Author's Note 1: Again, don't own Harry Potter. Legalese, Legalese. J.K. Rowling does. Legalese, Legalese.
Author's Note 2: Thank you so much lovely reviewers! Allyll, Worrywart, Anon, Dragon Ashes, Tbird1965, Mrs. HH, & SemiCharmed, thankie for the input and reviews! Please keep them coming! They motivate me to write more!
And now presenting…: my new, awesome motivational guru of a beta... TycheSong!
- BRING OUT THE FLOATS! WAKE UP THE DRILL TEAM! STRIKE UP THE BAND AND LET'S GET THIS VIRTUAL TICK-TAPE PARADE GOING!
Yes, she is so great that she deserves that virtual ticker-tape parade and then some (particularly chocolate and high-priced Manolo-Blahniks)
She is the one responsible for the wonderful editing that you enjoy while reading "Friendship Cluttered", future, past and present. She's kind, imaginative and patient when I keep making typos and spelling errors... excessively. Thank her in the review section, because she is just that wonderful. Thank-you.
Summary: "We were so foolish, thinking that we could just be friends and only friends. How wrong we were." The muti-chapter story of Severus Snape & Hermione's friendship-turned-relationship. Told fr. Severus' pov, 1st person. AU after the war.
"Wow, you're cooking away."
Hermione flashed me a smile from the steam filled kitchenette as I walked into her quarters, quickly unwrapping my black cashmere scarf and unbuttoning my slate gray wool jacket, tossing the garments onto the couch. Coming from the inside of the bone chilling cold of the rest of the castle to the warmth of Hermione's quarters made me feel like I got air-dropped into the tropics.
"What are you cooking?" I asked her as I walked toward the kitchen, the steam coming off of boiling pots and pans, hitting my cheeks. Hermione smiled at me, already changed into her loungewear, which was a loose, gray cotton top, black leggings and black ballet flats. Her curly hair was piled up into a sloppy, Grecian bun, a blue patterned scarf tied over her hair. Her sweet face was peering into the large pot that she was currently stirring with a large wooden spoon.
"Something special, especially after what you went through with McGonagall for me. It wasn't too bad, I trust?" Hermione responded, turning to smile at me, her chandelier, Bohemian earrings tinkling with her movements.
"It was bad in that I know I made a complete fool of myself," I said.
"How's that?"
"I became a little… I don't know… Girlish?" Hermione snorted.
"Wow. I wish I would have stuck around for that. Severus Snape: Girlish," Hermione laughed again as she stirred the pot before her. She then looked at me, her eyes twinkling. "Anyway, now that that unpleasantness is over, we can have dinner. I think you'll like it."
I raised my eyebrow at her as I scanned the food. Something orange and soupy was cooking in the pot she was stirring, next to that was something else that looked slightly yellow and mushy, like mashed potatoes, but not quite. And in the last pot was rice mixed with red beans, sausage, and several plant-looking things that seemed vaguely menacing. I wrinkled my nose at it.
"That doesn't look like pasta," I said. "Or kippers. Or—"
"—Or the other boring clap-trap that you usually eat?" Hermione asked sweetly, adding more cayenne pepper to the orange looking soup. "I wanted to make you something special."
A wicked smile slowly spread across my face as I realized what she had done. I'm not what you'd call a culinary adventurer, usually sticking with conventional staples, as I equate eating exotic cuisine with later having exotic heartburn. This is something that Hermione knew about me, but found irritating because she wanted to try other recipes. It appeared that she had finally found a way around my picky preferences…
"So, this is the special meal you're making?" I inquired mockingly. "Something exotic that you've been wanting to cook and now you are cooking it, under the guise that you want to cook something special for me after the McGonagall mishap? You really are the most clever witch of your age…"
Hermione flushed prettily as she continued to stir the pot. I smiled flirtatiously as we locked eyes.
"Are you sure you weren't supposed to be in Slytherin?"
Hermione smiled as she licked the end of the wooden spoon and put it on the counter. "I don't need to be in Slytherin in order to be bad."
I gulped thickly as the sentence rang in my ears. Hermione flashed me a satisfied, minx-like smile as she pulled down a bottle of red wine from the cabinet, a moderately priced Zinfandel.
"Just be a good boy and open the wine, Severus." She handed me the bottle of wine as we gave each other covert, teasing smiles. I turned away from her and pulled a steel, winged corkscrew out of the drawer next to me. It's true that I could have opened the bottle of wine with magic, but it wasn't nearly as much fun.
"Why would McGonagall care anyway?" Hermione asked as she stirred the pot once more.
"What do you mean?"
