A/N- Oh... Severus... Severus... Severus.

Snow

The Sound of Silence

Chapter Four

Snape listened to the woman as she bustled around the cottage, though if he were honest, bustled wasn't the right words. She moved almost silently and instead of a knock on his door and instant protests to his list of rules, he had heard only her door close quietly and the scraping of a chair over the floor. He had exhaled and returned his attention back to the lesson plans in his lap. They were not due until the following week, but he was never one to leave something until the last minute. He didn't know how long passed, so engrossed in the task before him he was, but it had to have been more than two hours by the time his stomach rumbled. He crept toward the stairs on bare feet, tugging his door open and peering out, determined to avoid the inevitable meeting as long as he possibly could.

As he slipped out the door, the parchment fluttered. Severus narrowed his eyes and tugged the two pages from where they rested. A quick scan revealed a distinctly feminine handwriting, pleasing in its form, though succinct, for a woman, in the sheer length of it. It was shorter than his own. The second page wasa revision of his schedule he'd set up for the precious lab in the cellar. He saw red, quite literally, in the form of red slashes over the time slots. He was fairly shaking with irritation as he made his way down the stairs and into the kitchen, flipping back to the first page. He clutched the missive with one hand as he filled the kettle distractedly with the other, reading swiftly, his eyes narrowing with every line.

Professor Snape,

Thank you for the warm welcome to Hogwarts. I only wish everyone could be as forthright and thorough as you in their preparation of how one's time outside the classroom should be spent. I have taken the liberty of revising your proposed schedule for the sharing of the cellar and look forward, with great enthusiasm, to the use of your apparently very special kettle. In the interest of common understanding and in the spirit of cooperation which you have so graciously established, I would ask that you observe the following rules in addition to your own.

The NERVE! The words were thinly veiled sarcasm, and yet if he presented the letter to McGonagall as support that the chit should be dismissed, it wouldn't fly. Clever. Very clever. He narrowed his eyes as he poured his tea and read on.

1) The tampons in the cabinet above the toilet in the bathroom are mine. If you use the last, please replace promptly. Regular absorbency is fine, though overnight protection cannot be disregarded as an adequate substitute.

Severus gaped at the page, his eyes lifting for a moment toward the ceiling, where he knew she sat, basking in her victory. He snatched up the kettle as it began to whistle and sneered as he turned his eyes back to the page. Cheeky little witch.

2) I absolutely agree that having men overnight is inappropriate. However, I would suggest that if you wish to sneak them in, you should direct your callers to the trellis on your side of the house. It would be quite awkward to have your gentlemen friends end up in the wrong room, especially as I am forbidden from having men in the house at all. Ever.

He choked then. It had been a perfectly reasonable rule and how DARE she respond with aspersions on his sexuality. He spooned a bit of sugar into his tea and were he any other man, any other red-blooded English male, he would have immediately reported her to their Headmistress. He shook his head and tossed his spoon into the sink, lifting the cup and padding barefoot back toward the stairs as he continued to read.

3) When I cook, you are welcome to join me for my meal, provided you pay up front. In the spirit of the cooperation, I am taking the liberty of providing you with the following equation, which you will find most useful in determining my costs of labor, time, and ingredients, as well as the recommended allotment for the extra effort.

%P=p/iB + 3.78(x)

Okay, maybe he had gone a little overboard with the references to his crockery and his food. He stepped back into his bedroom, his ears reddening as he kicked the door closed with a resounding thunk and gave a snort.

4)Do not use my electricity. Ever.

5) Do not touch my light switch on the inside of my bedroom wall. Ever.

6) The fireplace downstairs is mine. You may use its warmth when the weather turns chilly however, provided that you replace the firewood you use, stacking it in segments of no less than three logs, facing left to right, parallel to the hearth.

7) The back door is mine, however you may, with advance permission, use it on a bi-weekly basis.

8) You are permitted to use the laundry facilities in the cellar on alternating Fridays from five until seven pm, provided you give advance notice in triplicate filed with the Headmistress no less than one week in advance.

