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Hermione fell into the plush chair by her fireplace with wide eyes. “What have I done?” With only moments to contemplate her actions, the Floo roared green and her best friend stepped out.
“Hermione, I just heard- you quit?” Harry’s expression fell at the sight of Hermione’s teary eyes.
“Oh, Harry, I-” her hands reached her face in an effort to hide her humiliation. “I can’t believe-”
Rushing forward, Harry embraced her in a warm hug, one hand rubbing soothing circles on her back, which broke her resilient streak and she began to bawl.
“Shhh, it’s okay. S’alright. Everything will be fine,” he said gently, allowing Hermione to purge her emotions. After a few minutes, and more snot than he knew what to do with, she seemed empty. Harry led her to the couch and tucked her legs in with a soft blanket. “I’ll get the kettle going. Why don’t you tell me what happened?”
With an exhausted sigh, Hermione nodded. “It was ridiculous. I’ve bolloxed it all up! I could feel, or thought I felt, us getting closer. I thought he was seeing me for me, letting go of the past and allowing us to build a future. But he froze! I made a move and he froze like a deer in headlights. Oh, Harry, I feel like a fool!” she said, reaching out to the proffered cuppa and tucking her feet under her.
Harry joined her on the red couch, all sympathetic eyes and comforting nods. He brought the tea to his mouth, steam fogging his glasses for a moment before disappearing again.
Hermione sighed, heart still hammering in her chest. “I know this is an overstatement; logically, I do know that, but it feels like I’ve ruined my life.” She snorted. “Mr. Manfred and I were in talks, you know. I was looking into buying the store.”
“Oh, Merlin!” Harry laughed, “You owning Tomes and Scrolls?”
The pair laughed, “I know. I really love that shop and I adore being so close to the castle, seeing the students during Hogsmeade weekends, even hearing the roar of the crowd during Quidditch matches,” she sighed. “But Severus walked into The Three Broomsticks and I opened my big fat mouth and now I can never be seen in Scotland ever again.” Harry gave a gentle nod in understanding. “Everyone was there - everyone! Minerva, Hagrid, Hannah, even Neville - oh gods, Neville will never speak to me again!”
Allowing her to exhaust herself, Harry listened with half an ear as Hermione spiralled through the worst case scenarios. He set the steaming cup on the coffee table as his hearing focused again, “-probably sell my flat and move to America,”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold it right there, Hermione. You’re the most rational human being I know, you’re not going to flee the country just because Sna- ahem, Severus doesn’t want a relationship with you… Right?” he added, uncertain.
Her nose wrinkled and she set her mug next to his, “It is tempting,” she whispered, “but no, I suppose not.”
Harry’s shoulders fell in relief.
“Takes a dark wizard to scare me away,” she added with a smirk.
His head tilted in thought, “Well, technically, he could be considered-”
“Stop speaking this instant, Harry Potter!” They laughed together, enjoying the ease of friendship and the comfort it gave them. “I really don’t know what to do, though.”
Harry sighed and wiped his hands on his trousers. “Give yourself some time, Hermione. You were off tomorrow anyway, right?” She nodded. “Hole yourself up in here, read a book,” his hand motioned to the large built-in shelves surrounding her fireplace, “and lick your wounds. Meanwhile, I’ll go hunt him down and-”
Hermione swatted his arm with a good-natured giggle. “Nice try, Mr. Auror, but I’m holding on to my lifelong favors for something better than this.”
Harry gave a dramatic sigh, “Fiiiine. Besides, I doubt it would be considered a ‘hunt’ when the man’s worked at the same place for-” he counted on his fingers, “twenty-something years?”
A swift, nearly-frantic knock at the door startled them both, but Harry was the first one up. “Did you talk to Ron about this yet? That sounds like a knock he would do with this kind of news.”
With a chuckle, he opened the door to a startling, darkly-robed professor, and his smile dropped instantly. His green eyes blinked once before he slammed the door.
“There’s a bat at the door,” he said plainly. Hermione nearly tumbled off the couch, the grey blanket twisting around her legs and trapping her for a moment until she straightened herself out. “I think I should go,” Harry added, voice emotionless as he strode to the fireplace.
