She beamed. Literally beamed at him and it made his heart skip a little. But best not to let her and her smile and her bare legs and feet overwhelm him.
"You should put something on," he said snarkily. "It's November."
"I know it's November but I wasn't quite ready and I will put warming charms on the legs and have shoes over there," she pulled her hand away form his and looked at him quizzically. She wasn't mad now, was she? It had all gone so well and he was just suggesting not to go out barefoot. Seriously. He arched his eyebrows. "Harry will be ready in a moment," she added and her voice sounded odd. So she was angry or weird or strange. And hadn't quite understood what he had wanted. He had to make her understand that he didn't want her to catch a cold. Even as a witch, drizzly London weather was not the right time and place to walk around with no shoes on. And no stockings on. Besides, nobody but him should see her legs like this. Nobody. Not even a gay Potter. Especially not a gay Potter and a yet probably bisexual Potter's whatever.
He frowned. Did she not see that? She was supposed to be so smart.
"Good," he said instead and the air between them seemed dense and foggy and the entire atmosphere a little...awkward. He had expected that after their morning shag on the couch. Shags. Plural. Not now. Not two days after.
"He takes longer than me," she said, shrugging and summoned a little footstool from somewhere and sat down on it, summoning a pair of heavy boots and, as she sat down, she began to put a pair of socks, which seemed to come from nowhere and the boots on. Those weren't the right boots. She should wear heels with that dress and delicate stockings. Not heavy biker boots. His eyebrows almost vanished into his hairline. But at least, he consoled himself, nobody but him would know about her delicate arches and ankles and calves. Nobody could see the allure of her thighs in those shoes, nor her elegance when walking bare foot. Still. He was supposed to be her escort. It was reflecting badly on him too if she wore those shoes.
"What?" she asked, almost sounded annoyed.
"Nothing," he said intuitively, shacking his head. She was in an odd mood. Not daring to touch him at first, not understanding his jesting and the way he wanted her to just stay healthy. He wanted to sigh and take a deep, deep breath but she watched his every move. He didn't know what to do, was absolutely clueless. The dress was gorgeous and her smile had been gorgeous. Her frown wasn't. Her disapproving look wasn't.
Utterly clueless. Were women always this complicated?
Eleanor. Eleanor had been a woman and what had she said? 'Pay compliments, once in a while,' she had said when he had snarked at her which had happened seldom enough.
Compliments. Those would help, he supposed. Maybe it would make her smile again.
"The dress is very nice," he said, and managed not to stutter and even managed to almost smile at her.
"Thank you," she said and it still sounded a little snippy. Was that wrong again? Maybe he should just kiss her. Maybe she had expected that instead of the kiss on the hand? But he had thought...not while Potter was there. He might have seen them that day that he had been there, in the hallway but that had been different. That had been utterly different. Potter wasn't supposed to be walking in one them at any moment. And he had only said...she had beamed until he had told her to wear a bit more. That wasn't too bad, was it?
.
Well. She wasn't sure what to think of it. Did he think that she was stupid to go out without shoes? Of course not. And she had planned on high heeled shoes but with his comment — like her father. Worried father. Just because he was older didn't mean that...and she had thought that they had both reached a level of equality finally. Obviously not. Obviously he still thought that she was a dumb little girl who didn't know that it was bloody cold outside. She was angry and he ought to know it. First of all, he came in, looking dreadfully handsome and then nothing but a kiss on the hand and...that comment. Who would then expect her to wear beautiful shoes? No. She wore those Dr Martens now. And she would continue to wear them. She loved them. And she could walk in them. He was...she knew he was a bloke and that comment about her dress didn't help either. It was like he was forcing himself to say it.
And the worst thing was, she had planned on stockings. Black ones. He had just interrupted her and she wanted to see him and...then that comment. Not that she had minded him seeing her like this — he had seen her in even less but that? Too much and she was a little angry.
"Good evening," Harry came bouncing down the stairs, looking utterly excited and happy. Well, he was in for a surprise. Her good mood was completely blown away.
"Potter," Severus said courtly.
"Snape," replied Harry. "Ready? We're meeting...Hermione, you're not wearing those shoes, are you? Didn't you say you were going to wear the..."
