Charmed
Hermione held an orange in her left hand, its sticky juice coating her fingers and beginning to run down her wrist as she pierced its skin with another clove.
The sweet citrus scent of the fruit and the spicy fragrance of the dried flower buds was as familiar to her as her own perfume. The making of orange clove pomanders was an integral part of her childhood holidays, her first memory of it being at her grandmother's kitchen counter, a borrowed, oversized apron protecting her Christmas dress from the unavoidable fruit juice. Her grandmother had taught her how to use a knitting needle to pierce the orange rind in order to help the blunt end of the clove more easily puncture it. They had listened to Christmas carols and snacked on sugar cookies as they worked, Hermione telling her grandmother all about her studies and the kids at school.
Sitting in the basement kitchen of Twelve Grimmauld Place, she couldn't help but think of how much her grandmother would have loved the simple permeability charm that made the use of knitting needles obsolete. She also would have loved the two women who sat at the table with her, their laughter echoing throughout the room as Ginny tossed a clove at Luna in mock indignation at whatever joke the other witch had made. Hermione smiled at her friends, the joy of their company and the familiar childhood craft filling her with holiday cheer.
"Merlin, these bring back good memories." Hermione held her finished pomander to her face, inhaling its sweet and spicy fragrance before placing it gently into the bowl in front of her. "I used to make them as a little girl. I had no idea they were magical until Severus made them for me that first Christmas after the war."
"Oh yes," Luna replied, her own orange bare in front of her. "Mum taught me the charms before she died. We used to make them from the dirigible plums from our garden."
Luna hummed quietly to herself, staring at her piece of fruit, tilting her head first to the right and then the left before finally pushing a clove through its skin.
"Be well, be strong, be thou of good cheer.
In everything you do, and everything you hold dear."
"I just can't imagine Severus standing there in his black robes, cape billowing around him as he sticks cloves into oranges. I mean, can you picture orange juice dripping down to his elbows?" Ginny said, her shoulders shaking with suppressed laughter as she wandlessly levitated her finished pomander to the already heaping bowl. "Ten points for your complete disregard for my teaching ensemble!"
The witch erupted into giggles, Luna and Hermione joining her as they pictured the Professor Snape of their Hogwarts years grumpily creating the charmed fruit.
"He's not that bad," Hermione insisted through her laughter, feeling the need to stick up for her husband.
"No, you're right. Not anymore," Luna agreed. "He's changed since the war; you've helped him to change."
Hermione wasn't sure how to respond to that. She didn't actually think Severus had changed all that much. He was still sarcastic and biting and grumpy when bothered, but he was also loving and thoughtful and overwhelmingly intelligent. It was just that as students, they had never been allowed to see past the image of the Bat of the Dungeon. Even after the Final Battle when she had been helping Madam Pomphrey in the hospital wing, Severus had still been inscrutable, sitting up in bed in his full teacher's robes, his only exception to his neck injury being the two undone buttons at his throat.
At first he had called her names and refused to take any potions she brought him, but eventually—after a scolding from Pomphrey and Minerva—he downed all of his medications and even begrudgingly asked her to procure him some books from the Library. Severus had even given her access to his rooms in order to retrieve books from his own collection.
As his healing progressed and his strength returned, Hermione would accompany him on daily walks about the castle grounds. They discussed the books Severus read and argued over potions and magical theory, sometimes with raised voices. She secretly enjoyed these intellectual arguments, happy to have someone able to challenge her intellect, and she suspected Professor Snape did as well.
Their time together dwindled as the first of September approached. Professor Snape went back to the potions lab and office, vanishing chintz furniture and stashes of candied pineapple, returning both rooms to their pre-Slughorn state.
Headmistress McGonagall required Hermione's services in readying the new eighth year common room, helping the house elves develop a house-neutral decor that no one could take umbrage with.
Their daily outings became weekly and then gradually faded away completely. There was nothing Hermione could do about their responsibilities, though she longed for more free time to go back to their early summer schedule. The memory of their walks together seemed almost surreal the further away they became, as though she had merely dreamt it.
