Evocative Chapter Titles

Disclaimer: As you're no doubt certain, I've no claim to the Harry Potter universe nor am I profiting financially from writing this story.

Effusive thanks to my betas kittylefish (comma and plot Goddess) and persevero (fantastic Brit-picker and grammar Queen) for their patience and immense assistance.

Chapter 2 - Evocative Chapter Titles

Minerva McGonagall rose late on the morning following Severus’s initial visit to Flourish and Blotts. Knowing that Severus would be furious after attending the meeting, she reasoned that he wouldn't be able to resist seeking her out to vent his wrath sometime that day, and it would be best to avoid first encountering Severus in front of staff and students alike. Taking meals in her office was an indulgence that she rarely allowed herself, but today seemed just the occasion to warrant the treat. Taking the tray the house-elves had left, Minerva mused upon the circumstances that had prompted her ill-received Christmas gift.

It was no secret that Severus was a changed man since his encounter with Voldemort's fierce familiar. No longer under the constant pressure of maintaining his cover as a spy, no longer forced to loathe all Gryffindors on sight or kiss all Slytherins' arses, no longer pulled seven different directions by Albus's and Voldemort's machinations, and no longer hexed regularly by fellow Death Eaters or suspected of treachery by both sides, Severus had seemingly imploded into himself. Granted, it was rather nice to be able to approach the man without immediately reeling from the constant stress he exuded. But post-war Severus had not truly begun to unwind those coils of stress; he'd merely denied them by throwing himself into all things academic. When faced with under-performing dunderheads, he took steps to improve their performance, mitigate their shortcomings, and correct whatever misunderstanding had caused the latest cauldron explosion. Gone were the days of drastic and constant house point deductions, high-decibel floggings of both bright and dim-witted student egos alike, and nightly hall patrols in full snit, daring students to put so much as a toe out of line. Not that the students were taking advantage of this new Snape. If anything, they seemed to fear that his demeanour was the calm before the storm and that one day he would snap and unleash his legendary temper with violent and disastrous results. No, this new Snape was not a calm, pacified kitten. He was a fault line that had been dormant for far too long.

Minerva set aside her breakfast tray to begin processing the paperwork necessary for the upcoming graduation ceremony. Her mind still on Severus, she realized that, much to her surprise, she found she missed the snarky old Potions professor from days of old. Their verbal sparring had kept each of them on their toes, and Severus’s sharp wit could always be counted on to entertain. But along with his altered conduct, the man had become a recluse from the adult world. He stayed in his dungeons nearly constantly, emerging only for breakfast, lunch, and the occasional dinner. True, his social interactions prior to Voldemort's fall were stressful, primarily consisting of frequent, irregular, and always ill-timed Death Eater meetings, daily planning sessions with Albus, and the occasional meeting of the Order of the Phoenix, but at least back then the man had left the sanctuary of his dungeons on a regular basis. Albus had even managed to cajole him into attending regular staff outings, which, provided you could read the man correctly, he had seemed to genuinely enjoy. She had discussed the situation with Albus's portrait and together they had concluded that she needed to get up Severus’s nose a bit - an easy enough task considering the size of the man's nose and the long list of things that would annoy him. She had only to drive him out of his dungeons.

Minerva beamed as she glanced at the house points counter on her desk, which reported the totals shown in the Great Hall. Not yet noon and already each house was down over fifty house points apiece with Gryffindor down over eighty points. It seemed her Potions professor had been thoroughly rankled.

"YOU!" Severus bellowed at Minerva as he stalked into the staff room following his last class of the day. Minerva glanced up from her copy of Transfiguration Weekly and stifled the smile that threatened to peek out above the journal.

"Minerva, I'm a busy man who doesn't have an hour a week to spare to read a silly inconsequential book much less two hours to discuss it with even sillier, more inconsequential old witches! I have infirmary potions to brew, seven forms of classes to teach and grade, inevitable office hours with my NEWT and OWL level classes, not to mention Head of House obligations, detentions, and the seven grant applications I want to complete for my summer research. I insist that you find a way to get this gift of yours terminated," Severus demanded, certain that his appeal based upon such critical academic tasks would bring mercy from the Headmistress.

