By unspoken agreement, neither Hermione nor Snape made any further mention of knickers, wet or otherwise, the rest of the week. If anything, Hermione felt that Snape had reverted back to his earlier sullen reserve. Of course, when she questioned him about it, he denied any such attitude; but Hermione knew that he wasn't chatting with her quite as freely as before. No matter—Hermione Granger was capable of entertaining herself, which she did by maintaining a steady stream of one-sided conversation.
And which she churlishly hoped irritated him beyond belief.
After all, it was hardly fair that he had been able to provoke her so thoroughly one day and then practically ignore her the next. She'd walked home on Tuesday in a daze, his parting words ringing in her ears...and reverberating in other unmentionable parts. That stupor hadn't worn off until she'd nearly finished her dinner, and then it was as if the floodgates in her brain opened. All the things she should have said suddenly came to her in a rush, and the last of her food sat forgotten as she'd hurried to jot them all down. She'd been prepared with several witty repartees of her own when she walked in on Wednesday, only to find that Snape was in no mood to taunt her some more. Why that disappointed her, she refused to examine too deeply.
It was all very vexing and confusing.
That was why, when Snape finally addressed her directly on Friday afternoon, Hermione made an exaggerated show of falling out of her chair in astonishment.
"I'm sorry, were you actually speaking to me? I was so surprised, I missed what you said," Hermione told him from where she was sprawled on the floor.
Snape's eye roll was minimal but noticeable. "I said, Do you have plans after work this evening?"
"Oh, I'm quite busy," Hermione returned, not wanting to grant him any victory at the moment. Then she realized he'd just asked her out, and she paused, unsure of how to proceed. Best to stick with what she'd already started, she supposed. She got to her feet and brushed her trousers off before primly retaking her seat. "Yes. Busy, busy." She snuck a glance at him and saw that he was trying not to smirk. Not wanting to admit that her weekend stretched before her in a great, vast emptiness, she added, "I have several new books to read. I shouldn't waste a moment."
"Of course," he agreed equably. Too equably for someone who had just been turned down.
Hermione faced him fully, frowning. "I also have...quite a bit of correspondence to catch up on."
"Naturally." He nodded. His nonchalance was getting under her skin, and she knew he knew it.
"But I suppose...if you need to eat, and I need to eat, we might as well...eat together," she said, slowly, as if it were just occurring to her. She was already reviewing her outfit against all the possible date-night restaurants he might have chosen when he gave her an odd look.
"Eat? I was going to tell you that we've been invited to a preliminary interview for that job you saw, if you were still interested. What do you mean about eating?"
"The job? The 'vague and terrifying' one you shot down earlier this week?" Hermione's brain screeched to a halt when she realized he hadn't been trying to ask her on a date. Merlin's beard...
"The same." He grimaced slightly, and Hermione realized he was feeling uncomfortable. "I shouldn't have presumed. If you're no longer interested..."
"Of course I am! Oh, but I haven't had any time to prepare. I haven't updated my resume in ages. What if they ask for demonstrations? We don't have wands, in case you've forgotten, and there's really no sense in asking for ours back temporarily so we can apply to a different position—mmph!"
The shock of Severus Snape's hand on her mouth was enough to silence Hermione, but he seemed in no hurry to remove it even after she'd stopped talking. He raised one eyebrow. "The person I spoke with specifically referred to it as an 'informal, unofficial, casual meeting' simply to learn a bit more about us, and for us to ask questions about the position. That is all."
As soon as he started to pull his hand away, Hermione said, "But what if—"
He clapped it back over her mouth, and tsked. "No more questions. I don't know any more than you do."
Hermione grabbed his wrist to pull his hand back from her face. "I'm not dressed properly."
He huffed out a breath and crossed his arms. "If that's an attempt to get me to mention your knickers again—"
"No!" She swatted his arm and blushed bright red. Then she added, "But if it had been, it worked. You said it."
Lifting his head to stare at the ceiling, he seemed to be fighting for patience. "Knickers, knickers, knickers, knickers. Now, can we get back to what's important here?"
Biting back a laugh, Hermione agreed. "Very well. It's odd that they asked us to come by after work, don't you think?"
"I requested that specifically. I didn't think you'd want to ask the illustrious Mr. Finklebaum for time off to go to an interview."
Hermione cocked her head to look at him. "That's exactly right."
"I know."
"Scary. For you, that is. Most acquaintances of mine faint dead away whenever I try to explain the inner workings of my mind."
"Most acquaintances of yours are idiots."
Her lips twitched. "I will neither agree nor disagree. So then. How shall we present ourselves? Is this just one position that we're competing for? I'd rather not go up against you, if that's the case." She furrowed her brow as she thought through the truthfulness of her words. In a competition of experience, knowledge, and skill? She wouldn't stand a chance. And she wouldn't want to stand between Snape and an opportunity to escape the drudgery of the lobby attendant position.
"I wouldn't count yourself out just yet," he said, giving her A Look. "You have a unique set of qualifications regarding a certain branch of very difficult magic..."
"Which I am not going to discuss unless they force me." Hermione returned his look with one of her own. "And which someone else shouldn't bring up, unless he wants to experience the full depth and breadth of my wrath."
Snape held his hands up in surrender. "I wouldn't dare. I saw what you did to Miss Edgecombe."
Hermione winced. "I did go back and fix that, after. Her skin is blemish-free, and she'll never know why she's able to live in her flat rent-free, but I will." Seeing that Snape was confused, Hermione explained. "I had to pull some strings but when I found out she was moving to London and had her eye on a fancy place near Bloomsbury, I made it so that a previously undiscovered 'aunt' had died and left her the whole level, rent-free and unencumbered. It's in Marietta's name, hers to do with what she wants if she ever moves again."
His brows shot up. "You murdered her relative to secure her a living space?"
"No! Bloody hell, just who do you think I am? I merely spelled all the documents pertaining to the building to this fictional relative, then did a wee bit of finagling to create a phony death cert and will, and then really, it was as simple as asking Kingsley to deliver the news of this fake aunt's passing as well as her leaving the building to Marietta. She need never know it was me, but it felt like the least I could do, after...well. You know."
He considered her for a moment, then shook his head in disbelief. "Most would consider 'the least they could do' to be an honest apology, not a conspiracy to commit fraud."
"I apologized as well."
"I wasn't implying you didn't."
"I felt terrible."
"I am coming to realize that."
"But Umbridge—"
He placed one finger on her lips again, and Hermione was still surprised, but this time she was able to register the feel of his skin on hers. And the resulting tingling that it was causing to spread all over her.
"Believe me when I say that no one blames you for anything that happened relative to that woman," he assured her. He pulled his hand back—all too soon, in her mind—and straightened. "Well? It's past five, shall we go?"
A/N: I've finally been able to get back into ffn after a month or so of the website being down (or at least, inaccessible to me). Uploading chapters to get caught up. You can also follow this story on AO3.