2. Auntie Weasley

An early morning. Ron is busy in the kitchen, humming under his breath. His mother's school of Good Cooking is evident from the first glance: something is hissing in the frying pans, slices of French toast are cheerfully jumping out of milk into whisked eggs, or wherever it is they have to jump, the tea is brewing, piping hot pancakes are hopping onto one another to form a miniature leaning tower of Pisa. Ron pours maple syrup on them, simultaneously stirring coffee in a Turkish pot...

Just-out-of-bed Snape appears from the corridor: an impeccable dark-green silk dressing gown wrapped tightly makes the audience utter a quiet ?aahhh?. He yawns and starts sniffing.

"Is it how you fry bacon, Weasley? I would haved rather called it an attempt to burn down my kitchen," he sits down at the table and unfolds a newspaper. Ron frowns slightly, then clicks his fingers, whereupon the contents of the coffee-pot pour themselves into a cup which flies over the counter and puts itself at Snape's elbow with a displeased tremolo. Snape merely gives it a glance, and it moves around and takes a less dangerous position within his reach. After a short while, he takes a tentative sip.

"Hmm..." it is definitely a friendly "hmm", "although I do prefer it alla napolitana..."

Ron swallows this and merely asks:

"Do you want your eggs with bacon or with sausage?"

(after a short contrived contemplation) "I'd like an omelette", with an air of "and what would you to say to this?")

Ron shrugs - which makes an egg mixture in a bowl start whisking by itself, puts a smaller pan on a stove and starts counting methodically:

"With bacon, ham, sausage, ground beef, anchovies, mussels, crabmeat, tuna, corn, tomatoes, avocado, rice, mushrooms, or chicory?"

This time, Snape's contemplation is not contrived: he is actually slightly at a loss. To order his dreamt-of "cheese and onions" after such a list would clearly lack solidity. But even if he'd added the most part of the list to it, it would look like a defeat. Accidentally, but luckily, his glance falls on an advertisement section of the newspaper: "Try El Chico's Cuisine - The Inimitable Taste of Mexico, blah-blah..."

(firmly, but nonchalantly) "With beans and jalopenos. On toast."

Ron nods approvingly, starts shaking peppers and beans, which have mysteriously appeared, in the pan, tosses them in the air a couple of times almost juggling the pan (the film now runs on a slight fast-forward), pours eggs on them and leaves the omelette to get done to put freshly fried toasts on a plate (Out of which follows: 1. The author was definitely hungry while writing this episode; 2. Girls, grab Ron, he's a real treasure!) He flips the omelette in the air so that it makes a double turn, fries it a bit more, shakes cheese and green onions onto the top, and sends it to the plate.

"Some salsa?" Snape flinches -- my goodness, salsa for breakfast, what kind of stomach you need...

"On the side," and he cautiously takes a bite. It must be conceded (silently) that the omelette is fabulous. And then he tries Ron's French toast. Snape closes his eyes and thinks that a man with weaker nerves would have wept with tears of joy. His heart starts melting.

"Weasley... what do you actually do in Quidditch?" it is a rhetorical question, but Ron understands it literally.

"I'm a Keeper, why?"

"It is definitely not your true vocation."

Snape can make even a compliment sound like an insult, and it is not a surprise that Ron is now seriously offended.

"I would have never missed that last one, if not that bludger, and it was a foul!" with righteous indignation.

"Well, foul or not, it was your own team serving... What are we... you on about? Weasley, the substance of my previous comment was that had you chosen cooking as your profession, you would have brought much more... even more use to mankind than as a Quidditch Keeper."

Ron needs some time to figure out that it was a compliment, but after a couple of seconds he finally brightens in a broad smile - Snape wouldn't notice behind his paper anyway.

Enters Hermione: also sleepy, but, except for that, a total opposite to Snape: furry slippers adorned with lion heads; baggy, terry-towelling dressing gown (in Gryffindor colors, naturally); its belt keeps coming loose dangerously... She greets Ron and stretches her hand towards Snape's paper. Without looking up, Snape, with a familiar gesture, fishes out the Arts and Literature sections. As he hands them to her she tries to snatch Science as well , but gets a rap on her knuckles. She tries to join Ron at the kitchen counter, but he waves her to sit down.

"All right, then I would like a cup of tea and muesli with yoghurt."

Ron sighs:
(without much hope) "And how about some pancakes?"

(magnanimously) "Oh well, a tiny little bit."

"Or waffles?"

"...Um, okay, but just one."

"You know, eggs contain, errr, protein, it's good for you..."

"Do you have soft-boiled? Oh Ron, then... maybe I'll skip muesli after all. And throw in some toast, okay?" with a side-glance at Snape "A bit more, so that it'll be enough for two..."

