"If you continue to fidget, you'll spill your morning tea and I can assure you, Miss Granger, I will not be providing you with a burn paste," his acerbic comment hit home and she stilled, clenching her hand into a fist to not punch that tempting thin line of his lips.
Tempting? Fucking hell, she was losing the plot and it was only the 2nd of September.
"If I bother you quite so, Mister Snape, kindly seek to sit somewhere else," she retorted sharply, seeing the fine lines around his eyes tighten with anger at such disrespect.
To be fair, it wasn't entirely Hermione's fault their communication deteriorated so swiftly. When she arrived at the castle two weeks ago, excited to begin teaching after her apprenticeship was completed, she knew there would be challenges. She was still only twenty-two and some of the students knew her as a student herself. Not to mention that she was going to be the youngest member of staff.
When Minerva asked her to call her by her first name, she had to calm down the heart palpitations in fear of a heart attack. But once she arrived in the staff room, she was greeted so warmly by Pomona, Filius, even Irma Pince who used to put the fear of Merlin in her with her tight control over the library was welcoming, inviting her to stop by and discuss any books she would like ordered from other magical libraries for her research.
Then she caught a swish of black robes from the corner of her eye and found herself pierced by a cold calculating gaze. Bitter coffee, those eyes were always so dark they were nearly black, and she remembered the good days when they looked at her as a companion, and the disastrous parting of their ways a few weeks later.
She didn't want any accolades, never expected anything from the man after saving his life during the final battle. He was in for months of recovery from the snake bites and couldn't talk at all for weeks. So while they helped clear up Hogwarts, Hermione ventured to the hospital wing to see the one patient that had rarely any visitors. At first, he was still in a healing coma, so she would bring the latest issues of Ars Alchemica to read to him, hoping the potions research and familiar topic would soothe him even if he couldn't react to her presence.
When he woke up, his gaze was hostile, resentful, clearly asking her to leave. She stayed though. He was a complex and difficult man, but one who sacrificed his own safety and nearly his life for Harry, and for people like herself. So she plopped herself down into the seat beside his desk and flipped through the pages to the next article. He continued to glare at her during her daily visits for another two weeks. Then he ignored her for a week after, and finally as she brought her latest reading in late June, he watched her silently and nodded to her in greeting when she smiled at him in her usual manner.
His voice took longer than expected to return, and by the time it did, he would ask short sentences in a raspy tone, questioning some of the findings or asking her about the author of the research. It was progress, and she was glad to see his prickly hostility lessen with each day. That was until one day in July when she came in a little distracted after her disastrous break up with Ron. His ugly shouted words still rang in her ears. "Might as well go to your greasy git, if that's the company you prefer!"
How utterly childish! And Harry, too depressed and withdrawn, just stood by without a word in. She felt alone and separated from the two boys whom she considered her best friends, and without an invitation to stay at the Burrow, she had no one and nowhere to go. At least Minerva was kind enough to host her at Hogwarts until she began her apprenticeship.
"Miss Granger?" he asked, his brow raised at her mute seated form and quiet demeanor.
"Hmm? Oh yes, sorry," she picked up the magazine with trembling fingers and took a deep breath. She managed a couple of paragraphs of the article when his knuckles rapped on the table beside him to get her attention.
He was scrutinising her closely. "You are out of sorts today. You do not need to continue."
"It's fine, I'll be fine," she ran a hand through her curls and shook her head at his inquisitive brow. "It's nothing that would interest you, sir. Ron thought it convenient to use my visits to you as a reason for our break up. I'm sure he's getting back with Lavender though," she shrugged.
His face contorted into a barely controlled grimace. "He is correct, perhaps you shouldn't be coming here. You have your own life to get on with, Miss Granger."
Her stubbornness and anger kicked in and it just got ugly from there. He ended up kicking her out of the room with a parting of 'When will you learn to take 'no' for an answer? Get. Out.' , and when she tried to visit the following day, the door to his private recuperation room was locked and warded. She was clearly no longer wanted.
She kept to herself and was grateful to leave for Switzerland to study runes and arithmancy with Master Brucker a week later.
Their paths didn't cross for three years and she was surprised to receive a letter from Minerva, asking if she would take over teaching Ancient Runes and Arithmancy at Hogwarts as both professors were retiring at the same time. She was only too happy to. She loved Europe and her travels, but missed home. Coming back to Hogwarts was difficult but with the warm welcome of the majority of the staff, she felt she could be happy here. The only person to actively glare at her, avoid her, or down right snarked at her was the resident Potions Master and Deputy- Headmaster with his dark scowl and scathing words.
