Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Patience on Sunday	By : Snapeoutofit Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Snape/Hermione Views: 14311 -:- 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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Severus Snape did not look back as he made his way down the hall and as far from her as possible. He didn’t want to see the look of disgust he was certain was on her face.

When he returned to his chambers he found the fire burning low. The window he had left open in his haste had let the night’s chill permeate the sitting room. He pointed his wand and the old wooden frame slammed shut, causing the glass to rattle in its pane.

He removed his frock coat and pulled at his cravat despite the cold in the room. He cast the garments onto his wingback chair and begrudgingly toed off his shoes. As Severus walked towards the cold fireplace, he unfastened the buttons at his collar, which bore his pale skin and a smattering of black chest hair. The serpentine scar that spread across his neck and chest was rooted across his skin. The white scarring was nearly translucent and wound upwards like a plant trying to reach the sun. Sometimes the top of the scar was visibly above his collar if he turned his head a certain way, but no one would dare to ever acknowledge its presence. It was something that simply went unobserved.

He remembered very little from the night he received the bite and was left for dead on the floor of the shrieking shack. They told him at St. Mungo’s that it had been Harry Potter who saved his life. At the time, when he was recovering from the blasted ordeal, he wished the boy would have let him die.

All these years later though he could admit that he was grateful to have his life. Shocked, but grateful. When Harry became an auror and was appointed to head security at Hogwarts and in Hogsmeade, Severus wasn’t surprised. He knew that destroying Voldemort wasn’t going to be the end for Potter, and he knew what it was like for Hogwarts to be the only home you ever knew.

Severus stared at the dwindling flames, contemplating whether or not to read for a bit or go straight to bed. He knew his choice didn’t matter much since neither activity would come easy. He rubbed his hand over his scar as if acknowledging it might somehow make it disappear. Then, he stormed off to bed feeling angsty like a damned teenager.

SSHGSSHGSSHGSSHGSSHG

Hermione waited for the kettle to boil and looked at the hairband on her wrist as if it was the most interesting thing she had ever seen. She even flicked it against her skin once or twice.

She had insisted on having a small kitchenette in her quarters when she moved to Hogwarts because she enjoyed doing many things the muggle way, and tea simply never tasted as good when made magically. She leaned against the countertop as she waited for the whistle, toying with the hair band as if it was a foreign object now. She slipped a finger beneath the elastic and spun it around. The whistle blew and Hermione quickly fixed her tea and took it to bed with her.

She blew on the hot surface and watched the ripples spread across the cup. She sipped the drink slowly and felt the warmth travel through her body. At least she felt more comfortable now and she decided to resume her reading.

After reading the same paragraph several times, however, Hermione realized there was little use. She couldn’t just let it go. Why did he? And how come? Incessant questions with zero specificity filled her head. Finally, she slammed her book closed and pulled parchment and quill from her bedside table.

Using the book as if it were a writing desk, Hermione began pinning a note.

“Dear Headmaster Snape,” it began. Her quill ghosted over the parchment, but she immediately realized she had no idea where to begin.

Hermione balled up the parchment in frustration and tossed it across the room. Hermione smiled as a small grey half-kneazle darted our from beneath the bed and pounced on the ball of parchment, batting the new toy back and forth between his paws.

“Omni,” Hermione chuckled as she watched the kitten play, “bring it here and I’ll throw it again.”

The animal made his way to his feet and picked up the parchment between sharp kitten teeth. He proudly brought the toy up onto the bed and waited with wide eyes for Hermione to throw it again.

SSHGSSHGSSHGSSHGSSHG

The following morning, Severus made his way to the staff table for breakfast. Professor Granger was already in her usual place, buttering a slice of bread. She glanced at him as he took his seat, but looked away quickly when their eyes met. A faint blush crept across her cheeks. Did she not realize she had just caught him staring? Why on earth was she embarrassed?

Severus tried to focus on his teacup. If he stared at that he wouldn’t be tempted to look at her.

Severus was deep in his own head when he heard the unmistakable sound of wood scraping on stone. Hermione’s chair shot back from the table in one quick motion. The headmaster turned to see the commotion but her loose curls concealed her face. She didn’t usually wear her hair down to breakfast...

“Ah, Hagrid!“ she screeched as she dabbed her lap with a napkin. “That’s hot!”

“I’m terr’bly sorry Miss Hermione. Didn’t see the cuppa tea on the edge there,” Hagrid replied as he fumble around, trying to help Hermione with the mess.

“It’s alright,” she said as she pointed her wand towards the spilt tea on her lap. She quickly removed the stain and the small puddle that was on the floor. Tucking back into the table, she tossed her hair over her shoulder and saw the headmaster looking at her again.

