A/N: This story was originally published on AO3 as a series of 42 drabbles.
"What in the fresh hell is this?" Severus Snape shouted as he spotted a picnic hamper just outside his door.
He looked left and right, but the corridor was empty. The basket had an enormous purple ribbon tied round the handle.
"And I hate purple!" he called out. When he caught the perpetrator of this particular prank, he was going to let Filch chain them up.
He checked the basket for hexes or charms. Satisfied to find nothing, he lifted the lid. Reaching in, he pulled out a tiny grey kitten that gave a squeaky mewl. Just what he needed.
Ribbons refused to sleep in her own basket, preferring to sleep on Severus's head instead. He debated finding the beast an actual home, but every time he considered it she would look at him with those enormous eyes and rub her head against him, purring away.
"Who is the master here?" he grumbled.
The cat meowed. It was a stupid question for him to ask.
She liked to catch mice and leave them right next to bed for him to step on in the morning. Minerva always thought it rather funny when he complained about it at breakfast. Some friend.
It had been three months and he still didn't know who to blame. He eventually stopped asking around. A younger staff member, new to the school, made the mistake of joking that he was "pussy whipped". Severus hexed the zip of the wizard's trousers so that they would never unzip. He knew it was childish of him, but thought it a rather mild retaliation, all things considered. And anyway, he was retiring at the end of the year.
His morning routine now included a charm to rid his clothing of cat hair so that he didn't accidentally contaminate a potion.
His latest trip to Hogsmeade included the purchase of a small ball with a bell inside and a cat tower, though still refusing to admit he liked the cat.
He enjoyed cooing about how annoying she was while he scritched behind her ears and his trousers collected more fur. He also enjoyed their evening discussions about the dunderheads he taught. She always agreed with him.
He still had not found out who his "present" was from. He had taken to asking furtive questions around the staff room and at meals, but so far the culprit had avoided giving themselves away.
There were only three weeks of school left. Three weeks until he could leave the castle forever. Three weeks left of dunderheads whinging about homework and exams. He considered setting them extra homework, but Ribbons convinced him that it would only bite him in the arse.
She still chewed on what was left of her original ribbon that served as her namesake. Most of it was in shreds. He supposed he should add some ribbon to her cat tower. Owl order seemed the least risky means of obtaining a new spool. He didn't need more rumours of him going soft.
On the last day of school, Hermione Granger was at Hogwarts visiting Minerva. Before she left, Hermione handed Severus a sealed packet, assuring him that it would take no more than five minutes of his time. By the time he tore it open, she was gone.
It was a simple questionnaire from the Society for Wizarding Wellness about… pets.
Suddenly all was clear for him. Granger was somehow to blame for his having a cat. His first urge was to hunt her down.
Ribbons mewled and his scowl gradually softened as he scratched behind her ears just how she liked.
As Severus unpacked his things, he sighed with relief. It was good to be in his own home, have a bit of silence, and be master of his own time. It was the end of an over-long era. He had finally retired.
Several trunks had been filled with his belongings before being shrunk and bound together. Coaxing Ribbons into her pet carrier was the only difficult part: he had to put treats and some new ribbon in the back of the carrier before she would deign to put a paw inside.
At least he wouldn't be lonely in his house.
Ribbons woke him by sitting on his chest and mewling loudly in his face.
"I need an elf," he groused and clambered out of bed to fill a bowl with a bit of canned tuna. Indeed, Ribbons was spoilt, but there was nothing to be done for it now. "Damned elves." He was partially to blame, but he would never admit it.
His retirement plans were simple: grow his own potions garden and do a bit of brewing for the local apothecary. No schedule. Splendid solitude.
Ribbons mewled again, reminding him that it was time for her to have breakfast.
He had been in his new house a month when he received an unfamiliar owl. The seal on the letter looked vaguely familiar. On opening it, he saw that it was from the Society of Wizarding Wellness. He read its contents with a scowl:
Mr Snape,
Thank you for your willing participation in our study. Your survey answers were compiled anonymously with those of others. Here is what we've discovered…
Attached was a tedious report that he knew Granger must have had a hand in, even if the letter was signed by a June Thistleton.
