A/N: I just wanted to say thank you so much for all the love on the last chapter and the lovely comments. They make my day. Even if I don't respond to all of them, I am reading them and they honestly make all of this so rewarding.

Beta love to aureliandreams and photon08 and alpha love to sleeplessdreamer927

cw: alcohol use


Chapter 4: The Minister's Ball

Day 7

Severus opened his window to the oversized owl. It held not a letter, but an ornate scroll, the wax seal on the back infuriatingly recognizable.

"For fuck's sake," he hissed under his breath.

There was only one place that would bother with such grandiose fanfare.

As he unrolled the scroll, it lifted itself into the air and read aloud— worse than a howler, he thought bitterly.

Dear Severus Snape,

You are cordially invited to the Ministry of Magic Remembrance Ball taking place this Friday evening. Attire is formal. Dinner will be served at half past six o'clock.

Attendance is mandatory.

Sincerely,
Kingsley Shacklebolt
Minister for Magic

P.S. Don't even think about trying to skip this one, Snape. Minerva may be your Secret Keeper, but I have it on good authority that Harry also knows where to find you. See you tomorrow.

Severus set the scroll on fire, the surprise of the flame causing the owl to squawk in protest. He fed the bird a treat to calm it before it flew off again.

Turning back to his kitchen, he stared at the empty space and wondered whether Potter really would show up if he tried to miss the ball. This drab little house was his solitude, his sanctuary, even if it did hold the very worst memories of his childhood. The odds seemed too great to take the risk.

He leaned against the counter with his arms crossed, but couldn't think of a way out of it. And Friday was only a night away; leave it to the incompetent hands of the Ministry to throw a ball with no notice. Or perhaps they just hadn't given him notice—that seemed more likely.

And if Potter was attending, the rest of the Golden Trio would undoubtedly be there.

"Bollocks."

Day 8

Hermione sat in front of the mirror while Pansy used her wand to create soft ringlets in the Gryffindor's hair.

She met the other witch's gaze in the mirror. "Don't you think he'll find it a little suspicious that he received an invitation at the last possible minute?"

"Yes," Pansy admitted, pursing her lips, "but he'll just take it as a personal offense. He won't suspect any ulterior motive." She rolled her eyes. "Honestly, he's probably shocked that Kingsley had the nerve to demand his presence at all."

"Kingsley did seem awfully nervous." Hermione's worries bubbled to the surface as she watched another ringlet fall perfectly into place, her stomach flipping with anxiety.

Pansy shrugged. "Well, the Minister likes his balls where they are, and he knows Snape, so he's probably going to walk around with a shield charm around him all night."

"Oh," Hermione fretted, sinking her teeth into the soft skin of her bottom lip. "Now I feel bad that we've gotten him involved."

Pansy snorted as she finished the last section. "Don't. I'm sure he'll be thrilled to have his most elusive war hero there. Donations are always better when gossip is making its way through the crowd."

"I hate these events, honestly."

"So do I, but they're a package deal with the Chosen Fiancé. And I'll never say no to a drink on the Ministry's galleon since half of their galleons are mine anyway. There we go, all done." She rubbed Hermione's arms as they looked at their reflections in the mirror. "Perfect."

Hermione smiled meekly. "Thanks, Pans. I feel so silly, but at least I'll look nice tonight."

Pansy snorted. "Granger, you're hot. Don't let the red-headed flobberworm make you think you aren't just because he had his tongue down someone else's throat. Snape isn't going to know what hit him."

The doorbell rang and Pansy turned towards the sound excitedly with a smile that Hermione was starting to associate with Things Hermione Granger Wouldn't Normally Agree To.

"Ah!" said Pansy. "Perfect timing."

Hermione looked at her curiously. "Who are you expecting?"

Pansy cupped Hermione's cheek and tapped it with a grin that was all teeth.

"Our secret weapon has arrived."

~O~O~O~

Severus walked into the atrium wearing what he hoped passed for formal enough robes. He hadn't exactly had a lot of time to prepare, nor did he often have occasion for anything beyond normal dress robes. Even on his dates, he preferred to go Muggle; he hadn't needed to be fitted at Madam Malkin's for formal wizarding attire since he was a boy. And he was not about to spend a dime of his guilt money on frivolous clothing designed to be worn once and then shoved in a closet until the next inane event.

