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Ron Apparated back to Diagon Alley a few minutes after five and was surprised to find that the door to the store was unlocked and the front room deserted, for all that the "Closed" sign had been placed on the door.

"Hello?" Ron called.

There was no answer. Ron locked the door to the shop and walked over to the counter, where he found the register empty and Snape's cash bag sitting next to it. Weird. Snape wasn't usually careless.

He untied the drawstring to make sure there was actually cash in it when he heard a weird buzzing sound coming from the back room. Ron put his back against the bookshelves and edged over to the doorway that led to the back room. The buzzing was louder here, and Ron belatedly realised that it was become someone had cast Muffilatio on the doorway. Ron glanced around the corner and caught a glimpse of Snape and Hermione, red-faced and toe to toe before he ducked back into the main room.

Ron pulled out his Extendable Eyes and Ears and threaded them through the hole between the bookshelves, hoping that the anti-eavesdropping spell wouldn't be an issue, since it appeared to have been cast on the doorway only. Thankfully, the buzzing was merely background noise, and both Hermione and Snape were shouting, which helped.

"I wouldn't expect you to understand," Hermione was saying. "You never had to bother with observing niceties."

"From what I hear, you never bothered with them either, unless you're even more inept with social graces than you are with keeping your personal issues out of your work."

Hermione laughed nastily. "And you're holding yourself up as a shining example of that?"

"Hardly," said Snape. "But my motives were never selfish."

"Harry may have bought into that load of rubbish, but I haven't. Your motives were always selfish! We didn't need guilt to spur us to do the right thing!"

"Do you think because you spent a few months camping that you can compare yourself to me?" asked Snape incredulously.

"Do you think you're the only one that nearly died? The only one who was tortured? And unlike you, I defended Hogwarts in her time of need."

"I defended Hogwarts every day that I was Headmaster," spat Snape. "And I've had quite enough of your childish twaddle."

Ron winced. There was no surer way to anger Hermione than to imply she was too young to understand something. Thurston had found that out the hard way.

"That grates on you, doesn't it?" asked Hermione, baring her teeth. "What you couldn't do when you were needed most. The lives that were lost because you wrongly thought you were smart enough to get yourself out of any situation."

Snape crossed his arms. "Enough, Granger."

"You could have stopped it!" shouted Hermione, her hands clenching reflexively. "You should have had a better plan! You should have been better prepared!"

She advanced on Snape with her fists raised. "Nothing to say in your defence?" she asked, her voice breaking. "The one they trusted. The one who let everybody down."

"There is no defence," Snape said, taking Hermione's hands in his. "There is only accepting the past and moving on."

Hermione looked up into his eyes, and for a moment, Ron found it difficult to breathe. But then Hermione blinked and pulled away from him.

"Like you did? Selling stupid picture books and pretending the darkness just went away?"

"I'm not pretending anything."

"You rushed to the Weasleys' aid awfully quickly," said Hermione.

"I had no desire to leave an ill woman to the tender mercies of the Aurors," said Snape, his voice sounding silky once more. "And neither did you, I seem to recall."

"You filthy hypocrite. You talk about moving on, yet at the first opportunity you were out there again, hunting Audrey down like an animal. Did you bait her before you stunned her?"

"I never tortured," said Snape, his expression bland.

"Your former students might disagree with that."

Snape gave her a withering look. "The fact that you consider an insult to your appearance to be on par with a decades-long campaign of terror and intimidation further demonstrates that you are as ignorant of historical context as you are incapable of coping with your own actions, and I daresay, desires. I pity you, Granger. But teaching you how not to be a deluded narcissist is in no way my responsibility, nor is it Mr. Weasley's. He was clever enough to extricate himself from your company, and now that you have your book, I'd like to do the same."

Ron winced. Hermione was obviously exhausted from the argument, which was when, in the past, that she started to take the wildest swings.

"Just because you never had a friendship that didn't end with your friend's blood on your hands doesn't mean you get to disparage mine!"

Snape smirked. "Given that your only friendships exist because a Mountain Troll wandered into the toilet where you were blubbering, you're hardly an expert on the subject."

"Said the man who took advantage of a vulnerable Muggle-born girl to make himself feel important."

"I never had to do Lily's homework for her in order to keep her friendship," said Snape. "That's one advantage of being secure enough in my own intelligence that I didn't need to surround myself with half-wits in order to feel clever."

"You mean to say that the elder Messrs Crabbe, Goyle, and Malfoy were stimulating company?"

It was like a game of Exploding Snap. One of them was going to blow up, and it was going to be terrifying. And, if he was honest with himself, a bit thrilling, even if he didn't care for Snape's insinuation that he was a half-wit.

"That's enough," said Snape flatly, waving his wand to dispel the Muffliato. "You can wait for Mr. Weasley like a lovesick puppy outside."

