A New Beginning (DH -COMPLIANT)

Chapter 42 ~ Dinner at Julwyn’s

Rose was released on Friday, but Madame Peabody didn’t let her go until after seven, hoping it was late enough for the witch to actually get some rest. Rose was less than appreciative of her final meal of gruel, Hugo being barred from the infirmary because the medi-witch discovered a half-eaten roast beef sandwich that had worked its way from under the pillow while Rose was asleep, landing on the floor. Even though Rose didn’t dime him out, it wasn’t hard for the medi-witch to figure out where the sandwich came from.

Madam Peabody’s intentions were meant well, but Rose was greeted with a party when she returned to Gryffindor tower, her housemates having procured food and even Butterbeer in celebration of her return. She was welcomed back with cheers and heavy pats on the back, and she couldn’t help but be moved by everyone’s reaction.

When she returned to Gryffindor tower, she was given a parchment sent from her mother. It said she would be picking her up at ten tomorrow to go to Hogsmeade and pick out a dress for the dance. That was great. She was supposed to meet her mother at the head of the dungeon corridor. She’d be there with bells on.

Roland was particularly happy about the witch’s return, and though it took a while for him to get her alone, he eventually cornered the witch.

”Hi Rose,” he said solicitously as she sat in an armchair, “I’m glad you’re back. Damn Slytherins.”

”Hey Roland,” she responded half-heartedly as he took the chair next to her, his brown eyes focused on the witch intently.

Roland wasted no time moving in.

”Listen Rose, I want to take you to the Christmas dance,” he said, making it more of a declaration than a question.

Rose blinked at him a moment.

”Oh, thank you Roland, but . . . but I already have a date,” she informed him.

The young wizard’s eyebrows drew together blackly.

”Who asked you?” he demanded, wanting to know who had the balls to approach her. He thought he had made it clear to everyone that Rose was off-limits.

”Well, Rod Dormers is taking me,” she said softly.

Roland looked at her incredulously.

”A Slytherin?” he said angrily.

”It doesn’t matter that he’s in Slytherin, Roland. He’s really nice and hasn’t been to a dance yet. It’s the least I can do, considering he saved my life,” Rose said, hoping to defuse the angry young wizard.

“I would have saved you if I knew what was going on,” Roland said jealously. It didn’t matter to him that he had none of the skills to pull such a save off. He just didn’t want Rose thinking Rod was anything special.

“I know Roland,” Rose responded uncomfortably. She knew the wizard couldn’t have done a thing even if he did know what was happening.

Roland stared at her for a moment, knowing Rose agreed to go with Rod just because he saved her. So the fuck what? He was a nobody as far as Roland was concerned. He used to buffet the Slytherin around like he was nothing and the wizard never stood up to him. He was a coward. Roland bristled.

”Well, if Rod can’t take you, will you go with me?” he asked the witch.

Rose studied the wizard.

”I’m pretty sure we’re going to go together, Roland, but I guess if he backs out, I’ll go with you,” she responded.

”All right then,” he growled, standing up. “I’ll talk to you later.”

He stalked off. Hugo seemed to materialize beside his sister, scowling after the big wizard.

“Roland’s a real ass,” he said to his sister. He had heard their conversation. “Rod’s not going to back out. He likes you.”

Rose looked at her brother.

”I don’t know that he likes me like that, Hugo,” she said to him.

”He does,” Hugo replied, “I can see he does. He’s not going to back out.”

Rose looked a bit apprehensive.

”I don’t know, Hugo. Roland might confront him,” she said.

Hugo scowled.

“If he does, Rod will kick his ass,” he replied, his face screwed up, “He’s a strong wizard, sis.”

”Yeah, but he didn’t really ask me to the dance, Hugo. You did. It could be he’ll back down,” she said to her brother.

”I don’t think so, sis. He’s not a pussy,” Hugo replied.

