disclaimer: These characters are borrowed from JK Rowling. The plot resembles my life and since I frequent American grocery stores the store depicted is a mixture of Shaw's and Hannaford's. I have no idea what they sell in British grocery stores so please excuse the blatant use of American products.

To Market, To Market
Chapter 1

They smelled it before they had even entered the room. Professors McGonagall and Snape trudged into the Great Hall one beautiful, sunny, summer day prepared to face their lunch. Dumbledore and the rest of the staff who spent their summers at Hogwarts had already taken their places at the table. The two late teachers sat down and sighed as their lunches appeared before them.

Eggplant casserole.

Eggplant casserole everyday of the week, except on Sundays when they had potroast. Professor McGonagall hated potroast just slightly less than she hated eggplant casserole.

"Is there something wrong, Severus," asked Dumbledore, who had noticed that Snape was not eating his food, but merely creating little mounds of caserole on his plate. He was quiet for a moment before answering. Suddenly he jumped up from his chair and threw his fork into the table.

"Eggplant casserole!" shouted Snape. "I hate eggplant casserole! That's what's wrong. From this day forth I'm going to starve to death unless I get something else to eat!"

The other teachers were somewhat taken back by this outburst, but they were not too worried. They had become used to Snape's fits and attributed them to what they presumed was his slightly unbalanced mind. Dumbledore looked at him calmly through his half moon spectacles.

"Don't be childish, Severus. Mrs. Putterbit works very hard to cook us a lovely meal each day. It's not her fault that Fang ate out most of the pages of her recipe book. And how could I say no when the house elves asked for a vacation. They haven't had one in years and they work so hard throughout the term, not even taking a holiday at Christmas."

"Headmaster, couldn't you have at least hired a cook who could cook?"

"I think Mrs. Putterbit's eggplant casserole is quite good, actually," put in Professor Flitwik. "Although, six days a week may be overdoing it a little."

"Severus," said Dumbledore sternly, "if you can't say something nice about Mrs. Putterbit's cooking please remain silent on the subject. The poor woman has a low enough self esteem."

"But she's completely incompetent in the kitchen," cried Snape angrily. "How hard is it to make spaghetti? It's not hard at all! Yet she can't do it! She can barely make toast. She burns it when she tries. I can't deal with having eggplant casserole for breakfast anymore."

Professor McGonagall decided it was time to interject Snape's tirade. "Headmaster," she said when Snape paused to breath, "although I respect your decisions I must agree with Severus on this one."

"I can't fire Mrs. Putterbit," said Dumbledore. "Her self confidence would be completely ruined."

"Maybe if we bought her another cookbook," suggested Professor Sprout.

"Too late!" came a wail from the doorway. Mrs. Putterbit stood with tears in her eyes looking at the teacher's table. "You don't like my cooking," she sobbed. "Don't bother to fire me. I'll save you the trouble and quit! No one ever likes my cooking, now what will I do? How will I live without a job?" At that she went into hysterics and Professor Sprout and Madame Hooch rushed to help her down to the hospital wing for a sedative.

Dumbledore turned to Snape. His eyes were hard. "Well, thank you for causing that delightful scene. Unless Mrs. Putterbit agrees to stay with us after she has calmed down, we may all starve to death now. The only decent thing you can do is apologize to that poor woman. That is not a suggestion, it is an order."

"Yes, sir," said Snape through gritted teeth. He was not good at apologies, and he didn't regret anything he had said. He had merely been stating facts. Dinner was finished quietly after that although neither Professor McGonagall or Snape ate much. Professor McGonagall was seriously thinking about employing the Gryffindor/Slytherin competitiveness to the situation by trying to beat Snape at starving to death. She wasn't sure how much longer she could take eggplant casserole for breakfast either. As she walked up to her room afterwards she thought about bacon and eggs, blueberry pancakes with syrup and whipped cream, french toast, and big belgian waffles covered in fresh fruit. She slept peacefully that night dreaming of donuts and green tea.

