Chapter Text
When the clock strikes twelve
A tinkling bell rang through the building, signaling a customer entering. The breeze from outside sweeping in through the door brought a familiar fragrance to her. Hermione smiled, not needing to look up to know who had just entered. At first she thought the time had gotten away from her, but a glance at her wall clock revealed it hadn't at all.
“You are early,” she said with amusement, turning to look over the counter at him.
Severus adjusted the overcoat over his suit as he glanced at her with a lifted eyebrow and a curious smirk. “Am I?”
She felt her smile deepen as she nodded, gesturing to the clock on the wall. “You don’t take your lunch until 11:30.”
Hermione didn’t make it a habit of keeping track of her customers, but Severus wasn’t just a customer. Ever since he started working at the perfumery, Libertine , around the corner, he was at her shop from 11:35 to 12:25, Monday through Friday, with rare deviations. At first he’d been annoyed to learn that she was the owner of Sleepy Cat Books, but over time it developed into a casual friendship, mostly due to the bonding over books and a distaste for rude entitled customers. And in the last two years, it had gone from that into this—a steadily increasing exchange of flirtatious banter.
“Tracking my schedule now, Hermione,” the way her name fell from his lips in that low tone made her draw in a deep breath through her nose, taking in more of the heady cologne he always wore.
“Impossible not to when you are here like clockwork,” she mused, setting aside the new books she’d been unboxing.
“Is that a complaint?” he teased in a tone she was starting to think was reserved for her. “I am certain I could find another reputable bookshop if my business offends you so.”
Hermione rolled her eyes at the familiar threat, leaning on her elbows on the counter and smirking at him. “If you did that, who would I spend that hour chatting with?”
“I am sure you can find better company than me,” Severus placed his hand on the counter, leaning on it ever so slightly.
It made her feel as if he was looming over her, even with a sales counter between them. Instead of making her nervous, it excited her.
“You will be surprised to find that I don’t want better company, I want yours.” When this first started, when he started showing more than casual interest in her, she would never have been so bold. But by now, the words felt natural, like a dance she’d done a million times before.
His smirk deepened, his dark eyes taking on a depth that made her gut clench. “And why is that?”
She giggled softly on reflex before exhaling in mock exasperation, because he should have known by now why, but it bore repeating. “Who else knows how to properly pronounce ‘ prevaricate ’ and know what it means?”
He leaned in a little more, his voice dropping an octave. “So it’s my erudite vocabulary and selective loquaciousness that keeps me in your good graces?”
Her gut clenched as his words rolled over her. She fanned her face with her hands, knowing she was blushing but not caring a bit. “Severus! You cannot just start whipping out language like that. Give a girl a warning!”
“Forgive me,” he smugly apologized, evidently not sorry at all for her reaction, “We wouldn’t want you to be discomposed while you are working.”
“No, we wouldn’t,” she replied, clasping her hands and resting her chin on them as she glanced up at him. “Did you come for something in particular today, or just wanting to browse my shelves and see if something ensnares your attention?”
Severus glanced slowly around the bookshop, before shaking his head. “I think I’d rather get a recommendation from the owner. What do you have that would suit my tastes?”
“I think I can find something that you’d take immense pleasure in.” She did the same passing glance over her shop, seeing that her two assistants had made themselves useful and helped customers. “What genre are you thinking about? Non-fiction?”
“Perhaps something less academic and more imaginative?” he requested, tucking his free hand into the pocket of his trousers, his thumb resting on the outside casually.
“Do you want mystery, science fiction, fantasy, or romance ?” She held his gaze, trying to gauge his reaction to each.
The way his eyes swept over her as she suggested romance only stoked the growing heat in her body. “What are you currently reading? I feel like we have the same tastes,” he practically purred.
Hermione’s heart rate jumped, and she knew this was the moment to get to the bottom of what this was between them. “Severus, when we do this, are you serious or is this a little game for you?”
“Do what, precisely?” He blinked at her and leaned back ever so slightly, as if her question had thrown him off.
“This,” she gestured gently between them, “this little dance we do every day all week long, where we are clearly both saying more than the words leaving our lips.”
Never in her life did she think she’d see Severus with the look of a boy who had his hand caught in the biscuit tin. He straightened up a little bit more, black eyes searching her like he was trying to solve her. “Is it a game for you?”
“There is the evasiveness and deflection I anticipated. I assumed you’d be unwilling to show your hand first, in case you have the wrong cards,” she smirked, shaking her head as she answered him. “It is not a game to me, and I hope it isn't for you.”
She watched him swallow, his lips pursed as his eyes darted to his sides, as if checking to make sure there was no one near enough to hear him. “It is not a game, I am not playing with my interest in you.”
Her cheeks hurt from how widely she smiled. This was going better than she anticipated, and he’d not taken off running. With an answer, she knew she had to make her move now. Hermione had been sitting on her hands for too long, and she knew what she wanted, so now she merely had to tell him. “Thursday, the 8th, meet me here at closing and we will go for drinks.”
“We will?” Severus seemed surprised, but not uncomfortably so, at her declaration.
“Do you want all this multisyllabic flirting to be for nothing?” She hummed in amusement. It wasn’t often that she had him on the back foot.
“I do not. What kind of attire should I plan for?” he asked, resting his hand on the counter again, seemingly relaxing into this new direction of their conversation.
“Cocktail attire, Muggle.” Hermione took him in from head to where the counter blocked her view of the rest of him. She smirked, knowing she was getting her way. “I don’t want us to stand out, and I want your undivided attention.”
“You already have it, Hermione,” he rumbled, his fingers twitching on the counter as if he wanted to reach out to her. “I’ll be here at closing.”
“I suppose I should give you that book recommendation then,” she teased, biting her lip as she met his gaze. “I’m reading several books right now. Runes & Ones , a non fiction book on Ancient Runes and Arithmancy; The Poison Garden , a non fiction book on the origins of the Alwick Garden; and The Scent of Passion , a fictional romance. I’d honestly recommend them all, especially since you believe we have such similar tastes.”
“Doling them out like reading assignments?” he questioned.
“Depends on how well you want our conversations to go on this date,” she quipped, reaching her hand out to touch his. “And to be clear, this is a date.”
His eyes fell on her hand, and then he smiled at her. Not a smirk, but a smile. “I had assumed, but your clarity is appreciated.”
“I don’t want any confusion between us about this,” she said as the door chimed again, and she glanced from him to the clock. “You’d better make haste, you’ve only got a little left of your lunch.”
“Unfortunately, you appear correct.” Severus glanced at the clock like the passage of time offended him. Glancing back to her, he turned his hand so that was almost holding hers. Slowly, he drew his hand back, his fingertips grazing over her palm. “I hope you have a sublime day, Hermione.”
Shivers ran down her back, and the fine hairs on her arm stood up in excitement as their fingertips touched before he drew his hand back. “You too Severus, I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“And Thursday,” he reminded her with a smirk. “I shall pick up my reading assignments tomorrow.”
And with that, he turned and walked out of the store, leaving behind the lingering scent of his cologne and a heat in Hermione that she knew wouldn’t be quenched until Thursday night.