Chapter 1
Severus Snape could not believe he was doing this. He would rather face the third rise of the Dark Lord any day than admit his feelings for Hermione Granger. Alas, here he was watching her from afar with that very intention.
She was simply exquisite.
Hermione was draped in his signature color. The silken fabric clung to her frame, exposing a modest amount of cleavage from a sweetheart neckline with a bewitching slit halfway up her left thigh. Each flash of her toned, sleek leg entranced him. It wasn’t until she turned from talking to Potter to embrace the female Weasley, that he saw the back of her dress plunged all the way down, toying with indecency.
Severus was ensnared.
He knew he didn’t deserve her. Honestly, he was sure he didn’t deserve any bit of the mostly peaceful life he had constructed post-war and exoneration either. However, his survival instincts were far too strong not to set up a secure safety net for himself.
His therapist would have a field day with these thoughts. Which is exactly why he hadn’t told her any of them. Sentencing him to one year of therapy to ensure he remained a beneficial, functioning member of society had been a strange sentence to receive alongside his Order of Merlin First Class.
However, it ended up being a freeing release to expunge his past. The feeling of having lived when he would have preferred to die had lasted only as long as his recuperation and trial. It seemed that when the gavel was rapped declaring his innocence, his thirst for freedom from his past was unleashed.
Thus, the court ordered therapy sessions had been extended as the years went on, until they slowed to their current quarterly check-ins. He would have stopped them altogether if they hadn’t provided such prolific ideas for mental health potions. They spent their therapeutic hour workshopping ideas that would give him numerous frameworks to investigate until their next meeting.
It was turning into quite the profitable potions line addition to his burgeoning apothecary franchise. Therapy had granted him the ability to trust his carefully hired staff just enough to hang themselves within the iron-clad contracts they signed. That he funded his franchise from the blood money Dumbledore left him mattered little anymore. If he refused to think of the man to maintain his peace, that was neither here nor there.
Severus had come far in the past six years since the war ended, and so had Hermione. The summer after the final battle, she took her NEWTs and received 10 Outstandings, the first to do so since his own scores. That she was able to achieve that at all was an accomplishment but after the hellacious year on the run it was a marvel.
Hearing her results from Minerva was the first thing that snared his interest.
He had long tired of ever having an intellectual equal to converse with. Having little patience for those more dimwitted than him, left him with the snarky, rude, stand-offish reputation he was infamous for. His occasional correspondence with Minerva and Filius, along with their remote chess matches, helped, but there was a yawning chasm inside him that yearned for academic discussions to grind his intellectual whetstone against.
Hermione had gone on to achieve her Mastery in Arithmancy in record time. In the four years since, she had achieved great recognition for her breakthroughs in combining Muggle mathematics with arithmancy. He was practically ravenous for the discussions he had envisioned them having.
Seeing her dressed in a devastating red dress for the first Anniversary Ball was what clenched her potential to being his partner in more than academic affairs. Hermione had grown into her hair, and moved with a sensual grace that showcased her mature figure and self-confidence. It wasn’t until the moment he saw that, that she switched over in his mind from an off-limits student to an alarming siren, calling out to each of his senses and tantalizing them with possibility.
It was only her on-again-off-again relationship with the most inadequate Weasley that halted him from making any inquiring advances. According to his sources, Minerva’s rampant tea sharing and a bit of his own skullduggery, they were on the outs for the better part of eight months. Surely, she now realized how mismatched they were.
There was no better time for him to strike than tonight when he was dressed in his finest and looked as good as he was capable of. He knew his faults, his looks would forever be one of them. However, he knew he had other attributes that would hopefully be enough to entice her.
It may have been a bit underhanded to have corresponded with her under his pseudonym, first to see if she would be beneficial to his research and then during said research. Sometime amidst it, she had gone off on a tangent, as she typically did in her essays when she was younger.
He had smirked at seeing the long-held habit she had been unable to completely snuff come to light. Rather than take her to task as he once would have done, he took the opportunity to give a lengthy reply, pointing out her fallacy and gave multiple texts for her to reference. The thrill of attaining new knowledge could be quite seductive after all.
Severus had found that out the hard way in his youth.