Robes aside, Severus certainly didn't expect to be trotted out for the Minister's gains so soon after the war. At this rate he supposed it would take them another thirty years before they remembered how disagreeable he was despite his hero status and finally stopped inviting him to fundraisers and the like. Then he could finally get some peace.

"Severus!"

Severus closed his eyes, mentally reciting the ingredients for the Draught of Living Death. It wouldn't do to hex someone and end up in Azkaban after all the prostrating Potter did on his behalf.

He slowly turned towards the Minister's voice in time to see a nervous-looking Kingsley Shacklebolt approach him. Severus kept his hands clasped behind his back, and Kingsley's hand fell awkwardly where he had been reaching for the other man's.

"Good of you to come, Severus."

"I didn't believe I had much choice, Shacklebolt."

"Please," said the other man, smiling genially as he placed his own hands behind his back and stood tall. "Call me Kingsley."

Severus felt his jaw clench and fought the sneer that came so naturally to him. "Very well."

"I'm glad to see you here. It is important for our war heroes to be a part of our rebuilding efforts. It's going to take many years before the effects of the war are no longer felt."

Severus refrained from pointing out that the effects would always be felt by some. A party didn't seem the place to deliver such blunt truths unless one was on their way out the door.

"Did you bring a date?" Kingsley asked him, looking behind Severus anticipatorily.

Severus raised one eyebrow, teeth pressing harder together. "The invitation said nothing about guests."

"Oh Severus," Kingsley said, clapping him on the shoulder ill-advisedly. "You are one of our guests of honor. It goes without saying."

"It certainly did." Snape spoke through clenched teeth, his gaze on the offending limb as if it were covered in bubotuber pus. Kingsley seemed to take the hint that the limits of the Potions Master's patience were being reached and quickly removed his hand.

"Well, enjoy the party. There's food, wine, plenty of lovely witches who would be thrilled to meet a war hero, I'm sure."

Kingsley took his leave and Severus pinched the bridge of his nose, seriously considering whether he shouldn't just turn and leave now that he had made an appearance.

You're one of our guests of honor. It goes without saying.

Did that mean—

Was she—

Would she be there with—with Weasley?

The thought that Severus might have driven her back into that moron's arms for something as asinine as not showing up to a party alone sent his stomach lurching. Even if he could not have her, Weasley certainly did not deserve to.

Severus decided he would stay just long enough to be seen, perhaps find Minerva and ensure she didn't drink so much as to spill his Secret to the Minister—Severus would not tolerate unexpected guests in his home—and perhaps see if she had decided to arrive solo after all.

It would only be polite to ask her to dance, if she had. After all, if he hadn't ended their arrangement, they could have arrived together. He ignored the thought that she wouldn't want to be seen with him. If he had known about the party, perhaps he would have waited longer to call things off. It was rather rude to leave a witch without a date at the last moment—

His breath escaped in a single huff, and he was grateful that the music and din of the crowd was loud enough to hide the strangled sound he was sure had come out of his throat.

Hermione Granger was standing across the room, in a shimmering green and silver backless dress, chestnut ringlets falling softly down her back. She was laughing amongst a group of her friends and turned to the wizard next to her, standing on tip-toes as she whispered something close to his ear. The wizard turned his face towards hers to answer and Severus was grateful he was so far across the room.

The sight was not at all what he had expected—he had underestimated her. It wasn't Weasley on her arm.

It was Viktor Krum.

Hermione leaned into Pansy's side, nerves getting the best of her. "Pans, I don't know if this whole jealousy thing is really the way to go," she murmured, lowering her voice so no one else would hear. "It feels so…juvenile."

Pansy rolled her eyes, sucking an olive off the end of her drink stirrer. "He's a man, and men don't like to share."

"But there's nothing between Viktor and I. You know that."

She looked at Hermione conspiratorially. "Yes, but Snape doesn't. Please trust me. By the end of tonight, we'll know if he has the balls to actually pursue an arrangement with you or not. If he doesn't…" Pansy trailed off, shrugging casually. "Well, I hardly think Viktor would object to being your rebound for the night."

Hermione was about to respond when Harry interrupted.

"Shall we?" He held his hand out to his fiancée.

Pansy looked over her shoulder as Harry led her away. "Stick to the plan, Granger," she whispered.

His jaw clicked as they made themselves comfortable at his table. Of course they were seated at the same table. He had done some horrid things in his life, but did the gods really think he deserved this?

"I can't believe the Ministry was so careless as to let go of someone as brilliant as you," Krum said in a thick Bulgarian accent.

