Work Text:
Severus carefully grinds the dried snakeskin into a fine powder. He takes an unlevelled scoop and sprinkles it over the potion, stirring in a clockwise motion for five turns. It changes from blue to yellow before darkening into something of a sunset red. Perfect.
There’s a light tapping on the doorframe to his private lab. “Severus?”
“Hermione,” he greets, not looking up from his work. “Is everything alright?”
“I just wanted to pop in and let you know I’m going out with Gin tonight, so I won’t be at yours for dinner.”
“You and your evenings are not beholden to me,” he says evenly, quashing his disappointment.
“I know, but I just wanted to be considerate. We spend most weekends together after all.”
Her tone is a bit stiff, and he looks up at her curiously. She seems almost… hurt. He frowns. Perhaps his phrasing has made her think that he doesn’t enjoy their time together. He sets his stirrer aside to give her his full attention.
“I did not mean to offend you… I just, I am not used to this level of consideration,” he explains reluctantly. “But I do appreciate you letting me know.”
She softens at once. “Well, hopefully you’ll come to expect it from me. I… I care about you quite a lot you know.”
“Yes, I know,” he says solemnly.
Her regard is his most cherished possession. Not that he’d ever tell her that. He can’t even return the sentiment. Something must show on his face however and she smiles as if it says enough.
“Tomorrow then?”
“I’ll make a lasagna.”
“Severus Snape, you spoil me.”
He rolls his eyes. “You’re too easily pleased. Enjoy your evening with Ginny.”
As soon as Hermione enters the corridor, he hears her exchange greetings with someone else. He frowns, wondering who else might be on their way to his private lab on a Sunday afternoon. From the sound of the footsteps, whoever it is leaves with Hermione and he relaxes slightly. Eventually, though, the footsteps return and there’s a much sharper knock on his door. He glances up.
“What do you want, Oakes?”
“Hello to you too, Snape,” the younger professor says. “I wanted to talk to you about Hermione.”
“You just missed her.”
“Oh, I ran into her on the way here and saw her out,” he informs him with a smile that Severus immediately distrusts. “You two must be quite close friends for her to traipse all the way into the castle rather than floo or owl.”
“I would never claim to understand the inner workings of Hermione Granger’s mind,” Severus says neutrally despite the way the comment makes him prickle. “To that end, I would suggest you direct all inquiries regarding Hermione to Hermione.”
“Well, it’s more of a declaration to you, I suppose,” Oakes clarifies. “I wanted to inform you that I am going to be pursuing Hermione.”
Severus blinks. One errant twitch of his hand and his cauldron could explode, eliminating Oakes and giving him plausible deniability. He disregards the thought. Minerva would see through him.
“I was unaware that I was her keeper.”
Oakes laughs. “It’s rather obvious that you fancy her, in my opinion. I’m not typically one to battle for a witch’s affection but it seems apparent at this point that you don’t intend to act on it at all. That or you’re playing some absurd long game.” He shrugs. “Either way, it feels more than fair for me to put my hat in the ring now, but I wanted to give you the courtesy of a heads up lest you think I ‘stole’ her.”
He turns away then without waiting for him to respond. Severus pinches the bridge of his nose. His affections were not obvious. That he happened to be correct about Severus’ feelings was a mere coincidence. He’s not sure what the boy hoped to accomplish with that little speech; if he were generous, he might assume it was just his house’s propensity for fairness at work.
Severus sits with it a moment. It is true that he has not acted on his affections for the witch. Hermione is young, vibrant, and probably wants a family eventually while he is old, bitter, and certainly not designed for domesticity. They are ill-suited. And yet…
He tries to picture Hermione with Oakes. What he envisions instead is his life without her: Dinner for one. Late night reading sessions with only the walls to hear his biting commentary. Hearing about her accomplishments in the Prophet but no longer bearing witness to the behind the scenes.
Absolutely not.
I’m not typically one to battle, the nitwit had said.
Severus sneers. “You want battle, I’ll give you war.”
____________
Severus slams his office door shut, positively seething. It makes no sense. She makes no sense. A full month of his best effort. Wasted.
They had been friends for so long that he didn’t want to shock her with the apparent abruptness of his affections. He had decided to ease into it, to open her up to the idea of them as a couple.
Eight dinners for which he had slowly made the setting more intimate, nothing overt, but a notable change in temperature.
He had sent letters—short missives really, as he was still seeing her each weekend—about topics he came across in his reading that he thought might interest her.
He had brewed curated hair potions and a custom perfume. A perfume for Salazar’s sake!
Perhaps he had been too subtle, too Slytherin. Perhaps she simply did not see him that way. He could live with that, really, he could. At the start of this whole venture, he’d acknowledged they were ill-suited. But that she could see herself with Oakes? Unbearable.
Severus had promised himself he wouldn’t interfere with any of the other man’s efforts, primarily because he suspected that it would count against him if Hermione learned about it. Even so he had begun to pay more attention to him. They weren’t suited.
And yet ‘That sounds incredible romantic,’ she’d said practically bursting. ‘I can’t wait!’
