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Hermione was taking the Tube for her first day at her new job in the Ministry of Magic, as she needed some thinking time to brace herself to properly reenter the British wizarding society as its full contributing member. Apparating just didn’t quite seem fitting, as convenient as it may be, there was something to be said about the anonymity of the public transport in Muggle London that allowed one to be in that liminal space with one’s thoughts, even when crowded.
To everyone’s surprise after the war Hermione didn’t go back to Hogwarts to finish her schooling and take the NEWTS as was expected of her, rather she took the opportunity to accept the Ministry’s offered grades instead and asked them to be transformed into the GCSE equivalent. Hermione then left the country and enrolled into a non magical university in Sydney while she attempted to restore her parents memories and in general tried to distance herself from the traumatic experiences of the war. Some might have called it running from problems and cowardly but Hermione thought of it as prioritising her family and her own mental health.
Time heals all wounds, distance helps as well. Except in case of relationships, that is.
Hermione sighed, feeling the familiar dull ache in her heart when she thought of Ron. The summer after the Final Battle they clung to each other almost desperately, trying to forget all the horror and grief. However, when Hermione decided she was going to leave the country for a Muggle university and to be at least on the same continent as her parents, whether her efforts to restore their memories were successful or not, Ron really struggled with it.
At first, they both committed to making the long distance relationship work but then the letters started to come more and more infrequently, the once-a-month date weekends started to feel a little off. On one particular occasion during the first uni Christmas break when they were out for dinner, she remembered him looking at her intently, almost on the cusp of starting to say something but then Ron just took hold of her hand as he usually did, and evaded her questioning glance, calling the waiter to bring up the bill instead. Hermione tried to not overthink it but she couldn’t shake off the feeling that something wasn’t right.
She kept ignoring her intuition to avoid the heartbreak that somewhere deep in her soul she knew was coming, yet when finally after weeks of silence Ron wrote to her that he needed someone more local, that he couldn’t do long distance relationships, Hermione was not really surprised by that. She also realised that she could neither fully forgive, nor forget him abandoning them in the forest during the war; that particular breach of trust went deeper than any other betrayal would have ever done. Despite all that, it still hurt.
Hermione closed her eyes, intent on focusing on anything else than thinking about Ron and all the complicated feelings she still held in her heart even after several years past their break up. He was in a relationship with Lavender now, and she genuinely wished him, them well. At least she was in no danger to run into him at work, as Ron never went to be an Auror like it was expected of him, he chose to work with his brother George in the shop instead.
***
The Jubilee line finally pulled into Westminster and Hermione rushed out, spilling onto the pavement opposite the Houses of Parliament together with the other commuters while wrapping herself more securely against the chill of the late November breeze. She turned the corner, making her way along the Embankment to the old familiar telephone box set in the maze of side streets away from the crowds, and rang in the Ministry of Magic. The lift whisked her down to the entrance where Hermione made her way towards the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, opting for the stairs to Level 2. Harry was ecstatic when she told him they were going to be colleagues, Hermione being hired as a junior analyst in the Arithmancy team. Of course, Harry mostly spending his time in the field as an Auror meant they weren’t going to cross paths daily but it was still lovely to know that there was a friendly face in the department.
Hermione was hurrying up the stairs while unbuttoning her coat with one hand, when her eyes travelled up a pair of long, masculine legs clad in elegant black wool trousers descending towards her.
Very nice.
She allowed her gaze slowly reach the eyes of the owner of said legs and almost tripped in astonishment.
Bloody hell, she was ogling Snape of all people!
Hermione felt her face flush in embarrassment, mumbled something along the lines of so sorry, didn’t see you there sir, have a good day and ran up past him like a pack of feral werewolves were chasing her.
***
She couldn’t shake the warm flashes of color staining her cheeks all day whenever her thoughts strayed from the induction to that little moment on the stairs. Snape looked good, peace time really suited him. Hermione once again reigned in her scattered, distracted thoughts and swore to pay more attention to her new manager Madam Turing (a distant relation) who had just mentioned something about monthly team drinks tonight at 6pm and going Muggle.
