Old Year, New Year

Chapter 13: Old Year, New Year

We are not going out together. We are not going out together.

The words pounded through Hermione's brain as she dressed for dinner with Severus. Going out together involved romance. Candles. Hand-holding, at the very least. This was simply dining with a friend, going to a concert, nothing more. She told herself that this was all Harry's fault: he was the one who had insinuated a deeper involvement with Snape. Now the thought sat on her mind and refused to budge.

It continued, even as Hermione turned up the snow-covered walk on Spinner's End. Snape's assistant, just leaving the house, greeted her enthusiastically. Hermione was surprised by this; she wasn't expecting the girl to remember her.

"He's waiting for you," Nora told her cheerfully, pulling up the collar of her cloak to fend off the icy wind.

"Thank you, Nora."

"He likes you, you know."

"Excuse me?" Hermione paused in mid-step.

"I said, he likes you."

"He does?" Hermione was instantly bemused.

"Oh, yes. And that's rather odd, you know."

"Odd?" Crimson, rising in her cheeks for several reasons...

Nora burst into a fit of giggles. "Not that there's anything wrong with you. It's just that Mr. Snape doesn't have many friends. Especially lady friends." She pulled gloves out of her pockets and tugged them on. "Downright cold tonight, isn't it?"

"Very. How do you know that Mr. Snape likes me, Nora?" Hermione asked, cutting the weather conversation short in favor of learning more about Snape's behavior.

"Well, usually it doesn't take much for him to throw a wobbly, but he's much nicer on the days he meets you at the pub. And he's been paying a lot more attention to his appearance. Used to look right scary, he did."

It was hard to disagree with the latter, Hermione thought, smiling encouragingly at Nora. "What else?"

"He hums."

"Hums?" Hermione repeated blankly. "As in... singing?"

Nora's giggles returned. "Well, he doesn't actually sing, but – aye, he hums on occasion."

"Granger?" The door to the house opened, and Severus stood there, scowling as though the sight of the two women talking offended him somehow.

"Better go," Nora murmured.

"Do you have plans for the evening?" Hermione wanted to know.

The girl grinned. "I do, thank you for asking. I'm off to the pub with my Tony."

Hermione hoped fervently that said pub was not The Plaid Pony. "Well, I hope that you and Tony have a good time," she said. "And Happy New Year to you."

"Yes, Miss Granger. You, too."

"Good evening, Severus." Hermione climbed the final few steps to the door.

"It's freezing out there," he pointed out.

Hermione pushed past him to enter the house. Snape's simple statements frequently left room for conjecture. Did he mean, 'it's freezing out there, you'll catch your death' – implying that he might be concerned for her welfare – or, 'it's freezing out there, get inside before all the warm air escapes the house'? Or was he merely commenting on the weather? Annoyed that she had begun to speculate about Snape's intentions – due not only to Harry's implications, but now Nora's as well – Hermione tried to shove it all into the recesses of her mind.

"It certainly is," she agreed, stepping into the small sitting room of the Spinner's End house and unwrapping the scarf from around her neck.

"I suppose we're going to The Plaid Pony as usual?" Severus asked.

"Would you rather go somewhere else? We could go to a wizarding pub, if you like." Hermione mentioned the option, certain that Snape would decline. During the few months they had been – eating out, she reminded herself forcefully in an attempt to quash the words going out – Severus had steadfastly refused to enter a wizarding pub.

"No, thank you. The Plaid Pony will do just fine."

"You're determined not to set foot in a wizarding pub, aren't you?"

"Astute as always, Granger. No wonder you were such a successful student."

"I don't suppose you'd like to tell me why."

"Frankly, no."

Hermione had expected no other answer. "I have a surprise for you, by the way," she told him.

"A surprise?" Snape echoed suspiciously.

"I read in your notes that you and Albus frequented the Glasgow Chamber Orchestra. They're performing tonight, and I bought tickets." Hermione watched closely for his reaction. She'd bought the tickets on impulse and had been second-guessing herself ever since. It was far too easy to envision Snape grabbing her by the throat and snarling at her for her impudence.

But Severus merely stared at her for a long moment. "I see," he said finally. "What time is the performance?"

"Eight," Hermione said, exhaling in relief.

"Then we should be on our way to dinner. Being as it's New Year's Eve, I suspect that the pub will be crowded."

