Author's Note:
Sorry for the rather lengthy delay between chapters 14 and 15; the kids
have been home for their three week cycle break and it's tough to get any
writing time when they're around {they go back to school tomorrow *does
slightly hysterical and very bedraggled happy dance*}.
Just one more chapter – the epilogue – and we'll bid adieu to this little food-centric fluff-fest. I may not have an eating disorder but this story has definitely been a bit on the obsessive side of things. Hope you haven't minded my menus!
___________________________________________________________
Severus Snape woke up to three distinctly pleasant facts.
Fact one: he was in bed, holding Hermione.
Fact two: the wards preventing the use of magic were gone.
Fact three: he had an erection.
Thankful for the second point, Severus cast a charm to prevent the pre-dawn light from brightening the room any further and then employed the other two facts to his – and Hermione's – great satisfaction.
As they prepared breakfast later that morning, Severus finally related what had happened the prior day.
"I woke when you scratched me," he began as he started to grill the sausages. "Or at least I thought it was you. I almost ... well, when I opened my eyes and saw a two foot tall snowy owl perched on my arm, let's just say that I very nearly woke you in a most sudden and uncomfortable manner."
"Hedwig? But how did she get in?" Hermione set the beans in a pot to heat on the hob and began slicing the tomatoes.
Turning the sausages in the grill pan, Severus explained, "Portkey. Albus didn't feel it would be prudent to leave the situation, nor did he wish to let anyone else know what had happened, including you. I guess he decided it would be somehow more beneficial to wake me to the rather startling vision of a large bird of prey a using my arm as a landing post." The expression on his face made it quite clear to Hermione that she was not to laugh at the image this produced in her mind. At least, she was not to laugh where he could see her doing it.
Severus continued with the grilling and his narrative, laying strips of bacon next to the sausages. "The bird had a message and portkey for me. The note explained that there had been an accident, a near fatality, in the Potions classroom. Albus very politely requested that I join him as soon as I could see my way clear."
Hermione interpreted: "In other words, 'Get your arse over here ten minutes ago.'"
"Ah yes, you do speak fluent Dumbledore." As he said this, he removed the cooked sausages to a plate and turned the bacon. (LOL)
"As soon as I grabbed the portkey, I found myself at St. Mungo's with a barely breathing Neville Longbottom. Apparently, he had tried to brew the Draught of the Living Death..." Snape had taken the tomato slices and dropped them into the skillet, frying them expertly.
"Oh no! Neville brewing something as complicated as that... what was he thinking?" Hermione had just finished cracking the eggs and stopped mid- whisk, looking at Severus. The butter that had begun to foam in the hot pan continued to sizzle.
"You need to either take the pan off the heat or add the eggs," the dark- haired man commented before answering her question. "Apparently, he hoped to fool someone into believing he'd committed suicide in my classroom – poetic justice or some such foolishness in his mind."
Hermione sadly shrugged, then poured the eggs into the pan. "So, like his original plan, it was just a hollow threat and more saber rattling, hoping to give you back some of what he thought he'd suffered?"
Snape nodded but remained for several long moments.
"So it would seem. Unfortunately, he miscalculated the amount of asphodel and very nearly brewed a draught of permanent death." Shaking himself into the present, he took the pot of beans off the burner, stirred in a knob of butter and carried it to the table, along with a platter filled with the sausages, bacon and tomatoes.
"So ..." Hermione began, trying to organize the events into some logical order in her mind and failing.
Snape sat down at his now customary spot at the table. "So why would Albus call for me to be there when the young man regained consciousness?" He shrugged and picked up his fork. "I have no idea. Frankly, if someone described this situation to me, I would assume that I should be the very last person to be there. Oddly enough – and damn Albus' wisdom to hell – it appeared to be exactly what Longbottom needed."
Hermione's expression was beyond incredulous.
"I know; it shocked me as well." Severus speared a sausage from the platter and laid it on his plate. "There I was, holding a 20 year old man, patting his shoulder and telling him that everything would be all right."
Hermione was having a difficult time wrapping her mind around that mental picture but she managed to cough out: "You were ... holding ... Neville?"