There wasn’t a week that went by since he sent his response two years ago where they had not corresponded. She had even invited him to tea many times so they could have a “proper chat,” but since she was still with Weasley at the time, he had feigned off being busy with work. After so many refusals, she eventually stopped asking.
He truly had no intention of ever announcing his affection for her, at least not unless he knew it was returned, which was rather impossible when as far as she was aware they only had short, formal exchanges a few times a year. That was until he saw her here tonight, looking rather glum beneath the façade of smiles she plastered about her face.
Despite how ravishing she looked, he could see how tired and frayed at the edges she was. As the night progressed, it was obvious how much she simply went through the motions with no real joy behind it at all. While he was rather accustomed to dreading his entire existence during these balls, she had always moved about the room with effervescent energy, whether it was reminiscing with friends or networking for business.
He was consumed with a desperate longing to care for her. If she were his, he would never allow her to reach such a state, not if it was within his power to prevent it.
If she were his…
This was madness.
Wasn’t it?
He couldn’t truly be considering going up to her and trying to woo her his way. That path led to derision, ridicule, and a broken heart bleeding into insanity. There was no utter way Hermione Granger would look at him with anything but contempt if he were to declare his feelings for her.
And yet, wasn’t one of the things he admired about her was her compassionate heart? She weathered the storm of the war, and all that transpired, and still managed to come out of it resilient, her kind-heartedness knew no bounds. One could only look at how long she put up with Weasley. Surely if he were to make an unwanted overture, she would respond as her nature dictated.
But would he survive it?
Severus supposed even if she were horrified at the notion, he had survived worse from the Dark Lord. Probably. He found himself wishing he could go through quite a few tortuous rounds of Crucio, followed by a whipping, rather than suffer the soul sucking devastation of her refusing his feelings.
The longer he stared at her isolated form, leaning against a column as she morosely eyed the crowd, the more his resolve firmed to take this chance. He found he would deny her nothing to see her happy again…even the chance of having a laugh at his expense.
After all, it wasn’t as if he weren’t deeply experienced with handling unrequited affections.
Silently stalking around the edge of the ballroom, he came up from behind her. With her voluminous curls piled atop her head, it left her slender neck and the bare expanse of her back visible to his covetous gaze. How he longed to stroke that silken skin.
He closed his eyes momentarily to get himself in order and not frighten her off before he began. Sliding up next to her, he saw her finger toy with the stem of the wine glass in her hand. With satisfaction, he saw her slight startle as he deeply rumbled, “good evening, Mistress Granger.”
“Oh! Hello, sir, I didn’t see you come up.”
Seeing her polite smile backed by some genuine warmth helped fortify him. “I suppose you were quite taken with the sights this evening is providing.”
Her smile turned tense and brittle as she murmured, “if that’s what we’re calling it these days.”
“Does tonight not meet with your approval?”
She sighed, “I find myself not in the mood for much merriment these days.”
“What, pray tell, have the moronic duo done now?”
Her brow furrowed slightly as she said, “we aren’t in school anymore professor, it isn’t that simple now.”
“Mm,” he hummed, fully knowing just how far she had surpassed her school day self, that was what had gotten him here after all. “It may not be precisely the same, but it does always seem to boil down to those two, does it not?”
Hermione looked at him in confusion, and he wondered if he had tipped his hand too much. Merlin’s left hairy testicle, why did talking with the person of his affections have to be so bloody difficult? He had only started and was already bungling it up.
“You can’t really tell me that you actually want to know?”
“When have you ever known me to ask for something I did not actually want?”
“Well, your sarcasm knows no bounds,” she grumbled.
He smirked down at her and drawled, “and yet I find myself not the slightest bit sarcastic. I normally see you flitting about the room in a whirlwind, determined to fill an itinerary all your own. Seeing you here alone has decidedly shown that the world order is out of balance.”
She rolled her eyes and muttered, “it’s been made quite apparent that it isn’t the world out of order but myself.”
Severus failed to see the difference between the two.
“I find it difficult to believe that you would be the one to be at fault.”
He saw her arch an incredulous eyebrow, so he raised her a sardonic one.
“Well, I find it difficult to believe that you actually care.”
