A/N: For LunaP999.

I promise this will be the longest A/N in the fic, but there's so much to say before we get started.

Before I get into my thanks, some logistics. This fic is fully written, and will post a chapter a week (10 chapters + an epilogue). That gives me time to do a little last minute editing between chapters, and I have never gotten to post a long fic in weekly installments before, so I think that will be fun. I appreciate any and all thoughts and comments and questions you feel inspired to leave as you read.

Okay, now for the people who made this happen.

First and foremost, this is dedicated to my dear friend LunaP999. I believe this idea came together one night during a movie screening of some Alan Rickman film or other, and with the inspiration of morriganmercy's dramione Sugar Bowl series fresh on our minds, the idea of a SugarDaddy!Snape (Snaddy) came to be. I told Luna that if she sent me some thoughts on what she wanted to see in it, I would write it. She immediately sent me a document with some plot points for how it should begin, and the rest was history. So thank you Luna, for getting us started, and I hope you enjoy this belated birthday gift.

Before we get into our story, there are several other people I would like to thank, because this truly was a group effort. To my ride or die alpha, sleeplessdreamer927 — I literally could not have told this story without you. An amazing writer in her own right, Courtney takes my disorganized mess in the multitude of google docs I have stories spread over and sees the bigger picture. I don't think I've ever sent a text with "I am stuck" without getting back an amazing and clarifying idea from her on how to move forward.

Thank you to my gem of a friend, TheFrenchPress, for encouraging me and listening to me talk about this fic for far longer than I intended haha. Thank you to InspiraPens for being so supportive and putting up with my sugar daddy jokes. Thank you to the Hearts & Cauldrons discord server for helping me brainstorm date ideas, special thanks to multilingualism for her help when I was stuck and to sarmo for making sure my beowulf reference held up. Thank you to dhr twitter for both putting up with my incessant love for Severus Snape and Hermione and for helping me brainstorm more date ideas. Special thanks to Evan and Laura for anything that sounds remotely realistic regarding sports; anything that doesn't is purely my fault, they both helped me try to understand a sport I've never done. Thank you to The Chef for answering questions to help me get inside Severus' head, and for letting me get away with saying "I'm working on Snaddy" eighty times a day - I'm sure our text log looks ridiculous.

Immense amount of thanks to my betas photon08 and aureliandreams. They are the true MVPs of this piece. I think they spent more time editing it than I even did writing the first draft, and I am infinitely grateful to the both of them for pushing my writing further than it would have gone without them. Photon, I can't believe we've been working together for coming up on a year, and your flailing while reading this kept me going. Kate, I have been permanently pavlov'd into getting giddy at the sight of 500 new comments on a google doc, and I'm not mad about it. Everything these two touch is better for it. They're both incredible editors, and if you haven't checked out Kate's writing, do it right now. Go ahead, open a new tab, I can wait till you get back.

Thank you to AnneCaterina for helping me tweak those final "does this make sense" sentences and thanks to everyone on the AWC discord server for your encouragement along the way.

This is my first long Severus/Hermione fic, and I sincerely hope you enjoy. So sit back, relax, grab a sugar quill, and come along for the ride.


30 Days

Chapter 1: Countdown

Day -7

Hermione held her beaded bag in one hand—all her worldly possessions hidden in its undetectably extended depths—and Crookshanks under her other arm.

She might not have had a boyfriend, or a place to live, or parents to turn to, but she always had work. She would just live in her office at the Ministry. Temporarily of course. No one would have to know.

She walked into the grey stone building with her chin held high.

Day -6

She walked back out staring at the ground. Beaded bag hooked onto her left wrist, Crookshanks trotting by her right heel, Hermione carried a cardboard box of office supplies between her arms—the only evidence of the ten years she had spent toiling away in the Department for the Care and Regulation of Magical Creatures.

She should have seen it coming, should have known they were going to fire her after her outburst last week over the proper procedure for approaching vampires. The Ministry's treatment of the night creatures was, in Hermione's opinion, extremely outdated, and she told them so. But when an arrogant old wizard told her that she didn't know enough—wasn't old enough—to advise on matters of the like, she lost her normally cool temper. Reading him the wizarding riot act, Hermione had gone on a ten minute filibuster spouting facts and figures before the bored man stood up with his teacup and left, whispering in her boss's ear on his way to the doorway and grabbing a cookie off the plate on his way out.

