Light through a muggle window, even when not artifcial, was gratingly yellow. The curtains, hanging limpidly to preserve modesty rather than decoration, half heartedly sifted small dots and prickles of sun through.

Severus found that he was overheated, and sweating superabundantly beneath the stifling, artificial coverlet. His pillow was damp and organic smelling, and his hair was uncharacteristically matted against his face. He frowned as he sat up, his back more sore than it had been in years, and the signs of age seemed exagerated by the impossibly uncomfortable bed. He yawned and stretched his arms out, his lean, fleshless form camoflouged against the snowy sheets.

He paced about the room, absently opening his valise and pulling out the most normal, inconspicuous clothing that he had brought with him. It was a fine, muted silk shirt (black, for he found it his most suited colour), and a pair of magically sewn slacks, for he had found muggle material insufficient.

Severus seemed to tower over most everyone he encountered, but now, without his dramatic, flapping robes, grotesquely obsucring hair and sinister, commonplace sneer, he appeared only slightly elevated He had, for security and modesty'sake, bound his hair with a black piece of twine, and he shoved his hands into his pockets, feeling cold and nearly naked without the weighted cloth of his normal uniform. He gave an indifferent glance in the mirror, and was disheartened by the fact he could not recognize his reflection.

He opened the door, and softly, swiftly swept down the hallway, into the cozy kitchen where they had huddled before. There was a half drained mug upon the counter, though it looked quite cold. A large, metal box was placed against the wall, and he ran his finger over it. There was a handle, a shiny, tempting handle that practically yearned to be grasped and opened. He did so, fitting his slender fingers around it, and pulled gently. The hinges only opened halfway, and he wondered if this was some kind of odd alcove that was randomly placed in the wall. He pulled harder, and the door swung open, narrowly missing his face, for he had leapt back. Severus' eyes widened in the cold steam that billowed out, and the beautific ice crystals that formed upon small ledges inside the cave. The thing was breathing ice and snow, and his own breath was misty as he rapidly exhaled.

That's an ice box.

Her voice was gentle, but he could hear the deterring amusment in his naiveté. He started up, but the back of his head contacted a frigid, steel bar. Several chips of ice flew out and shattered upon the floor, about his feet. He gave it a searing glance, before slamming it tightly. Severus absolutely detested the artificiaility of the box, and stepped away from it. He noticed that there were several other interesting looking apparatuses scattered around the small space.

She regarded him calmly, no expression of surprise or amusment writ upon her features, only with a smile, understanding smile.

An ice box, or a refrigerator. It keeps food cool enough so it won't spoil for a while. I haven't anything in it of late, mostly because I've been too busy and have had to just order take away.

She gave a deprecatory laugh, until she realised that he had no inkling of what she was trying to convey.

I see.

His answers for things he could not understand were always terse. Severus' pride forbid him from elaborating on any further questions, for he assumed rudimentary knowledge would be enough. He also assumed that he would not be here long enough to actually learn to use and depend upon it.

What of the other things?.

He gestured towards, among other things, a small, shiny rectangular box with a handle fashioned of similar material. It appeared as if something were to go inside of it, a storage of sorts. There was a metal cube, with two slits atop and an odd lever; he fancied that it rather looked like a torture implement.

I....I thought that you would know at least...never mind. I'll have to teach you after we come back.

She looked weary and sad, crossing her arms, hair dropping lightly in front of her features. He was suddenly compelled to go and comfort her, with an inexplicable urge to apologise for his ignorance of all things muggle. She looked up again, this time with an expression of distaste.

Have you taken a bath yet?.

Severus gave an involuntary sniff; not that he had ever been keen submerging himself beneath water. He hadn't noticed he had been sweating profusely in the first place.

There is no tub in my chamb....sleeping quarters.

She wrinkled her nose, then gave a small titter. Severus glared at her, and she glanced up in earnest regret for being impertinent.

I'm so sorry. I had completely forgotten to tell you where the bathroom was.

I had found it on my own, thank you, but I noticed no tub. There was only a rusty nozzle and a drain in the floor.

Er...that's the shower. You have used a shower before?.

Severus found his smugness replaced by a very unsettling feeling of stupdity.

Oh. Am I really that odiforous?.

She looked mildly uncomfortable.

Well....er...no. But you might want to do something about your hair.

He felt his facial muscles tighten. He gave her a very angry grimace; she winced and avoided his eyes. His hair, most discernible characterstic, had always proven to be somewhat of a deterrent.

This is what I consider normalcy. I apologise if I cannot accompany trends of your muggle counterparts.

His voice was flat, as was his expression. He enjoyed unseating her.

She gave him a small look of timidity, as well as regret. She ran her own hands through her hair in a brief moment of self conciousness.

He ran his fingertips over the smooth top of the table, marvelling at the ornate perfection of the wood. It was the smoothest grain he had seen, and all one colour; he wondered how she had managed to attain such fine wood. It was polished, without a doubt, by an extremely loving hand, or it was magical. An odd thought suddenly entered his head.

Where did you get this?.

She jumped at the sharpness of his tone, her brown eyes nearly watering at the dictorial way in which he adressed her.

It was my grandmother's, then my sister's, now mine. It's gorgeous isn't it? Everyone whose looked at it has said they've never seen anything finer.

She ran her own fingers across it briefly, a look of pride and sadness colliding in her face. She turned her hand over and slapped it slightly, hearing the satisfyingly damp sound of her skin on the surface.

Anyways. You must buy new clothes, and I can get some provisions and food for us. I suppose this is your first time in an authentic muggle clothing store?.

The falsity of the sudden brightening of her mood overshadowed her words. He nodded, fingers delicately clasped around his chin, searching to find some clue as to where her sadness blossomed. She smiled warily.

Off we go, then.






A/N : No reviews? Oh well, then. I promise that this shall become really interesting!