The Return of Caustic Snape

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). This story would surely fall flat on its face without either or both of you. Special thanks to persevero for her most excellent descriptions of British pubs and chip shops.

Chapter Four - The Return of Caustic Snape

At the beginning of the meeting on the last Tuesday in February, Hermione determined that the time had come to pop the proverbial escape hatch. Delphinia Appleblossom and Eunice Greengrass had just announced that the week's discussion would cover the creative solutions and advice that Nigel Reese had prescribed thus far in The Witches of Gilford. Leaning closer to Severus, she confided, "I've been saving this until I was truly desperate to escape. We can only use this ploy once. Now, I've been a good girl and suffered through seven of these damned meetings, but I absolutely cannot tolerate the thought of listening to these witches prattle on for two hours about how ingenious they find Nigel Reese."

Severus was not surprised in the least that the clever witch had managed to contrive means to dodge the meeting. Severus's eyebrows rose when Hermione gestured to the object resting in her palm. When she tried to pass it to him, he responded, "Excellent idea, but surely you don't expect me to take that. I think it's in my contract somewhere that I can't wilfully promote, purchase, or partake of a product from Weasleys’ Wizarding Wheezes."

“But, Severus, surely you must see that you have to be the one to take it.”

“I bloody well do not see why it has to be me. It's your damned idea.”

“First of all, you get to leave this henhouse early because of my damned idea. Secondly, you know full well what this flock will think if I bolt out of here sick.”

Severus stared at her blankly, curious as to why a blush was slowly rising on Hermione's cheeks.

Hermione continued in an even more hushed tone, “Anyone who sees a nauseous woman my age automatically assumes that she's pregnant. The way this group gossips, I'll be receiving Howlers from Molly berating me for sullying Ron's memory with my inappropriate behaviour before I have the chance to Apparate back to my flat!”

At this, Severus rolled his eyes and quickly grabbed the Puking Pastille from Hermione's hand. Hermione fought to restrain simultaneous laughter, disgust, and awe when, three minutes into Ethel Brummitch's soliloquy on Nigel's prowess in the kitchen, Severus puked a spectacular tartan plaid across his and Hermione's shoes. After uttering an equally nauseating, “Oh, you poor dear,” which she made certain was loud enough to turn heads four rows in front of her, Hermione made a deliberate show of pulling her handkerchief from her bag to wipe the small dribble of vomit from Severus's chin. She quickly cast Scourgify to return their shoes to pristine condition. Helping Severus from his seat, Hermione rose and slowly walked him towards the door, pausing to cast a series of Scourgifies on the shoes of surrounding club participants while quietly apologizing for the trouble. She made eye contact with Matilda Broomshanks, who nodded her assent that the two were free to leave.

Thankfully, she managed to shove Severus out the door both before Severus's next wave of nausea and before the triumphant grin erupted on her face. After disentangling himself from Hermione so that he could quickly down the remaining end of the Puking Pastille, Severus straightened his robes and smiled warmly at Hermione. “Having wanted to vomit at these meetings for weeks, I must admit it was quite satisfying finally to display my displeasure so … visually. While I sincerely appreciate being liberated from this particular hell, I do believe you owe me a meal to compensate for the loss of my roast lamb and veg.”

Still grinning from their escape, Hermione admitted that her light supper had left her hungry as well. "So what suits your fancy this evening?"

"It's been ages since I've been to a good chip shop. Do you know a good one?"

"There's an excellent chippy just round the corner from my flat."

Grabbing Severus's hand, Hermione Side-Along-Apparated them to the alleyway just behind her flat. They walked around the corner before Severus remembered to drop her hand. She laughed out loud and spun about, her cloak swirling wildly. Severus chuckled at her amusement and was particularly pleased with the mirth he saw in Hermione's eyes as she said, "I've never skived off a class or meeting in my entire life, even when Umbridge was in residence, but now I completely understand the appeal."

Severus smirked in reply as he opened the door of Chip's Chips, holding it for Hermione as she walked inside. Following her, he looked around the inside of the shop, confused to see only the order counter and, by the door, four rickety chairs, currently inhabited by four university students each of whom seemed about three sheets to the wind. "Ms Granger, where is the seating in this establishment?"

