7 Halloween
On the way from the underground station to his flat Severus stopped at his usual supermarket to buy ingredients for the salad. He didn't care much about what he put into his trolley as long as it were different kinds of vegetables. His mind was too preoccupied with the oncoming party. Anyway, when he cooked for himself, the ingredients didn't matter that much. It was the process of preparing and chopping everything which interested him most. The rest was only a question of the right balance between oil, vinegar and spices which he didn't find exceptionally difficult to achieve.
Severus found that the cutting of vegetables and fruit for a meal was very similar to the preparing of potions ingredients. That was, in fact, the reason why he enjoyed working in the kitchen. He didn't know if it was a helpful thing for his state of mind to be reminded of potions while cooking, but he didn't care. When he was cutting carrots, peppers and the like into tiny egal pieces he could forget about the world around him. The brewing of simple potions used to have the same calming effect on him. It would have been different with the more complex, challenging potions, of course. In that case, any mind wandering could have turned out to be fatal.
He had been cutting away swiftly for quite a while, producing nice little heaps of different coloured vegetable pieces, all in the same size. To be able to move freely, he had rolled up his shirt sleeves, displaying the deep ugly scar on his left forearm where the tatoo had once been. He was quite absorbed in his doings and was just dealing with some tricky mushrooms who seemed to refuse to submit to his cutting pattern when the doorbell rang. He started violently and cut into his thumb.
He swore and stood confused for a moment, trying to decide what to do. When the bell rang again, he put his thumb into his mouth and went for the door. When he opened it, he found a young blonde woman who had her hair done into a ponytail, standing in front of him.
'Mr. Snape?' she enquired politely.
He took his thumb out of his mouth and fumbled with his other hand in his trouser pocket for a handkerchief or something else to wrap around his damaged finger.
'Yes. That would be me. Excuse me. As you can see, I've had a little accident in the kitchen. I have to get a plaster.' Even if he had wanted to, he wouldn't have been able to keep the annoyance out of his voice.
'Oh, let me fix that', she offered, and without warning, took out her wand from her sleeve, pointed it on Severus' thumb and mumbled a healing spell.
'Are you mad?' He grabbed her by her arm and pulled her inside. 'If somebody heard you!' Severus scolded the witch and closed the door behind them.
She blushed. 'Oh. Sorry, how thoughtless of me. But it's okay now, your finger, isn't it?' she enquired timidly.
'Yes. Indeed. That was quite helpful. I'm about to make a salad, you know. As it is for a party, it wouldn't be wise to add my blood as an extra ingredient, would it?'
'No, certainly not.' She laughed a bit nervously. 'Oh. I haven't introduced myself. Lorna Mullins. Ministry of Magic. I'm a social worker of the Squib department.'
'Who would have guessed,' Severus commented drily and sighed. Up to now, unexpected wizards on his doorstep with bad timing had almost always been Ministry social workers.
'Well. I don't want to keep you from your work long. It's just our ... uhm ... routine visit. To make sure you're comfortable, you see,' she tried to explain her appearance.
'I know. I've had a lot of experience with these visits. Well, as you can see, I am still alive, although there was the small chance that I'd kill myself with the kichen knife because you startled me when you rang the bell.' He felt that it would be in order to show her some of his sarcasm, as he didn't think it wise to critizise her directly. These visits had always been an annoyance, as they reminded him of the fact that he was constantly under observance. 'You might also want to know that I don't harass the muggles in this house. To the contrary, I'm always polite towards them, and' he added, now a bit triumphantly, 'I even mix with them. This party tonight, it will be a muggle Halloween party.'
Severus could tell from her expression that she was clearly impressed by this information. It also showed him that she must be quite new in the business. The other social workers had not only been older, but had never showed much emotional response.
'Really?. That's great.'
There was an akward silence for a moment. As she obviously didn't know how to go on, Severus started the line of conversation anew.
'Now, that you are here you can as well do me a favour. Have you got a few minutes?'
