Chapter Text
Hermione is awoken by the pounding on the door. Huffing, she rubs at her eyes and checks her alarm clock. Who the hell would be at her door before nine on a Sunday? She shifts out of bed carefully but still manages to disturb Crookshanks, who slumbers curled up by her side. He chirps and opens a bleary eye, giving her a look that clearly shows his displeasure.
When she came home from Spinner's End three days ago, he showed his displeasure at her disappearance by swatting at her ankles. But when she broke down sobbing inside the door, he was there in a second climbing into her lap and licking her cheek. He's barely left her side since.
The pounding continues, and Hermione pulls on her dressing gown. “I'm coming!” she calls out, tying the belt tightly around her waist.
“Finally!” Ginny says when Hermione opens the door. “Where have you been? I haven't heard from you in days. I was starting to get worried.” Then she makes a face that reminds her so much of Ron that it makes Hermione's stomach clench. “You look terrible.”
Hermione rolls her eyes and steps aside. “Thanks, how kind of you.”
Ginny enters. “I'm serious. You look like shite. Is everything okay?”
Hermione looks away as tears gather in her eyes. “Oh, for fucks sake,” she mutters, blinking rapidly.
There is a loud chirp, and Crooks comes trotting out from the bedroom. He stretches, then wraps himself around Hermione's ankles. She chuckles and bends down to pick him up. Sweet, loyal, Crookshanks. His fur is soft underneath her fingers. He purrs and butts his head against her chin.
Hermione gestures towards the kitchen. “Let's put the kettle on and we can talk.”
In the kitchen Ginny opens the cabinet next to the fridge. Two tea bags in her hand, she chuckles and gestures at the overfilled space. “Blimey, Hermione, there's enough food here to feed an army!”
After checking in at work on Friday – apologising profusely and promising to make up for the time she'd been away – Hermione went to Tesco and bought enough food to last her weeks, if not months. The situation at Spinner's End brought her food anxiety – which she usually had under control – to new heights. She can't very well tell Ginny that right now, though.
“I take it you didn't get my Patronus?” Hermione asks, setting Crookshanks down on the floor. He immediately jumps up on the kitchen table. He's not really allowed up there, but he does what he wants and she doesn't have the heart to tell him off.
Ginny frowns, putting water in the kettle. “Your Patronus? No, I didn't get any Patronus. When did you send a Patronus? And why?”
“All excellent questions.”
Over tea and toast – and with a purring Crookshanks on her lap – Hermione tells Ginny the events of the past few days. Ginny's brown eyes grow wide, mouth hanging slightly open.
“Wait, wait. You're telling me you were stuck in a time loop with Snape for four days?” she asks when Hermione has finished speaking.
“It was five days and four hours, actually.”
Ginny hesitates. “Are you okay?”
Hermione chuckles and strokes a hand down Crookshanks' back. “Honestly? I'm not sure. But it happened and I can't change that, so I just have to deal and move on with my life.”
“And I suppose I'm not allowed to ask why you went back there in the first place?”
“No.”
“Or what caused the time loop?”
“Nope.” Hermione would rather forget that.
“Fair enough.” Ginny finishes her toast and leans back. “What are you going to do now?”
Hermione tucks her hair behind her ear. “I'm going to finish my breakfast, get dressed, then go for a nice Sunday walk with my best friend – possibly get a pub lunch – and later catch up on work.”
Thankfully Ginny doesn't push and instead offers to do the washing up while Hermione gets dressed.
Hermione blindly grabs a pair of shorts and a top from her wardrobe and changes quickly. After she picked herself up from the floor when she came home from Spinner's End, she pulled off her dress and stuffed it into the far back of her wardrobe. She never wants to see either of them again.
She isn't surprised that she hasn't heard from Severus, but she can't help but wonder what it was all for. They were trapped together for days, but nothing has changed. Straightening her sheets, her eye catches the scuff mark on the wall by the bed frame and a memory from months ago washes over her.
Her breathing was loud in her ears and she whimpered when Severus reached around her hip to rub at her clit. She braced her hands on the bed frame, head dropping between her shoulders as she pushed back against him.
“I'm gonna come,” she gasped, then her body shook as her climax washed over her. She collapsed onto her stomach, it felt like it took several minutes for the white spots disappeared from her vision.
Severus rolled her onto her back and smirked down at her, one hand caressing her shin. The other was wrapped around his hard cock, leisurely stroking it.
“You're so fucking beautiful,” he said, voice clouded with lust.
Hermione giggled, wetting her dry lips. “Come here.”
He crawled on top of her, kissing her deeply and hoisting her thighs over his forearms before entering her again. The bed frame banged steadily against the wall in chorus with their groans and moans.
Back in the present, Hermione blinks. With a wave of her wand, she repairs the scuff mark and leaves the room.
–
Hermione hates central London in the summer. It's busier than usual with endless tourists, students on holiday and people enjoying the weather. On Monday morning she Apparates to Leicester Square and buys her morning coffee and a pastry from a small vendor on the corner of the square. Sipping her coffee – with an extra shot of espresso to make up for her lack of sleep – she weaves through a group of tourists and heads towards the Leaky Cauldron.
“Hermione, wait!”
A man with light hair half-jogs towards her, a similar takeaway cup to hers in his hand. He smiles widely. “I thought that was you. How was your weekend?”
“Hi, Terry.” Hermione pulls open the door to the Leaky Cauldron. “It was all right, thank you.” Lies. “How was yours?”
They make idle chat as they go through the pub and step into Diagon Alley. Terry Boot is a good colleague and a nice friend. She's had a suspicion for a while that he might be interested in more than friendship, and she doesn't know how to feel about that.
As she opens the door to enter, something tall and black flashes in the corner of her eye. She pauses. Was that Severus? Her magic starts humming beneath her skin.
