Chapter 4: On My Way Down

I rarely saw Harry over the next few days. When I did, he was always on his way somewhere. Remus hadn't been joking when he told me that they weren't home much. The two of them had a routine that had obviously been going on for quite a while. On Tuesday morning, I woke to a knock on my door.

"Are you awake in there?" Remus asked.

I muttered a curse under my breath and said, "I'll be out in a minute."

"No rush, I was wondering if you'd like to come to the restaurant with me?"

"Alright," I agreed groggily. Most nights, I had been up until the early morning.

By the time I emerged from my room, Remus was sitting at the table reading over his appointments on his palm pilot. He smiled at me. "I'm sorry that I haven't exactly been the best of hosts."

"You did precisely what I wanted you to do. I was looking for a bit of tranquility," I reminded him.

"Yes, well then I won't worry about it anymore." He laughed. "Harry did tell me that you seemed rather content to sit and write."

"I am."

"Another bestseller in the making?"

It has long been a pet peeve of mine when people as about a work in progress. They don't seem to understand that I won't share anything until I am damn well ready. Normally, I would have told him to go to hell, but I was not inclined to insult my host and my friend. "It is what it is," I told him vaguely.

He left it at that and we were soon off the restaurant. Zora's was an upscale escape for many wealthy diners. The entire building was decorated in a very old style Hollywood motif. It was easy to picture Clark Gable or Katherine Mansfield walking down the ornate grand staircase. The cuisine, however, was more modern. Remus explained that they specialized in infusing traditional ethnic dishes from around the world with modern twists.

He took me back into the kitchen where the preparations were being made for the day. A stout woman with dark hair and eyes was mixing a thick batter of some kind. "Remy, we didn't get our berry shipment yet," she said blandly. "I thought you talked to him last week about this."

Remus sighed heavily. "I did, but I'll do it again. Ellen, this is Severus Snape. He's been staying with Harry and I. Severus, I'd like you to meet Ellen Carter, the best pastry chef I've ever met."

She shot Remus a look that said bull shit, and nodded toward me. "Have you had breakfast yet?" she asked.

"No, but I wouldn't want to trouble you."

Ellen let out an unladylike snort. "I'll have some crepes for in a little bit. There would be strawberries for on top if someone had taken care of things."

"I've been duly chastised, Ellen," Remus said. "We'll be in the main dining hall."

"Charming woman," I murmured sarcastically on our way out.

Remus merely shrugged. "I wasn't lying when I told you she was the best. She's been here for eleven years, and never once have I seen her off kilter in that kitchen. The food critics call her deserts the best in town. I wish I had such luck with head chefs. Our last one quit. That's why I've been away so much," he explained.

"You take over?"

"Only in an absolute bind. I don't have the talent for it. My place is on the floor."

Within minutes, a white clad young man came toward us with a look of absolute concentration on his face. He set the plate down before me, and I could almost see the relief in him.

Remus smiled at him and said, "Thank you, Neville."

He waited until the man was gone to tell me, "Neville is famous for making a mess of things."

I eyed the citrus topped crepes before me. "Then why do you keep him on?"

"He tries very hard."

Rolling my eyes, I pick up my fork and say nothing to that. In school, he was always befriending the misfits, myself included. I think he felt safer with us. Whatever it was that kept him from truly becoming a "marauder," as they called themselves, he would never take his frustrations out on others. I used to think that letting things slide the way he did was just as bad, but I did consider that he had demons of his own to deal with.

After my breakfast, I began to examine things more closely. I couldn't fault the taste in the décor. I had always preferred darker, more refined colors, so did Remus apparently. The woodwork had a deeper cherry stain accented by touches of gold leaf. Even the china had a dignified look to it. I stumbled room to room aimlessly as Remus sat making phone calls. Zora's was impressive, there was no doubting that. I crouched to examine the carving on the front of sideboard, when I heard a voice from behind me. "That's always been my favorite."

I turned to see Harry sitting behind me with a grin. "I thought you had to work today."

He shrugged. "There are only two days left, and no more sporting events. Most of what I'm doing now is ordering supplies for next year, so I can do a lot of it from my home computer. I thought I'd come mooch food off of Ellen. Did you meet her?"

"I did." Unfortunate as that may be, I added to myself.

Harry laughed. "Don't let her fool you. She's an angel."

"If you say so."

Remus walked into the room with frustration in his eyes, and a death grip on his cell phone. "Come to beg?" he asked Harry with a twitch of his lips.

"Of course," he replied with an impish glimmer in his eyes. "Problems?"

Remy nodded. "It seems I'm going to have to be inhospitable yet again. I have to go pick up a load of berries. Would you mind riding back with Harry?"

Would I mind? Part of me was glad that neither of them seemed to suspect just how happy I was to spend time with him. "Not at all," I said without much emotion.

Remus said goodbye, and I followed Harry back to the kitchen again. This time Ellen's entire demeanor changed. What was it about this boy that enchanted everyone? The woman smiled. "Has he been starving you again?"

"Always, Elle. You're the only one who loves me," he told her with mock woe.

"Brat, I guess it's up to me too feed you. I made crepes for your friend here, does that sound good to you?" she asked with a laugh.

Harry wrinkled his nose. "Don't add to my agony."

"French toast then. I think there's some blueberry syrup left."

"Marry me, Elle?" he proposed dramatically.
I nearly choked when I saw the affection in the old dragon's eyes. "You aren't man enough for me, little boy.

He clasped at his chest. "Elle, don't make me get down on my knees. You know how that hurts me!"

The laugh she let out could ALMOST be classified as girlish. "Fine, if you're not married by thirty we'll talk. Now get out of my kitchen!"

He grinned. "Thank you."

Back in the dining room, he rolled himself under a table and I took a seat beside him. "Have you considered politics?" I asked dryly.

"I don't have the patience for it."

That didn't seem right from what I had seen, but I wasn't about to argue. I was falling fast for this man. Everything about him enthralled me. It was easy to see how he could charm even the ogre in the kitchen.