The next week fell into a soothing routine of normalcy with a few big exceptions. Hermione went back to her work on the estate, putting things back to rights that had begun to slip through the cracks in the days prior. Atticus still chased cars up and down the halls, or played out in the snow while she tended the gardens. They all ate their meals together just as they had been before. But Severus greeted Hermione with a kiss on her forehead each morning, and at night while they read together in the library, they held hands.
Severus seemed to be taking extra care to spend more time with Atticus. He'd already been attentive to the boy, affectionate even, but now he actively sought out Atty to show him things that he would think were neat, or put a different charm on one of his toys that would make him shriek with laughter. Once, Hermione had come out from dusting the guest room to find Severus sitting on the floor in the hall next to Atticus, the two of them seeing who could make their car go the furthest with a single push. It didn't escape her notice when he flicked a finger at Atty's retreating car and it shot forward ahead of his own. Atticus jumped to his feet in happiness and raced off to collect the cars.
"That's cheating," she chided playfully. Severus only shrugged and grinned at her.
"Sometimes a kid needs to win. Just wait till I teach him chess. Then I'll be merciless."
She laughed and went back to cleaning, leaving them playing together in the hall.
At the end of the second week, Severus asked her if she still trusted Madam Serene to watch Atticus. When the answer was a (confused) affirmative, he requested that she book the sitter for the next evening, if possible. When she asked why, he promptly informed her that he was taking her on a date. She blushed, then hurried out of the room to call Madam Serene.
By seven o'clock, Atticus was tucked into bed, Madam Serene was knitting in the attic sitting room, and Hermione was loitering at the top of the stairs. All she needed to do was walk down them and they could Apparate to the restaurant. One foot in front of the other. Such a simple task. And yet, she was having trouble getting herself to complete it. She fidgeted with the hem of the dress she was wearing. Why had she chosen red? It was Gryffindor colors, and he hated them, she was sure. Not to mention, red was flashy and gaudy. Phillipe would have never allowed her-
She closed her eyes and stopped that thought in its tracks. She didn't give a flying fuck what Phillipe would have allowed. She wouldn't let herself. She could leave the house looking however she wanted, and heaven help anyone who thought to stop her. Perhaps, subconsciously, that was part of why she'd chosen the crimson dress. To assert herself. She wasn't wearing Slytherin colors for him. Yes, she wanted to look good for him, wanted him to appreciate what she looked like, but she wasn't seeking his approval. It would have been a dangerous way to start.
And she knew, despite the treacherous, insidious, whispering of her mind, that Severus wouldn't care what she wore. He would want her to be comfortable, to be happy, and that would be enough for him. He didn't expect her to look a certain way or act a certain way. He wanted her for exactly who she was, not who he could shape her to become. So why couldn't she force her feet to move?
Every insecurity she'd ever had, from her childhood as well as the one's Phillipe had cultivated, came rushing back to her. How could Severus possibly want her? She might have learned some restraint, but she was still an insufferable swot with bushy hair and a knack for irritating people. There was no way he could ever see her as anything but a burden. He was already providing her salary, her home, her safety from her cruel ex-husband. And she didn't think she was asking too much from him yet? Why not add his heart and his lifelong devotion as well?
From somewhere in her heart came the whisper that she already had both of those. Didn't she see evidence of that every day? He had already admitted that he cared for her, that he wanted them to be a real family. The only hurdle she was facing, was herself. She wasn't just an annoying know-it-all. She was an intelligent young woman with a thirst for knowledge and love of reading that was rivaled by Severus' own. She was reasonably attractive, her body trim and feminine- especially considering she had a toddler- and she had plenty to offer a man like him. She looked damn good in her red dress, and she could go down those stairs knowing that she would give him sparkling dinner conversation as well as one hell of a view for the evening.
Slowly, she put one foot in front of the other. She made it down the stairs to the second floor, then started towards the main level. She faltered. Logic be damned, some insecurities just couldn't be quelled. What if he was disappointed? Swallowing hard, she forced herself to take those last steps and go out toward the door. Severus was looking at a pocket watch when she came around the corner. He snapped it shut and looked up, then froze. His breath escaped him in a rush that left his lips parted slightly. Hermione stopped, more uncertain than ever. It was the heels. High heels made it look like she was trying too hard. Or she'd put too much Sleekezes in her hair and it looked ridiculous. Why hadn't she just pulled it back like normal?
