He sat back in his chair as she placed the fully laid out tea service before him. He grunted a 'thank you' and gestured that she sit down, stretching his neck and working the kinks from having been poring over his potions texts for the better part of the morning.
She sat across from him, and poured the steaming tea into two cups, remembering the splash of milk before and not after. If there was one thing she knew for absolutely certain about the man, it was that he was very particular about his tea. She'd very much learnt that the hard way.
The very first time, she had lain out the service tray, poured his tea, and stood back. He took one look at it and 'evanesco!' it was gone. She had heard quite the earful for that one teensy mistake.
'Teensy? Teensy? Oh no, Miss Granger, gargantuan, massive, positively elephantine!'
The woman eyed him over the rim of her china cup, taking in his face. He was getting older of late. Much faster than usual, anyway. It seemed as though time were intent on catching up to him before it was due. Greying locks coursing through his raven hair that he had tied back at his nape, those little wrinkles from furrowing his brow becoming all too evident, now.
She smirked, sipping the warm drink. He always liked his tea positively scalding. She would set a cooling charm on her own, never understanding how it was he drank it without burning himself. "I'm not your gofer, you know," she stated. "Nor your maid,"
He scoffed, carefully sipping his tea, and sitting tall in his chair. He was a proud sort of man. So much so, in fact, that when attacked by the damned snake, he had refused to die, solely on the fact that a Potions' Master ought not to die on the grounds of, as he had said it, 'a small bit of venom'. Small bit indeed.
The cursed reptile had nearly severed his carotid artery. He had nearly bled out. Small bit of venom. He was stubborn. Almost as much as she was. She admired that, really. If only he weren't such a dodgy old tosser.
He smirked and she was under the impression that he had known precisely what she had been thinking. Just as well. Someone ought to tell him. He met her eyes, leaning forward on his elbow as he steepled his fingers just beneath his nose, lips pursed as he thought out his next words. Git. He knew she couldn't resist him anything when he did that. It was such an ordinary gesture, but Merlin did he look handsome doing it. And it was one he only ever indulged in when he was deep in thought or making a difficult decision.
She rolled her eyes, sipping her tea again. Simply watching, learning. The corner of his lips tweaked upward for only a moment, his dark gaze settling on her concretely. "I would not have invited my gofer to sit with me, Miss Granger," he said quietly, observing her reaction to his words. She did not dare flinch or give him the satisfaction of seeing any sort of muscle contraction that would be considered out of the ordinary. Something she had learnt from him. "You know how I despise social interaction,"
He sat back in his chair, watching her. Her turn. Oh, how he enjoyed his little games with her.
Wanker.
His eyes widened slightly at that. That was new.
She almost blushed at the realisation that he had most definitely heard her insult. If he didn't mention it, she'd rather pretend that he hadn't been made aware of her growing insult calibre. Oh, yes. She was becoming more and more confident in her insults. Even if they weren't directly to his face. They might as well have been, seeing how the thoughts were practically jumping out at him.
She plucked a biscuit from the plate and he frowned. She wasn't squirming under his stare as she once did. She wasn't clenching her jaw, or checking her watch. She wasn't looking toward the door, hoping time may pass quicker so that she may be excused and leave. No, Hermione Granger had grown all too comfortable in his presence. No longer intimidated by him.
And that would not do.
She offered him a coy smile, all too aware of his frustration. "Well, with that said, I do believe it is my turn to busy your time,"
He cleared his throat. "Actually, I have a previous engagement-"
She scoffed, glaring at him. "You do not," she argued, daring him to stand.
He didn't.
She giggled, pulling out a rather large portfolio from that minuscule beaded bag of hers. It landed on the table with a heavy thud! He eyed it warily, as though it might jump out at him at any second and attack.
He sneered, taking in her satisfied little smirk. "I told you, I wanted no part in this, witch," His hand slammed onto the surface of the desk and he stood to leave, her fingers coming to wrap around his wrist quickly. She tugged on his arm, demanding wordlessly that he sit back down.
With another withering glare, he did. Merlin, if looks could kill.
With narrowed eyes, she kept her gaze on him as she opened the binder, flipping to the very end. "For goodness sake, Severus, you can't possibly be afraid of your own wedding, can you?"
The scowl on his face remained, though the expression in those terribly dark eyes softened ever so slightly."Nonsense," he mumbled. "Ridiculous things, weddings. I would just rather get it over with as quickly as possibly. That's all,"
Her own features relaxed, her set lips breaking into an easy smile at the silliness of the situation. "Darling," she cooed, taking her hand from around his wrist to lay her fingers over his. "You've been avoiding it for months. The least you can do is help me choose cake,"
His frowned returned. "Cake? What the bloody hell for? I won't even be eating it,"
The young woman rolled her eyes. How she dealt with his antics, she wasn't sure. Perhaps it was her love for him, maybe she was as stubborn as he was. "Then choose the wine,"
The Potions' Master's posture straightened at that, a sparkle meeting his eyes. "Now, that, Madam, shall be my pleasure," she stifled a laugh. "Merlin knows you have horrible taste in wine," he grumbled, turning to the portfolio toward him. "And men,"
She tutted, slapping his forearm at that little aside.
Most definitely her love for him.
And perhaps she was also a little stubborn.
