Nosy Neighbours and Lavish Luncheons

11 - Nosy Neighbours and Lavish Luncheons

To Hermione's surprise, the conversation continued through breakfast... though L'Engle soon had to be abandoned, since Snape had yet to finish Wrinkle, let alone the others... and well into mid-morning. She spared a stray thought for her friends once during that time, wishing she could see their reaction to the hours of animated... and friendly... discussion. That wasn't to say that Snape's barbed tongue had lost any of its edge, but it certainly wasn't as venomous and not, thankfully, directed at her personally.

And the trend might well have continued if the doorbell had not rung. As it was, Hermione had to break off in the middle of a wonderfully complex metaphysical debate to see who had braved the drifts to end up at the Granger front door. Snape followed her, not out of curiosity, but from a lack of anything more interesting. He watched as she looked through the little glass in the door and then, apparently, began swearing silently to herself. She then took a deep breath, controlled the expression on her face, and swung the door open. "Good morning, Mrs. Nott," she said pleasantly. "What brings you out on such a nasty morning?" Snape looked beyond her at the woman she addressed: a middle-sized, somewhat-more-than-middle-aged specimen, with limp brown hair and eyes that ought to have been mild save that they searched the scene hungrily.

"I came to see how my dear neighbours were doing, of course, child." The woman's voice practically oozed. "After such a ghastly storm, and all of the power and everything out, I wanted to make sure you and your family were all right."

"That is very kind of you, Mrs. Nott." It was easy to see that Hermione was fighting to keep her temper; not surprising, since this Nott woman struck him as the most useless sort of woman in the world. "And I'm glad to know you are doing so very well yourself," Hermione continued, "that you can come and check on us. We are doing perfectly fine. My father and mother are fine, as is Imogene. And, as you can see, so am I. But you can be sure I'll call you if we need any help whatsoever. You are so very useful, I know."

"No trouble at all, dear," Mrs. Nott assured her, "but may I speak to your parents? I am sure they must be having some trouble I could help with."

"No. Nothing. I assure you." After the past few weeks (and especially the last few days), Snape had learned to read Hermione somewhat better, and took note of her staccato syllables. One more little push and the girl would lose it entirely. This could be amusing.

"Now, Hermie, dear," Mrs. Nott's tone changed to demanding, "I must insist on speaking to your parents. Good heavens!" She started back a bit, having seen Snape standing behind the girl. "Who in heaven's name is that?"

If Hermione could have hexed the woman into the next century, Snape had no doubt that she would have. As it was, she was all but hissing and spitting like a cat. "That," Hermione ground out deadpan, mimicking the woman's intonation, "is my hot Latin lover, Mrs. Nott." With that, she slammed the door in the woman's face, closing away any sputterings the dismissed might have made.

"God! that woman gets my back up!" Hermione growled. She then glanced at Snape. "What?" she snapped.

He immediately burst into laughter so violent it brought tears to his eyes. Hermione looked stunned for a moment, then joined in, collapsing to the floor as her legs gave out. When they finally calmed down enough to be able to speak, Snape queried evenly, "'Hot Latin lover, Miss Granger?" which was enough to set them both off again.

"Sorry about that," Hermione finally wheezed. "It was the first thing that came to mind to get a rise out of the old bat."

"Shall I appear next time with my hair in a tail and a silk shirt open to the waist?" he inquired, lips quirking, which earned him another hoot of laughter.

"Oh, my. Oh, hell," was apparently all the girl could say in reply. Her hair fell across her face, masking her expression.

"An appropriate, if not exactly enlightening, reply, Miss Granger. But do tell me, what on earth possessed you to say such a thing?"

"Oh, I shouldn't've, I know. I'm sorry. Really." Hermione leaned back against the wall, flipping her hair away from her face. "But God! that bitch is nosy."

"Such language, Miss Granger," Snape reproved. She made a face at him.

"She just wanted to know if something rotten had happened to any of us. She'd be quite happy if someone found all of us murdered in our beds. Especially me. She thinks I'm entirely too full of myself, seeing as how my parents have sent me away to public school. And," she added petulantly, "I hate being called 'Hermie'."

"I shall make a note of that for future reference," he commented blandly, almost smiling as she began to bristle again. Baiting the girl was far too much fun. More than he'd had in ages.

"Don't you dare," she hissed, before recovering herself slightly. "Do you have any idea how disgustingly Freudian that name makes me feel? Utterly sick-making."

Being a more than passable Greek scholar (given family traditions), Snape traced the connection in seconds. "Ah. Being, in your mind, related to the word herm. I can see how that would be somewhat... undesirable."

