A/N: Thank you to everyone who reviewed, favourited and followed this little story – I am eternally grateful, and I hope you enjoy this next instalment.
This chapter is part two, of three parts.
HG
As expected their picture was plastered across the front of The Prophet; however, instead of it being a piece about a suspected affair, it had been about their argument. Hermione was relieved; but as try she might, she couldn't stop thinking about him. As the weekend came to an end she didn't know whether to feel thankful, or upset, that he hadn't contacted her at all. However, being a sensible person in most circumstances and taking pride in herself for being reasonably pragmatic when the occasion called for it, she knew, there was nothing she could do other than carrying on as usual.
The more she thought over it, it didn't seem reasonable to place expectations on him when she wasn't entirely certain what she wanted from their association. It was obvious that they had a physical connection, but beyond that? Ginny has been right, they hardly knew each on a personal level.
When she arrived at the office Quentin was outraged that Severus Snape had approached and rebuked her in such a public place as the Ministry's Floo hall. "That guy is a total wanker, Quentin supplied, throwing the Hampstead report on her desk on Monday morning. "Don't let him get to you; I mean, all the work you put in to getting those hearts for him and he didn't have the common decency to thank you for it. It's a bloody cheek is what it is."
"I am sure he had his reasons." She replied, dipping the nib of her quill into the inkwell. "I hardly expected a little thank you card and a bunch of flowers."
"But dragon hearts! He knows how difficult they are to come by and it wasn't exactly your job to go sorting it out either."
"It doesn't matter, really." Would he just shut up about it! She imagined a reality where the ground opened beneath him and sucked him through to a different dimension, preferably one as far away from her personal life as possible.
"Plus, he's sleeping his way through the Ministry by the looks of things."
Hermione's stomach sank, and her quill paused mid-word, she really didn't want to be having this conversation about that man, with this man, at the current time.
"My sister knows a wizard who works in Muggle relations who said that his cousin's friend was completely taken advantage of by him. He took her to a hotel, had his way and never spoke to her again."
"You can't believe everything you hear, Quentin."
"Yeah, well, where there's smoke there's fire; that man has no scruples, not one."
Hermione hoped he had at least one.
HG
Monday turned in to Tuesday and she had all but given up hope that he would want to see her again, it seemed she had been just another one of his conquests. How could he treat her so tenderly and walk away so easily? With every day that passed and despite her best efforts, she was beginning to resent him, and yet she knew she would open her arms to him without a second thought – it was enough to make her question her sanity. She was a strong woman, not a doormat to be walked all over just because he didn't want to spend the night alone. If there was one thing Hermione Granger never wished to do, it was to show weakness.
Each night when she went to bed she could smell him on the pillows, his sandalwood shaving balm which she's first smelt at the Ministry's ball a few years ago, lingered on the soft cotton fabric. She was left feeling weak with her wanting of him, so much so that she, very briefly, considered he might have slipped something in her tea that night.
On Thursday evening as she was pulling her chicken lasagne out of the oven there was a knock at the door.
"Just a minute," she shouted, sliding the pan on to the top of the cooker, pulling off her cow print oven gloves and throwing them on the counter-top next to the sink.
It was ironic that having spent the best part of the week wanting him to show up at her door, that when he did, she was surprised and somewhat lost for conversation.
"Hello."
"Hi." She replied, wrestling with her complicated feelings.
"I brought you a present." He fumbled at the pocket of his cloak before revealing an unopened packet of Jaffa Cakes.
She couldn't help but laugh at his arrogance, to show up after almost a week without a word and then offer Jaffa Cakes as some sort of icebreaker as if an - admittedly - delicious orange and chocolate treat would make up for his behaviour.
"Am I welcome?" he asked evenly, perhaps sensing her uneasy mood or maybe this was the part where she was supposed to come to her senses and slam the door in his face?
Hermione was momentarily conflicted but felt equally curious; she stood aside and gestured for him to enter. "I was just about to have some dinner, if you are interested?" she offered neutrally, taking the Jaffa Cakes from his outstretched hand.
