Why He Hates Muggles

Tuesday, June 15, 1976

Over the week, Charity’s visits were as random as the sightings of a
shy woodland creature.  She did not appear on their doorstep until
Tuesday morning, ringing the bell and greeting Mrs. Snape with her soft
hello.  Severus was summoned, and he stood in awkward silence while
his mother steered the conversation.

“Severus, why don’t you give Charity a tour of the house and gardens?”
she said.

He led her out the front door into the dull, gray morning.  A crisp
breeze ruffled their hair, signaling a change in the weather.

“I think it’s going to rain soon,” Charity said, crossing her arms and
pulling her plain, white sweater tighter across her chest.

“The weather witch in the paper said it wouldn’t start until tomorrow,”
Severus said.  He glanced at the sky.  “I’d say she was off by
about twenty-four hours.  We’ll do thedensdens first, and then the
house, just in case.”

Charity giggled.  “I guess witch weather forecasters aren’t any
better than non-witch ones.”

“Muggle ones,” Severus said, correcting her.

“This is our sort of formal flower garden,” he said as he led her down
the wide flagstone steps to a path of crushed stone that snaked into flowerbeds
of varying widths and heights.  Rows of smaller plants, like the yellow
and orange marigolds, gave way to the taller ones such as chamomile and
lavender.  In the center of the beds were the roses, and other tall
shrubs.  Here and there a small tree anchored a larger section of
flowerbed, and a few large specimen trees created shadows and broke the
large garden into smaller sections.

“Be careful of what you touch,” he warned her.  The flower gardens
surrounding the Snape mansion were deceptively ornamental.  The plants
closest to the pathways were ordinary flowers and medicinal plants that
offered attractive foliage and blooms.  In the centers of the beds,
though, grew the magical plants.  They were attractive, every one,
but many of them were as lethal as they were beautiful, and all of them
were useful in potion-making, dark magic, or both.

“Some of these plants are almost alive,” he told her.

“It looks like they’re all alive to me,” she said.

He frowned.  “I meant, um…”

“Sentient?” she said, smiling at his discomfort.

He scowled and said, “Would you like to lead this tour?”

“All right.”  She had a twinkle of mischief in her eyes. 
“And you don’t have to get defensive.  I already can tell that you’re
smart.”

His jaw dropped and his face blushed so red he could feel the skin tingle. 
“Thank you,” he managed to snbspnbsp; “Are you always so…blunt?”

“Only with the nice stuff.  Now, for the tour.  Let’s see.” 
She touched her forefinger to her chin, and then pointed toward the low
border.  “Marigolds, chamomile, St. John’s Wort, adder’s tongue, comfrey. 
You have a lot of medicinals out here.”

“Almost everything out here is useful.  Most people don’t recognize
them on sight, though,” he said in a questioning tone.

“Everyone who lives in the compound has to work in the gardens. 
You get to know things after a while.”

“The compound?  Is it like a military base?”

“No.  It is a religious community.  A real community, almost
like a small town.”  She shrugged.  “Some of the townspeople
call it a commune, but we aren’t hippies.”

“So what are you then?”

“We call ourselves Life Reformationists.  It’s a church that was
started about twenty years ago by Father Jim.”

“Who’s Father Jim?”  They were approaching the southern limit of
the garden, where it met the woods.  “Let’s go this way,” he said,
indicating a fork in the path.  “I’ll show you the back gardens before
it starts to rain.”

“Okay.  It’s getting colder, too.  Are you cold?” she asked,
eyeing his thin turtleneck sweater.

“I’m fine.  I’m probably more used the climate than you are, but
I do want to get out of the wind.  It’s usually calmer behind the
house.”  He fell in step beside her again, forcing himself to slow
his pace to a casual stroll.  He could almost imagine they were one
of the couples he would sometimes see walking the grounds of Hogwarts,
side-by-side, on a fine spring afternoon.  Only the thin roar of the
wind in the trees, and the damp chill spoiled the ambience.

“So who is this Father Jim?”

“James Faiello.  He’s a preacher who went out and started his
ch
church, and then the community.  It’s kind of based on the idea that
you surround yourself by like-minded Christians and you support each other. 
They started the compound about ten years ago so that people could really,
truly live according to what he teaches.  We moved there when I was
four, and I don’t really remember living anywhere else.”

They stepped off of the stone path and onto a section of tall grass
that spanned the distance between the south side of the house and the wo&nbs 
Severus watched Charity out of the corner of his eye as she daintily pinched
the fabric of her skirt and raised it above the damp grass.  She wore
white maryjanes made of heavy canvas, and they were soon soaked and grass
stained.

“Do you want to go inside?” he asked.  “Your shoes are getting
wet, but my mum can fix them up in a sec’.”

“Only if you want to go inside,” she said.

“I’m fine.”

“Good, because I really would like to see the greenhouse.”

He snorted.  “If I had said that I wanted to go inside, would you
have agreed?”

“Yes, because I don’t want to be a pest, and I’m sure you could show
me the greenhouse on another day.”  She turned to look at him, her
brow knitted into a small frown.  “You would, wouldn’t you?”

“Sure,” he said casually.  “Why wouldn’t I?  Anyway, it’s
warm in there, and out of the wind.”

They arrived at the back of the house.  An enormous vegetable and
herb garden fanned out before them in a riot of summery greens.  To
the east lay a small orchard made up of an assortment of fruit and nut-bearing
trees, some of them quite large and gnarled with age.  Their varied
textures and colors covered a small rise like a patchwork quilt. 
Beyond them towered the ancient woods.  Also to the east, tucked into
the corner of the east and south boundaries of the woods, stood a large
greenhouse.

His surreptitious glances in her direction caught her with a pensive
look.  She frowned at the ground, no longer absorbed with their surroundings. 
Disconcerted by her silence, Severus broke off his own conversation. 
They were at the greenhouse door before she spoke again.

“Severus,” she said, gazing up at him and then biting her lip. 
“I get the feeling that your mother is sort of pushing you into spending
time with me.  I just want you to know that if my coming around bothers
you, you can always tell me to leave.  I really don’t want to be where
I’m not wanted.”

“My mother never makes me do anything I don’t want to do,” he said haughtily. 
She still frowned, so he said in a gentler tone, “I don’t mind, really. 
I don’t have many people to talk to around here in the summers.  Except
my mum, and you know how that is.”

She smiled and he saw her hunched shoulders drop back and relax. 
“That means a lot to me.  Thank you,” she said.  “Even if you
weren’t a wizard, it’s nice to have somebody to talk to during the day.” 
She arched her brows.  “Particularly someone whose slant on things
isn’t straight out of the Bible.”

“You don’t believe like they do?” he asked.

She shrugged.  “I’m not sure what to believe any more.  Anyway,
I would like to come here when I can, but it all depends upon how much
housework I have, and what time they leave in the morning.  I’m sorry
I can’t give you a specific time each day, but I’ll try to make it in the
mornings.”

“It’s ght,” he” he said as he swung open the heavy glass greenhouse
door and held it for her.  The iron framework of the building was
coated with thick layers of white paint and the floor was crushed stone
like the paths in the garden.  They walked into a bubble of warm,
moist air scented with soil, flowers, and rot.

“So, your mom never makes you do anything you don’t want to do?” she
teased.  “Not even make your bed, clean your room, do your chores,
or eat your vegetables?”

Hugheughed.  “All right.  You got me on that one.”

A/N – All recognizable characters, settings and trivia are the property
of JK Rowling.  All the remainder are exclusively my own.