"About us. If, hypothetically, we were in a relationship, why would she care?" Hermione repeated, sliding what looked like chopped up pieces of a suspicious looking, slimy vegetable into the orange soup. "We're consenting adults, you're not in a position of power over me and vice versa… Unless we were madly fucking each other on top of your desk during class time, I really don't see what the big deal is."
I smiled to myself as I poured two glasses of wine. "Wow Granger. What an image to leave. Now I won't be able to get any work done if I sit at that desk…"
Hermione flicked her kitchen hand towel jokingly at me before tossing the towel across her left shoulder. "It's not my fault you're a pervert."
"I would argue the opposite," I said, handing her a glass. "But we'll agree to disagree."
She shook her head at me, smiling. "But really Sev. What's exactly the big deal? Are all of us supposed to be chaste? Do we have something like a morality clause? How is it anyone's business?"
I smirked as I sipped from my glass of wine, the sharp tang of alcohol, red currents and raspberries hitting my mouth. "Did you even bother to read your teacher's manual when you first arrived here?"
Hermione shrugged. "Not really."
My eyes widened as I looked at her. "Who are you?" Hermione giggled sweetly.
"I know, I know," She said. "You figured that I would not only read it, but re-read it and highlight it too. In different colors. With footnotes"
"I did," I said, sitting down on the side countertop as I watched her cook, "But if you didn't read the dam thing, I will take it upon myself to inform you of the finer points of the 'relationship 'portion of the manual. We are allowed to be engaged to one another, we are allowed to be married to one another, but we're not allowed to date one another."
Hermione's jaw dropped open completely, her eyes wide in disbelief as I laughed at her. "'Mione, you're catching flies," I warned as I sipped from my wine once more.
"I know," she finally said, somewhat stunned. "But, that's the most stupid fucking thing I have ever heard. I mean, why?"
"Ah, the why," I said as I took another small sip. "I don't know if you remember her, but, it was during your fourth year. Professor Rebecca Clayworth? She taught early wand theory for First Years."
"I don't remember her, but I wouldn't have had her as a professor."
"Thank goodness," I said, shaking my head as I thought of her. When I met her, I found Rebecca to be strange, especially in that she always had her makeup heavily caked on her face in weird, bright, trendy colors and that she wore borderline inappropriate short, pleated schoolgirl skirts, as if she wanted to be a student again. She was the type of teacher that came back to school because, after floundering in the real world for awhile, she found that she couldn't really fit in anywhere else, that she was trying to relive her glory days in school when she was a Hufflepuff chaser and, apparently, quite popular. She did this by decorating her classrooms in quidditch memorabilia, letting her favorite students come and go as they pleased and by serially dating staff members in a weird attempt to appear, once again, sexy and popular. She had propositioned me several times, and even though I was tempted by the idea of a one-night stand, in the end I always said no. I'm glad I did.
I explained all this to Hermione, who smirked slightly as she brought down dishes from the cabinet.
"So, you were that lonely?" She said teasingly.
"Yes. No. But that's not my point," I said, a flirtatious smile spreading across my face once more. "It was the backlash with one of her relationships. It was Karkaroff, actually."
Hermione snorted. "Really?"
I nodded. "She slept with him a few times, the usual, but then she fell in love with him. Heaven knows why… And after he had his bit of fun, he rejected her. She went ballistic. Had a complete mental break down. Tore apart his quarters, wrote 'Bastard' in lipstick all over the mirrors… We found her drunk and crying in the middle of his bed."
Hermione's fingers fluttered to her lips in concern. "That's… That's so sad."
"It was," I agreed, suddenly somber. "I remember that night giving her one of my stronger sleeping draughts… She was pushed to the edge and she wasn't that balanced to begin with. I'm surprised the school was able to hide it as well as it did."
There was a long pause. Hermione shook her head as she grabbed silverwear from a drawer. "And that's why we can't date each other?" She finally said.
"It was made school policy the moment she left for a mental health retreat in the States," I said as I pulled down two cotton napkins from another drawer. "I understand it, but it isn't logical. When it comes to relationships, they can become so volatile. Nothing is guaranteed. I don't think a policy that forbids dating will prevent trouble. It will happen whether that policy is there or not."
Hermione nodded her head in agreement. "Not only that but, engagements and marriages don't guarantee happiness either. It's silly to think that they will."
I licked my lips as I watched Hermione ladle the orange soup into two bowls, a dark sadness invading her eyes. Before I bothered to even stop, I said exactly what I was thinking.
"We're not talking about school policy anymore, are we?"
Hermione quickly lifted her head as she picked up the two bowls, looking at me carefully. She walked toward the table, setting the bowls to the side of each place setting as I watched her carefully weigh in her mind what she was going to say next.
