Chapter 21.

Deborah awoke and Snape was gone. OK, she thought to herself, where has he gotten himself off to? The door to the porch was open, that seemed like a good place to start her search. She retrieved a dressing gown from her chair, pulled it on, and went out.

A surprising sight greeted her. Snape was lying back in a lawn recliner reading a heavy leather bound book. That part wasn't a surprise, but the cut off denims and t-shirt were. Snape was painfully self conscious and modest in his usual surroundings and would not have allowed a glimpse of his bare legs at Hogwarts, but being at Glas Tann brought out a different side of him, one that was more relaxed. She smiled at the sight. It took a place of sheer magic to get him to behave normally. Mickey the basilisk curled in his lap with it's neck stretched up and lying across Severus's shoulders. The little animal's head was pressed against his cheek, giving the impression that the creature was reading along with him, although that was not one of it's abilities. Deborah stroked his hair to get his attention. The basilisk immediately slid it's head under her hand. Jealous little thing she thought. Snape looked up and she bent to kiss him. The basilisk wormed it's way between them. She laughed. "You won't be able to shake that wretched animal loose now."

"He's not so bad." The basilisk purred and lay it's head on top of his defender. "He woke me up this morning and I couldn't go back to sleep, so I went down to the kitchen and fixed something to eat. I hope that eggs won't hurt him. He was begging."

"He's always begging. He's nothing but a head, a tail, and two meters of gut." She sat in the chair alongside of him and the basilisk glided into her lap. "Scaly little monster." The little serpent appeared to almost grin. "Eggs won't hurt him, he practically worships them. You have made yourself a friend for life there."

"Did you know that this book was written by Salazar Slytherin himself?" Snape pointed out a curse. "Wicked stuff. I knew that he had a reputation for dark magic, but I had no idea he was into this kind of thing." She read the passage. Magical flaying. "I would have liked to have known that one in my fourth year."

"I imagine you would have," she commented. Snape turned the page to an illustration of the results. "Ugh. There's something to tape on the icebox door when I'm trying to lose weight."

"That or a picture of our friend Quirrell, with his manky drawers wound around his head." Snape smirked. "Oh, I'm sorry, your friend. He doesn't fancy me at all." He ducked but she still managed to swat him.

"I know just the potion to fix that." She grinned wickedly. "And I happen to have a large store of stink oak nuts."

"You wouldn't dare."

"I would, and don't you ever forget it." She got up and started indoors. "Come on, Sev, you need to get inside. Your nose and cheeks are getting red. I'd hate to take you back with a bad case of the sunburn. People would talk about us."

"They already do." Snape touched the bridge of his nose and found it to already be a little tender. Maybe Deborah has some sunscreen like the muggles use or some sort of potion for this, I'll ask her. He marked his place in the book with the ribbon and followed her inside.

He surprised her again by cooking breakfast. He made eggs, chips, sausages, and toast. Deborah complemented him on the meal-it was unexpectedly good. Where did he learn to cook? she mused. She ate and smiled at the sight of him eating his second breakfast of the day, as he usually had little appetite. It will do him good, she thought, he could stand to pick up a little weight. The greedy little basilisk groveled and begged pitifully and put away two raw eggs. "Cooked eggs won't hurt him Sev, these things are like living garbage cans, but raw eggs are better for him." She glanced at the basilisk lurking under the table, hoping for something to be dropped. "He's growing fast. He's already far larger than I thought he would get."

"I thought they got huge." Sev said as he poured himself some more tea. "How large were you expecting him to be?"

"About two meters long is what I expected and he's already a bit more than that. It's something that you can't predict exactly. M-i-c-k-e-y's mother (it was safer to spell out his name or use another indicator to prevent being 'basilisked' as she called it, swarmed upon by an excited serpent) is only about six meters long. She's one fourth Chinese dwarf dragon and three fourths ball python. His father is a ball python, they call them royals here. He's about a meter and a half long, and that is a decent size for the species. 'You-know-who' there and his sister have both been turned out larger than I thought they would be. Just goes to show that you can't ever tell."

"Where is his sister?"

