I Never Thought It Would Be You

Chapter 1 - Long Time, No See - 21 December 2001

By Pigwidgeon37

Of course, Hermione was buying a present for Ginny. Considering that the young woman was living under a constant downpour of expensive underwear, clothes, jewels and other beauty-enhancing items cascading from the cornucopia of a completely enamoured Sirius Black, Hermione, who knew that her friend was also a bookworm and a bibliophile, had decided to get her a first edition of Nabokov’s Lolita. It was a present not entirely free of malice, given the age difference of almost twenty-four years between the couple; but she knew Ginny would appreciate it, even though she had only been able to get the British first edition of 1959, not the French one of four years earlier. This had, of course, not been a spontaneous idea-in fact, Hermione had placed her order in various antiquarian bookshops already before the summer. Today, she just had to fetch her treasure and settle the difference between the advance payment and the final price, which she expected to be considerable. Not that it mattered, for she had developed a revolutionary new sleeping potion two years ago and sold the recipe to Asclepios Inc. for a veritable heap of galleons. Besides, she had a two-percent share in the profits. First editions weren’t really a problem, and she was already looking forward to seeing Ginny’s face once she opened the parcel. Her friend had an innate appreciation for rare and beautiful things, more so as she had spent most of her life without them.

Apart from the occasional short-time boyfriend, Hermione’s life was mostly filled with work, whether in her lab at the Institute for Advanced Potions and Alchemy or at home. An outing like today’s was a real luxury, and so she had no intention of leaving the bookshop anytime soon. After a thorough examination of the Nabokov, which was in excellent condition, she left it at the counter and started on a lengthy stroll between the wooden shelves. The aroma of old paper, leather and dust alone would have been worth her time. Breathing it in with relish, she ventured into the depths of the shop, and soon had forgotten time and space, lost in the miracles on display. Before she had entered this cave of wonders, her feet had hurt, but she didn’t feel them anymore now.

When a tome with a lavishly gilt spine-it was an Art Déco edition of Greek myths-caught her attention, she immediately reached out for it and… encountered another hand in mid-air. Immersed as she had been into her own world of thoughts, she jumped and gave a small shriek.

“Miss Granger, who would have thought you were so easily frightened?”

With a feeling of foreboding, Hermione looked from the hand to a black-clad forearm and let her gaze travel further upwards to a shoulder, over the collar of a roughly-knit grey turtleneck and directly to the glittering eyes of her dreaded ex-teacher. Professor Severus Snape, Potions Master and bastard extraordinaire, standing in a Muggle bookshop, wearing Muggle outfit. If this could happen, she might just as well expect a resurrected Lord Voldemort in a nun’s habit, clutching a teddy bear, to enter the shop. “Professor Snape,” she said, “What a surprise.”

He gave her a sardonic smile. “Surprise indeed,” he replied, “Especially as I would never have expected to meet you in a bookshop, of all places.” These words were followed by a look-over. Not a really professorial one. “You have… changed.”

Probably this was meant as a compliment. However, Hermione couldn’t care less. Until her last day at Hogwarts, Snape had been an obnoxious pain in the arse, regardless of the many merits he doubtlessly had. Paradoxically, towards the end of their seventh year, after Voldemort had been defeated, it had been Ron and Harry who tried to convince their friend that the Potions Master wasn’t all bad. She had turned a deaf ear to their tirades of defence for the greasy git; understandably so, because his taunting and belittling of her abilities hadn’t ceased, not even after the Dark Lord was gone. And now that he was standing next to her, uncountable memories resurfaced. She threw him a look of defiance and replied coolly, “You haven’t.”

“Really?” he said, grinning at her.

“Really. Although… come to think of it, your nose doesn’t seem so big anymore. Did you reduce it, or is it really that small?”

To her surprise, he started laughing. “Miss Granger,” he said, “That was easily the most stupid comeback I ever heard. Surely you can think of something a trifle wittier?”

Hermione felt her jaw go slack. This was certainly not the reaction she had been anticipating. And, to her even greater surprise, she felt an uncontrollable urge to join in his laughter. “Sorry,” she said finally, “I admit that it wasn’t quite up to my usual standards. Maybe you’d like to even the scores by a scathing remark about my hair?”

Snape shook his head. “Too cheap. Way beneath my league.”

“It wasn’t when you made that nasty comment about my teeth.”

“True,” he admitted. “But, as you well know, I was under considerable tension at the time.”

“Understandable, considering that you were having an affair with Miss Delacour,” she purred.

“I was not-you just made that up, didn’t you?”

“You asked for something witty, Professor.”

