CHAPTER ONE
"This is going to be a fun night," groused Hermione Granger, as she viciously poked a button or two on her cell phone and tossed it in her purse with a thunk. Left alone again, she mused, with irritation.
Since she and her bastard ex-fiance had split up, Harry and Ron had been trading off Hermione-duties and attempting to keep her company. It was annoying at first, but now, she was beginning to look forward to her weekly bout of being babysat by her school friends. They hadn't had as much contact as she would like in the five years since they left Hogwarts. After wearing stiff Muggle business suits at work every day, she was also grateful for the chance to spend some of her substantial paychecks on fun, hip Muggle clothing for nights such as this. Call her shallow, but she *was* still a girl, after all. Tonight's ensemble featured a very low-cut, flared sleeve gothic styled blouse with a tight black pencil skirt and impossibly high heels - perhaps a bit racy for a date with someone who is just a friend. However, it was more than worth the trouble of getting into tight or seductive clothing just to see the astonished and usually embarrassed look on Weasley's face when she turned up for dinner looking sexy.
Sexy is fun once in a while, she mused, and good for the ego of those recently dumped. Besides, she couldn't be all work and no play, despite her new responsibilities at work and new lack of fun at home. She recently took over the management of three labs at the medical potions corporation she had worked for since leaving her apprenticeship in America. The three labs dealt with Muggle illnesses and worked in tandem with Britain's largest pharmaceutical company via a Ministry-Parliament pact. Hermione often mused that she was given the promotion based on her Muggle heritage rather than her actual potions abilities - a shock indeed to a system accustomed to hearing the term 'mudblood' more often than the phrase 'well done.'
Tonight was Ron's turn, they had planned to meet at her favorite Muggle restaurant and bar - a trendy Notting Hill eaterie named Pharmacy. Besides the name being rather funny to Hermione and her coworkers - and thus a regular after-work stop for drinks in the rather minimalist, clinical- looking bar that closely resembled one of their labs in décor - it also served the best duck confit she'd eaten since her Hogwarts days. She had coaxed Harry and Ron away from their favorite dark, loud pub and dressed them up one night last spring then dragged them here. It was now their favorite haunt for "Hermione-duty."
However, Ron was stuck at the Ministry that night and it appeared that she was going to be on her own. Flagging down her waitress, she informed her she was dining alone and asked to move into the bar area. Quickly ensconced on a barstool, chatting to the regular Thursday night bartender and laughing with him about the potions lab coworker that had overindulged the week before - and had to be practically carried out of the bar - Hermione felt a bit less lonely and deserted. Smiling she decided to order an appetizer of tiger prawns before leaving for home.
"And may I have a Guanabana Gringo, as well, please Jon?" she added, before the bartender left to dispatch her order.
"Guanabana Gringo?" a silky voice suddenly said from behind her. "Tequila and a few drops of fruit juice - a harsh shot, my dear, and not exactly the drink I would expect such a lovely young lady to be ordering."
That voice sounds familiar, thought Hermione.
"Shouldn't you be drinking something as elegant as you are, love? A chardonnay? Or perhaps you enjoy the new, popular ice wines?" The man behind the voice sat next to her, casually slipping his long legs onto the stool. "I am not much of a dessert wine drinker, however, I have found that -"
He paused and his black eyes looked into her brown. She had known who the owner of the sexy voice was the moment he had come into view. Professor Severus Snape. Former Death Eater, Order of the Phoenix hero and recipient of the Order of Merlin, First Class. He was the only teacher she'd ever developed a crush on - something she never told anyone. He was also the man who had taunted her and doubted her intellect for years - he had even gone so far as to ask her if she was sure that potions should be her chosen profession, even though her potions NEWT scores were several points higher than his had been. He had taken house points and sneered and generally made the Dream Team's lives miserable for seven years.
And he had just tried to pick her up at a bar.
She couldn't wait until he realized exactly whom he was hitting on. She smiled seductively at him and waited for him to continue.
"Hang on, don't I know you?" he said, tilting his head in confusion.
Jon, the bartender, had chosen that moment to deliver Hermione's drink. He quirked a grin at Severus and asked him if he needed a refill. When Severus replied in the negative, Jon leaned over the bar conspiratorially.
"Then how about a bit of advice? This woman is not exactly the type to fall for a pick-up line as lame as 'don't I know you?' She's probably the smartest woman I've ever met," he said, smiling at Hermione. He stood back up and continued; "you let me know if I need to dispose of the git for you, love."