Over the summer Hogwarts had brimmed with activity. A constant stream of Order members and repair crews circulated throughout the castle, and there was always something to do or someone to talk to, not to mention Professor Snape's healing to supervise.
Now that the repairs were completed, start of term responsibilities preoccupied the professors, and, from what Hermione could see, Professor Snape was almost completely back to his pre-attack mobility. The eighth years, as recognised adults, had been allowed private rooms within their new dormitory. While she appreciated the privacy, Hermione couldn't help but feel slightly set apart from the other returning students. She was the only Gryffindor from her year to return, and all the others seemed to have a friend or housemate to sit with and talk to. She was lonely.
Most lessons were simply a review of the studying she had already completed on her own, so Hermione chose to sit in the back of all her classes, uninterested in trying to remain attentive to lessons she had already memorised. She ate in the Great Hall on the fringe of Ginny's very large group of friends, very rarely chiming in to the discussion. Sometimes she felt awkward and old next to the seventh years. Many of her younger housemates had been protected from the ugliest aspects of war by concerned parents, and it showed in their conversation.
Hermione had battled Horcruxes and starvation. She'd survived the Cruciatus and the Final Battle. She'd helped heal friends and enemies from life-threatening injuries, for Merlin's sake! Discussions on dress robes or who got caught snogging in the broom cupboard felt juvenile after dealing with life and death for so long.
After classes and meals were done for the day, Hermione retreated to the solitude of her room to study and sleep. The whole process began again the next day, with startling tedium.
On the third day of classes, Hermione finally had her first potions lesson of the year. She sat in the back of the room with her head down, the feathered end of her quill tapping silently against her frowning lips. She hadn't spoken to Professor Snape for two weeks and now that she was officially a student again, she was unsure how to act in class or how to approach him. She needn't have worried. He completely ignored her presence as though the events if the summer had never occurred.
It was three weeks after the start of term before Professor Snape finally spoke to her. Three weeks in which she did not raise her hand, did not speak out of turn, and did not write even an inch over the assigned essay length. Three weeks in which she became more withdrawn, her sleep plagued by images of the final battle. Three weeks in which even her birthday passed with relatively little fanfare.
Everyone who fought in the war seemed to have grown closer to their families and were holding on to each other with the knowledge that so much could have been lost. Hermione had no family to embrace—she had sacrificed her parents and was now left to reestablish her education and life without them. For her birthday, Harry and Ron both sent a card and books with apologies for not visiting, and Ginny gave her a lovely new quill.
Her parents, still disguised as Wendell and Monica Wilkins, hadn't remembered their daughter and thus they hadn't known it was her birthday. From them, there was no cake, no exclamations of love and encouragement. It hadn't seemed so heartbreaking until the dust of the war settled and everyone returned to the normal routine of daily life.
Professor Snape's drawl finally broke into her self-imposed isolation. "Miss Granger," he said, the deep timbre of his voice traveling through the classroom despite its low volume. He handed her graded essay back to her, the writing perfectly sized and legible without one word over the required two feet. "It seems as though there is indeed an end to the vast knowledge of our resident Know-it-All. Detention tonight. Eight o'clock. Don't be late."
"Are you paying attention? Hermione!"
Hermione blinked slowly, shaking her head of the memories that flooded back with the scent of the spiced oranges. The time after the war—those first few weeks of classes—had been so difficult, but she couldn't help but smile at the recollection. If not for them, she wasn't sure she'd be where she was now, happily married to the snarky, sexy bat of the dungeons.
"Sorry," Hermione said, shrugging and smiling at Ginny. "I can't separate the smell of pomanders from my memories of the beginning of my relationship with Severus. That first Christmas was so bittersweet. I was missing my parents and Harry and Ron and really truly felt more alone than I had since the beginning of first year. And Severus practically shoved this ribboned, clove-studded orange at me, insisting that the infused charms would cure me of the 'ridiculous melancholy I was allowing myself to wallow in'." She laughed, remembering the delicate way she'd held the ribbon between her thumb and forefinger as though the fruit were hexed. She'd had no idea why Professor Snape was giving her decorated fruit like she used to make with her gram.
