Work Text:
False Impressions
There was nothing more pretentious than a wedding , Severus decided sourly as he eyed the couples celebrating the union of Potter and Weasley. His eyes drifted over the smiling faces of the gathered party-goers, sneering at their gaiety, and without fail, his eyes landed on her.
Hermione was a vision of beauty in the baby blue gown that didn’t hug her curves, instead draping off her shoulders like she was a divine being worthy of the Greeks. It was a drastic difference from the Unspeakable robes he normally saw her in through the week, and every time he caught a glimpse of her, he found it hard to breathe.
Bitter bile climbed up his throat, however, as he watched Longbottom guide her out onto the dance floor. Longbottom wore a tie the same color as her dress, along with a baby blue pocket square peeking out of his breast pocket. It was clear they were here together.
Severus grimaced, lifting a glass of champagne to his lips. He should have left the moment they walked in together, arm in arm. Better than that, he should have known better than to come at all, and most especially not with the hopes that she’d come as he did—unaccompanied.
In truth, if she hadn't told him she was going to be here, he wouldn't have attended the event in the first place. Thinking about it, Severus tried to understand where he’d misread the signs. He was no expert in interpersonal relations, that was true; but he had thought—imagined—that she shared the same interest in him that he’d had in her. Had he been foolish to entertain the ideal that she might consider him as something more than a colleague?
For the past five years, Severus had worked with Hermione as an Unspeakable, dealing in magic both mythical and dangerous in the bowels of the Ministry. The first year of working together had been rough going. He hadn’t needed a partner, and he most especially did not need her for one. He wasn’t sure how or when it had gone from hostility to camaraderie, but their working relationship had slipped into friendship effortlessly, and he had begun to think it was shifting and becoming something more than that.
Over the years, Severus had started to look forward to the work week, knowing that she would be there when he arrived. Hermione became the bright spot in his life, even before he’d noticed he was attracted to her. Among the daft and the dumb, she was brilliant, someone that he could rely on to have something intelligent to say in the wake of the inane around them. She had a razor-sharp wit, keeping up with him and even surpassing him during in-depth discussions of theory and practicum when it came to their work. And there was something beautifully petty about the way she would smile privately to him when they were forced to deal with the bureaucratic idiots and he would tell them they were ignorant with words outside of their vocabulary. Not that she didn’t have her fair share of conflicts with higher ups which left her pacing their office angrier than a manticore.
And then there were the few occasions where they had ventured together into the world on missions to resolve different anomalies and he found himself perfectly at ease with her. In the quiet hours they would sit companionably, both either reading or working on reports unless a conversation sparked. Even then, Severus never felt as if he had to force himself to be social with her; it simply happened. Nothing ever occurred between them on those out of country trips, but he found it increasingly harder to turn a blind eye to how comfortable he felt with her in those confined spaces, and how much he looked forward to their times away together.
Not to mention, it was impossible to ignore that she seemed to grow into her physical beauty more and more each year. The roundness of youth had left her face, smoothing into a mature jawline and lips that shook him to his core when she smirked at him, a private joke passing wordlessly between them. Before he knew it, he was regarding her as something more than a colleague and a friend, but as an intelligent and decidedly attractive witch.
His mind drifted to the recent staff party celebrating the retirement of one of their colleagues. It hadn’t been overly crowded, but Hermione was nearly pressed against his side, giggling as he snarkily commentated on how much the other Unspeakables actually hated the person leaving and it wasn’t so much as a retirement party as it was a ‘don’t let the door hit you on the way out ’ celebration. He remembered distinctly when their hands brushed and she blushed, their eyes meeting for only a moment before the cake was passed around.
From there, the subtle touches had continued; Hermione seemed to take every chance to be in contact with him. Her hand between his shoulders as she passed behind him, her thumb brushing against his hand as they passed papers. Severus never said anything, merely glancing at her and catching her blush as she turned away. It wasn’t long before he was following her lead, placing his hand on her shoulder as he looked at their work, or taking liberty and pushing her hair back when it escaped the ties she tried to force it back with. Hermione never rebuked him, even when he prepared for it, instead a small smile would take over the corner of her lips as her eyes moved to where he touched her before returning to their work.
The mood in their workspace had changed, there was a shift in their dynamic and Severus felt hopeful that perhaps his interest was not one sided. Nothing was ever said between them, but he took everything to mean that there was something beyond the platonic growing in the spaces where the unspoken words dwelt.
But that was all obviously just misinterpretation on his part. He looked up to see Longbottom lift her in the air as they danced, and she laughed. Even over the music, he knew the sound of her laughter, it echoed through his ears in response to every dry joke he’d ever told her. Severus took another drink as his gut churned and rioted with his emotions.
Severus felt as if he were again in the position he’d been in decades before. Another beautiful, unattainable woman had shown interest in him, and he’d misread the signs. Construed it to mean that there was more than polite kindness being shown toward him.
Of course he had; he must have. How could she possibly see anything in him other than a colleague?
