Chapter 2
Hermione stared at the Potions Master’s retreating back, his shoulders hunched protectively. Her fingers came up to touch her lips, still stunned at the feeling of his fingers upon her making her body come alive in a way it never had before. He had left before she had been able to let him down gently, but what was with his effect on her?
Dazedly shaking her head, she walked off the dance floor heading to her table, desperate for a drink. She quaffed her wine in an attempt to bank the burgeoning fire within her. Suddenly, a beefy hand clenched on her shoulder, and she whirled to face the offender.
“Ronald! What do you want?” she said shrilly and brought her shoulder back to disengage his hand. This prompted him to clamp down harder, his fingers digging into her flesh sure to bruise. She hated it when he used his larger size against her, and he knew it too.
“What the bloody hell were you doing dancing with Snape, ‘Mione?” he yelled angrily, splotchy reddish-purple spots on his face.
“Given that it’s none of your business, I’ll bid you good day,” she scowled, entirely over his high handedness and vacillating nature.
“I don’t fucking think so. Now, what were you doing with him?” he growled.
“I don’t answer to you anymore, not even as a friend, not that you’ve been much of one.”
“You know where you’re meant to be ‘Mione. I’ve just been giving you time to finally come to terms with things. I didn’t know you’d betray me by snuggling up with the greasy dungeon bat.” His fingers clenched down harder, and he stepped closer to her threateningly.
Her eyes narrowed angrily at him as she bit out, “As always, you’re coming up with your own narrative. We’re done Ronald. I’m tired of you trying to manipulate me into someone that I’m not. There’s nothing wrong with working long hours, choosing to stay in for quiet time at home reading, and not wanting children. Quite frankly, I don’t care if everyone finds me to be an overbearing harridan that they don’t want to spend time with anymore. I’m done trying to contort myself to fit what you or anyone else wants!”
“Oh no, you don’t! You always end up crawling back to me. You hate being alone ‘Mione, and you know no one else will put up with you but me.”
“I’d rather be alone than suffer another moment with you!”
He snarled, “That’s rich considering you were like a bitch in heat just gagging for it for me to take you back last time!”
Her face flushed with heat, remembering just how desperate she had been after their second to last split. Terrified to forever be alone and unloved by anyone that she had been willing to put up with whatever he wanted. At least for a time, until she came to her senses.
It had been so insidious the way Ron had tried to shape her. He had alienated how everyone saw her, including how she saw herself. His character had changed so slowly over the years that she didn’t notice when occasional fits became rampant, or when she was the one to blame for them in everyone’s eyes, including her own.
“You’re coming back with me. You clearly can’t be trusted on your own.”
“The hell I am!” Hermione reached behind to the table and blindly grasped her water glass. Without further thought, she threw it forward, water splashed all over Ronald’s face and he sputtered. She pushed against him and managed to get free due to his surprise.
As she stormed off to the exit, she realized the large audience they had. Typical of the wizarding world to sit back and allow domestic abuse to occur right in front of them and do nothing about it. Misogynistic bastards.
She sighed in annoyance at what the Daily Prophet’s next issue would say. Whatever, she was over caring about those things she reminded herself. Striding out of the ballroom, she made her way to the floos and quickly left for her house, immediately closing access to her home as she had heard the pounding footsteps behind her.
Hermione paced her room, adrenaline running high. What a bloody mess of a night! She crossed her arms and ran her hands up and down them. So much for new beginnings kicked off with her killer dress.
She hadn’t even attracted anyone new. Well, there was the professor—Severus—but she wasn’t sure if she should count him or not. Never in a million years would she have ever considered him as a potential…anything. His prickly nature, surly countenance, and history of bullying, it was all rather a lot to overcome and see any potential there.
And yet he had made her body stand up and pay attention with the slightest ease. There seemed to be a base level of attraction between them, one that she had never experienced with anyone before. Not that she had all that much experience…still it wasn’t as if he had done anything riveting to account for her body’s reaction.
Perhaps, she was judging him too harshly. It wasn’t as if she actually knew him all that well to formulate a true opinion of him. She only had snapshots, nowhere near close enough to view the entirety of the man.
