Harry Potter Dinner, and a little bit more

Summary: It only took one night to irrevocably change the course of Severus Snape's life. What does Hermione have to say about it?

Written for the First Sentence Challenge.

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Anything recognizable belongs to JK Rowling. I make no money off of this.

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><p>The waitress was glaring at him. Displeasure was clearly written across her face. <em>Cradle robber<em>, she silently accused him. Severus Snape glanced across the table at his much younger companion, trying to return his attention to what she was saying.

"What do you think?" his companion asked. Snape didn't reply right away. The girl sitting across from him had matured into a young woman. He remembered the day he was first graced with her annoying presence. Her hair was wild and unkempt, and she could not resist the temptation to be a know-it-all foolish Gryffindor. Years later, she had somehow managed to tame her once wild hair. The baby fat that used to grace her cheeks was history and her buck teeth he had once ridiculed her for were filed down. Her smile really was quite lovely.

Snape took a sip of his coffee, calmly looking at Hermione while still feeling the waitress's displeasure directed at him. Her eyes were boring into the back of his neck even though he could not see her at the moment.

"So what do you think?" Hermione repeated with frustration. It was unlike Snape to pay so little attention to a conversation.

"I think that's a great idea," Snape replied. In truth he had no idea what she was talking about. He was not about to admit his inattention to her though.

Hermione's smile faded. "You weren't paying any attention to a word I said," she accused.

"Of course I was," Snape lied smoothly.

Hermione did not buy his lie for a moment. She raised her eyebrow at him, a habit she had picked up from the man, as she said, "For you information, I asked you if you would notice if I started dancing around naked."

"Oh," Snape's pale face flushed slightly. "Oh," he repeated. As the shock wore off, he said, "Why would you even consider such a thing?"

Although it was a rhetorical question, Hermione launched into what he was sure was a detailed, logical, well-thought out answer to his question. His focus shifted back to the waitress who, after taking an order, replaced her pen in her pocket, and glared daggers at him before walking to the next table and once more plastering a smile onto her face.

Hermione, tired of being ignored by her companion yet again, reached across the table and pulled Snape's chin until he was once more looking at her. "What is your problem?" she hissed angrily, "If you don't want to be here, then just say so."

The waitress sensed Hermione's anger, and before Snape had a chance to reply the muggle woman was standing right beside their table. "Is he bothering you, miss?" the woman asked. Not waiting for Hermione's reply, the waitress scowled at Snape as she added, "Sir, if you are bothering the young woman then I must ask you to leave."

"That won't be necessary," Hermione turned her attention back to Snape and pointedly ignored the waitress until the muggle woman finally left their table.

Hermione picked up her fork and began to mash the potatoes on her plate. Snape watched in curiosity as Hermione played with her food. Looking up from his companion, he caught the waitress's eye and smirked at her. The waitress glowered in return, letting him know in no uncertain terms she was unhappy.

"Well," Hermione prompted her reticent companion.

"Well," Snape responded in kind.

Hermione huffed audibly, exaggerating the gesture. Infuriating, illusive man. "Just answer the damn question. Do you even want to be here, or should I just leave and save my breath for someone who actually wants to listen?" Hermione inhaled deeply before she turned around to see where Snape was looking. It was straight at the waitress, "And why do you keep looking at that waitress?" she demanded as an afterthought.

Snidely, Snape said, "For the brightest witch of your age, you are incredibly daft."

Hermione raised her eyebrow. "Go on."

"That waitress has been glaring at me ever since we set foot in this blasted restaurant."

"It was your idea to come to this 'blasted restaurant' in the first place," Hermione reminded him cooly.

Snape resisted a childish urge to role her eyes at her ability to state the obvious. "Had I know the wait staff here would take such an instant dislike to me, I never would have suggested we come," he explained patronizingly, as if he were talking to a young child.

"Don't take that tone with me, Severus Snape," Hermione snapped. Eleven-year-old Hermione would have never talked back to an authority figure. Eleven-year-old Hermione would never have called him by his first name. That was another of many reminders that Hermione was no longer a child but a stunning young woman. If he were not her former professor and old enough to be her father...

He cut off his train of thought before it could delve into forbidden, though not unpleasant, territory.

