Hermione blinked, taking in the picturesque house. While frost and snow dusted every surface, she could see that the garden would blossom spectacularly come spring. "I don't know what I thought you'd call home, but it wasn't this," she said, stunned.
Severus chuckled. "It didn't use to be. I left my family's home behind - it was time for a fresh start. Something less…tainted." He gazed at the cottage, eyes not really seeing. Abruptly, he shook his head and said, "Shall we?"
Hesitantly, Hermione opened the front door at Severus' behest. "Oh," she said softly. The entry was cozy, with a bench to sit on and hooks to hang cloaks on. The walls beyond were lined with shelves full of hundreds of tomes. The sitting room had a crackling fire, which must have ignited when the door had opened as there had been no smoke leaving the chimney before.
"It's lovely," Hermione whispered reverently. Severus helped her shrug out of her cloak, hanging it on the wall. He unwound his scarf, hanging it and his own cloak next to hers. Hermione had already made her way to the books, head tilted as she read the titles. He heard her shocked voice exclaim, "You have a first edition of Magick Moste Evile?"
Severus smiled. "With a few exceptions, I don't believe that magic is inherently good or bad. It depends on what you do with it." He strode over to her, pulling the book from her hands. "This is a fascinating examination of certain types of magic."
Hermione smirked at him, returning to her perusal of the shelves. Severus crossed to the back of the house, pouring himself a drink. "Would you like one?" he asked, holding up the decanter. Hermione wandered over, still gazing around the room. Severus watched her amusedly. "Hermione?" he said, stretching her name out to catch her attention. Her head snapped to focus on him, eyes wide and a sheepish grin on her face.
"I'm sorry, I don't mean to stare," she said, giggling. She'd seen his quarters at Hogwarts, so it shouldn't be surprising that his home was just as simple and cozy. It was cluttered, with books everywhere. There was a corner full of potion ingredients, obviously overflow from the lab she could see in one of the bedrooms.
Severus held a glass out to her. Hermione took it, swirling the amber liquid within. "You're welcome to make yourself at home, you know," he said, his deep voice washing over her. "We'll be here for two weeks. There's no need to stand on ceremony." He reached a hand out, brushing an errant curl behind her ear. Hermione flinched, and Severus jerked away as if he'd been burnt.
Hermione's eyes widened, and she held up a hand to her mouth. "Oh Merlin, I'm so sorry." She buried her face into her free hand. Severus heard her mumble something, but was unable to decipher it. He sighed, walking past her to sit on the couch.
"Hermione, you don't need to be sorry. You've done nothing wrong. I don't wish to cause you discomfort." Hermione trudged over to the sofa, collapsing opposite him.
Severus motioned to her to put her feet up. She did, and Severus gently removed first one shoe and then the other. He divested her of her socks and gently began to massage her feet. Hermione allowed herself to relax, her head tipping back as her eyes closed. They sat in comfortable silence, Severus' nimble fingers expertly easing the soreness in her feet and lower legs.
Severus broke the silence some time later, quietly asking, "Would you like to talk to me about it?" Hermione lifted her head, looking at him as if he'd grown another head.
"What?" she questioned. He looked back at her, his eyes soft and shining in the firelight.
He shrugged, continuing, "I've heard it can be therapeutic. Of course, you don't have to divulge anything you don't want to." He fell silent, leaving the decision squarely up to her.
Hermione sat up, pulling her legs into a crossed position. "It was awful," she began.
—
Severus blinked groggily. The pleasant weight currently atop his chest shifted, and he realized that they had fallen asleep on the couch. It was still dark, but the clock on the mantel told him that dawn would soon be approaching.
When Severus had asked if Hermione wanted to confide in him, he'd known that he'd hear things that would be disturbing. He'd already seen the memory the Malfoy boy had been so eager to share, but hearing it from her perspective was a hell of another kind. He was glad she'd decided to tell him, but he got the distinct impression that she'd held something back.
He gingerly sat up, detangling his legs from Hermione's and moving her head to his lap. After ensuring she was still sleeping, he slid out from beneath her, placing a pillow under her head. He retrieved a throw blanket from the linen closet and draped it over her.
Severus poured himself another drink, taking it to the armchair by the fire. He stared into the flames, watching them dance and consume. How to deal with the boy? He debated scenarios in his head, each more violent and final than the last. Azkaban. A disappearance. An 'accident.' The Killing Curse? The Cruciatus Curse. Bronze knuckles and ten minutes in a dark alley. He chuckled darkly to himself. How fitting it would be, a Muggle death for the whelp. Idly, he scratched his left forearm.
No, he would have to be better than that. As satisfying as it would be to pulverize Draco's smug face, Hermione would never want him to hurt the boy. No, she would want him to face the Ministry's justice. Make an example out of him, like one had been made of his formerly-influential father. We would just be lowering ourselves to his level, she would say. And, as usual, she would be right.
