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Hermione stared down at the wine-red Christmas jumper she had put on a moment ago.
“Are you all right, Hermione, dear? Don’t you like it?” Worry lines transformed Molly’s former expectant smile.
“It complements your eyes, darling. Do you like it?” Her mum’s voice echoed in her mind, merging with Molly’s motherly tone.
Mum… When was the last time her mother had looked at her with the affection reserved for her only child? That empty space in Hermione’s heart thirsted for that look like someone craving water in a desert.
Even though the Grimmauld Place kitchen had been magically enlarged for the party, it suddenly appeared much smaller. The jumper constricted her ability to breathe. She tried to loosen it, but the repeating Christmas scene of her mum gifting her that red knitted scarf blocked the command line between her brain and limbs.
Need space… Need to breathe…
Her body moved through a mass of redheaded people-formed shapes. On some level, she registered Percy’s attempts at singing Celestina Warbeck’s classic A Cauldron Full of Hot, Strong Love. Two near-identical beings cheered him on, one more see-through than the other.
Hot needles pinched her heart. How she wished to sing silly songs with her parents…
A sob broke free while she grasped for something solid to hold on to, to hold her together. She wanted her parents’ warm embrace that used to make everything okay again.
A sudden reduction of noise and a shift in temperature quietened her mental spiralling. She must have arrived in the corridor just outside the kitchen. The cool air on her sweaty skin made her shiver. Gentle hands gripped her arms, pulling her mind back into reality.
“Hermione, can you hear me?” a familiar, aethereal voice said. The soothing sound freed her lungs. Alongside the hands stroking up and down her arms, she took deep, greedy breaths. In and out…
Threads knitted themselves into an image of concerned silvery blue-grey eyes set within delicate features and surrounded by long, flowing blonde hair. A beloved friend took shape in front of her. The touches on her arms helped anchor her further in the here and now.
Hermione often wondered whether Luna’s elf-like features hinted at a fairy ancestor. The complete absence of maliciousness convinced her otherwise, though. The young woman was a living Calming Draught of a person, so anyone would be lucky to call her a friend and loved one.
They bonded over lost parents, Luna’s mother to an experiment gone wrong, and Hermione’s to Obliviation and its botched reversal. Luna’s kind demeanour and talent at breaking things down to the core helped Hermione cope when she’d lost all hope of ever restoring her parents’ memories. Stuck between their original Granger and new Wilkins personalities, their minds had shut down because they couldn’t cope with two conflicting sets of life in one head. They were current residents in St. Mungo’s Janus Thickey Ward.
“Here,” Luna non-verbally summoned a handmade Crumple-Horned Snorkack-shaped mug and teapot from somewhere upstairs, the curved tail serving as the handle for both, “have some tea I developed with my father. It will help with the Gloombugs.” The teapot poured steaming, deep yellow liquid with unidentifiable brown chunks that glittered into the mug. Hermione hoped those weren’t the droppings of some creature or other her friend had discovered on her travels abroad.
Not wanting to hurt Luna but still remembering the horrid taste of Gurdyroots infusion, Hermione took the mug with a forced smile and thanks. It warmed up her icy hands. A waft of cinnamon and a subtle herbal note reached her nose.
“Let Severus have a sip when you see him. He looked like he might need it. I think I’ve seen him near the library.” Luna’s eyes twinkled Dumbledore-like, turning down to Hermione’s jumper, then back up.
Lost in memories earlier, she’d only registered the colour. With a now-clear head, Hermione inspected the piece of clothing. Gold thread formed a familiar shape. Her heart jumped. A rook. Was she that obvious? Her clammy fingers fiddled with the fabric.
Luna patted her arm and walked back into the kitchen.
With Luna’s retreat, dread rose inside Hermione. She frantically searched her body for her wand. When she discovered it in her back pocket, she charmed the rook into a simple letter ‘H.’ That was close. She sighed in relief. If Severus had seen…
Thoughts of Severus’s potential reaction had her longing for his company. Returning to the Orders’ enthusiastic celebrations might be too overwhelming anyway. She especially wasn’t ready to face Molly. The potential of having to explain… No, she would prefer not to do that.