Hermione smiled back at him and laughed. She turned to the rather embarrassed and slightly angered potions master and waited for the light to dawn.
"Hermione Granger?" he said, questioningly. She nodded. He took a deep breath and turned a nice shade of pink as he looked her over, his eyes lingering on her legs and cleavage. "But you're - you have - and you -"
"Boobs, Professor, they are called boobs."
Tension broken, they both laughed at her words and his obvious discomfiture. She drank her tequila in one gulp and sat it down as Jon brought her appetizer of prawns and a bowl of soup for Severus.
"May I buy you a drink, Miss Granger?" drawled the professor.
"Yes, you may. Actually, I think you owe me several after all of the house points you took away over the years," she grinned at him. "We may be here for hours while I have a right booze-up at your expense."
"Sounds like a lovely evening," he said, grinning back. He turned to Jon and ordered a bottle of expensive-sounding champagne and asked if they could be moved to a table for their main courses. Jon nodded and set things quickly in motion. Within minutes, they were seated at a table in the main dining room, champagne in a bucket beside their table and a surprisingly companionable conversation underway.
"So, exactly what are you doing in a Muggle establishment, in my neighborhood, attempting to pick up women who are at least 20 years your junior?" asked Hermione, eyes twinkling with mischief. She was rewarded with a trademark Snape scowl.
"Still impertinent, I see," he snapped. He glared at her for another moment as they sipped the champagne. "However, I will ignore that obvious slur against my age and simply tell you I recently was graciously shown out of an eight-year relationship and thus I am allowed to ask pretty young women for dates if I so choose."
"Eight years?" Hermione asked, sympathetically. He nodded and picked up his menu. "I'm sorry, Professor. Were you married?"
He seemed surprised that she would ask - he was the greasy git potions master, after all, despite the fact that they were apparently on what most would consider a date at the moment. He raised an eyebrow at her and tried to decide whether he should confide in this young woman. Albus had certainly heard more about his relationship and its end than the kindly old wizard could stand. Perhaps a woman's point of view would be enlightening - and maybe even a bit therapeutic. She was looking at him nervously, obviously wondering if she had already gone too far and if their tenuous truce was broken.
Their mutual indecision was interrupted as their waitress appeared and took their orders - duck confit for both. Soon, menus were cleared from the table and the odd pair was left alone with their even odder discussion.
"No, we weren't married, Hermione," said Severus, tensely. "She was an Auror, my main contact besides Albus at the Ministry for years. We began seeing each other the summer after the TriWizard tournament. As you probably know, several Death Eaters were spies for our side during Voldemort's second rise - I wound up being their liaison and support with the Ministry. With Catherine's help - that is her name, Catherine - we were able to build a greater resistance within his ranks."
"Which was instrumental in his ultimate defeat," input Hermione.
"Yes. And during our first year of working together, we fell in love. We dated, I suppose is the correct term for it, for five years and she and I lived together in her apartment in London for the past three. And before you ask, Professor Sinistra is now Head of Slytherin, as I no longer wanted to live at the castle."
"Hold on, eight years, you were together while I was still in school," she said, shocked.
"Yes."
"You mean to tell me that you were getting a good shagging regularly and you were still that much of a bastard?" she said.
To her surprise - yet again - he laughed.
"Yes, I'm afraid I am just a bastard - whether I'm getting any or not."
She laughed with him for a moment, enjoying the spark of amusement in his black eyes. She didn't recall ever seeing him smile or laugh before. Not even at the expense of someone like Neville Longbottom.
"Can I ask why you broke up?"
"Of course." He sat silently, looking at her expectantly.
"Merlin, man, you're still a frustrating git," she hissed after a few moments of silence. "Fine. Why did you break up?"
"Because I proposed."
Hermione's confusion must have been written all over her face. He sighed and nervously twirled his champagne flute in his fingers as he continued.
"I wanted to be married, Hermione. I actually wanted to marry her after our first year together, but, back then we couldn't risk it. And then once it was safe - well, we moved in together first and then it just didn't seem to be a priority," he said, softly. "But, I always wanted a wife, family, children, a couple of cats running around, toys underfoot - the whole Quidditch pitch. So I asked her. We argued and I suddenly found myself looking for an apartment. I simply moved home to Hogwarts."
