Chapter 18: A Fresh Start
Hermione was the first to speak. "Professor Snape! What are you doing here?"
"Do come in, Professor. So nice to have you visit us at last." That was Mrs. Granger, Melanie, the girlhood friend.
"If your legs won't carry you in, you could just Apparate, Severus." Thus spake the most annoying, vexing, obnoxious person in the whole world, now that his three pet peeves: James Potter, Sirius Black, and Tom Riddle were no more. And now a man approached from the side of the house, hand outstretched.
"Good evening Professor. Come on in. They don't bite unless you beg nicely. I have to warn you, though; you have to get up pretty early in the morning if you are going to try to outsmart a Mensan. I'm John Granger, by the way." Mr. Granger was about the same height as Severus, although built on more rugged lines. The women entered and the men followed them into the Granger residence.
"I am reminded of something Kipling once said," began Severus.
"The female of the species is much deadlier than the male!" chorused the women as one.
"We hear that one all the time, Professor. Thank you for the wine! That was very thoughtful. Now come in and get comfortable," Melanie Granger took his arm and almost dragged him into the sitting room. "Rose, can you give me a hand in the kitchen?" She stared sternly at her husband, who took the hint and sat between his daughter and her erstwhile Potions Professor.
As she gently settled on a chair, Hermione hesitantly asked, "Where did you meet my godmother, Professor?"
"At the dancing class you assigned me, Miss Granger." Severus tried, but his sneer seemed to be broken. He wasn't sure, but he was either on the verge of tears, or a great belly laugh.
"Professor, I swear I had no idea Aunt Rose was going to those classes!" Hermione was on the verge of something, herself: panic. If "Uncle" Severus chose to hex her, she was unarmed. At her mother's house, Hermione left her wand in her room. Gales of laughter pealed forth from the kitchen, and the sound of two women speaking nearly simultaneously, at twice normal speed, and in the most barbaric accent ever heard by English ears broke the silence of the sitting room.
John Granger cleared his throat. "Well, our other guests will be here shortly. Should I set up the dueling range, or shall we have peace? You will stay, won't you, Professor?"
"What kind of dueling do you have in mind, Mr. Granger?" Severus goggled at the thought. "Rose is not a witch, at least not in the Magical sense. And I have no skill with Muggle weaponry."
"We usually use our wits, Professor," Granger said with a smile.
"Well then, I am hopelessly outclassed," and Severus smiled back. The two men snickered, then roared with laughter. As if waiting for that signal, the women returned bearing trays of hors d'oeuvres, and the doorbell rang.
*******************************************************
Twenty chattering, munching, drinking people filled the sitting room and overflowed to the kitchen. With the arrival of the Maestro, the gathering was complete. He shook hands with Severus, as all the other guests had done, drank a glass of wine, and headed for the piano. "Warm ups!" he caroled, and the guests as one rose and performed various vocalizes. Feeling a bit like he'd fallen down the rabbit hole, Severus joined in, earning a bunch of approving nods and a glorious smile from Rose. Melanie Granger and Rose exchanged hand signals and nodded. The maestro cut short the exercise and said, "Who is our baritone? Is that you, Russ? I have just the piece for you!" He handed Severus a score. "Do you read music? No? John, be his shepherd and sing along softly. Ready?"
Dies, nox et omnia
michi sunt contraria;
virginum colloquia
me fay planszer,
oy suvenz suspirer,
plu me fay temer.
O sodales, ludite,
vos qui scitis dicite
michi mesto parcite,
grand ey dolur,
attamen consulite
per voster honur.
Tua pulchra facies
me fay planszer milies,
pectus habet glacies.
A remender
statim vivus fierem
per un baser.
Day, night and everything is against me,
the chattering of maidens makes me weep,
and often sigh, and, most of all, scares me.
O Friends,you are making fun of me,
You don't know what you are saying,
spare me, sorrowful as I am,
great is my grief,
advise me at least,
by your honour.