Snape brushed his teeth with the minty freshest toothpaste he could find and went to bed in a bad mood. He woke up no better. He didn't go to the Hall for breakfast, instead he went straight to the kitchen to see if he could find Mrs. Putterbit. She sat staring at her feet with a cup of coffee. Snape was unsure of how to approach the sbject. He hardly ever had to apologize even when he was wrong. Usually the situation was solved when he glared at the other person and they ran away.

"Uh, ...Mrs. Putterbit?..." She didn't look up. "Um... I must apologize for what I said about your cooking last night. I'm sorry."

Well, that was that. He had done what he was ordered to do and now he was going to go back to the dungeons and brew something nasty that would stink up the place and make everyone avoid going down to socialize with him. No one ever did want to socialize with him anyway, but he continued to brew his bad smelling potions just in case anyone woke up feeling incredibly friendly one morning. It had happened before. During his third year of teaching he was often bothered by Professor Crambleroot who enjoyed spending time with the potions master and quoting Dr. Suess. Unfortunately, Professor Crambleroot was impervious to many of the most awful smells that Snape could think up due to the fact that his nose had been injured in a apparating accident and his sense of smell seemed no longer to work. It was only when Snape discovered Professor Crambleroot's hayfever that he was able to get rid of his unwanted colleague by decorating the dungeons with as many daisies and buttercups that he could find on the grounds of Hogwarts. While many of the Slytherin students resented the new decor, Snape was quite happy with it as Professor Crambleroot had soon stopped showing up at his door.

It was mid-afternoon and Snape had spent the day in his dungeons. The smell was horrible, reflecting his mood. He was hungry and the minty freshness of his toothpaste had long worn off. He refused to go up to the Great Hall looking for lunch though. Since he had so clearly stated his determination to starve, he couldn't back down now. He was just about to add some more dragon scales to his brew when there came a knocking on his door. Snape was surprised to find the entire Hogwarts staff standing on the other side. They wrinkled their noses at the fumes emmitting from the cauldron he had been working in.

"It seems that Mrs. Putterbit had an epiphany during her third cup of coffee this morning," Dumbledore stated, ignoring the stench. "She has decided to quit her job as our cook so that she can pursue her childhood dream of marrying a rich business man and spending her remaining days sunning herself in Spain and on the Riviera. She realized that she wasn't very happy being a cook and began to worry that if she didn't quit soon she'd end up being bitter and lonely like you."

Snape wanted to protest that he wasn't bitter and if they insisted on being in the dungeons he couldn't very well be lonely either.

"So, after much deliberation we have unanimously come up with the perfect solution to our meal problem. Since there is no more cook and we are all hungry because of you, it has been unanimously decided that you should make dinner tonight. And breakfast in the morning, and lunch tomorrow, and so on."

Snape stared at the headmaster for a moment allowing a slow smirk to spread over his face. Maybe he wouldn't have to starve after all. Now he could eat some actual food. He'd have to cook it himself, true, but at least there'd be no more eggplant casserole on the menu. The smirk got bigger. He was in control of what everyone ate each day. He couldn't remember the last time he had had that much power. He felt it surge through him. Yes! He was in control for once!

Dumbledore smiled as if knowing what was going through Snape's mind.

"I suggest that as new commander of the kitchens you take a little jaunt to the grocery store. It would take too much time to peruse the markets in Diagon Alley so I suggest you go to the Muggle store just west of here. I think you'll find a nice selection there," the old wizard said. "Minerva has offered her help in the procurement and preparation of food."

Still smiling Dumbledore turned away from the dungeons to find some fresh air. Many of the teachers had already made their escape. Only Professor McGonagall remained.

"We're not going anywhere until you stop smelling like a skunk." she told her colleague brisquely. "Go take a shower. Here's some scented soap, you're going to need it. I'll start drawing up a grocery list."