'Yes, sure.' She seemed glad, that he had said something. 'What would that be?'
'Would you mind to taste my salad? It's not quite finished, but the dressing is. I have only got to mix everything. It would need to settle a bit, but that won't change the general taste.'
'Yes. I'd be glad to help you with that.'
He led her into the kitchen where she took a seat. After mixing the ingredients with the dressing thoroughly, Severus passed her a small bowl with a specimen of his work.
She tried it and her face lit. 'Hm. Delicious. Not that I know much about cooking, but that really tastes nice. The muggles are lucky that you provide this for their party.'
'Why, thanks. You have saved the evening for me. ...Uhm ... I don't want to throw you out, but ... I'll have to get changed now and ...'
'Oh. I was finished anyway.'
Severus led her back to the door.
'Thanks for the salad. And ... have a nice party. Bye.'
'Yes. Bye.'
In comparison to other visits of that kind, this had passed quite easy. He closed the door thoughtfully, wondering what she would write down into her report. Well, if it helped to improve the picture they had of him at the Ministry, he didn't mind.
-----------
An hour later, he stood in front of the mirror in his bedroom, staring at his reflection. He usually only had a quick look into the bathroom mirror to check if he had shaved properly, but never used the full size mirror which was on the inside of his wardrobe. There he was, looking as if he was about to go to his next Potions class and not to a stupid muggle party, using his elegant robes for a silly costume. Well, he knew, that he was beeing unfair. The muggles didn't know. They had just meant well to invite him. He could have gone in his usual muggle clothes. It was solely his fault that he was now feeling like a student about to go to his first Hogwarts ball with dress robes, horrified of the prospect of having to dance.
'Get a grip on yourself, Severus Snape,' he said to himself aloud. It's only a party with friendly muggles. The only thing they will expect of you is a bit of conversation and you even have a nice tasting salad, he thought.
'And you were the wizard who had faced the Dark Lord and your own death several times?' he sneered at his miserable looking reflection who had no choice than to sneer back to him. 'Hard to believe.'
Well, his time as a spy had certainly been the most terrible time of his life, but somehow it had also been predictable. Or that was at least what he had thought it was. Because, if he was being honest, he had expected to die in the end, one way or the other. Oh, yes, maybe as some kind of 'lone hero'. Somehow had hadn't foreseen that he would live on after the whole disastrous affair of defeating Voldemort. No, there wasn't any gravestone with his name on it, ornated by the Order of Merlin, first class, awarded posthumously. Instead he was alive, stuck in this flat with muggles who were so bloody friendly, his work worse than boring ...
He laughed bitterly. 'Now, I think I'am just in the right mood for a party. Well, done, Severus.' And before he had a chance to decide differently, he turned on his heel and swept out of the door ... only to find that he had forgotten the most important item of the evening: the salad. He hurried back, grabbed the bowl and strode out of his flat without giving the mirror another chance to catch his reflection.
---
Down in the cellar, it was against what Severus had expected, quite warm. He had always connected rooms in the basement with a cold damp climate. These were different. There was a heating. His clothes, who had been designed to withstand a chilly dungeon atmosphere, were certainly not fit for this environment. If there was one thing he hated, amongst a lot of others, it was to sweat unnecessarily, without physically doing anything. There was a good chance he would die of a heatstroke rather than of embarrassment, he decided. There again, he had to watch it. If he started to direct his sarcasm against himself, he was in real danger of losing control. But he needn't have worried. The children present had already detected him and gathered around him, gaping at his 'costume'.
'Wow, that looks cool. What are you?'
'That's a wizard's costume', Philipp Forrester informed them.
'It looks quite expensive,' somebody said.
'But what about a pointed hat?' another boy wanted to know.
'And haven't you got a wand?' a small curly haired girl wanted to know. 'Wizards normally have a wand, you know,' she said importantly.
'Yes, you said you'd have one', Philipp added.
'I know. There was one which went with the costume, but I lost it somehow. It wasn't very pretty anyway.'
