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The Celebratory Gathering

Severus – The celebration for your achievement is scheduled for Saturday, 17 October.

O.W.L. Recipients

Boot, Terry Corner, Michael Granger, Hermione Malfoy, Draco Nott, Theodore Zabini, Blaise

Invitations to the preceding students will be delivered. As you requested a larger number of attendees, each student is encouraged to bring a guest.

– Albus

Snape's eyes scanned the scroll, which had been waiting for him on his mantle in his living quarters. He tried not to think about how it had gotten into his private lodgings – the thought of someone in his rooms was unsettling to say the least. The new invitees would add twelve people, assuming they each came and brought someone; Snape was glad that this would make more potential conversation participants than himself, which would possibly – hopefully – draw some of the attention away from himself. Attempting to gain a bit of foresight as to what would come, Snape idly wondered who would accompany each of the invited students. 'Boot,' he thought, 'Isn't he in Ravenclaw? Hell if I know what he'll show up with. I suppose Malfoy will bring that spoiled Parkinson girl.' He was glad to see that Potter wasn't on the list, but that relief was fleeting, for he suddenly realized Hermione Granger might invite him. Damn it.

_________________________

"Git," Harry said as he, Ron, and Hermione left Defense Against the Dark Arts.

Ron made a face, "I still can't believe he's teaching us Defense Against the Dark Arts! I mean, I think Dumbledore's lost it, putting him in that position. Seriously, the man's off the deep end."

"Stop it, the both of you," Hermione scolded, "We all know he's the most qualified teacher we've had! None of us learned anything from any of the other Defense teachers, save Lupin."

"Hermione," Harry retorted, "the only reason he's so qualified is because he practices the Dark Arts." He spoke in a slightly hushed tone, "He is a Death Eater, after all."

The girl frowned at her friend, "was."

Ron shook his head in a demeaning way, "He still is. He's still got the Dark Mark, hannit he?"

Not expecting that comment, Hermione fumbled for words for a moment before shrugging, "I wouldn't know. I haven't seen it. And neither have either of you."

Frowning, Harry sighed, "Come on, Hermione; you're smarter than that."

"I don't want to talk about it anymore," she said with finality as they entered the Great Hall for supper. They had only just sat and begun to eat when six owls flew in through the windows, circled dreamily a few times, then dropped down to deliver small scrolls. An owl from the school fluttered gracefully to land on the small space of table between Hermione and Harry, and blinked at the girl. Hermione slowly took the letter that was attached to the bird's leg, curious as to what it could be.

"Mail? At dinner?" Harry asked, "That's not normal, is it?"

Ron shook his head and they both watched as Hermione read the correspondence.

After having read it three times, Hermione opened her mouth in disbelief.

"Well, go on, then," Ron said, "Tell us what it is. Or are you planning to keep it a secret?"

Giving her red-haired friend a swift glare, Hermione sighed, "It's – it's...an invitation."

"To what?" the boys asked simultaneously.

"A party."

Harry stared at his friend, a dramatic look of boredom on his face, "Thanks; that clears it up."

Ron sniggered.

"It's a party to...celebrate, ah – Profsnapesnewteachnjob," Hermione muttered the last bit, knowing what their reactions would be.

Too quickly for her to deflect him, Harry snatched the letter out of Hermione's hand with a victorious, "Ha!"

His triumphant expression faded quickly as he read the scroll; he looked at Hermione, "I don't understand..."

"What?" Ron said demandingly.

Harry cleared his throat dramatically and read the parchment,

'Miss Hermione Granger – You are formally invited to a celebration in recognition of Professor Severus Snape's appointment to Defense Against the Dark Arts instructor. Your attendance will be appreciated.

The celebration will take place at 7 pm on 17 October in The Room of Requirement.

Feel free to bring a guest.'

Ron gaped at Hermione as Harry asked, "You're not gonna go, are you?"

"It'd be quite rude not to," she shrugged, "Would either of you like to come with me?"

Harry and Ron each gave a derisive sigh; Ron shook his head, "Not bloody likely."

