Heavenly Angel

AN:  Thanks to all who reviewed!

Melwasul: as you reviewed and ordered me to post more I was just finishing up :)

Heavenly Angel Chapter 3

“Where did you go?” Ginny asked Hermione when she appeared in the fireplace of the small cottage they shared. “Did you talk to him?”

“I went to Diagon Alley,” said Hermione. “I brought you a cookbook about herbs.”

“Gee, thanks,” Ginny said sarcastically, although she opened the book and skipped to the section about rosemary. Her engorgement charm on the garden had gotten a bit out of hand and now they had bales of it.

Hermione went to her room and closed the door. No sense in getting Ginny all worked up.

Hermione slid into her seat near her desk and opened her shopping bag. She looked at her new purchases for a moment before she pulled them out.

It had taken her the better part of an hour to decide of the stationary kit she wanted. Finally she had decided that it was a better investment to get a complete set of tools.

The burgundy quill had magically grown a glass tip; it would never split or wear out. Her lines would always be fluid and even. The paper was pink, although Hermione first ruled out the color. The shade was so barely dusty rose it almost appeared crème, so she finally had deemed it acceptable.

She had invested in a bottle of enchanted ink. The color was a deep burgundy but tiny gold flecks glittered faintly when it caught the light.

The letter opener was plain and brass, matching the embellishments on the ink bottle and quill.

Her personal seal had taken her a while to design. Normally it would be her family crest, but she didn’t have a crest recognizable in the Wizarding World. Finally she had convinced the confused clerk to embellish her initials on a shield shaped like a tooth. It amused her. She bought a pound of burgundy wax and a sealing kit.

It took Hermione quite awhile to arrange the set on her desk as she liked it. She stared at a blank sheet of paper for a long time before she started writing.

Severus was pulled away from his reading by a soft fluttering at his window. A small grey owl sat there with an envelope clutched in its beak.

Severus rose and strode across his study. When he took the letter the little owl fluttered off. It was unaddressed, but he quirked a corner of his mouth when he saw the seal it bore.

He opened it and was surprised to see the letter was quite thick. He pulled her correspondence out and began reading.

It began cordial, polite. She spoke of her family and their work together. Severus began feeling foolish.

It spoke of her previous relationships, dating Ron in her school years, going on to date other wizards, only to be disappointed.

Her reply to him was tentative, a little shy. Open and honest. Gentle and kind. But most of all, tentatively willing.

He flipped through the pages. There were a few illustrations of her own. It seemed she was creative as well.

Severus sat down at his desk and began reading the letter again, this time he only finished when he read her signature at the end.

He lay it down and looked at it. It lay there so unassuming on the black blotter.

He almost thought it would disappear in a puff of smoke or he would wake and it would be a dream. Neither happened.

Severus picked it up and read it again.

He lay it on a corner of his desk when he was finished and stared it, his hands folded under his chin.

After some time he opened the top drawer of the desk and pulled his stationary kit out.

AN: In this fic I see Hermione as around 21. The first few chapters of this are going to be really short. One chapter per letter, but as the story fills out it will get meatier. Thanks for all the reviews!!

Heavenly Angel Chapter 4

Hermione was eating her breakfast when a thick envelope landed in front of her. She didn’t look surprised. Ginny raised her eyebrows.

A large black owl swooped onto a perch in one corner of the kitchen and hooted deeply.

Hermione sipped daintily at her cup and tried to put the envelope in her robes. It was too big and wouldn’t fit in her pocket.

“Nice try,” said Ginny sarcastically. “Is he stalking you?”

Ginny opened the ice box and took out a plate of thinly sliced liver. The owl preened and puffed its chest out. Ginny gave the owl a bit of liver and scratched him.

“No,” said Hermione. “We were partners for a long time. I’m not going to stop correspondence with him over a drunken letter.”

Ginny looked disappointed as she sat at the table. Hermione knew it was because Ginny assumed their letters were mundane now. That was fine with her. She put the letter on the table and tried not to look at it too much during the meal.

Afterwards, she made her way to her room and locked the door quietly behind her. The letter felt thick, but not as heavy as the first. She walked across her room and sat at her desk.

The brass letter opener gleaned in the soft light filtering through her curtains. She reached out and gently loosened the wax seal so she wouldn’t break it.

A gentle pink smoke rose from the letter. It smelled like chocolate. Dear God, he did know her.

As she pulled the letter out she noticed something slither to the floor, clacking softly on her floor. She looked down and saw a white-gold chain lying on the floor. She picked it up and looked at it. She wasn’t sure she wanted to put it on. What did it mean?

Dearest Hermione,

(She shook her head and read that again. This was so ridiculous. So unexpected. So undignified. So romantic. Bah.)

Please accept this token as a symbol of my desire to court you. My behavior in my previous correspondence was reprehensible, at best. Although I am male and am overcome by primal instincts from time to time, I assure you my feelings towards you are honorable. I will never treat you as anything less than a lady.

(Hermione snorted. He had been bitter and sarcastic for the last 10 years. She hardly expected him to change now that he decided he needed to be polite around her. Manners had nothing to do with mood. She fastened the chain around her neck.)

I will be contacting your father soon to ask for his permission to court you.

(Hermione read that again. Good lord, her father was going to explode.)

I plan on honoring all Wizarding formalities involving courtship. No doubt it will confuse him enough that he will not feel moved to assault me right away.

(She chuckled. Apparently he had been listening to her when she spoke of her parents.)

Enclosed are my notes on the properties of mica. Even though the Order doesn’t need the information any longer, I see no reason to abandon the project. Please review the notes and contact me.

Yours,

Severus

Hermione shook her head and flipped through the notes. They seemed to be in order. She shook her head and chuckled. Only Snape would combine a love letter and potions notes. Romantic, yet practical.

Hermione set his letter aside and went over his notes. In one spot she frowned and walked over to a bare section of wall. She reached out and pushed it lightly. A panel swung open and a bookshelf was revealed. She fished out an enormous tome and laid it out on the floor. She flipped through it and found the passage she was looking for.

Hermione strode over to her desk and began scribbling furiously. She messily applied her seal and stalked to the kitchen.

“Caesar,” Hermione barked at the large black owl. He hooted in startled indignation. “Take this to your bubble-brained master.”

The owl hooted cheerfully, as if it liked nothing more than to see his master told off.

“Sweet boy,” Hermione murmured as she fastened her letter around his neck. He nuzzled her affectionately. “Make him give you tasties when you get there.”

The owl hooted a salute before it soared out the window.

AN: I kind of see the Snape house similar to the one in Remains of the Day with Emma Thompson and Anthony Hopkins, if you’ve seen it. I see Hermione and Ginny living in a 2-3 bedroom cottage.

It makes me sad to think my children will never find a carefully preserved packet of love letters. People have stopped keeping physical diaries, throwing them aside for computing, where editing may be made to make your initial opinions or responses more acceptable to other people. I keep a real diary. It may be embarrassing, but it’s honest. It’s the least I can do for my future wee ones. We live in such interesting times, I think it’s a shame to put aside physical correspondence for something that can be so easily tossed aside and forgotten. Don’t let them forget. Our bloodlines will last for centuries; let our memories and commentary last with them :)

Hermione and Severus will continue writing to each other. (Stomping foot firmly.)

To those who are truly nosy as to the illustrations should read my fics: Finally Neville and Small Beginnings. They’re Neville/Mary Sue and Lucius/ Narcissa, but I was a bit….frustrated when I wrote them. (Review them!!)

Renegade: Thanks for the review! I had to do the letter thing a few times before I believed it :)

Emma-Kitty: Thank you for reviewing pretty much everything I write!!! You rock!

Rowan: First time you’ve seen this pairing? Good lord, woman, let us convert you!

Thanks to everyone for reviewing! This is the most popular fic I’ve written!

Heavenly Angel Chapter 5

Severus was startled out of his reverie by a loud hooting from the window. A softly simmering cauldron was gently covered and he opened the window.

“What do you want, obnoxious bird?” Severus asked.

Caesar hopped in the window and shook the letter at Severus.

“Already?” Severus frowned as he reached for the letter.

The first thing he noticed was her writing was scrawled hurriedly and she had lost complete control of her sealing wax. He frowned and ripped it open as he walked to his desk.

DON’T ADD LEPIDOLITE TO THE STASIS POTION!!!

(He was surprised she didn’t send him a howler.)

It will make the potion too acidic when it bonds to the weasel blood and eventually disintegrate anything containing chlorophyll. Double check it in O’Brien’s Encyclopedia of Minerals.

(Severus frowned. That book was rare, at best. How in blazes did she get a copy?)