"The two of you are so odd. You're perfect for each other. No one else would want you." Ginny laughed. "I can't believe I was pining for Harry and studying my arse off and you were making moon-eyes at Professor Snape!"
"Oh, shut up, you!" Hermione threw a clove at Ginny, laughing when she managed to get the small spice stuck down the front of Ginny's cleavage.
"I think it's sweet." Luna said, ignoring the banter between the other two witches by returning to the previous topic. "And doesn't he still make them for you every year?"
"He does. He sneaks down to his lab every Christmas Eve and assembles the pomanders, presenting them to me right before we head to bed. I do have a tendency to get melancholy this time of year… like I'm missing something or anxious about something I've forgotten. But as soon Severus places the fresh, cloved oranges on the table, my mood lifts. I let them dry out and keep them in my armoire all year. I know I'm probably just being sentimental, but I swear the scent really does bring me peace every morning. I don't think I'd be able to start my day without the reminder of how much Severus cares for me."
"Sickeningly sweet. The only continual reminder I have of Harry's love are the two rascals he's currently watching and this one that's still cooking." Ginny winced, rubbing her swollen belly fondly.
"It's amazing that the pomander scent lasts for nearly a year. Usually they don't last half that. I'm sure Severus must have developed a way to add to their potency." Luna said.
Hermione paused with the oranges in her hand and glanced up. "I've never even considered the fact they were so long-lasting!. I'll have to raid his lab sometime and find out just how he makes them so strong."
"Who would have figured one third of the Golden Trio, Brightest Witch of her age would have married the greasy git, Severus Snape."
"He's not greasy!" Hermione tossed her last orange into the bowl in front of her. "And if you had told me before Christmas of eighth year that I'd end up married to my potions professor, I would have had you admitted to the Janus Thickney ward! I swear it was the pomanders that made me view him differently. Before he was just a professor and a spy. But after, he was someone who made handmade gifts, someone who was thoughtful and caring behind all that snark and sarcasm. I'm not sure if it was the infused wellness charm or the thought of someone caring and looking out for me, but as soon as I held that first pomander and inhaled it's scent… it was as though all of my troubles just melted away."
"Well, this year you get to be thoughtful and caring," Ginny said, pressing Hermione's finished bowl of charmed oranges onto her arms. "Now take these home to your husband who you can't stop thinking about. This baby is going to need a friend at Hogwarts." She winked at Hermione and gave her a shove in the direction of the stairs.
Hermione sprinted up the staircase to the front door, leaving the echoing sounds of feminine giggles behind her.
She Apparated directly onto the mat at her front door and let herself into the house with a silent flick of her wand. As she moved into the living room, she secured her wand back into its sheath on her arm and she placed the bowl of pomanders onto the coffee table at the center of the room. She could already smell the sweet and spicy combination of oranges and cloves as the faint scent wafted about, already working its charmed magic. She smiled to herself as she took in today's handiwork. This scent was one of her favourites from her childhood—it brought back memories of cozy holidays and loving hugs from her grandmum—and now it was the scent of her own home, reminding her of Severus and love and reading together cuddled on the couch after a long day at work.
Not seeing Severus in the living room or the office, she called out for him, worried that he would be upset she had returned home much later than she had planned.
"Severus? I'm home!"
Severus sat down quickly at the kitchen table when he heard the crack of Apparation, and he picked up his book from where it had sat forgotten on the table. He calmly flipped a page as though he had been reading for quite a while and had not, in reality, been pacing the length of the kitchen. A few moments later, Hermione called out to him, the slight crack in her voice telling him she was wary of his reaction to her late appearance.
"In the kitchen, Hermione."