_________________________

"Gandalf's grey beard, Albus!" Snape said to the headmaster as he was dragged begrudgingly into the Room of Requirement fifteen minutes before the dreaded celebration, "As though the idea of this gathering wasn't ridiculous enough, you had to do this?"

Dumbledore frowned at Snape, "No brooding during this, if you recall."

Removing himself from the headmaster's grasp, Snape grumbled, "I still have thirteen minutes, then."

McGonagall chuckled quietly from beside a table. Narrowing his eyes, Snape approached her and stood at the witch's side, idly wondering why she was wearing dress robes and no hat, "You couldn't have put a stop to this?" He gestured unenthusiastically at the decorations surrounding them.

"I couldn't prevent Albus from doing something if I wanted to, Severus," McGonagall nearly giggled, "Besides, who said it wasn't me? I am, after all, very fond of streamers." the woman smiled mischievously.

"And the glitter? That was your brilliant idea, as well?"

"Oh, no," she shook her head, "The glitter is Dumbledore's doing," McGonagall nudged him with her shoulder, "Now, cheer up."

Snape cast an unhappy glance at the headmaster, and noticed for the first time that he, too, was wearing dress robes. Damn. A casual gathering was bad enough. A formal party is a thing of nightmares.

Deciding that it would make the celebration at least minutely tolerable, Snape poured himself a glass of firewhiskey and sat on the small couch in a corner to nurse his drink, considering the consequences of hexing Dumbledore and fleeing from the room.

"Ah, Pomona!" Snape heard Dumbledore greet the Herbology teacher, "Come in."

Really? I doubt she expected to be left outside.

Professor Sprout approached Snape, who stood reluctantly.

"Congratulations, Severus!" the plump woman beamed at him; Snape nodded, but remained silent.

After Professor Sprout's arrival, the various staff members joined, in pairs that were clearly more than workplace-related – Snape sighed with irritation. They came in rather quickly, each giving a barely believable word of praise to their colleague. Snape remained near the couch, wanting to be no more involved than necessary. He frequently refilled his glass with conjured firewhiskey, determined to remain on the sofa.

"Hello, Mister Malfoy, Miss Parkinson," Snape heard McGonagall say from somewhere in the room. Neither student came to say anything to their dark-haired teacher.

Over the next ten minutes, Snape heard Dumbledore and McGonagall greet various students who had accepted the invitation to the party.

Dumbledore clapped his hands once, "Music!" Snape groaned as an upbeat tune began to play from an unknown source.

"You don't like music?" Hermione asked; Snape hadn't even realized she was standing near the couch he was occupying, "Everyone likes music."

Glowering up at her, Snape just tightened his mouth in response.

Frowning slightly, Hermione asked, "Can I sit, sir?"

Starting to refuse, Snape opened his mouth to give a biting retort, but noticed that Dumbledore was watching and listening; Snape refrained from saying anything and shifted slightly, gesturing to the space beside him.

Hermione raised her eyebrows.

"Or did you mean that I get up and relinquish my spot?"

Flushing, Hermione stammered, "N – No...I just, well, I didn't expect you to let me."

The professor spoke in a bored tone, "I imagine your feet need a rest, being in those heels."

Hermione was shocked that he had noticed her footwear, but she sighed and fell onto the sofa next to him.

Snape looked sideways at her as she settled into the cushion; he was very uncomfortable with the closeness of her body to his.

She took off one of her high heels and rubbed the bottom of her foot. After setting the silver shoe against the front of the couch, Hermione sighed, stretching her ankle as she commented, "You don't seem to be enjoying this party."

"Damn," Snape replied in mock disappointment, "I thought I was more skilled in deception."

Hermione chuckled, shaking her head, "I can't see you as a man that enjoys parties."

Snape's mind faltered at the realization that she saw him as any kind of man, not just a genderless professor. He recovered quickly and smirked, "I'm not a man that enjoys parties, much less ones that I was unaware were formal."

