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Good things didn’t happen to Severus Snape. Not ever, but especially not on his birthday.
Severus hung up his outer cloak, black of course, in the empty and quiet Department of Mysteries office. He sighed, closing his eyes briefly, resting his forehead on the cloak hook near the door. January 9. Just another dreary, wintery cold London day. Nothing to celebrate really. He should have stayed home with his cat, he thought, drowning in Ogden’s and tea (not together of course, he wasn’t a Philistine).
Straightening, he noted signs of his office mate’s presence. The Gryffindor red and gold cashmere scarf he had gifted her for the previous Christmas hung over her heavy winter cloak on the hook beside his, indicating her presence in the building. Not unusually, she’d beaten him into the office today. Neither of them cared for the crowds in the Ministry Floo parlor and strove to avoid them by arriving early and working late into the evening. He would admit to himself, in the dark privacy of his bedroom, that while he enjoyed his work it was her he found fascinating.
The way her whisky eyes would narrow in a heated debate of wand-lore, widen when he dryly teased her preference for Muggle writing implements (he did have to admit to enjoying a good fountain pen – far superior to a quill), spark when he’d needle her about her friends …. her nearly sentient brown (no, “brown” was too basic a word to describe the mix of honey, red, and earthly color of her wild chestnut hair) curls mimicking her every emotion….
He sighed again, turning to his desk. “Stop torturing yourself old-man. She’s not for the likes of you” he thought as he strode toward his desk chair. Pulling it from beneath the desk, he noted in surprise the rectangular package, wrapped neatly in green and decorated with a silver bow. Beneath it, an envelope with his name written in her recognizable flowing script.
Placing the card on the desk, he slowly opened the package, long pale fingers neatly sliding through the tape. Turning the now exposed box over to reveal the word “Montblanc” in embossed writing on the box, he lifted the lid to expose a beautiful Meisterstück green fountain pen. Running his fingers over the gold art deco swirls on the pen’s cap, he turned his attention to the accompanying card.
A fluffy white cat with a blue bow and ball of yarn (reminiscent of his familiar, Athena) adorned the red front of the card, the yarn spelled to show “It’s Simply PURR-fect….” The Athena-eque kitten chased the yarn across the cardboard front, the sentiment unraveling and reforming in an endless loop. Mouth turned up in the corner slightly at the kitten’s antics, Severus opened the card.
Preprinted text greeted him, reading “to say “Hello” on accounta’ because you’re nice to know!”.
Beneath that, she’d written “Happy 44th birthday Severus! I hope you enjoy the pen; I saw it in an antique store window and thought it simply beautiful. You’re welcome to share my ink anytime.”
She sighed it “yours, always Hermione”.
yours
YOURS
Y…O…U…R…S
His breath stuttered in his scarred throat.
YOURS.
Did she mean it?
Did she know his secret wish?
Could she read his mind, the little minx?
Behind him, the office door opened, the witch herself humming tunelessly under her breath as two cups of tea floated behind her.
As the tea settled on their individual desks, he lifted his head from where his fingers continuously traced over the word “yours” and turned toward her.
She was smiling at him from over the two desks pushed together in the center of the room, her wand stuck thru her chestnut curls, captured in a messy updo.
“Happy Birthday Severus!!!” she said, eyes dancing up at him, and enormous grin splitting her face.
He could think of nothing to say in reply. Not “thank you”, not “why”, the word “YOURS” echoing endlessly in his mind.
Questioning black eyes locked on thickly lashed whiskey ones, he croaked out “yours”, a question he did not dare form contained in that single word.
Her smile changed from a wide grin, forming into a nervous upturn of her cherry lips. Twisting her hands in front of her, she stuttered “yours….yes…if you wish. I hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable. If you aren’t interested, we can stay friends. I hope I didn’t ruin our relationship. I couldn’t bear it if I did…” she mumbled, twisting her cardigan front in shaking fingers as she looked towards the leather blotter on her desktop.
Not taking his eyes from her beloved face, her cheeks flushed rosy in embarrassment, he lowered the card to his desk and slowly moved towards her.
His heart was racing in his chest. “Did she mean it? IF I WISH???? OF COURSE I WISH!!!” looping thru his mind.
Moving deliberately, giving her a chance to move away (MERLIN, PLEASE DON’T MOVE AWAY), he walked around the desks toward her. She didn’t move, he noticed, remaining faced toward the front of her desk.
Putting his hands flat on her desk, bracketing her hips, his breath ruffled the nape of her neck as he deeply inhaled her tantalizing scent (jasmine, vanilla, magic, old books…. HER).
“Hermione….. love…. Please turn around” he murmured, wandlessly casting a Colloportus and Muffliato on the room. If he would finally know, if she would finally be his, no one would interrupt this moment. He would cast an AK without hesitation on anyone who tried.
She turned toward him, slowly, her gaze staring fixedly on his jet waistcoat buttons.
Gently trailing his fingers up her neck, his heart trilled in his chest as he felt her body tremble, he tilted her chin up until her eyes met his.
“Mine? Are you sure?” he whispered softly, almost unable to believe that this was happening to him, as his fingers gently caressed her jaw with one hand, the other slipping around her waist, pulling her soft curves into his lean, hard body.
Neck tilted back, so she could see his expression, she whispered “yours” as she twined her arms around his neck.
“I’ve been yours for some time Severus” she whispered, her breath ghosting over his lips. “I couldn’t help but be.”
Joy bubbled in his chest as he pulled her away from the desks, swinging her around in his arms in the empty office until her legs left the floor, a laugh booming out of his chest. Her laugh twined with his as he twirled them around the room.
Coming to a stop in the center of the room, he grinned down at the witch in his arms, a blush ghosting over his high cheekbones at his uncharacteristic outburst of positive emotion.
“My brave, beautiful love” he whispered, as one of her hands moved from his neck to delve into his soft hair. Closing his eyes at her caress, unable to believe his good fortune, he murmured “I cannot believe you want this scarred, bitter husk of a man for yourself.”
His forehead coming to rest against hers, a soft smile settling on his face (MINE, SHE’S MINE running on refrain thru his mind), he opened his eyes.
“Happy Birthday Severus” she whispered as she raised herself on her toes, glorying in the sensation of her softness rubbing against his hard body. Just before her soft, full lips met his, she whispered “I may be yours, but you’re also MINE”.