* * *

The Plaid Pony was indeed busy. Severus and Hermione had to wait a while for their food, and even then the pub was too noisy for a reasonable conversation. Hermione was frankly relieved when they could leave the raucous atmosphere behind. They took the Public Floo to Glasgow, finding even more snow and cold there.

"Why," muttered Hermione through chattering teeth, "does New Year's have to be in the dead of winter? Why couldn't the year begin in July, for heaven's sake?"

"If New Year's fell at a comfortable time, it's unlikely that people would be motivated to make their typical resolutions."

"And why would that be?"

"Because we resolve to make changes in our lives at a time when we are the least comfortable – when the world is dark and cold, and we long for transformation," Snape told her as they hurried down a city street.

"And what about the people who live in warm climates?" Hermione pointed out. Her question earned her a scathing glare.

"It's still dark, no matter how warm the temperature."

"Is it true," she asked suddenly, "that your quarters at Hogwarts were decorated in black and green?"

Severus stopped dead in his tracks. "Sweet Merlin, Granger, where in the world did that come from?"

"I just wondered. That was always the rumor," Hermione said with a shrug.

"I lived in a bloody dungeon! Why would I want to make my living space even darker than it already was?"

"As I said, it was only a rumor."

"Rumors..." Snape grumbled, charging forward once more at a rapid pace. "The truth is never entertaining enough, is it? For your information, Hermione Granger, my walls were whitewashed, although my furniture was made of the usual dark wood found all around the castle."

"And your bed linen?" she prompted, scurrying to keep up with him.

"My bed linen? Don't tell me that people speculated about my bed linen!"

"They did, actually."

The muscles in Snape's jaws worked furiously. "Let me guess: green and black as well?"

"Green and black satin," Hermione amended.

He rolled his eyes and muttered something unintelligible. "They were white, just like all the sheets in the school – although my blanket, as I recall, was a rather putrid shade of blue. Are you satisfied?"

"Completely." Hermione grinned impishly.

"Is there a Hogwarts alumni association, and should I inform them so that the rumors can mercifully be put to death?" Severus demanded sarcastically.

"No need. I'll be sure to mention it when I adapt my book for a magazine printing."

He peered at Hermione closely as they passed through the light cast by a street lamp. "You are joking, of course."

She sighed, her happy mood fading. "Of course. Since I don't know yet whether I'll have any better luck being published in a magazine, it's a moot point anyway."

"Have you investigated the periodicals?"

Although Snape hadn't added the words as I suggested, Hermione could hear them loud and clear. "Yes. That's how I spent Boxing Day. I've narrowed the field down to two: Our World, and The Thinking Witch and Wizard. Are you familiar with either of them?"

"I rarely make it past Ars Alchemica and European Potions Digest."

"I'll drop off a copy of each so that you can have a look. They seem the most likely candidates, but I'd be interested in hearing your opinion."

By the time they reached the concert hall, both Severus and Hermione were both frozen. It took little time for them to shake off the effects of the cold, however. The small hall, while intimate and acoustically blessed, was crowded and overly warm. As a result, Hermione found herself on the verge of dozing off during Haydn's String Quartet in F minor.

"Do try to stay awake, Granger," Severus hissed to her at one point.

"I'm trying," she whispered back, annoyed. It wasn't that the concert was boring; the problem was that she'd had a nice meal, was sitting in a comfortable seat, and was being lulled into a trance by the pleasant music.

It was nice, Hermione thought, to just relax and let the music flow over her, simply allow her mind to wander...

She awoke to find her head resting solidly on Snape's shoulder. Hermione tried to ease herself upright with a minimum of fuss, knowing full well that Snape probably had the world's widest smirk on his face at her embarrassment. A quick sideways glance confirmed her fears.

"Relaxed, are we?" Severus quipped sotto voce.

"Sorry," she whispered, her cheeks burning. Hermione was suddenly, acutely aware of Snape's physical proximity to her. Considering how many times the man had loomed over her shoulder in Potions, she thought that his presence shouldn't faze her. Then there were their dinners at The Plaid Pony when they'd shared a table or a booth; certainly, his nearness there had failed to distress her.

By the time the string quartet had moved from Haydn to Shostakovich, Hermione decided that the fact that Snape was sitting next to her – as compared to opposite her – was the factor causing her increased awareness of his presence. They had never been seated like this before, side by side, arms occasionally brushing against each other, sharing an experience together. They were no longer face-to-face, wary of each other.

