Tea?

Chapter 6 – Tea?

He was brilliant, far too brilliant. She should have known he would reach the most logical conclusion in just one day. She should have known he would not just spend the entire day pouting. She hadn't even thought to hide some of his more personal items; she had been so fixated on hiding his future that she had forgotten to take care of his past.

She could see that he was completely aware that she was stalling. She needed to come up with an answer, any answer that would appease this curious and drunken man.

"Dead? Severus Snape, dead? How could you possibly be dead? You are more brilliant with Potions than anyone I've ever met! I bet you could even stopper death if you wanted!" She tried not to giggle, aware that he would have no idea why her statement was even remotely funny. It was a problem of hers, making jokes at inappropriate times out of nervousness. It did not help when the other person had no idea why a situation was funny.

She could see his alcohol-soaked brain trying to process her words, not quite believing her logic. "Well fine, then, woman. Explain how you have all of my things, then, eh?"

She was grasping at straws. She took a bite of her fish to buy more thinking time. "Financial troubles." When he didn't seem to flich, she continued. "Yes, you fell into some financial troubles and sold the house. I purchased the house as-is, including all of your belongings save clothing, and you moved to Hogsmeade." By the end of it, she couldn't even maintain eye contact with him, but he seemed not to notice.

He looked confused. "And how, with my salary, would I ever fall into such a situation?"

"You never elaborated. I took you at face value. You needed money; I needed a house."

"And why do you live in the attic? This is hardly the least drafty area of the house. I avoided it like the plague."

"I've rented the lower rooms to other persons. We share the kitchen." Another lie. She sighed, and he looked at her sharply.

"If you had enough money to buy my house, why would you need to take on tenants?"

She was quickly running out of falsehoods, and her heart threatened to beat out of her chest. "How does your head feel? Any side effects from your nosebleed?" She prayed he would take the bait of a changed subject.

"Head feels fine." He took another drink, then set the bottle on the floor next to the sofa. Some of the amber liquid clung to the corner of his mouth, and he swiped at it with the back of his hand. "You think you're smart, trying to get me off topic. Why do you need tenants?"

"It's a large house, and it was just me living here. It made sense..."

"You forget I grew up here. 'S'not a big house. 'S'crap house. How come you didn't fix the water heater? You're a bad landlady, you is."

She smiled inwardly, amused that his accent seemed to thicken the more he drank. "Erm, everybody who lives here knows magic. It hasn't been an issue before today."

He crossed his arms in a pouting pose reminiscent of a surly four-year-old. The motion accentuated the lean muscles of his arms and chest.

"If you wouldn't mind, Mr. Snape, would you please put on a shirt?"

"Not bloody likely. My attic, no shirt. And stop calling me 'Mr. Snape.' That's my father's name." He stuffed a handful of chips in his mouth.

She smiled...her father used to always say the same thing about her grandfather. "Do you find the food to be satisfactory, Severus?" It felt strange to just refer to him as Severus. She referred to him as such in her mind but had never done so while he was living. Then again, this Severus was not her Professor Snape...not yet, at least. It was hard to reconcile.

He scooped up the last bits of fried batter and potato from the paper and popped them into his mouth, then wiped his greasy hands on her sofa, an impish grin his face. "Told you already. Mum and me used to eat it all the time. Why would we eat something we didn't like? You need to pay attention."

He turned and lay down on the sofa, one arm thrown over his head, the other flung off the sofa and clutching for his whiskey bottle. Upon finding it, he lifted it to his mouth, drinking most of what was left. Only about two fingers remained in the 750 ml bottle. She did not know whether to be impressed or horrified. She hoped it meant he would fall asleep of his own accord soon, so she could have her bath.

"Where are my manners, Granger? You bring me dinner, and I don't even offer you a drink. Drink?" He held the bottle towards her.

Hoping that taking his proffered drink would gain her some level of trust with the man, she took the bottle from him and drank as large a swig as she could manage. She barely drank a shot but could feel the warmth already spreading down her throat into her belly.

"Not bad for a little girl! You should be proud."

"I'll have you know, I'm the same age as you. So if I'm little, then so are you."

