A/N: I'm sorry this chapter is so late. The real life got in between me and my laptop, it would seem.
Chapter 6 - Manic Monday
Hermione had been worried about being able to finish her brewing with the tall, dark stranger looming in the periphery of her vision. Granted, she had grown quite familiar with him, physically, as he himself had pointed out a couple of days earlier. She did not feel like dropping the phrase quite yet, as there was no way of knowing him for real. Today had been a fine example of it.
He had been in a sour mood, when he entered the office, not bothering to hide it from her. He reminded her more of the git of a Potions Professor he had been all those years ago than he had ever since he had resurfaced in her life a few days earlier. The change to Sunday was so obvious, it made her wonder, if she had dreamt the whole encounter. She had wished him a good morning, he had done the same to her, and none of them had spoken ever since. He had sat down by his desk (and she had blushed slightly, remembering what had happened on the desk on Friday), and spent his morning scribbling furiously on the margins of a scroll that was already filled with his pointy writing, his lanky hair obscuring his face from her vision. She was fully well able to imagine his scowl even so.
However, him being so concentrated in whatever it was that he was doing, gave her the perfect opportunity to fully ignore his existence and immerse herself in brewing. The potion she had started on Friday was close to being finished, and she was fairly optimistic about its qualities. She scratched down some notes, as she brewed, and by the time she had bottled and capped the potion, it was nearly time for lunch.
He had refused to join her for a lunch, which frankly surprised her. Quickly hiding the disappointment, she donned her outer robes, and walked to the door. He must have heard the fake cheerfulness in her voice, when she asked him if he wanted her to bring him anything, but his grunted negation made it very clear that he did not wish to carry on even this slightest of small talks.
By the time she returned, he had left. Of course, he had not left a note of any kind. It was not her business, really, but it still stung a bit. It should not have surprised her, by any means. She knew him well enough to know better than to expect niceties, or so she had thought. She couldn't help but wonder if she had accidentally struck a chord the previous day with something she had said. What was that answer he had given her when she had asked about his wife? That it was not his wife he went to? Whose wife would it be then?
The answer struck her like a bad allegory.
Could it have been Narcissa Malfoy he had referred to - or rather, not referred to? It was a common secret in the Ministry that Lucius Malfoy was suffering of some rather serious late after effects of prolonged exposure to Cruciatus curse. His memory was apparently deteriorating, his state similar to that the Muggles called dementia. There had been rumours about the Malfoys being a key factor in Snape surviving Nagini's attack, so there might be a life debt involved. Of course, if she chose to not believe that the former double agent, her current shag, was acting out of the intention to save his buddy Lucius, she might actually go far enough to listen to the suspicious side of herself. What if there was something going on between Snape and Narcissa Malfoy? Then again, why would Snape have returned from his hiding, in order to participate in a project working for a cure for those suffering of spell-induced neurological injuries?
Hermione shook her head, trying to clear her mind. No. She would not speculate about his motives. She knew him and his past well enough to trust him. His relationship to the Malfoys, as well as what he did with his time outside the office (and her bed) were none of her business. She had decided not to discuss their thing, so she had no right to ask any questions of this nature.
The sound of the door closing brought her out of her reverie, and she met the gaze of the man in question. Severus Snape had apparently not rid himself of his foul mood, and he had an almost feverish glint in his eyes that were currently locked with her eyes. Belatedly, she brought up her Occlumency shields, wondering if she was being paranoid, and summoned a smile to her face, trying to hide whatever traces were left of her train of thought earlier. A sprinkle of small talk to further distract him might do it, or at least make him look away for a second.
"Did you enjoy your lunch?"
"Do we have to do this, Granger?" he asked in a tired voice. His eyes never left hers. What on earth was this all about? "The small talk," he further explained, with a sneer so Snape-like she felt like a schoolgirl again. Of course, a Snape-like sneer was something you should expect from Snape, she knew that, but it still caught her by surprise, it would seem.
"No, of course not. I was just trying to alleviate your bad mood, or understand the reason behind it."
"Well, small talk is not going to take you to either of those destinations."
He sat on top of his desk, his eyes still on her.
"Did you finish the potion?"
"Indeed I did. I'm going to take the vials to St. Mungo's tonight to be tested."
The potion would first be subjected to a multitude of spells, to see if it was safe to use. After that, it would be given to a small group of voluntary test subjects. A double blind study would be conducted, and given the qualities of the injuries, as well as those of the potion, the immediate results should be in within a few days, considering the nature of the potion. That is, of course, if the potion worked. If the potion was indeed another dud, they would know it by Monday. This particular brew was their fifth attempt. If - and, unfortunately, very likely when- the sixth attempt would take place, Snape would get involved with the research even more than he already was.
He simply nodded at that, finally looking away from her eyes. His eyes quickly darted at the her breasts, their shape visible through the blouse she had chosen to wear to work today, she noticed with poorly hidden smugness. She had chosen the shirt with him in her mind, and even left the top two buttons of it open after lunch, to ensure his attention. He might be a mystery, but he was still a man.
"Are you prepared to get involved for real?" she asked him, before adding, "With the project, I mean. I know you've been there in the background the whole time, even before you showed up in my office, but if this doesn't work, I could really use some hands-on help."
