AN: I'm back! Hopefully the posting schedule will get a little more regular, though we shall see...
I apologize if there are more typos than usual. My internet is acting up so I'm lucky to get anything posted.
Thank you for all the support! It is very deeply appreciated!
As with all of Severus' best laid plans, the biggest complication was a woman. Granted, most of his plans were complicated by a a woman who despised him. He couldn't quite blame them. There were good reasons for a woman to despise him, ones even he couldn't deny. All he had to do was assuage a woman who despised him and his plan could continue as planned. That wasn't too difficult, as evidenced by his ability to survive Bellatrix Lestrange.
This woman was different. She did not despise in the slightest. Instead, she leaned forward, enraptured by his monosyllabic answers and deepening scowl. A few times she fanned herself, giving him a whiff of perfume. While he didn't mind powdery lavender aromas, there was such a thing as too much of a good thing. It must cost a fortune to go through perfume this quickly, a fortune he had no intention of watching her spend.
"Tell me, what kind of chemistry do you do?" Even from behind her sunglasses he could tell she was batting her eyes.
"I do various kinds," he shifted. Merlin he hated when muggles asked about his profession. Explaining that he brewed potions was off the table, so he had to reach for the closest muggle science, or at least one people didn't know enough about to tell he was lying. That didn't stop some muggles though. The first few times he'd said he was a chemist, he was pushed as to what kind of chemistry he did. When did muggles have time to think of so many kinds of chemistry? He had no idea what the difference between organic and analytic chemistry was, though he heard they both drove undergraduates to tears.
That fact was almost enough to make him want to explore the subjects further. It had been a few years since he'd put a dunderhead in their place. The last thing he wanted was to lose his touch. At some point he'd need to buy a few chemistry books, just to intimidate women like Margaret who enjoyed interfering with his plans.
"Which is your speciality?" She asked.
He shrugged. "Medicine, I guess."
"What do you mean you guess? Shouldn't you know what kind of chemistry you work in?"
"Our company creates chemicals for many different purposes, but the main chemicals are used for medicine."
"Does this mean you create some of the chemicals I use?"
He raised an eyebrow.
"I work as a nurse in a hospital in the town where Muriel and I grew up," she explained. "It would be so amazing to think of someone I know creating the medicine I use every day!"
"I may in fact create those medications," he answered, highly doubting that she headache curing potions or Pepperup Potion on a daily basis with muggle patients. Still, it was doubtful this woman could keep quiet about meeting a famous chemist, much less a famous wizard. Best to be vague and hope she could take a hint.
She grinned. "Which company do you work for?"
"Sadly, my contract does not allow me to disclose that."
"In other words, you work for the government."
"Uh, perhaps," he drawled. If he needed to show government documents he would be doomed. The last thing he needed was questions as to why a British man had been working for the Australian government for the last five years.
"What's your top secret project?" She folded her hands. "I promise, I can keep a secret."
"If I told you my secret project," he lowered his voice, "I'd have to kill you to ensure your silence."
"Ooh! You're like a spy then," she giggled.
He swallowed, hoping he had not just underestimated this woman's perceptiveness. The last thing he needed was for her to begin drilling him on spy stories, especially if she realized they were nothing like James Bond.
"Margaret! There you are."
Margaret frowned as Muriel put a hand on her shoulder.
"Would you like to help me refill the soft drink cooler?" Muriel squeezed her shoulder.
"I thought it was full."
"It's not anymore," Muriel's expression warned her not to argue.
"Fine," Margaret groaned before turning to Severus. "Stay right there. I'll be right back. We can continue our invigorating conversation later."
Severus huffed as she left. Once she was out of eyesight, he began scanning the backyard for Hermione. So far, he'd done little to further his goals of showing Hermione a good time while making Ron jealous. That would need to change if he wanted any leftovers from this barbecue, or any food from The Three Broomsticks.
"What the hell are you doing?"
Severus turned around, where a scowling Hermione sat at the table. So much for saving Margaret's seat, not that he was complaining.
"You're supposed to be making my family appreciate Ron," she hissed. "Not flirting with my mother's best friend."
"Well excuse me for showing a modicum of politeness to the other guests," he whispered.
"Politeness?" She huffed. "You wouldn't know the meaning of that word if it kicked you in the head."
