Snape x Reader: Huffle-Baby and the Matchmaker

Snape x Reader: Huffle-Baby and the Matchmaker  

4 years.

4 full years of waiting. . . and (F/n) knew she’d just as easily wait another 4 before it was all said and done. The young Hogwarts Professor sighed heavily, as she slumped against her chamber door. It had been a long day, and her own personal issues hadn’t made it go any smoother.

She had been late to her first class, she’d tripped and face planted in front of a group of First Year students, and then just now, the shrewish Colin Creevey had thrown up on her robes just as the final bell had rung. After dismissing everyone else and escorting the very ill Mr. Creevey to the hospital wing, (F/n) had rushed back to her quarters to change her soiled robes. It was a lucky thing she wasn’t squeamish, otherwise her own bile might have joined the child’s on the front of her frock. But this hadn’t been the first time that someone had lost their meal during her Herbology Class. So she kept her stomach contents in check.

(F/n) quickly rushed towards her personal shower after undressing. Though dinner would start in the next 20 minutes, she was in desperate need of the hot water and clean scents of her soap and shampoo. After a record-breaking wash and rinse, the young woman scrambled out of the bathroom. She dried off at rapid speed, before she threw on a spare pair of teaching robes and threw her hair up into a messy bun. Then she took off in the direction of the Great Hall. After having such a tremulous day, she vowed she wouldn’t be late for the evening meal.

“(F/n).”

(F/n) let her eyes move to grace the handsome man to her left, as she plopped into her seat at the High table. His hair was short cropped and dark blonde, making his light blue eyes shine out against the tan skin of his face. Not to mention his noticeable muscles and ultra-white teeth. The man was basically the modern definition of Adonis, though (F/n) had never gone down that particular road and told him as much. Seeing as he was her best friend and surrogate brother.

“Steve,” she returned with a tired nod. “Thanks for saving my seat.”

Steve Rogers, the new Muggle Studies Professor, lifted a perfect eyebrow before shaking his head. “You know these seats are reserved and assigned ahead of time, right?”

(F/n) rolled her eyes. “Yeah, yeah. No nit picking today, bro. My brain can’t handle it.”

His expression immediately became softer. Someday he was gonna melt a woman’s heart right out of her chest with that look. (F/n) was just counting down her calendar.

“Bad day, sis?”

“No more than usual,” (F/n) said as she began to fill her plate with the glorious food before them.

“Don’t give me that,” Steve returned as he took a bite of his chicken. “You’re physically drooping. What happened?”

“One of my students threw up on me.” He stared at her, waiting. “And I was late to my first lecture.” He didn’t budge. “And I tripped and fell in front of the First Years! That’s it! Geez!”

Steve studied her face, before he sighed and placed his fork back down on his plate. His expression shifted to his ‘no-nonsense’ gaze. (F/n) internally groaned. Once Rogers got that glint in his eye, he only grew more intense. He’d never drop the subject now.

“That sounds rough,” he conceded. “But none of those things are responsible for why you’re upset. You know I can tell when you aren’t telling me the full truth.  So what’s going on? . . . We can go somewhere more private if you want . . .?”

“Nah,” she waved him off. Gesturing for him to keep eating, but when he stayed firm she began to cave. “It’s really nothing new, Stevie. Just my old cowardly lion routine popping up again.”

Understanding rose in Steve’s baby blues. “Snape?”

“Snape,” the woman agreed, shoving a mournful bite of mashed potatoes into her mouth.

It was a little known fact, that (F/n) had deep feelings for the Potions Master. Since her first day teaching at Hogwarts, 4 years ago, she’d been lost to it. And after working alongside the reclusive War Hero for so long, she was still no closer to telling him how she felt. She saw him at all the meals, as well as when she supplied his potion classes. Being Hogwart’s Herbology Professor, (F/n) often worked with Severus after hours, in restoring their ingredients. He had even taken to accompanying her on her herb runs, seeing as it could be a dangerous job. (F/n) had always thought that Headmistress McGonagall had something to do with his offer, but she’d happily let him come with her. Now, after so long, those outings seemed almost torturous. Along with every other encounter. Because her affection for the stoic man had grown into unhealthy proportions.

“Oh (F/n), you told me you’d gotten a firm grip on your crush,” Steve admonished.

“I thought I could,” she admitted. “But he isn’t forgettable, Stevie! I have tried everything I could think of to get over it, save for an Obliviate curse. . . I tell you, it’s no use.”

