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Grimmauld Place is crammed with revellers.
The volume in the residence is such that were it not protected by enchantments, there would have already been several noise complaints from the neighbours. As she moves through the house, Hermione grimaces as her arms brush up against the other attendees, wondering again how she’d let her employer convince her to attend. She silently curses whoever it was that had concocted the idea of a start-of-summer bash. Of course, she likes many of the other party-goers a great deal, but after the intensity of the end of school term, all she really wanted was to curl up in her chambers with a good book.
Or disappear somewhere sunny and peaceful for the summer, where no one she knows can interrupt her relaxation time.
Much as she loves teaching, the amount of work and expectation put upon her as both the Head of Gryffindor and the Ancient Runes instructor of Hogwarts, left very little time for her to work on anything else. She hadn’t appreciated the freedom she’d had working at Gringotts and having the wiggle room around her job to write articles and participate in academia. Now she has to patrol halls, keep office hours for students, and chaperone Hogsmeade weekends.
Maybe it’s time for her to start looking for another job? When she’d accepted the generous offer from Minerva, she’d been so sure that teaching the next generation of magical students would be rewarding—especially for such a niche subject. And it is, but there is a part of her that yearns for a change.
She sighs, the sound swallowed up by the wireless blasting the Weird Sisters from the sitting room and the exuberant conversations happening all around her.
“Not having a good time?”
Her skin on the back of her neck prickles, the familiar voice unmistakable even in this din. Hermione spins around to face the tall man looming behind her, almost knocked over by the waves of attraction that pummel her. Severus’ long, dark hair is swept back from his face this evening, and although he’s wrapped in his customary layers of black, he hasn’t broken a sweat. She feels like a hot mess by comparison. Glancing over at the door and back to him, she wonders when he’d even slipped in? She’d been idly keeping an eye on the front door for the past hour in anticipation of his arrival, and somehow she’d still missed him.
She smiles, her breath leaving her in a rush at the crooked half-smile he returns. “Better now that you’re here,” she quips, hoping he can’t hear in her voice how much she means it.
He snorts. “Ah, yes, I am the life of the party, after all.”
His low timbre sends a shiver zipping down her spine, heat curling in her belly. It’s unfair that he wields such a weapon. “You’re late,” Hermione comments, changing the subject quickly so she doesn’t embarrass herself.
“Not all of us have the luxury of an entire summer off, Granger,” he drawls.
She rolls her eyes at that. “Minerva offered you a job; it’s not my fault you turned it down.”
“And be trapped in that castle, forced to wipe the arse and nose of every snivelling little brat that steps through the doors?” he scoffs, sneering as though he’d smelled something unpleasant. “I’ve done my time.”
Hermione snorts with laughter but acquiesces with a nod. She doesn’t blame him for never wanting to teach again. He’d dedicated quite enough of his life trying to make up for his adolescent mistakes at the beck and call of two masters.
“I’d ask what you’re working on right now, but I assume you can’t tell me about it,” she says, and he nods.
“I cannot say much, though I suspect you would find it exhilarating,” Severus says, smirking. “It’s just the sort of thing a swotty little bookworm might enjoy.”
“You are a terrible tease,” she huffs, crossing her arms.
His dark eyes glitter with amusement. “And you are astoundingly easy to provoke.”
She pouts, but he has a point. No matter how hard she tries to keep up, she always manages to fall behind. Her mouth feels suddenly dry as she gazes at him, catching a waft of the sharp, astringent scent of his cologne. Swallowing becomes an issue, and against her better judgment, she decides to go in search of a drink.
“Want anything?” she asks, jerking her head towards the makeshift bar that George and Ron are in charge of.
He raises a dark brow at her. “I think not.”
“Don’t be such a stick in the mud, Severus,” she says, grasping his arm and tugging him with her through the sea of bodies.
He relents far more easily than she would have expected, crossing his arms and standing at his full height to glare down his nose at the two Weasley men. “Firewhisky,” he says when George asks him what he’d like. “And none of your pranks, Weasley. If there is anything other than whisky in my glass, I’ll hunt you down and make you regret it.”
