There was something secret that hung there, in the hazy August air, and floated between them tenuously. She felt him watch her all the time, felt the way the air charged when he brushed against her in a doorway, or when he sat next to her at dinner. There had been months like this, spent dancing around one another and hardly speaking of anything other than research and books.
Severus wore a thin, long-sleeved black button-up shirt and black trousers. His lank hair fell past his cheekbones, and he frequently pushed it back from his face as he read. Hermione was barefoot, pink nail polish on her toes, a faint hint of mascara on her eyelashes.
The others stumbled in, laughing and pushing, and greeted the two sitting at the kitchen table.
"Hermione, love, will you watch the baby for a few hours so we can go to dinner?" Ginny asked, holding her husband's hand. Hermione nodded and stood, picking up both of their plates and depositing them in the sink as she headed for the nursery.
He watched her go, wishing he could go with her.