"Why are you trying to make this about Ron?" asked Hermione, ignoring Snape's marching orders once again. "I know he has Tuesdays off. Unless you're the one waiting up for him like a lovesick puppy."

Snape didn't dignify her accusation with a response, he merely swept past Hermione. Or perhaps he meant to, but she moved to intercept him, and he collided with her shoulder, which made her lose her balance and fall against a bookshelf.

Snape turned and held out a hand to help her up, but Hermione clenched her fists once more.

"I don't need help."

"Keep telling yourself that, Granger," said Snape, turning to leave once more. "Perhaps one day it'll even be true."

"I didn't just come here for a book, you know," said Hermione, which stopped Snape in his tracks.

"I'm well aware of that."

Hermione scowled. "Then why did you let me go on like that?"

"Because clearly you wished to."

"And you didn't?" asked Hermione mockingly.

"Not particularly. I had hoped you would come to the point eventually."

Hermione's eyes were blazing. "You miserable coward."

"Your point," snarled Snape. Ron suspected that Snape was wearying of the argument as well. But why hadn't he decisively ended it yet? It wasn't as though he couldn't.

"You know damned well," said Hermione, drawing her wand and advancing on Snape.

Snape drew his own wand and took a step back. "This isn't what you want."

"How would you know?" asked Hermione angrily. "She was homicidal, and you expect me to believe she just gave up? I'm going to find out what you did, whether you like it or not."

Snape blinked in surprise at the apparent change of topic and shook his head as if to clear his ears. "You're accusing me of casting the Imperius Curse on Audrey Weasley?" he asked.

"You can give me your wand now, or you can wait until I get approval to administer Veritaserum," said Hermione, her voice shaking.

What on earth was Hermione doing? She'd barely been cleared for duty and now she was threatening Snape based on a nonexistent investigation?

"You unspeakable little fool," growled Snape, advancing on her.

Hermione brandished her wand at him. "Stay away from me!"

"That's not really what you want, is it?" said Snape. To Ron's utter shock, he seized her arms and kissed her brutally.

For a moment, Ron thought Hermione was going to attack. She struggled to free her arms, and Snape released her, breathing hard. But instead but instead of clawing him, Hermione's wand clattered to the floor, and she seized the sides of his face and kissed him back just as fiercely.

Now that the noisy spell was gone, Ron could hear the wet sounds of their mouths meeting, their teeth clacking against one another, and their strained breathing with perfect clarity, and he was horrified to feel his cock hardening as he watched their mouths battle one another in a completely new way.

After what seemed like ages, Snape pulled himself away from her and threw his wand on the ground.

Hermione, whose lips were plump and red from kissing, stared at him in dazed confusion.

"Well?"

"Severus, I—"

"Take it. Do what you must to assuage your morbid curiosity. And if you actually care how Mrs. Weasley was apprehended, I suggest you talk to your ex-boyfriend or, heaven forfend, someone you trust who was actually there."

Hermione's face grew thunderous. "That's all you have to say to me?"

"I will not continue to waste time on someone incapable of articulating her own desires. I've shown you what I have to offer. If you cannot bring yourself to be honest with yourself and with me, there is nothing more to be said. I trust you can see yourself out."

The last thing Ron saw before leaving the Extendable Eyes and Ears dangling between the shelves and leaping behind the counter to hide was a look of resolution settle into Hermione's face.

He heard rather than saw her exit the shop, after which there was a noisy blast of air from the back room. The sound of Snape's footsteps upstairs made Ron belatedly realise that Snape had flown up over the back room balcony and was pacing around his office.

As the air stilled, Ron quietly let himself out of the shop and locked the door behind him.

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Wednesday morning was restocking day, and Ron found Snape already at Palindrome surrounded by discarded brown delivery paper and scribbling in the ledger.

"Good morning, sir," said Ron, trying not to sound as uncertain as he felt. He didn't fancy Snape figuring out what he'd seen the night before.

"Good morning, Weasley," said Snape, sounding suspiciously normal and not bothering to look up. "I trust you had a pleasant excursion to Hogsmeade?"

"I did," said Ron. "I've got a clear favourite and already wrote to the listing agent."

"Is it a rental property or an outright purchase?"

"Either," said Ron. "Aquilina says she knows the owner and would be willing to talk him down on a purchase price."

Snape looked up at last. "Aquilina?"

"I ran into her at the Three Broomsticks. She and Henrietta showed me around. And speaking of which," Ron pulled Pascentia's Passion out of his robes, "I finally finished. Thanks for letting me read it."

Snape took the volume and laid it aside with uncharacteristic gentleness. "You enjoyed it, I trust."

"Cried my eyes out at the end, but yeah," said Ron gruffly.

"It's been known to have that effect."

"It's one of the best things I've read. Is her other stuff that good?"

"Her books differ from one another considerably in tone and style," said Snape, "but yes, each one is exceptional in its own way. Henrietta was well?"

"She seemed happy," said Ron. "She asked after you. Wanted to know if you'd cultivated any dangerous hobbies or were seeing anyone."