“All right, no need to get your knickers in a twist, Snape,” George chuckles, pouring him a glass and holding it out towards him.
Hermione watches the exchange with amusement, accepting the glass of punch Ron pours for her. She takes a sip, making a face at how sweet and subsequently sour it is. “What the hell is this?”
“My own concoction,” Ron says cheerfully. “Luna gave mum a crateful of fruit—what are they called—pomegranates. Tangy little buggers.”
A little remorseful, she moves away from the bar towards a quieter corner of the room where Minerva is chatting with Arthur and Molly, Severus close behind her. She has to contain a gasp when she feels the warmth of his hand on the middle of her back, gently guiding her. It disappears a beat later, and she mourns the loss immediately.
“You look beautiful this evening, dear,” Molly tells her, and she flushes.
“Thank you,” she manages to choke out, trying not to feel self-conscious with the four sets of eyes on her now. Does Severus think she looks pretty? Stop that right now, she scolds herself, covering for her awkwardness with a sip from the cup she holds. Severus Snape could never be interested in her.
“Don’t be so shy, Hermione,” Arthur tells her with a warm smile. “You’re an accomplished and lovely witch.”
“What are your plans for the summer, Granger?” Severus asks, and she flashes a grateful look at him.
“I haven’t really made any plans,” she admits with a laugh. “I’d usually be busy trying to catch up on reading, but I thought it might be nice to travel a little.”
“Hermione Granger without an itinerary? Unheard of,” the dark-haired wizard murmurs, eliciting laughter from the others.
“You work so hard, I think you should take some time away,” Minerva says, reaching over to give one of her hands a squeeze.
“I’ll think about it.”
When Severus excuses himself and moves away, Hermione barely listens to the conversation, nodding and acknowledging occasionally as she tries to covertly watch the tall, dark Unspeakable now on the opposite side of the room. It’s far too loud to hear any of his conversation with Kingsley, and although she desperately, pathetically, wants to be near him, she knows how obvious it will look if she pants after him all night.
Eventually, she finds an excuse to break away, going to splash some water on her face in the loo. When she returns, she fetches herself another drink and casts her eyes around the room in search of the Potions Master again. When she can’t find him, she wanders from room to room, finding Luna and Ginny sitting at the bottom of the staircase, both leaning against one another, obviously tipsy.
“You’ve been in the punch, haven’t you?” Hermione says, amused.
Both witches look up at her with matching grins. “Maybe,” Ginny admits with a giggle.
Luna puts her arm around the red-haired woman and leans in to smack a playful kiss on her lips. “Maybe we should go see if Ron has any other drinks we can try?”
Before Hermione can suggest they’ve had enough, Luna jumps to her feet and pulls her girlfriend up with her. Holding hands, the two disappear into the sitting room. Bemused, she shakes her head at their antics and decides to ditch the second cup of punch. She’s already a little light-headed from the warmth, and she still needs to be able to Apparate home at the end of the night.
Disappointment settles over her as she realises Severus has most likely already left, and she considers doing the same. As she makes her way towards the front door, Harry catches her by the elbow with a questioning look in his green eyes.
“You aren’t taking off already, are you?”
Feeling a little guilty, she shakes her head. “I’m just going to step outside for a tiny bit of fresh air.”
“Want some company?” he offers.
“No, I’ll be fine. It’s just a little stuffy in here,” she answers. “I’ll just be a few minutes.”
She’s grateful that Harry backs down, slipping through the door and sighing with relief as she lowers herself to sit on the stoop. Hugging her knees to her chest, Hermione closes her eyes for a moment to savour the cool breeze. She can still hear the party, but out here, it is more of a hum and the headache she could feel niggling at the base of her skull begins to recede.
A few minutes later, she’s startled when the front door opens behind her abruptly, and she twists her head around sharply to see who is interrupting her solitude. The breath catches in her throat again when she sees it’s Severus, pulse hammering away at the base of her throat.
“Leaving so soon?” he drawls, looming over her.