"Severus, you certainly could have time for social obligations if only you made it a priority."

"And how shall I accomplish this, Minerva? Do you have an extra Time-Turner lying around?" Severus spat.

"You have rarely been an idiot in the past, Severus Snape, and I won't stand for you acting like one now. Have your Slytherin prefects supervise your detentions. Offer extra house points for competent students willing to tutor or brew infirmary potions. And as for grading and grant applications, you and I both know that you have three NEWT level students wishing to apply for apprenticeships or university study in Potions. They'd each give an arm and a leg to aid in either task."

Severus’s brow furrowed as he considered that Minerva's ideas had just freed up at least twenty-six hours a week of his time. She'd resolved his list of obligations rather quickly and neatly. "You came up with that argument before you even thought of purchasing the bloody gift, didn't you?" Severus demanded, wagging his finger at the Headmistress. "I believe Albus's painting is beginning to rub off on you, Minerva. If I weren't so utterly disgusted by your gift, I'd be impressed."

"Come now, Severus: is it really that bad?"

"You have no idea. They all twittered like magpies, giggled like first years, and dressed like Dolores Umbridge. Did you honestly think I could enjoy a moment of time I spent in such company?"

"Surely there must be a few witches in the group worth your time."

"Hardly. I do not understand why, Minerva, you've insisted on saddling me with this damnable book club!"

"Severus, it's simply not healthy for you to spend all your time cooped up in the dungeons. I told you last term that I expected to see you out socializing more. Since you failed to heed my direct order, you're lucky I didn't saddle you with something worse. Besides, I still owe you for all the grief you caused me while you were headmaster."

Seeing that he truly was fighting a losing battle, Severus glared at her and stalked out of the room.

Never one to procrastinate when it came to reading, on Wednesday evening Hermione, Crookshanks, a tray with biscuits and tea, and The Witches of Gilford all cosied up together on the sofa in front of a roaring fire. Hermione opened the book and began reading.

Nigel Reese stepped out of the Floo into the meeting room at the Horse’s Mouth Inn, a rather dingy, ramshackle establishment nestled on the outskirts of the Irish village of Gilford. His chestnut, wavy hair swung over his shoulder as he elegantly banished the Floo powder that had settled on his immaculate white and royal blue robes. Nigel worried that the sophisticated cut of his robes, recently purchased from the world-renowned tailor Stephano Sartoria in London, might overwhelm the provincial sensibilities of the witches and wizards of Gilford. Perhaps once he was settled, he could find a local tailor and acquire more regionally appropriate robes.

The wizarding population here outside Gilford was fairly small, but Nigel had selected it from dozens of similar villages as the first village to receive the benefit of his new ministerial role. Nigel took great pride in his position as the first Ministry Outreach Official; in fact, the role itself had been his brainchild. While appeasing his department’s desire for increased jurisdiction over wizarding settlements far removed from major populations, it would allow him to fulfil his greater mission, helping the wizards and witches of the Isles simplify their lives by better incorporating magic into their everyday routines. Perhaps while he was stationed in one of these villages, Nigel would find an appealing witch to settle by his side.

Hearing a noise, Nigel stepped into the parlour of the inn to find Nora Gallagher, the innkeeper’s daughter, struggling manually to move a heavy couch presumably so that she could remove the rug underneath for cleaning. Eager to help the witch and to gradually improve the hideous building where he would be living until he could find somewhere more permanent, Nigel swiftly pulled his wand from his sleeve and gracefully cast a Locomotor Charm to move the couch. Nora turned quickly and eyed Nigel with barely concealed admiration, both of his wizarding skills and dashing appearance. Nigel flashed an impeccable smile at the witch and said, "Hello there, young Miss. My name is Nigel Reese. I believe my department secretary made some arrangements in anticipation of my arrival. By the way, I find that by casting a Dust Repelling Charm once weekly on the rug in my quarters back in London, I can skip rug cleaning, which is such a nasty chore, entirely. I’ll be happy to show you that charm once I’ve settled into my room here."