Thank you for the necklace. It’s lovely.

(Well, at least she acknowledged it. He chuckled in spite of himself. Infuriating, stubborn, wench.)

Good luck with dad, you’ll need it.

(What in blazes was that supposed to mean?)

Yours,

Hermione

Severus drummed his fingers on his desk. How was he supposed to check something in a book that hadn’t been printed in centuries?

He pulled out his stationary set out of his desk and scrawled a note as the wax melted over the tiny burner.

Caesar hooted at him as he tried to tie the letter around his neck.

“Hold still, you,” Severus said, annoyed. The owl continued to squirm. “Listen, I know it’s a lot of work for one day. I also know the Weasley girl feeds you treats whenever you show up.”

The owl seemed to ponder this for a moment while Severus fastened the letter. He hooted loudly at a small jar on the corner of an end table. Severus sighed and retrieved him an owl treat.

“Go, spoiled owl,” Severus said, waiving him out the window.

Caesar soared out of the window and over the orchards. Severus watched him until he was a miniscule dot in the sky.

“Are you back?” Ginny asked, surprised as Caesar scratched at the kitchen window. She opened the window and he flew back to the perch he took during his last visit, practically knocking Pigwidgeon off it. He hooted loudly at the ice box.

“What’s put you in a mood?” Hermione asked the owl, looking up from her book.

He hooted again. Pigwidgeon joined him in a chorus.

“Too many bloody owls in here,” Ron said as he walked into the kitchen.

“Who let you in?” Hermione teased, making a face at him.

Ginny trotted across the kitchen to hug Ron. Hermione rose and kissed him on the cheek. He grinned at her.

“How’s Luna?” Ginny asked.

“Fat,” Ron said. “And beginning to drive me batty.”

“She’s nesting, Ron,” said Hermione. “I have a book I can loan you-

“Forget it,” Ron said. “There’s not enough time in the day. My bedroom has turned odd colors of flannel overnight.”

“It’s easy to clean,” Ginny said, stubbornly defending her sister-in-law. “Babies spit up all over everything.”

“When is the baby due?” Hermione asked, walking to Caesar to retrieve her letter.

“Another month,” said Ron, grinning. “Snape still bothering you?”

Ginny burst into a fit of giggles and ran from the room.

“What’s with her?” Ron asked.

Hermione was torn. Ron was her best friend. Severus was, in his words, courting her. Ron was bound to find out, but it was all still in the early stages. She hadn’t even seen Severus since he sent his letter. She didn’t know what to tell him.

Ron frowned at her.

“Tell me whatever it is,” he demanded.

“What?” Hermione said, trying to look innocent.

“You get that little crease between your eyes when something’s going on,” said Ron. “Tell me or I’ll shake Ginny until she tells me.”

“What?” Hermione asked laughing.

“Well, she must be nearly bursting,” said Ron. “Otherwise she’d still be here.”

“I think you’d better sit down,” said Hermione.

She poured tea for them. She carefully began telling him about the first letter, gauging his responses as she went. She didn’t want him to over-react. He seemed to be fine. Actually, he seemed to be as amused as Ginny, to Hermione’s annoyance.

“So, he sent you a novel-sized love letter?” Ron laughed.

“Illustrated, even,” Ginny piped up as she returned to the kitchen, grinning widely as she slipped the owls treats.

“Oh, come on, Hermione,” pleaded Ron. “I’ve got to see it.”

“No!” Hermione gasped. “Never! Don’t you dare!”

“Wonder where she keeps it?” Ginny mused.

“I’ll jinx it,” warned Hermione.

“Fine then,” said Ron. Ginny poured herself a cup of tea and left the room again.

“What did you tell him?” Ron asked.

“Whatever do you mean?” Hermione asked.

“I mean, you still have that crease between your eyes,” Ron quirked an eyebrow at her. “Nice necklace.”

“Thanks,” said Hermione, turning pink. She tucked the chain under her jumper.

She went on to tell him about her letter and Severus’ reply.

“Then the idiotic git wanted to put lepidolite in the stasis potion,” said Hermione angrily.

“What did you do?” Ron asked, afraid he knew the answer.

“I owled him telling him if he was worth his salt he’d know more about the ingredients he was working with,” Hermione said haughtily.

“Hope you remembered to thank him,” Ron chuckled.

“Of course I did,” Hermione said, annoyed.

“What a letter that must’ve been,” Ron said, his shoulders shaking. “Ginny know about the necklace?”

“Not exactly,” said Hermione awkwardly.

“Well, I’m not going to tell her,” said Ron. Hermione was surprised.

“Really?” Hermione asked.

“This is too good,” Ron said, grinning. “I’m going to keep this one.”

“Gee, thanks,” Hermione said sarcastically.

“How you explaining all the owls?” Ron asked, curiously.

“We’re still working on the stasis potion,” Hermione said.

“Freaks in love,” Ron shook his head. “What’s this letter say?”

“I’m not going to show you,” Hermione said frantically, reaching for her wand.

“Hold on,” Ron said laughing and holding both hands up. “You read it and edit as you see fit.”

“You think this whole thing is funny, don’t you?” Hermione glared as she ripped the envelope open. A blue mist smelling of cake wafted out. A small blue pouch landed on the table.

“Oh, yes,” said Ron. “Nearly as good as when you had a tail.”

“Oops,” Hermione said, reading the letter. She passed it to Ron.

“You sure?” Ron asked.

“I’m sure,” Hermione said. She leaned back and grabbed a tin of biscuits from the counter behind her. She opened it and Ron reached for one.

Dearest Hermione,

Perhaps you should read your books more thoroughly. More to the point, the publishing information. The tome you suggested to me has been out of print for a few hundred years. How in blazes did you get a copy? I would very much like to see it.

Yours,

Severus

“Such passionate letters,” said Ron, his eyebrows raised. “I don’t know how you contain yourself.”

“Oh, shut up,” Hermione snapped as she grabbed her letter back. “I don’t even know why I told you.”

“Because you had to tell someone and Ginny wouldn’t ever you alone,” said Ron, grinning and folding his hands behind his head.

“Probably,” said Hermione opening the pouch. She tipped it and a bracelet fell out.

“Woah,” Ron said and reached for it.

“Hang on,” said Hermione, wanting to take a look at it.

It looked like it was made of silver or steel. Small wide links were set with pyramid cut sapphires. She handed it to Ron.

“I think this is one of the coolest things I’ve ever seen,” Ron said as he undid the clasp. He jokingly tried to put it on. “Do you think it’s me?”

“Kind of punk-ish, don’t you think?” Hermione grinned as he handed it back to her.

“Tonks is going to be insanely jealous,” Ron said as he helped her put it on. “Don’t forget to enchant it before you bathe.”

“I won’t,” Hermione said. “I wonder what made him choose this one?”

“You did what?” Severus said, trying not to yell at the little elf.

“Tinky knows Master is courting Miss,” said Tinky proudly. “So Tinky picked out a gift a lady of her background and age would like. She put it in Masters last letter.”

Severus prayed it wasn’t a pair of socks.

“What was it?” Severus asked slowly.

Tinky pulled out a piece of grimy paper from her ‘uniform.’ Severus reached out and snatched it from her. He unfolded it and found himself looking at a page torn from a catalog.

It certainly was modern. Probably not something he would have picked out, but she was muggle-born. It might be something popular among them.

“Fine,” said Severus curtly. “But please let me choose them in the future.”

The little elf’s face began to fall.

“It’s more personal that way,” Severus said hastily.

The elf beamed and took the page back. She carefully folded it and tucked it away.

“Tinky will bring Master the whole catalog,” Tinky squeaked happily.

“Thank you,” said Severus weakly. He mused that if it were not for Hermione he would normally never have this much patience with a house elf. “That would be ideal.”

AN: The Snapes dye their owls black so they won’t be seen flying at night. I do not suggest you dye any living creature’s feathers/hair besides yours ;)

Heavenly Angel Chapter 6

Severus started as a large bundle thudded in front of him at breakfast. Caesar looked annoyed and exhausted. It looked as if Pigwidgeon was supposed to be helping him with his load, but Caesar had ended up carrying the tiny owl.

“What on earth is that?” Severus thundered at the bird, as if he could answer.

Caesar looked annoyed and hooted his mood at Severus.

Severus unsnarled Caesar and Pigwidgeon from their harnesses. Who taught the girl to tie knots, anyway? This was ridiculous. After a bit of leverage with his butter knife he released the owls and they flittered off to the small owlery.

