A Very Frustrating Dinner

Albus Dumbledore hadn't intended for this charade to go on for more than one or two days. He had felt certain that the stunt his nephew had pulled would have been enough to engender a reaction from Severus. But other than shock (which Dumbledore would have expected from anyone), Severus's reaction once again gave nothing away. In fact, it only furthered Dumbledore's curiosity to learn what this man was thinking behind that expressionless facade.

And Andrew certainly wasn't helping him put the whole plan to rest. In fact, he seemed to be relishing the opportunity. In the few days he'd been at Hogwarts, Andrew had dreamt up dozens of plots designed to make Severus finally burst his bubble. Now that the summer had officially begun, Andrew convinced Dumbledore to begin phase two – he would attend meals in the Great Hall at Dumbledore's side.

"I'm not so sure about the last part, Andrew."

"I have to sit next to you, don't I? And besides, I can't wait to see the look on his face when he finds I've taken his seat."

*************************

It was a light turnout of faculty for dinner that evening, since many of the professors were away at their summer homes or on holiday. Besides Dumbledore and Andrew, only Flitwick, McGonagall, Hagrid and Snape were there. The latter was making his way to the table at this very moment. Dumbledore studied his Potions master's expression as he entered the Great Hall. He looked annoyed, but not overly so. Annoyed that someone, anyone, was occupying his usual chair, not especially incensed that it was Andrew. Foiled again, Dumbledore thought.

Severus Snape was incensed. How dare that arrogant whelp take my seat! He struggled to remain calm and not let his countenance betray his rage.

As soon as dinner began, Andrew was talking up a storm. He was babbling really, talking in circles about utter nonsense. Knowing full well that the only thing Severus loathed more than long-winded talkers was ignorance, Andrew decided to go for broke and marry the two. He hoped his uncle wouldn't be too angry with him later for his improvisations.

"So, are the rest of you as narrow-minded as my Albus when it comes to the Ministry?"

"What do you mean?" Flitwick asked.

"I, for one, am pleased that Fudge is still the Minister of Magic. And I happen to know that most wizards and witches agree. I admire the way Fudge stuck to his principles throughout the war and was defiant against He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named until the very end. Albus here babbles on and on about Fudge deceiving the public," Andrew said with a heavy sigh. "But he was just trying to protect them. He's a leader, and that's what leaders do. As teachers, you must understand that. It has, after all, been a long time since Albus was in the classroom."

Pleased by the stunned and angry stares he was receiving, Andrew added sweetly, "Severus, be a dear and pass me the rolls."

Dumbledore winced mentally. This hadn't been the plan at all. They'd agreed that the point of Andrew coming to dinner was simply to put in an appearance. Dumbledore glared at his nephew, trying to quiet him, but he only smiled back in return, and it was then that Dumbledore realized that he'd created a monster. Dumbledore couldn't help but find this whole thing slightly humorous, even as it was utterly humiliating. Now, half his faculty thought he must be barmy for dating this 'unique' young man.

Snape was gripping his fork so tightly his fingers and knuckles had gone completely white. He bit back the hoards of angry retorts threatening to spill from his mouth. He looked over at Minerva McGonagall and smiled inwardly. She was about to blow up for him.

"Excuse me," McGonagall interrupted angrily. She was not about to sit there and listen to another second of Andrew's assessment of how the Ministry of Magic had done a wonderful job seeing the Wizarding community through the war. "Have you lost your mind? The reason the war is over is because of years of tireless effort on Albus's and Severus's parts and some extraordinary work by Harry Potter. The Ministry is a gaggle of idiots."

"So Albus keeps telling me," Andrew began skeptically. "Something about some Order of the something. But it's hard to know whether I should believe him. He does like to brag in bed."

Albus nearly spat out his tea and began coughing violently. "Andrew..." he said firmly, willing his nephew to shut up.

"There's no need to be shy, sweetie," Andrew insisted. "We have no secrets from these people." Addressing McGonagall once again, he asked, "So what do you teach?"

"Transfiguration."

"Oh... sorry," Andrew replied. The look on McGonagall's face nearly sent him over the edge. He cast a relaxation charm on himself to prevent his laughter from boiling over.

