AN:

I believe I've been remiss in saying this: Thank you so much to my patient, thorough, and constant cheerleader, hizqueen4life. I'm a pain in the you-know-what to Beta for but she's a rockstar who rolls with it all, including my last minute re-writes before posting.

Chapter Ten

Observance

"Severus Caelum Tobias Snape!" Narcissa yelled out from the kitchen floo a floor above him. "I swear to Merlin, if you are in that bloody lab of yours without your knee wrapped and elevated I will shatter the other one!"

"Shite," he hissed, hobbling over to the closest worktop, banging his hip on the corner as he went.

Muttering a colorful stream of expletives, he shoved the teetering tower of potions journals, books, and notes to the ground and fell atop the seat, looking around for somewhere to prop his leg. However, a witch on an angrily, heel clicking mission, his cousin and friend turned pseudo-mother descended the stairs before he could find a suitable surface to prop his foot on.

"What am I going to do with you?" she asked in exasperation, dropping her medical bag on his prep table. "I mean honestly, you can't even comply with the simple instruction of staying off your leg for twenty-four hours." Gesturing for his swollen, unwrapped knee, she transfigured a cutting board into a second stool and said, "Why do I even bother? You're completely hopeless," patting her lap.

Grunting as he presented his stiff knee for inspection, Severus dryly responded, "Because you would be a dull, empty shell of a witch without the continuous hobby of yours that is making me fit for being in the presence of the worthless fucks that make up the Twenty-Eight."

"Oh and here I thought I just liked having unfettered access to the dramatic saga that is your life," she tartly replied, heavily patting his healing knee several times with a devious smile. "And remember my little Ferdinand, you're one of those worthless fucks."

"Hardly," he sharply replied, masking his wince though the slight twitch in his left eye gave his discomfort away.

Removing her hand with a smirk, Narcissa teasingly asked, "Well since you already look dreadfully uncomfortable — through every fault of your own for disregarding my recovery orders as your healer — will you be participating in the season this year? The presentation ball is on Ostara which is only a few months away and you know we begin prepping the witches for their debut in just a few weeks. And as my unmarried charge and the eldest—"

"Cissy," he warned.

"But—"

"No."

Puffing a breath up in defeat, she lamented, "Fine, don't come. I mean it's only my first year ever hosting the opening ball and I am only the youngest witch to ever receive the honor. And I mean it's not as if I agreed to marry Lucius sodding Malfoy—"

"Technically the deal was for you to marry Abraxas."

"— in order to be able to adopt you.

"It's alright though. The other society harpies already chat gossip behind my back. What's a bit of added fuel as they speculate why the wizard who is basically my son remains unattached and unpresented as a bachelor looking to court. It's only my reputation after all."

"You're a manipulative wench, you know that?" Severus grumbled.

"So you'll do it?"

"Fuck no."

"Regulus will be there this season," the witch tried to further entice.

"Remind me to send him my condolences."

"Ugh! You are impossible! Please, Severus. I never ask you to do anything."

"No, nothing at all," he drily responded, adjusting the heat on one of the six cauldrons he had been tending to before her unannounced arrival. "Only learn to eat properly at a formal place setting; take lessons for no less than a half dozen different ballroom dances and master them; learn the ruddy language of flowers and all other manner of useless, trite courting rituals," he ticked off without looking up from his work on the final stages before siphoning. "Oh and let's not forget the endless critiques on how to be more, agreeable and pleasing. As if I really fucking care what anyone has to say about my disposition."

"Speaking of which," she distractedly digressed. "Why isn't your hair tied back? It looks as if you haven't given it a proper wash in four days and it's not yet noon," Narcissa observed, running her fingers through the humidity lank ends of his inky black hair. Shifting his leg to her seat, she came around and began pulling the top half back from his face, securing the collar length ends in a bun. "I guess that'll do though the damage looks to already be done. You'll need a good scrubbing before you bring these to Cale.

"You know, your hair isn't that curly. It has more of a wave like Andi's did. You could continue flying under the radar and enjoy the benefit that is the luscious hair of being a Black," she preened, flipping her shiny, icy blonde locks over her shoulder with a cascading ripple.

Wishing to nip any further discussion about his parentage in the bud, Severus snapped, "Are you going to examine my knee? Because if not, I have work to do and would appreciate being left alone to do it."

