This is how it started.
Hermione was visiting her old school, ostensibly to see the Potions Master to discuss work she had been doing for St Mungo's, but she also looked forward to taking a look at the old place to see how it had changed. It was ten years since she had left school, having decided to re-sit the year she had missed due to helping Harry in the final battle and the aftermath of the war. Even with her learning disrupted by those slight distractions she had still managed to get top class N.E.W.T.s in every subject.
Whilst Harry, Neville, and several other members of their year had gone straight into the Ministry of Magic to train as Aurors rather than return to school and Ron had decided to help his grieving brother George run the joke shop in Diagon Alley, Hermione had chosen to complete her studies, and after leaving Hogwarts she had gone on to further education at the Salem Witches Academy in America where she studied Advanced Potions, soon securing an apprenticeship with a Master almost as good as Professor Snape. She had briefly considered asking her old Potions Master for a position at Hogwarts, he having returned to teaching the subject after Professor Slughorn's retirement, but since the end of the war the man was more taciturn and ill-tempered than ever — his tolerance of her had always been grudging at best — so she didn't really give it much serious consideration.
By twenty-two she had become a Potions Mistress and returned to England, accepting a place at St Mungo's. This was shortly followed by marriage to Ron, who by then was working with Harry at the Ministry of Magic and to whom she had been engaged for several years. Hermione and Ron both enjoyed their careers and spent a couple of years ignoring Molly's pleas for a grandchild but eventually Hermione fell pregnant and gave birth to a Weasley daughter, Rose. This didn't affect her ability to work, although Ron disapproved.
When the second child arrived eighteen months later — a boy, called Hugo — the cracks in their marriage had begun to show. There had been several screaming arguments during which Hermione refused point blank to give up her job completely to look after the children. The couple eventually made up but there was resentment on both sides, always simmering just beneath the surface, ready to erupt at any time, and whilst they did still love each other they became distant, each preferring to spend their precious free time away from the other, not wanting more arguments.
Ron spent most of his time going to Quidditch matches with Harry. Harry, too, had married and had children, and sometimes it seemed that his relationship with Ginny wasn't much better than Ron and Hermione's. Hermione, for her part, spent her free time researching, conversing with others from within the Potions world and writing lengthy articles for various Potions journals. It was this independent research combined with her work at St Mungo's that finally led her back to Hogwarts and the snarky Potions Master after she discovered a trail that she believed could provide possible improvements to the Wolfsbane potion Snape had invented. She knew she would need to collaborate extensively with him if there was to be any chance of improving the potion, and it was a somewhat daunting idea. But they had been conversing via owl for almost six months now and Hermione finally decided to take her courage in hand and go visit the Potions Master so they could collaborate further.
Hermione smoothed down her robes as she reached the door of the Potion Master's classroom. She was excited at the opportunity to finally discuss her work face to face with the potion's creator, but had to admit to being rather nervous at the same time. Being back at Hogwarts had already brought the memories flooding back, none more so than this corridor and the classroom she was on the verge of entering, where for so many years the teacher she was about to see had terrorised her and her two best friends merely for existing. She gave a nervous laugh.
Get a grip, Hermione, she chided herself. You're not eleven any longer. You're almost thirty and a respected Potions Mistress, an equal to Severus Snape. Now, stop quailing and get knocking.
Her hand reached out and rapped on the door loudly and confidently. She fixed a smile on her face and opened the door without waiting for a response.
Hermione thought back to the last time she had seen Professor Snape. It was ten years before, the year she left Hogwarts, when he, along with the other remaining members of the Order of the Phoenix, were given their Order of Merlin medals at a grand award ceremony at the Ministry of Magic. It was clear that he didn't want to be there. His scowl was as fierce as ever, worsened by the huge and livid scar that ran across his face, a gift from a Death Eater during the final battle. He didn't stay very long at the after-ceremony party. Of course, even then he had been barely civil to her and her friends, but after seven years of him as their teacher they expected nothing less from the man. She just hoped he would be somewhat friendlier now she was visiting as a colleague rather than as an ex-student.
Professor Snape was sitting where she had seen him so many times in the past, behind his desk scanning a pile of parchments, his quill making quick strokes on the page as he worked. He sighed as he looked up and indicated the pile of essays.
'The dunderheads seem to be getting worse every year. Even Longbottom could be considered a genius compared to some of these students.'
He put down the quill and stood. His scowl wasn't as bad as Hermione remembered it, although the scar across his face was. She realised that he must be making an effort to be nice to her.
