A/N: HELLO
It's been a minute. Thank you for all the nice comments and how supportive everyone has been. I didn't mean to not update for ten months, but I was in a weird place the last time I posted and then went through quite a few life things that threw me, so it wasn't the right time for me to look at this chapter.
But now I have it for you and hopefully it'll have been worth the wait. We've got two more after this and then an epilogue!
I am dying to know what y'all think. Come chat in the comments or find me on twitter (arabellawrites1) or tumblr (arabellatheauthor) where I just redid my pinned post with all my fics.
All my love to aureliandreams and photon08 for their awesome beta work. Here we go!
tw: mention of vomit (no actual vomit)
Day 24
The world slowed as the hook behind their navels loosened, and Hermione tried not to fall to her feet. She'd always hated traveling by portkey. Taking a deep breath through her nose, she inhaled the clean, crisp winter air with a hint of woodsmoke and blue spruce—and desperately tried not to lose the meager lunch she'd eaten in preparation for the journey.
She would not throw up on Severus' shoes in front of his lovely cottage. She would not.
A small vial was pressed into her hand and Hermione took it gratefully, downing the contents at once and closing her eyes as the world regained its usual imperceptible spin and the nausea abated.
She breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank you."
When she glanced up, she found Severus looking at the serenely picturesque scene before them. His cabin was beautiful—wooden and white all around; a charred chimney that made her think it was used for an actual fire and not just floo travel; and a garden bed out front decorated with winter aconite. It was perfect. It was Severus.
"It's gorgeous," she whispered with awe.
"I'm glad you think so," he replied softly before gesturing towards the house. "Come, let's go inside. I can show you around and then you can take a hot bath while I make us something to eat. How does that sound?"
I'd rather have the bath together, Hermione mused. "I'd love that, thank you."
They made their way inside, and Severus showed her to the guest room. Hermione placed her beaded bag on the bed, the only luggage she'd brought. He eyed her curiously.
"It's more spacious than it looks," she said in answer to his unspoken question.
"Mmm," he hummed. "I'm sure the Ministry was thoroughly impressed."
"Severus Snape," she teased, hand flying to her chest in mock outrage. "Are you suggesting that I would ever break a rule?"
He gave her a knowing grin. "Many, Miss Granger." He moved towards the door before glancing over his shoulder. "Several with rather…incendiary results."
"I'm sorry about your cloak!"
"The boomslang skin was far more expensive, my dear," he called back from the kitchen.
She laughed in spite of the heat in her cheeks. It was a strange relief to be able to joke about it.
Hermione found her way into the bathroom and gasped at the clawfoot tub. It was gorgeous. Everything in the home was intentional and reminded her of a bygone era, one which praised a slower pace and more reflection on life. If Severus had a home like this, he couldn't help but have an appreciation for craftsmanship. Had he built any of it himself? It mirrored the way he made potions. Precise, purposeful, and with pleasure. Someone who loved what he did, even in solitude.
Stepping out of her clothes and slipping into the luxurious tub, Hermione felt her worries from the week melt away. She breathed a sigh as the last of the tension left her shoulders. She was here, in this beautiful place, with the man who was quickly taking up a majority of her thoughts. And yet, she might be leaving the country soon. Godric only knew how it would change things between them if she did.
Hermione was determined to enjoy every last bit of this beautiful oasis while she could.
Severus glanced up at her from beneath his lashes as they ate, the sounds and smell of roast chicken and vegetables permeating a space otherwise filled with a silence that was neither tense nor easy.
"You haven't told me which apprenticeship you're going to take." He tried to sound casual as he lifted his wine glass, hoping she wouldn't notice the anxiety leaking through his Occlumency shields and settling on his face.
Hermione chewed thoughtfully, eyes focused on her plate. "I haven't decided yet, honestly. There were a few offers last night and a few that came in this morning. It seems I could go almost anywhere I want, should I desire it."
"Is there one you feel drawn to in particular?" Severus cut the potatoes with greater force than necessary and tried not to bounce his leg under the table as she mulled over her answer.
Quietly, she said, "I have always wanted to go to Austria."
Severus nodded—Austria, too far to Apparate—now very interested in the string beans he was dicing as finely as if they were dandelion roots for a potion rather than food. "A beautiful place, I'm sure."
"It would be strange to leave England though," she thought aloud. "Everyone I know is here."
Severus smiled, and though it wasn't unadulterated joy in his expression, pride shone in his eyes. "I have faith in your ability to make friends anywhere you go."
Hermione's cheeks went pink. "Thank you, Severus… That hasn't always been the easiest for me. But I suppose, if there were reason enough…there's nothing to say I couldn't come back to England for a visit."
Hermione twisted the napkin in her lap nervously as she tried to gauge his reaction, but she didn't know what to make of the faraway look on his face.
After several long moments, Severus cleared his throat and changed the subject. "Dessert?"
He watched as her eyes widened with delight before she schooled her expression to something more demure. "Yes, please. That would be lovely."
Severus stood to retrieve the cake himself. He could have Summoned it, but he needed a moment away from her astute gaze.
"It's chocolate," he said, bringing the plates back to the table and carefully placing one in front of her.
Hermione took a bite and closed her eyes, savoring it. "Wow…you really are talented in the kitchen."
"Just the kitchen?" he teased.
Her cheeks definitely went red now.
"Well I haven't seen your skills in all other rooms of the house—yet." She smiled coyly, playing their game, but he didn't miss the way her eyes darkened, pupils eclipsing the amber irises. "I suppose I'll have to withhold judgment for now."
Severus swallowed hard. She could give as well as she got and it left him shaken. What was he thinking, bringing her with him somewhere so remote, somewhere intrinsically romantic? Did he think he would be able to keep his—he sneered in his head at the word—feelings in check? He shuddered internally, tired of pesky emotions derailing his life.
