Just a Typical Saturday Morning

Chapter 19: Just a Typical Saturday Morning

Severus poured himself a cup of coffee, knowing that sooner or later he would have to admit to Hermione that her Muggle coffeepot really did an excellent job. He had braved the device by himself this morning, as Hermione had finally beaten him to the shower for a change.

A new routine had evolved over the last three weeks. Every Friday afternoon, Severus temporarily closed down his cellar laboratory, something he had never bothered to do before. Then again, he had never before spent weekends away. After Friday night dinner at the Plaid Pony, Snape now spent Saturday and Sunday at Hermione's flat. When Sunday evening arrived, he Apparated home. It was an arrangement that suited each of them just fine.

This was Snape's first serious, romantic involvement, and it had been an eye-opening experience for him. It was completely unlike the teen hormone-fests he'd seen on a daily basis at Hogwarts. Hermione was not the clingy sort, and any concern that she would publicly drape herself all over him evaporated quickly. Nor was she demanding to be entertained all the time; while they had spent a fair amount of time visiting museums, galleries, or attending the occasional concert, Severus could admit that Hermione had not once dragged him shopping for clothes, insisted on going to trendy restaurants, or sat him down to discuss their 'relationship'. In short, they had continued much the same as they always had, but with a physical facet now as well.

That was another surprise for Snape. While Hermione might claim only one past sex partner, she'd still had a vast deal more sex than Severus had ever had. It was mildly intimidating until he realized that Hermione genuinely wanted him and him alone, and that he needn't bring any sexual credentials to the table. As a result, he'd received an education in tenderness and caring, while the more exotic mechanics of sex – things he thought were expected or required – were virtually ignored. Hermione seemed completely satisfied with their sex life thus far, and Severus could only conclude that either she had low expectations, or else he was a fast learner.

They shared a closeness that Snape could honestly say he'd never experienced with anyone in his life. It made him realize what he'd missed for so many years, but before the thought could depress him too deeply, Severus acknowledged that Hermione would never have been available to him before now. And the idea of sharing this same intimacy with any other woman was unthinkable.

Was he a better man for their relationship? Snape thought so, if only because Nora told him one day that he wasn't nearly as insufferable as he used to be. The girl was lucky that he hadn't hexed her senseless, yet it was a sign of the change within him that his hand hadn't reached automatically for his wand. Severus smiled at the memory as he began to scan the front page of the Prophet.

Normally, he was the first to arise. By the time Hermione managed to straggle out of bed, Severus was typically already showered and dressed. Today, however, she had awakened uncharacteristically early, and Snape had played the gentleman and graciously allowed her first crack at the loo. As a result, Hermione was presently in the shower, humming in an endearingly off-key soprano.

Severus was distracted from a newspaper article about Rufus Scrimgeour's fluctuations in popularity by Crookshanks, who was repeatedly winding in figure eights around his ankles. When the cat had brushed against him long enough to make his leg hair crackle with static electricity, Snape gave up any attempt at reading and threw down the Prophet to glare meaningfully at Hermione's pet. The animal gave a prim meow and went to sit placidly by the front door.

This was a typical morning event, he had learned. Hermione had told him that ever since the final year of the war, Crookshanks insisted on performing a morning patrol wherever his mistress was staying. The animal would spend twenty minutes checking out hallways, stairways, nooks and crannies and, finally content that the surroundings were safe, would settle down for a day-long nap. Severus sighed. If there was any glitch whatsoever in his relationship with Hermione Granger, it was putting up with her miserable familiar.

Annoyed, he pushed back from the table and went to let Crookshanks out. As soon as he opened the door, the cat trotted out happily – past a pair of feet standing in the hallway. Snape's eyes swept upwards.

And found himself staring into Harry Potter's stunned face.

Harry was regarding Snape with an expression of utmost horror. Severus pulled his dressing gown more tightly about him and took a deep breath.

"Mr. Potter," he said coolly. "What can I do for you?"

It was a moment before Harry's mouth ceased to move like a gasping fish, before he finally found his voice.

"Snape!" he blurted.

He looked as if he wanted to say quite a bit more – possibly elaborate on the name with a few choice expletives – but was once more reduced to the fish imitation. Severus was tempted to congratulate him on his skills of recognition, but decided that he would take the moral high ground instead.

"I assume that you're here to see Hermione. She's in the shower at present. Please come in," Snape said calmly, then stepped back to give Harry space to enter.

Harry stared at him, incredulous. "No, that's all right. I – I can come back another time."

"Nonsense. I'll let her know you're here." Severus headed straight for the bathroom, ignoring Potter's protestations. He couldn't help but grin inwardly; while he knew that Hermione had told her friends that the two of them were seeing each other, he suspected that they preferred not to dwell on the possibility that sex was involved. Snape rapped lightly on the bathroom door. "Hermione..."

"What?" Her voice sounded over the noise of running water.

"Your friend Potter is here to see you."

"What?" There was dead silence. Then, as it sank in that violence in her lounge was a real possibility, "I'll be right out!"

