#4 ~ The \"Up Against the Wall\" Wars

Disclaimer: All characters belong to JKR. All situations are mine.
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Chapter 27 ~ Brunch at Madame Puddifoot’s

After making love a final time, Severus and Hermione rose and prepared for the day. They showered together in an almost ritualistic way, washing each other tenderly, and carefully, as if preparing their bodies for burial.

When they exited the shower, Hermione called Severus to the closet and asked him what he would like her to wear. Severus flipped through the few items, took the white sundress off its hanger, and handed it to her, his dark eyes soft. She smiled up at him, then donned the dress.

“You’re partial to this,” she said softly.

“Yes.”

Hermione tied her knife to her thigh securely, then checked all her deterrents to make sure they were disillusioned and functioning properly, except for the ear charm. She tied up the loveseat instead of Severus this time.

Severus donned his robes, then went to his black bag, and removed his short sword sheath. He half extracted the blade and muttered some words over it before reinserting it, his dark eyes seeming to glow with a cold fury. Hermione knew he was invoking the beserker, which was why he never cleaned the sword of his enemy’s blood, lest he leave it thirsty. Hermione shuddered at the ferocity that flickered across her lover’s face as he handled the weapon. When he drew that sword, wizards would surely die. He wouldn’t cross to the dark shore alone. Severus slipped the sword under his robes and turned to Hermione.

He took her by the hand and walked her to the loveseat, sitting her down on it. He then walked to the cooler and extracted the two vials of black liquid. He returned, sat down next to the witch, and took a deep breath. He held up a vial.

“Hermione, this potion is called, the Draught of Eternal Night…” he said.

“A poison,” she breathed, “mostly used for euthanasia, to painlessly end the suffering of the terminally ill,” she supplied, the vials reflected in her amber eyes.

“Yes,” Severus said gently, “and in this case, it is intended to be used to prevent suffering. It is invocable, Hermione. I brewed it as a last way out for us, should we fall into the deatheaters’ hands. It would be the better way to meet death.”

“How does it work?” Hermione asked, gently taking a vial from Severus and holding it up, studying the contents. It was so black, no light showed through.

“You swallow it, and if you find yourself in the position of needing a final escape, you invoke it by saying “Thanatos,” he said, “if not invoked within twelve hours, it is rendered harmless.”

“Thanatos,” Hermione repeated, staring at the vial, “The given name of the specter called Death.”

“Yes,” Severus agreed.

Hermione looked at the vial for a moment, then uncorked it, put it to her lips and drank until every drop was swallowed. She made a face.

“Tastes like black licorice,” she said. She hated black licorice.

“I prefer to think it tastes like Sambuka,” stated Severus, downing his own vial. He took the empty vials to the small kitchen sink and rinsed them out thoroughly, then dropped them into the trash. He turned to her. His face contorted as if he just smelled something horrible.

“All right. To Madam Puttifoot’s shop for brunch, I believe,” he said in an even voice. His jaw was clenched, and a tic developed.

Hermione stifled a laugh. “This is going to be some brunch,” she thought as she took his arm.

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Hermione almost had to shove Severus through the door of Madame Puddifoot’s by force. The Potions Master stalled when the first whiff of fresh-cut roses hit his nostrils. Every table had a vase of them as a centerpiece. Pink and white. He hated roses with a passion.

“Get in,” Hermione said through gritted teeth, surreptiously applying her sharp shoulder to his spine. Severus swept in suddenly, almost causing Hermione to lose her balance and fall. Scowling he approached one of the the pink tableclothed round tables and pulled out a stool for her, rather ungraciously, before plopping down on his own stool, promptly burying his face in the pink and white menu booklet.

He hunched over the table uncomfortably, the stool not made for his long frame. He was scowling so hard, it looked as if he had only one furled eyebrow.

“Severus!” Hermione hissed. He looked over the top of the menu. The vase of roses was between them. He unceremoniously scooped the vase up and deposited the offending flowers on the table behind them.

“What?” he hissed back.

“Be romantic. Hold my hand,” she said, stretching her arm across the table.

“Let me order first,” he said grumpily as a couple of Hogwarts students walked in, smooching. He longed to take points from them.

“Fine,” said Hermione sharply, withdrawing her hand. She was aggravated already.

Severus’ eyes scanned the list of revolting named food items. He finally settled on pancakes and sausage with orange juice. Hermione wanted only a sweet roll and tea.

Madam Puddifoot, a very stout and pleasant looking woman, with her hair drawn up in a shiny black bun, squeezed her way through the tables until she reached the couple.

“Good morning, she smiled at both of them, “welcome to Madame Puddifoot’s Tea Shop. I am Madame Puddifoot,” she paused allowing them to take that in, then continued, “and I am glad to have your patronage today. Now, what can I get you?”

Severus placed their order. Madam Puddifoot looked at him with a small frown, “No tea for you, sir? We serve excellent tea here. The very best!”

“Severus looked at her, his brows knitting together.

“No. No tea. I prefer orange juice,” he said pointedly.

Madam Puddifoot turned and trundled away without another word, obviously miffed that someone would enter her shop and not drink her famous tea. People fell in love over her tea.

