Hilltop Cottage
folder
Harry Potter › Het - Male/Female › Snape/Hermione
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
50
Views:
42,304
Reviews:
198
Recommended:
1
Currently Reading:
5
Category:
Harry Potter › Het - Male/Female › Snape/Hermione
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
50
Views:
42,304
Reviews:
198
Recommended:
1
Currently Reading:
5
Disclaimer:
I do not own any Harry Potter characters or situations - they all belong to JK Rowling. I am making no money from this story.
Twenty
A/N: A huge apology for the delay - real life got in the way.Thanks to ARo for the beta.
When Hermione had returned to work on the following Monday, a tangible sense of excitement permeated the air. Colleagues beamed wide smiles in her direction, people she didn’t even know offered their congratulations, and as she had entered her office, a large vase of flowers sat on her desk with a small sepia label hanging from the stem of a large iris.
They were from Harry; with a note attached telling her the world was now her oyster. She moved the flowers onto a side table and ignored them. Whatever Harry had imagined would happen when she had won the award, she had no idea. Her project would take time and planning, and in the meantime she had other research to complete.
After two months of being Doctor Granger, she was busier than ever and hadn’t found the time to even consider using her bursary. She would need to take a work break, and although she had started to work longer hours in a bid to get to the end of projects in process, there seemed no end to it. It was making her harassed and irritable and she knew it, but she had to just keep going. Otherwise the whole thing would be a waste of time and effort.
Hermione was sitting at her desk, working on her folder of current work, when she was interrupted by the arrival of a large and stately eagle owl with an important-looking parchment attached to its left leg. Hermione stroked his beautiful feathers in awe, and earned herself a hoot. Unfastening the parchment, she rolled it out slowly and read the neat script written on it. It was a formal invitation to attend a belated celebratory dinner in her honour, from Alwyn Proctor Prewitt himself. Hermione grinned to herself, and then sighed as she read further. The invitation was for ‘Doctor Granger and Guest,’ but she had no doubt that yet again, Severus would not want to attend with her. There had been a flurry of invitations in the weeks after her award to dine with this important person, or that Ministry body. Severus had always declined, and although she understood his reluctance to schmooze with people he felt were really not that important, she hated going alone and having to make excuses. She even received a few pitying looks. After all, most people didn’t think that Severus Snape was much of a catch. She decided to make things easier this time, and responded to the invitation, stating that she would gladly attend but that she would not be bringing a guest.
Hermione sighed as she fed the owl a treat and sent him on his way, with her reply fastened securely to his leg. She would have felt proud to have Severus accompany her to the dinner, and she was sure that he and Proctor Prewitt would have plenty to discuss. He might have been able to make a few connections of his own and possibly increase his overseas sales, but his feelings about mixing with the wizarding world were very clear. Never the twain shall meet unless absolutely necessary, and a dinner in honour of his bedmate probably didn’t count.
Feeling subdued, Hermione grabbed another folder and opened it. She took the top sheet of paper and started to read, and then absently reached for a quill.
***
Severus was in his lab in Spinners End, putting to use some of his more recent horticultural endeavours. There was a definite improvement in the efficacy of the potions that was in direct correlation to the freshness of the ingredients, and he made the necessary notes in his journal before returning to his cauldron and stirring the contents.
He found his brewing very soothing, and his thoughts started to dwell on the fact that he was finding the need to brew more often than he would usually. He refused to say that it was an avoidance tactic. It most definitely wasn’t that. Space was necessary in all relationships, and Hermione’s work was keeping her later than usual, so what better way to fill the time than to brew and keep his stock full?
Thinking of Hermione made Severus tense up. He couldn’t remember the last time they had spoken to each other properly, other than the usual everyday communication. He didn’t resent her work, but he did miss the way things had been in the beginning, when they had time to spend lazing around the house, reading, or discussing the garden, or sloping off to bed mid-afternoon to make love slowly and really enjoy each other. He found himself living for the weekend, when at least there would be physical intimacy and Hermione didn’t worry about getting up for work the next morning. There were times, he knew, that although she was with him physically, her mind was elsewhere, pondering some work issue, and he would double his efforts to get her more focussed on the task in hand. It was usually worth it.
He glanced at the clock on the wall. It was past eight, and he wondered if she had made it home yet. Casting a stasis charm over his potion, he gathered everything to him and made his way down to the Floo.
Hermione’s return to work at the Ministry had proved useful in that she had been able to obtain a Floo connection between the Cottage and Spinners End. Severus had been glad of it, for the older he got, the more he felt the ache in his leg after walking any distance.
Ensuring his wards were still secure, Severus Flooed to the Cottage to find the place in darkness. She obviously wasn’t home. Irritated, Severus flicked his wand, and the lights came on as he walked into the kitchen. There was a note by the kettle, and he unfolded the page quickly.
‘Severus,
Alwyn Proctor Prewitt invited me to a celebration dinner this evening. I didn’t like to disturb your brewing, and I knew you wouldn’t want to come, anyway. I hope I won’t be too late.