Rolling her eyes at him, Narcissa conceded, "Fine, just know, this isn't the end of this conversation. Death is getting closer and closer to Orion each day and when he finally comes to claim that old, philandering bastard, House of Black will need an heir."

"And you all will have Reggie so you'll be in great hands."

Finally opening up her bag up but needing to have the last word, she murmured, "It could, should, be you," setting to work on examining his knee which she had needed to re-shatter, vanish, and completely regrow after the less than acceptable job he had done at mending himself.

After receiving a reluctant clearing on his regrown knee joint — Narcissa having tried to convince him several times to take another day or two with minimal exertion — Severus finished his next delivery for Bespoke Brews, the Diagon Alley apothecary with a clientele made up of near every deep pocketed witch and wizard in Britain and a waitlist of scores more wishing to make the roster of on demand, custom creations. At nineteen, he was the youngest wizard to receive a mastery within the British and European Guilds of potioneers. Though it was a great distinction and testament to his skill and natural talent, many of the more coveted jobs and positions within developmental think tanks had been put off by his young age, turning down his applications with notes about believing him to be in need of workplace experience before joining their teams.

Saint Mungo's, as well as the Ministry, had not been as concerned about his age, both having heavily recruited him during his final year of Hogwarts and through his last months as an apprentice. For obvious reasons clearly imprinted upon his inner left arm, working for the government had been a resounding no. The hospital however had held a certain appeal to him. They offered a mixture of mundane, advanced specialty, and completely custom and even experimental brewing. They however did not offer much in the way of creative freedom. The hospital administrators none too gently requested that all potions adhered to the published way of creation regardless of the copious amounts of modifications he had made over the years to increase potency and effectiveness while reducing overall preparation and brew time. Unable to get past the idiocy that was a board of parchment pushers who were only concerned with bottom lines and liability and not with the actual care of patients and quality of healing, he hadn't lasted even a month before he was in search of work in his admittedly narrow field of mastery. Then he had received a letter of recruitment from Cale Alder, the wizard who owned and operated Bespoke Brews.

Apothecary work had not been on Severus's list of starting jobs, his long term career goals skewed more towards the academic endeavors of invention and possible curriculum rewrite given how antiquated Advanced Potions Making — the standard NEWT text approved by Hogwarts and the Ministry — had become. However the shop's reputation made the offer more than tempting. Further enticing him into meeting with Mr. Alder, was the added benefit of getting to work from wherever he pleased. He didn't have to share a lab space or equipment. He managed his own time table, brewing when it was conducive to his own schedule and that of his political activities. He also received the freedom to brew exactly as he wished. Not just with the standard shop supplies — the mundane aspects of such a job being what had originally dissuaded him from working in such a field — but with the tailored potions experience Mr. Alder offered and with the bespoke consultation and brewing he did as well.

Within just a few weeks of beginning his employment, Severus had a full roster of clients provided in part by the shop's waitlist but also through Narcissa and her network of witches who did lunch, as well as through Madam Pomfrey who habitually handed out his card to those in need of a reputable and more importantly discreet apothecary. It was easy work that paid far better than he could have ever hoped to receive under the employment of other shops in the Alley and had turned out to be rather competitive with the places that had denied him employment. And as he started to push the shop's door open, the gold bell beginning an eager sway as it waited for enough force to jingle, he found a new reason to love his job and appreciate the nuisance that was bringing his deliveries in person.

Across the cobblestone way, coming out of the emerald colored bookshop, Between the Covers, was his ruthless little angel, walking backwards as she happily smiled to the shop owner who held the door open and continued the final words of their conversation. Wrapped in a hunter green jumper that molded to the slight curves of her pert breasts, dark blue jeans that were tucked into shiny black wellies with misty pink polka-dot bows on the back, and a tumble of frizzy curls, the little witch was as enthralling in her prim innocence in the wintery afternoon sun as she had been two nights ago under the strips of silvery moonlight. The thought hadn't had purchase in his mind since meeting her — the meaning of the word used in its loosest interpretation — but as he backed up from the door to watch her, Severus was certain that the enchantment her presence held over him was more than a sudden bout of infatuated lust born from the adrenaline rush of dueling and hearing her mind slip with her deeper, more secret predilections. She was an unknown — a piece on the board none within the Dark Lord's ranks had been aware of or expecting that night — something for him to tread into with absolute caution but it wouldn't serve as a deterrent. He was determined to make the sweet and fiery, would be little his. Even if he had to pull out and dust off all of Narcissa's training and coaching in the ways of proper society courting.

