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Hermione held the facecloth underneath the tap, making sure it got wet properly. The cold water made her shiver and stung her hands. When the cloth was sufficiently soaked, she turned off the tap and squeezed out the excess water. She met her reflection in the mirror and winced. The dried blood on her face and down her neck made her look like a vampire who had just finished a particularly messy meal. She wiped at the blood around her nose and mouth, careful not to bump her tender nose too much.
There was a soft knock on the bathroom door.
“Hermione, are you all right?”
“I’ll be out in a minute,” she called back, bringing the cloth down to her neck. The neckline of her dress was equally stained. It would take an entire jar of Mrs Skower's Magical Mess Remover to get the blood out.
She needed another drink.
~Three hours earlier~
The room Hermione Flooed to was as big as her flat. Sparsely furnished, the focal point was the highly decorated winding staircase to the left of the marble fireplace. On the opposite wall hung a landscape painting she recognised as one she’d seen at the Tate Britain as a child. Her heels clicked on the stone floor, and one hand flew to her updo, checking for stray hairs.
Ginny appeared from the curved archway next to the painting, wearing smart black robes and a smile. “You’re early.”
“I thought I’d see if you needed help with anything. Where did you find this place?”
“New co-worker of Harry’s.” Ginny hoisted Lily higher on her hip and gave Hermione a one-armed hug. “He always spends the holidays skiing in the French Alps and was happy to lend us the house for the party.”
“How many autographs did Harry have to sign for that deal?” Hermione carefully dislodged the curl Lily held in a firm grip and stroked the toddler’s cheek. “That’s mine, Lily pad.”
Ginny laughed. “About thirty. But it was worth it; this place is posh. There’s a jacuzzi in the master bathroom! Harry and I will be taking advantage of that after the party, for sure. And the super king-sized bed.”
“I would have been fine not knowing that,” Hermione said with a chuckle. “Thinking about number four?”
“Merlin, no.” Ginny kissed the side of Lily’s head. “Not until this one is out of nappies, at least.”
Lily squealed and flapped her chubby toddler arms as if knowing she was the topic of conversation.
Sniffing, Ginny grimaced. “Speaking of which, I need to change her. Harry and the boys are in the sitting room. I’ll be right there.”
Despite the house’s vastness, Hermione had little trouble finding the sitting room, and in doing so, wondered who would call it a sitting room. It more resembled the great halls from her mother’s favourite Regency films, with every inch breathing luxury. The pièce de résistance was the twenty-foot-tall Christmas tree with floating candles and decorations that made it look like it belonged at Harrods.
“Hermione! Oof,” Harry doubled over as Albus, in his haste to get down from his dad’s shoulders, kicked him in the groin. “Al, be careful.”
“Aunt Hermione!” the twins yelled in chorus as they ran over to her.
“Hello, boys,” Hermione smiled, bending to hug them. “Are you behaving for your dad?”
James and Albus nodded like one. “Best behaviour!” they grinned.
By the sofa cushions on the floor and Harry’s askew glasses, she very much doubted that. Molly had commented more than once—with a wobble in her voice—that they reminded her of Fred and George. While the twins resumed their playing, Hermione crossed the cushion chaos to greet Harry.
“All right?” She kissed his stubbled cheek.
“I’m very happy we decided not to host the Christmas party at ours this year, even though the twins have already made a mess of every room they’ve entered.” He aimed his wand at the sofa cushions, and they lifted back into their original positions.
Hermione snorted. “They’ll tire themselves out in a few hours. They’re just excited about the party.”
“Speaking of the party…” Harry never had the best poker face, and the guilt across his features made her narrow her eyes.
“Harry, what did you do?”
“Ginny did some matchmaking. Don’t be upset! She has a really good feeling about this guy.”
Hermione groaned. “The last guy she set me up with was a disaster. Didn’t I tell you that he picked his teeth at the table, and asked to see my feet?”
“You did, but this will be different. I promise.”
She sighed. “Fine. Who is he?”
The guilty look returned. “I actually don’t know much about him. Other than that he’s in your preferred age range and not a complete knobhead.”
She found that hard to believe.
-
An hour later, Hermione was ready to murder Ginny.
Her date for the evening turned out to be Timothy from the Accidental Magic Reversal Squad. The kiss he placed on her cheek was too slobbery, and he was very passionate in talking with her about the stock market. After twenty minutes of mind-numbing nodding and pretending to be entertained, she excused herself.
The door to the kitchen swung closed behind her, muffling the Christmas music and sounds of conversation. Trays of sausage rolls were set out on the kitchen island, ready to be brought into the sitting room. Leaning against the island, Hermione nicked one and shoved the whole thing into her mouth.
