AN: Thank you for all the support! It is very deeply appreciated!
Hermione stared at Whipping Winona's picture more times than she wanted to admit. Every time she looked at the drag queen, she imagined Severus entering her bedroom holding the cape as she did, a mischievous gleam in his eyes. Then, he leaned into her ear, promising her the wildest of nights and the tenderest of mornings. All she needed to do was press her lips against his and promise that she would remain by his side forevermore.
The fantasies were almost worth the guilt she felt at forgetting Steven existed.
None of this was fair to him. Steven was a gentleman who treated Hermione well, the kind of man who would make an excellent husband. The fact that he was so familiar was another point in his favor. Also, he believed everything she said without question. She could spin as many of her tales as she wanted to around him, and he believed every word. Her chest constricted at the idea of lying to such a wonderful man. Yet if he understood why she disguised herself, he might find it in his heart to forgive her, or so she hoped.
Despite the desire to explore a relationship with Steven, Hermione was in Severus' kitchen, sipping a piña colada while he prepared one for himself. Severus Snape was not as much of a gentleman as Steven Turpin was. Actually, Severus wasn't much of a gentleman at all, though he always treated her well. Still, he had an edge which called to Hermione. The fact that she didn't need to lie to him about anything was a relief.
Then there was that cape, that damn cape she didn't notice until she saw that freaking flyer! Her mind wandered to all the possibilities of how he could use that cape, possibilities which dominated her daydreams. If he turned around, took off his cape right now, and told her he would do the most sensual things she could imagine with it, she would leap into his arms without another moment's thought.
How did Whipping Winona get that cape anyway? Was there any way to ask Severus about it without giving away that she was with another man when she saw the flyer? How much would he question her if she admitted she couldn't stop thinking about his robes and how they would look strewn across the floor?
"You appear lost in thought," Severus began.
She hummed before glancing up.
"Are you well?" He poured himself a piña colada into a green poco grande glass.
"Everything's fine. I was just thinking about a letter I need to write my parents," she twirled her straw around her drink.
"How are they faring?"
"Very well," Hermione sat up straighter. "They are looking at retiring soon, and are happy they have a warm place to stay. They said of all the places I could've sent them to, it was fortunate that they landed in Australia."
"I am glad the weather suits them," he sat across from her. "Though if warmth is what they desire, this would not be a terrible place to live."
"I told them that, but they said Las Vegas was too much of a good thing. They don't want to live in a scorching desert."
"But it's a dry heat."
"I told them that too, but they don't believe me," she raised her glass. "It's probably for the best. Them moving here would be too much of a good thing."
"So you're happy occasionally visiting Australia?"
"I think that is for the best. We get along better when we can hang up the phone whenever we'd like."
"Then," he raised his glass, "To parents who live close enough to be present, yet far enough away to allow one to live their own life."
"To the dry heat," she clinked the glass against his.
After taking a sip, he continued, "If they do visit again, let me know. I wouldn't mind treating them to dinner again."
"They'd love to see you again," she grinned. "To quote my dad, 'he's the least idiotic man you've ever introduced us to.'"
"I'm flattered," there was a gleam in his eyes, "your dad is not easy to please."
"Not when his daughter's heart is concerned anyway. Nobody's ever good enough for me," she took a sip of her drink.
"He has a point. Krum and Weasley weren't good enough for you."
"Yes, but if he had his way, I'd settle down with a nice muggle man and live out my life in peace, only using magic when necessary."
"Most muggle men would bore you out of your skull. They couldn't discuss your academic pursuits or challenge you on an intellectual level."
"Yes, but my dad thinks I'd be happier away from the Wizarding World. He and Mum think it's caused me enough pain and hasn't brought me much in the way of benefits."
"Do you think they're correct?"
"No, I want to stay where I am. The Wizarding World has brought me joy, though I can't deny it has also brought me heartache," her eyes fell on her right arm, which was covered by a long, emerald green sleeve. She held back the tears threatening to spill over as he envisioned the disgust in his eyes upon seeing that scar.