Severus unbuttoned his cloak and threw it on the arm of the sofa; obviously that was a 'yes' to dinner then. He followed her to the kitchen and watched in silence as she grabbed two plates and served the dinner.
Hermione handed him the slightly larger portion and gestured for him to follow her to the lounge; he chose to sit in his previous spot on the sofa, while she felt it best to maintain a little distance and settled on the lounge chair. Immediately her eyes were drawn to his dark blue paisley patterned waistcoat.
"How have you been?" he asked with what seemed like genuine interest.
Well I have spent the best part of the week obsessing about you, wondering what you want from me. I don't know what I want from you, but I know I am worried about getting hurt. You made me feel so desirable and I don't know if it is possible for someone else to make me feel that way. You confuse me. Other than that, I am fine, thanks for asking.
Except she didn't say any of those things instead she said, "It's been a busy week, what with the Minister deciding he wants to consider setting import duties by region, rather than by country. I swear he has nothing better to do than to create needless work just to say he's made changes, regardless of whether they actually improve anything at all."
Severus laughed. "It is no different at the hospital," he replied, cutting in to his slice of lasagne with the side of his fork. "I tend to ignore them for the most part and they leave me alone."
"Yes, well, its okay for you, no one would dare cross you."
This time he smirked, "Having a somewhat perilous background does have its uses, from time to time."
How was it that he had begun to relax when she felt like a taut string? She quickly resolved it was probably because he knew his own mind - his intentions - while she was left wanting. She could ask of course, but she wasn't sure she was prepared for the answer, quite yet.
As their dinner conversation continued she finally began to relax; they'd even opened a bottle of wine as they discussed the frustrations of public service, thus finding common ground. It was nice to talk to someone who understood, who could appreciate the humour in similar situations. Neither one of them mentioned their night together, but somehow, she was able to push it to the back of her mind, at least for a little while.
"Shall I put the telly on, so we don't depress ourselves with the state of our professional lives?"
"Speak for yourself, I consider myself a successful individual."
Hermione rolled her eyes, "Yes, well, some of us aren't curing the sick for a living."
Severus smirked once more while Hermione did her best not to launch herself at him demanding to know what he thought he was playing at by showing up at her flat. What did he want?
Hermione briefly entertained the notion of asking if he'd mind if she caught up with the latest episode of Cold Feet, but thankfully she reminded herself that programmes about relationships were probably best avoided at this juncture. Instead they settled on Who wants to be a Millionaire? which proved hilarious when Severus become enraged because a 'dunderheaded idiot' didn't know the capital of Australia.
"Where do they get these people?" He asked, aggressively removing yet another Jaffa Cake from the packet he had brought her that evening. "That is basic world geography, do these Muggles teach their children nothing? I guarantee you that I would have won the money without question."
Hermione laughed, primarily at herself - his arrogance was endearing, really.
"And if you were asked to name the members of Westlife, you'd have no problem with that I suppose?" she challenged.
"That's what Legilimacy is for, my dear, Hermione."
"That's cheating!" She was outraged, such a thing struck directly to her core of decency.
"Only if someone finds out." He replied, nonplussed by her reaction.
"No wonder you were the Head of Slytherin." Hermione grumbled, reaching over to him and plucking the packet of Jaffa Cakes from his lap, only to discover there were only two left. "Why did you bring me these if you were going to eat them all?"
Severus laughed. "You thought they were for you?" He was blatantly unapologetic.
"You said they were a present!" Before she could retaliate the phone rang. "Hang on a moment, I'm not finished with you!" She got up and grabbed the phone from the mantle over the small Victorian fireplace. "Don't you think for one moment you're getting away with that," she cautioned, pointing the phone receiver at him before she pressed the button to answer.
"Hello." It was her Mum.
"No, nothing much," she replied. "I was just having dinner and… no, the chicken lasagne you gave me… yes, it was very nice, thank you. Yes, there will be enough for tomorrow too."
She looked over at Severus who was studying her intently, his eyes tracking her every movement as she slowly paced by the door.
