Author's Note: Snape is ordered to lighten up a bit, and he unleashes some
of his notorious "charm" on Mira.
Disclaimer: Don't I wish? But nope, none of it is still mine.
Chapter 8: Don't Cry Over Spilled Tea.
By early afternoon, Snape had left the hospital wing, against the protests of Madame Pomfrey and Headmaster Dumbledore and returned to his potions lab to begin work on a particularly time consuming decoction of snakeweed roots. Work kept his mind off of his worries and fears. He could lose himself in the tedious and mundane task of grinding dried snakeweed root into a fine powder with a mortar and pestle. A task he would have assigned to a student serving detention during the school term, it was a welcome and comforting activity after the previous night's events.
Later that evening, Madame Pomfrey personally went to the potions lab to remind the professor to go eat some supper and then stop by the hospital wing for a follow-up dose of healing potions. Grudgingly he put his supplies away for the evening and made his way to the faculty dining hall. Headmaster Dumbledore was waiting for him.
"Come to check up on me Albus, make sure I clean my plate like a good little boy?" quipped the potion master with an acidic sneer.
"Just seeing that you follow the recommendation of Madame Pomfrey and eat three solid meals a day while you are being treated for your injuries Severus, no need to get defensive. You're of more value to us healthy than laid up in the hospital ward. If you prefer to think of it as such, then I am merely protecting my interests".
"Touché' Albus" said Snape with a smirk. "So, what's on the menu for this evening?"
The two wizards enjoyed their meal in silence. After they finished, Professor Snape rose to leave, but Dumbledore placed a gentle hand on his arm and bid him sit back down.
"There's something I wish to discuss with you Severus," said the older wizard. "I have been growing increasingly concerned over the amount of time and energy that you are devoting to your work. Against my better judgment, I have looked past my concerns and decided to let you do what you felt was best for yourself. But after discussing your health with Madame Pomfrey, I have no choice but to intervene." "Severus, you're working yourself to death. I understand that your work is of utmost importance, and there are responsibilities and obligations placed upon you, which cannot be taken lightly. However, the fact of the matter is, you are working yourself to death and I cannot allow you to destroy yourself this way".
"Albus, please, I appreciate your concern, but you simply have no idea...."
"No my friend, I don't have any idea what it is like to be in the position that you are in, nor can I fathom what it is like to live with the things you have done and the sights you have seen." "Be that as it may, I am still your employer and if I need to take it that far, your master as well. You have made commitments to me and have sworn allegiance to me. I am as the muggles say, pulling rank with you, and ordering you to take better care of yourself". "You are hereby ordered to spend a minimum of one hour every evening in the village of Hogsmeade, taking tea at the cafe' or enjoying a drink in the pub. Maybe even browsing the bookshop or anything else that suits your fancy as long as you don't do anything related to potion making within that hour".
"Albus really! I am in absolutely no mood to play games with you".
"This is no game my friend. I have given you your orders, you will obey them".
Snape saw something in the headmaster's eyes that went beyond the usual playful and placid expression. He saw more than a hint of the true power that the older wizard held. The old man was serious about these orders. However much Snape disagreed with this use of his time, he would obey.
"Very well Albus, let me go to the hospital wing and have my treatment, then I'll fetch my cloak and be on my way to town". Dumbledore merely bowed his head and returned to his office. When he was sure that professor Snape had actually left the school grounds and was not just hiding out in the castle somewhere, he let out a sigh and started compiling a letter to the ministry regarding the threat of a major attack in the near future.
Snape arrived in Hogsmeade just after dark. Activity was winding down. The village's nightlife consisted of the pubs, cafes and teahouses where villagers gathered to enjoy a drink and conversation. Warned by Madame Pomfrey not to mix alcohol with the regeneration potion he was being treated with, Snape bypassed the pubs and headed to the open-air café in the middle of town.