Their dinner arrived at that moment - a lucky thing, Hermione mused, because she had no idea what to say. Eight years was a long time to waste on someone who didn't have the same life goals you did. 'I only wasted two on Geoffery, I guess I'm luckier than I thought,' she told herself. 'Poor Professor Snape, no wonder he's hitting the bars looking for a quick shag.'
They dug into their dinners with enthusiasm, however, after a few bites, it was Hermione's turn to come clean.
"All right, Miss Granger," began Snape. "I've given you enough information about my love life to put many first years into their graves. It's your turn. Why were you here alone tonight?"
"Well, I was supposed to meet Ron," she began. He put his hand up swiftly.
"Hermione, if you are going to go into details about a romance or sex life that you're having with Weasley - please spare me, in the name of all that is holy," he said, looking pained. "I walked in on Mr. Weasley and a variety of young ladies, in states of undress, more times than I can count during his days as a student. There are images yet burned into my mind that I would pay large amounts of galleons to someone if they could be removed."
Hermione chuckled and took another sip of her champagne.
"Sorry to disappoint, but Ron and I are still just friends," she said. "He and Harry decided to Hemione-sit once a week and take me out on the town, since my fiancé and I split up this summer. Geoff and I dated for a year and we were engaged for a year. I loved him, he found a coworker to 'love' during the lunch hour and we split. I'm afraid there were no heroic struggles or tales with us. No mood-killing disputes over our relationship and where it was going. We were disgustingly happy. Until I decided to skivvy off an afternoon at work - I did go into potions, by the way -- and go shopping. I wound up getting home an hour early and finding him in bed with Lady Shagging Godiva. He moved out. I'm attempting to move on."
"I'm sorry, Hermione," he said, around a mouthful of duck. "I'm glad you found out, though, before you were married. I don't know which is worse - knowing that I could never have the home life that I wanted with Catherine all along yet consistently deluding myself that I could; or you knowing you *could* have it, but having it all snatched so rudely away."
She nodded in understanding.
"I think I'm happier in my situation," she said. "Not to be tactless, but I'd hate to think about losing eight years of my life. I may only be 23, but I realize that my clock is already ticking. Even witches have a limit to their fertility. Hell, the alarm would have been going off by the time we broke up if we had been in an eight year relationship."
He chuckled. "Your clock? Good Merlin, you're just a child. I'm 43-years- old, Hermione. I should have been a father a long time ago. I think my clock rang and I hexed it into oblivion without ever actually waking up."
She smiled and reached out to take his hand, barely believing she was doing so and blaming it on the fact that they were already on their second bottle of champagne.
"I can't believe I'm saying this to Severus Snape," she said, "but I think you will make a great dad someday."
He snorted, but did not pull his hand from her grasp.
"Seriously, Severus," she said. "You aren't exactly warm and cuddly with your scowls and your billowing bat robes, but you were always intensely protective of the students and had great concern and personal responsibility for our well-being. Even a Gryffindor could tell that. That's an admirable quality in a father and husband. Catherine was a fool."
"Thanks for that," he murmured, turning his hand over and twining his fingers cautiously with hers. They sat that way, in tense silence, until the waitress returned to take their plates and offer dessert. Severus pulled his hand from hers and smiled, first to Hermione and then to the waitress.
"I believe that this lovely young lady loves chocolate - is my memory correct, Hermione?" he said. She nodded, surprised. "The triple chocolate mousse is no longer on the menu, but do you think that the chef might be able to -"
"Certainly, sir. Two?"
Severus nodded and turned back to Hermione with a small smile. "Trust me."
She took the moment to excuse herself to the ladies room, where she spent a good deal of time staring at her image in the mirror and wondering why she was having dinner with Professor Snape. And why on earth was she enjoying herself? And for Merlin's sake, what made her hold his hand?
And worse, why was she considering asking him to come home with her?
When Hermione returned to their table, she saw that two oversized martini glasses filled with layers of delicate chocolate mousse were waiting for her. Severus was twirling his spoon in his hand and he smiled and stood as she returned to the table. He gestured for her to take a bite of her dessert and she did. Her eyes widened as the taste hit her tongue. 'I think I am in dessert heaven,' she mused. She looked at Severus to see if it had the same effect on him - apparently it did, as he was taking his second bite with his eyes blissfully closed.
He opened them to find Hermione watching him with an odd expression on her face.