He scanned the girl with his eyes; she wore a soft blue dress that fell just above her knees, silver earrings and a simple matching necklace, the charm dangling just below her collarbone. Snape internally admonished himself for thinking she looked quite nice.

Although he had thought his quick survey had been unperceivable, Hermione gave him an odd sort of look; Snape cleared his throat.

"Hagrid, I think you've had quite enough!" Olympe Maxime said, scolding the half-giant, who was clearly unsteady and tipsy as he stumbled around near the sofa, pulling her with him.

"I jus' want ta dance, Olly," Hagrid argued.

Hermione giggled at the exchange, commenting to the professor next to her quietly, "I think someone will need your Pepper Up Potion tomorrow."

Snape smirked, nodding in agreement, "So it seems." He glanced down at her foot, which she had not taken the shoe off, "Are you intending to wear only one shoe for the remainder of the evening?"

"What? Oh!"

"I want ta dance, Olympe," Hagrid had begun to beg.

Dumbledore clapped his hands loudly, "Dance we shall, Hagrid. Let us all participate!"

Hermione leaned slightly over to unbuckle her shoe just as Hagrid stumbled backward into her, pushing her over so that she was pressed against her professor's side and had to sturdy herself by placing her hand on the small bit of cushion between Snape and the arm of the sofa; Hermione glanced sheepishly up at him, frozen in embarrassment at the particular situation, "Sorry..."

She then frowned at the huge, oblivious man, who was now tugging Madame Maxime toward the center of the room as she straightened, leaving Snape staring at her, dazed.

Hermione sighed, "So sorry."

His face remaining void of emotion, Snape questioned, "For what, exactly? Wanting to remove your ridiculous footwear or for climbing into my lap?"

Hermione blushed furiously, "I – I wasn't in your lap..."

"You're still wearing your shoe," Snape glanced down at her foot, "Do you want to make another attempt, or should I, so that you don't end up on top of me again?"

Hermione frowned, "I was not on top of you!" She sighed when she saw Snape giving her an expression that clearly said 'close enough' and nodded.

"Let us dance!" Dumbledore was flicking his wand repeatedly, the beginning seconds of songs playing as he apparently attempted to find a song Hagrid had insisted be played, "Severus! Up! This celebration is for you; dance!"

"But Severus didn't come with anyone," McGonagall said quietly to Dumbledore.

Dumbledore's eyes flicked from Snape's face, to Hermione's, then to Snape's hand, which was placed on the girl's ankle, in the process of unbuckling the strap of her shoe; the old wizard smiled, turning Minerva away from the sight, knowing she would strongly disapprove, "I think he can find someone to accompany him."

The headmaster called, "Severus! It's been decided that the honored guest will be the first to dance!"

Snape just stared at the man and shook his head an infinitesimal amount.

"Severus...do you recall our agreement?"

Snape stood and strode to stand before the headmaster, "I agreed to not brood," he hissed through clenched teeth, "Not to dance. I wasn't informed we needed to bring a partner; none would have accompanied me, regardless."

His blue eyes twinkling, Dumbledore said dismissively, "So find someone who came alone."

Snape narrowed his black eyes.

"I believe," Dumbledore continued, "that Miss Granger did not come with anyone."

"Are you out of your mind? She is a student."

Dumbledore laughed quietly, "My dear Severus, I'm not saying you should take her to bed." Did he really just say that? "I'm simply suggesting you dance together. You can't deny she looks rather lovely."

Snape growled and stormed away; Dumbledore added, "And be a gentleman, Severus."

Snape came up to Hermione; he stood uncomfortably in front of her for a few moments before speaking, "We're supposed to dance."

Hermione lifted her eyes to him, "What?"

"We're supposed to dance; We. You and I. We're supposed to dance."

Dumbledore cleared his throat in a way that sounded very much like 'gentleman'.

Glancing toward the headmaster, Snape sighed before looking back at his student, "It seems people are going to be dancing...in couples. Would you care to join me?"

Snape saw out of the corner of his eye that Dumbledore was nodding in approval of his gentlemanliness. Hermione, however, was not smiling; instead, she was very nearly glaring at him.