The Mug 'N Muffin cafe' was doing a bustling business. Recently, the muggle preference for exotic coffee beverages had become a fad amongst the more adventurous and artistic members of the wizarding community. Not wishing to try his luck with perpetually foaming cappuccino or some other wizard-muggle hybrid drink, he took a seat and ordered a cup of plain non- magically enhanced coffee. It was good. He hadn't tasted a good cup of coffee in months. Not that he hadn't drunk any coffee during that time, but he hadn't stopped to actually taste it. He was actually enjoying the break from the potions lab and the school castle, despite himself. He finished his coffee, paid his bill, and strolled down the main street of town, stopping in the bookstore to browse the new releases. After returning to the castle and his chambers, he spent a little time in his chair before the fire, reading from the book he had purchased, before going to bed. His sleep was not as fitful as usual, and for the first time in months, he awoke rested and ready to face the day.
After several days of his new assignment, Headmaster Dumbledore, Madame Pomfrey, and even the school ghosts began to notice a difference in the potion master's demeanor. He was still the same sarcastic, sneering prick that he had come to be known as over the years, but the weariness and air of defeat and desperation were lifted from his shoulders. Dumbledore felt confident that he was no longer on the path of self-destruction. "You have destroyed enough lives in the past my friend" contemplated the headmaster. "There is no need for you to destroy your own as an act of contrition."
Mirabelle DelMare's workday was winding down. She had taken measurements and completed an order for an entire wedding party. Highborn wizarding family weddings were tremendously formal affairs. The bride to be was a pale young witch, only half Mirabelle's age. It was a traditional arranged marriage. That was another thing she couldn't wrap her mind around regarding the European wizarding community. Arranged marriages. It seemed so archaic. Both she and her cousin Susan had married for love. The girl, whose name was Oriana, seemed to accept her destiny to become the wife of a young man she had met only twice in her life. Their families would come together to form a powerful alliance in the wizarding world. Would this young woman grow to love her pre-destined mate? Or would she simply be content with doing her familial duty? Certainly there would be children. At the very least an "heir and a spare" before the couple retired to separate living chambers in opposite ends of their house. The girl's sisters and friends were more excited about the fabric swatches and sample robes than the impending nuptials. "But it's really not about the marriage to them" thought Mirabelle. "It's all about the wedding, the trappings, the superficial".
Mirabelle had noticed that it was very much all about the superficial with many highborn witches and wizards. She bundled up the fabric swatches and order forms in a large envelope, and sent them off to the workshop via owl. After straightening up and deciding to close the shop early, she grabbed her bag from under the counter, her robe off of the coat rack and headed down a small side hallway to a little alcove where the floo network fireplace was located. She grabbed a handful of floo powder, tossed it into the fireplace, said "Leaky Cauldron!" and stepped onto the hearth. A bright flame shot up, enveloping her, and within seconds her feet touched down in a large fireplace in a pub on the edge of the wizarding world. She dusted herself off, removed her robe, cast a shrinking spell on it, tucked it and her wand into her bag and walked out the door onto the streets of Muggle London.
This world was less foreign to her. She had been raised in a culture where the veil between magic and muggle was very thin. Her mother had believed very strongly in raising a child who could function in both worlds. But sometimes the wizarding world became overwhelming to her and she had to just get away for a few hours, a few days, or a few weeks. Tonight, a few hours would suffice. She needed to be back in Hogsmeade by dusk, as she didn't want to risk getting lost in the floo network after dark and winding up in a dangerous situation. One could never be too careful nowadays. She didn't even understand the current violence. The same old same old. Good vs. evil. In many ways the wizarding world and the muggle world were very much alike.
She made her way down the busy street to a shopping and entertainment complex, took in a movie, browsed around a newsstand, purchased copies of several muggle magazines, and had a quick bite of dinner in the food court while reading the current issue of Newsweek magazine. The sun was beginning to hang low on the horizon, so she gathered her bag and headed to the pub where she put her robe back on over her muggle clothing and stepped into the floo network fireplace. There must have been a detour somewhere along the way back to the shop, because she wound up across the street in the Mug N' Muffin' cafe's floo fireplace instead of her own. "Damn floo travel! You never know just where you're going to wind up".