His back tingled as she drew closer, and he could smell the soft fragrance that he associated with his wife. Warm hands snaked around his waist and a small chin snuggled into his shoulder as she embraced him from behind.
"What are you reading?"
Severus flipped another page in the book before he magically marked his place and set it again on the table beside him.
"The Aubergine: 101 Muggle and Magical Uses. It is as big a waste of my time as I knew it would be."
Hermione hummed against his neck. "Sorry I'm late," she said before turning her head slightly to kiss his stubbled cheek. "Harry had the littles and we lost track of time without constant interruptions from the toddlers."
Severus pushed back his chair and stood, returning her peck on the cheek.
"It's not a problem," he said, not wanting to get into an argument about it now. The truth was, he minded every single time she wasn't by his side, but he knew, unfortunately, that he had to let her see her friends on occasion. "Sit. Let me get you a plate. I'm sorry I started without you but I skipped lunch to finish this month's Wolfsbane."
Hermione sat in the chair Severus motioned toward, twisting her torso so she continued to face him. "Oh! How did it go? Did the addition of the liquorice work as you thought? Was the Arithmancy correct? It completely slipped my mind that the final stage was this afternoon, you should have reminded me! If the numbers were wrong I could have reworked them as you brewed to avoid any wasted material—"
"Relax, woman," he interrupted, his breath lifting the hairs on the back of her neck as he bent over her shoulder, right arm reaching over her to present her dinner with a flourish. "Take a breath and eat."
Severus backed away from her slowly, his fingertips running up the length of her arm and across the back of her neck before finally retaking his seat on the chair across from her. He refilled his empty wine glass from a bottle on the table and tipped it towards Hermione in silent inquiry. At her nod, he summoned another glass from the cupboard and poured her a generous serving before continuing their conversation.
"It was fine, Hermione. I don't expect you to keep detailed notes on my brewing schedule. I'm always pleased to have you brewing by my side, but I am a potions master. I'm sure I can handle such a slight change to a single brew."
"Slight change? Severus, that 'slight change' took me weeks to run the numbers on!" She none-to-gently set her fork down besides her plate, hands flailing in front of her as her voice rose. "If my calculations were wrong you could have been seriously injured! I can't believe you're treating this so lightly! The wards on the lab couldn't possibly have held in such a catastrophic explo—"
Hermione broke off mid-tirade. He leaned back in his dining chair, right arm resting across his abdomen while his left hand held his glass of wine up against his mouth, trying ineffectively to hide the smirk that was lifting the corner of his lips.
"You're messing with me."
"Yes. It's so easy." Severus's smirk only grew as he caught the balled up napkin Hermione had thrown at him with an adorable pout. "The Wolfsbane turned out exactly as expected. Your calculations were one hundred percent correct, Arithmancy Mistress Granger, as I'm sure you well know. You reviewed them enough times. I have the deepest respect for your work, but I did double the wards on the lab, in an abundance of unnecessary caution."
"Still," Hermione said, sticking out her bottom lip in an exaggerated fashion, "I would have loved to watch you brew the changes."
"We can always start a new batch tomorrow. I'll need to brew it more than once to make sure I can corroborate my findings, so you may as well include yourself in the process." He refilled her glass, pouring the last of the wine from the bottle before sending it to sit neatly in the bin. "But since you chose to spend your day away from me, I hope you enjoyed yourself. How are Ginevra and Miss Lovegood?"
"You can use Luna's first name, you know."
"Miss Lovegood has not given me permission."
"It's Luna. She's never going to give you permission because she doesn't realise you need it. But back on topic, my day was nice. We haven't had a day with just the three of us since I can't remember when. Luna's been so busy with Rolf and their expeditions and Ginny always has the kids with her, it's hard to make time work for all three of us. I love Jamie and Lily but it's nice to be able to see Ginny relax when Harry takes care of them for the day. And with one more on the way, I don't know when we'll get another chance for a witches' day."
"I'm glad you enjoyed yourselves." And he did. Truly. Everything he did was for her.