Severus returned to the lounge, only to find that Harry had barely crept inside the front door. The-Boy-Who-Lived-To-Be-A-Constant-Annoyance stood there and glared, looking poised to sling accusations, threats and mud in every direction.

"Sit down, Potter. Hermione will be out shortly."

"I'll stand," Harry said darkly.

"Suit yourself. Would you care for a cup of coffee?"

"No."

Snape reminded himself that he held the upper hand. "I suspect, Potter, that you and I will never be friends. I also suspect that you would dearly love to draw your wand on me for no other reason than the fact that I'm here. However, unless I am very much mistaken, Hermione would doubtless prefer that we behave in a sensible and civilized manner while in her home. Now, will you have a seat until she's finished in the shower?"

Harry glowered at him, then reluctantly sat down on the sofa.

"You're certain that you wouldn't like some coffee?"

For a moment, Harry opened his mouth – for another flat refusal, Severus was sure – then closed it again.

"Yes, please," Harry said through gritted teeth.

"Cream or sugar?"

"No."

Snape nodded briefly, then went to the kitchen to pour another cup. He returned momentarily, handed the mug to Harry, and went back to his place at the dining room table. Severus slid his reading glasses back down on his nose and spoke without looking up.

"Would you care to read the Daily Prophet?"

"I've already read it," Harry snapped.

Severus smiled to himself and went back to his reading, satisfied that he had done his part in making the polite gesture. After a minute or two, there was the sound of the bathroom door opening abruptly, and Hermione hurried into the lounge, clad in a dressing gown and dabbing frantically at her wet hair with a towel.

"Harry! What brings you here?"

Harry leapt to his feet, nearly upsetting the coffee. "Nothing important. I had some errands to run, and Samantha made me promise to give you this in person." He fished in his pocket for a folded square of pink paper.

"What's this?" Hermione took it from him and unfolded it.

"It's an invitation to Samantha's dance recital." Harry motioned toward the paper. "She decorated it especially for you."

Hermione grinned. "I see," she said, admiring the hand-drawn hearts and flowers along with the words Dear Aunt Hermione, culd you pleese come to my dance recitel? Love, Samantha Potter. "Of course I'll be there. Will you tell her, or shall I owl her a note?"

"Oh, owl her, by all means. Sam thinks getting her own private mail is the most wonderful thing."

"I'll do it today then." Hermione followed Harry's eyes to where Snape sat reading the newspaper. "Can I interest you in some coffee, Harry?"

"I've already..." Harry's voice trailed off, and he gestured helplessly in the direction of the dining table. "Snape brought me a cup."

"Do you have time to stay for a while?" Hermione asked brightly. "I have some pastries in the kitchen."

"No!" Harry blurted at once. "I have... other errands to run."

"Oh. All right, then."

"I'll – ah – see you later." Harry beat a rapid retreat to the door, then hesitated. "Good to see you again, Snape."

"Good day, Potter." Severus didn't glance up from the front page of the Daily Prophet as Hermione ushered Harry out of the flat. Inwardly, he added, You lie through your teeth.

Hermione closed the front door quietly and walked over to where Snape sat. Standing behind him, she slid her arms around him and rested her chin on his shoulder. "That was nice of you," she said softly.

"What was nice of me?" Severus' eyes remained on the newspaper, but he reached up to cover one of Hermione's hands with his own. "Giving Potter a cup of coffee, or refusing to destroy your lounge by dueling to the death?"

"Both," she said, smiling into his neck. "The landlord and I appreciate it."

"Hunh," he muttered noncommittally.

"And that," Hermione added, straightening up abruptly, "is why I love you."

Severus jerked upright to stare at her in amazement.

Hermione, who had begun angling back to the bathroom, saw his expression and halted in mid-step, waiting.

He tried to find words. For a man who enjoyed the nuances, the cadence, the flow of the English language, Snape found himself struggling to put together a coherent sentence. "You said... you love me..."

"I did, didn't I?" An impish smile appeared on her face, and Hermione flounced smugly away to the loo.

Snape watched her go, stunned.

It was the first time the word love had been brought up. Severus had avoided it, afraid of proclaiming his newfound feelings only to discover that they weren't being reciprocated. It wasn't that he believed Hermione's sentiments to be shallower than his own; it was simply his usual pattern of self-preservation, of not daring to hope that he might actually be enjoying that what so many took for granted.

And frankly, Snape wasn't sure that he would recognize love if it hit him in the face.

Was this it? This caring for the brilliant woman who had refused to give up on him? How could he know so much about so many things and yet be virtually ignorant on the subject? Of course, he'd never had the opportunity to learn about love firsthand, Severus reminded himself.

But now that Hermione had used the word, it was out there, and there was no way to ignore it and go back to the way things had been before. He would have to ask whether it was a simple slip of the tongue or if she meant it, and Snape had no faith whatsoever that Hermione Granger would accidentally blurt such a thing. Besides, she had looked far too pleased with herself as she marched back to the bathroom.

Severus heard the bathroom door close, and he looked down at his newspaper and cup of coffee. And for the first time, he realized that his life would never be the same again.