"Yes, we… I just finished watching it… yes, unbelievable in this day and age, with the internet and everything."
"What?" she mouthed as he continued to stare, an eyebrow raised and a smirk across his face. It was most off putting to have him inspecting her in such a way, so she turned and put her back to him to better concentrate on the conversation.
"Of course… well, if you ask Dad if he would prefer lamb or beef I can sort it out… I don't mind really… no, it doesn't matter… whatever you fancy… peas, perhaps? Oh of course roast potatoooes!"
A large masculine hand had suddenly pushed itself under her blouse and across her bare stomach whilst it's partner in crime had affixed itself to her hip.
"No, everything is fine." Hermione did her best to keep her tone neutral while Severus pushed his body firmly against her back, making his intentions known.
"No?" he whispered in her ear playfully.
"Yes!" she all but shouted.
"No, not you, Mum," she corrected. "I was talking to Crookshanks."
She felt him rather than heard him chuckle.
"Look, Mum, I had better go, I'll see you on Sunday." Hermione turned the phone off and all but threw it on the chair.
He pulled her blouse over her head, obviously unwilling to waste time now that he had been given permission to continue – there was no way she would deny him. Delicately he kissed her shoulder and slowly began running his hands from her hips, up the sides of her body and made for her breasts. She couldn't help but let out a breathy moan, to which he responded with a knowing chuckle.
Eager to divest him of his clothing Hermione twisted in his embrace, made light work the buttons on his waistcoat, while he removed his cravat. His shirt was next; slowly she ran her hands up his body, over the light covering of dark hair, to his smooth shoulders, pushing his shirt from his back. Unfortunately, neither of them had remembered his cuff-links, but he was quick to cast a charm, causing them to fall on her carpeted floor with a dull thud.
"Remind me where they are later," he smirked, before kissing her soundly and sucking lightly at her bottom lip.
Before she knew it, he was urging her backward towards her bedroom, pulling at the button at the top of her trousers and then lowering the zip.
She couldn't deny the thrill of this man wanting her; he wasn't the sort of man she would ever have imagined being attracted to, but in that moment, when he was looking at her so intensely, whispering his intentions in her ear, she couldn't imagine being with anyone else in this way.
HG
Hermione rolled over and looked at the digital radio alarm clock on her bedside table, it was one of the random Muggle items she had grown up using when at home with her parents.
It was almost four o'clock in the morning and he was still here; she hadn't truly believed he'd get up and leave in the middle of the night, but it wasn't as if he had a history of staying for breakfast either.
A gap in the curtains allowed a strip of light to pass into the room and partially illuminate his face, allowing her the luxury of looking at him as he slept. He wasn't a swarthy man and yet a new layer of stubble added to his dark features. Hermione had always thought he had rather angular face, but age seemed to have softened his countenance. His lips were thin as they ever were, but now she knew they were capable of bringing her such pleasure, she wouldn't have them any other way.
She took the opportunity to glance down to his neck, one side pink and mottled from Nagini's attack. His survival had been nothing short of a miracle. Being able to see the damage wrought to his body, brought tears to her eyes and she wondered of the damage on the inside. Shortly after the end of the war she had heard that he had been disappointed at his survival, she wondered if he still felt the same now. He certainly didn't come across as a fatalistic person.
The bed sheet lay across his narrow hips allowing a rather delicious view of his torso; a light dusting of black hair, growing thicker as it disappeared underneath the sheet. She was suddenly overwhelmed with the urge to run the palm of her hand from his chest to his stomach, just to enjoy the feel of him - of being close to him. Of course, she wouldn't do it, that would wake him and may just destroy the illusion that he belonged to her… and she wanted to maintain that fantasy for a little while longer… didn't she?
She must have fallen back to sleep, but it came as no surprise when her alarm went off and Hermione found him standing at the end of the bed tying his cravat.
"You're going?" she asked, trying to hide her disappointment.
He glanced over to her before putting on his waistcoat and walking over to her side of the bed.
"Have a good day at work," he said, softly.
As before he kissed her on the forehead and walked out to the lounge; shortly after which she heard the door to her flat close as he left, once again, leaving her alone.