Nora glowed under Nigel’s greeting. She was in her early forties, and it had been decades since anyone had called her a young miss. She thanked Nigel effusively for his assistance. "Why, thank you Mr Reese! I’d have never thought of applying that charm to my housekeeping duties. You’ll be a right treasure around here if you have more fantastic advice like that."

Hermione groaned as the text continued in a similar nauseating manner. Not fifteen minutes after she had begun reading, Hermione chucked the offending text across the room in frustration. Crookshanks skittered across the room, hiding under the curio cabinet, which overflowed with books rather than knick-knacks.

"How? How could someone write such misogynistic, arrogant tripe? The women in this book are as useless as flobberworms, Crookshanks," Hermione ranted at her innocent and bewildered familiar. "And Nigel Reese swans around like he's Merlin's gift to witches everywhere! It's utterly disgusting. It's worse than Draco Malfoy pandering for everyone's attention when Buckbeak scratched him." Hermione briefly wondered if Malfoy could have written The Witches of Gilford. Surely his vanity was satisfied by the flavour of the week that could be seen gracing his arm in the society section of each Monday's Prophet. And she liked to think that her former academic rival wouldn't have stooped to writing something this vapid. Crookshanks waddled over to the offending text and sniffed it with disdain. Groaning, Hermione bent to retrieve the text, telling Crookshanks, "Well, at least the first chapter only took fifteen minutes. I suppose there's something to be said for books with a reading level for firsties." The book suffered several more injuries before Hermione managed to complete the week's assignment.

Two nights later, Hermione was opening a second bottle of wine with Ginny and thanking the universe that at least alcohol consumption still behaved according to the laws of nature. Ginny was clearly starting to feel the effects of the wine, as her increased use of the word fuck, in all its forms, indicated. Hermione wondered if now was the time to ferret out whether or not Ginny had been a co-conspirator in this book club fiasco.

Ginny coincidentally selected that moment to ask Hermione what book they were reading for the club.

"We're reading The Witches of Gilford. Ginny, the book is horrible. No, really!" she continued at Ginny's eye roll. "By anyone's standards! Even Lavender hated it! This man just swoops into this absolutely picture-perfect town and the women, be they married, single, or widowed, fawn over him as he helps with their little domestic issues. These women can't even remember that weekly Dust Repelling Charms would keep their furniture clean or manage to cast Locomotor when they need to move a piece of heavy furniture!"

Ginny laughed. "Why, that sounds like just the book for you, Hermione!"

"It's awful, Ginny. The club meets for eighteen weeks, too, so it's not as if it will be over quickly. Ginny, tell me that you didn't have anything to do with this horrible idea."

"Not a single bit. Mum thought of it after she saw the signs in Flourish and Blotts before Christmas. She just wants you to meet someone special. I think this is her way of letting you know that it's okay to move past Ron. She figured you'd be less likely to find stupid fuckwits at a book club."

"Ginny, I'll be less likely to find anyone at a book club. Does she know anything at all about book clubs? They're almost exclusively attended by women."

"Oh, that's rich! I'll give you five fucking galleons if you show up at the next family event with a hot witch on your arm!" Ginny cackled before she drained the last sip of wine from her glass.

"Even if I were likely to switch teams, Ginny, it's not bloody likely in this crowd. I think they're all your Mum's age or older."

Ginny shuddered visibly at the thought. "So there aren't any delicioush men lurking between the pages at Ye Olde Book Club for Senior Witches?" she said, slurring noticeably for the first time.

"No. There is only one man in attendance, and he is certainly not delicious, though he is lurking," Hermione said with a slight shiver as she refilled Ginny's glass for the fourth time.

"Oh? And just who is this lurking, not-delicious man?" Ginny asked before taking a long sip of wine.

