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It’s hard to pinpoint the moment it started.
It was not at the Welcome Feast when she told him that she was pleased to see he chose to return as she’d hate to have her eighth year soured by incompetence; he’d dismissed it as a banal compliment from a woman still determined to play teacher’s pet. Nor was it when he realized she was actually rather insightful when she wasn’t frantically waving her hand for the opportunity to regurgitate the text—not that he could contribute that to one single event anyway; rather it had been a term long building of regard for a young woman of twenty-one whose intellect proved to be on level with his own.
It had not been when she wished him a happy birthday and asked to treat him to lunch. It couldn’t have been then. He’d turned her down without a thought. Regardless of her age, she was still one of his charges. It was utterly improper. That he later realized he was disappointed he had to say no meant nothing. Just as the flicker of happiness he felt when he learned she would not be moving on from the castle but instead taking up residence to apprentice under Septima meant nothing.
The beginning, he realizes now, was the second invitation to lunch, extended on the first Hogsmeade weekend. She had phrased it carefully, said it was a celebration of her first month as an apprentice, but the subtext of their newfound equality was not missed. He was not sure, exactly, what conclusion he was meant to draw from the celebratory lunch being just the two of them; to be safe, he had chalked it up to a mutual dislike of large crowds and obnoxious behaviors.
That day began their friendship and so somewhere between that moment and today, he had—
“Severus?” Hermione’s voice calls through the closed door. She knocks lightly. “May I come in?”
With a flick of his hand the door opens and she enters cautiously. He watches her survey the room, taking in the contents of his desk flung across the room, and the bottle of whisky he opened but had yet to let himself touch. She arches a brow.
“You’re not hiding a woman in the closet, are you?”
“I beg your pardon.”
“Well, you’ve just been made Headmaster,” she says. “That calls for celebration does it not?”
“And you think I would do so by—” He looks at his desk and then at her. “You have too vivid of an imagination.”
She shrugs with an unrepentant smile. “Well, if you didn’t clear your desk in the throes of passion, you’re cross about something. What could have possibly happened between being named Headmaster and retiring to your rooms? There’s no children about and I have it on good authority that Peeves was rather occupied defacing my new classroom in the name of interior decorating.”
“It is a pointless discussion.”
“Oh, but you know I’m rather found of idle conversation,” she teases. When he doesn’t smile, she comes closer and puts her hand on his arm. “Sev?”
“I did not realize you had applied to the arithmancy position.”
Her brow pulls together. “Are you upset I didn’t tell you? I was dying to, but I didn’t want to jinx it.”
“You were supposed to be working in London.”
“And then this position opened up, and I get to stay right here,” she says nonplussed. “I thought you’d be happy about that. Did you… You want me to leave, don’t you?”
He closes his eyes to avoid seeing the hurt he can hear in her voice. He cannot deny it, but how can he explain it, either?
“I thought that there was a chance that you—that we—” She cuts off, shaking her head. “Merlin, I’m such an idiot.” She sniffs. “I suppose it’s not fair to blame myself entirely though as you put on quite the show of companionship these last few years despite apparently loathing me. I thought I’d left that sort of business back in primary school.”
Severus winces, remembering her confiding in him about her various failed friendships. It was the pretending that had hurt her the most. He swallows.
“I do not loathe you, Hermione. I could never. In fact, I fear I may love you more than I will ever be allowed to.” He begins to pace. “First you were a student asking for a friendship I could not give. Then you were my colleague and making me feel things I could not act upon—You may not have been under me directly but the imbalance was there and I never wanted to risk tainting your apprenticeship with the knowledge of my affections. I thought… I thought maybe tonight I’d ask you to a celebratory dinner for my becoming Headmaster only to learn that you are now my employee and that boundary is written in stone!”
“No, it’s not.” She grabs his arm and stops his motion. “It is written on paper in a book that may be amended so long as one gains the appropriate approval from the Board of Directors and the Headmaster.”
“Are you saying that you would want—” He shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter. It’s an obvious conflict of interest and I won’t taint your name by involving you in even the smallest of scandals.”
“I knew you’d be impossible about this. That’s why I already did it.”
He looks at her properly then. “Did what?”
“Had the bylaws changed. Minerva told me about them when she offered me the Arithmancy position; apparently my affections are blatantly obvious to everyone but you, Severus Snape.”
“Your affections.”
“I was so certain you knew,” she says, shaking her head. “And I could never decide if you weren’t mentioning it to spare my feelings or to make the waiting slightly more bearable.”
His mouth feels dry. “How long have you—”
“I had developed a bit of a crush right around when I dared ask you to lunch for your birthday my last year,” she says thoughtfully. “And then, I don’t know, it just kind of snowballed from there I suppose.”
“And without confirming my feelings, you changed centuries old bylaws.”
“Don’t sound so surprised, you’re constantly on me about being foolishly optimistic.”
“I love you.”
She smiles. “I love you too.”