Chapter Five – A Maiden Fair to See

Fall in love with someone who actually wants me

Grimmauld Place had changed. Snape suspected the influence of Molly Weasley in the painfully clean floors and the removal of the hideous umbrella stand. But the kitchen was a sight to behold – the stone-flagged floor had been replaced with white tiles, the long, dank, narrow room had been expanded to incorporate a solarium at the back.

The counters were highly polished wood, the cabinetry a creamy white. The ancient, dingy fireplace had been replaced with a beautiful cobalt blue Aga and sunflowers rioted in a large vase on the scrubbed pine table that dominated the area between the kitchen and solarium.

"Do you like it?" Potter asked as the two men paused in the doorway. "We decided that we were going to fit up this place properly, starting with the kitchen. Kreacher didn't like it much, but Winky did and..." Potter trailed off with a blush and Snape cringed inwardly – neither of them cared to dwell too much on what powers of persuasion Winky had over Kreacher.

"It's very... modern."

Potter grinned. "I know – but it's an improvement over what was there."

Snape inclined his head. "Undoubtedly." Of course, with Potter's millions, he and Granger could afford to fit up the house any way they chose.

"The others will be here soon, but, Severus, I wanted to talk to you first."

"Indeed."

"Please sit down – erm – would you like some wine?"

"What do you want, Potter?" The boy was fidgeting as Snape had never seen him fidget before.

"I wanted to talk to you about somebody. And – erm – it's kind of personal."

"Potter..."

"I, oh, God, Snape, this... I can't believe I'm saying this to you."

"Potter, if you do not start speaking sensibly in the next five seconds, I will..."

"UmgayandIwanttoshagDraco.Canyouhelpme?"

"Excuse me?"

Potter took a deep breath and poured a glass of wine with trembling hands.

"I'm gay," he said. "And I want to, erm, begin a relationship with Draco. I can't ... I can't approach his father, because of the whole Death-Eater-who-hates-my-guts thing, but I really, really want to, well, you know..." Potter trailed off.

"Has it occurred to you to ask Draco yourself?"

"Well, erm, couldyouapproachhimforme?"

"Potter..."

"Hermione invited him today. That's why Ron's not coming. They hate each other. Lots. But Hermione invited Draco and told me that if I really fancied him I should say something, butI'mscaredhe'lllaughatme."

"And you expect me to make your advances? Potter, you're a fool."

"Well, when you put it like that..." Potter replied. "But what am I supposed to say to him? If I tell him I fancy him, he'll say he fancies me, won't he? He is gay, right?"

"Potter, I don't know! How the hell would I know if Draco is gay? I don't know if he fancies you. And furthermore, I don't care if he does! Ask him yourself, for the love of Salazar's arse!"

"But... You're his godfather, and you should know..."

From above, the scuffling of feet interrupted the argument as Draco, Hermione, Ginevera Weasley and several others burst into the kitchen.

Potter went very pale and then very red.

"Potter!" Draco shouted. "Pour the wine."

"Yes, Harry, before the rest of them get here," Hermione chimed in. "Have you served Severus, yet?"

Oh, so I'm Severus now?

Hermione shoved a glass into Snape's hand and pulled him onto the bench.

Kreacher and Winky appeared with trays of hors d'oeuvres and popped out again as there arose more scuffling on the stairs.

Into the room burst Minerva, Kingsley, and most of the Weasley family, minus Ronald, bearing trays of food, bottles of wine, and triumphant countenances.

"To Severus Snape!" Potter cried, after being nudged quite hard by both Hermione and Draco.

"To Severus Snape!" chorused the company.

Snape inclined his head and noticed that while Potter had immediately returned to his intense and apparently intimate conversation with Draco, Hermione remained watching him as Molly approached her.

Snape didn't need one of George Weasleys' Extendable Ears to know what was being said. He clearly heard the words "Ronald", "sorry", and "breakup" from Molly and could see Hermione's lips move to form a phrase that looked suspiciously like "fuckwit" and distinctly heard the phrase "never again in this lifetime."

Molly stalked away, looking more than a little miffed as Hermione caught Snape's eye and raised her glass.

Snape took a chance and winked conspiratorially.

It was late. Snape was pleasantly drunk. Not completely pished, but gently floating. Any feelings of bonhomie that the wine might have produced were compounded by Hermione's proximity. She had been sitting beside him the whole evening, occasionally touching his leg with hers, smiling at him, laying a hand on his arm.

He rather thought he could get used to that and was congratulating himself on his extraordinary luck when Kingsley came up to them.

"Severus," Kingsley began, "I'd like to talk to you."

