Chapter 10

A/N: Two updates in the one day! Lucky readers!

The next time Hermione saw Professor Snape was Professor McGonagall's birthday. The Headmistress didn't usually care for celebrating on October 5th, but it was her one hundredth birthday, a fact that Professor Dumbledore's portrait had let slip to Professor Flitwick earlier that year. Professor Flitwick had informed Neville and a surprise party had been planned at Grimmauld Place. Minerva McGonagall was a shrewd witch, however, and had discovered the plan a month in advance. She had accepted the proposed party with good spirits but suggested that the guest list be expanded to include all Order members, their friends and spouses, and whoever else felt like coming. Very quickly, the party escalated from a group of trusted colleagues and former students, to a fairly rowdy gathering of well over one hundred witches and wizards.

Hermione was drunk. She knew she was drunk, and to be honest, she wasn't sorry about it. Hugo was with a babysitter, Rose was at school, and this was the first party she had attended since Harry's in July. She was thirty-nine, not quite over the hill, and wearing a dress that Ginny had forced her into, saying it "did wonders" for her boobs. Hermione had to agree, of course, and the few drinks she had enjoyed at the Potters to calm her nerves (and stop her tugging at the hemline of the dress) had relaxed her quite a bit. The few drinks she had consumed while helping Neville hang streamers from the ceiling had pushed her well into the realm of tipsy, and the three glasses of spiked punch George and Ron had basically thrown at her had confirmed that she was, indeed, drunk. And happy about it, actually.

"So come on, Hermione, there has to be someone here you fancy," Ginny said, pouring herself another gin and tonic. Ginny, Padma, Parvati, Luna and Hermione were in the kitchen having escaped a rather raucous rendition of "Don't Stop Believing" from Harry, Ron and George on the charmed karaoke machine. The conversation had, as always, turned to Hermione's love life. Ginny, Padma and Parvati were married and Luna was too vague to answer any interesting questions about sex or love (other than to confirm that yes, Neville was phenomenal in bed, a fact that Ginny swore she had always suspected).

"Ginnnnnyyy," Hermione whined, staring dubiously at the remnants of her fourth glass of punch. Had she really almost finished the glass? Already? She could have sworn she had only had one sip...

"Oh come on," Ginny protested. "Don't be boring. What about Draco? I assume he's here because you invited him?"

That was true. Astoria was abroad (again) and Draco had been complaining that he had nothing to do for the weekend. He had asked her (for the millionth time) to go to the opera with him and she had panicked (she hated the opera) and invited him to the party. He had been very reluctant until she had promised that Professor Snape would be there, and Neville, and Pansy Parkinson (now a close friend of Parvati's).

"Draco is..." Hermione paused. "He's..." She paused again.

"He's... what?" Padma asked, taking a sip of her champagne. "Drop-dead gorgeous? Clearly the best looking man here?"

"A total git?" Parvati offered and the five girls burst into giggles.

"I think he looks rather like a Norwegian Malibear," Luna said dreamily, only adding to the laughter.

Hermione raised her hand, still giggling herself, in an attempt to silence them.

"Draco is... well... he's not tall enough, for one. And I don't like blonds. Although he does have nice hands."

"Ok," Ginny said. "So no blonds, and you want someone tall. How about George?"

"Ginny!" Hermione was scandalised. "He's my brother-in-law!"

"Former brother-in-law," Parvati reminded her. "And he is pretty hot."

"No. No. He's like my brother. No." Hermione was adamant. "No. Sorry Gin, but no Weasleys. I'm done with Weasleys."

"Point taken."

"So you want someone tall, not blond, not a Weasley, with nice hands?" Padma asked.

"And... well..." Hermione paused. "Neville was saying..."

"Oh! What about Neville?" Parvati asked. "We already know he's great in bed, and he's tall..."

"And not blond!" Padma added triumphantly.

"No luck," Ginny interrupted. "I already tried to set them up, but neither of them was interested."

"Which is exactly what I was trying to say," Hermione said. "Before I was interrupted." She shot Ginny a playful glare. "Neville thinks I need someone "challenging". Difficult. Like Draco, but not Draco."

Her four friends paused.

"That sounds about right," Ginny commented after a moment. "Well, who's left then?"

"Well, there's Seamus, Terry, Michael," Ginny shook her head at Hermione and mouthed "bad kisser", but Padma continued, "Tony Goldstein, Oliver, Zach..." she trailed off, trying to think who else was at the party, taller than Malfoy, and single.

"Professor Snape," Luna said evenly. Padma, Parvati and Ginny looked at her with their mouths open. Hermione looked at her wine glass and felt her cheeks redden, remembering how foolish she had been the last time she saw him.

"What?" Padma asked, incredulous. "You can't be serious? Why would Hermione date Snape? He's ancient, and besides, he's a complete..."

"He's right behind you, Miss Patil, and not above taking House Points from your children for their mother's drunken behaviour," the familiar voice of Severus Snape said from the doorway.