'Miss Granger, shall we go somewhere more comfortable to talk?' Snape asked politely.
Hermione nodded and followed him towards the door to his study. She thought momentarily of the jars of bugs and other less savoury things that Snape kept in there and gave a small smile. Only Potions Masters could feel comfortable in that room. She was surprised to find that they didn't settle in the study. Instead, Snape took her through another door that led to his private quarters. Hermione was fascinated. Whilst at school she had often wondered what the teacher's private quarters were like, and now she was finally going to find out.
As expected, the dungeon room was gloomy although there was a fire in the grate and candles burned in sconces on the wall. The dark effect was added to by the furnishings, all dark greens and blacks with just a hint of silver. The Slytherin house badge emblazoned upon several wall hangings reminded anyone who happened to be in there that Snape was the head of Slytherin House. Near the fire were two large green leather wingback chairs and a small table. Hermione glanced around. A proliferation of bookshelves lined the walls and there were two more doors leading from the room. One, slightly ajar, clearly led to the bedroom, which looked as if it was decorated in a similar fashion to the lounge. The other was tightly shut; a private laboratory, possibly? Hermione realised that her host had summoned tea as a house-elf appeared with a pop, carrying a large tray. It placed the tray on the table and then Disapparated, leaving the two of them alone once more.
'Please sit down, Miss Granger,' Snape said politely as he indicated one of the chairs.
Hermione sat. 'Actually, it's Mrs Weasley,' she told him quietly, 'although I do still use my maiden name professionally.'
Snape scowled. 'So you did it, then? You married that idiot Weasley?' He paused for a moment, then, 'I shall continue to call you Miss Granger.'
'You can call me Hermione,' she said, smiling. 'After all, I'm not at school any more and we are colleagues. May I call you Severus?'
Snape scowled again and didn't say anything but eventually gave a curt nod, which Hermione assumed signalled his agreement. She smiled again as she watched him pour the tea.
For a long time they discussed the potion. Hermione was pleased that Severus was willing to give credence to her ideas and in fact actually seemed excited by some of her areas of thinking. It was stimulating to be involved once again in a lively discussion in which she needed to use her brain, and also to be appreciated for her talent. Now that she was talking to him professionally Severus didn't seem quite as ill-tempered as she remembered. In fact, he was actually quite entertaining, although still fond of scowls and sarcastic comments.
After the work was out of the way the talk turned more social. Snape enquired politely after Molly and Arthur and even talked about Harry and Ron and their jobs at the Ministry. In turn he told her about what had been happening at Hogwarts, and before Hermione knew it several hours had passed.
'It's almost time for dinner,' Snape said, looking at the clock. 'Are you staying at Hogwarts for the night? If you are, I would be happy to accompany you to the Great Hall.'
Hermione shook her head. 'No. Professor McGonagall did offer — even suggested I sleep in Gryffindor Tower like old times — but I'm afraid I have to get back. I have children to look after.'
'Children? I suppose we'll be seeing them at Hogwarts soon, will we?' Snape seemed to shudder at the idea. 'Another generation of Weasleys and Potters to suffer.'
Hermione laughed. 'Don't worry, Severus, you've got a while to go yet. The oldest, Rose, is only four; the youngest, Hugo, is two.'
'Time enough for me to retire, then,' Snape said with a scowl, but his voice was light and bore no malice. He looked at Hermione intently. 'Does your husband have no objection to you working when you have children to raise?'
Hermione looked a little sad. 'We argued about it . . . lots. But I wasn't willing to give it up. To be honest, it hasn't made things any easier. Ronald really does believe I should be happy to sit at home looking after the children like his mother did. He just can't understand that I need to work. It's probably selfish, I know, but I can't stop.'
She trailed off before she got upset. Her relationship with Ron, always at critical level, had almost reached breaking point when she announced she was going to Hogwarts to see Snape, the person her husband still, although for what reason Hermione had no idea, apparently disliked most in the world. That was the main reason she wasn't staying overnight, a compromise to try to keep her marriage together.
'Well, I have to admit I'm pleased that you didn't give up work, Hermione,' Snape said, his dark voice soothing. 'You have a rare talent and it would have been a shame for it to be wasted on children.'
Hermione blushed at his words, the nicest he had ever spoken to her. She just wished she didn't feel the urge to burst into tears. Severus would never understand why she was crying and he wouldn't be sympathetic. Any respect she had gained would be lost in an instant. She forced a smile.