"What the devil do you mean by that?" McGonagall asked.

"I always thought that was a ridiculous subject," Andrew began, taking note of the table. Flitwick seemed totally delighted with the 'show' taking place in front of him. Hagrid seemed confused. Snape's face was expressionless as ever.

"Andrew, that's not very polite," Dumbledore chided.

"Whatever..." Andrew replied dismissively. Sensing McGonagall was about to speak, he cut her off, "But at least it's got some use. Not like Potions."

Andrew was aware of the burning glare being leveled at him. He ignored it and went on. "I mean why not just do a charm? Seems likes Potions is just glorified cooking."

Dumbledore was fidgeting nervously now. Was his nephew out of his mind? "Andrew!"

"Just my opinion," Andrew replied. "No offense, of course."

"None taken," Snape replied coldly. "I hope you don't take offense the next time I slip some poison into your tea, and we'll see if you can 'cook' your way out of death then."

"Good one, Severus. Very funny," Andrew remarked.

"I was being serious," Snape muttered under his breath.

Dumbledore tried to diffuse the situation by changing the topic, albeit badly. "Andrew, would you like some more potatoes?"

"No, Un..." Andrew stopped himself just before the word 'uncle' had slipped from his mouth. "... unless you want me to have some, Albus?"

Dumbledore struggled not to laugh. "Please do, on my account, Andrew."

"Albus likes me well-fed," Andrew volunteered in explanation to the staff, winking significantly at them.

The faculty were now staring openly at the pair of men, wondering if Dumbledore had gone off the deep end with this bizarre choice of lover. Dumbledore was trying to pretend he wasn't mortified by this whole ordeal.

"So how long have you two known each other?" McGonagall asked.

Snape's ears perked up.

"Oh, we've known each other for a quite while," Andrew replied, his voice lowering a bit as he continued with a smirk, "but I think you're asking a very different question, aren't you... Minerva, is it?"

Andrew ignored (with some difficulty) the icy glare McGonagall was directing at him. "I'd be happy to tell you, of course, but Albus is so uptight about his privacy."

"Andrew..." Dumbledore cut in.

McGonagall cut to the chase and asked the one question on everyone's mind. "May I ask how long you will be staying with us?"

"Oh, that depends entirely on Albus," Andrew replied, his eyebrows raising meaningfully.

Albus was blushing now. How had he got into this mess?

"What school did you go to?" McGonagall asked, unrelenting.

"My parents sent me to an academy in America, but I left. It was boring."

McGonagall shot Snape an encouraging look, apparently waiting for the scathing remark she knew was on the tip of his tongue. But it never came.

Snape was struggling to remain silent. He knew if he spoke, he wouldn't be able to stop, and he'd end up completely losing control. But sitting here, listening to this, he was positively dumbstruck. Albus was actually romantically involved with this tosser? Snape would have never imagined it possible, no matter how attractive he might be.

"So then, what do you do exactly?" McGonagall prodded.

"Nothing right now. I'm enjoying life," Andrew replied.

"How do you plan on supporting yourself?"

"I'll figure something out. I'm not worried."

McGonagall thought she had entered the twilight zone. Who was this idiot? What was Albus thinking? And why the hell was Severus being so quiet? She would have expected him to be finished tearing this little twit to shreds by now. She kept elbowing him, but he ignored her.

Snape was inexpressibly grateful for Minerva's nosiness at this moment. He'd barely said a word, but fortunately Minerva was doing his work for him, revealing Andrew as the utter moron he was. He would have to send her flowers.

As McGonagall settled back into her barrage of questions, Albus sighed. Damn it, he wanted Severus to be the one going off the deep end, not Minerva. In fact, Severus appeared rather cool and uncaring throughout. This was not looking good.

Andrew's voice interrupted Dumbledore's haze. He was speaking to McGonagall. "You need to chill out, woman! Why are you asking me all these questions anyway? Are you Albus's keeper or something?"

"Do not call me 'woman'!" McGonagall said furiously.

"Andrew... please apologize," Dumbledore said.