“Wait, Harry, what do I do-” The flames flashed green and Hermione’s heart jumped. “Oh, gods.” Taking a deep breath, she tiptoed to the front door, steadying her racing nerves as she touched the door. She waited with her hand against the wood, unable to bring herself to open the door, “Can- Can I help you?”
Silence. Had he turned heel and left? Perhaps the sight of her best friend scared him off; people were always pushing a romantic relationship upon them when there wasn’t one, when all they ever saw in each other was-
“May I speak to you? Perhaps… without a door between us.”
Hermione stumbled back, seeming to forget where she was while her brain ran away with itself. “Oh! Er…” She glanced around the room and noticed her earlier fight with the blanket gave a suggestion of impropriety. “I’m rather fond of the door,” Hermione said. With her ear to the wood, she bit her lip with worry. She heard a soft, albeit annoyed, sigh and tried not to smile.
“I came to apologise for… Well, it seems my lack of response… My colleagues insisted I speak to you.”
“Great, so you’re here because of peer pressure. Really, it’s not necessary: we can pretend it never happened and we never have to see each other again.”
She pushed herself against the door again, desperate to hear a sound over the increasing heartbeat in her ears. More silence, followed by a distinct shuffling of a robe.
“I must insist, Miss Granger.”
She should have recoiled from the use of a prefix and surname, but Hermione held out hope that, if nothing else, they could continue on with their lives as cordial acquaintances. Her eyes stung with fresh tears at the thought, but she refused to let them fall.
Sensing her trepidation, Crookshanks placed a fuzzy orange paw on the door and purred. “Oh, fine, you nosey ol’ boy,” Hermione said, scooping him up and finding the courage to let Severus entrance.
“Please,” she motioned with her free hand, “You’ll let the winter in.”
Unable to look at her, Severus kept his eyes to the floor while he stepped inside. “I’m sorry to have scared off your previous company.”
She couldn’t stop the laugh that escaped her, “Oh is that what you’re sorry for? You could’ve said that through the door,” she added with a snort. “Tea? Brandy? My humiliation on a platter? Nevermind, you have that one!”
Hermione couldn’t believe she was being so rude, but the words were tumbling out of her mouth before she could give them a thought.
“I did not - I do not wish to harm you. In any way. I think I was caught off-guard; between the many eyes of our companions and the ahem forwardness of your question, I was quite certain I was being picked on.”
He sighed, still unable to make eye contact, but felt Hermione’s previous hurt-twinged-humour sedate. She set Crookshanks on the settee and took a seat in a fluffy wingback chair, leaving the red couch for Severus. He chose the cushion closest to her and leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and forced himself to look at her.
“If I thought for even one iota that you were genuine in your affections, I would have spoken immediately. If I knew that you were sincere and authentic in your request to court, I would have given you an immediate answer. I am, truly, very sorry.”
She sat there, trying desperately not to tuck her feet under herself again, to find comfort in her own body as his mind tumbled through his words. Hermione decided to wait him out with silence, letting the crackling of the fireplace fill the space.
When she blinked, her eyes stung again, but not with tears. This time, it seemed, she had stared at him so long that they were dry and unfocused. Severus’ thumb fidgeted against the meat of his hand. “You have to understand that women pursuing me has always ended up being a prank.”
“Ah yes, Hermione Granger, infamous prankster of impishness and shenanigans!” she finally said, unabashed of her audacity.
Severus had the sense to look ashamed, “Yes, quite right. I am sorry. I know you to be a logical and sensible woman, and though you have a particular provocation for mischief in the ways of bending rules, you have never been one to humiliate others for the sake of a gag.”
She waited again, hoping the stilted silence would press him for more words. When Crookshanks plopped onto the couch next to Severus, his long fingers found the matts in his fur and untangled them.
“And so…?” she asked, expectedly.
Severus cleared his throat. “And so, now that I know you are, in fact, pursuing me with a valid heart, I must ask that you speak to Mr. Manfred about your job. I would be rather fond of courting a lady who works at a book shop,” Severus said with a slight smirk.