"We did! Oh! But I have a surprise for you." She gestured toward his half eaten dinner. "Are you finished? Come into the living room with me. I want to show you!"
Hermione jumped up from the table and stood in front of him. She ignored his scowl and held out her hand to haul him out of his chair.
"Hermione." Severus's mouth turned down at the corners and his dark eyes searched her lighter ones for any hint of what to expect. He sighed heavily at seeing her excitement, placing his hand in hers despite his misgivings. "I was a spy for nearly two decades. I'm not good with surprises."
She laughed and gave him a quick kiss on the lips before turning toward the living room, dragging him behind her. "Hush. It's not that big of a surprise. You'll manage."
She led him to the couch and gave him a gentle push to sit while she stood directly in front of him, blocking his view of everything but her. He cast his eyes about the room, searching for any sign of what was to come. His stiff posture was the only sign of his rising anxiety.
"Now close your eyes."
"Hermione…" His deep voice drawled out the last vowel of her name, unable to hide his growing irritation.
"Fine. Here." Hermione twisted slightly and reached behind her to the coffee table at her back, finally grasping whatever it was and setting it unceremoniously on his lap. "Surprise! Happy Christmas, Severus."
He stared at the bowl of decorated orange fruit, the fingers of his right hand running gently along the rim of the ceramic bowl. He remained silent, even as Hermione shifted from one foot to another in front of him.
"Severus?"
"You made the pomanders. Traditionally charmed, I'm assuming?" The sweet and spicy combination of oranges and cloves already perfumed the air, working its charmed magic. Different, but potent. No surprise there, as he was aware just how talented Hermione was.
"Y-yes." She wrung her hands, her brow furrowing. "Don't you like them? I know I've never made them before, but Ginny and Luna both had and they swore the charm they taught me was the traditional one…"
It was several minutes before Severus finally looked up, the smile that curled his lips feeling a shade too wide. "My apologies. Of course I love them. I'm just surprised. It is traditionally I who make them for you."
Hermione sat down on the cushion next to him and leaned into his side, resting her hand against his forearm.
"I know. I love our tradition and our orange- and clove-scented holidays. I just wanted to do something nice for you this year. You take such good care of me—even all the way back to my eighth year—and I just wanted to take care of you for once. To give you a year of charmed good luck."
"Thank you, Hermione. Truly." He pulled his arm out from under her grasp and placed it around her shoulders, pulling her closer to lay her head against his chest. He leaned his head down and kissed the top of hers.
"Severus?"
"Hmmm?" He grunted in response, his eyes closed and his breathing deep and even from the soothing Wellness Charm that permeated the room. She wouldn't know it, but it was completely different from the charms he used in his recipe.
"Are you truly upset with me?" Hermione shifted under his arm, sitting up on her knees before flinging one leg over his and settling herself on his lap. Her thighs straddled his and she looked up into his face, as though attempting to gauge his mood. She fluttered kisses against his closed eyelids. "If you are I promise to let you make the pomanders from now on."
Each word was punctuated with a kiss, Hermione's lips trailing from his eyelids to his temples and on to his cheeks and the underside of his chin, finally landing quickly against his mouth before pulling away.
"In the meantime, is there any way I can make it up to you?"
"Minx," Severus growled, his eyes finally open as his right hand shot out and grabbed Hermione by the back of her head, hauling her lips back to his. He nipped at her bottom lip, taking advantage of her small gasp of surprise and tangling his tongue with hers. The taste of the red wine from dinner was still heavy on her tongue and Severus revelled in its flavour mixed with the scent of the cloved oranges perfuming the room.
Here, now, this time with Hermione was heaven. She was everything to him. All those years of war and spying and being beholden to two masters was worth it because they had led him to this moment. This life with Hermione.
Severus pulled his mouth from his wife's, his need for oxygen finally outweighing his desire to stay connected to her. He ran his lips down the column of her neck, untangling his hand from her hair to reach down and pull aside the collar of her shirt.