Snape snorted. "I'm sure she was terribly disappointed that you answered in the negative."

They were straying uncomfortably close to the conversation that Ron knew Snape wouldn't be happy about. "Her husband seems nice. He was working in the garden when we passed their house."

"Pruning the roses, no doubt," said Snape, blandly. "Weasley, go shelve that stack of new issues."

Ron let out a sigh of relief. Shelving was mindless work, plus it meant he got to admire the variant covers. As he worked, he glanced back at the counter and wondered what Snape was thinking about. Henrietta and Aquilina were clearly worried about him, though if the fight Snape and Hermione had had last night was any indication, they didn't need to worry that Snape wasn't getting his blood flowing.

He reflexively made a face as he tried not to imagine the two of them getting their blood flowing in other ways, but paused. It wasn't such a mad thought, really. For all of the vitriol the two had spat at one another, Snape understood something that Ron never had when Hermione had initiated shouting matches with him: she enjoyed it, and she enjoyed it when he yelled back. And while Snape had threatened to end the fight several times, he hadn't, at least not until he'd laid his cards on the table. He was willing to continue their sparring, but it wouldn't be a no-stakes game any more.

Ron suddenly heard Hermione's thirteen-year-old voice in his ear chanting "We attacked a teacher! We attached a teacher!" the night they'd found Sirius Black in the Shrieking Shack and realised that Snape had been the first authority figure she'd violently opposed. Had she been secretly thrilled in that moment, too?

And Snape. He'd been unhinged by fury that night, so much so that Ron had a hard time reconciling that Snape with the Snape with whom he was friendly. But Snape had been under much more pressure then. Was shouting and screaming the sort of release Snape needed?

Regardless, Ron knew it was something he didn't want to stand in the way of, but it also wasn't the sort of thing he could talk to either of them about without getting hexed.

As he returned to the counter for another armload of inventory to shelve, he caught sight of Pascentia's Passionwhere Snape had left it. Clearly, Snape and Henrietta had parted on good terms, but he didn't seem particularly keen to discuss their relationship. But perhaps he might be willing to discuss the book.

Perfect.

"There's one thing I don't get about that book," remarked Ron, who was re-organising the Pip and Pep books to make room for several copies of the latest.

Snape looked up. "Which one? The Howser?"

"Yeah," said Ron. "How is Antonius so certain that returning to Rome is going to make him happier than staying with Pascentia?"

"The book is what's known as a pastoral romance," said Snape. "The idealised rural setting represents civilisation's yearning to return to a simpler life, to be in balance with nature, and to restore lost innocence. But Howser did something very clever with Antonius. Do you recall what happened when he attempted to help her bring in the sheep just before the evening rain?"

"They got distracted by a couple of satyrs."

"Before that," said Snape impatiently, "Antonius was shown to have no talent with sheep whatsoever. And the scene in which he has difficulty eating the vegetables the centaurs prepared for them. There are numerous examples in which Howser shows that Antonius is every bit as incompatible with country life as Pascentia would be with city life. Besides, Antonius must return to Rome in order to be eligible for another term as Proconsul."

"So love isn't enough," said Ron.

"It never is," said Snape, shutting the ledger and taking an armful of books to the back room.

Ron followed him. "You said you didn't recommend the book to me because you didn't want to assume anything about me and Hermione. Was that what you were talking about?"

"I don't precisely recall," said Snape, ducking behind a cabinet. "But anyone could see that the two of you were poorly suited to one another."

"Why, because she's clever and I'm not?" asked Ron, recalling the insult Snape had hurled last night.

"Because you're Pascentia and she's Antonius," said Snape.

Huh. That made a certain amount of sense. Ron had always wanted a little place in the country, but Hermione insisted they keep a flat near the Ministry. Hermione had always pushed him in their career, and Ron was simply happy to be where he was. Hell, half the reason she became an Auror to begin with was to make sure that he and Harry didn't fail out of training. Ron was so taken with the observation that he nearly missed the opportunity it provided him.

"So clearly what she needs is another Antonius," said Ron, ducking back into the front room before Snape had a chance to digest his comment.

Snape's response was deafening silence, which lasted until the next customer came in.

Fortunately, between all the new inventory to shelve and offsetting lunch hours, Ron didn't have the opportunity to put his foot in his mouth again before five o'clock rolled around. He was happy to leave Snape to his thoughts, but his delight at his own subterfuge lasted only until he spotted Draco Malfoy seated next to Harry at the Cloak and Wand, and Hermione looked no happier about it than Ron was.

Ron armed himself with a round of pints before entering the fray.

It went about as well as could be expected; Ron drank too much, Hermione left in a huff, and Harry and Draco ended up having a row in the loo over one thing or another, after which Draco Apparated Merlin-knew-where.

Before Harry followed Draco off to wherever he'd gone, Ron managed to ask him how Hermione had been that morning, if she'd seemed upset or weird about anything.

