Hermione rubbed her hands up and down her arms and over her hands with a sleepy yawn, wondering if she would ever get warm today. It didn't seem like it. She didn't think it was that much colder today than yesterday. It felt like it was, though. Maybe it was staying up too late. Maybe it was the third glass of wine she'd had when two was ordinarily her limit.

Not that she hadn't ever had more than two, and it was the weekend. So it wasn't as if she was going to be teaching a class hungover. Or that she was hungover to begin with. She just didn't like how fuzzy her mind got after more than two or three glasses.

She sighed.

Today was going to be one of those days she wondered why she elected to live at Hogwarts versus a house with a furnace that would keep her as warm as she wished to be. She imagined this wouldn't be the last day she wondered that.

Her eyes lit up when she spotted a zip-up sweater on her reclining chair. Harry must have left it behind last night. It had gotten pretty late, and a sweater wouldn't be the first thing he'd left behind. In fact, she'd fallen asleep before he even left, so sort of forgot about having to tidy up this morning. There wasn't much at least. He must have done some of it before leaving.

Too late to do it now, if she actually wanted to eat in the great hall anyway, but she could take care of it after breakfast she mused, as she slid the sweater on. This one advertised for Manchester U. She didn't realize Harry was a big enough fan to own a sweater of theirs. She pushed up the sleeves a bit because they were long before zipping it up part way.

The sleeves fell over her hands, making her really notice how long they were.

Longer than usual.

It smelled so good, though. Harry must have gotten new soap, shampoo, or aftershave.

Her stomach growling told her she needed to get to breakfast.

She snuck in, thanking the heavens it was Saturday morning. Not that there was really any sneaking into the Great Hall. No one seemed to pay her, or the fact she was later than usual, any attention.

She saw a couple of curious glances aimed in her direction, but thought nothing of it beyond the fact people might be curious why she was late.

*****

"So," Minerva said later that afternoon over tea in her quarters. Being a newer professor, her accommodations were smaller than these. Still nice. She wasn't complaining. Seniority did seem to have its perks, though. "Tell me what's new?"

"Nothing," Hermione said. Was that why Minerva invited her? Thinking anything had changed in Hermione's life since the last time they'd had tea.

"Hermione," the other witch said, looking a little wounded, if Hermione didn't know better.

She sighed, exasperated. She had nothing to report. Minerva clearly didn't believe her, but let the subject drop, allowing them to go on with their normal tea date. Minerva liked to ensure that teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts wasn't wearing Hermione down. Hermione was fine, but appreciated the concern.

She also knew that Severus wouldn't allow her to continue to teach if he thought she wasn't okay. Last year she'd had a few issues, and a few days of getting someone to guest teach on a subject.l because she needed the recovery time mentally. She wasn't the only one who had memories from the war, so she pushed through.

And was much better this year than last. And the year before that. And so on. Minerva just wanted to be sure. Hermione appreciated it. They both knew what these tea dates were for. Friendship aside.

*****

Harry hadn't returned to Hogwarts, so she kept on wearing his sweater. It smelled divine and was so soft. Not to mention it really was also incredibly warm!

She noticed her classes were more talkative at the beginning and end of each class as the week went on, but she just assumed they were excited about quidditch this weekend. Though there was a time or two, she felt as if the students were talking about her. She had no idea why. (She'd even gone into her office once to ensure her hair was okay, her robes were clean, and that she didn't have food in her teeth.)

*****

Hermione was going to ask Harry for this warming spell. It was incredible. It almost seemed to start of its own accord whenever she put it on. As she warmed up, it almost dissipated. Yet, somehow, it stayed just right throughout the day. She was a little miffed he knew a charm that she didn't! (And couldn't suss out.)

She gave the curious glances in her direction barely any notice as she went about her days. Getting stared at or watched wasn't anything new for her. It had certainly lessened with Rita Skeeter off the Hogwarts beat. One thing the headmaster and Minister for Magic had put a stop to. Reporters on the premise unless it was for an event open to the public.

Poor Harry, working at the Ministry, he didn't get so lucky.  Ronald seemed to like the attention, though his enjoyment of it did seem to be decreasing.

It wasn't until the following Sunday that she realized talk was stopping at the head table - even at the student tables - when she approached today. They were looking at her. There were whispered words that she couldn't hear both by staff members and students.

What in the world was going on?

She was wearing the freakishly long sleeves over her hands today so just her fingertips were visible. She liked the little extra bit of warmth the sweater's spell offered her hands.

"Am I in trouble for something?" This was asked in a whisper against Neville once the staring left her feeling unsettled and not amused.

"I don't think so," he said, glancing at her curiously. He looked a little … miffed. It was an expression she hadn't seen on Neville's face in years.

"Okay," she said. 

"I'm not sure any of us ever realized Headmaster Snape was the romantic type," Neville said.