"Why?" she asked.

Almost being able to feel Dumbledore's eyes on him, Snape sighed and offered Hermione his hand, "Come."

The girl gave him another scrutinizing look, then put her hand in his and followed him into the center of the room, a faint smile on her face.

The first bits of a drippy song started; Olympe squealed in excitement; Snape groaned. Christ. Celestina Warbeck. Of course.

"She's excited," Hermione commented, then looked at Snape, "You're not."

Gritting his teeth, Snape internally cursed Albus Dumbledore.

That man is intentionally doing this to me. Do not let the old codger win, Severus.

Snape looked down at Hermione, "I doubt this qualifies as dancing."

Hermione shook her head in silence.

"We should fix that," Snape said, "I suppose?" He raised his eyebrows at her.

Shrugging and half-nodding, Hermione looked awkwardly around the room.

Snape swallowed thickly and placed his hand on the girl's waist; her gaze snapped to him, startled.

"You do know how to dance, don't you?" Snape asked slightly teasingly.

She nodded, resting one hand on his shoulder, and looked at him expectantly.

Trying not to chuckle, Snape asked, "Are your lips working?"

Hermione's brown eyes widened; Snape realized how she had taken his question and could no longer withhold a chortle, "Don't worry, Miss Granger; that's not what I meant; I merely meant you're not speaking, which is a rare thing from you." They had unknowingly begun to sway slightly to the music.

Snape sighed, "Perhaps I should enjoy the silence while I can; I doubt it will last long."

Hermione pulled her hand out of his and put it on her hip, "That's rude."

Smirking, Snape responded, "I was right that it wouldn't last long." They looked at each other in a friendly sort of challenge for a few moments before Snape took her hand, "You lied to me; you don't know how to dance."

Hermione opened her mouth to argue, but Snape rested the hand he was clutching on his shoulder and brought his to her waist, pulling her slightly closer to himself, "This is a waltz, Miss Granger."

Staring at him, dumbfounded, Hermione narrowed her eyes, "I'm shocked, Professor, that you know how to dance."

Rolling his eyes subtly, the professor commented, "I do hope the fact will not be spread around the school."

"Of course not," the girl confirmed.

A smirk played at Snape's mouth, "I would hate for anything to contradict the students' opinion that I'm a cold gargoyle."

Laughing heartily as she threw her head back, Hermione became still, halting their dance briefly before she shook her head once, "We can't have that! The horror!"

"That opinion," Snape continued as Hermione began to contain her giggling, "I'm afraid, is not one only held by the students."

He glanced meaningfully around at the people in the room, nearly all of whom had stopped dancing and were now looking at the student-teacher pair in disbelief.

Hermione quickly looked about to and see that her laughter had gained them quite a lot of spectators. She frowned and resumed their dance. She made a point to gradually lessen the gap between herself and Snape, almost defiantly.

Speaking in a quiet tone so as not to be overheard, Hermione looked at her teacher, "Let them stare. That opinion of you is not shared by everyone, and certainly not by me."

A few seconds after she had said this, before half of the guests had had the decency to stop gaping, the song ended and was replaced by a leisurely tune. Hermione slowly took her hand off Snape's shoulder and looked at him. He released her waist and turned silently; Hermione grabbed his hand. Snape looked at her in an almost offended, very baffled way.

She smiled, "Professor, I think I'd like to keep dancing..." The air, empty of most conversation, became immediately void of any sound other than the music. "with you," Hermione knew there was a very good chance that she would be refused and have to return to all of her classes in the awkward shame not only of having her request denied, but of even desiring to dance with Snape in the beginning. She thought, however, that, even if he did brush her off, at least perhaps the staff would begin to see that not everyone hated the man.

She swallowed almost audibly, waiting for his biting reply.

The corner of Snape's mouth turned slightly up; he returned to face his student, taking her waist in both of his hands this time, "If you like."

Sighing in relief, Hermione smiled, nodding as she placed her wrists on his shoulders, "Thank you."