Mirabelle dusted off her robe and made her way through the dining room to the outdoor sitting area. She spied her friend, Lucilla at a table near the back, having a fancy coffee drink topped with foam that rolled and billowed like clouds. "Been to muggle-land again Mira?"
"How'd you know Lucy?"
"Well, I finished up early today and thought I'd come see if you wanted to go watch the boys play quidditch, but the store was locked up tight as a drum. I put two and two together. Closing the store early, nobody having a clue where you were around town. Where else could you be? Bring anything back from London for me?"
Mirabelle smiled and pulled a stack of magazines out of her bag, and handed a copy of Vogue magazine to her friend. "Here you go, you're always asking me about muggle fashion, this is what's new for fall". Lucilla thanked her friend and tucked the magazine up under her robe. The two women made some small talk, as Lucilla finished her drink. Lucilla bid Mirabelle farewell and headed to the village quidditch field. Mirabelle packed away her magazines, gathered up the folds of her robe, and stood up. She grabbed her heavy bag of magazines and absentmindedly slung it over her shoulder. She felt it impact with a body, heard the shattering of a teacup, and an angry voice let loose with a string of cursing that made her cringe. "Oh shit! I'm terribly, terribly sorry about that", she said as she turned around to see just what kind of damage she had wrought.
"What in the BLOODY hell do you have in that bag?" roared an incensed Professor Snape. "You big clumsy cow, why don't you pay a little more attention before you go slinging your bag around like that! Look at my robe, just LOOK at it, and that was a full cup of tea you just sent crashing to the ground!"
Mirabelle was taken aback at his reaction to such a minor little accident and felt a mixture of horror and shame. "Oh god, I'm SO sorry professor, I really didn't notice you behind me. Here, let me help you." Mirabelle put her bag back down, and started blotting at the spilled tea with the hem of her robe.
"What in the name of Merlin's Beard is the matter with you woman?" Get off, I'll take care of it myself". Professor Snape pulled his wand out and performed a simple cleansing spell on the front of his robe and tunic. He aimed his wand at the shattered teacup, muttered a short spell, and the shards pulled themselves back together and the teacup became whole again. Mirabelle picked it up off the ground and set it on the professor's table.
"I'm so sorry professor, please, let me buy you another cup of tea, it's the least I can do". The professor sneered and crossed his arms across his chest. Mirabelle realized just why her cousin's daughter was so intimidated by the man. He was a total prick, berating her in public over a simple spilled cup of tea. "Too bad it didn't land in his lap, it'd serve the fucker right" she thought.
The waitress came over to see what the commotion was about, Mirabelle ordered another cup of tea for the professor, handed the woman some coins and the mended cup, and turned to leave, feeling utterly humiliated and even more out of place than she had before her daytrip into London.
While she was waiting to cross the street, she felt a hand on her shoulder. She turned around and it was the professor, holding her bag. "You seem to have left this behind in the cafe'."
"Thank you professor". Mirabelle took the bag and clutched it to her chest. "And, I truly am sorry about the tea". She turned to cross the street and the professor reached out and put his hand on her shoulder again.
"Miss, wait. I overreacted and said some things I regret. Please, come back to the cafe', let me buy you one of those fancy enchanted coffee concoctions".
"If it's all the same professor, I'll pass. I've had a very stressful day, I need something a little stronger than a glorified cappuccino right now".
"Then let me buy you a drink at the pub. Please, it's the least I could do for scolding you like a student back there".
Mirabelle saw the slightest trace of a smile in the man's eyes, and felt the sincerity in his words. "Okay, professor, I accept the offer. But let me run across the street and drop this bag off before I hit anybody else with it. I'll meet you at the pub". Mirabelle started to cross the street, stopped and turned back. "Oh, which pub? The three broomsticks?"