He rolled his eyes, of course he would need to overcome himself for her to see him in a different light.
“I have always looked out for you, in one way or another. Regardless, I am here now. That is, unless you would rather I not be?”
“Oh, no—I mean, please don’t go. I shouldn’t have been so rude. It’s just taken me by surprise that out of all of my supposed friends, it’s my old professor that has bothered to come up to me. I had to wait in a bloody queue just to say hi to Harry and Ginny.”
He turned his head to hide his grimace at ‘old professor’ but continued on smoothly, “Has the Golden Trio had a falling out then?”
“Jesus, do I hate that moniker. It’s something of the sort, more like poor Hermione for not having her priorities straight. They’re perfectly straight, thank you very much!”
“I feel as though you jumped to the middle of your explanation.”
“Yes, well, would you mind terribly if we discussed something, anything else really, than my miserable social life?”
Studying her downtrodden face, he came to a decision. With deliberate effort, he worked to gentle his facial expression and held out his hand to her asking silkily, “would you dance with me?”
He looked on as her amber eyes widened, her lovely mouth opened to an O before stuttering, “you can’t be serious?”
“Deadly so, Mistress Granger. It’s criminal to keep one such as yourself from the dance floor.”
“I wouldn’t know about that professor, but I do enjoy dancing.”
“Severus, if you will.”
“I—alright then, Hermione if you please. I would be honored to have this dance.”
He led her out onto the edge of the dance floor, in the back where there was less of a crowd and more privacy. She looked up at him so hesitantly that he couldn’t stop his smirk from forming. Their conversation may have had its touch and go moments, but here he knew his body would do the talking for him.
That is if he wasn’t struck still by the electricity arcing through him as their hands clasped together. Her hand felt so delicate within his own, frissons of pleasure were bursting across his skin at their connection. Was he so touch starved that simply holding her hand would affect him so? Circe help him, what would it feel like then to close the gap between them and worship her body?
She raised her other hand to rest against his shoulder. His right hand was gently placed against her mid back, the heat from her skin and the caress against his palm as he positioned it was tantalizing. He brought her just close enough to the edge of propriety and began to lead her in a dance.
The sudden pleasure suffusing his body at finally having her so close to him balanced on the knife’s edge of pain at the thought she would never again be so close to him. What right did he have to sully her with himself? She deserved a far better partner than him.
As they whirled about the room though, he noticed her face lost its sad countenance, and she was beginning to exude her normal chipper energy. Deciding to lead her through a series of complicated dance steps and twirls, he had her smiling and huffing a laugh. Making her smile was his new drug of choice.
“I had no idea you were such a wonderful dancer, sir!”
“Severus.”
“Right, sorry, it’s just habit. But truly, thank you for this, I really needed it.”
“It is my pleasure, Hermione. Perhaps you could do with focusing on the highlights of your life and not let the little cretins get you down.”
She looked up at him in surprise but said, “mm, I think you might be right. Things may not be the same between…well pretty much anyone I thought I was close to, but there have been those who have surprised me with their presence, you and a…pen pal of sorts.”
“I too have found surprising connection with a…pen pal.”
“Really? What a coincidence!”
“I suppose that rather depends on how your Mr. Epans is doing…” He desperately hoped he didn’t look as sheepish as he felt, he had not been looking forward to her potential reaction to this reveal.
“I’m sorry, what?!” she said sharply, bordering on shrill.
“I use a pseudonym to conduct my business for a variety of reasons.”
“So, all this time I’ve been talking with you and not some Indian potioneer?” her face was the picture of shock.
“Indeed,” he murmured, feeling nervous but trying to remain blank faced without reverting to Occlumency.
“I can’t believe it’s been you! I mean—that is to say—bollocks. It’s been you from the very beginning?” At seeing his nod, she continued, “even when I went slightly off topic, and you started returning such lovely replies?”
“The one and the same, Hermione. Is it truly so unbelievable?” His anxiety was rising, and he felt sick to his stomach, it was leaden like stone.
“It’s just a bit much to take in all at once that the man I’ve…” her eyelids fluttered rapidly as she searched for words. “Alright, well it does make some things make more sense, but I never would have thought you would be so…”
“So?”