"Where did you learn to cook?" she asked, putting a forkful of cake in her mouth, unaware of his internal dilemma.
He shrugged. "Potions Master," he replied simply.
Hermione rolled her eyes good-naturedly. "Yes but the skills don't always translate."
"They should." He took a sip of his wine. She was right—he was a good cook. But he thought a modicum of humility might not hurt. The truth of it was that he had started young, his mother using nights when his father hadn't returned home to teach him so he would never be without. But it felt too heavy to mention at that moment.
"Do you miss teaching?" she asked.
He snorted. "I do not. I greatly prefer being able to conduct my own research and contribute that knowledge to hospitals." He folded his hands so his fingertips were steepled in front of his face and his expression turned solemn. "I would like, for once in my life, to help heal, not cause more harm. Even if such casual cruelty was a necessary part of maintaining my cover, it…wears on a soul. Nevertheless, I think it was apparent to both of us that I was not suited for the responsibility of raising other people's children."
Hermione pondered this for a moment before deciding, "You were not at fault, you know."
"I was a spy, Miss Granger, but that doesn't mean I wasn't a bastard." His mouth pulled up at one side in a facsimile of a smile, but it was pure self-loathing underneath. "Or that I'm not still."
She grinned. "Hardly."
His hands froze by his plate, the cake forgotten. Hermione's easy ability to excuse his past abhorrent behavior caused tears to sting the corners of his eyes. What did she see when she looked at him? He had never been offered such open trust before. Here she was, sitting in his cabin, somewhere he would never have been comfortable bringing anyone else, and they were actually having a good time.
Did it matter really, if she was paid to do so? Perhaps before, he would have convinced himself that it was just part of the experience for her to pretend that he was tolerable, but now…? He knew that she, somehow, found him attractive. And their interactions all suggested that perhaps she even found his personality…enjoyable? Severus knew his flaws, and Hermione was no idiot; he was sure she saw them too.
And yet, she stayed.
He smiled despite himself. "While I appreciate the sentiment, I must disagree with the conclusion."
"Well you wouldn't be you if you didn't." She took a sip of her wine, meeting his eyes above her glass with humor in her gaze.
Severus felt his cheeks warm. The prolonged vulnerability was making him feel awkward, so he reached for a safe subject. Standing and gently placing his napkin on the table, he held his hand out. "Would you like to see the library?"
She smiled and dabbed at her mouth delicately with her napkin before standing. "If you're trying to seduce me, you're on the right track."
Severus froze, holding his hand awkwardly in the air, unmoving. Eyes wide. Not even sure he was breathing.
She laughed and her eyes crinkled with mirth; a stone weighed heavy in his stomach. "I'm joking, Severus. Don't asphyxiate. I know you aren't interested in me like that." She stood and took his hand, and it shocked life back into him. "How many libraries do you have anyway?"
He blinked several times before employing his rusty skills hiding his true emotions. "One for every home," he said casually, hoping the confident smile on his face read more real than it felt.
"Well you sure know the way to a witch's heart," Hermione said with a friendly grin. Severus' own infernal organ began to beat at double speed. "Lead the way."
Severus' heart hammered in his chest as he led her to the small sitting room with the cozy fire and seemingly endless rows of books that extended back further and further as one perused (he was quite the dab hand at extension charms himself, though he didn't want to brag). Hermione's eyes widened and a look of awe and wonder slowly settled on her face. Severus took a shaky breath, pleased with her appreciation of his library. He knew there were more books there than either of them could read in a lifetime even if they never left the room again, and it pleased him more than he could say to know that she found it as enchanting and captivating as he did.
With a giggle, Hermione bounded for one of the rows of books, and Severus huffed a laugh, unable to help the way the corners of his mouth pulled up.
They read comfortably together for several hours by the crackling fire, each lost in their own book. Severus sat in an old but deceptively comfortable wingback, and Hermione lay on the small sofa with her feet tucked up as she devoured his rare potions text.
Perhaps tomorrow they could discuss what she'd read. He rarely had company who would enjoy entertaining such intellectual dialogue about the specifics of potions-making, and she was sure to meet the topic with equal fervor.
Severus' thoughts turned towards the last person who had been willing to discuss potions with him, and his chest constricted. As he watched Hermione's eyes flit back and forth across the page, the realization hit him: it had been ages since he'd truly had a friend, and he had never anticipated having someone in his life that he was afraid to lose again.
Making himself morose and not wanting her to sense his change in mood, Severus decided it was time for him to go to bed.
He stood, gently laying the book he'd been reading down on the coffee table. "I was thinking of taking a walk through the forest tomorrow. It's rather peaceful, and there are some interesting creatures to see deeper in. Would you care to join me?"
Hermione looked up at him immediately, her face lighting up. "Of course. That sounds wonderful."
Severus tried to keep his breathing shallow, but his chest rose and fell with anxious anticipation anyway. "Is there anything you need before I retire for the evening?"
She shook her head, curls bouncing as she did. "No, I believe you've provided everything. I have been well fed and well entertained." She held up the book. "I'm sure I will sleep perfectly."
He inclined his head. "Good. I will be just down the hall, should anything arise. Goodnight." And though Miss Granger was on the tip of his tongue, he bit it back, his heart warring with his mind about whether or not to keep her at a distance when she was tucked up on his couch, in his library. In his home.
Hermione smiled softly at him. "Goodnight, Severus."
He walked without another word towards the door, before he could do something to embarrass himself.
Hermione lay in the soft bed beneath a heavy down comforter. Hands folded across her chest, she stared at the ceiling, acutely aware of where every inch of her hyper-sensitive skin pressed against the cool bedding. Her pajamas were more revealing than anything else she owned, and Severus had clearly spared no expense when purchasing the luxury sheets. But the smooth skim of her legs against the sheets did nothing to quell the heat building inside of her.
Because Hermione was also acutely aware that Severus was just a short walk down the hall…possibly—probably—naked in his own bed.