"That's the world in general," Severus noted. "Living in the muggle world caused me nothing but pain, until I experienced it through your eyes."
"My eyes?"
"Yes," he answered. "Until you moved here, I didn't think anyone would understand my fondness for muggle music, or see the point in me attending so many muggle concerts."
Hermione's eyes glistened as her lips curled upwards. "I wish I could've seen the looks in everyone's faces when you attended the Barry Manilow and Celine Dion concerts. Your outfit must have been the topic of more than a few conversations."
"Let's just say I was wise enough to wear a muggle suit that night."
"You wear muggle suits?" Her mind flashed to an image of him in a black tuxedo with a rose in his hand. With a half grin, he extended his hand to her, bidding her to take the flower. If he had any idea what his smile could do to a woman, they'd both be doomed.
"I have a couple for when I attend outings in the muggle world," he admitted.
She returned to the present. "You've never worn them around me."
"You've never given me a reason to wear them around you."
"What if I wanted you to give you a reason for wearing them?"
He raised an eyebrow.
"I mean," she bit her lip, "I was just thinking we have never gone out to dinner together. Sure, we've gone out with my parents, but never just the two of us."
"I didn't think you wanted to go to dinner with me. I thought you were content not going anywhere."
"I don't need you to take me anywhere. There's no pressure on you to spend money on me or anything," she answered too quickly for her liking, Then, she squirmed, "that doesn't mean I wouldn't mind seeing you dressed up."
"Why?"
She shrugged. "I guess I never thought of you in a suit before, so the image is enticing."
"I'll keep that in mind," Severus took a sip of his drink, his expression impassive.
"Anyway, you have a point about both worlds having their strengths and weaknesses," Hermione leaned back. "One of the things I appreciate about you is that you understand both worlds about as well I do. You understand the muggle world and its nuances. It isn't an area of research for you. Nobody's trying to convince you that they know more about the muggle world than you do."
"I always hated hearing Arthur drone on about inane things like toasters, as if they were the best invention known to anyone alive. It's a bloody toaster. It makes bread crisper. Other than that, it holds little importance."
"Yes!" Hermione threw up her hands. "He spent half of my engagement party to Ron asking me what muggle technology I'd bring into the marriage, and if he could use any of it. Then he gave me a shopping list of things I could buy for his 'research.' You would've sworn he was getting married, not me."
"Isn't the future father-in-law supposed to be the one who gives gifts and brings things into the marriage?"
"You'd think that," she shook her head. "But not Arthur. Muggles were exotic to him. We didn't have feelings or thoughts. We were nothing more than a series of random inventions."
"While muggles are more than inventions, I must say some prove quite useful. I am grateful for muggle AC, refrigerators, freezers, and television shows."
"It's easy to get absorbed into those obnoxious shows."
"Indeed, I fear falling ill again because that's when I am most likely to tune into General Hospital…"
"You watch General Hospital too?" Her eyes widened as her voice grew louder.
"Too?" He squirmed.
"Yes," she glanced at her lap. "I may have gotten ill one day and turned it on. Before I knew it, I was recording it to watch in my spare time."
He huffed. "General Hospital is a filthier habit than gambling."
She met his eyes. "And just as time consuming."
"Agreed," he shook his head and sighed. "I would say that finding out you are a General Hospital fan has lessened my opinion of you, but I am in no position to judge anyone concerning this matter."
Her lips curled upwards. "Do you want to have a General Hospital marathon sometime?"
"So long as we can take a shot every time someone screams about betrayal," Severus' expression matched hers, "I am amenable to that."
"Won't we both die if we play that game?"
"Possibly, but we will die with ridiculous smiles on our faces. There are worse ways to perish." He took a sip of his drink.
"True," she sipped her drink.
Severus opened his mouth to say something, only to be interrupted by a tapping on the window. He held up two fingers and strolled over to it. After he opened it, an owl flew , he removed the letter from its leg and began to open it.