Severus paused and looked up from his omelet and arched an eyebrow. "You needn't be jealous, it was completely platonic." Hermione nearly choked.
He continued, "I had been standing behind Albus when the medi-witch administered the antidote but when the boy's eyes opened, the first thing he focused on was me. He mumbled something and then began to convulse – or at least that's what I thought. Once I'd realized that he had said "I'm so sorry" and that he was sobbing ..."
The story slowed to a halt as the bane of Neville's existence looked out the window. He seemed at once overwhelmed, confused and vulnerable.
"So you gave him the forgiveness and comfort he needed." Hermione said this simply, without any apparent awareness of how unlikely such a statement would seem when applied to Severus Snape, Greasy Git and Heartless Bastard of Hogwarts (retired).
He looked askance at the young woman sitting at the table with him; surely she was mocking him. But no, her clear and unwavering gaze, not to mention her patent inability to lie about even the most insubstantial thing made it clear that she was not being sarcastic. He wondered at her perception; 'Where did she come from?' he thought.
"So we sat there for what seemed like hours. At first, Longbottom was convinced he was hallucinating. I'm not sure I want to think about this – no, strike that. I'm certain that I don't want to think about it; for the longest while, he kept muttering something about a dress and vulture hat. Finally, he seemed to realize that I was indeed who I said I was and that I forgave him, that I understood."
Hermione took a few moments to compose herself before recapping all Severus had told her. Once she was relatively confident that she could speak without either giggling at the memory of Neville's Boggart Snape or crying at the reality of a gentle and nurturing Severus, she summed up what she understood: "Neville managed to gather up a rather unsavory group, trying to intimidate you with threats against your life that weren't to be actually carried out, hoping you would feel some of the fear he'd felt during your classes. When you didn't react to these threats in the way he'd hope but instead disappeared – hiding here – he then went for the grand gesture of appearing to commit suicide in the very classroom that he viewed as having been his personal torture chamber. Unfortunately, Neville's track record of failure in brewing potions stands unblemished as the potion he meant to use simply to make you look bad backfired and nearly killed him. Once he came to, he realized that what he'd been doing was no better than and was actually even more mean-spirited than how you'd treated him during his Hogwarts days, he broke down, crying like a baby and after a bit of time and possibly some Muggle-style counseling, is probably going to be all right. Is that about it?"
Severus was still looking at her as if she were a mystery. In many ways, she was. "Yes, that's about it."
"Good for you," Hermione said definitively.
"Excuse me?" He was more interested in what she meant than he was in eating the omelet that would be inedibly cold in just a few more minutes.
"I said good for you. You know that I'm not keen on your teaching methods but your points about safety and scores were dead on. It's not that I expect any students would ever thank you for being so strict, but you were very effective. You were even more effective when you changed your tactics with Neville yesterday. That was brilliant."
Severus looked at Hermione. The now early afternoon sunlight that streamed in through the window wasn't particularly flattering to her – there was at least one nascent pimple on her chin and he could still see the whisper of a wrinkle across her cheek from where the bed linens had been caught between her face and his chest – but he found her to be luminous and beautiful nonetheless.
His voice was so gentle that he nearly didn't recognize it himself as he told her, "I couldn't have been 'brilliant' if you hadn't taught me."
Now it was Hermione's turn to be suspicious. "What do you mean?" She was barely able to finish the sentence as she braced in anticipation of his sarcastic reply.
"You showed me that there are other, equally successful ways of teaching, beyond the cruel taskmaster persona I've always maintained. Between your psycho-silly textbooks and the way you've helped me navigate the Muggle world – from the internet to the grocery store – you have been patient, considerate and gentle. And you have trusted me. No one has ever trusted me, Hermione, not without having something to hold over my head. No one." Snape's voice caught and he tore his gaze away from her, choosing to stare out the window to the back garden.
After a few moments, he said softly, "How could I not be tolerant with Neville after all you've be so patient with me?"