“If that’s true, then you only have one option left.” He said. When she looked at him with confusion he continued. “Tell him.”

(F/n)’s eyes grew comically wide and she sputtered loudly, “N-Noooo!”

All of the other teachers at the High Table glanced over to see what had happened, at the loud outburst. (F/n) blushed at all the eyes on her, especially the obsidian pair that regarded her openly from the opposite side of the table. It was ridiculous what Snape’s eyes could do. Damn oblivious, irresistible man! Didn’t he know the effects he caused in others!?

Steve chuckled as the other Professor’s returned to their respective conversations and plates. When he was sure that there were no eavesdroppers, he placed a hand to his sister’s shoulder. Though they looked nothing alike, and had been in different Houses here at Hogwarts, they’d grown undeniably close. Both were Muggleborns and had been at the top of their classes during their student days at this school. They’d even been Prefects together. Though currently, (F/n) thought that Steve’s gung-ho Gryffindor tendencies were shining through far too much.

“Only the truth will set you free, dear,” Steve said calmly, as she face-planted into the table top.

“No, no, no,” she mumbled as she repeatedly smacked her forehead.

“You have to tell him how you feel,” Steve pressed. “What do you have to lose?”

“My sanity.”

“Funny. I thought you’d already lost it.” Rogers said while eyeing the groaning woman. “What else?”

“My professional standing and his respect for me as a Herbologist.”

“Fair enough,” Steve admitted. “But if you don’t do something, you’ll wither away and get sacked due too poor health and performance.”

“Ahhhhhhhhahhhhhh! Nooooooo~!!! I can’t!” (F/n) wailed quietly, as she continued to purposefully bash her noggin against the table. The more she did it, the less it actually hurt. Or perhaps she just had a strong head. . .

“Professor (L/n), are you quite alright?”

(F/n)’s eyes flew open at the deep, drawling voice, before her head shot up violently. Severus Snape stood behind their chairs, studying her with an expressionless mask. His obsidian eyes seemed to peer directly into her soul, though she shook that thought immediately. If he could see that deep, he would have either run away, smacked her silly, or hugged her by now. Out of the choices the middle option seemed the most likely.

“Ohh! Professor Snape! . . . I’m alright. Just got some upsetting news that I didn’t know how to deal with.” She’d never been much of a liar, so she settled for a half-truth.

Severus shifted his gaze between Steve and herself, before he nodded curtly. “I see. . . I merely wished to inquire about our trip tomorrow?”

“Trip?” (F/n)’s brow scrunched.

“Yes,” he drawled. “To gather herbs for the school stores? Or have you forgotten?”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Yes, I do remember. Please forgive me,” she hurried to apologize. “Shall I come after classes?”

“If it suits you,” Snape returned. “Or we can postpone. . . if your personal matters need attending to.”

“That’s not necessary, Professor. I shall see you tomorrow, with my focus present and accounted for.”

The Potions Master stood, regarding her for a long moment. “Very well. Come to the dungeons once your classes have been dismissed. Dress appropriately.”

“Sounds like a plan, Professor.” (F/n) nodded and stood from her chair at the table. In truth, she had eaten very little, but she was too nervous to finish her plate. . . So she moved to excuse herself. . .  before she tripped on the hem of her robes and began to fall. . .

The Herbologist squeaked as she plummeted backwards, flailing horrifically as she dropped. . . Before two strong hands caught hold of her shoulder and waist to push her back up. It was only after she’d said a breathless thank you and gotten composure of herself, that she realized it was Severus who had saved her from hugging the floor.

“Mind your footing, Miss (L/n),” he warned. “It wouldn’t do for you to injure yourself in such a careless way.”

From the table Steve laughed quietly, as (F/n) blushed furiously. Why oh why, did she always have to embarrass herself?

“Yes, Professor,” she offered shakily. “. . . Well! Goodnight!”

Then, without another word, (F/n) darted away, leaving both her makeshift brother and the recipient of her affections in her wake.

“So clumsy,” Snape drawled to no one in particular.

“You could say that,” Steve agreed with amusement. “I hope you two have a safe trip tomorrow.”

Snape glanced at him, before he abruptly stalked away. The billowing of his black robes, reminiscent of a bird of prey’s wings as he disappeared from sight.  It seemed that Steve’s status as a Gryffindor wasn’t so easily forgiven. The old Bat had never said more than three words to him.