Was Severus the kind to sleep nude? Hermione's instinct was no. After years of never knowing if he would be summoned by one master or the other in the middle of the night, she could imagine that readiness became a habit. One that was probably hard to break.
But maybe he did now. Maybe he had calmed his nervous system. Or maybe he did it in rebellion. He had been the only one to survive the strange triangle, after all.
Either way, he wasn't far, and he was in bed.
Her body seemed attuned to him; it hummed with his nearness, and Hermione couldn't help thinking of their kiss on the rooftop, his lips on hers, his tongue tracing and tasting her.
How badly she wanted to do it again.
Her hands drifted down her body, tracing the swell of her breasts under the soft silk, her thumbs trailing over her nipples, and she gasped with pleasure. Her fingertips coursed down the sides of her ribcage and she reached between her legs, gripping the insides of her soft thighs, pushing them together for friction against the emptiness she felt inside. Letting her legs fall open with bent knees, Hermione imagined Severus above her, slotting himself between her thighs, lining himself up to tease her with the head of his cock.
A moan escaped her throat, and a shiver ran down her even though she knew there was no way he could hear her explorations from afar. She sighed softly. Was it wrong to bring herself off to thoughts of him while she was a guest in his home, a mere twenty or thirty feet from his bedroom?
Perhaps.
But in that moment, Hermione didn't care what was proper. She couldn't have bothered to consider the moral quandary even if there was going to be a test on it. All she felt was a burning need and the heat of her arousal as beads of liquid pooled between her thighs.
She swiped one finger through the wetness collecting along her slit and dragged it up towards her clit, rubbing gentle circles with a featherlight touch. Hermione's breath hitched as she imagined Severus' dexterous fingers sliding into her—slowly at first, followed by another—while he sucked on her nipple. Preparing her for him.
"Oh gods," she breathed, her pleasure building as she imagined what his cock would look like—would feel like—in her hand. The weight of it. The stretch when he pushed inside her. Her skin heated with the thought of finally taking another lover, someone whose care and precision in all aspects of his life would definitely translate to the bedroom. She could almost hear him whispering sweet encouragements in her ear as he strummed her body's chords expertly, patiently bringing her to the edge.
Miss Granger…look how well you're taking me. I need to be deeper inside you. You'll let me in, won't you? That's a good girl, so sweet and tight.
She moved faster, slipping further down between her folds to gather more of her arousal and pressing hard, back and forth, over the hood that covered her sensitive clit. She groaned, the deep pressure sending shockwaves as she rubbed.
You look so pretty rocking your needy little cunt against my cock like that. So soft and perfect for me.
Her other hand slipped up, pinching her nipple between finger and thumb, and she groaned.
Good girl…such a good girl for me, Hermione. All mine.
Hermione arched against her invisible lover, desperate to have him play her body like an instrument. To bring her pleasure. To take his own. She wanted it, craved it, needed it—
"Severus," she gasped, her orgasm crashing through her, a rush of arousal dripping from her cunt onto her fingers and sheets.
Aftershocks pulsed through her as her walls clenched around nothing, but Hermione could still feel his imagined fingers on her body, and a sense of calm and satisfaction settled over her.
As her breathing returned to normal, Hermione's thoughts came out of the amorphous realm of fantasy and solidified into certainty—reality.
She wanted him. And she could not make the first move.
Severus had been clear very early on in their relationship that it would not become sexual. It certainly seemed like he was reconsidering, but Hermione wasn't willing to risk being wrong and ruining everything. If he wanted her, he would have to be the one to approach her.
Maybe taking it slow is the best course of action, she thought logically. He clearly enjoyed her company and was definitely attracted to her. That much she knew was true. Maybe in time—once he saw that she really did fancy him, and once he moved past whatever mental block kept their former relationship at Hogwarts at the front of his mind—maybe he would come to her. Once he saw their friendship for what it was. What it could be.
She could only hope.
—
Severus lay in bed, staring at the ceiling.
His hands gripped the sheets where they rested beside him, the tension in his body needing some sort of outlet.
She was maybe twenty feet away. Thirty, at most.
She seemed to be enjoying her time with him so far. And she had liked his library—that had pleased him immensely. The companionable silence as they read had been easy. Effortless.
And now she was sleeping in his home, perhaps thirty feet away, her lithe little body presumably mostly bare beneath the sheets…
Severus groaned, scrubbing his face with his hands. He fought every instinct to go knock on her door and ask to crawl beneath the blankets with her—he wasn't foolish—and yet, his skin vibrated with the desire to slot his body next to hers and pull her to him with the same electric energy he'd felt each time they had kissed. How soft her lips had been when he had tasted them at the Ministry event. How lovely her curls would look spilling down her back if he lay beneath her in bed and held her to him with his cock buried deep inside her.
A strangled moan escaped his throat again, this time in self-loathing. It felt wrong to think of her that way when she was his guest and had established clear boundaries around sex with him. Even if he was paying for her time, and even if he was fantasizing about her in the privacy of his own bedroom, something about it still felt…off. Hermione had been clear about the fact that she did not want sex to be a part of their arrangement. And surely it was wrong to fantasize about someone who didn't want to be paid to have sex with him…wasn't it? Even if she found him attractive? Even if she looked at him like she was waiting for him to kiss her again?
Even if she wouldn't know?
Was there really any harm in thinking about her tight little body—her bright smile, full hips—if she would never know?
In a split-second decision, Severus realized he couldn't be arsed to care at that moment about what was proper. Not when he was alone in his own bed and she consumed his thoughts the way she did. He would worry about propriety tomorrow.
And without even another passing breath, he reached into his boxers and gripped his hard cock, gasping in relief.