Severus wrapped his first around his glass of Firewhisky, focusing on breathing at an even, steady pace. He had lied and schmoozed and manipulated his way to safety for years , hardly breaking a sweat even in the most turbulent of Death Eater meetings, even when the Dark Lord ordered his own death. Severus relied on his ability to adapt quickly under pressure, but for the first time in his adult life, he found himself at a disadvantage he didn't know how to overcome. The best he could do was breathe in measured paces and hope to at least hide the physical signs of how rattled he was. Occlumency would keep everyone else out, but even if he were the most skilled Legillimens in the world, he had a feeling he would be no better off that night. The very thought rankled his pride; understanding the whims and motivations of others was his specialty, was what kept him alive all those years.

But a few short hours in her presence and his skills appeared obsolete. Krum was seated to Hermione's left, while Severus sat on her right. Severus brought the glass to his lips and took a slow, measured sip, feeling the burn all the way down as a short laugh escaped through his nose.

Was he her angel, or was she his devil?

"I can't believe they had the nerve to invite you to their party after letting you go," Pansy added to the conversation, a pink drink in her hand.

Hermione blushed. "Good for the donations, I suppose. It wouldn't do for them to lose face when they're asking for pocket change."

"Where is the other member of your trio tonight?" Severus asked the table as he took a bite of the canapes.

"Who knows and who cares," Pansy answered, bored. "His sister is far more entertaining company, anyway." She glanced at the youngest Weasley and smiled one of those secretive smiles Severus had never understood between women. He briefly wondered what the two witches were up to, but his thoughts didn't wander for long; Hermione hadn't looked at him yet, and it was starting to bother him. Was she really going to ignore his presence all night?

"I wouldn't have thought any of the famous trio could go anywhere without the other," he goaded her. "What will the Ministry do without their three-headed guard dog?"

Hermione looked over to him. He glanced at her for only a moment, refusing to give her the satisfaction—or to reveal how eager he was to have her attention again. "I believe you're taking our place tonight, Professor. They must prefer potion riddles. Good thing there's nothing terribly secretive in the Ministry these days."

"I'm sure you and your friends would find it and leave destruction in your wake if there were," he mumbled, bringing his water glass to his lips.

Hermione narrowed her eyes at him before turning back to Krum. "I'm so glad you were able to make it tonight, Viktor."

"Of course. It is an honor, even if the Ministry does not act honorably towards you." Krum placed his arm along the back of Hermione's chair, and luckily everyone missed the scratch of the knife across Severus' plate. "Have you found a new job yet, skŭpa?"

Severus' fork paused midway to his mouth for only a fraction of a second. If one hadn't been looking for it, they wouldn't have seen the flash of panic over his features, or the way his eyes darted to Hermione as he waited for her reply.

She continued to face Krum as she answered. "I did actually, but it didn't last long. I think the employer was a bit misogynistic to be honest. He didn't seem to think I was up to the task. Probably because I'm a girl. Or maybe it went deeper than that—"

She wouldn't dare, he thought. Not knowing what she knows. She wouldn't even pretend to think

"Maybe it's because I'm Muggleborn."

"Fucking ridiculous," Severus muttered loud enough for the table to hear it.

Hermione turned her face towards him, hands still folded together where they rested above the table. In a tone so sweet it made his teeth hurt, she replied, "Yes, I agree, actually. It was fucking ridiculous."

She continued, directing her reply to Krum. "But I wasn't informed of any legitimate reason for the termination, so I'm left to draw my own conclusions."

"And your conclusion was that he's a blood purist?" Severus spat.

Hermione shifted her focus back to Severus, appraising him with her brown, doe-eyed gaze. "It does seem rather unlikely, in this day and age. Perhaps I'm being too harsh."

Damn straight, you in—

Delicately, she shrugged, turning back to Krum. "Maybe he just found me personally insufferable."

Snape dropped his fork onto his plate, his hands grasping the napkin in his lap to try to maintain even the tiniest illusion of composure.

Krum took one of her hands and gently pressed his lips to it. "Then they did not deserve you, skŭpa."

Pansy snorted inelegantly as she twirled spaghetti onto her fork, and Hermione gave her an irritated look. Severus wondered once again whether the witches at the table were all in on some secret.

But he didn't care to sit there and put up with their insipid company just to investigate the situation further—not when his normally strict composure was already slipping. He wiped his mouth with his napkin and stood to leave.

"Leaving so soon, Professor?" Pansy asked sweetly and he shot a glare at his former student.

