The next morning Snape dragged himself downstairs and into the kitchen. "Good morning Severus," Dumbledore greeted cheerfully. Snape glared at him. In his opinion, anyone who was this cheerful in the morning should be thrown into a pit of starving werewolves. "I took the liberty of making you a spot of tea." He nodded at a steaming mug on the table.

Snape shuffled over to it. "That muggel newspaper you have will be here by now," Dumbledore commented.

Snape sneered. "Yes, thank you Albus, but I had realised this."

"Ah, good. You can get it after you've finished your tea."

"How very thoughtful of you," Snape muttered sarcastically.

"Yes, it is, isn't it." Snape muttered curses under his breath and picked up his tea. "The weather really is lovely today. Not a cloud in the sky. I was thinking of a little sun bathing in the garden. Would you care to join me? You could use some colour."

Snape slowly lowered his mug. "As much as your invitation appeals to me, Headmaster, the Devil will be ice-skating in Hell before that happens."

Dumbledore tutted. "You're to pale Severus. It would do you some good. Besides, you'd look far more healthy will a tan."

Snape's upper lip curled in disgust. "Well, thank you for the advice, mother, but once again I must decline."

Dumbledore wagged a finger at him. "Now now my boy, there's no need to be sarcastic."

Snape sipped his tea, wishing with all his might that the man was a Death Eater so that he could curse him into oblivion. He quickly finished his tea, did a quick cleaning spell and put the cup away.

"You'd better get that paper now Sev," Dumbledore put in, thurally enjoying taunting the poor Potions Master.

Snape whirled around. "It's Severus, if you don't mind."

Dumbledore grinned, his eye getting that twinkle that sent off alarm bells screaming in Snape's head. Doing his best to ignore it, he spun around and marched to the front door. On his way he changed his living room back to normal, and continued on his way to the front door. He opened it and stepped out to get the paper. He felt his foot step into something wet and luke-warm. He looked down and let out a roar of rage.

Dumbledore poked his head out. "Something wrong Severus?"

"MR. CHAPMAN'S BLOODY DOG HAS CRAPPED ON MY BLOODY DOORSTEP AGAIN!"

"Mr. Chapman?"

"MR. CHAPMAN! ONE OF MY NEIGHBORES! AND HIS DOG HAS CRAPPED ON MY DOORSTEP! AGAIN!"

"Oh dear. You didn't step in it, did you?"

Snape just started swearing.

Half an hour later…

There was a knock on the front door. Dumbledore wandered over to it. "Hello?" he called. "Mr. Snape? Is that you?" Came the gruff reply. Dumbledore opened the door. A man in his early sixties stood there, white-grey hair neatly combed, smart clothes neatly pressed, and a small dog under his arm. The man glared down at Dumbledore. "Who are you?" he snapped in a voice that said he hadn't time for pleasantries.

Dumbledore smiled and extended a hand. "Albus Dumbledore. And you are?"

The man looked through the doorway, ignoring Dumbledore's hand. "Edward Chapman. I'm looking for Mr. Snape. Is he in?"

Dumbledore lowered his hand, but kept the smile firmly in place. "Yes, he's in, but I'm afraid he's a little busy. Could you come back in…" Mr. Chapman barged past Dumbledore and marched into the living room. Snape looked up and sneered.

"Ah, Mr. Chapman."

"Mr Snape."

Dumbledore hurried in. "Won't you have a seat?" Snape glared at him.

"No thank you, I'm not stopping." He looked down at Snape. "I understand Jemma," he indicated the dog in his arm "has been coming into your garden."

"Yes, that's right," Snape replied.

"Oh, it's no problem," Dumbledore said, trying to keep the peace. Snape stood up.

"No no, Albus, if Mr. Chapman wants to apologise, let him apologise."

"Apologise!" Mr. Chapman barked. "I'm not here to apologise.

Snape glared at him. "Isn't it your dog that's been fouling my doorstep?"

"Yes. She got through because your fence has a hole in it. The poor thing could have ran onto the road and gotten herself killed. Fix it."

"Right. Is there anything else?" Snape asked, not even trying to hide his obvious contempt for the man standing in front of him.

"Yes, there is. The branches of your apple tree are hanging over into my garden. Either cut them back, or I shall hire a professional, and forward you the bill." He shot one last dirty look at Snape. "I'll see myself out." With that he turned on his heel and left a slightly confused Dumbledore, and a very angry Snape.