Work Text:
Pragma
Pragma: ( verb ) An ancient Greek word for the kind of love that develops over time within a relationship when two people are working toward the same life goals, making compromises, showing patience, and giving love to one another rather than merely receiving it.
Gravel crunched under her boots as the first streams of autumn light filtered through the turning orange leaves barely clinging to the trees. She could see her breath with every exhalation as she made the journey down the familiar side streets of Aberdeen. Hermione passed by the front of St. Walters, whose heavy wooden doors were still closed tight against the brisk cold. It was still far too early for the museum to open; the sun had not even fully risen. Crossing the street, she opened the door to her first stop in the morning and inhaled the rich aroma of roasted coffee beans and baked goods.
Since moving to Aberdeen from London a couple of months ago, she had come to think of it as her coffee shop. The owner, Alice, always made her coffee perfectly and remembered her name which made her feel welcome. It would have been all too easy to spend the whole morning making small talk, but she was on a mission today, so her order was to go.
Hermione stepped back into the brisk cold, the hot cups steaming in her hand, and turned in the opposite direction that she came. She followed the road around the curve and slipped between two buildings to come out on the wizarding street. Càrn Row came to life slowly, with early shoppers lingering outside the shops and street vendors setting up their various stands. She passed them and nodded to those who recognized her before stopping in front of her destination. A wrought-iron sign hung over the front door, the orange sunlight bouncing from the angles of the artistically twisted shape and illuminating it.
The Cauldron and Cork.
The windows of the apothecary's storefront were foggy, making it difficult for her to glimpse inside, but she knew he was already working. It was through his constant hard work and perseverance that he had been able to build this shop and life for himself. From experience, she knew that his commitment often made him rise long before dawn. Although today, she suspected he had not slept much the night before.
He hadn't told her when they parted the day before, but she knew that October 31st was still a painful day for him and that he wasn't looking forward to it. It was in his eyes, in the sombre expression in which he disregarded her concerns and told her it was ' just another Friday .' She knew better, which was why she’d taken the day off. She’d cleared the whole weekend on her calendar to spend the time with him.
Hermione climbed up the stairs to the grey stone building, and as she reached the top one, the sign at the door flipped to ‘Open’ on its own. It confirmed to her that he was in the apothecary and not upstairs in his flat. Securing a cup of coffee to the crook of her elbow, she opened the door and let herself into the warm shop. A bell tinkled above her and announced her presence.
The Cauldron and Cork was neat and orderly within, organized according to the storage needs of each temperamental item. Brewed stock lined the back wall behind the counter, lined not only by use, but separated by reactivity in relation to each other. Rows of tall shelves divided the shop into their sections, each labeled neatly with grey slate plaques. Hermione moved past each one and sought the proprietor in earnest.
When she found him, he was on his knees in one of the aisles and leaning over as he arranged glass jars of pickled reagents on a lower shelf. His long black hair was tied at the nape of his neck, revealing white scars from where he escaped death more than five years ago. Without looking up, he greeted her as he did every customer when he worked. "Good morning, if you need help, please let me know." His tone was distracted as he examined each jar for imperfections.
"I need help finding a vital ingredient," Hermione mused. Her lips pressed together tightly to attempt to keep herself from smiling.
“Is that so?” Severus stopped in his inspection, and she noticed a smile curve at the edge of his lips as he turned to her with a quizzical gaze. “What, may I ask, are you looking for?”
"It's very rare," she explained, the humour dancing in her voice against her will, "and difficult to store. It must be incredibly fresh."
Leaning back to his feet, Severus stood up to his full height and lifted his eyebrow at her. "I specialize in rare, hard-to-find reagents, ma'am. I certainly have what you're looking for in stock."
"Perfect." Try as she might, she couldn't keep her grin from taking over her face as she approached him. "Do you have any good morning kisses in stock? I am in desperate need."
Black eyes sparkled with amusement and something else as he took a step toward her, wiping his hands along the sides of his pants. “I think I might have just one in the shop, but it’s reserved for a very special customer.”
"Who could that be, your special customer?" Hermione whispered, wishing her hands were free of coffee cups.
His hand pressed against her cheek, which was still chilled from the cold autumnal air. "She's my fiancé, my most important client," he said before leaning down and pressing his lips to hers tenderly.
