Changing Times
The Order of the Phoenix, for reasons unknown to Severus, continues to meet occasionally after the war. It suggests a sort of pessimism and distrust of the Ministry, he thinks, that they feel it necessary to keep a vigilante organization running after the immediate threat, Voldemort, is long dead. It's a pragmatic view (there will always be another dark lord, after all, and the Ministry is as incompetent as ever) that he would never expect of this bunch.
Gryffindors, most of them, Severus thinks with disgust. Not there's anything wrong with a bit of bravery (he proudly admits to having that in spades, he must have, to deal with all the shite he has in his life), but those of Godric's house rarely have any sense of subtlety or refined decorum. A stereotype, to be sure, and he's never been terribly refined or subtle himself, but the boisterous display going on in front of him right now does nothing to dispel his bias.
After each brief, perfunctory meeting, a sort of informal party is held. Perhaps this is the real reason that the Order still convenes: to socialize, reminisce and in general celebrate the (comparatively) good times they're living in. It's a disgrace to the very serious purpose behind the Order's founding.
Most of them are playing some sort of drinking game, at the moment. And they have no compunctions about being loud and obnoxious about it. To be fair, many of the older members are only watching with amusement, but they're certainly doing nothing to stop it.
Not that Severus is, either. He, instead, is looming in the corner with a glass of brandy, which he sips at occasionally.
Another thing that mystifies Severus is his own reason for attending these... functions. His life may be a tad bland, now-a-days, as owner of a small business brewing rare potions, but certainly things aren't desperate enough that he must leech off the light-hearted interactions of this lot, gaining companionship by proxy; or take comfort that there are some (barely tolerable) people willing to tolerate his own silent presence?
He must sadly admit that things are that desperate. Severus never thought he'd miss Hogwarts and its accompanying trials, but at least he was forced, then, to interact minimally with other human beings. He never would have thought that was a comfort, before now.
So as much as he scoffs at the idiots tripping over themselves in the living room of number twelve, Grimmauld Place, he also basks in their joyful laughter, their easy camaraderie, and friendly overtures. Yes, they do occasionally approach him, of a mind to inquire about his business and health. And though his replies are scathing, they are usually honest.
Severus is, therefore, not terribly surprised when he's approached by Hermione Granger, who was previously speaking with Arthur Weasley.
"How are you, Severus?" she asks kindly, drinking what appears to be a red wine.
He resists the urge to mutter incoherently. For some reason, this witch always has a curious effect on his nerves. He tells himself he doesn't know what that reason is, even if he occasionally allows himself to admire her figure from a distance.
"I am unburdened by disease," Severus tells her, still focusing his gaze on the commotion created by the number of sloshed wizards surrounding the coffee table covered with booze. "I trust the Ministry is as inept and frustrating as always?"
Her professors had been so disappointed when she'd chosen to enter a career in politics instead of in academia. She had such promise they said, though personally, Severus never saw it. The girl was more of a trained parrot than an insightful savant in school. Fighting for a cause seems to suit her, anyway. She seems happy enough, at least.
Granger laughs, and he shifts uncomfortably.
"Pretty much," she agrees with a grin. "Any interesting new commissions?"
"Nothing but the usual requests to improve sexual prowess," Severus says dryly, and she raises her eyebrows.
"Oh? I wasn't aware there was such a potion."
"There is not. But that doesn't prevent the uneducated masses from asking for one."
She gives him an odd smirk.
"Hmm. I imagine that's an area of study which can only be improved through first-hand experience."
"Indeed," he tells her, a bit confused at her unusual tone of voice.
Could she be... flirting? The thought is a bit heartening. Although Severus must reluctantly admit that he's attracted to the witch, he's always felt it inappropriate, given the age difference and their past. But perhaps there's a spark of reciprocation? It seems extremely unlikely, considering just who he is. Severus has no illusions about his looks or general appeal.
Granger studies his profile carefully, and he stands very still, disconcerted by her close examination.
"Is it a subject you have an interest in?" she asks lightly, and Severus can feel his body temperature climb alarmingly. Surely she doesn't mean...
"Pardon?" he says after clearing his throat.
There is a loud burst of laughter from around the coffee table. Apparently, someone revealed something humorous in their game of "I've Never."
"Would you like to go to the library, where it's quieter?' Granger asks him, placing a hand on his upper arm.