"Oh, it really has been years since you've been to a chip shop," Hermione replied, grinning cheekily. "Nowadays the shops with seating are rather a quaint rarity. Nearly all chip shops are takeaway, like this one. I'd expected that we'd take the food back to my flat, but if you'd rather go somewhere else, that would be fine," Hermione explained, suddenly feeling very awkward indeed. This isn't some sort of date, is it? I suppose not. I can't imagine that he'd have suggested I pay if it were. Plus, even if they had seating, a chip shop really isn't somewhere you'd take a date. Wait, why am I wondering if I'm on a date with Severus Snape? Hermione thought to herself.

Severus answered, "No, takeaway is fine. The one near my house at Spinner's End is dine-in, though I certainly wouldn't call it quaint. Ancient, dusty, greasy, and bland would be adequate descriptors but not quaint."

Hermione stepped up to the counter and placed her order, gesturing for Severus to place his. She quickly slapped down the requisite pounds. Severus protested immediately, "I didn't mean that you literally owed me my meal. How much do I owe you?"

"Absolutely nothing," Hermione replied. Spying Severus's put-out expression, Hermione continued, "If you like, you can repay the favour at the Cauldron sometime."

"Oh, alright then," Severus replied grumpily, turning to watch in eager anticipation as the cook dunked their fish in batter and tossed it into the fryer. Hermione wasn't wrong in her assessment; it had been at least a decade since he'd visited a chip shop. Now that he'd stepped foot inside, he was nearly salivating at the familiar smells. How could he have denied himself this guilty pleasure for so long? Well, that explains it, he thought as he spied the shelf where excess oil was dripping from fillets that had survived the fryer. I'd best make it an early evening so I have time to take a Digestive Potion before the heartburn kicks in.

Before he could strike up a conversation with Hermione to avoid watching the remainder of the cooking process, their orders were complete. Hermione eagerly grabbed the bags of food and scurried towards the door. Walking back to her flat, Severus commented on its location. "This doesn't seem like a normal building, yet here it is, nestled in the midst of London."

Hermione cast a quick Muffliato to ensure she wasn't overheard. "Oh, I love my building. It's like a bridge between both worlds. The residents are a mixture of Squibs, wizards and witches, and Muggles who have wizarding relatives. Several of the charms involved in incorporating electricity and electronic equipment were part of my initial project with Malfoy Industries. Everyone has an Apparation point just outside their door, Floo access is available for every flat, and each flat has a customizable layout, depending upon how much you want to spell yourself versus paying their team. What's more, the whole building has wireless access: both wizard’s wireless and Muggle Internet. Owl post and Muggle post alike are delivered in boxes by the front door."

"Quite impressive. You must hardly ever want to leave," Severus replied as they arrived at the front door of her flat, where Hermione began disassembling the wards. "Good gods, woman. You call yourself a Charms expert, and you have shoddy wards like this?"

"I'll have you know that the building wards keep anyone out of my flat whom I haven't approved."

"So the ones on your front door are just an inconvenience for you, then?" Severus teased.

"Well, just because I grant people access doesn't mean I want them around when I'm not here," Hermione replied defensively.

"You are a ridiculous witch. These wards wouldn't keep out anyone who was remotely determined."

"Oh, piss off, Severus," Hermione replied with a grin, opening the door and ushering him towards the table.

Hermione excused herself to the loo, leaving Severus to make himself comfortable after pointing him towards the refrigerator for beverages and condiments. He retrieved a glass and was surprised to find a bottle of pomegranate juice in the fridge. They sell this in the shops now? I'll have to find out how much it is. It's always such a bugger to express and strain the seeds before I brew, Severus thought as he settled at the table. He cracked open the container of mushy peas and began devouring them in earnest, musing over his hostess and peering around her flat in the meantime.

Contrary to his initial fears, Severus found that he very much enjoyed Hermione's company. Her witty banter made the book club meetings tolerable. In fact, he had found himself marking passages in the text each week so that he could be certain to make Hermione laugh out loud during the meetings. Their discussions at the Leaky Cauldron always kept him on his toes. Minerva had thoroughly ribbed him when she spied him reading Charms journals in the library last week. Really, it wasn't as Minerva suggested; he wasn't trying to impress Hermione, honestly. But it was true that she seemed to have awakened his long-slumbering intellectual curiosity. Hell, he'd registered for a joint Potions-Charms conference scheduled one weekend in April and had even resumed correspondence with some professional acquaintances whom he'd neglected over the years.