He twisted his jaw as he thought it all over again. The tender touches on his arm, the way she would stand too close to him, it was all benign. The faint blush on her cheeks whenever a compliment would fall from his lips for her was just polite acceptance; she was simply humble, yet another point to her credit. The way his name seemed to sound only right when she said it was his own skewed perception, making something more than it was.
Hermione and Longbottom left the dance floor, rejoining the rest of her peers, who had sequestered a long table on the other side of the room. Her eyes caught his and her smile seemed to widen as she wiggled her fingers at him in greeting.
No! Her smile had nothing to do with me , he corrected himself morosely. He needed to stop prescribing any change on her face as having to do with him.
His dark eyes fell on the glass in his hand. The champagne was not strong enough, and he had enough self-torment for one evening. Pushing up from his chair, he realized to his chagrin that he would have to cross the room and pass them to get to the coat room for his outer robe. He considered leaving it behind, but he was no coward, and she’d likely not even notice him, with how involved she was with Longbottom.
Finishing the last of the champagne in his glass, he set the glass at the table and set in that direction, pointedly trying to not look as if he was approaching for her.
Hermione was speaking with the bride, which he thought to use to his advantage to cross past their table undetected and spare himself any more misery.
“I’m surprised you came with Neville,” Ginevra Potter chimed with laughter, “Some have said you’ve set your sights on someone a little older. Tall, dark, and cross at everything.”
Severus’s steps faltered, and he turned his head, having a clear vantage of both women.
Hermione’s lips politely thinned as she replied, “Oh, Severus? I love working with him, and he's become a very good friend.”
It felt as if someone had dumped a bucket of icy water over him, his blood running cold. It was one thing for him to assume he’d read the signs wrong. There had been a chance, a small chance that he was wrong, but now, there was no doubt. Hermione saw him as nothing more than a good friend, and the inclination that there was more had disturbed her so greatly that she had to hold back a grimace.
The new Mrs Potter smiled then, touching her arm. “It must be interesting to be so close to him. Is he different at the Ministry than he was when we were in school?”
“He is,” Hermione started speaking and then turned, her brown eyes catching his.
Severus set his jaw tight, inhaling sharply through his nose as he turned away from her. He stormed his way into the coat closet so that he could escape this atrocious event and self-flagellate in private at home over his own idiocy at ever thinking that there’d been a chance in hell that she’d fancied him. Throwing the door open, he summoned his cloak to his hands, tucking the yoke over his shoulders.
“Severus?” Hermione’s soft voice reached him, full of apprehension.
He had no desire to further embarrass himself, or for her to know how foolish he’d been. Severus tilted his chin toward the ceiling, closing his eyes as he grit out his words through his teeth. “You didn’t need to follow me, return to the party.”
“But you looked so angry, I wanted to make sure you were alright,” she explained, reaching out to touch his arm.
Where her touch would have been soothing, it felt like it burned against the backdrop of his spurned feelings. He jerked away, turning to gaze at her darkly. “I’m surprised you even saw me, with how occupied you were today.”
“I don’t understand.” Hermione leaned back from him, obviously surprised by his violent reaction to her touching him. Her forehead creased as she tilted her head at him, drawing her hand back. “Why are you upset? Did I do something?”
He flicked his tongue out to wet his lips, trying to temper the desire to lash out at her. In reality, she had done nothing wrong. The problem lay solely with him and his misinterpretation of their standing. All she had done was be beautiful and intelligent and make it impossible for him to not foster feelings for her which he now knew were unwelcome.
“You have done nothing and owe me no explanation,” he told her curtly, fixing his collar and trying to not look at her.
“What is that supposed to mean? What is your problem, Severus?” she demanded, moving so that she was in his field of vision.
Severus could hear the aggravation in her voice building.
“I have no issue at present, Miss Granger," he responded, emphasizing her surname as he yanked his arms into his coat. Clearing his throat, he did his best to continue to speak calmly and conceal the edge in his voice. “I am, after all, just a very good friend. ”
Her jaw dropped ever so slightly, a guilty expression crossed her features. “You heard that.”
“Obviously,” he rumbled through his teeth in an attempt to quell his growing frustration. “Now if you excuse me, I think it’s time I take my leave. All the frivolity is giving me a headache, and I have no desire to further inconvenience you, Miss Granger.” Severus went to step past her, trying to place as much space as possible between them.
However, she stopped him, catching his arm. “I didn’t mean it like that—”
“That is not what it seemed like from my vantage point,” he snapped back. The hurt in his chest grew into anger as she seemed intent on poking and prodding the issue. “As I said, you owe me no explanation. I understand now where we stand. Surely you should return to your boyfriend , he will be missing you.”
“Boyfriend?” A deep furrow appeared between her eyebrows as she glanced at him in what appeared to be shock. “Severus, do you think—of course you do,” Hermione sighed in exasperation as she took her turn looking at the ceiling. Her other hand covered her face as she exhaled deeply, before fixing her gaze on him.
“Neville isn’t—we aren't—” she stuttered over her words, not finishing a single thought aloud.