Severus cocked his head to the side. Had he really sounded that bad? He lifted his gaze to stare at the wall that separated the two rooms, the fire crackling in the hearth quietly. Guilt niggled at him for a moment, but was immediately dismissed after her read the last bit of her introductory letter.

Deputy Headmaster Snape will please note the gratitude of Professor Connell in regards to his eagerness to fulfill his duties as guide and protector. I do look forward to meeting you in person, Professor, and feel it my solemn duty to inform you that I shall wear red to this evening's staff dinner. Unless there was some color recommendation that you wished to make to better facilitate our living arrangement?

Best,

E. Connell.

P.S.- The coat peg by the front door on the left is mine. The Deputy Headmaster will kindly ensure that his boots remain beneath the coat peg on the right in the interest of maintaining a tidy and orderly living environment.

Briefly he toyed with answering. A glance to the clock on the mantle informed him that there was only an hour until the inevitably awkward dinner hour in the Great Hall. He tossed the note onto the bed tucked beneath the eaves and moved to the wardrobe to search out the things he'd need for his shower. Perhaps he'd leave her some hot water, just this once, in the interest of a harmonious cohabitation. Or maybe he'd just lock the door to the loo and leave it that way to punish the chit for her cheek.

An hour later found him standing beside the floo, debating whether or not to wait for her. She had shown no sign of even existing save for the note on his door, no sound coming from the room across the tiny landing in the cottage he was condemned to reside in for the next four months. E. Connell was either a ghost or a loner. The idea that she might crave quiet as much as he did almost turned his sour attitude to the better thought that perhaps he had not given her enough of a chance.

However, as the clock struck six, and he reached for the floo powder, the sound of light footsteps on the stairs drew his attention. He frowned faintly, catching a glimpse of not just red, but scarlet wool pooling around dainty black boots with a low heel. When she emerged from the stairs, he found himself staring into a face he'd not expected. She was small, a delicacy about her bearing, though she stumbled on the last step dashing any notion of grace. E. Connell was, even he was forced to admit, ravishing, at first glance.

Blonde hair was caught back from her face, in a severe bun, low on the back of her head, not a strand out of place. Black rimmed glasses were perched on the end of a pert nose, framing a pair of gray eyes. The teaching robes she wore were practical, though flattering, modestly high-necked, but hinting at a figure that would have the male members of staff salivating at first glance. She was covered neck to thumb to ankle. And what's more, she was staring at him as surely as he was staring at her, with such boldness that he found his ears reddening. Perfectly pink lips twisted into an icily polite smile as she gave him a nod. So this was the cheeky little thing that had left him the snarky reply in response to his overtures of how to live peacefully together.

He gripped the fistful of floo powder and stared toward the fireplace, struck at the last moment with the belated realization that he was dependent on her for this. Floo travel required verbal casting. He sighed and gave her a polite nod, gesturing toward the fireplace to indicate she should precede him. She cocked her head to the side lightly as she observed him, her polite smile fading. Something lingered in those gray eyes that turned stormy. She held herself ramrod straight as she turned on heel and strode toward the door, never speaking a word as she pulled it open and disappeared evening. The sun would not set for a good two hours, and yet she seemed offended by his attempt at politeness. He dropped the floo powder into the stone bowl on the mantle and set off after her, his frown deepening. So it would appear, they were going to be late to dinner given that it was a twenty minute walk.

Severus would have growled if he'd been able to. As it was, he hurried to catch up. She acted as if he were not there when he settled in beside her, striding along purposefully. She hadn't yet started ranting or chattering as he'd expected, though he knew she was perfectly aware he was right there beside her. He fought back the urge to make a snide remark about her attention-seeking garb, would have if he'd been able to. As it was, he was already humiliated enough, having to remain silent until Minerva's ire wore off enough to lift the hex.

The woman moved with surprising speed for one so small, she barely reached the top of his shoulder, and he half expected her not to meet his stride. In the end, as they approached the Great Hall, he was the one who found it difficult to keep up. He sneered down toward her as she brushed past him toward the round table set up in the center of the room. So it was the silent treatment, was it? Two could play at that game. If it was war she wanted over their silly exchange of notes, war he would give her.