Severus must force himself to respond without stuttering.
"Certainly."
By necessity she must remove her hand to accompany him from the room, but she stands gratifyingly close as they set down their drinks and make their way to the dark, silent library.
Scarcely have they entered and shut the door behind them, before Granger backs Severus into a wall like some sort of predator, attaching her mouth to his.
For a shocked moment, he's unable to respond. But then he gently takes her by the shoulders and bodily removes her from his person. Traitor! his hormones scream.
"Miss-Hermione, I think you've had far too much to drink," he tells her with wide eyes. She laughs.
"I haven't even had a full glass of wine, Severus," Granger says with a smirk, resting a palm on his chest and leaning forward. "Your concern is touching, but I'm fully cognizant of my behaviour."
His brain seems to short-circuit as she begins to nuzzle against his neck.
"I-ahem-I'm not entirely comfortable-" Severus begins hoarsely, and she scrambles back as though he'd struck her.
"Oh, God. Do you not-? I'm sorry," she rambles, looking guilty. "Did I just sexually assault you? Dammit, I thought-I mean, it seemed as though you were interested. I'm so sorry!"
Severus watches, absolutely bewildered, as she backs away further.
"I am interested," he admits quickly, before she can flee completely. "But shouldn't you... Well. Would you like to accompany me to dinner?" he asks lamely. "Not tonight, obviously, but surely you're free sometime this week."
Granger relaxes immediately, looking relieved.
"Oh, is that all?" she asks with a smile. "We've known each other for years, Severus. Can't we can skip all that nonsense?"
Severus has never felt so out of his element.
"Nonsense?" he says with a scowl, "I may not be terribly experienced in these things, but I'm sure that a date is the proper way to begin a courtship."
"Courtship?" It's her turn to look uncomfortable. "As in long-term, serious relationship? It seems a bit early for that, don't you think?"
"Early?" he gasps. "This from the witch who was just molesting me like-" Severus shuts his mouth abruptly before he can accuse her of something socially frowned upon. She looks offended, anyway.
"This isn't exactly the fifties, any more," she defends, "Sex doesn't have to be about love. I saw you looking at me, I think you're sexy, in your own way; ergo, I made a move."
There's a moment of tense silence. It seems courtship methodologies have changed significantly since he was young.
"You think I'm sexy?" he ask quietly. Granger rolls her eyes.
"Is that all you took from that? Yes, I do. You've got a sort of regal grace, your voice is delicious, and I admit I'm a sucker for that arrogantly disdainful thing. Why do you think I had that fling with Draco? Mind you, he really is just a prat, and I know you're a good guy somewhere under those layers of spite and sarcasm, but the appeal is similar."
Severus is speechless, both flattered at her description and offended that she just compared him to Malfoy, fond of the brat though he is. Granger sighs.
"Look, we're obviously at a bit of an impasse, here," she says briskly. "I want to shag you senseless, and you want to take things slowly. I'm willing to cede on the date thing, because I do think we could make this exclusive and long-term, eventually, but surely I at least deserve a decent snog?"
Granger looks at him with wide, pleading eyes, while Severus ponders his strange circumstances. Is an attractive young witch really begging for his sexual attention? It seems far too good to be true.
"I will certainly do my best to oblige," he says slowly, "Although I'm afraid-" She pounces. "Oomph!"
They stumble to the couch (still connected at the lips) and arrange themselves in a position more conducive to a serious snog without neck strain.
Hermione respects his boundaries by keeping her hands above his waist, but that doesn't prevent the both of them from being fully satisfied by the end of encounter.
They go out to dinner the very next night. It's the beginning of a long-term and serious relationship.
The End.
A/N: This short snippet was actually inspired by some reading I was doing for sociology. There was an excerpt entitled "The Decline of the Date and the Rise of the College Hook Up" that I found interesting. Apparently among those who were surveyed/interviewed, "dating" is now something you do as part of a serious couple, while most relationships begin after a "hook up" at a party or such.
I guess I'm old-fashioned (or just anti-social, not really a partier), because I found this surprising. Of course my one-track mind was inspired to write fanfic, since Hermione and Snape are of different generations and would probably have different expectations about a relationship.
You see what education can do for you? Haha, hopefully this was fun and not too out of character.