Chapter Text
Looking up at the magnolia bouquet hanging from the awning, Hermione stops just outside the café. It’s a quaint little thing, tucked away in a quiet corner a few streets shy of the city centre. Taking a deep breath, she smooths down her sweater. The little bell above the door chimes as she steps in, wooden doorknob warm beneath her hands.
“Hermione, sweetheart! I’m so glad you made it! You’ve got your book, yes?” Samantha, a former coworker of Hermione’s, shuffles over. Hermione smiles, drawing her into a hug. “It’s so good to see you, Sam! I have my copy right here. How have you been holding up?” Samantha smiles. “Oh, just fine, dearie. Whoever knew afternoon naps felt so nice?” Releasing her, she turns around, leading Hermione over to a large, circular table at the far end of the café, where a few people are sat. “Everyone, this is Hermione. She works at the local charity — used to be my boss.” Hermione blushes, one hand coming up to tuck her curtain bangs behind her ear. Light and teasing, a voice breaks into the conversation. “Sam, you know full well nobody can boss you around.” A girl raises her hand in a casual wave, reclined against the wall. “Hey, I’m Ally. Good to meet you.” Silver hoops glint against the ends of her short, wavy hair. An older gentleman sits next to her, a leather-bound notebook set in front of him. “Cole. Welcome to the group.” Between the two, back to the corner, a tall, willowy woman nods at her, deep-set eyes strikingly similar to Cole’s. “Claire. Welcome.” The doorbell chimes. Across the table, a blond woman sniffs. “I’m Natalie.” A man approaches the table, skirting around Hermione and Samantha to give Natalie a kiss on the cheek. “And I’m Dean.” He straightens up and turns, a warm smile on his face. “Sam’s friend, are you?” He inquires, settling in next to his partner. Hermione nods, gripping the strap of her tote in one hand. “My name’s Hermione. It’s nice to meet you all!”
“Come, come, sit.” Sam waves her over. Gratefully, Hermione slides into the seat next to Sam, piling her bag onto her lap. “We’re just waiting on one more… Now, in the meantime— Ah, there he is!” A smooth chuckle sounds behind her. “Waiting on me, Samantha, or waiting on my tea?”
Hermione shivers. That voice sounds remarkably familiar.
“Why would we be waiting on you? Your tea is all I care about.” Samantha’s lips quirk. “Just kidding, darling, you know I love you.” The man grins; Hermione hears it in his voice. Her head turns a fraction involuntarily. “Who knows? All I care about are the books you supply.” Samantha gasps, a mock offended hand placed over her heart. “Why, you wound me!” She shakes her head, smiling. “Anyway, meet our newest member. Severus, this is—”
“Miss Granger.” Hermione stands, shocked, dizzy with the speed with which she turns around. “Professor.” She greets, voice wavering. “I… How are you?”
Snape has yet to move. His lips are slightly parted with surprise. He looks… Different. Lighter. Freer, her mind supplies. “I am well,” he says slowly, as if unable to comprehend what is happening. He is rooted to his spot, eyes locked on her. Thud. Thud. Her heart beats loud in her ears. Time seems to slow, her world narrowing down to Snape’s piercing gaze.
“So you two know each other, then?” The world comes rushing back. Self-consciously, Hermione smooths down her sweater. She begins to nod, but what if he doesn’t want to be associated with me? Discomfited, her fingers find her sweater’s edge, fiddling with a loose thread. Snape inclines his head. “Yes. I used to teach her.” He walks towards them, brushing past Samantha with a soft murmur of apology. She stares at him as he sets down the teapots. His hair — he’s grown it out and tied it back. And — he’s turned around, gesturing at the bartop while talking to Sam — he’s grown a beard.
“...And if you all don’t mind, would Miss Granger be amenable to stepping aside with me for a moment?” Hermione blinks. Seeing her newly-formed acquaintances assent with various nods and shrugs, she says, “Sure. I expect we have a bit of catching-up to do.” That’s an understatement, if I’ve ever heard one.
Snape leads her away from the table towards the door of the café. The morning sun casts his shadow across the floor. He stops next to the bar table and pulls out a chair, gesturing for Hermione to take a seat. Hesitating, she shifts herself gingerly onto the stool, keeping her feet against the ground. Snape pulls out his own chair and settles, tucking his left foot against the footrest.
A moment of silence passes between the two.