“Engaging. Thoroughly enjoyable to converse with,” she said decisively with a blush appearing on her cheeks.
A low chuckle rumbled through his chest, and her eyes widened even further at hearing it. “It isn’t as if I’m a one-dimensional man confined to the representation of your former professor. We have remarkably a lot in common, it was no hardship to indulge your curiosity.”
“If only you had thought that while I was in school. I could have learned so much more from you.”
“I could hardly be seen giving Potter’s best Muggleborn friend extra attention, now, could I? And I admit to being under a large amount of stress that certainly did not help with my disposition, but that is no longer the case.”
“Yes, I believe I’m beginning to see that.”
“Quite.” They were quiet as they finished their dance. As the music started up for another song, he asked, “would you like to continue dancing?”
She looked up at him as she lightly nibbled her lower lip and said hesitantly, “yes please, si—Severus.”
Seeing her blush at her stumble, he gave her a small smile, though it seemed to take up all of her concentration studying his face so. He let her look her fill, only feeling incredibly awkward and using his experience to portray it as confidence.
“Do you forgive me for the slight subterfuge?”
“Oh, there’s nothing to forgive. I understand why you did it. At least as long as you’re going to continue on as you have been?”
“Indeed, I will,” he answered lowly. “In fact, I was just thinking of your latest letter, and I had wondered if you had read Dubois’ theory on thermodynamics and considered its applications to potions.”
Just that quickly, they devolved into a passionate discourse, each ardently arguing their case. So caught up in each other, they didn’t notice the passage of four songs and the looks they were receiving.
His blood was pumping through his body making him feel alive in a way he never had before. Her face was perfection when she was in the middle of a heated debate. Her whiskey eyes were alive with fire, her luscious lips split in a wide grin as she delivered each of her points, and the lovely flush on her cheeks spread down her neck to the top of her chest as she passionately responded.
“Just admit it Granger, Strauss was an imbecile who couldn’t find his own arse in the morning.”
She rolled her eyes playfully and said, “I’ll do no such thing! I just need to find his first book where he explained it all in detail. The short quotes that are referenced clearly don’t do him justice.”
“Hm, well it just so happens I have said text and would be willing to let you read it for the simple pleasure of proving you wrong,” he purred to her in his most provocative tone and was delighted by the further reddening of her cheeks.
“Oh, you are absolutely incorrigible!”
“What exactly did you expect?” he smirked.
She looked at him for one long, heavy moment before saying quietly, “I’m not sure, it certainly wasn’t this.”
Seeing this was quite possibly his moment, he tried to steel his nerves as he said, “I realise this may come across entirely untoward, given that I am who I am, but I have feelings for you, Hermione…romantically speaking, that is, and I was wondering if you would permit me the honour of courting you.”
The silence was cutting as he stared at her shocked face. It was a Herculean effort to quell his panicked twitching that wished to turn into running away. He had to see if there was even a remote chance.
She opened and closed her mouth many times as if finding the words to speak. The flummoxed expression on her face had yet to leave by the time she stammered out in a thready voice, “I—I don’t know quite what to say. Courting?” her voice echoed her confusion.
He wet his lips before replying, “yes, while it is an older practice, I thought it would be one befitting for us to take the time to get to know one another better to see if we’re well suited together for the future.”
It was as she continuously blinked blankly up at him that he felt his hopes crash and burn, his shoulders slumped. He gritted his teeth against the sour taste of failure that threatened to pull him down in its depths.
“Severus,” she began slowly and hesitantly. “I’m flattered, but I—“
He put his finger to her lips to halt her speech and said sadly, “please, there is no need to finish that thought. If you ever find yourself considering it further, you know how to reach me. For now, I must bid you farewell.”
He closed off his sorrow and relished the cold of his Occlumency as he turned from her with a flare of his robes and stalked through the opening the crowd made for him at the sight of his icy glower. His therapist could get bent, he had no desire to feel the mortified despair coursing through him, heating his cheeks.
Why did he ever let there be even the slightest sliver of hope that there could be something between them? Hermione was far too young, beautiful, and good for the likes of him. He would do better to remember that next time, rather than suffer the aching void that was his heart.