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A Reunion

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The same faces year after year had lost their allure. Some had aged ever so gracefully while some seemed to speed along the path of degradation. It was to be expected; some had darker demons than others. The war had left its mark on almost every person in this room. But the camaraderie that had existed in the aftermath had ebbed and people had fallen back into somewhat predictable comfort zones of their inner circles. And to say her inner circle had been reduced was an understatement.

She’d rather sit at her home and read through yet another text. The company of books had always been more enjoyable to Hermione than people...at least most of them.

Hermione was by no means anti-social, but there were many times where she was intimidated by the prospect of socialization, especially at these Hogwarts reunions where the attendance spanned every age.

She still saw Ron and Harry on occasion, but they never made it to these things. Harry had tired of the hero’s role and what came with it. He was content to hide away. Ron seemed to regress not long after they’d been able to complete their 7th year o.w.l.s. He longed for the careless childhood of which he claimed to have been robbed of. To say it strained their relationship was an understatement. Being the proactivist that she was, Hermione parted ways before things worsened, remaining amicable friends for the last 10 years.

That was her in a nutshell - a proactive realist. And a lonely one at that. Sitting at the bar, her half empty glass of merlot seemed to magnify that reality. People spoke to her, yes, but no one seemed to hold a conversation with her for any length of time. She wasn’t upset about that for the most part; the conversations only went one of a few ways. Either they asked about Harry, errantly assumed she was still with Ron, or asked details of the war that she didn’t feel like repeating in light-hearted company. She may not have been the poster-boy that Harry was, but she felt like a martyr in her own right.

She grinned politely and waved at George from across Hog’s Head. He stood with other wizards from his year, each holding a pint and laughing. He got along as well as one could expect, but even from a distance you could tell when someone mentioned Fred - there was a sadness to his smile and a far away look in his eyes. She supposed twins would have a more difficult time being separated by death than most, but remarkably, George had held up well all things considered.

“Another glass?” The barkeep tended the counter while the bottle of merlot hovered over her glass, just short of pouring, “This one’s compliments of the ginger bloke standing over near ‘is lads,” Hermione glanced at George once again, smiling as he lifted his pint towards her. She nodded towards the barkeep and the bottle titled as her glass floated from the bar top.

The truth was, Hermione wanted conversation. She wanted to reconnect with people from her youth. But, she’d always been bored by her own peers. They lacked a certain...something. It was hard to put her finger on it as she tipped her wine glass back and surveyed the room. The crowd was slowly thinning, people had lives to return to. Children, careers, some seeking one night of companionship with an old (maybe even a new) flame. Some bid her farewell as they departed, others were too inebriated to abide by any social niceties.

This was the after-party of the reunion, moving from Hogwarts to Hogsmeade. A fine dance had been held in the Great Hall. Hermione had been treated to moments of fond memories of the Yule Ball from her Fourth Year. She, Pavarti and a Ravenclaw a few years their senior had spent most of that sitting around a table attempting to catch up, but mostly commenting on the myriad of fashions chosen for the evening. They ranged from elegant to extremely gaudy, Luna sporting something near the latter of that spectrum. Neville in his dashing suit couldn’t have looked more proud to have the odd, but loyal lady on his arm.

It was the solid black of his wardrobe that stood out first as the din of the ballroom had lessened. No one had ever expected Severus Snape to make an appearance even though an invitation was extended every year. To say he had become a hermit underemphasized the lonely existence he kept. It had not taken long for word to spread about his covert involvement that, many agreed, was the only reason the Second Wizarding War was ever winnable. His short temper and penchant for insults still left a sour reputation among the wizarding community but their gratitude was evident by leaving him be - just as he wished.

Hermione had felt then that she should make an effort to speak with him. Perhaps his loneliness had reached a point he could no longer endure. Though as an instructor he’d never offered her any sort of compassion or understanding, she felt compelled to provide both those things to him - especially with the way he spent most of the evening void of everything but uneasy glances.

She should get home. It was very late in the evening and more wine was only going to make her sleepier. She slid from her stool, balancing the stem of her glass between her fingers. She would bid George and his mates good night and be on her way. Just as she turned, her eyes were drawn to the shadowy corner nearly vacated.

Dressed still in solid black sat Severus Snape, a small glass of fire whiskey sat in front of him with his fingers lazily wrapped around it. The two gazes connected across the room and both knew they were equally as seen by the other. He’d noticed her at the ball and he’d settled in this quiet, hidden nook of a booth early enough to see her arrive here as well. As they stared, he had not a clue what they had to speak to the other about, but he found himself curious enough to invite her company.

