Plan B

A/N: It's short. I know, but it's a bridge to the next action.

Chapter 7


“And?”


He shook his head slowly, the black lank ribbons of hair concealing his eyes. The hair had definitely been a point of contention between us. I rationalized that if he wanted to land a muggle job he needed to make more of an effort to look muggle. Not that I could see him with a short cropped haircut, mind you, but perspective employers would see the long hair and make negative assumptions about his character. Whereas Severus bitterly countered, they’d make those negative assumptions once they got to know him. The haircut was merely window dressing.


For the moment I was grateful for his layer of protective shielding, he deserved his privacy. The weeks of rejection had been humiliating for the proud wizard, and I could only empathize. Which was maddening because I wanted to do much more than that.


During this time I’d become very protective of Severus and wanted to take away his hurt and ‘make it all better.’ Of course he refused to stand for any of it; he was much too prideful… and goat-stubborn. But we had an interesting relationship. He’d grumble and gripe; I’d offer my sincere compassion and understanding. He’d rant and rave that he neither wanted it nor needed it; and then he’d kindly shut up. Usually happier knowing that I was supportive of him. Not that he’d admit that either. But I didn’t need him to draw me a diagram to cotton on.


“Well, you could always fascinate them next time. It works for Hollywood witches,” I remarked glibly in a poor attempt at infusing humor into the situation.


Fascination was honestly the only explanation I could come up with for why so many no-talent witches and wizards had movie careers, despite the fact that they made bombshell after bombshell.


“Believe me my dear, I tried,” Severus said grimly.


“What!” I shrieked. I was kidding, he knew better than to believe I’d condone unethical behavior. Ok, maybe that’s a bit of a stretch, my personal history is littered with unethical behavior, but I always had a really really good excuse. “Please tell me you didn’t.”


“Fine,” he sighed, “I didn’t”


“You did, didn’t you?” Slytherins don’t make stupid mistakes. I asked him to tell me he didn’t. He repeated my words verbatim without actually admitting to anything. The sneaky bastard used a fascination spell. Figures.


“Oh Severus,” I moaned rubbing my eyes. When I looked up he was staring at me intently.


“What am I going to do with you?”


“Anything you’d like Hermione,” he said with a broad smirk that nearly passed for a grin.


Wait.


Hold up a second.


It was entirely possible that Severus was flirting with me.


My eyes skittered rapidly across the coffee shop background taking in business commuters hurriedly sipping their sweetly flavored concoctions, Amanda plucking at the strings of the guitar she really didn’t know how to play, Ling composing more depressingly bad poetry for tomorrow’s slam, and other assorted yahoos that frequented the place. Anywhere but Severus.


Slowly I repeated the conversation back to myself. Yep, the wizard had just made a pass at me. Now, I’m not some blushing never-been-kissed fourth year, but Severus is… intense. Very intense. A relationship with him would be… I’m not sure. Definitely more mature than being manhandled by Ron.


Don’t get me wrong, Ron has his good points. He’s, um, funny. Knows a shitload about Quiddich, (a shitload being my opinion on the aforementioned subject). He respects his Mum and women, which is also positive. And, uh… oh fuck it.


Ron’s a pussywhipped moron who needs his mother to knit his initials on his sweaters so that he’ll be able to identify them in the piles of clothes strewn about his room. In the sloppy piles of dirty clothes strewn about in his foul nasty smelly room; which I swear he’s never lifted a finger to clean. In fact I doubt the boy has ever attempted to straighten and/or organize anything in his ever-loving life… wait Hermione. Calm down. Breathe girl. You can do this.


A relationship with Severus would be, hmm… My toes curled up in my dirty trainers, as did my fingers. And if the moisture on my upper lip, and two lower lips was anything to go by, then the thought apparently had merit.


Actually, and I’m going to sound like a trollop, but if I could jump that man’s bones even in the back alley
way, I would. Right, definitely a trollop. Wanton woman. Jezebel. I’d so totally shag Snape. Greasy hair, black frock coat, and all. Oh, now there was a thought.


And I think… well, I think maybe, Snape would have me. And if that wasn't something to make me squeal like a little girl I don’t know what was.


But for the moment he was staring at his double espresso so intently I was left wondering if there’s a new divination technique to studying coffee grinds. Where had all his bold confidence gone? Ah, probably because I hadn’t responded to his subtle flirting favorably. He probably felt rejected, again.


It maybe time to let Severus know exactly what I’d do to him, given the chance.


“Wow, anything I’d like,” I said in what I hoped sounded seductive, “how can I pass such an attractive offer like that up?”


*
I wouldn't be able to. A.V.