Chapter Eight: Poison, Pasties and Pants

There's one good thing that can be said for sorting Potions ingredients… actually, no there isn't. There is absolutely nothing good about sorting Potions ingredients. It is indubitably the dullest, most tedious task anyone could ever be assigned in the history of forever. Though, I concede, sometimes it was livened up when jars emitted disgusting smells or caustic gases. And by 'livened up', I mean 'I feared for my life', but hey, same thing, right? Inhaling a few lungfuls of flesh-dissolving gas wouldn't kill me. Well, it would, but luckily Severus was supervising and he knew that me screaming in agony and writhing around on the floor was code for 'please, be a dear and fetch me a bezoar. No rush.' I did love our secret little language we had with each other. By the end of the night, he could tell by the exact pitch and duration of my screams what was killing me, not that it mattered. He certainly complained about having to put in an order for more bezoars, because apparently my ineptitude was severely depleting the stores. I was just putting the last jar up on the shelf when he showed me an empty box. My confusion must have showed, because for once, he spoke first.

"This is a box," he said slowly, and I stared.

"Are you sure?" I asked, putting a mock-thoughtful face on, hands on hips. "Because I thought it was a set of curtains."

"If you'll allow me the courtesy of completing a sentence," he said coldly, "It is a box which once was full of bezoars. You used the last one when you tasted the Belladonna."

"I did not!" I cried indignantly. "I was just trying to take the lid off and it was stuck and I pulled it and it flew at my face and I had my mouth open and it wasn't my fault!" Severus actually began to look frightened at my loud, whiny outburst, which I did not expect one bit. Professor Snape, frightened? Penguins would fly before he showed fear. But I supposed I was rather frightening, with my imposing presence. Actually, I'm pretty much the opposite of imposing. I'd lose an arm wrestle against Flitwick, with my muscles. Or lack thereof. And I'm not even that tall. Severus and I were pretty even-matched when it came to height. He might have been a bit taller by an inch or so, but it was close.

"Why are you staring at the top of my head?" he asked, bringing me crashing back to reality. I really had to do something about these mental tangents.

"I was wondering how much taller than me you are," I said, putting a hand on the top of my head then moving it towards him slowly. He furrowed his eyebrows and slapped my hand away, but didn't glare this time. Rather, he opened and closed his mouth several times, as though going to say something each time but never deciding on what to say. Finally, he said a single word vehemently.

"Why?!"

"I wanted to know how imposing I was?" I said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world and I had to spell it out for him. Some people these days, maybe Severus should just learn to read minds or something. Then he wouldn't be as confused around me. Because I had confused him, I'd pretty much been bewildering him nonstop since I arrived here. I figured that anyone not privy to my private thoughts and feelings wouldn't know what I was on about most of the time, but usually after people get to know me they just dismiss most of what I say as just Crazy Raphaela being Crazy Raphaela. I suppose I am kind of mad, in a say-anything-that-pops-into-my-head kind of way. It's not the best way to live, maybe, but it had worked for me so far, in that I'd spent a day working closely with Severus Snape and I hadn't been murdered yet. He'd even deigned to save my life about fifty times with those bezoars, though I figured that if he didn't then he'd be arrested for manslaughter. Though he could probably talk his way out of it, couldn't he? Maybe he didn't have to save my life, but he did anyway because I'd grown on him. He'd grown accustomed to my face! It was so sweet of him not to leave me to die in horrible agony on his dungeon floor like that. Must remember to buy him a thank-you scarf. Meanwhile, he was still staring at me with his furrowed brows and piercing stare.

"Imposing," he repeated, folding his arms and effectively reminding me of what I'd said before going off on yet another mental tangent. "You couldn't be imposing if you tried. You're as imposing as a baby rabbit."

"Well… you're very imposing, so I guess we make a good team," I said, remembering my thought as we'd gone to lunch. "You're the black rain cloud and I'm in the bunny suit, throwing Easter eggs disguised as atom bombs."

"What?" he said, sounding as though he was putting his all into every letter of the word. "Have you gone completely mad?"

"Eh, getting there," I said, shrugging with a smile on my face. "Good god, is that the time? We've completely missed dinner." Severus looked scandalized as he checked the clock on the wall, which showed that it was nearly midnight. He turned back around and glared at me, glare number eighteen.