There was no sound other than their heartbeats for the longest time. At some point, the tension became overwhelming; Hermione's chair scraped loudly across the floor as she left her seat and moved to his lap, to hold this brilliant, difficult, vulnerable man.
Between the stifling warmth of the summer day and the full brunch they'd enjoyed that morning, there was little desire for food or even any particularly strenuous activity until very late in the day. Instead, they spent the hours quietly, lounging together on the living room sofa and reading.
Hermione's stomach finally began growling just as the day's heat seemed to cause the light to melt away, leaving behind a gloriously sunburned sky. Rather than break the languorous mood they were in by cooking, they decided to head out to a nearby bistro for supper.
"So what are you planning to do?"
Hermione's question was surprising only in that it had taken her so long to finally ask it. Her hand shook slightly as she brought a morsel of baby romaine to her lips.
"Do you mean in terms of a career, living arrangements, Longbottom, or us?" Severus casually swirled the pinot grigio in his glass. His tone was as light as the wine but there was a noticeable emphasis on the last word.
"All of it, I guess but ... well – " Steeling herself with the never-ending need to know that frequently masqueraded as bravery, Hermione blurted out, "that last bit mostly. I mean, do you – are we – would ..."
Severus chuckled at her nervousness not only because it mirrored his own but because he knew that if she hadn't wanted to continue seeing him she wouldn't be flustered. The conversation paused as the server brought their entrée of scallops in a pesto sauce, beetroot pasta and grilled vegetables. Herb infused steam curled sensuously from the platter, the undulations at once soothing and arousing.
"I think I would very much like to explore the possibilities." His gaze was now more intense. "I would like to see how ... things progress."
Hermione was beginning to feel a little light-headed, though whether it was from nerves, from holding her breath or from the wine was hard to tell.
Forcing herself to concentrate, she asked, "'Things?'"
Severus said, "Yes, 'things' as in things between us. That is, if you're interested in continuing to see each other?" He busied himself by serving the seafood.
Her relief was immediate. "Oh, those kinds of 'things.'" She had the grace to look somewhat abashed at the poorly feigned confusion she'd affected hoping to get at least a hint of Severus' feelings before having to confess her own. "I would very much like to explore that as well."
"What are your plans?" Severus countered. "You're not finished with university; did you have a Muggle career in mind?"
Hermione snorted as she took a bite of a pesto covered scallop. "Hardly. The courses I took were based almost solely on my curiosity; I really had no intention of pursuing a formal degree. I wasn't ready to make any kind of major life decisions two years ago; enrolling in university seemed the safest way to give myself some time to figure out what I wanted to do."
"And have you decided what you wish to do?" Snape's voice edged back toward the professorial. Annoyed with himself for hiding behind a façade that was ill-suited to the discussion of romantic prospects, he cleared his throat and took a healthy swallow of wine.
Hermione pretended to be fascinated with her fork. "I don't really know," she admitted. "Frankly, I would love to work in an area that somehow synthesizes the Muggle and magical worlds, but there hasn't exactly been overwhelming demand for anything like that."
Severus agreed. "Unless it's art, wine or food, the magical community really doesn't seem to have much appreciation for things Muggle."
She nodded then stopped mid-movement as Severus' words echoed in her head. He noticed her sudden stillness and caught the gleam in her eye. Her face wore the same expression of delighted discovery as when she'd successfully flipped her first omelet. He realized in that moment what had caught her attention. They looked at each other and began to laugh.
"So how do you think you might capitalize on this little epiphany of yours?" Snape refreshed her wine first then drained the remainder of the bottle into his own glass.
"I'll have to do some research first, find out what's available and what might be of interest to folks but I know how much I've enjoyed learning to cook and cooking classes are incredibly popular with Muggles. I suppose I could try teaching, but..." Hermione tried to look shy and demure but she was far too excited to be very convincing.
"But you'd want an, ahem, 'experienced educator' to work with you?" Snape conjectured for her. "And why do you think the Wizarding world would be interested in learning to cook? After all, what with house elves and wands, there's not a great need for dirtying one's own hands." Even though he played devil's advocate, his enthusiasm for the subject was apparent.
