A/N: This chapter contains a series of vignettes to move their relationship along.
Rated M for...a very active imagination.
Chapter 6
They were arguing about money... again. It had only been a week since that 'fateful day,' as he liked to call the unexpected end to his bachelorhood, but to Severus, it felt like a month. He didn't give a shrivelfig how much truffle oil would improve the flavour of whatever dish Dippy (he secretly called her Dipstick) was going to prepare, it was expensive, useless as a potions ingredient, and that was the bloody well end of it.
"Why does everything have to be about money with you?" Beatrice asked, hurt in her voice.
It wasn't about money, he wanted to say, it was about necessity. He had no desire to tell her about his years of growing up scrimping and saving the little money his father didn't spend on drink, and how his mother had hidden money under loose floorboards just to be able to afford some second-hand robes and books for him to use at Hogwarts. Oh, he was sure she had no clue what it was like to be one of the wretched 'have nots'; it was as plain as the velvet shoes on her feet and the jewellery adorning her ears and wrists. The only thing he had managed to give her was a transfigured wedding band, and even that had been made from rubbish.
Well, she certainly wouldn't be getting any jewels and gold out of him. She would just have to get used to doing without the finer things in life.
In the end, he only said, "Not everyone is as privileged as you."
He gleefully enjoyed the shame on her face as she realised what had been implied there. It was almost worth the self abasement.
Beatrice was in the kitchen, trying out a mille-feuille recipe that her grandmother had given her. Even with using her wand, rolling out the pastry dough still took forever. During all of this time, she had not seen nor even heard her husband in the house.
"Dippy, hold the book up over here for me." The elf moved to hold the book up so her mistress could read it. Beatrice sighed and pointed her wand at the dough, giving it a quick fold, then a twist to roll it out flat.
Now that she thought about it, she was sure that Severus was still somewhere in the house. He hadn't gone anywhere (if he had, he would have yelled at her to keep the door shut and not let anybody in), and a quick peek out into the sitting room confirmed that his cloak and coat were still hung on the coat rack.
WHAM!
Beatrice spun to face the back door and gave a small scream of terror as the door was flung open. Her arm knocked over the bag of flour and sent a cloud of white dust swirling into the air.
"Damned apothecary!" a masculine voice snarled.
When the dust cleared, she saw that it was only Severus. She sighed and gave a baleful glare to the flour covered floor. She supposed it's what she deserved for wondering where he was; speak of the devil and all of that rot.
"Oh no! Mistress's floors is ruined!" Dippy dropped the book and pulled her ears at the horror that lay in front of her. "Dippy must clean nasty mess."
Severus stomped inside, kicking the kneeling Dippy out of the way. "I can't believe that lazy apothecary saw fit to mix female Hercules beetles into my Egyptian scarabs." He left white foot prints on the floor that Dippy hastily set to scrubbing as he went to the sink and washed his soot covered face.
"What are you talking about?" she asked. "And why did you kick Dippy?" Severus turned to face her, and she was sure she looked a fright. There was flour everywhere from her hair to her toes, and she had him to thank for scaring her so.
"That creature was in my way," he snarled. "What happened to you?"
He could see her itching to snarl something in defence of her elf, and was surprised when she did not. "I could ask the same," was her smooth reply.
He smirked; they sure were a picture together, he covered in black soot and her in white dust. Severus finally relented and let her in on his secret. "Come here."
"I'm baking, if you haven't noticed."
"Is that what you call it? And here I thought you were simply making a mess." He gestured to the elf on the floor. "Get Dippy to finish it. Isn't that what elves are for?"
With a put-upon sigh, Beatrice complied. She pulled out her wand and banished the mess from them both. "Dippy, finish grandmother's recipe. I suppose we'll be back shortly." Dippy nodded, sending her floppy ears flying, and conjured a stool so she could get to work. Beatrice gave her elf a fond pat on the head.
"All right, where are you taking me?"
Severus took a step forward and surprised them both by taking her arm in his. "I want to show you where I disappear to all of the time."
He led her out of the back door and into the small yard. "What are you showing me out here?" she asked.
"You'll see." He pointed his wand at the pile of wooden crates leaning against the outside wall. "Finite incantatem."
The crates shimmered as the illusion fell to reveal unlocked wooden doors to the cellar.
Picking up the door, he gestured, "After you."
Beatrice descended the stairs and found herself surrounded by vials and jars of every colour. "Is this your lab?" she asked, wonderment colouring her tone.
