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Hermione stood at the arched doorway of an early Victorian mansion, set back from a quiet road in Harrogate. The wards around the house proper pinged against her skin. The secondary wards, that pushed up from the high, garden walls, had simply warned the owner of someone without evil intentions approaching his house. The war might've been over for four months -and all Death Eaters dead or imprisoned- but Severus Snape was still taking no chances.
She screwed down her courage and pressed the doorbell. The dulled chimes echoed in the hall beyond. Hermione dug her fingertips into her palm. She was doing the right thing. She was.
The door creaked and Hermione blinked. Her gaze dropped and she stared into the luminous eyes of a little house elf. She was dressed in a neat, white pillowcase that reached below her knees and some form of crest was embroidered under her right shoulder.
"How would Sumi be helping you today, Miss?"
"Hello, Sumi." She gave the little creature a quick smile, surprised that Professor Snape would have a house-elf. Someone bound to him, as he'd been bound to Voldemort and Dumbledore. "Is Professor Snape at home?"
Sumi waved her spindly hand into the bright, cream hallway. "If Miss would wait just beyond the vestibule, I will see if the Master is wanting visitors."
"Thank you," Hermione murmured, crossing the beautifully tiled floor and onto the York stone of the hall. Everything was immaculate, with little hints of Victorian excess in the plasterwork. She was aware he'd moved from Manchester -obviously- but she'd never imagined the elegant luxury of his home.
"A Prince legacy."
Hermione stepped back, flushed and guilty, from staring at a rich Dales landscape, complete with quietly baa-ing, white, fluffy sheep. "The house, Professor? It's beautiful."
Severus Snape stood at the end of the hallway, at the bottom of a wide staircase. Light from above gilded him. His black hair, silky and neat, shone and the warm light picked out the hint of a smile on his sure lips. He was dressed casually, for him, in a white shirt and black trousers. Both were an expensive cut and weave. He looked... Hermione ignored the patter of her heart. He looked effortlessly elegant, fitting the understated luxury of his house.
"I am the last Prince heir. With my name cleared, I can finally lay claim to my rightful inheritance." The hint of a smile deepened. "And I am no longer your professor, Miss Granger."
"Then I am no longer Miss Granger." She pressed her lips together and fought the heat of a blush. She clutched her bag before her. "I..." She pulled in a breath and willed her courage to see her through this. "Have you read this morning's Prophet?"
"I have." He waved her towards the open door to her right. The sliver of a drawing room was just visible, with thick pale carpets and the corner of a richly upholstered couch. "It's probably best that we're seated for this discussion."
"This is all..."
Hermione stepped into a beautiful drawing room with walls of dove grey and complimented by an ornate, marble fireplace. The opposite wall was filled with walnut bookcases, glass protecting ancient tomes from the light shafting in through the wide bay window. It wasn't a style she'd associate with Severus Snape. Not that she knew him that well to judge, but...
And shit, she hated that she was coming over all Elizabeth Bennett. She risked a glance at Severus and imagined his shirt wet-
"This is all Sumi's work." His dark eyes shone and warmth suffused her cheeks again. He was a legilimens. A brilliant one. And she was putting him into her own wet shirt daydream.
She looked to the bookcases, willing her focus there and not to the tall man seeming to dominate the room and her thoughts.
"Sumi's been alone here for years and she needed a hobby. This is her home...Hermione. It belongs to her as much as me."
"She has talent."
"She does."
There was a hint of pride in his voice and it made her smile. Severus Snape willingly offering praise? Who was he now? Was the true man out from under the shadow of a pair of megalomaniacs?
Severus bid her sit on one of the dark velvet couches, whilst he took his place on the couch opposite. He was all easy elegance and Hermione felt her gaucheness. Ron was right. She was frumpy. A bookworm. Her fingers curved around her beaded bag, the book from the Black library there, framed under her touch. Magic was on her side. She had to remember that.
"Grimmauld Place is madness this morning as they try to match up the Order."
Severus lifted an eyebrow and something moved in the darkness of his eyes. She'd been right. Mrs Weasley had conveniently forgotten all about him. "Is it?"
"Mrs Weasley is pairing people with Pura Concursum. I found it in my own reading this morning." She pressed her lips together. "I performed it over a variety of names."
"Molly has a number of sons."
