The ministry could have been practically abandoned that day considering the amount of living people that were there. Hermione was in her office, as usual, but the bleak weather and anniversary of the war weren't a good mix for others.

She wasn't afraid of the holiday... if that's what it could be called, but almost no one came to the ministry on this day especially considering Kingsley didn't require it. He had fought just as they had, and he thought it best if he allowed the masses to visit their loved-ones at the cemeteries and simply rest.

This explained the ministry's vast emptiness. Hermione counted a few house elves, an official or two, and not even a letter in sight. It had been strange, but also comforting, to go through her workplace uninterrupted. There wasn't much business that Wednesday, and her wand had stayed dormant in her sleeve since she'd arrived.

It was the same every year, empty halls and silent offices. Then, people would reanimate as the celebration that following weekend. At least it was a fun affair, if Hermione had attended the first time and it was nothing more than a grab for money... she would've quit on the spot.

The event itself was actually nice, and Kingsley made sure it wasn't bombarded by the rampant reporters who seemed fascinated with every move she, Harry and Ron made.

Bringing people into that wasn't easy, Hermione thought as she sat alone in her royal purple office, a color that practically screamed for something more interesting to happen. She didn't have a man in her life... the past couple not exactly going the way she might have liked, mostly because of the aforementioned media which put a dent in almost anything. Even when she tried to-- it's not like Hermione minded the press, they had let up significantly since the fall of Voldemort, but the thing was, no one else cared to be involved in all of the exposition that came with her.

And unlike Harry and Ron, Hermione couldn't find someone who wanted to be in the spotlight.

Her work had come to a standstill, she realized as she looked at her empty desk, her thoughts having gone far too deep into failed relationships, and other's quite successful ones. There really wasn't anything to do, her expediency affording her a quiet and boring work day.

Her office was quite large. She had done a lot of work over the past several years in attempts to get everything into a new order that she hoped worked for as many beings as possible. This success, or what Hermione considered success, was all hard work and determination, and why her office was so big and lonely.

The purple had been her choice, during happier days when the room became hers and she had someone at her side to emit his pride for her. Now she wished that she'd chosen grey.

The piano in the corner was new, however. A black, baby grand that was one of her prized possessions. Not only was it magically charmed to play, but Hermione could play it as well. It was glossy black. Every key was in pristine condition, and her tuning spell was something of great envy, if she did say so herself. Not a note was off, and the comfort it had brought her since her family was so distant... well, nothing compared.

With a heavy sigh, Hermione dragged a random book of music off her shelf and glanced at it as she walked casually over to the piano, the pages the loudest sound she had heard all day as they fell one by one atop one another. Choosing a random piece, she poised herself at the piano, the unsupporting and cold bench friendly to her despite its attributes. At least there was one thing she could count on to hold her up.

Harry and Ron were both in solid relationships with real people, and Hermione was in love with music and her piano. One could easily see the divide. She loved her friends nonetheless, and they met often for tea and game night which they always kept to themselves.

The piece just so happened to correlate with the weather, slow moving rain clouds that were dark and sad made the notes dark and legato, coming down hard like rain in a forte of sensual notes.

Her door was open, and while there was a sound barrier to her office, she was sure she would draw attention by her not doing work if anyone walked by. Not that there was anyone around to walk by.

As the music came to a close, loosening the strain of what had come before it, Hermione sank into the notes, her posture deforming as the sound of rain came back into the picture.

"All that time, and I never heard you play," said a silky voice from the doorway, and Hermione startled further than someone who had iron nerves through a war should.

She didn't have to turn to know who it was, but that didn't stop her from swiveling to look at him, shoving her hands under her thighs like a child who had been caught touching something they weren't supposed to. The guilt was there too.

"It never really came up," she replied, her racing heart coming through her short breaths as though he needed anymore reason to be looking at her the way he was.

Hermione should have known Severus Snape would be here, the fact that he was, all that time ago, was the exact reason they'd gotten together.

"Hmm." It was his only reply as he stood against the doorway, looking healthier and more vibrant than ever.

She didn't envy his health, Hermione thought she was actually doing quite well for herself. A good position in the ministry, still really good friends, and her actual health was wonderful. The only problem was that her relationships were severely lacking.

