Her Cloying Perfume

Chapter Two – Her Cloying Perfume

The Next Day

"And then, she turned this amazing shade of puce, when she realized her plan to 'acculturate' me had already been successfully achieved by The Greasy Git!"  Draco dissolved in peals of laughter under Snape's irritated frown.

"Did she actually call me that, Draco?  I always thought she was above such epithets..."

"No, but you could see it in her face."  Snape could tell that Draco was trying desperately to quit laughing, yet he quickly broke into sniggers once again.

"So if that's the case, then what is her plan, Draco?  Hypnosis where you discover that you secretly loved Muggles this entire time and that your father never loved you?"

"Not quite.  Ever hear of a caseworker?  For like, foster kids?"

Snape glared murderously.  "Do you mean to tell me she will be observing us to make sure I am a sufficient role model?"

"I do, Severus.  She'll be here today at teatime."

Snape uttered a string of curses that would have made any former student quail in fear.  Any student except Draco, apparently, who was curled on the end of the settee clutching his stomach in pain caused by his giggle fit.  Snape stormed upstairs to his bathroom, slamming the door.

"I haven't heard you slam a door like that since you subbed for Lupin in Defense third year, Sev!"  Draco called after him.

Approximately twenty minutes later, there was a sharp rap on the door.

Snape stomped down the stairs.  Draco stared at him, his eyebrows arched and his mouth hanging open like a guppy.

"What?" Snape snapped.

"It's just that I've never seen your hair so short.  And you're still in jeans and a t-shirt!  I half expected you to come down the stairs in your old teaching togs..."

Snape gave Draco a look that efficiently implied he was not impressed with Draco's astonishment.

"Trying to impress the lady, Severus?" Draco drawled, affecting a caricature of every regency-era actor's accent and posture.

"Trying to give her absolutely nothing to gossip about, Arse."

Draco grinned; Snape threw the door open.

She stood before Snape, hair in a messy bun, clad in a simple, tailored button-down shirt, a knee-length pencil skirt, stockings, and black high-heeled pumps.  In her hands she carried a Muggle pad of paper and a ballpoint pen; a purse was slung over her shoulder.

"Master Snape, how lovely to see you again."

Snape was impressed.  Granger clearly had done her homework if she knew not to refer to him as "Professor" or "Headmaster."

"Miss Granger.  Here to spy I presume?"

She looked at him, amusement crinkling the corners of her eyes.

"Do come in.  Sorry for the clutter, but Draco only saw fit to warn me of your arrival twenty minutes ago."

She entered the living room and quickly took stock of the immaculate space.  The smirk on her face spoke volumes.  "Clutter, indeed" it seemed to say. She took a seat on the couch and looked up at him expectantly.

"Let's jump right in, shall we? ARDEC has asked me to investigate Mr. Malfoy's assertions that he's been living as a Muggle some twelve months.  Should this prove true, we will be much more inclined to expedite this process."  The pen in her hand shook slightly as she struggled to maintain eye contact.

Snape pitied the girl.  She was trying so hard to be professional in a place she was clearly uncomfortable entering.

"Well, Miss Granger, I'm sure you'll find that both my home and Malfoy's training will pass your inspection. You will find our fuse box is in order.  I've left some bread on the counter so Draco can prove he knows how to use the toaster.  And after that, we can move on to pilot lights and the Hoover."

Well, he didn't pity her enough to be nice.  If he were actually nice, he might have to deal with an unconscious witch sprawled on his couch, and that was simply not on his agenda for the day.

"There's no need to be snippy with me, Snape.  I'm sure you've done an admirable job exposing Draco to Muggle culture.  You were never one I pegged as a Muggle-hater."

Her eyes wandered as she said this, slowing over some of the objects in the room.  Part of him began to feel defensive. Oh, how he wished he could remove that piece with a dull, rusty knife.  Nothing in the room, save the coffee table and the lamp, could at any time have been considered high-class.  It was all in relatively decent shape, but nearly every piece of furniture screamed low-class utilitarianism.  During his teaching years, he couldn't have cared less how the house looked.  Since moving back last year, his income had been spotty at best and downright embarrassing at worst.  This is why he hated having guests...it always forced him to look at his environs through a critical lens, and he always found his home wanting.