“Funny, I thought you’d already left,” she says with a smirk.
“As in character as that would be for me, I was waylaid by Shacklebolt and Robards,” Severus replies.
“What’s stopping you from taking off now?” Hermione asks, her neck a little sore from the effort of angling it up to look at him.
He stares at her for a long moment, and she’s never felt so exposed before. There is a question in his gaze, his eyes wandering all over her face as if hunting for an answer to an unasked question.
“You haven’t asked me what I am doing for the summer,” he says,side-stepping her question.
She blinks. “I sort of assumed you’d be working.”
He chuckles, the deep resonance enfolding her. “You are correct, although I will not be in London.”
Her eyes widen in surprise. “You’re going away?”
Severus nods. “I cannot say where.”
Hermione nods, admitting her disappointment to herself. She’d hoped for a few more run-ins with him over the summer as they had in the past, but if he’s going to be away, she doubts she’ll see him again before October. “I hope you’ll have a nice trip,” she offers, trying to appear more cheerful than she feels.
He quirks a brow at that, and if he notices she’s putting it on, he doesn’t comment. “Are you going back inside?” Severus asks.
She looks up at the house for a moment in contemplation, shaking her head in response when she turns back to him. “I think I’ve had enough socialising for one night.”
“I’ll see you home.” It’s not a question.
Stunned, she takes the hand he extends towards her, heart fluttering in her chest at the feeling of his cool skin against hers. He hauls her to her feet as if she weighs nothing at all, and they descend the steps to the street level. Their walk to the park across from Grimmauld Place is quiet—stilted. She sneaks covert glances at him, but his expression betrays nothing of what he’s thinking.
“Where are you staying?” he asks when they arrive at the copse of trees that serves as the Apparition point.
“I’m still at the castle—I’ve still not packed for the summer because I haven’t decided on my plans yet,” she admits, her cheeks flushing with heat.
He looks as though he wants to say something, but it’s gone in a blink, and he extends his arm for her to take. Anxiously looping her arm through his, she has to will her heart to stop racing from their closeness as he Apparates them in tandem to Hogsmeade. Even clutching his arm, she stumbles a little upon arrival. She’s never quite gotten the hang of magical travel, and she doubts that is going to change any time soon.
Severus keeps a hold on her, not dropping his arm even as he leads her towards the path back to the castle.
“You don’t have to walk me the whole way, you know,” she says with a nervous smile. Gods, get it under control, Granger.
“I know.”
He says nothing else and continues to walk, his pace deliberately matching hers. She can’t help glancing up at him, hastily looking away when he returns her gaze. Those dark eyes penetrate her entire being, or at least that is how it feels, boring into her—searching.
At the gates, they come to a stop, and she fishes around in the concealed pocket of her dress for her wand so she can gain entry.
“Granger.”
She pauses in her mission, something about the sudden seriousness in his tone drawing her focus back to him. Looking up, she is stunned to find him flustered, the pink tinge high on his cheekbones apparent even in the silver glow of the moonlight. His lips part to speak, but he snaps his mouth shut a moment later.
“This is ridiculous,” he growls, breaking their gaze.
Hermione frowns. “I beg your pardon—”
Before she can finish speaking, he is on her, his large hands grasping her shoulders firmly, ducking his head down to meet hers. His face looms so close that she can feel the warmth of his breath whisper over her lips and see the dilation of his pupils. What is wrong with him? Is he unwell? Bombarded by questions, she doesn’t notice when he closes the narrow gap, his lips covering hers.
Reeling from the shock of feeling his mouth against hers, Hermione blinks, battling for breath as her senses return. Taking a breath, she realises her body has gone limp and that Severus is keeping her vertical. Surprise wearing off, she realises she’s missing her first kiss with the man, and she fumbles to clutch the fabric of his robes, returning it with firm pressure.
A few moments later, he pulls back, a little dazed and wild-eyed as if he’s shocked by his own actions.
“I apologise,” he rasps, releasing her and taking a step back. “That was an unconscionable liberty to take.”