Willing participation? More like coercion.
The letter renewed his ire towards Granger and the next day he stormed into her office.
"Hello, Prof—."
He cut her off. He couldn't be bothered to go through the usual niceties.
"Next time, Miss Granger, inflict your good intentions on someone else."
She stared back at him, a model of propriety: calm, her back straight. He could tell she was calculating how to respond. It unsettled him.
"Well, sir," she began, "your survey reply showed that I was rather correct in my actions."
"Sheer dumb luck," he drawled. "Ribbons sends her regards."
He turned on his heel and left.
He didn't know why he had behaved so dramatically that day. Perhaps he missed his cloak billowing out behind him in long corridors.
But whether it was simply because it had been some time since he had both the time and the luxury of being overly petty or because it was founded in some deep-seated need to even the score, that was the day that he began plotting as only a potions master and spy could.
He began experimenting, reading, and testing various combinations of ingredients. He should be able to make nearly anything he'd wanted. Within reason, of course.
After working on it for several weeks, Severus developed a potion that would have made George Weasley jealous had the man known of its existence: a temporary animagus potion. He had momentarily debated the legality of such a thing, but as it was he was only making one dose.
He had no idea what sort of animal Granger would turn into. She would simply become the animal with which she had the most affinity.
The easiest way to administer the potion would be slipping it into a drink. Now all he had to do was wait for the right opportunity.
Each June since the first anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts, the Ministry of Magic has hosted a Remembrance Gala. Severus had never bothered to attend, instead always gladly taking on additional evening duties at Hogwarts. This year he decided that he should go, if only to have his little act of revenge. He hadn't exactly been aiming for public humiliation when he'd first began plotting, but the opportunity to potentially see the fruits of his labour come to life, as it were, was entirely too tempting.
He rubbed his hands together.
Now this would be an evening worth remembering.
The Gala was a horrid, stuffy affair. Severus could hardly wait until he could sneak home unawares. But first, he had something to do. He spotted Granger over at the bar, finally away from her clingy friends.
"Miss Granger," he drawled as he slid into the space beside her.
"Professor. I'm surprised to see you here."
"Well, one must put in appearances now and again. Though some are putting in more than just an appearance. Like your friend over there."
"Where?" She turned her head and he poured a clear liquid into her glass. "Oh, you mean Ron," she scoffed.
Severus was up before sunrise the following day. He had stayed around several minutes after slipping Granger the potion, but nothing had happened. Frustrated, he eventually left, assuming that the Daily Prophet would surely mention if anything unusual happened.
But when the paper came late that morning, there was nothing of interest, just the usual claptrap about the gala and Potter's grand speech. How was it possible that nothing of note had happened? Had he somehow miscalculated? He thrust the paper aside and went down to his lab to put in a day's work and take his mind off things.
Two weeks later there was a large notice on the front page of the Prophet: Hermione Granger had been missing for fifteen days. Any information leading to her whereabouts would be rewarded.
Severus sat back in his chair, rubbing his jaw as he thought. Perhaps she had turned into something small and scampered away into a hole in the wall. Worse, what if she'd stayed there and was stuck once the potion had worn off? His first worry was for her health. His second was for his own wellbeing. Freed, she would surely denounce him and send him to Azkaban.
The Gala had been held on the old Lestrange Estate that had been reclaimed by the Ministry after the war. He decided to apparate as close as he dared to the property and check things out.
When he arrived, the place was deserted and only minimal wards had been erected. Obviously the Ministry had grown lax with things of late. He slipped through and cast a spell as he walked about that would detect magical beings of any sort. He searched inside and out, but he found nothing. What was he to do? A sense of guilt now plagued him.
What Severus expected to find was Hermione Granger. When he entered the forest behind the house, he found a small fox. He cast the spell again to be sure. He was no expert in magical animals, but the last time he had checked, there was none that so closely resembled an ordinary fox.
"Miss Granger?"
The startled creature turned its head toward him.
He took a step closer and the fox leapt to its feet.