"Good point," Hermione allowed. "Perhaps if the subject matter were broader, explaining more about ingredients, menus, wine pairings and the like, it might appeal to a bigger audience. What do you think?"
"I think that's a good start. Most of the cooking spellbooks don't really emphasize or even explain anything about the history behind a recipe or how to select the best ingredients." Severus' interest was clearly piqued.
By the time they had finished their entrée and begun on the raspberry sorbet, they had woven the naturally variegating conversational thread into a cloth that included recipes, location, class participation vs. lecturing, and countless other details that sprang to their minds. Through all this talk, they never specifically addressed their relationship but the discussion clearly assumed that they would be together.
After their brainstorm had exhausted itself, Severus sobered and made a comment about the improbability of paying for such an endeavor. Hermione snorted as she finished her wine (a painful combination of activities she discovered) and pointed out that she could easily afford to support her fantasy.
After an awkward moment when Severus mistakenly thought Hermione was offering to "keep" Severus, they embarked on a quick but thorough financial disclosure.
As venerable as the Snape name might have been in terms of being pure and old, it was nearly worthless in its monetary value. Severus had inherited a sizable debt thanks to his father's drinking but he had been able to discharge the obligations by selling the family properties including his ancestral home and adjoining land, nearly all the furnishings, jewelry and art, along with sacrificing a major portion of his salary for the first few years he taught at Hogwarts.
It seemed he'd spent his entire life scrimping and saving. As a child, he'd had to squirrel away whatever pocket money he'd been able to beg – or as was more likely, find – from home or from the cushions of the Slytherin Common Room's sofas to pay for his school supplies. Before he'd left Hogwarts, both of his parents were dead. He chose to omit the circumstances of their passing in his narrative to Hermione, but he had felt duty-bound to make good on the promises that had been made to their various creditors and benefactors.
Thanks to his nearly life-long habit of thrift, he'd saved virtually every penny since the time he had finally discharged the final lien against his name. While he wasn't what most would call wealthy, he had enough deposited at Gringott's to provide him sufficient means to support his fairly Spartan lifestyle for a good many years. If he was willing to risk having to go back to work sooner rather than later, he could even afford to make a rather speculative investment in a new venture.
After his disclosure, Hermione was a little uncomfortable sharing information about her family's fortunes. Fortunately, Snape was more than just an admirer of Hermione and her Arts and Crafts furnishings; he was also an astute judge of circumstances. While Hermione stammered for a few moments, he took the opportunity to guess with frightening accuracy about her fiscal situation. Her silence and increasingly surprised expression confirmed the precision of his assessment.
She had, he assumed, inherited a rather valuable home owned free and clear of any liens. Given the professional occupation of her parents, it was virtually a certainty that they had been able to set aside a comfortable sum for their retirement and would likely have employed a financial advisor to ensure an optimal portfolio mix for their future plans. The Grangers hadn't been quite old enough to have considered even early retirement when they were attacked by the Dark Lord's minions, so they would have likely had an investment profile weighted slightly more toward principal growth with a smaller portion designed to generate steady income. The bottom line, tactless though it may sound, was that Miss Hermione Granger would likely never have to work a day in her life. For those slackers in the world, the irony would be that Miss Hermione Granger would never consider NOT working.
Given that they were each ready, willing and able to allocate a sizable investment to this project – an investment that included not only their respective financial wherewithal but also their time and combined talents – there was no question that they were ideally suited for launching such a venture.
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Author's Footnotes: Gosh, I haven't given out any cooking links in a chapter or two so let me redress that. A lovely description of the full English breakfast (or "fry- up") is here – www . mycookbook . co . uk / article . php ? sid = 70. {remove the spaces to get the correct web address}
And here's a link to the inspiration behind Hermione and Severus' supper – www . foodiesite . com / recipes / 2002 – 09 / scallopherb . jsp. {remove the spaces to get the correct web address}
Regarding Hermione's "fortune," as of 3/29/04, the going rate for a nice three bedroom home in the Home Counties would go for somewhere between 250,000 to 400,000 pounds sterling or 450,000 to 700,000 US dollars. Not a bad nest egg, and that's before you consider any investments or retirement funds her parents would have likely set aside.