Your beautiful face
makes me weep a thousand times,
your heart is of ice.
As a cure,
I would be revived
by a kiss.
"Very good for a first run through" the Maestro nodded. "And now, our Coloratura: let's see if you have been practicing, Rose."
Stetit puella
rufa tunica;
si quis eam tetigit,
tunica crepuit.
Eia.
Stetit puella
tamquam rosula;
facie splenduit,
os eius fioruit.
Eia.
A girl stood
in a red tunic;
if anyone touched it,
the tunic rustled.
Eia!
A girl stood
like a little rose:
her face was radiant
and her mouth in bloom.
Eia!
Lyrics and translations (© Schott Musik International, Mainz).
Sometime later, when the rehearsal was over and conversation took its place, Severus worked his way over to Rose. "Who are these people, and what are we doing here?"
"They are Mensans, doing what Mensans do best: arguing. And you have just joined the Mensatones, who will be performing Carmina Burana at the Gathering next summer. You will have to pass an intelligence test, if you want to be a full-fledged member, but that should not be difficult."
"And why would I want to do any of these things?" Severus was annoyed by the presumption.
"Why, so you can succeed with the little project Arthur Weasley has set out for you: Détente between our two cultures. You want to meet people who think and who are open to new ideas. You want to meet people who know how to handle ambiguity. Wherever two Mensans meet, there are at least three opinions. I'm not saying that they are the rich and powerful, although some are. But they are certifiably intelligent, educated for the most part, creative and accepting."
"At what moment in time did all this plot come into being?" Severus asked.
"The original programme was to introduce you to what passes for my family here in Britain, both so they could size you up, and so you could meet some more people, as you often express a wish to do." Rose took a sip of wine to fortify herself. "But when Arthur used the expression 'Muggle' to me, all the missing pieces fell in place. Because I know and love Hermione, I know of the Magical people hidden among us. Your veil of mystery was stripped away. I have yet to glean any information about you in particular from my godchild, but the night is early yet. Unless you would rather do me the honor of introducing the real you, yourself."
"Rose, that would take much longer than an hour or two." Severus was feeling a headache coming on. There were many parts of his past that he had no desire to discuss. His past, all parts of his past, were not only catching up with him, but threatening to drown him. He couldn't begin to imagine how Rose would react to Hermione's stories of the irascible Potions Master, the Death Eater, the Head of Slytherin House, but he rather thought she would soon no longer be a friend or even an acquaintance. He felt a great sense of loss looming in his future. Rose was a unique event in his life: a fresh start. He suddenly felt a great need to talk to Dumbledore.
Rose wasn't unaware of the wave of emotional distress pouring off him, but she was rather at a loss as to the cause, or what to do about it. The subject of "Who is this Severus Snape?" seemed to be totally shut down for now. "Well then, perhaps later might be better. What did you do today for excitement, aside from this evening, of course?"
As memories of the redhead at the library lecture filled his mind, Severus suddenly got an evil idea. "How would you like to go out for one of those horrible ice cream desserts you favor, Rose? I have a craving for hot fudge sauce, all of a sudden."
"You mean just get up and leave?" This was far looser than the tightly buttoned up mystery man he used to be. This was spontaneity and initiative, and the offer smelt strongly of manipulation, but Rose was not adverse to the promise of chocolate, nor to the opportunity for private conversation with a very intriguing (in more than one sense) wizard. She knew now that her safety was assured: Snape would not be the unknown male preying upon the naïve foreign woman. Hermione and her family would see to that. Her curiosity was running at full tilt, too: an itch that needed scratching sooner or later. Furthermore, her Earth Goddess tendency was rising very strongly in her heart. Severus was the first unmarried man with whom she'd spent any time in the last ten years, and his shell was cracked. She wanted to know and nurture whatever new person emerged. Having given up on romance, she was happy with the possibility of a friend. "I guess we could do that."