Now, that was a blatant lie. He had been very fond of his wand which had been a beautiful specimen, made out of yew with a core of Thestral hair. It had come with a stain protective spell. A fact which came in handy when you had to touch it with hands sticky from potions or their ingredients. He had bought it from his first teacher's salary at Hogwarts. He would have to pull himself together if he wanted to survive this evening.
The neighbour from under his flat came to say hello. 'How nice that you made it. You can put the salad over there, next to the other things,' Mrs. Forrester said, leading him over where all the food was arranged on some tables.
'Well, you would know the others, as you have been to our summer party, haven't you? But some people have brought friends.' She walked with him in direction of a small man with grey hair and a pointed nose. Judging from the man's face Severus would have been strongly reminded of a mouse, if it wasn't for the ridiculous costume, the man was wearing. He was stuck in a big orange ballon, which was obviously supposed to represent a pumpkin. 'This is Mr. Jones, I believe he is working somewhere in a London Ministry. May I introduce you? This is Mr. Snape.' She let the two alone to greet some newcomers. Before he could say something to Mr. Jones, Severus was slightly distracted.
'It's quite creepy down here, isn't it. And how fitting, with the full moon, makes everything so ... ghost-like,' he heard a woman's voice behind him and cringed slightly. Of all things, he didn't want to be reminded of the moon. Unbidden, Lupin in his wolf's form came to his mind. He wondered what he was doing right now. If the moon was up, they should have transformed by now. Very likely, he was just now sitting in a circle of his fellow werewolves, howling. Severus shuddered at the thought.
'Creepy'? He wouldn't describe a cellar with heating and plenty of people and nice food like that. Well, they had dimmed the light and decorated the walls with old bedsheets. The children had painted 'ghosts', pumpkins, wizards and bats on them. Quite nicely done, actually. But anyone who had come across a real ghosts birthday party - and Severus had had the pleasure to attend several of the Bloody Baron's in the past - would have problems to find the present environment anything else but pleasant.
If it wasn't for the need of conversation. Conversation with people who were still strangers to him. What was more, it could even be dangerous, as he didn't really know what to tell them, say, about his work. You could invent the strangest or most boring professions, and you could bet that the person opposite you was working in the same field or knew somebody who did, and so on. To tell people that you were working in the administration of a big city like London, or even a Ministry, only seemed to be safe. He had once told that to a woman who had turned out to be working for a personnell department of the said institution, responsible for people whose name started with an 'S'. On the other hand, if you told people your job was something confidential to be kept secret, it would only rouse interest. So it was always a risk to talk about jobs. There was also no point in inventing any boring low paid job, as his flat and the part of London where he was living were simply too expensive for that.
'Ah, well, it's not in a Ministry, but close. It's confidential, I'm afraid,' the mousy pumpkin-man jolted Severus out of his musings.
'Huh? Oh yes, I understand. That would be the same with me. Actually, I don't know why my work should be kept that secret. If I gave anybody details, I bet, they would be totally bored and wouldn't understand a word,' Severus shrugged his shoulders and tried to make his statement like a routine thing.
'Yes, that's right. Nothing interesting to tell about. It's only a pity that it usually deprives you of subjects to talk about at parties, doesn't it?
'Exactly,' Severus stated. Fortunately, pumpkin-man didn't seem to be interested in more conversation, so Severus turned around to get himself a bit of food.
'Who made this salad? It's delicious,' someone asked.
'Mr. Snape did.'
'Oh, really? Well, Mr. Snape, would you care about giving me the recipy some time?'
Severus tried to appear busy with ladling soup into a cup. 'Recipy? Well, uhm, I usually don't cook after recipies, you know. With a salad, for example, I would cut everything and with the dressing, I add the ingredients one by one, and I also do a lot of tasting in between. And... when I like the taste, I simply decide, that it is finished.'
'I see,' the woman who had asked him (if he remembered correctly, her name was Pearce and she was living on the first floor) seemed a bit disappointed, 'but do tell me what kind of kitchen appliance do you use to get the pieces that even?'