"What do you mean?" she asked, pushing the sweater  sleeves up so she could prepare and drink her tea.

"Um, well, you know he's a Manchester United fan, right?"

"Yes." She was surprised Neville brought that up, but yes Hermione was aware of the headmaster following Manchester U.

"Well, I overheard him tell Draco that he'd bought that sweater when he got his first paycheck from Hogwarts."

Hermione froze, swallowing nothing as, gratefully, she hadn't sipped her tea yet.

"I'm sorry?" she asked.

Things were clicking into place. The looks. The gossip. The long sleeves.

"Yeah, so, you know, I was surprised to see him letting you wear it. It clearly means something to him. Minerva assumed you'd been helping him brew late one night, and just forgot to take it off when you'd finished. Obviously not, though," he said, elbowing her gently. "I didn't know you were dating, let alone at the claiming his sweater phase."

She clutched his wrist tightly. She really wanted the floor to swallow her up.

Right now!

"I'm sorry. Are you telling me this isn't Harry's sweater?"

She glanced down along the head table and then out to the student tables.

She was wearing Severus Snape's sweater.

Holy Shit! She had been wearing Severus Snape's sweater for over a week!

She swallowed, closing and opening her eyes rapidly a few times. This was worse than a dream about giving a speech in her knickers.

She understood the warming spell being unfamiliar to her.

She understood, too, why the sweater smelled good to her. It wasn't Harry's scent she was recognizing. Severus smelled nice, too. And given she was attracted to him and not Harry, she noticed it more prevelantly than she would have with Harry.

Holy Shit! Everyone thought they were dating.

Shagging?

Wearing his sweater every day for a week - everywhere she went in the castle - would imply something more serious than merely dating. Wouldn't it? As if she knew the ins and outs of such things. She hadn't as a student, and wasn't any better versed now.

Holy Shit! He must be wondering where she got it. It was in her sitting area. She had t plucked it out of thin air.

She suspected a four-legged, orange familiar was to blame.

How embarrassing!

She dropped her teacup in a very unladylike manner, not caring if it shattered. She threw her hand over her mouth to stifle her gasp, and then stood from the table.

From there she did the only logical thing there was to do.

Run.

Holy Shit!

She flew up a set of stairs as fast as her legs could carry her, and the staircases could cooperate with the direction she was running.

Out of breath and knowing, just knowing, she was having a panic attack, even if she'd never before had one in her life.

If there was anything in the world that was a good reason to have her first panic attack over, finding out she'd been cluelessly wearing the headmaster's sweater for a week was definitely it.

Well, she pressed her back against the nearby wall and practically collapsed to the ground from there.

What now?

She drew her knees up, having added crying into the mix, setting her arms over them and pressing her forehead at her wrist. She sobbed. How was she going to show her face again? Never mind the students! Severus! He had to be wondering just what she was up to!

Holy Shit!

It was probably fifteen minutes later when she was able to focus again. She realized a few things as soon as that was the case.

She was still wearing the sweater, so it had now been cried on. (Great!)

She was no longer crying and was breathing somewhat normally again. (Good!)

She had evidently cast a cushioning charm. (Smart!)

She had no idea where she was in the castle. (Dumb!)

She was not alone.

She gasped when she saw the shoes and robes, knowing they belonged to the headmaster. And he was sitting next to her. On the ground of wherever she was in the castle.

He'd seen her wearing the sweater every day for a week.

And.

Hadn't.

Asked.

For.

It.

Back.

Holy Shit!

"You do know that you are a witch, correct?" This was drawled casually, as if he hadn't just witnessed her utter humiliation in the Great Hall less than thirty minutes ago.

She bit at her lower lip, unsure exactly what he was asking her. Why he was so calm. Didn't he care? Didn't he mind that the entire castle was likely gossiping about them? Right now! Especially if they saw him follow her out the doors!

"I do," she said finally, voice soft and raw sounding.

"So you are aware that you can shorten the sleeves as necessary."

"Oh," she said with a frown. "I planned on giving it back…" and then stopped talking, because obviously she wouldn't be returning it to Harry.

Silence. No doubt he was letting her fully process all of this.

"To Harry, I presume?"

"Yes."

He cleared his throat, lifting the tip of his pinky that was resting on the ground between them, and tracing the pattern of what looked like a rune along the stone there. A second later the pinky finger brushed against the side of her hand. She mirrored the gesture. They'd danced around an underlying attraction they both seemed to feel for months now.

"I knew that it would look nice on you," he said, voice almost as soft as hers was.

"You did this on purpose?" That the sweater had intentionally been left in her rooms for her honestly never entered her mind.

"I did. I saw you shivering some days and thought you deserved to have something that I knew would keep you warm."

He did? That was incredibly flattering.

"I'm not the only one who is cold in this castle."

"No, but you're the only one I want to go out of my way to ensure she is kept warm and comfortable."

And with that statement, she wagered it hadn't been her who had cast the cushioning charm.