Just one more chapter – the epilogue – and we'll bid adieu to this little food-centric fluff-fest. I may not have an eating disorder but this story has definitely been a bit on the obsessive side of things. Hope you haven't minded my menus!
___________________________________________________________
Severus Snape woke up to three distinctly pleasant facts.
Fact one: he was in bed, holding Hermione.
Fact two: the wards preventing the use of magic were gone.
Fact three: he had an erection.
Thankful for the second point, Severus cast a charm to prevent the pre-dawn light from brightening the room any further and then employed the other two facts to his – and Hermione's – great satisfaction.
As they prepared breakfast later that morning, Severus finally related what had happened the prior day.
"I woke when you scratched me," he began as he started to grill the sausages. "Or at least I thought it was you. I almost ... well, when I opened my eyes and saw a two foot tall snowy owl perched on my arm, let's just say that I very nearly woke you in a most sudden and uncomfortable manner."
"Hedwig? But how did she get in?" Hermione set the beans in a pot to heat on the hob and began slicing the tomatoes.
Turning the sausages in the grill pan, Severus explained, "Portkey. Albus didn't feel it would be prudent to leave the situation, nor did he wish to let anyone else know what had happened, including you. I guess he decided it would be somehow more beneficial to wake me to the rather startling vision of a large bird of prey a using my arm as a landing post." The expression on his face made it quite clear to Hermione that she was not to laugh at the image this produced in her mind. At least, she was not to laugh where he could see her doing it.
Severus continued with the grilling and his narrative, laying strips of bacon next to the sausages. "The bird had a message and portkey for me. The note explained that there had been an accident, a near fatality, in the Potions classroom. Albus very politely requested that I join him as soon as I could see my way clear."
Hermione interpreted: "In other words, 'Get your arse over here ten minutes ago.'"
"Ah yes, you do speak fluent Dumbledore." As he said this, he removed the cooked sausages to a plate and turned the bacon. (LOL)
"As soon as I grabbed the portkey, I found myself at St. Mungo's with a barely breathing Neville Longbottom. Apparently, he had tried to brew the Draught of the Living Death..." Snape had taken the tomato slices and dropped them into the skillet, frying them expertly.
"Oh no! Neville brewing something as complicated as that... what was he thinking?" Hermione had just finished cracking the eggs and stopped mid- whisk, looking at Severus. The butter that had begun to foam in the hot pan continued to sizzle.
"You need to either take the pan off the heat or add the eggs," the dark- haired man commented before answering her question. "Apparently, he hoped to fool someone into believing he'd committed suicide in my classroom – poetic justice or some such foolishness in his mind."
Hermione sadly shrugged, then poured the eggs into the pan. "So, like his original plan, it was just a hollow threat and more saber rattling, hoping to give you back some of what he thought he'd suffered?"
Snape nodded but remained for several long moments.
"So it would seem. Unfortunately, he miscalculated the amount of asphodel and very nearly brewed a draught of permanent death." Shaking himself into the present, he took the pot of beans off the burner, stirred in a knob of butter and carried it to the table, along with a platter filled with the sausages, bacon and tomatoes.
"So ..." Hermione began, trying to organize the events into some logical order in her mind and failing.
Snape sat down at his now customary spot at the table. "So why would Albus call for me to be there when the young man regained consciousness?" He shrugged and picked up his fork. "I have no idea. Frankly, if someone described this situation to me, I would assume that I should be the very last person to be there. Oddly enough – and damn Albus' wisdom to hell – it appeared to be exactly what Longbottom needed."
Hermione's expression was beyond incredulous.
"I know; it shocked me as well." Severus speared a sausage from the platter and laid it on his plate. "There I was, holding a 20 year old man, patting his shoulder and telling him that everything would be all right."
Hermione was having a difficult time wrapping her mind around that mental picture but she managed to cough out: "You were ... holding ... Neville?"
Severus paused and looked up from his omelet and arched an eyebrow. "You needn't be jealous, it was completely platonic." Hermione nearly choked.