Oh, why do people have to be so insistent and complicated about this cooking thing? Severus asked himself exasperatedly. When he had decided to bring a salad he had only meant well. He was certainly happy about the fact that the other guests liked it, but he didn't want to discuss it. But he managed to keep his voice calm when he answered.
'Well, I always use a knife. A simple kitchen knife. There is nothing special about it, I would think.'
'You are using a knife to cut all of this by hand?' Mrs. Pearce asked disbelievingly. 'But that must be an awful lot of work! I wouldn't have the time, let alone the patience to spend all the time cutting vegetables for a salad. But anyway, it's great.' Having given that statement, she turned away to greet a new guest, somebody Severus remembered to have met before on another occasion, but wasn't able to recall his name.
Strange. He couldn't remember somebody telling him that he had patience. Well, vegetables were easier to deal with than students ...
The party went on like this for some time. He had some more smalltalk with other guests, butt he more the evening wore on, the harder it became for him to stay calm and pretend that he was enjoying himself. Damn, he certainly was no party person. What made it worse, he became more and more irritated by the heat that was building up under the layers of his clothes. After two hours, he contemplated the option to take the robes off.
Mr. Jones seemed to have the same problem. When he came over, Severus couldn't help to notice that the man must have had a good share of alcoholic drinks already, as he was swaying slightly. He wasn't able to focus properly on Severus when he talked to him and little streams of sweat were running down his forehead over his red puffed up face.
'Uh. Hot in here, isn't it? D..did ... didn.. know t'was that warm down here, ... or did they tell you? I ca... cann't take the cos ... cossume off, you know. Would be embarrassing... I I can't run arrround in my under ... unnerware, can I?' and he began to laugh madly, nearly losing his balance.
To prevent himself from falling, he grabbed Severus by his shoulder and nearly toppled on the former Potions master who now had the dubious pleasure of smelling the man's breath.
Severus was disgusted by the sudden unexpected body contact. Not that drinking alcohol was a strange concept to him. From his experience at social gatherings in the wizarding world, alcoholic beverages were also served, but if you drank them, you were expected to keep control. Wizards and witches who wanted to drink themselves silly, would usually do it at home or at least in more private circles. But still, it could be a dangerous thing for a wizard to get drunk, as the magic inside you would become uncontrollable and, as a consequence, dangerous to yourself and other people. As a wizard, Severus had only drunken when he had felt that he was in a safe environment. Naturally, that had rarely been the case in his past, he thought while he was struggling with the oversized inebriated pumpkin who by now was trying to hug him.
Severus managed to get the man off him, finally, but Mr. Jones wasn't able to stand of his own accord anymore, so he let him slide down on the floor. He didn't seem to be too unhappy about it, as he fell asleep only an instant later. Severus checked his pulse to make sure that he was okay and retreated from the snoring specimen of a very intoxicated muggle.
Severus shook his head. Alcohol, really. He knew that there were a lot of other much more dangerous drugs available in the muggle world, but nothing compared to the potions, wizards coul get their hands on. If muggles only had the faintest idea about what kind of potions wizards could rely on should they decide to manipulate their minds to forget, have fun or for whatever reason. Well, strictly speaking, not all wizard had access to these kind of potions, muggles would call dangerous drugs. Only wizards who could brew complex potions themselves or knew somebody who was able and willing to provide them with it. They were dangerous as well, as he knew from painful experience, and misuse was naturally prosecuted by the Ministry. If they ever found out, that was.
Severus decided that if he didn't want to suffocate, he had to get rid of part of his clothing. And after having taken off his robes, leaving him in his white shirt and black trousers, Severus felt much better indeed. He even managed to spend another hour with small talk and tried some more food from the buffet, but then his patience clearly came to an end. The only thing he was able to think about was how to get out of this place as quick as possible. Feigning a headache and the necessity of getting up early for work (a lame excuse, but he was sure they thought him to be 'weird' anyway, and he didn't care at the moment) he said good bye to some of the guests and fled.