He was painfully hard, the skin along his length pulled taut. Sucking in a breath, he slowly moved his hand up and down his shaft, teasing the sensitive underside of the head every time his fingers passed over it. He ran the top of his finger along the slit at the very top of his cock, gathering the pre-cum that had beaded there, and imagined bringing it to her lips, letting her suck the salty fluid from his fingers as she sank down onto him for the first time.
Gods he wanted to make her feel good. He would take that same finger and reach between her legs, rubbing her clit as she acclimated to his size before begging him to move.
Holding himself tighter, Severus stroked himself as he imagined her slick cunt gripping him, his hands on her hips as he slid her up and down his cock. The Hermione in his mind took what she wanted from him, pressing her palms flat against his chest as she fucked herself on his cock. He could practically feel her soft walls dragging along him, and his breathing quickened, face flushing.
Severus, she would beg, panting as she rode him.
I want you inside me.
Her eyes would lock on his.
All of you. Please.
Reaching lower, his other hand gripped his bollocks, tugging gently, the tension increasing his need to buck up into her, please her, fill her, worship her—
A coil started to wind deep in his abdomen and radiate through him, and he knew he was close.
"Hermione," he whispered.
And then he was coming, contractions pulsing deep inside him as his bollocks tightened and his release rushed up to the surface, rope after rope of cum leaving him with deep, primal satisfaction as he filled her.
Waves of relaxation radiated through him as his breathing slowly returned to normal and he came down from his high.
The contented smile on his face vanished as reality settled back in.
Severus would never have her like that. Hermione wasn't his. Not really.
He would never get to show her how much he'd come to care for her. Never get to tease her body with his mouth and fingers and make her beg him for release. Never get to show her that he lo—
Enough, he told himself sternly.
Severus spent the next hour Occluding until he was stone and sky and stillness. If tears fell down the sides of his face as he lay alone in the dark, he was too numb to notice.
Day 25
Hermione walked into the kitchen bleary-eyed and yawning, bundled in fleece sweatpants and a large jumper to fight off the morning chill. Despite the warmth of the fireplaces, there was an innate briskness to the mountain cottage. But she didn't mind. A frisson of pleasure ran up her spine at the opportunity to wear her warmest, coziest woolen socks.
Severus heard her soft footfalls as she approached, but didn't turn around.
His heart did beat a little faster though.
"Good morning," she said, voice still scratchy from sleep, as she leaned against the door frame to the kitchen.
"Good morning," he replied.
Severus glanced over his shoulder and took in her outfit, hair half wild from sleep. Warmth flooded his chest and he felt his cheeks heat. He liked her looking so casual and comfortable around him. There was an intimacy in it that he hadn't realized he'd been longing for.
"Coffee?" he asked.
"Yes, please."
Hermione walked forward as he held out a mug to her. She took it gratefully between both her hands, letting the warmth seep into her skin as she inhaled the rich scent that the french press had extracted from the beans. Taking a careful sip of the hot beverage, she looked up quickly, meeting his gaze. The cherry notes were rich and decadent, the undertone of chocolate a welcome addition, but neither of those were what surprised her most. Severus had put half-and-half in her coffee, and unless she was mistaken, four sugars as well.
"This is much better than Hogwarts coffee," she said in a low, awed voice.
He chuckled. "Yes, it is. Even without all the accoutrements you add to yours."
She raised an eyebrow at the challenge and reached across his body, her arm grazing his abdomen as she picked up his coffee mug.
Severus froze, his traitorous body going wild at the barest touch.
He watched her take a sip of his black coffee without ever breaking eye contact.
Hermione licked her lips and considered. "Not bad." She held her own cup out to him. "Want to try mine?"
Fucking hell, witch.
He nodded, a small jerk of his head, but instead of passing him the mug she held it directly to his lips and tilted carefully as he sipped. It was noisy and ungraceful and somehow wildly erotic. Her gaze dipped to his mouth as his tongue darted out, cleaning the milky beverage that dotted his upper lip.
Severus grinned. "Terrible."
Hermione laughed loudly, his humor breaking the tension and providing relief from the unknown. "You're a liar, but don't worry. I won't tell anyone that Severus Snape likes it sweet."
He could feel the blush creeping up his neck and quickly turned back to the stove, where the eggs and toast were almost done. "Breakfast should be ready shortly."
Hermione took mercy on him and left him to his cooking, settling into a seat at the table where she could watch him work…and admire the view from behind. Tilting her head to the side, she watched the muscles along his back move beneath his shirt and felt a smile steal unbidden across her lips. Severus Snape was embarrassed…and it was cute. She enjoyed throwing him as off-balance as he had done to her of late.
And this ability gave her hope that maybe with the right encouragement, the right signs from her that she did in fact want him, maybe he really would make the first move. What better time to find out than on a romantic holiday?
They ate their breakfast in companionable silence, drinking two cups of coffee each. As Hermione nursed the remainder of the warm drink, she asked, "How long have you had the cabin?"
Severus patted his mouth with his napkin, chewing slowly before he answered. "A few years. It's somewhere I come when I need to clear my head."
"Do you ever get lonely out here?"
Her question threw him.
"No," he said softly.
But it wasn't the truth. The more time he spent with her, the more Severus realized that loneliness was an intrinsic part of him. It had been so long since he'd had true companionship that a hollow sort of solitude was woven into the fabric of his being like dark threads against his black robes. He could not see the stitches but they were everywhere, binding him in, keeping him safe from the outside world, and locking him away from it as well. He'd grown so used to loneliness' presence that he could not have named it; it was a shadow that followed him through his waking and sleeping hours, slinking into his subconscious as easily as water flowed across the shore and drowned the sand.
For years, Severus' life was hardly his own, always at the behest of masters or students, surrounded by sycophants and soldiers, rivals and foes alike. And yet, at the end of each day and in the middle of a crowd, Severus was still alone. With an inner grimace, he acknowledged that he had unwittingly become accustomed to the reality that very few people cared about him—and not just what he could do for them—at all.