"Excuse me," Hermione said, slipping away, "I'll get you another drink. "

Alarm bells began to go off in Snape's mind, but he did his best not to overreact again.

"Severus, I wanted to talk to you about what your plans for the future are?"

Snape studied the remains of his meal. What were his plans? Minerva hadn't said a word to him that evening about returning to Hogwarts, and he was damned if he was going to approach her; Rosmerta might offer him a job washing up if he asked her nicely, or he could take the money from his Order of Merlin and disappear somewhere. That last option was probably the one Kingsley was looking for.

"I don't know," he replied.

"Well, if you're free," Kingsley said, "I'd like to introduce you to somebody tomorrow."

"Oh?"

"Yes, Mrs," there was in indistinct mumble, "works for the Department of Mysteries and they're very interested in you and your work with the Dark Arts."

"Kingsley, I don't do that anymore. Don't you remember what happened the last time somebody wanted to use my expertise in the Dark Arts?"

Kingsley chuckled and massaged his jaw.

"Yes, but Mrs Mumble isn't Albus. Just meet with her, Severus, you might be surprised."

"But not pleasantly surprised."

Kingsley shrugged. "That's up to you." He rose, catching sight of Hermione returning. "Think about it."

It was late. Arthur, Molly, and Minerva had since departed. Minerva with a fierce hug and a "Please, Severus, come see me, soon." Snape, Draco and Potter, and Hermione were left alone in the kitchen.

"Severus," Potter said, disentangling himself from a very smug looking Draco, "I've been meaning to ask you, will you stay? Kingsley said you had an appointment here in London tomorrow and we – Hermione and I – were talking, and your old room is still upstairs. I hope you don't mind, we've refitted it, it's nicer now – and the ceiling doesn't leak."

"Stay, please, Severus," Hermione begged, her leg brushing up against his.

If she's asking you...

Snape nodded. "I will stay."

Potter was right – the room was nicer than it had been. New plaster, fresh paint, refinished floorboards – it was almost home-like. On the freshly made bed was a set of pajama pants and a robe, the work of Kreacher, Snape assumed.

The thought of home reminded him of the house in Spinner's End, decaying, stinking of blocked drains and failure. He wondered if he could refit the house and sell it – he certainly had no reason to stay there.

"Maybe it's time to start over," he observed to the silent room.

A knock on the door startled him.

"Severus?" The voice was soft, almost hesitant. Or it would have been if it had belonged to anybody but Hermione Granger.

"Come in," he said, turning.

She was wearing a robe, and Snape indulged himself with the fantasy that she was wearing very little beneath it.

"I, erm, came to see if you needed anything," she said.

Snape decided that she was, in fact, nude beneath the robe.

Think, old man, if she's in your room, naked but for that rather fetching robe, she must be wanting more than to see if I need a drink of water before bed.

"Well, he drawled, making sure that she could tell he was scrutinizing her from head to toe and then back again, "it is rather lonesome in here."

Somewhat lonesome? What shite is that?

Despite the scorn of his conscience, Granger blushed a becoming pink.

"I was hoping that you might like some company," she whispered and stepped up to him.

She was of average height, the top of her head coming up to his forehead and it was such a simple thing, Snape observed, to merely bend his head and find her lips with his own.

Her lips were soft... and was that her tongue tickling his mouth?

Should I remind you now, old sport, drawled his conscience, that not only she is a former student, you do not have the most successful history with the opposite sex.

Snape growled in frustration, and Hermione took advantage of his opened mouth, sliding her tongue in.

Snape's conscience gave up the struggle as Hermione wrapped her arms around him and pulled him towards her.

"That was, mmpfh," Snape mumbled into his pillow.

"I'm glad you think so," Hermione replied, sounding a bit smug as she snuggled up beside him.

Snape considered telling her that he was hot and could he please have his personal space back, but the pleasant pressure of her breasts on his side and the gentle tickling of her leg, flung over his, eradicated that desire.

It had been so easy. Fumbling, yes, a little awkward, without finesse, but Hermione had been patient, gentle, and he had mercifully maintained enough control to perform convincingly. He hoped.

"Was that..."

Hermione smiled.

"First times can be awkward," she said. Looking at him closely, she narrowed her eyes. "It was your first time, wasn't it?"

Snape rolled away from her.

"You weren't coming out of Rachel's, that day, were you?"

Pride, humiliation and weariness surged through him. He'd just been bedded by a a willing, beautiful witch. Why fight?

"Yes, I was coming out of Rachel's," he admitted. "But, and if you ever ever tell Draco about this, I'll... I'll..."

"My lips are sealed." Hermione sat up and tucked her knees under her, breasts bouncing.

"Fine," Snape huffed, trying not to stare at her chest. "I was coming out of Rachael's but I wasn't able to... perform."

