Hello, I hope you are doing well. As best as you can be. Go easy on yourself, and others. My thanks, and my love.
Severus was entirely unsurprised to find the bed empty when he awoke. He forced himself to ignore the clench in his gut and went about his morning rituals. He thought about leaving the bed there, some sort of sappy reminder. She had tidied it up, straightening the blanket and pillows. Old fool Severus, get rid of the damn thing. She was drunk, it's all a dream and you know it. He reached for the blanket with the intention of transfiguring it back into something wearable. A small white note fluttered to his feet as he lifted it.
Professor,
Please know that I am incredibly embarrassed by my actions last night. I crossed a line, putting you in a no doubt uncomfortable position as a teacher. I can barely stand to face you, knowing what I've said. I'm terribly sorry to have inconvenienced you further by falling asleep in your rooms. Thank you for your hospitality however, it was the best sleep I have had in a long time. I hope we can still work together if you do not feel it inappropriate.
Kindest regards, Hermione Jean Granger.
The potions master frowned, her note seemed a slight over reaction. He couldn't actually recall her saying anything much at all. Calling him a friend was hardly grounds for an apology. Women. He would never understand them. Rather than penning back a note, he waited until the class had begun to depart and called out to her.
"Ms Granger"
She turned, cheeks aflame, looking uncharacteristically awkward. "Yes, Professor Snape?"
"I don't much care for brewing tonight, would you care to join me in the restricted section of the library for some research?"
"You still want.. to work with me?"
"Of course. You are not the first drunk student I have seen, and certainly not the worst."
"So you don't feel uncomfortable about what I said?" Her heart beat an uneasy rhythm, wondering where the conversation would go.
"I too consider you to be a friend, Ms Granger. In fact, the only true one I am in possession of. I am not offended by your admission, more so honoured by it. I will meet you at the library at our usual time." He turned away before she could see the pink colouring his cheeks.
Hermione felt elated. She also felt slightly confused, and a little disappointed. She realised now that he hadn't understood her meaning that night, so incredulous was the idea. Of course he wouldn't consider a student having feelings for him. It was entirely unprofessional.
The very same small spark that drove her to study, to work hard, glowed again. The very thing that made Hermione who she was, began to burn with determined longing. She would make him see. She would make him understand how she felt. If he chose to turn away in disgust and remove himself from her existence, so be it. The tiny sliver of hope for a different reaction told her it was worth the risk. Their night of research was soothing for the pair, both parties decidedly needed relief from the stress. It wasn't strange, as Hermione had feared. They picked a comfortable corner in quiet and each sat, occasionally asking a question or taking down notes. They read long into the night, before retiring with a whispered goodbye.
The next day, Hermione made for her rooms swiftly once classes were over. Taking a deep breath, she sat down at the small, overused desk in her lounge area. It was large enough to spread ample books, but small enough to keep tidy. From her position she could see over the lake and into the woods. A soft afternoon breeze wafted fresh air through the large glass window. The Half Blood Prince's book sat open to the first page before her. Taking the silk journal and her new quill, Hermione wrote
"This Book is Property of the Half Blood Prince"
-The knowledge within is the intellectual property of one Severus Snape, transcribed by an admiring, silly, witch.
She was grateful for the calligraphy classes she had taken in her eagerness to gain her pen license at her muggle secondary school, allowing her to link each letter beautifully. Witches and wizards didn't bother much with handwriting, long as it were legible. She wanted this to be special.
Hermione had never been much one for art, but her mother loved it. Abstract was good, she decided. She illustrated the first page with an image of her professor, hair falling in a graceful curtain over his face as he leaned into a cauldron. Below this, in small golden lettering, she rewrote the first words she had ever heard him say. She remembered the entire speech from start to finish. First page complete, she allowed herself a private grin. His birthday was this coming Friday, she would need to work hard to finish the journal. The next few days were spent lovingly re-writing her teacher's spiky scrawl. She incorporated his notes from margins, replacing the useless steps within the potion with his own genius. Each page had some form of illustration, whether it be a simple jar of ingredients or a scene. Once she reached the middle of the book, she used an entire two pages to illustrate. This drawing, she coloured. The tree from which they had sourced roots for the potion stood in the middle, it's red berries glowing in the moonlight. The forbidden forest stood behind it, casting dark shimmering shadows. She had drawn the two of them, him looking up to the tree and her looking up at him. Drawing-Snape was entirely un-aware of the girl beside him as he took in the beauty of the surroundings. Drawing-Hermione's eyes were glued on him alone, large and loving, lips curved up in a soft smile. Real Hermione took in her work, nerves stirring in the pit of her stomach. There was no way he would miss the intention behind the picture. How would he feel?
On Thursday she worked long into the night. The clock struck twelve, startling her. She paused, placing her wand at her throat to speak as she cast her patronus, the otter twittering softly at her. She wished him a happy birthday, sending it gliding out the window. Once every word of his potions book had been transcribed and illustrations complete, she sat back, tired and pleased.
Severus had poured himself a drink and cynically cheered himself for still being alive. He found it more pleasurable to drink when he wasn't doing so because he felt there were no other choice. He felt genuine appreciation of the fact that he hadn't the urge to drown himself in liquor very often anymore. A silver light squeezing under his doorway surprised him, disturbing the man's late night musings. He was confused to see the otter, swirling around his bookcase. Hermione's voice radiated the room in a whisper. Of course her patronus was an otter. A warm feeling crept through him, akin to whisky as it flows down one's throat. He reached for the otter, it swum around him once before disappearing. She knew when his birthday was. She had taken note. Of course, she was meticulous Ms Granger. She would know all her teacher's birthdays. But it was barely 12.01, and she had already wished him happy birthday.
