CHAPTER TWELVE

One may smile, and smile, and be a villain.

-Hamlet, William Shakespeare

"I want to go out."

"Excuse me?"

It was Monday afternoon, the second week of August, eight weeks into Hermione's employment and less than three weeks before Eloise would be returning to Hogwarts. They were in his kitchen, putting away the groceries Hermione picked up over the weekend. They hadn't spoken about the near-kiss in the garden the previous Friday, choosing to pretend it never happened. Instead they discussed literature, namely the book Severus started over the weekend, The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie. Severus hadn't finished it yet, but was determined to, as Hermione had mentioned it was one of her favorites.

"I want to go out," Severus repeated as he put the vinegar away in the cupboard.

"You want to go out?" repeated Hermione. She placed the eggs on the counter, the last item in the last bag, and turned to him. "You never want to go out."

"There are a number of potions ingredients I need. Several can only be procured at the apothecary on Knockturn Alley." He shrugged almost apologetically. "Will you… accompany me?"

"Of course," she said. "You're the boss. If you want to go out, we'll go out."

He scowled when she called him the boss, but as it hadn't been said with any animosity, he tried to suppress his annoyance.

They took the Floo network to the Leaky Cauldron and crossed from there into Diagon Alley. Hermione carried an empty canvas bag over her shoulder while Severus leaned on his cane. He hated having to bring it, but not having it at the Ministry a couple of weeks prior had been a mistake. They hurried toward the direction of Knockturn Alley, both secretly hoping not to run into anyone they know.

Which they did. Immediately.

"Hermione! Hello."

It was Luna Lovegood. The bright but flighty blonde was just exiting Ollivander's, arm in arm with a tall, thin man Hermione did not recognize.

"Oh… Hi, Luna." Hermione waved back.

"Mr. Scamander," greeted Severus, nodding toward the younger man, who looked about thirty-five, with untidy brown hair and freckles. "It's been a long time."

"Professor Snape!" said the young man, hazel eyes wide with surprise. "It's wonderful to see you looking so… uh…"

"Alive," Luna finished for him. "We were just dropping in on Mr. Ollivander. He's doing well. I can't believe it's been over ten years since we were imprisoned together in the Malfoy's basement dungeon and he looks exactly the same." She said this as if being imprisoned in a dungeon was as normal as vacationing in Greece or attending a Yule Ball. "Hermione Granger, this is Rolf Scamander. Rolf, Hermione. As of yesterday, we're engaged. "

"Oh!" Hermione reached out a hand to Rolf. "Nice to meet you! Congratulations."

"Thank you," said Rolf. "It's nice to meet you, too. I've heard so much about you."

"Are you related to Newt Scamander?" asked Hermione. "The author of Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them?"

"Indeed I am!" Rolf answered cheerily. "He's my grandfather."

"So, Hermione," said Luna airily. "Are you dating Professor Snape?"

"I… we… no!" Hermione was clearly caught off-guard. She glanced at Severus, who appeared disinterested, almost as if he hadn't heard. "I work for him, as an… assistant."

"That's nice," said Luna. "We missed you at Neville and Hannah's wedding."

"Yes," said Hermione, wanting nothing more than to get out of this conversation, even though she'd actually missed Luna very much over the last couple of years. "Sorry I couldn't make it."

"You're twice divorced," Luna pointed out unnecessarily. "Ron is married to Lavender now. He's much happier. I hope you're much happier too. You were never quite suited for each other, were you?"

"I... no. I suppose we weren't."

"Neville and I were not well-suited for each other either. We're better as friends. With no offense to Ronald intended, I always thought you deserved someone with a bit more... depth." She glanced up at Severus. "Perhaps an intellectual. Don't you agree?"

"I..." Hermione glanced at Severus but quickly averted her eyes, embarrassed to find him looking back.

"Ronald says he hasn't spoken to you in years but his mother went to your second husband's funeral. That was nice of her. Are you and she still close?"

"We..." Never really were, Hermione was tempted to finish, but it was true that Molly had attended the services. A welcome surprise. "Molly and I... um..."

"I am sorry to interrupt your happy reunion," said Severus, sensing her need to escape. "But Ms. Granger and I have a limited time in which to purchase the necessary ingredients for me to finish the potion I've been brewing for the past two days…"

"I'm so sorry!" Hermione exclaimed, though she wasn't. "Luna, send me an owl and we'll get together soon, okay? To catch up."