“Miss Granger,” he slid from the booth, but stood still, not approaching her.

“Professor Snape,” She acknowledged him back, nodding slightly. She was only slightly aware that her grip tightened around her glass.

“I wouldn’t be opposed to company,” It was the closest to an invitation he could muster. In his years of solitude his grasp of social graces had deteriorated a bit, not that they were ever that well-honed in the first place. He was relieved, but did not show it when she smiled politely and nodded.

Hermione looked around as if she needed to tread carefully. Old habits must die hard; she was an adult - her school mates would not look on in shock if she were to associate with her former Potions and Dark Arts Professor. She approached the booth and slid in the side opposite him. She sat a napkin down before placing her wine glass on top of it. His curious look made her nervous.

“Muggle custom,” She mumbled. Mentioning the word muggle may have been a grave mistake as an awkwardness surrounded them. Years of memories both flooded their minds - the existence of muggles in the magical world is what nearly tore it apart. She worried that the slip of her tongue may have ended this conversation before it began. She chewed her lip and looked downward and Severus was surprised to find himself amused. It was the same motion she used to make when he called her out in class for her know-it-all conduct.

“Miss Granger, if I may,” He spoke first, knowing she was likely about to excuse herself, “I taught at Hogwarts for many years and saw thousands of witches and wizards with varying levels of magical genealogy. As much as it pains me to admit, and I’ll deny it if ever asked again, I never once came across one that matched your brilliance or hunger for knowledge.”

Hermione had to wet her mouth with more wine, dried in shock of such a compliment from this particular source.

“Professor,” She had to struggle with an appropriate response, “I dare say that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me,”

“I suppose I’m getting soft in my old age,” He lifted his fire whiskey and just before it tipped back over his lips, there was an ever so subtle wink of his eye.

“It can be difficult to let your guard down,” Hermione glanced around the room before returning her attention to Severus, still somewhat mired in shadow, “It’s hard to know who to trust, or who’s just out to get something from you.”

“I have more experience with the latter - which should easily explain my absence from such….festivities.” He glanced toward the lively, drunken bunches near the front of the bar.

“So why now? Why this year, Professor?” Hermione’s curiosity subdued her hesitance.

Severus swirled the base of his glass along the table top. His face was obstructed only by the long locks of lanky black hair that had surprisingly few greys among them. His sharp nose was still as prominent as ever, though his face wasn’t pursed nearly as much as it used to be. Perhaps his years of seclusion had brought him some peace.

“Curiosity, Miss Granger,” He motioned towards the barkeep as Hermione had nearly drained her glass, “Curiosity to see Hogwarts again, to see what’s become of my students,”

“Curiosity?” Hermione couldn’t helped but be amused at the thought of simple curiosity bringing him out into the public eye, “Congratulations, Professor, that’s a new one to me”

“Are you calling me a liar?” He questioned as their glasses were filled. From a glance she could see a facetious nature to his query.

“Not at all, Professor,” Another sip added to the ones before were calming (or numbing) her nerves, “Just...surprised,”

“I wasn’t sure you’d accept my invitation, so considered us both surprised by the other.” He lifted his glass slightly, awaiting her to return the gesture.

“Do you take me for someone that rude?” She returned in a subdued jest, only pausing shortly before clinking her glass to his, “What are we drinking to?”

“New surprises from old acquaintances,” He answered after a short pause, “And not rude...perhaps forthright.”

“That I am guilty of without question.” She sipped the fresh glass.

“Oh I remember you, quiet well Granger.” Even if she hadn’t been the ever present partner of Harry Potter and Ron Weasley, Severus imagined she still would have stuck out from her lack of shyness and her vigor for learning.

"You rarely missed an opportunity to call me out on it," her hand around her glass pointed a finger at him as she found herself falling into an oddly natural repartee. Odd, especially considering there was a time in her life where she viewed him as the enemy.

"It didn't appear to deter you," he noticed that his whiskey seemed to be going down much smoother in the company of someone. Perhaps this was a benefit of not drinking alone. Seveus found it difficult not to be amused as he cheeks stretched in a smile though he could tell she was trying to fight it.

“I suppose not, Professor.” She still had that know-it-all look in her eye and though she knew the criticism when intended to inspire or shame her into subduing it, she still felt somewhat prideful in her acquisition of knowledge. His mouth crooked into a half smile of amusement. It was odd to be having a conversation as adults without the construct of student/teacher.

