Literature

I do not own, nor do I claim to own, any part of the Harry Potter Universe or anything else cooked up in the mind of J. K. Rowling. And the bits that I did come up with, well I can only hope they fit in seamlessly.

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Like the Muggles Do

Chapter 5

Literature

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Severus emerged from his bedroom, fresh and clean. From his hair, streams of water dripped down his back, causing the black cotton shirt he wore to stick to his skin.

He knew how to use a towel, of course. He had, all of his life, used a towel to dry himself off after bathing or swimming. He knew of very few wizards who did not. His hair, however, he had always used a drying spell on. He was wary of using the large green bath towel on his head, electing instead to just let it dry naturally.

Across his face, from ear to ear and covering his mouth, tucked beneath his least-favorite protruding member, was a sheet of toilet paper. It stuck to his cheeks, chin, and upper lip, held in place by little red dots.

He slowly peeled it off, glad that the wounds he had inflicted were merely superficial. Why Muggle men chose, on a daily basis, to inflict such pain on themselves was beyond him. Severus was once again struck by the thought that it was good to be a wizard – the hair removing spell and the shaving spell were highly preferable to dragging a strange object with a sharp edge back and forth across one's sensitive skin.

Before he was able to complete his praise of all magical kind, the face of Albus Dumbledore occurred to him. He promptly lost any sense of peaceful thoughts and once again imagined creative ways to hex the old wizard, un-traceably, once this ruse as a Muggle was complete. He swept his eyes across the room to clear the image from his mind. It did no good, however. His mentor smiled beatifically at him, as if conjured by Severus' mental image. Upon a bookshelf, a little lower than his eye level, sat a framed photograph of the sugar-rottedly twinklesome old codger.

His shock at seeing the picture, an exact replica of the image that had graced his mind a few moments before, faded as events from the night before pushed their way to the forefront of Severus' memory.

He remembered it quite clearly now that he thought about it. He had stood right where he was now. He remembered leaning forward, hands braced on the shelf upon which sat the framed photo, nose centimeters from the edge, staring at the picture. He had remained in that position for twenty minutes, at least. He also remembered swearing at said photo quietly, telling it to "Move, dammit!"

Hermione had chuckled at him, the little chit, and tried to alter his attention to something else. It had been a book, that he remembered. Something about tearing a bodice...

His eyes alighted on the small table between the reading chairs. There... a paperback book, about the size of his hand, left dog-eared on Hermione's side. On the front a couple embraced each other tightly, lips almost meeting, while a breeze apparently tried to sweep them away. The male figure was a large man, far more muscular than Severus (much less any man he knew), but with a strikingly familiar face and hair. His hair was long black and shiny, and it framed a face with thin lips, black eyes, and a monstrously large nose.

The woman, too, aroused recognition in his mind. Her facial features and long curly brown hair were remarkably reminiscent of Hermione. The unnatural body of the woman, extreme curves with disproportionately massive breasts, however, did not remind him of his book loving partner. The book-cover woman instead stirred a disgusted sense of animosity that he had not felt since walking into a bedroom at the Burrow to find Tonks sandwiched between Fred and George Weasley, all three of them quite unclothed.

The wind-swept clothes and effect on the couple's hair, partnered with the unnaturally rippling physical features, added to faces that looked so much like Hermione and himself, sparked in him equal parts annoyance and amusement. It was so bad it was almost humorous.

He picked up the book and sat in his high-backed chair, resting his feet on the matching ottoman. He let out a snort at the title, Releasing the Blossoms of Love, and opened it, planning to give it a brief glance before moving on to the rest of the shelves and less ridiculous books.

==

Severus slapped the book shut with a resounding thwack that filled the second's silence between the two loud ringing noises that echoed through the otherwise empty flat. As the room silenced again, Severus discreetly tucked the paperback between the cushions of his chair and looked around. The noise, a brrrring ... brrrring that was unerringly distracting, returned and Severus scowled, trying to determine its source. There was another silence before the ringing came back, causing Severus to rise from his chair, rather forcefully, and spin around until his eyes lit upon the ringing device set near the television set.

He moved to take a step nearer to the object, and in a highly ungracious manner reminiscent of those hulking beasts Crabbe and Goyle, knocked over a stack of books. The novels were each a thick block of paper the size of his hand, give or take, with a disturbing cover picture and increasingly ridiculous titles with words like unclasping and revealing in an obnoxiously elaborate script.

Kicking the pile of novels aside, he strode toward the damned ringing thing, confident that if he were closer to it he might understand it better.

He didn't.

He squinted at it trying his best to stir up some forgotten memory of this familiarly foreign machine.

He recognized it now. This blasted contraption was a telephone, He had observed Hermione using it on a few occasions during past games. He had watched, with growing interest, as she pressed the buttons with their glowing numbers and brought the object to the side of her face. But when she caught him studying her, she had tried to explain the machination, and his attention on the captivating appliance was quickly lost.

Watching the device blaringly emit that unsettling parody of a bell's ring, he wished he had not scoffed at her and her "Muggle toys" and surreptitiously ignored all further telephone interactions.

After two more pairs of rings, just as Severus began reaching has hand toward the telephone, a box next to the machine took over. No less than three red lights came on, one blinking and one remaining on. There was a third alighting synchronized with an ear-piercingly high-pitched sound that echoed in Severus' ears even after the beep had ended and something in the machine clicked and whirred as it came to life.

Severus could only stand, dumbstruck, as Albus Dumbledore's voice enthusiastically sounded from the contraption.

"Hello! Team Snarky-Smarty is unavailable to take your telephone call right now. But after this recording has played, you can leave your own 'message' for them to hear later. You may begin talking after the beep."