His happiness was diminished the moment he entered the great hall. Every year he dreaded entering, it never got easy. After an awkward and generally unmeaningful "Happy Birthday" sung by the students and eating cake for breakfast, he prayed it would be over. Alas, when did Severus Snape ever have good luck? The staff insisted he join them at the Three Broomstick's for drinks after classes. He didn't like doing this at the best of times but was especially miffed to be missing out on an evening with Hermione. That would have been a much better way to celebrate.
Hermione had expected him to be out, but still felt a little blue. It couldn't take the edge off her excitement though. She crept down to his rooms, placing the gift before the door. No one came down here but him, so it was entirely safe to leave it there. When she had made it upstairs, she poured herself a bath and tried her best to relax.
Severus managed to escape his now well imbibed colleagues around 9 o'clock, enjoying a quiet stroll back to the castle. It was snowing, the trees coated thickly. He spied the box before he had made the final steps down to his room, and drew his wand. No one gave him presents aside from Albus, and that was tucked under his arm. Firewhisky, no doubt. Surely, this was a foul prank by disgruntled students. Possibly even death eaters, still stung and vengeful. He ran a few diagnostic spells, but turned up nothing. As he crept cautiously closer, the smell of vanilla and apples met his nostrils. Ms Granger. Hermione Granger. She had gotten him a gift? The lump crept it's way up his throat yet again, as seemed to be a common occurrence since their relations.
Placing the gift before him on the desk, Severus simply sat and stared at it for a while. The box was black, she had tied a perfectly even bow around it. There was a card attached, plain brown paper.
"Dear Professor,
Happy Birthday. It is no small feat that you remain here amongst us to celebrate. You haven't any idea how grateful I am for that fact. Many of us, myself included, also owe it to you that we can enjoy our own birthdays. Thank you for all that you have shown me, even when it was not your responsibility to do so. This is just a small show of appreciation, one day I will figure out how to make a larger one.
Looking forward to our next brewing session, Hermione. "
He re-read the note. You haven't any idea how grateful I am for that fact. He didn't think anyone would ever be grateful that he was still alive. Hands beginning to tremble, he lifted the lid of the box. A book of some sort, covered in black silk. Already, it was better than he had allowed himself to imagine. Books were a very personal thing, after all. He opened it carefully, with more respect than he handled even his oldest tomes. His hands trembled harder. His eyes widened as they took in what lay before him. She had titled it after his self-given nickname. He was dumbstruck to find that she had re-written every word of his opening speech perfectly. How on earth had she remembered that? He began to flick through the pages, growing closer to tears with each turn. The lump in his throat felt as though it were obstructing his airway, now. When he came to the middle of the book, he stilled. He placed it open before him and gazed down at it. The scene was breath-taking. The tree fairly glowed, she had made him look much more handsome than he thought was truthful. But what made his heart stop in his chest and the tears finally escape his eyes was the drawing of herself. She was looking at him, smiling. He saw in her eyes the same thing he had seen that night she came stumbling down to his rooms and finally, Severus Snape understood.
It took him approximately forty three seconds of warring with his responsibilities to give in. Hope burned hard in his chest, accompanied by the signature ache of longing. The fear of rejection lent a metallic taste to his mouth, but he pressed on. He had barely time to wipe the tears from his eyes before he had rounded the corner to her rooms. He stopped before it, hand raised as if to knock. This was it. If he turned away now, he would never come back. Before he could put his hand to the wood, the door swung open.
Hermione's heart crept into her throat as she saw him before her. Leftover tears in his eyes made them glitter, black as ever. She said nothing, unsure. He stepped forward into the room, she closed the door.
Severus had never had to say such things before, therefore didn't know how. Luckily, all it took was
"Hermione" before she threw caution to the wind and launched herself at him. Before either of them could have a moment to think, she leaned up and placed her lips upon his. Severus had never had a proper kiss, not the kind that told the stories of one's feelings. He felt her pouring herself into him, as though he were an empty glass. He slipped a hand under her head, running it through the mass of curls as instinct took over. Gods, how long he had wanted to do that. She's kissing you. SHE kissed YOU. She pressed him further back until he was hard up against the door and she hard up against him.
He couldn't help the low groan that escaped his throat as he felt the heat of her body against his. The dynamic of the kiss changed, beginning to grow frantic. She must have just bathed, for her skin smelled deeply of apple and her curls were damp. He lowered his lips to her neck, desperate to taste the smell he had been taunted by for so long. It was her turn to groan as his tongue flicked over the skin below her ear, the sound made him shiver. He felt like a man drowning, and she was air. Returning to her mouth, he indulged in the feel of her soft lips and the way she kissed back. They stayed like this for much too long, simply enjoying the feel of each other's kisses. Severus ignored the thoughts in the back of his mind, focusing his attention wholly on the young woman before him.
His body was growing uncomfortably wound up, the desire building until almost painful. He forced himself to pull away.
"Hermione."
"Prof-"
"Severus. Please"
"Severus" She tested his name, feeling the way it fell from her lips.
At the sound, he growled and pulled her up against him again.
"You're going to ruin me, silly witch."
Once they were both sufficiently out of breath, Severus pulled back and sunk himself into the usual armchair. He was fairly taken aback by what had just happened, entirely unsure how to proceed as logic returned.
"Tea?" Hermione knew not to push, had learned the way he thought. She would remain calm. If you start to grin manically he'll feel uncomfortable, pull yourself together.
"Please"
She poured the tea and seated herself between his legs, back against the armchair. She rested her head on his thigh, staring contentedly into the fire. Severus looked down at the cup in his hand and tangle of golden hair against his leg. He felt perfectly, entirely, at peace.