Glancing again at the clock, he was shocked to see that a few hours had passed while he'd been sitting, staring at the fireplace. He'd not even noticed the brightening of the room. Looking back at Hermione, he saw that she was still deeply slumbering. Standing and stretching, he cleared away their glasses and opened his refrigerator. It seemed as though the kitchen elves had stocked it full of everything he would have needed for two weeks - if he'd been alone. They would need to venture into the village to replenish before the week was out.
The smell of sausage woke Hermione. Eyes bleary, she rubbed the sleep from them as she sat. She looked around, trying to gain her bearings. The cottage, she remembered. She noticed the blanket and pillow that she'd been given, and smiled. She stood, wrapping the blanket around herself.
Hermione padded across the room, stopping about halfway. She'd not even noticed the double doors hidden amongst the bookshelves. Glancing around, she crept toward them. Turning the handle, she slowly pushed open the door.
She gasped quietly, astonished. A gorgeous solarium lay beyond, plants both magical and non-magical filling all of the available space. This must be where Severus grew many of his own ingredients. She wandered among the planters, reveling in the sheer number of plants that Severus managed to have grown while he wasn't even present. I love magic, she thought, bending to examine a particularly beautiful specimen. The clearing of a throat whipped her around. Severus leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed and a droll smile upon his face.
Hermione gestured to the room. "Severus, this is amazing! I'm surprised I didn't notice it from the outside."
He pushed off of the jamb, sauntering toward her. "You wouldn't have. There's a very small glass enclosure off the side, which appears to house a few potted plants. I couldn't very well have Muggles questioning the Venomous Tentacula, could I?" Hermione giggled. That was, perhaps, the last thing Muggles would question. The large tree in the center of the room would probably be their main concern. Severus reached a hand out to her. "Come, breakfast is ready."
Hermione took his outstretched hand, allowing him to lead her to the small dining nook set off the kitchen. He placed a plate in front of her, full of sausage, eggs, toast, and roasted tomatoes. "Not quite a full English, but it should do," he said, putting a glass down next to it. "Orange or pumpkin?" he asked, holding up two bottles from inside the refrigerator.
—
As Severus began to clear away the breakfast dishes, Hermione stood. "Stop right there! You cooked, I'll clean up." Not letting him protest, she swiped the dishes from his hands and piled them next to the sink. She turned on the faucet, testing the warmth before starting to scrub the plates. Severus came up beside her, a dishtowel in hand. He smirked at her, but Hermione just rolled her eyes and handed him the now-clean plate. They continued in comfortable silence for a few minutes, Hermione mindlessly humming to herself.
After the cleaning was done, Hermione poured herself another glass of pumpkin juice from the refrigerator. Severus had disappeared around the corner, so Hermione wandered the sitting room, looking at the other bookshelves. "Hermione?" she heard after a few minutes, and she turned, looking for Severus.
She saw his head poke out from the hall. "In here," he said. Hermione followed him, curious. She entered the room he indicated, surprised to find herself in what appeared to be the guest room. "I wasn't entirely certain, but I erred on the side of separate sleeping arrangements." Severus' face was cautious. Hermione's heart pounded in her chest, so loud she was positive he would hear it. Now that he brought it up, she realized she hadn't been one-hundred percent about it, either. Was she ready to be intimate? It was so considerate of him to be thinking about her comfort.
"Oh, Sev, thank you." She stood on tiptoe, placing a hand on his chest to brace herself. Hermione pressed a soft kiss to his lips, chaste and quick. She retrieved her beaded bag, hanging it on the hook by the door. She shut the room from sight, turning to focus on the man she loved. "What's in store for today? What does Severus Snape do for fun when he's not at Hogwarts?"
Severus chuckled, the rich sound warming Hermione. "Well, I'm afraid that you might be disappointed. I've lived alone for so long that my days are spent reading, writing, experimenting, and that is about it."
Hermione looked scandalized. "You don't do anything else? What do you write?"
Severus crossed to a filing cabinet, pulling out a stack of magazines. Potions Weekly. "I write articles on improving potions, utilizing different ingredients, how to develop new potions, things like that." Hermione's eyes widened to the size of saucers.
"'Silas Prince'?" she asked, looking at him slyly. He shrugged. "I suppose a pen name makes sense." She thrust the magazine back at him. "Well, Silas, I'm impressed - but I want to know if you do anything for fun!" Severus looked at her, face impassive. "Nothing? Alright, I'm remedying this situation. We're far away from Hogwarts, so we're going out! As much as I want to spend time with you just by ourselves, I will go absolutely stir-crazy if we don't do SOMETHING." She dragged a slightly-scared, half-protesting Severus to the entry. "Now, where in England are we?"
Severus smirked at her, wrapping his scarf. "What makes you think we're in England?"