Dunch

Disclaimer: Not mine.

______________________

Chapter 2 – Dunch

__________________________________________________

“Severus”

I’m scratching at the grime underneath my fingernails when Sheryl says my name again. “Steven?”

How many times can one use your name before it truly is worn out? “Yes?” I ask, as politely as I can while gritting my teeth.

“It’s Saturday.” She points this out as if it’s some big revelation.

“… Your point being?” I ask.

“When is the last time you went out?”

“I walked here, so," I look at my watch, "about twenty minutes ago.”

“No, I mean out. As in ‘did something fun.’ Something that involved socializing with others?” she says. I’m starting to see where this is going and I don’t like it at all.

“I don’t know. Probably never.” This is a lie; I did plenty of socializing in my youth and nothing came of it except the death of a beloved friend and a Dark Mark upon my soul. “Why do you ask?”

“I was wondering if you’d have dunch with me.”

I don’t know if I should ask, but I do anyway. “Dunch?”

“A late lunch. Dunch,” she says, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“Are you asking me out on a date?” Please say no, please say no…

“It doesn’t have to be,” she says. I visibly sigh in relief. “Consider it two friends going out for a meal.” I consider her offer and agree to meet her at the café around the corner at 4 o’clock. I must be incredibly lonely…

__________________________________________________

“Hermione”

I have mopped the floor and done the dishes. I have folded three loads of laundry and done two crossword puzzles. I have read the same line at least seven times in the newest Potions Monthly magazine. I think it’s safe to say that I am completely and utterly bored.

Ron and the kids are out at Harry and Ginny’s, which means I have at least a few more hours alone. I have to get out of the house or I will Avada myself. Hmm, maybe Sherry is free…

__________________________________________________

“Sheryl”

“Sorry, Hermione, but I’m booked this afternoon. I’ve got a dunch date in about two hours,” I say earnestly.

“Please, Sherry, I need to get out of—wait, you have a date?” says Hermione. She sounds stunned, as if this is the last thing she’d ever expect to happen.

“You sound shocked,” I tell her.

“Well, I – it’s just – you haven’t actually been with anyone since you and Tom split. Are you sure you’re ready for this?” Nice save, Hermione.

“Of course. Plus, it’s not really a date; I’m just trying to get a client to lighten up a bit. You wouldn’t believe the size of the stick the poor man’s got shoved up his arse.”

“Oh, well, if it’s not a date can I come, too?” asks a hopeful Hermione.

I sigh dramatically. “Are you really itching to get out of the house so much you'd interrupt my dunch date?" I ask. She nods enthusiastically. “Fine. You’re lucky you’re you; if you were anyone else, I’d say no in a heartbeat.”

“Thanks, Sherr,” says Hermione. She has a real smile on her face, something that hasn’t been there in a very long time.

__________________________________________________

“Severus”

I’m male; getting dressed should never take as long as it has. I have tried on every color button-up shirt I own and each has some fault: the blue one is, by far, too fancy for the occasion; the green brings back memories of snakes; I won’t wear red for obvious reasons. It seems I cannot win.

That’s it, I’m sticking to black.