He took a step forward, then stopped and let his eyes once more rove over her. She fidgeted, blushed, and wasn't sure if she should scowl or laugh hysterically. Instead, her lips curled up into a hesitant smile. "You look good," she said softly. He did. He was wearing a tailored muggle suit. It was similar to his regular frock coat and trousers, but more trim and with far less buttons. His hair had been pulled back into a queue at the nape of his neck. There was a tiny white flower in the buttonhole of his lapel.
He shook his head as if to clear it. "Thank you. I apologize, I just... you look... stunning." One corner of his mouth tipped up into a crooked grin.
"Really?" Hermione found that her feet could move once more, and she stepped to where he was waiting.
"Yes, really. Gods, I thought my eyes were going to vacate their sockets and roll to the floor at your feet. Every time I think I've seen each side of you, that there aren't any more surprises, you prove me wrong."
"You don't mind the color?"
"Not at all. It suits you. Why would the color bother me?" When she gave him a shrug, it clicked. "Because red is a Gryffindor color?" His chuckle surprised her. "If you haven't noticed, I don't drape myself in exclusively green and silver. Hogwarts was a long time ago. And you... look sinful... in red." He drawled the words as he wrapped one arm around her and tipped her chin up with the other hand. Her heart began to beat wildly and she thought he was finally going to kiss her on the lips, but instead he nuzzled her ear and let his fingers trail down her bare arm until he slipped her hand into his.
"Thank you," she murmured, fighting the urge to press herself against him, to capture his lips with her own, to drag him back up the stairs and lock them in his bedroom for the rest of the night...
"You are most welcome. I must thank you for allowing me to escort you for the evening." He pulled the little white flower from his lapel and tucked it behind her ear. "It's not a bouquet, but I thought traditions have probably evolved since then." She leaned into his touch when he cupped her chin, and recalled with a smile what he'd said months ago about picking up a date with flowers and a promise to have her home by ten. She felt incredibly cherished. "Are you ready to go?" When she nodded, he tightened his hold on her and Apparated them away.
The night was more than Hermione could have dreamed of. It was like those early days with Phillipe, except instead of being swept along in his wake, Hermione felt as if Severus was letting himself become caught up in her own. He was a perfect gentleman, opening doors for her, pulling out her chair, and then he surprised her again by asking her to pick the wine. Even in the beginning of her relationship with Phillipe, that was something he'd done. At the time, she'd thought it showed confidence and chivalry. It wasn't until much later that she'd realized that it was one of the first signs of his obsession with control.
When she admitted that she didn't know enough about wine to make a selection, he surprised her again by suggesting they get a sampler of the house wines and they could decide together what they liked. She agreed, feeling as if it was all a little surreal. Since the restaurant was muggle, he asked her opinion of certain dishes, listening intently as she described the ones she knew and casually moving past the ones she didn't.
The conversation flowed as easily between them as it did in the library at home. They talked about the projects he was working on in the lab, an article they'd both read in Transfiguration Today, their favorite authors, even a very stilted bit about her classes at university.
By the time they finished their meal, most of the doubts Hermione had been trying to reign in had faded completely away. They walked down the cobblestone street, occasionally passing other couples who were also hand in hand. For several moments they stopped and listened to a musician on a corner playing a haunting tune on his saxophone. As they continued on, Severus tossed a few notes in the case open at the man's feet. Eventually, they reached a natural amphitheater that was filled with other couples sitting on blankets or in lawn chairs. An old black and white film was projected against the stone, the sound echoing around them from a single speaker near the front.
Severus checked to make sure that none of the muggles were looking before he pulled the handkerchief from his breast pocket and shook it out. With each flick it grew, until in another moment it was big enough for them to sit on. He laid it out, then offered her his hand to help her sit on the rich black silk. Over the course of the movie, they went from sitting shoulder to shoulder, to him having his arm draped around her, to reclining back on his elbows with her head pillowed on his chest. When it finished and the credits began to roll accompanied by tinny jazz music, Hermione didn't want to move. She wanted to stay on their little patch of grass under the stars for the rest of the night.
Severus didn't seem in a rush to move either, and almost all the other couples had left by the time they got to their feet. The few who remained were locked in far too scandalous of embraces to have noticed the film had even ended. Severus checked his pocket watch again.
"What time did you tell Madam Serene we would be back?"
"By midnight."
"We should probably head back then. Still, midnight is better than ten, any day." He wrapped his arm around her and they strolled back toward the Apparation point.
"Plus, you won't have to worry about my father watching you through the front curtains when you say goodnight."
"That is certainly a bonus. With Lily's father, there had been a shotgun between his knees."