Hermione stumbles forward, her knees still weak from the kiss. “What are you—Severus, no—”
He appears horrified with himself. “Don’t,” he says sharply as one of her trembling hands reaches for him. “I am ashamed of my behaviour.”
“Severus,” she says again, pleading for him to look at her. “I wanted you to kiss me. I’ll admit I was a little surprised because you’d given no indication, but I promise you I wanted it.”
He frowns in disbelief. “You—how—” He stops and shakes his head. “Granger, you cannot possibly think I would speak to someone as often as I speak to you if I weren’t fond of them.”
She blushes, looking down at the ground. “I just figured you were being nice—entertaining me.”
He snorts. “No one has ever accused me of being nice, Hermione.”
Her heart skips at the sound of her name falling from his lips. Wrenching her eyes up to look at him again, she takes a step towards him, waiting to make sure he is receptive before closing the gap again and placing one of her hands on his chest. Severus tentatively curls an arm around her waist, pressing his hand against the small of her back to gather her to him.
Smiling, she leans up as he ducks down this time, meeting him halfway in a sublime kiss that catches like kindling, rapidly escalating into an all-consuming blaze. As their mouths move against one another, tongues teasing and teeth nipping, she muses that she never would have expected to find herself snogging her quasi-friend and former professor in front of the school gates.
Her stomach does a flip as he sucks on her bottom lip, the heat radiating from him making her head swim. When they part for air, she stares up at him, her body trembling like a leaf. She’d like nothing more than to invite him back to her chambers, but worries that it might be too soon. The dark look in his eyes, however, has her throwing caution to the wind, as she reaches into her pocket and retrieves her wand, running the tip of it against the wrought iron gate.
“You can say no,” she says as she takes a step back from him.
His nostrils flare, and he wordlessly follows her, one of his hands grasping the back of her neck as he descends on her with another hungry kiss.
They slip through the gap in the entrance, not bothering to wait for the gate to close behind them as they walk quickly towards the castle. Hermione almost trips trying to keep up with his long stride, and he slows a little, keeping her hand clasped firmly in his. Once inside the great stone structure, he releases her hand, barely touching as they mount the staircases, climbing towards the fifth floor. The last thing she needs is a bunch of portraits gossiping about them.
Once inside the privacy of her chambers, Hermione rounds on him, locking her arms around his neck as she latches her mouth to his again frantically.
As they snog, his robes and coat are the first items shed, a trail of clothing scattered through her sitting room as they make their way to her bedroom. She is stunned, the breath knocked clean out of her when he picks her up and deposits her on the bed, still wearing the skimpy knickers and bra she had on under her dress. He eyes them appreciatively as he kicks off his boots and shucks his trousers, his skin so pale it’s practically translucent, littered with pale pink and white scars from over the years.
She wants to ask him about them—to kiss every one—but there isn’t time for that now. In this moment, all she wants is to be surrounded and filled by him, so she sits up and unhooks her bra, freeing her breasts. He makes a strained noise, joining her on the bed in a flash, his knee inserted between her thighs as he drops his head down to worship her chest. His lips are hot against her, kissing her collarbone, licking the seam beneath her tit, his dexterous fingers manipulating her sensitive flesh first before he follows with his mouth. She writhes, arching into his touch, silently begging for more.
And he obliges, tucking his thumbs into the waistband of her knickers to slip them off, exploring her depths with his digits until she is a squirming, mindless mess. The ache in her abdomen builds, and he buries his face between her thighs until she is consumed by the fire of release. When the heat recedes a little, he is back between her thighs, his hips settling between them snugly, as if he was always meant to be there.
She hadn’t noticed him remove his pants but remembers they have magic before he sinks into her with a firm push, wrenching a low moan at the sudden fullness.
Severus rocks into her, and she meets every thrust with a roll of her hips, locking her legs around him to keep him close. It’s a perfect give and take, as she surrenders herself to the pleasure of his weight atop her, hands reaching for his face so she can direct their mouths together, kissing, kissing, kissing him as he pistons his hips into her over and over.