His eyes held onto her heated gaze for a moment before he said as calmly as he could, "She is convinced I am robbing the cradle, so to speak."

This time, it was Hermione's turn to flush a brilliant shade of red. Snape smiled at the flustered know-it-all. "I'm sorry," Hermione said after a moment, "I didn't realize—"

"—Don't," Snape interrupted.

Hermione ignored him. Sometimes, he wished she still listened to him as she had when she was a student. "—and it is incredibly unprofessional of her to be rude to you because of mere speculation."

Snape half listened to Hermione, amused at her indignant attitude towards the woman. The other half of his mind, the more devious side, watched the waitress intently until she was standing in front of the entrance talking to customers. Throwing some money onto the table, Snape stood up and indicated Hermione to do the same.

"I believe it's time we left," he said as Hermione joined him on her feet.

Snape led Hermione to the front of the restaurant. Just before they came into the waitress's line of view, he wrapped his arm possessively around Hermione's waist. Hermione was stunned at his uncharacteristic gesture and would have stopped in surprise had it not been for the force Snape used to propel her forward. Just outside the doors, Snape looked at the waitress to make sure she was watching them before leaning down and whispering in Hermione's ear, "Would you like to mess with her?" Hermione spared a glance over her shoulder and saw the waitress glowering rather unpleasantly at Snape. Still indignant over the woman's barely civil demeanor, she nodded in agreement.

Snape lifted one hand to cup Hermione's chin upwards towards him. The logical side of his brain was listing all the reasons he should stop right where he was, let her go, and pretend the whole thing had never happened. He had watched the stunning young woman grow up from a child through her teenage years and into maturity. While she was no longer his student, the morality of a relationship with her was questionable at best. Then again, he mused, he would be hard pressed to find a witch in England whom he did not, at one point, have the joy in teaching.

Added to that, if the tabloids were to be believed, Hermione had recently broken up with her fiancé, Ronald Weasley, and if Rita Skeeter was correct, it was a nasty break up. He should not be taking advantage of her emotional turmoil, but as his obsidian eyes met her chocolate ones, he neither saw any revulsion at kissing her former professor nor did he see sadness. The look, while rarely directed at him, he recognized as one of longing. Logic be damned, he wanted to kiss her. So he did.

Hermione gasped as his lips came into contact with hers. They were soft, not at all like the chapped lips she was expecting that would certainly match the dour potion master's personality. Snape, knowing that she would probably regret this, took full advantage of his companion's willing attention. He inhaled her intoxicating scent as he sought to taste her mouth, a mix of peppermint and the sweet tang of raspberries from her dinner.

Unconsciously, Hermione and Snape drew closer together, by that point oblivious to any attention they were garnering. Neither wanted to break the heated embrace, but lack of air demanded it. As Hermione and Snape drew away, neither said anything. They were both still reeling from the shock.

Feeling suddenly conscious of the attention from the waitress and patrons alike, Snape took hold of Hermione's wrist and guided her away. Standing in a deserted alley, Snape checked to make sure no one was around to see them before he disapparated them both with a loud crack.

Landing on the lawn outside of Hermione's house, Hermione took a moment to regain her breath and wait for her head to stop spinning.

Snape recovered quicker. "I think that waitress enjoyed the show." While his emotions were still reeling from the unexpected and very pleasant shock of kissing her, he was amused and delighted at the turn of events. Revenge was sweet in more than one manner.

When Hermione finally recovered from her disorientation, she glared mockingly at Snape and said, "Slytherin."

"You say that like it is a bad thing," Snape commented.

Hermione huffed and turned on her heel as she headed towards her home. Snape followed her, knowing she was not actually upset. Hermione turned to face Snape once she was inside. "Well, are you coming in or not?" she demanded.

Despite her numerous invitations, Snape had never actually been inside her house before. For some reason, half the time she invited him he instinctively came up with some way to excuse himself and part company. The other half of the time he really did have other obligations to attend to. The truth was, he was painfully aware how people would see his attraction to the war heroine. Even more so he had no desire to see the home she lived in with her former boyfriend and ex-fiancé. It would only make him feel like a lecherous old man. However, given recent events, he held a hope that Hermione did, in fact, reciprocate his affections.

Almost unknowingly, he set foot into previously uncharted territory.