Harry appeared bewildered by the question. "Hardly," he said. "I haven't seen her so focused in ages. She single-handedly finished all the paperwork from last month's cases."

"But did she seem happy?"

"As happy as I've ever seen anybody doing paperwork. She even asked after Vandachari's kids. I didn't even know she knew their names."

Harry made his excuses and went off in search of his boyfriend and left Ron to stagger home. His thoughts weren't exactly clear, but his suspicion that Hermione had enjoyed her row with Snape had been confirmed. And if Snape's patient analysis of Pascentia's Passion was any indication, Snape was no worse for wear, either.

Ron weaved around a lamp post that he swore hadn't been there a moment ago and spotted Hermione coming out of Flourish and Blott's, and when he called after her, she took his arm to prevent him from falling off the pavement again.

"Thanks, Hermione," said Ron, hoping he wasn't slurring as badly as he suspected he was.

"Well, the next time Draco invites himself along, hopefully Harry will talk him out of it," said Hermione, pulling on his arm so that he was lodged more securely on her shoulder.

"Malfoy is a git of the first water," pronounced Ron solemnly. "But apparently Harry likes unbelievable gits, so we should support that."

"We could start a Society for the Promotion of Romance for Unbelievable Gits."

"S.P.R.U.G?" said Ron, sniggering.

"You mean S-P-R-U-G," said Hermione primly before breaking into giggles.

"Speaking of unbelievable gits," said Ron. "I wanted to say m'sorry."

"What for?"

"That it didn't work out between us and that I didn't find a better way to tell you."

Hermione waved her hand. "I won't say it didn't hurt. But the longer we're apart, the more I realise that you were right. It wasn't working, and I'm not sure it ever did."

"Sure, because I'm Pascentia and you're Antonius," said Ron.

"What?"

"It's from a thing. A book," said Ron, recalling from the wavering recesses of his memory that Hermione needed to know he was okay with her and Snape snogging without saying so directly. "You should read it. Pascentia's Passion by Henrietta Howser. Snape's got a copy. Should ask him for it. But ask nice. It's special."

Ron felt Hermione stiffen under his arm. "I don't think I'll be seeing him any time soon."

"Why not?" asked Ron. "I'm gonna be moving to Hogsmeade so if you want any more of the good stuff, you're gonna have to get it from him."

"You're quitting the shop?" asked Hermione. "I thought you loved working there."

"No, no. Not quitting. I'm running Palindrome North. Snape's giving me a loan and everything so I can keepWonder Witch #1."

Ron knew he wasn't being clear, but he hoped Hermione was getting the gist.

"This is me," he said, pointing to the narrow door that led up to his flat.

"Are you going to be all right by yourself?" asked Hermione.

Ron felt a silly grin spread across his face. "It'll be brilliant. I've got cottage picked out already. You can see the lake from the window. There's a weather vane with a dragon on it. A dragon, Hermione! The shop's going to be amazing once it's fixed up. An' I can cheer on Gryffindor in Quidditch an' I can decorate for holidays an' it's so close to the Three Broomsticks I can get Madam Rosmerta's Butterbeer any time! An' I already know people who live there. It's gonna be perfect, Hermione. I can't bloody wait."

"I meant if you thought you could handle all the stairs," said Hermione, giving him a soft smile. "But I'm glad about the rest, too."

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The next weeks were busy. Ron and Snape spent every waking hour that Palindrome wasn't open fixing up the shop in Hogsmeade. Ron wasn't certain what Snape had sold, but he'd made enough to purchase Palindrome North outright, for all that they made a point to salvage as much of the detritus from previous owners as possible.

Snape always Apparated back to London immediately after the evening's project was done, despite Ron's entreaties to join him for a drink at the Three Broomsticks or the Hog's Head. Ron supposed he understood. You could practically see the Shrieking Shack from the store, a place Snape would probably be glad never to visit again.

Ron wished he could move into Dragon Cottage immediately, which was up the hill from High Street, but his tenancy agreement didn't begin until the first of December. The walls of his bedsit never felt plainer or more confining than they did during those weeks.

Fortunately, work was still fun, and in preparation for him running the store in Hogsmeade, Snape had given Ron the pleasant task of reviewing publisher's samples in order to decide what inventory to stock. The choice was ultimately Snape's, of course, but Ron was satisfied to see that Snape nearly always heeded his recommendations. Ron slept better than he had in ages, weary from the day's work and with so much to look forward to.

He was also pleased to find Hermione browsing and Snape pretending to ignore her the following Thursday when he came in for his late shift. Ron greeted each of them in turn and made a point of reminding Hermione to ask Snape about Pascentia's Passion. He doubted that Snape would be willing to lend her his copy, but he could order it for her. And order it he would, if he was serious about the oblique offer he'd made Hermione during their row.