"Oi, you can't leave now. They haven't even brought out dessert yet." Potter looked at him pleadingly, like he might try to follow him if Severus made a dash for the exit.

Severus sighed, not particularly interested in a duel with the Chosen One when his stomach was already turning on itself.

With a pitiful hopefulness in his expression, Potter waved his fork at him, adding, "And, there's still dancing."

Severus bit back a scathing remark, trying—as best he could—not to take out more on Potter than the man deserved. "I will stay for the dancing. But as I've finished eating, I see no further reason to remain here." He stalked off across the room, to a far corner where several other guests had gathered around the wine bar. Walking straight by the bar he disappeared into a small hallway where more cases of wine were stored, lit by a single window.

Severus pressed his thumb and forefinger to the spot between his eyebrows where he could already feel a stress headache growing. Not worth it , he told himself. This farce had disturbed his peace long enough.

He would stay for one dance, then excuse himself back to his solitude for the foreseeable future. He could manage that. Just a little while longer and he would escape her big brown eyes—possibly forever, if he was careful.

With that reassuring, if not comforting, thought, it only took ten minutes of deep breathing and reciting poisons in order from most to least toxic for him to calm down.

And it only took one question to ruin his peace.

"Having a pleasant evening, Professor?"

He turned, surprised to see Pansy standing at the entrance to the small hallway, a drink in her outstretched hand.

"Hardly, Miss Parkinson," Severus sighed, relinquishing the safety of the dark corridor and stepping back into the main room to take the offered drink.

"It'll be Mrs. Potter soon, you know. I'm sure Harry will insist you attend the wedding."

"A lot of people have been insisting upon my presence lately," Severus grumbled. "Congratulations on your impending nuptials, but I have no desire to attend large gatherings in general."

Pansy smiled in a way that made Severus nervous. With a far too casual swipe of her hand through the air, she replied, "Oh, who knows, you might enjoy yourself. There will be lots of guests, but the venue will be rather large. I'm sure there would be plenty of spots to hide out in if you needed a break." Her smile dropped and her voice became icy with warning. "So long as you don't cause trouble for me, sir. It would mean a lot to Harry to have you there, but I won't have you making anyone cry at my wedding."

It felt just shy of honest enough to make Severus squirm. What did she know?

Pansy turned to go but Severus' curiosity got the better of him.

"Has Mr. Krum been back in the country long?" he asked, feigning nonchalance.

Pansy turned slowly on her heel, surveying him with a cultivated innocence in her features that he recognized from having spent the better part of twenty years practically raising Slytherin teenagers. "Not long," she shrugged, taking a sip from her drink. "But I imagine he'll stay quite a while. Wouldn't you if the Golden Girl asked to spend the night on your arm?"

She nodded in Hermione and Krum's direction and Severus' eyes followed hers. The pair were dancing and laughing, seemingly at ease together.

He didn't answer.

It was several moments later before he realized that Pansy was watching him watch Hermione. He cleared his throat and glanced away.

"Do you know each other well?" she asked.

"I only met Mr. Krum the year of the tournament," he replied brusquely.

"No, sir. I meant Hermione."

He looked quickly at Pansy, watching her lazily stir her drink as she looked at him, her head slightly tilted. "Of course not, Miss Parkinson. I do not know Miss Granger any more than I know yourself or Mr. Potter."

Pansy nodded, looking down at her drink, lips pursed. "I see."

She didn't sound as if she believed him. He heard Hermione's laugh from across the room and fought the urge to seek her out with his eyes.

"I should get back to Harry. But if I may remind you, Professor," Pansy said, deceptively nonchalant as she eyed the rim of her drink like it might hold the secret to life's greatest mysteries, "Gryffindors may be reckless and bold, but they tend to get whatever it is they're after."

She glanced up at him, smiling with a saccharine grin just as Hermione approached the bar, flushed from dancing.

"I needed a moment," she said breathlessly to Pansy. "Viktor would have me dance every song and I'm parched."

Hermione still avoided looking at Severus entirely.

Pansy threw one arm around her friend, pulling her into her side. "I'd love to keep you company, but I promised Harry a dance."

Severus watched as Pansy kissed Hermione on the cheek before returning to their table, pulling Potter up by the hands to lead him onto the dance floor. Meanwhile, Hermione leaned forward against the bar and ordered a drink, seeming entirely uninterested in speaking to him.