He rolled towards her, opening his eyes sleepily. "Nothing little over here, luv." And then he sniggered like a schoolboy.

She had to remind herself that he was barely older than a schoolboy. And so was she.

He began to snore. She dug around on the coffee table before finding the stopper for the whiskey bottle. Capping the bottle, she placed it on the table. She Summoned a glass and, casting Aguamenti, placed the tumbler on the table. He was definitely going to need it. She Summoned last night's bucket and placed it next to the sofa.

She softly padded across the room to the bathroom, stopping to grab clean nightclothes. She made sure they were much more demure than the ones she normally wore...judging from the looks Snape had been giving her, her body wasn't a temptation she needed to flaunt. She snorted...Hermione Granger, a temptation to Severus Snape? Laughable.

She entered the bathroom and began her nightly ablutions. She sunk into her bath, the warm, scented water soothing her tense muscles. It had been one hell of a day, and given she was running on about an hour's worth of sleep, she was grateful that Snape had drunk himself into a stupor.

She wrestled between feelings of pity and smugness. It was hard to reconcile the hero whose memory she kept alive with the baby Death Eater currently snoring his way towards a hangover. She couldn't blame him, either. If she were sent to the future with an experimental Time-Turner that could do God knows what to her, then imprisoned by the "bad guys," she would probably try to drink herself into oblivion as well.

But at the same time, part of her was slightly happy that a Death Eater was getting his comeuppance... At least, that was until she remembered this was Snape and not just any Death Eater. It honestly was a lot to process.

A very small bit of her, in the back of her head, wished she could just set the Time-Turner back to whenever he came from and send him on his merry way. That bit was quickly crushed by overwhelming feelings of guilt and shame. How dare she even consider not doing her best by him... again? She hadn't saved him last time, and she'd be damned if she wouldn't now.

Except she already had saved him this time, hadn't she? He clearly lived out his life in the past... so she must have figured out what to do.

But how? What would I do in a situation like this?

She pressed the heel of her hand into her forehead, willing her brain to slow itself down. She really did not have many ideas, save to do some research. She figured her "Golden Trio" reputation would only get her so far. Nobody could just march into the Department of Mysteries and demand all the documentation on Time-Turners.

And how to deal with him in the interim? He had hated her as a student, so what would make it even remotely possible that he would get along with her now, in the height of his Mudblood-hating glory?

Sir, my name is Hermione Granger. Given your unannounced, uninvited entrance to my home, I can only assume you mean me harm. I do not wish to injure you, but rest assured I will if you so much as attempt to hurt me. You will not win any fight you enter into with me. Is this clear?

Oh God... This young Snape knows my name. Young Snape would grow up to be Professor Snape... And when had Professor Snape ever forgetten a perceived injustice?

Was this why he had treated her and her friends so terribly? Maybe it wasn't Harry and his connection to James...maybe it was her. Maybe he treated them so badly for something she didn't even know she had done. Or would do... She hadn't done it yet...

This thinking was getting out of hand... She was jumping to conclusions that didn't even make sense. She wasn't going to do anything. Snape hated them because of James. She was being ridiculous! She really needed some sleep...

Following her bath, she finished her nightly preparations and got dressed. Her clothing choices were much more subdued than the night before: a T-shirt and a pair of soft jersey-knit pajama bottoms. Grabbing her wand, she opened the bathroom and stifled a shriek as she saw him standing there, still shirtless, staring at her.

She had forgotten the Sticking Charm.

He looked her up and down with a lascivious gaze. "What, no dressing up for me? You looked lovely last night, but tonight? Pajama pants and a T-shirt? What's a guy gotta do? Were you expecting someone last night? Is that why you were all dressed up...? Are you really not single? Is that vibrator a ruse...?"

Drunk. Definitely still drunk. And weirdly fixated on my sex life...

"Snape, I think it's time to go back to bed..." She walked towards him slowly, not knowing what he might have hidden on his person, though where he might have it hidden... She had no idea on that subject, either.

"You're gonna put me to bed? Tuck me in? Keep me warm..."

She grimaced at the emphasis placed on his last sentence. God, the man is horny.