There was no immediate fallout, so she thought she'd gotten lucky. Thought she'd escaped the embarrassing ordeal with hardly a slap on the wrist. Thought that maybe, just maybe, her boss even agreed with her.

And forgot that she had a report due at the end of the week that they weren't going to have time to get anyone else to do.

They waited for her to turn it in and then promptly dismissed her for being a poor team player, and a know-it-all to boot.

Day -5

Hermione hadn't told anyone yet, about either the breakup or being fired. She wasn't particularly in the mood to gossip about it, slander Ron's name, or get advice about how there were plenty more wizards in the Sorting Hat. So when she decided that spending even one more night in a Muggle motel—all she could afford at the moment—would be unacceptable, she wracked her brain.

Asking Ginny for help would mean having to talk about it.

Asking Harry would mean having to talk about it, with a slightly greater chance he would let it go if she gave him her historically withering stare. Or asked nicely.

Asking Pansy was as good as asking Harry; the normally tight-lipped witch could keep nothing from her fiancé.

Luna would probably let her wallow in peace, but Hermione rarely knew how to reach the blonde magizoologist from one day to the next when she was off exploring the world for magical creatures.

She truly had nowhere to go.

Not even home.

Hermione had spent nearly every galleon she had searching for a way to bring her parents' memories back, but every path had failed. Every treatment, every trial, every expert—fruitless. Hermione had even dipped into their savings, desperate for a way to help them have the life they once did before she sent them away. But ultimately the memory charm was irreversible, and she forced herself to stop before they had nothing left to retire on.

With a sigh, she decided that Harry's would be easier than Ginny's—since he wasn't related to Ron and wasn't currently residing at the Burrow between Quidditch matches—and Apparated to the front door of Grimmauld Place.

"Hermione, you know you can stay with us as long as you like," Harry said, placing toast and an assortment of jams on the table for the three of them. Hermione smiled at his inclusion of elderberry jam—her favorite. For all their sibling-like squabbles over the years, he always remembered the little things—always knew how to make sure the people in his life felt loved.

"Yes, please do," Pansy added. "It'll give me time to improve your look." The other witch took a bite of strawberry toast, her eyes roving Hermione's features as if she were already planning exactly which bits of her needed modification.

The Gryffindor instinctively flattened her hair. "There's nothing wrong with my look," she pouted.

"You can't find a new man still smelling like the old one," Pansy said, her tone and accompanying look implying that that particular truth was rather obvious. "We need to freshen things up. Besides, I'm sure I know someone I can set you up with."

Hermione's stomach churned. This was exactly what she wasn't ready for.

"As long as it's not Draco," Harry offered through a mouthful of toast. "They'd kill each other."

Pansy waved her hand dismissively. "Draco is with Theo."

"Blaise?" Hermione asked tentatively.

"Saving him for Ginny." Off Hermione's offended look, Pansy added, "And saving you from another relationship that revolves around Quidditch."

Hermione immediately closed her mouth. Her eyelids fluttered closed with the mental exhaustion of the last several days, and she sighed. "Honestly, I'm not even ready to begin looking for a new relationship. I need a job."

Pansy tilted her head and Hermione could see the wheels turning. The Slytherin witch took a sip of her tea, her gaze never leaving Hermione's face as a visible plan formed behind her emerald green eyes. She put the mug down on the table and looked at the curly-haired, emotionally drained witch. "All right, then. Come out with the girls tomorrow night instead. We'll let loose, chat, strategize. It'll be fun."

Hermione didn't miss the glint of mischief in her eye.

But she nodded anyway.

Day -4

One thing Hermione greatly appreciated about Pansy, Ginny, and Luna was that they were always supportive of her dubious coping skills; they never said anything about her tendency to drag them into Muggle London for comfort food when she was sad.

Sitting in the crowded, retro-style diner, Hermione spooned ice cream on top of her pancakes and ate like she was starving. Ginny surreptitiously tried to count out Muggle money under the table, never remembering to bring the laminated card Hermione had gotten her with quick and easy conversions. Pansy sipped on a Shirley Temple she'd spiked with Firewhisky when the waitress wasn't looking, and Luna simply ate her hash browns quietly, waiting for Hermione to be ready to talk.

Hermione sighed as she chewed, trying not to cry as the weight of the changes in her life crashed over her. "What am I going to do? I have nowhere to live, no way to support myself—"

"No sex life to speak of," Luna added in with a well-meaning smile.

