Drabble – What a Simple Drink Can Do

Author's Note: Written as a gift for the lovely Banglabou. A gift, as promised. Thank you again! Your idea came out as a bit of a drabble set. I hope you like it.
Disclaimer: Per the norm, I do not own Snape or Hermione or their world, and am making no money from writing this etc etc.

Hermione was frustrated out of her mind with the research she was doing when she yelled at her fellow Unspeakable. She watched him as he slunk out of their shared office, nibbling guiltily at her lip. She hadn't thought it possible to run Snape off, but she had. Somehow.

She had been squinting at the tiny font in her current text when a mug thunked onto her desk. She glanced up to see Snape scowling at her.

"Drink," he ordered. "And keep your temper to yourself."

She sniffed at the liquid: it was chai, rich and sweet and strong.

"Why chai?" she asked him one week, when he brought her yet another mug just as she worked herself into a proper snit.

Snape shrugged. "Because it works, Granger." He sat down at his own desk. "When I studied for my Potions Mastery in India, it was my Master's way of circumventing my temper."

Her eyebrows rose and she opened her mouth to speak.

"Yes, my temper used to be worse. Drink your damn tea," he snapped.

She smiled. "Maybe you should have made yourself a mug, too."

He snorted, but his eyes were crinkled with amusement. "Possibly."

When he pitched his note journal across the office with a snarled curse, Hermione sighed and headed for the kitchen. She stared at the cupboards and dug through drawers, trying to find the teabags.

"What are you doing?" Came a clipped voice. She jumped, smacking her head on the underside of a cabinet. Snape crouched next to her, his hands gently checking for bumps.

"Looking for chai," she said once he had finished. He was so close—had his eyes always been so dark?

"I wasn't that frustrated." He gave her a crooked smirk. "I will show you."

"You've added something," Severus said one afternoon. They were at her flat, and he was sprawled across her sofa with a mug of fragrant chai.

Hermione smiled secretively, her hands curled around her own warm drink. She Levitated another log onto the fire. "Maybe."

He tilted his head and took another sip, holding it in his mouth, contemplating. "Vanilla," he said finally. "In syrup form, no less. It's sweeter."

"Do you like it?" she asked.

Severus watched her over the rim. "Oh yes. I like it very much, Hermione."

Hermione blushed. Was he speaking only of the drink?

"Your cat knocked over my tea," Severus groused, using his wand to siphon spilled liquid from his trousers. Hermione stifled a giggle.

"Sorry. Would you like some help with that?"

He snorted, handing her his empty mug. "I shall settle for a refill instead."

Hermione moved to the kitchen. "Do you want vanilla syrup?" She asked, turning, and nearly bumped into his chest.

"Yes. I like the way you make it."

She smiled. "You do?"

"Yes."

"Yes?" Hermione gathered her courage and stood on tiptoe to kiss him.

He kissed her back, tasting of warm chai.