His mouth latches onto the skin of her throat, right where her neck and shoulder join, and the sensation of him sucking combined with his powerful ingress sets off the next round of fireworks, hurtling her headlong into climax. He follows her soon after, his breathing ragged as he tries not to collapse on top of her, still caged in by her legs. Loosening her hold, Severus rolls them both over so that she’s partially lying on top of him, an arm flung over his face as he recuperates.
“That was…unexpected,” he murmurs after a few minutes, turning over to meet her gaze.
“I’ll say,” she chuckles, leaning up to peck him on the lips.
Her body is sore in a way it hasn’t been in a while. She can’t even remember the last time she’d been shagged. Merlin, how embarrassing. It’s a while before she can summon the energy to stand, stumbling towards the bathroom so she can clean herself up. When she returns to the bedroom, Severus is waiting at the door to make use of the facilities, returning shortly afterwards, nude and completely unabashed by it, apparently.
“So,” she begins, fighting the urge to cover herself, not nearly as confident in her nakedness as he is.
“So,” he replies with a smirk, sauntering over to her bed. He sits on the edge and holds a hand out towards her, and she smiles ruefully as she accepts.
A squeal of surprise escapes her as he tugs her, and she falls against him, her arms going around his neck in an attempt to stabilise herself. She ends up astride his lap, surprised to feel evidence of his interest returning so soon. Gratified, she leans in to kiss him, enjoying the feeling of his hands as they move up her back and down to grasp her rear.
“We should probably talk about this,” she says in between kisses.
“Yes,” he agrees, even as his clever fingers dip between her thighs to probe her, testing her readiness.
“Later,” she gasps, giving herself over to another wave of pleasure, chasing release once more.
Much, much later, they lie beside one another, totally spent. She can feel the tendrils of sleep brushing against her consciousness, but her logical brain is reasserting itself, questioning this spontaneous coupling. Rolling over to look at Severus, she is overcome by how peaceful and handsome his sharp features are when he isn’t scowling. His eyes flutter open as if he’d sensed her gaze, and she smiles.
“Come with me this summer,” he propositions.
She stares at him, stunned, not for the first time this evening. “What?”
“You have no plans, and if you come with me, I will no longer have to keep my occupation a secret from you,” Severus replies. “I am certain you will find it incredibly…stimulating.”
Hermione’s eyes widen at his flirtation, and she grins. “How could I possibly refuse such a tempting offer?”
“Is that a yes?” Her chest constricts at the little hint of vulnerability she catches sight of in his dark eyes.
“It’s a hell yes.”
The deep red gems glisten in the morning light, a stark contrast against pale flesh.
Six little kernels of pomegranate remain on Severus’ palm from breakfast, and Hermione dips her head and parts her lips to accept them, the sweet, tart juice bursting on her tongue as she bites into them. Over the duration of their trip, she’s become quite fond of the exotic fruit, and she’ll be sad not to have easy access to them back home. She’ll miss a lot of things about this place, but as she swipes at the sweat beading at her brow, she thinks that the humidity and heat are two things she is happy to leave behind.
Pressing a kiss to Severus’ palm, she teases him with a little lick of her tongue, enjoying the contrast of salty skin against the sweet fruit she’d consumed. His eyes darken as he watches her, his own tongue darting out to wet his lips.
“Come here,” he tells her, cupping the back of her head so he can draw her close to kiss her.
The summer has been unlike any she’s experienced before. The sex, which has been nothing short of sensational, is only the cherry on top. She has been stretched and worked to capacity, translating runes in an ancient North Indian ruin by day, and having increasingly adventurous sex with her new lover every night. She is still stunned by how easily he inflames her, somehow implicitly knowing what she needs.
Swinging her leg over his hip to straddle him, she leans down to kiss him, succumbing to his powerful allure once more.
Afterwards, sheathed in a layer of sweat, she sits up and looks forlornly at their two travel trunks at the end of the bed. This summer has been so wonderful that she’s loath to return home to prepare for her classes. But the spell—this magical escape—was never going to last forever.
Now, faced with having to return to reality, the little niggling fear in the back of her head about the future of their relationship, for lack of a better word, surges forward.
