The next day passed in a haze with Hermione unable to focus on anything, nervousness and anticipation warring within her until 8pm precisely, when she heard a knock on her door.
She leapt to her feet and opened it to let him in, surprised by what she was met with.
Instead of his regular teaching robes he was wearing black slacks and a white shirt under a black jacket and along black cape that was likely to disguise his change of attire from those who were onlooking from a distance.
It wasn't past curfew yet, so she was sure his change of apparel would have caused whispers if witnessed by anyone he had passed in the corridors. The marriage law had been all anyone had talked about for the last several weeks, although much of the gossip was introspective on who one would or would not want to marry. Professor Snape had been victim to the odd jibe but there was little basis for any rumours - until now, that is. Hermione had steeled herself for the inevitable media attacks, but it seemed with no lack of scandalous matches being made every day they would probably warrant a day in the spotlight and no more. It was a relieving thought.
She stepped back and allowed him to enter, which he did with a sweep. His cloak was removed in one swift motion, and he laid the black garment over the back of the sofa. When he turned to her, her eyes were drawn to his hands. Previously concealed, he was now offering her a bouquet of flowers, and holding a little bundle wrapped in brown paper.
"Thank you," she breathed, taking the flowers, and conjuring a vase to arrange them in on the coffee table.
She hadn't expected this - sure, she had spent a bit of extra time on her hair and clothes as well - she had gone as far as transfiguring her clothes to be slightly more figure-hugging than her normal baggy style. She'd wanted him to see her as an adult of twenty, not the student he had taught for several years. There was enough awkwardness to the situation without adding that into it.
She had hoped they could get to know each other from scratch, pretend they were on an actual first date, so to speak.
"What's in the package?" she asked him once the flowers had been arranged.
"Cheese," he said. "And wine."
Her eyes widened marginally, and she gave him a warm look of gratitude. His cheeks tinged with the faintest pink, and he busied himself with opening his bundle and arranging it on the table in front of them, casting a spell to set the cheese knife going, cutting perfectly even slices.
She bypassed the armchair, and sat on the sofa next to him, their knees an inch apart, and helped herself to one of the crackers he had prepared.
"Delicious, thank you," she said. "Is that gorgonzola?"
Snape confirmed her guess and gave her a curious look. "You are a connoisseur of cheese?"
"My parents loved it, "Hermione gave him a sad smile. "They introduced me to the world of cheese very young."
"Forgive me," he frowned. "But... What do your parents have to say about this marriage law? Have you advised them of our match?"
"They don't know about it," Hermione shrugged. "Or me. I erased their memories and set them up with new lives in another country before we went on the run. I found them after, but... Well, I couldn't reverse the spell."
He gaped at her. "I didn't know, I apologize-"
"It's okay, no one knows, except Harry and Ron. I kept them a secret for their own safety, so it's not something I spread around a lot. Even now I have enemies and they're completely defenceless."
"Of course," he frowned. "Could they not have been given safe harbour... The Order safehouses..."
"We both know the Headmaster had favoured chess pieces," Hermione raised an eyebrow at him. "I had already asked for assistance, but when nothing was done, I had to take things into my own hands, and I knew they wouldn't leave the country without me. But you know I couldn't go and leave Harry and Ron behind to do everything on their own."
"Of course," he agreed, but still looked unsettled. "He asked too much of you."
"He asked too much of all of us," Hermione agreed. "And yet we are still here, and he is not. So, I'm not sure if I can fault him on it, even if I hate him for it a little at times. He put so much on the both of us, I rather wish he had allowed us just a little more information, a little more communication. I suspected you were on our side the whole time, but it would have been nice to have been able to actually communicate with you."
Snape stared at her. "You didn't know. You couldn't have."
"There was too much evidence to believe the obvious," she shrugged. "Not in what you did, but in what you didn't do. I couldn't piece together the full story until after the fact, but throughout there were just too many pieces that clicked into place. Even when the sword was delivered, I knew you were involved, although I couldn't figure out how the Patronus fitted."
Snape swallowed. "Quite."
"We don't need to talk about the war," Hermione said. "Not tonight, anyway. I'm sure we will have rather a lot of time to compare notes at a later date. You were going to tell me about your apprenticeship."
Snape looked at her with gratitude and began speaking of his old Master, his short temper and the ridiculous demands he made. Hermione asked him probing questions about his assignments, and the antidote to Stingworm venom that had won him his Mastery, and they got lost in the easy conversation.
