and uncorking his own, "I spent the whole day at St Mungo's. They're wanting to release Snape!"
"But that's great!" Hermione exclaimed. "Is he doing so much better, then?"
"Well, not really. Somewhat. He can get around on his own a bit, although I gathered he still has to stay in bed most of the time and would really need looking after. That's not really the problem though, he could get someone to come over every day, but—"
"Oh. Fuck."
"Yeah."
"But surely they know that Snape's home was destroyed in that fire last year? I mean, it was even in the Prophet at the time!"
Harry stared grimly into his Butterbeer.
"Exactly. They do know. They just don't care. Said that he's a difficult patient and now that he doesn't need constant Healer supervision, they're just doing what they'd be doing with any other patient in a similar condition – kicking him out. Not in those words, obviously, but you know."
"But they can't do that! Snape is – well, I don't need to tell you that, but can't they see how much we all owe him?"
Harry shrugged.
"That's why I didn't make it to the shops today. Spent a few hours there, going as high up as I could, trying to get through to them. Didn't help. I guess that there are limits to what the Saviour of the Wizarding World can manage, after all." He grimaced. "They all just smiled at me and said that yes, they understand the problem, but he's well enough to be let go and that's it."
Hermione considered the problem for a moment. She knew very well – too well, almost – how Harry felt about Snape since the final battle. He'd been ecstatic with relief when the Aurors who had gone for Snape's body in the Shrieking Shack had reported he was still alive, if barely, and had championed his cause ever since.
"Did you talk to Kingsley yet?" she asked. Minister Shacklebolt was always willing to spare some time out of his busy schedule to listen to them.
"Yeah. He said he'll see what the Ministry can do, but that it will take weeks if not months to find a suitable place for Snape to live. Apparently there are security issues they'll have to consider."
Harry got up and started pacing in front of the fireplace. "Look, I was thinking … we could take him in. I'm sure that if I keep reminding Kingsley, it'll only take a couple of weeks, so it's not like we'd have to—"
"—not like we'd have to put up with him for ever," Hermione finished the thought for him. "I think it's a great idea." She beamed at him. "I was just thinking the same thing. After everything he's done and suffered through, we can't allow him to end up on the streets!"
Letting out a relieved breath, Harry pulled her up and into his arms.
"Thanks. I knew you'd agree, but I was still worried," he admitted, pressing a quick kiss on her lips. "After all, he's still Snape. And we'd have to look after him."
"We'll manage," Hermione murmured, sliding her fingers into his messy hair. "We've managed far worse things before. Putting up with Snape for a bit won't be a problem."
oOo
Getting one of the unused second floor bedrooms sorted out and prepared for Snape was not an easy task, even with the help of magic and Kreacher. It was amazing just how much grime could accumulate in a house. And hadn't they cleared it all out before fifth year, when the Order first started using the house as Headquarters?
At least Harry helped – without any complaints! Hermione smiled. Even now, having shared the house with Harry during the holidays as friends since the battle ended, and as lovers for the last three months, she was constantly surprised by how much he had matured in the last year. Not without a price, as his nightmares suggested, but that was the price they all had to pay.
oOo
Hermione had offered Harry her help in getting Snape packed and moved in, but Harry had refused, saying it was something he needed to do on his own. Something to do with paying that debt he felt he owed Snape, he had explained.
She hadn't been to see Snape in the hospital. Harry had, several times, although he didn't talk much about those visits, and she hadn't wanted to pry. She knew Snape had been in a coma for months and had only started to show signs of recovery in the last few months; it was quite possible he hadn't been thrilled to see Harry again once he'd come to.
Thus she felt a certain amount of curiosity mixed with trepidation when she got home from work on the day their new house guest was scheduled to arrive.
Harry had warned her that they'd likely Apparate right inside the house to avoid any accidents with the Floo, so the louder-than-usual crack of Apparition didn't come as a surprise. She still couldn't help flinching; even after all this time, Apparating inside the house at Grimmauld Place brought back memories of the most unpleasant kind.