But now… Now it was different. Now the stitches had loosened and he could breathe a little easier. Now sunlight filtered in and warm air surrounded his skin and life touched him as he lived it. Now when Hermione wasn't there, he missed her.
Working hard not to clear his throat and betray the importance of the coming inquiry, Severus took a careful sip of coffee. "I know you haven't chosen a location yet, but do you have an estimated departure date in mind for your apprenticeship?" He leaned forward to butter another piece of toast and hid behind the curtain of long black hair that fell across his cheeks.
Hermione let out a soft sigh, and when he peeked up he saw her brows furrowed. "I don't know. I suppose sooner rather than later." She blushed suddenly, though Severus didn't know why. "I don't really like imposing on Harry. The house has been a little…crowded lately."
She blinked repeatedly, her gaze distant as if trying to clear an image, and Severus decided he'd rather not pursue the topic.
She finished the last of her coffee with a satisfied sigh, and Severus stood, holding out his hand to her. "Come with me."
Hermione glanced up at him, her mouth slightly parted, but took his hand without hesitation. "Are we going into the forest? What sort of animals live there? Are they dangerous?"
"So many questions, Miss Granger." The corner of his mouth lifted. "But I find anticipation heightens new experiences, so you'll have to be patient a little longer."
Her breath caught and Severus quickly smothered a smile.
"Wear something warm," he said, steering her towards the hallway. "And meet me by the door when you are ready."
"Okay," she said, a glint of mischief appearing in her eyes. "But I'm trusting you not to let me get eaten by dragons."
"Wizard's honor." He raised his fingers in the Boy Scouts' oath.
Hermione laughed as she turned and disappeared down the hallway into her room.
This time, Severus didn't bother hiding his grin.
—
"Severus, you can't truly tell me that you mince rather than mortar flitterbloom!" Hermione turned most of her body to look at him while she walked, bundled up to a point that he insisted on.
"And why not?"
"Because I know you! And the idea that you haven't experimented with how to prepare ingredients is preposterous. I know you've tried a brass stirring rod rather than the iron one. I've seen your lab. And a mortar and pestle would result in a higher concentration of oils." She huffed, slightly struggling to keep up with his longer stride in the heat of their argument. "Honestly, the plant only blooms once a century."
Severus chuckled, his hands firmly in his pockets less for warmth than to prevent himself from unconsciously reaching for hers. His footsteps crunched on the freshly blanketed snow, and he slowed his pace. "I concede you may have a point."
"Thank you," she acknowledged. She looked around, satisfied with her victory, and her breath frosted in the air before her. "It's so peaceful here. I never get to escape the city anymore."
"It does wonders for the soul," he murmured.
"Are you ever going to tell me where we're going?"
"Do you trust me?" He meant it in jest, but his heart still stuttered when she replied.
"Of course I do."
He tilted his head forward, letting his hair cover the side of his face so he could hide. After several quick blinks, he gestured before them. "We're here."
Hermione's gaze moved from his face to the pasture before them, which looked like an empty field to her, with a wooden fence surrounding it. "Where's here?"
Severus' lips quirked up. "Hop up."
Hermione climbed the fence easily, sitting on top of the three wooden rungs and hooking her feet through the middle to balance. Closer to his height, she looked at him with bright eyes full of trust.
Severus' chest tightened. "Repeat after me."
He uttered something that sounded like a password, and Hermione turned towards the field, repeating it.
Before her eyes, the enchantments surrounding the large enclosure melted away.
"Oh Severus," she breathed. "This is…"
There were two unicorns along the edge of the field. By the center there were several thestrals. And next to the stables, a family of Abraxan horses.
"Magical?" he asked.
She looked back at him with tears in her eyes and a smile that made his heart nearly melt. "It's beautiful. What is this place? Is it yours?"
Severus shook his head, leaning against the fence. "A family nearby cares for them. There are other creatures here too," he gestured with his head, "further back that way. But I've always felt drawn to the thestrals."
"They're domesticated?"
He snorted. "They won't eat the unicorns if that's what you're asking. They're terribly bright creatures. Just a bit…misunderstood."
Hermione remembered Hagrid saying as much during their fifth year. But she had never seen thestrals before the war. She shivered as she wondered how long Severus had been able to see them.
Before she could follow that morose thought, a baby unicorn emerged from between its parents legs and seemed to spot Severus, jumping excitedly. Its mother, presumably, looked up in their direction, and deciding they weren't a threat, nudged the baby towards them.
Hermione gasped. "But, Severus—"
"I know."
"But they don't like men!"
He smiled. "I have been coming here for years. They are...used to me."
She tilted her head, waiting until he met her eyes. "They trust you."
He hummed noncommittally and knelt down to gently pet the baby unicorn.
Hermione had forgotten that unicorns were pure gold for the first bit of their life. With the sunlight beaming down on them, the luminescent glow fell across Severus' pallid skin, and Hermione's heartbeat quickened.
He was beautiful.
He turned his head to look up at her, a boyish grin on his lips. "Want to pet him?"
"Would he let me?"
"I think so. You share a certain…golden quality."
Hermione snorted at the reference and hopped down on the outside of the fence, kneeling next to Severus. "I didn't pick that nickname you know."
She expected him to tease her, but when she looked at him, he was looking at her with a serious expression that made her feel naked.
"It fits."
—
Back in his cabin, several hours later, Severus prepared tea to warm them up while Hermione read on the couch in front of the fire, a knit blanket around her shoulders. The walk had been cold at the end, even with warming charms, and she had stepped closer to him as they journeyed back to the cottage. He didn't know if she'd realized she'd done it or had just subconsciously been looking for warmth, but he didn't care.
Severus placed the tray of tea and biscuits he'd prepared on the couch, leaving space between them for the tea set—and his nerves. But if he thought about it, Severus really wasn't as nervous around Hermione as he once felt. Something about her put him at ease. He settled against the opposite arm of the couch and turned to face her, hiding his smile behind his peppermint tea.
