Sweetheart

Hermione raced through the crowded shopping center, maneuvering around throngs of people, but still bumping into every second or third unfortunate soul that was unlucky enough to be on her way. Her heart raced just behind her, it felt like. It was an awful day. It started pretty badly, then proceeded to get worse, and it seemed to be heading to a terrible, terrible end. She had barely had a wink of sleep last night, then she was predictably late to work, missed a very important meeting with the head of the DoM, had to endure a hostile silent treatment from Severus for the rest of the day as a result, and now she once again was late. He was going to kill her. Or worse, just leave and never speak to her again. Assuming he showed up to start with. It would’ve been so like Severus to act childishly petty if the mood struck him. After rounding the last corner before the cafeteria, Hermione was seriously out of breath. She charged in through a small gaggle of giggling girls that was heading out of it and stopped, panting and looking around wildly. He was nowhere to be found… Not surprising, really, they were supposed to meet over half an hour ago. Disappointment rippled through Hermione’s chest. “You’re late…” Severus’ voice hissed behind her, and Hermione swirled around. “What the hell!” she snapped, or at least tried to. It was rather hard to do while fighting an impending heart attack. “You’ve scared the living daylights out of me!” “Indeed.” They fell silent. His eyes burned with some strange indecipherable emotion, raising goosebumps all over Hermione’s back. She stared into them, transfixed. Opened her mouth slightly, and… Some clumsy bonehead slammed into Severus’ shoulder and without bothering to apologize continued on her merry way. What a twat. Hermione sighed. “I’m sorry,” she said, locking her gaze on his again. “I really am. I know you hate excuses, but this whole day has been just a giant disaster… Starting from the terrible night I had, and…” she sighed again, ducking her head. “It doesn’t matter. I’m sorry you had to go and take the quartering for my foolishness this morning. I’ll make it up to you, I promise. And I’m sorry I was late now. I was caught by McKey on my way out and dutifully listened to him verbally tear me a new one for a good hour… He threatened to put me on probation.” The last sentence Hermione could only whisper. She rubbed her face. No point in whining now. She had made a terrible mistake yesterday, a mistake that had cost one of her fellow unspeakables his life, and deserved far worse than probation. “...mers?” What? Hermione blinked at Severus, realizing that she entirely missed what he had just said. She expected him to narrow his eyes and purse his lips in annoyance. He did neither. “Did you have nightmares? Last night.” Hermione felt her face growing hot. She kind of did… But mostly she didn't, and had rather hoped to keep it all to herself, thank you very much. But Severus, bless him, dropped the subject upon seeing her reaction, and silently strode forward. After just a moment of hesitation, Hermione followed, and the rest of their semi-traditional three-hours Christmas shopping spree proceeded without a hitch. It started Hermione's first year as an unspeakable when they accidentally bumped into each other in one of the malls in London. The next year she was recovering from an accident for almost all of December and had to do Christmas shopping via owl order. Her third year was the year when she was partnered with Severus by the aforementioned McKey — their department head. That year was especially hard, because Severus felt like being especially acerbic, and that Christmas was especially miserable… Harry and Ginny spent it abroad on their honeymoon, the rest of the Weasley clan still could not accept her breakup with Ronald two years prior, her parents never made it from Australia, and Hermione had nothing to do but work all holidays. The only bright spot was her and Severus coming to a sort of truce that later proceeded to become a sort of friendship. The next three years, including the current one, they did the shopping together. They made their way through shopping lists with practiced efficiency, and once again found themselves in the cafeteria, sitting at one of the small tables, surrounded by numerous bags. Using magic in such a crowd was highly inadvisable, after all. Hermione sipped her tea while the two of them discussed an article published in the most recent issue of one of the German potions periodicals, almost allowing herself to relax and think that maybe, just maybe, the evening won't be quite as disastrous as the rest of the day had been. At some point they fell silent. It was strangely comfortable. The whole situation was comfortable with a large Christmas tree in the middle of the room, garlands and flickering lights everywhere, a low hum of dozens of people around talking and laughing, and with someone dear there with her to join