Severus' gaze lingered on her curls against her naked back and misguided anger bubbled up inside his gut, sending poisonous words to his mouth. "That didn't take you long."

Hermione stiffened, but made no other indication that she had heard him.

"It was a savvy choice," Severus continued, vitriol spilling forth unbidden. "He certainly has the means to fund your new lifestyle."

Hermione turned her face towards him, her expression hurt. "Excuse me?"

"Mr. Krum was only a Floo call away, I'm sure."

She rounded on him, leaning stiffly against the bar as she appraised him. Her arms were drawn tight across her chest, her drink forgotten. Her expression hardened, and he would have sworn someone taught the swot basic Occlumency.

"I'm not sure I understand what you mean, Professor."

"That's not my name," he spat.

"Well, Severus," she bit back, catching him off guard with the way venom dripped off the sibilant syllables of his name, "as I am no longer in your employ, I hardly think it matters what I call you."

She grabbed her drink and turned on her heel to walk back to the dance floor when Severus called out, "Wait!" And then more desperately, in a quieter tone, added, "Please."

She stopped in her tracks. He was sure Hermione had never heard him use that word before.

"Can we speak? Privately?"

Severus waited the span of several heartbeats while she seemed to deliberate before he saw her shoulders lower just a fraction, and she turned towards him again. As his eyes met hers, he expected to see all the loathing he'd grown accustomed to reflected in their depths, but instead they were blank. Calm. Waiting.

She said nothing, just nodded and followed as he led her into the small hallway nearby.

When they were far enough away from nosy patrons, he turned and faced her.

"You're angry with me." Severus waited; he didn't know whether she would acknowledge it or try to deny it, but the truth was apparent.

Hermione cradled her arms against her chest and bounced one heel. She was sucking her teeth, as if unsure how honest to be. It wasn't until she sighed in resignation that he knew she might actually hear him out, and when she spoke again, her tone had softened. "I'm disappointed that you couldn't be bothered to tell me you wanted to end our arrangement. That you paid me off. Was it really so awful for you?" She asked the question as if his answer didn't matter, sarcasm hiding her genuine hurt. But he heard it there, the need to know.

"No, it wasn't." He bit his tongue, unwilling to say more and show his hand just yet.

She brushed her hair over her shoulder and a hint of her vanilla-cinnamon shampoo wafted towards him. Despite his piss poor mood, Severus still had to fight a primal groan as his eyes fell shut, intoxicated by the very scent of her. In such a small space, the heady scent was even stronger.

He wanted to taste it on her skin. He wanted her to know exactly how not awful their date had been for him. He wanted to touch her, tease her, worship her, and he wanted to start by burying his face in her sweetly scented hair before proceeding to kiss and lick and bite his way down the column of her neck, before—

No. She does not want you, you stupid old fool.

And yet—

—and yet—

—and yet...

Severus wandlessly vanished her drink, stepping closer to her. Her eyes peered up into his and her mouth parted on a quiet gasp, pupils dilating.

And yet.

"How much is he paying you?"

Hermione looked confused for the briefest of seconds, her mouth parted in obvious arousal now going slack with shock, any rudimentary Occlumency shields failing as her eyes went from surprise to anger in three seconds.

"I beg your pardon?"

"It is about the money for you, is it not?" he pressed.

"Oh I'm sorry ," she said, not sounding sorry at all as she looked around the dark, moonlit hallway, empty except for their presence. "Where is your date? Has Sugar Quills found you a suitable replacement yet? Perhaps she's waiting for you at home? Someone less insufferable, I'm sure. Seems a bit rude not to bother to bring her to a party first, but perhaps those are just my delicate Muggle sensibilities. After all, why bring her to a Ministry function when she's only there for one purpose? I highly doubt it's for conversation."

"Miss Granger—"

"Since I am a great conversationalist and that was apparently not to your liking." Her hair crackled in the dark hallway, tiny bursts of converted energy dancing around her. "It only took one date after all for you to remember that you never particularly liked me, Professor ."

"I never—"

"Or was it that you think I'm not fit for this type of work?" Hermione pressed, stepping further into his space, though there wasn't much closer they could get. "I have just as much right as the next witch to do whatever sort of work I please, including building relationships where company is exchanged for money. It's hardly en vogue to be so scandalized about it anymore. Honestly! Wizarding sugar relationships are tame as baby Nifflers compared to Muggle ones!"

"Hermione!"