Hermione had always been fascinated by Severus' delicate touch. He was one of the few people who knew how to break a seal without tearing the paper. Granted, he knew how to give a deep massage, but even then, he was careful and deliberate with his movements. The way his lips curled upwards made her heart flutter, until the image of a shadowy Cindy embracing him came into mind.
Hermione felt heat was over as she entertained the idea that this letter was from her.
"Is that a letter from your girlfriend?" Her voice was laced with venom.
"No," Severus placed it on the counter. "It's a letter from Ricardo. He found the Singapore Tarantula eggs I requested."
"Oh," she furrowed her eyebrows.
"I will write him back later," Severus' smile remained.
"So it's just Ricardo?"
"Yes," Severus answered in an even tone. "This letter is from Ricardo."
She crossed her arms over her chest.
"Is there a reason that the identity of the sender should matter?" Severus frowned.
"No," she retorted.
"Then why are you glaring at me like I just announced the 1995Sense and Sensibilityhad the worst casting possible for Colonel Brandon?"
"Because that actor was by far the best actor for that role."
"He was not at all physically appealing, and his acting left much to be desired. I could barely sit through his performance."
"His performance was amazing."
"So you say," he leaned against the counter. "I still say he was physically unappealing."
"He was more than appealing. I'd go so far as to call him attractive."
Severus rolled his eyes. "You have strange tastes."
"I have eyes and ears. I know when I'm looking at an attractive man and can turn into putty at the right tone of voice," she argued.
"Look, he," He cleared his throat. "We are getting off track. Why does it matter who sent me the letter?"
"It doesn't," Hermione straightened her posture and shrugged. "It doesn't matter at all."
"Fine." He grabbed the cards.
"But I have to ask, does your girlfriend knows about these little card games?" Hermione knew she was playing with fire. If she didn't stop, someone was going to get burned. Perhaps it was the alcohol or the irritation welling within her which caused her to press on despite her better judgment.
"No," he paled.
"Is she ever going to know about me?"
"Is there a point to this interrogation?"
"I want to know if I'm a dirty little secret."
"You aren't dirty."
"But am I a secret."
"No, I just have not had a chance to tell her about us."
"You're dating a woman and she doesn't know about your best friend?"
"Oh and I'm certain your boyfriend knows all about us."
The color drained from her face.
"That is what I suspected, though in your case I cannot fault you," his voice grew quieter, "I wouldn't tell anyone I was playing cards with a former Death Eater either."
"I would say I was playing cards with a heroic spy before I said I was playing cards with the Minister of Magic candidate who lost by the most votes, a woman who couldn't even please her fiance."
"You're more than just a Minister of Magic candidate who didn't win an election and couldn't please a dunderhead who had no idea how to appreciate a beautiful woman."
"And you're more than a former Death Eater."
He fidgeted.
"I'm sorry," she sagged. "I've had a long week, and I'm taking it out on you in the oddest way possible."
"Are you having problems at work, or did your date not go well?" He asked.
"No, my date went fine," a chill ran up her spine at the idea that he thought it went too well.
"So did mine."
Hermione's muscles tensed at the idea of Severus' lips pressed against another woman's cheek.
"Is that a problem?" He asked.
"No," she snapped. "I want you to be happy."
"I want you to be happy too."
"Does she make you happy?" She couldn't hide the pain in her voice.
He blinked before shifting position. After a tense moment, he answered, "I enjoy her presence. She is kind, charming, and intelligent."
"Oh," Hermione felt a stab in her chest. The woman was everything she wasn't. Once again, she didn't stand a chance against a woman and was bound to come in second. She'd be lucky if Severus remembered her name in six months.
"Still, it is early in the relationship," he continued, "much too early for either of us to show our unpleasant sides. In six months, my opinion of her may change."
"If you last six months," she grumbled.
"Yes," he exhaled. "Assuming I don't muck everything up. I am an expert at mucking up the nice things in my life."
"I didn't mean it like that," she argued as he took another sip of his drink. "I just meant you are too good for her."