CUT

The same breakfast, but now everybody is present: some stuffing their mouths full, some sniffing distrustfully at smoked salmon... Snape obviously didn't restrained himself with two slices of toast and is now seeing the world through rose-colored glasses. He sighs almost benevolently.

"Today, Weasley, as an exception, you can ask me whatever you want..." the rest nods in agreement, even Draco who finally came to terms with the salmon.

And just in this very minute an owl flies through the window and perches on Ron's shoulder. He takes a letter, unfolds it, reads and goes pale.

"Ron?" he silently hands the letter to Harry who reads it together with Hermione.

Harry:
"Oh no, not the Aunt..."

Hermione:
"Well, and so what's the big deal, an aunt -- which one is this? Take her for a stroll around town, we'll throw a nice little dinner party, no problem... Oh, she'll be staying at the Ritz, not bad..."

Ron:
"Exactly," answering the questioning glances in a mournful voice, "Auntie is a very serious matter."

Harry explains the situation:

"This Aunt is their only rich relative. (Quiet snorts from Snape and Draco) In short, we're talking millions of galleons -- and a title (Draco doesn't snort anymore). Every Weasley branch tries to get Auntie on their side, but she's capricious and rewrites her will eight days a week. Ron's family is in bad graces anyway - because of Fred and George... and Ginny, of course, but Auntie just adores Ron."

"And the problem is...?"

"Auntie is a dyed-in-the-wool traditionalist. Well, sort of ... Tory," almost everyone is at a loss. "Well, and because Ron happens to be her current favorite, she constantly wants to know how he is, you know, a report, what he's doing, where he lives, that sort of thing... (apologetically) And so.. we just didn't ... couldn't bring ourselves to write to her that we're now staying with That Same (meaningfully) Professor Snape who - to make the matter worse er... more complicated... shares his apartment with his former student, to say nothing about... (nods at Draco) in a way that wouldn't shock her..." a tense silence, "... and so we wrote that Ron is currently staying at my house... that is, the Dursleys'... Whom she wants to meet..." he frowns, to Ron: "How about another plague outbreak? Smallpox?" Ron only hopelessly shakes his head.

A dead silence is broken by Snape:

In a lecturing tone: "Now you see, Weasley, where lies will lead you. Especially such poorly planned lies..." he stops under the reproachful glances of everyone except Draco who doesn't understand a bit, then remembers a promise he'd given five minutes ago. His face turns blank and he cautiously starts moving his eyes from one "witness" to another. Ron clears his throat.

"Oh, bugger the millions, it's high time someone opened the old biddy's eyes to reality...

Harry, a bit nastily, but addressing nobody in particular:

"She happens to have a weak heart, though..."

Snape feels the direction of the strike and would never give in were it not for the "lingering smell of Ron's French toast in the air (which the audience obviously can't smell, but can guess from Snape's facial expression).

"Attempting to rid someone that old of their illusions is, on the whole, a rather pointless exercise, Weasley..." suddenly he sounds businesslike: (to a disbelieving Ron) "Does she know what they look like and so on?" Ron shakes his head. "Good, one less problem. Now then, what do we have? A husband, a wife, a grown-up son, is that all?" to Potter, who only nods, taken aback. "Well, I don't see any difficulties. To answer to "Vernon Dursley" one evening long for the sake of your French toast, Weasley, is not the first and most certainly not the worst humiliation of my life. Paris is worth a Mass, isn't it, err, Petunia?" (He makes a heroic effort to keep himself from snorting).

During this speech, Hermione at first can't quite work out where Snape is heading, then as it gradually dawns on her (somewhere around the word "wife") silent horror fills her face and she vigorously shakes her head, then she looks with indignation first at Snape, then at Ron's pleadingly raised brows, and finally reaches a state of quiet stoicism. Hence, her reaction to Snape's question is a professionally sweet smile:

"Of course, it is NOT worth it, dearest, but how can I argue with my oh so deeply beloved husband!"

Harry sniggers, but Ron is still worried:

"I'm sorry, but Hermie definitely looks younger that Malfoy's mom, oops, Dudley's mom, I mean."

"Will someone explain to me..." but Draco is universally ignored.

Hermione smiles smugly, then frowns a bit, and then... to everybody's "Ahhh..." starts gently transforming: her hair gathers into a short perm, a wrinkle appears on her forehead, eyebrows shape itself into thin lines, her skin - especially on her neck and hands - fades slightly, her nails spontaneously acquire a manicure... and suddenly she is a well-preserved woman of an indefinite age. Another dead silence is once again broken by Snape:

"I hope, you are satisfied with MY age, Weasley?"