Her voice was rising octaves faster than he could process, with no sign of slowing down as she tore into him in the lowlight. Even her name on his lips did nothing to slow her.

"Gods forbid you have to converse with me a few times a week, it's not like I asked you to fu—"

His mouth crashed down on hers as he pressed her back against the stone wall. It was intense and electric, his hands cupping her face as hers pulled tightly on his lapels. She was arching her back to press into him, and he moved his lips desperately over hers, hoping it said everything he couldn't.

Hermione kissed him back eagerly, tugging his bottom lip between her teeth, parting her mouth for his tongue, until suddenly she pushed him away all at once, her hands still grasping his robes even as she held him away from her.

Breathlessly, she asked, "What are we doing?"

She was flushed, panting, with a light sheen of sweat by her hairline. Severus' breaths came in heavy, labored pants as he touched his fingers to his lips. He was breathing as if he'd just run; his skin tingling, heart pounding.

"I was too hasty, ending our arrangement," he rushed out. His mouth felt dry, the truth sticking to the roof of it. "I thought working together with a former student would be too difficult," he lied, "so I gave you a month's sum for your time—"

"It was pity money!" she shouted, shoving against his chest petulantly. "Because I told you that I have nowhere to live or work. But I don't need your charity!"

"No," he exhaled, chest heaving with the same emotion that was echoing through her petite frame, both breathing heavily as she stood trapped between his arms, his palms resting on the wall either side of her. "It was not."

Hermione glanced at his mouth as if she might need to taste it again just to be sure, but then her eyes hardened and she looked resolutely at him. "What do you want from me?"

What a question.

"I want to continue our arrangement. I will call Wanda in the morning to explain, and I will pay you double your fee, for your troubles."

"Why?"

"Because, Miss Granger," he said, leaning in dangerously close to her mouth," I did actually find your company at the museum quite enjoyable. Because I shall hardly find someone more intelligent to spar with. And," he looked down at her outfit as much as he could given how close they stood, "because you look ravishing in my house colors."

Hermione swallowed, her pupils blown wide. She met his eyes, glancing between them before her gaze briefly flitted to his mouth and then back up. She grinned—no, she smirked—satisfaction raising one side of her lip higher.

"Did it hurt just now?" she asked. "To admit that you actually enjoy talking to someone as bright as you?"

Severus matched her smug expression. Cheeky witch. With a rumbling drawl, he teased, "I never said as bright. Humility is a virtue, Miss Granger."

"Overrated," she breathed.

He was so close to her that each of her exhales tickled his chin.

"What do you say?" Severus pressed a light kiss to the side of her jaw. "Are you still interested in our…arrangement?"

She didn't answer right away, and Severus pulled back to look at her, worrying that he may have miscalculated. For a split second, her confidence seemed to falter. And then he blinked and it was back as if it hadn't happened at all.

"Yes," Hermione finally answered, a mask settling into place more firmly, obscuring her emotions. "But this is an arrangement. So there should be terms. I want them to be clear."

Hermione's tone was business-like once more, and Severus' heart sank as the high he had been riding dropped him soundly back into reality. He moved a few more centimeters away, trying to gather his thoughts. She was right, of course. What had he been thinking? He hadn't meant to kiss her again, but she had looked so beautiful yelling at him, and their pull was magnetic. And the actual kiss… He had felt the same fireworks it had inspired on New Year's Eve. And the same dread that she might not view him as worthy of her company in the light of day. The same desire to run. To protect her. To protect himself.

Yet part of him had wanted to fight his fear and risk it all.

But Hermione was right. They had an arrangement; there were terms. And in their case, it was just business. He had said so, she had said so. There was really no confusion, no room for miscommunication in the formality of their agreement.

Disappointment sat heavy like a stone in his stomach and Severus knew his previous decision to end things early had been the right one. Hermione would never view him the same way he viewed her. He was captivated by her after such a short amount of time together, and she had wizards lining up to take her to balls. Yes, she had taken the kiss he offered on the rooftop, the kiss that something had possessed her to want, and she clearly felt some level of attraction to him as well, given the course of the evening. But—and this seemed like a rather important but—she also wanted to make sure he knew that she was there for work. For the transaction.

For the money.

Whatever Hermione's feelings about him might be, whether it was a temporary fascination or perhaps just a euphoric spike from speaking to someone that didn't regularly test in the Troll range on essays, they were not a factor in her decision. She was smart enough to keep her distance. That was her choice to make, and it was his folly for assuming mutual attraction might mean anything different.