She seemed unaware of his declaration of combat as she settled into one of the two seats left, her face lifting toward Minerva's to give a smile of greeting, the change in expression signaling a shift in her demeanor. Still, she spoke not a word, but rather situated herself quietly. Beside her, Granger murmured the words softly, though not aimed at him, it was hard to miss. "Has he been polite, at least?"

Connell, for her part, had the good grace to appear to give it consideration. She lowered a hand to her right side, where Granger could see, but out of his line of sight, her fingers moving in some demonstration of emphasis for her grimace. Granger broke into a fit of snickers. "He didn't!" Hermione leaned forward to stare at him as if he'd grown a second head. "You didn't! Professor! That's horrible!"

Snape frowned, having the distinct impression he'd missed something important. He was saved from explanation however, thank whatever gods still took pity on him in his hexed state, by the arrival of the food. It wasn't yet close enough to the start of term for Minerva to give her usual round of speeches. The first staff meeting wasn't slated until next week and Severus for one relished the chance to tuck into his food undisturbed. It was common knowledge that he hated the policy of communal dinners, something that Minerva had begun enforcing the last year in the interest of 'staff unity' as she'd called it.

The woman beside him ate as quietly as he did, leaning only to share the occasional exchange with Granger, done too quietly for him to hear. Hermione seemed completely at ease with the woman, animated and enjoying the conversation. Across the table, Longbottom was watching Connell as though she were an angel that had fallen from heaven and plunked into the chair across from him for his viewing pleasure, his ears lit red. Poppy and Flitwick were engaged in some discourse about something or other and to his left, Minerva finally caved. "Severus, how are you finding the arrangement?"

A smile curved up the corners of her lips, triumph gleaming in her eyes. He must not weaken. It was war and Minerva was every bit as bad as Voldemort. He pinned her with his hardest glare and she lifted her wand, flicking it at him as though it were nothing. "Finite incantatum."

His throat loosened and he reached for his goblet of water, giving her a dirty look. "Don't ever do that to me again, Minerva." His voice was rusty from disuse over the past 24 hours, however Minerva didn't even seem fazed.

She simply smiled sweetly. "Have you and Professor Connell settled in nicely then?"

"Oh, it's lovely, Minerva. I can hardly wait to find out what gems of wisdom I will hear over my morning tea." He snorted. "How the bloody hell should I know? The woman isn't even acknowledging my existence. Not a single word on the walk here. I offered her to use the floo first and she flat out walked away." That was it, build it up nice and slow.

"Severus, you couldn't have used the floo anyway. You had to walk." She had the audacity to give him another motherly smile. "I'm sure you'll find her good company, quiet, respectful, and quite brilliant for a witch of her age."

"I hardly have the need to converse with a child." He snorted as he cut into his steak. The woman beside him stiffened, her gray eyes landing on his face. Granger had grown strangely quiet beside her. If he didn't know better, he'd swear that hurt was warring with indignation in Connell's pretty eyes. Severus saw no point in lying about his thoughts, if it would expedite her knowing her place. "She isn't even licensed by Ministry here yet, and until those credentials do transfer, I see no reason to change my opinion. She will have to prove herself like everyone else, and thus far, it isn't looking very good."

Beside him, she lowered her eyes to her plate, her fork and knife lowering to rest beside what was left of the pasta she'd been working on. He saw it, a flash of righteous anger. That was is, if only she would rise to the bait.

Her hands lowered to her lap and he pegged her with a stare. "Are you almost finished ignoring me, Miss Connell?"

She showed no response, Granger's hand lowering to disappear beneath the table once more. Connell's eyes remained locked on Hermione's face. Severus pressed onward, ignoring the warning hiss of his name from Minerva. "I do not like to be ignored, Miss Connell. This is your last warning."