Rose didn’t reply. Roland was quite imposing. It could be Rod wouldn’t be willing to face off with him. She couldn’t blame him really if that was the case. But she sort of hoped he would stand his ground if it came to that. He really was nice and she’d like to go to the dance with him.

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Rod had lingered around the Main Hall for quite a while that evening, waiting to see if Hugo or Rose showed. They didn’t, so he retired to his room. Probably the medi-witch let Rose out late or decided to let her go Saturday instead of Friday. Now he lay in the bed thinking about tomorrow morning. He was supposed to meet Professor Snape.

He still had no idea why the wizard wanted to see him, but was sure it was some important reason. The dour wizard didn’t seem like someone who would waste his time. Rod figured if he didn’t like the reason, he could just decline to go with him. He wasn’t required to after all.

He lay on his back in the four-poster, dressed only in his boxers, his arms folded behind his head, thinking about Rose and Hugo planning on teaching him how to dance. He was a bit apprehensive about it, but decided to try and give it his all since they were so determined to help him. He wanted Rose to have a good time after all.

After an hour or two, the wizard fell into a restless sleep, dreaming about stepping on Rose’s toes as he tried to follow her steps.

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Hermione finished dressing. She wore a long sleeved, cream colored woolen dress with a scooped neck. It was pretty cold out and the dress would keep her warm. She drew on a pair of stockings, then clasped a pretty gold necklace Hugo and Rose had given her a couple of Christmases ago around her neck. A small lioness dangled from it with glittering eyes. She swept up her hair and clipped it in place with a sparkly gold and cream colored clip, then slipped in a pair of gold earrings. She touched up her lips with a little lipstick and that was it.

Hermione looked at herself in the mirror. She looked nice though still more rounded than she would have liked, despite working out regularly. She was tempted to put on another slimming spell but didn’t. The Professor made it clear he didn’t find that necessary. She didn’t want the night to start out with a lecture.

She checked the clock, then picked up her winter traveling cloak, transfiguring it so it matched her dress, then put it on. She was ready to go. She walked into the living room and sat down, waiting for the Potions master to arrive.

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The Potions Master put on his black traveling cloak, hood down and studied himself in the mirror. His hair was well-brushed and rather silky looking. How long it would actually stay that way was questionable, but it looked nice for now. If he made an effort, he probably could develop a conditioner that would make his fine black locks appear less lank, but why bother. Lank was what it was.

He made a little sneer, curling his top lip and wrinkling his large nose slightly.

Perfect.

He smirked. That would get Hermione even more riled up during their meal this evening. With a billow of robes, he exited his bedroom, then his home, apparating to the worksite and letting himself in.

Hermione started at the knock on the door, smoothed her cloak then walked over and opened it. The Professor stood there, looking at her a bit critically.

”You seem to be your proper proportions tonight,” he said, “I was afraid that I might be construed as accompanying an anorexic to dinner tonight.”

Hermione scowled and walked past him, her nose in the air.

”Oh, the glamour wasn’t that bad last time, Professor,” Hermione said to him as he closed the door and followed her, smirking at her back.

He was glad she didn’t feel the need to glamour herself tonight. It showed she was becoming more comfortable with being herself around him. More progress. He caught up to Hermione and slipped his arm through hers.

”I am your escort,” he said as she looked up at him, “so stop skittering away.”

”I wasn’t skittering,” she snapped at him, still mad about the anorexic remark, “I was just walking.”

Snape looked down at her.

”You look quite presentable,” he remarked, his eyes drifting over the cream-colored cloak. “We make quite the contrast.”

“All you ever do is wear black and white,” Hermione said back to him. “It wouldn’t kill you to add some color to your wardrobe. At least your shirt.”

They stopped at the foyer to wait for the voice to identify them and let them out.

”It makes no sense to do that. My robes are always properly buttoned. Besides, what color shirt would you prefer to see me in than a crisp white? Pink? Or perhaps a lurid fluorescent green?” he asked her as they stepped out into the cold air.