"I know you don't like him, which makes it hard for me to talk to you about the few problems that Ron and I have, that's all," She finally said as she wiped her fingers on the kitchen towel draped across her shoulder, "And please note that I said few." She then tipped her head to the side as she looked at me with an unreadable expression. I looked from her to the deep red contents of my wine glass, slowly spinning the stem between my fingers as I thought of what to say next.
"I don't like him," I finally said. "But you do have to keep in mind that I'm a selfish bastard who wishes to keep his friend here." I smiled slightly, then looked up at her to see that her eyes had softened and the most fragile of blushes was coloring her cheeks. She slowly walked over to me until she stood in front of me. She picked the kitchen towel up off of her shoulder and placed it next to me on the counter. We then locked eyes.
"And Ron poses a threat to that wish?"
"Precisely."
Her eyes softened even more to that of a woodland doe's, her smile creating a sweet curve, as she tucked a stray piece of my black hair behind my ear and she said, "You know, I wasn't going to say anything, as it might cheapen the sentiment, but… I adore how you've changed." She then planted a slow, smoldering kiss to my left temple.
A sort of ocean roar filled my ears, like the kind one hears when they pick up a large seashell and try to listen to the cavity inside. My eyelids fluttered shut as the softness of her kiss melted into my skin. The rest of my senses suddenly became heightened and I became overly aware of my surroundings. The slick feel of the cold marble counter top beneath my fingers on the left, the weight of the wine glass in my right, the scent of cayenne pepper, apples and flowers drifting across the air like a perfumed orchard on a hot summer night, the roar still filling my ears…
"Are you okay?"
My eyes flicked open as I found myself face to face with Hermione's amused smile. "You seemed a little bit out of it there," She continued. I nodded.
"I'm fine," I said and then held up my wine glass. "I just think this is hitting me a little hard."
Hermione laughed a sweet, little tinkling laugh, like a small bell. She then squeezed my arm in a very innocent, platonic manner and said, "Come on. We better eat, before it gets cold."
"Don't you dare—"
"—Or else…?"
"And you didn't want me to cook anything outside of your picky regimen." Hermione said, shaking her head, as she sipped her wine, eyeing my fork, which was poised to steal away the last sausage from her red beans and rice.
"Well, from now on, you can serve me whatever you want. Red beans and rice, grits, gimbo—"
"—Gumbo." She corrected.
"Whatever," I said, allowing my fork to hover over her dish. "As long as you cook it, I will happily eat it. That's a promise." Hermione smiled at me over the rim of her glass.
"Is that so?" I nodded as I speared the sausage and popped it into my mouth with great relish. She shook her head at me, playful smile on her lips once more.
"Great. Thai food tomorrow then," She said as I stood up from the table, picking up her plate and mine. "And you'll do the dishes."
"Naturally," I said as I put the dishes in the sink, then flicked my wand at them, the soap and water suddenly springing to life as the kitchen towel whipped across the room, ready to dry the dishes at a moments notice. Hermione smirked.
"That's cheating."
"How exactly—?"
Suddenly, there was a sharp rapping noise at Hermione's door, silencing us. We both froze, glancing at each other with quizzical expressions.
"Hermione, it's me," Came the voice from beyond the door, a voice that I instantly recognized, causing me to sneer involuntarily. It was the last Maurader standing, the ex-tormentor-enabler: Lupin.
"What the Hell's he doing here?" I hissed. Hermione gave me a look as she walked toward the door.
"Be nice Sev. The war is over. No need to dwell."
"Easy for you to say," I said grumpily, crossing my arms across my chest, as watched her put her hand on the doorknob, ready to open the door. I felt my nerves curl within my belly like a ferocious cat keeping one keen eye open, ready to strike at a moment's notice. I know that I should let the past go when it came to the Mauraders. I know I shouldn't hold it to my chest like a well-worn security blanket, but like the proverbial alcoholic or cigarette addict who promises themselves, "Just one, then I'll quit," my addiction always comes roaring back, demanding to be fed with my self-pity.
Hermione swung the door open, glowing with hospitality, as she said, "Remus! Come in." Lupin — bags under his eyes and his clothing as shaggy as ever — met her gaze with a shy smile.
"Thank you, Hermione, but I'm not going to stay, I'm afraid. I was just wondering if you knew where Severus was—"
Lupin suddenly stopped talking as he saw me standing by the alcove leading into the kitchenette, his eyes wide in shock as his lips formed a perfect little 'o'.
"Severus," He said, his voice betraying the bewilderment he was clearly feeling. "I tried to fire call you, but you obviously weren't in your quarters, so I floo'd myself here and talked to McGonagall. She said I should go check with Hermione. I thought she meant that Hermione would know where you were, not that you'd…Uh—"
"—Actually be here?" I finished for him, feeling impishly giddy at the fact that my being in Hermione's quarters unnerved him so. I took a large drink from my glass of wine, attempting to hide the grin that was spreading across my face. He nodded quickly.