"No need to run," he murmured, his wand out before him.
The fox seemed to narrow its eyes.
Severus quickly cast the animagus reversal spell.
Hermione returned to work the next day without so much as an explanation. When questioned by Harry, she made up a story about going on a much-needed vacation and that it must have slipped her mind to let anyone know. She decided to keep what had really happened that fateful night remained a secret between herself and Severus Snape.
After Severus had found her in the woods, she divulged what had happened the evening of the gala: she had suddenly felt odd and went outside for air, only to transform mere minutes later. She decided not to go back inside.
"So, you see, I didn't exactly lie to Harry," Hermione confessed to Severus a few weeks later as she sat in his living room drinking tea. The invitation had come as a surprise. "It was a rather unexpected vacation."
"And what would you have done if no one ever found you?" he inquired.
"I could have went to someone sooner, but I was curious if you would eventually show."
He raised an eyebrow.
"You knew it was my doing, then?"
"Can you think of anyone else there remotely capable of such a thing?"
"Your flattery will gain you no favours."
The next month Severus and Hermione were eating curry at his house. Ribbons was curled up beneath the table.
"Are you ever going to tell me how you made that potion?" she asked for the umpteenth time.
"Never."
"Did you test it on yourself first?"
"I knew that it would work."
Hermione was worse than a dog worrying a bone. He didn't know why he tolerated her. He shifted his right foot and Ribbons pounced on it, her claw momentarily snagging on his sock.
"Damned cat," he groused.
"You like her," Hermione commented, pointing her fork at him.
He snorted.
Hermione slowly began infiltrating Severus's life, showing up on a Saturday morning to drag him to something he'd mentioned a mild interest in doing or randomly coming by after work, takeaway in hand. She'd even gone so far as leaving behind a pamphlet about an potions symposium that would be held in Switzerland later that year.
He waited until Hermione had left to pick up the pamphlet. Just as he began to read, Ribbons crawled onto his chest and demanded his attention.
"Do you know what's going on?" he asked her, affectionately rubbing her head.
"Mrow," she replied sagely.
"Hmph."
"I think I'm going to go," Severus announced to Hermione some weeks later as they were walking to their favourite coffee shop.
"Go where?"
"To that symposium in Switzerland."
"Ah, that. I thought you might be interested."
"How did you learn of it?"
"Minerva," she replied casually.
His eyes narrowed. "Why would she give that to you?"
"I'm thinking of doing a mastery in Potions. Didn't I tell you?"
"No, you hadn't."
"It's a recent idea of mine."
"How recent?"
"Since you spiked my drink and I had a few days out of the office. Why don't we go together?"
Hermione showed up at Severus's house, wheeling her small suitcase behind her.
"Does everyone need to know we're going somewhere?" he groused as he let her inside.
"I didn't know it was a secret."
"Well, the one neighbour knows, but she's also watching Ribbons for me."
"Does she know you're traveling with someone?"
"I told her you're a colleague," he explained.
Her face fell slightly just then. If he hadn't have been looking directly at her he would have missed it.
"I thought that would better than saying you're a former student."
"I thought we were friends by now, Severus."
Friends, Severus thought to himself as they joined the queue for the welcome desk at the hotel. He really didn't know what he and Hermione were. She had become 'Hermione' sometime after the potion incident, but beyond that… he was as clueless as ever. He couldn't begin to fathom why she had so persistently wormed herself into his life or why he didn't push her away. Clearly he was out of control.
"Here you are, Mr Snape. Your keys and name badges."
The number 28 was stamped on a set of two key cards.
"Next, please."
"But I don't understand…"
Hermione had opted to drag Severus away from the desk as he went from confused to angry. Apparently because they had registered together, some dunderhead got it into their head that the two of them would also like to share a room.
"I'm sorry, sir, but I'm unable to make any changes to your reservation. We're completely booked," the welcome witch had said apologetically.
They unlocked their room and saw that most of the room was taken up by a large bed, though there was a closet to stow luggage and clothing. The bathroom was equally cramped.
"Bollocks," he said.