"Hermione?" he asked. "Do you like it?"
"Oh, yes," she replied. "But, I think I'm going to have to ask you to leave."
"What?" he said, startled.
"I really think I need to be alone with it," she said, eyes twinkling.
"That good, huh?" he asked, eyes crinkling as he returned her grin.
"Bloody close to orgasmic, Severus," she laughed.
She finished her dessert slowly, watching Severus closely the entire time. He, for his part, was busily watching her. Neither knew exactly what to do, now that their meal was coming to a close. Too soon, the last of the champagne was drunk, the dishes and glasses cleared and the bill paid - by Severus, of course, who waved off Hermione's attempts to chip in.
"I probably owe you two dinners after the atrocious lines I fed you when I tried to 'pick you up,'" he said, smiling and standing. "You said you lived in Notting Hill, may I walk you home?"
She nodded. With a firm hand at the small of her back, he escorted her out of the restaurant. Minutes later, they were standing on her stoop and Severus Snape was debating whether or not to kiss his former student good night. 'It's probably too soon for both of us,' he mused.
If Hermione was thinking it was too soon, she didn't show it - she stood on tiptoe and slid a hand into his long, long hair. She pulled him easily to her lips for a soft kiss that tasted of tequila and champagne. Soon, the kiss had deepened, they were both breathing a bit more heavily and Severus' new jeans were feeling a bit constrictive. They broke the kiss and looked into each other's eyes questioningly and a bit unsteadily due to the bottles of champagne.
"Come inside, Severus," she whispered, bravely. "Stay the night."
"Are you sure?" he asked, stunned and aroused at the same time. "You've had a lot to drink, Hermione and I don't want to take advantage of you -"
"Professor." The word sent shivers up his spine when whispered seductively by a woman who was rubbing against his body with hers. "I have a confession to make."
"What is that, Hermione?" he asked breathlessly.
"I used to fantasize about you - you and your desk in the potions classroom," she said. He swallowed hard.
"Really?" was all he could choke out. She nodded, smiling at his discomfort and excitement.
She took her key from her purse and unlocked the door to her building. Opening it, she stepped inside and reached her hand out to him. He took it and followed her into the building without a sound.
tbc
"This is going to be a fun night," groused Hermione Granger, as she viciously poked a button or two on her cell phone and tossed it in her purse with a thunk. Left alone again, she mused, with irritation.
Since she and her bastard ex-fiance had split up, Harry and Ron had been trading off Hermione-duties and attempting to keep her company. It was annoying at first, but now, she was beginning to look forward to her weekly bout of being babysat by her school friends. They hadn't had as much contact as she would like in the five years since they left Hogwarts. After wearing stiff Muggle business suits at work every day, she was also grateful for the chance to spend some of her substantial paychecks on fun, hip Muggle clothing for nights such as this. Call her shallow, but she *was* still a girl, after all. Tonight's ensemble featured a very low-cut, flared sleeve gothic styled blouse with a tight black pencil skirt and impossibly high heels - perhaps a bit racy for a date with someone who is just a friend. However, it was more than worth the trouble of getting into tight or seductive clothing just to see the astonished and usually embarrassed look on Weasley's face when she turned up for dinner looking sexy.
Sexy is fun once in a while, she mused, and good for the ego of those recently dumped. Besides, she couldn't be all work and no play, despite her new responsibilities at work and new lack of fun at home. She recently took over the management of three labs at the medical potions corporation she had worked for since leaving her apprenticeship in America. The three labs dealt with Muggle illnesses and worked in tandem with Britain's largest pharmaceutical company via a Ministry-Parliament pact. Hermione often mused that she was given the promotion based on her Muggle heritage rather than her actual potions abilities - a shock indeed to a system accustomed to hearing the term 'mudblood' more often than the phrase 'well done.'
Tonight was Ron's turn, they had planned to meet at her favorite Muggle restaurant and bar - a trendy Notting Hill eaterie named Pharmacy. Besides the name being rather funny to Hermione and her coworkers - and thus a regular after-work stop for drinks in the rather minimalist, clinical- looking bar that closely resembled one of their labs in décor - it also served the best duck confit she'd eaten since her Hogwarts days. She had coaxed Harry and Ron away from their favorite dark, loud pub and dressed them up one night last spring then dragged them here. It was now their favorite haunt for "Hermione-duty."