She turned her head then to look at him.

He shrugged. Seeming to understand her unspoken question. "I assumed you'd realize it was mine, and return it to me."

"You were just going to let me keep wearing it?"

"Well, that is the idea behind a gift. At least I'm told so. So, it is yours, at least until you can get your own and we can work on the warming charm together if you prefer viewing as a loaned item. I suppose that means that, yes, I was going to let you keep wearing it."

"Really?" she asked. She traced her fingers along the ribbing on the sweater's cuff. "So, you gave me a sweater, one of yours, wanting me to wear it. I assume it's one others have seen you in. Otherwise, how would they know whose sweater this was? Did you not know that that would mean everyone will think we're dating?"

"Why would they think that?"

She scoffed. "Severus." She gave a soft laugh. "It's what couples do. I mean sometimes."

"I see. But you were wearing it, believing it was Harry's. Who is not your paramore."

It was a statement, but there was a bit of a question in his tone. As if he wondered whether he was mistaken that she was truly single.

He hadn't moved his hand from touching hers. She couldn't help but glance at them on the ground. His were larger than hers. There were a couple tufts of dark hair higher up near his wrists. He had some scars and blemishes on the backs of his hands. She knew on the forearm of this hand, under his robe's sleeve was a faded Dark Mark. A mark she knew very few had ever seen.

"He's not. It's … different."

He nodded then. As if she had given the answer he expected.

"I see," he said.

Should she not have said that? Maybe not. She was kind of afraid of what his response might be. She thought at the end of the school year, she'd bite the bullet and ask him to see a film or something during the summer hiatus. Assuming he hadn't gotten to actually asking her out prior to the end of June anyway. She was a little frightened of doing it sooner. She wasn't certain how he'd react to a witch making such a move.

"Well, I suppose since everyone thinks we're dating I should take this opportunity to ask you on a date."

"I don't want you to ask me out because everyone thinks…"

"I don't want to ask you out because everyone thinks we're dating. I want to ask you out because I realized when I was looking through my choice in sweaters to loan you, I wanted it to be this one that kept you warm." He lifted his hand ever so slightly to touch the arm of the sweater, returning it to its spot beside hers almost immediately.

She let her head rest against his shoulder.

"I did my share of what was expected or wanted of me, Hermione. I would not approach a witch - you - unless I truly wanted to."

Wow. She had no idea what to say. She truly didn't want him to ask her out thinking he should or something.

"And I suppose if I've led them to believe that, that's okay. It'll stop those seventh years from trying to undress you with their eyes."

She snorted lightly. "None of them are doing that."

"Says you," he said. "Is that a yes or not to my offer of a date."

"What are we doing on this date?" She asked the question, trying to ignore the giddiness that washed through her. He'd asked her out!

"A film? I hear that's popular."

"A film would be nice."

Silence as they sat. The edges of their hands barely touching, but touching just the same.

"Severus?" she said softly, realizing she had to tell him.

"Yes?"

"You do realize that a week of sweatshirt wearing…"

"Really? After only a week?"

She laughed softly. He wasn't mad. That was good.

"Thank you," she whispered.

"You are welcome. I don't know why you just don't ask…"

"Because I like to come up with my own spells."

"There's no sense being uncomfortable in the meantime."

She brought her arm to her nose, rubbing the cuff of the sweater over the tip of it.

"You are going to show me, right?"

It was his turn to laugh.

"I won't even make you wait a week."

She gave another quiet laugh. They were in the halls. There was no one else around. Still. Quiet seemed appropriate.

"You knew exactly what you were doing, didn't you?"

"Well, to some degree, yes. I truly do want you warm."

"Severus Snape has a caring side."

"Shh," he said.

"So, I have to allow everyone in the castle to think that you're shagging me senseless twice a weekday and three on the weekends, not that you're just kind or caring?"

"Senseless?" And then followed that with. "Twice a day? Six on weekends?"

"Well, of course. I wouldn't wear a Manchester U sweater for anything but."

"For the rumors of rendering you senseless and multiple times a day, I'll allow you to tell them that it was initially for comfort."

She slid her hand over the back of his then, lacing her fingers through his.

"Thank you for wanting to keep me warm. I do like the sweater."

"Thank you for wearing it, and looking rather fetching while doing so."

She was quite sure she'd never been called fetching before. She sighed softly, mulling over just what about her wearing his sweater he found fetching. He kissed the top of her head. She felt and heard him chuckle right after that.

"Yes?"

"I am rather curious as to why they think you ran out," Severus murmured against her head.

"Let's not think about that," she whispered. Morgana. She was never going to live that down. She waved her free hand in front of her, the sleeve of the sweater hanging off her hand. "Instead, tell me about the charm."

He gave a low laugh and began to do exactly that. She'd face the staff and students later.

~The End~

Story ©Susan Falk/APCKRFAN/PhantomRoses.com