“Hungry?”
She choked on the nibble, causing her eyes to water and coughs to rip through her chest. When she no longer felt like she was about to die, she turned towards the voice. And immediately regretted her still-alive status.
“Severus,” she said, then coughed once more and cleared her throat. “I didn’t see you there.”
“Your focus on the sausage rolls blinded you, as I’ve made no attempts to hide my presence,” he replied in a casual tone.
She chuckled lightly at that. “I wasn’t aware you were coming tonight—you usually stay clear of the Christmas parties.”
His lips twitched. “Mrs Potter is very persuasive. And I do enjoy a sausage roll.”
The laugh came out more like a snort, and Hermione covered her mouth with her hand. “So your objection is because you want them for yourself?”
“On the contrary, I don’t mind sharing.”
Heat rose in her cheeks. “Good to know I won’t have to fight you for them.”
The kitchen door opened, admitting the last person Hermione wanted to see.
“There you are,” Timothy said with a smile he probably thought was charming. “I was starting to think you’d run off.”
Thinking quickly, Hermione grabbed one of the glasses of elf wine sitting in a tray next to the sausage rolls. “Just fetching another drink. Timothy, do you know Severus?”
Timothy eyed Snape with a look that was half-recognition and half-disdain. “I do. We were at Hogwarts together.”
“Briefly,” Snape answered. “If I recall correctly, you didn’t qualify for my N.E.W.T level potions class.”
“I decided to focus on more challenging classes.” Looking at her, Timothy smirked. “I got five N.E.W.T.s.”
Hermione wished the ground would open and swallow her whole. How could Ginny think they’d be a good match?
“That’s...nice,” she said, unable to muster even fake enthusiasm. “Let’s go back to the party.”
Timothy practically attached himself to her hip as she went over to join Ginny and Lavender. She hoped the conversation around which was the best nappy rash cream would bore him enough to seek other entertainment, but he persisted. While wondering if jumping out the window was a viable option, a flash of black caught Hermione’s attention from the corner of her eyes. Looking over at Snape, she found him watching her with an arched brow that said more than enough. She rolled her eyes and hid a smile.
Much like her date for the evening, the party quickly took a wrong turn. During Minerva’s toast—a tradition of many years—the glasses of elf wine were exchanged for salt water. The twins doubled over with laughter as George bowed to the room. The pranks were another tradition; last year, he swapped everyone’s Secret Santa gifts. They decided not to do Secret Santa this year.
Hagrid brought a new pet—something that looked like a cross between a cat and a jarvey—who proceeded to eat two trays of mini sausages and then throw up all over the probably very expensive dining room rug.
“This is a disaster,” Ginny groaned, casting another cleaning spell on the rug. It still smelt faintly of sausages and vomit.
Changing her grip on Lily, Hermione snorted. “We should have learnt pets are best left at home, at least when they’re Hagrid’s.”
“True.” Pocketing her wand, Ginny tilted her head. “I think that’s as good as it’s gonna get for now. Unless the twins get to it. Did I tell you they tried to climb the Christmas tree this morning?”
Hermione laughed. “Keeping with the family tradition of giving Hogwarts professors grey hair.”
“Do you think it’s a coincidence Snape is retiring before they enroll?”
“Not in the slightest. Speaking of getting grey hair,” Hermione said, taking Lily’s hand to stop her from punching her in the face with her arm waving. “What were you thinking, setting me up with Timothy? He makes Cormac McLaggen look like a scholar.”
“I was thinking he’s fit and you’ve been single for too long.”
“Did you spend more than ten minutes with him before setting us up?”
Ginny grinned sheepishly. “Maybe five? I’m sorry he turned out to be a knobhead.”
“It’s all right,” Hermione said. “But if he tries to snog me underneath the mistletoe, you owe me big time.”
Ginny laughed. “Deal. Why don’t you get back to the party, and I’ll put Lily down for the night?”
“Okay.” Hermione rubbed her nose against Lily’s cheek before handing her over to Ginny. “Good night, Lily pad. Sweet dreams.”
“Could you save me a vol-au-vent? I saw Ron with a plateful earlier; I don’t trust him to leave any for the rest of us.”
Hermione laughed. “I’ll protect it with my life.”
Taking a detour through the kitchen, she spotted a half-empty tray of vol-au-vents on the counter. She put two on a smaller plate and cast a privacy spell on them so only Ginny would be able to remove them. Back in the sitting room, she found Snape alone by the Christmas tree, looking sorely out of place and a bit bored.
“Planning your escape?”