Hermione gasped, not sure if she was more shocked that Harry's grandfather had waited up for his daughter and Severus with a shotgun or that there had actually been a date. From what Harry had told her he'd seen in the pensieve, it had been more of a childhood friendship that led to a one sided love. Part of her wondered if she should be jealous of his long lost love. After all, she wanted his whole heart to herself. But she couldn't muster a single ounce of envy. Not just because the woman had died while Hermione was still in nappies, but also because Lily was her best friend's mother. Hermione didn't understand or agree with her reasons for cutting Severus from her life, but whatever faults she had, the woman was half of Harry. She had fought a war and paid a terrible price, made the ultimate sacrifice. Whatever else she was, Lily Potter had been a mother who loved her son. Who had saved him. And Hermione could only respect her for that.
Still, she wondered how that date had gone; what else hadn't been in the pensieve. "Will you tell me about her, someday? I only really know what you've mentioned before and what Harry told me from the memories he saw." She glanced up at him and saw him sigh. "You don't have to, if you'd rather not."
"No, I don't mind talking about it. But I think we will have to wait until after we get back to the house, or we will be late." He checked the time again.
"Oh! Of course. I nearly lost track." They had reached the Apparation point by then, and Hermione let herself be drawn into Severus' embrace. With a nearly inaudible pop he Apparated them home.
Once Madam Serene had been sent off and they were settled in the library, Severus poured them both a finger of firewhiskey and tried to organize his thoughts.
"Did you ever have a place that you loved as a child, and when you were small it seemed so huge and so perfect, and because you hadn't seen it in years, it kept growing into this magical place that nothing could ever be better than? And then when you finally do go back, you realize that it was never as big or as great as you thought? That is the basis of my relationship with Lily Evans. My childhood was not pleasant. She was the one bright spot. Her friendship seemed perfect to me. She seemed perfect to me. When we got older, things changed, but I stubbornly clung to the idea that we would always be together, as friends and then later as more. The night I told you about, when Mr Evans waited for us on his porch with a shotgun, I actually felt glad that he did. Because I thought it meant he saw me as a serious suitor for his daughter." He gave a short laugh, and sipped his whiskey. "It wasn't until much later that I realized he only saw me as a dirty little boy from the wrong side of town. He probably wanted to show me that he kept the shotgun in case I was planning on trying to rob the house.
"It wasn't even a real date. I had no money, so we just walked down to the river and watched the fish jump. She had already made it clear to me and anyone with ears that she only liked me as a friend. But still, I held onto my foolish hope for more. Then, when I lost her friendship and she started dating Potter, I never blamed her. I blamed myself, I blamed James, but never her. By then, she was so high above me on the pedestal I'd placed her on, that nothing could taint her. After her death, that feeling only intensified. I dedicated my life to protecting her son, to atoning for my mistakes. And I very nearly died doing it.
"It wasn't until after the war had ended, when I was left alone with nothing but my bitterness and regrets, that I finally faced the truth about her." He shrugged, taking another drink. "She had been human. Imperfect, flawed, same as everyone else. I had clung to her as the only good thing in my life for so long that I'd let my affection for her border on obsession. And perhaps, if things had gone differently, it would have eventually faded away as it was always meant to. I might have found someone else to give my affection to. I would have been able to see that Lily had never been right for me, and that we were better off with other people. We had been barely twenty when she died. Little more than children.
"Forgiving myself for what happened back then, learning not to hate who I was and coming to terms with my life, meant facing the reality of that. Facing that what I'd felt for her was never true, romantic love. And she never could have loved me that way, either. She was such a Gryffindor. Quick to action, quick to anger. Brash, impetuous, too generous for her own good. At that age, I was just as quick to anger, and doubly so when I felt humiliated or cornered, which was almost all the time. If she hadn't written me off for the incident Potter saw, it would have been another. What's more, even if I somehow had managed to convince her to make a go of it with me, there was no way she could have ever lived up to the expectation I'd created in my head. Eventually, we would have hated each other for it.
"I regret her death. I regret that we never got to reconcile as adults who had moved on with their lives. But I've put my pining for her far behind me." He finished off his whiskey and studied Hermione's face, watching for her reaction.
"I'm such a Gryffindor, too, you know."
Severus chuckled, the low sound rolling around the room and back again. "My entire history with the only woman I've ever loved, the story that every newspaper from here to Timbuktu would throw over their own grandmothers for, and that's the part you focus on?" Hermione blushed. "Yes, you are such a Gryffindor as well, but you are hardly anything like Lily. You're smarter than she was- no, don't give me that look. She was intelligent, but hardly as brilliant as you. Your intellect tempers your boldness. You forgive far more easily than she ever did, but growing up friends with Potter and Weasley, I'm not surprised there. You are more rational, and yet more sensitive than she was. Really, the main similarity I see between the two of you, is your fathomless capacity as mothers."