Four heads snapped around in horror, while Luna stood with a half-smile on her face.

"Now, if you girls will excuse me, I was looking for Mr. Malfoy."

"He's in the library with Neville and Pansy," Hermione offered meekly. Her face was beetroot red and she couldn't meet his eyes.

Snape just nodded and swept from the room. As soon as he was out of sight, Ginny, Padma and Parvati burst into laughter and Hermione laid her head on the kitchen table and groaned. She had never been more mortified in her life.

"Can you believe that?" Ginny asked, tears streaming down her face from laughter. "Bloody Snape, eh? Always lurking in corners!"

"I can't believe he heard me!" Padma shook her head in disbelief. "I almost called him a git! Right to his face!" she shuddered at the thought. "Can you imagine him in relationship with anyone though?" she asked.

Hermione just kept her head on the table. She was laughing and crying at the same time. It beggared belief that Snape would show up right in that moment, although of course, that was why Luna had mentioned him in the first place. She hadn't been suggesting him as a potential love interest, merely greeting him in her strange, distracted manner.

"Well..." Ginny began, and then paused. "It wouldn't be too much of a stretch would it? He was in love with Harry's mum for years, so he's obviously the romantic type. And he's taller than Malfoy, definitely not blond, and I happen to know Hermione thinks he has very sexy hands."

Hermione snapped her head up.

"I never said that." She had definitely never said that.

"Yes you did," Ginny told her. "You just don't remember."

"What do you mean? I remember everything!" She did! It was one of her greatest strengths!

"You were drunk... it was at my wedding, during Snape's trial. You were obsessed with him then."

Hermione could not believe her ears, but the more Ginny said, the more the whole night started coming back to her.

"All you could talk about was his trial, and whether he'd be found guilty, and how unfair it was that he was being held in Azkaban. Ron was furious with you for talking about him at the wedding and had stormed off. I think Harry accused you of fancying him, and so you sent him packing. You were pretty sloshed at that point, everyone was. But after you told Harry to sod off you said 'Severus Snape is the bravest man I know. And he has gorgeous hands.' And then you trotted off to the bar for another drink."

Hermione blinked at her, recognition dawning slowly. She didn't remember the exact conversation Ginny was recounting, but if she cast her mind back to the time of the trial, she did remember Ron and Harry accusing her of being "obsessed" with Professor Snape, and (a blush rose to her cheeks at the memory) there had been a two-week period when she had developed quite a crush on the man.

"That explains the chocolate frog card," she blurted out and four faces blinked back at her in confusion. "I saw my chocolate frog card checking out Professor Snape's card and I wondered what was going on. You're right Ginny, I did have a crush on him. Years ago, though. I'd completely forgotten!"

Padma looked like she might be sick, but Parvati, Ginny and Luna nodded.

"You lot can't be serious?" Padma asked. "That's gross!"

"He does have wonderful hands," Parvati said.

"And he's so mysterious," Luna added. "Like his very own riddle to be figured out."

"And he's certainly a challenge," Ginny said, giving Hermione a significant look.

"This is disgusting. Don't listen to them, Hermione. They're drunk, and bonkers." Padma was adamant.

"Don't worry, Padma," Hermione said. "I was twenty-one, and he was a hero. The crush was over within two weeks, I promise. Now can we please stop talking about my love life? I think we've embarrassed me enough for one night. I can never look at Professor Snape again, that's for sure."

Severus hated events like these. He hated them even more now that he had walked in on Granger and her friends gossiping about him, and that blasted Patil girl suggesting he was old. He hated that he was sensitive about his age, but he was, and nearly every blasted wizard he went to school with was dead, so he did feel old, thank you very much and no, he didn't need to be reminded of it. When he had started at Hogwarts, he had been the youngest staff member. He had spent years in the company of older colleagues and friends – even Lucius and Narcissa were older than him. But now that Longbottom was on the staff, and Draco was the closest thing to family he had, he felt indescribably, horribly old. And to hear that Patil girl calling him ancient... It made his skin crawl.

He didn't dare think any more about the content of the conversation he had overheard in the kitchen. The last thing he needed was to concern himself with the mindless prattle of bored – and drunk – housewives.

He finally located Draco and Neville in the library and by the speed with which Longbottom handed him a glass of firewhiskey, he knew his scowl must be pretty impressive.

"Everything alright Severus?" Neville asked. Severus grunted at him. "Draco and I were just talking about the plants at Malfoy Manor. Apparently, the..."

"Good lord, Longbottom. You're not at work. No plants." Severus was surprised at his outburst. He must be almost drunk already. He hoped he hadn't been too cutting, but Neville and Draco both laughed and he relaxed.

"So what has your knickers in a twist?" Draco asked. Severus raised an eyebrow at him. He really was fond of his godson; he had proved to be much less arrogant and shallow than his father (which wasn't really saying much, as he was still arrogant and shallow). But he did despise that the boy took such liberties with him.