However first, he needed to ascertain as much as he could about her. Learn her, study her, understand her. Not as a witch he desired and coveted but as his enemy. He refused to fall victim to the age-old story of men giving up everything for a manipulative temptress who was only there to lead them to their doom. Nor did he wish to re-experience the acute burn that had come along with his tendency to fall too hard and too fast upon meeting a witch that gave him tunnel vision.

Severus couldn't recall Hermione No-Known-Surname, as Lupin had called her — a name that his mouth had practiced caressing when he had taken himself in hand over her memory and blended visions of what he hoped were a future and not simply fantasy — from his school days. Even if she had been a few years older than him, he was certain the name would have wiggled loose in his head from Cissy's tenure. So even though he knew her to be British — her accent rather posh hinting to a moneyed upbringing despite what the poor puffer coat she currently wore would suggest — he surmised that she had studied abroad at either Beauxbatons or Durmstrang though she lacked the hardened exterior Dolohov and his comrades from the cold north exuded. Combined with her lack of social footprint, if his theory on her welltodo upbringing was correct, it guided him to the conclusion that she had been in Saint James's Park on personal request of Dumbledore himself and not because she was in fact aligned with the Order; a favorable point for him.

From their interactions that night, he could also fill in that she was skilled. Possibly more so than she had shown. Until her, the Order had never engaged in scrimmages against him and the others with a witch in tow thanks to a nasty rumor that had begun to go around about their darker methods of torture and information extraction. So for them to allow her to come out and play when he knew Lily had yet to see actual battle spoke about the level of capability Hermione possessed. The underhanded way she had tried to incapacitate him strengthened that particular argument. It also gave insight into understanding her.

She was unafraid to get her hands dirty; to besmirch the light within herself. She had seen battle before, not just classroom dueling, he was certain of it. She had seen it and with how fast she drew her wand and took to the offensive, she had barely survived, had possibly even lost someone dear to her, driving the hard lesson home, turning her into a tiny warrior goddess determined to drag him and anyone else who she opposed back to hell where they belonged.

Beyond that however, he didn't know much. At least not anything that could be considered useful in swaying the Dark Lord into recognizing her as an asset and thus allowing him to pursue her with relentless devotion. With a few hours remaining in his afternoon before he would be summoned to Little Hangleton though, he hoped to glean enough about the beautiful enigma to accomplish such a feat since having his Lord's blessing would make things infinitely easier for him going forward.

Watching from the apothecary's glazed window, he took note of how Hermione's shoulders tensed before forcibly relaxing as Lily loudly called down the side street to her. Slowly glancing up the cobblestone way with her as she turned, Severus noted the redhead that had once been his friend had her arm linked with her former Gryffindor roommate, Marlene, if he was properly recalling. Though her tone had suggested a friendly and familiar report between the two of them, her tightly held jaw and narrowing green eyes suggested otherwise. The golden blonde in her company furthered the unspoken rhetoric of hostility as she eyed and dismissed Hermione as insignificant before leaning in to whisper in Lily's ear. As his own witch approached with fortifying nerve, the other two let out ringing peels of laughter that he was certain came from words that were all together unkind about their new, reluctant companion.

Now that's curious. Why join in, little girl, when you would so clearly rather be anywhere but in her presence?

Waiting until after they crossed back up to the main thoroughfare of the high street and started to melt into the bustle of afternoon shoppers — Lily and Marlene still joined at the elbow while Hermione kept a healthy distance between her and the other two — Severus held the echoing bell above the door to provide himself with a silent exit. Standing over a majority of the Alley's patrons, he was able to keep a comfortable enough distance so as to not accidentally stick out to them but keep an eye on their movements, predicting their path before they made their turns and shop selections.

Most of the afternoon passed with a mind numbing perfunctory cataloging of their movements. Each conversation he overheard was filled with inane chatter over Potter and Black with Hermione remaining near silent through it all, only speaking when prodded to by a searching Lily. While her lack of interest in either of the two — especially in the half-brother he never hoped to have to reveal — delighted him, he couldn't help but grow exasperated with the unending vapedness. He wanted and needed to learn about her on a level that made her valuable to the Order. Not on a level that made her valuable to him. There would be time for that later.