However, Ron was stuck at the Ministry that night and it appeared that she was going to be on her own. Flagging down her waitress, she informed her she was dining alone and asked to move into the bar area. Quickly ensconced on a barstool, chatting to the regular Thursday night bartender and laughing with him about the potions lab coworker that had overindulged the week before - and had to be practically carried out of the bar - Hermione felt a bit less lonely and deserted. Smiling she decided to order an appetizer of tiger prawns before leaving for home.
"And may I have a Guanabana Gringo, as well, please Jon?" she added, before the bartender left to dispatch her order.
"Guanabana Gringo?" a silky voice suddenly said from behind her. "Tequila and a few drops of fruit juice - a harsh shot, my dear, and not exactly the drink I would expect such a lovely young lady to be ordering."
That voice sounds familiar, thought Hermione.
"Shouldn't you be drinking something as elegant as you are, love? A chardonnay? Or perhaps you enjoy the new, popular ice wines?" The man behind the voice sat next to her, casually slipping his long legs onto the stool. "I am not much of a dessert wine drinker, however, I have found that -"
He paused and his black eyes looked into her brown. She had known who the owner of the sexy voice was the moment he had come into view. Professor Severus Snape. Former Death Eater, Order of the Phoenix hero and recipient of the Order of Merlin, First Class. He was the only teacher she'd ever developed a crush on - something she never told anyone. He was also the man who had taunted her and doubted her intellect for years - he had even gone so far as to ask her if she was sure that potions should be her chosen profession, even though her potions NEWT scores were several points higher than his had been. He had taken house points and sneered and generally made the Dream Team's lives miserable for seven years.
And he had just tried to pick her up at a bar.
She couldn't wait until he realized exactly whom he was hitting on. She smiled seductively at him and waited for him to continue.
"Hang on, don't I know you?" he said, tilting his head in confusion.
Jon, the bartender, had chosen that moment to deliver Hermione's drink. He quirked a grin at Severus and asked him if he needed a refill. When Severus replied in the negative, Jon leaned over the bar conspiratorially.
"Then how about a bit of advice? This woman is not exactly the type to fall for a pick-up line as lame as 'don't I know you?' She's probably the smartest woman I've ever met," he said, smiling at Hermione. He stood back up and continued; "you let me know if I need to dispose of the git for you, love."
Hermione smiled back at him and laughed. She turned to the rather embarrassed and slightly angered potions master and waited for the light to dawn.
"Hermione Granger?" he said, questioningly. She nodded. He took a deep breath and turned a nice shade of pink as he looked her over, his eyes lingering on her legs and cleavage. "But you're - you have - and you -"
"Boobs, Professor, they are called boobs."
Tension broken, they both laughed at her words and his obvious discomfiture. She drank her tequila in one gulp and sat it down as Jon brought her appetizer of prawns and a bowl of soup for Severus.
"May I buy you a drink, Miss Granger?" drawled the professor.
"Yes, you may. Actually, I think you owe me several after all of the house points you took away over the years," she grinned at him. "We may be here for hours while I have a right booze-up at your expense."
"Sounds like a lovely evening," he said, grinning back. He turned to Jon and ordered a bottle of expensive-sounding champagne and asked if they could be moved to a table for their main courses. Jon nodded and set things quickly in motion. Within minutes, they were seated at a table in the main dining room, champagne in a bucket beside their table and a surprisingly companionable conversation underway.
"So, exactly what are you doing in a Muggle establishment, in my neighborhood, attempting to pick up women who are at least 20 years your junior?" asked Hermione, eyes twinkling with mischief. She was rewarded with a trademark Snape scowl.
"Still impertinent, I see," he snapped. He glared at her for another moment as they sipped the champagne. "However, I will ignore that obvious slur against my age and simply tell you I recently was graciously shown out of an eight-year relationship and thus I am allowed to ask pretty young women for dates if I so choose."
"Eight years?" Hermione asked, sympathetically. He nodded and picked up his menu. "I'm sorry, Professor. Were you married?"
He seemed surprised that she would ask - he was the greasy git potions master, after all, despite the fact that they were apparently on what most would consider a date at the moment. He raised an eyebrow at her and tried to decide whether he should confide in this young woman. Albus had certainly heard more about his relationship and its end than the kindly old wizard could stand. Perhaps a woman's point of view would be enlightening - and maybe even a bit therapeutic. She was looking at him nervously, obviously wondering if she had already gone too far and if their tenuous truce was broken.