If Severus Snape had allowed himself to imagine what Hermione's home looked like, he would have immediately answered neat and meticulously organized. Oh, there might be the clutter of a few books here and there, and perhaps there would be a TV in the living room. She was a muggle born after all. What he did not expect was the clutter that graced every surface of the house. The coffee table was littered with dirty dishes. Clothes and other random objects were strewn haphazardly over the floor. The couch and armchairs were covered with bright orange fur shed from the monstrosity she called a cat. And, of course, he could see books lying on every surface.

Hermione surveyed her house as well, and blushed when she realized the state of disorder it was currently in. Blushing, she said, "I'm sorry. I would have cleaned if I had know you were coming over."

"It's no matter," Snape replied, secretly thrilled at viewing a side of her few people got to see. Who knew the bookworm renown for her organizational skills and an inability to tolerate anything less than perfection was capable of leaving clutter in her wake.

Feeling the need to defend herself from a nonexistent offense, she said, "Normally I like things much cleaner, but with trying to separate mine and Ron's things, I'm afraid I haven't had much time for cleaning. Or anything else really."

Snape smiled at her and swallowed awkwardly, unsure how to reply. Hermione, too, was at a loss. Redirecting the conversation, she said, "Since our dinner was cut short, can I offer you something to drink. Tea or coffee?"

"Coffee, please," Snape replied. He followed her into the kitchen whose state was in as much a disarray as the living room. Hermione filled the coffee pot and turned it on. Snape raised an eyebrow at her. "You do realize you're a witch."

Hermione smiled at him and shook her head. "Just like Harry and Ron, you are. They always ask me the same question. The truth is, magic would be faster, but nothing tastes the same like a fresh brewed cup of coffee, no shortcuts."

Snape silently agreed with her. Once the coffee was almost ready, Hermione hunted for clean mugs as she asked, "How do you take your coffee?"

"Black," Snape tersely replied.

Hermione laughed heartily at his gruff reply. "What do you find so humorous?" Snape enquired.

"You're a walking cliche. The dark and brooding man takes his coffee black," she explained between chuckles of amusement.

"I like it that way," he defended himself.

Hermione calmed her laughter as she brewed the strong smelling liquid. "I, personally, prefer mine with a bit of milk."

Without being asked, Snape headed over towards the fridge to retrieve some milk for her. As he reached for the carton, he noticed another object right next to the milk. He pulled out both objects. Holding up the second object, he said, barely managing to conceal his amusement, "You store this in the fridge?"

Hermione, by that time, had finished pouring the drinks and was moving to hand a mug to him. Looking at the object in his hand, she first was confused, then burst out laughing. "So that's where it went. I was looking all over the house for it."

"Then by all means, here you go," Snape said as he traded the book for his mug of coffee. He inhaled the tantalizing aroma of the hot liquid before taking a gulp. It was thick and heavy. He relished the sensation of sticky tar gliding down his throat and warming up his insides. If one thing could be said about the know-it-all it was that she was never less than perfect in any of her endeavors.

"I never took you for a Jane Austen fan," Snape commented as they both enjoyed their coffee.

Hermione looked at him and frowned. "Your book," Snape gestured to the book he had pulled out of the fridge. Hermione struck him as the type of person who was more prone to reading informational texts than fiction. "

Hermione huffed. "For your information, that book is _Pride & Prejudice_ and it's actually quite good."

"I'm quite fond of it myself." As silence filled that room at his pronouncement, Snape was not sure who was more shocked. He was startled with the ease of which he shared a bit of personal information. Hermione was skeptical that the dark and sullen man would like such a romantic book.

Snape used the lull in conversation to think back on how he ended up in this position, drinking coffee one evening at her house and feeling unusually relaxed in her presence. After the final battle when Potter defeated the Dark Lord, Snape spent the next month at St. Mungos recovering from Naigini's attack. When he was finally released, he returned to Hogwarts to resume his old post as potions master with Minerva McGonagall as headmistress.

He expected to go back to being the hated professor, but news of his heroics had spread, much against his will, and he found himself the source of fascination and admiration among the students. It was a most disconcerting feeling. Some of the older students returned to Hogwarts to repeat their final year due to the disruptions the war had caused to their education. Hermione Granger, surprisingly, opted instead to simply take her NEWTS instead of attending classes. Then again, after a year away from Hogwarts, he wasn't all that surprised she was ready to move on with her life and no longer suffer the pressures of being a student. To no one's surprise, Hermione passed with flying colors, earning the same numbers of NEWTS as Snape himself had, the second highest score only to Dumbledore himself.