“Hermione? Is everything all right?”
Hermione blinks, meeting Terry's concerned eyes. “Oh yes, sorry. Just thought I saw someone I know.”
They enter the building, and Hermione tries to ignore the sinking feeling in her stomach.
–
When she arrives back at the Apparition point in Chiswick common after work, her mind is still on this morning. Then she feels like a fool. Severus isn't the only wizard who wears black, and there was no reason for him to be in Diagon Alley at a quarter to eight on a Monday morning. She was mistaken, she’s sure of it. Just because she wanted it to be him doesn’t mean it was.
She stops by her local Tesco for some extra treats for Crookshanks and ice cream before continuing home. Hermione is a few houses away when she spots someone leaning against the brick wall. Someone dressed in black. Oh, dear Merlin. So it was him she saw this morning.
When she comes closer, Severus pushes himself off the wall. “Hello.”
She is taken aback by the uncertainty in his voice.
Hermione's heart beats faster. “What do you want?”
“May I come inside?”
“I'm not in the mood for games.”
He quirks an eyebrow. “When have I ever played games?”
Hermione supposes that's true. “All right,” she says, surprising herself. This is sure to be a bad idea. Instead she walks ahead of him to the front door, unlocks it and holds it up for him to enter after her. She tries not to think about the time they came home on the drunker side of tipsy after the Order Christmas party and almost fucked against the wall halfway up the stairs.
Having him in her flat again feels strange, like using someone else's wand. A muttered word and she slips down the hall to the kitchen. She puts the ice cream in the freezer and tosses Crooks' treats on the worktop before closing her eyes and taking a few deep breaths. Maybe this wasn't the best idea. What does he want?
There is a loud yowl and the sound of cat paws trotting down the hallway. Hermione leaves the kitchen, and the sight of Crooks rubbing his flat face all over Severus' trousers while purring loudly makes her smile.
“He's missed you.”
Severus looks up, and she stifles a chuckle at the look on his face. The feeling always was fairly one-sided. On several occasions, Crooks would curl up on Severus' lap instead of Hermione's, and never seemed too bothered about the mass of orange hairs he left behind.
“He's got despicable taste in people.”
Hermione shrugs. “I don't know. He likes you more than he does Harry.”
The corner of his mouth twitches. “A small comfort.”
Hermione jerks her head. “We can talk in the sitting room.” She should offer tea; it's the polite thing to do, but she can't bring herself to do it. She'll let him say what he wants to say, let him leave, and then eat her weight in ice cream.
She opens the front window, letting in a breeze and the sounds and smells of the summer afternoon. The sun is warm on her face. When she turns, Severus is seated on the sofa with Crookshanks looking at him adoringly.
“Shoo, Crooks,” she says. “Give us a moment.”
Crookshanks flicks his tail in annoyance but struts out of the room.
Hermione leans against the window sill and folds her arms across her chest. “Why are you here, Severus?”
“I've got to talk to you.”
“You waited three days to come and throw more hurtful words in my face? How kind of you.”
His face darkens. “Sarcasm doesn't become you, witch.”
She can't help the shiver that goes through her body; him using that word brings out a Pavlovian response in her. It's usually accompanied by orders. Come here, witch. On your back, witch. Come for me, witch.
Hermione clears her throat. “Did you come here to make idle chat? If so you needn't bother.”
“I did not.” He rests his elbows on his knees, lets out a sigh. “I am uncomfortable with the way we left things.”
“You seemed to be pretty content when you closed the door in my face.” Her throat closes up.
He looks up, lips curled in a sneer. “For fuck's sake, Hermione. Am I not allowed a moment of contemplation? Did you ever stop to think about how the time loop affected me? Or how it felt realising I was to blame? Damaged I may be, but I feel things just as you do.”
Hermione swallows audibly, uncomfortable with where this conversation is going. It's better to be angry. “You didn't say anything,” her voice is meek and feeble even to her ears.
Severus chuckles dryly. “You never learn, do you? Not all of us are comfortable wearing our hearts on our sleeves, boisterously announcing our every thought and feeling to the world.”
“That's not fair. How am I supposed to know these things if you don't tell me? I'm not a mind reader, Severus.” Her throat burns, and the corner of her eyes burn. She's so tired of crying. She turns away, inhales shakily and blinks away tears.
Severus sighs. “I am trying, Hermione.” His voice is tired. “Why else would I be here?”
Hermione bites her lower lip to stop it from trembling. She's not sure she'll survive him leaving again. A part of her realises she's being unfair; it was she who ended things, she who walked out of Spinner's End three days ago. He didn't leave her; she left him. Her magic is still humming with his presence.
She doesn't hear him rise or cross the floor space to where she's standing, but she feels the warmth from his body against her back. Then he curls his hands around her upper arms, and she feels the weight of his forehead on the crown of her head.
“You are the best thing that's happened to me.”
Sweet Merlin.
“I can't do this again,” Hermione whispers, “not if it'll be like last time. I'm not strong enough.”
“It won't. We won't let it.”
“I'm scared.”
“So am I.”
He gently turns her around, keeps his hands on her arms. She feels them tremble slightly.
“I know I fucked up – we both did – but I cannot imagine my life without you.” Severus dips his head slightly, eyes intense. “What do you say?”
Hermione blinks. She wants him so badly. She imagines their life together; all the good things from before with none of the bad. They're sure to mess up – it's more than likely – but that's all right. If the alternative is being without him, it's worth the risk.
She slowly unfolds her arms, rests her hands against his stomach. The muscles clench underneath her touch. She runs them around and up to his back, steps in closer and splays her hands over his shoulder blades. His body melts into hers, and she feels his magic reaching out to hers.
She is sure her eyes are damp when she wets her lips and breathes, “Yes.”