"Severus Snape," Hermione answered as Ginny sprayed wine across the white carpet. Quickly brandishing her wand to clean the wine before it could stain, Hermione continued, "He's still the same acerbic old bastard we knew at school. You'd think the war being over would have mellowed him, but it appears not. He acted as if it were my fault that he was stuck there in a sea of pink-clad, gossiping housewitches."

"Severush Fucking Shnape," Ginny slurred, squinting as if trying to picture the scene Hermione had described. "What the bloody fuck made him drag his fucking arse to a fucking book club?"

Hermione poured the last glass of wine for herself, thinking Ginny had perhaps reached her limit, judging from her slurred speech and impressive bit of swearing. "Ironically enough, he and I are in the same situation. Professor McGonagall gave him the book club membership for Christmas as well. Honestly, Ginny, if it were anyone but Professor Snape, then I would think Minerva and Molly had intentionally set us up. But it's just too ridiculous to consider."

Ginny nodded her head in agreement. The conversation quickly devolved from there as more wine was imbibed, and the talk shifted to the sexual proclivities and performance of Ginny's flavour of the moment.

Tuesday night found Severus and Hermione once again begrudgingly walking into the meeting room in Flourish and Blotts just moments before the meeting was due to begin. Settling into the same seat at the back of the room, Hermione grimaced as she overheard one witch chatting animatedly with her friend about how very much she wished Nigel Reese would come to her house to fix the tap in her downstairs loo. Severus sat down to her right not a minute later, smirking at the look of derision plastered across Hermione's face.

"Careful, Ms Granger. I suspect if they discover we didn't like the book, we'll be seized and fitted with sweaters bearing kittens as punishment," Severus stated ominously.

Hermione snickered and responded, "Ah, torture via assimilation. Very effective."

Glancing at the slightly battered copy which lay in Hermione's lap, Severus taunted sarcastically, "I am appalled, Ms Granger. I had always understood from Irma Pince that you took utmost care when handling texts. That book looks as if it was used as a Quaffle in a Wee Wizards League match."

"And how exactly did your copy manage to make it through in pristine condition? You did read it, didn't you? It hardly looks as if it's been opened."

Severus grumbled, "The book resisted all hexes and potions that I attempted. I even tried transfiguring the book into another tome, hoping I could read any two chapters and still fulfil the charm's requirements. I didn't have enough time to attempt anything else, and I was already reeling from the Compulsion Charms making me read this tripe."

Interrupting their banter, Matilda Broomshanks stood at the front of the room and called the group to attention. "Hello, fellow readers. From the looks on everyone's faces, I can tell that you all thoroughly enjoyed this week's assignment. Well, since everyone's here, let's get started. I'd like to introduce our first two presenters, Ethel Broomshanks and Martha Higgensbottom. Ladies?"

Severus groaned upon hearing that Martha would be presenting. Surely the meeting would end well beyond the two-hour mark with chatty Martha at the helm.

"Hello, there! I'm Martha Higgensbottom, and Ethel and I are so very excited to be leading this first week's book club discussion. From the lively conversations we heard before the meeting started, it sounds like everyone enjoyed these first two chapters just as much as we did," Martha practically sang as she glowed like the sun.

Ethel continued, "I'm Ethel Broomshanks, and Martha and I thought this first meeting would be an excellent opportunity for us to get to know one another! Please introduce yourself and tell us your favourite part of the book so far. Martha and I both agreed that our favourite aspect was the delicious-sounding dishes that the Gilford witches seemed to always have at hand. We're both eager to dive into The Witches of Gilford Cookbook that we just purchased from the display outside! There's a recipe for treacle tart that looks absolutely divine! Now, let's start in the back of the room and work our way forward."