He continued, "I had been standing behind Albus when the medi-witch administered the antidote but when the boy's eyes opened, the first thing he focused on was me. He mumbled something and then began to convulse – or at least that's what I thought. Once I'd realized that he had said "I'm so sorry" and that he was sobbing ..."
The story slowed to a halt as the bane of Neville's existence looked out the window. He seemed at once overwhelmed, confused and vulnerable.
"So you gave him the forgiveness and comfort he needed." Hermione said this simply, without any apparent awareness of how unlikely such a statement would seem when applied to Severus Snape, Greasy Git and Heartless Bastard of Hogwarts (retired).
He looked askance at the young woman sitting at the table with him; surely she was mocking him. But no, her clear and unwavering gaze, not to mention her patent inability to lie about even the most insubstantial thing made it clear that she was not being sarcastic. He wondered at her perception; 'Where did she come from?' he thought.
"So we sat there for what seemed like hours. At first, Longbottom was convinced he was hallucinating. I'm not sure I want to think about this – no, strike that. I'm certain that I don't want to think about it; for the longest while, he kept muttering something about a dress and vulture hat. Finally, he seemed to realize that I was indeed who I said I was and that I forgave him, that I understood."
Hermione took a few moments to compose herself before recapping all Severus had told her. Once she was relatively confident that she could speak without either giggling at the memory of Neville's Boggart Snape or crying at the reality of a gentle and nurturing Severus, she summed up what she understood: "Neville managed to gather up a rather unsavory group, trying to intimidate you with threats against your life that weren't to be actually carried out, hoping you would feel some of the fear he'd felt during your classes. When you didn't react to these threats in the way he'd hope but instead disappeared – hiding here – he then went for the grand gesture of appearing to commit suicide in the very classroom that he viewed as having been his personal torture chamber. Unfortunately, Neville's track record of failure in brewing potions stands unblemished as the potion he meant to use simply to make you look bad backfired and nearly killed him. Once he came to, he realized that what he'd been doing was no better than and was actually even more mean-spirited than how you'd treated him during his Hogwarts days, he broke down, crying like a baby and after a bit of time and possibly some Muggle-style counseling, is probably going to be all right. Is that about it?"
Severus was still looking at her as if she were a mystery. In many ways, she was. "Yes, that's about it."
"Good for you," Hermione said definitively.
"Excuse me?" He was more interested in what she meant than he was in eating the omelet that would be inedibly cold in just a few more minutes.
"I said good for you. You know that I'm not keen on your teaching methods but your points about safety and scores were dead on. It's not that I expect any students would ever thank you for being so strict, but you were very effective. You were even more effective when you changed your tactics with Neville yesterday. That was brilliant."
Severus looked at Hermione. The now early afternoon sunlight that streamed in through the window wasn't particularly flattering to her – there was at least one nascent pimple on her chin and he could still see the whisper of a wrinkle across her cheek from where the bed linens had been caught between her face and his chest – but he found her to be luminous and beautiful nonetheless.
His voice was so gentle that he nearly didn't recognize it himself as he told her, "I couldn't have been 'brilliant' if you hadn't taught me."
Now it was Hermione's turn to be suspicious. "What do you mean?" She was barely able to finish the sentence as she braced in anticipation of his sarcastic reply.
"You showed me that there are other, equally successful ways of teaching, beyond the cruel taskmaster persona I've always maintained. Between your psycho-silly textbooks and the way you've helped me navigate the Muggle world – from the internet to the grocery store – you have been patient, considerate and gentle. And you have trusted me. No one has ever trusted me, Hermione, not without having something to hold over my head. No one." Snape's voice caught and he tore his gaze away from her, choosing to stare out the window to the back garden.
After a few moments, he said softly, "How could I not be tolerant with Neville after all you've be so patient with me?"
There was no sound other than their heartbeats for the longest time. At some point, the tension became overwhelming; Hermione's chair scraped loudly across the floor as she left her seat and moved to his lap, to hold this brilliant, difficult, vulnerable man.