With that quiet statement, he acknowledged Hermione's own worry that Mrs Weasley would skew her magic in favour of one of her children. She jerked a nod. "She does. And from my own investigation, not one of them achieved more than a dull bronze. You however..."
She drew parchment and a quill from her bag and wrote his full name with a quick hand. So what if a tremor ran through it? She didn't want to drag things out. If he was to kick her from his home, she wanted it over with. Done. Then she could slink away to lick her wounds.
Hermione murmured the spell, flicked her wand and the letters flared a brilliant gold.
"Surprising. May I?"
He took the quill and parchment and wrote her name. Hermione frowned. How did he know her middle name? A low murmur and the spell ignited the letters. Gold. Bright and sparkling. Hermione's chest bloomed and she breathed through the sudden rush of her pulse and the patter of her heart.
She had to press on. Severus was her best plan for a marriage with any hope of...of happiness. He was a scholar, like her, and whilst she did have an interest in the carnal -though never with Ron! Never again- she could live with a more cerebral arrangement. She could. Still, there was no harm in exploring the issue. "I read that gold is quite rare. An affinity with each other's magic and a compatibility in...other areas."
He dropped the parchment and quill onto the low table that separated them, both of their names still sparking gold. His eyebrow lifted. "Other areas...?"
Severus' velvet-toned voice dipped the innocuous words in every decadence and Hermione's face burned.
For all his status as a war hero, this was still Severus Snape. Still sardonic and still very much a Slytherin. He would make her admit everything before he committed himself. But Hermione was prepared for that...exposure.
She stared at her ink stained fingers, her nails short and unpolished. Beneath her hands, her faded blue sundress was confortable, but hardly fashion. Shit, she'd rushed out with no thought of making herself slightly more presentable. Yet, this was who she was. For better or for worse. What did she have to lose? Her choice was Percy or the Ministry. Neither held much appeal.
"I am a bookworm." A wry smile touched her mouth and she found his gaze. His endless black eyes revealed...nothing. She wasn't surprised. "The Ministry let me sit my NEWTs in July and I was offered an apprenticeship in the Archives."
"Congratulations." He inclined his head. "A place of infinite knowledge."
Hermione grinned at him, she couldn't help herself. "Isn't it?" Her friends had stared at her, their eyes glazing when she waxed on about the beauty of row after row of books and scrolls. And the scent of them... Magical knowledge practically hummed in the air.
She let out a little breath, her attention fixed on her bag again. She stopped herself from picking at the beads. "I love it, them, books. And I understand that I'm not a...a catch. That I'm not like other witches, who care about ink-stained fingers and fighting their hair on a daily basis."
"Does all your experience come from the youngest male Weasley?"
She looked up. Her shoulders dropped. "And the reaction at the Yule Ball. My Fourth Year. Suddenly I was noticed, for some make-up, a floaty dress and enough Sleak-Eazy to cause an environmental disaster."
A smile lifted his mouth and his eyes warmed. Her heart skittered again.
"I tried your name first." She bit the side of her cheek after that blunt admission.
Severus gaze narrowed and it was unnerving to be the caught -tight- in his focus. "And why was that, Hermione?"
The way he said her name. It slid heat into her belly and flickered such wanton imagines through her thoughts. Against all reason. He would not want her that way. His name had never been connected with any witch or wizard. Besides Harry's mum. And Hermione hardly matched up to her in looks.
Severus had been an infrequent visitor to Grimmauld Place after the Wizengamot cleared his name in the middle of May. But each time he did appear, she watched him with hungry eyes, something in him calling to her. Even when Ron had sat, holding her hand -and probably thinking about a naked Gillian Osset- Severus Snape had her attention.
"I thought we'd be compatible."
"Both scholars?"
Hermione jerked a quick nod. "Exactly."
"And...other areas?" His wicked eyebrow lifted. Was he laughing at her. The gauche girl who was stupidly throwing herself at him.
Severus rose, smooth and elegant, a predator and her pulse jumped. Had she ever noticed him at Hogwarts -if his every thought hadn't been dedicated to hiding himself under layers of spite and acres of wool- her concentration would've been shot. He was mesmerising.
She lifted her chin. Her mouth pursed before she bit out, "I don't know. Obviously."
"Let us experiment." He held out his hand, his black gaze fierce with a gleam of dark challenge. "Then we shall see how compatible we truly are."
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