SSS
Severus Snape put his foot on the shovel, dug it in, and surveyed his new domain with profound contentment. To his mind, the smell of composted chicken shit provided a pleasant counterpoint to the other scents of autumn. And the sight, of thoroughly turned earth…to him, that too was beautiful. It was the ultimate unwritten book, was it not? Soil: enriched, aerated, meticulously free from stones and twigs, ready to grow…anything.
He'd not used one bit of magic to prepare this small plot of earth. No, he'd dug and turned every square foot by hand. Though his body had protested the vigor with which he'd undertaken his task, he knew the purity of his ingredients would be greatly enhanced by his efforts. And if it had supplemented the rigorous training schedule he'd devised for restoring his body to full strength, so much the better.
He and the garden. Both…preparing. Neither of them certain for what.
Even so, it was now time to rest, lest he overstrain his muscles. As often happened at these moments, he visualized Grown Up Granger's disapproval should he injure himself by pushing too hard. He snorted. These days, his subconscious would take any excuse to think about the frizzy-haired one.
It was exceedingly annoying. Here he was, enjoying the first freedom in his adult life. His day, for the first time, structured entirely by his own hand. His priorities, in their entirety, his own. Except for this. His subconscious' insistence that he spend an abominable quantity of time thinking on Granger was blasted inconvenient.
Perhaps his subconscious had good reason to crave the witch. He, after all, had not yet had the pleasure of plastering his mouth upon hers; his subconscious had. (It seemed wrong to envy his subconscious the experience. Was it not?) But he was the master here. He would decide what would happen and what would not, and he did not wish to pursue entanglement with anyone, no matter how desirable the witch might be.
That he desired her…well, that did not seem to be in question, not anymore. In the first few nights after his release, he'd done a bit of shopping at the local pub, wondering if perhaps he was craving woman, generic, rather than woman, specific. Alas, though he'd had far more interest than he'd garnered at any other point in his life, and though the parties in question had been rounder, thinner, prettier, plainer, blonder, darker than Granger, he'd felt no desire to deepen the acquaintance. He'd sent each on her merry way with the heavy weight of realization dawning in his mind.
It wasn't women, in general that he wanted. It was woman, specific.
Blasted inconvenient indeed.
SSSSS
Hermione surveyed the table before her with warmth in every vein. Part of it was the wine, of course, but most of it, most of it was the company. Though the three of them still dined alone together every Thursday, Mondays were family night, and it was usually a circus of chaotic affection. Tonight was even more rauccus, as Ron and Megan had just announced their engagement.
There was Megan, her garnet flashing on her finger, her face glowing with happiness. Ron, his face flushed with pride, his arm slung protectively about the back of her chair. James and Albus, heads together, plotting to snatch another pudding. Ginny pretending not to see what they were about, a small grin on her lips . Luna humming happily to herself. Rolf passionately explaining their latest expedition to Neville, while Neville bounced baby Lorcan on his knee. Hannah, Neville's wife, ripe with their own child, watching him the two of them fondly.
For Hermione, Family night felt…different now that Malcolm wasn't by her side. She realized she'd felt dishonest somehow, bringing someone she didn't truly love into this web of caring and connection. He'd been calm and he'd been polite, but he'd never truly belonged. And now that she was once more on her own, everything just seemed to be that much more in harmony.
Harmony. She grinned to herself. She doubted there would have been any harmony at all had she surrendered to her impulse to invite Severus tonight. She'd had the note all written when, upon further reflection, she'd decided a gathering like this one would likely be far more traumatic than therapeutic for him, even if she had somehow convinced him to attend.
No need to throw the man into the deep end of the pool. Still, now that it had been a week since his release, reaching out to him would be…reasonable, wouldn't it? An inquiry into his health, and wellbeing?
"Well, don't you look like you ate the canary," said Ginny, her hand shooting out to cushion Lysander's head from hitting the table. The woman might have retired from the Harpies, but she still had the reflexes and the peripheral vision of a top notch Quidditch player. "Watch that corner, mate." She said, as the toddler whizzed by.
"Do I?"
"Do you what? Oh, the Canary. Yes, you do. Thinking about the professor, are we?"
"Thinking that it's time for me to send an owl to my patient…she how he's getting along."
Ginny grinned. "Former patient. And yes, I think its quite time. But why Owl? It's so very impersonal. Why not a visit? Doesn't the Healer want to evaluate if he's well? And wouldn't bringing a baked good and a bottle of wine make it all seem… neighborly?"
"Neighborly? We are only a mile apart, aren't we? I like it!"
Harry, who'd obviously been listening in, snorted. "Woman, are you sure you were sorted into the right house? Your skills in the art of matchmaking are positively occult."
Ginny gave her husband a saucy look, and lowered her voice. "Oh, do quote Pride and Prejudice to me, you know how that riles me up."
"Oy!" yelled Ron, from across the table his brow furrowing. "We're not talking about Hermione and Snape again are we? I just finished eating."
"Oh, come off it," shouted Megan, punching him in the arm. "He's a hero."
"She hit me! Did you see that, Albus? You engage a witch and from then on it's punching punching punching all the time."
Albus grinned at his favorite uncle. "That's not what you were saying when you were snogging in the garden before, then you were saying that…"
"Whoah-no you don't." said Ron, as the threw the kid over his shoulder, causing paroxysms of laughter, "What a man says when he's kissing a pretty lady is not to be repeated elsewhere, understand?" To drive the point home, he began to tickle the boy mercilessly.
Ginny growled. "Ronald Bilius Weasley, if that boy vomits, I swear I'm going to make you clean it with that mangy Cannons shirt your wearing."
"Don't call my shirt mangy. It's a classic. And you wouldn't do that."
"She wouldn't?" Harry said, feigning confusion, "How long have you known your sister? Because I've known her for a while, and I'm fairly certain that she would definitely do that."
James nodded his head vehemently. "And she'll hex you too!" He shuddered.
"Too bad, chum," he said, putting the squealing Albus back on the ground. "Can't risk the Bat Bogey Hex."
Luna, who had just placed baby Lorcan to her breast, raised a hand. "Why can't we talk about Hermione and the Professor?"
"Because she likes him," said Ron, "And he's…" he shuddered.
"He is not!" said Hermione, Ginny, Hannah and Megan in unison.
"He is too!" Said Ron.
"He is rather handsome, the Professor as I recall," said Luna, her hand stroking her baby's head dreamily "Rather like a majestic vulture."
They all paused, as they digested that image. Hermione's efforts not to laugh had water pooling in her eyes.
Harry, his eyes also suspiciously full of water, coughed twice. "See Ron, old boy, the professor is as majestic as a vulture. I really don't think you're going to win this one. Look at them." He said, gesturing to the women interspersed around the table. "They are all in agreement."
Ron looked moodily at all the women. "Yeah, I know," said Ron. "But I don't have to like it." He turned to look at Megan. "Aren't you supposed to be on my side?"
She kissed him. "I am on your side. You just have to realize that it's the same side that we're all on. Hermione's."
Ron sighed. "I know."
"There now, you see," said Rolf, in his heavy German accent. "It's good practice for marriage. There are only two options when your woman is against you. Give in… or give in gracefully."
Luna let out a peal of high, clear laughter that had all of them raising their eyebrows. In that one moment, perceptions of who ruled the roost at the Scamander house teetered and were reset.
You never knew what would come up at Family Dinner.
AN: Thanks to all of you for the ongoing stream of ideas. I'm guessing a few of you recognize elements from this chapter…and I'm guessing even more will recognize things next chapter. Keep 'em coming, and I'll keep humming along!
Cheers!
Theolyn