"What are you reading?"
Hermione looked up at him with a smile as if she'd just realized he was there, and Severus stifled a chuckle. The younger witch really did get lost in her reading.
She reached for a biscuit. "Advanced Potion Mechanics. After our discussion earlier, I wanted to see what the old Masters had to say."
Ah yes, he should have guessed as much. Their walk back had been filled with all manner of challenging and stimulating conversation about the application of certain potions in magical creature care. Severus' heart had pounded in his chest, but not from nerves. He was simply thrilled to have someone to discuss these things with. He hadn't had a verbal sparring partner like that in years.
"And how have you found their conclusions?"
"I don't know," she replied, brows drawing together. "I don't really feel I know enough yet to contradict them, but some of their rationale for these things seems to be based on outdated information. It would be interesting to run their experiments again with a new hypothesis that things such as magical strength can be affected by the drying and storing process as much as the preparation of the ingredients. Well, that much seems obvious already, but they suggest that a pressurized chamber with controlled humidity can alter the results even more than the type of cauldron you use in the end. It's fascinating."
He nodded slowly. "True. And if the vessel is that important, then it could even help explain why some potions interact differently with different people."
She chewed on her bottom lip, deep in thought.
"Perhaps," Severus continued slowly, "it is the sort of thing you will have better insight on once you start your apprenticeship." He watched her face for any change in expression. "I'd certainly be interested to hear your thoughts then, should you wish to share them." Please write to me.
A smile that looked like gratitude spread upon her lips. "I'd like that."
Severus' chest tightened and he gripped his teacup a bit tighter. "Good."
A thought occurred to him.
"If you are at a good stopping place in your reading, would you care to watch something?"
She blinked in surprise, tilting her head to the side. "You have a television?"
"I do."
"You…you watch telly?"
"Mmm, I enjoy the occasional film. Mostly the classics."
Hermione looked down, but he saw the smile light up her face. She looked up at him through her eyelashes. "Yes, Severus. I'd love to. That sounds nice."
Severus procured a second blanket and revealed the telly, and they settled in to watch two films. The first was his choice, and one of his favorites: Casablanca. They started the evening separated by a significant distance on the couch, only to wind up with her scooting over to better reach the charcuterie board and argue with him passionately about Ilsa's real motives. He discovered they both talked the perfect amount during movies, which is to say more than nothing but never at the wrong times, and without having to pause the film.
Then it was her turn, and they moved onto her favorite of his options—the ridiculously long Lawrence of Arabia. For this, they settled down with spiked hot chocolate and gingersnap cookies, more and more of their sides incrementally touching until she eventually fell asleep against his arm.
Soft breaths puffed against the sensitive skin on his neck as Hermione slept soundly against his shoulder. He liked seeing her relaxed. She seemed calm around him. Comfortable. Moments like this bolstered his certainty that this was a valuable friendship to both of them. That she might stay in his life after their arrangement came to an end.
Severus wasn't sure if it would be more painful to lose her entirely or to watch her move on with a normal life with someone else while he stayed in her periphery.
"Miss Granger," he whispered.
She moaned in response, but did not wake, only leaning into him further. She breathed softly, and her hair moved with her exhales.
Fool, Severus admonished himself. He knew the answer. He would never willingly walk out of her life, even if it meant watching her with someone else. She meant too much to him, had become too important. He would stay, but not in the way weaker men stuck around, waiting for a woman to change her mind with no desire for her friendship outside of that. And not in the way that he had waited and hoped for Lily to finally view him as an equal.
No, he knew there was something far more precious here than just his affection for her. More than mutual attraction. More than the desire that Hermione had been smart enough not to mistake as something worth risking her future for.
She was his friend. His first true friend as an adult, even if it had begun with him paying for her company. And if that was all she would ever be, if she truly enjoyed being around him—even if she was getting paid to do so—then maybe, maybe she would let him be there for her even if they weren't in the same place anymore. Maybe she would stay in touch. Maybe she would allow him to send her money for clothes or books or ingredients now and then. Maybe he could even visit.
Friends visited each other, right?
Or maybe she would want to close that chapter of her life and want nothing to do with him at all.
Severus sighed, these circular thoughts getting him nowhere. For now, he had Hermione here, in his home, and he would soak up every minute of sunshine she brought to his day.
It was with that thought that he carried her gently from the couch to her room. Her soft groans at being moved reverberated through her slim frame and into his own ribcage as she curled against his chest.
Gently placing her on the bed, Severus tugged the throw blanket up from the bottom of the bed and covered her. She hummed and smiled, still mostly asleep, and reached out a searching hand.
He froze.
Hermione opened and closed her hand, reached for his with a muffled, "Severus."
Slowly, Severus lowered himself to the edge of the bed and placed his hand in hers.
She hummed happily at the contact. "Thank you, Sev'rus," she mumbled, inhaling and exhaling slowly as sleep began to pull her under again. "'S lovely here."
Severus swallowed. It was lovely, and torture, all at once. The sweetest sort. Eventually, they would have to return to a world where they didn't sleep under the same roof, but for now…
He cleared the emotion from his throat before saying, "You're welcome. Now sleep. We have a big day tomorrow."
"Surprise?" she questioned sleepily, brows rising, but her eyes remained closed.
His chest constricted and his breath hitched. Tenderly, he said, "Yes. Another surprise."
Hermione smiled, and Severus felt his heart constrict at how beautiful she was. She mumbled into her pillow. "You were a surprise."
Her breathing became slow and steady as sleep claimed her once more, and Severus blinked back the tears her candor had brought to his eyes. He watched her for a moment before standing and replacing her hand under the soft blanket to head back to his own lonely room for the night.
Stopping in the doorway, he smiled at her, though she couldn't see it.