Hermione was the first to speak. "Professor Snape! What are you doing here?"
"Do come in, Professor. So nice to have you visit us at last." That was Mrs. Granger, Melanie, the girlhood friend.
"If your legs won't carry you in, you could just Apparate, Severus." Thus spake the most annoying, vexing, obnoxious person in the whole world, now that his three pet peeves: James Potter, Sirius Black, and Tom Riddle were no more. And now a man approached from the side of the house, hand outstretched.
"Good evening Professor. Come on in. They don't bite unless you beg nicely. I have to warn you, though; you have to get up pretty early in the morning if you are going to try to outsmart a Mensan. I'm John Granger, by the way." Mr. Granger was about the same height as Severus, although built on more rugged lines. The women entered and the men followed them into the Granger residence.
"I am reminded of something Kipling once said," began Severus.
"The female of the species is much deadlier than the male!" chorused the women as one.
"We hear that one all the time, Professor. Thank you for the wine! That was very thoughtful. Now come in and get comfortable," Melanie Granger took his arm and almost dragged him into the sitting room. "Rose, can you give me a hand in the kitchen?" She stared sternly at her husband, who took the hint and sat between his daughter and her erstwhile Potions Professor.
As she gently settled on a chair, Hermione hesitantly asked, "Where did you meet my godmother, Professor?"
"At the dancing class you assigned me, Miss Granger." Severus tried, but his sneer seemed to be broken. He wasn't sure, but he was either on the verge of tears, or a great belly laugh.
"Professor, I swear I had no idea Aunt Rose was going to those classes!" Hermione was on the verge of something, herself: panic. If "Uncle" Severus chose to hex her, she was unarmed. At her mother's house, Hermione left her wand in her room. Gales of laughter pealed forth from the kitchen, and the sound of two women speaking nearly simultaneously, at twice normal speed, and in the most barbaric accent ever heard by English ears broke the silence of the sitting room.
John Granger cleared his throat. "Well, our other guests will be here shortly. Should I set up the dueling range, or shall we have peace? You will stay, won't you, Professor?"
"What kind of dueling do you have in mind, Mr. Granger?" Severus goggled at the thought. "Rose is not a witch, at least not in the Magical sense. And I have no skill with Muggle weaponry."
"We usually use our wits, Professor," Granger said with a smile.
"Well then, I am hopelessly outclassed," and Severus smiled back. The two men snickered, then roared with laughter. As if waiting for that signal, the women returned bearing trays of hors d'oeuvres, and the doorbell rang.
*******************************************************
Twenty chattering, munching, drinking people filled the sitting room and overflowed to the kitchen. With the arrival of the Maestro, the gathering was complete. He shook hands with Severus, as all the other guests had done, drank a glass of wine, and headed for the piano. "Warm ups!" he caroled, and the guests as one rose and performed various vocalizes. Feeling a bit like he'd fallen down the rabbit hole, Severus joined in, earning a bunch of approving nods and a glorious smile from Rose. Melanie Granger and Rose exchanged hand signals and nodded. The maestro cut short the exercise and said, "Who is our baritone? Is that you, Russ? I have just the piece for you!" He handed Severus a score. "Do you read music? No? John, be his shepherd and sing along softly. Ready?"
Dies, nox et omnia
michi sunt contraria;
virginum colloquia
me fay planszer,
oy suvenz suspirer,
plu me fay temer.
O sodales, ludite,
vos qui scitis dicite
michi mesto parcite,
grand ey dolur,
attamen consulite
per voster honur.
Tua pulchra facies
me fay planszer milies,
pectus habet glacies.
A remender
statim vivus fierem
per un baser.
Day, night and everything is against me,
the chattering of maidens makes me weep,
and often sigh, and, most of all, scares me.
O Friends,you are making fun of me,
You don't know what you are saying,
spare me, sorrowful as I am,
great is my grief,
advise me at least,
by your honour.
