AN: Thank you for all the support! It is very deeply appreciated!
Severus had reached that sweet sensation between being buzzed and being drunk. His faculties remained under his control, yet he was more relaxed now than he'd been in days. Dating Sybil had been a disaster, but a night out had been good for his mental health. Sometimes he forgot how a change of scenery could clear one's mind. Perhaps he should indulge in a Firewhiskey with Rosmerta more often. Then again, one could construe that as a date, which is the last misconception he wanted to perpetuate.
Would drinking with the barmaid be a date though? Rosmerta had been married for four years. Could a man dine with a married lesbian and call it a date? If Minerva didn't know of Rosmerta's marital status and sexual orientation, could he have dinner at the Leaky Cauldron every few weeks and say he was fulfilling the bet?
He strolled down the Hogwarts hallways, contemplating those questions. Whenever he saw a shadow, he suppressed his pleasant intoxication and scowled. The last thing he needed was a prefect or fellow professor to believe he was capable of any kind of self-satisfied joy. Not that anyone else would cross his path. Curfew had been enacted long ago, and fellow professors knew to avoid him when he stalked the halls.
"You look happy for someone who just went on the date from hell."
Severus paused and turned to his right. Hermione limped from the shadows into the clear moonlit window. She leaned on her cane, which must have taken some effort given how violently her left leg was shaking.
"My date was less than pleasurable, though it could not be as painful as walking must be for you right now." He stepped towards her.
"Oh this," she cringed as she began to wobble. "I'll be fine. It's nothing I haven't handled before."
"You look anything but fine."
Hermione opened her mouth to say something, but her leg buckled under the weight of her body. She came tumbling forward, only to be caught by him before she collapsed onto the ground.
"Why aren't you using your walker?" Severus asked as he helped her upright. "Your leg usually tires this time of night."
"I didn't feel like using it." She argued as he adjusted her in his arms in order to better support her.
"Why not?"
She shrugged. "Sometimes I don't want to use it."
"You do understand that the worst way to keep Minerva off your back about overexerting yourself is to exhaust yourself until you can no longer walk."
"Perhaps." She replied as he placed her on the ground.
He removed his overcoat. With the flick of his wand, it transformed into a wheelchair.
"Thank you," Hermione motioned for him to pick her up. He did so, placing her into the wheelchair. "I didn't realize I'd tire myself out like that."
"Rounds tend to wear you out." He backed away until she could look him in the eyes without craning her neck.
"Yes, but tonight was supposed to be different."
"Why?"
"It just," she straightened her posture. "You're changing the subject."
"From what?"
"You just got back from the most hellish date imaginable. I believe Sybil called you a, 'lying cheater who belongs with an old, shriveled maid.'"
"I did not know she confided such things to you," he answered.
"She doesn't, but I could hear her shouting from down the hallways. I couldn't walk fast, but I managed to follow her just closely enough to hear her call you every name in the book. Never would I have suspected that she had such an extensive vocabulary, or that she knew so many Farsi curses."
"She speaks Farsi?"
"Apparently, and has decent pronunciation from what I could gather. Granted I'm not fluent in the language, but I did learn from a book that An āghā means "Mr. Shit."
He chuckled.
"Personally, I'm offended." She rubbed her spasming left leg. "I thought we were good enough friends for you to tell me about your torrid affair with Rosmerta."
"One's female friend is always the last to know."
"Indeed. I feel quite left out now."
"If it makes you feel better," he lowered his voice, "her wife is oblivious as well."
Hermione burst out laughing. After a few seconds, she covered her mouth, but couldn't suppress her giggles.
"In all seriousness," he leaned against the wall. "It was in poor taste to set me up with Sybil."
"Yes, but the more I think about it, it wasn't unexpected."
"Do explain, because Sybil was the last person I expected to date."
"Sybil's has been angling for your attention for quite some time. At staff meetings she tries to sit beside you."
"Which is why I always put you between myself and her."
"Yes, which somehow causes her to move because she still hasn't forgiven me for calling her a loon."
"It is unfortunate when one is persecuted for telling the truth."
"True," Hermione massaged her leg harder. "Back to the dating thing, I still can't say it's unexpected. She always gives these vaguely sexual prophecies when you are present. The one about you and the book lover always intrigued me, though again, I don't put stock in anything she says."
"I try to ignore what comes out of her mouth," Severus answered. "Then again, perhaps I should've paid more attention. At the moment I have no idea why anyone would be interested in me, much less her."
"I don't know." Hermione tilted her head. "You have that dark, brooding look about you. Women are turned on by a little mystery, and you are nothing if not mystery."
"You don't seem to be a woman turned on by mystery." He replied. "There was little mysterious about Mr. Weasley, yet look how long you two remained together."
