"I'm sure I have a CD or something at home with that on. And if I don't, maybe Harry will. After we're done here, we could...you could stay and listen to it."

"Miss Granger, you are rather obvious. But if you think I'm staying with you when he's there and the Weasley, you're mistaken. But I'm sure you could bring the CD and...we can run it on my laptop," he smirked, finally turning his head and smirking at her. No, no smirk. It was a smile. A nice smile. Sweet, if she was honest.

"And you're not?" she smiled back and was sorely tempted to just lean in and let herself be kissed. Snogged senseless. Snogged breathless. Taste him, feel him.

"Not as obvious as you," he arched an eyebrow.

"Slytherin," she accused mockingly.

"Guilty," he replied with that gorgeous smile.

"So it's alright now that I don't wear stockings?" she asked, testing the waters after their painful misunderstanding earlier.

His fingers pulled away and his hand pulled away and she knew she had said the wrong thing. Again. She sighed to herself and was tempted to just slouch and apparate away and...but she couldn't and a moment later, she felt his fingers on her bare thigh. Just her mid-thigh, nothing indecent but she could feel his fingers, stroking, touching. She smiled a little.

"Yes," he said a moment later, still caressing her thigh. "It is alright that you don't wear stockings. But those boots will have to go. At least with dresses."

She nodded relieved.

"Oi, what are you two whispering about?" Harry all but yelled over the table.

"Nothing, Potter," Severus replied immediately.

"Oh, by the way Snape, I mean, Mr Snape and Hermione, is it alright if I say Hermione?" Noel said and he was openly holding Harry's hand on the table. "Where did you two meet?"

97. Consonant Clusters

The sequence of English speech sounds in a word is not arbitrary. In fact, there are strict conditions on the order and type of speech sounds that can appear. At the beginning of a word all consonants expect /ng/ can appear. If two consonants occur at the beginning, however, the possibilities are quite limited. Consider the sequences below:

*bt, nk, *ng, *pb, *pt, *pk

None of these combinations can begin an English word, even though they can all be found word-internally (e.g. napkin). By contrast, all the combinations below are permissible word-initial sequences in English:

br, dr, gr, bl, pr, tr, kr, pl, kl

Native speakers of English can instantly tell if a combinations of sounds is possible, suggesting that the speakers have internalised a set of principles that determine well-formedness.

(Akmajian, 2001)

He saw absolutely no need to lie. Everyone could see that Hermione was...young. Very young. Everyone could see that they had not attended the same classes at school and everyone could see that he could be, yes, her father. He knew he should mind more and he knew that he should care more. He knew that he should think more about it but his teaching career at Hogwarts, the time as a Potions, then Defence against the Dark Arts Master had been another lifetime, despite the wand up his sleeve. He did not feel like the dirty old man others might see him as and as such, he saw no need to lie.

"I was her, and Potter's, teacher," he replied coldly, a steely glint in his eyes.

"Her teacher?" the boy's eyes seem to light up and she almost seemed to flinch. Almost, not quite. Instead, as he looked at her for a brief second, she smirked. "You must have been young when you began teaching."

"Yes," he replied with a nod.

"My my. What did you teach?" the boy asked and he could see Potter — too obvious as always — waving his hand and wriggling his eyebrows. What did he take him for? An utter idiot? Completely stupid?

"I tried to teach them, you should say," he replied smoothly. "But since most young people do not seem too keen on learning," he shrugged and it sounded quite arrogant, even to his own ears. He wasn't sure what to describe Potions — or Defence against the Dark Arts for that matter — as. Chemistry? Cooking? Some martial art? Physical Education? It had been all that and more. Much more. Except maybe cooking for both he and Hermione weren't the greatest of cooks but they could both brew a decent potion.

"I can't say I was any different," the boy said. "I'm still not."

"Oh? What do you do?" Hermione asked smiling.

"I'm working for my dad," he shrugged. "He has this small independent magazine and I basically put together the horoscope," the boy laughed. "And make coffee and run copies and some day, I might even be allowed to write an article but my father thinks I'm not ready for that yet."

"What magazine?" asked Hermione, curious.

