Greeting the Day

Greeting the Day

“You’ll have to take care of that yourself.” Hermione’s voice held a hint of amusement as she rolled over— carefully, thank the gods —and faced him. Seeing his expression, she added carefully, “I’m flattered— and tempted —but we’re hardly randy teenagers or characters in a romance novel. I don’t think we need the complications just yet.”

Severus acknowledged her logic, but… “You were ready to jump me a month ago,” he pointed out.

“Yes, and look how well that turned out.” She smiled and, to his shock, planted a saucy kiss on the bridge of his nose before sitting up.

- - - - -

Severus watched Hermione in bemusement as she rose and began to don the clothes he’d (respectfully) removed or transfigured when he’d brought her up last night. She apparently liked to stretch in the morning, her body seeming impossibly long as she balanced on her toes, arms reaching for the ceiling. Absently, she pushed her hair out of her face, but without pins it merely sprang back into its cloud around her.

Either way, it wasn’t… helping matters.

Still, she appeared in far better form than she’d been in yesterday morning, and that pleased him more than he would have expected.

- - - - -

Oh, that’s lovely. Buttoning up her robes, Hermione watched Severus toss back the covers and swing his feet over the edge of the bed. Mm, very lovely. He apparently preferred black silk pyjama pants— and that left his lean torso (and decidedly skinny arms) nicely bare.

“No grey nightshirt?” she asked, grinning, slipping her wand into its sheath.

“I don’t own grey clothes,” he replied with a slight, puzzling edge that then disappeared. “And pants are most practical in the event of emergencies.” He vanished into the bathroom.

‘Emergencies…’ A habit, then, from the bad old days, Hermione determined, sobering.

- - - - -

“So… what now?”

Severus looked up from breakfast, blinking at Hermione’s bluntness. “We return to bed and shag like bunnies?” he suggested.

He was rewarded with laughter. “I already said no, demon,” she grinned.

He shrugged. “Nothing ventured…”

“I don’t even know your middle name,” she remarked.

Severus’s face twisted with incredulity. “What’s that to do with anything?” She raised an eyebrow. “Claudius,” he sighed.

“Another Roman emperor.”

“My turn.” At her expectant look, he asked, “What’s your darkest fantasy?”

“Doing it in a room with no lights,” she answered blithely. At his nonplussed look, she added, “You said ‘darkest.’”

- - - - -

Both Severus and Hermione were due at the Ministry. For once, Severus didn’t mind so much, for Hermione persuaded him to accompany her for her change of clothes, and then they walked to the Ministry. Together.

It was a novel experience.

As was her insouciance in the face of the whispers that greeted them. Everyone had always cared about being seen with him. Hermione didn’t appear to give a damn— except perhaps for the dimwitted duo attempting to lurk behind a column.

Now they, unfortunately, might actually be able to toss a Finite Incantatem into the whole… whatever this was.

- - - - -

“Is he why?”

Hermione glanced up from her desk, frowning. “You’re being abstruse, Harry. Is ‘he’— I assume you mean Severus —the reason for what?” She knew precisely what he meant, actually, but damned if she’d make it easy for him.

“Is he why you’ve been… off… this month?” Ron was blatantly uncomfortable.

She growled irritably. “No, Severus is not the reason I’ve been ‘off,’ as you so quaintly put it. If you must know, he’s the reason I had a good dinner, a good breakfast, and a bloody good night’s sleep in between.”

Green didn’t look well with freckles.

- - - - -

“Your concern is misdirected.” Hermione’s annoyance with her two friends returned ten-fold. “It might’ve been touching, to know you were worrying about me. Sweet, even. But,” her eyes turned flinty, “I do not appreciate being discussed behind my back by two Nosy Parkers who apparently can’t be arsed to ask me themselves if something’s wrong!”

Even her hair seemed to quiver with anger. “Of the three of you, it was Severus Snape who bothered to talk to me and make sure I was okay! And now you come hurling accusations!

“Take a long, hard look in the mirror first, boys.”

- - - - -

Ron had the grace to look abashed. Harry merely became mulish.

“He’s old enough to be your father,” he said in disgust. Harry could manage sympathy and respect, but damned if he’d ever like Snape. And now…

“Beside the point,” Hermione replied icily. “We’re both well past the age of consent.”

“I’d’ve thought he was well past—” Harry’s heated reply was quickly smothered by Ron’s hand as the redhead began dragging him more or less bodily out of the office.

“Talk t’you later, yeah, Mione?” he threw back hurriedly. Years of chess and Aurory had instilled some sense of strategy.