Work Text:
The air was thick with the scent of rain, when she finally managed to step outside.
Hermione walked a few steps shy of the classroom door and leaned against the wall, listening to the faint rumbling of the thunder in the distance.
The storm wasn't really far away.
Fishing in her robes for the little piece of parchment she had received earlier, she turned it over and over in her hand, staring at the neat handwriting. She knew it; she had seen the same neat handwriting in Bill and Fleur’s wedding invitations.
Hermione Granger, Hogwarts, was written just above the wax seal, and inside the fancy, lavender-scented parchment –a glaring cliche if Hermione had ever seen one–, an invitation she didn't really want to acknowledge.
Ron and Lavender
Your presence at our wedding will mean the world to us.
Location: The Burrow
Date: June 15th, 2005, 17:30
And underneath that, written in Ron’s chicken scratch: It would mean a lot to me if you came, Mione. You can bring someone if you want, too.
She took a deep breath. Then a second one.
It did little to lessen the way her blood throbbed in her temples as if it were boiling.
Ron and Lavender. It shouldn't surprise her, really; Ron had been quick to return to his old flame the moment Hermione told him marriage was out of the question for the time being. He had been Hermione's first love, but first loves rarely lasted in the long run. People grew up and changed, and with them, what once felt like forever became insignificant with the passing of time.
Still, knowing he was replacing her yet wanting her presence at his wedding wasn't an easy pill to swallow. It was awkward, and Hermione had lived her whole life trying not to get tangled in awkward situations. If she closed her eyes, she would feel the Weasleys’ eyes on her, measuring her against Lavender, reminding her that she could be in her place had she been less argumentative about it.
The one who got away, Ginny had called her once, and back then, Hermione had been hurt and confused about why no one saw that two people had to be on the same page before stepping into the next chapter of their common lives.
“Get yourself out of it, Hermione,” she said aloud, tucking the parchment back into her robes. She smoothed the fabric down and stood up straighter.
She had a very busy schedule. She couldn’t waste more time overthinking about wedding invitations and the Weasleys’ approval.
***
“You didn't come to lunch, Professor Granger.”
Severus's voice interrupted Hermione's thoughts as he walked into her office with little preamble. Startled, she shifted her gaze from the parchment she was correcting to him as he took the empty seat across her desk without being asked to sit first.
Calling her Professor Granger instead of just Granger or even Hermione was his underhanded way of being ironic, and she returned his energy without batting an eye.
“Headmaster Snape,” she said, using the sugary tone she took every time she resisted her urge to transfigure someone into a pillow. “I didn't know I was so missed during mealtime.”
He huffed in response, crossing his arms in front of him as he made himself comfortable. He was familiar with her visitors’ chair, after all; he had spent quite a few afternoons here since Hermione was appointed Hogwarts’s new Transfiguration professor three years ago.
She raised an eyebrow, but he merely shrugged, unbothered. He had a penchant for reacting with coolness when her own temper ran high.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” came the answer, quick, with a familiarity that betrayed how the recent years had softened him into someone who was able to take a joke. But then again, that was natural, considering his life wasn't threatened by a half-mad authoritarian with a huge snake anymore. “I just have no one to shield me from Sybil anymore when you skip meals. She predicts my horrible demise more often when you are not on the table.”
Hermione laughed, perhaps for the first time since the invitation landed on her desk earlier today. She looked up at him, and he offered a subtle, knowing smile that made something in her warm up.
“Besides, you’ve been irritable today,” he continued. “I walked past your classroom on my way to Filius’s office. You’ve deducted more points from students today than Minerva used to during Quidditch season. So it is my duty, I suppose, to ask what bothers you before you get anyone expelled.”
For a moment, she looked at him, wondering whether she should answer or ask him to get out and leave her to mark the stack of Transfiguration essays in front of her in peace. Eventually, she decided to do the first.
“Next month I am invited to the Burrow,” she said simply, then shook her head when Severus procured an invitation similar to hers from his robes.
“Ah, I was delighted to know that Ronald Weasley decided to expand the family,” he drawled. “I was not equally excited to know I have been offered a spot on the show, but alas, that is the second downside of surviving a war: suddenly everyone thinks you want to mingle with people.”
“And what is the first downside?” Hermione asked, unable to help but be curious. She could have asked about anything else regarding the invitation, but curiosity drove her forward every day.
“Well, being alive, what else?”
She opened her mouth to answer, but she found herself unable to.
He merely smirked before focusing back on the subject at hand.
“I suppose you do not want to go, but you have to,” he said carefully, and Hermione nodded, relieved that he understood without her having to say it out loud.
“It feels like a betrayal not to go,” she explained, pushing her ungraded essays slightly aside. “Ron and I had been friends for so long, before–”
As she trailed off, he nodded that he understood.
“Potter and Weasley were your friends way before Weasley was your…companion,” he offered, drawing the word as if it personally offended him. “I do not know what exactly you saw in that boy, but regardless, you should go. You are proud of your life decisions, are you not?”
Hermione thought about it: was she proud? There was no doubt about it. She was the brightest witch of her age, a respected Hogwarts professor with a mastery in Transfiguration. She was exactly where she wanted to be in life.
“Then you go there, congratulate Mister Weasley and Miss Brown, and thank your lucky stars you aren't the bride. Small mercies and all that.”
“Will you be going, Severus?” she then asked. She always reverted to calling him by his first name when they were having a serious conversation, and this time was no exception.
“If I deny, Molly herself will come here to drag me to the Burrow, you know that.”