He continued with a grandiose hand gesture. "Okay, fine, I accept. But only if you take your shirt off. No shirts allowed on the sofa!"

Taking his elbow, she led him back to the living room. "Absolutely, Severus, but you have to lie down and close your eyes so it's more of a surprise!" She rolled her eyes at how ridiculous she sounded, hoping he wouldn't call her bluff.

"They're tits, madam. Tits I've seen relatively up close. I doubt they'll be much of a surprise. But you are a lady, and what the lady asks for, the lady shall receive." He fell to the couch, face into the pillow. "See? Not looking," she heard, his voice muffled by the pillow.

She pulled her wand from her pajama pocket and whispered the Sticking Charm under her breath, followed by a mild Stunner. Let him think he passed out...

~~&~~

The pounding in his head was only slightly quieter than the sounds of birds chirping outside. He opened his eyes and observed a large puddle of drool on the pillow next to his head. He swallowed, cringing at how dry his mouth was. His stomach rolled...great, one of those hangovers.

He attempted to stand and found he was stuck to the couch again. He eyed the bucket next to him, not sure if he should use it to piss or puke. There were pros and cons to both options.

He looked up at the mantle clock; it was six in the morning...more than enough time for her to have slept. He buried his face back into the pillow, not caring about the spit.

"Granger!"

He heard a groan from the other room and cracked open one eye. He watched her feet as she walked towards him. He did not even bother lifting his head.

"Yes?"

"I need to piss." He lifted his head just enough to look at her. She didn't seem to be too thrilled to be awake. Still, even in her casual clothes, she looked attractive...her shirt was bunched up slightly, and he could see that her navel was pierced. Interesting.

"Come on, then." A flick of her wand removed the Sticking Charm. He watched her carefully...she had her wand in one hand, fixed on him, while the other hand rubbed sleep from her eyes.

He stood carefully, but it did not matter; his head was swimming in a figurative vat of pea soup. He reached out to balance himself, placing his hand on her shoulder. She growled and slipped his arm around her shoulders, letting him lean on her, her arm sliding around his waist.

"I swear to God, I won't be as nice next time, Snape."

Snape, is it? Last night I was "Severus."

She got him to the bathroom just in time for his stomach to betray him. His knees hit the floor, and he began vomiting before he could even register the pain of his kneecaps smacking into the linoleum. He felt a cool, damp washcloth pressing into the back of his neck and jerked...why was she being so nice?

His stomach did not seem to understand it was empty and settled into spasm, wracking his body and pulling at his abdominal muscles but not producing anything. He sat up, his back against the bathtub, and swiped at his mouth with the back of his hand. He closed his eyes, the lights causing so much misery. He heard the toilet flush.

"Please, drink this."

He opened his eyes and saw a blue potion in a vial. "Hangover Potion?"

She nodded. "I understand why you needed to drink last night. You don't need to suffer today, so drink it. Just promise me you will not do this again. I have enough stress with you being here without having to worry about what might happen if I have to take you to get your stomach pumped."

He took the vial, grateful that whoever she was, she had some skill with brewing or knew someone reputable.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Are you fucking kidding me? "What?"

"Well... You've been through so much the last couple days... I just thought you might like a sympathetic ear. I mean, in a way, I do know you... well, who you are in my life. It's hard to reconcile the two."

Reconcile? How different am I in the future? "Are we friends or something?"

She paused, as if searching for the right words. "We haven't been in a position to be particularly close... but you were a part of my daily life for years, and I have always respected you."

He grimaced. No one respected him. That was mostly why he had gotten Marked, in the hope of finally finding some respect.

"If I have the need to talk, I will let you know."

He watched her face, hoping for some sort of sign of... well... anything. She looked sad and depressed.

"Well, I need to go make you some breakfast and get ready for work. If you're going to be OK...?"

"I'm fine. However, if the prisoner is allowed to make requests... tea and toast? I'm not sure if I can handle more than that..."

"I think I can manage that." She smiled at him as she backed out of the room.

What was he thinking, drinking that much yesterday? If he had any hope of escaping and finishing this project for the Dark Lord, he had to be sober... and not hungover.

One day's captivity, and he'd already done something wholly idiotic. He needed to get it together.

