Plan B

A/N: Whopsie, I nearly let the whole day pass me by without posting. Here it is.


Chapter 6


I can’t quite put my finger on when seeing Snape at Sacred Grounds became a habit, but it just did. At the start of my second college year, he was there, like clockwork seated in the back left corner, back to the wall and facing my nook. Well, it didn’t have my name on it, but since it probably had my butt-cheeks permanently imprinted into the Indian print cushion - it was my nook.


Most days my last class wrapped up around four, giving me plenty of time to run home and take care of whatever mundane necessities of ‘real-life’ were waiting for me, answer the post, and fork down some nutrients. By eight o’clock my butt was firmly squished into my nook, a café latte in one hand, my wireless mouse in the other.


Snape always entered a few minutes after me, and after ordering his double shot espresso, he would incline his head politely and murmur ‘Good evening,’ as he passed me. Always immaculately dressed in muggle-business casual, always with the paper tucked under an arm, always with boots that echoed on the distressed wooden floor boards to herald his approach. Which was also a new experience for me; Snape had been the silent stalker, and yet the hollow echo of his footsteps fit him perfectly.


One evening, early in my term he passed with his customary greeting, which I always returned, but this time with his worn leather satchel slung across his back. I kept tabs on him, covertly stealing glances, and nearly gave myself away by giggling as he pulled out a slick little laptop. He caught my smile and smirked; the man was obviously proud of his purchase, and had we been on real speaking terms I might have welcomed him to the new millennium.


I had only been scrolling through my transfiguration notes for a few minutes when his hissed cuss word hit my ears. Ah, isn’t technology wonderful? Another glance at Snape showed him pushing at buttons and inspecting the notebook for some hidden answer to his problem.


Now, I fully admit I’m a geek for many things, but I’m not a big geek for computers. However, openly gaping at Snape’s consternation I figured I could probably troubleshoot whatever was wrong. Most likely it was a user-error. Most modern laptops made things idiot-proof, but then there’s no accounting for idiots. It was still a seminal moment when I rose from my seat and approached his corner.


“Hi.”


Gott in Himmel, was I stupid? ‘Hi?’ was the best I could come up with? I really do suck at thinking on my feet. Oh well. Firmly telling myself to just roll with it I answered Snape’s gaze steadily when he looked up at me with the crazed look that anyone ready to chuck a computer out a window wears.


“Uh, need some help?” Stop fidgeting! I ordered myself.


“Miss Granger,” he said, obviously trying to compose himself even though I could well observe his jaw clenching. It takes stones for a man to admit when he’s been bested by bits of plastic and circuit boards. “This device appears to be malfunctioning.”


“Is it? Well, computers are notoriously unreliable so I’m not surprised you’re having difficulties.” I knew better that to suggest that Snape might be the problem; I didn’t fancy getting hexed in an alley way. Then again, he was fully capable of summoning a demon to chase after me.


“What are you trying to do?”


“I want to connect to the internet, but this damned machine won’t let me, and there’s a sign on the door clearly stating it’s possible here.”


I leaned over his espresso… oh dear gods did I just give Snape a clear shot of my cleavage?... and tried to look professional while scanning his screen with my eyes. I felt like standing up abruptly, but then I’d be the fool who just realized she’d given her ex-professor an eyeful. Instead I kept hovering, nonchalantly draping myself across the table as if it were my intention the entire time. Roll with it Hermione. I’m professional, he’s professional, it means nothing.


“Ah, well there’s this little switch on the side here. Do you see it next to the DVD drive? You need it flicked over to pick up Wi-Fi.” I spoke calmly, staring only at the computer not willing to let him know I was painfully embarrassed. I turned the toggle switch and the Wi-Fi engaged picking up Sacred Ground’s in-house network.


As I stood up, rigidly straight, I immediately noticed the pink blush spread across his cheeks. Snape blushes, isn’t that interesting, of course it was because I’d just made an epic blunder, but who knew Snape had it in him to blush?


“Right, uh, Professor. That should do it.” I stammered feeling as brave as Hagrid’s fearless slobbering hound Fang, although I can’t say why. It wasn’t like he could take points from me or send a howler to my parents.


“Severus,” he said quietly.


“Hm?”


“My given name is Severus. As my teaching days are firmly behind me I prefer not to be addressed as Professor.”


Was this because of our past together? That whole ‘we sold Voldemort’s soul to a demon’ thing? Somehow I was quite certain that just because he wasn’t teaching anymore that he’d let anyone call him Severus. It was my turn to blush.


“Oh. If you don’t teach anymore, what do you do?” I asked with a slight frown. I had a hard time imagining him anyplace but the bowels of Hogwarts, although offing the Headmaster was one way of putting a halt to your career. Wait… did I just start a conversation with the wizard?


“Presently? Not much. I’ve been trying to locate an acceptable form of employment and thought this machine might help me, but I see it’s well beyond me.”


This was where I was supposed to say, ‘well, nice seeing you again… Severus’ and plunk myself down back at my table. But then I’d never seen Snape looking truly vulnerable. Unemployed? Was that even possible? It seemed too common, too human, and not in the warm happy way I’d hoped he was human; this was ugly and raw. Snape was holding his head high, awaiting my judgment. It was obvious he thought I’d mock him or sneer at his turn of bad luck. Though, I should have realized that his change of wardrobe signaled his departure from the wizarding world. Acquitted did not signify accepted.


I glanced over my shoulder at my books and laptop just to make sure they hadn’t run off. They were still there, per usual. And I was well ahead of my studies, per usual. Instead I opened my damn mouth and said what was perhaps the most infinitely stupid thing I’ve ever said since demanding that Ron see reason and stop following the Cannons who by all Arithemantic equations couldn’t catch a one winged snitch on a cloudless day.


“Well if you have time I could show you how to use it… Severus.”


To say the offer surprised him was a bit unnecessary, he gaped in the way that would have earned me a caustic comment from the wizard had our roles been reversed. I looked at him impatiently for my answer before he nodded and murmured a word of gratitude for my offer. It took me only a minute to pack my things up and join him, of course I spent that minute shaking my head and wondering what the hell possessed me. I swear that Gryffindor courage never quits, even when it obviously should.


I must say, not that I ever had a doubt, but Severus Snape is a fast learner. He picked up how to use the ‘abominable muggle apparatus’ rather easily. Although his two-fingered typing left much to be desired. I tried to show him the ASDF-JKL; touch-typing method, but it was too much to hope for that he’d get it in one go. All in all, our lesson was very productive. I helped him navigate and register for several employment websites and made sure that he was at least familiar with the basics. By the time I was lecturing on thumb drives I caught Severus stifling a yawn.


Sheepishly I realized that the all-night coffee bar meant we’d literally been plugging at it all night, and not with nearly enough caffeine.


“I’m sorry Severus; I just realized how late it is. I’ve got classes tomorrow, and I’m sure you’ve got things to do.”


He nodded but didn’t elaborate. I wasn’t going to press either. Being unemployed had to be difficult for him.


“Why don’t we pick this up another night,” I offered.


By his astonished reaction it was obvious he expected my help to be a one-time deal. Which it started out being. Not that I anticipated spending four hours trying to explain the difference between the different types of memory his system had when I sat down. But it would be totally remiss of me to offer help and not make sure he had a thorough education. There were several programs that would definitely be beneficial for him in his job search, and lord knows if he tried to go to an interview and furnished a company with his resume and references written on parchment he’d never get a job.


And… and I was making excuses for myself. I liked the guy. Ok, maybe not in ‘that’ way, but still; I liked him well enough to want to sit up all night drinking lukewarm coffee and tapping on our computers.


Was that so wrong?