"Reuben has her. He's wanted his own basilisk for years. But most of them aren't easy to keep, they get to be extremely large because the few people who breed them usually breed an European dragon to a giant snake, like a Burmese python or a Retic, to get a basilisk. I have a basilisk out of that sort of breeding in the States right now that is over forty feet long-that is around twelve meters-and still growing. That is your typical basilisk. It's venomous too, like the European dragon. Mickey doesn't appear to be venomous and he's still looking to finish out small. I can't see him being much larger than three or four meters when he is full grown." She smacked the little basilisk's nose when it tried to swipe food from her plate. "The more dragon they have in them the meaner they are. In the past basilisks were all first generation crosses. That is what gave them their horrible reputation. Those ones are terrible to try to work with."

LINE

Deborah was saddling the horses, explaining the tack to him. "I'll do this the first time," she had said when he moved to help. "You concentrate on riding until you get a feel for it." She had handed him a bottle of sunscreen. "Be generous, paleface. You will wish you had if you miss a spot." Inwardly he grumbled, glad that he was getting better at blocking her mind. Deborah had a very few habits which annoyed him, but one was a tendency to try to baby him. He took the bottle and began to rub it on. He knew that 'she who must be obeyed' simply wouldn't budge from the barn until he was coated in the unpleasantly girly smelling stuff.

Deborah stood back, inspected the horses, and let the stirrups on the Appaloosa he would be riding out another notch. The curiously spotted animal swished it's tail. Papoose, the horse she would be using, snorted and stamped it's back foot. "He's a good one but he's a little bit too much horse for you right now." Snape hoped that the lazy mare she called Snoots wouldn't be too much horse. As much as he had looked forward to the ride he was getting a little anxious as the time grew nearer.

"One last thing before the big event." She motioned him into the tack room. She pulled a cowboy hat off of a rack and stuck it on her head. "It's for shade, makes it easier to see," she explained. "Pick one." He examined her hats. A black one with a plain silver band appealed to him. "Black, of course," she commented. She sized it a little larger with a flip of her wand and handed it back to him. He tried it on and it felt right. He stepped over to the tackroom door and the dirty mirror. "Quite a sight there," she said dryly. "Snape in a cowboy hat. If your students could see you now."

She led both of the horses into a small fenced area she had called the corral and tied Papoose to the fence then led Snoots in. "OK, Severus, moment of truth." She held the mare's reins, showed him where to put the toe of his boot and he awkwardly mounted the animal, which appeared to take no notice of his hesitant movements. She had him stand on his toes in the stirrups then let them out another notch. "I'm going to lead her around so you can get a feel for the movement first." I must look like a total idiot he thought. Professor Snape on his first horsey ride.

You look…cute. That cowboy hat is so you.

He groaned. Why did he feel as if this was going to be one giant joke at his expense?

Snape took to riding as if he had been born to it. It surprised him. He had never been around animals except for his owl and the revolting Raucous Crow. But horses were different, they were quieter. The gentle sway of the mare's walk was calming. The view from higher up was definitely better. Deborah led with her nervous dancing horse and the mare followed with little direction on his part. It was a little unnerving when they rode a narrow path down to the sea but the mare moved quietly and surely on. They halted with their horses standing in the surf, Snoots quietly and Papoose pawing and snorting.

Deborah rummaged in her saddlebag and brought out a camera she had purchased in Diagon Alley and took a couple of snapshots of him sitting on the mare with the sea in the background. He wanted to take some of her and she passed it to him-he had a harder time of it because her spotted mount kept tossing his head and moving. When they turned for home he felt a little disappointed. He wanted to ride all day. But Deborah, with her ever protective habits, had insisted on keeping the trip short. "You don't realize it but when you ride you use muscles that you don't normally use walking. If you overdo it the first day you're going to wind up sore." At the corral he had asked for the camera back and she handed it over. He set it up to focus and frame by itself-there is one thing you don't know how to do, he thought smugly- then rode to her side. The camera took several shots of them together. Later that day he looked over the pictures. He was framed against the ocean in a couple of them, not smiling but with a peaceful expression of content on his face, one that looked odd on his features. More pictures-Deborah grinning at him, Deborah looking off into the distance, perhaps at the gulls swooping in the background. The best of all were the pictures of them together. They were sitting on the horses, looking into the camera at times and at times turning to glance at each other. He hadn't been aware of it at the time, but the proof was there. He was smiling.

Later that night he discovered exactly what Deborah had meant about the muscles that didn't get used much. The insides of his thighs were aching sorely. She took pity upon him and ran him a hot bath with various herbs and healing oils, and she washed his hair and his back for him as he soaked. He leaned back into her hands as she worked her fingers through his soapy hair. Being babied a little isn't a totally bad thing, he admitted to himself. And he had only sunburned slightly.