HG
It came as no surprise when he didn't get in touch with her on Friday or Saturday, why would he? Again, they'd not ventured in to any sort of conversation regarding whatever it was they were to each other and so what could she expect? As you would imagine she had given the matter considerable thought and decided that she would be at peace with it, for the moment. She was tired of obsessing over it and wanted to give a little time see what happened. She was a more than a willing participant after all, and decided she was willing to take a risk with him, even if it meant getting hurt.
On Sunday her parents popped over for lunch as they usually did once or twice a month. Sometimes they would go over to Oxford Street for a little bit of shopping; unfortunately, due to the drizzling summer rain they gave it a miss and decided to stay inside and watch Countryfile while the dinner cooked.
"You know, its days like this that I wonder why on earth we ever came back from Australia," her dad grumbled as he looked out the window.
"To spend time with your delightful daughter, perhaps!" Hermione replied from the archway to the kitchen.
"You know what I mean," he gestured to the window. "This bloody rain just goes on and on. It's June for goodness sake and I'd like to see the sun at least once before the onset of winter."
"Don't be so miserable, it'll pass," her mum laughed from where she sat on the sofa, a spot she had worryingly come to think of as 'Severus' seat'. "Maybe we should go on a little weekend break to Stratford, or somewhere like that? Her mum suggested. "Oh! What about York? I've always wanted to walk through the Shambles!"
"If it's raining down here then it's bloody well raining up there!" Her dad complained before moving to the chair, slumping down heavily. "Besides, we'd have to reorganise all of our appointments and you know how the patients get when we've done that in the past."
Hermione smiled and shook her head; her dad could be such a grumpy git at times.
"We could get a couple of locums in, it would only be for a day or two, I'm sure it'd be fine. You'd come along too wouldn't you, Hermione? It's been so long since we went on a trip as a family."
Hermione sensed her mum's ever-increasing excitement now that that the seed of her plan had been sown."Yes, I suppose I could get a couple of days off work, it'd be nice to get away and I hear York is lovely. We could go to the Minster and have a tea afterwards." She glanced at her dad who had crossed his arms and frowned. "What if we did a couple of brewery tours along the way?"
"Brewery tours?" Her dad sat up. "I suppose that might be interesting. What do you think Jean?"
Her mum glanced at her and smiled, knowingly. "I think that's a wonderful idea."
HG
Tuesday morning as Hermione was making her way through the Ministry's atrium on her way back to her office from lunch she bumped in to Harry.
"We're so busy right now," he moaned. "There a gang going around casting stunners and stealing people's brooms."
"Why would they want to do that?" Hermione asked. "It isn't as if everyone is riding their Nimbus 3000s to work?"
"We're not sure yet, but it seems pretty organised by the looks of things."
"Speaking of brooms, I suppose there hasn't been any word on Ron getting a game in?"
Harry shook his head. "Nope, the baby arrived on the Monday, so Ron didn't get the call up. He's a bit depressed about it to be honest, I think he's wondering if quidditch is going to work out of him."
"Oh dear." Hermione felt a bit guilty for not getting in touch with him since they had last spoken. "Maybe I should go around and see him. What do you think?"
"I think he'd really like that, Hermione. Why don't you take him out for lunch or something? It might help get his mind off it." Harry glanced over the huge clock at the far side of the atrium. "Look, I need to go, I'll catch up with you later, maybe we can all meet at the pub again,"
"Sounds, great," she smiled. "I can't do next weekend though as I'm going away with my parents for a few days."
HG
Thursday night Hermione Apparated home after having spent the evening with Ron at a small Italian restaurant in Knightsbridge. One of the things she loved about living in London was the huge variety of different restaurants she had on her doorstep, just a short apparition away.
Ron hadn't seemed as down as she had pictured after her short conversation with Harry. In fact, he'd even thought about trying to get a transfer to another team on the continent, in France, Spain or Germany. Perhaps spreading his wings and going out into the world would be good for him; sometimes, she wondered if he felt the pressure of living in Harry's shadow.