Although satisfied with Snape's age, Ron is still a bit concerned about his slightly bohemian appearance, but he doesn't know the word "bohemian", and so only nods.

"What else?" Snape looks around. "More or less muggle-like surroundings... Oh right, we need a closet under the stairs." He explains coolly: "For Potter."

"Dearest, he doesn't sleep in a closet anymore," coos "Petunia" reproachfully.

"What a pity." Snape turns to Draco; tenderly. "And now let's see what we can do with you, Duddydums..."

CUT

The evening. The dining room is unrecognizable. The couches have been moved to the walls, most of the bookcases are filled with china, the portraits have been turned to still-lives, and the center of the room is dominated by a huge dinner table with a heavy tablecloth. A proper dinner: polished silverware, china, exquisite food on which almost everyone present apparently is currently choking. But choking quietly. It is time for dessert and sherry - and for a small-talk. Ron's Auntie, far from being a frail old crone, turns out to be a flourishing elderly lady with a somewhat arrogant bearing.

"... And nevertheless, Mr. Dursley (at each "Mr. Dursley" Snape inconspicuously twists his mouth), I confess myself somewhat surprised that you prefer this city apartment to a country mansion. Being a family man, as you are... (everyone's noses seem to be drowned in their plates) Besides, London air is notorious for its life-threatening fumes, as you will certainly agree. Although I am told that muggle bodies seem to be more adapted to it, and we, wizards, have a more delicate constitution in this respect...

"Most certainly, Madam," Snape recognizes that it will be the best to leave all the talking to the Aunt. "However, keeping a house is also not an easy matter, as I can imagine..."

"Oh, you are so right. Especially now, when decent house-elves are so hard to get," Hermione manages to restrain herself from a satisfied snort. "My goodness, they actually have the temerity to demand wages, can you imagine? Although, they say, this is quite the norm with muggles."

"Quite right, Madam," Snape is a natural-born society man - who could have thought? A propos, he is wearing a dinner jacket, his hair is decently tucked behind his ears. He still manages to look slightly bohemian, but who knows what those muggles are like?

"The only thing worse is the youth of today! No decency whatsoever, I do not mean you, Ronny darling, but take for instance his brothers! To say nothing of his sister - just imagine what they'd say in our days about a girl living with her fiancé ˘efore the wedding...! (Harry to Ron: "That seems to be rather out-of-date information, doesn't it? I thought Ginny..." Ron just hushes him up.) Would you not agree, my dear Mrs. Dursley?"

"Mrs. Dursley" is clearly not happy with the way the old lady unites the times of their youth as "ours", but she keeps up the charade:

"Certainly, Madam. I, for instance, lived with a girlfriend during my college years. (Everybody's faces, except the Aunt's, assume a mysterious expression.) No men were allowed in our boarding house."

"You see! And this isn't even the worst of it!.. But I am so happy that Ronny at least is far away from all that depravity. Of course (she is suddenly sly), I would be even happier if he were to favour us with a new generation of little redheads in the near future... (Here Draco excuses himself, leaves the table, and almost runs in the direction of a bathroom, from where he emerges after a minute, wiping a tear from his eye. The rest watches him with a silent envy and firmly sealed lips.) ... But I understand that for the time being his career must come first. Especially now, Ron, after such a shameful, humiliating defeat at the hands of those... Mediterraneans. And to think that before that they lost to those frog-eaters, worse than which are only those odious Krauts. Unconscionable. (Ron and Harry are starting to fill with silent fury.) But I know, my darling, that you and Harry practice day and night..." they both nod with dignity, and Draco tries to stand up again, but remains seated under Snape's glance. "Your Auntie has faith in you!" Draco's movement catches her eye, "And what is your son doing, my dear?"

"Dr? Dudley works at a law office, and I must say, we won't be surprised if he's offered a partnership soon, he is showing so much promise," with barely concealed maternal pride.

"Oh, Mommy..." Draco is all modesty.

"He just doesn't like being praised, do you, Sunshine?"

"How nice that you can be proud of your son, my dear! Indeed, it is a pity that he is your only child, in my opinion, the more the better, and had it not been for Lord Weasley's untimely demise... But on the other hand, it is not too late for you to think about such matters, is it? Naturally, muggles age faster than wizards, but still, looking at you...

Snape, calmly:

"Nothing is impossible, Madam. Besides, I long ago became accustomed to regarding myself as the father of two children. Harry is definitely more than a nephew to me." (Potter blushes.)