Severus inhaled in frustration, pulling his arm from her grasp as he prepared to tell her again that she owed him nothing.
“It’s not a real date!” Hermione shouted, securing her grip on his arm again. “Neville is here as my fake date. It’s not a real date.”
He paused, narrowing his eyes as he searched her face for signs of deceit. “It’s not?”
“No, it’s not,” she repeated, letting his arm go and crossing her arms over her chest. “Harry warned me that if I didn’t show up with a date, Molly would try to set me up with one of Ron’s distant cousins, so I asked Neville to come with me and help prevent that. He’s my fake date, we aren’t seeing each other. I didn’t—I didn’t think it would matter this much to you,” she whispered. The words fell from her lips as if she were giving confession, her brown eyes full of worry as they held his gaze. “I care for you a great deal more than just a very good friend, Severus.”
Against his better judgment, he peered into the surface of her thoughts, needing to know if she was telling him the truth and to confirm that he wasn’t misinterpreting her again. What he found was her fear that she was about to lose him, and shame for having gone through with the fake date in the first place. And what he found under that, the warm regard for him, her earnest and honest interest in him, made him withdraw from her mind as quickly as he had entered it. Severus was dumbfounded as he stood there, his eyes fixed on her.
He’d not been wrong? She cared about him as he cared about her?
His heart began to thunder in his ears, his palms sweating as he stood there, not knowing what he should do, what he should say. Severus had spent the whole afternoon raging against the universe because he thought he’d lost what he never had, and now she was here in front of him telling him that there was something there and he had nothing to say. He swallowed as any grasp of the spoken word seemed to leave his mind.
The silent stare must have worried her, increasing the fear he knew she was now experiencing as she reached forward, both of her hands curling into the lapel of the formal robes he wore that day, hoping to impress her. “Please, say something, say anything Severus.”
"I'm offended that you didn't get me to be your fake date." The words fell almost of their own accord from his lips as he reached up, securing his hands around hers, anchoring himself to this reality.
"If it was you, I would have wanted it to be a real date," she murmured, looking up at him hopefully, “and I didn’t dare risk asking you and having you turn me down.”
“Hermione,” he breathed out, rubbing his thumbs along the backs of her hands. “I would not have turned you down.”
“I was afraid you would,” she looked down at their joined hands. “I wasn’t sure my interest was returned.”
Severus took in a deep breath, letting one of her hands go so that he could tip her chin up to look at him. It seemed they were both dancing around their emotions for the other, and he wanted to know where they both stood. He wanted to hear her tell him that everything had not just been all in his head. “To ease my own mind, and yours, is it safe to say that we are both in agreement that there is something more here between us, something that is not merely platonic?”
“I believe there is,” she nodded, taking a step forward. “Yes, we are in agreement.”
Whether it was the champagne, or the relief in knowing that he wasn’t losing his mind, Severus wasn’t sure, but he closed the remaining space, leaning forward and pressing his lips tenderly to hers. When she didn’t react at first, he worried he’d crossed the line and began to pull back, only to have her grab his face as she kissed him back with enthusiasm.
Severus slid his hands down the impossibly sleek fabric, pulling her into him as he kissed unspoken emotions into her lips. He didn’t know what he was doing, only that this was the only way to ensure she understood that his regard for her was not shallow. Their lips met and parted several times, angles changing as he held her perfectly against him.
The fervor died down slowly, until they were pressing tender kisses against each other's lips. Severus did not want to untangle himself from her, wishing to dwell forever in this moment, but he was acutely aware that they were entangled together in the coat room.
“What would you like me to do?” Severus breathed out, pushing some of her hair back from her face. “Shall I leave as I planned, and you continue this farce with Longbottom? Shall I steal you away with me and you allow me to treat you to a meal as more than colleagues and friends? Or do we return to business as it was and on Monday morning act as if this never happened?”
“Take me with you,” Hermione answered him instantly. Her thumb ran over his bottom lip, and she withdrew it to reveal that she’d transferred some of her lipstick to his lips.
“And Longbottom?” he asked, not ready to make an enemy if he didn’t need to.
A blush crept over her features as she glanced over his shoulder toward the door behind them. “He will understand. He knows.”
“He knows?” Severus questioned, wondering what precisely it was that Longbottom was aware of.
She pursed her lips, sliding her hands from his face down to hold the lapel of his jacket again. “Neville knows that I’ve done something incredibly daft and started falling for my partner at work, and that I might have been hoping he would be here today to notice me all dressed up.”
“Ah. In that case, allow me to get your coat,” Severus smirked, extending his hand and summoning her coat. “You look incredible, Hermione. I definitely noticed.”
“Did you?” Hermione asked, turning so that he could slip the coat over her arms.
“You were the only witch in the room I saw,” he replied as he finished putting on her coat. He took both of her hands in his, pulling her closer. “Hold on tightly.”
Severus apparated them away from the wedding, overjoyed that he’d not misinterpreted the signs after all, and that the incredible witch he was infatuated with was equally interested in him. He took her dinner in Muggle London, where there was no fawning press to interrupt the best first date of their lives.