But he couldn't back out now—not without looking like a wounded dog licking its paws, and a witch like Hermione Granger hardly deserved such a pathetic display. No, he would not do such a thing, but nor would he make the same mistake of assuming she felt a desire for…more, again. He would simply enjoy spending time with her for as long as she'd allow, even if it was purely intellectual conversation and good company. She would be a friend of sorts, whom he happened to be assisting financially. The sooner he helped her get back on her feet, the sooner their arrangement would end, and he could extricate himself from her life without either of them getting hurt. It was a sick, twisted truth that he both wanted to prolong the duration of their relationship and hasten its end.

"Of course," he said, finally pushing off the wall and stepping back a more reasonable distance. "What are your terms, Miss Granger?"

Hermione righted her dress, seemingly flustered, the fresh tint of pink on her cheeks suggesting that this was still difficult for her to discuss. She must've had very definite limits if she was pushing through her discomfort in order to set the record straight; he would have to remember and respect them.

"First, you are not allowed to be jealous of my dates."

Well that certainly wasn't where he thought this was going.

Severus raised both brows. "Allowed?" He tested the word.

She blushed. "This nonsense with Viktor. I won't allow it. You said you're not looking for sex, and that I was free to continue other relationships."

He had said that. But he wasn't sure he could manage the anxiety of not knowing whether she was enjoying someone else's company more on any given night. It wasn't a proud realization, but it was honest. "I want this to be exclusive."

Hermione blinked, astonished. "But you said—you said you weren't looking for sex. You said that." It sounded more like a question.

Fuck. Perhaps this was her dealbreaker. Backtracking, he amended, "I didn't say our arrangement would include sex. Merely that it would be exclusive for its duration."

"It won't include sex, but you don't want me sleeping with anyone else," she repeated back to him slowly.

"Correct."

"You keep kissing me."

Severus squirmed. She had him there.

"Two people can experience mutual attraction while acknowledging that it would be a very bad idea to follow through on it."

She blinked rapidly, her cheek twitching in a wince. "Oh. Okay. So what now then?"

"Exclusive."

Hermione laughed, a short, sharp sound that seemed to indicate she found the thought ridiculous. "No."

"I am paying a small fortune for your time and dating would be a distraction."

"I will let you know if my dating life is going to interfere with our work, but as it is now, there is nothing pertinent for you to know about and no reason for me to agree to this." Her eyes sparkled. "Unless," she leaned forward and he thought she might try to kiss him, "you admit that you are jealous."

"I am not jealous." Lie. Severus chose his next words carefully, knowing that his aim was precise and already hating himself for it. "I simply want to make sure that if I'm paying for your time, then I am getting my money's worth."

The passion in Hermione's eyes dimmed, the depths clouding as she took his words into her heart. Severus knew he had hit his mark. He had commodified her in such a way she could neither take issue with (because being available to him, being interesting, even being pretty, was—as she saw it—her job) nor take offense from (because she didn't want him to think she was too delicate for this type of relationship in the first place).

It was a calculated move.

It was one he abhorred.

He couldn't possibly think of her in such a reductive way—she was brilliant, and kind, and passionate. And everything unobtainable to him. He had yet to decide whether Wanda pairing them up was luck or a cruel joke.

But Severus wouldn't risk his heart again. He would Occlude, hold her at arm's length, treat this like the transaction it was. Company for money. Payment for labor. That was all.

And if he dreamt of her at night anyway, there was no one left to judge him.

By the look on Hermione's face, he had successfully planted the wedge between them. She was colder, her emotions shuttered.

Good. It was safer that way.

"Fine," she said, her tone clipped. "An exclusive arrangement, for its duration, however long that may be. We can start tomorrow."

"Tonight."

"I have plans tonight."

He leaned next to her so his breath was on her ear. "Cancel them."

Hermione sucked in a breath. "Give me a good reason," she whispered back against his jaw, and he couldn't tell if it was a challenge or a plea.

Severus stepped back, needing to establish some distance between them, lest he be compelled to do something stupid like kissing her again. "I will take you to a bookstore that keeps very late hours."

Her eyes widened. She seemed about to agree, and then shook her head. "No. Tomorrow."

"Fine," he bit out, shuttering the sting of rejection behind his walls and straightening his shoulders. "Do you have any other terms?"

She thought for a moment, bouncing her foot.

"Just one," Hermione began, looking nervous. "Under no circumstances do I want to be paid for sex."