“Severus,” she begins, the little speech she’s been rehearsing in her head the past couple of days catching in her throat.
He turns his head to face her, a barely-there smile hovering over his lips. “Hermione.”
The sound of his voice when he says her name never fails to turn her from a sensible, functioning person into a puddle of goo. “Was this,” she gestures between them, “just a summer fling for you?”
His expression becomes serious immediately, the little lines between his brows deepening as he frowns and shakes his head firmly. “I’m not exactly an easy person to be around, as you are aware. Casual sex has never held any appeal to me.”
She breathes out in relief. “Good.”
Severus crooks a brow at her. “Was this a fling for you?”
“Merlin, no,” she rushes to reassure him. “I’m—ahh—rather fond of you.”
He pulls her towards him, rolling her beneath him. “In case it was not clear, I am fond of you as well,” he says before kissing her again.
They are almost late for the Portkey back to London, heading to Spinner’s End first to deposit his trunk before they Apparate to Hogsmeade. She’d tried and failed to convince him that he didn’t need to accompany her back to the castle, ultimately capitulating, finding the gesture rather sweet. The moment she touches her wand to the castle gates, they open for her, both stepping through onto the school grounds together.
The walk up to the castle is slow, and she finds herself increasingly reluctant to be parted from him, unsure of when they’ll next be able to meet, with both of their work having to take priority once more.
“Next weekend,” he tells her as they step through the main doors, “come and stay with me.”
Hermione smiles, stomach fluttering. She has a feeling it’s going to be difficult not to fall head-over-heels in love with him. In fact, she’s almost certain she already has, but she has no desire to scare him off with her intensity. She already worries he’s a flight risk.
“All right,” she agrees.
Before another word can be exchanged, the clamouring of voices rises to greet them out of nowhere, and Hermione jerks her head up, searching for the source of the racket. At the top of the staircase, Molly, Minerva, and Harry stand, all three of them looking beyond flustered and shocked to see her standing so close to Severus.
“Hermione Granger, where have you been?” Molly demands as she hurries down the stairs towards them.
She blinks, trying to process the scene as the two older witches and her friend come to a stop in front of them. “I’m—I—I’ve been away for the summer. What on earth is this all about?”
“You disappeared without a word, young lady,” Molly says shrilly, hands on her hips.
Hermione looks to her silent employer, noting her concerned expression. “I left a note for you to find, Minerva, on your desk.”
The headmistress frowns, shaking her head. “There was no letter, my dear.”
“I promise you I’m not making it up,” she says, looking up at Severus for support.
He clears his throat before saying, “I saw her place the letter on your desk myself. You may ask Albus for confirmation. He said he would ensure you saw Hermione’s message.”
Minerva appears flustered, looking back and forth between them. “I saw no letter, and Albus hasn’t spoken a word to me about the two of you.” She pauses, thoughtful. “Perhaps we should take this up to my office so we can get to the bottom of this.”
Hermione can feel the beginnings of a headache, the pressure building at her temples. All she wants to do is go to her rooms, unpack, and sleep, but she knows if she doesn’t go along with it, they’re incredibly unlikely to let the issue drop. She and Severus trail behind the other three as they climb the stairs, and when she glances at him, she can practically see him rethinking their entire relationship.
“I’m sorry,” she mouths to him.
His only response is to pinch his lips together firmly and continue following the group. In the Headmistress’s office, they stop at the front of her desk, looking up at the wall of portraits that are whispering to one another. Albus smiles, his blue eyes twinkling, which is absurd because he’s oil on canvas.
“What can I do for you all?” the late Headmaster asks.
“Albus, can you please tell Minerva that I left a letter for her explaining where I’d be for the summer?” Hermione asks.
“I can’t, Miss Granger.”
Her eyes fly open, and she looks between him, the disgruntled women who’d spent the past two months worried for her safety, and her stoic lover. “This is ridiculous, you saw me leave it—you agreed to pass on the message.”