Good thing (F/n) was a harmless Hufflepuff baby. It’d take a peaceful badger to make friends with that poisonous snake.

Professor Rogers continued to eat his meal, with a small smile on his lips. If (F/n) was unable to gain the courage to tell Snape how she felt, he just might have to help her along. He would get the ball rolling tonight before curfew. After all, what were big brothers for? 

(F/n) had been anxious all day. From absentmindedly chewing on her fingernails, to jabbering painfully in her lectures, she had screamed apprehension. Steve had even accidentally bashed her with door, while opening it for her, for her last class. It was quite the gash he’d given her.  It seemed that stress wasn’t the only lethal thing to these days. . .

Now, after Steve had taken his leave, (F/n) was cleaning her notes off the chalkboard. She had waited for her straggling students walk out the door, and now she found herself nearly crying with angsty butterflies.

She had to stay something to Severus. She was about to explode! But how could she? He was like a friggin black hole! Beautifully cosmic and mysterious, and just as untouchable.

You should be a poet with that romantic drivel, she thought to herself as she began her trek to the dungeons. Though I doubt it’d win you points with anyone. Minerva would hex me past remembering, if she knew I was such a sap.

Her feet unconsciously brought her to stand before the Potion’s classroom door. She stood stupidly for several long moments, before she finally raised her hand and wrapped tentatively.

“Enter,” came the deep drawl. His voice was like chocolate and echoes all in one, and she shivered before bidding his command.

As her gaze landed on him, sitting behind his desk reading a book, (F/n) felt her inner cowardice rise again. He was so serious and exact. . . There was no way in hell she could tell him. . . Though her declaration might make him crack a smile and laugh for once. . . Which might almost be worth it. . .  No, no Noooo!!!

Obsidian eyes lifted from the text they were skimming and he greeted her. “Professor (L/n).”

“Professor Snape,” she returned with a shy smile.

He nodded to her, standing from his desk. Though as he looked at her again, his eyebrow rose in question. “What in Merlin’s beard have you done to yourself?”

(F/n) was confused for a breath before she remembered the gash at her temple. Damn Rogers! Making her crash head first into an oak door!

“Oh it’s just a little cut, I got a while ago. It’s nothing serious.”

“I would be inclined to believe you,” he said, “if it wasn’t bleeding all over your robes.”

(F/n) cursed under her breath before touching a forefinger to the spot. Her finger pad came back covered in red.

“Oh, for the love of-” she moaned as she helplessly moved her hands, unable to figure out where to place them.

“I suppose we’ll have to tend to it,” Severus gestured for her to follow him.

“Oh no, Severus! I can manage, I’ll just go back and-”                        

“And waste more time?” He interrupted firmly, his face never changing as he sighed. “Come along, (F/n), let me patch you up so we can be on our way.”

“B-B-But,” she began, but as his unrelenting gaze reached her attention, she grew silent and followed him. Of all the embarrassing things to happen! She was already on shaky ground! But why? Just. . . WHY!?!?!

“Sit,” he ordered, and she obeyed. The witch rested on the edge of his desk, as he opened one of his drawers and brought out a small bottle. As he flicked open the stopper, a familiar scent filled the room.

“Dittany?” (F/n)’s face clearly showed her surprise. Dittany was a powerful healing herb and restorative, often used for shallow cuts and wounds.  “I know you keep many potions and herbs at hand. . . But you have that just sitting around in your desk?”

“When the students are permitted to have knives in my classroom, accidents have been known to happen.” Came the simple reply.

“That’s smart of you to be prepared.” She praised, as he poured the substance onto a handkerchief he’d pulled out with the Dittany. “I can never think of things like that. . . I suppose it’s just your personality and seniority coming into play, huh?”

He looked at her pointedly. “. . . Perhaps. . .” 

“You think I’ll ever be able to have that presence of mind,” she asked, half joking, halfway serious.

He glanced over to meet her eyes for a breath, before stating a single word. “No.”

Then before she could say more, he had placed the cloth to her temple. The initial touch of the dittany stung something fierce, and (F/n) squinted before sucking in a deep breath.

“My apologies.”

“It’s okay. . . It isn’t your fault.”

“No, it isn’t,” he said, continuing to clean her cut. “I believe we can blame your Gryffindor friend for this particular malady.”

(F/n) who had been stiff due to his close contact, now went fully rigid. Her spine snapped drastically, though she did her best to hide it. She hadn’t mentioned Steve to him, so how had he known?