Harry smirked proudly, happily at Snape and he seemed to be almost tempted to give him a thumbs up. Really — that boy wasn't very cunning. He wasn't smart. He wasn't...oh well. What had he expected from a Potter? He could easily distract the other boy if needed and it had worked. Unobtrusively.

"It's a horse-and-hound kind of thing. Rather boring if you ask me but I hope I'll get my foot in and work some other place. A newspaper would be terribly exciting. Or maybe television? Media. News coverage. People need to be informed, don't you think? Remember the year before last when we had this terrible fog everywhere for weeks and weeks? The news couldn't explain and didn't even try to. They just stated that there was fog — nothing else. That can't be enough. Or at around the same time, the family next to ours vanished. Just vanished. House was empty from one day to the next. Nobody ever found out where they went and it wasn't like the Taylors at all. They always watched our dog when we were on holiday. But they just went. Nobody ever found them. And nobody informed anyone. It should be news-worthy. Stories like that should be told."

Potter was obvious. Too, too obvious. He seemed to pale. And he seemed to shiver and he had pulled his hand away from Miner's the moment the fog had been mentioned. Hermione was doing much better. She just held still and held his hand underneath the table, grasped it, held it tightly. Nothing more.

"Really?" she asked a moment later. "And they were never found?"

Miner shook his head. "Of course the police were looking for them but you know how the police work sometimes. I mean if someone vanishes, the entire family, the just assume that they've either been killed — and since there were absolutely no traces of bodies or robbery or something they didn't think that was the case — or that they just ran from something," he grimaced. "Besides, there is a lot of money in it."

Severus nodded to him. All of that was true, even though he couldn't explain to the poor boy what had happened to the Taylors and that they weren't just any neigbours. He could have explained the fog but how? And it wasn't his job — it was Potter's. Potter would have to, otherwise he ended up in a relationship like Lucius with that horse. Maybe he would tell Potter that — if Hermione hadn't already.

"He could tell us all sorts of things and everyone would be informed about everything. That's a good thing, isn't it?" Potter said, full of admiration. Potter would love that. He, as well as others, who had always been so kept in the dark about most things craved information. He would appreciate it. He would appreciate a fair press and informative news. That, Severus could relate to.

Noel wasn't the bad sort. Not at all. He seemed like he was hard-working, interested, very much informed about things and, even though he didn't know yet, sort of knew about wizards and witches already. The fog. She remembered the breeding Dementors with dread.

He chattered on and on about it though and she could not deny the kind of admiration with which Harry looked at his — boyfriend. She supposed he was his boyfriend and other than her and Severus, they had no trouble finding titles for one another. Ah well, maybe it was a bit different with people roughly the same age.

He hadn't even denied that he had once been her teacher and while she couldn't with good conscience say that he was a completely different person to back then, he did seem slightly altered. He wasn't this caustic anymore and he was altogether gentler. Or maybe he had always been that way and she had just not seen it. It didn't matter. The person sitting next to her was an almost perfect blend between Snape and Head-Severus. Almost. If — and only if — they could work on their communication. It was ridiculous, the things she misunderstood, or the things he said wrong, or she didn't know which way.

Harry and Noel had an easier way about them it seemed. Oh well, they would learn it as well. And they had gone through the most difficult time together already. It couldn't get much harder than Mrs Callaghan's death and the aftermath. Simply couldn't.

She had to let go off his hand, naturally, when her food arrived (and they weren't as soppy as Harry and Noel who tried to hide their hand-holding but Harry had difficulty eating with his left hand) but she grasped, and squeezed it immediately after they were done.

"Can we go and listen to that CD quite soon?" she asked over the romantic cooing between Harry and his boyfriend.

Severus only smirked and nodded and seemed almost too keen to get the waiter back at their table.

Harry wasn't sure why Hermione and Snape vanished so quickly after the main course but it was alright for him. He knew most of the things that Noel had said while they had been present already and he was anxious to dig a bit deeper. Just a tad. Learn more about his family, his friends, the life. Former boyfriends. That kind of thing. Or maybe not former boyfriends. But he wanted to talk about things that he couldn't talk about with Snape and Hermione there.