“It has been many years since I have entered a classroom, Miss Granger. I haven’t been your instructor for an even longer period. I believe at the present time, you are no longer obligated to address me as your superior.” He drawled, speaking over the top of his glass.

“Old habits die hard,” She swallowed back the address of sir or professor, “That’s the only way I’ve ever known to address you. It definitely wouldn’t have done to address you so informally before. I don’t doubt you would have been pleased with the lot of us Gryffindors referring to you as Sev or mate.” She joked, wondering if she could turn that half a grin into a whole one.

“You’re absolutely correct, Miss Granger,” He swirled the spicy libation in his mouth, “I would have been rather displeased.

“I do have a first name too, you can address me by it if I’m allowed to address you by yours.” Hermione leaned forward a little, squinting her eyes with a peculiar amusement. She needed to see if he was game for such familiarity.

Severus sat in silence for a moment, resting his hand on the table as he sized her up in his mind. She was no longer the mousey, fresh faced child and student he’d first met. She was clearly a woman. The war and subsequent years had aged her as it had everyone else, but she did not fare as poorly as some. If anything she’d acquired beauty in her physical maturity. While her hair was still curly, she tamed it better now. She did not paint her face with anything too obtuse. He leaned forward slightly, his elbows on the edge of the table.

“Very well, Hermione,” Severus had to admit to himself that it felt odd saying her name out loud.

“That’s better, Severus,” Though in private, she and her friends had referred to him as Snape since nearly the moment they met him, there was a certain comfort she found in calling him by his name. Perhaps it was relief that she could view them as equitable instead of existing on two different planes.

Severus couldn’t help the quick, fleeting smirk on his lips, amused by her ability to change a pattern so easily. He decided not to let the moment linger. He was in need of any conversation outside of the internal dialogue that had been such a constant companion.

“So speaking of...Gryffindors…” He still grimaced, though Hermione found it comical, “How are those friends of yours?” His dark eyes were trained on her as he sipped again.

“We still leave that bad of a taste in your mouth?” She questioned, chuckling behind closed lips at his incredulous look, “I guess Slytherin’s and Gryffidor’s are just not made to see eye to eye?”

“In my experience, most of my interactions have been….unpleasant - current company excluded,” He was slow to the save, humored by the way her eyebrows lifted as if he would leave the insult as his last word.

“Nice save Prof- Severus,” She nodded, “I have to admit, I have occasionally thought of you over the years,” She hiccuped a little, “That is, wondering what you did to occupy your time.” She recovered quickly.

“Have you now?” Of all the people she’d known, he would have thought given the circumstances that most of them rarely, if ever, thought of him, “After so many years playing a double agent and spending my career in the view of so many, I find that I prefer my privacy. I stay in my home, reading, writing, documenting,”

“Documenting?” She leaned her cheek into her palm, looking interested.

“Yes. Though it was not my preferred subject, I did have a rather well adapted aptitude for potion-making. I developed many unique and novel substances even back to my own days at Hogwarts. I plan to release the formulas for a reasonable premium.”

“Reasonable? But you’re Severus Snape; the man who lied bold faced to -Voldemort-” Hermione felt odd saying the name out loud, she hadn’t had to in so long, “Harry may have been the poster boy, but many see you as much of a hero as they do him.” She said matter-of-factly.

 

“That bold tone, that’s the girl I remember, Hermione.” He caught himself from referring to her as Miss Granger, “And I prefer not to label myself as such. I believe there are many that still despise me,” He took another sip and for a moment Hermione felt some pity for him, but mostly warm from his first chiding remark.

“Well, regardless, I appreciate what you did. And you deserve a well earned drink on me,” She peered at his empty glass, not letting him refute her offer. She motioned towards the bar as a decanter floated their way and refilled his glass, “I insist,”

“I’m not sure that’s appropriate, you buying me a drink. After all I’m an old man,” he eyed the drink, his mouth thirsting for another taste.

“You’re not that old,” She leaned forward as she spoke a little quieter, “In fact it looks like you’ve barely aged,” She noted his appearance, the last decade had been devoid of most of the stresses that had strained him so much before.

“You’re attempting to flatter me, Hermione. I can’t on earth imagine why,” He toyed with her a bit, finally sipping his fresh fire whiskey.

“I resent the accusation that my politeness is anything but,” She was quick to match his wit, but there was also a teasing, sarcastic suggestion. Surely it was the wine speaking for her or at least prodding her in such a flirtatious direction.

“I believe you’ve had too much wine, Hermione,” He noted her once again empty glass.