Pansy turned slowly and blinked at Luna, the corners of her mouth turning up as the rest of her face registered disbelief. "Thank you, Luna, for that contribution."

Luna paid no mind to the sarcasm. "I was mentioning it because it seems like there's a perfect solution for all three."

"I don't want to take Harry's money no matter how many times he offers," Hermione said, shaking her head vehemently.

"And I can't get her to sleep with me no matter how many times I offer," Pansy added with a wistful sigh, stirring her drink with the plastic rod currently spearing a maraschino cherry.

"If you weren't engaged to my ex—" Ginny said, looking longingly behind Hermione to meet Pansy's gaze with a cheeky grin.

Hermione harrumphed loudly and put her head on her arms. "This is a disaster."

Luna sipped her drink noisily and everyone looked up. "Oh good, I have your attention." She smiled in that dreamy-but-knowing way that only Luna could. "Now if you'd let me finish, I think there's a perfectly obvious solution here."

Hermione's brows rose into her bangs. "And what would that be, Luna?"

The blonde witch looked around the table. "Why, what the rest of us have done, of course."

Hermione's confusion only compounded. She looked between her three friends who suddenly seemed to be in on the same secret. Ginny glared daggers at Luna, Pansy looked nostalgic, and Luna looked on with a practical grin.

"Will someone please explain what the hell is going on?"

Ginny caved first, sighing heavily. "I don't think you're going to like it, Hermione," and narrowed her eyes at Luna again, "but there are services that…provide the resources for you to get back on your feet."

"It's sugaring. Let's not mince words here, Weaslette."

"Sugaring?" Hermione asked, forehead creased. "Like hair removal? You want me to get waxed?"

"I'm sure they wouldn't complain," Ginny said under her breath but loud enough for the others to hear.

Pansy shot her a nasty glare before turning back to Hermione. "No, this has nothing to do with your leg hair, Granger. Sugaring is when you have a sugar daddy/sugar baby relationship with an older man."

The space between Hermione's eyebrows narrowed. "I…why?"

Ginny answered. "Men pay you to date them. And there are usually perks beyond just monetary compensation."

"Perks for who, exactly?" Hermione asked skeptically.

"It's mostly older wizards who are looking for companionship," Luna explained. "Someone to talk to, hold hands with, go to events with."

"Occasionally sleep with," Ginny added.

Hermione's eyes went wide.

"But half of them are too old to fuck you anyway," Pansy added hastily. "They just want someone young and pretty around so they don't focus on how sad and old they are."

"Nicely put, Pans," Ginny chastised.

Pansy shrugged. "It's the truth."

Hermione felt like she was being granted admission to a secret club she hadn't even known existed. "And this is something…you all do?"

Pansy shook her head. "Not since Harry. But before that, yes. The Ministry took ninety percent of my family's holdings after the war, Granger. It was that or a pureblood wedding to some wizard I couldn't stand."

"A starting position on a Quidditch team doesn't pay as much as people think. And…it's nice to have someone to talk to." Ginny sipped her drink.

"I enjoy traveling, and wizards like to pay for travel." Luna's eyes twinkled.

"And sometimes, you want an older man who knows his way around a witch's body," Pansy added with a grin.

Hermione was overwhelmed. A sugar daddy. They were proposing she get a sugar daddy. Sugar wizard? Were the terms any different in the magical world?

She giggled to herself and spooned another bite of the sickly sweet concoction into her mouth. It was quite a concept—certainly outside her comfort zone. But she could meet someone who would help take her mind off things while she found her balance. Maybe even someone with enough shared interests for her to have the conversations Ron had never wanted to. Someone who might challenge her even. And if it really wasn't about the sex, then she didn't have to worry too much about that yet. If she started thinking about that, she'd talk herself out of it, so she focused on her desire for good company and the galleons to pay rent.

And really, what did she have to lose?

"Where do I sign up?"

Day -3

After recovering from copious amounts of alcohol and ice cream the night before, with sunlight shining in through the gossamer curtains and stabbing her in the eyes, Hermione was starting to regret her decision.

She'd spent the entire day at Grimmauld Place (where she begrudgingly agreed to stay until her first payment came through) letting Pansy, Ginny, and Luna primp and prep her. They took photos, wrote bios, made floo calls, and did everything else necessary to get her set up for an appointment as soon as possible with the luxury sugaring service Sugar Quills: Practical Sweets.