She thought it a very odd thing that she was currently dancing with 'the dreaded Potions Master', that her hands were on his shoulders, not to mention that his hands were on her waist. Hermione pondered over the fact that she didn't find his hands entirely objectionable.

Snape quietly emitted a chuckle.

"What?" Hermione asked curiously.

Snape subtly laughed, "I'm glad you don't think me wholly repulsive," he smirked.

"Damn you," Hermione scolded, "Get out of my head."

"What was it?" Snape chided, "My hands aren't entirely objectionable?"

Glaring softly at her professor, she said, "That's not fair, sir. If you're going to invade the privacy of my thoughts, you should have to give up yours."

"I'm afraid that's not quite how it works, Miss Granger."

She stomped her foot, "It is with me."

Tightening his mouth briefly, Snape said, "If you're going to throw a fit, please feel free."

"Professor! I didn't dance with you so you could read my mind!"

Squaring his jaw, the professor sighed, "Would an apology even the score?"

Hermione shook her head then said, "You can't see what I think unless I get to know your thoughts."

Snape sighed, "You really are an infuriating witch."

Grinning proudly, Hermione said, "I know. Now tell me."

Growling briefly, the professor spoke, "Fine. I greatly appreciate your endeavor to change their opinion of me."

"Was that so hard?"

Snape glowered at her.

"Now, what else have you stolen from my brain?"

Clearing his throat, he replied, "I determined you weren't lying when you congratulated me the first evening here."

Hermione nodded thoughtfully, "Alright. A thought for a thought, Professor."

"I can't stand this wretched music; I despise Celestina Warbeck."

Making a face of disappointment, Hermione said, "Everyone does; that's not an original thought. Try again."

Snape cleared his throat and tugged her closer as he lowered his voice, "How about you look very lovely this evening? But, I'm certain that's not an original thought, either."

Blushing, Hermione didn't know whether she was more surprised that Snape had thought this or that he had spoken it. Her face flooded with red, she quietly muttered, "Th – thank you...thank you, sir."

They were silent for a minute before Hermione asked, "Did you enjoy your summer?"

She and the professor chatted as they swayed to the music, talking of their preferred books, favorite authors, places they'd each travelled, and where they still wanted to see.

The song ended; Dumbledore announced, "I daresay it's time to end the festivities. Thank you all for coming."

Sliding her hands from Snape's shoulders, Hermione blinked as though coming out of a daze, "Thank you for the dance, sir." She stood slightly on her toes and lightly pecked his cheek.

Snape looked at her, stunned for a moment by the fact that she had just pressed her lips to his face, "It was my pleasure, Miss Granger. Good evening."

#wyll #ch2 #romance #severus snape #hermione granger #sshg #Mature

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potter-fan-fics · 5 years

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News of A Celebratory Gathering

'For Merlin's sake, Severus, you damned fool' Snape mentally admonished himself, 'You've been pursuing this for sixteen years. And what have you done to prepare? Nothing.' Of course, it wasn't the lesson plans for the subject he would be now be teaching instead of Potions that he hadn't thought of, but the reactions from the staff and students, which he hadn't even considered in the slightest until a mere twenty minutes prior to falling into his leather wingback chair after a brown-mottled owl had tapped its dark beak on the dingy glass of the window at Snape's dilapidated home at Spinner's End. The toasted almond parchment was crumpled in Snape's hand; he sighed heavily and flattened it the best he could to reread the message for the fourteenth time:

Severus – After hearing of your new post as Defense Against the Dark Arts instructor, the staff has concluded that a celebratory gathering is in order, as to provide the opportunity for all to give their congratulations – and, of course, for you to enjoy and revel in the success which you have long sought. I know you are not fond of surprises, so I am informing you now, therefore you will have no excuse to brood.

Minerva sends her regards.