in with the crowd. It felt like home. “Did he only threaten to put you on probation or has he already done so?” Severus asked suddenly, breaking Hermione out of her happy reflections. He looked grave. “Only threatened so far,” she replied. “His wife was waiting, I believe, so he said we'll return to the matter first thing Monday and took off. Why?” He raised an eyebrow. “Don't pretend to be stupid, Granger, it does not suit you. You did not push Williams into the Void, he bloody fell there all by himself as a result of his own carelessness. In what universe could it possibly be your fault? I said so to McKey this morning, will repeat it on Monday, and the day after, and for as long as it takes: his accusations have no grounds, he has no right to put you on probation on that basis! And if he still does, I'll make Shacklebolt remove that bureaucratic idiot from the office faster than he could remember his own name!” Severus hissed. Hermione smiled, feeling warmth spreading inside her. She spent this whole day thinking he reversed back to hating her, and here he was, defending her instead. “I fail to see what's so funny.” Her smile widened. “Nothing. Sorry. I just… I'm just glad to have you in my life, that's all.” Severus looked at her strangely, clearing his throat. “Well. It's getting late. We probably should wrap it up.” He stood up, almost knocking his chair back. “Do you require me to help you with the bags?” “Uhm,” Hermione blinked, also rising. “No, thanks. I'll see you in a couple of days then?..” “Naturally.” He lingered for just a moment, frowning at the table, then gathered his bags and left. Hermione watched his retreating back, the way his dark gray coat flapped around his shins and bags, dumbfounded. What in the name of Merlin was that? Something clearly happened, and it would've been really nice to know what it was… She must’ve said something wrong. Pff… ‘something’, indeed… How stupid it was of her to think that he of all people would be glad to have some annoying bookworm hanging onto him… Perfect, Hermione. There's him with all his brilliance, and there are you… With a deep breath Hermione abandoned her unfinished chips, gulped down the rest of the tea, grimaced at the awful lukewarm taste of it, and slowly started preparing to leave. She gathered the remaining bags, dumped her paper dishes into a nearest waste bin, and slowly made her way out of the building. She just knew that the bloody day was going to end with some sort of disaster… And, of course, it did. Twenty minutes later she closed the door to her small flat with a soft click and leaning on it with her back, slowly slid down onto the floor. She wanted to cry… Why, oh why was everything falling apart again?.. She only just managed to glue herself back together after the war, started to really enjoy her job, found her place among her colleagues, her friends. And Severus… Yes, fine, she did have a bit of a crush on him, but it was harmless. Hermione was absolutely sure that he would never notice her that way, and it helped her stop panicking and enjoy it while it lasted. They were friends. Crookshanks sauntered towards her with his tail high, and Hermione smiled. “You're right, Crooks, there's no point in worrying over what I cannot change.” She sighed and picked the cat up. “Let's go feed you.” Done with it, Hermione made herself a cup of tea. She turned on the candles and flickering lights all around her flat, and just sat on the couch in the living room for a moment with loudly purring Crooks, thinking of her impending probation and of Severus’ words. Everything would be fine in the end, she had to believe it. Half an hour later Hermione returned to the front door to pick up the bags. She needed to sort all the presents, wrap several, and sign all of them before putting them away. The task promised to keep her occupied for a couple of hours until bedtime. The first bag had four small boxes with token presents intended for some of her colleagues that were more acquaintances than friends, including one for McKey, and a gift for Ginny. Hermione wrapped them one by one in her favorite silver paper, tied them with white ribbons, and attached name cards. The second bag was similarly dealt with. Hermione stuck her hand into the next, pulled the first item she could reach out of it, and paused, frowning at it. She was one hundred percent sure that she did not buy any books. Hermione was waiting for a delivery of several texts on obscure branches of magic from Provence, and until it came, she forbade herself to go near any bookshops. But the book in her hand was unmistakably that — a book. And an old classic no less — Austen's Sense and Sensibility. One of her absolute favorites. The book was in pristine condition, although definitely far from new. Hermione flipped the back cover to see if its owner possibly signed it, but it was clean. The front flyleaf, however, had a dedication. “To my Marianne” it said in spiky handwriting. Hermione