Your beautiful face
makes me weep a thousand times,
your heart is of ice.
As a cure,
I would be revived
by a kiss.
"Very good for a first run through" the Maestro nodded. "And now, our Coloratura: let's see if you have been practicing, Rose."
Stetit puella
rufa tunica;
si quis eam tetigit,
tunica crepuit.
Eia.
Stetit puella
tamquam rosula;
facie splenduit,
os eius fioruit.
Eia.
A girl stood
in a red tunic;
if anyone touched it,
the tunic rustled.
Eia!
A girl stood
like a little rose:
her face was radiant
and her mouth in bloom.
Eia!
Lyrics and translations (© Schott Musik International, Mainz).
Sometime later, when the rehearsal was over and conversation took its place, Severus worked his way over to Rose. "Who are these people, and what are we doing here?"
"They are Mensans, doing what Mensans do best: arguing. And you have just joined the Mensatones, who will be performing Carmina Burana at the Gathering next summer. You will have to pass an intelligence test, if you want to be a full-fledged member, but that should not be difficult."
"And why would I want to do any of these things?" Severus was annoyed by the presumption.
"Why, so you can succeed with the little project Arthur Weasley has set out for you: Détente between our two cultures. You want to meet people who think and who are open to new ideas. You want to meet people who know how to handle ambiguity. Wherever two Mensans meet, there are at least three opinions. I'm not saying that they are the rich and powerful, although some are. But they are certifiably intelligent, educated for the most part, creative and accepting."
"At what moment in time did all this plot come into being?" Severus asked.
"The original programme was to introduce you to what passes for my family here in Britain, both so they could size you up, and so you could meet some more people, as you often express a wish to do." Rose took a sip of wine to fortify herself. "But when Arthur used the expression 'Muggle' to me, all the missing pieces fell in place. Because I know and love Hermione, I know of the Magical people hidden among us. Your veil of mystery was stripped away. I have yet to glean any information about you in particular from my godchild, but the night is early yet. Unless you would rather do me the honor of introducing the real you, yourself."
"Rose, that would take much longer than an hour or two." Severus was feeling a headache coming on. There were many parts of his past that he had no desire to discuss. His past, all parts of his past, were not only catching up with him, but threatening to drown him. He couldn't begin to imagine how Rose would react to Hermione's stories of the irascible Potions Master, the Death Eater, the Head of Slytherin House, but he rather thought she would soon no longer be a friend or even an acquaintance. He felt a great sense of loss looming in his future. Rose was a unique event in his life: a fresh start. He suddenly felt a great need to talk to Dumbledore.
Rose wasn't unaware of the wave of emotional distress pouring off him, but she was rather at a loss as to the cause, or what to do about it. The subject of "Who is this Severus Snape?" seemed to be totally shut down for now. "Well then, perhaps later might be better. What did you do today for excitement, aside from this evening, of course?"
As memories of the redhead at the library lecture filled his mind, Severus suddenly got an evil idea. "How would you like to go out for one of those horrible ice cream desserts you favor, Rose? I have a craving for hot fudge sauce, all of a sudden."
"You mean just get up and leave?" This was far looser than the tightly buttoned up mystery man he used to be. This was spontaneity and initiative, and the offer smelt strongly of manipulation, but Rose was not adverse to the promise of chocolate, nor to the opportunity for private conversation with a very intriguing (in more than one sense) wizard. She knew now that her safety was assured: Snape would not be the unknown male preying upon the naïve foreign woman. Hermione and her family would see to that. Her curiosity was running at full tilt, too: an itch that needed scratching sooner or later. Furthermore, her Earth Goddess tendency was rising very strongly in her heart. Severus was the first unmarried man with whom she'd spent any time in the last ten years, and his shell was cracked. She wanted to know and nurture whatever new person emerged. Having given up on romance, she was happy with the possibility of a friend. "I guess we could do that."