Having passed her NEWTS, Snape fully expected he would never have to see Hermione Granger again, apart from her occasional appearances in the headline of the Daily Prophet. At the time, Snape was fully convinced he did not care whether he saw the annoying chit again or not.

Hermione, however, had different plans. Despite his desire to be alone, she had sought him out frequently. Snape, much to his dismay, did everything he could to avoid his former student. One day, annoyed at her constant attempts to speak with him, finally resolved to give her five minutes and then end their conversation with some nasty remark that would come all too easily to him. It was with that in mind that Snape hoped Hermione would never seek him out again.

After finally meeting with her, Snape was shocked at what she had to say. She thanked him. In the whirlwind of events that followed the final battle, Snape's part went largely unnoticed. Sure, the Potter brat tried to give him some credit, but the media was more interested in lavishing attention upon the golden trio. Snape, having an aversion to the spotlight, was not the least bit disappointed that his role in the war went relatively unnoticed. That was, it went unnoticed until Hermione had the gall to thank him for everything he did during the war. Needless to say, he was shocked when the girl even voiced her understanding over his blatant favoritism to the Slytherins and at times vindictive behavior towards the golden trio. Hermione had rambled on about how, considering his role as a double agent, he would of course be forced to act in the manner that he did so that when Voldemort eventually returned it would not be known that he showed anything less than contempt for those who did not share certain pureblood ideologies. That was not his actual motivation. He truly did desire to see Slytherin win the house cup every year, but he felt no need to tell Hermione that.

Sometime during that initial conversation, he had noticed the change that had taken place in Hermione during the past year. She was wiser and wearier, no longer a naive young child. Just like her thoughts reflected a more mature young woman, so too did her appearance. Much against his better judgement, Snape found himself accepting her invitation to lunch the next week.

So gradually he was unsure of how it happened, he formed a friendship with Miss Granger. Outside of the classroom setting where she did not feel the need to constantly prove herself, she was an engaging companion. Lively and witty, she provided him with stimulating conversation. Four months later, he realized she was the first true friend he'd had since Lily Evans.

With that in mind, he went to visit Lily's gravesite as he did every year on All Hallow's Eve. As he laid a bouquet of flowers on her tombstone, he did not feel the tightening in his chest accompanied by the sickening feeling of guilt that was synonymous with his annual ritual for the past seventeen years. That night was the first night he did not dream about a red-haired green-eyed witch. Rather, the woman that visited him in his dreams had bushy brown hair and compassionate chocolate brown eyes.

The next morning, Snape was forced to grudgingly accept that Hermione Granger had replaced Lily Evans as his best friend. He supposed he should resent her for usurping Lily's place in his heart, but he just could not bring himself to regret his growing regard for the younger woman. Intent on declaring his newly acknowledged feelings for her, though uncertain if they were romantic or simply purely platonic, at their next meeting, Hermione's excited announcement of her most happy relationship with a certain Weasley quelled any intention of voicing his feelings. Instead, Severus Snape was content to remain her friend. They met once a week without fail, and Ron never accompanied his girlfriend. Snape knew that while Ronald Weasley had come to respect him for his role in the war, the ginger would never like him. Truth be told, he would never much like the dunderheaded ginger, though he never disparaged Ron to Hermione's face, knowing how much his friend cared for the man. Snape was uncertain if Ron approved his friendship with Hermione. Though, even he did not, there was nothing the ginger could do to prevent Snape from seeking Hermione's attentions.

The night Hermione announced her engagement to Ron and told him she was moving in with her fiancé was the night Snape realized that, much against his better judgement, he had fallen in love with the girl. No one since Lily Evans had captivated him the way she did, and just like with Lily, his love was unattainable as the woman chose another man.