– Albus

"Damn that meddling man!" Severus thought angrily. He summoned a tumbler of firewhiskey and took several sips of it; he might as well go ahead and start with his brooding now. He didn't understand why his life had to be this complicated; not only had Narcissa and Bellatrix showed up at his home a mere week ago, resulting in him making a damned Unbreakable Vow to assist the blonde woman's son - and if Draco failed, to kill the headmaster himself - but now the old man had gotten into his head that Snape would want a party in recognition of his new position as Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher! Albus had been right about one thing, though; by sending that letter, he had removed all reason for Snape to complain, and he would have to feign enjoyment... Or would he? Snape smirked, recognizing that the Headmaster had not insisted that he pretended to take pleasure in the gathering, only that he not brood.

After draining the amber liquid from his glass, Snape stood and moved to sit at his desk. He took a fresh piece of parchment and quickly scrawled a reply:

Albus – I suppose any objection would be pointless. If I am required to attend this celebration, at least have the decency to be certain that there are enough guests so that I will have at least a bit of a reprieve while they are conversing amongst themselves, rather than constantly forcing me into participation of pointless small talk.

– Severus

As Butterscotch had flown out the window as soon as Snape had taken the letter from him, Snape tied the letter to his Eurasian eagle owl, saying, "Peck at him a little bit, will you?"

Smoke at blinked at his owner and lightly nibbled his finger before Snape shooed him out the window, smirking as he shook his head; he had never been very fond of any animal, and had only received Smoke from Albus the year prior, but he had to admit that he had begun to grow rather fond of the bird, who would often perch on his desk and watch him work, hooting indignantly when Snape hadn't given him a treat for a while.

Grumbling at the thought of the impending gathering in his "honor", Snape stood, taking Axiological Alchemy Artisan and returning to his chair, opening the thick tome to the page he had last read and resumed his study. He had nearly finished the book before retreating to his bedroom. Snape glanced out the small window, seeing only dark, owl-less skies; he hadn't really expected Smoke to return with a reply from the headmaster so soon, but he was anxious to learn how Dumbledore would respond to his insistence that more people were invited to the ridiculous celebration. After shedding his cloak and clothing he had donned that day, Snape settled into his bed, tossing for several minutes in an attempt to find a halfway comfortable position on the lumpy, worn mattress. Pulling the thin throw over his body, he was glad that the weather was pleasant enough to allow him to leave the window open in case Smoke returned in the night.

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Something tugged on Snape's black hair; he swatted at it, too asleep to bother wondering what it was. The source of the tug dodged his arm and began towing a corner of the throw on Snape over his head. Snape batted the blanket away, his hand forcefully whacking a feathered something. Smoke ruffled his wings and glared at Snape, then sharply nipped his ear. Smoke hopped away from the slap that Snape aimed at him as the man sat up swiftly, roaring, "YOU DAMNED BIRD, YOU NEARLY TORE MY EAR OFF!"

Smoke gave a cross hoot, as if to scold Snape, whose eyes caught sight of the letter tied to the owl's leg, "Albus?"

Quickly, Smoke turned his back to the wizard, clutching tightly to the scroll with his talons.

Tossing away the blanket, Snape approached the owl, who had taken sanctuary atop the old armoire in the corner. He crossed his arms, "Give that to me."

Smoke looked over his feathered shoulder at Snape and gave a defiant click of his beak.

"Now," Snape demanded, "Or no more treats for you."

Immediately, Smoke flew down to sit on the bedpost and offered Snape the letter.

Untying it, Snape shook his head, "I don't know why you're so offended; you're the one who bit me."

It struck the wizard as peculiar that he was talking to the bird as though it could understand him, and more so that Smoke seemed to look ashamed. He read the letter swiftly.

Severus – I had intended the celebration to be staff-only, however, after discussing your concerns with Minerva, we've decided to extend an invitation to the students who received an O.W.L. in Potions last year. Surely you won't object, as there really is no other acceptable option for more guests than members of The Order; would you prefer I invite them?

– Albus

Snape rubbed his temple, flipped over the parchment, and scrawled his reply.

No.

He tied the letter back onto Smoke's leg, "I don't expect a reply, so just come straight back."

