I Never Thought It Would Be You

Chapter 3: Double-Crossed - 10 April 2003

By Pigwidgeon37

“I’m not sure whether he likes women in trousers,” Hermione said, looking doubtfully at her friend.

“Just for your information, I don't give a damn whether he likes trousers or not. I like them, they look good, and I feel comfortable in them. I’m not twenty anymore, and therefore won't fall into hysterics over what a man might possibly approve or disapprove of. Besides, you don’t even know for sure, do you?”

“N-no,” Hermione admitted, circling her like a lion his prey. “The rest is fine, I think… don't put on make-up, though…”

“Hermione, I never put on make-up, just lipstick and a bit of powder, you know that, for god's sake! Instead of making me nervous, rather tell me about the mysterious Mr. Malfoy he's bringing for you. You don’t seem too enthusiastic. Should we have a pre-aperitif, just to cheer you up a bit?” The two women went into the kitchen to open a bottle of champagne. “He is a wizard, isn’t he?”

“Yes,” Hermione said. “It’s just… I think he’s a bit old for me.”

“Really? How old is he, then?”

“Well into his fifties, I think. It’s been years since I last saw him… Not that he's bad-looking or anything…”

“In that case,” said her friend, filling two flutes and handing her one, “You’ll just have to wait and see, I guess. Cheers, Hermione! May we be sore and satisfied tomorrow morning!”

“Cheers, Susanna. May your mind rest peacefully in the gutter!” They drank, and Hermione cast a look around. “Hey!” she said, getting up and walking over to a side table, on which several framed photographs wee sitting. “I never saw this one!” And she picked up the picture of a small girl trying to pluck a wrapped sweet off a Christmas tree. “Is that you?” Susanna nodded. “I didn’t know you were such a cute baby!”

“Thank you,” Susanna said dryly, “But my wrath will come upon you if you dare mention it. It’s not attractive. And if you do, I’ll tell Mr. Malfoy about the picture that shows you wearing only sunglasses.”

“I was three years old!” Hermione said indignantly.

“I know. But he doesn’t. So you’d better behave.”

When they had emptied their glasses, Hermione checked her watch. “Half past seven-time to call a taxi.”

Susanna threw her a woeful look. “Why won't you Apparate us? I’d really like to see how it is, just one single time! You promised you would do it!”

“Not tonight,” Hermione said, shaking her head. “Just imagine if I splinched the two of us! A fine impression we would make.”

This was an irrefutable argument, and thus the taxi was called, which took them to Charing Cross Road. The two women entered the Leaky Cauldron, where they attracted strange looks for being both dressed in Muggle garb, exited the pub through the back door and went through the wall into Diagon Alley. The shops were already closed, but it was a tepid spring evening, and many people were still sitting outside in the street cafés, chatting and watching passers-by.

“Where is it, anyway?” Susanna asked, peering down the street.

“About fifty yards ahead, on the left side. Do you see that strange boot-like thing floating in the air? That's it.”

“Oh, I thought it was the sign of a dance club. Horribile dictu!”

“Huh?” Hermione said, throwing her a sideways look.

“Just Latin, never mind. It means ‘what a horrible thing to say’-you know I don't like dancing.”

“That's why I thought you’re perfect for him. No dancing and lots of Latin. Oh, there they are coming! How do I look?”

“Younger than I.”

“Oh, come on, Susanna!”

“Yes, you look absolutely fine. Don’t fuss! Oh, but the Potions Master is dishy! Do they always dress identically?”

Hermione snorted. “No idea. Looks kind of fun, though, doesn't it?”

“Fun isn't the word that comes to mind, honestly. And you can’t complain about the specimen he picked for you, either.”

The two men approaching them were, indeed, dressed almost identically. Only when they came nearer did it become visible that Snape was wearing black-only, whereas Malfoy had preferred to add some charcoal grey. But both were wearing black leather jackets, and the similarity of their outfit definitely emphasized the difference of their looks.

Snape and Hermione had agreed not to act too chummy, so as not to deter their intended dates, and therefore merely shook hands. Then the introductions were made, and Snape pushed Hermione unobtrusively towards Malfoy, while he offered his arm to Susanna. Grinning up at him-she was a good deal shorter than her friend-she said, “Don’t take offence, but I don't think this is a good idea. I’d look as if I were dangling from your arm. So, if you don't mind…” And she preceded him through the door.

Malfoy had made the reservations, and thus they had a very nice table in a kind of niche, separated from the main throng of guests. The first mistake, however, was that the prospective couples sat down next to each other, which made conversation between them slightly awkward. The aperitifs were ordered, and the menus opened, which provided sufficient, if unoriginal, topics of interest for a while. And then silence descended, a heavy, leaden, almost palpable quiet that paralysed tongues and wits. Snape and Hermione would have liked to engage in their usual friendly banter, exchanging information about their working day and private jokes. Pleasant as that would have been, it would also have been very impolite, and so they refrained themselves, all the while wracking their brains for an appropriate topic of discussion.