Severus inwardly preened. "Yes, this is where I do my brewing outside of Hogwarts." He watched as she walked around the room, taking stock of the various implements lining the walls, the equipment on the solid oaken tables, and the cauldrons he had set up, ready to be used.
"Do you brew?" he asked suddenly.
Beatrice removed her hand from the lip of the cauldron like it was on fire. "Oh no, I'm not very good at all."
"Really?" he drawled. "Is Madam Amandier not up to snuff? Oh dear, maybe I should owl to let her know that her teaching efforts have been in vain."
Beatrice blushed. "That's not what I meant and you know it."
"Prove it."
"What?" she asked incredulously.
He leaned forward and rested his hands on the table. "I said... prove it."
"Do you really want me to blow up you and your house?" Beatrice started backing away from the cauldron and towards the stairs.
"I doubt that your incompetence could reach anywhere near Longbottom level."
"Who?"
"Never mind." He plunked a pewter cauldron down on the stand in front of her. He grabbed a fifth year text from the ones stacked in the corner and flipped it over to a seemingly random page. With a flourish his placed it to her right and stood back. "Page two hundred and ninety-eight. You have fifty minutes."
With that proclamation, he stood back, crossed his arms, and assumed his classroom demeanour. Beatrice gulped as she leaned over the book in front of her. "A Drowsiness Draught?" Of all the stupid, useless—why did she have to do this?
She glanced over at her husband glowering in the front of the room, and suddenly understood why he had such a fearsome reputation.
She started to brew.
Fifty minutes, three burnt fingers, and two plasters later, the liquid in her cauldron has assumed a shimmery blue hue. She peered at the page in front of her and back at her cauldron. She supposed one could call it cornflower blue.
"Passable."
Beatrice jumped when Severus had suddenly appeared behind her. He waved her off dismissively and she stood aside. Picking up the glass stirring rod, he dipped it in the cauldron and observed the liquid dripping from the tip. He sniffed at the fumes and checked the viscosity of the brew.
"Well?" Beatrice asked nervously.
"You won't kill anybody."
"That's it?" She couldn't believe that was the end of it. She had worked hard on that potion; at least a 'good job' would have been appreciated.
He raised an eyebrow. "Did you want a parade in your honour? You brewed a potion; it's not like you found the thirteenth use for dragon's blood."
Her shoulders slumped. "Oh. Thank you, I guess."
She turned to pick up her tools, and was surprised when she was waved off yet again. "Go inside," he dismissed her. "I'll clean up here."
"Really?"
"Unless you want me to change my mind..."
She gave a smile and touched his shoulder as she went past. She supposed that cleaning up was his way of thanking her. "Thank you for showing me all of this. I appreciate it."
"Humbug."
As she left the cellar, he could help but give a small smile of his own.
Today was an unusual day. Severus had found himself persuaded, nay, badgered, into spending time in his meagre back yard. Beatrice had persuaded him into building some flower beds for her to tend and he had ungraciously obliged, on the sole condition that once built, he never had to touch or tend said gardens ever again. He was perfectly content with his herb garden and didn't understand why the lack of flowers was so devastating to her female psyche.
He had long ago finished building the raised beds out of wood, concrete, and magic, and was seated in a rusty lawn chair as he watched her work. They had gone into town earlier that day to purchase the potting soil and plants that she was so lovingly arranging in the beds. Severus felt his eye twitching at the thought of caring for such useless plants.
Beatrice was bent over the flower beds patting the petunias into place, completely heedless of his heated glare to her backside. How dare she, he thought. How dare she stand there with her pert little posterior so disgustingly at eye level. He had no desire to see how shapely the silhouette of her legs were with the sunlight behind her, or how well the span of her hips contrasted with her sleek waist...it was enough to drive any wizard mad with lus–with rage. Yes, rage.
Severus cleared his throat and pulled at his collar. Those hips were now swaying back and forth to a hummed melody that only Beatrice could hear; he found the sight hypnotizing. He imagined what her legs looked like underneath that infuriatingly opaque skirt of hers. He knew she wore silk stockings, he remembered from the night she had sprained her ankle. He wanted to run his hands up to the suspenders he knew would bisect that creamy derriere of hers. Perhaps he'd teach her a lesson regarding her insolent manner.
