And it was as she had said. Six months wasn't long. ... From that day onwards Severus was painfully formal with her, and Hermione had only just begun to wonder if she had imagined the whole thing until Christmas came and she received a small present with his initials on the card.
She smiled when she opened it. It wasn't anything flash - just a journal, and a folded origami flower - but it meant a lot to her just the same. She placed the flower on her nightstand and used the journal to organize her revision notes.
She nodded acknowledgement to him at breakfast, noting with pleasure he was wearing the scarf she had knitted him.
It frustrated her to no end, knowing he was there just out of reach, a perpetual maybe. Not quite hers and yet not not hers either.
The castle was almost empty over the holidays. Most staff remained but there were few students. Those orphaned by the war like herself and several Slytherins whose parents were in Azkaban. She felt dreadful for the youngest in particular - a first year boy named Gregory who seemed small and waif-like at the mostly empty table. She made a point of sitting next to him for Christmas lunch. On Boxing Day, she nearly jumped out of her skin when Severus emerged from nowhere and pulled her into a quiet courtyard.
"Oh, it's you," she gasped, catching her breath.
He gave her a bemused look but didn't apologise.
"Would you like to go into Muggle London with me?" he asked instead.
"What, now?" Her eyes widened marginally.
"Today," he nodded. "Soon."
Part of her wanted to point out the rules that they would be breaking, but she smothered it and said yes instead.
Within half an hour they were at the gates, dressed appropriately and Hermione's heart racing. Despite being technically forbidden, it felt rather like a date.
Once past the threshold of the school she stepped closer to him and let him apparate them both. She took an extra moment to enjoy his scent before being swept away by the uncomfortable feeling, and then took another moment for the nausea to subside.
"You alright?" he asked her gently.
"Perfect," she grinned up at him. "Where are we going?"
"Museum?" he asked, and she readily agreed a wide grin spreading across her face.
"It's been a long time since I've been," she said, happily walking along next to him. "I used to go every holidays back before I came to Hogwarts. And then for the first few years as well, until the war picked up."
He nodded, seemingly deep in thought. "It's been a long time for me too."
They ambled along the streets together, arms brushing every now and again, but she refrained from taking his hand in hers. Anyone passing by would think they were colleagues or friends, but she didn't dare show her interest in him in public.
"I loved the flower, by the way. And the notebook," she said softly. "I... Thank you."
He gave her a self-satisfied half smile, which she thought was somehow adorable framed by the scarf she'd knitted him. He didn't need to express his gratitude for that - he'd shown her blatantly enough by wearing it, after all.
When they finally got to the museum, he stood even closer to her, shadowing her as she trailed from exhibit to exhibit asking him if he'd been to various countries or was familiar with the cultural context of the various items on display.
It struck her as odd that although they had been through a lot of shared experiences together there was still so much she didn't know about him. So much she wanted to know.
Feeling brave she linked her arm with his and pulled him over to one of the bench seats near a quiet corner surrounded by Dutch ceramics, her leg resting along the length of his own.
He glanced down at her, a curious expression on his face that she couldn't interpret, and then returned his gaze ahead of them.
"If I had been taken that night, I'd still be in Azkaban," he spoke so softly. "There's a long backlog of people they're working through."
She took his hand in hers and squeezed it.
"You know people there?" She asked.
"A few on their way out, a few who will probably never get out," he grimaced. "Even without the dementors, it's not a nice place."
"You've been there?"
"Only for a week. After the first war," he gave her a curious look. "I would have thought you'd have researched this all thoroughly."
"I researched you a bit when I didn't know it was you," she laughed a little at the memory. "Trying to puzzle out the identity of the half-blood Prince."
He seemed to blush again at the reference.
"I found your identity through your mother in the end, although a little too late," she hummed. "And in my first year I found your list of publications and read them, of course. But beyond that... I think I've come to trust you enough you can tell me these things as you feel comfortable. I'd rather hear them from you than read about them in papers anyway."
"You... you haven't read Rita's book about me, have you?" He asked at length.