"We're home!" Harry called out. "Can you come down and give us a hand?"
"Sure!" she called back, giving the room one last look. Everything seemed in order. There was still an air of desolation about the room, but she'd kept the window open for hours, the bed was freshly made up with clean linen, there was a glass of water on the bedside table with a self-filling decanter next to it, and at least it was not Sirius's room they'd cleaned up for Snape.
They were waiting for her in the hallway once she had made her way down.
"Professor Snape," she greeted their guest. This was the first time she had got a good look at him since ... since that day in the Shrieking Shack, with all that blood and the snake and those wounds, those awful, gaping wounds in his neck, the blood bubbling out of him and gathering in a puddle – no, a pool – on the floor—
She drew in a ragged breath and smiled.
Professor Snape was alive. No thanks to you, her inner voice chastised her, but she decided to ignore it for the time being. She had forced herself to face that particular guilt already, assuring herself and the boys that there hadn't been anything they could have done at the time – that there was no time, that her skills were too modest to have sufficed – even knowing that if anything, her only rational excuse was shock at witnessing Nagini's attack, and the odd numbness that came with it.
But Snape was alive, here, with them, right now. So she smiled, determined to do her best to avoid showing any discomfort.
He looked – not well, obviously, but she had expected him to seem worse. He had lost weight, and he hadn't had much to lose to start with; but he was still unmistakably Severus Snape, the great, greasy, hook-nosed bat of the dungeons and bane of their schooldays. Even if she had remembered him as bigger – taller, more imposing – he was still Snape.
"If you're done with gaping at me, I'd like to be shown to my room now."
His voice was hoarser and raspier than she remembered, too. Lack of use, possibly, or perhaps the wounds in his neck—?
"Sometime today would be preferable, Miss Granger."
Same old Snape, then.
Harry cleared his throat. "I didn't want to Apparate straight into the room. Making it here in one piece was difficult enough!"
Hermione smiled, knowing full well that Harry's Auror training had honed his skills in that area to near perfection and appreciating his gesture of not wanting to scare her any more than necessary.
"I was thinking about using a stretcher to levitate the professor up the stairs," Harry continued, "but I don't know if I can hold the spell and take enough care to avoid the corners at the same time."
"Oh. Yes, that's a good idea," she agreed, snapping out of her reverie. "You do the Leviosa, I'll do the steering. And I can get the professor's things, too."
oOo
Getting Snape settled in had gone relatively smoothly. He didn't say much, indicating his acceptance or displeasure with certain things mostly by nodding, grunting or sneering. He refused help with changing into his nightshirt, but accepted – grudgingly – Harry's support for getting to the loo.
Hermione almost felt a bit left out. On the other hand she wasn't really very keen on spending too much time in Snape's presence. Especially as he seemed to feel more at ease in Harry's company.
"Thank you," Harry breathed into her shoulder later, after they climbed into bed. "It's not easy, I know. The guilt … not just for leaving him there, but all these years, the way I suspected him … I wanted to kill him, I really thought I would, back when the Headmaster … Merlin, had I only known!"
"Shh," Hermione murmured. "You couldn't have known. He couldn't afford to let you know – to let any of us know. Just think how it would have looked if you'd got on well with him."
Harry smiled weakly. "Yeah. But even so … He's an amazing man, Hermione. He should hate me, I know, I've always been such a prat and especially now that everyone knows … you know how some people have been ridiculing him? Thinking he's weak, for loving my mother so long. If I hadn't told everyone during the battle – but I had to. And I didn't … I didn't know he wasn't dead. He should be angry, really angry with me, but he's not. We talked a few times when I went to St Mungo's, when he was conscious again, and he just … he said he wasn't."
"Perhaps he feels he's had enough of hating," Hermione suggested, feeling like she should say something but with no idea what could be behind Snape's change of mind. It was possible, after all. Perhaps he was simply tired of all the animosity. Or perhaps he was simply tired.
oOo
Snape was looking out of the window when Hermione entered with the breakfast tray.