"I don't snore," Hermione announced as she inspected the bathroom.
"That's all you have to say about this?" he all but shouted.
"She said there was nothing they could do about it, so we might as well make the best of things."
"This is both unseemly and awkward."
"So was my entire year on the run with Harry and Ron. At least we have a shower."
He didn't like when she reminded him of things like that. He also didn't like how she was so damned positive.
"You don't find this disturbing?"
"It's not the worst thing that could happen."
Dinner that evening had consisted of finger foods placed around the room, a time to speak with other attendees. Severus bumped into a retired professor from Beauxbatons and promptly got into a curriculum debate.
By the time he returned to the room, Hermione was already showered.
And Hermione did snore. Or at least she breathed loudly in her sleep. Hermione had climbed under the covers on the far side of the bed, said goodnight, and was asleep within fifteen minutes. Severus wasn't so lucky. He lay on his back, eyes wide open. It was going to be a long night.
The first day of the conference was actually rather interesting. But that night Severus lay awake for hours again, listening to the noise of Hermione's breathing. How could she be so at ease about this?
When he woke in the morning, she was lying up against him.
"You have no sense of personal space," he groused once she was awake.
"I'm terribly sorry," she said in a huff, "but I was asleep. It's not like I did it on purpose."
He narrowed his eyes in suspicion.
"Oh get over it, Severus. We're both adults here."
"This is absurd," he grumbled.
On the second night, she woke him in the middle of the night when her arm flew back and smacked him in the chest.
He grabbed her wrist tightly. He wanted to shake her. He wanted to be able to sleep in peace.
She woke with a start.
"What are you doing?"
"Debating tying you to your side of the bed," he hissed.
"What if I need to go use the loo?"
"Then you should have thought better of accosting me in my sleep."
"I didn't do it on purpose. And you're hurting me."
He let go with a curse.
"Look, I'm really sorry," she said the next morning. "I'm not used to sleeping near anyone."
He glowered and said nothing. He was tired, cranky, and beginning to get dark circles under his eyes.
"I'm never letting you book a trip ever again."
She brightened suddenly. "Does that mean you'll book the plant expo in Amsterdam for us?"
Of course that was how she heard it. She was impossible.
"At least we're going home tomorrow."
"I can't wait to hear the keynote speaker today," she said, changing the subject. "She's the leading expert in magical plants."
Severus yawned. "I need coffee."
"If you so much as breathe in my direction tonight, I'll petrify you and leave you here for housekeeping," Severus threatened Hermione.
"You think I've only been pretending to be asleep?" she retorted.
"No. But I think you rather enjoy testing my limits," he snarked, slipping beneath the duvet.
"Maybe I should do it on purpose."
She rolled her eyes and climbed beneath the covers on her side of the bed. "At least there would be the satisfaction of intentionally irritating you," she mumbled.
"What was that?" he snapped.
"Nothing."
Severus snorted and rolled onto his side, away from her.
Sometime during the night, Severus awoke, a warm hand pressed to his chest.
"Granger," he hissed.
"Hmm?" she asked sleepily.
"I know you can't seem to get your hands off me while you're sleeping, but for the love of Merlin, stop."
"Maybe my hands know something I don't," she replied cheekily.
"Like how to interrupt my sleep?"
Her hand tentatively drifted across his broad chest and he tensed, hardly daring to breathe. Possibly sensing his discomfort, she withdrew her hand.
"Shouldn't start anything you can't finish," he murmured.
By the light of the moon, he could see her eyes widen.
In the morning, he decided to give her a taste of her own medicine. She was still asleep when he rolled over, pulling her back tightly against his chest.
"Severus?" she squeaked sleepily.
He quickly realised his mistake. He had never been close enough to notice how nice she smelled. She was so warm against him, maddening in every sense of the word. He decided not to answer her immediately.
"Severus?" she said louder as she tried to wriggle free. This, too, was unfortunate as his body misinterpreted the act. She quickly froze.
He wanted to run away. Far away.
"Oh," was all that she said.
