Salsamentum Iuglans

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or anything recognizable to the HP-Universe, JK Rowling does. I'm not making any money off the writing of this fanfic.

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Their conversation was abruptly interrupted by the arrival of the lunch trolley.

"Grub!" Strathmore hollered as he banged on the door as if the cell's occupants hadn't already heard the squeaky-wheeled cart clattering loudly down the stone hallway. A slot at the bottom of Severus' door lifted, and a metal tray was shoved forcefully in.

"Ah! Lunch is served," Severus announced unnecessarily. "And it appears to be still warm. This is indeed a good day."

Hermione watched in disbelief as Severus chewed on soggy gray peas and something that should have passed for creamed chipped beef on toast, but didn't quite hit the mark. Severus halted mid-bite. "I apologize my dear; I should have offered you something. Terribly rude of me to eat in front of you."

"No, no. You go ahead. That's really all for you." She watched him hungrily attack the peas, torn between not wanting to watch the display and being drawn to it like rubbernecking a car accident. "You must be frightfully hungry."

"Missed breakfast," he grunted. "Amend that, skipped breakfast."

"May I inquire why?"

"Too nasty to be considered food."

Hermione mentally chewed on that; in her estimation his lunch was too nasty to be termed edible, and she wondered what breakfast had looked like. "You know, I believe there's a hamper from Fortnum's somewhere in here..."

Severus stopped shoveling food immediately as Hermione dug through another white box. His dark eyes shimmered as they locked on to the red tissue paper stuffed parcel. He was beginning to feel like he was trapped in some bizarre Pavlovian experiment.

"Ah-ha! Here it is." Hermione pulled the trinket sized wicker basket out of the red paper, set it on the floor, and within seconds it resized itself into a generous hamper. "Ooh, and a picnic blanket too it looks like."

A large red wool blanket soon followed, and Severus greedily snatched it up for his bed. He'd spent too many frozen nights to let a thick wool blanket ever grace his floors. Severus would have rather sweated through his sheets than give up an extra blanket.

"Oh, why'd you do that?" she asked. "It might be lovely to pretend to have a real picnic."

"Hermione, I have no intention of disgracing myself by sitting on the floors. We are hardly out in the country, and it's not worth the bother to indulge in your insane fantasies. I could never imagine myself being anywhere other than where we are. You would do well not to forget that I'm an evil murdering bastard," he smirked.

"Like I could forget." Even as Hermione said those words, she wasn't convinced of them. Oh, she knew perfectly well that he was in fact an 'evil murdering bastard'; she'd used that very same choice of words several times, but she did forget. It unnerved Hermione to think that she was comfortable in his presence.

"Pickled walnuts," Severus gasped, momentarily distracted from their conversation.

"Here..." She passed the jar to him. "...I can't stand them."

"For shame. You don't know what you're missing, my dear."

"Well," she said, looking doubtfully at a small jar of gooseberry and elderflower preserves, "this won't make a very substantial lunch. Certainly something to nibble on, but we need real food."

Severus' ears perked up. "And what would you consider real food?"

"I don't know... real food. What would you like for lunch? I could go for anything about now. Well, obviously not anything. I wouldn't touch those peas for all the tea in China."

He was dumbfounded. Ignoring the fact that the little chit had just invited herself to his lunch and obviously wasn't going to leave anytime soon, he now had something deep to ponder. What did he want for food? She asked the question as if anything were possible, as if it were so easy to just pop down to a local restaurant and order take-away.

There were nights long ago when Severus had been kept up by his growling stomach. On those nights his head had been filled with hungry thoughts of roast lamb, the greasiest fish and chips, his mother's squash casserole, and sometimes even bad teriyaki stir fry or pizza. Was she playing with him, tormenting him for her own amusement? For Hermione's sake, she had better not be.

"I... don't know," he answered honestly. "Anything sounds good about now."

"Oh, well!" she exclaimed while jumping up and grabbing her cloak, "I just found this new Lebanese restaurant the other day and have been dying for an excuse to try it. Do you like Mediterranean? I absolutely adore it."

Severus nodded numbly.

"I was thinking a few kabobs, baba ghanoush, some dolmas, couscous... oh and baklava for desert. What kind of meat do you want for your kabobs?"

"Lamb?" he tentatively asked.