"You were a surprise too."
Day 26
Hermione sat in the front passenger seat smiling as if she'd had a cheering charm placed on her. She glanced out the window at the snow-covered mountains and back at Severus several times.
He felt her watching him and grinned. Her excitement was infectious, and he teased in a mimicry of his professorial voice, but without the bite, "Is there something you would like to say, Miss Granger?"
"It's just so strange that you're driving! And I'm terribly excited. I never… I never got to go skiing with my parents and I've always regretted it." She paused, and though he wasn't looking at her, he could guess that she was worrying her lip. "I might be awful at it."
"You're allowed to be. You're new at it," he said casually, arm draped over the steering wheel with a casual coolness that Hermione never would have expected from him (though she liked it). "I'll teach you."
Her mind flitted to all of the things she fantasized about him teaching her lately, and she looked out the window to hide her embarrassment and arousal. It wasn't even a salacious phrase, but her resolve around him was weakening ever since she'd touched herself thinking of him inside of her. The tone of his voice…the way he would murmur instruction in her ear—
Hermione shook her head, clearing her thoughts, and pressed her legs together, trying for the slightest bit of friction to ease the thrum of need.
Severus glanced over at her. She'd gone quiet and now looked moderately uncomfortable, but he wasn't sure why.
"You despise teaching," she said still looking out the window with a laugh that sounded forced, and Severus frowned.
"In a classroom setting, perhaps," he agreed. "But a lovely adult witch is another matter."
From a cursory glance he saw her cheeks redden, and he looked back at the road, feeling his own posture tense.
What in the seven realms of Merlin's hell was that? he asked himself. Was he trying to make things awkward?
She still hadn't looked back.
Little did Severus know that inside, Hermione was trying not to combust, and hoping that her knickers weren't leaving a damp spot on his seat through her three layers of clothing. Does he know his voice alone could make a witch wet?
A surge of jealousy coursed through her and a scowl came over her lip. He'd probably been willing to teach plenty of other witches what he knew. Hermione felt an uncomfortable amount of doubt that he was as interested as Luna thought, that he was just taking things slow. Some part of her believed he still couldn't stomach the thought of sleeping with his former student—her, in particular—despite the attraction.
You sound like a petulant teenage wizard, Hermione. Stop that. He's been so kind to bring you out here with him.
Severus felt a bead of sweat collecting along his hairline as the no-longer-comfortable silence grew. He drove on staring straight ahead, determined not to put his foot in his mouth again.
Thankfully, the ski lodge wasn't far off at that point, and Hermione's bad mood seemed to evaporate as she took in the sight.
"Oh it's lovely," she breathed, eyes wide.
Severus smiled. He enjoyed surprising her. "As you can see, it's a bit of a distance. But we should be able to get a room here for the evening if we're too tired to head back."
She turned to him and smiled. Don't think about sex, Hermione, don't think about sex, skiing is probably very tiring, be normal for Godric's sake. "It's perfect."
After they rented ski gear and he purchased their lift tickets, they were off to the top of the mountain. Hermione felt very unsteady on her feet and wished she could use magic to help her not strut around like a baby foal, but there were too many Muggles around. She held onto Severus' arm like the baby deer she seemed to be as they made their way to their seat on the lift. As they slowly rose up the mountain, pressed next to each other in their small seat, both of their hearts beat faster.
"Ready?" Severus asked.
Hermione made a squeaky noise in the affirmative and gripped his hand tightly as they hopped off the lift.
And then realized she was holding his hand and promptly let go, thankful for the many layers and ability to blame her blush on the cold.
She looked down the mountain and closed her eyes against a wave of vertigo. "On second thought," she said in a shaky voice, "maybe I don't need to be good at everything. I can just sit in the lodge and read while you—"
"Oh no, you don't," he said, gently guiding her to the side and out of the way of other patrons. "You will face this fear and overcome it."
Hermione flung one arm out towards the slope. "Severus, it's a mountain!"
"Really? I thought it was a sand dune."
Hermione crossed her arms. "Sarcasm is the lowest form of wit."
"And the highest form of intelligence."
"Thank you, Oscar Wilde."
"Wizard."
"Muggle!"
Severus shrugged. "Hermione, trust me. You will be fine."
She looked up at him, surprised. It was so rare when he said her name that she was inclined to believe him. "I'm frightened."
"I know. That is why," he guided her further from any stray skiers, and wandlessly cast a charm on her feet, "I thought this might help."
She looked down to see that her legs were no longer awkwardly bent. She seemed to be holding the perfect position. "I thought wizards didn't even ski much."
"They don't," he said. "This is a spell witches use for their children when they're learning to walk. To stop them from falling. But my father insisted I learn how to ski as part of his sham that we were more successful than we were, and my mother repurposed it to make sure I was safe."
Hermione drew in a breath. "She sounds lovely."
"She was." He was silent for only a moment before shaking his head. "Anyway, for some reason, ski trips were more important to my father than proper clothing or a warm home. So I had second-hand robes, but I learned to ski." He shrugged.
Hermione's gaze softened. "Thank you for bringing me here. Even if I am still worried I'm going to be flattened like a pancake."
"I'd never let that happen," Severus said, the corner of his mouth pulling up. "A crepe, perhaps."
She laughed. "That's worse!"
He chuckled and grasped her hand, and she ceased her protests. Even through the layers, Hermione could feel his warmth.
After the first run down the mountain, she was hooked.
Hermione clung to Severus' back as the wind whipped her hair out behind her.
"Okay!" she shouted above the wind. "Skiing was one thing, but this was not something I pictured you doing!"
She felt the laugh reverberate through his chest where her hands were clasped. She held tight, a death grip as he maneuvered the snowmobile expertly around the mountain. With each shift, Hermione closed her eyes tightly.
This is worse than flying.
