Chapter Text
The man had a bit of broccoli stuck between his front teeth. He hadn’t stopped speaking long enough for her to tell him about it. She supposed (apart from the green bit in his teeth) he was handsome. Perhaps even one of the fittest men Ginny had set her up with in her ill-advised rampage to fix Hermione’s loneliness.
Hermione wasn’t lonely. She wasn’t .
At any rate, this one wasn’t even good enough to bring home for a quick but unsatisfactory shag. She’d forgotten his name in the veritable deluge of words spewing from his mouth.
“Do you have any experience with defensive spells? ” Hermione blinked in silent surprise at the question.
“I fought in the war.” She said stiffly, but he was already speaking over her.
He gesticulated widely, “I’m a bit of an expert on the matter. Did you know that most of the casualties in the last war were caused by a lack of knowledge in defensive magic?” Hermione stared in disbelief.
“Were you at the Hogwarts battle?” She asked, bunching her cloth napkin in her fist.
He laughed, “No, no. I was in Sweden researching.” She plastered a smile on her face.
“During the battle?” She watched his green smile widen.
“For the entire war, of course. Technically, I’ve never duelled. But the statistics are clear…” He was undeterred, spewing more and more numbers by the minute. She’d tuned him out at some point.
It was a relief when the bill came. He was clearly lingering.
“I’ve had a wonderful evening.” He said with a dashing (greenless– she didn’t know when that had gone) smile. She laughed awkwardly in answer.
“I was wondering if you’d like to?” He pointed his thumb over his shoulder in the general direction of the door. She shuddered, absolutely not.
A throat cleared behind her, “Fancy meeting you here Ms. Granger.” She froze, unsure if this was her salvation or her damnation. The voice was unmistakable; she turned on her high-heeled feet. She was forced to crane her neck and saw none other than Severus Snape looming a step and a half behind her.
“Professor.” She breathed, then with a little more volume she said, “How are you?”
The acerbic man sniffed haughtily, “Well.” He said. He’s not afflicted with the same verbose malady as Blabbermouth over here , she thought ruefully.
“Professor.” Said her date. Snape scowled.
“Mr.?” He asked Blabbermouth. Blabbermouth shifted a little uncomfortably.
“Peter Simmons, Hufflepuff,” Blabbermouth answered, she preferred Blabbermouth.
“Of course, Mr. Simmons.” Snape looked Blabbermouth over disapprovingly. His gaze shifted back to Hermione.
“I require a word with Ms. Granger, about our research project.” He lied so smoothly she almost believed it herself.
“The research project? Oh,” his look was cutting, “yes, of course.” She turned back to Peter.
“Well, it was lovely meeting you.” She smiled stiffly, Blabbermouth frowned.
“I can wait outside.” He said, she shook her head.
“Oh no, when Professor Snape and I talk about our project it can take ages. I’ll owl you.” She said, intending to do no such thing.
“Right.” Said Blabbermouth, and to her immense relief, Blabbermouth left.
“I am having a drink at the bar, I believe you will be requiring one yourself.” She couldn’t quite believe the words coming out of her old potion professor’s mouth. But she did want a drink, and perhaps a bit of quiet.
“Thank you.” She said though she wasn’t sure what she was thanking him for. She followed him back to the bar. There was a lonely firewhiskey on the counter. He sat in front of it and took a sip. She sat on the stool with some difficulty between her dress and the heels. Snape’s upper lip twitched with amusement with her less-than-graceful ascent.
“What’ll you have? Something strong I hope, I only witnessed five minutes of that dunderhead’s tirade.”
She giggled a little nervously at the situation. “Just wine, thanks.” He raised a severe black eyebrow but ordered them both a drink. They drank in blissful silence for a while, taking in the sounds of the other patrons having their nice dinners.
“What made you save me?” She asked at length, he shrugged his shoulders. She thought she imagined the light pink stain on his cheeks.
“I myself spent the better part of the evening on an unfortunate date,” he said, “and while she was undoubtedly charmed by my sparkling personality she had to leave early.” Hermione snorted, then felt rather sorry for him.
“I’m sorry.” She tucked some of her hair behind her ear. She was beginning to think that the spirits had caused his flush, not embarrassment. It certainly would explain why he’d bothered to come over and save her.
“I’m not, she was dim. I only went because Minerva bullied me into it.” Hermione snorted again. She couldn’t imagine anyone bullying the man beside her.
“So you were set up too?” She sipped her quickly depleting wine. Snape huffed.
“Who is your torturer?” She laughed outright at his question.
“Ginny Potter. It’s been going on for months. Apparently, I can’t be trusted to salvage my own love life.” She grumbled, blushing as the reality of what she just said and to whom sank in. Her lips were too loose. The corners of his lips lifted minutely at the statement..
“My condolences.” He sighed, the barman collected Snape’s empty glass. “What happened to Weasley?”
Absent-mindedly, she passed her finger over the lingering indent on her left ring finger.
“He left me.”
“I always said he was a fool.” Snape huffed. She looked down at her drink and frowned, wondering if that was as close as he could get to a compliment.
“As flattering as that is, he was right. We had a miserable marriage and I was as much to blame as he was.” She took her drink and downed the rest.
“Boredom brings out the worst in all of us.” She hummed, thinking back to the hours spent listening to him talk about Quidditch and his glazed eyes when she spoke about work.
The silence between them became awkward and heavy. She asked for the bill.
“I ought to go.” She said, getting off her stool. She toyed with her sleeve for a moment, “Thank you again for saving me.”
“Goodbye, Granger.”
She looked back just as she reached the door. He was a dark stain against the bar, staring blankly in front of him. Slowly, he brought his whiskey to his lips and took a drink.