smiled fondly at it. It was clearly a gift to somebody loved and cherished. The next thing she realized was that the handwriting looked distinctly familiar: the only way she could confuse Severus Snape’s penmanship with anyone else’s was going blind as a bat. Hermione peered into the bag to confirm her suspicions… And yes, it did appear that in his haste to get away from her Severus accidentally took a wrong bag. Or possibly a few. Her first reaction was to chuckle, but then the reality of the situation struck her. He definitely had his sights on someone else. Probably was in love even. No wonder he fled from her the moment she voiced her silly attachment… Hermione’s heart sank, disturbing the contented peace she felt with her crush on him, and with a jolt she realized how stupid and blind she had been where her own feelings were concerned. Great job, Hermione. She placed the book on the coffee table, looking at it warily. How happy she would’ve been if she received such a gift from him… But of course it could be nothing but a dream. Severus would never look at her that way even if his heart was free, which it clearly wasn’t. It was a sobering thought. With her mood dropped to a below zero level and enthusiasm lost, Hermione checked which bags were hers and made quick work wrapping the rest of the gifts. She put them all away, leaving Severus’ bag on the table near the book that still lay there, staring at her. Somehow she would have to meet him come Monday, and look him in the eyes, and manage not to embarrass herself, suddenly starting to cry. An awful day indeed… With a deep sigh, Hermione turned away from the book that offended her so much and resolutely headed to her bedroom to try and not wallow in self pity. An unlikely scenario…She knew herself well, and would’ve given anything not to be living through this heartache, but had little choice in the matter. After an hour of tossing and turning, Hermione sat up with a groan. It was pointless… She got up and returned to the living room, drawn by the book. It was completely irrational, worse — it was downright stupid, masochistic even, but she just needed to hold it in her hands one more time, to see the spiky letters of his dedication, the long-ish stroke of his quill at the end of “y” in a futile attempt to alleviate some of the anguish. Hermione was fully aware that she was making things hard, unnecessarily so, but simultaneously could not stop herself. She sat on the couch’s armrest and picked the book up carefully. If Severus ever found out that she touched it, he’d be furious. Hermione felt like a naughty child sneaking to take a peek at indecent pictures in magazines While their parents were busy… Ridiculous. Gulping down sudden nervousness — it was just a book, for God’s sake, nobody would ever know — she turned the front cover open and for a long moment looked at three coveted words, then with a deep breath started flipping the book further to random pages. Familiar words of the novel caught her eye here and there, and Hermione spent some time reading several passages, finally coming to a book spread that hid a simple gift card with a photo of a man with a red heart-shaped balloon, standing beside a Christmas tree at Trafalgar square. She stared at him in apprehension. The man stared right back, smiling his overly cheerful smile, as if inviting Hermione to turn the card over. It was a bad urge… A bad, bad, terrible urge. The card was most likely empty. They had only just bought presents today, when would he have managed to write anything on it? But what if it wasn’t? Hermione was feeling acutely ashamed of her snooping. If Severus didn’t tell her about any possible relationship he might be having with whomever it was, then she had no business knowing any of it. She felt so terrible at violating her friend’s privacy like that, that she resolutely snapped the book closed and made to put it back into the bag, but found she couldn’t do so… She’d just take a quick peek to see if there was a name on the card. It was entirely possible that the dedication to a Marianne was meant literally and the fact that it was also one of the main character’s name was just a coincidence. But it equally could not be the case. And she absolutely had to know. Hermione had no idea where this fit of madness came from — normally she was far more respectful towards other people, to Severus more than most, — but at that moment she found herself opening the book back and searching for the needed page. She hated herself for this betrayal. And found the card. “He’s going to absolutely loathe you, Hermione, don’t be an imbecile…” she mumbled to herself, staring at it. “You’re not capable of pulling a convincing enough act to fool him.” Her hands trembled. Hermione shut her eyes tightly and flipped the card over. And hated herself a little bit more. After taking a small calming breath she opened her eyes and quickly dropped them down onto the card. It was not empty…