Severus swept the owl accessories to the floor with a loud slap of leather on stone. The package took up most of the table. If she hadn’t enchanted it with a weight reduction charm the owls might not have ever made it out of her garden.

He tore the package open curiously, a piece of toast in his hand. When he saw what it was he nearly choked his toast out.

O’Brien’s Encyclopedia of Minerals stared up at him. How dare she ship such a precious item about like a copy of the Quibbler? Had the woman lost her mind?

Severus flicked his wand at the book, cleaning it of all debris and repairing any signs of age. Filthy. Had she no shame?

He quickly finished his breakfast and floated the book to his laboratory.

With thin cotton gloves he reverently opened the book. An inscription read: To Hermione, A most promising student. Best wishes, Professor Minerva McGonagall.

It had been written it! Severus practically stamped in place in frustration. He balled up his hands tightly and suppressed the desire to bellow at people that weren’t present.

Minerva probably had no idea of its value. Her father’s library was quite extensive, rumored to take up an entire wing of the McGonagall estate; she probably just picked up an advanced thick tome and deemed it appropriate for the Head Girl when her time at Hogwarts had ended. Minerva had never been one for potions.

Hermione was talking with Ginny in their garden when she saw Caesar soar overhead and dip into the kitchen window.

“Ask him if he knows of a use for rosemary,” said Ginny as Hermione headed for the house. “Or if he wants any.”

“Will do,” said Hermione, her sandals making a slapping sound as they climbed red brick stairs leading to the back of the cottage she shared with Ginny. The screen door slammed behind her and Hermione left the interior door open.

Ginny shook her head and smirked. How long was Hermione going to think she hadn’t figured it out?

Dear Hermione,

('Uh oh,’ thought Hermione. What happened to ‘dearest?')

Your book has been most helpful in my research. If I had had it several months ago it would have saved us a lot of time.

(Bugger.)

You had no way of knowing this, but I would be interested in what other tomes you possess. They could prove useful.

(At least he wasn’t furious.)

However, I was disgusted to see the book in such an atrocious state. A valuable tome such as O’Brien’s should be handled with the greatest care. Dirt. Bits of dust. Cat hair. I can’t imagine Madame Pince allowing you to enter the library a second time if your school books had been returned in such a state. You should be ashamed of your disregard for a treasure.

(Ashamed? That was a bit harsh, but her cheeks grew hot anyway. What had McGonagall given her?)

Please send a list of other books you are abusing.

(For crying out loud…)

Yours,

Severus

Hermione made a face at the letter and didn’t bother to hide it when Ginny walked in. A small basket of herbs swung in one of her hands. A small pair of scissors hung in a sheath by her side.

“What does Grouchy have to say?” Ginny asked. Caesar hooted at her and she scratched him behind his ear tufts.

Ginny set the herbs down and washed her hands. As she opened the ice box and grabbed a dressed chicken, Hermione stuffed the letter back into the envelope. Ginny placed the chicken in a clay dish on the kitchen table and motioned at the herbs.

“He was impressed with the book,” Hermione said.

Ginny coughed out a peculiar sound that sounded like a choked laugh. She was completely convinced the staggering owls were never going to make it.

“Although he seems to think my literary hygiene has something to be desired,” Hermione said, annoyed. She tucked the envelope into her robes.

“What?” Ginny asked, confused. She waved her wand and a small dish of peeled potatoes cubed themselves and floated into the dish with her chicken.

Hermione washed the herbs in the basket and began chopping then finely.

“He said the book was a treasure and I should be ashamed because it was filthy,” Hermione muttered.

“That’s not like you,” said Ginny, frowning. “Was it damaged on the way?”

“Doubt it,” said Hermione. “Apparently it’s really valuable. Really, really valuable.”

“How valuable?” Ginny asked, turning to face Hermione’s back at the basin.

“Like Sell-the-Soul-of-Your-Firstborn valuable,” Hermione winced. “I had no idea.”

“Where did you get it?” Ginny squealed.

“McGonagall gave it to me when I left Hogwarts,” Hermione said as she turned around, her eyes open in wide-eyed innocence. “She probably had no idea.”

“You going to tell her?” Ginny asked, an eyebrow cocked. She looked uncannily like Molly for an instant.

“Of course,” Hermione said. She hadn’t really thought about it, but it really was the right thing to do. Good. A second reason to justify her stationary set. “After I get it back so I can return it if she asks.”

Ginny watched Hermione tuck the herbs in and around the chicken. Hermione placed the lid on the dish and Ginny opened the oven for her.

“Just making sure,” said Ginny, smiling.

Heavenly Angel Chapter 7

Severus sat enjoying an afternoon cup of tea on his veranda when Caesar fluttered to his outdoor perch and hooted triumphantly.

“Is everything a great accomplishment for you?” Severus asked as he sipped at his cup.

The owl cocked his head to one side and hooted firmly.

Severus shrugged and retrieved the letter and small parcel from him. This time the stationary was neatly labeled and sealed.

Severus,

Enclosed is a list of books from my library. I’m afraid you’ll find most of the titles are fairly common.

I apologize for the condition of the mineral book. Once again, I had no idea of its value.

Perhaps you could tell me the proper way to care for a book of such value.

Yours,

Hermione

P.S. Would you have a use for a large amount of rosemary? A growth charm of Ginny’s went a bit awry.

Severus was unsure if the last line was meant to have a sarcastic tone or not. He suspected it did.

He tore open the small parcel to find a compacted bundle of rosemary. Severus smiled and rubbed a black orb in a ring weighing down a stack of parchments on his glass table. It glowed slightly and he stopped and sat down, smiling slightly at the list of books she had enclosed.

Not a bad selection. He nodded at a few titles and quirked the corner of his mouth at a few. There were a few he had never heard of before. Odd.

“Is Master needing assistance?” Tinky squeaked from somewhere near his feet. She certainly was quiet.

“Miss has sent a gift,” said Severus handing Tinky the bundle of rosemary. “Please take it to the kitchens.”

“This is high quality,” said the little elf happily as she sniffed the contents of the bundle. “Dinner will be delicious.”

“Good,” said Severus, making a mental note to tell Hermione about the quality of the herbs. “Thank you. Would the estate benefit from a bulk amount?”

“Master?” Tinky asked, looking at him quizzically.

“It seems Miss Weasley had a growth charm go a bit out of control,” said Severus trying to look as if he was studying Hermione’s inventory list. “We have access to a great deal of it.”

“Whatever Miss is willing to give will be used,” promised Tinky. “Rosemary has many uses even when dried.”

“Splendid,” said Severus. “I will owl her shortly.”

“Tinky would suggest sending Aristotle instead of Caesar,” Tinky said as she bowed slightly. “Caesar has been working very hard lately.”

Severus looked at Caesar. He did look a bit lethargic, but would never be one to turn down an assignment. Severus felt a little guilty about not noticing.

“Of course,” said Severus, walking to the perch and scratching the owl. “His performance has been commendable.”

Caesar hooted softly and nipped at Severus’ fingers. He was rarely affectionate, but Severus didn’t complement him much. If he could have swaggered with pride, Severus suspected he might.

“Hello, Aristotle,” Ginny said conversationally to a small black owl the size of Pigwidgeon. “Here for Hermione?”

Ginny wiped her hands on her apron, her hands covered with scented oil. She had gotten a few ideas from a muggle book of Hermiones and decided to experiment with some bath luxuries.

“Hello, Ron!” Hermione’s muffled voice called out from a few rooms away.

“I’m talking to an owl,” Ginny called to Hermione. “He’s not here yet.”

Hermione walked to the kitchen as Ginny unfastened the scroll from around Aristotle’s neck.

“False alarm,” said Ginny. “It’s for me.”

Hermione felt apprehensive. It was probably about the herbs, but it might mention her. Then Ginny would know and Hermione wasn’t really sure what there was to know. She straightened her spine and steeled herself for the worst.

She jumped at a knock at the back door. Ginny set the scroll down and answered it. Hermione relaxed slightly but her eyes stayed on the scroll, now sitting on the kitchen table.

“Luna!” Ginny exclaimed happily.

Hermione perked up as Luna climbed up the step into the cottage, Ginny holding her hand and Ron placing a hand on the small of her back.

“You’d think I was the first witch to conceive,” Luna said, looking slightly annoyed. Hermione stifled a laugh. “Wow, it smells nice in here.”

“Experimenting,” said Ginny gesturing to the table. She and Luna walked over to the small bottles and bowls and Ginny began explaining what she was trying to do.

“How’s Cranky?” Ron asked Hermione under his breath as he hugged her hello.

“He’s a bastard,” Hermione scowled, thinking of his last letter and how he had replied to Ginny and not her.

