Papers, Please
Title: Papers, Please
Team: Death Eaters
Challenge: The Heat of the Night
Word Count: 1,200
Characters: SS/HG
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Two old spies meet in a pub.
A/N: Thought I’d take a break from summer_of_giles and write some snarky Hermione/Snape. Sorry, not sorry. =p
Disclaimer: Not mine. Belong to JKR. Will put them back when I’m done. Promise.
---
Professor Hermione Granger stood at the large bay window of her quarters, humming softly to herself as she watched the sun begin to set. It had been a hot day, almost unreasonably so, and she longed for the relative cool of the night.
The ninth cigarette of the day lay smouldering lazily in the porcelain ashtray that sat atop the armoire. It filled the air with the bitter tang of nicotine and tar, thin wisps of smoke dancing in the draught that blew in from beneath her door.
A soft sigh escaped her. ‘Dull.’
She needed a drink. Or three.
---
With a deft flick of her fingers, her hair came tumbling down from its bindings. It fell in a great auburn waterfall to her waist, the thick strands shimmering softly in the golden light of the evening. She dragged a comb through the heavy waves with lightly trembling hands. Once satisfied with its appearance in the mirror, she turned her attention to her face, tracing the dark circles beneath her eyes with distaste.
Too many late nights. Too little sleep. And definitely too much booze.
‘Ugh,’ she thought, probing the sagging skin. ‘What I wouldn’t give to be twenty again.’
---
With a fresh pot of concealer she made light work of her imperfections, finishing her now clear face with a quick slick of lipstick and a dab of perfume behind each ear.
‘Perfect,’ she whispered to her mirror. Her reflection winked in reply. Hermione glared at it.
She took a final drag of her cigarette, smoke curling from her mouth as she stubbed it out on the counter. Picking up her wand from the divan, she strode out the door with her head held high, the delicate scent of perfume leaving a shadow in the empty air she left behind.
---
By the time she reached the Three Broomsticks, she was slick with sweat. The evening was uncomfortably hot, her robes far too heavy for the weather. Her face a picture of distaste, she muttered a quick cleansing charm as strode inside to meet her companion.
‘Hello Severus,’ she purred, setting herself down delicately into the dark leather chair.
‘Hermione,’ he said, giving her a brief nod in greeting. He watched with dark eyes as she lit a fresh cigarette. ‘Have you thought about cutting back?’
She quirked an eyebrow.
‘Not that I’m in any position to judge,’ He hastily added.
---
‘Indeed.’ A soft curl of smoke passed between her heavily rouged lips. ‘I drink too much, smoke too much and fuck men I really shouldn’t. I know my vices. But then again, one must take the pleasures offered in life, even if they are smaller than is truly decent.’
Severus snorted softly in amusement. ‘You’ve never fucked me.’
‘You’ve never asked.’ She gently flicked the ash from the end of her cigarette.
‘Goody-two-shoes Granger,’ he said sarcastically. Giving her an appraising look, he sat back in his chair, his fingers laced over the slight bulge of his stomach. ‘You’ve changed.’
---
‘I am forty-three years old, Severus darling; one can hardly expect me not to have. So have you, to be pedantic.’
‘A fair comment.’ He pushed a small glass of clear liquid towards her. ‘Drink?’
‘If you insist.’
‘We’re all damaged. Some more than others,’ he said pointedly.
‘You know… sometimes I feel there is only so much tragedy a soul can withstand before…’ She dropped her gaze to the table, watching the ice melt in her drink. ‘But perhaps best not to dwell. We have some business to attend to.’
A small, sad smile flickered across his face. ‘Indeed.’
---
Hermione watched as Severus toyed with a beer mat.
‘I have the documents you wanted,’ he said, his voice low. ‘Though I would perhaps suggest caution. You have the potential to make some very powerful enemies, should this come to light.’
Hermione snorted with amusement. ‘Whilst your concern is touching, I’m afraid it’s rather too late for that.’
‘Oh?’
‘Come now, Severus. You’re a clever man. I’m a witch of very considerable talent. Why else do you think I ended up here? The desire to teach idiot children Transfiguration?’ She laughed bitterly. ‘I had little more choice than you did.’
---
‘Such humility,’ said Severus, his tone mocking.
She frowned, taking a long drag from her cigarette. ‘False modesty is irritating.’
‘Well, quite.’ He ran a hand through his hair, the silvery strands glinting in the candlelight. ‘However, you really ought to be careful. I’d rather not see you on the business end of an unforgivable. Who else would I go drinking with?’
Hermione glared at him.
