The evening air was cool and crisp, a welcome relief from the stifling heat of the day. Hermione Granger and Severus Snape stepped out of the Leaky Cauldron and into the bustling streets of London. The muggle city was alive with the murmur of conversations and the distant hum of cars, a stark contrast to the magical world they had left behind.
Hermione looked up at Severus, her eyes shimmering with excitement. "I've never been to a muggle bar before," she admitted, her voice filled with wonder.
Severus offered a small smile, his gaze scanning the area. "I'm surprised, considering your fascination with the non-magical world."
They found a dimly lit bar with a neon sign flickering in the window, advertising various cocktails and a promise of live music. As they entered, the smell of stale beer and sweat mixed with the sweet aroma of popcorn. Severus raised an eyebrow but said nothing, allowing Hermione to lead the way to a booth in the corner. The bar was crowded with a mix of muggles and a few wizards and witches trying to blend in. Hermione ordered a drink she'd read about in a book—a Mojito—while Severus settled for something more straightforward, a pint of lager.
As they sipped their drinks, the conversation flowed easily between them, a blend of laughter and shared memories. Hermione felt a warmth spread through her chest that had nothing to do with the alcohol. Severus had always been a puzzle she'd wanted to solve, and tonight, she felt like she was finally getting somewhere. But as the night grew later, the bar grew louder, and a muggle man stumbled over, his eyes glued to Hermione.
He was tall and broad-shouldered, with a boyish charm that made Hermione's heart flutter. "Hey, you're not from around here, are you?" he shouted over the music, leaning in a bit too close.
Severus's grip on his glass tightened, his eyes narrowing as he took in the man's casual attire and the way his gaze lingered on Hermione. He could feel the tension coil in his stomach like a snake, but he kept his expression neutral, watching the interaction unfold.
Hermione, for her part, blushed and giggled, enjoying the attention. She had never been one to shy away from male attention, and the muggle's confidence was oddly charming. She glanced over at Severus, expecting to find amusement or even envy in his eyes, but instead, she saw something else—something that looked suspiciously like jealousy. Her heart skipped a beat, and she felt a thrill run down her spine.
The muggle didn't seem to notice, his eyes still fixed on her. "You're absolutely stunning," he said, his words slurred slightly. "Would you like to dance?"
Hermione looked at Severus, her pulse racing. He had never shown any romantic interest in her before, but she had always hoped. Now, with this stranger's attention on her, she felt a strange urge to make him jealous. To see if the spark between them was real. So she nodded, a mischievous smile playing on her lips.
The muggle led her to the dance floor, a sticky mess of bodies moving to the beat. He pulled her close, his hands firmly on her hips as they swayed together. The music was loud and fast, a pop song that was all too common in this era. Hermione felt the heat of his body, his breath hot on her neck as he whispered sweet nothings into her ear. She closed her eyes, letting the rhythm wash over her, but her mind was elsewhere—with the man watching her from the booth.Severus's eyes never left them, his jaw clenched tightly. He took a long pull of his lager, the bitter taste doing nothing to quell the fire in his gut. He could see the way the muggle's hands roamed over her, the way he ground his hips into her, and it made his blood boil. He had seen enough.
With a swift movement, he set his glass down and strode onto the dance floor, his overcoat billowing around him. The muggle's hands were on Hermione's waist, and Severus felt a surge of possessiveness that was almost feral. He stepped in, his hand landing firmly on the man's shoulder.
"Excuse me," he said, his voice low and dangerous. The muggle turned, surprise flitting across his features before he sneered. "This dance is over," Severus said, his grip tightening.
The man didn't move, so Severus pushed harder. The muggle stumbled back, his hands coming up in a defensive gesture. "What the hell, man?" he slurred, clearly not expecting the interference.
Hermione's eyes went wide, a mix of surprise and excitement. She had never seen this side of Severus before—so possessive, so commanding. The sight of him, his eyes blazing with an emotion she had never seen, made her pulse race even faster.
"Severus," she began, but he didn't give her a chance to speak. He took her arm firmly, his grip like iron, and guided her through the crowd. She stumbled after him, her heart in her throat. The muggle called out after them, but his voice was lost in the din of the bar.
Once outside, Severus's eyes searched for a moment before fixing on a shadowy alleyway. "This way," he said gruffly, pulling her along. Hermione's mind raced. Was he upset with her? Or was this something else entirely?
They entered the alley, and before she could ask, Severus spun her around, his hands on her shoulders. "Hermione," he said, his voice thick with something she couldn't quite identify. "I can't stand watching you with someone else."
Her breath caught in her throat as she looked up at him, the streetlight casting shadows across his face. "What are you saying?" she whispered.
Without another word, Severus leaned down and pressed his lips to hers. It was a rough, demanding kiss that took her by surprise. His hands moved to her waist, pulling her closer, his body heat enveloping her. Hermione's eyes fluttered shut, and she felt the world spin around her.
For a moment, she was lost in the sensation, her body responding instinctively to the pressure of his mouth. Then she realized what was happening and kissed him back with all the passion she had been holding in for so long. Her hands found his hair, tangling in the greasy locks as she gave herself over to the moment.
But then, as quickly as it had begun, she pulled back, her eyes wide and searching his. "Severus," she panted, "not here."
Severus's grip loosened, his eyes dark with desire and something else—fear, perhaps. Fear of rejection, of losing this moment. He took a step back, his breathing ragged. "I'm sorry," he murmured, his voice thick with regret. "I didn't mean to—"
But Hermione didn't give him a chance to finish. She took his hand, her eyes sparkling with a determination he had never seen before. "I know exactly what you meant," she said, cutting him off. "And I want it too."
Without another word, she leaned in and kissed him again, her hand reaching for his. The warmth of her touch sent a jolt through him, and he didn't hesitate to follow her lead. A moment later, they were no longer in the grimy alley, but standing in the soft glow of Hermione's bedroom. The curtains fluttered gently, letting in the moonlight, and Severus felt a weight lift from his shoulders.
Her dress was the first to go, the fabric slipping off her body like water. He had seen her in various states of undress before, but never like this—never with the intention of exploring every inch of her. His hands trembled as he helped her, his eyes drinking in the sight of her. She was beautiful, more so than he had ever allowed himself to admit.