For a moment Hermione was tempted to whip out her wand and turn his entire ensemble a glaring yellow-orange, but she fought the impulse.

”Maybe a light blue, or even cream,” she responded as Snape pulled up his hood.

Suddenly the wizard pulled her close to his lean body so she gasped.

”I wouldn’t want you to splinch. I would hate to spend half the night looking for the pieces,” he purred, disapparating with the witch.

They reappeared on a street corner. Street lamps flickered, the flames reflected in several closed shop windows. People walked past them, conversating in quiet tones. The street was made of cobblestone.

”This way,” the hooded Snape said, leading Hermione up the sidewalk, reading the numbers on the buildings they passed.

Hermione didn’t ask him why he was wearing his hood. It was obvious. Although the restaurant might afford them some protection from the public, approaching it was another story. He would be sure to draw unwanted attention. Hermione shuddered to think what the wizard’s reaction would be to people walking up to him and asking for autographs. His “hero” image would be short-lived. It was better he was hooded.

“Here it is. Julwyn’s,” Snape said, stopping in front of a small building with unassuming stone façade, a heavy, gleaming wooden door with lit sconces on either side of it. A simple wooden sign with the word “Julwyn’s” hung above it. Snape opened the door and escorted Hermione in.

They entered a foyer, where there was counter on one side and a clerk to take cloaks. On the other side was a podium behind which stood a smartly dressed wizard with slick black hair, a pencil mustache, and sharp dark eyes. A book rested on the top of the podium. Beautiful Muggle paintings graced the lobby walls. A light curtain separated this area from the dining area.

Snape and Hermione approached the counter, Snape drawing down his hood. If the clerk recognized him, she didn’t show it as she smiled and took his cloak, then Hermione’s. She gave them both a ticket. Snape took Hermione’s as well as his own, placing them in his robes pocket. Then they approached the podium. The wizard smiled at them.

”Welcome to Julwyn’s, Professor Snape. My name is Rudolph and I am the maitre’d. Your table is waiting and I hope you and your lovely companion enjoy your dining experience with us,” the wizard said with a bow. He moved from behind the podium.

”Follow me please,” he said to the couple.

The wizard strode through the curtain, Hermione and Snape following and passing through the main dining room. It seated about twenty-five patrons. Rich Persian carpets were in evidence. Damask table-clothes, hand-painted china dishes, crystal glasses and silverware rested on the tables as well as centerpieces in handmade ceramics or candles set in Murano glass.

Lovely murals covered the walls and the patrons spoke in muted tones as they enjoyed their meals. There were about fifteen diners present. Soft classical music lilted in the background. Rudolph led them into a semi-private dining area, where four other couples were enjoying a meal. He walked up to a table and pulled out a chair for Hermione to sit down, while Snape drew up his own chair.

”Your appetizer will be out shortly. Would you like to see the wine list?” Rudolph asked the wizard.

“It’s not necessary. I would like a Spanish Cava with the appetizer, Riesling with the entrée and a Port with dessert.” Snape said, then he looked at Hermione. “What would you like to drink with your meal, Hermione?”

Hermione was out of her element here.

”Um . . . I’ll try the wine that you’re having, and would like a glass of sparkling water with lemon,” she said, just in case she didn’t like the wine.

“Very good,” Rudolph said, “The appetizer will be out shortly. Again, enjoy your meal.”

The wizard strode off smartly.

Hermione looked at Snape appreciatively.

“You certainly seem to know your wines,” the witch said.

”It is a simple matter of knowing what goes with what. With the smoked trout salad, a wine that cleans the palate is in order. The braised duck will have a slightly sweet taste because of the currants, so a drier wine is in order, and a sweet wine should always accompany a sweet dessert, the main qualification that it actually be sweeter than the dessert itself to be fully enjoyed,” he said knowledgably.