"Is that not why I am here?" he deadpanned. "It's not like I enjoy returning. Did we not agree to drop the unnecessary small talk, Hermione?"
The sound of her name falling from his lips seemed to surprise the both of them. He blinked, and opened his mouth, undoubtedly meaning to apologise, but she lifted her hand to stop him.
"No, it's quite alright, really. It is my name, after all. We are colleagues and… then some. You're fully well allowed to use it. I don't know if I am ever able to refer to you as Severus, however. I'm not even sure if you would like it."
"I would." He cleared his throat. "I mean, I would like you to try, if you feel like it."
She blinked slowly, their eyes locked with each other. She had not expected that. She did not even really know how their conversation had drifted to this point. After him being in such a sour mood the whole morning, she had hardly expected for anything warm coming from his direction. Well, except for a Fiendfyre or such, if she continued to bug him. He swore softly.
"Fuck. I mean, I don't mean to push it or anything. Snape goes just fine, if it feels to awkward to use my first name, but we are, as you said, colleagues."
"And then some."
"And then some," he agreed with a small smirk that seemed almost affectionate. Apparently, she had found the way to alleviate his crankiness. Yay!
After a few more silent but productive hours spent on the many bureaucratic aspects of finishing a new, experimental potion, they left the office together. They had not discussed it - after all, they did not discuss most the things - but both of them were aware of the significance of the simple gesture. There would be no foolish holding hands or any other sort of public displays of affection, oh no, these two had no need for such. Not a single word was uttered, not a single look was cast, and the only time either of them touched one another was, when Snape who was carrying the box filled with vials (the brew was delicate and neither wished to risk it with Apparition), softly elbowed her side in order to catch her attention. With a nod, he pointed the direction to one of the available Floos.
They felt the eyes on them, and the silence that preceded their way through the halls, as the Ministry workers took in the sight of them. Behind them, there were whispers, which both of them were able to hear. Not unfriendly, she noticed with some pleasure, but curious. Times had changed after Voldemort's fall, and the Wizarding world with them.
It would seem that sometimes things changed for the better.
They left the box in the hands of an elderly Healer who was responsible for the more practical parts of the experiment. Hermione discussed the properties of the new potion briefly with him, in order for him to determine the proper placebo potion for the other half of their quota. It was a fast visit. After all, this was the fifth time they went through the same things, more or less. The first two times they had been more hopeful, but by the fourth time, the curiosity and the optimism had faded somewhat, and now, at the fifth such occasion, it felt like a nuisance to her. She wished the potion would be it, the breakthrough, but she did not trust her new sources to be enough to make the difference. Her hunch was usually right about these things, unfortunately.
"I should probably visit the Potters while I'm here," she thought out loud, as they were walking away from the research facilities. She half expected a sarcastic remark or straight refusal from him, but - being the mystery man that he was - he simply nodded at that.
"They haven't been released yet?"
"No. Apparently James is a bit of a lazy eater, so they want to see he gets the grasp of that."
"Not taking after his maternal family then, hmm."
"Shush, you! Would you like to join me?"
"I don't think that would be a good idea."
"Harry would love it."
"My point exactly."
She rolled her eyes at him, but could not help but to lean slightly into the kiss he pecked on her cheek, when he told her he'd visit an acquaintance of his, and wait for her by the Floos in the main hall. After all, he owed her a celebratory drink for the finished potion. She felt like telling him that it would be for naught, that the potion was not potent enough to be the breakthrough. She chose to nod instead.
"I'll see you in half an hour, then, Severus."
It was the first time she had called him that. She noticed the brief softening of his features at the sound of his first name, but before either of them had too much time to ponder the significance of those three syllables, she started briskly walking towards the maternity ward.
To say that Hermione was surprised to find young James Potter in the arms of her former boyfriend, would have been a lie. After the insanity that had been the past few days, nothing really surprised her any longer. (That was, of course, a blatant lie. Nothing apart from Severus Snape really should have surprised her. That was closer to the truth.) She greeted the Potters each with a hug (except for James, who received a kiss on his forehead), and Ron with a smile.
"I finished brewing a potion earlier today, and thought I'd drop by while I was bringing it here. Sorry, I didn't think of asking if you already had visitors."
"No need to be sorry. There's plenty of room in here, isn't there?" Ginny answered with a tired smile, before patting the bed next to her. "Sit down for a while, won't you? There's something we need to talk about."
She shot the younger woman a questioning eyebrow, but sat down as she was asked to. Would they ask about Snape - Severus, you ought to call him Severus - now? She had thought Ron would have told them the same things she already told him. She looked first at Ron, who was ignoring her gaze, and then at Harry, who was fidgeting with his wand. Fine, if they wanted to know, she would tell them. They might regret it afterwards, though.
"If this is about that article in the Prophet, you might have as well asked Ron about it. He already cornered me on Saturday, and I told him all about it."
Ron looked up from his nephew and blinked owlishly. Harry cleared his throat awkwardly, and Ginny's voice had an amused lilt to it, as she continued.
