THE EASTERN SEABOARD, UNITED STATES
A month later

Lightning crashed in the distance. Ammon lowered the hood of his jacket and knocked on the metal door of the building with a fading Al's Auto Repair sign out front. It was quiet on the streets; he was the only idiot out in this weather. He was about to knock again when the heavy door swung open, presenting his favourite brunette. Sam's scowl was even more pronounced than usual.

Ammon grinned, ignoring the ready blade in her hand. He nodded. "Good evening, Dark One."

Sam shut the door behind her, stowing her blade up her sleeve, and crossed her arms. "Ammon."

Ammon kept his face as neutral as possible and waited. When she didn't say anything else, only glaring at him for a few minutes, Ammon sighed. He slipped off the backpack he had filled with clothes and a few books he had managed to find and held it out, dangling it on one finger. "I brought presents."

She eyed the bag for a moment and then shook her head. "Ammon. Listen. We need to talk."

"Sam—"

"This can't go on."

Ammon's smile faded, though he tried to keep his tone light. "Calm down, Charlie Brown, I only—"

"Don't mess with me, Ammon. I'm serious."

"Seriously overreacting about something. What's got your panties in a twist?"

Sam ignored the rain dripping through her hair and down her neck. "I don't want Beth to get hurt."

Thunder rolled, closer this time, and Ammon fought down his rising temper. "You don't want Beth to get hurt." He paused, taking several deep breaths. "Why is it, I wonder, that you look at me and think I am going to hurt her?"

"Beth," Sam paused, "she doesn't see people as they really are—"

Ammon's fist clenched around the strap of the backpack. His voice was calm, but inside, he was starting to boil. "And how am I, really?"

Sam huffed. "Come off it, Ammon. I may have never commented on your extracurricular activities, but I know your reputation." She paused. "Beth isn't someone you can just use for your own amusement and then discard."

The sinking, cold feeling in his stomach warred with the red encroaching upon his vision. Ammon took a step back. "I am not sure what you are imagining, but there is only friendship between us."

Sam shook her head. "I'm not a fool. You want much more. I'm not blind. And, Beth is…she's not someone that you can just play house with, Ammon. If she falls for you, and she would, it would only be a matter of time, she would only get hurt. I'm not going to let that happen."

The unfairness of her words battled against his better judgement and he struggled to keep his temper. "Sam." Ammon couldn't catch his breath. The dread that filled him was overwhelming. "Do not do this. Please. We are just friends. She is too young and much too good for me. I know that. And," he glared, fuming, "I have never taken advantage of anyone. They don't expect anything from me except for an occasional—" He gritted his teeth and changed his tone. "It doesn't matter. Beth is different."

Sam kept her stance firm and reached behind her for the doorknob. "She's better off without you. I mean it, don't come back."

She slipped through the door and locked it behind her.

Ammon stared at the dull metal for several minutes, too wrapped up in thoughts of Beth and Toot to notice the rain pouring down, soaking him through.


ALLERFORD, SOMERSET, ENGLAND
Meanwhile

A knock sounded at the front door. Hermione's head rose from the salad she was almost finished prepping. She dropped the Romaine and stomped around the bar to the entryway. She could see her professor's profile through the curtained window of the front door. She considered letting Christie answer the door, but she hadn't been sorted into Gryffindor for nothing.

She didn't know the sight she made. Severus kept his face expressionless, but it was a close thing. Flour and golden brown sugar dusted Hermione's cheeks and nose and one of Christie's folded Marlboro-red bandannas held back her growing curls. An apron that could have possibly been blue at some point swamped her small frame and her bare feet stood out under the hem of her simple country-style dress.

Severus strode through the open doorway and hung up his overcoat with a flourish. "May I come in?" he drawled.

Hermione stared at him, a hundred emotions warring within. Her expression darkened further when he gave her one of his trademark smirks. She marched back to the kitchen without a word and paused at the sink; she rubbed at her eyes in frustration, causing starbursts behind her eyelids, then washed her hands and went back to her cutting board. Keeping her hands busy was a good idea at the moment.

"Wonderful t' see you again, Mister Snape," Christie's eager voice drifted in as he came out of his office, flipping the light switch off as he stepped into the hall.

Voices grew a bit louder as the two men approached the kitchen. "I hope ye will agree to dine with us, Mister Snape. Herminey," he declared with a grin, mispronouncing Hermione because he couldn't handle so many syllables in a front name, "has been shakin' pans and throwin' flour all day." Christie chuckled as they headed through the archway into the kitchen and Severus raised his eyebrows at the array of ingredients spread out upon every available surface. Hermione's back was rigid, ramrod straight, and she refused to turn around and acknowledge either of them. Christie spread his hands wide as he beamed. "Coffee? Tea?"

