Three, Two, One...
Summary: “To another year of unchanging routines. New? Unlikely.” Challenge response, Complete. HG/SS

A/N: This is a response to the 30minutefics LJ community’s Challenge # 56: The "I'd like to make a Toast" challenge, which is that “A Harry Potter character makes a surprising New Year’s toast. Which character, what toast, and who hears it is up to you.” I took a lot longer than 30 minutes for it, though. And warning: It’s outrageously fluffy and somewhat out of character. Eh. It’s my fic, dangit, and I’m tired of doing angst!


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Ten...

Severus Snape sat in the staff room, on a well-worn chair facing a cold and unlit fireplace. There wasn’t much light in the room; only half a dozen candles around him were lit, leaving most of his surroundings in comfortable shadows. In his hand he held a crystal tumbler filled with the finest brandy Hogsmeade had to offer, and the rest of the bottle sat on a heavy wood side table next to the chair. His eyes were locked on the ancient clock on the mantelpiece. Midnight wasn’t ten minutes off, and he took a moment to contemplate his situation.

Nine...

It wasn’t the first New Year’s Eve he had spent alone. Indeed, he wasn’t a sociable creature, and therefore wasn’t interested in attending the revelries the others in the castle insisted upon. He couldn’t hear the activities in the halls beneath him, a fact he was grateful for. He could admit that they had more cause to celebrate tonight than they had in more years than he cared to remember. After all, Voldemort was dead this year, with no hope of return.

Eight...

The past year had indeed been... rough, to put it mildly. With tensions escalating, more people than usual had been forced into the castle for their safety after their homes were destroyed in calculated attacks. The children too young to understand had been scared, the older students had been confused, and the adults weary. The strain of fighting the Dark had taken it’s toll on even the most patient of teachers, with even mild-mannered Remus Lupin yelling at students who had the audacity to sneak out of their common rooms after curfew. Past students had returned to help with research and to keep watch over the increasing population of the castle. And now they were all upstairs, celebrating the first New Year’s Eve that truly felt new. He shuddered at the thought of the noise.

Seven...

But his solitude this evening couldn’t be contributed solely to his dislike for celebrations. No, his solitude tonight traced itself to a single person. She was up there, dancing and celebrating with friends and colleagues, he was sure. Ever since her return to Hogwarts almost a year earlier to help with the War, he hadn’t been able to free himself of her.

Hermione Granger, in all her stubbornness, had managed to break down one of his barriers without him even realizing it. And now she was inside his thoughts, his mind, his life, and he didn’t know if there was a way to get her out. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to.

Six...

Eyeing the liquid in his glass, he realized that he was afraid of a slip of a girl, who was most likely giggling upstairs with Potter. Of what she could do to him, and the power she held over his emotions. And if there was one thing he disliked, it was feeling powerless.

He allowed himself a sarcastic chuckle. Obviously, hiding in the staff room was his way of dealing with the unfamiliar sensation of feeling something other than hate or grudging respect for another human being.

Sighing, he frowned as he stared into the empty hearth. With a muttered word, a fire sparked in the grate, and he silently relished the first wave of warmth it released.

Five...

He stared into the flames for several long minutes before a soft chime broke his reverie.

Midnight.

Raising his glass, his lips quirked in a parody of a smile.

“To another year of unchanging routines. New? Unlikely,” he drawled, taking a sip of the brandy.

He was so lost in thought that he didn’t hear the door open quietly, or notice the figure enter.

Four...

“Though some things might be different. After all, the Dark Lord is dead, and such an event can hardly leave things as they have been in the past,” he mused aloud, raising his glass again. “To Harry Potter, for ensuring that this year will be more tolerable than the last. And to Albus, as he did everything but physically kill Voldemort. And to Voldemort, for finally having the presence of mind to die.”

He took another swallow from the glass, his amusement quickly fading. He finished the glass, filling and raising it once more.

“To Hermione Granger,” he said quietly. “For being less irritable than I would wish.”

“Do you mean it?” asked a voice from behind him, just as quiet as his own.

Three...

He barely managed to stop himself from jumping slightly at the sound. Setting down his glass and standing, he turned to find himself facing Hermione.

Neither said anything for several moments as they stared at each other in the warm glow emanating from the fire and candles. He couldn’t help but notice that while she was beautiful in any light, she was radiant now. The firelight created highlights in her hair, and her eyes were dark and hooded, regarding him with and expression he almost saw as hope.

Two...

“Do I mean what?” he questioned, not raising his voice from the murmer he had used moments before.

She took a step towards him slowly, not taking her eyes off his own. “Do you mean it?” she repeated.

He didn’t move as she closed the distance between him. The fire felt warm against his back, but the heat paled to that which he could feel from her.

“Yes,” he answered softly.

She smiled, a brilliant smile that caused his breath to catch slightly.

One...

“Happy New Year, Severus.”

As she kissed him gently, he decided that the hold she had on him was just fine.

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