The one she'd had with him had been her longest of the two, the first one with Ron which didn't go too far past rebuilding Hogwarts when they spent all that time together. While she was learning there, they couldn't say the same.

When she'd secured the position at the ministry... or moreover when she actually took her given spot, Hermione had been very alone, but there was enough going on for a couple years to keep her busy and not worry about it. Then, there was that one year where she had been walking through the ministry on this day, walking about. It was empty like always, but there was another random soul besides the other normal few, who she happened to run into.

He had been doing the same thing, but it looked more like his normal billowing capes and saunter that he'd used during Hogwarts. Hermione talked to him so little, that she was surprised when he'd stopped her instead of his usual greeting of a mere nod.

They had talked... for hours. In fact, they'd gone to her flat after work hours were over and chatted until it was late in the morning and it only made sense that her older Professor who had indulged in a couple firewhiskies not risk the apparation. Hermione had jumped him the next morning, her claws in deep and their relationship official when they showed up to the celebration that next weekend together.

Now, the memories were stale and she had to blink back tears.

How long had it been since they'd shared more than a few words outside of a meeting?

"You needn't look paralyzed."

Hermione scoffed, turning back towards the piano, hoping he would get the picture. She ran her fingers over the cool keys, then decided she had something to say. Dropping her hands, hitting them on her thighs, Hermione turned, ready to give him that little piece of her mind which never left her alone-- he was a couple of feet away now.

"Gods-"

"You look well."

"Thanks," she bit out, her teeth grinding with the anger that was coursing through her veins.

"You know that I will always believe that."

"Do I?" Hermione challenged, her heart speaking before anything, common sense not exactly at the forefront of thought.

She stood up, getting rather close, their faces a breath apart, and Hermione took in the smell of him. He always smelled like that damnable potions lab in the basement of the ministry, where the lab rats busied about cauldrons and gross ingredients. It had once been endearing, but now she couldn't stand it.

Hermione did not step back, however.

In fact, she got closer, and so did he, his nimble hands reaching forward, grasping both sides of her face with a fervor that didn't quite match his eyes, pulling her closer still until they met in the middle. The distance hadn't been much, and now their lips were pressed together in a searing kiss, all soft flesh and eventually tongue as Hermione lost all sense. He was intoxicating, and the smell of him wasn't helping her to realize that this was a terribly bad situation. They'd been split up for months, and snogging like teenagers wasn't exactly appropriate work behavior, no one there or not.

Any sense of reason was gone as she pulled him closer, digging her fingers into his side and layers of robes, a grip like talons on a man who'd flown away like a bird.

It was sad, really. Hermione thought so anyways as Severus maneuvered himself flat against her, hands now on her neck, sliding over the skin and soft hair that was there.

The groan from him that vibrated through her own mouth was the only thing that separated her. She pushed him back hard, stumbling a little and attempting to fix her hair unsuccessfully. Not that it was ever in a good state in the first place,

"What in the bloody hell was that?" She asked, her face contorting into one of pain as she looked at the cool man before her, merely adjusting his robes.

Meanwhile, Hermione had jumped back into a defensive position, her wand suddenly at the ready and posture stiff with anticipation of attack. Oh, how he'd wounded her.

"I've missed you."

"Fuck off."

Severus only chuckled.

"This is not funny, Severus!"

As if he was being bothered into it, his hands went up in what could not be called surrender but otherwise should.

"No, I would think not. But what I say remains true. I miss you."

Hermione felt her breath begin to quicken as she smiled with great force. She always smiled when she cried.

"And there are a million reasons why that doesn't matter."

Completely slack, Severus pursed his lips and nodded.

Was that all he was going to give?

"Merlin, and to think we went out for so long!"

"Three years..."

"Three bloody years!" Hermione agreed, but she wasn't exactly sure what she was agreeing to. He hadn't said it in any particular way, but she reckoned that there was something more to it considering he "missed" her.

"I didn't come here to hurt you."

Hermione laughed, it was all she could do.

"Truly, Hermione. In fact, I want you to be my date for this year's celebration."

"And can you take the press?"