‘Muggle pubs? Oh yeah I do enjoy a cosy old boozer, it’s lovely to hear you guys branch out from the usual.’
‘Do join us, we’re going to check out Ye Olde Cheshire Cheese tonight. Thank Merlin Wizarding press offices are based in Diagon Alley and not on Fleet Street, otherwise the likes of Skeeter might be haunting it and that wouldn’t do at all.’ Madam Turing shuddered theatrically.
Hermione winced and then smiled. ‘I’d love to, count me in!’
‘Forensics guys will also be joining us as their team lead who’s also the head of the whole Magical Forensics division has returned back from the Potions conference in Tokyo, it will be great to hear more about it. You are familiar with Severus Snape, aren’t you?’
Hermione nodded while trying hard not to blush under the scrutiny of the kind, yet sharp eyes of her new boss at the mention of her former Potions Master she was apparently now a tiny bit obsessed with.
‘Somewhat, he taught us Potions in Hogwarts back in the day.’
Madam Turing smiled. ‘Ah yes, I suppose everyone in the magical community in the UK under the age of thirty knows him as their teacher, not to mention that whole double agent situation during the war. Never mind, you won’t really have any direct contact with him besides occasional work do. While we do collaborate quite closely with the Forensics potioneers, Master Snape only oversees them when necessary and consults on most complex cases when his expertise is required. Right, I’ll leave you to settle in and see you at the pub later!’
Hermione slumped back in her chair at the tiny cubicle that was assigned as hers. This was just getting better and better, not only she couldn’t get rid of the thoughts on her run in to Snape this morning, he was apparently her boss’s boss and he also was expected to be at the pub tonight. Hermione rubbed her face trying to shake off the swirling images of how else she could make a complete and utter tit of herself in front of Snape, and went to find the loo to try and sort herself. She could almost hear her curls crackling with static and with her cheeks seemingly stuck in a semi permanent flush, Hermione made a mental note to research localised, discreet Cooling Charms as soon as possible.
***
The pub was already quite busy when she ducked under the low entrance, suit types on their second pint, and the din was making her feel a little overwhelmed. Hermione made her way to the bar and managed to acquire a pint of decent pale ale while looking around for her new colleagues. The pub was a warren of different nooks and crannies, built up over the centuries, so she had no choice but to methodically check all of them out, finally locating Madam Turing and the rest of the Arithmancy team in the larger of the side rooms with some games tables in the corner. She spotted Snape immediately, casually leaning against a small shelf surrounding the pillar supporting the whitewashed ceiling, his coat neatly folded on the back of the nearby chair, mostly empty pint glass in hand. He was in a deep conversation with Madam Turing when she spotted Hermione and waved her over.
‘Glad you could make it, Hermione! The team are trying to figure out how to play dobbers there in the corner, it looks fun so I’ll join in after I had my fill of bothering Severus here.’ Madam Turing turned back to Snape and raised her empty glass in a question. ‘Pint?’
Snape finished off the remainder of his dark beverage. ‘Yes please, London Black.’
‘Be back in a sec!’ Madam Turing left, taking with her the relaxed atmosphere nestling in the cloud of her elegant perfume. Silence started the stretch to eternity, so Hermione shoved the pint in her face for want of anything better to do, feeling his gaze descending on her like a heavy cloak. She finally managed to stammer her excuses to check out what her colleagues were up to at the dobbers table and bolted, cursing internally for allowing herself to be reduced back to the awkward teenager by nothing more than sheer presence of that man.
***
The dobbers game was in full swing when Madam Turing joined them. Hermione had just managed to land her last ring on the spike right side up, her scores reaching the required 61 and winning the game against her opponent, and was gloating in celebration. Suddenly, a very familiar voice set to the lowest of registers, quietly drawled from somewhere very close behind her, projected directly into her ear:
‘Very well done.’