He was not sure what smelled worse, the residual smell of sick in the air or the latent alcohol seeping from his pores. Hoping it took her a few more minutes to make his breakfast, he stripped down and stepped into the shower.

He was rinsing the last of the "SOAP" from his body when he heard some clanging in the living room. He turned the spigot off and slid open the shower curtain, stepping out onto the rug.

The steam from the shower wisped through the air, obscuring his vision. As it cleared, he saw her standing in the bathroom door and holding a steaming mug of something that smelled akin to licorice and mint...probably for his stomach.

Her eyes were wide; she clearly had not expected him to be in the shower or to be standing here completely naked. Not one to be made to feel uncomfortable in his own attic, he stretched his arms out before slowly turning in a circle.

"Like what you see, Granger?"

"Squeak" would be the best word to describe the noise she made. "Ibroughtyousometea," she sputtered. He watched her place the mug carefully on the edge of the sink before she scurried from the room and slammed the door behind her.

He could not help but laugh. He was never that confident while naked, certainly not in front of women. But it was fun to make her twitchy. He was always up for embarrassing someone.

He procured a towel from the shelf and buffed the excess water from his hair. Wrapping the towel around his waist, he paused to lift the mug to his nose. It was exactly what he had thought: licorice, peppermint, a pinch of sugar to bring out the flavor... Everything he needed to push his wonky stomach back into submission.

He left the bathroom, mug in hand, in search of some clothes. He opened the door to find her standing just a few paces away from him, eyes downcast, a pair of denims and a jumper in her arms.

"I'm sorry for interrupting your shower. I didn't hear the water running." She held the clothes out to him, still not making eye contact.

He reached out to take the clothes and hesitated, wanting her to look up at him.

She did.

"What? What is it?" she asked.

This is too easy..."You didn't answer my question, madam."

She looked confused. "Oh? Sorry. What was your question?"

He leaned towards her, looming over her. He kind of hoped he would drip on her. "Whether or not you liked what you saw. You didn't seem in all that much of a rush to leave."

She huffed and spluttered and tried to speak. He tried not to smirk when all she came up with was a muttered "Bugger off, Snape" before pushing past him and going into the bathroom.

He went into the living room area to change into the denims and soft woolen jumper. He set his mug on the table, noting the plate of toast she had left for him. As he unfolded the trousers, a pair of knitted socks fell to the floor. He bent down to retrieve them and recognized the pattern... His Grandmother Snape had made these for him right before she had passed away.

Why did this curly-headed woman have all of these important things? He would ask her, but she might continue to be evasive. He thought back to last night's conversation. He had not been so far gone that he did not remember discussing the loss of his "estate," if you could even call this house that. What could possibly go so wrong that he would be forced to sell this place as-is with all his things left in it?

No, she was clearly hiding something, something huge. And he wouldn't be a good Death Eater if he couldn't figure it out.

The water in the shower turned on, so clearly she wasn't returning for a while. He finished dressing and sat on the sofa, reaching for a piece of toast, losing himself in plans of escape.

He had not noticed the water turning off and was surprised when she emerged from the bathroom in last night's clothes.

She did not speak to him, did not even look at him. She just moved to her clothes closet and removed something more suitable for work than pajamas before walking back to the bathroom.

Still not feeling completely well, he took a sip of his tea before lying back down on the sofa and closing his eyes.

A soft-spoken voice broke through his light napping. He opened his eyes to Granger standing over him and looking concerned.

"Are you alright? Do you need another dose of the potion?"

He assessed the damage from last night before deeming himself well enough to deal. "I'm fine."

"I've left you a bowl, charmed to stay full of warm soup, and a plate that will continually replenish its supply of sandwiches. I will see you later this evening. At that time, I will hopefully have a better idea of what to do with you."

He made to respond, but she turned and lowered the stairs, her wand fixed on him the entire time.

As she descended, he realized she had not cast Muffliato. He rolled over to sleep off the rest of his hangover.

---

AN: Well, I'm back in the States. Thank y'all so much for the wait. From here on out, it should (G-d willing) only be a week between updates. Thanks so much to my beta team for their hard work and for holding my hand through the wibbles!