"How would you know?"
"Most women don't know how to appreciate a wonderful man like you," she argued. "We tend to get nervous around men like you and say things which muck up our chances of ever winning your affection."
"Because I'm intimidating?"
"No, because you are intelligent, wickedly intelligent. Then there's the fact that you are attractive, far more attractive than you believe. Granted, you aren't conventionally handsome, but that makes you all the more alluring."
"I can honestly say I've never been called alluring."
"But you are," there had to be too much rum in this drink. That was the only explanation Hermione could come up with for why she kept going and wouldn't shut up. "You are witty. Granted, you don't have a style of humor most people don't understand, but I understand and appreciate it. It's hard as hell to get to know you. There are so many walls you construct around yourself. When you're cross, you are snippy and overly snarky. Still, when you let your guard down, when you let someone in," her eyes betrayed her vulnerability, "you are the most loyal, kind, generous, and amazing person anyone could know."
"You mean all that, don't you?" His voice cracked.
"With all my heart," she gulped the rest of her drink.
"In the interest of fairness then," Severus cleared his throat. "The only thing Remus Lupin and I will ever agree upon is that you are the brightest witch of your age. That being said, he had no idea what made you so brilliant. Yes, you are academically gifted. Anyone who has spent five seconds with you knows that. What people don't see is that you are a survivor. Despite others' attempts to extinguish your joy and love of life, you have persevered. You are assertive, which other people don't appreciate. For someone who is tired of discerning the wills of two masters, your assertiveness is a relief. We don't play games with each other, which is more than I can say for anyone else."
She blushed as her body warmed.
"I can tell you anything without fear of it being splattered all overThe Las Vegas are honest with me, more honest than anyone else has ever been. In a city where everyone is putting on a performance, in a city where everything is just a copy of the real thing," his voice grew quiet. "You're real. You are the most real thing in my life."
"You're the most real thing in my life too," her throat tightened. "I can't lose you, Severus."
"You won't lose me, Hermione," he brushed a strand of her hair behind her ear. "So long as I do not lose you."
"You won't lose me."
"Good, then don't settle," He took her hand. "Whatever happens, please promise me that you will not settle for a less than adequate man."
"I won't settle so long as you don't." She squeezed his hand.
"I will not," he whispered before kissing her hand.
The kiss radiated from her hand to her body. Heat and desire filled her. For a split second, she wanted to take his hand, lead him to the bedroom, and show him how much he meant to her, let him know that she had no intention of ever leaving his side.
Yet that would be the most inadvisable course of action. Just because he was her friend didn't mean he wanted to be her lover. Being in a relationship with her would be complicated. She'd already proven deficient in love, and there was no reason to think she'd improved over time. Friendship was simple. If she was smart, she would be thankful they were still friends and be satisfied with that.
Still, his kiss had to be acknowledged. So, she took his hand and raised it to her lips. She pressed her lips against the back of his hand. His skin was soft, much softer than people realized. She could only imagine how his lips would feel against hers.
She gazed into his eyes. There was that look again, that promise that if her lips met his, he would pick her up, carry her to his bedroom, and make love to her until she forget any other man existed. Of course, that was assuming he didn't see that scar on her arm.
That scar! She knew the history he had with the word Mudblood. The last thing he needed was to see it on his lover's arm, reminding him of every horrible moment in his life. He deserved a woman who would only give him good memories, not a scarred one who would remind him of everything he'd lost.
She lowered his hand and released it. Against everything in her body screaming for her to do otherwise, she cleared her throat. "So, are we playing blackjack or poker?"
"It is your choice," he put his hand by his side.
"I think blackjack would be best," she pointed to her glass. "Though I need a refill before we play."
"I do too," he stood.
Hermione watched him make the drink, wondering if alcohol was the best thing for her. Her mind was having difficulty remaining in the moment. Even as they made small talk, she envisioned him taking off his cape and showing her all the creative uses one could ever dream of using it for.
Damn Whipping Winona!