"Because I think Albus can take care of himself," Andrew continued. "What... are you in love with him or something? Is that it? Am I cramping your style?" Andrew deadpanned. "Because I can assure you, he likes men... a lot!"

McGonagall's mouth was now hanging wide open.

"Andrew please... that's really uncalled for," Dumbledore admonished.

"I was joking, Albus. Not about that last part though! Minerva knows I was joking, don't you, Minerva?"

McGonagall was certain she would have transformed this cretin into a mouse to hunt down in her Animagus form had Snape not sensed this and placed a restraining hand on her shoulder. She didn't know whether she should be grateful or angry at Severus for keeping her at bay, but her thoughts returned once again to his inexplicable silence. She could feel the man was positively trembling with rage.

As the elves began serving tea and coffee, Andrew remarked in displeasure. "No cappuccino, Albus?"

"Ah... we don't normally serve such specialty items," Dumbledore explained, still marveling at his nephew's ability to transform into a total jerk. He would have to remember to tell him that he should have gone into acting. Cappuccino? Where did he come up with this stuff?

"But you know how much I like cappuccino, Albus," Andrew whined irritatingly. "I hate regular coffee. It's so... plain."

"Well, dear, I'll be sure to ask the elves to prepare some especially for you tomorrow morning."

"And I'll ask them to shove it up his arse," McGonagall whispered under her breath, causing Snape to snort his tea.

*************************

Once they were back in the Headmaster's quarters, it took Andrew a good five minutes to stop laughing.

"Andrew, that was over the top!"

"That's what I intended, Uncle. The plan is going well."

"You're enjoying this too much."

"How can you tell?" Andrew replied, his face beaming with mirth.

"I don't think my faculty will ever look at me the same way again."

"Well then, you better hope this works so you can tell them who I really am."

"Merlin willing..." Dumbledore sighed.

"Don't be down, Uncle. At least Professor McGonagall's got a thing for you!" Andrew began laughing again.

"She's just being protective," Dumbledore explained and then added grudgingly, "which is more than I can say for Severus."

"I must remember to apologize to her by the way. She was too easy to pick on."

"Well, you might as well do it now. I think that dinner pretty well settled things," Dumbledore said, his voice defeated.

"You do?" Andrew asked in surprise. "I'd say it's 50-50. I was pretty obnoxious."

"How would that make it 50-50? He barely said a word to you... He didn't care enough to bother."

"Uncle, you're way too close to this thing; it's clouding your legendary intellect. First of all, McGonagall was doing the work for him. But besides that, imagine for a moment that I wasn't your fake lover," Andrew said, resuming his chuckling again. "If I was a friend of McGonagall's, for instance, do you think Severus would stay silent through all that? Or would he have hexed me for my comments?"

"I see where you're going with this..."

"He was unusually quiet, don't you think? He's remaining silent because he's worried about upsetting you by attacking me."

"Yes, that is possible," Dumbledore agreed, the smile returning to his face.

"Of course," Andrew added seriously, "he might just really like you as a friend and not want to offend you. Didn't you say that he's overly polite to you, especially around other people?"

The smile flew off Dumbledore's face. "You're right."

"Hence 50-50." Andrew was deep in thought, now pacing narrow circles in his uncle's office. Dumbledore couldn't help but be amused by the parallel. "We need more evidence," Andrew finally declared.

"Andrew... I think that's enough."

"I'm really getting into this now. It's my personal mission to figure him out. But he's such a tough nut to crack. He's very in control of what he says, isn't he?"

"You have no idea," Dumbledore acknowledged, rolling his eyes.

"Based on the way he instinctively reacted to my cooking comment, I'm thinking that your only hope is to get him angry enough to explode and accidentally say something..."

Dumbledore sized his nephew up and down and asked seriously, "Andrew, have you done this before?"

"No," Andrew replied with a chuckle. "But seriously, you're going to need to protect me, Uncle."

"Protect you?" Dumbledore asked in confusion.

Andrew smiled. "I may be talented in charms, but I don't think that'll help me if Severus should lose it. As it is, I don't feel safe drinking in the Great Hall anymore."

"My dear boy," Dumbledore began with a smile, "if Severus gets that angry, I shall need protection as well."