Hermione's stomach fluttered at his words, and she bounced up on her toes to meet his kiss, unable to do more with her hands full of hot beverages. Warmth filled her chest with the love she felt for the man in front of her. As he leaned back, she knew love had taken over her expression.
“Good morning, Severus.”
"Good morning, love," he breathed, his thumb running over her cheek.
Rising to her tiptoes, she pecked his lips again before cheerfully showing him the gift she'd brought with her: a white cup with his favourite coffee within. "I brought you coffee from Alice's, just as you like it. Dark roast espresso with two splashes of light cream.”
"Spoiling me with your presence as well as coffee during business hours on a weekday?" He arched his eyebrows as he took the cup from her. “What is the occasion?”
"I took Friday off," she explained. "Everyone else in the office did." She shrugged, holding her true reason for doing so to herself. Severus would likely protest if he knew the true reason she had taken the day off. “I thought I might spend the day minding the shop with you if you don’t mind.”
"I'd like that," Severus admitted, taking an appreciative drink from his beverage.
As she stepped around him and drank her coffee, Hermione crossed the shop towards the counter. "Well, put me to work," she told him. It was not the first time she had helped in the shop, though it was usually during weekends, as her own job kept her busy throughout the week. Pulling off her coat, she tucked it on the hook beside the door that led to his apartment before turning around expectantly.
Severus stared at her, standing in the middle of his apothecary, clutching his coffee cup in both hands. His mouth was curled in a soft, knowing smile as he moved to stand with her behind the counter. His black eyes were filled with emotion, something she rarely witnessed when they were not in private. Hermione immediately knew that Severus was aware of why she was there, just by the way he was moving, and how his expression shifted between bewilderment and gratitude. Coffee never received so much thanks from him even though it was something he appreciated. He placed his coffee cup on the counter before his hands took hers, their fingers intertwining. They stood there for a long moment, understanding passing between them without words needing to be said.
Then he broke the silence and gave her the task of quality checking the brews on the back wall. He kissed her hand before returning to his previous task, and Hermione felt satisfied that he would not resent her being there with him— for him.
Together they spent the morning completing quality control of the inventory, with Hermione breaking away to check out the few customers. Some of his regulars came in and were surprised to see her there, though many knew of her by now. It was no secret in the community that Severus Snape had become engaged to Hermione Granger during an art gala at St. Walters in the summer. Even her colleagues had heard of it, some of whom were not locals in Aberdeen.
When noon came around, Hermione stepped out and put her hand on his shoulder to tell him that she would be back shortly. She made the trip to the pub at the end of the row, bought them both lunch, and carried it back through the much-busier street. When she returned to the shop, he was behind the counter, cashing out a customer and wishing them a good day. When that customer left, Hermione turned the sign to signal they were closed.
Severus looked at her sceptically, he never closed the shop for lunch, but she did not respond to his wordless question; instead, she set out their meal on the counter and summoned two stools from the lab. He put up no argument with this, going and washing his hands at the basin before coming to sit next to her.
They ate their lunch, hot potato and leek soup from the pub, and Hermione brought up the recently installed art exhibit St. Walter’s had added. It was art that had brought them together, the chance meeting in that museum sending them down this path to falling in love, and so art was also one of their shared passions. Although she could not draw as he could, his renderings of plants belonging to both art books and textbooks, Hermione could appreciate the lines, shape and beauty of it all. Severus was excited as he gave his opinion on the new installation, and it made her effort to ensure he had a pleasant day today worth it. She would give up every Halloween party, every party, if it meant she could give him some peace.
The conversation lulled as they continued to eat their meal. Hermione looked outside the front windows and admired the fallen orange leaves carpeting the sidewalk in front of the apothecary. She loved fall the best, the chill that gave her reason to bundle up in comfortable clothes and enjoy warm comfort foods that were not reasonable in summer. Something about the turning orange, red and yellow leaves falling from the trees filled her with a sense of tranquillity. The world tended towards getting quieter but happier for her for her in the autumn months.
"Thank you for coming today," Severus broke her thoughts with his murmured words. "You didn't have to do it."
