((This chapter contains bits written by the splendid Oportet Exquisitus players; including the incomparable Squealing Fangirl, the ever gallant Theodore Nott, and the brilliant Albus Dumbledore.))
The Great Hall was, unsurprisingly, teeming with students- now that the day was over the population of Hogwarts was permitted to rest and relax. However, an unmistakable air of mystery shrouded the Hall, reflecting itself in the awkwardness of the professors at the head table, in the confusion of the majority of the students, and in the strange absence of food that night- now there was a question. Why was there no food yet provided? It was rather unusual.
Severus Snape studied the general unrest of the Hall with morbid interest. He himself, infamous for cold composure, still believed he betrayed a degree of restiveness. It was admittedly unsettling, the deathly quiet of Hogwarts, in comparison to its usual raucous noise and color.
Sabine Trefethen, too, found the quiet absolutely eerie. Especially coming from Regalus Academy, where the presence of children under fourteen was nonexistent and scandal abounded freely, she was used to laughter, excitement, or a good death threat or two.
More importantly, it was impossible to find a decent cup of coffee in this country. Sabine had noted this deficiency a few mornings prior, and had, upon searching various shops the weekend before, resigned herself to a box of low-quality instant garbage, and a resolution to adjust herself to at least one kind of tea. This evening she had decided on jasmine with her dessert, and wasn't she looking forward to it?
Taking the seat that had been reserved for her, to the left of the Muggle Studies teacher, Sabine watched the Hall quietly and allowed her mind to wonder on the strange vibration she found herself receiving.
Severus observed Sabine looking balefully at the teacup in front of her. "You are not accustomed to the British obsession with tea, I take it?" He asked with a modicum of amusement. The tall woman had taken a different type of tea every night since her arrival and thus far none of them had seemed to please her American palate. In addition to this curious ritual, her presence was a welcome distraction from the disconcerting quiet and he was in his own way enthused over the prospect of intelligent conversation. Or at any rate, conversation with an apparently intelligent person... He could not vouch for how stimulating a discourse on tea varieties would be.
"No," she confessed, regarding the cup with disdain and setting it aside, never once touching it to her lips. "I don't know why I bother." Said teas have been getting more rich and bitter as the days progress, and none of them have served as a proper fix thus far.
Dear old America. Sabine hadn't appreciated the convenience of coffee milked straight from the filter until it was lost to her. This had been how Uncle Demetrius became an alcoholic, she was certain.
"I don't suppose you might suggest an alternative?"
Severus steepled his fingertips, meditating on the rich, complex flavor of coffee and attempting to place a type of tea that would provide an appropriate substitute.
"If it is the rush of caffeine you seek, I would recommend English Breakfast... Despite the name, it is often called for the week of final exams for its unusual awakening properties. Its flavor is, however, nondescript... there is a need to attack it with all manner of additives -sugar, honey, lemon, cream- to coerce the drink into suiting one's taste." His mouth curved in a smirk as an image appeared in his mind of a wizard, armed with a wand, approaching a cup of tea with wary, tentative steps.
"If you prefer the bold flavor," He gestured at the teacup that had accompanied Sabine into the Hall, "Then jasmine would be your last choice... the taste is far too delicate. Perhaps you might try Earl Grey. Personally, I dislike it, but there is no denying that the flavor is unique.
"Darjeeling is a complex tea, the subtle variety of flavors bringing to mind the complexity found in a properly brewed cup of coffee, though the two beverages taste nothing alike." He offered a genuine smile, his sable eyes glittering in amusement. "Or, if you simply cannot live without the real thing, you may always come to my office and enjoy a simple cup of coffee between colleagues."
For a moment, Sabine was struck with the unusual feeling that one gets when one has been briefly educated on the finer points of tea- as if to test her counterpart's theory, Ms. Trefethen brought to her lips the previous discarded teacup and nodded. Perhaps there was something to this man's experience.
After making a brief mental note to send Abby and Tarla for a box of English Breakfast in the case of emergency, Sabine leaned forward slightly, inclining her head towards Severus. "You have at your disposal real coffee? Coffee that would not include the heating of water beforehand?"
Severus laughed softly, the sound completely foreign even to himself. It was not an unpleasant laugh, just one that was rarely heard. Of course, it had been some time since he had been quite this amused... The incredulous expression on the woman's face was priceless.
"Indeed, I do. When I first began teaching here I was puzzled by a particular student's nervous, hyperactive demeanor. The mystery was explained when I confiscated a packet of fresh-ground coffee and took it to the Headmaster. I was very young at the time, I had only been a professor for a matter of months. Albus offered me a cup of the brewed final product and, curious, I tried it. I believe I am now the only Englishman in the country that drinks coffee willingly."
He glanced up at the large clock that hung above the great doorway. "Perhaps you would be interested in sampling some after a visit to the library?" He ventured, still wearing the amused smirk.
"Good God, I may have to marry you out of sheer convenience!" Sabine remarked, setting her teacup down with an absolute 'clink'. "Actually, in retrospect, I completely believe it. You seem to me a coffee-drinking sort of man, if it's not too bold to say. Would I be wrong if I guessed that you take it black?" It was an educated enough hypothesis: they seemed to be alike enough in several other ways.
Then, giving an apprehensive look to the students: "We would not be missed? No, I suppose not."
Sitting surly at the Slytherin table, Theodore Nott gazed around dispassionately. He was displeased to note how chummy Miss - Professor Trefethen seemed to be with Snape. Not fair.
Still, no point sulking, or crying over spilled milk, or whatever. It would be much more constructive to complain loudly about the lack of food.
"Merlin, this place really is the pits. First we get stuck with Yank professors, and now the House Elves won't even bloody well cook the food?"
This was said as loudly as possible, of course, not that Theodore expected it to carry over the crowd. Still, it was gratifying.
Severus raised a brow and chuckled. "I must be careful to avoid such startling revelations in the future, lest further proposals be forthcoming. You would be most unhappy, I suspect." He smirked. "And, you are correct... I can't abide a cup of coffee marred by additives. There is a peculiar, smooth bitterness -if that is not a contradiction -that the drink seems to possess all on its own."
His sensitive ears caught the Nott boy's comments, and Severus sneered as he glanced over the Slytherin table. The youth would suffer most severely for his recent impertinence, in good time. "Ms. Trefethen, in the event that you had not yet noticed my social status... My presence is never missed. Yours, perhaps, in time will prove to be otherwise, but at the moment you have been here for such a short period of time that I doubt there will be any objection. Shall we adjourn?"
"We shall," she agreed, setting her teacup aside and sending a long, curious gaze in Theodore's direction. That was an odd thing, the British obsession with the word 'Yank' and the attitude that went along with it. And tea.
Departing from the table, Sabine allowed herself to fall into step just behind Severus- his pace was easy enough to match, although it required some effort. All the quicker to the library, supposedly.
Dumbledore watched with a smile as Snape and Miss Trefethen talked. He was quite happy to see another professor getting along well with Snape, especially the American lady. Now, more than ever, it was important for the staff of Hogwarts to get along. Fighting Voldemort could be rather difficult with the leaders hexing each other in the back.
On an unrelated manner, the only thing Dumbledore could say with any certainty about the evening meal was that is was not, in fact, on the tables at the moment. The thought occured that he should go to the kitchen and check about it, but dismissed the idea. Checking about the food probably won't make it cook one bit faster.