“Would you consider going with me? I mean…We will both be setting out to go from Hogwarts; it would be the logical thing to do,” Hermione said, quick to cover up her question with an explanation that made sense, and then watched, almost fascinated, as his face shifted through surprise, understanding, and then agreement. “Plus, none of us likes crowds; we could be grumpy about the crowd at the Burrow together.”
“It is the logical thing to do,” he agreed. “But if I so much as hear a single drunken rambling about Weasley, I will make sure you suffer in Molly’s care for the next two days at least.”
***
“Are you ready?” he had asked.
Hermione looked at Severus, next to her, straightening the sleeves of his dress shirt in a way that could only be described as obsessive. They had just apparated from Hogsmeade, two people who felt out of place, wearing festive clothing and holding gifts.
His question gave her pause. Was she ready? Would she ever be ready to be in a place where people saw her as the ‘what-if’ of their family? And the mere idea of her in a crowded place made her skin crawl.
Slowly, she smoothed down her dress, a long lilac dress that felt comforting to the touch. Then she fussed a bit with a few stray strands of hair that managed to escape her well-pinned hairdo.
“Well, it isn’t my first wedding,” she eventually said, abandoning all attempts at making herself more presentable when Severus carefully pried her hands away from her hair.
“Your history of wedding attendance is abysmal, considering the last one you were present for was also a Weasley wedding that sent you on the run for months,” he deadpanned, and something that had been tightly knotted inside her loosened slightly when she registered his dry humour.
“Then it is my first wedding attendance that will not result in me running away,” she corrected, and he gave her an approving hum.
“A good first to have, then,” he added, and she nodded.
“I suppose there’s a first for you here, as well,” Hermione observed. Before he had the chance to answer, George Weasley, holding what looked like an awful lot of fireworks, rounded the corner and spotted them.
“Mione!” she heard George say, and before she had any chance to turn to Severus, she was hauled up for a greeting.
After that, it took exactly ten seconds for her to be carried away by the remaining prankster of the Weasley family while she gestured for help to the –clearly amused– Severus, who followed them while holding both of their gifts.
***
This wedding was, as far as weddings go, a pleasant one. Molly cried loudly, Arthur cried more subtly, Ginny and George made a fuss, and Percy complained about how his siblings were disrespecting the ceremony.
All in all, it felt like a normal Sunday at the Burrow, just with more formal clothing.
Hermione wasn’t really pleased to be in the middle of a large crowd that didn’t consist of students to be herded, but true to his promise, Severus had followed George in and had been a steady presence around her since.
She navigated Molly’s emotional outburst about having a son get married (I always thought it would be you, Molly had said, almost in a conspirational tone, and Hermione was quick to stop that particular rambling), and when Molly left to greet a few newcomers, she immediately sauntered off towards Severus, who waited with a grin that betrayed he had heard every word.
“First time getting lectured by Molly Weasley?” he asked as he handed her a glass of Elven wine.
“No, the first time I had that was in 1995,” she deadpanned.
“Ah, for me it was 1986,” he offered. The laugh on her part was the easiest reaction of the evening.
“Do I want to know what happened in 1986?”
“If I tell you, then I will have to make you disappear, and doing that, just as I found a reliable Transfiguration professor, would be a logistical nightmare.”
Laughter. That was the simple remedy to a situation that, to Hermione, felt anxiety-inducing. She laughed, shaking her head in disbelief as if she couldn’t believe how he went out of his way tonight to accompany her through that event with a good bout of laughing.
In response, she reached out for his hand.
Despite the loud music and the chattering happening around them, Hermione heard the way Severus took a sharp breath when her fingers curled around his own.
When he didn't pull away, she squeezed his fingers gently in reassurance.
“Speaking of firsts,” she continued, a bit more quietly, “I am happy about him. Don't get me wrong.”
She tilted her head slightly towards the dance floor, where Ron, now a married man, spun Lavender out. She, too, was beautiful as a bride, and she looked at Ron as if he were the best decision she had ever made. “He was my first love, but we wouldn’t be happy together.”
“Granger, the first time you fell in love, you were young and slightly naive and thought Ron Weasley was your happily ever after,” Severus said. He didn’t sound judgmental about it; rather, he sounded contemplative. “But you aren't the person you were back then, are you?”
“I suppose not,” she replied quietly. She looked down between them; her fingers were wrapped around his, and although this was also a first, it felt comfortable as if she’d done it before.
Someone on the other side of the tent hollered as Lavender pulled her new husband into a kiss, and Hermione smiled, realising that she didn't feel as uncomfortable as she thought she would at the sight.
“You had a first love, too,” she added, tilting her head towards Harry. She remembered well the things she had learned about Severus' love for Lily, after all.
Hermione looked down as Severus' hand loosened its hold on hers for a moment. Then, as if remembering the notion, he squeezed her hand again.
“I had a first love,” he repeated. “And I had no chance to go through the things people in their first loves do. At least you can say you did those things, and if they didn't work out…that's life.”
Small mercies, uttered through a truth Severus Snape didn't admit often. Lily had been the most important part of his life, and yet, that love had remained unfulfilled.
“That's life,” she repeated. “First times are the failed experiment; second times are the correction.”
“I wouldn't have said it better myself, Professor Granger.”
On the dancefloor, people started trickling in; a song by Celestina Warbeck brought everyone forward, couples that started gathering around the groom and the bride.
“Have you ever danced with your Transfiguration professor, Headmaster?” Hermione asked, already stepping forward towards the dancefloor, pulling him along.
“This is the first time,” he drawled as he allowed her to pull him forward. “Minerva would step on my feet purely out of spite.”
“Good, so I can have something first with you,” Hermione laughed; and as she began dancing with Severus on the edge of the dancefloor, the awkwardness of the event shifted into something softer, something she no longer feared.