"Of course not," she quirked an eyebrow at him. "You remember some of the stuff she's written about me, right? We have a fair bit of animosity between us."
"You do have an unusually large list of enemies for someone so young," he mused.
"I busted her in her Animagus form when she was writing about Harry, trapped her in a jar and kept her in my trunk for a few months," she admitted wickedly. "Then blackmailed her into writing that article in the Quibbler that went viral. We're both still fairly wary of each other, but it's something you should probably know if we are to be... friends. Even if we do nothing, if we are seen together, she will probably start a smear campaign."
"I see," he said, and shifted a little further away from her.
"It's not to say I don't want..." Hermione trailed off with a frustrated growl. "I like you. I want to keep getting to know you."
"But we should keep a respectful distance in public," he added firmly. "Our engagement, however brief, was public. I wouldn't want to tarnish your name."
Hermione frowned at him. She could hardly push him on this - they'd agreed to six months and the consequences were just as hard for him as for her.
"But we can be friends," she said firmly. "Would you... would you come out with me and Harry sometime? Or some of the others? If you're seen in a group with us it wouldn't be so odd for us to be seen together alone, would it?"
Snape winced. "I find Potter...Somewhat tiresome with his repeated apologies. But perhaps he will improve on exposure if he gets them all out of his system."
Hermione gave him a warm smile. "I appreciate that you're trying. Ron and Harry have their flaws, but they're my best friends and the only family I've really got left."
Severus gave her a sympathetic look.
"Thank you for inviting me out today," she said.
He gave her a half smile, and she felt her stomach melt again.
"Come, we'll get some lunch. Then you can do shopping. It's what I told Minerva I was escorting you for so it would be suspicious if you didn't return with something."
"You told her we were going?" she asked, a little surprised.
"Of course," his lips twitched again in humour. "Although it shouldn't surprise me that would be an odd thought to you. I've long known you to have a delinquent streak."
She chuckled and nudged him playfully before they continued their walk, the backs of their hands occasionally brushing again whenever the inch between them closed enough.
After lunch they continued through the shops and Hermione bought a number of things for herself as well as upcoming birthdays. She knew Severus' birthday was in January as well, and insisted on getting him something in person immediately, partly so he would have a souvenir and a reminder of their date. She didn't know when they would be able to come out like this again, but she wanted him to see how special it had been to her.
She introduced him to one of the modern kitchenware stores where she introduced him to his great interest to novelty items like garlic crushers and herb scissors.
"You know, the wizarding world is kind of far behind on these kinds of things. You could totally plagiarise some of these ideas and improve on them. Like, imagine herb scissors like this with a bar in there that you could spell to your measurement. It'd save a lot of time," Hermione said, looking down at them curiously.
"Recommending plagiarism, are we?" He quirked his eyebrow at her. "There's that delinquent streak again."
She laughed, his sarcastic but witty humour having grown on her. She wondered if this is what it would be like if they actually had a chance together. Joking around, visiting museums, talking about potions and books... It was something a deep part of her longed for. She had tried dating Ron, but his immaturity had grated on her and their personalities clashed dreadfully. They had split amicably enough but still with enough awkwardness to make her not want to spend Christmas at the Weasleys with him and Harry.
She subtly folded their bags down and stowed them in her magically expanded bag.
They loitered for a moment, and it struck her that he didn't want their day to end just about as much as she did.
"I have somewhere else to show you," he said after a moment. "Will you make one more stop with me?"
"Of course," she agreed and followed him down an alley to another apparition point.
Within seconds they were in another suburb well out of the city and Hermione was looking down the gloomy street with interest.
"Where are we?" she asked.
"Spinner's End, Cokeworth," he answered and led her up the pathway towards a dingy run-down house in a line-up of just as dingy houses. "This is my home."
"Oh," her eyes widened in surprise. He tapped his wand to the door, and she felt a ripple of magic wash over her. It must have been his defensive wards coming down, she guessed. He then opened the door and ushered her inside. She looked around curiously as he turned on the lights.
It was drafty and cold, dimly lit and sparsely furnished, the most interesting thing being a bookshelf stuffed with old books. The wallpaper was peeling in places and looked like it was from the fifties by the faded patterns. The entire vibe of the place was desolate and unloved.