Somewhere during the evening, Hermione had lifted her legs up underneath her, her knees now leaning firmly against his thigh. Severus had turned towards her, his arm along the back of the couch, his thumb a hair's breadth from her shoulder.
He asked her about her ski trips to Switzerland, her experiences on Muggle aircraft. She asked him about his excursions harvesting ingredients in the wild, his research trips to foreign libraries.
Eventually, their conversation tapered off, and they both knew it was late by how far down the fire had burned in the grate, but the exact hour was a mystery.
"I trust your nerves about marrying me are settled," he prompted. "At least marginally."
"You could say that," she agreed with a shy smile. "And yours?"
"My biggest fears are put to rest."
"What were they?" she asked, curious.
"That you would regret your offer. That you would be resentful towards me. That you would... fear me."
"Well, I don't," she affirmed. "To all three. I've found you intimidating at most, but I suppose that is inevitable. You're older than me, and you were the Headmaster. You're a powerful wizard. But I also know you're an honourable one, so I'm not afraid of you in the slightest. And the fact you were my professor, well...I've been gradually getting to see more of your different sides for years. It helps to see who you are as a man, not just who you are in your job, or your role in the war."
He nodded in acceptance.
"What are your lesser fears?" she asked. "Perhaps we can put them to bed as well."
His cheeks tinged pink again, and he averted his eyes. "Well, that's just the issue, isn't it?"
"Oh..." Hermione blushed as well. "I guess that's what I'm nervous about as well. I suppose we should talk about that too."
"You had," Severus cleared his throat. "You had indicated a desire to... practice. Ahead of the deadline."
"I'm not sure if I used the word practice," she laughed. "But it would put my mind at rest, I think. To have some idea of each other's expectations, rather than being surprised on the day."
He watched her carefully, but said nothing, and Hermione was struck with the realization he was just about as nervous as she was. She had no idea how experienced he was and had no desire to ask, neither did she want to go into detail about her botched relationship with Ron.
"Perhaps," she diverted. "We could start by saying some things we find attractive about the other?"
Severus swallowed thickly. "Such as?"
It was such a Slytherin tactic to force her to go first, but luckily, she was Gryffindor enough not to care.
"Your hands," she said and reached out to touch his free one. She brushed the back of it smoothly with the pad of her thumb. "I've always liked your hands. They're graceful, deft. The hands of an artisan. Even these little scars... They speak of experience. I find them very attractive."
She ran her thumb over one such scar, and his skin twitched beneath her touch.
"Your eyes," he offered. "They're very expressive. And intelligent. And kind."
She gave him a lopsided smile. "Your eyes are beautiful too. They're so dark and deep."
His gaze flickered across her face. He reached out with the hand that had been lying on the back of her couch, and gently caressed her cheek with his forefinger.
"You have a nice smile," he said, his voice so low it was a whisper.
Hermione leaned in closer to him, releasing his hand to place her palm on his chest. She felt his fingers thread their way into her hair and she closed her eyes as her lips met his.
Again, it felt as though they were dancing with each other. She felt as though he was meeting her rhythm with perfect balance, and they just somehow... fit.
She angled her jaw and opened her mouth, inviting him in. He met her with equal pressure, his tongue probing at her own. A thrill of excitement ran through her and she shifted closer to him, deepening the kiss as hi hands started to roam up and down her back, exploring her curves with growing confidence.
When she finally pulled away, they were both panting, and she had somehow come to straddle his lap.
"I think I got a little carried away," she whispered against him.
"No kidding," he said, dazed himself.
"I didn't expect to find such... chemistry with you," she confided. "I knew we would get through and make it work somehow, I just... I never thought it would be like this."
"No kidding," he repeated, grinning this time, and pulled her back close to him again. She laid her head on his chest and listened to his beating heart.
"It's nothing we won't be doing within the month anyway," he reminded her after a moment.
"That's true," she said, her finger running over one of his white buttons. "You know, there's no reason we couldn't... start early."
He froze beneath her, his breathing stilted although she could hear his heart beating just as fast as ever.
"Are you saying... You want to..."
"We don't have to," she sat up and looked him in the eye. "And we can stop if one of us changes our minds... But part of me feels like it would be more of a choice this way. Like we'd be taking it into our own control, instead of doing everything by the Ministry's say so."
"You really want to... to try?"
"Only if you do."
"With you sitting how you are I'd find it hard to not want to."
"Sorry," she said sheepishly, but he moved his hands to her hips, keeping her in place.
"Don't be sorry," he told her seriously, and when he was sure she wouldn't move again, he ran his hands back up her back and pulled her back down to him, once again capturing her lips with his.