On the way from the underground station to his flat Severus stopped at his usual supermarket to buy ingredients for the salad. He didn't care much about what he put into his trolley as long as it were different kinds of vegetables. His mind was too preoccupied with the oncoming party. Anyway, when he cooked for himself, the ingredients didn't matter that much. It was the process of preparing and chopping everything which interested him most. The rest was only a question of the right balance between oil, vinegar and spices which he didn't find exceptionally difficult to achieve.
Severus found that the cutting of vegetables and fruit for a meal was very similar to the preparing of potions ingredients. That was, in fact, the reason why he enjoyed working in the kitchen. He didn't know if it was a helpful thing for his state of mind to be reminded of potions while cooking, but he didn't care. When he was cutting carrots, peppers and the like into tiny egal pieces he could forget about the world around him. The brewing of simple potions used to have the same calming effect on him. It would have been different with the more complex, challenging potions, of course. In that case, any mind wandering could have turned out to be fatal.
He had been cutting away swiftly for quite a while, producing nice little heaps of different coloured vegetable pieces, all in the same size. To be able to move freely, he had rolled up his shirt sleeves, displaying the deep ugly scar on his left forearm where the tatoo had once been. He was quite absorbed in his doings and was just dealing with some tricky mushrooms who seemed to refuse to submit to his cutting pattern when the doorbell rang. He started violently and cut into his thumb.
He swore and stood confused for a moment, trying to decide what to do. When the bell rang again, he put his thumb into his mouth and went for the door. When he opened it, he found a young blonde woman who had her hair done into a ponytail, standing in front of him.
'Mr. Snape?' she enquired politely.
He took his thumb out of his mouth and fumbled with his other hand in his trouser pocket for a handkerchief or something else to wrap around his damaged finger.
'Yes. That would be me. Excuse me. As you can see, I've had a little accident in the kitchen. I have to get a plaster.' Even if he had wanted to, he wouldn't have been able to keep the annoyance out of his voice.
'Oh, let me fix that', she offered, and without warning, took out her wand from her sleeve, pointed it on Severus' thumb and mumbled a healing spell.
'Are you mad?' He grabbed her by her arm and pulled her inside. 'If somebody heard you!' Severus scolded the witch and closed the door behind them.
She blushed. 'Oh. Sorry, how thoughtless of me. But it's okay now, your finger, isn't it?' she enquired timidly.
'Yes. Indeed. That was quite helpful. I'm about to make a salad, you know. As it is for a party, it wouldn't be wise to add my blood as an extra ingredient, would it?'
'No, certainly not.' She laughed a bit nervously. 'Oh. I haven't introduced myself. Lorna Mullins. Ministry of Magic. I'm a social worker of the Squib department.'
'Who would have guessed,' Severus commented drily and sighed. Up to now, unexpected wizards on his doorstep with bad timing had almost always been Ministry social workers.
'Well. I don't want to keep you from your work long. It's just our ... uhm ... routine visit. To make sure you're comfortable, you see,' she tried to explain her appearance.
'I know. I've had a lot of experience with these visits. Well, as you can see, I am still alive, although there was the small chance that I'd kill myself with the kichen knife because you startled me when you rang the bell.' He felt that it would be in order to show her some of his sarcasm, as he didn't think it wise to critizise her directly. These visits had always been an annoyance, as they reminded him of the fact that he was constantly under observance. 'You might also want to know that I don't harass the muggles in this house. To the contrary, I'm always polite towards them, and' he added, now a bit triumphantly, 'I even mix with them. This party tonight, it will be a muggle Halloween party.'
Severus could tell from her expression that she was clearly impressed by this information. It also showed him that she must be quite new in the business. The other social workers had not only been older, but had never showed much emotional response.
'Really?. That's great.'
There was an akward silence for a moment. As she obviously didn't know how to go on, Severus started the line of conversation anew.
'Now, that you are here you can as well do me a favour. Have you got a few minutes?'
'Yes, sure.' She seemed glad, that he had said something. 'What would that be?'