Albus says nothing, prompting Molly and Minerva to begin interrogating them again, bombarding her with questions as both Harry and Severus stand there silently. She is just about ready to tell them off when Severus snarls, “Enough!”
Affronted, Molly directs her assault towards him instead. “What were you thinking, absconding with a young, unmarried witch like that? The portraits all saw you go into her chambers and leave the castle with her. It’s unseemly!”
“Hermione is perfectly able to take care of herself and make her own decisions, Molly,” he snaps. “I did not bloody kidnap her and take her away from here against her will.”
“You may as well have,” the Weasley matron huffs. “Think about her reputation—”
“Her reputation will remain unscathed so long as busy-bodies with nothing better to do keep their noses out of other people’s business.”
Hermione feels her chest expand with gratitude for his defence, but sensing a fight, decides to step in. “Molly, while I appreciate your concern, what I do and who I spend my time with is frankly none of your business.”
The red-haired matriarch looks stunned. “Please understand, dear, we just want the best for you.”
“I understand, but I think I can decide that for myself,” she says, looking from Molly to Minerva and Harry, waiting for them both to acquiesce.
“What were you doing off with Snape all summer, anyway, Hermione?” Harry asks after a few uncomfortably tense seconds pass.
“And this still doesn’t explain what happened to the letter,” the Headmistress adds.
“I think I can explain,” Severus pipes up. “As an Unspeakable, my work is confidential, and I believe when Hermione agreed to journey to North India to assist with my assignment, she became subject to the same confidentiality accord.”
“Severus is correct,” Albus says, looking over his half-moon glasses at them. “Even now, there is a magical compulsion preventing me from speaking any further about this.”
“So it was just work?” Harry looks at her with a little plea in his eyes, and Hermione feels sorry for her friend for a moment.
“I’m afraid not, Harry,” she says, patting his arm gently.
He looks a little queasy for a moment, but in an impressive display of restraint from her friend, he just blushes and looks at the floor.
The air now clear, Hermione is struck with guilt for not having foreseen this. She’d been so wrapped up in the crazy whirlwind of her romance, it hadn’t occurred to her to check in with her friends, so sure that they’d all be far too busy themselves to worry about her summer.
“I’m sorry to have worried all of you,” she tells the three of them. “It wasn’t my intention.”
Molly opens her mouth, but Minerva quickly intercepts her friend. “We’re just pleased that you are back safe,” she says, looking between her and Severus. “Both of you.”
He scoffs, and Hermione drives her elbow into his ribs, halting any snarky remark. “I’m going to see Severus off, but I’ll be back to speak with you shortly.”
There is silence as she turns, and Severus follows her, a flurry of swirling robes and drama. They walk back to the gates, and she feels a rising sense of dread as they draw nearer to it.
“I’m sorry,” she tells him, reaching out to rest a hand on his arm, stalling his escape. “I had no idea they would—”
“Do not think on it, Hermione,” he interrupts, turning to face her.
She’d expected him to be furious, instead, he appears amused, a smirk hovering over his thin lips. “How embarrassing,” she mutters, dropping her gaze to her shoes. “I feel like I’ve been caught sneaking around with my boyfriend by my mum.”
“Boyfriend, hmm?”
“Merlin, that sounds so wrong, doesn’t it?” She chuckles.
“I’m far too old to be anyone’s boyfriend,” Severus agrees, wrinkling his substantial nose.
“We don’t have to label it,” Hermione tells him, closing the gap between them, her hands resting on his shoulders.
They meet in the middle for a kiss, and when she steps back, he slips through the gate.
“I’ll see you soon?” she asks as the wrought iron closes behind him.
“Next weekend,” he confirms.
She only watches him for a little while as he makes his way back towards Hogsmeade. On the walk back up to deal with her concerned friends and mentor, Hermione’s mind is bouncing from thing to thing. She is thrilled, of course, that her new relationship with the reclusive Unspeakable did not fall at its first hurdle. Her good mood is soured a little, however, as she makes her way back to the Headmistress’s office.
She suspects this won’t be the first conversation about boundaries she’ll be having with her friends.