He quickly diverted his gaze back to his own teacup. Hermione furrowed her brow at his behavior. Was he not speaking to her? One would think it permissible to ask if she were alright. Actually, it was more than permissible, it would be the cordial things to do.

She slid Hagrid’s teacup further up on the table to prevent another mishap and returned to her breakfast in silence.

Professor Granger’s classes went along as expected that day. There was only one mishap in which Mr. Ashwood nearly smoked out the classroom by adding too much fireseed to his cauldron, but Hermione caught his error quickly when the faint smell of smoke began emanating from his cauldron. She cut his flame immediately and added some extinguidrops to the mixture, causing it to harden. The boy was mortified by his mistake, but thankfully no harm was caused.

Now she sat at the large oak desk in her office marking papers. She didn’t mind keeping her office hours because she was able to tackle some of the less enjoyable aspects of her job during that time. While she didn’t particularly enjoy marking papers, she appreciate the thoughtful ones she received here and there. She smiled as she marked Mr. Ashwood’s mediocre essay and thought what to do with the discombobulated child.

A small cauldron bubbled on the corner of her desk. She had been trying out different potions, variations, and various calming droughts in hopes of making something that would help her sleep. She wasn’t sure if this recipe would do the trick, but the calming scent of lavender that filled the room was a good sign.

There was a light knock at the door to her office. She beckoned the person inside while pushing her papers into a stack.

“Mr. Ashwood,” she said by way of greeting; a warm smile on her face. “I’m glad to see you. Have a seat.”

The 14 year old boy nervously toyed with a rolled piece of parchment in his hand as he sat in the chair across from her. She waited for him to speak, and when he didn’t, she furrowed her brow.

“Is there something you wish to discuss?” She asked.

“I’m very sorry for what almost transpired during Potion’s class today. My carelessness is something that cannot continue,” the boy replied in one rushed breath.

“Everyone makes mistakes, Mr. Ashwood. It was fortunate that I caught this one. Nevertheless, I appreciate the apology,” Hermione replied with a smile.

“The headmaster said you’d be too nice...” the boy mumbled to himself.

“I’m sorry, what was that?”

The boy sat tight lipped, staring at his professor and wondering why he spoke in the first place.

Hermione peered at him as she leaned forward in her chair. “What does the headmaster know of you nearly setting off all the smoke detectors in this school?”

He looked nervous. “I don’t know how he knew, Professor. He just approached me in the corridor on my way to Quidditch practice and said that I’d better turn myself around and come apologize to you for being careless and he said that you’d probably be to nice to take any house points anyway.”

Hermione pursed her lips. “Did he seem mad?”

“Professor Granger it isn’t my place to speculate on the Headmaster’s emotions,” he replied and she tried to cover the improper question with a crooked smile, “but isn’t he always at least a little bit mad?”

Hermione bit back the laugh that threatened to escape from her. “Very well, Mr. Ashwood. Is there anything else I can do for you?”

“No, thank you Professor,” he said as he stood. “Oh! I nearly forgot. I’m supposed to give this to you, too. It’s from Headmaster Snape.” He handed her the parchment.

Hermione accepted it and dismissed the boy, intentionally hiding all emotions and confusion from her face. The moment he left, however, she let out the breath she was holding and rolled the paper over in her hands. It was bound with a small piece of green ribbon rather than the headmaster’s seal. She pulled the tie gently and placed the ribbon in the top drawer of her desk before unrolling the parchment to read. The note was not at all what she expected.

Andromeda from the astronomy tower. After your rounds.

Hermione read the sentence several times. She turned the parchment over in her hands, willing there to be more writing on the back. He hadn’t addressed her or even signed, but the spidery scrawl was unmistakably his. She rolled the parchment closed and tucked it into an inner pocket of her teaching robes. Glancing at the clock, she realized her office hours expired in ten minutes. She quickly tempered the potion on her desk and poured the contents of the cauldron into a small vile. She tucked it into her robes too, packed up her things and left, extinguishing the candles illuminating the small office with a backwards flick of her wand.

Once in her quarters, she immediately took the parchment from her pocket and tossed it onto the small dining table. She rarely had company, but the cafe table was a nice place to chat over tea or have a small snack. She hung her robes on a peg and opened the small fridge before deciding to make herself a sandwich rather than go to the great hall.

The parchment lay open on the table and she read the sentence over and over as she ate. He hadn’t bothered to address her. There was no signature. Since when was it proper to send notes via some confused student as if Ashwood were a carrier pigeon or post owl?

Omni jumped up onto the table and the parchment crinkled beneath his feet. Hermione smiled as she scratched behind his ear. “I’ll be back after my rounds,” she whispered to the half-kneazle kitten, before shrugging back into her robes and heading off down the corridor.
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Patience on Sunday