As it stood, all he had gathered from their shopping expedition was that she was rather tight with her purse strings. Her eyes would linger over lace dresses, her fingers caressing silk blouses, her already slow steps stuttering as she craned her neck for one last glance at sky high heels with bows affixed to the backs, but she never tried anything on, let alone made a purchase. On more than one occasion, she had even balked and hurriedly backpedaled from an item after turning the price tag around for inspection. Her demeanor over the pretty things she so obviously wanted but denied herself was slowly obliterating his conclusions about her wealth based on her speech. Beyond that, the clear financial burden she was carrying pulled at him, unwisely drawing him closer to her.

He knew all too well what it was like to want the things others had. Not in an envious way — though he did possess a close kinship with that particular sin — but in a way that made it so they didn't feel so alone and excluded. Being dragged out and made to stand amongst a shop full of things one had no hope of being able to afford, no matter how they wished otherwise, was a special sort of torture. One he wanted to shield her from experiencing. Especially because as he tracked his former friend's movements around them, he began to suspect she and the blonde were putting Hermione through the experience intentionally as they giggled and almost relished in her continued excuses and reasons as to why she was repeatedly leaving empty handed. Through it all though, she kept her head high and remained outwardly unaffected by it; her pride and stubbornness well-developed traits he easily recognized.

By the end, Severus found not only had he become more taken with her but that she spoke to a level of protectiveness within him he previously thought untappable by anyone but Regulus and Narcissa. Too often he found himself wishing to step between her and Lily, another occurrence that once upon a time before his rose colored glasses were ripped off he thought would never come to pass. Hermione called and spoke to a part of him that while recognized and occasionally indulged in, had yet to fully be allowed to unfurl and expand. He wanted to protect her, possess her, provide for her, guide and teach her, and above all care for her. He wanted, needed, to be the person she sought out for safety and nurturing. Her anchor and her safe harbor. The one she trusted to let go with and sink into the depths of herself that had whispered and whimpered inside her mind, itching and begging for release. It had been during the witches' last stop when those needs within him transitioned from a rolling simmer to boiling over; the shift too quick for him to have stopped.

Inside Flourish and Blotts, Hermione had come alive with excitement and all but scampered off to disappear within the many stacks of the multi-level shop. She skipped and twirled through the carpeted rows — her giddy spinning prompting him to cast a disillusionment charm over himself lest she catch him on her trail — her hands stretched out to reverently caress the spines of every book she passed, occasionally pulling one from the shelf to thumb through. Each selection she made however was shortly returned to its home to wait for another chance at being opened by an eager mind, his own cataloging each title as they passed and storing the information away for later.

Up through Transfiguration theory and down uncommon Charms they went, she unaware of him and he all too aware of her and the stirring she elicited within him as he warred with himself over revealing his presence so as to corner her against an alcove as he done in the park against that tree. Deeper they went, the noise from the front of the store beginning to drift off as the shop's inventory began to give way to fiction, a genre that Between the Covers was more known for stocking in abundance than the back to school shopping staple they were currently in. She surprised him further — though in truth he should have been able to pinpoint such a facet about her — as she slipped down the small case of stairs into the romance section of the store.

Surrounded by the sensual titles and erotic covers, his little angel's steps slowed, her eye becoming discerning as she lifted book after book from the shelves for inspection. Though she smiled and sighed over countless blurbs, the stack she held close to her chest as she moved about remained small, her coveted treasures totally only three or four books. Glancing over her shoulder, her bottom lip pinched between her teeth, she rose onto her toes to stretch her line of sight before lowering herself into a deep squat and creeping her fingers over the titles on the bottom shelf at the end of one of the last rows. The blush that bloomed on her cheeks as she kept checking her surroundings taunted his cock; the appendage growing hard as she replaced her lip with her thumb, biting on her nail for a moment before sealing her lips around the finger and sucking.

Setting aside the books she held, Hermione dropped the rest of the way to the ground and sat cross legged, reaching for one of the titles. Placing it in her lap, she reverently petted the cover before opening it and sweeping through until a scrap of blank parchment fluttered free. Thumb still in her mouth and her other arm wrapped around her middle, she began to read. Occasionally she would move her free hand from holding herself to the pages holding the book open as she took a moment to either process, appreciate, or most probably, cool down from what she had just read; her quiet breath hitching and her softly flared hips often wiggling and shifting moments before she would look up.