Going out for dinner, just the two of them, wasn't something they had done often since they split up, but it was reassuring to confirm that their friendship was as strong as it had ever been. Obviously, she would miss him if he moved further away, but what was the point of possessing magical abilities if it didn't make seeing your far away friends considerably easier?
By the time Hermione had stopped at the little shop around the corner from her flat, to pick up a pint of milk, it wasn't quite ten o'clock at night. Whilst she was there she picked up a couple of bags of sweets and three large bottles of water for the trip to York tomorrow and popped them in her bag.
Once she reached her flat she unlocked the door and threw her bag and coat on the sofa. Immediately she was aware of a tapping on the kitchen window. She opened the blind to find a rather large dark owl with enormous yellow eyes, staring straight back at her intently. Once the window was opened she collected the letter, gave the owl a piece of chicken from the fridge and took the envelope into the lounge.
The spikey scrawl was instantly recognisable as that of her former professor and sometime lover; her stomach was in knots. Taking a deep breath, she pulled at the corners of the envelope, cracking open the black wax seal and unfolded the parchment within.
Hermione,
I called upon you this evening but to appears you were otherwise engaged. Pity, I had brought dessert.
Severus.
What was that supposed to mean? Was he being suggestive, or had he really turned up clutching a tiramisu or a crème brulee? Hermione couldn't believe she hadn't been home, it was probably the closest she'd come to stamping her foot in temper. All week she'd been hoping he'd turn up and the one evening she went out, he knocked on her door. Perhaps she should reply? For a moment she thought about it, but she decided no, if he wanted to see her, he would be back. She took a deep breath and kicked off her shoes; this weekend she was going to forget all about him.
HG
"Well, that's a best pint I've had so far, what do you think, Hermione?" Her dad asked as he placed his pint glass back on the table and sat back in deep satisfaction.
Having spent the whole of the morning wandering through the Shambles, checking out the shops and marvelling and the medieval architecture, they'd stopped off at one of the many pubs close by for a drink and plate of chips.
"It was quite nice, but I think I prefer the one at the other pub, The White Rose." It may have surprised many of her friends if they found out that she enjoyed a pint of ale from time to time. "This was a bit citrusy for me."
"Hmm, yes I suppose it was a little."
"Aren't you glad we came now?" Her mum asked, looking at her husband.
"Yes, I admit you were right, just this once mind you." They laughed as he waggled his finger at his wife, with mock authority.
"Shall we get going to the Minster," suggested Hermione, grabbing her umbrella, "I think the worst of the crowd should be gone by now. Then we can pop back to the hotel, drop off these bags and go and find a good curry."
Indeed, the line to gain admission to the magnificent medieval building was considerably shorter than it had been earlier in the day and within a few minutes Hermione watched as her parents, fully equipped with their audio guides starting to wander around. Being the bibliophile that she was, she chose a rather weighty guidebook to supplement the research she's already done.
She'd been to other medieval cathedrals, but this one was one of the more spectacular, with the lancet windows, flying buttresses, and the beautiful stained glass which dominated whichever way she looked.
It was as she was taking it all in that thoughts of Severus entered her mind, unbidden. They started as she considered whether he was the sort of person who would appreciate such a place. She doubted he was a religious man, but did could he see the beauty in stone and glass, in the history the building had witnessed, as she could? There was something fascinating in considering the many people, through the centuries, who had stood where she now stood and looked up in awe at the vaulted ceiling of the Chapter House. Hermione walked back to the Nave looked up at the huge Rose window; what would Severus think of this, she wondered?
After her parents had come to the end of their tour and following a quick wander around the gift shop, where Hermione bought a miniature replica of the Rose window to hang in her kitchen, they made their way back to the hotel to change for dinner.
The Indian restaurant they eventually chose, after checking reviews on her dad's phone, was amazing. It was funny how restaurants across the country were frequently called, 'Indian' and yet India was such a vast country, it seem silly to consider that the food wouldn't vary considerably. Never the less, she'd never found a lamb bhuna she didn't like and so it came as no surprise when they had to order another garlic naan to mop up the remaining sauce from her plate, it was almost the best bit. Did Severus like curry? Perhaps she should ask him? Or order one the next time he popped over… if he popped over. Hermione groaned internally as her line of thought.