This time, Snape was determined not to push the woman he loved away. Any other Slytherin who valued self-preservation above all else would have simply distanced himself from an unattainable love, but not Severus Snape. As much as being with Hermione knowing that he could not even voice his feelings hurt, not seeing her would be more painful. In the end, he knew that the day she said, "I do," he would be utterly devastated, but until then he resolved to remain a sliver of hope that she would come to her senses and call off her engagement. Really, the only logical course was to stop seeing her until he could get over his feelings. But no matter how Hermione told him she absolutely loved Ronald and thought he was so adorable and romantic and kind, the exact opposite of one Severus Snape, he could not stay away. Seeing her for their weekly meeting was like being cast into his own personal hell as his own unique brand of forbidden fruit was dangled so unknowingly before his large nose, but he would gladly accept damnation if it meant seeing her brilliant smile directed at him even as she discussed her wedding plans to another man.

Never, in a million years, had Snape ever though he would covet a Weasley's possession. Though, he thought with amusement, Hermione would vehemently reject being considered anyone's possession. He never thought he would be jealous of Ron Weasley. The broken engagement had come as a huge shock to him. Never once had Hermione given any indication that there was trouble in paradise. When he first read the tabloids announcing the rather abrupt end to the most anticipated wedding of the decade, second only to that of Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley, he scoffed at the information. Only Hermione's confirmation allowed him to believe that all hope might not have been lost. On that day, Snape discovered the true meaning of ecstasy.

With that in mind, Snape determined he would wait an acceptable amount of time for Hermione to recover from her breakup. Even though she had been the one to end the engagement, Snape knew she was still reeling from the shock. It was no small deal for Hermione to end the relationship that, since she was young, had been eagerly anticipated by the majority of the magical population. After an appropriate amount of time passed, he would approach her and begin to court her. As old fashioned as that sounded, he knew it was once of those romantic things that Hermione's Gryffindor sensibilities would fawn over, or so he hoped.

However, a year had already passed and each time he went to approach her and admit the full extent of his regard for her, her face always morphed into that of the child he first met, and he became all to aware as his status of her former professor. Even if she was single and therefore available, he was certain she would not reciprocate his affection as she would forever see him as a domineering authority figure from her childhood and teenage years. With that in mind, Snape kept silent and instead contented himself with her friendship.

Drawn back into the present, Snape watched the bliss that crossed her face as she took a sip of her coffee. The kiss played in his mind like a broken record. Inwardly, he cursed his stupidity. No matter how much he wanted to kiss her, and wanted to do it again and again, he knew he should not pressure her. She might very well decide she no longer wanted to even be his friend and Snape was certain his rapidly beating heart could not deal with such an abrupt dismissal.

He was a fool, and luckily for him she had not yet announced her disgust with his kiss and kicked him out of her life for good. For the second time that evening, Snape realized he had been missing much of what she was saying.

"... sarcastic as you make yourself out to be, you really are a romantic at heart."

Snape quirked his eyebrow at her and Hermione giggled at his very familiar gesture. "You're awfully quiet," Hermione observed.

Snape smiled, and Hermione was relieved to know he was not upset. "I was just thinking that I owe you an apology." When Hermione looked at him quizzically but offered no response, he continued, "it was wrong of me to kiss you without asking your permission. I can only beg your forgiveness. I have come to value your friendship too much to be forced to give it up because I was unable to control myself."

Hermione raised her eyebrow, a gesture she had picked up from him. Her heart beating rapidly, she said, "And what if I wanted to kiss you? What then?"

"I would be thrilled," Snape automatically replied, "but as I used to be your professor, I am sure that any thought of that nature must be abhorrent to you."

"Used to be. That's the key, Severus," Hermione said. Snape inhaled sharply at the sultry way his name rolled of her lips. He wanted her to say it again.

Then he registered the meaning of her words. She was not disgusted by his kiss. In fact, if he was reading her correctly, she was the opposite of disgusted. "Hermione, I feel that before we proceed any further I should tell you that..."

"Shut up," Hermione mumbled as she set her coffee mug down on the counter and walked towards him until she could feel his heat radiating off of his body and smell his spicy cinnamon and pine scent.

"...I should have asked your permission first," Snape continued speaking, not heeding her attempts to silence him but feeling intoxicated by her presence.

"Severus," Hermione repeated.

This time, Snape stopped talking. "Yes?" he asked in his deep baritone voice that made Hermione shiver as the word flowed like liquid velvet off his tongue.

"Shut up and kiss me already."


End file.

Harry Potter, Friendship, Romance