‘Don’t be so dramatic. Besides, what is the point of living forever? Life becomes dull. I’ve barely begun and already I am bored with breathing, with watching every scene unfold with a tedious inevitability.’
---
‘Careful, you’re starting to sound like me,’ said Severus with a chuckle. He tossed a beer mat in her direction, hitting her square upon the chest.
‘Make yourself useful and get me another drink.’ Hermione knocked back the last of the liquid in her glass. ‘G&T. Long on the gin, short on the tonic.’
‘You’re such a cliché.’ He smirked at her. ‘Ever the scorned housewife. Tell me, have you ever actually thought about getting over it?’
‘I rather thought I was. Gin doesn’t cheat on you with a younger, prettier…’
‘Woman?’
‘I was going to say mixer.’ She shrugged.
---
‘Ah, the words of a high-functioning alcoholic.’
Hermione sniffed at his accusation. ‘I don’t have an addiction, merely a desire to avoid reality.’
‘And I bet you could stop any time you wanted to.’
‘Why would I want to?’
‘Because it does you no good?’
‘I’m sick, Doctor. Won’t you heal me?’ she said, placing a hand upon her forehead in a mocking swoon.
‘Is that what you want?’ His black eyes searched hers with a dark, dangerous gleam.
‘What I want is a gin and tonic. No ice, thanks.’
Severus sighed. Lazily, he pushed himself up from the table.
---
‘Actually, I think I’m going to call it a night.’
Hermione scowled at him.
‘Fine. If you must,’ she said.
Severus leant over the table, drawing her into a lose hug. She felt the front of her robes shift slightly as he slid something to her pocket under the cover of their embrace. The documents.
‘We are at war, Hermione, despite the Ministry propaganda to the contrary,’ he whispered, his breath hot against her ear. ‘There may have been no public shots yet, but that doesn’t make it any less deadly.’
She pressed a kiss to his cheek.
‘I know.’
---
Hermione watched as Severus swept from the pub, his dark robes billowing behind him. She sighed heavily, rising from her chair, shoving her hands deep into the pockets of her robes. Beneath her fingertips she felt the sharp edges of a ring binder, shrunken to the size of a postage stamp.
Within her pocket, she held the final piece of the puzzle. The piece that would topple the Ministry like a house of cards.
She smiled.
With a flick of her head, sending her dark curls cascading back over her shoulder, she strode out into the heat of the night.
Team: Death Eaters
Challenge: The Heat of the Night
Word Count: 1,200
Characters: SS/HG
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Two old spies meet in a pub.
A/N: Thought I’d take a break from summer_of_giles and write some snarky Hermione/Snape. Sorry, not sorry. =p
Disclaimer: Not mine. Belong to JKR. Will put them back when I’m done. Promise.
---
Professor Hermione Granger stood at the large bay window of her quarters, humming softly to herself as she watched the sun begin to set. It had been a hot day, almost unreasonably so, and she longed for the relative cool of the night.
The ninth cigarette of the day lay smouldering lazily in the porcelain ashtray that sat atop the armoire. It filled the air with the bitter tang of nicotine and tar, thin wisps of smoke dancing in the draught that blew in from beneath her door.
A soft sigh escaped her. ‘Dull.’
She needed a drink. Or three.
---
With a deft flick of her fingers, her hair came tumbling down from its bindings. It fell in a great auburn waterfall to her waist, the thick strands shimmering softly in the golden light of the evening. She dragged a comb through the heavy waves with lightly trembling hands. Once satisfied with its appearance in the mirror, she turned her attention to her face, tracing the dark circles beneath her eyes with distaste.
Too many late nights. Too little sleep. And definitely too much booze.
‘Ugh,’ she thought, probing the sagging skin. ‘What I wouldn’t give to be twenty again.’
---
With a fresh pot of concealer she made light work of her imperfections, finishing her now clear face with a quick slick of lipstick and a dab of perfume behind each ear.
‘Perfect,’ she whispered to her mirror. Her reflection winked in reply. Hermione glared at it.
She took a final drag of her cigarette, smoke curling from her mouth as she stubbed it out on the counter. Picking up her wand from the divan, she strode out the door with her head held high, the delicate scent of perfume leaving a shadow in the empty air she left behind.
---
By the time she reached the Three Broomsticks, she was slick with sweat. The evening was uncomfortably hot, her robes far too heavy for the weather. Her face a picture of distaste, she muttered a quick cleansing charm as strode inside to meet her companion.
‘Hello Severus,’ she purred, setting herself down delicately into the dark leather chair.
‘Hermione,’ he said, giving her a brief nod in greeting. He watched with dark eyes as she lit a fresh cigarette. ‘Have you thought about cutting back?’