"Well, indeed! And although Harry's noble deeds didn't concern you personally, you can be as proud of him as you are of your own son. Of course, we all heard that (slyly) he was quite a handful in his teens, which is not surprising considering his burden of responsibility, children shouldn't be confronted with such horrors, in my opinion... But as muggles you must have had a few difficulties with him from time to time, did you not?" with a charming laughter.

Snape nods, this time absolutely sincerely.

"Well, what I can say... Dudlikins was not an easy child either. Boys will be boys," Petunia pronounces this as a deep and original thought. "You will not believe it, but he suffered from chronic obesity until he hit puberty."

"You don't say!" (Which is also Draco's silent reaction.)

"Oh yes, and what is more..." happily begins Hermione, but suddenly the door opens (It is to be reminded that nobody has bothered to enchant the door ever since the last debacle), and in comes Lucius, accompanied by the audience's cheering, which he responds to with a benevolent nod.

He is mildly surprised to see the changes in the living-room, but doesn't pay attention to everybody's flabbergasted state and immediately goes up to Draco.

"And who, may I ask, have I been waiting for in Kingston for over an hour! He's here drinking, and meanwhile the horses are freezing, for your information! Merlin, you look more horrible today than usual, Gr," he suddenly stops as if listening to an inner voice. Snape, without turning his eyes to him, quietly snaps his fingers in Hermione's direction whereupon her hair which has already started slithering returns to its normal state, and in addition to this she suddenly loses her voice, having just started to say something. All this goes unnoticed by Lady Weasley, because she is fully focused on one thing.

"Now, that's... that's unspeakable! Lucius Malfoy! (It sounds like "Adolf Hitler!" in a comparable muggle situation.) You! Here! How dare you even show your face in a decent household - and all the more decent muggle household! (Silenced Hermione has absolutely the same opinion.) In the presence of Ronny! And... and..." she helplessly stares at Draco. He tries to find a suitable facial expression, but cannot figure out which that would be. Snape starts looking at him.

"Me... I... umm, Madam, you see, he is my... he is our..." Draco incredulously looks at Snape, "He is our riding teacher. Harry's and mine, yes. It just happened this way..." turning to his dumbfounded daddy.

Potter must be given due credit: he grasps the situation at once, and so - being officially the only wizard in the family - draws the fire to himself.

"Don't worry, Ma'am, I'll explain everything. As you know, there were massive confiscations after the Victory, after which Malfoys found themselves in a difficult, in fact, I would say, in a very precarious situation. Of course, Mr. Malfoy and I were not on friendly terms. Oh, what am I saying? We were actually deadly enemies, but... You know, Ma'am, it is a matter of honour to an Englishman to be noble to his defeated enemy. So, after I learned that in order to avoid starvation, Mr. Malfoy had to earn his living using his only skills, but had trouble finding customers because of his tainted past, I decided - having consulted Headmaster Dumbledore - to support him this way. Of course, his ways are still not impeccable, but I hope... I hope you'll be as charitable to him as I am.

Everybody save Lucius applaud him mentally. Lady Weasley is deeply touched.

"Let me embrace you, my dear boy," pompously, her voice trembling. ("Well, here we go again," thinks Potter, "I'm settling everybody's problems to get only old folks' sentiments as a reward.")

CUT

Afterword.

Late at night.
Hermione, in her normal appearance, is using her wand to bring the apartment back to its own normal appearance, at the same time throwing angry glances at Snape. He is sitting in an armchair, sipping at his sherry. The opposite armchair contains the "riding teacher" - temporarily allowed in the apartment by way of compensation for his humiliation. Snape is in a peaceful mood.

"Oh, stop looking at me like that. I didn't have time to choose another spell, and you would have spoiled everything otherwise. (She shakes her head in silent fury.) In any event, I can't break it now, but it will most certainly wear off by itself during the night." At which Lucius only desperately sighs - which is sufficient to infuriate silent Hermione even more.

"Where are you, Petunia, my ideal wife..." purrs Snape sleepily, "And why not - we'd have ourselves a load of sweet babies and all that... If nothing else, common sense is certainly Auntie's strong suit..."

Hermione probably imagines "sweet babies and all that", because she starts giggling silently, and all of a sudden her laughter becomes audible.

"Oh no-o..." from Lucius.

"Oh yes, I'd completely forgotten about this method," Snape, unperturbed.

"Next time I'll put a cushion under my dress, maybe then she'll leave something to us too," Hermione is still laughing.

"For one thing, next time I will personally spike our food with a strong depressant. And for another - there will be no next time."

P.S. ?Paris is worth a Mass" is Henry IV's utterance upon his conversion to Catholicism as a precondition to his becoming the king of France.
P.P.S. I'm not sure whether in the English-speaking potterverse the Malfoys ride horses, but they do in Russian.