"Sometimes you date what you know hoping it will be different than your worst fears." There was a flicker of hurt in her eyes. "If enough people tell you that you belong with someone, who are you to deny fate?"
"Until fate makes it clear it has other plans in store for you."
"Exactly."
They stood in a contemplative silence.
"Hermione?"
She hummed and looked at him.
"What is the real reason you were only using your cane and not your walker?" He asked.
"I wanted to prove I could push myself harder. If I could to rounds without tiring, then perhaps I could push myself in other ways."
"There are ways of pushing yourself which do not put your health at such risk."
"I know." She sighed. "Ways which wouldn't cost you your overcoat."
"It will transfigure back."
"Yes, but it's always dirty afterwards."
"There are spells I could use, and the house elves…"
She glared at him. He returned the expression. Never had he cowered at a coworker's expression, and he wasn't about to start now.
"The house elves could use a break," she growled.
"The house elves are going to revolt if you continue attempting to give them clothes," his voice was just as low.
"I say they look cute in their new socks."
"I say they are terrified of the very mention of your name."
She huffed.
"That being said," He lightened his expression. "My cleaning skills exceed those of the house elves. They will be a last resort."
"Thank you," she shook her head. "I know I sound ridiculous to you and everyone else when it comes to house elves. Merlin knows few other people care about house elf rights."
"You're trying to do the right thing, even if nobody around you appreciates or agrees with it."
"I try anyway." She scratched her spasming leg as he approached her.
"You care about creatures, and you want your independence." He put a hand on her shoulder. "Nobody can fault you for that."
"You'd be surprised how many people find fault with me."
"At least you weren't having a torrid affair with a bar keeper."
She laughed. "I would have loved to have seen the look on Sybil's face when Rosmerta began yelling at you.":
He leaned down. "If you are kind enough, I may show you the memory in a pensieve."
"And how would I be so kind?"
"Polyjuice yourself to appear as I do and go on these dates."
"Excuse me?" She raised an eyebrow.
"Yes," a smile graced his face. "It would be brilliant. You could pretend to be me, so I can stay home with a book and enjoy my evening."
"Oh no, I am not suffering because of your inadvisable bets. You must go on these dates alone."
"And here I thought you cared."
"I care for you deeply, just not at the expense of my sanity."
He purred in her ear. "And here I thought you loved me truly, madly, and deeply."
Her blush was obvious even in the moonlight.
He smirked as he continued in that voice. "Even if you don't love me, true friends never abandon each other in their time of need."
"Oh stop it." She took her cane and tapped him on the knee. "There's being a true friend, and there's enabling a gambling addiction."
"One inadvisable Quidditch bet does not a gambling addiction make."
"But in your case, it's proven just as devastating."
"Indeed."
"Do not get me wrong, I deeply disagree with what Minerva is doing. Still," she grinned. "If any of your dates are like Sybil, they're the kind of person I do not want to kiss. I would do well to leave the dating to you, if only to preserve my sanity."
"Put that way it is rather sadistic for me to ask you to go on these dates." His stomach constricted at the flashback of Sybil's lips approaching his, the scent of onions upon her breath.
"It's sadistic for anyone to go on them," Hermione interrupted his thoughts.
"Yes, though we'll have to ensure nobody else who knows about this bet bribes Minerva or makes a bet with her for my soul."
"Headmasters really do have a way of pushing you around as if you are simply a plaything," Hermione's eyes flashed in sympathy.
"You have no idea," he replied in a quiet voice.
"You deserve better."
"So you tell me."
"I'm the Brightest Witch of my Age, meaning I am always right."
"You are brilliant until you must determine the difference between a human and cat hair. Then, you seem to run into difficulties."
She gave him another glare, but her expression softened under his smirk. Then she matched his expression. "At least I know how to make a good blueball flame, the kind which can singe even the blackest of robes."
"Touché."
Her eyes sparkled until she yawned.
"Would you like me to escort you to your quarters?" He asked. "Rounds should be over."
"I would like that very much."
"Would you like me to push you?"
"Yes," she leaned back. "I'm too tired to wheel myself, and I appreciate the companionship."
"You make me sound sentimental, when in reality all I want is my overcoat."
"Of course you do, not that I could blame you. I wouldn't want you to catch pneumonia because you were in the dungeons without it."
"Thank you for your consideration."
"I try to be as considerate as possible."
"Most days you succeed." He began wheeling her back to her chair.
"Severus?"
"Yes?"
"Thank you for not letting me fall and for not scolding me for being without my walker."
"Both were my pleasure, though I fear Minerva will scold me tomorrow for my little stunt," he continued as the castle stairs turned into a ramp.
"If she becomes too aggressive remember your lips aren't against Sybil's. That alone makes any scolding worth it."
"I could not agree more." He relaxed, feeling the night had ended quite well indeed.