There was a slight scuffling sound and Severus heard a gruff voice, muffled, saying,

"Really, Headmaster. I don't think I ought to-"

Albus' voice, not as loud as before but still full of sickeningly sweet mirth that made Severus' teeth hurt, responded, "Come now, Argus. Don't be a spoil-sport."

There was another small scuffling noise after which Severus heard a clearing of the throat followed by the caretaker's voice, in a long flat tone, "Beeeeeeeeeeeep"

Severus' lips twitched in amusement as the recording clicked off. Another red light then began blinking. With a click, the sound from the machine took on a busier, thicker quality. He could hear, faintly, women's voices and masculine grumbles, some sort of buzzing sound, and a door slamming.

But in the forefront, quickly drawing his focus away from the background noise, was a hearty chuckle he had grown to enjoy. The laughter ended with a few drawn breaths and a light "Oh Dear." and Severus could do nothing but stare as Hermione's voice now emanated from the little box.

==

"Severus? It's Hermione. Well, I certainly hope you know who it is. Who else would be calling you, really...? That's what I've done, I've called you. I used the telephone. See, phones link through... oh, sod it all. I wish you'd have let me explain them the last time I caught you watching me on the phone.

Right now I hate both of them.

Well my mum swept me up shopping with them for several hours, and with Mum's constant talking and questioning and Persephone's useless, meaningless gossip, plus the fact that I was shopping for clothing with my mother, I completely lost all track of time.

==

Severus cast slightly dazed eyes around the room, finding a clock on the other side of the television. It was 3:30. He had glanced at the clock while dressing after his shower – he noticed absently that his hair was dry now and his shirt only stuck to his back minimally – at which point it had read well before noon.

Severus was baffled as to what had made him lose track of time so easily.

His eyes alighted on the pile of books in disarray next to his chair. It had been a neat stack earlier, but in his haste to respond to the noise that he now knew was from the telephone, he had somehow knocked the knee-high tower over.

He didn't remember consciously doing so, but judging by the scattered placement of the books, he must have kicked some under his chair. He decided to clean them up immediately, and not have to be startled on their account again. He had not known what had caused the ringing sound and was relieved now that he had not been caught reading any of them.

He scowled then, a very nice sneer that made him think of taking points from Potter. Really, it was too bad there was no one around, this was a right good angry face being wasted on a bunch of books.

He didn't even have the consolation of sending the couple on the cover of the book he now held – remaining locked in their passionate embrace – running away or, at least, cringing. That was one benefit of magical photos and paintings – frightening Ravenclaws was one thing, but it took a special talent to intimidate two-dimensional figures.

He scowled even more.

Really. He was trying to put these books away as if afraid. Severus Snape was not some teenage boy being caught by his mother with his father's Playwizard. He was a grown man. And if he was in a rush to put the trashy romance novels that had captivated him for hours back on their shelves, it was not out of shame or fear of Hermione's disapproval.

He simply hated clutter.

==

Severus placed the last book in its place on the shelf alongside the others. He straightened, leaving the books about level with his knees, and looked at the bookcase before him. His eyes scanned the spines, taking note of many titles he would be interested in reading at some point. He would have to inspect them later. He remembered Hermione blathering on to a member of the Weasley clan about one author whose work he saw on the shelves. He remembered that the man was American, and she had spoken of several stories. An automobile not unlike the one that had met the Whomping Willow in her second year, something about large, bat-like rat creatures, and the importance of balancing obligations with leisure time activities. There was almost an entire shelf of novels by this King Stephen fellow, but Severus continued on, reading the spines of the many other books.

He moved over to examine another shelf, beginning to think that nothing would jump out at him. He shuddered, thinking of the tome that had taken that phrase literally, having actually leapt from a shelf in the Restricted Section and clamped itself onto his leg. The book, holding tight to the muscle of his lower leg, didn't hurt him; luckily this edition didn't have sharp teeth. It had, however, kept a very firm hold with its jaw-like pages in its un-emancipating determination. It had refused to liberate him for almost a week. This of course had been quite a problem, as the situation forced him to walk around the halls of Hogwarts for a week with a very heavy, leather-bound book latched onto his shin. When he had finally pried it off of his person, which involved a good amount of physical strength combined with the right amount of scowling and threats, he immediately returned it to the library, awing Hermione as she gawked at him and the book's cover. Apparently, most copies of that particular manuscript, Inspirations of Eccentric Authors, and Other Oddities or Interesting Ideas Often Apparent in Exceptionally Original and Undoubtedly Acclaimed Icons' Enticingly Idiosyncratic Imaginations, usually did not release their victims quite so easily. She had once done a report on the insistent books, and had discovered multiple instances in which the blasted thing had not released its hold for over two years.

Perhaps living in the Muggle world had its advantages -- inanimate objects remained just that: inanimate.

That, however, did not help at all at this juncture, as the shelves and shelves of books loomed before him, mocking his inability to make a selection.

His mind began conjuring the memory of the series of reference guides that actually did mock people, hurling insults at their readers and those browsing. Before he could remember their titles, a book near the top of the bookcase caught his attention.

Albus had to have left this just for him. Hermione would not be able to reach it, even standing on her tiptoes, bracing herself against a shelf, and extending one arm as far reaching as she could, stretching one side where her shirt would ride up to reveal just a little bit of skin, with her head tilted to one side, that determined expression on her face.

No, this book was placed for him.

Severus reached up and pulled it from the shelf. He studied the cover before opening it and flipping the pages. He scanned the contents and made up his mind. He knew what he would do while waiting for Hermione to return. He pulled down all of the other books on the subject, of which there were many, and turned from the selves with a smile on his face that was almost more frightening than any scowl.

==

Author's Notes

Because if I'm going to admit to being an author, I'll damn well insist that I've no idea what I'm doing, and admit that I'm scared as hell.