'Oh, I intend to keep working for a long time yet.'
'You're not going to have any more children? Not trying to rival Molly and Arthur, then?' Snape's voice was just slightly mocking.
Hermione shook her head. 'No, I don't think Ron and I will be having any more children.'
You'd have to actually have sex for that to happen, a little voice in her brain said, and let's face it, Ron hasn't been interested since you told him you were going back to work.
With her mind-set in a different place now, Hermione sighed. When Snape looked at her curiously she remembered where she was and stood, trying to cover her embarrassment. Snape stood, too.
'I should go, Severus. Thank you for agreeing to see me, and for the interesting conversation,' she said quickly, taking his hand to shake it. His grip was firm, his hand rough and calloused from years of potion making. She looked at his long, lithe fingers.
She gave a small giggle, louder than she realised, suddenly feeling a teenager again. Snape looked at her in confusion and Hermione blushed. Seeing his hands had reminded her of a fantasy she used to have about the Potions Master back when she was at school, during a brief period when she had harboured a secret and very shameful crush on the man. Although he couldn't be considered handsome by any stretch of the imagination, he did have that dark and brooding quality so prevalent in the male heroes of the Muggle books she had read at the time — the Heathcliff factor, she called it — although of course Snape also had an evil tongue to match his scowl and would probably have put her in detention with Filch for the rest of her life had he even suspected her comparison or her desire.
Still holding his hand, Hermione looked at Snape appraisingly. He had aged since she had last seen him. Not really surprising as he was almost fifty. His black hair now had the occasional streak of steel grey running through it and he had softened a bit; he had some meat on his bones rather than being the tall, almost painfully thin man she remembered. Yet his face was, if anything, less lined now than it had been during the war. The stress of being a spy had made him look ten years older then, and now that he could relax he had lost a lot of those wrinkles. Of course he still had the huge scar across his face, which did nothing to improve his countenance; no doubt the high-necked black frock coat and white shirt, the same uniform he had worn for as long as she had known him, covered up the other scars, the ones he had acquired when Voldemort set his snake on Snape to kill him. But all in all, Hermione thought, he was better looking now than he had been when she was at school. Or maybe she had just grown up and was no longer interested in a man just because he looked good.
What do you mean, interested? the little voice in her brain asked wickedly. Hermione dropped Snape's hand, blushing even more. God, she had been considering him in terms of being a lover and all because his hands brought back childish memories.
'Are you all right, Hermione?' Snape's voice held just a touch of concern.
No, I'm not all right, she thought. I allowed myself to get carried away with a stupid thought, and because I'm so desperate for sex — yes, I admit it, I miss having sex — it's translated into sudden desire for a well-known snarky bastard who I shouldn't even be having those thoughts about and who wouldn't be interested even if I did.
'Hermione?' Snape's voice was more worried now.
Calm, just be calm, Hermione's little voice told her. All you need to do is say you're fine and leave; no harm done.
Snape's hand gripped her arm; he was looking at her closely. As Hermione looked at him in return their eyes met, his as dark as she had ever seen them.
'I want to go to bed with you, Severus.'
Hermione went cold and she closed her eyes for a second. The little voice in her head screamed, What the hell did you just say that for?
Snape looked at her in surprise — no . . . shock. He was still holding onto her arm.
'I beg your pardon?' His voice was smooth and dark and it sent a shiver of desire straight down Hermione's spine.
She breathed deeply and looked at Snape. It was true, she did want to. Years of inactivity with Ron coupled with the sudden remembrance of her youthful crush welled up inside to unleash her desire. Her hand stroked his fingers where he still held her arm.
'I want to make love with you,' Hermione admitted. Her voice was husky now, her desire evident.
Snape pulled his hand away from her arm and moved away from her.
'Do I have to remind you that you are married, Mrs Weasley?' he asked coldly.
Hermione shook her head. 'No, Severus, you don't have to remind me. I'm perfectly well aware of who and what I am. However, that doesn't stop the desire.' She looked at him again and gave a small laugh. 'I used to fantasise about you when I was at school.'
Snape looked surprised.
She walked towards him until she was standing so close that their bodies were almost touching.
'I just want to know what you're like,' she whispered, 'just once.'
Snape didn't say anything. His dark eyes were unreadable.
Hermione moved back again to create a gap between them. She had embarrassed herself and now she needed to get away, but not without one final comment.
'If you change your mind, you know where you can find me.'
She turned and walked out of the door, not looking back.