“Already?” Ron asked chuckling and breaking their embrace.

Hermione shrugged and turned to Luna and Ginny. Ginny’s back was to Hermione and Luna was facing her, sniffing the contents of a small bottle Ginny was holding. She smiled slightly at Hermione over Ginny’s shoulder.

“Doesn’t seem to think much of my book handling,” said Hermione, still annoyed.

Ron shook his head grinning.

“What is so funny?” Hermione asked, as quietly as she could.

“Freaks,” he stated simply as his smile widened. She smacked him on the arm.

“What are you two doing?” Ginny asked, turning around.

“Beating each other up,” said Ron as if this were a perfectly acceptable answer. He walked over to his sister and kissed her cheek. “Now it’s your turn.”

“Oh goody,” said Ginny smacking him lightly on the arm.

“I can’t believe your mother decided to have seven of you,” Luna said, shaking her head.

“Neither can we,” said Ron.

“But we’re mighty glad she did,” said Ginny reaching out to touch Luna’s stomach. She was rewarded with a tiny kick. Luna winced slightly.

“Is it really that bad?” Ginny grimaced.

“It gets tiring,” said Luna.

“You should go sit in the parlor,” said Ron. “Hermione and I will bring tea.”

“It takes two to make tea?” Hermione asked and was rewarded with Ron’s foot on hers. She was wearing sandals and bit the inside of her bottom lip so she didn’t cry out. She pinched him on the lower back and he quickly moved.

“Excellent idea,” said Ginny, completely oblivious. Luna smiled slightly.

Ginny shuffled her sister-in-law into the parlor talking about babies and the adorable clothing she had seen on her last trip to Diagon Alley.

“You told Luna!” Hermione accused Ron once Ginny and Luna were out of earshot.

“She’s my wife,” Ron said holding both hands up. “Can’t keep a secret from my wife!”

Hermione thought for a moment and nodded reluctantly.

“Fair enough,” she said and reached for a wooden box full of tea bags.

Ron filled a black angular tea pot with water. Hermione placed a few tea bags in it and flicked at it with her wand. Steam began trickling out of the spout. He placed it on a black mirror polished tray and went to the cupboard with biscuits in it.

“You tell her everything?” Hermione asked, a bit unbelieving.

“She’s my wife,” said Ron.

“Astronomy tower Seventh Year?” Hermione challenged.

“Did it herself with Marcus O’Grady her Sixth Year,” Ron shot back with a firm nod.

Hermione found herself laughing. She leaned back, halfway sitting on the counter and looked at Ron. Ron placed the biscuits on the tray and folded his arms.

“What?” Ron asked.

“We thought we were so clever,” said Hermione.

“Apparently we were taking part in a long Hogwarts tradition,” Ron said, shaking his head. His eyes fell on the scroll to Ginny and he turned his head slightly. “Isn’t that Snape’s writing?”

“Yes,” said Hermione.

“Why is it to Ginny?”

“I assume it’s about the rosemary.”

“Is it about anything else?”

“How would I know? Does it look opened to you?”

“Well then,” said Ron as he reached for it.

“What are you doing?” Hermione hissed.

“Snooping,” said Ron as he broke the seal.

“You can’t do that!” Hermione said, her eyebrows raised.

“Of course I can,” Ron said as he read the letter. He rolled it back up, pointed his wand at it and said: “Repairo.”

Hermione tried not to laugh out loud and gave him a shocked look.

“Have you no shame?” Hermione choked out.

“Nope,” said Ron, a satisfied look on his face.

“Well?” Hermione asked.

“Well what?” Ron asked innocently, selecting teacups and placing them on the tray.

“You know perfectly well what,” Hermione said, lowering her eyebrows and fingering her wand meaningfully.

“He thanked her for the rosemary and says the house elves will take all they can get,” Ron said shaking his head. “He also gave her the name of an apothecary in Hogsmede that might want to take some off her hands. You are paranoid, you know.”

Hermione felt her shoulders relax. He was right. She let out a tired laugh.

“You’re right,” Hermione said. “Don’t know why I’m being so silly. Come on, they’re waiting.”

Ron shook his head and smiled at her back as she left the kitchen. He picked the tray up and followed her to the parlor. She was better off not knowing the rest of it.

He didn’t have to tell her anything. He wasn’t married to her.

Miss Weasley,

Thank you for the rosemary. The house elves were delighted with the gift and assure me it has many household uses. It made an excellent addition to my kitchens.

(Ginny was stunned. Not only was he polite, he praised her. He must be feeling ill. Perhaps properties of the rosemary had been altered in some way.)

Mr. Darrien Oswold, a dear friend of mine and owner of Oswold’s Herbs in Hogsmede may be interested in some as well, if you’re interested in making some extra money. I assure you he is fair in his prices.

(Ginny raised her eyebrows. She had never thought of just selling it as it was. The effects of the spell had finally worn off, but she had ended up with seven good size bails of rosemary. Thank God she could unload it.)

I know you are Hermione’s dearest friend and your opinion matters to her. She has not written of any disapproval on your part, so I thank you for not attempting to end our courtship.

(Ginny choked on the tea she was drinking. She was sitting up in bed, reading her mail and newspapers before she went to sleep. She was glad she hadn’t been reading it in front of Hermione. Her eyes began devouring the rest of Snape’s correspondence.)

I know our age difference is considerable, but in our later wizarding years I don’t believe it will be seen as so strange.

My feeling towards Hermione are honorable. I have been hesitant in meeting with her physically because I don’t want to pressure her into what I have been told passes for muggle courting. I intend to treat her as a lady, always, and will observe the Wizarding traditions of courtship.

(Ginny rose and walked to her desk. Hermione’s parents would never understand. Ginny hoped she could convince him to tone it down a bit before he did anything rash. Good Lord, what a piece of gossip. Well, she certainly wasn’t going to tell anyone.)

I will owl Oswold if you’re interested in selling him any herbs. I don’t know how much rosemary, or anything else you have at your disposal.

~ Severus Snape

Ginny pulled out a quill and began scribbling on a piece of blank parchment.

What a mess.

AN: I am experimenting on how to write out the letters so they are easily understood on sites that disregard my italics. I apologize for any confusion.

This chapter is kind of strange because Hermione and Snape meet and I wanted to capture what they both were thinking, trying to get the feel of the nervousness that comes with the beginning of every courtship. I hope I pulled it off.

Feel free to rip the style, content, etc. of this chapter to pieces.

I imagine Hermione and Snape living a few hours apart, as the owl flies.

Thank you for all the reviews :)

Heavenly Angel Chapter 8

Snape woke to a sharp tapping at his window. He groggily rubbed his eyes and stretched. Aristotle was perched on the outside of his window ledge, pecking at the glass. It was barely light outside.

“I’m coming,” he slurred sleepily.

His feet hit the cold floor and he winced slightly. He hated to admit his years were catching up with him, especially as he started what could be known as the most foolish courtship in the history of the Snape line.

Snape walked stiffly to the window and opened it, letting both the small owl and a cold gust of wind in. He shivered and slammed the window shut.

The owl settled on a perch with a letter tied around his neck. Severus frowned slightly. That was a fast reply. Was the Weasley girl badly in need of money?

~~

Professor Snape,

I assure you I have all the Rosemary your estate and your friend could want. If you would owl him on my behalf it would be wonderful. Thank you.

In regards to Hermione,

*('Here it comes,’ thought Snape as he steeled himself for the worst.)*

she is my best friend. I will accept her choice of partner as she accepted my choices in the past.

However, your treatment of us and other students at Hogwarts was abysmal at best. I question your ability to treat Hermione as she deserves.

*(Snape winced. He deserved that.)*

Also, her parents might be a bit taken aback at the Old Customs. Please take into consideration their culture before contacting them.

*(So he was supposed to mount and impregnate Hermione before he met her father; then beg her father to let him live and, by the way: ‘Please can I marry your only daughter?’ Not bloody likely. Perhaps he was missing something and should get a second opinion.)*

Also, they may have heard unfavorable things about you in the past. Sorry, but you’ve no one but yourself to blame.

*(He inwardly chuckled. The girl did go on like Molly at times. She did have a point, though.)*

Hermione ‘has’ been unusually quiet about your courtship.

*(Snape frowned. He knew it was a bit surprising, but he didn’t expect her to turn mute about the subject. Was it a secret to her?

Was she ashamed to be courted by him? He knew he was a grumpy bastard, but he had not been intentionally rude to her in over a year.