Their mutual indecision was interrupted as their waitress appeared and took their orders - duck confit for both. Soon, menus were cleared from the table and the odd pair was left alone with their even odder discussion.
"No, we weren't married, Hermione," said Severus, tensely. "She was an Auror, my main contact besides Albus at the Ministry for years. We began seeing each other the summer after the TriWizard tournament. As you probably know, several Death Eaters were spies for our side during Voldemort's second rise - I wound up being their liaison and support with the Ministry. With Catherine's help - that is her name, Catherine - we were able to build a greater resistance within his ranks."
"Which was instrumental in his ultimate defeat," input Hermione.
"Yes. And during our first year of working together, we fell in love. We dated, I suppose is the correct term for it, for five years and she and I lived together in her apartment in London for the past three. And before you ask, Professor Sinistra is now Head of Slytherin, as I no longer wanted to live at the castle."
"Hold on, eight years, you were together while I was still in school," she said, shocked.
"Yes."
"You mean to tell me that you were getting a good shagging regularly and you were still that much of a bastard?" she said.
To her surprise - yet again - he laughed.
"Yes, I'm afraid I am just a bastard - whether I'm getting any or not."
She laughed with him for a moment, enjoying the spark of amusement in his black eyes. She didn't recall ever seeing him smile or laugh before. Not even at the expense of someone like Neville Longbottom.
"Can I ask why you broke up?"
"Of course." He sat silently, looking at her expectantly.
"Merlin, man, you're still a frustrating git," she hissed after a few moments of silence. "Fine. Why did you break up?"
"Because I proposed."
Hermione's confusion must have been written all over her face. He sighed and nervously twirled his champagne flute in his fingers as he continued.
"I wanted to be married, Hermione. I actually wanted to marry her after our first year together, but, back then we couldn't risk it. And then once it was safe - well, we moved in together first and then it just didn't seem to be a priority," he said, softly. "But, I always wanted a wife, family, children, a couple of cats running around, toys underfoot - the whole Quidditch pitch. So I asked her. We argued and I suddenly found myself looking for an apartment. I simply moved home to Hogwarts."
Their dinner arrived at that moment - a lucky thing, Hermione mused, because she had no idea what to say. Eight years was a long time to waste on someone who didn't have the same life goals you did. 'I only wasted two on Geoffery, I guess I'm luckier than I thought,' she told herself. 'Poor Professor Snape, no wonder he's hitting the bars looking for a quick shag.'
They dug into their dinners with enthusiasm, however, after a few bites, it was Hermione's turn to come clean.
"All right, Miss Granger," began Snape. "I've given you enough information about my love life to put many first years into their graves. It's your turn. Why were you here alone tonight?"
"Well, I was supposed to meet Ron," she began. He put his hand up swiftly.
"Hermione, if you are going to go into details about a romance or sex life that you're having with Weasley - please spare me, in the name of all that is holy," he said, looking pained. "I walked in on Mr. Weasley and a variety of young ladies, in states of undress, more times than I can count during his days as a student. There are images yet burned into my mind that I would pay large amounts of galleons to someone if they could be removed."
Hermione chuckled and took another sip of her champagne.
"Sorry to disappoint, but Ron and I are still just friends," she said. "He and Harry decided to Hemione-sit once a week and take me out on the town, since my fiancé and I split up this summer. Geoff and I dated for a year and we were engaged for a year. I loved him, he found a coworker to 'love' during the lunch hour and we split. I'm afraid there were no heroic struggles or tales with us. No mood-killing disputes over our relationship and where it was going. We were disgustingly happy. Until I decided to skivvy off an afternoon at work - I did go into potions, by the way -- and go shopping. I wound up getting home an hour early and finding him in bed with Lady Shagging Godiva. He moved out. I'm attempting to move on."
"I'm sorry, Hermione," he said, around a mouthful of duck. "I'm glad you found out, though, before you were married. I don't know which is worse - knowing that I could never have the home life that I wanted with Catherine all along yet consistently deluding myself that I could; or you knowing you *could* have it, but having it all snatched so rudely away."
She nodded in understanding.
"I think I'm happier in my situation," she said. "Not to be tactless, but I'd hate to think about losing eight years of my life. I may only be 23, but I realize that my clock is already ticking. Even witches have a limit to their fertility. Hell, the alarm would have been going off by the time we broke up if we had been in an eight year relationship."