“Ron drank Butterbeer with everything,” Hermione said with a wistful smile, “Not that we ever went anyplace as fancy as this. He probably would have ordered it here just the same, along with fish and chips.”

”Mr. Weasley was a true man of the earth,” Snape replied with a slight smirk. “There is something to be said for knowing what one appreciates.”

His dark eyes flicked over Hermione for a moment, then a waiter arrived with their appetizer and wine. The salad rested on top of an arrangement of endive and rocket, and consisted of chickpeas, goat cheese, onions and flaked, moist smoked trout, topped with grilled red pepper strips. It looked absolutely delicious. It was accompanied by a light honey-lime dressing. Neither Snape nor Hermione used the dressing, finding the salad delicious as is.

”Oh, this is so good,” Hermione said, sipping a bit of wine with her meal.

Snape looked over his plate at her.

”I’m glad you’re enjoying it,” he said to the witch, then returned to his food.

The couple finished their salads and their wine. A waiter came and cleared away their plates. The entrée would be out soon.

”We have to stop at Hogwarts tomorrow to pick up Rose,” Hermione said to the wizard, “She has to have her gown fitted.”

Snape nodded.

”I must pick up Mr. Dormers as well,” he said to the witch, whose eyes went wide.

”You’re taking him to Hogsmeade?” she asked him.

”Didn’t I just say that?” Snape snarked at her, “Of course. How am I to buy him proper dress robes if he isn’t present? Even the finest robes could hang off of him like rags if they aren’t tailored.”

Hermione scowled at his snarkiness and turned on a little of her own.

”Well, you two are going to have to go off on your own. He can’t see what Rose is going to be wearing,” she snapped at him.

Snape eyed her and snorted.

”I have never understood a witch’s belief that a wizard seeing her in an article of clothing beforetime will cause some kind of world cataclysm. It’s insane,” he said.

Hermione frowned at him. He was so . . . dense for such an intelligent man.

”It is not insane. We do that so when we make an entrance, you’ll be more appreciative,” she said to Snape, whose nose wrinkled.

”If a wizard is attracted to a witch, she could make an entrance in a burlap sack wearing corncobs for earrings and he’d still be appreciative,” he declared as the waiter brought their entrée.

”Oooh, you have no sense of romance at all!” she said to the wizard.

Snape’s face sobered.

”I’m doing my best to work on that shortcoming, Hermione,” he said softly, “It is an area in which I need much help. Perhaps . . . you will help me one day.”

Hermione blushed and looked down at her plate as the wizard continued to look at her.

”The duck looks delicious,” she said weakly, picking up her knife and fork.

Looking at Hermione with her face flushed and eyes shining, Snape was tempted to say the duck wasn’t the only thing at their table that looked delicious, but he didn’t.

”Enjoy it,” he said, cutting into his own.

They ate in silence for a few minutes. Snape had fully intended to whip out the article by now, but for some reason didn’t.

”Concerning Mr. Dormers,” he ventured.

Hermione looked up, interested.

”I wonder what his plans are after he leaves Hogwarts,” the wizard mused.

Hermione shook her head.

”I have no idea. I know he didn’t do that well grade-wise. He’ll probably have to get some low-level job. A shame really. If he had a leg up earlier, he most likely would have done much better in school,” she said.

Snape chewed his duck thoughtfully.

”He does have experience taking care of plants and grounds,” he said, “And I am expanding my fields this spring. Perhaps I should offer the boy a job.”

Hermione blinked at the wizard.

”A job? At Sparse Venues?” she asked him.

”No. A job at the local market. You are exasperating at times, witch,” he snapped. “It’s hard to believe there’s actually a brain in that pretty little head sometimes.”

Hermione was a bit taken aback when he told her she was pretty, but that didn’t stop her from reading him the riot act. Several patrons were looking at her as she ripped into the wizard for being so rude. At one point Snape feared she was going to hit him with her entrée.