"I would like that. I'm glad you are well, Professor Snape. I'd heard your brain became infested with Wrackspurts during your early years of convalescence, which was thought to be the reason you've been so infrequently seen since."

He half-smiled. Luna was... interesting.

"Rest assured, Miss Lovegood, I am Wrackspurt-free... as far as I'm aware."

-0-0-0-

"Isn't that Severus Snape, the traitor?" Delphini Black pointed down the street toward a tall, too-thin man in a long, black wizard's robe, with pale skin and oily black hair that nearly reached his shoulders. "I've never seen him in person."

"You have," said her aunt Narcissa. "He used to visit. You were a baby; you don't remember."

"He's not my father, is he?"

The girl had been asking a lot of questions about the identity of her father as of late.

"I really can't say," replied Narcissa honestly. "You know if I knew who your father was, I would tell you."

Delphini nodded, a sneer on her pinched face. She'd been hoping for a definite "No." She didn't want a traitor for a father. Not considering who her beloved mother was.

"That's the Granger woman with him, isn't it, Auntie?"

"It is…" said Narcissa slowly, appraising the pair with suspicion. "I wonder what they're doing here… together."

Delphini shrugged, losing interest. "I want an owl."

"Excuse me?"

"An owl to take to Hogwarts. I don't want to be the only first year without an animal. Or worse, to show up on the first day with an embarrassing animal, like a cat or a toad. Unpopular, ugly girls get cats, and only weirdos want toads. So I have to have an owl. Specifically, I want an Indian Forest Owlet. They're on the verge of extinction. Very rare, dreadfully expensive. No one else will have one. Does Eeylope's Owl Emporium have them or will we have to order from India directly?"

"I… what?" Narcissa dragged her gaze way from Severus and Hermione, but not before noticing the way her old friend gently touched the brunette's lower back before they continued on in the opposite direction. So this is why he'd been ignoring her. He'd gotten himself a Mudblood girlfriend.

Delphini sighed. She hated it when her aunt failed to pay her full attention. She snapped her fingers to emphasize each syllable. "I. Want. An. Ow-el. To. Take. To. Hog-warts."

Narcissa narrowed her cobalt blue eyes and grabbed the girl's wrist, bending it back painfully. "Delphini Black, you snap your fingers at me again and you won't live to see your Sorting."

-0-0-0-

It didn't take long for Severus and Hermione to find all of the items on the list at Mr. Mulpepper's Apothecary. They intended to head home directly after, but Severus suggested picking up more Flesh-Eating Slug Repellent and Anti-Nargle Spray for the garden first, since his stores were running low.

"I still cannot accept that nargles are real," said Hermione disdainfully. "I know it's been proven beyond a shadow of a doubt, but I always thought Luna was a bit of an idiot when it came to things like that back in school."

"Ahead of her time, I suppose," said Severus. "She and Scamander are a good match."

"He was your student?"

"Yes. Class of 1992. Talented potions maker and Herbologist, in addition to being naturally gifted when it came to magical creatures. You don't remember him?"

"I didn't know many seventh years as a second year."

Severus made a face.

"What?"

"I forget, sometimes, how young you are."

"Not so young," she said, stepping closer to him. The alleyway was dark. Hardly anyone was around. She gently placed her hand on his upper arm. "I'm nearly thirty."

"You're not yet twenty-nine," he said, as the hand not holding his cane went to her hip. "I have nineteen years on you."

"That's not so many."

"I'm too old for you."

"I'm mature for my age."

He leaned his cane against the wall before placing his index finger under her chin, making eye contact, the way she'd done to him just recently. "You're practically still a girl, Ms. Granger."

"I assure you, sir, I am very much a woman." She tilted her head up, maintaining that eye contact, sliding her hand from his bicep to his shoulder.

He leaned down…

She licked her lower lip in anticipation...

His eyes closed...

Her eyes closed...

His nose brushed against hers...

Her lips just barely touched his...

The head of a cane met her shoulder blades and ran slowly down, down, to the lowest part of her back...

It wasn't Severus' cane.

Hermione jumped and whipped around, only to find herself face to face with one of her least favorite people in the entire wizarding world.

"Lucius Malfoy!"

"Hermione Granger Park." He said her name as if it were explicit. "It's been too long."

"Not long enough."

