Contempt

"Should I put this anywhere in particular?" Severus asked Miles as he stepped through the door, a bottle of butterbeer in hand.

"I think next to the sink," Miles answered. "Cokey'll be here in a bit."

"Does he know?"

"About... ah yeah, I told him yesterday before Marley and I came home from work." Miles looked up the staircase and called out, "Snarky?"

Pop. "Miles Glenn calls for Snarky, sir?"

"We're almost ready; do you want anything in particular?"

"... 'want'?" Snarky asked as his face twisted with displeasure.

Miles sighed through his nose and said, "Right, I won't give you a choice. Cheese toastie with sriracha mayo."

Snarky was still for a moment before nodding. "A good choice, sir."

"Mayo?" Severus asked as he sorted through the ingredients on the kitchen counter. There were slices of bread, along with a block of cheddar cheese, a grater, and a bowl of what appeared to be freshly made mayonnaise, only with a salmon color from what Severus assumed was the added sriracha pepper sauce.

"Homemade's healthier than butter," Miles explained. "Marley wants us to watch our weight, for some reason. You want one, or are you still having the soup?"

"I think the soup, still."

Miles nodded and grabbed the TV remote to turn on the box at the end of the room. "There's some sort of international special on today."

"Are they actually cooking abroad?" Severus asked.

"Nah, it's just a theme. I know Cokey wanted to change the menu up, so I thought he'd like it." There was a knock at the door. "Speak of the devil..."

Miles hurried to the front door and opened it, and Severus heard the voice of the geriatric man. "How are ya, mate?" Cokey asked in his usual high, shaky voice.

"Doing good; I was just about to make some sandwiches."

"What are you having?" Cokey asked as the two Glenns stepped into the sitting room. Cokey looked down at Snarky with wide eyes and staggered back slightly. "Oh shit," he said briefly. He turned to Miles and said, "You weren't joking, then."

"Not particularly," Miles grinned.

Cokey recovered and let out a small laugh as he turned to Severus. "How are ya, Snape?"

"I'm well," Severus said, extending his hand. He was confused as to why Miles's eyes widened at the gesture, but upon making contact with Cokey's hand, he soon understood why. The old man's grip, which Severus could tell was barely a fraction of its full strength, was a steel vice (one that could rip a Devil's Snare in two), and it took too much Occlumency to conceal the pain in his hand.

"Good grip," Cokey shakily said as he released Severus from his hold. He turned back to Miles and asked, "So, sandwiches?"

"Cheese toasties."

"Butter or mayo?"

"... she told you, didn't she?"

"She did," Cokey replied happily. "I'll have mayo without the sriracha."

"Got it." Miles took last night's soup out of the fridge and got to work with grating the cheddar for the toasties.

Cokey hobbled to the couch and asked, "Can I sit on this end? I can't see out of my other eye."

"Of course," Severus said.

"So, the family's out seeing a movie, then?"

"'The War of the Worlds'," Miles answered as he heated the frying pan.

"How come you two didn't go?"

"Tom Cruise," Severus and Miles answered in unison.

Cokey mumbled something to himself and nodded. "Yeah, he's a weird one."

"What channel's the programme on?" Severus asked Miles as he flicked through the channels.

"'UKTV Food'. It didn't take long for Severus to hear a sizzling sound on the pan, and the smell of cheese and something spicy (probably the sriracha) filled the air. "Should I crack open a window?"

"Snarky will do it." Snarky snapped his fingers, and one of the windows opened slightly.

"... God almighty, you really are magical," Cokey exclaimed.

Miles finished heating the soup around the time the toasties were ready, and he plated and served everything on the coffee table before the four of them. They all watched as the programme started, indicating that there would be a focus on Italian cuisine...

"What the fuck is this?" Miles asked as he watched the chef pour olive oil into the pasta water. "What the fuck are you doing, you yamp?!"

Severus watched as Cokey took a long sip of the vodka coke Miles made for him after the meatball recipe, and based on what they'd all witnessed, he couldn't blame him. "I don't understand; is she putting it in so that the pasta doesn't stick?"

"It won't stick if you're competent," Miles answered bitterly, his disgust-filled eyes locked on the screen. "It's idiots like these who ruin perfectly good pasta water."

"My wife only needed salt," Cokey added, "and when you've got an Italian wife, you'd better be damn sure you don't abuse olive oil."

"But you would still use olive oil after the pasta's cooked, right?"

"Right before you serve," Miles said. "Depends on the pasta being served."

Snarky took a sip of the butterbeer Severus had brought, the house-elf tipsy after the first few. "How many recipes are left?"

"GODDAMN YOU!" Miles roared at the TV as the chef, a man this time, added cream to the carbonara sauce. "IT'S PEPPER, EGG AND FUCKING CHEESE, YOU CUNT!"

"Don't get a cob on, mate," Cokey said, pulling Miles back down onto the couch as he handed him his vodka coke. "Here, lad; drink some of this."

Miles took the glass with shaky hands, shakier than Cokey had been before, and drained half of the glass. He soon relaxed, but his eyes, despite having lost their wideness, were just as angry.

Severus couldn't say he didn't understand the vitriol; adding cream to a perfectly good recipe was something he could never think of doing.

"How about I fix us some more?" Cokey asked.

Miles nodded as the old man got up and mixed two glasses of vodka coke. "What the hell even is this?!" he exclaimed, gesturing to the TV. "Why can't they just do it the way the Italians do it?! It's not complex!"

"They don't understand temperature regulation," Severus explained as he bitterly sipped his firewhiskey. "Any chef worth their salt knows how to melt cheese properly without it getting stringy."

"Butter, cream, bacon fat- fuckers couldn't even get proper guanciale. As if chefs can't get pig's cheek in bloody England, of all places!"

"Snarky knows of many butcheries where pig's cheek is good," Snarky slurred. "Very... cheeky."

"... I think you're drunk," Severus commented.

"Good," Snarky replied. "If Snarky was sober, he would commit suicide."

The four stared with utter dismay as the next chef grated the cheese over the lasagna sheet and put it in the oven.

"... what the fuck," Miles muttered. "She's gonna burn the cheese and the pasta, now!"

Severus wordlessly took a bigger sip of his firewhiskey.

"I think I know where that is," Cokey commented, pointing at the restaurant the next chef was visiting. "That's in Birmingham!"

"... oh God, no," Miles said tiredly, his nose curled.

"I think Lily and I went there for our anniversary," Severus said, having sobered up from before. "The food was good."

"I'm never going back to that bloody restaurant ever again!" Severus snarled as he watched a chef adorn the top of a freshly-made pizza with pineapple slices.

"FUCKERS!" Cokey shouted.

"Easy," Miles said with concern. "At this rate, your good eye'll pop out! I'll get some aspirin and water."

Cokey nodded as Miles stood and went into the kitchen, just as the programme ended. "Oh, it's over, good."

As Miles returned with the water and aspirin, the credits quickly rolled, only for the next programme, one on Chinese food, to start.

Severus shared a look with the other three, only for all four of them to nod and change the channel.