Chapter Text
May 14th 2005:
She felt sick to her stomach knowing that he was planning something. He always liked to make a big deal out of things she’d preferred were private. But, that’s what made Ron, well, Ron. But, that didn’t help Hermione, especially lately.
Lately she’d been feeling the strain of everything, including her relationship. In the past she’d been able to deal with Ron’s sensitive ego, his low self-esteem, his flighty patterns, his pride. She used to be okay with easing his jealousy and boasting his self-confidence, completely happy to go along with his ever changing plans.
But, lately she’d just been so tired.
She was tired of her job. Tired of everyone constantly asking her for things and expecting her to do everything because they knew she would. She was tired of bending and compromising. She was so sick of playing politics and jumping through hoops with people she couldn’t stand just to make an actual difference.
Tired of going home and having to clean up after her partner and take care of his every need. She was tired of arguing with him about doing his own chores, tired of pointing out that he was a grown man and that she wasn’t his mother. She was tired of easing his temper when he was jealous of men at work and the double standard of his dismissal whenever she was angry at a suggestive picture of him with some slag. She was tired of him stopping for paparazzi on Date Night, tired of having to compromise with staying home and going out. Tired of it all, honestly.
She didn’t know when she’d started to feel this way. She didn’t know when she’d just started doing things to appease him. Or when she’d started folding at work to make things easier. But, it’d become painfully obvious after Harry and Theo had eloped and disappeared for their honeymoon with a trip around the world.
Hermione, he makes me the happiest I’ve ever been. He feels like home.
When had Ron stopped feeling like home to her? She loved Ron, but she didn’t know if she was in love with him anymore.
“Sickle for your dragon’s hoard?” River Lestrange prompted as they stepped out of Gringotts. Hermione rolled her eyes at the idiom. It was River’s way of asking what she was thinking.
River, the daughter of Rodolphus and Bellatrix, had been a spy for the Order. She’d been raised by Rupert Scammander and had worked as an Auror prior to the war and in the Law offices post war with Hermione. They’d been quick friends and now, post-war, she was possibly her best friend.
“Just thinking about life. And how you probably had a good idea by getting out as fast as you could,” Hermione replied, sighing deeply.
River frowned, her grey eyes as expressive as her cousins, “What’s wrong?”
Hermione shrugged, picking at her sleeve. “I’m just over it, you know?”
“Work?” she prompted.
She gestured around her and River ahh’d. Hermione was easy to read when one paid attention and if she were being honest, River wasn’t surprised.
“I left the Ministry to be with Charlie,” River reminded her, “But, I will say, it does have its perks. You know if you need a break you’re always welcome.”
Charlie and River dated at Hogwarts, then broke up when the distance became too much. Now, post-war, they were both making sacrifices to make it work once they realized they didn’t want to give each other up again. They’d done the long distance thing, River going to visit him often and he’d come home to visit her. But, as the years passed on they knew they couldn’t continue doing that, so Charlie had taken the Care of Magical Creatures job at Hogwarts as well as the Groundskeeper position. And River bought a small cafe-bookshop hybrid in Hogsmeade.
Their love story and the way they compromised had always inspired Hermione to make it work, but now she was wondering if she was just trying to keep something alive that just needed to be put out of its misery.
“How did you know Charlie was the one?” Hermione asked.
River looked at her with a mix of concern and affection.
“Because even on the bad days I still wanted him around,” River replied, “Charlie makes me a better person, Mye. Even when I’m so angry I can pull my hair out, he still manages to make me smile. If you don’t feel like it’s a partnership then maybe it should be reevaluated. But, I’m going to leave it at that because you know how I feel about Ronald already.”
“He’s not that bad,” Hermione defended weakly.
“Mye,” River replied, raising a brow, “He’s a great auror and a passionate lover. But, passion and determination can also be an overcompensation. Especially with equally or superiorly successful friends and family around. He’s competitive at best. A sore loser at worst.”
Hermione could see the start of a tirade from the former Slytherin, one that loved to tear down people who thought they were better than they were, so she quickly changed the subject.
“Are you going to the Hero’s Gala?” she prompted.
River grimaced. “Gods no. I have better things to do than be paraded about by the ministry.”
“Is he going?” Hermione asked, shyly.
It wasn’t very often they discussed Severus Snape. He’d become a recluse since the war. But, the only person who’d been privy to his every move since was River, who had taken over his care post-war. River was often reluctant to say anything, but today she smiled.
“Of course not. He told Kingsley if he sent him another invite he’d send him one of the twin’s contraptions that would leave him smelling like a skunk for the next year.”
Hermione laughed, shaking her head. “He was worried?”
“Of course,” River scoffed, “After what Severus asked of Andraste and Regulus to save our friends' lives? The twins would do anything for Severus.”
Hermione shuddered as she remembered that extreme secret. No one questioned the return of the “dead” after the war. But, Hermione knew it was because the Unspeakables hadn’t been heavily monitored Post-War. No one questioned anything and they’d used it to their advantage. Theo’s mother and Sirius’s brother had been in hiding so long it had been simple for them to use necromancy and then disappear once more. And while Kingsley had his speculations he never had any proof, especially when Sirius Black lived on a Secret Kept estate and Andraste Rowle was only ever seen with her large black dog. As for the Lupins and Fred, their survival was explained away as simply a miracle.
“Anyway,” River said, getting the topic away from their old professor, “Let’s get you home so you can get ready.”
Hermione was so bored. These functions were always the same. She’d give a few interviews, talk up the new Ministry movements, then dance the night away while also getting so drunk she didn’t have to pretend to enjoy herself.