There was, of course, his sheer level of intellect. The man was a genius, and it had to say something about her that, that was something of a…turn on. If that was all she was considering, that is.
Although, she supposed his face was rather striking to look at. It was full of heavy contrasts— his pale skin against his pitch-black hair and eyes, his large hook of a nose cut a sharp profile over his thin, soft lips. Those eyes had held such intensity when they focused upon her. She had felt like the only person in the room when he stared at her so.
There was also his lovely hands. Long and slender fingers, incredibly deft and powerful…she had always been distracted by watching his hands in class and occasionally during meals. Watching him work with his hands was a magic of its own.
Speaking of magic, his voice was by far the most attractive thing about him. The low baritone he skillfully wielded to keep control in the classroom had haunted her dreams. She had brushed it off at the time, but hearing his melodious voice pitched low for her ears only…she felt her core clench in memory.
Dear gods, had she just talked herself into being attracted to Severus Snape?
So maybe she had more awareness of the man than she realized she had. Perhaps it had been underlying all this time, and she just didn’t notice it through the lens of former professor. And sarcastic, surly git.
Let her not forget the fact that he was also a man she had been corresponding with for the better part of two years, just under a different name. She still found that hard to reconcile. Mr. Epans had been such a delight to talk to.
Hermione still remembered the time when she veered off topic from sheer exhaustion and didn’t realize it until after she had already sent it off. She had been overdoing it, cutting back on work hours during the day and moving them to the night. That way she could be ‘properly’ social or just give Ron the attention he perpetually sought.
She had been absolutely dreading his response for days, but when she received it, it was like the academic heavens had opened to her, granting her desperately needed succor. It had been so long since she had truly had a theoretical discussion with anyone that she had quickly become addicted to their correspondence, secreting it away from Ronald and her friends. She remembered all those invitations to tea she had been so hopeful of having so she could finally meet the man that had intrigued her so.
By the time she realized what she was doing, she knew something was sorely amiss in her relationship with Ron. Her intellectual escape had her questioning things for the first time in a long time, and she realized just how under his thumb she was. Her sense of self had been methodically stripped away until she was nothing more than a hollow shell of herself, being filled with Ron’s idea of her.
It had taken her some time to overcome it all. Thank the gods, it was all in the past now. She had Severus to be grateful to for that. If it weren’t for him, she would still be trapped in the cycle of abuse.
What was she to do about him? Remembering his crestfallen face before it turned into his typical icy glower tugged on her heartstrings. It seemed that there was nothing else to do but to write to him. Moving to her desk and pulling out parchment and her fountain pen, she began writing her message before she started over thinking it.
Severus,
I hope it’s still alright that I call you that. You left before I could finish speaking, but given that it’s allowed me time to think, I’d like to think that it was for the best.
I’ve come to realize that I don’t really know you well enough to judge whether or not I would like to accept a courtship from you. I do know that I have enjoyed our correspondence thus far, even though I didn’t realize it was with you, and there are quite a few aspects of yourself that I find quite pleasing.
So, I would like to propose that we spend more time together so that I may get to know you better. While I realize that may be the intent behind a courtship, I find that I can’t accept it without knowing you first. I would be delighted to call you friend before I reassess anything for a potential future together.
Please let me know what you think about this.
Wishing you well,
Hermione
Biting her lower lip, she folded and sealed her letter before tying it to Odysseus’ leg. After giving him a quick pet, she opened the window for him to deliver her letter. Nothing to do now but wait to see what he would say.
———————
Severus woke to a pounding headache rattling his skull. He had over indulged last night to ease his pain and was now paying the price. Clutching the pillow with one arm, he burrowed his face deeper in the pillow as he lay on his stomach. With a deep groan, he raised his right hand and wordlessly had a hangover potion flying into it.
Turning his face to quickly swallow what may as well have been the nectar of the gods, he sighed in relief and stretched his sore body. While only entering middle age as a wizard, his time as a spy had prematurely aged him, and he felt far too old to be carrying on as he had last night.
With a heavy sigh, he rolled out of bed and finished his morning ablutions before getting dressed for the day. He prepared his tea on autopilot, his gritty eyes only half-open to face the day. When he heard pecking at the window, he gathered an owl treat and a knut and handed them both over in exchange for this morning’s drivel.