Oh yes, maybe he would snap those suspenders just enough to make her squirm before he would bend her over his lap. His fingers itched as he remembered the smooth skin of her leg. He imagined running his calloused hands over her bare skin and then spanking her until her pale skin blushed to put any rose to shame. He imagined how she would mewl and writhe against him and he delighted in the image. That would teach her to stand bent over like that.
Beatrice stood and stretched, her hands on the small of her back. The move thrust her breasts forward and drew Severus' eyes with them. Maybe after he had had his fill of her backside he would move to those undoubtedly delicious breasts of hers and–
"Severus?"
He stopped short when he realised said breasts were now directly in front of his face. He stuttered as he caught sight of the enormous erection taking over his lap. Horrified, he hunched forward, crossed his legs, and prayed to God that Beatrice hadn't noticed.
"What?" he barked, his gruff tone masking his embarrassment.
"I'm going inside for a bit, would you like me to bring you some lemonade?" she offered.
He grumbled something to the affirmative, and Beatrice turned to go inside. He held his breath as he waited for the door to shut. He exhaled with huff and collapsed in his seat. Beatrice would be the death of him.
"Bloody skrewts!" Severus banged open the front door and slammed it behind him, causing the sound echoed all the way upstairs. Beatrice could hear the commotion from where she was up in the bedroom, and started down the stairs.
"I beg your pardon?" she called, and nearly ran into her husband as he stomped his way up the stairs, forcing her against the wall as he shoved his way past. She quickly followed him and stopped when her foot suddenly found itself in a pile of wet mush.
"Oh, how horrid! Severus, what is this?" she asked, lifting up her skirts to see what she had stepped in. It was a pile of rancid, red slime, sticky and stringy to the touch. She pulled her wand out and scourgified the mess. She followed Severus into the bedroom he had disappeared in and demanded an answer.
"That oaf, Hagrid, is what happened," he replied as he shucked off his robes. They gave a wet plop has they landed in a sodden pile of wool and slime. "Hagrid and his damned excuse for pets."
"Pets? What kind of animal would create this type of mess...and why are you tracking it through my clean house? You know I've spent weeks cleaning it up from the cesspool you gave me to start with."
He ignored her first question. Severus watched her stand there with her hands on her hips and rolled his eyes has he unbuttoned his sleeve cuffs. "Yes, and thank you very much for cleaning my 'cesspool', your highness. And as for why... the fireproofing finish on these robes is very expensive and I didn't want to ruin it with a scourgify."
"Really?" She crossed her arms and leaned against the bed. "What do expect me to do that a scourgify cannot?"
He finally got all of the buttons done, and irritably pulled his shirttail free from the waist of his trousers. "It's not what I expect you to do, it's what that blasted elf of yours is for. Dippy!"
Dippy popped into the room with a crack. "Yes, Master Snape, sir. What can Dippy do?"
Severus gestured to the pile of robes at his feet. "When I'm done changing, I want you to take my clothes and launder them, understood?"
The elf bobbed her head and her ears flapped about. "Yes, master, sir. Dippy will come back when master is ready." Dippy popped out of the room and Severus began to tackle to row of buttons down the front of his shirt.
The first sight of Severus' bare chest seemed to break Beatrice out of the daze she was in. "What are you doing?" she asked.
He gave her a look of exasperation. "Changing, woman. What does it look like?"
She gulped as the last buttons were undone, revealing his pale, alabaster skin, and the sparse black hair that dusted his chest and formed a trail down his firm belly, and she was sure continued down to his...well, down past his waist; she couldn't bring herself to think of anything more.
Severus noticed how ill at ease she was, and couldn't pass up the change to sneer. "You're acting like you've never seen a naked man before."
"N...n...naked?" He enjoyed the fervent blush that coloured her face. "You know that I haven't."
Beatrice was fighting hard to hide her embarrassment, and wasn't sure if she should turn away, if not for propriety, then for the sake of her own sanity.
"Is that so?" he said, feigning a nonchalant tone. He had to admit that he enjoyed her blushes. "Well, don't get your hopes up, I'm only changing my shirt."
Sometimes, she just wished the earth could swallow her whole.
Her nerves were frazzled. This was the tenth time this week that Severus had announced his return with a slammed door, and she didn't think that she would last one more episode without going absolutely spare.
Surely he didn't act this way in his classroom did he? She could only imagine how terrified all of the students would be if that were the case. Beatrice had a plan, and all it needed was a well placed sticking charm and an old bucket.
SLAM!
Splash...
"WITCH!"
Beatrice smiled around her cup of tea. There was nothing like the sounds of domestic bliss.