"Not long enough?" Lucius chuckled. "Still so fiery." He nodded in the direction of his former friend. "Severus."

"Lucius," said Severus, coldly returning the nod.

Lucius turned his attention back to Hermione, regarding her like a condemned man's last meal. "Faring well, Mrs. Park? How is your husband? I thought I might see him today…" He tapped the door of the nearest establishment with the snake's head of his walking stick. Hermione glanced up at the sign above. Baldwick's Betting Parlor. Her face flushed, which made Lucius' lip curl into a smile. "Where has Mr. Park been?"

"He's dead, Mr. Malfoy."

"How unfortunate. My condolences."

"Yes. Well, if you'd excuse us…" She attempted to push past him, hoping Severus would follow, preferably without asking questions, but Lucius stopped her by grabbing hold of her arm.

"Not so fast, Mrs. Park."

"Granger."

"Miss Granger."

"Ms."

Lucius smirked. "Hermione. Tell me…" He glanced at Severus, who was watching them carefully. "Miss Granger, are you still in the business of allowing use of your body in exchange for relief of your financial obligations?"

She went from ghost white to tomato red. "Still? No. I never was, Mr. Malfoy."

His smirk grew. He ran the snake's head along her cheek. "Weren't you?"

Severus, despite not knowing what was transpiring, grabbed Malfoy's walking stick and thrust it downward. He glared at Lucius.

"I don't believe she gave you permission to touch her."

Lucius laughed.

"And who are you, Severus? Her keeper? Fancy seeing either of you here. This isn't exactly an appropriate stomping ground for the beauty and brains of the so-called Golden Trio, nor is it the sort of place I'd expect to find the war hero who spent over a decade in direct, albeit covert, defiance of the Dark Lord. Isn't Knockturn Alley a bit beneath you both?"

"Professor Snape is my employer. We are running an errand."

"Why did you quit your job at the Ministry, Miss Granger?

"None of your damn business."

"Hm," he said. His gray eyes scanned her figure lecherously, which made Severus' blood boil, though he knew it wasn't his place to step in, especially as she not the type to seek a man to save her. "A secret, then? How... scandalous."

"If I felt it was for you to know, Mr. Malfoy, I'd have shared my reason with you. But as I've not shared it, clearly it's not for you to know."

"In any event, Miss Granger…" (She wanted to punch him every time he said her damn name.) "I am so very glad you've found another source of…" He looked over Severus again. "Income. But if you needed galleons, you could have come to me. I would have been happy to offer you a position."

"I doubt I would have wanted it, Mr. Malfoy."

"Your choice of positions, even. Multiple positions per shift."

Hermione went even redder. When Severus teased her like this, even that first day, the innuendo hadn't bothered her as it did coming from this despicable pureblood supremacist. She clenched her fist around her wand as he continued.

"On your back, on your stomach, on your knees… which position would you prefer?"

"We're leaving," said Severus, grabbing his own cane, unable to listen to this for another moment. Hermione attempted to step away, but Lucius tightened his grip on her arm. Severus withdrew his wand from inside the pocket of his robe, holding it down by his side, but ready to bring it up if necessary.

"Let us by, Mr. Malfoy," said Hermione, glaring at him with unadulterated hatred in her eyes. He dug his fingers deeper into her flesh.

"Why so frigid, Mudblood?"

That was it. Hermione wrenched her arm away and brought her fist back to punch him as she once had his son, but Severus was faster. He shoved his wand under the chin of his former friend.

"Apologize, Lucius. You are not to speak to her this way."

"Are you going to curse me, Severus? Your old friend? For what purpose? To protect the honor of your... employee?"

"I might," sneered Severus.

"No." She wrapped her fingers around Severus' wrist, bringing his hand down, while mentally reminding herself that she was a nonviolent person. "I can handle this myself. Mr. Malfoy, contrary to what you may believe, I am no prostitute, and your insinuation is as unwelcome as your blood-status slur."

"Oh?" he said, feigning innocence. "Excuse me. I do apologize if I seemed to indicate that I believe you to be a prostitute. Not my intention. Please, go on."

He stepped aside, letting them pass. They were nearly to the end of the alleyway when he called out, "Not a prostitute, not technically… but most certainly a whore."

He promptly disapparated, thus Severus' stunner hit the brick wall opposite them, at the approximate height of Lucius Malfoy's heart.