There it was, the crux of the problem. Everything that had gone down between them had been because of "one too many paper articles" or "why must my name... face... myself at all be included in this rubbish?" And Hermione loathed to remember the fights.

"Willingly."

Maybe he was willing now, but he wasn't Draco or Pansy.

"Fine," Hermione said only in hopes to get him out and clear her mind, but that wasn't happening anytime soon it seemed, for he walked over to her piano a few feet to her left and sat down.

"Do you play?"

She had no idea if he did... three years and she couldn't recall ever asking.

"A little."

That was an understatement, Hermione discovered with prudence as he played the same piece she'd been playing, only a little faster. His tempo might be off, but that mattered hardly at all.

The urge to touch him was like a spell.

She hated it, wanting to pull a Protego simply to make herself feel better, or at least less attracted to him as his back sat straighter than Ron's sexuality.

He was bloody handsome.

"And what is it you want from me, Severus?"

He didn't stop playing as he said, "To be with you again."

"That wasn't what you wanted a few months ago."

A sour note, but nothing else gave away the effect of her statement.

"I've changed."

"Rita Skeeter not young enough for you?"

Another reason their ending had been so poignant. He'd practically apparated into Skeeter's bed from her flat that terrible night he'd left her.

"You know she dosed me with a potion, right? Asked me questions the morning after as though everything was in order."

Hermione clamped her mouth shut on a specific comment, feeling terribly bad for him despite the hatred she felt for the man as well. It was an annoying paradox.

"Of course, that doesn't explain the other times I've heard about through the grapevine."

An indignant snort came from him with little effort.

"Does this grapevine go by Draco Potter, perchance?"

Hermione couldn't stand the way he was sitting there, his posture demanding respect and something that she wasn't willing to give. She wanted him to hate her... and so she thought long and hard about how on earth she could get him to do so, thinking back on something... anything.

"I set your robes on fire first year."

The music stopped, and she was grateful for the one response, but he only chuckled.

She hated his chuckle.

"I know that, I saw it in Potter's memories fifth year when I attempted to teach him occlumency."

"I thought you were a complete git every year I had you."

"Who did not?"

"I don't love you," she blurted out quickly, and while completely untrue, it did get a rise out of him, as he actually rose, quickly enough to knock back her piano bench.

She stumbled back, her heart skipping a beat as her spine made her entire body feel like something was wrong. And it was. Back was the frown he carried so often, his demeanor that of the one she'd hated in Hogwarts.

"Don't love me?" The words back at her hurt more than saying them, so drawn out and punctuated as he was wont to do. "Well, fine then, Miss Granger. If that is how this is going to go, then I must say that such news is truly disappointing. Here I am with my heart on my sleeve, and yet you stand there and tell me that not only have you hated me, but you also have not loved me either."

His tone was menacing, as though telling a student they had done something wrong. Hermione specifically remembered receiving this tone multiple times as a child... this her first as an adult.

"So what?" She bolstered, attempting to look as though this were not affecting her. In reality her heart hurt, his behavior torture to her.

Hermione did not go back, she did not allow someone who left her to waltz back into her life and escort her to any place, let alone somewhere with a million eyes on them.

He was dramatic and moody, his sleeves so far down his arms that she was surprised he could do anything at all. The potions department didn't need him, but Kinglsey liked having him there, and Hermione wished he would merely retire. Not that he was old enough for that.

"I love you, Hermione. And while it might not have shown these past few months apart, there is no one I would rather be told I was wrong by than you. No one in the wizarding world I would rather have bite my head off the moment I said something out of line, nor anyone who could battle my wits as well as you. If not you, then no one."

She didn't believe him.

It was hard to do such a thing when there felt like a million beds he'd warmed since their split. He was nasty, a right wretch who could be more sour than a lemon, but he'd been hers to boss around. Funnily enough, he'd liked that. While his eyebrow would raise, and his ever-present smile would widen, she had taken for granted how he'd changed so much after the war. Being disposed of like yesterday's rubbish would certainly make any wizard happy to be alive. Even Severus Snape who practically was defined by his frown and greasy disposition.

Funnily enough, Hermione knew his hair was merely sleek, and her fingers ached to fist into the blackness and hear him grunt above her.

What a day this had turned out to be.