"I'm not angry." He managed to finally get out in between kisses and nips on the tendon that connected her shoulder and neck. "I just find pleasure—" he drew out the word, purring it against Hermione's skin and making goosebumps race along her arms as she shivered under his touch "—in creating them for you. It is my way to show you I care."
"Well, Merlin forbid I keep you from expressing your love." She was panting, her hands desperately scrabbling at the buttons of his shirt. She gave up on them halfway down his chest and reached both hands out to cup his cheeks and haul his face back up to hers. "Less talking, more kissing."
Severus didn't bother to argue as he ran his tongue against the seam of her lips, silently demanding she open for him. His left hand sneaked into her curls as his right found its way under her shirt until he lightly pinched her nipple through the lace of her bra.
At his touch, Hermione surged forward, her hips rocking against his and her breasts crushing into his chest, locking his hand against her sensitive skin.
"Bed, Severus."
Severus pulled back slowly and shifted Hermione's hips to put distance between them, casting butterfly soft kisses against her temple, cheeks, and chin.
"Would that I could." He sighed, pulling her into his chest and running his hands soothingly up and down her back. "Unfortunately, with a complete lack of foresight, I began a rather finicky potion right before you returned home. I have only—" he pulled his wand from the sleeve of his shirt and cast a quick tempus, the time flashing briefly in the air in front of him "—a quarter of an hour before I must add the next batch of ingredients."
She echoed his sigh, her face pressed against the warmth of his chest and her arms squeezed tightly around his torso. She closed her eyes and Severus could feel her deep inhalations as her lungs expanded with each breath, the rapid beat of her heart tattooing against him. She seemed to be in a lust-induced languor, her body boneless on his.
The intoxicating scent of the sweet and spicy cloved oranges permeated the room, a fragrance he now associated with Hermione and home. He loved these moments with her, relishing in her nearness.
Severus's contentment faded as Hermione's body suddenly stiffened. She sniffled and he looked down at his wife, concerned to see tears pooling in her eyes.
"Hermione? What is wrong?"
Hermione wrested herself from the comfort of Severus' arms and sat up on her knees to face him.
"Nothing. I'm just be nostalgic." She sniffed slightly and wiped the tears from under her eyes with the pads of her fingers. "Making the pomanders for you today just brings back so many memories. I've been thinking about eighth year all day. I came so close to missing all of this. So close to not having this wonderful life with you. That first term back at Hogwarts, I was so close to just withdrawing from everything and merely focusing on surviving the rest of the school year. But you brought me back to myself with these silly charmed oranges. And then they helped bring me to you. I'm just so thankful"
Severus raised his eyebrow at her display of sentimentality. "They're merely fruit. I doubt they were performing miracles. And besides, we were already enjoying time spent together before I gave them to you."
"Yes, but it wasn't the same. Before that Christmas you were just my professor, my mentor. There was always a divide between us, even during our more… intense… academic arguments. But when you gave me the pomanders it closed that divide. I had never expected to get a Christmas gift from you, let alone a handmade one, and it really made me see you differently. It gave me insight to the man beneath the professor and spy personas. And I'm still surprised at how quickly I fell for you, but I'm so happy I did."
She leaned forward, setting her lips against his and the banked flames of his desire crackled back to life almost instantaneously. She clutched at his biceps as his hand squeezed her upper thigh. He could feel her rising excitement, his thumbs brushing the center of her heat, and he desperately wanted to roll her beneath him and feel that heat surround his hardened length. But the wafting sweet scent of oranges reached his nose and he dragged his lips and hands away from her body.
"Go to bed, Hermione, before I change my mind and ruin my potion."
He stood up and held out his hands to help haul Hermione out of the soft cushions. He tugged her into his arms and gave her a quick hug before backing away and facing her in the direction of the stairs.
"Go, witch. My control has its limits."
The tinkling sound of Hermione's laughter followed her up the stairs and Severus watched the sway of her hips as she made her ascent.