The two of them left the shop together, and as they left, Hermione looked back, presumably to gauge Ron's response. He gave her a grin and a thumb's up, which he hoped would be sufficient to allay her concerns.

The weekend passed without event, and on Monday evening, the counter top for the Hogsmeade shop arrived. And finally, it was December first, and Ron could move out of his tiny flat in the city for Dragon Cottage and its awesome weather vane. He had few possessions to move. He'd claimed some mismatched old furniture from around his parents' property—an old wooden bed frame from the attic, a kitchen table and chairs from dad's shed, and a lumpy sofa that Bill and Fleur were replacing. He even moved his old school trunk to use as a coffee table.

He'd just finished trimming some holly branches off the tree in the back yard and was arranging them in a pitcher when there was a knock at the door. He was surprised to find Snape standing there with a new bottle of firewhisky in his hand.

"It's not a house-warming gift," said Snape, without preamble. "But no bookshop keeper should be without a bottle in his possession."

Ron laughed and ushered him in. "It'll be a while before this place is warm anyway, but it's already feeling like home."

"It's remarkable how quickly we adapt," said Snape, glancing out the window.

"Well, I know we've got a lot of shelves to install," said Ron, "but would you like a drink before we start? Some generous soul gave me a bottle of firewhisky that I probably shouldn't drink all on my lonesome."

"Very well," said Snape. "I plan to make you do most of the work anyway."

Ron grinned. "Make yourself at home. Just watch out for the left cushion on the sofa. I think there's a spring about to come loose."

Ron opened the bottle and poured them both several fingers of firewhisky. He handed a tumbler to Snape, who nodded his thanks.

They clinked glasses and drank.

"So, how's Hermione?" asked Ron.

Snape nearly spat out his drink and instead choked.

Ron summoned a glass, cast Aguamenti into it, and handed it to Snape.

As Snape continued to cough, it dawned on Ron that Snape had misinterpreted his question to be one of a more intimate nature.

"I'm so sorry, sir. I didn't mean it like that. I was just asking after her because I hadn't heard from her in a few days and since her special order came in on Sunday, I thought you might have seen her.

While he babbled, it also occurred to him that Snape's extreme reaction betrayed more than perhaps he intended.

"Morgana's tits!" swore Ron.

"Got there, did you?" asked Snape between coughs.

"Some master spy you are," said Ron, reflexively horrified at the thought of the two of them shagging and half amused that Snape had let so much slip.

"I wasn't expecting to be interrogated on my personal life," said Snape, summoning a formidable scowl.

"Well, you'd better get used to it," said Ron. "People will talk. Not me, of course. But other people."

"I'm well aware of the risks of involvement with those in whom the public takes prurient interest."

Ron hastily refilled Snape's glass. "I didn't think it would happen so fast."

"I'm surprised you thought it would happen at all."

"I heard you arguing. It was only a matter of time before you started tearing one another's clothes off."

Snape flushed an ugly red, and Ron covered his face with his hand when he realised how close he must have inadvertently stumbled to the truth. "Merlin, I'm really on a roll, aren't I?"

"I do not wish to discuss this any further with you."

"Suits me," said Ron, tossing back the last of his drink. "What do you say we install some shelves?"

"I'd say that's an excellent idea."

They cast warming charms on their robes and boots and stepped out into the cold darkness. The lights of Hogwarts castle were glimmering in the distance and were reflected in the surface of the lake.

"I've been meaning to ask," said Ron, lighting his wand and stepping on to the path that led down to the store. "Have you decided who you're going to have working the late shift on Diagon Alley when Palindrome North opens?"

"No-one," said Snape falling into step next to him. "I had a close look at the numbers and found that the store makes most of its sales between the hours of eleven in the morning and eight in the evening, so I will be cancelling the night shift except during Christmas holidays and other times you may be available, such as the summer."

"But if you don't need me during the year, why would you need me during the summer?"

"I don't precisely need you, Weasley. But I've got rather used to your inane observations, and I suspect I shall miss them."

Ron was glad his blush wasn't visible in the dark.

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Two weeks before Christmas, the holiday rush began in earnest, as the students returned from Hogwarts and wandered about Diagon Alley with their families. Ron was expected at the Burrow for Christmas, and Mum let him know in a newsy note that Audrey was responding well to treatment at St. Mungo's and might even be released before the new year. Mum had also been telling anyone who would listening that Ron would be running a shop in Hogsmeade, which pleased and embarrassed him at the same time.

Snape had reluctantly agreed to keep Palindrome closed on Boxing Day, but only if Ron agreed to work Christmas Eve with him, which Ron wasn't terribly sorry to promise, since it meant that George would have less of an opportunity to demonstrate the latest Weasley Wizarding Wheezes on him. However, Ron had no idea how he was going survive until then, because restocking the Wednesday before Christmas had been complete chaos. There were more customers in the store than Ron had ever seen at once, and he and Snape had to stay a half hour past closing in order to finish restocking and closing the register.