Hermione panicked. There was nothing remotely positive about the text itself that she could recall, much less deem a favourite. The witch four seats down began her introduction as Hermione sat, racking her brain for something positive to say before her turn came up.Think, Hermione; think. Something other than "my favourite thing is that it's done." Plot? Characters? Setting? No, I hated all those. Theme? Was there a theme? Hmm. But I did like their selection of typeface, and the parchment was a lovely weight, nicer than usual, actually. Hermione's pondering stopped abruptly as she realized that all the heads in the room were swivelled her direction, eagerly awaiting her response. "Oh, my name is Hermione Granger and, well, I thought the chapter titles were very creative and evocative," she blurted in a moment of inspiration as Severus snorted quietly beside her. She breathed a sigh of relief when the group seemed satisfied with her response, eagerly opening their own books and perusing the table of contents.

Severus began his introduction before any witch had a chance to comment on Hermione's observation. "My name is Severus Snape, and I found the characters and setting were very accurately depicted for such an idyllic little village," Severus stated from between clenched teeth, each word dripping off his tongue venomously in the same way one might describe Voldemort's festering corpse. Hermione choked back laughter, knowing precisely what doom that tone foretold. She waited for the impending explosion and was frankly disappointed when it didn't arrive.

Hermione and Severus both breathed a sigh of relief as the witches in the next row began their introductions. "Thank Merlin that's over," Hermione stated as Severus nodded in assent.

"I have read some truly horrible student essays over the years, but none of them held a candle to this utter shit. And what's more, those dunderheads weren't getting paid for their efforts."

"I'm not sure what was worse: reading it myself or hearing these witches coo over how much they adored it," Hermione lamented as the witches continued their introductions and glowing reviews. "I can't believe how insipidly the witches behaved in the book nor that the author would create such stupid characters." Noticing that Severus seemed unlikely to respond, Hermione settled in for the duration, letting her mind wander to the presentation she'd given earlier in the day for a potential client. A much happier place for her brain to frolic, as she thought about possible applications for the charm the group was requisitioning for development.

Emerging from her temporary reverie, Hermione winced as she heard Delphinia Appleblossom rave, "Oh, I just loved Nigel Reese’s creative solutions to problems. I was so inspired. Why, I never would have thought of applying a Sticking Charm to my son's gloves to keep him from losing them when he plays outside."

Hermione sighed and whispered, "Then again, perhaps the author just knows the target audience exceptionally well. Really, how dim-witted do you have to be if you can't remember something like casting an Accio to retrieve an object from the far reaches underneath the bed?"

Eustace Abbott beamed over her favourite aspect. "Oh, I was so inspired by how he helped Widow Coursely with her Knitting Charms so she could donate blankets to the orphanage."

Hearing a noise from the seat next to her, Hermione turned and stared open-mouthed at Severus. Was he giggling?

"Can you imagine the reaction if a young Tom Riddle had been given a blanket from one of these hens?" Severus whispered, his shoulders shaking from trying to suppress his laughter. "I'm not sure who would have been more appalled: Little Tommy when given the cutest little blanket, or the witch who watched as her precious knitted creation was reduced to a pile of ashes."

"Why, Professor Snape, you're a bit more forthcoming with the wisecracks and camaraderie than I expected after last week."

"That might be due to the four shots of Ogden's that I swigged at the Cauldron prior to lugging my arse over here."

"You're drunk?!?"

"Right in one."

"And the Compulsion Charms allowed it?"

"I'm as surprised as you," Severus stated with his mouth quirked into the tiniest of smiles. "Perhaps you'd care to join me next week. I find drinking alone doesn't hold the same appeal it once did."

Hermione briefly goggled at him before agreeing. Merlin, this was a side of Severus Snape she'd never imagined to exist.

"Shall we say, 6:15 at the Cauldron next Tuesday? That would give us forty-five minutes to get pleasantly pickled," Severus suggested as the meeting showed signs of wrapping up. Hermione briefly wondered if the world were ending, too. Severus Snape as a friendly, chatty drunk?

"That sounds fine," Hermione said, standing to gather her cloak. "I'll see you then."

Author's Note:

Thanks so much for the excellent reviews for Chapter 1. I hope that chapter 2 is just as entertaining.

The contributions of the club participants were particularly difficult and nauseating to write. I hope they satisfy!