She smirked holding it up in the air to the side, not breaking her gaze from his. It refilled from the bottle, this time settling itself on the table rather than behind the bar.

“Am I of age, Severus?” She challenged his assessment coyly.

“Yes, I believe you are,” His eyes couldn’t help but look her over and confirm for himself that his thoughts were well founded.

“Then let me worry about my own levels of intoxication. After all have you ever know me to be *hiccup* irresponsible?” Her words and her behavior seemed to be sending two very distinct but different signals. He lifted his brow in a moment of question, but he was feeling rather warm and fuzzy himself. What harm could it do to let a bit of his guard down around someone who seemed so interested in his company.

“I cannot recall such a time, but perhaps you should put a little more in your stomach,” He pushed a plate of bread and cheese he’d barely touched towards her, “How is Potter these days?” He wanted to change the subject until her obvious buzz was a little more subdued.

“You really want to know about Harry?” She looked somewhat surprised, but continued without his confirmation, “He’s alright I suppose. Still with Ginny Weasley, they have Lupin’s boy and one of their own. He turns down public appearances on an hourly basis. Tough to be treated fairly when everyone either wants something from you or to treat you like a god.”

“I know about the former, not so much the latter,” He pursed his lips as he heard the name of Harry’s wife, “I supposed I shouldn’t be surprised he stayed with that girl. She was the least insufferable of the lot, in my experience. How about your Weasley. The daft one.”

“Ohhh, I can tell you’ve been sitting on that question for a moment, haven’t you?” Hermione noticed that he seemed compelled to ask it more than willful, “We didn’t last long at all - after school. We went our separate ways and I don’t see much of him at all. I keep in contact with his mum more than any of them.” She watched as he took a drink, but through the arc of the glass, she could see him conceal and satisfactory smirk.

“What I shame, you two seemed to compliment each other well,” He offered with little conviction.

“Ha, you don’t believe that for a moment, Severus,” She chortled a bit, “we had a history, but in the end he turned out to be very wrong for me. I need someone with more, with more…” She struggled to describe what was missing.

“Maturity,” Severus answered with a slow enunciation, not at all questioning.

Hermione glanced at him again, but the shared gaze had a different energy to it, “Yes. That’s exactly it,”

Though a silence passed between them, it felt as if they were wordlessly communicating. There was no awkward air between them.

“So, there’s been no one else to fill the,” his eyes flickered down as if in the subtlest of suggestions, “void?”

Hermione nibbled a bit of bread, wiping a crumb from her lip before shaking her head slightly. She struggled to speak for a few moments, resisting the urge to suppress her impulse.

“No. No one has filled that void in ages...Severus,” She said suggestively, but felt an intense nervousness as she waited with baited breath for his reply.

“That’s quite a shame,” He replied after a brief pause. Either an awkwardness would follow or she might-

“Yes, it is,” She looked at him with determination and agenda. Though the conversation had been finding its way to this point, it still surprised him that she was this bold.

“Being alone does have its disadvantages,” He set his glass down, no longer interested in being satiated by a substance.

“Perhaps tonight,” She ran her nail along a ridge in the wood grain on the table before looking back up at him, “We throw our cautions to the wind and give this whole ‘not being alone’ a go,”

She had no doubt that snogging in public was something Severus was very much against, so taking the initiative she stood from the quiet booth, noting that the bar was nearly empty. She walked with some stealth but still a natural gate to a wooden door that led behind the bar. She opened it slightly, enough only to slip past the gap and keep the old rusty hinges from screeching. She looked back towards him in a silent invitation.

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Hermione waited in the room filled with wooden casks and crates of bottles, stacked upon wooden shelves that stretched from floor to ceiling. She leaned her back against one such post, the anticipation did the job of sobering her a bit. At least if she was rejected, it wouldn’t be with an audience. Only a short time had passed (though it felt like eons) when she was startled by the door pushing open. Severus also passed through a gap only large enough for him to float through, still sporting the black robes she remembered over the black suit.

They did not need to speak. Each knew why they were there.

Hermione did not move from her spot, but her spine arched every so slightly that her chest jutted forward as the room echoed his footsteps and her controlled breath. He approached, standing meer inches from her, making it no secret that his eyes were taking in her form.

She was the first to break the barrier of touch, her curious core aching for a reprieve of its neglect. Her palm rested against his chest, sliding upwards over his collar. Her fingers slid without pause over the lingering scars on his neck that his cloak normally concealed. She did not let it deter her and he returned the gesture with one of appreciation.