With her eyes warm and wet, Hermione dared to look at him, downturned lips and anger flushing him into someone she barely recognized. It was odd how strangers could become someone you know in only weeks, or hours in their case. How his smile could change him from surly and gross to handsome and imperial.

"I love you, too."

Severus grinned.

Moments later he'd captured her face, nuzzling right against her, his lips finding hers with serious want and need. Hermione let him consume her. He was all-encompassing, the smell of him turning now from something that was horrid to an endearing scent. His black robes were soft under her hands, and his tongue even more so in her mouth. Only two things were not soft, one such entity pressed between their bodies, and then the bookshelf Hermione's back was shoved against.

Luckily enough it was packed full or she would have been rather uncomfortable as his hands snaked down to her hips, pulling possessively. She moaned into their kiss at the contact, and Merlin be damned if he actually smirked through it.

One of his hands left for a moment, but it was only to ensure the swift flick of a wand properly to remove most of their clothes and slam her office door shut. Then, just as she was getting comfortable with the new situation, Severus lifted her up with a single arm, the sound of his wand hitting the floor followed, her back again thrust into the books.

She grinned.

They were all arms and legs, well with hers wrapped firmly about his waist they were mostly arms.

Hermione tilted her head back as he reminded her just how precise he was, his lips finding her throat as his rhythm sharpened inside her.

The sheer bliss of the moment overtook any of their sensibilities, and she let him take her right there in her office, her vision filled only with his intense black gaze and the purple walls behind him.

*

Harry eyed her that next morning over a mug, his thin, silver ring rather shiny that day for some reason. Maybe it was just because Hermione was in a pleasant mood that she noticed the root of someone else's pleasure.

"So, is the rumor true?"

They were in the middle of the ministry workers common room, so she leaned in to make their conversation slightly more private.

"What rumor?"

"That you and Severus got back together and shagged here at the ministry last night?"

Hermione's jaw would have dropped if her teeth weren't clenching together to hold back some select words.

"How-"

"I heard from Draco," Harry dismissed her worry quickly, though his grin was quite shite-eating.

"Arse," she said, whacking his shoulder for good measure.

"Well, I say it's about time you two wound back up together. He was getting annoying, being over all the time. Draco had enough of his pining for you and sent him your way with a few threats for good measure."

Hermione wasn't surprised, and so she laughed, feeling very relaxed all-considering.

"Merlin, and I thought he came groveling of his own volition."

"He did," Harry said none too convincingly.

She couldn't let him get away with that grin forever.

"I checked the mirror this morning, and my did those books do a number on my back." Hermione sipped her tea as her best friend gagged. "Very purple and yellow, quite the keepsakes."

"Merlin's balls, Hermione-" he couldn't even get a threat out as his eyes rolled back into his head. "I should arrest you for that image."

"Like I haven't heard enough of the way blond hair looks when-"

"Point taken!" Harry nearly shouted, shaking his head and putting his cup down. Obviously his taste for morning tea had gone.

Hermione felt triumphant, and even so when her eyes caught sight of the man across the room, his black robes unchanging.

"Do you think he'll do better this time? With the press, I mean?"

"Figured that's what you meant," he nearly growled, throwing his head around to see exactly what she was staring at.

Severus had no intentions of coming over to either of them, it was easy to tell, so Harry looked back at her and shrugged.

"I reckon he's hell bent on trying."

"Let's hope so," Hermione agreed, "I'd hate to let a perfectly good shag go to the poor-memories rubbish bin."

Harry laughed, and offered to escort her to her purple office, unless Severus might care to do the honors, but he was gone already to the potions lab once again.

It was Saturday night when Hermione truly let herself be happy with Severus more permanently. He'd smiled for the flashes of light and annoying reporters behind them, and she couldn't have been more ecstatic. And while it was all more than she'd asked for, nothing would make her complain as her brooding, anti-social potions master faced the press with her. The best part was that he seemed happy to do so.

And the compliments she got on her high-backed dress only widened his smile.

A/N

Hope you're all thriving in quarantine! Hopefully this makes everything a little better! I don't usually write anything so mature as this ended up being, but if it's decorous and fitting to the theme, I figured, why not?