“Only in theory,” he replied, turning towards her. “When inviting me, Mrs Potter was very persuasive in letting me know I was required to stay for the duration of the party.”
Hermione chuckled. “I hope the evening hasn’t been too boring for you.”
His lips curved into a ghost of a smile. “Not all of it has been.”
Something about his words—or the tone—made Hermione’s face flush. She hoped he’d think it was the wine or the heat in the room.
Behind him, the candles on the Christmas tree twinkled.
“Look out!”
The tree tilted towards them, baubles breaking against the wood floors. Someone screamed. A hand wrapped around her arm, then pain exploded across Hermione’s face. Blood filled her mouth, the coppery taste turning her stomach.
“Bloody hell, are you all right?”
Through her watery eyes, she could see the slightly blurry outlines of both Snape and Timothy, the latter with blood on his sleeve. Albus and James—both now safe on the ground instead of trying to climb the tree—said tearful apologies.
Pinching her nose, Hermione escaped to the nearest loo.
-
There was another soft knock.
“Is there anything I can do?”
“No, thank you.”
Hermione rinsed the cloth and carefully dabbed her mascara-streaked cheeks. This wasn’t how she expected the evening to go. She was mortified, and not just because of her date—in the loosest sense of the term. Okay, it was mostly that. This was the last time she allowed Ginny to play matchmaker. Huffing, she put the cloth on the sink. Her eyes were still red-rimmed and her nose tender and a bit swollen, but she looked presentable enough. It wasn’t like there was anyone to impress, anyway.
Snape pushed off the wall when she opened the bathroom door, eyes searching her face. “Are you all right?”
Nodding, she wiped at a stray drop of water on her neck. “I promise. It looked worse than it was.”
He lifted his hand, then paused. “May I?”
Oh.
“Yes.”
Stepping closer, Snape carefully ran his finger over the side of her nose. Hermione held her breath, heart pounding. They had never been this close before. Head tilted, he prodded her nose, feeling for a break. When he dropped his hand, her skin felt cold.
“It doesn’t appear to be broken,” he said, breath washing over her face. “Which means your date will be allowed to live.”
“A wise decision: a murder charge would certainly put a damper on the holidays.”
“They’d never tie me to his murder.”
“Of course not, you were with me the entire time.”
Something passed over his face. The space between them suddenly felt heavier. Hermione blinked.
“Would it be,” here he paused, as if searching for the right words, “presumptuous to ask if you’d like to have dinner with me sometime?”
“That wouldn’t be presumptuous at all,” she said, unable to stop herself from grinning like a fool. “I’d love to.”
His shoulders relaxed, and it hit her that he’d been nervous. Putting the words Snape and nervous together in the same sentence felt odd. He was still standing close enough that if she leant forward just a bit, she could kiss him. The urge came out of nowhere, making her heart beat staccato.
“We should get back to the party.” The words felt unconvincing.
“We should.”
Neither of them moved. Heat spread through Hermione’s chest. Snape’s eyes flickered down.
“Oops, didn’t mean to interrupt.” Pomona giggled, moving past them a bit unsteadily.
The bathroom door closing pulled Hermione from the moment—there had been a moment!—and she chuckled.
“I’d better make an appearance so they know I’m not dead.”
Snape stepped back with a nod. “A good plan.”
Her arm brushed against his sleeve when she walked past, and she couldn’t contain the shiver it created over her skin.
Back in the sitting room, there were no signs of the toppled Christmas tree or broken ornaments. Hermione grabbed a piece of cheese from a nearby tray and joined Ginny and Harry by the sofas. The twins were entranced by George conjuring butterflies that flew around their heads.
“Are you okay?” Harry asked.
“I’m fine, just a bit embarrassed.” She looked around. “Where’s Timothy?”
“He cleared out pretty quickly after you ran off—I think the looming threat of being hexed became too much for him,” Ginny said. “Good riddance. He wasn’t right for you anyway.”
Hermione frowned. “Well yes, but if you think that, why did you set us up?”
Ginny brushed a piece of lint from her robes. “I knew you’d never actually go for any bloke I set you up with, even though you’d be perfect for each other, so I used proxies you would hate and hoped you’d come to the right choice on your own,” she added slyly, looking over Hermione’s shoulder. “Took you long enough.”
Turning her head, Hermione’s stomach swooped seeing Snape talking with Mr Weasley. Oh. She turned back to Ginny.
“Is that why you invited him? You’ve been spending too much time with Slytherins.”
Ginny laughed. “I’ll take that as a compliment. There’s mistletoe hanging in the corridor if you want to take advantage of it.”
Harry shuddered. “I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that.”
Grinning, Hermione made for the corridor. There might be a good end to this evening after all.