She honestly wished she’d stayed home. Two hours ago she and Ron had gotten into a screaming match about a gossip article in the Prophet saying she was sleeping with Adrian, who was happily married to Hannah Abbott. And that was after the shitty day she’d had. She’d been sought out by three different department heads asking her a million questions they would’ve easily found the answers to had they just looked . Not to mention the constant badgering of her own staff and the argument she’d had with Cormac about budgeting. She was exhausted and would’ve rather been anywhere else.
Ron was currently talking her ear off about something she’d embarrassingly stopped listening to five minutes ago, but quickly tuned back in when he stopped dancing and lowered himself on one knee.
“What are you doing?” she demanded, panic boiling up inside of her as she gawked at him.
“Hermione, will you do me the honour of becoming my wife?” Ron asked.
“Merlin, no!” she exclaimed, backing up quickly.
Ron looked at her, shocked by her words and she could see embarrassment and hurt tingeing his expression.
“I mean, Ron...this isn’t the time or the place for this...get up, please. Let’s go home and talk about this,” she hissed, her eyes skimming the room as paparazzi started towards them, realizing what was happening.
“Mione, when’s the best time if not now?” he demanded, rising to his feet, “Don’t you want to get married?”
She cringed at the hated nickname, one she used to love, and then cringed again at his volume. She shushed him, arms resting on his forearms.
“Please, stop yelling,” she whispered, “We should talk about this at home. Not in front of all these people.”
“I don’t give a fuck about these people!” he shouted, his cheeks turning red.
“Ronald!” she barked, “Don’t do this!”
“Am I not good enough for you, Hermione!? Not refined enough!?” he shouted, his voice increasing with each word.
Hermione cringed, her face burning as she looked wildly around the room before disapparating with a crack. She needed to get away and she needed to get away fast. She dropped into Longbottom Castle and found Pansy and Daphne curled up on separate sides of Neville. The man was looking at Daphne lovingly as she read as he ran his fingers through Pansy’s hair.
In other circumstances she’d be amused at how the man was able to tame the usually angry and aggressive women, both of whom dominated their respective fields. Pansy as a healer, with a horrible bedside manner, and Daphne running the Quibbler , but the humble herbologist always managed to tame the two.
“I broke up with Ron,” she said, without preamble.
“Let me make you some tea,” Neville said, easily rising to his feet, “Daphne, take Hermione to the guest room to change? Pans, get some snacks?”
The women moved into action as Hermione leaned against the wall, tears falling down her cheeks. What had she done?
May 21st, 2005
A week later Hermione was still hiding in Neville’s house. She’d quit her job on a whim directly after seeing the tabloids and newspapers the morning after the gala. They were all painting her as a monster and she wasn’t ready to face them all. Every moment had brought her to that catalyst and now she was doing what she’d never been able to do: hide.
The floo roared to life and her eyes met River’s gaze.
“Ready to take me up on that offer for a break?” she prompted.
Hermione sighed, tiredly nodding.
“Good, come on then. I’m sending Ginny over to get your things while Ron’s at work. Let’s go to the cafe so I can finish my shift then get you settled.”
He knew there was a new tenant above him. River had told him they’d be having a guest. But, that still didn’t stop the annoyance boiling in him as he heard the sound of footsteps above him. He cast a silencing charm as the door to his flat opened.
“How’s your muscle spasms with the storm?” River asked.
“Who’s the new tenant?” he said, changing the subject, not wanting to tell her how much his leg hurt.
“A friend,” she replied, “She’ll be pretty quiet. Don’t worry. No one will interrupt your Saturday gardenings.”
He scoffed and handed her the tea leaves he’d gotten ready for her before grabbing his cane to rise. The dog at his feet, a 7-year-old German Shepherd, rose to his feet shadowing his master as he moved to the kitchen. The witch pulled a fresh meal from the depths of her bag and put it on the counter.
“Now, how are the spasms?” she demanded as she started serving his usual Sunday dinner that came from the Weasley’s weekly family dinner.
Severus Snape raised his dark eyes into unflinching grey ones before running his fingers through his hair and sighed.
“A little harder today,” he confessed.
“Did you get out at all today?”
He shook his head. “No, that silly woman down the road was trying to speak to me again.”
“Opening up to the possibility of dating isn’t going to kill you, Severus,” she joked.
He scoffed, “I already served two masters. I don’t need another person telling me what to do. Now, stop worrying about me. I’m past my prime. Worry about you.”
“Not past your prime, you old codger,” she teased, “More readying to season into a silver fox.”
“Get out of my house, River Lestrange,” he replied coldly.
She giggled, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “Of course, Professor.”
He glared at her and she laughed out loud, leaning down to pet the dog. “Good night, Reaper. Good night, Severus. See you tomorrow.”
“I’ll be a little late to the cafe. I have a meeting with Longbottom,” he called.
“I’ll keep your breakfast on a stasis,” she replied, shutting the door behind her.
The silence grew heavy in the wake of his young friend. Loneliness crept into him like normal as the rain grew heavier. He finished the meal and slowly made his way to his bathroom, starting the tub with a flick of his wrist before sitting on the small seat placed there for him. He undressed slowly and as he finished pulling off his last sock Reaper was there, waiting patiently. Severus groaned in pain as he struggled to his feet with the support of the dog beneath him. He slipped into the tub before pouring a glass of wine for himself.
Severus leaned his head back against the tub, picking up Wuthering Heights from the small table beside the tub, letting his mind get lost in the story to stave off the loneliness that once again was brought to the forefront of his mind. Maybe one day he’d stop feeling so lonely, but for now he was happy to just let the books around him in.
“Come, Reap. I need to get out and to bed if we want to get to the cafe for breakfast in the morning.”