"Exactly," He said as he walked in, Hermione closing the door behind him. "I hope I wasn't interrupting anything."
"No. We were just finishing dinner." I said as I placed my glass on the table, glancing over Lupin's face as I delighted in watching the phrase, We were just finishing dinner, have its full impact on him. Most people have always said that I am, to some degree, sadistic, which is a charge that I always protested against.
However, there is a grain of truth to every lie.
"Oh, that's good…" Lupin said awkwardly as he sat in the chair that Hermione offered him. He licked his lips and glance up at me. I gave him a controlled smile and said; "Would you like some wine? Although I think we finished this bottle…"
I held up the bottle, looking through the dark green glass to see that it was indeed empty. I then turned to Hermione and said, "'Mione, do we have any more wine?"
"In the cupboard," she said warmly as I watched Lupin's mind reel once more at my using such a casual nickname. I turned to the kitchen as I smiled to myself wickedly, trying to hold back the laughter that was bubbling inside of me like a pressure cooker.
"So, what's on your mind?" I asked as I pulled down a bottle of the cheapest wine Hermione had, an off-brand Merlot that I found overly sweet, and took out the cork.
"Um, well, it was something that I meant to tell you privately."
"You can speak freely. I don't mind," I said, coming back out to the kitchen with the bottle and three glasses. I poured the first glass and handed it to Hermione. "Whatever you have to say, I'll probably tell her anyway." We then shared a sort of conspiratorial smile, causing Lupin to squirm even more.
"What is it?" I poured Lupin half a glass, placing it on the table in front of him as I sat down next to Hermione. Lupin gulped nervously as he looked between us, obviously unnerved.
"I… Umm… I work for the Wizengamot law department, as you well know, doing clerical work," Lupin stuttered slightly, looking at the contents of his glass instead of me. Hermione nodded, aware of the fact, even though I wasn't. "Well, we have a new solicitor working there, Valmont Scott. He mainly goes by his last name… Anyway, he's ruthless. Completely ruthless. I've never seen a man as blinded by pure ambition and… he's filled with such animosity, such anger… he scares me. He scares everyone in the department—"
"—And how does this affect me, exactly?" I asked, not wanting to hear the rest of his rambling story about how a big, bad government-appointed solicitor scared him.
"Well, he's been building a case… against you." He almost whispered the last part, eyes flickering up at me to see what my reaction would be. I looked at him, skeptical, not believing him, thinking that he was overreacting. It sounded stupid to me, as I hadn't done anything that would warrant such an action. I hadn't even done anything to violate school protocol. Instead, it sounded like the cheap class action law suits against faulty birth control or mood elevators that I would see advertised late at night on television. I stayed in small, sketchy muggle motels while I biding my time as a double agent, as the Ministry of Magics' tentacles never reached far enough to explore outside the wizarding world. This supposed "case" against me that Lupin was talking about with the utmost sincerity was weird, suspicious, and ludicrous. What exactly…?
"What exactly is he charging me with?" I asked.
"Killing Dumbledore, but not because you were a double agent, but because you were still aligned with Voldemort. And that you still are." Lupin then pulled a dark, black file tied with a coal colored twine out of the inside of his jacket and tossed it onto the table with a sickening thud. I heard Hermione whimper slightly as she looked up at me, worry etched onto her face. I wanted to tell her, "It'll be alright," but I stopped myself. I didn't want to scare her, especially if we were unsure if we should be scared in the first place.
"This is everything that I could make copies of and sneak past him," Lupin said, then looked up at me, serious. "I felt that you had a right to know, especially after everything you've done for all of us."
"Thanks Lupin," I said as I stared at the foreboding file. Lupin slowly got up from the table, drinking his wine in one quick gulp.
"I better go," he said, "but I'll keep you updated if I learn anything more."
"Please, do." Hermione said as she got up from her seat to see Lupin off. She grabbed her wand off the end table by the couch in the living room and flicked her wand at the fireplace, causing it to roar to life. "Floo powder is in the metal bowl to the left. And thanks, again."
Lupin nodded his head. "Of course." They shared a quick hug before Lupin floo'd back to his home, where his children must have been waiting for him.
The room was silent as Hermione walked back to the table, the worry spreading across her face with alarming speed.
She then sat next to me, and covered my hand with her small one as we both stared at the insidious file laying on the tabletop.
...And now the court case plot thread has been added into the mix. Good times.
Additionally, according to my outlining calculations, this story will be 16 Chapters long. Aren't you happy that outlining was burned into my mind's retina?
Last, but not least, give kudos to my awesome beta Tychesong... and check out her fantastic SS/HG stories too. You'll be happy you did.
Thanks for reading, as always… ^_^ -TomWithout