Besides, even though Noel knew about Teddy, he didn't know that Teddy was a Metamorphmagus and he should know that before meeting his godson. And before knowing that, he would have to know that Harry was a wizard. But he wouldn't tell him that until he was quite certain and he couldn't be quite certain until Noel hadn't met Teddy. Bloody catch-22.

"Harry?" he asked softly and smiled at him. "Something in your mind?"

Harry shook his head with a smile of his own.

"This Snape, he seems like a nice bloke, even if he is a bit rude. I don't mind. And he was really your teacher?"

Harry nodded. "He was," he cleared his throat. "Erm, but I don't think he answered you the question what he taught."

"No, he didn't," Noel laughed. "I thought he didn't like talking about himself and his past."

"He wouldn't but...the reason that he didn't tell you..." he paused and scratched his eyebrows, his chin and took a sip of the almost empty glass of wine that was still on the table.

"What, Harry?" he asked softly and gently.

"We...that is to say, I, didn't go to a normal school. I mean it was a normal school and not...I wasn't going to St Brutus's..."

"What's St Brutus's?"

Harry sighed. "It's not important. And I shouldn't be telling you this here but...well, you'll think I'm insan anyway and probably ready to go to the looney bin but it's all true and Hermione could've confirmed it. Snape could've confirmed it."

"Harry?"

"I'm a wizard, Noel. I went to a school for wizards and witches. I'm not insane. Really. It's the truth."

"Wizard?" Noel whispered breathlessly. "Are you having me on?"

Harry shook his head adamantly. "I know it's unbelievable. I didn't believe it at first. I really didn't. When they told me I was a wizard, I thought they were having me on as well. But it's true. I would show you some magic but we're not allowed in public. It's just that...I want you to meet my godson and he can't control his magic the way..." he paused. "You don't believe me."

The other boy took a deep breath. "It's a bit much to take in, to be honest. And I'm not sure I believe you. I'm sorry, Harry."

"But..."

"I thought I had met a normal man. Someone who was just...like me and wanted the same things I did. But..."

"I want the same things you do," Harry interrupted quickly. "I'm not any different. Not really. It's not like I'm a vampire or a werewolf...even though. Ah well, no, I'm just a normal...man. I'm not any different."

"I need to see this magic," Noel arched his eyebrows with a convinced gleam in his eyes.

It was a matter of minutes before they were back in his garden, both of them apparating separately, Elton John CD in Hermione's hand and it was only a matter of seconds before he noticed Draco sitting, in a jumper and jeans only, on the small wall. His legs not quite dangling and Aideen standing nervously, in a heavy coat, behind him, her arms wrapped around his waist.

"Draco?" Severus asked, and felt foolish for ignoring Hermione but it couldn't be helped. He had a responsibility towards his godson as well. A big one, especially now.

"Uncle Severus," the boy sounded almost helpless. "Did you know?"

"Did I know what?" he asked, realisation dawning on him. He had found out about his mother. Had found out. If Lucius had found it in his heart to...non-existent heart that it was...to write to his son, he would surely tell him about the nuptials of...his mother. And Severus had failed to tell him. If he had found out now, via a letter, it was because Severus had not yet dared, or managed, to tell him.

Hermione looked at him and touched his back with a kind hand. He twisted his head around to look at her and she nodded towards the house. He shook his head. "Stay," he said softly.

"Did you know that Mother got married again?" asked Draco.

"Yes," he replied, knowing that lying was the worst way.

"And when did you plan to tell me?" the young man was angry and maybe rightly so.

"Tomorrow in the morning, to be honest," he said frankly. "But I see you've found out already."

"My father sent me this. Did you go to see him? Do you know about that too?"

"Severus, do you want me to...?" Hermione asked again, her hand on his back still, her fingers drawing small circles. It wasn't meant to be soothing and he knew it. It was meant to be...just the reassurance that she would do whatever he asked of her and that meant rather a lot. It did. It did. He didn't want complete and utter obedience but he wanted the woman he was with to know when she needed to listen to him. Granted, he would still have to think of a scenario where he had to think when he had to listen to her but maybe that day would arrive yet and he would, no doubt, listen to her. If the situation warranted it — which it probably would never.