"You'd do well to remember that while I no longer have any professorial authority over you, Draco, I am your godfather and that position does grant me the right to give you a good kicking if I feel you deserve it." Wizarding law was archaic, but it did allow him to make plenty of empty threats.

Draco dropped the subject.

"Hermione's looking gorgeous," Neville offered as an alternative topic of conversation. Severus closed his eyes and counted to ten. What had he done to deserve this life?

"She is driving me insane." Severus was shocked to hear Draco speaking the very words he was thinking. "Astoria thinks I'm having an affair with her... Like I would be that lucky. I've asked her out about fifteen times now, and the best I get is an invite to a party with about three hundred other people. I guess I should take the hint."

"You, Malfoy, are a rake," Severus said.

"Oh, come on Severus," Draco responded. "You and I both know my wife is in Paris shagging some French bastard. What's so wrong with me trying to have my own fun?"

Severus wasn't going to answer that particular question.

"I doubt Hermione would be up for cheating with someone," Neville told him. "Even if she did fancy you." There was something in Longbottom's tone that put a sour taste in Severus's mouth. Did Granger actually have a thing for Draco? If anyone would know, it would be Neville, after all. He and Granger were thick as thieves (of potions ingredients).

"It's not cheating if my marriage is a joke, Longbottom," Draco said and Severus couldn't help feeling sorry for him. He had married too early. He and Astoria had only known each other a few months before the engagement. She was a beautiful woman, to be sure, but from the sound of it, a total raving lunatic.

"I doubt that's how Hermione would see it."

"Why are we talking about her?" Severus asked, realising he sounded petulant, and hoping his companions were drunk enough to ignore it.

"Well, she's just about the best looking woman here," Draco replied. "And she's single."

Severus shook his head a little and Draco got on the defensive immediately. He always had been an aggressive drunk. Severus couldn't count the number of fights he had broken up in the Slytherin Common Room after Malfoy had gotten his hands on a bottle of Ogden's.

"Are you trying to tell me that you don't think Granger is hot?" he asked, sounding personally offended that Snape wasn't buying it.

"She's an irritating, hand-waving know-it-all. Her hair is utterly ridiculous and she's as plain as a pair of old boots," Severus retorted.

Draco and Neville just blinked at him.

"What?" he snapped. "It's true."

"Er... no, it isn't," Neville told him, his voice inappropriately serious. "Hermione's gorgeous Severus." Draco was nodding in agreement. Severus couldn't believe his ears. Hermione Granger? Gorgeous? Granted, she had improved since her awkward schooldays, and she did have very nice hands (Merlin, he was drunk), but she wasn't anything special.

"We shall have to agree to disagree, Longbottom." He wasn't bothered arguing. "Now, if you will both excuse me."

He wasn't sure where exactly he was going, but he needed to get out of that library and away from the constant presence of Hermione Damned (Jean, he remembered) Granger in his life. Finding the hallway crowded, and not wanting to go anywhere near the kitchen, he made his way upstairs, glaring at the various couples he found on his way to the roof. Didn't these people have any dignity at all? They were all nearly forty, and some of them, like Flitwick were well over eighty.

He stepped out into the night air and felt the crisp October night hit him with a sobering wave. He took a cigarette out of his pocket and lit it the Muggle way, with a lighter he kept in the pocket of his jeans. Jeans. Another utterly insupportable element of his ridiculous event. Minerva had thought it would be positively wonderful and so much fun for the younger people if everyone wore Muggle attire. Severus had no shortage of Muggle clothing, but he had absolutely no desire for anyone he worked with – or taught – to ever see him in anything but robes. But Minerva had insisted, and here he was in jeans, dragon-hide boots and a black shirt. Hardly intimidating. And with Draco taking liberties, and those stupid women gossiping about him in the kitchen, he resolved never to wear Muggle clothing in public again unless it was absolutely necessary.

Inhaling slowly he savoured the warmth of the tobacco in his mouth. Smoking was a relatively new habit, and one he hid from Longbottom. He didn't want the boy fussing over his health. He could be a right mother hen when he wanted to be. He walked over to the edge of the roof and looked out over suburban London.

It was a glorious night, and Severus was grateful that he could only hear the faint notes of what sounded like Ginny Weasley and the Patil twins singing "I Am Woman". He was just giving thanks for his solitude when he heard the door to the roof opening. It was a woman, he knew, from the heels, and she was drunk, he surmised based on the irregularity of her footsteps. He hoped she wouldn't notice him, but it was not his lucky night as whoever she was, she was approaching him.

He turned to identify, and hopefully scare away, his rooftop companion.

"Oh! Professor Snape!" Her voice rattled through him like nails on a blackboard.

It was Granger. Of course.

A/N: When I started writing this chapter, I worried that a party was too obvious and easy a set up. But then I remembered that in real life, it usually takes a few drinks, and the prodding of friends, to make us realise what's really going on, or consider new options. And besides, I wanted to put Snape in a pair of jeans.