Her spine stiffened once more, much as it had in the house when he'd tried to get her through the floo first. Her jaw tightened and she gave a friendly smile as she glanced to him directly. Granger's voice lifted softly, hesitantly. "Professor Snape, she's.."

"I think the lady can speak for herself, Miss Granger, if she intends to be able to teach the little ingrates in her class anything. Unless she's stone stupid and simply wishes to indulge in the little game of letters she started this afternoon. Her tongue is quite sharp, this I already know."

"Professor, you don't understand, she's…" He lifted a hand, giving Granger his hardest stare as his temper finally failed.

"Rude. Arrogant. And quite possibly too stupid to be set loose in a lab with potions that could explode and kill everyone in the castle." Okay, so he was exaggerating there, but the irritation of being ignored was simply rising beyond his usual. Never had he been so vexed by a woman who'd never spoken so much as a word.

The chit stared at her plate, her hands tightened into fists. An instant later, her head rose, her eyes resting on his face, her gaze thunderous. The rest of the table was still chattering pleasantly among themselves, as though unaware of the tension. Granger had fallen silent, casting worried glances toward the newest arrival. Severus smirked, his voice icy as he injected his most withering tone. "Well which is it, Professor Connell? Ignoring me, deaf, or just stone stupid?"

A horrified gasp emitted from Poppy across the table. "Severus! How could you?"

Longbottom paled, glancing toward the door as if longing to make some kind of hasty retreat. Granger shook her head slowly, hissing the words at him with her typically Gryffindor bravery, or in this case, stupidity. "I always knew you were an ass, Professor, but that was low, even for you."

The woman beside him was eerily calm as she rose from her place, carefully placing her napkin on the table beside her plate and giving Minerva a terse nod. She didn't respond to his words, but rather turned on heel and made her way toward the door with a surprising amount of dignity for a woman who'd just endured his tongue lashing. A grudging admiration rose in him even as Minerva rose from her seat. "Severus Snape, you are the most callous excuse for a man. Twenty points from Slytherin for being a …a… dunderhead." She too slapped her napkin down and strode away without so much as a backward glance, shaking with rage.

What had he said that was so horrible? And could she even *take* points? He glanced toward Granger, who merely stared at him, shaking her head. "Did you even read the staff summaries for this year, Professor?"

He frowned faintly, the inkling that he'd somehow gotten something very wrong descending on him as his gaze flicked over the rest of the staff around the table. He spoke cautiously. "No. I never read those."

"Perhaps, you should, Professor. And while you're at it… maybe read a volume of Emily Post while you're at it." Granger rose as well, retreating from the table. Severus glanced back toward the remaining staff, seeing no explanation but rather only a sudden intent interest in the food or whatever conversations had been left off. He pushed his chair back slowly, in no hurry to make his way back to the cottage. The twenty minute walk took nearly an hour and the sun was just setting when he arrived. There was no sign of the woman as he shrugged off his cloak and made his way slowly up the stairs.

Granger's words rang in his ears as he tried to put the pieces together. Belatedly, he dug through the pile of papers on his desk, coming up with the guide that listed the staff, their credentials and the stray anecdotes. He flipped through it idly. As he came to her name, a picture of the pretty little witch grinned at him happily, and her name leapt off the page. "Elizabeth Connell, muggleborn American, licensed in Potions by the Committee of Magic, Ranks – Mastery of Potions, Mastery of Charms, Mastery of Defensive Magic Instruction." He saw nothing untoward until the last sentence. He blinked, stared at the window toward the lake for a moment to get his bearings. Surely he couldn't have missed that. HOW could he have missed that? His eyes found the sentence once more. "Special dispensation for assistant granted on basis of verified disability, Ministry of Magic."

He dropped onto the bed, clutching the book in his hands, the wheels turning all too slowly. Assistant. Verified disability. His own callous words rang in his ears as he replayed the horrified gasps. "Well which is it, Professor Connell? Ignoring me, deaf, or just stone stupid?"

He cursed fluidly and snapped the booklet closed. "Bloody hell. The witch is deaf and I'm… a complete arse."