Hermione couldn't help but smile. That was exactly why she couldn't find it within herself to be jealous of Lily Potter. She thought about trying to explain it to him, but let it go. He probably understood.
"Thank you for telling me about her." She squeezed his hand.
"Thank you for listening. I'm glad my history with her doesn't seem to bother you."
"Not at a-" she was cut off when a huge yawn welled up. She covered her mouth, embarrassed. "Whoops. I guess I didn't realize how tired I was."
Severus rose from his chair and pulled her up from her own. "It is awfully late for us old people." Hermione arched a brow at him.
"Speak for yourself, grandpa. I'm only tired because I have a tiny person who wakes me up at six in the morning every morning. If not for that, I could party all-" Another yawn cut her off, belying her words.
"Yes, quite the party animal, I see." He smirked, then pulled her close. "Think you can make it up to your bed, or do you need a lift?"
"Well, I'd probably be fine, but if you're offering..."
He chuckled, wrapped both arms around her, and slid them sideways into the attic. Hermione looked around and saw that they'd arrived, but made no move to let him go. He didn't, either. Their eyes met, held.
"I had a lovely evening tonight, Hermione," he whispered.
"So did I."
"I'd like to take you out again, if you don't mind."
"I hope you do." Still, neither of them had moved.
"I think this is the part where I kiss you goodnight and take my leave."
"Mhmm. It's tradition, after all."
"Are you ready for that?" His eyes searched hers, seeking any sliver of doubt.
"Gods, yes," she breathed. Suddenly, the embers of lust he'd been smothering sprang to life, heating his eyes and lighting a fire in his belly. He lowered his head, gathered her against his chest and she went to her toes. Their lips brushed. She felt as if a shock of electricity had jolted her. He tilted his head slightly, pressed his lips to hers again and left them there this time. His lips were warm and soft, his touch incredibly gentle. It was everything a traditional first kiss should be. But they had far from a traditional relationship. And she'd waited for this for far too long.
Hermione's hand rose to cling to his shoulder, her lips opened beneath his and her tongue traced the furl of his lower lip. A shuddering breath escaped him, and then he gave up any pretense of control. One of his hands fisted in her hair, keeping her pinned in place, the other slid down to the small of her back and urged her closer. His lips opened, accepted her forays inside, then returned his own with fervor. He tasted her, delved into her mouth as if he was desperate for nothing more than the sweetness of her breath, the echo of her moans. He moved when she did, learning every little way she liked to be stroked and teased, following her lead somehow while he dominated the kiss at the same time. They had both waited so long to experience this that they were nearly violent in their passion. Tongues tangled, breath mingled, gasps for air danced together.
Severus realized the hand that had started out on her back had worked its way up her ribs and was dangerously close to cupping her breast. He lowered his hand again and slowed the kiss, long, deep strokes meant to entice, then soft, sweet sweeps. She nearly whimpered when he finally pulled away. He pressed one more tender kiss to her lips and lifted his head. Realizing that she'd utterly surrendered her weight to him, Hermione found her feet and forced herself to stand when all she wanted to do was fall against him. They both caught their breath, hearts racing and blood singing through their veins.
When they had first confessed their interest in one another, there had been the thirst for more. Now that they'd sampled more, it wasn't nearly enough. Both of them felt the hunger that had awoken. Hunger for everything. It gnawed at them, making hands tremble and wills weak. They could just keep going. Fall into her bed and cast a silencing spell on the room. Spend the night in each others arms, discovering every angle and plane of their bodies. Kissing and memorizing each dip and curve.
But no.
There were reasons, surely there were reasons they should wait. Neither could call to mind a single one in that moment, but they both knew they were there. Severus extracted his hand from her hair gently, managing to look sufficiently chagrined at how forceful he'd been with her. It was on the tip of his tongue to ask if he'd hurt her, if he'd frightened her with his intensity, but the dreamy, satisfied look on her face stalled the words. She was nearly boneless in his arms, and he couldn't forget that she'd been just as urgent as he. His shoulder stung from the force of her nails digging in, even through his shirt. Shamelessly, he hoped there would be marks there that he could look at and be reminded of how wild he'd made her. As if there was any chance he might forget.
"Good night, Hermione," he finally managed to murmur, voice deep and rough. Their foreheads were pressed together, arms still wrapped around one another. Reluctantly, they separated. He started to turn, but she tugged him back to her once more, placing a last kiss on the corner of his mouth.
"Good night, Severus."
