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A shadow darkened the page. The smell of coffee teased her nose.
Hermione, now thoroughly distracted from her current read, looked up and caught Severus’s dark gaze.
For once, his features appeared utterly relaxed, softened by the firelight. Only faint lines hinted at his usual constant scowl. The right corner of his mouth was lifted the tiniest bit. She adored the little dimple her very own Severus smile created. So precious in its scarcity, she felt quite possessive of it.
His long, scarred fingers encircled her favourite mug, a Snorkack-shaped gift from her dear friend Luna. He put it down on the side table beside the comfy armchair she had snuggled up in, her lower half wrapped tightly in a blanket burrito.
Hermione shifted towards the alluring scent, thereby startling Crookshanks, who had been dozing on her legs. The disgruntled half-Kneazle jumped on the table, sniffed at the mug, and then turned away. He rubbed himself against Severus’s thigh instead. Orange fur clung to black fabric. With a sigh, Severus stroked Crookshanks beneath the chin, and the Kneazle purred.
The sight of her boys all affectionate with each other had her a bit teary-eyed.
She cleared her throat, then nodded towards the coffee mug. “Is that for me?”
“Five points from Gryffindor for asking the obvious, Professor Granger.”
“Only five?” She reached for the coffee, blew on it, and then took a sip… She was in heaven. The bitterness was softened by the perfect amount of milk and cream, and there was a nutty aftertaste that she loved. “How much will you deduct for questions about the brewing process?”
“Six for unnecessary repetitiveness. You will just have to be satisfied with me being the only one able to brew it for you.” He smirked, cheeks flushed.
“I might be amenable to that. But six points? What have you done with Severus Snape?”
Severus squeezed the space between his brows with thumb and pointer finger, then visibly breathed in. “You have made him happy.” He stared deeply into her eyes. “He is one lucky bastard to call you his and has no idea how he ended up deserving you.”
Could you die from a burning heart? “In that case, will you come closer?”
“Whatever for?”
“I want to kiss my lucky bastard senseless … obviously.”
“Hmm…” He tilted his head. “I think that does sound acceptable enough.”
She huffed and tugged at his robes.
“Insufferable witch.” Severus leaned down, buried both hands in her hair, and pressed his lips against hers.
Tingling erupted where they touched. She tasted the Earl Grey he favoured when marking essays and loved how it mixed with the lingering coffee flavour in her mouth.
With one hand, she reached for his neck to draw him closer so she could deepen their kiss, and with the other, she held onto his wrist. Her heart pounded eagerly, as if it wanted to jump right out of her chest to join his.
When they parted, his warm breath teased her kiss-bruised flesh in the most tantalising way.
“Mmm,” she said, brushing her thumb over his bottom lip. “I consider myself the luckiest bastard in this relationship.”
“Cannot help being a notorious overachiever even in this, can you?” And there it was again, her dimple.
She couldn’t help herself and planted a kiss on it. “Naturally.”