“All right. All right. I’m sorry,” he hissed at her, “Now stop making a spectacle or yourself or acting surprised at what I say to you. Dunderheadedness always aggravates me. That hasn’t changed. Where else would the boy work?” he said to her.

Hermione glared at him.

”You still could hold your tongue, Professor. You don’t have to comment on everything,” she said in a calmer voice.

”I’m a sarcastic, acerbic bastard, Hermione. That hasn’t changed either and most likely never will,” he replied. “It is an integral part of who I am. Responding to perceived idiocy is like breathing, witch. Add to that I haven’t had much opportunity to do so in the past twenty years and you have a recipe for extreme derisiveness. Again, I’m sorry.”

Hermione looked at the wizard. It really was just the way he was. The witch sighed.
“Oh, just forget it, Professor,” she said, “But that would be wonderful if you gave Rod a job. He’s all alone in the world.”

”I will talk to him about it tomorrow,” the wizard said, finishing his food.

Hermione watched Snape through her lashes, again thinking what a wonderful man he really was. Even if he was a sarcastic acerbic bastard most of the time.

He wasn’t all of the time, and that’s what truly mattered.

They never did get around to debating the article, but talked about Rod a bit more and the Professor’s plans for the next planting season and how he intended to utilize Hermione’s work. By the end of the meal, Hermione was sated, full and a little bit sleepy from the wine.

”Oh, that was a wonderful meal, Professor. Thank you so much,” she said, smiling at him.

Snape was quite pleased with the meal himself. It had gone rather well, even the rough parts. Hermione had truly enjoyed herself with him and that was what he wanted.

”Thank you for accompanying me,” he said, settling the bill.

They retrieved their cloaks and exited into the night, Hermione feeling very tired and happy as they walked arm and arm to the apparition point.

”You seem quite tired,” Snape said to the witch, whose head was resting on his arm as they walked. He liked the way she felt against him.

”I am. The food, the wine, the conversation. It wore me out, but I feel wonderful,” she said softly.

”Then the night was a success,” he said to her, gathering the witch close and apparating.

They appeared in front of the worksite and Snape walked Hermione to the door. He released her and the witch looked up at him.

”This has been the most enjoyable night I’ve experienced in twenty years, Hermione,” he said to the witch softly, “and it’s because of you. Again I say you are an extraordinary witch.”

”Thank you,” Hermione replied.

Snape hesitated, a question in his eyes. Hermione felt as if a gaggle of lacewings flies had suddenly materialized in her belly at the way the wizard was looking at her.

”This time, I wish to ask your permission,” he said silkily, “May I kiss you good night, Hermione?”

Hermione looked into those dark eyes and saw vulnerability in their depths. He didn’t want to be rejected, and she didn’t want to reject him.

”Yes, Professor. You may kiss me,” she said softly.

Snape studied her for a moment, then leaned in and gently captured her lips, moving his own against them sensuously. Dear gods, it was so sweet, so tender. He lingered over her mouth for a few seconds then slowly drew away, his dark eyes resting on her face. Hermione’s eyes were closed and her lips still slightly puckered.

”Thank you,” he breathed.

Hermione opened her eyes. They were soft and liquid as she looked at him. The wizard swallowed, then straightened quickly as the door to the site opened.

Hermione started as the light hit them, then regained her composure.

”You’re welcome, Professor,” she said softly, “Thank you again for tonight.”

Snape watched as Hermione slowly walked inside. She turned to look at him as the voice announced her arrival, then the door swung closed.

The wizard stood there a moment. Kissing Hermione with her consent had been wonderful and heartening. She wanted him to kiss her. He wouldn’t have minded a few more sweet kisses from the witch. He wouldn’t mind something more. How would it be to have her intimately?

He didn’t know if he would ever find out.

But it didn’t mean he wouldn’t try. Hermione had just significantly upped the ante by letting him kiss her.

How could he help but want more?

The wizard turned and disapparated to his home.

It had been a stellar night.

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A/N: Thanks for reading.