Between the stifling warmth of the summer day and the full brunch they'd enjoyed that morning, there was little desire for food or even any particularly strenuous activity until very late in the day. Instead, they spent the hours quietly, lounging together on the living room sofa and reading.
Hermione's stomach finally began growling just as the day's heat seemed to cause the light to melt away, leaving behind a gloriously sunburned sky. Rather than break the languorous mood they were in by cooking, they decided to head out to a nearby bistro for supper.
"So what are you planning to do?"
Hermione's question was surprising only in that it had taken her so long to finally ask it. Her hand shook slightly as she brought a morsel of baby romaine to her lips.
"Do you mean in terms of a career, living arrangements, Longbottom, or us?" Severus casually swirled the pinot grigio in his glass. His tone was as light as the wine but there was a noticeable emphasis on the last word.
"All of it, I guess but ... well – " Steeling herself with the never-ending need to know that frequently masqueraded as bravery, Hermione blurted out, "that last bit mostly. I mean, do you – are we – would ..."
Severus chuckled at her nervousness not only because it mirrored his own but because he knew that if she hadn't wanted to continue seeing him she wouldn't be flustered. The conversation paused as the server brought their entrée of scallops in a pesto sauce, beetroot pasta and grilled vegetables. Herb infused steam curled sensuously from the platter, the undulations at once soothing and arousing.
"I think I would very much like to explore the possibilities." His gaze was now more intense. "I would like to see how ... things progress."
Hermione was beginning to feel a little light-headed, though whether it was from nerves, from holding her breath or from the wine was hard to tell.
Forcing herself to concentrate, she asked, "'Things?'"
Severus said, "Yes, 'things' as in things between us. That is, if you're interested in continuing to see each other?" He busied himself by serving the seafood.
Her relief was immediate. "Oh, those kinds of 'things.'" She had the grace to look somewhat abashed at the poorly feigned confusion she'd affected hoping to get at least a hint of Severus' feelings before having to confess her own. "I would very much like to explore that as well."
"What are your plans?" Severus countered. "You're not finished with university; did you have a Muggle career in mind?"
Hermione snorted as she took a bite of a pesto covered scallop. "Hardly. The courses I took were based almost solely on my curiosity; I really had no intention of pursuing a formal degree. I wasn't ready to make any kind of major life decisions two years ago; enrolling in university seemed the safest way to give myself some time to figure out what I wanted to do."
"And have you decided what you wish to do?" Snape's voice edged back toward the professorial. Annoyed with himself for hiding behind a façade that was ill-suited to the discussion of romantic prospects, he cleared his throat and took a healthy swallow of wine.
Hermione pretended to be fascinated with her fork. "I don't really know," she admitted. "Frankly, I would love to work in an area that somehow synthesizes the Muggle and magical worlds, but there hasn't exactly been overwhelming demand for anything like that."
Severus agreed. "Unless it's art, wine or food, the magical community really doesn't seem to have much appreciation for things Muggle."
She nodded then stopped mid-movement as Severus' words echoed in her head. He noticed her sudden stillness and caught the gleam in her eye. Her face wore the same expression of delighted discovery as when she'd successfully flipped her first omelet. He realized in that moment what had caught her attention. They looked at each other and began to laugh.
"So how do you think you might capitalize on this little epiphany of yours?" Snape refreshed her wine first then drained the remainder of the bottle into his own glass.
"I'll have to do some research first, find out what's available and what might be of interest to folks but I know how much I've enjoyed learning to cook and cooking classes are incredibly popular with Muggles. I suppose I could try teaching, but..." Hermione tried to look shy and demure but she was far too excited to be very convincing.
"But you'd want an, ahem, 'experienced educator' to work with you?" Snape conjectured for her. "And why do you think the Wizarding world would be interested in learning to cook? After all, what with house elves and wands, there's not a great need for dirtying one's own hands." Even though he played devil's advocate, his enthusiasm for the subject was apparent.
"Good point," Hermione allowed. "Perhaps if the subject matter were broader, explaining more about ingredients, menus, wine pairings and the like, it might appeal to a bigger audience. What do you think?"