“Why would you say that?”

He lifted a brow as if to challenge her question. “He said that you were under the weather last night. . . I believe he was foreshadowing this.” He inclined his head to her head wound.  

Steve had said that? (F/n) felt a red flash of anger begin to form. Steve had planned to hit her with the door? He really couldn’t think of a better way to make a mark for Snape to fix? Rogers was a big man! What if he’d swung the door too hard and truly hurt her? . . . Though she supposed, Steve had always been in control of himself. Otherwise her head might have come clean off her shoulders, and she’d have been in the Infirmary instead of the Dungeons.

“. . .He told you that?”

“Indeed,” Severus paused briefly. “He also mentioned that you had something important to discuss with me.”

Crap, crap, crapola! (F/n) instantly froze up and vowed when she saw Rogers again, that she’d curse him ten ways to Sunday. The darn matchmaker was going to pay for putting her in such a heinous position!

For several long minutes, both Herbologist and Potions Master were silent. As he was putting the final touches on her gash, he broke the silence.

“Should we wait for Rogers to throw rose petals at us, or would you rather do the honors?”

As he placed the now bloody cloth down on his desk, and pulled his hand away, (F/n)’s eyes bugged out of her head. The noise that came out of her throat was entirely inhuman.

He knew.

If she had thought she’d known embarrassment before that moment, she had been mistaken. It couldn’t have been worse than this.

“H-H-How d-d-d-do-” she broke off. Her stutters were too strong for her to speak coherently. She was speechless and had turned a bright shade of pink. So much for being respected and keeping her calm. She was acting worse than a ruddy school girl!

A new light came to his eyes, as he stared at her. He almost seemed. . . amused by it all.

“I’ve known for quite some time about your . . . impressions, Professor. But I figured you would tell me as much when you were ready. . . Though after today, I doubt that Roger’s Gryffindor courage would allow you such a respite.”

The young woman’s mind was spinning in loops and dips, her heart pounding so hard she thought it might implode. He had known. He had known all this time, and he hadn’t said a word . . . He’d waited for her. . .

“W-Why didn’t you say something?” She wanted to know.

“If your current reaction is anything to go by, I doubt you would have handled it well.”

He had a point there, but still. . . If they both were aware, then where did that leave them?

“If you know how I feel. . .” she stopped and had to begin again, averting her eyes to the stone floor of the Potions chamber. “You aren’t interested in me at all, I know. . . I’m so sorry if all this made you feel uncomfortable in any way. . . It was never my intention. I promise I won’t let it affect our work.”

“You’ve already proven yourself capable of carrying out your position while being besotted, (F/n)." She noticed that he used her first name instead of her surname or title. “And you assume too much.”

Her eyes lifted to regard him. “What did I assume?”

His gave her a smirk, as he moved to don his traveling cloak. “That your interest is unrequited.”

. . . Oh. . .

. . . Oh my . . .

“You mean. . . ?”

“That I don’t find you bothersome?”

“That you’ll go out with me?”

(F/n) halted, as they both spoke at the same time. She hadn’t meant to jump to conclusions like that, but she could feel the excitement pulsating in her very bones at the prospect.

Snape lifted a dark brow. “A little hasty are we?”

“N-No. No! I just thought that if you didn’t find me too repulsive that perhaps we could grab a Butterbeer sometime. . . Nothing serious and no pressure, either way!”

As he buttoned the clasp of his outer robe, he seemed to consider her proposal deeply.

“. . . I intend to visit Hogsmeade later on this week. . . If I bumped into you there. . .  I wouldn’t refuse your company, Professor (L/n).”

(F/n) beamed at him, her smile practically splitting her face into two.

“Really, you mean it?!”

“Yes.”

He shook his head, but she still caught the smirk that graced his lips for a second. Then his mask was slammed back firmly into place, and the commanding Potions Master returned.

“Come, we have herbs to harvest, Miss (L/n). Lest it get dark before we finish.”

(F/n), who was now on a giddy cloud nine, nodded with a perma-grin. “Alright, Severus! Let’s go!”

As she rose from the desk, she quickly captured his larger hand in her own and moved to Apparate. Snape looked down at their joined hands with something akin to shock. It took him a second to recover.

“Don’t push your luck, (F/n).”                                                                                                                             

Though in spite of his words, (F/n) noticed that his grip on her tightened ever so slightly, even before they Apparated.