"I'm completely knackered," moaned Ron, collapsing into a chair in the reading nook.

"Well, I'm afraid you're going to have to move at some point," said Snape, holding up a folded piece of parchment. "This arrived while you were at lunch."

Ron took the note and groaned when he saw that it was from Oswald Brimble, who had been his landlord until the start of the month.

"What does that old skinflint want now?" he muttered as he unfolded the note.

To his dismay, Brimble was refusing to refund all of his tenancy deposit until they'd done a walk-through of the bedsit, and he was going to be leaving tomorrow on a trip to the Azores. And if he didn't show up before six, he would forfeit the amount.

"I've got to go," said Ron. "Brimble's being an arse about my deposit. See you tomorrow at five."

"Be sure the 'Closed' sign is in the window when you leave," said Snape absently.

Ron made his way to his old flat. Old Brimble was clearly annoyed that he'd showed up, and of course there was nothing missing or broken in the tiny bedsit. After glaring at the tiny mirror in an ill-fated attempt to make it fall with the force of his bad temper, Brimble coughed up the remainder of Ron's deposit.

Ron accepted it with ill grace and walked toward the Apparation point. He was looking forward to his first proper soak in the claw-foot tub at Dragon Cottage and a tumbler of Snape's gift.

But as he stepped out into the street and glanced back at Palindrome, he realised that the "Closed" sign wasn't in the window. In his annoyance at Brimble, he'd apparently forgot to put it up. He'd locked the door after him and the shades were down in the windows, so it's not as though any customers were going to go wandering in, but it was the sort of carelessness that irritated Snape, so he went back to correct his error.

Ron quietly unlocked the door to the shop in hopes of putting the sign in the door before Snape realised it wasn't there, and was pleased to find that Snape wasn't in the main room. He slipped the "Closed" sign between the shade and the glass of the door and was about to sneak out again when he heard the sound of Snape's voice coming from the back room.

Odd. Snape hadn't said anything about meeting any collectors after hours.

Ron tiptoed across the main room, his fingers already seeking his Extendable Eyes and Ears, when another voice spoke, and he recognised it as Hermione's.

His hand froze. He didn't have any right to eavesdrop them. It wasn't as though he had to worry about them tearing out one another's throats now, not after Snape's accidental confession. Still, he had to admit that a thrill went through him imagining that the two of them might start shagging against the bookshelves. It was like something out of one of Sarpiero's early books.

However, having grown up in a house in which privacy was at a premium, he reluctantly concluded that it'd be violating his friendship with both of them if he spied. He cursed inwardly, wondering if Harry felt this thick when he was struck with inconvenient bouts of moral fibre.

Ron returned the Eyes and Ears to his pocket when he heard what was unmistakably the wet sound of snogging from the back room. He studiously tried to ignore it and crept quietly over to the door.

"Wait," he heard Snape say, his voice sounding unusually hoarse. "Weasley has a key."

"I know," said Hermione. This was followed by a particularly loud kiss, and he heard Snape hiss. "You said he likes watching."

Ron felt the blood leaving his head and migrating south with every beat of his heart.

"Vixen," growled Snape.

"No, don't lock it," said Hermione. "Imagine he's already crept in. He's there, on the other side of the wall. Listening to us."

"Knowing Weasley, he's having a crisis of conscience," said Snape, whose voice sounded oddly muffled. "He wants to stay but knows we wouldn't approve."

Hermione gasped, and Ron's fingers itched to deploy the Extendable Eyes and Ears.

"I see," said Hermione breathlessly. "Make it harder for him, then."

A sizzling purple beam came shooting out of the back room, which made Ron jump. The door began to glow in the same colour as the spell. Ron didn't need to poke the spell with his wand to know it was a locking spell even more powerful than the one Snape taught Ron, and he hadn't the faintest idea how to counter it.

If he Apparated out, they'd know he had overheard them, which would be embarrassing, but not the end of the world. But if he wanted to, it was possible to remain undetected. And the insistent throbbing in his pants reminded him that he wanted very much to stay.

"That was overkill, don't you think?" asked Hermione.

"I'll show you overkill, you incorrigible brat," said Snape between kisses.

"Give me back my wand!"

"I don't believe I will."

"What are you going to do?" said Hermione. Her voice had increased in volume enough that Ron knew she was getting angry. "Threaten me with a curse you don't even have the strength to cast?"

"It's high time someone taught you a lesson."

"You couldn't even if you tried, old man!"

Ron gasped as Snape let out a strangled breath. "I am going to place that pert little arse of yours on this shelf and then I am going to fuck your silly little cunt until you scream."

Ron abandoned all thought of escaping, yanked the Extendable Eyes and Ears out of their pouch, and put them on as quickly as possible.

They were practically climbing over one another, fighting for dominance with their kisses and hands as much as with their words.

"You think you can make me scream?" asked Hermione, cupping Snape's crotch with her hand. "With that?"