Hermione gazes at her hands, fidgeting with the strap of her tote, picking at the cloth. Clearing her throat, she looks up, straightening her back. “Professor.” She nods at the man, keeping her eyes on his face. “It’s been a long time.” The barest hint of a smile grazes his face. “For you, perhaps,” he answers. “Six years is rather too short a time to forget the past, wouldn’t you think?” Hermione flushes. Nearly a decade since she last stepped foot in his classroom, and yet his words still seem to cut her to her core. “I only meant that I didn’t expect to see you here, Professor.” Snape tips his head. “And I merely meant that you are not so forgettable, Miss Granger.” His steady gaze never leaves her face. She swallows.
“I trust you’ve been well?” Hermione inquires, voice wavering. Snape finally looks away, gaze flitting around the shop. “Yes,” he replies. He makes no further comment. His throat bobs. His mouth opens. “You have been relegated to relative anonymity, I hear?” Hermione pauses for a moment. Is he making a joke? Pursing her lips, Hermione, with a sprinkle of sardonicism in her words, says, “I see you’ve read the news — I’m only ever mentioned twice a week, now.” Snape exhales forcefully, a smirk curling at the corners of his mouth. “At least they seem unconcerned about your whereabouts.”
Hermione huffs a quiet laugh. Every day, an issue of the Prophet is delivered to her doorstep, and every Saturday without fail, Professor Severus Snape’s name graces the gossip column. “I’m glad to see your soul hasn’t been sacrificed in a cursed tomb.” That was last month’s leading theory, headed by one Rita Skeeter. “‘The public yearns for you’ — I rather think the Ministry yearns for me.” Hermione smiles and tilts her head. “Oh my, Professor, still not tired of Skeeter’s ramblings?” Shifting, Snape leans his elbow on the counter. “It makes for excellent entertainment.” Hermione laughs. The morning sun drifts across his face. The conversation lulls. “These people… Are they your friends?” Hermione ventures. Snape blinks slowly. “How can we make true friends, with what we have known?” Swallowing, she turns her gaze downwards. “I suppose.”
They fall into silence again.
“Oi, you two!” A clear voice travels across the café. Hermione turns her head. Ally puts a hand to the side of her mouth, calling out, “Some of us really want to start discussing how much bullshit these people— Ouch, Sam, sorry! How much bullcrap— Ouch, Sam, I changed it!” She rubs a hand over her arm, scowling at Samantha, who smiles reassuringly at Hermione. “And some of us are completely content with casual conversation for now.” Hermione breathes in. There are only two seats left at the table, and they’re right next to each other.
“Miss Granger—” “Professor, perhaps—” Snape gestures for her to continue. “Perhaps we should continue this conversation another time?” Snape nods. “I agree. It would be prudent to keep our pasts similarly vague. When would you like to speak?” Hermione chews at her lip. “Maybe this afternoon? I promised to have lunch with Samantha, but I’m free after.” Snape nods again. “For your information, I am the owner of this café. The others know me as Severus.” He hesitates. “They do not know of my surname, nor my past. I do not intend for them to become aware of it. In light of that, I will have to ask you to refer to me as Severus as well.”
Hermione’s breathing pauses. Call him… Severus? We haven’t spoken in six years, and he wants me to call him Severus? Her hands gather her bag closer to her torso. “Alright. You should call me Hermione, too, then. I’ve… My surname is fine.” Snape inclines his head. “I apologize for referring to you as Miss Granger earlier. I was quite surprised by your appearance.” Hermione tears her gaze away from him. “It’s fine.” Snape shakes his head. “Nevertheless, I could have endangered your position. I should have considered your needs.” He stands in one elegant motion, giving Hermione no time to respond. “After you, Hermione.”
Hermione rises, stumbling slightly. Snape… No, Severus, owns a coffee shop? And he’s part of a book club? Snape, part of a club? As he pulls ahead of her, she chances a glance at him. Snape. Severus. They reach the table, and he gestures for her to sit next to Samantha. Severus. He turns his back to the table, reaching behind the drink counter. Hermione takes a deep breath. Right. I can do this. Snape draws the chair back and sits. He leaves ample space between the two of them.
Samantha claps her hands, beginning the session. Hermione turns towards her, but Snape remains at the edge of her view. Flipping her book open, Hermione tries for a smile. Hey, at least he hasn’t triggered a flashback yet. How bad can this be?