"Them. Exactly those shoes," she interrupted before Harry could blurt how she had tested outfits and shoes and everything. But Snape had heard. Severus had heard and he made a rather astonished face. Surprised.
He nodded at Potter — having found, possibly, some kind of epiphany or maybe understanding or maybe just some male solidarity. She wasn't sure and she only rolled her eyes. "Let's just go," she said and opened the front door.
"I think you should really change the shoes," Harry said, looking at her legs.
"Do you want to be late?" she snapped and saw, just a glimpse, how Harry shot Severus another glance. So? Maybe she was a little...annoyed at Severus for acting like her father. Maybe she was a little mad that he had said something like this without making any comment about her dress before and not after.
She arched her eyebrows and waited at the door for the two males to stop their solidarity and finally get a move on. Despite his unthoughtful comment...was it unthoughtful? No matter, she would think about this later, but despite his comment, she was still curious to meet that bloke of Harry's.
"We'll just walk, won't we? It's not far," Harry looked at her uncertainly and she knew that he wanted to know why her good mood and left her and why she had changed her dressing-plans. Naturally. He was just nosy like this.
Well. Those two walked and Severus even offered her his arm (where had he learned that?) but she wasn't sure how to handle this. She was angry but the shy smile he offered her, which almost looked apologetic soften her feelings again. Maybe, it hadn't been paternal and controlling — but...worried and...what? No, definitely unthoughtful. He hadn't thought. He hadn't considered her feelings. Only because she wanted to look nice for him, and only because he had caught her a bit too early. Maybe she should have just told him that. Let him stand in the corridor and run upstairs instead of waiting whether she could get a decent kiss hello or not. Obviously — not.
After a brief moment's consideration, she linked her arm through his but scowled at him and as Harry walked a bit in front of them (possibly very very excited and nervous), she could hiss at him. Could tell him...what?
She looked at him and he looked down at her, and still wore that shy smile. Was that...was he trying to get back into her good books or was he contrite or...what?
"You didn't have to sound so accusing," she hissed angrily.
"Excuse me?" he asked back, his voice low and confused.
"I was going to wear stockings but you were early. And I seem to remember that you liked my bare legs," she hissed again, glaring at him.
"I wasn't accusing you. It's November, not July. It's cold. And even those ridiculous boots won't help."
"They're not ridiculous," she spat. "They're classic!"
"Not to that dress. I am supposed to be your d-d-d— escort. And in those shoes as well..."
"Are you worried about appearances?" she frowned but her tone never lost its icy quality.
"Don't be ridiculous."
"Well, if I'm ridiculous and my shoes are ridiculous, we're a match made in heaven, aren't we?" she pulled her arm from his. "What's your problem?"
"I don't want you to catch a cold without anything warming your legs," he spat and quickened his pace and she stood still. He stopped after a few steps and looked back at her. Worried. So he was worried. "And I like your legs bare," he hissed as quietly as he could without Harry (who was still sort of storming towards the restaurant or pub or wherever they were supposed to meet Noel) noticing.
"If you like my legs bare...oh," her eyebrows rose and rose. If he liked those legs, and he was with her, he should like to see her legs but if he didn't want anyone else to see them... she had figured that he'd be the possessive kind but like this? Honestly? It couldn't be. Just wasn't possible.
"Severus?" she asked. "You said that because..."
"I don't want you to catch cold," he said snarkily. "I said so."
She nodded. At least it wasn't super-controlling. And if he was truly worried about her — it was kind of cute. In a weird way. She walked towards him and smiled. "I'm sorry I got so huffy."
He nodded sharply but instead of apologizing back, he said nothing. Well. She knew he would be difficult. And she knew he wasn't suddenly morphing into her former Head-Severus. And wasn't sorry supposed to be the hardest word anyway?
She pushed her hand in his and held onto his hand and even though he looked a little uncomfortable, he would have to endure that and he did and slowly began walking after Harry.
"Why are you humming?" he asked suddenly after they had almost reached Harry.
She giggled. "Just a song I have in mind."
"What song?"