Perhaps it was his age. He glanced at a mirror and studied his reflection. He looked the same as he had for years. A few youth potions a year and a swish of the wand to keep light hair away kept him feeling comfortable.

He could look younger, of course. Like all mothers, his kept a few locks of his hair from the infrequent times he cut it in his youth. He could whip up a polyjuice potion and be seventeen again. Whatever Hermione liked.)*

I suspect it is because she has not seen you in person. Your letters come frequently, but sometimes that is not enough. Often the tone of the writer and reader are different and I’m sure she would like to see the face of her suitor.

*(Snape reluctantly agreed. After the tone of his first letter he couldn’t blame Hermione for wanting to talk to him in person and find out his true intentions. It was time for his reply to her letter, anyway. Perhaps Miss Weasley could be a chaperone.)*

Owl me if you like. If you intend to keep her at a distance to preserve her reputation you might need someone close to her as a go-between before it turns into a disaster. Sometimes things kept at a distance stay that way.

*(Snape scowled. How inept did the Weasley girl think he was?

‘Ginny,’ he chided himself. He would have to stop thinking of her as just another Weasley spawn.

Then again, it would be helpful to have some assistance. Ginny knew Hermione well and didn’t seem too opposed to his advances towards her. Ginny was concerned, but didn’t threaten his life. This was a good thing, in his opinion.)*

Good Luck,

*(Luck? She thought he needed luck?!)*

Ginny Weasley

~~

Severus reached out and scratched Aristotle. He heard light rain start to fall outside his window and he looked out at the overcast sky, the day just starting.

“What a perfect start to a perfect day,” Snape sighed.

Hermione and Ginny were sitting at their kitchen table after lunch a few days later, labeling small bottles of scented oil when Aristotle fluttered through the window hooting triumphantly.

“So if it’s from Ari it’s for me; Caesar for you?” Ginny asked, glancing at the name on the letter.

“I guess,” Hermione said. What did they have so much to be talking about, anyway? When did she have time to write back to him?

‘Rosemary,’ Hermione assured herself. ‘Ron’s right, you’re paranoid.’

Ginny cracked the Snape seal and read quickly.

~~

Miss Weasley,

I floo’d Oswold this morning at his shop and he was pleased with the sample of rosemary I showed him. He is interested with how much you are willing to part with. He normally deals in large quantities.

*(No problems there.)*

Thank you for the advice about Hermione’s parents. I did not take into account that they may not be completely familiar with our customs. I will try my best.

*(That sounded vague. Ginny was a little worried.)*

~ Severus Snape

~~

Ginny frowned and turned the parchment over. That was it?

“What’s he have to say?” Hermione asked, trying to sound innocent.

“His friend is willing to take the rosemary off my hands,” Ginny said, pocketing the letter. “Sounds like most of it.”

“That’s good,” said Hermione, waving her wand and boxing the small bottles. She felt a little relieved.

“I think I might go later this afternoon,” Ginny mused. “Want to go to Hogsmede with me?”

“Sure,” said Hermione. “It’s been forever.”

“Great,” said Ginny grinning, she hoped not too widely.

She knew Ron had opened the scroll. He had caught one of his red hairs in the wax of the seal when he repaired it.

If Ron knew, Luna knew. They knew Ginny knew, but didn’t know she knew they knew. Ginny began developing headache thinking about it.

This was a great opportunity to create mass chaos. Her grin turned malicious as she turned from Hermione to give Aristotle a treat.

Snape was lucky she wasn’t vengeful.

Ready, willing and able to stir up a little trouble, perhaps.

Never vengeful.

Snape sat at his table at the Three Broomsticks, drumming his fingers impatiently. The Weasley girl was ten minutes late, so far. She had floo’d him after the arrival of his letter and had agreed to meet him. Perhaps if he worked up enough courage he could ask her to chaperone a meeting between him and Hermione. It was worth a try. What was the worst that could happen?

‘Ginny.’ Snape chided himself, absentmindedly.

The small brass bell above the door rang and Snape looked up to see Ginny Weasley entering the pub. He tried to force out a cordial, small smile but felt it freeze on his face as Hermione entered after her.

He felt his blood run cold. His heart gave such a pound he though his chest must have actually moved with its force. He prayed to wake up but nothing happened.

What if Hermione laughed at him? What if it was a big act of revenge for the way he had treated her and her friends in the past? What if he was as much a fool as he suspected he was?

His eyes met hers and he knew this was not the case. She looked shocked at his presence. Obviously she had not known he was going to be here, either. Underneath his discomfort he felt a bit relieved.

Snape remembered his manners and leaped to his feet. He bowed slightly and motioned for the young women to join him in the booth he had been waiting in.

“You first,” Ginny said to Hermione. “If he’s going by traditional courtship rules I have to sit between you.”

Snape was surprised at Ginny’s knowledge. He shot Ginny a questioning look, almost afraid to speak in Hermione’s presence. She gave him an innocent look and he turned to Hermione.

She looked radiant, in his opinion. Her curly hair was windswept and wild, a curl bobbing over her forehead; nearly touching the arch of one eyebrow. Her cheeks were slightly pink and her eyes down. She looked as if she didn’t know what to do with her hands.

The bracelet Tinky had sent her was around one wrist. It looked pleasing on her. If she was wearing the chain it was hidden under her lightweight salmon colored robes. The day was quite warm outside. Bare unpainted toes peeked out from under her robes. He wondered if she had remembered to charm her sandals to protect her feet.

“Oh,” said Hermione, turning a deeper red.

‘Good Lord,’ Hermione thought embarrassed. ‘I look frightful.’

The day was unusually warm, but windy. Hermione had gotten too warm for comfort and removed her sleeves an hour ago. Her skin felt damp and she knew her hair looked like a whirlwind hit it. She nervously hoped she didn’t smell.

Ginny could have at least warned her. Hermione was a little annoyed. What else had that letter said that Ron hadn’t told her? She mentally kicked herself for not reading the letter herself. Ron probably thought the whole thing was hysterical.

Snape took Hermione’s hand, hoping she wouldn’t slap him, and kissed the back of it gently.

“You look lovely,” Snape said.

“Thanks,” Hermione muttered, hoping he wasn’t being sarcastic. She slid into the booth, followed by Ginny. Snape slid in on the other side of Ginny.

“I would not think you would be familiar with the Old Customs,” Snape said to Ginny.

Hopefully he didn’t look as if he wanted to strangle her. He certainly wanted to.

“I do have parents, you know,” Ginny said, looking lightly amused. “Mum’s always kept a diary.”

Snape frowned. Diaries were dangerous things. They had a habit of popping up at the most inappropriate times. Perhaps she let them read the old ones and had the recent ones hidden. He hoped.

“So what are the Old Customs?” Hermione asked, her voice sounding slightly strained. Her eyes met Snapes for an instant and were gone.

‘Lords,’ Snape thought, slightly distressed. ‘The girl looks terrified. I’ve worked by her side for three years and now she’s acting like a First Year again.’

Snape straightened his spine, swallowed his pride and cast a silencing charm on the booth.

“Ginny, you are sworn to secrecy as a chaperone,” Snape said firmly.

“Of course,” Ginny said. “I haven’t told anyone, honest. It’s not my place.”

Severus felt a little better. The Weasleys were a silly lot, but they seemed to have a deep sense of honor. He didn’t know much about Ginny, but he knew her parents and older brothers from their work in the Order.

Percy was an odd one, but there’s one in every family, Snape supposed.

“Hermione,” Snape began, reaching out for the back of Hermione’s hand that was resting on the table, crossing in front of Ginny, who leaned back, grinning like a Cheshire cat. “I know my first letter to you was barbaric, uncivilized-”

“Kinky,” Ginny added.

Snape shot her a fierce look.

“She ripped it out of my hands,” Hermione blurted out. “I couldn’t stop her.”

“That wasn’t for you!” Snape bellowed, withdrawing his hand from Hermiones and fuming at Ginny. What a fool he was. He crossed his arms tightly.

He noticed a small tear in his sleeve. If he had warning he would have dressed a little better. Brought a courting gift. Something.

“She just kept staring at it,” Ginny said, innocently. “I swear she didn’t even blink. I didn’t know what it was. I thought it was horrible news and took it from her. You should put a warning label on things like that.” She quirked a corner of her mouth at him.

Severus felt his cheeks flame. This was not the way he imagined his day.

“Well,” Snape said, shooting Ginny a glare. “I am terribly sorry.”

His eyes went to Hermione and softened.

“I assure you it is not typical behavior for me.”

“Too bad,” Hermione heard herself say softly.

Heavens, did she really just say that? She glanced up to see Snape looking at her dumbfounded. Her cheeks felt like they were aflame.

