Note: Published the unedited version earlier. Whoops. So sorry. That being said - I kinda could use a beta if anyone is interested.
A/N: Thanks for the encouragement and reviews! This story is fleshing out to be a LOT longer than originally planned - mostly because the inspiration is still lingering. Every follow, favorite, and review from you all serves as my muse.
Disclaimer: I own nothing here. Just shamelessly using J.K.'s characters as my imaginary playthings.
Hermione Granger sat on her couch, a rather large tumbler of cheap Riesling wine in her left hand. She wished her wizarding friends had learned to appreciate muggle technology and would get cell phones. Granted, half of her friends didn't even live in a muggle-like enough place to have electricity. Oh well. Perhaps she could wander down to Diagon Alley and send an owl. She never had bought one, as Crookshanks would more than likely eat it. She glanced at the clock. Bugger. It was already after 9:00 p.m. She doubted the owlery would still be open in Diagon Alley. She decided to just send an owl to Ginny in the morning from work. She still desperately wanted to talk to the girl, and made a mental note-to-self to look into purchasing a small owl for magical communication purposes. Maybe she could cordon off Crooks when she wasn't home?
The trouble (and resulting need to bounce ideas off a girl friend) came from her visit with Professor Snape earlier that evening. She had rarely realized the value of a girl friend until now. Of course, as she was wont to do, she started assessing the situation on her own anyway. A) She needed to learn how to cook. It didn't matter that she apparently could survive on take out just fine. It was a matter of principle. Hermione Granger did not like not knowing. B) She had eaten at Professor Snape's table. He hadn't killed her for it - and that felt weird. She had been so busy obsessing over her mess left in his kitchen, she had failed to notice him standing up and clearing the table. C) Why was he suddenly a person of interest? It was Professor Snape for goodness sake. When the head Healer at St. Mungos had assigned her to daily dressing changes at his home, she had been slightly embarrassed. She knew the Healer was well aware of their awkward history - the Prophet had made sure all of wizarding Great Britain had known about that.
Still, she took the assignment with some pride. The Healer had felt enough confidence in Hermione to give her the job - so she steeled herself for the oncoming rudeness. Up until this evening, it really hadn't been a problem. Sure, he was snappy and impatient at best and often lied about his pain ... but he had at least grudgingly let her do her job. There really was no reason for her to be in a fuss about it all now.
The next morning, Severus Snape stirred his tea absent-mindedly. He was not going to think about Hermione Granger. How she had grown and matured in the year she was away from school (the fact that she was starving and on the run escaped him at the moment). How she had taken her new job so seriously, and what a good Healer she was going to make. How she had smelled of coconut oils, citrus, and something vaguely floral. Dammit! He was not supposed to be thinking about her. He sipped his tea, agitated with himself for failing to close his mind from thoughts about her.
He shook his head. Nearly dying had made him soft. This was ridiculous. He abandoned his tea to pace restlessly while he sorted out what last night had been all about. Had he really thought he wanted a wife? Crossing that line internally had caused something to shift. Something intangible, indefinable ... something buried deep that he had long abandoned hope for. Allowing himself to even think about the prospect of a woman in his life, knowing all that he had done, and still wanting to be around - it was a ridiculous notion. He would live his days out in solitude. Perhaps he'd start an apothecary. It's not like he could ever hope Minerva McGonagall would allow him back into Hogwarts again. Even though he had been cleared after Voldemort's defeat, there were too many hard won grudges with the wizarding community to peaceably allow his teaching their children. He alternated brooding by the fire in his chair, and pacing as his strength would allow.
Hermione arrived at St. Mungos 10 minutes early, a note to Ginny in her bag asking about drinks around 7:00. She skirted up to the owlery and chose a small, excitable little owl - one who reminded her very much of Ron's little owl Pig. She thought Ginny would get a kick out of it, then made a mental note to not find an owl like this one. Crooks would definitely kill it. Twittering little owl on its way, she headed back downstairs to check in for the day and find out which ward she was in. She rather enjoyed rotating through the different departments. It was always something new, and she never got bored. Her day seemed to fly by - all thought of a certain potions master safely tucked away until she left for the day. She worked and learned, busy but in her element.
She was bloody exhausted. She had spent the day in triage on the ground floor, assessing incoming maladies and sending them on their way to the proper department.
She groaned as she remembered that she still had to tend to Professor Snape and pretend like her utter failure hadn't happened last night. Ginny had sent the excitable little owl back confirming their date later, saying she was thrilled to get out of Grimmauld Place for an evening. She and Harry had gone to clean the place up after the war, and when the remaining order members had left ... Ginny had simply stayed. Much to her mother's dismay of course. They weren't even married yet. Nonetheless, she and Harry seemed quite happy to be slowly transforming the dingy old house into their own, day by day.
As she moved around her flat arranging wound dressings in her bag, she bravely tried to insist to herself that she could definitely get through a dressing change without embarrassment. She had grown up. She was not some terrified little 11 year old who cried over everything. When she raised her hand to knock on his door a short while later, she noticed her hand was shaking. Very slightly, but enough to make her square her shoulders and straighten her back a bit. He opened the door and stood aside, raising one eyebrow as always. She made a note to learn how to do that. It was quite dramatic and had never failed to elicit a response from whomever it was aimed at. As she brushed past him, she couldn't help but notice a faint whiff of parchment and fresh cut grass and something ... decidedly manly. Huh. She had never noticed that Snape had a distinct scent before, or that it was uniquely good. Why on earth would he smell like that? She smothered a giggle at the sudden thought of him mowing the lawn like a muggle.
Nope. Nope. Nope. Not going there. She firmly told herself. Former professor. She had a job to do here. Ever the academic, she noted to at least try to notice his scent more often. Strictly for the purpose of academic comparison to discover his "normal" that is.
He had already transfigured his chair, much the her surprise. His version was much more ... Snape looking than hers though. The nuances were subtle. Instead of a dreary grey, the leather was a smoky green. The padding appeared a bit more stiff than her version. Dark wood graced the legs, rather than her simple but clean brushed stainless steel. She didn't comment on it. She was trying to simply get in, and get out. She waited for him to take his place in the chair, and as he did neither of them had spoken a word yet. She quickly got to work, trying to ignore the tightening lines around his eyes as she removed the gauze.
Severus thought it quite pleasing that the girl had yet to say a word. He was much better at reading people when they were quiet. To his amusement, she was obviously rattled about last night. He had learned his lesson though - choosing to eat a sandwich before her arrival. She finished her job in record time, and he once again had to exercise extreme control to not launch himself out of the (much better) chair. He wordlessly put the chair back to normal, and waited for her to speak. She shifted uncomfortably under his steady gaze, and he could not help but notice that her skin was a delicate pale pink - skin that obviously rarely saw the light of day, but had a healthy glow nevertheless. He scowled then, more at his internal observations than her fidgeting, but she only saw the scowl.
"Erm, right. So, same time tomorrow then." and she was gone.
Well ... that was interesting. He thought. Though she had left an extra dose of pain relief potion as before, he noticed that he didn't need it. He was healing, and that thought was pleasing.