Yours,
Hermione.’
Severus glared at the note for a long time, reading and re-reading it until the words were etched in his brain even when he closed his eyes. He crumpled the note in his fist and let it fall to the floor.
Would he have attended? Perhaps, perhaps not. But it would have been nice to have been included, or at least considered, as Hermione’s partner. That’s what they were, wasn’t it? Partners? She had told him that everyone knew they were a couple, hadn’t she? That meant more than just lovers, definitely more than friends. Not married, though. Severus scowled slightly. As if the witch would ever lower herself to the demeaning role of Mrs. Severus Snape. He would never ask that of her, particularly now, when her star was definitely in the ascendancy.
She was going places, he knew that, and he was genuinely happy for her. He just wasn’t sure if he would still be there on the journey. Judging by this evening, it would seem that he wasn’t needed anyway.
Severus looked around the kitchen slowly and felt out of place without Hermione there. It was her home, after all. Not his. Her absence overwhelmed him and became so oppressive he could hardly stand it. He walked into the sitting room and saw the photograph of Bertram Mellor, still in its place on the mantle. It stood in its replacement frame, turned to face the wall, but it was still there all the same. It served to remind Severus of his place, for this was a Mellor house. He was an interloper, invited in by Hermione to share the space. Was it pity that had forced their friendship? Had she felt so ashamed of her ancestor that she had sought to make amends?
Clarity, Severus thought, was a wonderful gift, and he could see everything clearly now.
He had tried to avoid being the latest project for Hermione Granger, and yet she had sucked him in with the promise of friendship and love. Severus snorted. What would she know of love, anyway? How easily the words tripped from her lips, ensnaring him, winding him tighter. New projects were now her priority, it would seem, for she hadn’t spoken those precious words for over a week, and the binds that tied him to her were unravelling as he perused a home in which he felt suddenly superfluous.
With sudden resolve and a set jaw, Severus ‘accio’ed his clothes from the bedroom and Flooed back to Spinner’s End.
***
Hermione was exhausted. The dinner had been interesting to begin with, and Alicia had also been invited, which had given her time to discuss a future visit to take advantage of the library. But it dragged on, as these things tend to do, and Hermione found that she was sat between Alwyn Proctor Prewitt and Jolyon Hamilton. Both of the wizards were elderly and had more in common with each other, and she had sat in the middle of a conversation that flew between the two of them.
She was so relieved to be home, she just walked straight up to bed. She shrugged off her clothes in the dark, not wanting to wake Severus, and she climbed into bed gingerly. Her head hit the pillow, and she was asleep in moments.
It was only when she awoke the next day that she noticed Severus hadn’t been beside her.
Assuming he had become engrossed with his brewing, she thought nothing of it and went to work as usual.
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When Hermione had returned to work on the following Monday, a tangible sense of excitement permeated the air. Colleagues beamed wide smiles in her direction, people she didn’t even know offered their congratulations, and as she had entered her office, a large vase of flowers sat on her desk with a small sepia label hanging from the stem of a large iris.
They were from Harry; with a note attached telling her the world was now her oyster. She moved the flowers onto a side table and ignored them. Whatever Harry had imagined would happen when she had won the award, she had no idea. Her project would take time and planning, and in the meantime she had other research to complete.
After two months of being Doctor Granger, she was busier than ever and hadn’t found the time to even consider using her bursary. She would need to take a work break, and although she had started to work longer hours in a bid to get to the end of projects in process, there seemed no end to it. It was making her harassed and irritable and she knew it, but she had to just keep going. Otherwise the whole thing would be a waste of time and effort.
Hermione was sitting at her desk, working on her folder of current work, when she was interrupted by the arrival of a large and stately eagle owl with an important-looking parchment attached to its left leg. Hermione stroked his beautiful feathers in awe, and earned herself a hoot. Unfastening the parchment, she rolled it out slowly and read the neat script written on it. It was a formal invitation to attend a belated celebratory dinner in her honour, from Alwyn Proctor Prewitt himself. Hermione grinned to herself, and then sighed as she read further. The invitation was for ‘Doctor Granger and Guest,’ but she had no doubt that yet again, Severus would not want to attend with her. There had been a flurry of invitations in the weeks after her award to dine with this important person, or that Ministry body. Severus had always declined, and although she understood his reluctance to schmooze with people he felt were really not that important, she hated going alone and having to make excuses. She even received a few pitying looks. After all, most people didn’t think that Severus Snape was much of a catch. She decided to make things easier this time, and responded to the invitation, stating that she would gladly attend but that she would not be bringing a guest.
Hermione sighed as she fed the owl a treat and sent him on his way, with her reply fastened securely to his leg. She would have felt proud to have Severus accompany her to the dinner, and she was sure that he and Proctor Prewitt would have plenty to discuss. He might have been able to make a few connections of his own and possibly increase his overseas sales, but his feelings about mixing with the wizarding world were very clear. Never the twain shall meet unless absolutely necessary, and a dinner in honour of his bedmate probably didn’t count.