"No, the Hog's Head". "Okay then, I'll meet you there in ten minutes."
Disclaimer: Don't I wish? But nope, none of it is still mine.
Chapter 8: Don't Cry Over Spilled Tea.
By early afternoon, Snape had left the hospital wing, against the protests of Madame Pomfrey and Headmaster Dumbledore and returned to his potions lab to begin work on a particularly time consuming decoction of snakeweed roots. Work kept his mind off of his worries and fears. He could lose himself in the tedious and mundane task of grinding dried snakeweed root into a fine powder with a mortar and pestle. A task he would have assigned to a student serving detention during the school term, it was a welcome and comforting activity after the previous night's events.
Later that evening, Madame Pomfrey personally went to the potions lab to remind the professor to go eat some supper and then stop by the hospital wing for a follow-up dose of healing potions. Grudgingly he put his supplies away for the evening and made his way to the faculty dining hall. Headmaster Dumbledore was waiting for him.
"Come to check up on me Albus, make sure I clean my plate like a good little boy?" quipped the potion master with an acidic sneer.
"Just seeing that you follow the recommendation of Madame Pomfrey and eat three solid meals a day while you are being treated for your injuries Severus, no need to get defensive. You're of more value to us healthy than laid up in the hospital ward. If you prefer to think of it as such, then I am merely protecting my interests".
"Touché' Albus" said Snape with a smirk. "So, what's on the menu for this evening?"
The two wizards enjoyed their meal in silence. After they finished, Professor Snape rose to leave, but Dumbledore placed a gentle hand on his arm and bid him sit back down.
"There's something I wish to discuss with you Severus," said the older wizard. "I have been growing increasingly concerned over the amount of time and energy that you are devoting to your work. Against my better judgment, I have looked past my concerns and decided to let you do what you felt was best for yourself. But after discussing your health with Madame Pomfrey, I have no choice but to intervene." "Severus, you're working yourself to death. I understand that your work is of utmost importance, and there are responsibilities and obligations placed upon you, which cannot be taken lightly. However, the fact of the matter is, you are working yourself to death and I cannot allow you to destroy yourself this way".
"Albus, please, I appreciate your concern, but you simply have no idea...."
"No my friend, I don't have any idea what it is like to be in the position that you are in, nor can I fathom what it is like to live with the things you have done and the sights you have seen." "Be that as it may, I am still your employer and if I need to take it that far, your master as well. You have made commitments to me and have sworn allegiance to me. I am as the muggles say, pulling rank with you, and ordering you to take better care of yourself". "You are hereby ordered to spend a minimum of one hour every evening in the village of Hogsmeade, taking tea at the cafe' or enjoying a drink in the pub. Maybe even browsing the bookshop or anything else that suits your fancy as long as you don't do anything related to potion making within that hour".
"Albus really! I am in absolutely no mood to play games with you".
"This is no game my friend. I have given you your orders, you will obey them".
Snape saw something in the headmaster's eyes that went beyond the usual playful and placid expression. He saw more than a hint of the true power that the older wizard held. The old man was serious about these orders. However much Snape disagreed with this use of his time, he would obey.
"Very well Albus, let me go to the hospital wing and have my treatment, then I'll fetch my cloak and be on my way to town". Dumbledore merely bowed his head and returned to his office. When he was sure that professor Snape had actually left the school grounds and was not just hiding out in the castle somewhere, he let out a sigh and started compiling a letter to the ministry regarding the threat of a major attack in the near future.
Snape arrived in Hogsmeade just after dark. Activity was winding down. The village's nightlife consisted of the pubs, cafes and teahouses where villagers gathered to enjoy a drink and conversation. Warned by Madame Pomfrey not to mix alcohol with the regeneration potion he was being treated with, Snape bypassed the pubs and headed to the open-air café in the middle of town.