As she turned her gaze from the window to him, she shook her head. “I know it’s a tough day for you; I couldn’t leave you on your own.”
“I have suffered alone on Halloween for twenty-two years, Hermione,” he offered plainly as if it were a sufficient reason for her to leave him alone today. For a man who had rebuilt his life from nothing, she knew that he was still holding on to the yoke of guilt because of his past actions, and that while the world forgave and absolved him of his actions, he did not forgive himself.
Sighing, she lifted herself from the stool she perched on, wrapping her arms around his waist, and leaned her head against his chest. “But you didn’t have me then, you don’t have to be alone any more, Severus.”
"Indeed," he rasped, and she heard the quiet gratitude in it as he wrapped his arm around her. She held on to him until he released his hold on her, and she stepped back as he slid from the chair. He pressed a kiss to her temple, and then Severus cleaned the remains of their lunch and moved back to the ointment he had worked on before.
With a flick of her wand, she flipped the sign around to ‘ Open ’ and returned to minding the shop. Everything had already been quality checked. Things that did not meet Severus' exact standards for what he sold were removed and sent to the lab to be taken care of.
Some of them could still be used for other brews, and Severus loathed wasting product, so he attempted to reuse rather than completely tossing products.
Now she was enjoying the simple pleasure of sifting the loose powdered ingredients. Severus preferred it to be done by hand, so Hermione sat on a stool with an old metal flour sifter over the bin of powdered willow bark, turned the crank in her hand, and watched it flutter into the pile below. The containers had their own containment spells, so none of the dust would cross the borders and contaminate their neighbours. It was a relaxing and soothing task, and since there were no customers to help, Hermione let herself get lost in it.
For this reason, she was startled when Severus' hand slid around her waist, his chin leaning against her shoulder. “I did the willow bark yesterday, but I assume you are doing it because you’d like to?”
"I am mildly enjoying it," Hermione admitted, turning around to look at him. “Are you done with what you were working on?”
"Not really. I came over to ask you something," he replied. His position changed so that he hugged her from behind. “It has been rather slow today, so what say you to leaving out early once I finish the batch of burn salve?”
Severus never left the shop early. During the entire time she’d been in Aberdeen, he ran the shop like clockwork, opened and closed at the same time every day, except on Sundays, where he took the day for himself. Her surprise was clear on her face as she glanced at him. “Are you sure? You never close the shop early.”
"I think I want to do something different today." His brows were knit together as if he were thinking deeply for a moment. “We could take a stroll to St. Walters, then I can cook you dinner upstairs? Unless you’ve other plans this evening.”
Hermione leaned her head gently against him. "I have no other plans this weekend. I'm all yours. Are you sure you’re alright?”
A huff of his breath moved her hair in front of her face as his arms tightened around her briefly. “You said something that stuck with me, and I have given it a lot of thought.”
“Oh?” She eyed him suspiciously, wondering what she might have said to bring about this change and how he might have taken it.
"I haven't had you in previous years," he explained, "but I do now. Perhaps, rather than my normal routine of ruminations and lamentations about a past that I cannot change, I should celebrate the future that I have with you in it."
That was not what she had meant! Hermione had not wanted him to feel as if he could not regard the day as something to mourn and be troubled over. She had only wanted to be a comfort in the wake of it. She shifted in his arms, her eyes wide, as she grabbed his arm with the hand that no longer held the sifter. “I didn’t mean to minimize your pain or make you believe you cannot be upset today.”
"You didn't," he said firmly, his expression giving no room for argument. "Your quiet consideration is more than I've ever imagined I could deserve. I just want to try another way to observe the day this year."
The sincerity in his tone eased some worries in her mind, and she leaned her head against his again. “I think that is an excellent idea, then.”
"I should be done in half an hour, no more," he told her, releasing his hold on her, but not yet moving backwards.
Hermione smiled, knowing that if she started now, she could close the shop by the time he was done. "I'll start closing the shop."
“Hermione,” Severus’ voice cracked, his words strained, “thank you.”
She heard every syllable of the unspoken words he still struggled to say to her when they were not in private, and she smiled. "I love you too."
With silent acknowledgement, Severus returned to the lab, and Hermione started closing the shop. True to his word, he was done in less than half an hour, and they left the apothecary together.