"If you're capable of screaming in pleasure, you miserable shrew," said Snape, seizing both of her wrists in his hand and pressing her face against the bookshelf. He raised his hand and brought it down on her arse with a smack that made Ron's cock jump.

"Bastard," screeched Hermione, yanking against his restraining hands.

"My my, Miss Granger," said Snape, bringing his hand down on her once more. "One would think you'd never been spanked before."

"You'd like to think that, wouldn't you, you disgusting pervert," shouted Hermione twisting her hips deliciously. "That's why you can't find a witch your own age, you want to be someone's first. Well, I've been fucked more times and in more ways than you can possibly imagine."

"I think you'll find my imagination is capable of grasping your pathetic adolescent fumblings," said Snape, yanking up Hermione's robes, exposing a pair of lacy knickers. He gave her pinkening bottom another smack, and Hermione growled—there was no other word for it.

"You won't even be my first time in this room!" Hermione hissed, yanking her arms free. "I came all over your floor, and you had to smell my quim for days. I'll bet you got hard every time you smelled me all over your disgusting books!"

Ron shuddered, hurriedly unzipped his trousers, and took himself in hand.

"Wonderfully filthy books that brought you to greater heights of sexual climax than you'd ever reached before," said Snape in a hypnotic voice that Ron had never found sexy until that moment.

"You don't know anything about it!" said Hermione, leaping toward the shelf where Snape had placed her wand.

"It's nothing to be ashamed of," said Snape, his voice immediately becoming clinical as he and Hermione began to circle one another.

"I'm not ashamed, you presumptuous arse!"

"Some people go their whole miserable lives without ever discovering what brings them sexual satisfaction. And others are too prudish, too convinced that they are above all of that, to make the most elementary exploration."

"Said the man who pined for a dead woman for decades," said Hermione, her eyes smouldering. "I'll bet you lost your virginity to a whore you bought for yourself when you turned forty."

Snape let out an inarticulate roar and pounced on Hermione, yanking on the neck of her robes until the fabric tore. "Look around you, you ignorant child. Every piece in this room is a testament to the power of lust. You frigged yourself to Delphinia in Bloom, one of the tamest pieces in this collection. Have you any idea the heights of glorious depravity that you have yet to explore?"

Hermione fastened her mouth to Snape's neck. "I don't need you," she said, sucking hard.

"No, but you want me," said Snape, sticking his hand between her legs, which made Hermione gasp. "You want nothing more than to rub your cunt in my face and have me call you a goddess, but I know you too well. You're no goddess deserving of worship. You are a liar," he said kissing her fiercely. "A thief. An extortionist. You are unworthy of the skills and honours you possess."

Hermione threw her head back and uttered a cry. "And you?" she gasped, yanking Snape's robe open and tearing the buttons from his chest. "Do you think any goddess would crave your worship, you hateful," she kissed him, "repulsive," she said pinching his nipple, "thrice-damned murderer who blackens everything he touches."

Snape was wriggling out of his clothes and tore her robes further, which exposed the swell of Hermione's brassiere. "You shrieking harpy," he gasped, pressing his face between her breasts. "You're incapable of love, unworthy of desire."

Hermione dug her fingers into Snape's hair, seizing his skull. He allowed himself to be forced to his knees, his face at Hermione's crotch.

"You don't deserve to smell my cunt," said Hermione. "You don't deserve to lick it."

Snape's hands flew to the band of her knickers and yanked them off. "I have absolutely no intention of doing so."

With a whispered incantation, Hermione rose into the air as books flew from the shelves.

"You still think you can make me scream?"

"I know I can," said Snape. "Be a good girl and let me know how I'm doing."

Ron began to move his hand in time with Snape's fingers as they disappeared into Hermione's body and withdrew, thumbing her clitoris with practiced ease.

"I'm supposed to be impressed?" hissed Hermione, her knees jerking. "I can do this myself."

"I grow weary of your empty boasts," said Snape, leading with his middle finger and doing something inside her that made Hermione's eyes roll back in her head. "Do the world a favour and for once in your life, hold your tongue."

Hermione's eyes flew open and she glared at him even as she squeezed her knees together around his forearm. "That's what you've always wanted, isn't it? Someone pliable you can control the way you've never had any control over anything in your sad little life?"

Snape withdrew his hand and yanked Hermione's brassiere off, cupping her breasts in his hand. "Said the woman trembling for my cock," he spat. "By all means, continue to spew your lies and insults. But I will make you scream, Miss Granger, and nothing you can say will stop that."

Ron was simultaneously horrified by their vitriol and more turned on than he'd ever been in his life. Blood was pounding in his ears, and his cock was straining against his hand, begging him to thrust. He'd never seen Hermione like this, furious, chest heaving in anger, and obviously incredibly turned on.

Hermione let out an inarticulate howl as Snape closed the distance between them, sliding his cock confidently between her legs and thrusting deeply into her.