The Mug 'N Muffin cafe' was doing a bustling business. Recently, the muggle preference for exotic coffee beverages had become a fad amongst the more adventurous and artistic members of the wizarding community. Not wishing to try his luck with perpetually foaming cappuccino or some other wizard-muggle hybrid drink, he took a seat and ordered a cup of plain non- magically enhanced coffee. It was good. He hadn't tasted a good cup of coffee in months. Not that he hadn't drunk any coffee during that time, but he hadn't stopped to actually taste it. He was actually enjoying the break from the potions lab and the school castle, despite himself. He finished his coffee, paid his bill, and strolled down the main street of town, stopping in the bookstore to browse the new releases. After returning to the castle and his chambers, he spent a little time in his chair before the fire, reading from the book he had purchased, before going to bed. His sleep was not as fitful as usual, and for the first time in months, he awoke rested and ready to face the day.
After several days of his new assignment, Headmaster Dumbledore, Madame Pomfrey, and even the school ghosts began to notice a difference in the potion master's demeanor. He was still the same sarcastic, sneering prick that he had come to be known as over the years, but the weariness and air of defeat and desperation were lifted from his shoulders. Dumbledore felt confident that he was no longer on the path of self-destruction. "You have destroyed enough lives in the past my friend" contemplated the headmaster. "There is no need for you to destroy your own as an act of contrition."
Mirabelle DelMare's workday was winding down. She had taken measurements and completed an order for an entire wedding party. Highborn wizarding family weddings were tremendously formal affairs. The bride to be was a pale young witch, only half Mirabelle's age. It was a traditional arranged marriage. That was another thing she couldn't wrap her mind around regarding the European wizarding community. Arranged marriages. It seemed so archaic. Both she and her cousin Susan had married for love. The girl, whose name was Oriana, seemed to accept her destiny to become the wife of a young man she had met only twice in her life. Their families would come together to form a powerful alliance in the wizarding world. Would this young woman grow to love her pre-destined mate? Or would she simply be content with doing her familial duty? Certainly there would be children. At the very least an "heir and a spare" before the couple retired to separate living chambers in opposite ends of their house. The girl's sisters and friends were more excited about the fabric swatches and sample robes than the impending nuptials. "But it's really not about the marriage to them" thought Mirabelle. "It's all about the wedding, the trappings, the superficial".
Mirabelle had noticed that it was very much all about the superficial with many highborn witches and wizards. She bundled up the fabric swatches and order forms in a large envelope, and sent them off to the workshop via owl. After straightening up and deciding to close the shop early, she grabbed her bag from under the counter, her robe off of the coat rack and headed down a small side hallway to a little alcove where the floo network fireplace was located. She grabbed a handful of floo powder, tossed it into the fireplace, said "Leaky Cauldron!" and stepped onto the hearth. A bright flame shot up, enveloping her, and within seconds her feet touched down in a large fireplace in a pub on the edge of the wizarding world. She dusted herself off, removed her robe, cast a shrinking spell on it, tucked it and her wand into her bag and walked out the door onto the streets of Muggle London.
This world was less foreign to her. She had been raised in a culture where the veil between magic and muggle was very thin. Her mother had believed very strongly in raising a child who could function in both worlds. But sometimes the wizarding world became overwhelming to her and she had to just get away for a few hours, a few days, or a few weeks. Tonight, a few hours would suffice. She needed to be back in Hogsmeade by dusk, as she didn't want to risk getting lost in the floo network after dark and winding up in a dangerous situation. One could never be too careful nowadays. She didn't even understand the current violence. The same old same old. Good vs. evil. In many ways the wizarding world and the muggle world were very much alike.
She made her way down the busy street to a shopping and entertainment complex, took in a movie, browsed around a newsstand, purchased copies of several muggle magazines, and had a quick bite of dinner in the food court while reading the current issue of Newsweek magazine. The sun was beginning to hang low on the horizon, so she gathered her bag and headed to the pub where she put her robe back on over her muggle clothing and stepped into the floo network fireplace. There must have been a detour somewhere along the way back to the shop, because she wound up across the street in the Mug N' Muffin' cafe's floo fireplace instead of her own. "Damn floo travel! You never know just where you're going to wind up".