Mind made up, Hermione headed for the library. The Christmas tree in the entrance hall concealed most of Walburga Black’s portrait. The woman spotted Hermione anyway. “I’M A NASTY OLD HAG!” Hermione couldn’t suppress a small giggle. What a clever bit of magic. She had her suspicions about the potential culprit. Her heart grew in her chest.
Drawings of various exotic creatures and Holyhead Harpies posters adorned the stair walls. It was a vast improvement to the elf heads.
As she reached the top of the stairs, her steps slowed. Her heartbeat felt unnaturally loud in the quiet hallway. Everything’s all right. It’s Severus. There are books. You’ll be fine, Hermione. With a deep breath, she opened the ornate doors.
Warm light greeted her. The comforting smell of old books soothed her anxious nerves.
She spotted Severus pretty quickly. It didn’t surprise her, as her inner radar always noted when he was in the room. Clad in a dark green Molly-made jumper with silver embroidery and black trousers, he stared at the bookshelves, horrified. A sceptical-looking Crookshanks sat next to him. The sight of them together was rather comical to behold. It was a sight that made her dream up scenarios of a family of three—her snarky Potions Master, his insufferable Arithmancy Professor, and Crooks, their mischievous half-Kneazle. If only it were reality…
“The one decent space in this Black- and Potter-infested … house, and now this…” Severus lost for an insult, was a rare event indeed.
Hermione noticed that he hadn’t said Lovegood-infested. Severus had developed a friendship with Luna during the war and later accepted her as his apprentice. Though he huffed and sneered about Luna’s chaotic approach to potion-making and her attempts to attract customers by making the apothecary look more inviting Luna-style, he didn’t allow anyone else to speak badly of her and mostly let her do as she pleased. Initially, Hermione had been jealous, but now it filled her with warmth.
In comparison, Hermione and Severus’s relationship had been anything but easy. He took saving him as one of the worst crimes ever committed. Being Harry’s friend didn’t help, and her ‘know-it-all’ nature even less so. Grudgingly, he agreed to help her with her parents, probably hoping it would get rid of the debt he thought he owed her.
Over time, she found their intellectual sparring more pleasurable than she ought to. After a while, he stopped throwing her out and even showed disappointment at their conversations’ premature end because of her Arithmancy duties at Hogwarts. It had led her to believe he felt the same. Or so she hoped, at least. With Severus, you could never be sure.
“Severus … is everything all right?”
His expression softened when his eyes roamed over her face, which must appear a tear-splotched mess. Then it morphed into something darker. The last person graced with this gaze had called her a Mudblood and deeply regretted doing so afterwards. Severus, in protective fury, featured in her more salacious dreams often.
“Hermione…?” His tone of voice made her insides melt.
Instead of acknowledging the Hippogriff in the room, she glanced at the objects of his initial offence. They told her everything she needed to know.
The spines presented themselves in the brightest colours of the rainbow. Snorkack-formed pottery acted as shelf decoration alongside what resembled crystallised dirigible plums. Luna had yet to advance beyond Snorkacks in her new hobby. Several of her pottery creations had found their way into Hermione’s flat (brittle from multiple Reparos thanks to Crooks), Severus’s apothecary, and several of their other friends’ living spaces.
The colourful pattern of book spines made her think of her dad. With bittersweet fondness, she remembered the game of ‘Guess the Sorting System’ he used to play with her. The constant rearranging of bookshelf content drove her mother (and herself, despite the fun challenge) crazy. Hot tears burned in her eyes. Please, not again.
“Enough of this. Out with it: What is going on here?” Severus placed his hands on her upper arms. She hadn’t noticed the tears running down her face. His dark eyes dug deep into her soul as if he weren’t already part of it.
“It’s Christmas, and everything reminds me of… I shouldn’t be here—I should have spent more time with them when they could still … when I was still their … daughter…” More hot liquid replaced the old.
“You are, and they will remember.” His hands vanished from her arms. Cool glass touched her left hand, and she closed her fingers around it. Her hands shook. Gazing down, she made out a green potion vial.
“I—It’s ready?” She’d barely dared to hope this day would ever come.
“You doubt your arithmantic calculations, Lovegood’s madness, and my expertise in Potions and mind magic?” Despite the playful tone, his eyes were soft and warm.