Still, he'd been feeling exceptionally restless lately. Something was nagging at him, and he couldn't quite put a finger on what it was. Since Minerva had recommended parcelling his time commitments out to his students, Severus found that, at least for the short term, he had nothing pressing to occupy his time. His classes were nearly running themselves at this point in the term, especially since selected older students were grading the younger forms' essays. True, he still had the older forms to grade, but they weren't nearly as much of a pain in the arse as those in the younger sets. He had considered beginning some of his research projects even though he'd not yet obtained approval, but frankly he just couldn't be arsed. Now that he'd had his taste of leisure, he just couldn't force himself to continue the brutal nonstop schedule that he'd maintained for over thirty years. His life was fairly unrecognisable when compared against six months ago and entirely the opposite of the one he had led during the war. Though sometimes he wondered if his rigorous schedule had been the only thing keeping his sanity in check; he'd caught himself staring blankly into space on numerous occasions lately.

Hermione returned to her seat and watched as Severus slowly traced his finger around the rim of his glass. He looked up at her as if startled to see her sitting before him.

Digging into her chips with gusto, Hermione thanked Severus in between bites. "Mmmm, excellent suggestion, Severus. I really should have grabbed a bite at the Cauldron earlier, but nothing on their menu sounded good at the time. This hits the spot."

Severus nodded his assent as he savoured the first bite of his cod.

"Have you heard back on your grant proposals yet?" Hermione asked.

"I've had two meetings with the Potions team at St Mungo's, and I'm scheduled to meet with the Ministry next week."

"I cannot believe you harassed me weeks ago about having to network when all the while you're running around making appointments with muckety-mucks yourself!" Hermione said, playfully tossing a chip at Severus.

"Cease and desist!" Severus exclaimed, tossing the chip back at Hermione. "I told you then I was just overwhelmingly curious, not harassing you. I've done nothing to warrant assault by chip!"

"Oh, I'm certain if I thought hard enough, I could find something you've done that would warrant assault by chip, with ketchup even," Hermione retorted, paling visibly when she realized her gaffe. "I, I'm sorry," she stuttered. "That was horribly rude of me, to jest about that. You must have people pestering you all the time for the gory details or giving you grief over your involvement."

"Actually, no one even alludes to the nefarious things I did or might have done during the war. In fact, no one mentions the war at all. It's as if it never happened."

"Really? Gods, that must be nice. Sometimes I fear I'll wake up to discover that this interlude was all a dream," Hermione said as she liberally applied malt vinegar to her cod.

"What on earth are you talking about?" Severus asked in confusion.

"It's impossible to escape from the war sometimes, what with the nightmares, the memorials, and the scrutiny from the press," Hermione replied.

Severus stared at her blankly.

"At least it's not as bad as it was immediately after the war. Everyone wanted to talk about it! I can't even remember all the times we had to recount everything. Harry, Ron, and I gave a full report of our year on the run to the Order. Then everyone in the D.A. had to hear it too, and we were eager to hear everything that had occurred while they were at Hogwarts. The Prophet wanted its piece, and then after I restored my parents’ memory, I had to explain what had happened to them. Ugh, and Harry and Ron joked about it all the time. The way they told it, you would think that our time in the Forest of Dean was a glorious sleepover rather than the most miserable time of our lives," Hermione recalled, shaking her head. "I'm sure talking about it helped us recover from the trauma, though, especially since there were so many of us who shared common experiences. I'm sure it was even harder for you to discuss the war since your perception of events would have been so different from anyone on either side of the war," Hermione conceded.

"Actually, I don't believe I've discussed my involvement in the war with anyone since Albus died," Severus replied with furrowed brow. "Hell, I don't think I even related the events of Albus's death to anyone but Voldemort, which was a description so full of half-truths that it hardly counts."

"How awful! You've really kept it bottled up all these years? I'm surprised you've been able to stand it," Hermione exclaimed, reaching to lay her hand on Severus's forearm as she talked. "You know, I'll listen if you ever want to talk about it."

Severus nodded as he stared blindly at a small spot on the table. Hermione continued speaking, but Severus was scarcely able to hear her much less respond. Feigning exhaustion, he made his excuses and left shortly thereafter.