After some minutes, Susanna looked at the apparently unhappy trio and said, “Excuse me, but is this some strange code of wizarding etiquette? Is it forbidden to talk before the food is served?”

Hermione glared at her, Snape frowned, and Malfoy laughed. “No,” he said, “Not really. Thank you for breaking the ice, though. Where do you come from? I cannot quite place your accent.”

“Austria,” she said, taking a sip of her champagne. “Mmh, this is excellent! Hermione, you haven't tried yours yet! It’s-” she took another sip “-it's absolutely wonderful!”

“To tell you the truth,” Hermione remarked, “I wouldn’t know the difference. I’m not much of a wine person.”

“It comes from the Malfoy vineyards,” Malfoy said, throwing her a dirty sideways glance, “And I daresay that there is a notable difference to most other champagne brands.”

Hermione looked at him out of narrowed eyes. “And I suppose that you employ House Elves there.”

Snape rolled his eyes, and Malfoy gave her an icy smile. “Of course,” he drawled, “And I assure you that they thoroughly enjoy their work.”

Hermione opened her mouth to respond, but a well-aimed kick Snape dealt her prevented her from saying anything. The starters arrived and silence fell again. Hermione, visibly determined to save the situation, asked cheerfully, “So, how was the concert yesterday, Susanna?”

“Oh, disappointing. They had the gall to change the programme…”

Relieved that the conversation had finally drifted onto familiar ground, Snape asked, “What was on the programme?”

At this point, the hapless Muggle committed two unforgivable sins: she insulted Snape’s musical tastes and she pinched a bite from his plate. Hermione closed her eyes in horror when, with a friendly “May I?” Susanna picked a piece of Parma ham from under the Potions Master's nose and said, “They changed it from Vivaldi to Bach. Unfortunately. Not that I dislike Bach, on the contrary. But they played it in such a… well, there is no other word, in such an anal retentive way… Vivaldi survives it, but Bach definitely doesn’t.”

“And what,” Snape asked icily, “would be an anal retentive way of performing Bach, exactly?”

“Oh you know-more structure than actual music. It sounds starched.”

Snape's eyebrows almost joined his hairline. “It's the structure that makes the beauty of Bach's music.”

“Oh, but she is right, Severus,” Malfoy chimed in, “Bach, if well-played, has a very sensual side. Would you like another piece of ham?” And he shoved his plate towards Susanna.

“Oh, thank you, if you really don’t mind…” He shook his head, smiling. “I agree, by the way. Music is all about sensuality, and listening can, and should, be an almost…”

“Erotic experience,” Malfoy finished the sentence for her, locking eyes with her.

Snape and Hermione cast each other nonplussed looks and silently decided that they could just as well talk to each other, as the other two seemed to have become completely oblivious to their existence. At least the atmosphere was now a lot more pleasant. When they had ordered the coffee, Hermione got up and excused herself for a moment, throwing her friend a pointed look.

“Oh, I think I’m going to accompany you,” Susanna said, rising as well, and they threaded their way towards the restrooms.

“Well,” Hermione said once they were inside, “that didn't go exactly as planned.”

“N-no. Listen Hermione, seeing as how you don't seem terribly interested in Lucius… would you mind if I…”

“Certainly not. But do me a favour, please. Severus is having this kind of midlife-crisis right now, and he's terribly unbalanced. I’ll make sure to arrange another meeting for you and Malfoy, but could you just wait a few days?”

“Of course, no problem. But, boy, is he gorgeous…”

Meanwhile, at the table…

“Severus,” Malfoy said, “I know it is terribly mauvais ton, but you don't seem overly interested in Susanna…” Snape merely snorted into his brandy. “Exactly as I thought. In that case, I suppose you wouldn't mind if I claimed her?”

Snape shook his head. “Certainly not. I’ll even manage to get her phone number for you. But please don't ask her out in front of Hermione-she is a little insecure, and I don't want her to feel rejected.”

“Of course. I will use the utmost discretion.”

It was almost midnight when they stepped out of the restaurant and bid each other good night. “Well,” Malfoy said, “If the ladies are absolutely sure they do not want to be escorted home, I’ll Disapparate…”

“ Disapparate?” Susanna said, “Oh, I don't know how long I’ve been pestering Hermione to show me how it is, but she always finds an excuse…”

“Oh, in that case,” Malfoy said, bowing slightly, “I would be glad to oblige.” He took her hand and pulled her towards him, encircling her with his arms. “You must hold on tight, though.”

“You bet,” she said, and with a ‘plop’ they were gone.