'Would you mind to taste my salad? It's not quite finished, but the dressing is. I have only got to mix everything. It would need to settle a bit, but that won't change the general taste.'
'Yes. I'd be glad to help you with that.'
He led her into the kitchen where she took a seat. After mixing the ingredients with the dressing thoroughly, Severus passed her a small bowl with a specimen of his work.
She tried it and her face lit. 'Hm. Delicious. Not that I know much about cooking, but that really tastes nice. The muggles are lucky that you provide this for their party.'
'Why, thanks. You have saved the evening for me. ...Uhm ... I don't want to throw you out, but ... I'll have to get changed now and ...'
'Oh. I was finished anyway.'
Severus led her back to the door.
'Thanks for the salad. And ... have a nice party. Bye.'
'Yes. Bye.'
In comparison to other visits of that kind, this had passed quite easy. He closed the door thoughtfully, wondering what she would write down into her report. Well, if it helped to improve the picture they had of him at the Ministry, he didn't mind.
-----------
An hour later, he stood in front of the mirror in his bedroom, staring at his reflection. He usually only had a quick look into the bathroom mirror to check if he had shaved properly, but never used the full size mirror which was on the inside of his wardrobe. There he was, looking as if he was about to go to his next Potions class and not to a stupid muggle party, using his elegant robes for a silly costume. Well, he knew, that he was beeing unfair. The muggles didn't know. They had just meant well to invite him. He could have gone in his usual muggle clothes. It was solely his fault that he was now feeling like a student about to go to his first Hogwarts ball with dress robes, horrified of the prospect of having to dance.
'Get a grip on yourself, Severus Snape,' he said to himself aloud. It's only a party with friendly muggles. The only thing they will expect of you is a bit of conversation and you even have a nice tasting salad, he thought.
'And you were the wizard who had faced the Dark Lord and your own death several times?' he sneered at his miserable looking reflection who had no choice than to sneer back to him. 'Hard to believe.'
Well, his time as a spy had certainly been the most terrible time of his life, but somehow it had also been predictable. Or that was at least what he had thought it was. Because, if he was being honest, he had expected to die in the end, one way or the other. Oh, yes, maybe as some kind of 'lone hero'. Somehow had hadn't foreseen that he would live on after the whole disastrous affair of defeating Voldemort. No, there wasn't any gravestone with his name on it, ornated by the Order of Merlin, first class, awarded posthumously. Instead he was alive, stuck in this flat with muggles who were so bloody friendly, his work worse than boring ...
He laughed bitterly. 'Now, I think I'am just in the right mood for a party. Well, done, Severus.' And before he had a chance to decide differently, he turned on his heel and swept out of the door ... only to find that he had forgotten the most important item of the evening: the salad. He hurried back, grabbed the bowl and strode out of his flat without giving the mirror another chance to catch his reflection.
---
Down in the cellar, it was against what Severus had expected, quite warm. He had always connected rooms in the basement with a cold damp climate. These were different. There was a heating. His clothes, who had been designed to withstand a chilly dungeon atmosphere, were certainly not fit for this environment. If there was one thing he hated, amongst a lot of others, it was to sweat unnecessarily, without physically doing anything. There was a good chance he would die of a heatstroke rather than of embarrassment, he decided. There again, he had to watch it. If he started to direct his sarcasm against himself, he was in real danger of losing control. But he needn't have worried. The children present had already detected him and gathered around him, gaping at his 'costume'.
'Wow, that looks cool. What are you?'
'That's a wizard's costume', Philipp Forrester informed them.
'It looks quite expensive,' somebody said.
'But what about a pointed hat?' another boy wanted to know.
'And haven't you got a wand?' a small curly haired girl wanted to know. 'Wizards normally have a wand, you know,' she said importantly.
'Yes, you said you'd have one', Philipp added.
'I know. There was one which went with the costume, but I lost it somehow. It wasn't very pretty anyway.'