She took it all in and turned back to him, but she couldn't think of what to say. He stood, watching her reaction with a neutral expression.
She blushed and gave him a nervous smile, suddenly nervous under his examination.
"So," she said at last. "You stay here during the holidays?"
"Yes," he nodded. "Although I often have spent the term breaks at Hogwarts as well."
"Your childhood home?" She guessed.
"Yes."
"Will you give me the tour?" she asked, and he nodded and walked the short distance to the kitchen, opening the door to gesture inside.
She followed and looked. Everything was sparse but functional with a fridge and oven although they were both turned off at the wall.
"You're set up with electricity," she smiled lightly. "That's good. Simple appliances are something I missed like crazy when I was staying at Grimmauld Place."
He gave her another of his curious looks and led the way back across the living area to a small bedroom next to the stairs. The walls in this room were grubby and the curtains smelled a bit stale.
"Wormtail stayed here the last couple of years," he said disdainfully. "Before that it was my childhood room. I don't find much attraction for using it for much anymore."
"Understandable," she nodded. "You know Crookshanks almost murdered him once, before we worked out who he was? Ron didn't speak to me for ages, but in hindsight I wish he'd just finished off the job while he had his claws on him."
"Would've saved us all a lot of trouble," he agreed, his tone bleak but the corner of his lips twitching again in what she had come to recognize as his signature look of amusement.
"You could strip it bare still," she suggested. "I mean, I don't want to be offensive or presumptuous or anything, but if you'd like assistance I did do a fair amount of work on Grimmauld Place which was in a lot worse condition."
"I didn't bring you here to put you to work," he said, his voice soft. She couldn't quite interpret his meaning, but she didn't think she had offended him at the very least.
"I know," she moved a step closer to him but looked around the room another time. "Although I don't much like the idea of you in a place that you feel so negative about you don't even want to use it. I know I can be bossy, so I'll try to drop it but please know you can ask me for things like that if you want to."
He gave her a bemused smile and nodded but said nothing more. Instead, he turned and led the way up the stairs to the top bedroom and ensuite. He had only opened the doors and stayed in the hallway, but she pushed past him keen to get a look at his bedroom.
It was utilitarian and bare as well, although that might have more to do with the fact he admittedly spent very little time here. She perched herself gingerly on the bed, resting against one of the posts on the footboard.
He continued to watch her with careful neutrality, but a glint was in his eyes that wasn't there before and he seemed to be clenching his jaw slightly. She hoped she hadn't made him angry by sitting on his bed without asking permission.
She bit her lip and watched as his eyes dropped to it momentarily.
"Do you mind if I ask you...Why did you bring me here?" she asked finally.
"I wanted you to see where Ilive," he said simply. "How I live."
She waited for him to continue but he didn't, just watched and waited.
"Will you come and sit next to me?" She asked him and he did although his movements were more stiff than usual.
She shimmied closer, and half pushed half pulled him down until he fell onto the pillows next to her. She gazed into his eyes and his expression shifted again from neutral to naked. She realized with a start how vulnerable he was making himself. How ready for a rejection he was.
"Tell me what you're thinking," she begged him. "I'm having a hard time guessing."
His eyes flickered between her own.
"I'm not a well-liked man, nor a wealthy one. I have a hard time considering what possible reason beyond the extreme measures required by that blasted marriage law you could have to desire any... any kind of a relationship with me beyond friendship that you could not find with a much more worthy candidate. Someone younger, kinder, less tainted by the war, less... less like me."
Hermione sighed and pulled him closer to her. He allowed it but remained stiff in her arms.
"I don't want your pity," he said.
"Pity?" She asked in surprise. "I feel rather a lot of things for you Severus Snape, but pity isn't really one of them."
"Would you like to elaborate on that?" he requested dryly.
"I'm still working it out," she sighed and sat up, crossing her legs on the bedspread. He shifted himself up as well and came to rest his back in the headboard. "I like you. I like you very much, and you're right there are a few things that could pose problems for us if we decided to pursue something together. But I don't get together with people out of pity, Severus. The implication is a bit insulting."