The first kiss was soft as if gently testing the waters.

“Severus…” She whispered feeling his breath rolling across her tempted lips.

The confirmation of her desire saw his return kiss much more feverish and impassioned. As if seduction had evaded him so long that he dared not let it slip between his fingers. She arched more as his hands passed around her waist to her back, pressing her body into his. Her arms were around his broad shoulders. The kiss was not sloppy, but not at all contained. The only parting was out of the shear need for air.

“Let’s not waste time, Severus,” She slid her hands to her blouse, yanking it open so the buttons scattered across the room. Her chest heaved, only contained by her lacy brassiere.

“You witches and your frivolous underthings,” He paused to look into her eyes only a moment before both hands grasped her breasts, squeezing and lifting them as she struggled between a groan and a gasp. Their lips were quick to meet again as he tugged the lace cups down roughly, exposing her breasts directly to his greedy grasp, “Its a shame to cover these at all,”

Severus pulled his lips from hers to let his eyes absorb the visual of her toplessness into his memory. They were perky, their containment unneeded. He lifted one swell to meet his descending mouth, his tongue impatient for the taste of her firm nipples.

“Holy Merlin’s fuck!” Hermione let her fingers grip his signature black tresses. She didn’t pull them either which way, more or less just holding on to him, “Severus, you devil,”

“On the contrary, Hermione,” He rose up, stopping a maddening inch from her face, “I believe you’re the devil in this scenario.” Still holding her attention, his hand reached for hers and pressed it firmly against the evidence of her perverse inspiration. She gripped around the rigid shaft, still encompassed by his trousers, but the rush of arousal between her own legs almost left her dizzy. She was thankful for the sturdy post behind her or she’d likely have fallen off balance.

“What torture for you, you poor thing,” She squeezed and palmed his member. She grinned while gnawing her lip, lowering herself by sliding down the post. She knelt her splayed legs at his feet, her hand moving to unfaster his trousers while her humored gaze peered back up at his still serious countenance.

His angular jaw clenched and shifted as she revealed him, her hand almost surprisingly warm as it wrapped around his vein-laced, pulsing shaft. He noticed her eyes fell upon her prey and she studied it as she stimulated it as if applying a science to extracting his pleasurable nuances. Ever the scholarly approach, typical Hermione.

“It won’t bite, Hermione,” He teased with a taunting chuckle. His fingers were unable to grip into her hair, partially impaired from Nagini’s venom. Instead, his hand slid over the top of her head, gently pushing it back so it rested against the wooden pillar. He stepped closer as her lips lazily lay agape, her chin tilted slightly upward. Her eyes followed the tip of his cock as it prodded against her lips, tainting them with a sticky string of precum before slipping between them.

Severus’s breath shuddered as he struggled to acclimate to the warmth of her willing mouth. He moved slowly, keeping a shallow depth as she kept submissively still.

“What a good little witch,” He growled.

Hermione’s now free hands allowed her the freedom to stimulate herself; reaching between her splayed thighs, her skirt allowed her quick access. She couldn’t resist the throb of her own sex, keeping her touch gentle to keep from cumming too quickly. She was desperate for an orgasm, but would rather the first explosion be at the mercy of his penetration.

As his eyes closed and his head tilted back, Hermione took more of an active roll. Her lips tightened around his cock, her tongue wiggled in a slow, purposeful massage. She was thrilled to earn the groan that rumbled in his throat soon after. She gagged but did not relent as his hips pushed him a little beyond her tolerance.

“Hungry little thing, aren’t you?” He tried not to wheeze, but the invigoration of her oral stimulation was nearly impossible to overcome. His balls ached and twitched a little as he pulled himself away, her eager mouth fighting his retreat, “I’d toss those knickers if I were you.”

Hermione was eager to work the stretched garment down her thighs and let them fall the rest of the way to the floor as she stood again, her hand too covetous to leave his member untouched.

“Get that cock inside me, Severus, now,” She coolly demanded, her leg lifted, her thigh resting on his hip as her other hand pulled him closer by his collar. His dexterity may have deteriorated, but his own therapies had regained his strength. She giggled a little in surprise as he lifted her other leg, letting them grip around his waist tightly. She was trapped between him and the post as his shaft nestled itself between the lips of her dampened sex, “Severus!” she gasped impatiently.

Hermione groaned a moment later when his swollen glans slipped inside of her, the tip a temporary tease. Severus watched her face intently as he let her weight sink her helplessly. Though she stretched to accommodate him and her cheeks reddened from resisting the urge to cry out louder, he did not allow her more time to acclimate. He flexed his hips, the movement thrusting her upwards only so gravity could force her full of him again, the pleasurable dive escalating now with matching force.