Hope blossomed inside her. “Who’s the insufferable know-it-all now?”
The corners of his lips twitched.
“Hermione, there is no one who can rival your insufferableness.”
Hermione moistened her dry lips. Severus’s gaze flicked to her mouth. I want to show you how insufferable I can be by kissing you right now.
“Is that … glitter?” The unexpected question pushed her out of her little daydream. The aghast tone and the sheer uniqueness of that word leaving Severus Snape’s mouth made Hermione laugh out loud. She had forgotten Luna’s concoction.
“Gloombugs cure.” She had long since stopped questioning the existence of the various creatures her friend was babbling about. At least out loud. More often than not, Luna’s ramblings just needed to be interpreted correctly. “I was told you’d need it. Want a sip?” The academic over-achiever inside her cringed away from the sharp, disapproving glare he sent in her direction. No glitter for Severus, huh? She had to restrain herself from proving how much of a not-idiot she was.
Severus let his wand slide from his sleeve. “Evanesco.” The tea remained undisturbed. The glare intensified.
“That plant over there looks gloomy enough. Maybe it could use some Gloombug infusion?” Hermione suggested, pointing to the pitiful-looking cactus on the coffee table. One of Neville’s Mimbulus Mimbletonias? Neville must have forgotten to send proper instructions along with it. She walked towards it and emptied the mug.
Hermione set down the now-empty mug and returned to Severus’s side. She hadn’t quite reached him yet when the piece of pottery with its seemingly unaltered contents flew back into her hand. “What the—?”
Luna must have been pretty determined for her to drink that tea. Hermione tried some more spells, but nothing worked. The mug plus tea stubbornly stayed in her hand.
Resigned, she raised the beverage to her mouth. Luna had yet to poison anyone, and being Severus’s apprentice must count for something, right?
Severus’s slender, scarred hand stopped hers mid-movement. Time appeared to slow down for a second. Hermione blinked. Severus bowed over the cup and sniffed. Then he put in a finger and raised it to his lips.
Hermione observed him for any changes, wand ready just in case. And then she saw it: The silver ‘S’ on his jumper morphed into … an otter? Oh…
Blood rushed to her cheeks. Her heart did a stepdance against her ribcage while her eyes stuck to the silver animal.
It’s not the real thing, Hermione. Don’t get your hopes up just yet.
She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and opened them again.
Severus was tense all over. His wand appeared close to snapping, so tight he clasped it. His face was red, turned away from her, and half concealed by his black hair. The rainbow-coloured bookshelves seemed fascinating, after all.
Hermione stood frozen, too, afraid a wrong move on her part might set him off somehow.
“Severus … can you please look at me?” Her question prompted him to move, but not in the direction she intended, as he turned and strode for the door. Her stomach tied itself in knots.
“Three drops each for a week,” he threw over his shoulder. “I trust your obsession with following instructions will help you manage. Happy Christmas.” Really, Severus, running away?
“Colloportus!” This conversation sure as hell wasn’t over.
“Is that kind of childish wand-waving supposed to keep me here?” he sneered.
“Says the one who’s running away like a coward.” She didn’t need to be a Legilimens to recognise the mental Slicing Hexes he sent her.
Without further ado, Hermione drank from Luna’s tea—which tasted surprisingly good, of all things Christmas and something else buried underneath—put the cup on the table and waited for the magic to work. She didn’t have to wait for long. Tiny electric sparks ran over her front, and the golden rook reappeared. Take that, Severus.
He swallowed, opened his mouth, and closed it. Then his brows narrowed. “That’s enough. I am sick of jokes made at my expense. I expected better from you, Granger.” He hadn’t called her by her last name in a long time. Not since he’d discovered how much this reminder of her parents hurt her—especially since she was personally responsible for their condition.
Sight blurred, she croaked through a tightened throat, “I never expected anything else from you. It makes me sad that you’d think I would make fun of you that way. Expecto Patronum.” A blue rook broke free of her wand and spread its wings. “There—does that suffice? I’d rather avoid starting a tradition of checking each other’s minds whenever we doubt the other’s genuineness.”