Now, that was a blatant lie. He had been very fond of his wand which had been a beautiful specimen, made out of yew with a core of Thestral hair. It had come with a stain protective spell. A fact which came in handy when you had to touch it with hands sticky from potions or their ingredients. He had bought it from his first teacher's salary at Hogwarts. He would have to pull himself together if he wanted to survive this evening.
The neighbour from under his flat came to say hello. 'How nice that you made it. You can put the salad over there, next to the other things,' Mrs. Forrester said, leading him over where all the food was arranged on some tables.
'Well, you would know the others, as you have been to our summer party, haven't you? But some people have brought friends.' She walked with him in direction of a small man with grey hair and a pointed nose. Judging from the man's face Severus would have been strongly reminded of a mouse, if it wasn't for the ridiculous costume, the man was wearing. He was stuck in a big orange ballon, which was obviously supposed to represent a pumpkin. 'This is Mr. Jones, I believe he is working somewhere in a London Ministry. May I introduce you? This is Mr. Snape.' She let the two alone to greet some newcomers. Before he could say something to Mr. Jones, Severus was slightly distracted.
'It's quite creepy down here, isn't it. And how fitting, with the full moon, makes everything so ... ghost-like,' he heard a woman's voice behind him and cringed slightly. Of all things, he didn't want to be reminded of the moon. Unbidden, Lupin in his wolf's form came to his mind. He wondered what he was doing right now. If the moon was up, they should have transformed by now. Very likely, he was just now sitting in a circle of his fellow werewolves, howling. Severus shuddered at the thought.
'Creepy'? He wouldn't describe a cellar with heating and plenty of people and nice food like that. Well, they had dimmed the light and decorated the walls with old bedsheets. The children had painted 'ghosts', pumpkins, wizards and bats on them. Quite nicely done, actually. But anyone who had come across a real ghosts birthday party - and Severus had had the pleasure to attend several of the Bloody Baron's in the past - would have problems to find the present environment anything else but pleasant.
If it wasn't for the need of conversation. Conversation with people who were still strangers to him. What was more, it could even be dangerous, as he didn't really know what to tell them, say, about his work. You could invent the strangest or most boring professions, and you could bet that the person opposite you was working in the same field or knew somebody who did, and so on. To tell people that you were working in the administration of a big city like London, or even a Ministry, only seemed to be safe. He had once told that to a woman who had turned out to be working for a personnell department of the said institution, responsible for people whose name started with an 'S'. On the other hand, if you told people your job was something confidential to be kept secret, it would only rouse interest. So it was always a risk to talk about jobs. There was also no point in inventing any boring low paid job, as his flat and the part of London where he was living were simply too expensive for that.
'Ah, well, it's not in a Ministry, but close. It's confidential, I'm afraid,' the mousy pumpkin-man jolted Severus out of his musings.
'Huh? Oh yes, I understand. That would be the same with me. Actually, I don't know why my work should be kept that secret. If I gave anybody details, I bet, they would be totally bored and wouldn't understand a word,' Severus shrugged his shoulders and tried to make his statement like a routine thing.
'Yes, that's right. Nothing interesting to tell about. It's only a pity that it usually deprives you of subjects to talk about at parties, doesn't it?
'Exactly,' Severus stated. Fortunately, pumpkin-man didn't seem to be interested in more conversation, so Severus turned around to get himself a bit of food.
'Who made this salad? It's delicious,' someone asked.
'Mr. Snape did.'
'Oh, really? Well, Mr. Snape, would you care about giving me the recipy some time?'
Severus tried to appear busy with ladling soup into a cup. 'Recipy? Well, uhm, I usually don't cook after recipies, you know. With a salad, for example, I would cut everything and with the dressing, I add the ingredients one by one, and I also do a lot of tasting in between. And... when I like the taste, I simply decide, that it is finished.'
'I see,' the woman who had asked him (if he remembered correctly, her name was Pearce and she was living on the first floor) seemed a bit disappointed, 'but do tell me what kind of kitchen appliance do you use to get the pieces that even?'