"So," Hermione whispered, "I was your... first?"

Snape's face grew hot. He ducked his head, hair falling around his face.

"Yes.".

Hermione leaned over and tucked a hank of lank, greasy hair behind his ear. Gently, she kissed him, first on the forehead, then on the cheek, and then on his lips.

Unbidden, his lips parted for her, invited her tongue into his mouth as he felt his desire for her stirring again.

She pulled away and looked into his eyes, seemed to invite him into her mind.

He looked away but peeked back.

"No," he said, "I won't..."

She smiled again.

"I know," she said, "but I wanted you to know that you were welcome."

"Hermione..." It was too much. The stresses of the day, the week, the last year threatened to undo him in that moment.

"Severus."

And then she was kissing him again, wrapping her arms around him, pulling him close to her, pressing him into her as she sighed and murmured his name.

Sunshine was peeping around the blinds when Snape awoke. It wasn't the sunshine that had roused him; it was the ticking of Hermione's hair.

"Mfph," he muttered, discovering an urgent need for the loo.

Hermione shifted and mumbled as he slid from the bed and he swore to return quickly.

When he did return, Hermione was, disappointingly, clad in her robe and frowning over the slip of paper that Kingsley had given him.

"Do you know who Mrs Mumble is?" she asked.

"Yes." Snape bent to retrieve his clothing.

"She's the head of the Department of Mysteries!"

"I said I knew who she was," Snape reminded her.

"I heard you – It's just... Severus, this is the opportunity of a lifetime!"

"Hermione, I've finished bending to the will of others. I'm not going to kowtow anymore because some alleged spy-master, or mistress, thinks that he, or she, can use me to defeat the next Dark Lord."

"Oh, for fuck's sake!" Hermione exclaimed. "Severus Snape, you are such stubborn git! For once in your life, you're being offered a job on your terms, given the opportunity to work on something that fascinates you and this is your response? Fine, don't go to the interview, but you'll be a fool not to!"

"And why should you care?"

"Because," Hermione said, bouncing off the bed in a cloud of uncontrollable hair. "I like for those I love to have the opportunity to succeed. Why do you think I told Kingsley to get in contact with her for you? But if that's the way you feel about it..."

She flounced from the room.

Hermione had done this? She loved him?

"Hermione! Wait!" Snape bound to the door and banged into the hall.

Draco's head poked out from behind a door.

"Isn't your interview in an hour?" he asked.

Snape glared at him and slammed back into his room to finish dressing.

She loves me.

Oh what the hell – what do I have to lose, anyway, if it doesn't go well, those bastards will just Obliviate me.

Buoyed by the thought that he didn't, in fact, have anything to lose, Snape sought out the Department of Mysteries.

In later years, he never would be able to recall exactly what had happened in his interview.

She loves me.

Oh, Prospero's pimply prick and all the todgers of hell, I'm going soft.

He found her in the kitchen, head bent over a medical tome, scratching notes on a battered slip of parchment.

"You were right," he said, holding out the flowers as if they were Muggle dynamite.

"I'm glad you realize that," she replied, not looking up.

"I was wrong."

"Correct again."

"I ... Oh, fuck it, Hermione, I don't know if I love you or not. All I know is that you were right, and Merlin damn it, for what it's worth, I love fucking you. You're clever. You're not frightened of me the way all of my other former students seem to be, you don't hate me the way all of my colleagues seem to, and for some strange reason, I want very badly to make you happy. Isn't that enough?"

Hermione turned and stared at him for a long moment.

"It will do," she said, holding out her hand. Unthinking he took it. "Now," she continued, "why don't we go up to your room, and you can tell me how your chat with Mrs Mumble went, and then you can prove to me just how much you do, in fact, love fucking me."

Snape smirked.

"Gladly," he replied. "After you."

Cheekily, Hermione swayed out of the kitchen and up the narrow stairs.

Behind them, the parchment lay on the table. It now contained annotations:

One: Finally get laid. Check.

Two: Go somewhere nice on holiday Go alone. Go on holiday with HermioneThe Seychelles?

Three: Finally hex the shit out of Dumbledore. Check. Would've been nice to avoid prosecution, but one can't have everything.

Four: Finally get the recognition I deserve. Order of Merlin? It will do.

Five: Fall in love with somebody who actually wants me. A work in progress.

AN: I do not own Harry Potter, HMS Pinafore, The Mikado, or The Pirates of Penzance. I also do not own Rumpole.

Special thanks to AnnieTalbot, Subversa, and TalesofSnape for making this happen.

Thanks also to the SSHG Mods for making this possible.

This is for Bluestocking79 who knows why.