He stood poised at the bottom of the staircase, head slightly cocked to one side, listening to the creaks of the floorboards and the rush of water in the pipes as Hermione changed into her pyjamas and washed her face. When he had determined enough time had passed for her to have settled into bed, he cast a quick charm on the stairs that would alert him if she awoke and descended.
Severus turned on his heel and headed back to the living room, his countenance growing more and more somber as he retrieved the bowl of oranges from the living room coffee table. His lips pulled down at the corners and his brows furrowed above his deep set eyes.
This was not how he wanted to spend his night. He wanted to crawl into bed next to his wife and feel her smooth, warm skin against his as they rocked themselves to completion. He wanted to lay next to her, curled around her back with the scent of her hair tickling his sensitive nose. Instead he was descending into the darkness of his basement potions lab, fruit in one hand and wand in the other, casting a quiet lumos to help guide him down the steep steps.
Hermione had been so busy with work lately, leading the Ministry's Arithmancy division in the new contract with St Mungos memory ward, not to mention helping him calculate all the possible outcomes of changing the recipe for Wolfsbane. He had simply wanted her to have a relaxing afternoon with her girlfriends, chatting and drinking and not thinking about Arithmancy. He had hoped she'd return home to him on time, refreshed and rejuvenated.
Instead, she, Ginevra, and Miss Lovegood had decided to go and undermine his entire life.
Unintentionally, obviously, but the outcome was the same whether intended or not. It was lucky Hermione had decided to share her surprise with him today rather than wait the few more days until Christmas. He could only imagine the disaster that would have occurred had the Wellness-charmed pomanders been allowed to overpower the more subtle charms of his own creation.
Severus removed the oranges from the bowl, setting all of them in a line across the gleaming surface of his work bench. There were eight in total, each with a different pattern of cloves stuck into its skin. Hermione had utilized more traditional designs on most of the fruits, choosing mostly geometric patterns, but on the last two she had gone rogue, shaping the cloves into hearts across the orange peel on one, and designing happy faces on the other. If he weren't so frustrated with the fact that Hermione had made the damn things in the first place, he'd be charmed by her whimsical designs.
He picked up one of the oranges, holding it up to his nose and deeply inhaling the scent. There didn't seem to be any ingredients besides the obvious orange and cloves. Unfortunately there was no way to ascertain the exact wording of the charms the witches had used when creating the scented decor. There were a few varying traditional charms, each very close in meaning, but most families had a specific phrasing they preferred. He had never witnessed the Weasley matriarch making the damn things, so he couldn't even hazard a guess as to which spell was cast today.
He sighed heavily. Since he was unsure of the exact wording, he wasn't going to be able to just remove the charms and replace them with the charm of his own creation. He didn't want to risk not removing the entire original charm and having the magics compete with each other. He summoned fresh oranges and cloves from the storage cupboard in the corner of the lab, thankful that he had already purchased the supplies to refresh Hermione's supply of Christmas pomanders, though it was an activity he usually saved for Christmas Eve. He would have to spend the time tonight to recreate the exact designs she had made earlier in the day so as to avoid suspicion.
Severus dipped his hand into the bowl of whole cloves, dexterous fingers making quick work of choosing one and pushing it through the peel of the fresh orange in front of him. As each new clove pierced the skin, his deep baritone chanted the words he had crafted so many years ago.
Magic in an orange round
Faith eternal with me bound.
Power unknown the mighty clove
Keep her always as my love.
When he had finished recreating the first pomander, he placed it back in the ceramic bowl, vanishing the original with a swish of his wand. He couldn't risk Hermione ever finding out about the switch. He couldn't risk losing her. She was his everything. She was more important than even Lily had ever been. Tonight when she hadn't returned home by dinner, he had worried. Worried that she had been hurt or something had happened to her. Worried that maybe last year's batch of pomanders hadn't been as strong as they had in the past and Hermione wasn't coming home. It had been difficult to choke down his food as though nothing were wrong as he waited for his wife to return to him. His anxiety had eventually won out and his dinner grew cold as he paced the kitchen waiting for her.