"Well, as much as I want to hear all the dirty details about what you and Professor Snape have been doing, and how come I only learned about it on the Prophet, that will have to wait. At least for a bit, because I really, really want to know if he's as good a shag as you'd imagine."
"GINNY!" Ron shouted, seemingly shocked.
"James is listening!" Harry added to that.
James said nothing, as he not only a newborn but also fast asleep.
Hermione flashed a grateful grin to Ginny. They had never been the best of friends, but they did love one another and they had always got along just fine. Ginny Potter was, not that Hermione thought of it, the closest equivalent of a female friend Hermione had ever had.
"We were going to ask you to become James's godmother," Harry said after a few seconds of silence. "And I know it's really none of my business or anything, but you're a grown woman and you can… do whatever you want with whoever you want. However, if that whoever you want hurts you in any way, I'm going to hunt them down and…"
He cast a worried look at his son. Ron took the hint and covered the baby's ears with his hands. The women rolled their eyes in unison.
"And hang him by his sorry balls," Harry finished his sentence with a grim determination.
Hermione stood up from Ginny's bed and walked toward the young man, the closest thing she had ever had for a brother, and gave him another hug.
"Firstly, as you said, I'm a grown woman and perfectly capable of taking care of myself, even if it means hanging someone by their balls. I even know the spell for that, can you say the same? Secondly, and more importantly, yes, I would love to be James's godmother."
At that, Ron wordlessly handed her the baby who was beginning to stir. The baby opened his eyes slowly, accompanied with the biggest (and most toothless) yawn imaginable. The deep, dark blue met amber, and Hermione felt an odd tug at her heart. It might have been love, it might have been her biological clock ringing an alarm, but whatever it was, it was there. The moment was soon over, as the newborn settled back down and promptly fell asleep in the arms of his newly declared godmother. Hermione looked at Harry, feeling an uncharacteristic wetness in the corner of her eye. Harry simply nodded, and it was then she knew that he knew. Harry understood what it was like not to have a family of your own. This was his way of attempting to remedy it.
Some time later, she was sitting in the main hall by the Floos, eyeing the day's Prophet. Snape was late, which seemed uncharacteristic, but she managed not to fidget and fret. It was almost a half an hour later when he finally arrived, his face unreadable but even paler than usual. Whoever he was coming from, it must have been a very unpleasant visit. She took his cool hand into her own, warmer one, and reached to touch his cheek with the other. The cold expression he wore softened slightly, and something warm flashed in his eyes, as he turned his face slightly to kiss her palm gently.
"Do you want to talk about it?" she asked, quite sure that he would not, but feeling that she had to ask it in any case. He shook his head, and gave her a sad smile that shook her to her core. Had she ever seen him actually express this much emotion before?
"It's alright. It's going to be alright," he told her before taking her arm in the crook of his.
"They are going to be alright," he added as if to himself, so quietly that she did not know if he had even really said it.
They entered the bar, the same one in which they had first met less than a week ago. It felt like a much longer time, she mused, as she sat by the counter. He sat down next to her, and laid his hand on top of hers that she had placed on the counter, giving her a small squeeze. Soon enough, Wee Albus, the same barkeep that had been there the previous time, was there, taking their joint order for champagne. His eyes twinkled even more than she remembered, which she pointed out to her - yes, here she was again, her what? Her colleague? Her date? Her shag? Her Severus? He chuckled at that and said he might have to do some research on the matter.
There they sat, sipping their champagne, hand in hand. He had congratulated her and raised an impromptu toast for her. She had blushed prettily (or so she hoped) at his compliments on her brewing.
Afterwards, he walked her home, the Muggle style, his hand on the small of her back, as she was leaning slightly against him. It was nice. He was warm and steady, and she felt safe, safer than she had since she didn't even know when. They stopped in front of her front door, and he leaned down to kiss her gently, his hand never leaving her back. She asked him to come in, more than a bit breathless, when he was through with kissing her, but he declined, much to her surprise.
She had known, of course, that whatever it was between them would not, could not go on forever. She had all but refused to discuss it with him, for Merlin's sake, whenever he had tried to bring it up. It was quite alright, really, she understood it. The rejection stung, of course, but this had gone on longer than…
She felt his long fingers lifting her jaw. She had not even realised she had lowered her face. His eyes sought out hers, and she was truly confused when she saw warmth in those bottomless black orbs that he had for eyes.
"Little witch, you have had me under your spell for the whole weekend. I need to catch some rest. I told you I am an old man. If I came upstairs with you, we both know I wouldn't be able to leave before sunrise."
She blushed at that.
"I am going to kiss you good-night, of course, and we'll see tomorrow in the office. I promise to try to be in a better mood, and maybe I get to finally take you for a lunch, too, now that half the Ministry saw us leaving together today."
She had asked him today, of course, but pointing that out would sort of ruin the moment. Instead, she flashed him her most dashing smile. Besides, he was soon kissing her again, and she quickly forgot all about whatever it was that she was about to say..
"Good night, Hermione."
"Good night, Severus."
And with that, he Apparated away with a soft crack, leaving her standing alone in the street, her lips still tingling from the long kiss. She would have to be careful, or she might truly fall for him.