Mirabelle dusted off her robe and made her way through the dining room to the outdoor sitting area. She spied her friend, Lucilla at a table near the back, having a fancy coffee drink topped with foam that rolled and billowed like clouds. "Been to muggle-land again Mira?"
"How'd you know Lucy?"
"Well, I finished up early today and thought I'd come see if you wanted to go watch the boys play quidditch, but the store was locked up tight as a drum. I put two and two together. Closing the store early, nobody having a clue where you were around town. Where else could you be? Bring anything back from London for me?"
Mirabelle smiled and pulled a stack of magazines out of her bag, and handed a copy of Vogue magazine to her friend. "Here you go, you're always asking me about muggle fashion, this is what's new for fall". Lucilla thanked her friend and tucked the magazine up under her robe. The two women made some small talk, as Lucilla finished her drink. Lucilla bid Mirabelle farewell and headed to the village quidditch field. Mirabelle packed away her magazines, gathered up the folds of her robe, and stood up. She grabbed her heavy bag of magazines and absentmindedly slung it over her shoulder. She felt it impact with a body, heard the shattering of a teacup, and an angry voice let loose with a string of cursing that made her cringe. "Oh shit! I'm terribly, terribly sorry about that", she said as she turned around to see just what kind of damage she had wrought.
"What in the BLOODY hell do you have in that bag?" roared an incensed Professor Snape. "You big clumsy cow, why don't you pay a little more attention before you go slinging your bag around like that! Look at my robe, just LOOK at it, and that was a full cup of tea you just sent crashing to the ground!"
Mirabelle was taken aback at his reaction to such a minor little accident and felt a mixture of horror and shame. "Oh god, I'm SO sorry professor, I really didn't notice you behind me. Here, let me help you." Mirabelle put her bag back down, and started blotting at the spilled tea with the hem of her robe.
"What in the name of Merlin's Beard is the matter with you woman?" Get off, I'll take care of it myself". Professor Snape pulled his wand out and performed a simple cleansing spell on the front of his robe and tunic. He aimed his wand at the shattered teacup, muttered a short spell, and the shards pulled themselves back together and the teacup became whole again. Mirabelle picked it up off the ground and set it on the professor's table.
"I'm so sorry professor, please, let me buy you another cup of tea, it's the least I can do". The professor sneered and crossed his arms across his chest. Mirabelle realized just why her cousin's daughter was so intimidated by the man. He was a total prick, berating her in public over a simple spilled cup of tea. "Too bad it didn't land in his lap, it'd serve the fucker right" she thought.
The waitress came over to see what the commotion was about, Mirabelle ordered another cup of tea for the professor, handed the woman some coins and the mended cup, and turned to leave, feeling utterly humiliated and even more out of place than she had before her daytrip into London.
While she was waiting to cross the street, she felt a hand on her shoulder. She turned around and it was the professor, holding her bag. "You seem to have left this behind in the cafe'."
"Thank you professor". Mirabelle took the bag and clutched it to her chest. "And, I truly am sorry about the tea". She turned to cross the street and the professor reached out and put his hand on her shoulder again.
"Miss, wait. I overreacted and said some things I regret. Please, come back to the cafe', let me buy you one of those fancy enchanted coffee concoctions".
"If it's all the same professor, I'll pass. I've had a very stressful day, I need something a little stronger than a glorified cappuccino right now".
"Then let me buy you a drink at the pub. Please, it's the least I could do for scolding you like a student back there".
Mirabelle saw the slightest trace of a smile in the man's eyes, and felt the sincerity in his words. "Okay, professor, I accept the offer. But let me run across the street and drop this bag off before I hit anybody else with it. I'll meet you at the pub". Mirabelle started to cross the street, stopped and turned back. "Oh, which pub? The three broomsticks?"
"No, the Hog's Head". "Okay then, I'll meet you there in ten minutes."