He couldn't recall Disapparating from her flat, but apparently he had since he was now trudging up the hill to Hogwarts. How had his life come to this? He'd sequestered himself to the point where he'd not discussed the single most traumatic experience of his life with anyone in the six years since it had happened, not counting a brief conversation with a certain portrait when he was installed as the Headmaster. Certainly he could have imagined living, and dying, alone when he was that miserable teenager, dogged by the Marauders and pressured into joining the Death Eaters. But he liked to think that he'd changed since then, hadn't he? Then why the hell was it that it took a know-it-all former student to draw him out of his shell?

Severus swooped through the halls on the way to his first class of the day. Hermione had exposed a nerve the night before, which, now exposed, irritated him no end. Slamming the door as he entered the first class of the day, Severus threw a murderous glare at the Hufflepuff who had dropped her potions text upon being startled by his entry. The student cautiously bent to retrieve her book and jumped again when Severus abruptly commanded the students to follow the instructions on the board and begin brewing. One poor Ravenclaw girl tentatively raised her hand to enquire about the Jobberknoll feathers used in the potion. Severus answered impatiently, "Miss Dunnock, if you would just read the text as thoroughly as you ought, then you would have no questions. Begin brewing."

The day passed, and it seemed as if each class had grown more and more burdensome and idiotic than the one before. Severus rubbed his temples in an attempt to assuage his now throbbing headache. What had possessed the little buggers today? He'd had more exploded cauldrons by noon than he'd had the entire year. Each class was like teaching thirty Longbottoms at once. Severus groaned when he saw a house-elf cautiously poke her head around the door. "What is it, Winky?"

"The Headmistress is wanting you in her office for tea at half three, sir," Winky said hurriedly before quickly Disapparating elsewhere.

"Fuck, the last thing I need today is Minerva breathing down my neck," Severus swore, knowing that Minerva never extended an invitation to tea via house-elf unless she had a bone to pick.

Minerva eyed her clock expectantly. She'd invited Severus for tea after facing a steady stream of distraught students and heads of houses for two days straight. What on earth had rankled Severus so thoroughly? She'd not seen him be this vicious since the year before Albus had died.

Severus stormed into Minerva's office and demanded loudly, "What is it, Minerva? Classes have been horrific all week, and I've had a headache since lunch."

Minerva sighed and braced herself for an argument of epic proportions. It looked as though Severus was spoiling for someone to quarrel with him. Hoping that he wasn't out for blood, Minerva responded, "Severus, I've had students and professors alike parading in and out of here for two days complaining about your behaviour, so don't you dare walk into this office demanding things of me. Now, you've been crankier than a wet Kneazle in December. Tell me, what, precisely, is troubling you so much?"

"Why, Minerva, I didn't know you cared," Severus sneered.

"Don't be ridiculous, Severus. Of course I care!"

"Ah, yes, you've always been there when I needed someone, haven't you?"

"Severus, I will not stand for your sarcasm today. Now, tell me what has crawled up your arse and died?!"

"Oh, I'll tell you what's bothering me. Hermione Fucking Granger in one single night spoke more words to me about the war than anyone else in five years cumulative."

"Severus, you must be exaggerating. Surely you've talked with someone about the war before now."

"I am not fucking exaggerating, and of course I haven't fucking talked about it with anyone, Minerva," Severus roared. "Who the bloody hell would I have talked to? During the war, even if Albus hadn't fucking sworn me to secrecy until I could exchange the information with Potter, who could it have been, huh? Pettigrew, perhaps? Or the Carrows? You wouldn't spend a moment alone with me for fear I'd snap your neck in two, and the rest of the Order was out for my blood. Hell, the most I've heard of it from anyone was from Harry Bloody Potter while I was semi-conscious at St Mungo's. And since word came that I was pardoned, no one's said one fucking word to me about any of it!"

Minerva had been braced for a vituperative tidal wave from the man, but she certainly hadn't anticipated one of this magnitude. "And what would you have had us say, Severus? You arrived back at Hogwarts just before winter term after we'd spent months burying our colleagues and students, rebuilding the school, counselling survivors, and coping with our own grief. I know," she continued, holding up her hand to silence the protests that threatened to erupt from his mouth, "that you were physically unable to return before then. I know that it's no excuse for our behaviour, but we were exhausted from the war and had just begun to heal. We were tired of managing it, tired from fighting it, and tired of recovering from it. We should have talked to you, but our wounds were too raw. What would you have had us say, anyway?"