Oh, why do people have to be so insistent and complicated about this cooking thing? Severus asked himself exasperatedly. When he had decided to bring a salad he had only meant well. He was certainly happy about the fact that the other guests liked it, but he didn't want to discuss it. But he managed to keep his voice calm when he answered.
'Well, I always use a knife. A simple kitchen knife. There is nothing special about it, I would think.'
'You are using a knife to cut all of this by hand?' Mrs. Pearce asked disbelievingly. 'But that must be an awful lot of work! I wouldn't have the time, let alone the patience to spend all the time cutting vegetables for a salad. But anyway, it's great.' Having given that statement, she turned away to greet a new guest, somebody Severus remembered to have met before on another occasion, but wasn't able to recall his name.
Strange. He couldn't remember somebody telling him that he had patience. Well, vegetables were easier to deal with than students ...
The party went on like this for some time. He had some more smalltalk with other guests, butt he more the evening wore on, the harder it became for him to stay calm and pretend that he was enjoying himself. Damn, he certainly was no party person. What made it worse, he became more and more irritated by the heat that was building up under the layers of his clothes. After two hours, he contemplated the option to take the robes off.
Mr. Jones seemed to have the same problem. When he came over, Severus couldn't help to notice that the man must have had a good share of alcoholic drinks already, as he was swaying slightly. He wasn't able to focus properly on Severus when he talked to him and little streams of sweat were running down his forehead over his red puffed up face.
'Uh. Hot in here, isn't it? D..did ... didn.. know t'was that warm down here, ... or did they tell you? I ca... cann't take the cos ... cossume off, you know. Would be embarrassing... I I can't run arrround in my under ... unnerware, can I?' and he began to laugh madly, nearly losing his balance.
To prevent himself from falling, he grabbed Severus by his shoulder and nearly toppled on the former Potions master who now had the dubious pleasure of smelling the man's breath.
Severus was disgusted by the sudden unexpected body contact. Not that drinking alcohol was a strange concept to him. From his experience at social gatherings in the wizarding world, alcoholic beverages were also served, but if you drank them, you were expected to keep control. Wizards and witches who wanted to drink themselves silly, would usually do it at home or at least in more private circles. But still, it could be a dangerous thing for a wizard to get drunk, as the magic inside you would become uncontrollable and, as a consequence, dangerous to yourself and other people. As a wizard, Severus had only drunken when he had felt that he was in a safe environment. Naturally, that had rarely been the case in his past, he thought while he was struggling with the oversized inebriated pumpkin who by now was trying to hug him.
Severus managed to get the man off him, finally, but Mr. Jones wasn't able to stand of his own accord anymore, so he let him slide down on the floor. He didn't seem to be too unhappy about it, as he fell asleep only an instant later. Severus checked his pulse to make sure that he was okay and retreated from the snoring specimen of a very intoxicated muggle.
Severus shook his head. Alcohol, really. He knew that there were a lot of other much more dangerous drugs available in the muggle world, but nothing compared to the potions, wizards coul get their hands on. If muggles only had the faintest idea about what kind of potions wizards could rely on should they decide to manipulate their minds to forget, have fun or for whatever reason. Well, strictly speaking, not all wizard had access to these kind of potions, muggles would call dangerous drugs. Only wizards who could brew complex potions themselves or knew somebody who was able and willing to provide them with it. They were dangerous as well, as he knew from painful experience, and misuse was naturally prosecuted by the Ministry. If they ever found out, that was.
Severus decided that if he didn't want to suffocate, he had to get rid of part of his clothing. And after having taken off his robes, leaving him in his white shirt and black trousers, Severus felt much better indeed. He even managed to spend another hour with small talk and tried some more food from the buffet, but then his patience clearly came to an end. The only thing he was able to think about was how to get out of this place as quick as possible. Feigning a headache and the necessity of getting up early for work (a lame excuse, but he was sure they thought him to be 'weird' anyway, and he didn't care at the moment) he said good bye to some of the guests and fled.