The smoky animal had Severus’s sole focus. Hermione failed at interpreting his expression, but letting him think too long seemed dangerous. Who knew what theories he might come up with next? So she walked over to him and cautiously took his hands in hers. When he didn’t retreat, she ran her thumbs over the tiny scars, wishing she could heal the bigger ones inscribed in his heart. His fingers twitched, but he didn’t pull away.
“I’ve been in love with you for a while but have been too afraid to say anything…” Severus’s fingers closed and tightened around hers, making her heart flutter. “Well … I enjoy having you in my life, in whatever way you’ll allow me.”
When one of his hands let go of hers, her stomach tightened in knots. That one thread of hope remained with the other hand still holding hers, and she felt like she might get torn apart in the middle. A flick of his wand produced a second animal.
Otter met rook. The latter nudged the former with its beak. The otter nudged back, and the bird cuddled against its new friend.
Hermione’s insides mirrored a thousand Patronuses playing there. It must have shown because when she looked up at Severus, his dark gaze roamed over her, hungry for that source of lightness. She was more than willing to share it with him.
So she pulled him close, tugging at his jumper. Her lips glided smoothly over his. Tingles rushed down her spine. When she kissed him, he drew her close, arms wrapping tightly around her back as if he never wanted to let her go.
Hermione parted her lips, and he explored her mouth with his tongue. She tasted cinnamon and something that was just uniquely Severus. In her chest, the rook had made its home, flapping its wings enthusiastically, dictating the rhythm of her heartbeat. Beneath her hands, his chest moved at a pace that rivalled her own. She explored his thin torso with her fingers, pulling him in closely as if to bury herself deep inside him.
He gripped her tighter and pressed her against the door, planting kisses along her jawline. Close to her ear, he found a spot that made pleasure run through her body. Hands buried in his hair, keeping him—right—there. Her clit throbbed, wetness coating her entrance, and she moaned.
Severus groaned. His pelvis ground against her with his erection caught between them. Mine and more were the only coherent thoughts she managed. As she lifted her leg, he hoisted her up, her legs crossing behind his back.
The moment his cock rubbed against her clit through their clothes, Hermione’s head bumped back against the door in sheer bliss.
“Yesss—” Severus breathed heavily into her ear. She shivered.
They moved together. Lips met sloppily. Hands grasped for each inch they could reach. A pinch of her right nipple made more wetness pool between her legs.
Crash.
Honed battle reflexes had them searching for the interruption’s source immediately. They found Crookshanks looking down from the shelf at a broken Snorkack figurine.
Panting, Severus let her slide down his body. Electricity shot through her oversensitive nerves. She missed the friction between her legs. A chilly breeze soothed her overheated skin, which was damp with perspiration.
Severus’s dishevelled and ravished appearance tempted her to pick things up where they had left them. Judging by the heat in his eyes, he didn’t seem opposed to the idea. It was a relief because Hermione had worried whether he might return to shutting her out post-kiss. She tugged a strand of hair behind his ear. He caught her hand in his and kissed her palm. It tingled where they touched.
“The cat stays out of the lab,” Severus said, voice hoarse.
Only the cat? Hermione thought. Her mind conjured images of what they might get up to in his lab.
“Oh, so he’s allowed anywhere else?” she couldn’t help but tease. “You know, I think Luna deserves a raise, don’t you agree? No gloom left.”
“I will have words with her—Meddlesome woman…”
Hermione experienced a sensation of weightlessness when she saw the wide grin on his face.
The happiness radiating from him made her wish to share this joyful moment with her parents. But she couldn’t yet—a reminder that brought her back down to earth. There was still potential gloom ahead that no Gloombugs tea could cure. Only the potion they had all developed together might achieve that. So much hope rested on such a tiny bottle. I can’t do this alone.
“Will you come with me? To my parents?” The words were a mere whisper. Would what had happened between them here go beyond this library?
He searched her face. “If you will have me?”
Silly man, still expecting she might reject him. “Of course.”
Hands trembling, Severus reached for her and took her into his arms. “They will be fine. If not, we will refine the recipe.”
Cocooned in Severus’s embrace, his gentle murmur in her ears—he said ‘we,’ she could squeal in delight—a weight lifted from her chest.
Crash.
Severus chuckled. “Your cat’s a menace.”
“He can wait. Ignore him,” Hermione said and kissed him.
Home, this was home.