"There's bacon and sausages and some eggs," she said, putting the tray down. "We're out of beans, I'm afraid. And potatoes. If there's anything else you'd like, let me know. Or you can tell Harry if you prefer."
Snape turned around, looking at her properly for the first time. "Thank you. I appreciate this—" He gesticulated tiredly, indicating the room and the tray. "—a great deal. Harry—" He grimaced at saying the name. "—informed me that this was your idea as well as his."
Hermione wondered when he'd started calling Harry by his first name. Probably at St Mungo's. If Snape really had overcome his hatred for Harry, he wouldn't want to keep referring to Harry by his father's name, she supposed.
"It's not a problem," she said and offered an encouraging smile. "We're pleased to have you here with us. And honoured." She blushed a little, somewhat embarrassed about that last bit. "I'm sorry I never came to see you at the hospital but … I didn't know if you wanted visitors. Especially any Gryff— former student visitors."
"I didn't." He tucked into his food. "I had some regular visitors, Minerva – Professor McGonagall, that is – came by a few times too, and it was all so … most of the time, I didn't want to see anyone."
She nodded. "I'll leave you to your breakfast. There's a bell by your bed – I don't know if Harry showed it to you yesterday – if you need someone. Or you can call for Kreacher, if Harry and I are not here. I need to go to work now. Harry's already left, but he should be home before me this evening."
oOo
The next few weeks were quite uneventful. Hermione went to work, Harry went to Auror training, and Snape stayed in. She did notice that he was getting a little better – less gaunt, less pale, a bit stronger every day. He even spent a few hours in the drawing room now and then, reading, mostly on his own, but sometimes sharing it with Hermione in the evening. He still didn't talk much, but when he did, he was polite. Most of the time, at least.
oOo
"Have you talked to Kingsley yet?" Hermione asked Harry at dinner one evening.
"I've tried." Harry sighed. "He keeps apologising, and saying he's just so busy – even though he's been Minister for a year now, there's still so much for him to do."
"I know," Hermione said. "I've seen him rush past me in the Atrium occasionally but he's always seemed in such a hurry that I didn't want to bother him. He's doing a great job – the others in my department say we've never been so well funded before. Apparently he's the first Minister in a long time who has actually cared about the welfare of other magical creatures."
"Yeah, Kingsley's a good guy," Harry agreed. "I don't reckon they'll get Severus's situation sorted out any time soon, though."
"Severus's?" Hermione raised an eyebrow.
Harry's cheeks flushed with a pink glow. "Erm, yes. He told me the other day that he's tired of me calling him Professor all the time. That he's done with that part of his life."
Hermione smiled, although she felt – once again – inexplicably a bit jealous. Well, not jealous, perhaps. Envious. Left out. Snape was polite enough with her, but he gave no indication of wanting to move to friendlier terms with her.
Not that Hermione knew why that should matter to her – there had never been any love lost between them, after all. And she wasn't even the child of his eternal love.
"Have you talked to him about the … how did he take the news of his home not being there any more?"
"Not too well, I think. He just sort of stared at the wall for a while and then said 'I see.' And that was it. I haven't wanted to say anything about it again."
oOo
Hermione joined Snape in the drawing room later that evening. He looked up, nodded in greeting, and returned to his book.
They read in companionable silence for a while until Snape remarked, "When I was last here in this house, the drawing room was in a dreadful state, in spite of Mrs Weasley waging a war against it some years ago. You've done a good job here, Miss Granger."
The praise, so unexpected, made her grin.
"Thank you. I haven't had as much time here yet as I would like to – I assume Harry mentioned that I returned to Hogwarts last year to take my NEWTs – but I'm quite pleased with what I've managed so far."
She put down her mug of tea and took a deep breath. "Professor ... do you think you could call me Hermione? It's just that you call Harry by his first name, and it feels a little—"
Snape looked at her, black eyes glittering in the still too thin face.
