Insult

Disclaimer: Not mine.

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Chapter 3 – Insult

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“Severus”

It’s amazing what habits and compulsions one picks up as he goes about his daily routine. I have walked these same pavements for twenty years now; for fifteen of these years, I have counted my steps. Each square of pavement must include only two footfalls (no more, no less) and I must step over any cracks. I’m not quite sure why I do this; my mother has been in the grave for a very long time now, so I am at no risk of, as the superstitious say, “breaking her back.”

Today is different for some reason. I am unable to focus on the cracks or count how many steps I take in each square. I blame my psychiatrist.

She said this didn’t have to be a date, yet my palms are still sweaty. I haven’t sought the company of a woman in nearly thirty years. I am almost sixty now; I shouldn’t have to deal with this “sweaty palms” rubbish anymore.

I look at my watch and even it seems to have betrayed me; it reads 3:56.

Damn.

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“Hermione”

We're sitting at the table when I finally ask the question I’ve been dying to ask all afternoon. “So, this client of yours… Is he cute?”

“Actually, no,” says Sheryl. This was not the answer I was expecting to hear; Sheryl generally has very high standards.

“Really?” I ask disbelievingly.

“Yep, not really attractive at all, I’d say.”

“Oh. Well, does he have a name, or should I simply refer to him as ‘The Client’?” I just realized that I’ve invited myself on Sheryl and her client’s dunch non-date and never thought to inquire about her client’s name.

“His name is Steven. Steven Pierce.”

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“Severus”

Merlin, Avada me now.

There is not one woman in her late thirties to early forties waiting for me as I walk into the café, but two. Even more unfortunate is the fact that not just one of them looks familiar, but both.

Oh, this is not good. Not good at all.

There is no mistaking the wild main of frizzy brown hair or the honey colored eyes. There is no mistaking the fact that Hermione Granger is sitting not ten feet away from me, an expression on her face that I’m sure mirrors my own.

Oh, this is not good. Not good at all...

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“Hermione”

I have been told many times in my life that I never shut up. At this very moment in time, however, all words have been reduced to mere syllables. The only word that seems to come out is a slightly accusatory, “You!”

Severus Snape stands before me alive and well, despite the fact that he's supposed to have been dead for twenty years.

“You!” I say again, still reduced to monosyllables.

Snape regains his composure quicker than I ever could. “You’ve already said that, Granger,” he sneers. “Are you capable of forming other words, or has spending so much time around Potter and Weasley completely exhausted any brain power you once had?” Only Severus Snape can both compliment and insult you in the same sentence.

I feel rather than see Sheryl appear next to my shoulder. “You two know each other?” she asks, a surprised look on her face.

Oh, crap. “Mr. Pierce was my Chemistry teacher,” I say quickly. Snape picks up on the hint right away and goes with it.

“Yes,” he says, suddenly becoming very polite. “And Hermione here was my most annoying student.” His tone is matter-of-fact as he says this, and a nasty smirk appears on his face.

Ooh, I could just slap that smirk right off.

Bastard.

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Author’s Note: If any of you are worried this story is turning out nothing like the summary promises, I’m here to dispel your fears. This is only Severus and Hermione’s first meeting in twenty years; trust me when I say we’ll see much more of Hermione’s home life and many more of Severus’s therapy sessions.

Also, my plan is for a slow build-up of trust and friendship between Hermione and Severus. If you’re looking for them to jump in the sack right away, sorry, but you’re going to have to wait awhile.