Chapter Nine: A Rose by Any Other Name
After I'd rapidly changed positions so that my underpants were no longer on show, Severus saw fit to look at me again. I was mortified to say the least, but one look at his rapidly reddening cheeks showed me that he was embarrassed too. Good, now he'll know that it is not polite to look at someone's underpants when they've forgotten they're not wearing any pants and accidentally flash him. Why hasn't he been taught that already? But I supposed that he did make an effort to look somewhere else, and he was almost polite when he informed me of said wardrobe malfunction. The silence was beginning to grow heavy upon us, but for once I was completely lost for words. What do you say to someone who's just seen your underpants? Would you like a souvenir photo of your experience? That'd go down well. Play your cards right and you get to keep them? Yeuch, then he'd think I was hitting on him. But then, it'd certainly make him feel more uncomfortable and embarrassed than I did. However, I doubted that making a pass at him was going to make the situation any less tense. I needed help. I needed some kind of self-help book that told me exactly how to act in every situation. Chapter One: So Your Colleague Who Used to Be Your Teacher Just Saw Your Underpants: What to Do When You've Given Him an Eyeful. Unfortunately, my fantasy book didn't hold any answers. 'Your mind has the answer to every riddle you must solve'. Yeah right, Nept Yemen, you're full of crap. Oh pooh, I hope he didn't telepathically hear my thoughts just then. Sorry Nept, you're not full of crap, you're very wise and all that.
"So…" said Severus from across the platter, who was opening sandwiches to see what fillings lurked within. I was incomparably grateful to him for breaking the silence like that, but with that line? Come on, trained monkeys could think of a better line than that. Never mind that I couldn't. "Do you usually eat other people's half-eaten food?"
"Oh, so we're back to the turkey pasty, are we?" I said in an accusatory tone. His head snapped up and he looked bemused and bewildered, but then he noticed the huge grin on my face and realised I was just kidding. He even cracked a half-smile, which bemused and bewildered me in return. "In answer to your question… I guess I just don't like to waste good pasties."
"It doesn't seem too hygienic, Vialle," he said sternly. Great, and we were back to last-name terms. Well, two can play at that game, Snape. I glared at him and took a sip of pumpkin juice from one of the fancy glass bottles the house-elves had given us with dinner.
"For your information, Snape, introducing small amounts of bacteria into the body is very good for your immune system," I said smugly as I picked up a sandwich and bit into it. I was pleasantly surprised to find that it was full of tuna salad, another of my favourites.
"That's the first time you haven't used my first name," he said, sounding mildly surprised. I looked up at him, and then he looked even more surprised that he'd noticed. Ha! He'd noticed. He totally pays attention to the things that I say.
"I used your surname all through school, Snape," I said coolly. If he was going to continue with this name standoff, I wasn't going to back down. "Besides, you started it. You called me Vialle."
"I always call you that," he said. "Why does it affect you differently now?" He didn't seem all that interested in an answer; I think he just wanted to get his point across. Nevertheless, I would answer the call of duty.
"Because you called me Raphaela before we went into the kitchens, and a twice when we were in the dungeons. Thrice! That's three times." I'd intended for it to come out in a completely normal tone, but instead it ended up sounding high-pitched and rushed. What was the deal with that? There was no reason for me to be talking strangely all of a sudden. At any rate Severus – I mean Snape – didn't seem to notice, as he picked at a corned beef sandwich with a lack of enthusiasm.
"And what does it matter to you what name I give you?"
Bloody hell. He'd never change, this man. Bloody well impossible to deal with, just impossible. You'd think that since we have to work together for Merlin knows how long, he could at least try to make friends. It could have been fun if he'd tried. I'm fun sometimes, when I'm not being metaphorically suffocated by a grumpy old bat whose hobbies include being a jerk to me and being a jerk to his students. I put my sandwich down on the platter quite a bit harder than I'd intended, so some mayonnaise came splattering out onto the shining silver platter. It got his attention, anyway. He didn't look angry or bewildered this time, he was just staring at me with mild curiosity on his face. His eyebrows were… I'd say semi-furrowed. He was looking at me as though I was Richard Attenborough and he was particularly interested in the animal I was talking about in my Richard Attenborough voice. Oh, now I knew I hadn't gotten enough sleep last night. I couldn't even form a coherent simile anymore. Anyway, on with business. I stood up straight, raising my head to tower over him. He adopted a completely new facial expression – which surprised me, because I thought he only had Angry and Bewildered – and he now looked as though he'd gone out to his letterbox, expecting a letter, but found it to be empty. Merlin's beard, my similes were getting worse by the minute. I needed to hurry this dramatic exit up and get some sleep before I likened his face to… to… sweet Merlin, now I couldn't even think of a bad simile! I had to get a move on. Turning on my heel after making a sharp exhalation through my nose, I began to storm off down the corridor.
"Raphaela," he called out from behind me, but since his tone didn't seem at all apologetic I ignored it and kept walking. It sounded sharper, like I was a child and he was reprimanding me for eating too many sweets before dinnertime. I was so angry (and why? For the life of me I couldn't remember exactly what he'd done) that I made sure to storm – not walk – all the way back to my sleeping quarters, as though he could hear my shoes tapping on the stone floors from wherever he was in the castle. I put on my pyjamas and got into bed, feeling my anger fade away somewhat now that I'd calmed down. It seemed silly, now that I was lying in bed and not sitting across from the infuriating man. He'd been right, it didn't matter to me in the slightest what he called me. I'd just been irritable from lack of sleep, and the multitudinous near-death-experiences I'd had that evening. The thought of sleep made me relax into my soft, squashy pillows, and I felt myself beginning to drift off into slumber's warm embrace. The last coherent thought I had was the realization that he'd used my first name again as I'd stormed away…
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