"What was I supposed to do, tell your mum's dear friend, 'I would love to converse with you, but your best friend's daughter has some convoluted plan to make her increasingly drunk boyfriend jealous. I must tend to that before you continue flirting with me.'"
Hermione folded her arms over her chest. "He's not drunk."
"How many beers has he had?" Severus asked.
"That," her scowl deepened. "That's irrelevant. You're just changing the subject because you aren't holding up your end of the bargain."
"In other words, you've lost track of how many drinks he's had."
"No, I just don't pay attention. I trust him to control his drinking."
"Like he did last Christmas?"
"It isn't his fault the egg nog was spiked so he thought it was safe to have more than one."
"You told me he had four glasses."
"Okay fine, that was bad, but this is different. I don't need need to baby him to help him drink responsibly."
Severus raised an eyebrow.
"Fine, I don't baby him all the time to help him drink responsibly," she exhaled.
He hummed as a breeze rustled through the two trees providing shade for their side of the yard.
"Look, just stick to what I told you and we'll be fine," she continued.
"You two look happy together," Wilford flashed them a smile.
"Indeed we are thrilled to be in each other's presence," Severus gave him the sweetest expression possible.
Hermione attempted to give him the most pleasant expression she could.
"You seem to be putting a smile on my daughter's face," Wilford nodded in Hermione's direction.
"I am attempting to do just that," he answered, "Which is why I wanted to tell Hermione that her eyes look like the most delicious caramel imaginable."
"They do?" Her eyes grew.
"Indeed they do," Severus didn't have much in the way of an attractive smile, but he knew how to curl his lips up just enough to appear approachable.
"I'm just glad you notice my daughter's eye color," Wilford answered. "Ron thinks her eyes are green."
"No he doesn't," Hermione argued. "He just got me mixed up with Harry that one night."
"How drunk does one have to be to confuse Hermione and Harry?" Severus asked.
"You'd be surprised at how drunk Ron can become," the humor evaporated from Wilford's expression.
Severus turned to Hermione, who's expression matched his after one of his cauldrons exploded. If he wanted to get this right, he'd need to tread carefully.
"As I was telling your daughter," he cleared his throat. "Her eyes look like delectable caramel."
"Thank you," she made a feeble attempt to smile.
"Still, I am allergic to caramel, so that is to as much of a compliment as I'm sure she would like to receive."
"You're allergic to caramel?" Hermione tilted her head, her irritation evaporated.
"Indeed I am," he argued.
Wilford opened his mouth.
"How can you be allergic to caramel? It's just sugar," Hermione asked.
"I'm allergic to sugar."
"Since when?"
"Since I was a child," he answered. "I'm allergic to anything sweet. Since sugar is sweet, I have a severe allergy to it."
"Then why do you have a two kilogram jar of bubblegum jellybeans in your kitchen?" She asked.
"Self-torture."
"Really? Because you had a pretty big smile on your face when you were eating them last weekend."
"I've learned to smile through my pain."
"Either that, or you refuse to acknowledge that you are a human and are in fact capable of joy."
From the corner of Severus' eye, he saw Wilford give him a wink. Then, he wandered off.
"You aren't allergic to sweet things, you aren't allergic to sugar, and you aren't allergic to caramel," she answered. "You just like being difficult."
"That is accurate," he leaned back. "Though I do find your eyes quite lovely."
"You do?" There was a slight blush in her cheeks.
"They are adequate anyway."
"Adequate?"
He smirked
"I have adequate eyes?" The blush was gone.
"No, they are lovely," he gave her a small grin. "Still, if I was too overt, you would think it was all an act."
Hermione glanced around the yard.
"Don't worry, your dad has left," he answered. "I wouldn't have said anything to destroy your plan in front of him."
"So you meant that my eyes are lovely?"
He shrugged. "Did you want me to mean that?"
"I mean," she swallowed. "I wouldn't mind feeling beautiful for once."
"You should feel beautiful because you are beautiful."
"Do you actually mean that?"
"I truly mean that," he answered in a soft voice. "Your eyes are beautiful. Everything about you is beautiful."
There was a gleam in her eyes which was more intoxicating than any potion. It was an expression he wouldn't mind seeing every day when he woke up in the morning, and just before falling asleep at night.
"Oy, 'Mione!"
He frowned as Ron approached.
"Some of your cousins are playing basketball," he pointed behind him, where a group of five teenagers and four young adults had assembled around a basketball pole. "Do you want to join us?"