The next day they stood in line for what seemed like an age to sit and have tea at the local tea rooms. Hermione almost laughed out loud when she thought of Severus selecting a delicately cut, crust-less cheese and cucumber sandwich from the tower or declaring that he preferred a custard slice to a miniature éclair. The macaroons were so nice she bought two boxes from the tearoom shop on their way out – a little treat for later.
They stopped at two breweries on their long drive home, which Hermione knew had been the highlight of the trip for her dad. The whole weekend had been so much fun. To just spend time with her parents doing things they would have done together if she hadn't been a witch, and been whisked away to a magical castle, and fought a magical despot, was liberating.
"I think Stratford next time? We can go and see a play!" Hermione said to her parents as they got home. She wondered if Severus enjoyed Shakespeare.
HG
There had been no sign of Severus on Monday or Tuesday and to be quite honest, she wasn't sure if she was bitterly disappointed, or relieved, that he appeared to have moved on.
On Wednesday evening as she sat in front of the telly watching a repeated episode of Only Fools and Horses, she suddenly remembered that the previous two occasions he had turned up on her doorstep had been on Thursdays. She relaxed, perhaps he would stop by tomorrow?
Hermione had popped a macaroon in her mouth and was sipping at her cup on tea when there was a knock at the door. Her heart was completing for space in her mouth, along with the macaroon as she leapt up, chewing frantically and hoping to Merlin it was Severus on the other side.
By the time she opened the door he had already begun walking back down the stairs but turned as soon as he heard her footsteps on the landing.
"So, you are home." He commented, looking up at her.
"Yes, er, sorry, I was… eating a macaroon." Hermione pointed at her mouth as if he wouldn't know how one ate.
"A macaroon?" He asked with interest. "Would there be any left for me?"
"If you come in," she replied, evenly.
He didn't reply except to characteristically raise an eyebrow at her as he walked back up the stairs and swept past, crossing over the threshold and into the lounge.
"You were not home last week, I sent you a note." He said, taking off his cloak and throwing over the back of one of the chairs. "You weren't occupied in doing anything too exciting I hope?"
"I was having dinner with Ron, actually."
His expression changed minutely, and she puzzled over his motivation for these visits, yet again. Here he was, once more, turning up without notice, he had no right to an opinion of who she saw and what she did. Though he seemed relaxed, it was hard to know if it was all a façade - an act. Obviously, he felt confident of his welcome or he would not have returned; was it simply conceit or interest, on his part?
"Have you eaten?" he asked, glancing in to the kitchen, hopefully.
Perhaps it was just the food. Hermione looked over at the half-eaten packet of macaroons sitting on her coffee table. "Just a little snack," she replied. "Are you hungry?"
"I certainly wouldn't say no to something to eat." Severus replied, suggestively casting his eyes over her body, without shame.
Hermione blushed. "I can call for a take-away, curry?"
He walked over to his spot on the sofa and sat down, making himself quite at home. "What a wonderful idea."
Hermione grabbed the phone and called her local Indian restaurant.
"Is this programme still on?" he gestured at the television. "My father used to watch this, the no-good waste of space," he added, almost to himself.
"Hello, is that Taste of India? "she spoke into the receiver, before covering the end with her hand. "No, they're all reruns."
He nodded, seemly satisfied with her reply.
"Yes, can I order, two garlic naans, a basmati rice, a saag paneer, a lamb bhuna…" she looked over at Severus, questioningly.
"Butter chicken." He answered.
"And a butter chicken."
"Yes, Hermione Granger… pay on delivery… thirty to forty minutes? Okay. Thanks. Bye."
"Indian," he commented, "you fancy something spicy."
There was no doubting his double meaning, but she chose to ignore him and instead she walked to the kitchen to retrieve two glasses of wine and a bottle of red she'd been saving for a special occasion. Not that this was a special occasion mind you, but now was as a good a time as ever.