He had thought their friendship had given him an advantage, thought he’d understood her blush. Hubris, as always, was his downfall. He glares at the door, tempted to slam it again. But then there’s a knock. Her knock.
Severus schools his expression. Regardless of how frustrating the results were, it’s not as if Hermione were aware of the competition and, even if she were, he was not going to penalize her for his loss. If they had nothing else, their friendship was far too special for that. He opens the door to find her uncharacteristically frazzled.
“Are you okay? Are we okay?”
He blinks. Sweet Salazar, he has become transparent. “Why don’t you come in?”
She does, anxiously wringing her hands together. He puts his hand over them without thinking to still them. Her shoulders relax slightly.
“What has you so upset?”
“You’re behaving strangely,” she exclaims. “You’ve been… different all month and then just now you ignored me entirely and I just—what’s going on?”
“I’m sorry, Hermione, I—” He hesitates briefly, but he cannot trust Oakes to remain silent. If Hermione is going to hear this, it will be from his own lips. He sighs. “About a month ago, Oakes declared his intent to pursue you.”
“Evan said—Why would he say that? And to you of all people?”
“I think it was intended as courtesy. He had guessed, correctly, that I fancy you. Of course, I know that we’re ill-suited,” he adds hurriedly when she opens her mouth. “And I am truly happy to remain friends, but I—I still wanted to try.”
“Remain friends,” Hermione repeats slowly as if carefully rolling each word in her mind. She takes a deep breath. “Severus… I, um, I have been under the impression that we have been dating for the past four months.”
“You thought—but we haven’t—I—You agreed to a date with him!”
“When?”
“Just now!”
Hermione drags her hand over her face. “Merlin your spy skills are rusty. If you’d eavesdropped properly you would know that Evan was telling me about his finalized plan to propose to his girlfriend of two years.”
“He has a girlfriend.”
She nods. He blinks.
“You thought we were dating.”
She nods again, twisting her fingers together as she does so. Her lower lip pushes out slightly. “But you think we’re ill-suited.”
“Irrelevant. Part of what makes us ill-suited is my obscene selfishness,” he says. “And while I could understand you drawing the same conclusion about me, I was baffled that you could deem him a suitable choice. I mean, really, he’s far too agreeable. He’ll never challenge you the way you like or the way you need to be. And he’s far too outgoing as well. You’re sociable, of course, but you need your breaks and he will be abysmal at ensuring you get them. I suppose he’s romantic, but he feels far too cliché for you. Perhaps I’ve the wrong measure of you, though, since—”
“Severus.”
“Yes?”
“I would just like to emphasize: I am not and will not be dating Evan Oakes. I thought I was, and still would like to be, dating you.”
“You would.”
She tilts her head as she looks up at him. “You’re exceptionally surly, challenging, and absolutely incredible at keeping people away from me at social functions when I’ve had enough. The romance—”
“However, you’ve scored me there should not count given our circumstances,” he interjects defensively. “We never discussed a relationship.”
“Well, no,” she says, blushing slightly. “But, well, we were spending all of that time together before term and then you’ve had me up every weekend since, and I just… you don’t like to talk feelings much and I thought defining a relationship might fall under that umbrella for you.” She clears her throat. “I also thought my feelings were rather obvious.”
“Rather obvious,” he repeats, certain he’s the dumbest man to ever live. “I’ve—Four months? And you never wondered why I haven’t kissed you?”
“I know how you are about touch,” she says with a shrug. “I figured eventually I’d push you into a proper conversation about it, but I was rather content with holding your arm to walk around the lake and the way you let me rest my head on you when we read.” She tilts her head. “Were you just… were you just attributing this all to being good friends?”
“I don’t really have a lot of experience with…” You two must be quite close friends. His eyes narrow. “Does he—Did you tell Oakes that we’re dating? Have you told other people we’re dating?” And why had no one told him?
“Are we dating,” she asks, raising her brow.
He feels lightheaded. “Hermione.”
“Yes, he knows. As do Minerva, Harry, Ginny, and Ron.”
“No one told me.”
“Because you see my friends so often,” she says drily.
“Minerva—” He cuts himself off, knowing exactly why she said nothing. He drags a hand over his face. “Have I botched this?”
“No more than she did,” Oakes says from the doorway. He’s leaning smugly against the frame. “You two are quite the pair: Timid Gryffindor too afraid of rejection to get a proper label. Obtuse Slytherin completely unable to read every sign that the girl he fancied was infatuated with him, too. Lucky for both of you, this kind Hufflepuff is wise, cunning, and brave enough to bait the surly potion’s master into doing something.”
They both stare at him for a moment. He shrugs and flashes another one of his smirks before disappearing.
“I should buy him a gift basket,” Hermione muses. “He risked his life for this.”
“I would not have killed him.”
“Only because Minerva would be cross.”
“Irrelevant.” He takes a step closer to her. “We have a lot to discuss. If you want, I find I would be very open to having that proper conversation about our physical intimacy that you mentioned.”
She laughs. “Oh, I’m sure you are.”