Severus nodded. "Coffee, please. Thank you."

Christie indicated for Severus to take a seat, then stretched his arms, a few bones popping as he sat in the chair directly across from Severus. With an audible sigh of comfort, Christie closed his eyes for a second and then turned his head to study the lass. He chuckled. He could practically hear her teeth grinding. "Missy, would ye mind brewing a strong pot o' coffee? Since you're up," he added, a teasing glint in his eyes.

Hermione didn't turn around or stop thinly slicing the purple head of cabbage she had moved on to. She finally answered with a resigned sigh and set her knife down with a soft clatter.

She stepped to the sink and turned on the water. Grabbing the percolator with a bit more force than necessary, she ground her teeth as she reached into the overhead open cabinet and shuffled the various tea tins to the side as she grasped for the bag of fresh coffee grounds.

She made fast work of preparing the coffee to brew and went back to her head of cabbage. They would use it in salad, finely shredded in coleslaw, in soup, and everything else she could think of. Tuna salad, pasta salad, maybe even spicy cabbage soft tacos made with home-made tortillas, if she could manage the flat bread. She spent the next few minutes chopping and shredding, and lifted the standing metal grater a second time, fine cabbage piled high, then jumped, startled, as the wind-up timer went off.

Her muscles tensing once more, Hermione set the grater aside and rinsed off her hands, then grabbed the two closest mugs hanging on hooks over the sink, and withheld a sigh. She filled both mugs three-fourths of the way full from the percolator and turned, her eyes narrowing at her former professor. She set Christie's cup before him with a soft drop and then stomped around the small table and set Snape's before him. She didn't mean for it to, but a bit of coffee spilled over the side and dripped down the edge of the cup.

Severus raised his eyebrows at her, the intensity of his black eyes making her share eye contact against her will. Five tense seconds passed and then she turned her back abruptly and took a step away. His soft voice jolted, teasing her, and caused her to pause.

"Ah, blessed day, the silent treatment."

Blood surged and pounded in her ears and, clenching her hands into tight fists, she turned around. "You've got a lot of nerve," Hermione said, her voice low, matching his. Her chin jutted out and she ignored the warning look Christie was directing her way. "After ev-ev-" she stuttered, so frustrated she couldn't even talk straight, "everything, you-you have the audacity to drug me—"

"I did you a favour," Severus cut in calmly, brushing her anger aside as if he was doing nothing more than batting away a fly.

"A favour," Hermione scoffed.

"Yes, Miss Granger, a favour," Snape snapped. "You were emotionally and physically exhausted. You were wound up." He let condescension smother the low tone of his voice to nettle her. It wasn't a good idea to bait her, but he hadn't slept in three days, for Salazar's sake. "You were so wound up, it was only a matter of time before you did yourself undue harm. I'm regretful," Severus paused for a calculated breath, and then continued a second later, "only that it wasn't my idea."

Hermione's eyes widened. She swerved accusing eyes at Christie.

"Guilty as charged," Christie admitted with a cheeky grin, his eyes twinkling.

Hermione stood in shock for a few seconds and then huffed loudly, untying the back of her apron with jerky movements. Pulling it loose, she tossed it down on the table in disgust and marched out of the kitchen.

Before she quite made it through the archway, Severus couldn't help goading her one more time. "A thank you would be nice."

Hermione's shoulders tensed, but she didn't turn, and tried to appear as if she hadn't heard him. She made it to her bedroom doorway in a red-tinted haze, and with a satisfying slam, she shut the door behind her.

Mumbling about snarky know-it-alls, Hermione crossed the room and dropped down onto her bed, the springs creaking slightly. She flopped back against the mattress. Merciful Goblins. They were too much to bear. Snaking her arm towards the head of the bed, she grabbed her pillow. Exhausted, Hermione twisted and pulled her feet up off of the floor. Goosebumps stood out on her skin as she suddenly noticed the air was heavy with chill. She reached for the quilts and, stuffing her pillow under her cheek, she stretched her legs and then rolled up in the blankets, even going so far as to pull them over her head.

There, Hermione thought, a cocoon. Feeling safe in the shelter of her bedspread, she closed her eyes until the last of the frustration ebbed away.

She hadn't won any rounds today.