"Red okay for you, I hope?" Hermione asked, placing the two glasses on the coffee table before pulling to cork out of the bottle with her wand.
"Perfectly acceptable."
Hermione couldn't help but eye the space on the sofa next to him and decided that being a wilting violet around this man probably wasn't the right way to go about things if she wanted to demonstrate his welcome. Rolling around in bed together in the dark felt oddly less intimate than sharing the sofa, a bottle of rioja, and watching reruns of classic British sitcoms.
Grabbing her glass, she manoeuvred herself around the small oak table and plonked herself down next to him. Of course, he was much too busy inspecting the wine, giving it a sniff and sloshing it around his mouth as if he was some sort of bloody wine connoisseur to pay any attention to where she chose to sit.
"This is a nice bottle," he commented after finally taking a sip.
"My parents gave it to me on my twenty first birthday. I think we were supposed to drink it that night, but my mum almost choked on a fish bone and it was forgotten about." Hermione took a sip. "My dad likes wine, I expect he chose it."
He turned to look at her causing Hermione to feel as if she was being inspected but not in any kind of sexual manner, before turning back to the television.
"I don't suppose they'll have Blackadder on?" Severus gestured towards the telly.
"Probably," she sipped at her wine. "It's on all the time. Is this okay, or would you rather I changed the channel?
"This is fine, thank you."
It was surprising, the way they sat in companionable silence as they waited for their dinner to arrive, there was no awkwardness between them. He refilled her glass and even chuckled a few times; perhaps, she should have chosen comedy programming the last time they had watched television together, instead of a quiz show – there was less opportunity for dunderheadedness.
Before the episode ended their dinner had arrived; Severus must have been hungry as he wasted no time in collecting the plates and cutlery from the kitchen while she removed the foil containers from the carrier bags.
"Would you like a bit of everything?" she asked, trying not to burn her fingers on the hot food.
"Please," he nodded. "Hang on, let me do that, you sit down."
No sooner than she had sat back in her place next to him, Severus had dished out the food and handed her a plate. The aromatic smells reminded her stomach of its hunger causing it to make a demanding growl.
"Proof that you need a good meal and not just biscuits." He admonished with hint of a smile.
"I know, I know. It's just a hassle sometimes when you're cooking for one."
He didn't say anything in reply; obviously more interested in his food, instead he tore a large piece from his pillowy naan and dunked it straight into the sauce from his butter chicken. Hermione smiled at his obvious appreciation of Indian cuisine. Perhaps they had more in common outside of the bedroom than she anticipated… maybe.
By the time they'd finished with their dinner, there wasn't a morsel left and not a drop of wine. They'd watched another episode of Only Fools and Horses before an episode of Blackadder started.
"This is more like it," Severus said, placing him empty plate on the table and sifting in his seat to make himself comfortable.
Hermione eye him appreciatively as his expression changed each time he found something amusing. He seemed lighter of heart than she remembered him in past, but he still went about his business with the same intensity, the same intensity that held her captive. She wondered what he would do if she closed the distance between them. It was ridiculous that she would hesitate, but then all their physical interactions had led to something more and right now, all she wanted was to be close with no expectation – not yet, anyway.
Emboldened she did just that, moving towards him so their thighs touched as she wrapped her arm around his elbow, as if was the most natural thing in the world. Severus looked down his nose at her; if he was uncomfortable, he didn't show it, much to her relief. For the rest of the evening she could forget that she had absolutely no idea what they were to each other, if she wanted it to be more, or if he was simply taking what she gave him.
By the time the second episode had finished, and it was almost ten o'clock, Hermione was beginning to feel the build up of anticipation in the pit of her stomach. He'd always made the first move until now, but tonight she felt she should let Severus know that she wanted him too.
She glanced up at him and ran her hand slowly down the white sleeve of his shirt before trailing her fingers along the top of his hand. Instantly she had his attention.