She quirked an eyebrow.
‘Not that I’m in any position to judge,’ He hastily added.
---
‘Indeed.’ A soft curl of smoke passed between her heavily rouged lips. ‘I drink too much, smoke too much and fuck men I really shouldn’t. I know my vices. But then again, one must take the pleasures offered in life, even if they are smaller than is truly decent.’
Severus snorted softly in amusement. ‘You’ve never fucked me.’
‘You’ve never asked.’ She gently flicked the ash from the end of her cigarette.
‘Goody-two-shoes Granger,’ he said sarcastically. Giving her an appraising look, he sat back in his chair, his fingers laced over the slight bulge of his stomach. ‘You’ve changed.’
---
‘I am forty-three years old, Severus darling; one can hardly expect me not to have. So have you, to be pedantic.’
‘A fair comment.’ He pushed a small glass of clear liquid towards her. ‘Drink?’
‘If you insist.’
‘We’re all damaged. Some more than others,’ he said pointedly.
‘You know… sometimes I feel there is only so much tragedy a soul can withstand before…’ She dropped her gaze to the table, watching the ice melt in her drink. ‘But perhaps best not to dwell. We have some business to attend to.’
A small, sad smile flickered across his face. ‘Indeed.’
---
Hermione watched as Severus toyed with a beer mat.
‘I have the documents you wanted,’ he said, his voice low. ‘Though I would perhaps suggest caution. You have the potential to make some very powerful enemies, should this come to light.’
Hermione snorted with amusement. ‘Whilst your concern is touching, I’m afraid it’s rather too late for that.’
‘Oh?’
‘Come now, Severus. You’re a clever man. I’m a witch of very considerable talent. Why else do you think I ended up here? The desire to teach idiot children Transfiguration?’ She laughed bitterly. ‘I had little more choice than you did.’
---
‘Such humility,’ said Severus, his tone mocking.
She frowned, taking a long drag from her cigarette. ‘False modesty is irritating.’
‘Well, quite.’ He ran a hand through his hair, the silvery strands glinting in the candlelight. ‘However, you really ought to be careful. I’d rather not see you on the business end of an unforgivable. Who else would I go drinking with?’
Hermione glared at him.
‘Don’t be so dramatic. Besides, what is the point of living forever? Life becomes dull. I’ve barely begun and already I am bored with breathing, with watching every scene unfold with a tedious inevitability.’
---
‘Careful, you’re starting to sound like me,’ said Severus with a chuckle. He tossed a beer mat in her direction, hitting her square upon the chest.
‘Make yourself useful and get me another drink.’ Hermione knocked back the last of the liquid in her glass. ‘G&T. Long on the gin, short on the tonic.’
‘You’re such a cliché.’ He smirked at her. ‘Ever the scorned housewife. Tell me, have you ever actually thought about getting over it?’
‘I rather thought I was. Gin doesn’t cheat on you with a younger, prettier…’
‘Woman?’
‘I was going to say mixer.’ She shrugged.
---
‘Ah, the words of a high-functioning alcoholic.’
Hermione sniffed at his accusation. ‘I don’t have an addiction, merely a desire to avoid reality.’
‘And I bet you could stop any time you wanted to.’
‘Why would I want to?’
‘Because it does you no good?’
‘I’m sick, Doctor. Won’t you heal me?’ she said, placing a hand upon her forehead in a mocking swoon.
‘Is that what you want?’ His black eyes searched hers with a dark, dangerous gleam.
‘What I want is a gin and tonic. No ice, thanks.’
Severus sighed. Lazily, he pushed himself up from the table.
---
‘Actually, I think I’m going to call it a night.’
Hermione scowled at him.
‘Fine. If you must,’ she said.
Severus leant over the table, drawing her into a lose hug. She felt the front of her robes shift slightly as he slid something to her pocket under the cover of their embrace. The documents.
‘We are at war, Hermione, despite the Ministry propaganda to the contrary,’ he whispered, his breath hot against her ear. ‘There may have been no public shots yet, but that doesn’t make it any less deadly.’
She pressed a kiss to his cheek.
‘I know.’
---
Hermione watched as Severus swept from the pub, his dark robes billowing behind him. She sighed heavily, rising from her chair, shoving her hands deep into the pockets of her robes. Beneath her fingertips she felt the sharp edges of a ring binder, shrunken to the size of a postage stamp.
Within her pocket, she held the final piece of the puzzle. The piece that would topple the Ministry like a house of cards.
She smiled.
With a flick of her head, sending her dark curls cascading back over her shoulder, she strode out into the heat of the night.