But keeping her eyes closed made the motion sickness worse, so she bravely opened one and then the other and breathed against his back. When she let herself look around, Hermione saw that it wasn't as scary as it felt. Severus knew what he was doing.
She was safe.
She giggled.
"There she is," she heard him say. "Welcome back, little Gryffindor."
She laughed more loudly and held tight as he sped them along the snow.
Back at the lodge, Severus helped her off the snowmobile. "Was it so terrible?" he asked.
Hermione would have blushed had her cheeks not already been red as apples from the cold. "No, it was not," she conceded. "But I am surprised by your…attitude perhaps? I think if I told Harry or Ginny that you knew how to drive and enjoyed flying around on mountains on snowmobiles, they would not believe me. Well, Ginny would probably want to learn, actually. But Harry would think it was all a prank."
They talked as they walked into the lodge and found the restaurant built into the cozy wooden interior.
"The list of information you could give Potter that he simply wouldn't believe is endless, my dear."
Her eyes widened for a fraction of a second at the term of endearment, and she laughed breathily to cover how much she liked it. "True," she said, and if he could hear the shake in her voice, she could blame it on exhaustion. "But I don't know anyone that could have guessed our former Potions Master is an avid skier. Actually, skiing they might believe. It's precise. But that machine—"
"The snowmobile."
"Terrifying!" She took off her scarf and sat at the walnut wood table near the fireplace, diner-style menus on the placemats.
"Not so terrifying once you get the hang of it," he replied, placing a napkin on his lap.
Hermione considered the words. "What ever compelled you to even take up such a hobby? It seems rather more dangerous than skiing."
Severus looked away, and Hermione worried that she had spoiled the mood.
But when he looked back, he gave her a gentle smile. "I spent far too long living a life where the consequences of my actions could mean many deaths, and I was responsible for some of them no matter how you dress it up." Hermione winced, but she fought the urge to reach across the table and take his hand. "For the last ten years, I have had the ability to live the way I want, with the only repercussions being on myself."
A waitress came up to their table. Hermione looked down at the menu quickly.
"May I have a hot chocolate please?" she asked. "And a ham and cheese sandwich?"
"A fry-up for me please," Severus said, "and a coffee."
The waitress wrote their order with a smile and left.
Hermione looked around at the warm, open space. The oak wood and fires in the brick chimneys that were dotted throughout the space gave it a warm feeling that went beyond the temperature.
"This place is lovely." She smiled at him, and some part of her was still surprised to be sitting across from him and enjoying herself.
Severus smiled over his hands where he held them in front of his face, elbows resting on the table. "I'm glad you find it pleasant. I have never gotten to share this space with anyone before."
Her brows rose. "Even your other…" Arrangements, went unsaid.
He shook his head, his own brows lowering and casting a shadow over his eyes. "No. I think you misunderstand the nature of those engagements. I was not interested in bringing someone I knew to be temporary into my life that deeply."
"Am I not temporary?"
Severus considered her, tilting his head, and Hermione felt herself trying not to fidget under his evaluation.
Finally he said, "You are the exception."
She wasn't sure what that meant. If he did view her as temporary and an exception to his rule, or if he viewed her as permanent even outside their relationship.
Thankfully, Severus continued. "In the past, I enjoyed the various aspects of having reliable company, but I had no desire to share more about myself."
"But you brought me?"
He broke her gaze, glancing down at the table, and Hermione could have sworn he was suppressing a smile. The corners of his lips pulled up the tiniest bit. "Well you have been entirely surprising. At every turn."
He looked up again, eyes burning with sincerity, and they held each other's gaze as both smiled in the silence. The spell was broken when the waitress placed their food before them, but Hermione was grateful for it. She couldn't have met his bravery as head on as she'd have liked for much longer.
They tucked into their much needed sustenance after a day of physical activity and the conversation moved naturally. They discussed potions articles, the best way to prepare french toast (in which a strong disagreement about the type of bread was had), and even a minor amount of gossip about his former students that Hermione was able to provide.
As they finished their meal and Severus said something else she found drily amusing, Hermione laughed. And was suddenly struck with the realization that she couldn't remember the last time she'd enjoyed herself that much.
Time flew by and the sky darkened. Hermione waited at the table, sipping the last of her tea while Severus approached the front desk to book their rooms for the evening. She mused on the day they'd had. Not being a spy really suited him. Severus was even more relaxed at the lodge than he had been in his own home.
The thought made her snort a laugh. Was this really the man beneath the surly, feared professor?
She liked him.
She was still smiling when he returned to the table, a scowl marring his features.
Her brows creased. "What's wrong?"
"I did not realize the weather had worsened while we ate. There is a storm coming in."
"Oh!" she said, brows raising. "Should we leave?"
He shook his head. "We can't. It's too far to drive back, we'd get stuck halfway there. And we can't Apparate when the weather is like this. There are strict magical laws on mountains in bad weather. It could trigger an avalanche."
"Okay," Hermione said, feeling her mouth go dry even though she wasn't sure she understood why he seemed so flustered. "So we just stay here then. That was the plan anyway at this point, wasn't it?"
He sighed, his shoulders dropping. "Yes. But their availability is limited because of the number of unexpected guests. We would have to share a room."
Her eyes went wide, and if she was honest, heat pooled low in her abdomen. "Oh," she said quietly.
"I apologize." He ran his hand through his hair in a very un-Severus like way, and his scowl deepened. "I should have planned for this possibility."
Hermione reached out from where she sat—he was still standing—to take his hand, but a nearly imperceptible flinch in his posture stopped her. "Severus," she said gently, resting her hand against his crossed arms as one would soothe an animal. "It's all right."
He still didn't meet her gaze. "I do not want you to feel uncomfortable."
"I don't."
He looked at her then, searching for any sign of dishonesty in her eyes. He found none.
Sighing again, he said, "All right."
In truth, Hermione's heart was racing.
One room. She could do this.
One room.
But how many beds?