Always one to learn from her previous mistakes she reached for his cuff and slowly unfastened the cuff-link before reaching for his other hand and doing the same. "I wouldn't want us to be encumbered this time," she added, placing the shiny silver objects on the table.
Severus was watching her intently; his eyes following every move of her hands as she undid the buttons of his emerald green waistcoat, one at a time. Next, she loosened the knot of his cravat before unwinding the silky black tie and pulling it slowly from around his neck. Her fingers naturally made their way to the collar of his shirt; she couldn't help but notice the his adam's apple bob as he swallowed, silently. One by one she worked at the buttons of his shirt until almost the whole of his torso was revealed, she would never get bored of simply looking at him.
Hermione had never considered herself a seductress in any way, and yet, her affect on him was easily noticeable.
"Your blouse." Severus instructed, quietly, but authoritatively.
How he made those two words sound so erotic to her ears, she didn't know. Immediately, she moved to stand in front of him and slowly pulled her top over her head, casting it over the coffee table, and on to the floor, to reveal one of her new black lacy bras. Sadly, she hadn't put on matching knickers, but what did he expect if he insisted in turning up without notice.
Unable to remain passive any longer, Severus stood and placed both hands lightly on her cheeks, kissing her hungrily. His hands moved, ghosting over her bare shoulders, down her arms to her hands, where their fingers intertwined – she moaned against his lips. Releasing one hand, he cupped her lace-covered breast, running his thumb over her nipple, sending a shiver of anticipation down her spine. It was all she needed to lead him to her bedroom once more.
HG
The room was lit by the morning sun peaking through a small gap in the curtains; immediately, she noticed a cold expanse of mattress where Severus should have been laying. A quick glance at the clock told her it was still early, much too early to have 'abandoned ship', in her opinion – her stomach sank. She couldn't work this man out at all; he seemed to enjoy her company, they had interesting conversations, he made her laugh – she wasn't sure the feeling was mutual, but that was hardly surprising considering he was a curmudgeonly grump.
Footsteps approaching the bedroom door told her he hadn't left yet.
"Severus?"
His silhouette appeared through the doorway almost immediately.
"Why do you always leave so early in the morning?"
"I have work, as do you." He was the very essence of his most austere self, there was no hint of the man she knew from their nights together.
Hermione sat up, clutching the duvet to her naked chest instinctively. "I don't have to be in the office for almost three hours." Quite how she thought that would change anything, she wasn't sure."
As he moved around the bed she noticed he was missing his trousers, which he soon plucked from her bedroom floor and slide up his long legs. "I have an early start."
He was so detached and clipped in his tone, it was maddening. Was it so hard for him to just say, one way or the other, what was between them, to give just a little? Like magma in a volcano the pressure of concealing her pent-up emotions from him became too much, she snapped.
"Okay fine, I think I finally have come to understand that you see this, whatever it is, as a purely physical transaction, so, if you could do me the courtesy of not bothering to arrive early for dinner next week, we can save time and just get down to business. You don't need to pretend this is anything else to you."
The angry reply she was expecting was not forthcoming, instead he stared at her, a cold emotionless expression she hadn't see in quite time.
"You'll move on in a few weeks, I know how it works," she added, as much to fill the short silence as to press home her hurt feelings.
"You know nothing," he hissed. "I have told you before that you know nothing of me, yet you read that damned newspaper and listen to gossip and have your opinion formed."
"What am I to think, Severus? You treat me like some casual fling," she cried, angrily, "to pick up and put down wherever you feel like you need a little company." The subtle, but agitated movement of his fingers drew her eyes away from his face momentarily.
Suddenly, angry words burst from his mouth. "How could we possibly be anything else?" he yelled.
Immediately, Hermione had heard enough. "Get out. Now." she seethed. "I refuse to be used in your pathetic little games."
He started to the door, turning to glace at her one last time. "With pleasure," he spat.
She listened to his angry footsteps before she heard the front door slam.
Hermione burst into tears.
AN: York is a city in the north of England which still retains a lot of the medieval architecture.
'The Shambles' being a surviving example of a medieval street, still in use today.
York Minster (the Minster) is a spectacular cathedral