Hermione, You know what this means, don’t you?

I’ll be at the square tomorrow at 10 o’clock. If I have any hope… join me?

♡

Hermione stared at the words, uncomprehending. What? Was the Marianne… her?

♥ ♥ ♥

At first, when Severus realized that in his haste to get out of the mall lest he embarrass himself in some way he accidentally took Hermione's bag, he was annoyed. A few moments later, upon checking which bag of his was missing, he nearly had a panic attack. Hermione couldn't miss this unintentional swapping, and the likeliest way for her to do so would be to put her hand in and take the closest item out. Which would definitely be the blasted book, for he had stupidly put it on top. Then, if he was lucky, and Hermione bloody Granger resisted the urge to open it (which would only happen when Hell freezes over), he'd have a chance to have it safely returned to him. But somehow he very much doubted it. That’s why she was such a great Unspeakable. She was a curiosity personified with an insatiable thirst for knowledge, always wanting to understand and most importantly having the capacity and patience for it. Her first two years as a trainee she was assigned with another team, and the two of them had little contact with each other. Although it didn’t prevent him from watching her closely. Or as closely as he could anyway. Severus expected her to be the same insufferable girl as she had always been at Hogwarts, but he soon realized his mistake. She was quiet but efficient, not trying to race everyone around her anymore. It had gotten him curious. He even began talking to her on occasion as a neutral acquaintance. But when the time came for her to become a full-fledged Unspeakable and he suddenly found himself being partnered off with her by positively glowing McKey, he was unable to keep it up. Constant presence of her understanding eyes made him very uncomfortable. In addition, she was the one who saved his life back at the Shack, which was now for him forever associated with severe trauma, her eyes — the only thing that he remembered clearly from that night — were forever associated with death… It didn’t help matters in the least. But on Christmas eve that year as they were working, and they were the only people on the whole floor stupid enough to come, they had a real conversation for the first time ever, and he found himself enjoying it. In fact, he probably enjoyed it a lot more than he should have, because by the time summer rolled around he was pretty sure he was thoroughly in love with the blasted woman. It only took him about three years to get around the idea of confessing his feelings to her, although he had no idea of how to actually go about it. He bought the silly card with a handsome smiling man on Trafalgar symbolically holding a bright red heart in hopes that the image would be able to convey what he was unable to pronounce. Signed it the first chance he got to make it more real. It happened a week before their planned trip to do Christmas shopping. Today however he at first was spitting mad at McKey’s imbecilic, way over the top notions (and a little bit at her for leaving him to deal with the fool by himself), so in fear of biting her head off should he open his mouth, he fought to stay silent. He even left work half an hour earlier than was due. And as he was waiting for Hermione to arrive (being late twice a day should be considered an Azkaban-worthy offense surely), he wandered around a bookshop in the mall and stumbled upon a second edition of Sense and Sensibility. He read the novel once upon a time and knew that she absolutely adored Austen. It was somewhat fitting, so he bought it as an actual gift and immediately scribbled the dedication and stashed the card inside. Baby steps and all that. Only he thought he had more time. He thought he had more control over the situation… How mistaken he was… Again. That night Severus nearly drank himself into a stupor, incensed at her for definite snooping around his personal things, then at himself for apparently being completely inept at keeping track of his possessions, then at her again for surely she did not return his feelings and was laughing at him now, and ended the session with a familiar comfort of self loathing. Because he was old, and he was ugly in every sense of the word, so surely such a beautiful creature as Hermione would never look at him twice. When the dawn came, as he watched the sun rising, crying, he suddenly had a very sobering thought: what if she did return his feelings? The possibility frankly terrified him, for he had little idea of how to actually deal with it, although his mind was too sluggish to react properly. But. Didn't she say that she was happy to have him in her life or something of that nature? Surely it meant that she was at the very least not repulsed by him? And didn’t he write on that card that he’d be waiting for her on Trafalgar “tomorrow at 10”? "Tomorrow" had already become "today", and 10 o’clock was a little over two hours away from now. What if she’d actually come? It didn’t matter that he planned for “tomorrow” to be a Christmas day, or possibly a New Year’s day… Intentionally or not, he had laid all his cards on the table, and a thought of backing out now and potentially making Hermione look like a fool, giving all his inner struggling, his love — this pure and sacred thing that he had been nursing for years — an appearance of a cruel joke hurt him physically. Severus looked at the bottle in his hand, suddenly feeling utterly disgusted with it and with his state, and poured the remains out into the sink. He opened the cabinet where he stored potions and took a dose of Sober-Up, then proceeded to take a long and thorough shower. Hermione might come, or she might not, but he’d be damned if didn’t witness it with his own eyes.