"For fuck's sake, Minerva," Severus bellowed. "Do you even remember what you said to me? 'It's good to have you back, Severus. I'm glad to see you're doing well.' Fucking hell, Minerva. That's what you say when someone's been on holiday!" Severus banged the desk with his fist for emphasis. "You could have said any number of things. You could have answered any number of questions. Have you even forgiven me for Albus's death? Have you apologized for believing the worst of me? Have you even acknowledged how fucking difficult it was for me to act as spy for all those years, having to alienate anyone who might have become an ally? Gods, Minerva, Albus forced me to fucking murder him! Do you have any fucking idea what that was like?"

Severus breathed deeply and considered launching another tirade against Minerva. Instead, he slumped into one of the chairs across from her desk. He looked up to see tears glistening in Minerva's eyes and all of the portraits curiously empty, their subjects having scuttled off to the relative safety of the rest of the castle.

Severus threw one last barb in Minerva's direction. "Oh, but I nearly forgot, Minerva. You have mentioned things since I came back. You saddled me with this fucking book club under the guise of paying me back for the trouble I put you through when I was headmaster. Well, you had best hope I NEVER decide to pay you back for the trouble you put me through."

Suddenly, it was as if all the anger, frustration, and exhaustion of the past thirty years had caught up with Severus and knocked the wind out of him. He leaned forward in the chair and rested his head in his hands. He sighed and said, "How the fuck did I manage to keep up the spying for so long, Minerva? I can't even bear thinking about it now, and it's been nearly five years. I've had nightmares three nights in a row, and I nearly jumped out of my skin on Wednesday when I thought I saw a snake out on the grounds."

"Piss and vinegar, Severus. You managed with piss and vinegar, with Albus following behind to clean up the aftermath." With a snap of Minerva's fingers, a quivering house-elf delivered tea and a tray of Severus's favourite biscuits. He began consuming both immediately. Minerva nodded, and the elf vanished with a relieved look on her face.

"Severus, I want you to take tomorrow and the weekend off. I'll take your seventh year class and supervise group revision for their NEWTs. I'll have the other professors cover your patrols for the weekend. Please, Severus," Minerva said, waiting for him to make eye contact, "please come to me if you'd like to talk. I never meant to push you away. As for Albus's death, I've forgiven you long ago, but I may never forgive Albus for putting you through that ordeal. And I'm truly sorry for doubting that you were on our side."

Severus replied wearily, "Minerva, I had no right to hold that against you. It's not your fault that Albus's plan succeeded so well."

"I am sorry, too, that we weren't more open with you when you returned. I suppose it didn't help matters that we completely believed in your closed-off, greasy bastard persona. Even if you'd been around just after the battle, I'm not sure anyone would have thought to approach you to discuss your emotional state."

"Oh, come off it. I always lingered around after staff meetings to talk about my feelings," Severus replied with a weak smile. "Minerva, do you need anything else of me? I believe the roaring headache and lack of sleep have caught up with me."

"No, I have nothing else. Let me call Winky to take you back to your chambers. You look dead on your feet."

At the Headmistress's summons, Winky popped into the room and eyed Severus warily. Upon receiving Minerva's request, Winky grabbed Severus's elbow and Apparated him back to his quarters.

Minerva breathed a deep sigh of relief. "I can scarcely believe our esteemed Potions master was so wound up that he didn't notice the Calming Draught in that tea." She poured herself a tumbler of scotch, reclined in her desk chair, and removed her glasses, massaging the bridge of her nose. Merlin, she thought, I hope that was the worst of it. I'm not sure I can take another day like this one. She raised her glass to Albus's empty portrait frame. "Albus Dumbledore, you were a right fucker for leaving that man with no support."

A/N: Both kittylefish and I were uncertain whether canon allowed for house-elf Side-Along Apparation within Hogwarts. Clearly house-elves can Apparate within the building and grounds, so it logically follows that all forms of Apparation ought to be allowable.

Apologies for the late arrival of this chapter. My lovely betas have been injured and sick. And me? I ran 26.2 miles this weekend. Several upcoming chapters are either already in beta-land or nearly completed.

Lastly, many times it's hard to distinguish between canon and fanon or give credit where credit is due, particularly when something is adopted as fanon canon. In this chapters case, I honestly can't recall what inspired the idea of Severus consuming a Puking Pastille, but I feel I need to give a nod to Camillo's excellent story Phoenix Feathers in which a Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes product is consumed in spectacular fashion.