"Of course. Hermione."
The way her name sounded in his voice, not as silky as in her school days but with its velvety timbre, still so irresisti—
No. Not irresistible. Hermione gave herself a mental slap. This was Snape, their house guest and patient, a man still mourning a love lost years ago.
"Thank you … Severus." She gave him a cheeky smile.
He inclined his head in response, indicating that he wasn't about to protest.
"I gather that I might stay here for longer than expected," he said after a while. "I hope that it is not too inconvenient. I find that I am getting stronger; I may be able to start looking for new accommodation soon."
"It's no trouble at all!" Hermione exclaimed. She felt oddly disturbed by the thought of Snape moving out. "Please don't even think about leaving yet. Not before you're at full strength."
She considered her next words carefully.
"I have wondered … well, that is, I don't want to be too nosy, so please tell me if I'm out of bounds with this, but – do you have enough savings to live on? I mean, you're getting better every day, but I'd imagine it will be a while before you can return to work."
"I have some," Snape replied after a few moments. "Not enough to buy a new house, or to replace my own library," he swallowed visibly at this, "but I should be able to rent something."
"Please remember that you're welcome here as long as you wish to stay," Hermione said. "We have more than enough room – this place is far too big for just me and Harry anyway."
"No plans for children yet?" Snape smirked when Hermione, who had just taken a sip from her mug, spluttered.
"Not yet. Harry and I … we haven't really discussed anything like that."
"I see." Snape picked up his book.
He didn't seem to make much progress before he sighed and put it down again. He cleared his throat, looking somewhat uncomfortable.
"If you don't mind me asking, you and Harry ... I always had the notion, both from my own observations and Minerva's gossip in the staff room, that you had an eye on the Weasley boy, Ron? And that Harry was interested in his sister – an interest, which, in both cases, seemed clearly mutual."
Hermione harrumphed.
"Yes, well, things change."
She considered how much she could – should – tell him. On the one hand, this was personal; on the other, this was the first time Snape was actually engaging her in conversation. She liked that.
"I don't know if you knew … well, I guess you did, yes, that Ron left us at one point when we were on the run?"
Snape nodded.
"Harry and I became … closer, during that time. Nothing happened really, well, nothing romantic, but we were feeling so alone and, betrayed, I suppose, that we – we comforted each other as best we could. Not, you know—" she said, blushing, "but we did spend some nights together. Just hugging, cuddling, keeping warm, making sure the other was still there.
"Anyway, Ron returned, and things went back to normal, sort of, and when it was all over, Ron and I did what everyone had expected of us, and got together. It was nice in the beginning – all new and exciting, and Ron told me he loved me, and always wanted to be with me ... I thought I felt the same way, at the time, although I wondered sometimes. But then when Hogwarts opened again in October, and I just knew I had to go back – well, Ron wasn't happy. We had a big row because he had no intention of returning – neither he nor Harry did – and he told me that it's over between us if I left him. He took it as a personal insult, I think. So … that was it between me and Ron."
Snape rolled his eyes. "Weasley is a fool."
Hermione smiled weakly. "There was a time when I'd have been offended by that."
"What about Harry and Miss Weasley?" Snape asked. "He's never mentioned her at all."
"Harry and Ginny …"
Hermione went quiet for a while.
"What do you know about what we went through, anyway? What we suffered while you were away, hiding in the woods, and wasting months on fuck knows what?" Ginny had yelled at Harry when Hermione had walked in on their argument during the Christmas holidays. "If you did, you'd shut up about Snape! I'm fucking fed up with Snape this and Snape that – I don't CARE what he did, he was a fucking bastard to all of us.
"And you – you just couldn't wait to get your paws on him, could you?" Ginny shouted, turning to Hermione. "While me and Neville and Luna and the rest of us were suffering, never knowing where the next blow would come, having to spend our days cowering before Snape and the Carrows, being forced to see our friends being tortured, being made to torture their own friends – you have no bloody clue how good you had it, do you?"