But two could play that game. If he refused to call her by her name or acknowledge her existence in a positive way, she would keep her distance and give as good as she got.
"Good luck on your first day, Hermione. Not that you need it," Minerva chipped in kindly, her gaze sharp on the Potions Master who huffed in return.
Hermione thanked her and finished her tea, ignoring the food as she was too nervous to eat, and headed off to prepare her classroom. She could only hope it wouldn't be too disastrous.
The first week rolled by and she was relieved to report at the next staff meeting that she was settled in and had several very talented seventh years who were thinking of apprenticing for a mastery or going into research.
"Your Mister Buckworth is not the little saint you have him for, Granger. That young man has a record as long as Potter's," the Potions Master retorted to her observation.
Everything within her bristled, but she only offered a polite smile. "He is not my Mister Buckworth, I do believe he is a Hufflepuff so he would be Pomona's. And it is none of my concern whether you can manage a student in your class, Professor. Mister Buckworth has been nothing but studious in my lessons and I will keep my opinion unbiased for the time-being."
You could hear a pin drop and by the sneer on his face, the dour Potions Master had a sharp retort to deliver when Minerva cleared her throat and stepped in, redirecting the meeting towards attendance. Hermione could have sworn his cloak snapped against her thigh as he stormed past her out of the room at the end of the meeting. Bloody git. Bloody enigmatic, interesting git. She hated that even when he infuriated her, she found him interesting...
He could have sworn Minerva was taking the piss. Not only was Granger back and annoying as ever, Minerva was scheming, distressed to see he wasn't fawning over the Gryffindor Princess like the rest of the staff. So here he was, trying to escape the bustle of Hogsmead, directing his dark glare at the excitable students milling about and making his way towards the back end of the small village.
Aberforth has thankfully moved on, Severus wasn't sure she could look the man in the eye again, and Rosmerta took over Hog's Head, hoping to build on her legacy in the little magical village. He was however disheartened to be greeted by a goat at the door, clearly part of the deal to keep the animal around a known environment as Aberforth moved on.
"Shoo you pest," he muttered, glaring at the goat until it trotted off with a mournful bleet.
"Oh, what's wrong, little cinnamon roll?" his gaze snapped to the left, a small round table by the fireplace and he groaned internally.
She was here, invading his one sanctuary with her honeyed curls and tight sweater dress and tall boots- He stifled a growl at the direction of his own thoughts and pinched the bridge of his nose. Of course she was as lovely as she was infuriating.
He was a stubborn man but he wasn't blind. Long gone was the under-fed, battle-hardened and depressed young woman with a frizzy nest on her head. Professor Granger, the young woman who was his colleague, was most certainly a woman in her twenties - curls defined and falling around her shoulders in sleek ringlets, her frame still petite but filled out with gentle curves, and she very much knew how to dress them judging by her current ensemble in warm earthy tones that made her skin positively glow.
She was petting the daft animal and of course had some reading before her. Was that-
The familiar cursive only pinned him to the spot more firmly. She was reading the latest edition of Ars Alchemica. And not just any section, she was reading the article he had submitted. He could tell by the magical photograph of the potion coming to a boil and changing colour to a magnificent deep copper.
It was at that moment she looked up and noticed him hovering a short way away by the entrance. The smile she graced the goat with fell from her lips and she leaned back in her seat, observing him calmly but with an edge of weariness.
Clearly she's weary of you, you've been nothing but an arse to her, you old git , his conscience piped up and he worked hard to try and wrestle it into place.
When he didn't immediately start spitting vitriol, Hermione took a sip from her fragrant drink and looked at him directly, hesitating before opening her mouth to say something.
"Professor Granger," he drawled almost in a greeting.
She paused, looking at him in surprise and with a degree of speculation, as it was the most polite he had been to her. Deciding to give him the benefit of the doubt, she nodded in greeting as well. "Professor Snape, would you care to join me? I was just reading your article and had some questions if you're amenable,"she offered, and somehow it felt like an olive branch between them.
He suppressed a snort at that particular proclamation. "I have no doubt you do, you are known to ask many," he drawled but did take a seat across from her, identifying the scent of oranges and cinnamon from her soap, and the spiced chai in her cup.
She bit back a retort about him knowing shite as he decided to ban her from his room when they were on the way to become friends. But it takes two to tango, so she redirected her gaze back to the article. "The research is fascinating. A bit too advanced for my level of potions but I was wondering what made you experiment with the Wolfsbane potion this past year," she mused.