Snape bristled.  "Listening to Potter's stories about his mother, Granger?  I thought you were above listening to idle gossip."

Hermione raised her head to look at him squarely.  "I was going to say it's because you never treated Muggle-borns in your charge any worse than you did Harry, and given he's a half-blood such as yourself, I simply thought that implied you were above such silly concerns as blood status."

She couldn't have simpered better than Umbridge if she'd tried.

Draco sniggered again.

As she brushed passed him, her cloying perfume – one of his own creations – wafted over him. He wasn't thoroughly pleased with that portion of his product line sold in Hogsmeade, but it paid for the roof over his head.  He still hadn't forgiven his father for taking out that second mortgage on the place just before he died.  Thank goodness no one knew the line of products were his. He wondered if she always wore it.

He wondered why he even cared.

She sat on the settee next to a still-sprawled roommate.  "Draco, if you would, I have prepared a questionnaire for you.  It will help to ascertain just how accustomed to Muggle culture you've become."

Snape watched as Draco scanned the typed sheet.

"'What films have you seen in the last year?  How many pence are in a quid?  What is the proper side of the road to drive on?'  Seriously, Granger?  Couldn't think of something more difficult?"

"Could you honestly have answered these questions a year ago, Draco?"

He closed his mouth, and taking the pen she gestured towards him, began filling out the paperwork.

With Draco sufficiently suppressed, she turned to Snape, who was still lurking in the foyer.

"And you, Master Snape.  I'll need to meet with you at your earliest convenience."

"For what purpose, Miss Granger?"

"To discuss your relationship with Mr. Malfoy in the hopes ascertaining whether Malfoy's assertions that he has been living as a Muggle some twelve months are valid."

"I believe you've said that already, Miss Granger.  Nervous?"

She ignored his question.  "When would be most convenient for us to meet?"

Snape had to keep himself from grinning.  This was just so easy.  "I'll ignore the fact that your statement is rather foolish given it shall never be convenient for me to meet with you and instead suggest that we leave now to give Draco some time to work on his paperwork."

"And allow him to look up answers on his computer?  No, I think I'll wait."  Draco snorted in annoyance, then gave her a look that all but admitted to all those convened that that was exactly what he would have done.

"Tea would be lovely, though, Master Snape."  She gave him a thoroughly annoyed look, which he assumed was meant to imply he was a bad host for not offering.

"Kitchen's through that far door, Miss Granger.  Being a Muggle, I'm sure you can figure it out."  Snape slid from the room, smiling in response to the decidedly feminine hissy-fit noises emanating from his living room.  The subsequent banging he heard in his kitchen let him know she'd found the proper utensils.

"God damnit!"

Snape was pretty sure Granger's latest ejaculation indicated that she had just realized that he hadn't actually agreed to meet with her.

He listened carefully for any other disturbances.  A whistle indicating the teakettle was ready; a thud as the tea service hit his grandmother's antique coffee table; the squeak of his couch springs as she flumped back into the cushions; the clatter of spoon against cup as she stirred God knows what into her tea.  Snape abhorred anyone who desecrated the taste of tea with sugars and creams. Several annoyed huffs emanating from both parties.  A slurp here and there, before finally...

"Done, Granger.  When do I find out if I've passed?"

The rustle of paper as it was transferred from Draco's hand to hers.

"Tomorrow evening, after Severus and I have had dinner.  Tell him I'll meet him at the restaurant on the corner at seven to discuss your case.  I'm sure, given his self-employed status, that he won't have any problems meeting me then?"

The click of high heels.  The slam of the front door.

Did she really have to drive that last comment home?

AN: Thanks again to the wonderful clairvoyant for the beta work. And thanks to kerravonsen for the prompt. Check the other chapters for the explanation.