"Oh, lamb. Yum. I might just have to get a double order... Right, I'll be back in just a bit..." Hermione caught herself before she said, 'don't go anywhere'. "And then we can talk more about work."

As Hermione was let out of his cell, Severus sat back in his chair, open-mouthed. He didn't stir until the sound of her footsteps was heard again along his hallway.

She made her entrance, bustling in two plastic bags filled with Styrofoam take-away boxes and a bottle of sweet mint tea.

"I hope you don't mind, I got some for the boys too."

"The boys?"

"Roger, Billy, Chuck... you know, the boys."

"My guards? You brought food for my guards?"

"What? You make it sound like they're responsible for you being here. You can't blame them because Azkaban sucks, and they have to eat the food you do. Hang on a tic, they don't beat you, do they?"

"No," he said viciously, "but they're not my friends, either. And they shouldn't be yours. I take exception that my wife is on first name basis with my jailers."

"Whoa, drop it down a notch; it's not like we go out drinking pints together. And you're hardly in a position to dictate who I speak to either. Besides, I get the distinct impression they're just as miserable as you are."

"That's little comfort."

Hermione ignored his comments as she set out plates of steaming aromatic food. He ignored her comments as he stared at plates of steaming aromatic food. There was something to be said about witches getting to a wizard's heart through his stomach.

After positively gorging himself on succulent lamb, every bit of couscous he could fit in his mouth (especially the pine nuts), and thoroughly enjoying those grape leaf things she called dolmas, Severus wasn't certain he could stomach baklava. And yet somehow, he managed; he found the strength within.

He watched her suspiciously as she wrapped up the left overs, but sighed in relief as she put a stasis charm on it so he could have it later.

"Now, about these product reports."

And that's how their afternoon began. Severus listened intently as Hermione babbled on and on excitedly about her projects, occasionally interrupting to add his opinion. He signed employee release forms and officially became an unsalaried employee of Granger Industries, LLC.

She trained him on exactly how she wanted things done. Hermione wasn't willing to turn much over to him at once. They were still developing a level of trust between them, something Hermione was hesitant to do, but there were the beginnings of a workable partnership.

There was an awkward moment when they both confessed they needed a bathroom break. Thankfully, Hermione was able to slip out into the hallway to use the guard's loo while Severus used his privy in peace. They were learning each other's habits and growing closer, but certainly not that close.

In the midst of a discussion on her distributor troubles, Severus' boiled cabbage dinner arrived and it was sent away. Reheated lamb and a fine bottle of cabernet from the hamper were shared. Severus would have preferred to pair the meal with the kind of Bordeaux so heavy on the tannins that it'd pull on the back teeth, but who was he to complain?

The sun sank low into the horizon, and when Hermione reached for her wand to utter an illuminating spell, she quickly realized how inappropriate it was for their bodies to huddle so close together to read from her spreadsheets.

"You know, this is way too much for one person to absorb in an evening. I should go." As her eyes lifted from their shared folder, she met his indecipherable gaze and felt a curious throb in her upper body.

Quirking his brow Severus questioned in a hushed tone, "Can I keep the quality control reports to familiarize myself with them?"

Hermione beamed. "I think we can manage that. See you soon. Good night, Severus."

"Good night, Hermione."

The door hadn't completely closed before Severus felt shut in and alone once more.

His father had taken to locking him away because children should neither be seen nor heard. The closet beneath the stairs had been just as much his home as it had been for Potter.

In adulthood he took to shutting himself away. He buried himself in his dungeons. Though he was never really alone. Being surrounded by hundreds of pre-pubescent and hormonal teenagers meant never having any real time to oneself, but damned if he didn't try. He had to growl and grumble constantly just to get a moment's peace, and there were times, especially around end of year exams, when he'd wished for the solitude of Azkaban prison.

It was as if his life was supposed to be spent imprisoned. Living in solitude and feeling estranged was nothing new to him, but he had never felt it so acutely until after Hermione left him. And she always left him feeling like he was just on the threshold of collapse, as if he couldn't take her brief presence, even when he hungered for it.

He was obviously a man desperate for comfort, clinging to companionship, and drawn to the woman who offered him both.

He would have felt the same for any other woman who visited him and brought him pickled walnuts.

Yes, that had to be it.

That still didn't stop him from missing Hermione when she was gone.

*

A/N:

Chapter title: Salsamentum Iuglans- Pickled Walnuts