♥ ♥ ♥

It was twenty to ten, and Hermione was still pacing in her living room. She was pretty sure she had worn a large hole in the carpet by now, and that she offended Crooks at some point by ignoring him, but couldn’t care less about it at the moment. She debated what to do now. Severus could be inattentive when distressed. It was a rare occurrence, but she saw it herself a couple of times over the years. So it was possible that he had no intention of leaving the bag — and the book — with her. Although he was sneaky enough to plan such an unconventional and seemingly accidental way of making a love confession, and also socially inept enough to actually go through with it. The possibility of it just being a joke was quickly dismissed as a highly improbable one at some point during the night. The real problem, though, was not Severus’ feelings or lack of thereof. It was her own. Or rather her inability to get a grip on her irrational fear of destroying what she had in an attempt to build something new. Things were happening so fast, Hermione's head spun. She stared at the clock. Fifteen to ten. It was time to make a decision. “Screw that,” Hermione whispered to nobody in particular and moved towards the door. At the last moment she remembered to take Severus’ bag and book, then threw her winter coat on and apparated out of the entrance. Trafalgar square was swarmed with people. Hermione made her way through them towards a Christmas tree, this time not at a dead run, but quietly, searching for Severus’ face among strangers. Her heart beat furiously in her throat, but she tried very hard to ignore it. She reached the tree with two minutes to spare and looked around one more time. He was nowhere in sight. Fighting with her disappointment, Hermione decided to wait for another half hour at least, and started slowly circling the tree. It would've been so stupid if the two of them missed each other simply because neither had the presence of mind to check the other side of the giant Christmas construction. So Hermione circled it, or at least tried to, because it seemed like every person on the square chose this morning to meet with their friends here and take a hundred or two photos by the Christmas tree which, by the way, was absolutely identical to the one standing here last year… Or any other year. Frustrated, Hermione pushed through yet another group. “Watch it, girl!” someone snapped, forcing Hermione to turn around, practically growling. She opened her mouth to verbally eviscerate the moron when her eyes landed on Severus’ tall form. A sudden shout attracted his attention too and he looked towards the noise. The moment their eyes met, Hermione’s heart seemed to stop beating altogether, the stupid thing… She clutched the book — her book? — tighter to her chest, while her legs carried her forward on their own volition. For a long moment they just stared at each other. Severus’ cheeks were a little pinkier than the weather would’ve painted them, and his eyes openly burned with numerous indecipherable emotions for the first time in Hermione’s memory, which made her knees weak. “Did you truly mean it?” she asked quietly, but Severus heard the words nonetheless. He dropped his gaze on the book for a second, then nodded. “I did.” Hermione closed the remaining distance between them. “Kiss me then.” “Are you sure?” “I’m here, aren’t I?” That Christmas was the first one in a long line of the best Christmases ever.

♥ ♥ ♥

The end