Chapter 6


Hermione hesitated for several minutes outside the door to Severus' office (an additional bonus of the students being absent – there was no way she would have risked them noticing Professor Granger screwing up her courage during term time). Eventually, she decided to knock, despite almost-certain embarrassment waiting on the other side. 
 
Maybe she was lucky. Maybe he had gone to Scarbourough to get Potions supplies. 
 
Maybe he was staring right at her, like she was a particularly disappointing Doxy egg. 
 
“I see you haven't been called away on urgent business,” Hermione blurted out like an idiot.  
 
Severus motioned for her to come in, which was promising. “Should I have been? Did Potter unleash Wizarding War III, and needs me to save his arse again?” 
 
“Not that I know of.” She knew better than to defend Harry. “You didn't come down for lunch.” 
 
“I didn't realise my attendance was being monitored. By my subordinate, no less.” There were lines on his face that hadn't been there yesterday, and the shadows under his eyes seemed to have grown darker recently. Hermione did a quick mental review of the date – there were no anniversaries she could think of, but these things were so unpredictable. The scent of lilac had made her want to cry for years before she realised it was because of all the funerals she had gone to after the battle of Hogwarts. 
 
“I should apologise.” She pulled a chair up to his desk – a comfortable armchair, not one of the dreadful ones he kept for students. 
 
“I'm sure you're right. Is it a blanket apology for being an interfering busybody, or did you have a specific offence in mind?” Severus tapped his wand on his desk, and a tea tray appeared. The smoky scent of her favourite tea reminded Hermione to pay attention to his actions, not his words. 
 
“It was unfair of me to ask you for help, and then get angry when you tried to give advice.” It seemed obvious even to her, in retrospect. 
 
“Quite. Milk?” The complete absence of gloating was curious. 
 
“Not today, thanks.” Hermione nabbed one of the biscuits – shortbread. She felt it ought to tell her something about his state of mind, but she couldn’t figure out what. 
 
They drank their tea in companionable silence, and Hermione should have been relieved to return to the comfortable status quo, and yet, couldn't shake off the feeling that she was missing something. 
 
Apparently, Severus felt the same. 
  
“Seeing as you were utterly in the wrong yesterday,” – and here came the gloating – “could you indulge my curiosity, if I admit it is none of my business?” It was so rare that he asked her a direct question – and a personal one no less – that Hermione agreed, just to find out what he was curious about. 
 
“Just this time, then. And I'm glad you agree with me,” she said primly, taking the last shortbread. 
 
“Even Hagrid has noticed you've been less of a termagant lately. What earthly reason could you have to discourage Lucius when you clearly enjoyed his attentions?” 
 
Damn him and his bloody tongue. Termagant, indeed? Like he was one to talk. “Aren’t we observant?” she said surlily, playing for time before she decided the truth would do just as well as any other answer. It wasn’t as if he cared, anyway. “How would you put it? My affections are engaged elsewhere.” A regular Elizabeth Bennet she was.  

His lips disappeared in a narrow band of disapproval, and Hermione's heart started beating on double time. He couldn't have guessed, surely? She couldn’t – she just couldn’t bear it if he threw it back into her face.

“I see.” He rose abruptly, sweeping his robes around him like a cloak of darkness, and the cup of tea disappeared out of her hand as he Vanished the tea accoutrements. “I trust you can see yourself out? I’ve urgent business in Diagon Alley this evening.”

“Sure,” Hermione told the empty room as the faint crack of his Apparition died away. She sighed. Even if she lived until she was two hundred, she wouldn’t be able to figure him out.

---

 
 It was the first time Hermione set foot at Malfoy Manor since – since that other time she wasn’t going to think about now. The war was over; it had been over a long time, and she was here for a completely different reason.

Her nineteen-year-old self would have found her current dilemma incomprehensible, and, as much as Hermione was confident in her own decisions, there was an odd trembling in her knees, suggesting that her body hadn’t forgotten what had happened on her previous visit.

She caught a glance of her pale face - this morning the sun had given way to the all-too-familiar heavy clouds – in a mirror above the gilded fireplace, and for a moment she thought it was a ghost.