"My motives are my own," he retorted shortly and nodded to the barmaid for a butterbeer. It was the strongest thing he could have with his student escort duties but he needed to drink something to endure the chit. Liar, you're enjoying the spark of intelligence in her gaze. "It is also extremely costly to produce, which is one of the key reasons preventing mass production and distribution by Mungo's."
Her gaze sharpened at his initial retort but she nodded at the sound reasoning of his argument. "I can see that being the case. How did you come to the idea to supplement the mint with the milk thistle though? I feel like I'm missing an understanding of the counter-reactions," she tapped her plump bottom lip. He found his gaze drawn to the gesture for a moment, glad she was looking into the fire and didn't notice his temporary insanity.
"That would be because Petrov's coagulation technique is taught at Mastery level only. It creates very precise conditions for ingredients to interact with each other, hence any substitution needs to meet these conditions and controls. On a cellular level, milk thistle was able to better substitute mint and bring forth properties that compliment the verbena and aconite," he explained, seeing her mind working at lightning speed, trying to take the information in with whatever she had been thinking about the process.
"I-," she paused, taking a sip from her cooling drink as she observed him quietly for a moment, as if trying to decide if she should speak.
It only irritated him further. "By all means, continue, Miss Granger. I do not have all day and you will voice your opinion at some point with your propensity to ramble."
That was clearly the wrong thing to say because she closed and stowed her copy of the magazine, standing to fix her coat in mere moments.
"I was merely going to ask if you had considered lemon balm or catnip as a substitute as they are both in the mint family but have different properties, but I wouldn't wish to waste your valuable time, Mister Snape," she tossed a galleon on the table and strode out of the pub, leaving him the center of attention of a few of the patrons and the barmaid who was frowning at him.
He nearly startled when an angry bleet sounded from the animal that appeared at his elbow. Even the bloody goat was annoyed with him. Fucking splendid.
He sat heavily on the bench, disbelief written across his features.
Nepeta cataria. Catnip.
A herb grown by Pomona for two purposes only - a relaxant and digestive soother in tea form, and a bit of recreational enjoyment for the local cat population. And yet it proved to be the decisive element in his breakthrough today. For the past two months he had been experimenting with the potion, her words stuck in his mind as he began a new experimental batch. Lemon balm had been a good hunch but it didn't stabilise the base enough. Though the potion took only three weeks to brew, and appeared to keep its potency for a week before it began deteriorating. It took him days of working out the formulae and tracking the interactions until he realised that the oils in the melissa stalks were responsible for the preservation of the potion for days instead of hours, compared to just using mint leaves.
It was the second herb she suggested that was the other option. He continued adjusting the lemon balm formula as he calculated the catnip formula and started brewing.
One week. The potion had only taken one week to brew, he cut down the amount of aconite and cost by half, and it was a brilliant golden colour. All that was left to do was test the potency and longevity before getting approval for human trials from the National board. This could revolutionise production, and as much as he hated to admit it, she gave him the idea in the first place.
His musings were interrupted by a sharp knock on the door to his office, and he flicked his wand to reveal the magical signature of his guest. Of course, speaking of the devil…
He opened the door, forgetting himself until her eyes widened a little at the sight of him. Of course, she had never really seen him outside of his thick black pyjamas and usual potions robes. The thin white shirt and rolled up sleeves were more skin that he was usually comfortable showing. Her gaze fell to his forearms and with a flick of his wand his sleeves were down and robes encasing his body, his neutral expression turning into a glare at her obvious staring.
She raised an expectant brow. "I'm sure you're aware why I'm here?"
His brow momentarily ticked in an effort to suppress a confused frown. "I can assure you I have no idea, Professor Granger," he retorted neutrally, once again unreadable.
"It's six o'clock, the ball is about to begin," she reminded expectantly.
He blinked, realising she was wearing a light elegant cloak that hid whatever dress she was likely wearing, but her hair was styled into beautiful tight curls, features enhanced with subtle cosmetics.
The ball…. Ah, the Yule ball. He groaned internally, lips tightening in displeasure. Of course.
"I will join you presently, I have several potions to put on statis. Please notify the Headmistress I will join the rest of the staff in fifteen minutes," was all he said before closing the door in her surprised face.
He waited a heartbeat until he heard the softly spoken 'Git' from behind the door and her retreating footsteps, heels clicking on the stone floor in a steady pattern.