“You know what?” Ginny said, sounding like she was trying not to laugh. “I need a Butterbeer. Anyone else want one?”

“Yes,” Snape and Hermione said together, not looking from each other.

Snape rose and Ginny left them, leaving her bag of shopping between them. Ginny gave Snape a meaningful look and walked to the bar.

Hermione knew Ginny could move at the pace of a wounded snail if she wanted to. Hermione suspected this was going to be one of those times. Thankfully, Madame Rosmerta was passing by with a tray full of the amber bottles and thunked two on the table.

Snape reached out and put his hand on the back of Hermione’s again. He watched as she looked up nervously and smiled, almost painfully at him at him.

Was she going to reject him? After seeing him she realized what she was doing and changed her mind, Snape reasoned. He should have expected it. He hoped she wouldn’t be cruel. He wished she would say something.

“I’m sorry I look a fright,” Hermione blurted out. She nearly wanted to kick herself. What a stupid thing to say. By the way Snape was looking at her he must agree.

“What?” Severus choked back a mad laugh of relief. Apparently, no matter how intelligent, how well learned, how enchanting she was, she was still a woman and concerned with her appearance. His mother had been the same way and she had been beautiful.

‘Silly girl,’ he thought fondly, biting his tongue so he didn’t voice it.

“I had no idea,” Hermione said. He was laughing at her. She tried to catch a reflection of herself in anything she could to no avail. The only thing reflective was the Butterbeer bottle and it didn’t work very well. “I mean I’ve been bottling oil all day and haven’t even changed my robes.”

“Oil?” Snape asked, looking confused.

“Scented oil,” Hermione thought she was babbling, but couldn’t stop herself. “From the rosemary. We have bails of it. Had to do something or build a storage area in the yard.”

“First, you have never looked more radiant,” Snape said. “If the scent you and Miss Wea- Ginny,” he carefully corrected himself, “are radiating is an example of your work, you have done well. It is quite pleasing.”

He prayed he didn’t sound as if he wasn’t groveling at her feet, although he probably would if she asked. Gods, he never dreamed an impudent know-it-all could reduce him to this. He tried to recall what exactly he had written in that cursed letter. She may already know what lengths he was willing to go to in order to win her heart. How embarrassing.

“Thank you,” Hermione said, smiling. “The recipe was out of a muggle book. It was quite simple.”

“Is it on the list you gave me?” Snape asked.

“Yes,” Hermione said, her face turning to an expression of annoyance.

She had forgotten all about his rude letter. She fought the urge to pull her hand out from under his. It was a treasure and a shock to him. She would have been a little unreasonable if someone had done that to her. She tried to reason with herself before she said something and blew it.

“I also apologize for my last letter,” Snape said, wincing slightly. Hermione suspected he didn’t apologize often. “I may have overreacted slightly.”

“No more than me with the lepidolite,” Hermione quirked a corner of her mouth at him. She shivered a little as he scooted closer to Ginny’s shopping bag.

“I have kept that letter,” Snape declared. “I was amazed at your ability to shout without the use of a howler.”

Hermione looked at him. He quirked an eyebrow at her as if impressed. He was obviously amused.

Hermione chuckled and reached for her Butterbeer with her free hand. Snape released her hand and reached for his own bottle.

“Second,” Snape went on as if he had never left his original subject. “You have bails?“

AN: Obviously, Severus has a bit of a skewed idea of muggle life.

To all who thought I said ‘balls,’ you are all nuts and need glasses. ::snicker::

Heavenly Angel Chapter 9

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Ginny appeared in the fireplace of her parlor and made a run for it. She tripped over a small stool and swore, but tried not to let it slow her down.

She was barely out of the room before Hermione popped into the fireplace in a burst of green flame.

“I’m going to kill you!” Hermione roared and started off after the sound of Ginny’s pounding feet. She heard Ginny let out a wicked cackle and slam the door to her room.

There was no getting to her now, the door had surely been magically reinforced.

Hermione growled in frustration and headed for the kitchen.

She was trying to see how much noise she could possibly make while trying to make a cup of tea when the back door banged open and Ron walked in. She was so startled she dropped her teacup and it shattered on the floor.

“Repairo,” Ron said, pointing his wand at the shards of porcelain. They whisked back together and Hermione picked up her restored teacup. “Jumpy?”

“What did that letter say?” Hermione narrowed her eyes at Ron.

“I think I hear Luna calling me,” lied Ron as he tried to back out of the door. Unfortunately, it wasn’t as close as he thought it was.

“You hold it right there,” said Hermione whipping out her wand and hitting him with a leg-locker curse.

Ron yelped as he fell backwards to the floor and he fumbled with his own wand, trying to remove the curse.

“Hermione,” Ron pleaded as she held him at wand point, a scowl plastered across her face. “For crying out loud. He said his intentions to you were honorable and he thanked Ginny for not interfering.”

Hermione looked at him as if she expected him to continue.

“Besides the bit about rosemary, that was it,” Ron said, holding his hands above his head, from his position on the floor. She swished her wand and removed the curse.

“You couldn’t keep it from her forever,” said Ron. “I found out with a bit of prodding and I don’t even live here.”

Hermione sighed.

“I guess you’re right,” Hermione said, turning back to her tea.

Momentarily she had a cup for both her and Ron, who had picked himself off the floor and had slid into a chair near the kitchen table. He took the cup from her with a nod and rubbed a bump on his head.

“Sorry,” Hermione said, grinning into her cup.

“Apologies don’t count if you don’t mean it,” said Ginny, grinning mischievously as she entered the kitchen. Hermione scowled at her, most of her frustration already taken out on Ron.

“Bugger off,” Hermione muttered as she sipped at her tea. Both Weasley’s burst out laughing.

“Have you at least figured out what’s expected of you under the Old Customs?” Ron laughed.

“Not a lot,” Hermione admitted. “Except for looking pretty, making conversation, and being polite.”

“That’s pretty much it,” Ron said. “At least on your end.”

“Is Snape really that well off?” Ginny asked, her face screwed up. “It can really get expensive, courting under the Old Ways.”

“He’s well off,” Hermione said. “I doubt a few presents will break him.”

“I don’t think you have any idea,” said Ron, looking a bit concerned.

“I think we’ll find out soon enough,” Ginny said, getting a cup of tea for herself. “You might want to prepare your parents.”

“I haven’t figured out how to tell them,” Hermione admitted. “It might be a bit of a shock.”

“Figure it out,” said Ron. “Trust me.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Daniel Granger was enjoying the newspaper in the comfort of his living room when there was a knock at the door. Dark wood paneling covered the cozy room he was in and three soft, dark colored chairs sat near a small fireplace. A small window was letting in what was left of the sitting sun and Daniel would probably be closing the curtains within the hour. His leather slippers slid over the full green carpet covering the floor of the room as he rose. His reading glasses perched on his nose and his favorite was clenched in his teeth, the sweet small of pipe tobacco filling the den air.

“I’ll get it, Dear,” Jane Grangers voice called out. She would have let him get if her hands were full. That meant the chicken was in the oven and the countdown to dinner had begun.

She had approached middle age well. She had gotten a bit rounder; her face capable of more emotion, but her long tangle of curls had stayed. Most days, like today she had it braided to keep it from bothering her.

Mr. Granger settled back down in his chair and looked up to see his wife showing Severus Snape in. Mr. Granger and Snape had met during Hermione’s work in the Order.

Mr. Granger’s dark brown hair had yet to show any signs of graying. His dark brown eyes crinkled at the corners as Snape walked in.

As his student, Hermione didn’t like Snape, although she claimed he was very efficient. When they had worked in the Order together she had called him competent. Sometimes Mr. Granger wondered who was the professor and who was the student.

“Sir,” Snape began with a short bow. Mr. Granger wondered what on earth was with the formality. He wondered if something had happened to Hermione. He took off his glasses and folded his paper.

“Has something happened?” Mr. Granger blurted out. He probably should not have done it in the presence of his wife, from the stricken look on her face.

“No, Sir,” Snape said, looking a little taken aback. What on earth was wrong with the man? “Hermione is fine. I saw her this afternoon.”

“Oh,” said Mr. Granger, settling his nerves a little. “Well, good then.”

“How can we help you, Professor Snape?” Mrs. Granger asked politely. “Would you like something to drink?”

“No, thank you,” said Snape automatically, afterwards thinking a glass of water might be nice.

“I’d like some tea,” said Mr. Granger, hopefully. He was supposed to be cutting back on his caffeine intake, but hoped his wife would make an exception since they had company.