"Elton John. Nothing important," she smiled at him. "It doesn't matter." She took a deep breath. Maybe...ah. Her mother had said that sometimes men's ego's had to be...massaged from time to time. That they had to be told that they were right. She had done that often enough with Hermione's father and it was obviously still working. She smirked to herself.
"Erm...could you, maybe...well..."
"What?" he asked immediately, looking down at her.
"Could you cast a warming charm on my legs?" she asked, blinking prettily (or what she hoped was prettily).
He rolled his eyes but she could see the wand coming from his sleeve and he pointed his sleeve at her legs and even though her warming charms were holding and nice and toasty, he added another layer and the tips of his ears were a little pink and his eyes shone. That should, Hermione thought, do the trick. Even if he hadn't said sorry. She would teach him that eventually.
.
He was completely overtaxed. He had no idea why she was humming and suddenly smiling again and what he had said that had changed her mind. Or had soothed her. He was completely out of his depths. He didn't know about relationships and women and he wanted...he needed Eleanor. Her advice and her help. She would know what had made Hermione change her mind and she would have helped. She would have laughed, yes, but laughed and helped.
Instead, he stood there, in front of an Italian restaurant, with Hermione holding his hand and Potter talking quietly to a young man. A boring young man. Decent haircut, blondish, average height and blue eyes. Not someone who would have grabbed his attention had he been his student and had just sat there. Nothing special. But then again, he wasn't gay and he didn't have to see any appeal apart from Hermione's bare legs, protected by his warming charms. And she would sit and he would fetch food and drinks. Nobody but him seeing her legs in those ridiculous boots.
"Hermione, erm, Snape, may I, erm, this is Noel. Noel, this is Hermione, one of my oldest and best friends and her...her Snape," Potter blushed but it hadn't escaped Severus's attention that he was clutching the boy's hand. Well.
"Her Snape?" the boy grinned well, boyishly and reached out with his free — right — hand, extended it and Severus, more out of intuition than anything else, grasped it and shook it before he watched Hermione shake his hand. "That's a nice way of putting it. Am I now your Miner?" he smirked at Potter and Potter smirked back. Smirked bloody back.
"As long as you're not a minor," he grinned and Severus could see the hands clasping the other tightly.
Severus looked at Hermione and she rolled her eyes at exactly the same moment that he did. He was almost tempted to smile then but it wouldn't be right to smile now. He still had some mocking to do. Trouble was, that Potter's bloke wasn't really mocking material. He had expected more of a...poof. Not a normal man. He had always prided himself on the fact that he could see it in every student but if that person had been a student of his, he wouldn't have noticed. As he wouldn't have noticed it with Potter. He was definitely out of practice. He would have to see what he could figure out with the other students at university.
"Shall we go in?" asked the boy innocently and it was annoying how nice he seemed to be. Lucky for Severus that he didn't particularly like nice people.
.
"So how did you meet? At school?" Noel asked as they had ordered their food, Severus sitting next to her and Noel opposite her. He was nice. Truly, honestly nice.
"Yes, at school. I told you about the boarding school?" replied Harry, grinning almost foolishly.
"Oh yes. I didn't know it was co-ed," Noel almost cooed.
"It was," replied Harry and Severus's hand next to hers twitched. He was bored. He thought this was a waste of time and truth be told, so did she. Yes, Noel was interesting but so far, the conversation hadn't gone any father than 'what school did you go to' and so on. It would have been more interesting to just spend the evening with Severus and clear the air further. She still hadn't got a kiss anyway. Their first misunderstanding as...something and he hadn't given her a kiss and she hadn't given him one. Stupid.
He wanted to get her alone. Or at least she hoped he wanted to be alone with her. What an idiotic idea to go on a double-date. Yes, she had wanted to meet Noel but now he had and she wondered if it wouldn't have been better if Ron had met him. Or if she had seen him when it got really serious. Other than that...boring. And Severus's hand lay so invitingly on her thigh.
She pushed hers slowly into his and smiled at him, ignoring those two opposite her. He entwined his fingers almost immediately with hers. He didn't look at her but seemed to be very interested in what those two lovebirds were talking about instead.
"Why were you humming Elton John?" he asked softly without looking at her.
"Just a song I had in my head," she answered just as softly.