Collapsing into his favorite forest green armchair, he lifted his right leg, bent it at the knee and rested his ankle on the opposite one. Opening the paper, he saw a startling picture of Hermione and himself dancing close to one another, staring intently at each other as she smiled up at him. He knew immediately he’d be cutting it out to replace the picture of Lily’s within its black wooden frame.
Unsurprisingly, the title claimed ‘Secret Relationship Uncovered! Harlot Granger Found Cheating on War Hero.’ Scowling down at the paper, he wondered why she hadn’t sued the Prophet for libel, they never had been kind to her reputation. Skimming the article, he found that he had been in a relationship with the once golden girl for at least the past six years but more than likely even while they were still at school.
They had supposedly terminated no less than three love children to keep their relationship private. There were exclusive interviews on page four supporting the outlandish claims. His fists clenched in rage as he continued to read, his tea long abandoned as he combed every inch to read all the lies printed within.
If she wasn’t going to do anything about it, then he would. Snarling in fury, he wrote a scathing letter demanding a retraction or proof of the owner's affair would be circulating the streets of wizarding Britain. It still paid to be well informed after all. He knew it would be worth it to keep up his spying techniques.
It was as he was furiously fighting with the buttons on his robes that he heard more pecking at his window. Storming over to let the owl in, he stopped in surprise at seeing the familiar Tawny owl. He swallowed heavily and then opened the window to collect Hermione’s correspondence before feeding her owl.
His hands trembled slightly as he held her letter, and he sneered in revulsion at his weakness. Tearing open the letter, he quickly devoured her words upon the page, his stomach rolling about his abdomen as he went. She was indeed going to reject him as he had feared. At long last his perpetual habit of catastrophizing self-deprecation had paid off in running away that night. Finally having reached the end, his hands fell limply to the sides, barely keeping hold of his mail.
She wanted to get to know him better.
He was uncertain if he should be elated or terrified, for surely once she got to know him, she would be turning him aside once more. His shoulders slumped as he thought of the Herculean task ahead. How was he to remain in her good graces if she learned all the facets of his nature?
He squashed the thought that this would have occurred if she had accepted his courtship offer, as at least that would have indicated despite come what may. Growling at the turn of his misfortune, he crumpled the letter in his fist and then frantically smoothed it back open. He desperately needed to get control of himself.
Glaring down at the letter in his hand, he decided to put it on his desk to deal with when he returned. Odysseus always waited for his return letter before leaving, and he needed some time to calm himself before replying. He stormed out the door before he could give anything a second thought and went to go post his mail.
By the time he returned, his nerves had mostly settled, and he was determined to reply to Hermione before he blew it out of proportion again. He stroked the owl’s feathers absentmindedly as he prevaricated over his response. Scoffing in disgust at himself, he grabbed a fresh sheet of parchment and a quill and began to write.
Hermione,
If you remain comfortable calling me as such, then please do.
It is a testament of your kindhearted nature that you honour one such as me with your time. I would be pleased for us to know each other better. What did you have in mind?
Yours,
Severus
He hesitated at the desk for so long his quill splashed ink on the wood. With a wave of his hand, the mess was cleaned and yet there was no such spell for cleaning the mess that was his letter. It was utter tripe, but he couldn’t come up with anything better, so he sent it off on her owl before he could stop himself.
Addressing it as yours had been a dead giveaway just how desperate he was for her… He really should fly through that window and chase after her owl to change it. Clenching his fists and closing his eyes, he took long, deep breaths until the need to pursue his foolhardiness and erase it from existence passed.
It was fine, everything was fine, he just needed to stop overreacting like a hormonal youth. He was a 44-year-old man for fuck’s sake. Hermione had reached out to him, quite quickly at that, and wanted to get to know him better. This was a far better point than he expected to be at after last night.
There was still hope for him yet, she just wanted to be friends first before he would find out. His heart ached at the thought of forever being relegated to the friend zone. Sighing heavily, he reminded himself that he had a lot of experience being in the friend zone. He would be able to get by.