"As usual," she replied dryly, "you have a positive genius for understatement. Yes, I do find it 'undesirable' to be called after a block of stone with a head and genitals, regardless of any sacred importance the damned thing may have.

"Well, may as well get up off the damned floor. It's bloody freezing down here." Hermione began hauling herself to her feet before, being still slightly wobbly, she tripped over her own two feet. Within seconds, she found herself in the last place she had ever expected to be: sprawled across her professor with his hands at her waist. "Er, hello." The best she could manage as she stared at him from only a few inches away. He honestly did have a very large nose. Perhaps Cyrano wasn't too far off.

"Good morning to you, too, Miss Granger." His eyes had narrowed, but his expression was otherwise unreadable.

"Oh, um, right. Sorry." she said hurriedly, getting off of him as fast as was humanly possible. "I, um, I really ought to go wrap. Presents I bought yesterday, you understand." The girl hurried up the stairs, leaving Snape to lever himself off the ground. Bemused, he watched her disappear. Two more observations to add to the list: Hermione Granger had very intense cinnamon-brown eyes and, unless he had lost all sense of touch, she had definitely developed an excellent set of hips in the past few years. Oh, and if she had followed fashion as slavishly as the rest of her schoolmates, she would be a couple of pounds lighter. Three observations, then.

And the thought that he, too, had best get to work on the approaching holiday.

A few hours passed before he could think of something to give the child, and a few more after that to magic it up; his Transfiguration skills were a little rusty. By the time Imogene's gift was wrapped and ready for the next day, it was noon. More than a little hungry, he wandered downstairs.

The girl was standing in front of the refrigerator, her cat beside her, when he entered, staring discontentedly at whatever she had found (or not) there. Not having noticed his entrance, she closed the door and opened the freezer. Apparently, whatever was there (or not) was unsatisfactory as well. She closed that door as well and a contemplative expression appeared on her face. Which lasted until she saw him, after which she turned a brilliant shade of red. "Um, well, we don't seem to have much to eat," she said. "A few odds and ends, but nothing to make a meal out of. And we can't..." she broke off, looking at him speculatively.

"I intend to eat sometime today, Miss Granger, not stand here for your inspection," he drawled. "If you have a statement to make or a question to pose, I suggest you do so."

"If I give you some Muggle money," she said slowly, "would you apparate to the local market and buy a few things? I don't know if they're open, of course, but..."

"But it is the only chance I have of getting a decent meal," he finished. "Very well. If I must."

"Well, you could apparate to Diagon Alley just as easily and leave me here to starve," she pointed out. Crookshanks rowled and stared at the wizard very hard.

Slightly disconcerted (though he would never admit it) by the cat's glare, he blinked, then remarked cryptically, "Sometimes the best idea is neither the first nor the second," and vanished.

Hermione stared at the spot he had been in for a moment, then turned to Crookshanks. "Is it just me," she asked him, "or is he getting stranger?"

"Meow," replied Crookshanks.

A quarter of an hour later, Snape reappeared, his arms full of paper-wrapped bundles. "I didn't think to ask what you wanted," he said as he plunked the things down on the table, "so I just ordered. Hope you are not allergic to anything." The tone of his voice belied his words, saying rather that he didn't give a damn whether she could eat the food or not. Still, Hermione knew it was a significant enough sign that he had brought her food at all. After giving him a curious glance, she began to inspect the packages.

"Oh, Lord." The words slipped out as she viewed the bounty spread before her, direct from the kitchens of Hogsmeade's restaurant 'for the older crowd'. "Real, honest-to-God, Griffin's Head food... You, sir, are a life saver!" She sprang at him. Snape instinctively went into a defensive posture, but that did little to stop the arms that snaked around him and gave him a quick, fierce squeeze. Flabbergasted, he could only blink as she continued prattling on, hands busily setting things out. "You have no idea how much I've been craving this stuff! I mean, I know it's nothing special, but it's loads better than the pubs here. Oh, and authentic Earl Grey. Not that pre-packaged junk they manage here. They say food is a way to a man's heart, sir, but this is absolutely lovely." She smiled brilliantly at him as she finished, then proceeded to heap her own plate with potatoes. In doing so, Hermione missed the absolutely stunned expression on Snape's face as he slowly took his own seat.

I think, he said to himself dazedly, I think this is the first time I have ever made anyone honestly, plainly happy.

It is a very odd feeling, indeed.

Comfortably sprawled across the countertop, Crookshanks purred in reply.