Neither of them spoke of the incident for the rest of the day, though it certainly was never far from Severus's thoughts, which he felt had turned rather traitorous. He had begun to tolerate her well, but anything of import between them was an entirely different sort of cauldron.
Did he actually have feelings for her? Or was that just a fluke caused by early morning proximity and hormones? He wasn't sure that he actually wanted to find out. His stomach filled with dread at the thought of spending yet another night with her.
That night Severus attempted to go to bed early, sneaking back to their room during the evening's awards presentation. To his immense relief, Hermione wasn't there. He showered, attempting to wash away his anxiety. When he got into bed, he left her lamp on for her.
She whispered an apology when she entered and saw his shape beneath the covers. He was still awake, but he decided she didn't need to know that.
When she slipped into bed some time later, she turned out the light. He lay still and silent. He noticed that she had trouble going to sleep.
"You know that he doesn't see you that way," he heard her whisper to herself. "Get over yourself, Hermione."
He wondered if she were speaking of someone she'd met at the conference. He felt her turn over in bed. After several long minutes, she moved slightly closer to him. It took all his concentration to continue breathing as evenly as before, feigning sleep. Sure enough, she eventually inched her way over to him, as close as she could without touching him. She inhaled deeply.
"Sandalwood, parchment, and ink," she whispered.
She couldn't possibly be speaking of amortentia. It was impossible.
In the morning, he awoke to find his fingers firmly entangled in her thick mane of curls and a leg thrown over one of hers. This time, it was most definitely not on purpose. When he attempted to slip his hand from her hair, she stirred and made a small noise that shot straight to his groin.
"Don't go," she whispered.
"You don't mean it," he replied in a sleepy rumble.
She wrapped an arm around him in response.
Oh.
Her fingers danced along his back.
"I like you, Severus," she whispered.
"Liar," he murmured as he kissed her neck.
He suggested that they ought to date properly before things progressed too far and was relieved that she was enthusiastic about the idea.
Their first date was to be at her favourite sushi restaurant near her Harlow apartment. As she spoke with excitement about the restaurant, the very idea filled him with apprehension. He wasn't a total dolt - he knew what a conveyor belt was, but had never tried sushi. He also wasn't used to going on dates.
In the end, he was pleasantly surprised and even quickly mastered the use of his chopsticks. Kissing Hermione goodnight was nice, too.
Severus was cooking for them one evening when Ribbons mewled, pawing at his trouser leg.
"No, this isn't for you, Your Highness."
Hermione giggled as she entered the kitchen.
"You've spoiled her, Severus. What do you expect?"
"It was the castle elves," he groused.
"Are you sure that it wasn't a combined effort?"
"Do you want lunch or shall I shut you in a room with the cat so I can have some peace?"
Hermione tutted. "You seem to enjoy my company."
"Not while I'm cooking — out, the both of you!"
Hermione, laughing softly, scooped up Ribbons and left.
It was late October and the flame in the fireplace flickered while the wind began to howl outside. Hermione yawned and stretched her legs as she sat on Severus's sofa, leaning against his tall frame. They'd went out to dinner earlier, a proper date at the new Italian place.
"Do you think Ribbons would mind if I moved in?"
"Don't you think my opinion ought to be considered?"
"We both know that she has the final say."
He rolled his eyes, though a smile tugged at his lips. She didn't know, but he had planned on proposing later that evening.
"A toast," Minerva announced, raising her glass to the newly married couple, "to new beginnings."
"To new beginnings," their other guests repeated.
Severus hated being the centre of attention, but he would do nearly anything for Hermione.
When they arrived home that night, Ribbons was already asleep on her favourite chair.
Severus pulled Hermione back to their bedroom and locked the door.
"Unbutton the back of my dress for me, Severus?"
As the dress finally fell away, he laughed. Attached to her underpants was a fake fox tail.
"I'm never going to live that down, am I?"
"Not a chance."
A/N: Safe travels to those of you who will be out and about over the coming days and I hope that this week and those that follow are eventful for you all in only the best ways possible. Once again, thank you for reading. I've been so grateful that this story has brought a smile to so many faces. Best wishes for the coming year from me to you. ❤️