She balled up her fists full of his shirt, her thighs gripping his waist with a surprising strength. Her sex ached from his invasion, but it was a delicious ache that stole her breath from her lungs and made her wish it would never end.

Severus quickened his thrusts into a satisfying rhythm. It was paced enough to keep her sex constantly roused with pleasure, but not so quickly that it lacked apparent skill.

“Sev,” Hermione’s eyes fluttered closed as she gasped, then bit the tip of her tongue, “That cock...is fucking magnificent,”

He felt a tingle in his core, he hadn’t been called ‘Sev’ in years, but something about her husky tone made it a treat to his ear.

“I was just about to say the same thing about this juicy cunt of yours, Hermione,” He seethed, his thrusts absorbed by her impaled sex. The post behind her did not cushion any of his plunging campaign. She was glad for it, she wanted to feel the entirety of his talent.

They only paused for a moment as the door opened, their drunken state a mix of alcohol and lustful intoxication. The barkeep paused in his tracks, carrying a crate of empty bottles.

“For fucks sake get lost,” Hermione slurred, her cunt completely full of his cock at the moment, “can’t you see someone’s shagging in here??” She barked at the shocked man, who quickly departed with a slightly frightened look on his face.

“Such a feisty thing,” He was humored by her audaciousness, rewarding her with several quick strokes that pummeled her sex and drew a quivering release from her. She called his name in a raspy plea, slickening his cock so that it slid even more easily and quickly into her.

Severus felt an overwhelming pleasure that his body had been devoid of for far too long and though he would have preferred to let it linger for hours, the time and place did not allow for such a reality. Perhaps his choice of partner added to his perversion. He leaned into her, pinning her tightly as his mouth latched on to her exposed neck. He suckled and nipped at the flushed flesh, crushing her breasts under the weight of his chest.

Hermione wiggled her hips, trying to match his movement. She tried to satiate the recurring tickle that burned inside of her sex. She chased the impending release with fervor, feeling his movements become more instinctual and primal. His breaths labored into almost gravely moans that matched his pace.

“Severus….Severus!” She gasped as her release teetered on the edge, “Fuck...fuck! I’m cumming!” She finally exclaimed as the heated explosion swelled her core, making the pulsing eruptions of his cumming cock even more pronounced and gratifying.

Severus felt light-headed as his body’s concentration was on the orgasm that engulfed his being. Her cunt gripped his invading member with a possessive hold, still trembling with aftershocks.

The room was filled with only the sound of weathered, heaving breaths, desperate to fill their lungs and restore their senses.There was a silent stare between them as her shaking legs released him and he helped her feet back under her. She straightened her skirt and brassiere, noticing a disappointed scowl as she covered her breasts. She only smirked, reaching for her wand as she repaired the buttons on her shirt.

The bar was empty as they left, save for the barkeep who kept his gaze downturned as they passed. They parted ways with cordial ‘nice to see you again’s’, neither wanting to make awkward their peculiar evening.

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The interaction did not leave either of their minds, though they continued about their individual lives as normal. Hermione continued her work alongside the department of International Magical Cooperation, travelling abroad to lands and sights that were thrilling and exciting. But even with her busy occupation, the moment of secret passion wove its way to the front of her thoughts often.

One particular evening when the draw of self-indulgent pleasure was too prominent to resist, Hermione used that motivation to extend a greeting. She wrote a letter with careful intent and included an enchanted photograph as she folded and sealed it. She entrusted its delivery with a jet-black owl and set it off into the dark night.

 

The letter was delivered to its intended recipient as he continued his solitary work. His name scrawled in a feminine penmanship is what caught his attention first. When he flipped it over, Hermione’s initials impressed in the wax seal made excitement well up in his belly, though his exterior remained reserved.

 

                                   Severus,

 

                                   I very much enjoyed the chance to be in your company the other evening. And what exhilarating company it was. I hope my letter finds you well and please accept this photograph as a token of my admiration.

 

                                  I look forward with a great deal of interest in our next ‘reunion’.

 

 

 

                                                                           Warmest Regards,
                                                                                            Hermione

 

Severus smirked at the simple, concise letter. The smirk faded only slightly as he watched the enchanted photograph move before his very eyes. Though the border provided only a neck down view, the unbuttoning blouse slowly revealing a familiar lace and cleavage made no mystery of its subject.