Beyond Pathetic

Ch 5)

Breakfast was a surprisingly comfortable ordeal. Severus had been expecting horrible silences and such, even after their amicable previous parting. They spoke of students and colleagues over eggs and toast, and a final cup of coffee was poured as the talk turned more personal, much to Severus’ glee.

“I’ve had far too many relationships for my age,” said Hermione, leaning back into what seemed to be her favorite armchair, “and it’s depressing really, when you consider that most of the other girls from my year have already settled down, with children and mortgages and divorces…”
The cynicism inside Severus threatened to explode.

But he kept silent, utilizing a good bit of energy to keep his eyes from rolling.

Hermione sighed, “But what about you, Severus? You’ve never been married?”

There was a moment where he struggled not to rip the woman of his dreams into pieces with shameless rhetoric.

“No, I never have been,” he hesitated, “Women, like most people in general, do not react well to me…At any rate, the variety of woman I would be inclined to pursue…is very rare…”

There was a very interesting smile on Hermione’s face, “And what, exactly, would be the ‘type’ of Professor Severus Snape?”

“We’re getting a bit personal, now, Professor Granger,” Severus growled, but he closed his eyes and sipped his coffee, “My… ‘type’… intelligent, obviously, with a sense of humor that can at least appreciate my dry one…and beautiful, of course…”

“Why, Severus, I never had you pegged for a narcissist!” said Hermione, mostly in mock surprise, but Severus pretended to be affronted anyway.

“Not conventional, artificial, prettiness, you understand. A natural loveliness, without spells and potions and what have you…beautiful without trying to be, and even more beautiful because of it…” as he said this, Severus looked at her, really looked, drinking in her features and describing them back to her; his perfect woman.

After that bit of ambiguously impromptu prose, it was inevitable that the conversation would ebb.

Hermione left, saying she had an appointment to meet a friend in Hogsmeade for lunch drinks, but would see him at dinner.

And Severus, embarrassed on a deep level for his words, hoped she did not see the meaning behind them as he mindlessly prepared a batch of a potion he later would not remember brewing.

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The pub was crowded, but that suited Hermione and Ginny just fine as they downed the wizard equivalent of girly martini pseudo-drinks.

Ginny’s relationship with Harry had been highly publicized, slightly pointless, and outrageously overdrawn. After an amicable split a few years after the exciting Voldemort debacle, they had gone on being friends, but the school-age feelings had faded long before the papers grew tired of it, much in the same way Hermione’s had with Ron, Viktor, Oliver, etc, etc, etc.

“So I,” announced Ginny with aplomb, “Have heard things. Things regarding time, spent between a Certain Best Friend and a Certain Ass-Faced Potions Master. But I hear many, many things, much of which isn’t true, but there are instances…”

Hermione scowled good-naturedly. “Yes, it’s true we’ve spent time together, but it hasn’t been for snogging, or porking, or whatever other colorful terms the youth of today can com up with. We talk about potions, and spells, and transfiguration, and besides, he’s the Defense Master now.”

“But the real issue is whether he’s still an ass-face,”

“Less than when we were children, but I still can see it in him, obviously”

“Probably because he can see himself in you. Filthy pun completely intended,” Ginny sipped her drink, “Harry said the last time he talked to Snape, it was like being a fourth-year detention student again.”

“Perhaps it’s because that’s how Harry still acts,”

“Perhaps it’s because you have fabulous tits, and Harry doesn’t,”

“Thank you, Miss Weasley,”

“See, you’re even starting to talk like him,”

“You’re the ass-face, Gin,”

The younger woman just laughed, “You’re perfect for each other,”

It wasn’t until that evening, when Hermione was walking through castle to dinner, did she really think about that.

Reaching a decision was simple. Hermione had the benefit of experience, and where this sort of thing was concerned, she had nothing to lose.

So that night, with hardly a flutter in her stomach, she slid into the seat next to Severus at the high table, and the words flowed out easily.

“If you’re not terribly busy next Friday night,” she said, pouring herself some juice, “Would you like to accompany me to dinner in the village?”

Severus forgot to breathe for a moment.

A/N: Yeeeeah cliffhanger. Apologies for both that and the miserable time gap.