Severus picked up a second orange, intent on finishing his task as accurately and as quickly as possible. He had to make sure this was the strongest batch yet.
Hermione had worked her way under his skin. At first she had been nothing more than an annoying student and, most unfortunately, Potter's best friend. But even after all his name calling and berating she had still returned every day—twice a day—to ensure his recovery and comfort. He had never had anyone care for him like that. As a child, his mother was too busy attempting to placate his drunken father to pay attention to his small scrapes and big feelings. Lily had been a dear friend, and he had loved her, but she did have a tendency toward self-absorption. It was new to him—being the subject of one's undivided attention; someone who neither wanted nor needed anything from him in return.
She had fascinated him. She was unafraid to voice her opinion or argue magical theory, her curls whipping about her face and her hands fluttering in front of her as she tried to make her point. But underneath her intellect and mass of curls, he saw who she really was: a lonely witch desperate for someone to understand her, care for her, see her.
Love her.
As he had.
He saw the way she slowly withdrew when the school year began. She hadn't even come to seek him out for their weekly walks, even though she had been adamant he maintain the habit to keep his strength up. She sat mostly alone at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall and completely alone in the back of his classroom. She was fading away, her hair no longer voluminous but instead limp in the ponytail at her back. He had to do something. He couldn't lose yet another Gryffindor witch he cared for.
He had assigned her detention, demanding that she help him brew the potions for the hospital wing. As she had chopped and stirred, he told her about the latest potions book he had read and he had watched as her hunched shoulders straightened and her dull eyes brightened as she asked him points of clarification.
He had done that. Him. Severus Snape. He had cheered her up just by holding a conversation with her. No one had ever reacted that positively to him before.
Hermione had returned to his office that next night after dinner, asking if she could once again help him brew. And again the night after that. Eventually the brewing was set aside and she would stop by for tea and conversation.
One night she had wrapped her arms around his torso, hugging him tightly and thanking him for being such a good friend to her—for being the closest thing she had to a family.
It was then he had made up his mind. He wasn't going to let another smart, beautiful Muggleborn witch who was fond of him slip through his grasp. Not again.
Severus placed the last orange on top of the others and conjured a damp cloth. He cleaned each of his fingers from the sticky orange juice, paying close attention to the small crevices of his nail beds. He wanted no evidence left over from his late night project.
With his hands clean and the last of Hermione's oranges vanished, Severus grabbed the ceramic bowl and headed back up the stairs. He placed it on the living room coffee table, right where it had been before Hermione had gone up to bed. He turned on his heel and, with a flick of his wand, dispersed the warning charm on the stairs, finally heading up to sleep.
Hermione was tucked under the quilt, curled on her side, one hand outstretched to Severus's empty pillow. Her skin was flushed from the warmth of sleep and her pink lips were slightly parted, breath coming in quiet little puffs. This. This was the reason he had to switch out those damn pomanders tonight. He was so lucky to be able to sleep next to this witch every night. He couldn't imagine life without her.
He quietly removed his clothing, stripping down to his pants before crawling into bed next to Hermione. Once settled, he reached out to her, drawing her into the circle of his arms. Hermione stirred slightly at his touch, mumbling incoherently and burrowing her face into the crook of his shoulder.
Severus was thankful for his wife.
And tonight, he was thankful he had been able to successfully avert potential disaster. Thankful that Hermione would be bound to him for at least one more year.
Notes: Thank you shout out to bionically for her alpha and beta work and for putting up with all my revisions.
This was written for the Slytherin Cabal's 2019 Twistmas fest. My prompt was 'orange clove pomanders'
This Twistmas one shot was inspired by one of my favorite Sevmione fics from way back in 2004, Lest the Old Traditions Fail by Quillusion. It's a fluffy little Christmas fic and I've loved it for 15 years and wanted to pay it a little homage here. Please go read it!