-0-0-0-

Once back at the house on Spinner's End, Severus and Hermione headed to the basement to put away the potions ingredients. They hadn't gotten the Slug Repellent or Anti-Nargle Spray but everything else on the list had been checked off.

Hermione took the bag and went straight into the storage room while Severus was still slowly coming down the stairs. He entered behind her. She refused to look at him.

"Why did Lucius Malfoy speak to you in that way? Did he… Did he answer your ad?" asked Severus, wondering whether it had run after all.

"No."

"Then why…"

"I don't want to talk about it."

"I'm sorry he was nasty to you."

"I don't need your pity." She climbed halfway up the ladder to place three small vials on a high shelf. Once they were in place, she stepped down, caught her foot, and nearly fell. He steadied her, one arm around her waist from behind, and eased her down. Once she was standing on the floor he made to pull away, but she put her hand over his, the one that was on her abdomen, and held him in place. He froze. She leaned against him, resting her back against his chest, which likely would have hurt had he not taken a heavy dose of pain potion before they left.

"No one has held me like this in a long time," she confessed, her voice small.

"I haven't held anyone like this in a long time," he said. He wrapped his other arm around her, placing his right hand over her left, which was over his left over her abdomen. He rested his face beside her head, breathing in the sweet, coconut scent of her bushy brown hair. Both closed their eyes.

"He talked to me like that at the Ministry," she said quietly. "He would drop into my office and close the door and lean over my desk and make suggestions that… that sickened me... or we'd run into each other in the elevator and he'd 'accidentally' brush against my arse, or he'd run the head of that damn cane down my back in the hall... and… and even the way he'd look at me made me uncomfortable. I couldn't continue working there. I couldn't stand the… the constant reminder… the daily harassment…"

"That's why you left the Ministry? Because Lucius Malfoy was hitting on you?"

"It goes deeper than that. I…" She excised herself from his arms, heading back into the lab, leaving the rest of the potions in the bag on the floor. "Why are you prying into my personal life? I said I don't want to talk about it."

"Well, I want to talk about it."

"Talk to yourself, then," she snapped. She picked up a rag and began wiping down the long metal table that spanned the length of the room, even though it was not dirty. "Or better yet, send a letter to your darling Narcissa."

"She is not my darling Narcissa," he said.

"She writes you an awful lot for someone you claim you're barely friendly with."

"You're deflecting, Hermione."

"Are you sleeping with her?"

"Are you serious?"

"Well? Why's she writing you?"

"I'm not sleeping with her."

"Have you ever?"

"Have you ever slept with Malfoy?"

"We're not talking about me! We're talking about you! And Narcissa!"

"No, we're not!" He stalked toward her and grabbed her hand, forcing her to stop wiping the table between them. "Look at me."

"Why should I?" She stared down at the rag in her hand instead. "I can't look at you, knowing you're sleeping with Narcissa Malfoy."

"I am not sleeping with – for fuck's sake, Hermione, I haven't slept with – I've been in recovery for over a decade! I can barely stand for anything to touch my skin, anything! - unless I've made myself numb with pain potion first. And you think I've spent this time willingly enduring excruciating pain to shag Narcissa? Even though I've clearly spent the last two months trying to appeal to you?"

"You're trying to appeal to me?" She was on the verge of tears. She withdrew her hand from his. "What does that even mean?"

"What do you think it means?"

"I think it means you're cheating on Narcissa!" Hermione's voice rose in pitch, bordering on hysteria. She knew she was being irrational - and, yes, deflecting - but she couldn't help herself. She couldn't tell him what happened, why she left the Ministry... She couldn't tell anyone. She couldn't let him see her as the whore Lucius Malfoy claimed she was. "Is that what it means, Severus?"

"Merlin's beard, Hermione! It means I'm bloody attracted to you!" he shouted. "I'm not asking you questions because I'm trying to pry into your life; I'm asking because it's clear that you're hurting and I care about you!"

"Well that's great!" Hermione shouted back. "That's just great because I've grown to care about you too!"

"Then why are we shouting at each other?"

"I have no fucking idea!"

"Let's stop it, then!" He slammed his hand down on the table, which hurt despite the pain potion.

"Fine!" she shouted.

"Fine!" he shouted.

"Fine!" she shouted again, as the angry tears burning at the corners of her eyes began to trickle down her cheeks. "And while we're at it, if you fancy me so damn much, why don't you kiss me?"