“That’s nice,” Mrs. Granger said as she walked out of the room. Well, that answered that. Daniel shot her an annoyed look.

“Well, have a seat,” Mr. Granger said to Snape, motioning to a chair near him.

“Thank you,” said Snape, perching on the very edge of the chair. He reached into his cloak and brought out a long thin box. “This is for you, Sir.”

“Really?” Mr. Granger asked, reaching for the box. He was quite fond of wizarding things.

He opened the box and he gaped at the contents. Shining in a rainbow of metallic colors was a complete dental set. In titanium.

“Good Lord,” Mr. Granger said as her reached for a pick and examined it, taking his glasses off and squinting at it. “These are incredible.”

Snape felt a little relieved. One present down, one to go. Perhaps her mother would be just as pleased and the whole thing would be done easily.

Mrs. Granger walked back into the den, wheeling a tea service, to Mr. Granger’s delight. He noticed the tea packets were non-caffeinated and there was no sugar. He suspected the milk was non-fat. He made a face at her, but she ignored him.

“What are those?” Mrs. Granger asked, peering at the new tools.

“Look at this,” Mr. Granger said, passing the box to her. “Ever seen anything like it?”

“They’re beautiful,” Mrs. Granger said and was surprised to see Snape pulling another box out of his robes and handing it to her.

She handed the tools back to Mr. Granger and let him serve tea as she opened her box.

Mr. Granger watched lights dance off her face as light was reflected out of the box. Her face showed surprise as she carefully reached in. She brought out a light colored metal necklace that jingled as she lifted it. By the sounds in the box, there were other pieces of jewelry to compliment it.

“Thank you,” Mrs. Granger breathed. “But I have to ask, what’s the occasion?”

Snape felt the blood drain out of his face. It was now or never.

He took a deep breath.

Then he fainted.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Snape began thinking something was wrong, even as he regained consciousness. He tried to force his fingers to his wand, but it didn’t seem to be on him. He froze and listened for any sound in the room. This could be very bad. What had hit him?

“I think he’s coming around,” he heard a familiar voice say.

“About time,” he heard another voice snigger. “I thought we might have to take him to St. Mungo’s.”

Snape relaxed. Whoever these people were, they seemed to be interested in keeping him well and alive. His eyelids fluttered open and he saw Ginny and Ron Weasley watching him.

“Where am I?” Snape asked, rubbing his head.

“Hermione’s old bedroom in her parent’s house,” Ron said. “Drink some water.”

Snape took a glass of water from Ginny and sipped at it. He winced a little and looked at his surroundings. A poster of Viktor Krum scowled at him. Someone had drawn daisies coming out of his ears and a peace sign on his forehead. He blinked to make sure his eyes were working properly. Apparently they were.

The room seemed to be decorated in white with pastel accents. He felt as if he were trapped inside an Easter egg.

“What hit me?” Snape asked. Perhaps it was all an illusion.

“The floor,” said Ginny. He wondered how long she had planned to say that and how long it had taken her to think of it. He hoped she didn’t think she was too terribly clever.

“The floor,” he said evenly. Not an illusion.

“Hermione’s mum asked you what the presents were for and you fainted,” Ron said, looking a little embarrassed.

Snape shot him a severe look.

“You did,” Hermione’s voice drifted in behind the Weasleys. She looked at Snape over Ron’s shoulder. “You’re lucky mum had an owl handy. She didn’t know if she should take you to a muggle hospital and had to get a hold of us.”

“How fortunate,” Snape said dryly. What an impression. For a moment he considered hitting them all with a memory charm.

“You’re lucky,” said Ron. “Hermione explained everything to her parents and you don’t even have to.”

“Did she now?” Snape noticed Hermione had disappeared as fast as she had appeared.

“Well, they were a bit confused,” Ginny said gently. “You showed up unannounced, with presents, and proceeded to faint at their feet when confronted with tea. We had to tell them something.”

“Jane really likes the jewelry, by the way,” said Ron. “I think you may have already won her over.”

Snape felt a bit better, although still uncomfortable. His jacket and cape had been removed; his cuffs and collar had been unbuttoned. He felt practically naked in just his shirt, vest, and trousers.

“I’m still alive so I suspect she restrained Hermione’s father,” Snape said, flinging the pink fluffy coverlet off him. He scowled at the delicate white lace edging, as if it were contagious.

“Don’t you dare move,” Mrs. Granger insisted as she pushed her way into the room, carrying a small tray of tea and water crackers. “You’ve had a nasty fall and aren’t going to have a repeat performance.”

Snape blinked. So that was where Hermione got her stubborn streak. He continued sitting on the edge of the bed, but had no intention of climbing back in.

“Thank you,” he said, displeased at how sheepish he sounded. She sat the tray on his lap and made a face at him.

“You look terribly pale,” she went on.

“How can you tell?” Ron muttered and was rewarded with a sharp elbow jab from his sister.

Snape sipped delicately from the ceramic mug and looked at Mrs. Granger. He had no idea what she had been told, but she didn’t look hostile, in his opinion.

Everyone else left the room and he began to feel nervous. He was alone with his perspective mother-in-law. This could be worse than Hermione’s father.

“Our daughter tells us you want to date her,” Mrs. Granger said, sitting in a white wicker chair near the bed.

Severus reached for a water cracker and chewed it thoughtfully.

“I think ‘courting’ would be a more appropriate word,” said Snape. “But yes, I am romantically interested in your daughter.”

“Ginny and Ron tell us the Wizarding Rules are very strict,” Mrs. Granger said, folding her hands.

“I don’t think so,” Snape said. “I may see her with a chaperone. Gifts are permissible, as long as she is comfortable. Presents for her family. If matrimony is desired, I will supply copies of my financial records to prove myself as a provider.”

“Doesn’t that seem a bit stoic to you?” Mrs. Granger asked. “You initiated this. You have said the desired outcome is marriage. Why have you chosen Hermione?”

Snape felt his cheeks flame. He hadn’t even voiced his feelings to Hermione while sober. He wasn’t sure he wanted to do it with her mother.

Snape looked into eyes much like Hermione’s. They bore into him, striking him with their penetrating gaze. She was a few years older than him, at the most. He shifted uncomfortably.

“She’s intelligent,” Snape began. “She knows how to apply her intelligence. Her conversation is never tedious. She doesn’t expect entertainment of anyone in her presence. She can amuse herself.”

Mrs. Granger reached out and took a cracker, but continued listening. What was he going to have to tell this woman?

“Her passion for learning is amazing,” Snape said wistfully. “She practically devours text.”

“None of her other suitors seemed to be able to treat her with the respect and dignity she deserved,” he said with a sniff. Mrs. Granger raised an eyebrow at him.

Severus Snape swallowed his pride and prayed he wasn’t too much of a fool.

“Your daughter is beautiful,” Snape said, relaxing his posture and looking Hermione’s mother in the eye. “I wanted it to be clear that I was not just interested in her physical being, but her entire person.”

“It is ultimately her decision and not ours,” Mrs. Granger said.

“I know,” Snape said. “I’m not asking for an endorsement. Just a chance.”

“Well,” Mrs. Granger said, giving him a small smile. “The whole thing seems rather sterile. I hope you understand my concern.”

“We are allowed written correspondence,” Snape said slowly. “Those letters are preferably private.” He felt heat creeping up his neck. He tried to force it down. “Although if they disturb her the whole thing is called off and I am forbidden to contact her.”

“You write dirty letters to each other?” Mrs. Granger looked taken a bit aback.

“Just because they’re private doesn’t mean they’re dirty,” Snape said, visibly startled. “They’re supposed to serve the purpose of getting to know one another, without the stress of answering questions immediately, or gauging the other person’s reaction. You find out things honestly.”

Mrs. Granger fixed him a look as if he expected to elaborate. He reached for his wand; it was sitting on the bedside table. He waved it and a cup of tea matching his appeared. He floated it to Mrs. Granger.

“Future plans. Goals. Anecdotes,” Snape listed. What did the woman want to know, exactly?

“Witches and Wizards live a great deal longer than normal people,” Mrs. Granger commented, taking the tea. Snape tried not to wince. There was nothing abnormal about him. Or Hermione, for that matter.

“Yes,” Snape said nervously.

He wondered where she was going with this. Perhaps she was going to point out that when their ages got to be three digits, the age gap wouldn’t be so pronounced.

“She could be married for over a hundred years,” Mrs. Granger said levelly.

Snape understood. Hermione was young. Her mother didn’t want her saddled to a man with a bad reputation for an eternity. She had so many chances, so many choices. To throw them all away was madness. He took a deep drink from his cup.