"I'll never scream," she whined, shaking her head back and forth. "You'll never be good enough."

"I'm good enough for the likes of you," said Snape, withdrawing and thrusting into her once more. "I'm more than you deserve, you heartless creature."

"You fraudul—ungh!" Hermione groaned, wrapping her legs around him.

Snape pressed a surprisingly tender kiss to her forehead, and he settled into an excruciatingly slow rhythm that Ron matched, doing his best not to thrust uncontrollably into his hand.

Hermione arched her chest towards him, forcing him to adjust so to keep her from sliding off the shelf.

"Take it," he groaned.

"I can't!" wailed Hermione, wiggling on the shelf and wrapping her arms around him, pulling him tightly against her.

"You will," whispered Snape, wrapping his arm around her waist, with a groan.

Ron was surprised to see tears spilling out of Hermione's closed eyes, and Snape began to speed up his thrusts. He was getting close, and from the stuttering sound of Hermione's breathing, she was too.

Their gasps and groans grew louder as, at long last, their words failed them, and Hermione's hands began to clench of their own accord, and her thighs trembled.

Ron leaned hard against the bookshelf and tugged desperately on his cock, trying not to let his whimpers escape from his throat.

Snape began to pound into her, and Hermione's eyes flew open, and she stared at the hole in the wall through which Ron was watching. She let out a shout and began to chant the broken syllables of Snape's name, her voice cracking, until at last she let her head fall back and screamed, as if her climax had been torn from her against her will.

As Hermione climaxed around him, Snape seized her buttocks, angled her hips just so, and thrust into her once, twice, thrice more, each more deliberate than the last. Hermione was squirming, her voice breaking on every shout, and her body stiffened.

Ron couldn't breathe. He pumped his cock in time with Snape's final thrusts, and his climax broke over him as Snape cried out, broken and triumphant at the same time. White light exploded on the backs of Ron's eyelids, and he came, pumping frantically, and ejaculate erupted from the head of his cock, spilling out of his hand and dribbling on to the floor.

He slumped to the floor, gasping for air, and the Extendable Eyepieces slid from his nose as the earpieces popped from his ears. He'd shot come all over himself, his clothes, and the floor, but Ron felt a bit of perverse pride that he'd still managed to keep it off the books.

But a noise from within the room sent a knife of dread through his post-orgasmic haze. Regardless of the circumstances, he could not be caught, especially not with his pants down.

He drew his wand and cleaned up his mess from the floor, pulled up his trousers and pants once again, and gathered up the Extendable Eyes and Ears. One last glance through the eyepieces showed them rocking gently together, and Ron could hear them murmuring indistinctly even without the Ears.

He cast a panicked look at the door, which was still glowing with whatever spell Snape had cast on it. There was still no way out. His only hope was to hide behind the counter and hope Snape had taken care of everything he'd needed to already.

Ron cast one final cleansing spell on the bit of floor he'd messed, and took his place behind the counter. No sooner had he finished buttoning up and straightening his robes than Hermione and Snape came walking out of the back room, hand-in-hand. Ron ducked behind the counter but quickly realised he could see what they were doing reflected in the glass of a painting of Dragon Man that hung behind the register.

They looked as though they'd been engaged in battle, hardly dressed, with ripped robes hanging forlornly from their largely naked bodies. Wordlessly, Hermione cast a series of spells to repair Snape's robes, and applied healing spells with the tip of her wand as she kissed his wounds, and to his surprise, Snape repeated the procedure, taking especial care to smooth her hair and touch her face with reverent fingers.

At last, she smiled up at him and kissed him soundly.

"Come to mine?" he murmured into her hair. "I'll draw you a bath this time."

"All right," said Hermione. "And Severus, thank you."

"You don't need to thank me," he said, his voice gentle.

"I know," she said. "But I wanted to anyway."

Snape kissed her gently and placed a ring of keys in her hand. "Let yourself in. I'll only be a moment."

Hermione returned the kiss, span on her heel, and Disapparated.

Snape and walked over to the door, and dispelled the purple glow. He reached in between the shade and the glass of the door and withdrew the "Closed" sign that Ron had placed there.

Ron heard him chuckle to himself as he replaced the sign, cast the security spell once more, extinguished the light.

"Goodnight, Mr. Weasley," he murmured.

There was a loud crack, and he was gone.

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THE END

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Notes: Please note that this is a finished work of fiction that was written as a gift for a specific recipient, and as such, concrit is not being requested.

Written for Amorette for the 2015 SSHG Giftfest on Livejournal for the following prompt: Snape decides to lead a quiet life after the war and runs a new library/book shop in Diagon Alley. Hermione keeps coming in for books.

Enormous thanks to Sc010f, Bluestocking79, Pyjama_pants, and AR for idea bouncing, Mr. 42 for beta reading, and RichardGloucester for Britpicking. I adore you all and thank you so much for giving your time to make this story work, insofar as it does.