Clever, Hermione thought with a grin when Pansy shared the business' name.

But after a full day of attention and being poked, prodded, and plucked, the witch just wanted some time to herself.

"Come on, Hermione," Ginny said, plopping down onto the bed. "You can't miss the party. It's New Year's Eve! Anyone could be there."

"Gin, I really don't want to. I'm tired." She closed the book on her lap, but held her place with her thumb, determined not to be swayed. "There's a split second difference between this year and the next, and I'd rather be lost in my reading when it happens. Less pressure that way."

"Ron won't be there, if that's what you're worried about."

It wasn't, but now it was. "Thanks Ginny, but I'm good. I promise to come down if the mood strikes me."

Ginny sighed dramatically but accepted defeat, pressing a kiss to her friend's forehead and quietly exiting the room for the rambunctious party downstairs.

As the clock crept closer to midnight, Hermione began to feel restless. Anxiety bubbled in her stomach at the thought that she was missing out on yet another important moment in her life. Shouldn't she want to celebrate the night with everyone she knew and loved? To ring in the new year as a victory against time and fate itself? It would be a clean slate, a fresh start. She swallowed against the disappointment that had formed a lump in her throat; her life was certainly not what she had expected it to be.

The calm that usually settled over her when she bundled up to read away from the noise of the world was noticeably missing, leaving behind a hollow space inside her chest. Hermione bit at the skin around her nail as she considered her limited options. She had a feeling that being around a crowd was the last thing that would make her feel less alone.

Making a split second decision, she stood, reaching for her coat and casting a warming charm with a casual wave of her hand. Nodding to herself, Hermione glanced around the room one last time before climbing out the fire escape and making her way onto the quiet respite of the roof.

Snow covered most surfaces and she shivered despite herself. Clearing a patch with a drying spell, she crouched with her knees to her chest and looked out at the London skyline.

"Why is it that even in the dead of winter, sitting alone on a roof in Islington, I am still forced to entertain the company of Gryffindors?"

The voice nearly made her fall; Hermione was sure no one else had been there, but when she looked to her left, a previously Disillusioned Severus Snape appeared.

"Professor," she said, grasping her chest as she slowed her startled breathing and sat, one hand placed bracingly on the ground just behind her. "What are you doing here?"

He continued to look out across the town. "Escaping the drone of the festivities downstairs, as I assume you are."

"But how did you know about the roof?"

Severus looked at her as if she had just made a silly mistake brewing. "All houses have roofs, Miss Granger. And there were plenty a time when I needed to decompress after an Order meeting before returning to the Dark Lord."

Hermione blushed. "Of course."

When he looked out at the skyline again, she took the opportunity to study his face. He looked younger, somehow, despite the fact that it had been ten years since she had watched him nearly die in the Shrieking Shack. The burden of the war had been lifted and in its absence left a visibly lighter man, seemingly more centered than the one she had known in her youth. His expression was still stern, but there was no weight to it—a garment or piece of jewelry worn for so long the wearer could scarcely remember its origin, only aware of it in its absence. He still wore black robes covered in rows of endless buttons, but his dark, fine hair that reached his shoulders was dotted with snowflakes, softening the intimidating image she had been accustomed to.

"Potter has been sending me invitations to these parties for years, all of which I ignored of course. As he didn't know my address, I wasn't concerned with anything more than a few annoying owls around the holidays." Severus pushed his hands further into his pockets, and pursed his lips. "But he must have somehow persuaded Minerva to share the name of the town. He can't see my house, it's under Fidelius, but it became rather annoying to have him wandering the streets of Cokeworth every day hoping to catch me there. I threatened to have him arrested for stalking and he promised to stop if I came to one of his insipid New Year's soirées."

Hermione was stunned. It was the longest she had ever heard her former professor speak at once outside of a lecture. Even in the classroom, he often said little, expecting his students to learn from hands-on practice. Thinking about his lecturing brought the beginnings of a blush to her face—it had been a long time since she had heard his silky voice wrap around the words he delivered like presents. She had always been fascinated by him in a rather peculiar way. But it was just an errant schoolgirl fantasy.

She shook her head, clearing her thoughts before she replied. "Harry puts a lot of stock into the concept of new beginnings."