"I'd be happy to!" he shouted back.

"Good!"

"Great!"

"Yes, great!" She breathed in jaggedly and wiped away her tears with her palms and stared back at him, expectantly.

He stared back at her, struggling to catch his breath. "Wait. Are you serious?"

"I… I'm serious." They were still separated by the table. She climbed up on it, sat on the edge, dried her cheeks with her sleeves, and tried to smile. "Severus? I'm serious. I want you to kiss me. I think I... I fancy you."

"I think I fancy you too. But I couldn't... I didn't dare imagine you'd feel the same," he said, exhibiting a quiet vulnerability few ever saw from him.

He stared at her. She stared at him. Neither moved. Outside, it had started to pour. The sound of heavy droplets against the roof and windows echoed through the basement dungeon. She bit her lip in nervous anticipation. He breathed deeply and evenly, trying to convince himself he wasn't simply fantasizing again.

"So..." Hermione broke the silence. "Do you want to kiss me?"

"I want to kiss you." He stepped closer, so his body was touching the table, with her thighs on either side of his hips. He placed his hands gently on her waist.

She ran her delicate hands up his chest, coming to rest on the backs of his shoulders. "You can. If you want to."

"I want to." He wiped his thumbs across her cheeks, clearing way a couple of late-escapee tears.

"Then you should."

"Alright..." He leaned down, anxiety and excitement filling him. "I shall."

"Alright." Her eyes closed.

His eyes closed.

Her tummy fluttered as her lips parted ever-so-slightly.

His heart fluttered as his lips finally met hers.

It was, perhaps, the sweetest, gentlest kiss she'd ever experienced.

He tried to pull away after a moment, but she placed a firm hand at the base of his neck and pulled him back down to her. This time her lips parted more, enough to grant access to his tongue. As the kiss deepened, his hands traveled up and down her back as she pressed her breasts against his chest. Suddenly, she kissed him desperately, wantonly, nipping at his lip, attacking his tongue with hers, causing – though not to her knowledge – an uncomfortable tug in his groin.

"Fuck," he groaned, battling the desire to take this farther… not only for purposes of propriety, but because he didn't trust the abilities of his own body. Even so, he grabbed her arse, pulling her closer to the edge of the table, thrust against her, and kissed her harder, wanting her, wanting so much more than friendship and a kiss.

"Yes," she moaned, lightly scratching the back of his neck with her short nails, eager to feel something other than sorrow or shame, content to feel wanted, not for her body, but for her. She tilted back her head, encouraging his lips to make their way from her mouth to her jawline to the center of her throat. He began to suck on the spot where her neck met her shoulder. "Yes, please, Severus… Yes… Yes, there… Don't stop..."

"I won't stop..."

Their lips met again. Over and over again they kissed, awakening a passion that had long been dormant for both. She dug her nails into his back, making him gasp and groan from a now-familiar combination of pleasure and pain. His hand was just making its way up from her waist to her breast when the grandfather clock up in the sitting room began to chime.

Ding. Ding. Ding. Ding. Ding.

"Damn," she said, placing her hand on top of his and shifting it back down to her hip. She was breathing heavily, her chest heaving, and her lips were puffy. "It's five o'clock. I need to go relieve my sitter."

"Yes," he said, equally at a loss for air. "That's... rather... responsible of you."

"Yes."

"Yes." He backed away enough to allow her room to slip off the table.

"Well…" She smiled, sort of embarrassed, and squeezed his hand, unable to reconcile the attentive, desirable man before her with the formidable, domineering professor she'd known in her youth. "I'll see you on Wednesday?"

"Of course."

They exchanged an awkward smile.

Too soon, she apparated home to make dinner for her children, over which they talked about the day's playground excursion.

He ate alone, trying to lose himself in Muriel Spark's The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie, but he couldn't concentrate on the plot.

Wednesday seemed a world away.

-0-0-0-

Meanwhile, in Wiltshire, England, an eleven-year-old girl debated names for her brand new pet, an endangered Indian Forest Owlet, while trying to block out the screaming row being had in the bedroom down the hall.

She stroked the soft feathered head of the bird.

"Soon, we're headed off to Hogwarts," she whispered, ignoring the sound of breaking glass, followed by an anguished cry. She wondered whether the bruises would be visible the next day. If so, as usual, she would pretend not to notice. "Soon, we'll be far, far away."