The ordering over, Hermione extended her hand again, and this time Severus took it, noting how cool it was. He rubbed her hand gently.

“You’re cold,” he said, concerned.

“Yeah, I know. It’s fear I think. I’ll be all right,” she said, not meeting his eyes.

“A healthy fear will save your life,” Severus said, patting her hand, and adding, “right now, the only fear registering with me is that someone will see me in this gods forsaken shop.”

As if on cue, a flash bulb went off. Severus was out of his seat in a moment, collaring a very frightened Colin Creevey, whose camera dangled dangerously in his right hand.

“What do you think you are doing?” Severus roared at him, his face inches from the former student. All the patrons in the shop stopped smooching and watched the two men.

“Um, I’m sorry sir. Just trying to get a photo for the Prophet. You are a celebrity sir, what you do is news. The public wants to know.”

Severus pulled his wand, and with a flick, fried Collin’s camera.

“Hey!” Collins cried, “You can’t do that!”

“I’ll do that and worse, Mr. Creevey, if I see you near me at any time today. I have a right to my privacy, and if that means turning you into a spotted newt to insure it, then so be it. Good day, Mr. Creevey. You’ve been warned.”

Severus released the young man roughly, and returned to his stool, scowling. Collins gathered up his broken camera and the shreds of his dignity and left the shop, glancing over his shoulder at the couple warily. He should have stuck to tracking Potter this morning. At least he never threatened to transform him into a newt. But a picture of the couple together on a romantic outing would bring him quite a few galleons. No one had yet caught them on film together. He decided to apparate back to his flat, get another camera, and get a photo of them. He’d follow them until the opportunity presented itself. He hurried away, hoping to return before they left the shop.

Around them, patrons returned to their tea, whispering and glancing in the direction of the scowling, older wizard and young witch. Severus’ took Hermione’s hand again. It was warmer this time. He looked at her and saw why. She was holding her sides and trying to contain what seemed to be hysterical laughter. Her shoulders shook, and her amber eyes were filled with mirth.

“You are so wicked!” she gasped, smiling at him and shaking her head.

“Protecting our privacy hardly seems a wicked act,” he responded, but there was a slight twinkle in his dark eyes. “Besides, Colin Creevey always irked me. He was the head of the Potter fan club. Always taking his photo and begging for autographs, like the boy needed his head to grow any bigger,” Severus snorted.

“Now Severus, you know Harry hated attention,” Hermione said, a little coldly.

Severus harrumphed and said nothing. Madam Puddifoot arrived with their food, and an extra cup of tea which she sat before Severus.

“On the house,” she said, turning away. She was persistent if not anything else.

Severus looked down at his food. Pink pancakes with heart shaped pats of butter, and cherub shaped sausages. Even the orange juice was spelled pink. Good gods. But he was hungry, so he mashed the pats of butter into an unrecognizable smear, and cut up the cherub sausages into pieces. He applied a liberal amount of syrup and went to work. At least the food didn’t taste pink.

Hermione chewed her sweet roll thoughtfully. Then drank a bit of tea. Suddenly, she was leaning across the table, her lips pouting.

“Give me a kiss, Severus, “ she breathed dreamily.

Severus looked up from his plate. “What?” he asked, still chewing.

“A kiss, I want a kiss from you,” she said, pursing her lips.

Severus swallowed. “A kiss? Hermione, you know I don’t go in for public displays of affection,” he said with a slight frown on his face. Hermione knew better than this.

“A kiss, Severus…one kiss,” she said again, still leaning over the table, her lips still pursed. Sighing, Severus gave her a quick peck to make her sit back down. The couple at the next table smiled at them. The Potions Master glared back. They blanched.

Severus wondered what got into her. He looked around the shop, most of the couple were smooching over the tables and their tea. Their tea. Hmm.

Severus picked up his free tea and sniffed it with his large, sensitive nose. He detected a scent that he was sure shouldn’t be there. A weak love potion. The secret of Madam Puddifoot’s success. He pulled Hermione’s tea away from her.

“Why’d you do that,” Hermione asked, reaching for it again.

“Because it’s spelled. A weak love potion to make the patrons amorous, and order more tea no doubt.”

Hermione covered her mouth, “but that’s illegal.”

Severus paused, “Depends on if she used an actual potion or merely steeped the tea with the ingredients that go into a love potion. She’s been in business a long time. I suspect the latter. If its so, she’s breaking no law. She can use any blend of spices she wishes as long as the effects are mild and can’t be proven to be done on purpose.”

Hermione glared at the witch, “She should be ashamed of herself. I’m going to let people know about this.”

Severus smirked, “It will probably only increase business. Students bringing other students here hoping for help to win their reluctant hearts.”

Hermione fell silent, knowing he was right. She finished her food, but didn’t drink any more tea. She didn’t insist on Severus being romantic any more either. But he still took her hand.

Outside the shop, across the street, Colin Creevey and his replacement camera waited. He knew he could get a great shot of them if he were patient. He’d follow them all day if he had to.

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A/N: ah Colin. You know not what you do… Thanks for reading and reviewing, We are drawing close to the attack now. Keep encouraging me, folks. It keeps me going. Thanks.