Feeling subdued, Hermione grabbed another folder and opened it. She took the top sheet of paper and started to read, and then absently reached for a quill.
***
Severus was in his lab in Spinners End, putting to use some of his more recent horticultural endeavours. There was a definite improvement in the efficacy of the potions that was in direct correlation to the freshness of the ingredients, and he made the necessary notes in his journal before returning to his cauldron and stirring the contents.
He found his brewing very soothing, and his thoughts started to dwell on the fact that he was finding the need to brew more often than he would usually. He refused to say that it was an avoidance tactic. It most definitely wasn’t that. Space was necessary in all relationships, and Hermione’s work was keeping her later than usual, so what better way to fill the time than to brew and keep his stock full?
Thinking of Hermione made Severus tense up. He couldn’t remember the last time they had spoken to each other properly, other than the usual everyday communication. He didn’t resent her work, but he did miss the way things had been in the beginning, when they had time to spend lazing around the house, reading, or discussing the garden, or sloping off to bed mid-afternoon to make love slowly and really enjoy each other. He found himself living for the weekend, when at least there would be physical intimacy and Hermione didn’t worry about getting up for work the next morning. There were times, he knew, that although she was with him physically, her mind was elsewhere, pondering some work issue, and he would double his efforts to get her more focussed on the task in hand. It was usually worth it.
He glanced at the clock on the wall. It was past eight, and he wondered if she had made it home yet. Casting a stasis charm over his potion, he gathered everything to him and made his way down to the Floo.
Hermione’s return to work at the Ministry had proved useful in that she had been able to obtain a Floo connection between the Cottage and Spinners End. Severus had been glad of it, for the older he got, the more he felt the ache in his leg after walking any distance.
Ensuring his wards were still secure, Severus Flooed to the Cottage to find the place in darkness. She obviously wasn’t home. Irritated, Severus flicked his wand, and the lights came on as he walked into the kitchen. There was a note by the kettle, and he unfolded the page quickly.
‘Severus,
Alwyn Proctor Prewitt invited me to a celebration dinner this evening. I didn’t like to disturb your brewing, and I knew you wouldn’t want to come, anyway. I hope I won’t be too late.
Yours,
Hermione.’
Severus glared at the note for a long time, reading and re-reading it until the words were etched in his brain even when he closed his eyes. He crumpled the note in his fist and let it fall to the floor.
Would he have attended? Perhaps, perhaps not. But it would have been nice to have been included, or at least considered, as Hermione’s partner. That’s what they were, wasn’t it? Partners? She had told him that everyone knew they were a couple, hadn’t she? That meant more than just lovers, definitely more than friends. Not married, though. Severus scowled slightly. As if the witch would ever lower herself to the demeaning role of Mrs. Severus Snape. He would never ask that of her, particularly now, when her star was definitely in the ascendancy.
She was going places, he knew that, and he was genuinely happy for her. He just wasn’t sure if he would still be there on the journey. Judging by this evening, it would seem that he wasn’t needed anyway.
Severus looked around the kitchen slowly and felt out of place without Hermione there. It was her home, after all. Not his. Her absence overwhelmed him and became so oppressive he could hardly stand it. He walked into the sitting room and saw the photograph of Bertram Mellor, still in its place on the mantle. It stood in its replacement frame, turned to face the wall, but it was still there all the same. It served to remind Severus of his place, for this was a Mellor house. He was an interloper, invited in by Hermione to share the space. Was it pity that had forced their friendship? Had she felt so ashamed of her ancestor that she had sought to make amends?
Clarity, Severus thought, was a wonderful gift, and he could see everything clearly now.
He had tried to avoid being the latest project for Hermione Granger, and yet she had sucked him in with the promise of friendship and love. Severus snorted. What would she know of love, anyway? How easily the words tripped from her lips, ensnaring him, winding him tighter. New projects were now her priority, it would seem, for she hadn’t spoken those precious words for over a week, and the binds that tied him to her were unravelling as he perused a home in which he felt suddenly superfluous.
With sudden resolve and a set jaw, Severus ‘accio’ed his clothes from the bedroom and Flooed back to Spinner’s End.
***
Hermione was exhausted. The dinner had been interesting to begin with, and Alicia had also been invited, which had given her time to discuss a future visit to take advantage of the library. But it dragged on, as these things tend to do, and Hermione found that she was sat between Alwyn Proctor Prewitt and Jolyon Hamilton. Both of the wizards were elderly and had more in common with each other, and she had sat in the middle of a conversation that flew between the two of them.
She was so relieved to be home, she just walked straight up to bed. She shrugged off her clothes in the dark, not wanting to wake Severus, and she climbed into bed gingerly. Her head hit the pillow, and she was asleep in moments.
It was only when she awoke the next day that she noticed Severus hadn’t been beside her.
Assuming he had become engrossed with his brewing, she thought nothing of it and went to work as usual.
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