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Patience on Sunday	By : Snapeoutofit Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Snape/Hermione Views: 14141 -:- Recommendations : 4 -:- Currently Reading : 4
Disclaimer: All characters and settings are the creation of JK Rowling. I own nothing of Harry Potter and make no money from this story.

Chapter List
- 1-One
- 2-Two
- 3-Three
- 4-Four
- 5-Five
- 6-Six
- 7-Seven
- 8-Eight
- 9-Nine
- 10-Ten
- 11-Eleven
- 12-Twelve
- 13-Thirteen
- 14-Fourteen
- 15-Fifteen
- 16-Sixteen
- 17-Seventeen
- 18-Eighteen
- 19-Nineteen
- 20-Twenty
- 21-Twenty One
- 22-Epilogue
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Headmaster Snape retired to his chambers after his interaction with Professor Granger. As he approached, he was admitted to his quarters with a bit of wandless magic and a presence recognition charm. As swiftly as it swung open, the door then slammed sharply behind him and he ascended the short staircase that led to his sitting room.

He removed his frock cost and hung it over the back of a sitting room chair. Moving out of the dungeons had been odd...but truthfully, it was a welcome change. He had seriously considered keeping his dungeon quarters at first, but ultimately was persuaded to move into the rooms above his office. As he entered this new phase in his life, post Voldemort and post chaos, he reconciled with himself that it was time to embrace some small changes, like fresh air.

He jammed his fist against the old windowpane and, after momentary trepidation, the hinge released and swung open. Crisp November air filled the modest room and he took a deep inhale before gazing out into the night sky. The cloud cover was light tonight. He glanced at the moon before looking over his shoulder and heading to the small wet bar adjacent to the sofa.

He flicked his wand and ignited the fire as he walked by. It quickly pulled the chill from the room. At the wet bar, he turned a tumbler over and poured a generous measure of Ogden’s Finest into the glass before flicking his wand again with a smirk. The glass, and subsequently the amber liquid inside, chilled to a perfect temperature. He watched the slight sweat form on the outside of the glass.

It was the little things, he thought, as he sat on the sofa across from the fire. He toed off his shoes and took a nice, long sip of his drink before laying down with his sock-clad feet propped atop one armrest and his head against the other. Truthfully, the small sofa left much to be desired, and he typically preferred the chairs to read in. Right now he didn’t feel interested in reading, though.

It was odd, he thought to himself, that he didn’t live below ground anymore. To hear the sounds of the night and the howl of the wind was a huge change from his previous life. It was odd to note the shiver that moved through his spine at a rush of cold air compared to the general dank chill of the dungeons. This chill bit back, and he found he liked that much better.

He gazed at the stars through the open window from his horizontal position on the couch. Astronomy had always been fascinating to him. He had never known what it was like to have moonbeam and starlight stream like spotlights through open curtains. He had never seen this in his hometown, either; there had been too much smog and light and noise for any of that. Of course he had experienced this late at night on the astronomy tower, but sleeping with it was another thing.

His mouth became a hard line and he grimaced at the thought. He picked up his glass from the coffee table and swirled the liquid around with a gentle circular flick of his wrist, not much unlike the way he flicked his wand. The liquid danced and he took another sip before it could spill over the side.

Sleeping with it was another thing. His brain repeated the thought as he drank. He sat up quickly and looked down at his drink. Of course, it was the whiskey. It was always the whiskey...

He replaced his glass forcefully on the table and ran a tight fist through his long hair in frustration. As much as he’d like to, he couldn’t lie to himself. He knew bloody well it wasn’t the drink. Thoughts of her invaded whether he’d been drinking or not.

This was not the first time she had used a valid excuse to justify not complying with his expectations. She was always at meals, took her rounds very seriously, and held the most consistent office hours since...well, since he’d had to hold office hours. She was working harder than anyone on the staff and he knew it better than anyone. He had been there before. She was attentive to a fault. He’d never needed to be concerned about the quality of her instruction or running low on any stores. She did her job masterfully, but she did tend to blow off staff meetings...and that pissed him off to no end.

He realized she was probably still in that bloody lab now. He sighed with frustration and, seconds later, drained the contents of his glass. Snape suddenly made a decision and shrugged back into his frock coat before descending the staircase from his rooms.

As he made his way through the labyrinth of hallways and towards the potions classroom yet again. He realized he did not know what might fall off of his tongue when he reached her, but in that moment he truthfully didn’t care. He thought he might simply compliment her efforts and commend her hard work. After all, he could do that by way of an apology; to let her know she was appreciated without taking back anything he had said earlier...

It wasn’t in his nature to give compliments without a side of snide, but maybe it was warranted here. No one had ever thanked him when he was in her role, and it would have been nice if they had. Actually, he thought with hesitation, maybe that was precisely why he shouldn’t go to her. No one ever thanked him and look how he turned out. He sneered at the paradox.

He paused before the door to the classroom, still unsure as to what he was doing there. He knocked gently before entering the room on a whim.