"Are you certain you should be playing basketball after consuming so much alcohol?" Severus glanced at the can of XXXX in his hand.
"Oh I'll be fine," Ron took another gulp of his drink. "This is only my third drink."
"The last time you played basketball after drinking two beers, you ran into the pole," she warned.
"That's only because Derek pulled away from me too fast," Ron scowled. "I never would've hit the pole if he'd just stayed still and let me steal the ball."
"I thought the whole point of basketball was to move around and not let someone steal the ball from you," Severus interjected.
"It is, but," Ron argued. "But not the way Derek does. He's a cheater because he moves too fast."
"I see," Severus drawled.
"Are you going to play with us, or are you too pussywhipped to play without your girlfriend's permission?" One of the teenagers shouted from the driveway.
Three of the men beside him burst out laughing while two women glared at them.
"I'm coming." Ron slammed his drink onto the table before grumbling, "I freaking hate Kevin."
"So do I," Hermione growled as Ron raced away.
"Is Kevin a distant cousin?" Severus asked.
"No, he's the son of my parents' next door neighbor," Hermione slouched. "He always gets invited to these things because his parents are good friends of my parents. Mum and Dad are too polite to tell them o leave Kevin at home. Still, he's living proof that teenagers are dunderheads."
"And here I thought you believed I was too hard on you during your tenure at Hogwarts."
"You were," she replied. "Though Kevin has given me a modicum of sympathy for everything you had to deal with."
"Careful Hermione," He smirked. "If people found you empathizing with me they may expect you to begin wearing black and using the word 'dunderhead.'"
"That would be terrible," she grinned. "I do like wearing green every once in awhile, and there are far more creative insults than dunderhead."
"Like what?"
"Bludger is fun to say."
"That it is."
"See, I couldn't be you because I would miss out on learning insults because dunderhead would be too intwined with my identity."
"True, and I wouldn't want you to change your wardrobe," he answered. "You are quite stunning in green."
"Stunning?" She blushed.
"Please forgive the slip. The heat is getting to me."
"Then take off your coat or slip into something more temperature appropriate."
"If I ever wore anything other than black robes you would know I was dying of heat stroke, or having some kind of psychiatric episode."
"True."
They sat in silence, absorbed by the laughter and the conversations of the other partygoers.
"It wasn't right for Ron to let them speak to you that way," Severus began.
"No," she sighed. "I don't think he cares one whit about how I feel about it though."
"Indeed he does not."
"He," she glanced over at Ron. "He didn't seem jealous of you, did he?"
"Not in the slightest."
She put her head into her hands.
"Then again, it's difficult to be jealous of someone with my appearance," Severus noted. "If he felt anything for you, it was probably pity that you were spending the afternoon with me."
"Yes, he pitied me so much he couldn't even be bothered to say anything," she jostled the table, sending his beer can flying into the yard. The contents poured into the grass, bubbling up like an acidic spring.
"That will teach him to ignore you," Severus answered.
"Indeed," Hermione put her head on the table.
"Excuse me."
Severus suppressed a groan. Margaret had returned, and was tapping her foot with her hands crossed over her chest.
"I need to freshen up," Hermione grumbled.
"There is no need to leave. You may stay and chat with us," Severus replied.
"No, I need to leave. Besides," Hermione's eyes fell on an older man standing beside her father near the grill. "Uncle Bob is here. I should say hi to him."
"Yes, you should," Margaret tapped her foot.
"Perhaps we can chat later," Hermione answered.
"I'd love that," Severus replied.
"I wouldn't mind a chat with you either," Margaret cut in. "We do have much to talk about, Hermione, like where you finally found a decent man worth bringing here."
"I thought you didn't like Ron."
"I don't. Nobody here does, but Severus," she glanced at him and grinned, "now you finally found a good one. It's about time you brought somebody worthwhile to one of these things. We were beginning to think you had terrible taste in men. This one though, well, he's got everything a woman could possibly want and more."
Hermione shook her head before leaving the table. Then, Margaret took a seat across from Severus.
"Now, where were we?" Margaret asked.
"I believe you were telling me about your nursing career."
"Oh right! That!"
Margaret began discussing her career in the most animated voice possible, but she could not capture Severus' interest. Instead, his mind to wandered to Hermione's predicament, and if there was any way to make the afternoon salvageable for her.