In all honesty, he had forgotten all about the blasted event. At least tomorrow is the day the student body is finally leaving for the Christmas break and they will have three blessed weeks of peace before their return. He just had to get through tonight, that's all. He quickly tidied up his private lab before stepping through to his own chambers, quickly redressing in a set of black velvet robes that were fine enough for the occasion without giving anyone ideas.
He came in quietly just as Minerva gathered all the students for the celebration, looking festive in a deep green velvet robe with sleeves that practically touched the floor. She would miss dancing with Albus but Hagrid looked ready to step in with the Headmistress for the first dance, thank Merlin. He looked at the rest of the staff - Filius in a tuxedo, Pomona in a mustard and sage dress that had Filius grinning at her by his side. Those two were a curious couple, he mused, not that it was too much of an interest to him. Hooch wore her customary navy tux and boots, no surprises there, as she surreptitiously gripped Irma's hip suggestively. He shuddered reflexively. They would be sneaking off shortly to Merlin-knows-which alcove and of course he would pick up their corridor to patrol. Bloody splendid.
He caught sight of movement at his elbow as he glowered at the student body beneath the staff podium, turning to see the latest addition to their staff. The deep burgundy dress robes were doing nothing to hide her slim curvaceous frame, her wild curls fanning around her shoulders like a golden halo. Her smile was polite as she listened to the student announcement, before heading for the small refreshment table for the staff, pouring out some sparkling pumpkin juice into two cups, passing him without a backwards glance as she offered one goblet to the Headmistress, the two of them starting a murmured conversation as the music picked up and the eager sixth and seventh years piled on top of each other to start what was considered dancing these days.
He swept to the side of the hall, leaning against the wall to get a good vantage point to keep an eye on any miscreants. He was therefore surprised when she appeared beside him half an hour later, with a goblet for himself as well.
He looked at her offering for a moment before accepting it, their fingers touching briefly at the exchange. He expected her to heed his dark scowl and leave but instead she chose to recline against the wall beside him, observing the student body.
Before he could ask her if she was in possession of her faculties, she took a sip of the drink and turned to look at him briefly. "How is your brewing going?"
He raised a brow. "Inane small talk, Professor Granger?"
She shrugged her shoulders. "It's not inane, I know you were in your private lab where you like to keep the real research. Any recent breakthroughs I will be reading about in Ars Alchemica ?"
"Ah, your incessant need for snooping and knowledge then," he commented off-handedly.
He expected a barb in return but she only closed her eyes briefly with a soft sigh and pushed away from the wall. "Enjoy your evening, Professor," she said in a small voice, intent on leaving his scathing remarks.
It was so unlike her not to fight back that he realised with a panic he didn't want her to go. "Wolfsbane," he said before she could get far. She paused and turned to look at him properly, silently expecting him to go on. "It appears there are several herbs in the mint family that are proving a successful substitute.
She realised the implication of his words and a small smile graced her lips as she leaned back against the wall again. "Successful enough to trial?"
He nodded, taking another sip from the entirely too-sweet drink with a slight grimace, making her chuckle. "One, yes. I will have to file the paperwork and consider the potency but perhaps it is enough of a breakthrough to allow a policy amendment."
Her breath hitched at the revelation and her gaze became distant, no doubt in memory of Lupin who had been her inspiration for lobbying for werewolf rights despite steering clear of the Ministry. "That could be significant for our world. Will you show me?" she asked, wondering if he would let her into his inner sanctum.
And though he had only ever allowed Albus into his privacy from time to time in the past twenty years, he found himself nodding in promise to do so.
Her smile was as bright as the fairy lights hovering beneath the ceiling to illuminate the grand hall and for some reason he found himself conversing with her quietly for the rest of the evening before it was time to herd the dunderheads into their beds.
"I'll come by once I finish with the rounds," she promised and made her way towards the courtyard to check no one has found their way outside.
He found her eagerness for knowledge strangely appreciated rather than annoying as he had in her youth. He shook his head and went about his duties instead.
Her timid knock an hour later was met with a little hesitation, but he kept the heavy robe off and greeted her once again dressed down slightly in only his shirt and slacks. She dropped her cloak and folded it over the back of his office chair before following him through to his private lab, her eyes bright as she took in his experimental bench and the table covered in his notes. She peered into the cauldrons delicately, careful not to inhale any of the fumes and he found himself appreciating her respectful steps around his lab as she took it in before bending over his desk slightly to read his scrawl.
He had a sudden vision of bending her over that very table, pushing the lovely dress up her thighs until he had access to her honey, but shook it off instantly, straightening up where he stood. He had to get her out of here before he did something stupid.