Snape stood at the window for a moment after Smoke had flown out of sight

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"We are pleased to welcome a new member of staff this year. Professor Slughorn," Dumbledore announced at the Welcoming Feast the first evening of the school year, "He has agreed to resume his old post of Potions master."

"Potions?" Harry stared wide-eyed at Hermione and Ron, who both echoed, "Potions?"

"Professor Snape, meanwhile," Dumbledore resumed, speaking more loudly, "will be taking over the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher."

"No!" said Harry loudly.

Many students turned to look at him, alerted by his shout of protest.

Hermione tightened her mouth slightly before leaning slightly over the table toward her friend, "For goodness sakes, Harry, there's no need to shout."

"But he can't teach – " Harry started.

"He can," Hermione scolded Harry, "Dumbledore decided it, and he's the Headmaster." She paused before taking on a different tone, "Besides, Snape's been after the job forever; perhaps he'll be less surly now that something's gone his way. I think you two should be a bit more realistic."

Ron spoke in a heated hiss, "So, what? We should be happy about it?"

Crossing her arms, Hermione sighed, "You don't have to be happy for him, Ronald, but I, for one, am glad that he's finally gotten something he's wanted for a long time."

Ron and Harry exchanged a look; Harry spoke in a hushed tone, "She's mental."

"I heard that," Hermione looked at the pair.

"Good," Ron snapped.

The three ate in silence, the boys casting frequent looks of perplextion at Hermione, who would, in turn, glance in disbelief at them.

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After supper and Dumbledore's dismissal of the students, the hall quickly emptied, Harry, Ron, and Hermione leisurely standing, the food making each of them content and drowsy. They made their way out of the Great Hall, and into the entry hall, which only a few students remained in, while several teachers stood sentry.

Ron nudged Harry, and gestured to the wall where Snape stood, then glanced at Hermione. Harry gave a sly smirk and nodded, then poked Hermione in the side, "Hey, if you're so happy for Snape, why don't you go tell him?" He motioned to the professor and gave Hermione a challenging look.

Hermione's eyes widened briefly before she steeled her expression, "Fine. I will." She looked defiantly at them for a moment before turning and walking away, leaving the boys staring after her, open-mouthed.

Snape grumbled to himself, irritated as usual by the immaturity and disappointing nature of the students he was charged with as Hermione cautiously approached him from behind. She hesitantly tapped very lightly on the back of his shoulder. The man slowly turned around and looked down at his student, "Yes, Miss Granger? Is there something you need?"

Hermione wilted slightly under his gaze, wringing her hands nervously; she hadn't thought this through. She turned to glance quickly at her two friends, who were watching her with taunting faces. Squaring her shoulders, Hermione returned Snape's gaze, "I – I just wanted to congratulate you, sir, for your new position."

The tall wizard's eyes flitted past the girl, seeing Potter and Weasley; he looked back at Hermione, "Dishonesty and flattery will get you no where, Miss Granger, and nor will mockery."

Chewing her lip briefly, Hermione met his eyes, "No, sir, I'm not doing that. I'm being honest; I'm happy for you, Professor, sincerely."

Snape took a few seconds to peek into her thoughts, and was taken aback that she wasn't lying; he retreated from her mind and cleared his throat, "I'm curious, Miss Granger, would I be correct in recalling that you received an 'O' in your Potions O.W.L.?"

"Yes sir, I got an 'O' in everything, save Defense Against the Dark Arts," Hermione replied, "and Divination, of course."

"Don't boast, Miss Granger," Snape said.

"I – I wasn't meaning to," Hermione stuttered, "Sir, um, why did you ask?"

"Curiosity. Now, shouldn't you be in your dormitory?"

Shuffling her feet, the girl replied, "I know. I just wanted to congratulate you, sir. Goodnight." She turned and walked back toward Harry and Ron, who were watching her exchange with the teacher, bemused.

"Miss Granger," Snape spoke as Hermione headed away from him, "I believe your dormitory is the other direction."

Sighing in resignation, Hermione turned around to make her way to Gryffindor tower.

#wyll #ch1 #romance #severus snape #hermione granger #sshg #Mature

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