"I'm not sure I should be telling you this, it's really Harry's story to tell. But from what I know, they did also get together after the battle … it all looked so perfect, really. Mrs Weasley was so happy! Both because of Ron and me, and with Harry and Ginny finally getting their chance."
Hermione took a sip of tea again. "I don't know exactly when it happened, actually – I was at Hogwarts at the time. When I came here for the Easter holidays, they'd broken up already. Harry told me later that ... well, one of the things that happened was that he found out Ginny had been with Neville."
Snape's eyes glittered again. Hermione wasn't sure whether it was with amusement or fury. His clipped tone suggested the latter.
"So she cheated on him."
"No!" Hermione exclaimed. "Not as far as I know. But Ginny and Neville had become close during that year at Hogwarts. In any case, Harry was quite badly shaken by finding out about it, and they broke up soon afterwards. I don't think it was only because of that … after all, Harry wasn't there. But they kept having bigger and bigger rows over all sorts of things, mostly because, well, Harry hadn't been there. And Ginny – I mean, that year wasn't easy on any of us. But she couldn't really understand what we'd all been through. What Harry had been through. Or perhaps she just couldn't deal with that on top of her own nightmares."
"And you and Harry—"
"It just sort of happened, not long after I was done with school. Harry had nightmares. I had nightmares. We talked, and ... I guess we remembered what it was like, just the two of us. How much we'd needed each other then. And we just … thought we'd see how this goes, if it might work between us. There's no grand passion," she said, smiling slightly, "but it's comfortable. We're best friends, and we've been through things together that no one else could understand."
Snape nodded. "I understand. And I hope you forgive me my curiosity – I've never been one for idle gossip, but at Hogwarts, I was always in the middle of everything. Now ... I feel out of touch, I suppose. My world in these last few months has been a ward at St Mungo's, and now this house."
oOo
Hermione was on her way up to Snape's room when she stopped, hearing voices coming from the inside. She took a step closer, not quite able to quench her curiosity, taking care to stay as quiet as possible.
The door was slightly ajar, offering her a view in.
Harry's back was to the door. He was sitting at Snape's bedside, fidgeting with the edge of the quilt. Snape was saying something but not loud enough for Hermione to hear.
Quite unexpectedly, Harry straightened his back and bent his body towards Snape. Was he—? No. He couldn't possibly be thinking about—
Hermione's mind was reeling. Harry had just done it. Kissed Snape.
Kissed. Snape.
Harry.
Was still kissing Snape, in fact. And Snape didn't seem to be protesting.
Hermione swallowed. She felt vaguely numb. A part of her was thinking, quite clearly, that she ought to make her presence known, that she ought to be horrified … wasn't it her boyfriend there, with another? But she was too caught up in her fascination with the scene to protest.
Only when she experienced a frightfully familiar tingle inside her, did she take a step back. She couldn't just burst in like that. This was … this was something she had to think about. With a clear mind.
She hurried to the bathroom and locked herself inside. Merlin. How— why—? She'd never thought that seeing two men locked in a kiss could feel so intensely erotic. Not that she'd ever really thought about it. Or had expected to witness it. Surely she ought to feel betrayed – sickened by this?
A few minutes later, she managed to get her ragged breathing under control again.
She knew she should feel furious … she would have, had it been Ron. If anything, she felt a bit left out. Again.
oOo
Harry was already in the kitchen when she made her way downstairs. He looked a bit pale, perhaps a bit shaken; but even to Hermione, who knew Harry and his moods better than anyone, nothing would have seemed too out of the ordinary if she hadn't just witnessed what she had.
What was out of the ordinary was their lovemaking that night; it had never been anywhere near this intense before. But while Harry was pounding into her with a newfound passionate fury, she couldn't help but imagine how it would feel to kiss those thin lips in that gaunt face, and when their encounter reached its peak, her elation was dampened by a deep pang of envy.