"Nepeta cataria or Nepeta mussinii?" she asked, not seeing a distinct reference between catnip and catmint.
"Nepeta cataria," he admitted, and watched her fingers delicately trace the page as she made way through his writing.
He found the gesture as intimate as if she had touched him. He cleared his throat and stepped towards the door. "Well then, you have now seen my research, I shall bid you goodnight," he said once again with a dark scowl, trying to distance himself from her.
She turned around slowly, taking in his frown and sighed. "Why is it that every time I manage to get to know you a bit better you pull away and glare at me? I am not your student, Severus," she crossed her arms over her chest, only accentuating those pretty perky tits.
Fuck, he needed to get himself under control.
"And I do not recall giving you permission to call me by my first name, Miss Granger," he drawled. "How very Gryffindor of you - someone offered a finger, and you take the full hand greedily."
Her cheeks blushed with fury as she straightened and advanced on him. "You know what? Fuck you, Severus Snape. You are a man worthy of knowing, but all you do is push everyone away and I'm tired of your shite every time you just-"
She never got to finish the sentence because the sight of her anger and the fire in her gaze only spurred him on and his lips crashed down on hers. Their noses bumped, their teeth clashed momentarily and fuck, it wasn't pretty, but she was kissing him back and her hands were clutching his shirt like there was no tomorrow.
He didn't think, there was no consideration for the dangerous ingredients around them as he pushed his notes back and lifted her up on top of the desk, a low moan escaping her throat as their lips clashed again, her thighs falling open to welcome his tall frame, impatient fingers tugging on the buttons of his shirt to get him closer and undressed.
"You're still...an utter...arse, Severus Snape," she finally tugged on the shirt to get it open without care for his blasted buttons, and moved to fumble with the clasp of his belt and trousers.
"And you...are a...Gryffidor know-it-all…..aggravating….brilliant.."
Each word was spoken with effort as he pushed her dress up to her hips properly and hooked his fingers in her knickers, disposing of the flimsy garment swiftly. It caught on her heel but he left it there, only concerned about finally feeling her.
His fingers dipped into the soft patch of curls and he groaned at the slick heat that met his touch. She let out a little frustrated growl, her concentration wavering, but it was shortly followed by a victorious little sound as she finally pushed his trousers and boxers down, revealing the firm length begging for attention. Severus' chuckle of amusement at her impatience turned into a hiss of appreciation, their foreheads pressing together as they both explored each other to make sure they were ready.
She tugged on the length in her petite hand to pull him closer, and he pulled her hips right to the edge to better reach her. She rubbed her hips against him as he coated himself in her slick before thrusting home with a single push, clutching her close as he bottomed out into the tight heat.
He didn't have words, but he didn't need any as she gripped his neck tightly and pulled him into a messy kiss. From there it was an inevitable chase towards their peak, holding onto each other tightly as their bodies met with harsh thrusts of his hips that grew out of rhythm the closer they got.
Hermione pushed back a little, clutching onto his arm for balance as she slipped a hand between them to flick her clit, needing that final push to get there. Severus watched enraptured as his length disappeared inside her, groaning at the delicious sight.
She tipped them both over, her fluttering walls tightening as her orgasm crashed over her, the pressure too much to take for Severus' already thin self-control as he came just a few moments later deep inside her. They clutched each other close, his face buried in her wild curls as he breathed in the scent of cinnamon, oranges, and indigo ink on aged parchment. His amortentia was in his very arms.
They pulled apart after a few moments, taking a minute to cast the necessary protection and cleaning charms until they were righted to their earlier ordered selves.
Hermione looked at him a bit wearily, unsure if she was welcome now that the heat of the moment passed, or if she indeed wanted to stay when the man had been nothing but a pain in the arse. But she did recall his earlier words, being called brilliant by such a powerful wizard made a soft blush rise on her cheeks just thinking about it.
She looked back on the table and the slightly dishevelled notes, her lips tugging into an amused smile. "I was going to offer to produce some arithmetic calculation on the potion's potency if you'd lent me your notes but I just might have an imprint of your latest recipe imprinted on my bum."
His answering snort made her smile widen as he contemplated her with that bitter coffee gaze and stood aside, holding the door open.
"Tea?" He offered.
"Promise not to be too much of an arse?" She asked, folding her arms across her chest with a teasing raised brow.
"I make no promises, but perhaps we can begin with tea," he offered, and she saw the guarded light in his eyes.
She could work with that. "I'd love to," she accepted his elbow and hoped tonight would be the first of many spent in his presence.