She didn't read for long, getting up with an almost reluctant manner after only a few minutes. With the same scrap of paper back in the book, she returned it to its spot and began appraising the books she had held on to before deciding on only a single title. Unable to resist after a day of watching her engage in frugal over frivolous ways, Severus picked up the rejected books as well as the one she had been reading, snagging a copy for himself, his curiosity over what lay within its pages too great.

As she made her way back to the front of the store where the till was located, her attention was once again caught and held for more than a passing moment. On display by the entrance to the children's section, were shelves stuffed to bursting with a plethora of stuffed animals. Dragons, nifflers, unicorns, and all other manner of magical creatures dominated the cramped space. Intermingled throughout were creatures of a less fantastical nature: dogs, cats, horses, even one of his own patronus.

Hermione moved with a single minded focus, her steps fast and precise as she zeroed in on the menagerie. The way in which she wove through the patrons until she was within reach of the collection had him smiling, her own beaming face as she reached for one settling something restless within him. It was so simple and yet it brought her so much joy which started to lower her guard and allow her little side to shimmer to the surface. That look and the contagious feelings that came with it amplified the soft, dominant nature within him tenfold.

While he had engaged in play with littles before hand, he had never had one of his own. Relationships weren't something he particularly had the time for or the worthwhile to prioritize. Any relationship took work but the sort he would want and need would require more effort than he had ever been willing to give. Seeing the glimpse of his little angel and what depths lurked beneath her innocent surface however had him wanting to drop everything so that he could haul her onto his lap and feel her nuzzle into him as he prodded her for answers as to what she required of her Daddies, his ultimate desire to be accepted as hers and be the last one she ever had.

"Ugh Hermione, really? A stuffed animal?" Lily ridiculed, snapping Severus out of the daze his thoughts had lulled him into as she snatched up the stuffie his little witch had been fawning over. "This is what I was telling you about earlier, Mar.

"We got to half a dozen shops and she turns her nose up at everything she sees but put her in front of a pile of children's toys and all of a sudden she lacks self control. I'm surprised the book she has is an actual novel. I half expected it to be nursery rhymes.

"Hermione, you are never going to keep a wizard like Regulus's attention with the way you dress and act. You're new and as such, fascinating to him but he'll eventually grow bored of you."

"Especially if you don't start acting like a woman," Marlene interjected.

"Yeah, let us help you."

Already beginning to remove the disillusionment charm from himself in order to intervene and preserve the delicate state of mind that was little space, Severus was surprised that while her eyes had begun to turn glassy, her face remained neutral as she replied too low for him to hear. Whatever she said proved effective as the faux pleading look on Lily's face melted away into open mouthed shock as she caught the book the curly haired witch shoved into her hands before stalking off.

"Little angel has a pitchfork," he hummed to himself, as he watched her go.

Once she was out of his sight, he turned back to the scene of the altercation and finished removing his charm. Walking at a fast pace and not fully operating with a clear mind, Severus silently parted the indignant witches, ignoring the red head's attempts at garnering his attention. Grabbing the discarded book and the small stuffed animal, he went up to the till and paid for the lot.

It was as he left and made his way down the street to the owl post office that he finally registered which of the stuffies had won his witch's attention. Resting atop her books and partially peeking out of the bag was a swan. Of all the choices she could have made, she had selected the one that was his patronus, the match to his spirit animal. The knowledge of such a choice caused him to stop in the middle of the walkway as he stared down at the plush, white bird.

Regulus would have called it fate or a sign, telling him something trite like, "They were a kismet pair." And in the past, he would have mocked his little brother for such a statement. However given each accidental run in Severus had had with Hermione thus far, he was no longer sure he could do such a thing.

The reminder of Regulus set him back on the course for the post office, his mind turning over the new complication of his brother's rumored interest in the same witch that held his own as her willing captive. Beliefs of fate and destiny aside, that complicated things far beyond their present state. If what he heard was true, he didn't know how he could back out of the pursuit for Hermione's affections nor did he know how he could stay in. That however was going to have to be a quarry to ponder for another time.

Coming into the owl office, Severus approached the counter, saying, "I wish to send a parcel to Hermione Lukovë, address unknown," as he placed the shopping bag on top, his mind already pulling forth Cissy's long forgotten lectures on proper courting correspondence and turning over possible ideas of what to say in the card that would accompany his present. If he were to face competition with his friend and favored brother, he was going to need to make use of all the traditional customs. No doubt Regulus had already begun to do the same, starting from the moment he had first met her.