He chuckled. "Your clock? Good Merlin, you're just a child. I'm 43-years- old, Hermione. I should have been a father a long time ago. I think my clock rang and I hexed it into oblivion without ever actually waking up."
She smiled and reached out to take his hand, barely believing she was doing so and blaming it on the fact that they were already on their second bottle of champagne.
"I can't believe I'm saying this to Severus Snape," she said, "but I think you will make a great dad someday."
He snorted, but did not pull his hand from her grasp.
"Seriously, Severus," she said. "You aren't exactly warm and cuddly with your scowls and your billowing bat robes, but you were always intensely protective of the students and had great concern and personal responsibility for our well-being. Even a Gryffindor could tell that. That's an admirable quality in a father and husband. Catherine was a fool."
"Thanks for that," he murmured, turning his hand over and twining his fingers cautiously with hers. They sat that way, in tense silence, until the waitress returned to take their plates and offer dessert. Severus pulled his hand from hers and smiled, first to Hermione and then to the waitress.
"I believe that this lovely young lady loves chocolate - is my memory correct, Hermione?" he said. She nodded, surprised. "The triple chocolate mousse is no longer on the menu, but do you think that the chef might be able to -"
"Certainly, sir. Two?"
Severus nodded and turned back to Hermione with a small smile. "Trust me."
She took the moment to excuse herself to the ladies room, where she spent a good deal of time staring at her image in the mirror and wondering why she was having dinner with Professor Snape. And why on earth was she enjoying herself? And for Merlin's sake, what made her hold his hand?
And worse, why was she considering asking him to come home with her?
When Hermione returned to their table, she saw that two oversized martini glasses filled with layers of delicate chocolate mousse were waiting for her. Severus was twirling his spoon in his hand and he smiled and stood as she returned to the table. He gestured for her to take a bite of her dessert and she did. Her eyes widened as the taste hit her tongue. 'I think I am in dessert heaven,' she mused. She looked at Severus to see if it had the same effect on him - apparently it did, as he was taking his second bite with his eyes blissfully closed.
He opened them to find Hermione watching him with an odd expression on her face.
"Hermione?" he asked. "Do you like it?"
"Oh, yes," she replied. "But, I think I'm going to have to ask you to leave."
"What?" he said, startled.
"I really think I need to be alone with it," she said, eyes twinkling.
"That good, huh?" he asked, eyes crinkling as he returned her grin.
"Bloody close to orgasmic, Severus," she laughed.
She finished her dessert slowly, watching Severus closely the entire time. He, for his part, was busily watching her. Neither knew exactly what to do, now that their meal was coming to a close. Too soon, the last of the champagne was drunk, the dishes and glasses cleared and the bill paid - by Severus, of course, who waved off Hermione's attempts to chip in.
"I probably owe you two dinners after the atrocious lines I fed you when I tried to 'pick you up,'" he said, smiling and standing. "You said you lived in Notting Hill, may I walk you home?"
She nodded. With a firm hand at the small of her back, he escorted her out of the restaurant. Minutes later, they were standing on her stoop and Severus Snape was debating whether or not to kiss his former student good night. 'It's probably too soon for both of us,' he mused.
If Hermione was thinking it was too soon, she didn't show it - she stood on tiptoe and slid a hand into his long, long hair. She pulled him easily to her lips for a soft kiss that tasted of tequila and champagne. Soon, the kiss had deepened, they were both breathing a bit more heavily and Severus' new jeans were feeling a bit constrictive. They broke the kiss and looked into each other's eyes questioningly and a bit unsteadily due to the bottles of champagne.
"Come inside, Severus," she whispered, bravely. "Stay the night."
"Are you sure?" he asked, stunned and aroused at the same time. "You've had a lot to drink, Hermione and I don't want to take advantage of you -"
"Professor." The word sent shivers up his spine when whispered seductively by a woman who was rubbing against his body with hers. "I have a confession to make."
"What is that, Hermione?" he asked breathlessly.
"I used to fantasize about you - you and your desk in the potions classroom," she said. He swallowed hard.
"Really?" was all he could choke out. She nodded, smiling at his discomfort and excitement.
She took her key from her purse and unlocked the door to her building. Opening it, she stepped inside and reached her hand out to him. He took it and followed her into the building without a sound.
tbc