A ghost of times gone by, at least.

“Hermione – what a pleasure!” Lucius greeted her with outstretched hands and a smile in his eyes, and she was pulled back to the present. Here was someone who was nothing like he had been then – did it matter that the location was the same?

Probably, considering that she studiously had avoided visiting the Manor until she no longer could avoid it.

“Lucius, I’m glad to see you.” She kissed the air near his cheek, thankfully missing his ear with half an inch, and was brought into a conservatory filled with as much light as the grey day afforded. Exotic plants climbed to the sunroof, the profusion of greenery barely leaving space for a dainty-looking table and two spindly chairs. She was installed in one and offered tea before she had time to find her bearings, and barely had time to appreciate the flesh-eating Chinese Jasmine by the time the tea tray arrived.

“Aren’t the Crown of Thorns coming on well?” Lucius said, following her gaze to the luxuriant, pus-filled flowers threatening to spill over into the birdbath below. “But I assume you didn’t come here to admire my succulents?”

“No,” Hermione admitted. Faced with the bald reality, all her little speeches seemed contrived, or worse – was she assuming something that didn’t even exist? Severus Snape wasn’t exactly a relationship expert.

“Do enlighten me – should I be concerned?” His expression changed. “Is it to do with that damnable article in the Prophet? I assure you –“

“No. Well, it is and it isn’t,” Hermione said, and gave herself a mental bash on the head. Gryffindor courage, she reminded herself. “It doesn’t matter, other than that it crystallised the situation. I’ve been…” She tried to come up with a way to phrase it so that didn’t leave her looking like a complete idiot, and failed. “I’m afraid you caught me at a vulnerable moment. I’m getting on a bit –“

“Balderdash!” Lucius interjected, but she continued undeterred. He would say that, wouldn’t he?

“– And while challenging, life as a teacher isn’t particularly exciting. I suppose you intrigued me.” He had been quite clever about it, but she couldn’t find it in herself to begrudge him that.

“And now the mystery has worn off?” Lucius tilted his head a little, but the expression in his eyes was still warm.

“I don’t mind that. I just don’t see this – this thing between us going any further, so I’d rather stop now, while we’re still ahead.“ Damn Ronald Weasley and all the time Hermione had spent thinking about him, instead of learning how to bring relationships to an end without sounding like a five-year-old. “It’s not you,” she hastened to add, before realizing it was what everyone said when it was indeed the other person. “I’m in love with someone else, and I don’t see that changing anytime soon,” she blurted out.

A butterfly landed on the fringe of her scarf, and Hermione watched it climb towards her sleeve like her life depended on it, rather than thinking about the fact that she’d just handed her heart on a plate to Lucius Malfoy.

“I see.” His voice was light as always, and Hermione chanced a glance at his face. It was pensive, as if his mind was dwelling on faraway places. “I assume Severus is unaware of his good fortune?”

Hermione’s teacup landed on the floor with a crack, startling the butterfly into flight.

“No matter,” Lucius said, mending the broken cup with a neat flick of his wand. “It was quite obvious once you told me. Not even Harry Potter figures as largely in your conversation as Severus does.”

Hermione contemplated denial, before conceding that she already had given herself away. “If you’re his friend at all, I beg you not to tell him. He’d probably be happier to find out the Giant Squid had a thing for him than I.” In a world where Lily Evans had never existed, Hermione might have attempted to make an impression on Severus. In this one, she knew better than imagining she could compete with long-dead saints with brilliant green eyes.

“I promise I won’t.” A half-smile sat on his lips as if it belonged there. “I think you ought to, however.”

Hermione knocked her cup over a second time. “I don’t think so,” she said when she had recovered. “I’ve seen the type of damage he can inflict with his tongue, and I’m not keen to have my foolishness thrown back in my face. Thanks, but no thanks.”

“On the contrary, I think you might find his reaction… interesting.” Lucius inspected his immaculate fingernails.