"I didn't mean it that way."
"I know you didn't," she said softly. "You know right after the war I tried dating Ron?"
"I'd heard of the headlines," he nodded. "Although I was in St Mungo's for much of that time."
"Right, well," she bit her lip. "There were a few reasons it didn't work. Partially, I just couldn't trust him. When we were on the run during the hardest stretch he just walked out and left us..." She frowned, her brow creasing. "Harry forgave him just like that, but I... I just couldn't help but think if he walked out on us then, how could I know he wouldn't walk out on me at any other point in time? That's not the kind of relationship I wanted."
She brought her knees together and rested her chin on them, looking Severus carefully over. "When the marriage law came out, I was honestly so relieved he was only eighteen. When we were together, he was just so shallow. He would snap hot and cold all the time and expect me to jump on his pity party whenever he wanted to whine about how hard everything was, then back him up when he talked about what a hero he was." She huffed lightly. "Sorry, I still get a bit frustrated when I think of it. I guess the point is, I don't have much patience for pity."
He reached over and brushed a tendril of hair out of her face.
"And it's not to say I don't feel sympathy for you. I do," she said honestly. "I don't like the thought of you having been so alone in your role during the war, having to put up with that slimeball Wormtail in your house. Having to be so hated during that final year. All of that just honestly sucked, and I wish it had been easier for you. But I also recognize how absolutely talented and clever you were, how brave and steadfast. I... I've got a lot of respect for you Severus, for what you did. But I'm not interested in you out of gratitude either."
"Then why?" He asked softly.
"The marriage law really got me thinking," she said slowly, thinking her words through carefully. "I had a full list of pros and cons and notes on what life would look like with each person." She gave him another searching look. "There were a lot of people who weren't involved in the forefront of the war. I think they would have struggled to understand me. There are the physical scars, which even now a lot of people shy away from, but you never have. But beyond that there's the PTSD things. Like how I always like to sit where I can see the door when I'm in a new place, or how I need to overprepare for everything because so often things went wrong and everyone relied on me, or sometimes I still eat too much -especially if I'm stressed - because of that trauma on the horcrux hunt when we never had enough to eat. Things that take a while to shake. I don't want someone who is insensitive or derisive of that, nor do I want anyone who would tiptoe around it like a taboo."
She could tell he was avidly interested and hanging off every word.
"Beyond that I wanted someone who is intelligent, who doesn't mind that I love reading, someone who I can have stimulating conversation with. The number of people who see my bookishness as something I need to be cured of is depressingly high, you know. But talking with you, I've... really enjoyed every minute of it. I think we could be quite complimentary in that regard. The one thing, the one box you don't currently tick is that I also would like someone who I can take places. Whether it's some ministry ball or dinner at the Weasleys. But if you're willing to try, I think we can bump the metrics off that criteria for awhile and just see how it works out. We can't know if it even will work, but I think there's enough there that it's worth trying, don't you?"
He replied with a kiss, long and gentle, tugging her back to lie by his side again and wrapped his arms around her. It made her feel warm, treasured. Feeling forward, she tugged his shirt out of his pants and trailed one hand up his back beneath his shirt but paused when he stiffened again.
"Is this okay?" she asked gently, holding her hand still on him until she had permission to continue.
"Of course. Hermione," he pulled her close and held her tightly. "I apologize. I had not thought this a possibility for today. I had not thought after seeing... that you would want to... I do not have any contraceptives on hand."
"Oh," she said and pulled away to look into his eyes. They were tinged with embarrassment and regret. "Would it disturb you to know I do?"
He stared at her in shock.
"I told you, I need to be ready in case of anything," she shrugged and sat up to rummage in her handbag until she pulled out the box of condoms they had already opened. She took one out and placed it on the bedside table, then pulled the drawer open and tossed the box in. "I grabbed them when I was getting ready to meet you. You know, just in case. You might as well keep these here. I'll pick up another box later."
He stared at her in wonderment for a moment, before plundering her mouth with vigour.