"Wonderful. You've made us miss dinner with your fooling around with the ingredients," he said, grabbing my upper arm and beginning to practically drag me over to the doorway. After calmly (if by 'calmly' I mean 'using lots of shouting and swears') explaining to him that being poisoned was not fooling around, and who has he been fooling around with if he thinks that's what it is, we reached the doorway. I wondered if he was going to throw me out and slam the door behind me in a very cartoonish sort of way, but he just led me out of it, around a few corners and up and down some staircases, until we came to a painting of a fruit bowl.

"Oh, the kitchens! I forgot about these," I said, slapping a hand to my forehead. "Ha! This proves once again that you care about my stomach!"

"I have proven time and time again my utter disdain for you, Raphaela," he said, but I wasn't fooled. He'd used my first name and he cared about my stomach. "All you have eaten today are sandwiches at lunch. Granted, you ate enough of them to sustain an elephant, but nevertheless, it was only one meal. If you make skipping breakfast a habit, you'll pass out in the dungeons and I'll have to take your unconscious body up to the hospital wing, meaning you are wasting my time even more than you would awake. Am I in any way unclear?"

"Not at all, sir," I squeaked. Sir? Why had I just said that? Maybe I'd just been reminded of what he was like when I was a student. At any rate, it was weird, and I could tell he was weirded out too by the look on his face. It wasn't a glare, but it was one of his weird, piercing stares that made me feel uncomfortable. "Your courtesy ends with your convenience."

"I'm glad we understand each other," he said, with an odd half-smile on his face. "I do concede, I couldn't have put it better myself."

"Ha!" I cried, pointing at him. "You wish you hated me, but I'm growing on you, aren't I?"

"Like a fungus," he said flatly, tickling the pear on the painting. It turned into a handle, which he pulled and entered. I was left to follow him in, and the house-elves milled around us with huge grins on their faces. After a few minutes of Severus standing stiffly and uncomfortably among the tiny, smiling creatures, we left with a huge platter of food. I put it down in the corridor and sat by it, shoving a party pie into my mouth whole. He looked down at me, eyebrows raised.

"Wha'?" I said, with a mouth full of pastry and meat. "Istarven."

"Excuse me?" He still had that stiff, uncomfortable look about him, but I figured it was just because of the house-elves and he'd shake it off in a few minutes. I mean, they were kind of creepy, but they were so nice and polite that I had to wonder why he was so weird around them.

"I'm starving. Now sit down before I break your legs and you can't stand up. These pasties aren't going to eat themselves." Surprisingly, he complied, sitting on the dusty hallway floor and picking up a sandwich. I saw that it was the kind of sandwich I had been eating at lunch, chickeny and salady with that delicious sauce. "Ha! I knew you wanted my sandwich before," I said triumphantly.

"Don't flatter yourself or your sandwich," he said after swallowing. "I had no designs on your sandwich."

"You did," I argued, smiling broadly. "And you noticed."

"Noticed what?"

"You said; 'if you make skipping breakfast a habit'. You noticed I wasn't at breakfast this morning."

"Of course I noticed, you nincompoop," he said, shooting the nineteenth glare my way. "Your seat is next to mine."

"Nincompoop?" I said with a laugh, raising my eyebrows at him. He gave me a sidelong glare (but I figured it was just the aftershock of the previous glare) as he selected a pasty. "Who says that?"

"I do," he said lightly, taking a bite from the pasty. He wrinkled his nose and set it back down on the platter. "I can't stand turkey."

"Man, I love turkey!" I said exuberantly, snatching the pasty and shoving it into my mouth whole. He looked moderately concerned and disgusted at the same time as he watched me intently. It was making me a bit uncomfortable, so I brought my knees up to my face and hid behind that. Severus made an odd noise somewhere in front of me so I brought my head back up, swallowing the pasty and attempting to look confused enough that he'd tell me why he was suddenly in the business of making odd noises. "What is it?"

"Perhaps," he said delicately, staring at something about three feet above my head, "it would be best to sit in a different position, considering your choice of attire today."

Oh, bloody hell. He could see my underpants. Fantastic.