“Perhaps. Then again, I rode a dragon when I was nineteen, I don’t need to get my adrenaline kicks now.” Her Muggle cousins had started running marathons and skydiving as they approached forty. Hermione shuddered and felt doubly thankful for the Hogwarts library, which contained all the excitement she needed.

Well, almost. Hence the current mess. She stole a glance at Lucius, who was looking unusually exasperated.

“Gryffindors,” he mumbled, before collecting himself. “A week ago Severus turned up unannounced when I was tending to the winged horses. You may be familiar with his reason for calling,” Lucius tactfully skimmed over it, for which Hermione was grateful, “but what struck me particularly was his manner. He was acting somewhere between an Erumpent with a grievance and a Green Tree Frog trying to protect its favourite tree from loggers.”

“He might have been doing – someone – a favour,” Hermione mumbled. “He’s not very good at being gracious.”

“He’s not very good at sharing, either. What Severus is exceedingly good at is tying himself into knots, believing he isn’t good enough to have what he wants.” That was extraordinarily plain speaking, coming from Lucius Malfoy. “Which, my dear, is you.”

Hermione was about to dismiss the suggestion again, but Lucius raised an aristocratic hand to silence her.

“He went to considerable lengths to ensure I intended to treat you with the respect you deserve, up to and including threatening to employ his arsenal of Dark curses should I fail to do so. Believe me, I have known him since he was eleven. He’s not as opaque as he’d like to be.”

Hermione coughed meaningfully.

“His feelings have always been closer to the surface than his motives. There is no Dark Lord to deceive now, so he doesn’t have to bury his desires anymore,” Lucius said, almost convincing enough to make one overlook the fact that he had been as ignorant of Severus' true loyalties as everyone else.

‘Desires’ did sound appealing however, almost enough to tempt Hermione into believing him. She tried to think of a more plausible explanation. “Perhaps he’s taking a – a fatherly interest?” That would be even worse than indifference.

“Severus? Severus Snape? He might have done his best to protect his students during the war, but I’ve yet to see him take a paternal interest in anyone’s love life.”

When Lucius put it like that, it was hard to argue with him.

---

Hermione was so distracted when she left the Manor that she attempted to Floo home through an alcove, before Lucius directed her to the more conventional fireplace. When the green sparks had died down and he was alone again, he headed to his study to compose a letter. It seemed to take an inordinate amount of time to produce a simple sheet of parchment – in the beginning, he spent several minutes holding his quill in the air after starting boldly with:

Dear Severus,

As he wrote, the stern frown lines on his forehead slowly dissolved, and by the time he signed with a flourish, Lucius looked positively gleeful.

I'm writing to inform you that I consider my life debt to you settled, by means of the inestimable Ms Granger. You may express your gratitude the next time we meet. As your friend, I also have one piece of advice: do not fuck this up. You will not get a second chance, so on this occasion you will simply have to accept your good fortune despite your unworthiness, past misdeeds etc etc.

Lucius

P.S. Bring your chessboard on Thursday, mine has been sent to Alexandria for repair. Why is it so difficult to find competent craftsmen these days?

A true Slytherin found opportunity even in defeat.

---

Hermione approached the dungeons with apprehension. Her previous trip had been bad enough; this time, she had to force her legs to move every step down the long, winding staircase. The only reason she wasn't curled up on her couch with a good book (or tolerable, she wouldn't be fussy tonight) was the faint shimmer of a possibility that Lucius Malfoy was right.

Merely thinking the sentence through almost sent her scurrying back before Severus noticed her approach, but Hermione chomped down on her panic. By virtue of the law of averages, Lucius was almost guaranteed to spend the second half of his life in a flurry of correct judgements.

Even if he was mistaken, she had to try. Hermione could bear the prospect of a future containing cats, research and a cottage, but not if it involved regrets. As long as there was any chance – any chance at all – that she could have what she wanted most of all, she had make the attempt.

Her courage carried her through the door to Severus' office for the second time in two days, but this time it was empty. The discovery brought her up short. A quick mental review of his schedule told her he most likely was to be found in the staffroom on a Friday morning, perusing his newly delivered academic journals. If her mind hadn't been running on autopilot since meeting Lucius last night, she could have spared herself the journey.