Snape’s shoulders hunched forward with defeat. The room was cold and set for the following day’s lesson. All of her brewing supplies had been put away And she was no where to be seen. Snape stood their momentarily, unsure why his better judgement hadn’t stopped him from coming down here in the first place. Then, he gritted his teeth before walking away and slamming the door with a backwards flick of his wand.

SSHGSSHGSSHGSSHGSSHG

Her bed was a bit too soft. The idle thought crossed her mind incessantly as she stared up at the canopy on her four poster. She was annoyed that she couldn’t fall asleep yet again. She had thought sleep would come more easily that usual after the bustle of the day.

Hermione reached for her reading glasses on the bedside table and slid them onto the bridge of her nose. She opened a book that lay in the bed beside her to the page on which she had left off.

Without warning, a shutter charged through her body. The feeling, which wasn’t unpleasant, indicated that someone had breeched the wards she kept placed on the potions classroom. Curious, she slid out of bed and quickly wrapped a robe around her. The camisole and pajama bottoms she wore were not enough to keep the chill of the dungeons away.

Hermione tucked her wand into her sleeve before slipping into her trainers and exiting her chambers. She closed her door gently and made her way down a long set of back stairs that led towards her classroom. The halls were so quiet she thought the breech must have been a hiccup in the spell. However, as she turned the corner she saw the door slam shut and a billowing black cloak swung around the corner.

“Snape,” she said to herself before calling after him, “Headmaster Snape?” Her voice carried through the cold corridor.

The man froze at the far end of the hallway. Hermione marched towards him but he did not turn to look at her. She rounded him swiftly and stood mere inches from him. His mouth was a hard line, but so was hers. He looked at her then, but it was as if he was seeing through her rather than looking at her.

Hermione’s hands found their way to her hips. She pursed her lips slightly and willed him to speak, but he didn’t.

“I noticed the wards set around my classroom were breeched. I came down to investigate,” she said tartly.

Severus Snape rolled his eyes as she asserted herself. “Yes, well, I’m glad to know that they work,” he replied dryly as she stared up at him.

He let his eyes travel over her frame. Was she wearing pajamas? Her hair was riotous and curls sprang in each direction from a cascading French plait. He was certain that he had never seen the glasses that were perched on her nose before.

“Were you sleeping?” He said carefully, inferring from her state and the hour that she must have been. He inwardly chastised himself for not checking the time before going to find her.

“No,” she said, surprised by the intimacy of the question. “I was reading in bed and sensed that my wards were broken...”

“Why weren’t you asleep?” He interrupted.

She huffed with indignation. “Is there a Hogwarts bedtime I am unaware of? And I could ask you the same thing, Headmaster, as you haven’t told me why you were lurking in my classroom.”

The Headmaster ran his hand through his lank black hair, a move Hermione had only seen him do a few times in moments of tough decisions or frustration. She watched him carefully, realizing he wasn’t currently as composed as he typically was.

“I don’t know,” he replied without looking at her. His voice was barely above a mumble.

Hermione furrowed her brow. “You don’t know what?”

He sighed as he attempted to look at her, but he couldn’t meet her eyes. Instead, he looked at his own self reflected in her lenses. “I don’t know why I was looking for you.”

She stuttered over her reply, clearly not expecting the admission. “Looking for me? At this hour? Why?”

“I just told you- I don’t know.”

“Well, did you need something from the stores?” She asked haphazardly, trying to carry the uncomfortable conversation.

“No.”

“Then why...”

He interrupted. “As I already stated, I don’t know.”

Hermione’s hands fell from her hips. Not only was she confused in general, she was confused by his demeanor. This wasn’t his typical snarl and snare...this was something else.

“Have you been drinking?” She asked.

“No.”

“Then why are you poking around...” Hermione began as she gestured hastily around the dungeons.

“Professor Granger, this is my school and I am allowed to ‘poke around’, if you will, at my discretion. I do not owe any explanation to you...”

“Yes but you said you were looking for me...I’d like to know why,” she said sharply as her hands found their way back to their perch on her hips.

Severus Snape took a step closer to her, and then another. He closed the already small space between them with two small steps, positioning her nose at his chest. Hermione had to tilt her head back to look up into his face. Exposing her throat like this made her feel vulnerable. He smelled like lilac and sage and his proximity was not unpleasant, albeit it did catch her off guard.

Without warning, he reached behind her back and pulled the elastic that was securing her hair in the messy plait. As it released, her hair bounced free and chestnut curls fell loosely down her back.

Hermione stared up at him in disbelief. She wanted to protest, but found herself at a loss for words. Slight indignation gave way to a confusing sense of comfort at the contact and his close proximity.

Headmaster Snape held out the elastic for her to take. She eyed him carefully as she took it and slipped it over her wrist.

“Your plait is nice,” he began, “but I prefer your hair free.”

Hermione felt as if she dare not blink. She swallowed the lump that was in her throat and wanted to speak, but he turned on his heel and was gone in a billow of black robes before she could formulate a coherent sentence.
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Patience on Sunday