Hermione found the notion oddly exhilarating.

When the concert ended, she expected Snape to make a sarcastic comment about her inability to stay awake. Instead, as they filed out of the hall, he made a comment or two about the quartet's performance, then lapsed largely into silence.

"Sorry for dozing off." Hermione finally felt compelled to mention the incident.

"It was rather warm in there this evening," Severus replied with a shrug. "And I doubt that you were the only one."

She wondered if she should apologize for making liberal use of his shoulder without permission before deciding that perhaps the topic should simply die of neglect.

"I'm going to the Burrow tomorrow," Hermione volunteered instead.

"Oh?"

The disinterest in Snape's voice was not as mocking as it might have been, leading Hermione to believe that it was his version of good manners.

"Molly had invited me for Christmas, but I begged off and suggested New Year's Day instead. Christmas Day... it just wouldn't have been proper, given that Ron and I are separated."

There was a slight hesitation, then: "Give my regards to Molly and Arthur," Severus said faintly.

"I'll do that."

"Ronald Weasley is --"

Exactly what Ronald Weasley was never became clear because at that moment, they stepped outside into the throngs of people filling the streets of Glasgow. There was raucous laughter and singing; most people held bottles of beer or other beverages, while policemen standing nearby kept a watchful eye on the partying. Suddenly, the crowd began to chant down the seconds until the new year:

"– nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one, happy New Year!"

Then their words were lost in cheering and a cacophony of noisemakers while several off-key voices began to struggle through Auld Lang Syne; somewhere nearby, a string of firecrackers went off. Hermione glanced up, a smile on her face, ready to wish Severus a happy New Year. The look on his face stopped her abruptly.

"What's wrong?"

Snape was regarding her with an intense, puzzled expression. His mouth moved slightly, as though he started to speak, yet no sound emerged. He raised his right hand to the level of her cheek, where it wavered in an anguished uncertainty.

"Granger," he began.

Had Harry been right? Was this more than an unlikely friendship? Hermione realized that she was holding her breath, waiting to see what would happen. When the moment threatened to turn into an eternity, a surge of adrenaline lifted her to her toes. Hermione rested one steadying hand on Snape's shoulder and abruptly placed a tentative kiss on his lips.

Severus stiffened, on the verge of taking a step backwards. "This – I can't – we can't – do this."

Hermione blinked, then came to her senses. "Of course. What was I thinking? I'm still legally married to Ron."

It took a moment for Snape to understand. "That's not it," he said at once, clearly uneasy with the direction things were going. "You don't want to become involved with me. I'm not a nice person, Hermione. I don't know how to give affection – or receive it, for that matter."

For a man who had displayed cold-blooded courage during the war, Hermione could have sworn that there was a twinge of fear in Snape's dark eyes.

"I'm not asking for either," she said, her voice steady. "I'm enjoying being your friend, and I hope that you find my friendship meaningful as well. As to what could happen in the future... I enjoy your company enough that I'm willing to see what happens."

Snape was silent, measuring her every word, her every nuance.

"I do find your friendship to be – pleasant," he said, choosing his words with the utmost precision. "I would not care to lose it. But to look for more than that is foolhardy in the extreme."

The boisterous crowd had spotted the pair, and began to call out invitations to join in the celebration. Severus' expression darkened.

"We should leave here," he said flatly, and taking Hermione's elbow, steered her around the group and in the direction of the Public Floo.

They returned to the vicinity of Spinner's End, walking together in silence now. Hermione could not imagine Snape inviting her into the house and decided to end the evening before any uneasy questions arose.

"I'll be going, Severus," she announced as they rounded the corner onto the lane. "It was a nice evening. Thank you."

Snape stopped walking. "Will you be Apparating directly to your home?" he wanted to know.

"Yes. I've had enough adventures in the snow and cold for one evening."

"Very well, then. Good night, Hermione."

"Morning," she corrected.

"Excuse me?" He stared at her.

"Morning. It's New Year's Day, remember?"

Severus nodded. "Good morning, then." He started toward the path to his house.

Hermione watched him go.

"Severus..."

"What?" He turned to look at her.

"Friendship is a form of affection."

He contemplated this. "Happy New Year, Hermione," Snape said quietly.

"Happy New Year, Severus."