"I think that's a good start. Most of the cooking spellbooks don't really emphasize or even explain anything about the history behind a recipe or how to select the best ingredients." Severus' interest was clearly piqued.
By the time they had finished their entrée and begun on the raspberry sorbet, they had woven the naturally variegating conversational thread into a cloth that included recipes, location, class participation vs. lecturing, and countless other details that sprang to their minds. Through all this talk, they never specifically addressed their relationship but the discussion clearly assumed that they would be together.
After their brainstorm had exhausted itself, Severus sobered and made a comment about the improbability of paying for such an endeavor. Hermione snorted as she finished her wine (a painful combination of activities she discovered) and pointed out that she could easily afford to support her fantasy.
After an awkward moment when Severus mistakenly thought Hermione was offering to "keep" Severus, they embarked on a quick but thorough financial disclosure.
As venerable as the Snape name might have been in terms of being pure and old, it was nearly worthless in its monetary value. Severus had inherited a sizable debt thanks to his father's drinking but he had been able to discharge the obligations by selling the family properties including his ancestral home and adjoining land, nearly all the furnishings, jewelry and art, along with sacrificing a major portion of his salary for the first few years he taught at Hogwarts.
It seemed he'd spent his entire life scrimping and saving. As a child, he'd had to squirrel away whatever pocket money he'd been able to beg – or as was more likely, find – from home or from the cushions of the Slytherin Common Room's sofas to pay for his school supplies. Before he'd left Hogwarts, both of his parents were dead. He chose to omit the circumstances of their passing in his narrative to Hermione, but he had felt duty-bound to make good on the promises that had been made to their various creditors and benefactors.
Thanks to his nearly life-long habit of thrift, he'd saved virtually every penny since the time he had finally discharged the final lien against his name. While he wasn't what most would call wealthy, he had enough deposited at Gringott's to provide him sufficient means to support his fairly Spartan lifestyle for a good many years. If he was willing to risk having to go back to work sooner rather than later, he could even afford to make a rather speculative investment in a new venture.
After his disclosure, Hermione was a little uncomfortable sharing information about her family's fortunes. Fortunately, Snape was more than just an admirer of Hermione and her Arts and Crafts furnishings; he was also an astute judge of circumstances. While Hermione stammered for a few moments, he took the opportunity to guess with frightening accuracy about her fiscal situation. Her silence and increasingly surprised expression confirmed the precision of his assessment.
She had, he assumed, inherited a rather valuable home owned free and clear of any liens. Given the professional occupation of her parents, it was virtually a certainty that they had been able to set aside a comfortable sum for their retirement and would likely have employed a financial advisor to ensure an optimal portfolio mix for their future plans. The Grangers hadn't been quite old enough to have considered even early retirement when they were attacked by the Dark Lord's minions, so they would have likely had an investment profile weighted slightly more toward principal growth with a smaller portion designed to generate steady income. The bottom line, tactless though it may sound, was that Miss Hermione Granger would likely never have to work a day in her life. For those slackers in the world, the irony would be that Miss Hermione Granger would never consider NOT working.
Given that they were each ready, willing and able to allocate a sizable investment to this project – an investment that included not only their respective financial wherewithal but also their time and combined talents – there was no question that they were ideally suited for launching such a venture.
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Author's Footnotes: Gosh, I haven't given out any cooking links in a chapter or two so let me redress that. A lovely description of the full English breakfast (or "fry- up") is here – www . mycookbook . co . uk / article . php ? sid = 70. {remove the spaces to get the correct web address}
And here's a link to the inspiration behind Hermione and Severus' supper – www . foodiesite . com / recipes / 2002 – 09 / scallopherb . jsp. {remove the spaces to get the correct web address}
Regarding Hermione's "fortune," as of 3/29/04, the going rate for a nice three bedroom home in the Home Counties would go for somewhere between 250,000 to 400,000 pounds sterling or 450,000 to 700,000 US dollars. Not a bad nest egg, and that's before you consider any investments or retirement funds her parents would have likely set aside.