Ah, there it was. The reminder that regardless of their chemistry, regardless of whether or not she flushed prettily when she kissed him, whether or not she had been the one to initiate the kiss on New Year's Eve, his initial reading of her was correct. She was not interested in getting involved with him beyond a paycheck and good conversation.

"I thought we'd just agreed that our arrangement wouldn't include sex."

"I'm just clarifying it. For the record. That I don't wish to receive money for having sex with you."

It stung to hear her so clearly include the with you. But this was what he had agreed to and he wouldn't hold her to different expectations now. If she didn't want to be seduced, he would respect that.

Severus never minded when his relationships from Sugar Quills were chaste; he still enjoyed the company and conversation and closest modicum of normalcy he'd ever achieve. He was not a teenage boy who felt he might die without a witch's touch. He could see to his own needs. So it truly never had been a great consideration for him.

But then again, he'd never hoped for those relationships to be anything more. Never dreamed of finding someone so pleasant to be around. Never missed something he knew he couldn't have.

She was smart enough not to get involved with him beyond what was necessary in this short stint in her life. He would just have to keep perspective.

"Of course. I believe we covered that in our first meeting, and I see no reason for it to change. Neither of us are looking for this to develop that way."

She faltered for a second before nodding. "Right. Yes. Good."

They stared at each other for a beat longer.

"I should get back," Hermione said. She pointed a finger at him, narrowing her eyes. "You will owl me tomorrow."

Severus inclined his head in a nod and stepped aside, watching his feet as he heard her heels clack, the sound growing softer with the increasing distance.

He exhaled, leaning back against the stone wall. "Fuck."

His head was buzzing and his blood was still hot.

The feel of her lips echoed on his skin.

Exiting the alcove, Severus made a beeline for Kingsley.

~O~O~O~

"I'm sorry Viktor couldn't stay, Hermione." Pansy shrugged off her robes and hung them by the door as they entered Grimmauld Place.

Hermione was exhausted from the evening and quickly slipped her heels off, sighing in relief. "Me too. But Kingsley thought he'd really be able to help with the negotiations with Bulgaria. I just don't understand why they couldn't have scheduled a meeting during business hours."

"Every hour is a business hour when you're running a country."

Both girls flopped onto couches in the living room, a fire already burning in the hearth.

"It went well with Severus though," Pansy noted.

Hermione leaned her head back so she could see the ceiling and closed her eyes. "We kissed. Well, he kissed me. Rather roughly, actually, but I enjoyed that."

"Well done, Granger."

"Don't congratulate me too soon. I don't think you were right. We also agreed that while this is going to be exclusive, it is also going to be sexless. He made that clear. So I guess he doesn't want more than just a friendly companion."

"Exclusive?"

"He doesn't want my dating life to interfere with the time he gets from me, I guess."

Pansy snorted. "You're both rather thick, aren't you?"

Hermione exhaled, exhausted. "No, it's just a business arrangement. Company and conversation."

Pansy sighed, standing and stretching her back as she moved towards the stairs. "Just be your swotty little know-it-all self. I'm telling you, that man couldn't take his eyes off you."

Hermione twisted her neck towards Pansy's retreating back. "Is this stupid? To put myself back in a situation where he could hurt me? What if he never wants more?"

Pansy didn't even hesitate, tossing the words over her shoulder like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Then you're no worse off than you are now, but at least you'll have rent money."

Hermione considered Pansy's advice as she lay sprawled out on the ancient sofa, alone by the fire. She was grateful to have a source of income again, and glad to be able to spend time with someone who's company she enjoyed—especially when they got into engaging debates on any and all subjects. But one thing was very clear; even if he was attracted to her, Severus Snape had no desire to complicate his life by sleeping with her. As he'd said ever so bluntly, sex was easy enough to come by; he didn't need that from her.

She sighed as the sadness she'd felt inside her stomach grew, a hollow that threatened to consume her in her darkest moments.

"It'll be all right,"she murmured out loud.

Either she was right, and her heart would be shattered at the end of this, or Pansy was right, and Severus did fancy her in return. Regardless, she would not sit around moping over a man, especially not Severus Snape. She had planning to do, a life to put back together. She would not sit there all night tallying evidence that he did or did not like her. There was not enough Arithmancy in the world to predict the outcome of that one, so Hermione forced herself to put it from her mind and go to bed.

She could always overthink it tomorrow.


A/N: skŭpa, as I understand it, means my darling in Bulgarian