Severus snorted inelegantly, another very human quality that Hermione had never ascribed to him before. "I suppose if one knows him, that makes sense."

"We all deserve new beginnings I think," she said, directing her words to the city they looked out over, a landscape peppered with pinpoints of lights and billows of chimney smoke. "Or at least, I hope this year brings something new and exciting for me. It's certainly not where I expected to find myself."

He looked over at her, appraising his former student. "Is that so, Miss Granger?"

She met his eyes and something about the way he was looking at her made her laugh. "Yes," she admitted. "I thought I would be engaged by now, not single. I thought I would be qualified for a promotion at work. Instead, I got fired." Hermione listed the items on her gloved fingers with a bit more force than was really necessary. "I thought my parents would be back in my life, but I failed at that too."

Her voice had gotten smaller, but Severus waited patiently for her to finish.

"I feel like I have achieved nothing that has been expected of me and I don't know where to go from here. I have no idea what the next year entails short of trying to look pretty and sound interesting."

He gave her a quizzical look but she ignored it, realizing she'd already said more than she'd meant to.

"It doesn't matter," she continued, waving a dismissive hand. "I'll figure it out."

Severus paused, evaluating her with his head tilted to the side. "I have no doubt you will."

Hermione met his gaze and something about the way her strictest teacher had confidence that everything would work out gave her reason to smile. She stood, straightening her jacket and dusting off the snow. Taking one last look across the night sky, she turned to head for the door.

"Goodnight, Professor."

He looked up at her from where he sat, taking in her curls beneath the beanie, her red nose, small stature, Muggle peacoat. And a smile, a little lighter than it was before.

"Goodnight, Miss Granger."

As she walked back towards the railing that would lead her downstairs, the distant cheering of the New Year's Eve countdown trickled out of the house and into the open air.

"Ten!"

She froze on the top step—

"Nine!"

—wondering if her idea was too bold—

"Eight!"

—too brave—

"Seven!"

—even for a Gryffindor.

"Six!"

But there would never be a better time to find out.

"Five!"

And if it went sideways, how often would they meet really? They'd barely seen one another in almost ten years, after all.

"Four!"

Hermione made up her mind, turning to face him, and was surprised to find him already standing right behind her.

"To new beginnings," he whispered, reaching to push a stray curl from her face.

Somewhere downstairs, the rest of the party shouted, "Three!"

"And second chances," she replied breathlessly.

Two!

He was leaning in.

Oh gods, he was leaning in and she was reaching towards him.

The warmth of his breath tickled her skin and his eyes locked with hers. Captivated by the depths of his onyx gaze, she realized she'd never truly noticed the richness of the color before. Time seemed to slow just for them, granting her the opportunity to catalogue the subtleties of his features up close.

His lips brushed hers.

One!

It was like an explosion. His hands cupped her face and hers fisted his shirt and their mouths moved furiously. They were kindling catching fire; a spark had taken and in no time the scorching blaze consumed them. The ferocity with which the kiss hit them was unexpected, their movements quick, intense, passionate.

Fireworks in the night sky reminded her of apparition: instant, loud, there, and then gone.

Hermione chanced opening her eyes only to find him looking back at her, pulling her lip through his teeth before placing a kiss on her nose.

"Professor," she giggled.

Something crossed his eyes for a split second, and then the depth she'd seen there was hidden again. Like someone had covered a rich, detailed oil portrait with a black cloth. His thumbs slowed, as if someone had turned down the burner and the flame flickered in the winter breeze.

Severus took her hands gently from his shirt and held them in his, pulling her into a kiss one more time and whispering, "Close your eyes, Miss Granger."

His lips were gentle and soft, but the incendiary fire was gone. And then his hands fell away even as hers reached for him, like he was stepping backward.

And then he broke the kiss.

And when she opened her eyes again, he was gone.

Hermione heard cheering downstairs as they rang in the new year and she tried not to cry.

Why she had thought that she would get to start the year any differently than it had ended made no sense to her. Just one more loss to round things out. What did she think was going to happen? That the clock would strike midnight and all her luck would change? That her eleventh hour carriage wouldn't spontaneously reappear in its true form?

That the fire she felt kissing him had meant something?

Why did she think that she was anything more than a convenient kiss to satisfy a silly tradition on a night that neither of them had particularly cared to celebrate?

There was nothing magical after all about the split second between one year and the next.