“I take back what I said before, Miss Granger. You have not changed. You are still insufferable.”

“Somehow I had the impression you weren’t referring to my character, Professor.”

“How would you know?”

“I’m a know-it-all, remember?”

Snape rolled his eyes. “As if I could ever forget… Listen, Miss Granger-it’s still Miss Granger, isn’t it?”

“Who would marry in insufferable know-it-all?”

“Indeed. With Voldemort’s demise, your chances have drastically diminished.” Ignoring her indignant gasp, he continued, “What I wanted to ask was, would you like to have some coffee? I’m in the clutches of my mid-afternoon lag and could use some.”

Hermione opened and closed her mouth a few times. “Okay,” she finally said, “But first I have to grant myself a long-harboured wish. I have to tell you that you’re the most thoroughly unpleasant, arrogant, horrible bastard that ever wandered on this planet.” She exhaled and smiled at him. “Yes, that’s definitely better. Now let’s have that coffee.”

She paid for Ginny’s present, noticing with satisfaction that Snape still bore a slightly incredulous expression, and they left the bookshop. A few blocks down the street, they found a small café that wasn’t too crowded. Both winced when they sat down, and grinned at each other.

“Sore back?” she asked sympathetically.

He nodded. “It’s killing me. There’s that spot-” he reached towards his lower back and groaned “-right there at the small of my back, that aches like hell when I’ve been standing for too long…”

Mimicking his movement, Hermione massaged the hurting spot on her own back, giving a sigh of mixed pleasure and pain. “Yes… right there, between lumbar vertebrae three and four…”

“Ahem…” The waiter cleared his throat, visibly amused. “Would you like to place your orders before or after you’re finished with the anamnesis?”

Snape threw him a glare the impact of which made the H-bomb appear like one of Dr. Filibuster’s Fireworks. “You are a waiter and thus not supposed to juggle with Greek words,” he remarked.

“Actually, I was a brain surgeon before emigrating from Bosnia to avoid being conscripted.”

Hermione giggled, and Snape, nonplussed, said stiffly, “I beg your pardon, I wasn’t aware-”

“That’s all right,” the waiter interrupted him, “I was just kidding. I am a waiter, but I like doing crosswords.”

He had to bring Hermione a glass of water, while Snape patted her back. Then they ordered two cappuccinos, a piece of chocolate cake, a slice of apple pie and one of carrot cake.

“So tell me,” Snape said after a first bite of chocolate cake, “How have you been these last years?-What?” he asked irritably, when Hermione pointed at her upper lip.

“You got a milk-foam-moustache, Professor. Very undignified.” He gave her an alarmed look and quickly wiped his mouth with the napkin. “Yes, that’s better. I’ve been fine, I suppose. Lots of work, but that just seems to be my lifestyle. The occasional boyfriend… nothing sensational. You?”

He shrugged. “The usual, more or less. Teaching, a bit of research…”

“No girlfriend?”

“Nothing worth mentioning. You know, Miss Granger-”

She held up her hand to silence him. “May I suggest that we use each other’s first names? This Miss-Granger-Professor-Snape nonsense reminds me too much of your Potions lessons.”

“And there I was, thinking you had nothing but fond memories of Potions…”

“Yeah, of course. And as soon as your Dark Mark had faded, you got yourself a tattoo of it, just for old times’ sake.”

“If this tactless remark compares my teaching techniques to Voldemort’s tactics of intimidation, dear Hermione, it makes you a Death Eater.” She lowered her head a little and looked up at him. “What’s that supposed to be?” he said with a snort, “Puppy eyes?” She nodded. “Very impressive. And doubtlessly a skill you learned from Mr. Black. How is he, by the way? I heard he married Miss Weasley…”

Glad about the change of topic, Hermione replied, “Oh, he’s fine. And they’re a very happy couple.”

“Indeed?” He raised his eyebrows. “He’s more than twice her age, though. Cradle snatcher,” he added, voice dripping with disgust.

“Oh, come on, Severus, don’t be so narrow-minded. It’s their happiness that counts, not the age difference.” Snape merely grunted and snatched the last piece of apple pie. “What were you doing out here in Muggle London, anyway?”

“Got a Christmas present for Albus,” he said with a triumphant smile.

“Really? Can I see it?”

He wagged his head and produced a minuscule parcel from his pocket; it wasn’t much bigger than her thumbnail. “I shrunk it,” he explained, “And I don’t think it would be a good idea-”

“Not really. Just tell me, what did you get him?”

“Two thousand pairs of socks. Serves him right for always complaining that he never gets any.”