Hermione’s skin caught fire, as she felt that voice caress her from head to toe. Confused and feeling the traitorous blush steal up her cheeks, she loudly announced she needed a break and Madam Turing should take her place. It took all of Hermione’s not inconsiderable willpower to not break into an actual run to the safety of the loos.
She stared at her flushed face reflected in the loo mirror while washing her hands for the third time.
What the actual fuck was that?
Hermione decided she desperately needed some fresh air in order to be able to face going back in and pretend like she hadn’t just had the most sensual aural experience based on merely three words that made her ache with need to bolt to the nearest Apparition point, get home and sort herself properly out. The evening however was far from over, and she wanted to make a good impression on her team and Madam Turing.
***
Hermione splashed some cold water on her face and left the loo making her way down the small corridor that led outside to the courtyard stretching to the side of the pub. A small fountain was at the centre, surrounded by a low stone wall, perfect for a perch. She was about to step over to it when a whisper in the surrounding darkness of the shadowy enclave wove its way around her and made her freeze in her tracks.
‘Running away so soon, Granger?’
Hermione felt like her legs were about to give up on her but she couldn’t even breathe, not to mention turn around to face him, or run away. A familiar elegant hand stretched over and turned her around, her legs still barely holding her in place. Snape was looking down at her, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips, amusement and heat from his gaze searing her to her core.
‘N-no, no, I just needed a bit of a breather, that’s all.’
Hermione’s brain was screaming at her to run, Apparate away immediately, regardless of any Muggles that may witness that but she was fully pinned to the spot by Snape’s dark gaze.
He seemed to have reached a decision, and in the next moment he dragged her deeper into the shadows away from the entrance and pushed her down on her knees. A flicker of his hand and the stones underneath softened. Hermione looked up. He didn’t do anything else, simply towered over her and waited, watching her intently.
Hermione felt her knickers get even more wet from the heady situation she now found herself in. There was zero ambiguity for what was being suggested, so completely opposite to the subtleties of a consummate Slytherin. Then again, perhaps any subtleties would’ve flown completely over her head, as they usually did, and Hermione appreciated the straightforward nature of this, whatever this was. It was now down to her to make a decision, and she was going to live up to her own house’s best traits and not waste this opportunity to see where it can lead. She shivered with the delicious possibilities stretching out in front of them.
Never looking away from his heated gaze, Hermione took a deep breath, as she felt her lips form into a slow smile, and reached for his hips.
***
The suddenness of her alarm tore her roughly out into the darkness of the early winter morning, and Hermione groaned in frustration. It was so disappointing to realise that the whole scene in the shadowy alcove next to the courtyard was purely the product of her own overwrought imagination. She now had to hurry up and get ready for work, there wasn’t time to rub a quick one out which was even more frustrating. Last night’s drinks ended up very entertaining and the team was lovely, but Hermione couldn’t figure out what exactly was Snape up to. Why on Earth he decided to whisper in her ear like that when she won her dobbers round? She spent quite a while perched on the edge of the stony little fountain, turning it over and over in her head and could make no sense of it, before the frosty night air forced her back inside. Hermione thought she did feel a ghost of a touch on her leg when she was sitting next to him later, once everyone decided to get loads of chips for their table to share. Hermione might have allowed her leg to brush his oh so innocently whenever she was getting up from the table for the loo or to fetch more drinks but all it had achieved was putting her in the state of an almost painful arousal, and a lot of confused thoughts swirling in her brain long after she retired for the night.
Hermione sighed and dragged herself into the shower, hoping and dreading the possibility that she might run into him again at work.
Definitely need to check the Employee Conduct again. Just in case…
In case of what?
There definitely was something, she didn’t imagine all of it. Hermione would just do her research and bide her time. Next month’s pub outing might provide some opportunity for… something.
One can only hope.