Severus was indeed parked in his favourite armchair in the staffroom. Unfortunately, his scowling presence didn't restore Hermione's equilibrium, and her carefully rehearsed speech escaped her.

With nothing else to fall back upon, she opted for directness. "Why did you try to convince me not to give Lucius up, when you care for me yourself?"

When he looked up at her, Severus looked like a man whose dragons had come home to roast, resigned to his fate. His sneer was nowhere to be found, and for the first time, Hermione dared to really hope.

"Because Lucius, however mistaken in his wartime allegiances, is a better match for you in every single way I can think of.” 
 
“Really? How?” Hermione asked. The conversation felt like it was happening in some parallel universe – they both sounded like they were discussing changes to the Muggle Studies curriculum. She couldn't quite make herself believe this was real.
 
“Do I have to spell it out? Apart from the obvious advantages of allying oneself to the richest and most powerful man in England rather than a skint schoolteacher –“ 
 
“Deputy Headmaster, if you please,” she pointed out.
 
He didn't dignify that with a response. “ – Advantages that would benefit the weakest and poorest groups of society as well as you alone, there is the emotional aspect to consider.” 
 
Hermione barely had time to catch her breath before he continued his tirade. 
 
“While one prospect is so alluring he managed to kill his first love through his – my – own idiocy, Lucius not only managed to remain happily married for decades, he also nursed his wife through a long, debilitating illness. If he has abandoned his old beliefs sufficiently to be interested in you, he has addressed the one area in which I could be expected to surpass him.” 
 
“If –“ Hermione wasn't sure which of a dozen things to say, but it didn't matter. Severus didn't allow her to continue anyway. 
 
“Add to that the fact that Lucius' charm is renowned across the wizarding world, while most people prefer not having to talk to me if they can avoid it. I think it's fairly clear what your choice is going to be…What it should be.” He delivered the last sentence like he had demolished her non-existing argument, and Hermione was suddenly furious. It jolted her out of her stupor, as if her subconscious had given her a kick to sit up and take notice, because this was going to be important.
 
“Really? So you decided to make my choice for me.” 
 
He snorted. “It's hardly as if you've been waiting for me to declare my undying love these past five years or so.” 
 
“Not five. More like two, really.” In addition to being perfectly true, saying it gave her the tremendous satisfaction of taking the wind out of his sails completely. 
 
With Snape finally speechless, Hermione recklessly continued. “I won't lie and tell you I believed it was you who sent me those things. I wanted it to be, but I knew it wasn't. It doesn't matter what it is, either – you could give me a bloody crushed beetle, and I'd treasure it because it was from you.”

She stopped worrying about sounding too pathetic as soon as she dared look at his face.

Hermione had seen Severus Snape incredulous many times – usually at the seemingly infinite stupidity of his students – but his carefully constructed mask rarely allowed naked wonder to shine through. 
 
Having started, there was one way to go – onwards and upwards. “Sod Lucius and his money – I don't give a fig about that, and you know it. I don't care how much he loved another woman either, it's me I'm concerned about. The same thing goes for you – the past should stay in the past, where it belongs.” She had to pause for breath, but he was too dazed to interrupt. Now that I know you actually – you –" Hermione fumbled for the right word, shying away from 'love' but unwilling to stoop to 'fancy'.

"I've loved you for years. If you truly prefer me to Lucius Malfoy," Severus still had a note of doubt in his voice, "then –"

They stared at each other, as if they were seeing each other for the first time in this most humdrum of rooms, where they'd argued about marking and politics, and slowly, slowly, fallen in love.

Afterwards Hermione could never figure out who made the first move; all she knew was that one moment she was at the other side of the room, and the next she was suddenly in his arms.

"I won't be sending you any precious little gifts, so be warned," Severus told her hair a few minutes later, clearly intent on laying all his cards on the table.
 
“Love's young dream, very nice. Can you two keep it down? I'm trying to have a rest here.” Professor Binns' creaky voice reminded them where they were, and they broke apart like a pair of guilty students.

"Sorry," Hermione called out, but she had never been less sorry in her life.

THE END