“A courtship isn’t binding,” Snape said, finally. “Hermione can break it off anytime she wishes.”

He inwardly winced at the idea. He had finally gotten Hermione interested. The idea of losing her so quickly was humiliating.

Mrs. Weasley shook her head and drank her tea. She lowered her cup

“Well, your presents certainly are impressive,” she said, leveling him with a look. “Let’s hope you are as well.”

AN: Thanks to everyone for the patience to wait for this. I have had several…distractions in the more recent past. Without all your prodding I might have quit.

Also thank you to Spaz141 who also reviews me frequently :)

I apologize for the typo in the last chapter. Mrs. Weasley was not there. She did not apperate or ‘poof’ into existence. Mrs. Granger was the one with the teacup near the end.

Heavenly Angel Chapter 10

Dear Severus,

After the events of our first meeting I can’t help but be convinced your intentions to my daughter are noble.

(Snape quirked an eyebrow. It wasn’t as if the girl was a virgin.)

April 30th we’re having a get together in honor of Ron and Luna Weasley and expectant child.

(He was being invited to a baby shower?)

Since they already have all the normal things they need, they have requested everyone bring an educational book for the baby to read when he gets older, or to make a donation to his educational account, set up at Gringott’s Wizarding Bank.

(Snape relaxed a little. At least it didn’t involve screeching women tugging on frilly, lacy things that were doomed to be destroyed the first time used.)

Guests are expected at 6:PM. Dinner is at 7: PM.

(Gah! He was expected to socialize.)

Hermione will fill you in on any more details.

Looking forward to seeing you,

Daniel Granger

‘Well, he’s made it clear he expects me to be conversing with Hermione,’ Severus thought as he folded the letter. ‘However it seems that he’s in the opinion that I have anything to do with the rest of that rabble.’

A few weeks ago Snape was a normal man adjusting to life after war. A former spy, now a strict teacher at a prestigious school, he had a second chance at leading a simple, uncomplicated life.

Snape had no idea one letter could cause so much mayhem.

He had made a fool of himself numerous times, seemingly commanding a larger audience with each event. The pinnacle was fainting in front a muggle couple and waking in a shrine to femininity to a room full of former students.

It had been humiliating.

However, he had ‘gotten the girl.’

Sort of.

He had at least gotten his foot in the door and no one had tried to shove him back out. They hadn’t joyously received him, but at least Ginny seemed to be willing to help things along.

Snape vaguely remembered her being involved in a few unconventional relationships at school and thanked any Gods that looked over the open-minded.

He had come this far, there was no backing out now.

Dearest Hermione,

Your father assures me you will provide me with the details of the get-together scheduled for the 30th of April.

(Hermione winced. She was sure there were a number of ways he would rather spend his evening.)

It sounds like a delightful way to spend an evening.

(Hermione blinked in shock. She rubbed her eyes and peered cautiously at the page. It still hadn’t burst into flame. This was a good sign.)

I would like your assistance in selecting a gift for the future Weasley. Of course, this should be at your leisure.

(He wants to go shopping?)

Yours,

Severus

Hermione stood in front of Flourish and Blotts’s bookstore in Diagon Alley, waiting. This day was chilly and she had chosen dark blue wool robes. A small pop sounded behind her and she jumped. Severus Snape stood behind her.

“You aren’t just allowed to apperate in crowds of people!” Hermione squeaked. “You could have hurt someone!”

“I was running late and I didn’t,” Severus said, absently brushing a bit of dust from one of his sleeves. “Lunch first?”

“Leaky Cauldron?”

“I was thinking of something else,” Severus said somewhat casually.

“Oh really,” Hermione said, a single eyebrow arched.

Hermione practically clung to Severus’ arm as they maneuvered the twists and turns of Knockturn Alley.

“Where are we going?” she hissed through clenched teeth. “Are you mad?”

He looked at her sternly. He was mildly annoyed when she continued to glare at him.

“This is where we are going,” Severus said and gestured.

It looked as if had grown out of the cobblestones, and perhaps it had, a dark gothic-style house loomed in front of them.

It was painted completely black and it was unsuited for the single color. Hermione suspected the details in the architecture were quite involved, but the color blotted them out.

A single sign swung over the double doors: Chelsea‘s Landing.

Hermione was pleasantly surprised when the doors swung open and they were greeted by a strict looking gentleman with a French accent.

The interior was mostly red velvet, which Hermione thought both luxurious and horribly tacky. White tablecloths graced small tables, barely large enough to fit two at. In the center of the room, a blue fire blazed within a small round enclosure. A grate was over the fire and a pot of something red was bubbling on it. A roast on a spit near the pot turned by itself and sizzled as it filled the air with a rich aroma. Near the enclosure, a small bronze plaque stood. As they were led by the fire Hermione stopped to read the plaque.

This Has Been Deemed a Place of Historical Merit: MOM 1974

Underneath in smaller letters it read:

Chelsea Whyte, feared to be a witch by her muggle neighbors was executed and ‘purified’ with fire, 27 August 1152. Whyte managed to succeed throwing an unknown curse moments before her death, resulting in an explosion that leveled everything in a 2 kilometer radius. The blue flame, found at the epicenter of the destruction, is thought to be what remains of her pyre.

Hermione’s jaw dropped. She was appalled. They turned it into a restaurant? There was food roasting on it? Was that even sanitary? She felt Severus’ hand on her arm. He was steering her to a secluded booth near the back of the dining room.

Their waiter brought them out a bottle of wine and some bread. It seemed there was no menu, just a meal of the day. Hermione thought this odd, but it all looked good. She watched as the roast turned itself over the fire.

Hermione sipped at the wine tentatively. To her surprise she liked it.

“Do you know what we will be looking for?” Severus asked abruptly as their soup was served. “What do they require?”

“One of these,” Hermione unwravelled a piece of parchment that she had tucked into one of her sleeves. She passed it to Severus.

Severus goggled at the parchment. Hermione delicately sipped at her soup. It was quite nice.

“We’re buying them a broom?” Severus asked, aghast.

Normal brooms were pricy, but this looked very expensive. In an effort to solve Ali Bashir’s desire to corner a market in a family vehicle in Britain, a developer had finally come up with a family broom.

The picture showed a young couple sitting on a broom with an extra long handle. Perched atop the bristles at the tail of the broom was a glass pod with a gurgling baby reaching a hand up merrily.

“We’re donating. With their family being so large there was nothing else they really needed,” Hermione shrugged.

“That certainly makes things easy,” Severus said, practically looking cheered. Their waiter returned with a small basket piled high with steaming rolls.

“Listen,” Severus said in a tone Hermione had never heard before. “I know you don’t know much about the old wizarding ways.” He was fishing around in the pockets of his robes. He produced a small green wooden box and handed it to Hermione. “But I should give you this.”

She undid the tiny latch in one side and opened the box. Sitting on a small pillow of black velvet was a small ring. The band was polished and silver in color, although Hermione had no idea what it was made of. An opal seemed to crackle with inner light at her. Two small diamonds flanked the stone.

“It’s beautiful,” Hermione breathed.

“It is not an engagement ring,” Severus insisted. “More like –”

“A promise ring?” Hermione offered when he stumbled.

“That would be a sufficient definition,” Severus sniffed. Hermione slid the ring on her finger and she watched as it shrank down to fit her. She pocketed the box.

“Thank you,” she said demurely.

Severus felt a bit of pride swell in his chest. She was wearing his ring. Then he felt a mental thump. For goodness sakes, he wasn’t a teenager.

They made light conversation while they ate. As always, the meal was perfect. Hermione need not know this was the pureblood equivalent of a roadside diner. Severus had always liked the food here.

It was during the dessert course that he felt something peculiar.

His peach crumble had just been set in front of him. The waiter had changed their goblets to a light dessert wine. The crust was perfect and sweet. Then he felt something suspiciously like a bare foot touching him just under the hem of his robes. He nearly choked on the bite he had taken.

He looked at Hermione who was eating her dessert, but was avoiding eye contact. Her cheeks were flushed. Perhaps she had had too much wine.

He felt the same toe begin exploring upwards. He was thankful the tablecloths were so long.

A stroke along his calf. Perhaps more wine was what she needed.

He mentally slapped himself. This wasn’t the way he intended the afternoon to turn out. He took a deep breath.

To his surprise, Hermione glanced up at him and of all the possible things she could do: she giggled. Then she withdrew her foot.

“Is torture part of a muggle courtship?” Severus asked, scooping up the last of his crumble.

“Occasionally,” Hermione said cheekily.

“I shall have to keep that in mind,” he said silkily.