"Don't look like that, Severus, it's true. Most of the girls seem to like your voice and you glared at poor Deepak Chaudhry during our second session when he talked with his neighbour in a way that made him shut up. He hasn't forgotten and I suppose the rest of them hasn't forgotten either."

He couldn't remember to have glared. Or to have scowled. Or to have even looked at someone. Or remember someone called Deepak Chaudhry. He gulped down his tea, suddenly, not liking where this entire meeting had gone. He was confused and he felt like only half of the air he needed reached his lungs. It had been a bad idea to meet this person. To hear he was a mystery and something of a conversation topic of professors. He wanted to be inconspicuous. He didn't want to be noticed.

He put a few coins on the table and looked at Dr Deveney. "I have to go," he said.

"Did I say something wrong?" asked the woman immediately, worry etched in her features.

"No," he shook his head. "I just need to leave. I forgot I had to go...somewhere."

"Er," she looked up at him, then got up. "Dinner? Some time?"

He shook his head. "I really have to go."

"I will email you...erm, your paper, I suppose," she said, her face falling, and she looked — utterly disappointed. Why would she look disappointed? That couldn't be. Must be the light anyway.

"Thank you," he said and turned to leave. "Good bye."

The old woman looked at her sternly. "What do you mean?"

"I don't cook," Hermione smiled weakly. "I never had to."

"But you're a woman. You can cook, can't you?" Mrs Callaghan asked firmly.

"I suppose...I was rather good at...erm, Chemistry. At school," she smiled.

The old woman arched her eyebrows and a smirk was beginning to form itself at the corner of her lips. "Chemistry?" she asked, slightly mockingly.

"Yes," Hermione answered, surely. That woman couldn't know about magic. Could she? There was a twinkle in her eye and she did live with Draco. Snape was her neighbour.

"Potions?" the woman whispered, grinning.

"Erm," Hermione blushed. "Do you..."

Mrs Callaghan sighed. "I do of course. Aideen doesn't and it might be better that way but I do. Chemistry. Seriously. Couldn't think of anything better?"

"Well, it is similar," she answered almost hotly. "You have those ingredients that interact with one another and they make something entirely new. The magic is in the way the ingredients act and react to other ingredients or even the material of the cauldron and the stirrer..."

"And you need to be magical to brew them," chuckled Mrs Callaghan, "I know. And this is what puzzles me, you know. Severus couldn't cook as well...and they way you both described it...it sounds almost like cooking to me."

"Oh," Hermione muttered. "Not quite. There is, I mean it should be similar, yes, but you see with potions, it doesn't matter what it tastes like and you can, as far as I recall from my mother, have all the ingredients right for a meal and then it still tastes like nothing and I just never thought about it, I mean, I did but then I tried cooking while we were in the...well, camping and it was all bland and burned and didn't taste good. But if I had maybe made soup, like a potion, in a cauldron and maybe with herbs and stuff, it would have maybe been better. But the boys wouldn't have liked soup, I don't think. And if I had thought about it and how to...I mean it can't be too difficult to use a cookbook, right? It's like a potions text and if I keep to the instructions, I should be able to..."

Mrs Callaghan raised her finger. "Stop making excuses. You're obviously a girl whose mouth runs away with her from time to time. Just say that you cannot cook and that's fine. If you want to learn, I have spuds to peel. We'll make stew and dumplings and you will see how simple it is," she smiled warmly and Hermione's face brightened.

"I will help," she said eagerly and sat up straighter in the chair, catching, from the corner of her eyes, only a glimpse of Draco and Aideen kissing and hugging and it made her smile more, somehow. Bizarre, all that. Pureblood kissing Muggle and Hermione Granger, always thinking she, as a modern thinking woman, didn't have to know how to cook, peeling potatoes with a smiling, humming, lovely older lady. The only thing that was missing now to add to the utter bizarreness was — well — Snape walking in and helping. But that seemed even more bizarre than a Malfoy kissing a Muggle.

She smiled at Mrs Callaghan and with great enthusiasm, began to peel potatoes.

37. Sarcasm

Whatever our social or psychological purposes in being sarcastic, from the purely linguistics or grammatical point of view, we are doing two things at once: we are communicating an ostensible message to our listeners but at the same time we are framing this message with a commentary or metamessage that says something like 'I don't mean this: in fact, I mean the exact opposite.' This metamessage makes sarcasm seem like a very abstract and quintessentially 'linguistic' activity, for when we engage in it, we are using language to talk not about the world but about itself. Moreover, as there are many other devices available for performing the act of denial or committing verbal aggression, it seems like a needlessly roundabout way of performing this task.

Accordingly, we should not be surprised to find that sarcasm correlates with some other kinds of 'sophistication' or to find that it is far from universal even among human beings. If language is what defines humanity, then irony and sarcasm may conceivably define a 'higher' or 'more decadent' type of culture or personality.

(Haiman, 1998)

Severus settled slowly into the armchair his godson had given him for Christmas. It was comfortable. He had built a fire, stared into it. Still had some time before he had to make an appearance over at Eleanor's. She had made him promise to come. Well, that promise had included a promise of hers to make stew and dumplings. And stew and dumplings was something he could only barely resist. Besides, it would be nice to actually spend some time with people who had no hidden agenda. The more he thought about it, the more he thought that maybe Dr Deveney had that hidden agenda. He wasn't sure what it was but gathering from her words — maybe — she wanted quietness in her classroom and he was the means to that end.

Again — means to an end. Why...always.

He shook his head to himself. It was no use thinking about it, not about the past and not about that woman. He would, probably, not take her class. Chomsky was interesting though, as far as he had read yet. But he wouldn't be means to an end yet again. He had played that part, been that person too long. Not anymore. He was doing everything now only for himself. He would be getting his degree, maybe talk with some other professors about his options but other than that — no. He wouldn't be the person to keep a class quiet only because he was there. He had done that for too long. Had been that awful teacher for too long. Though...teaching. In retrospect, it hadn't been too bad. It had been more fun and more satisfactory with the older students, NEWTs, sixth years. Those who wanted, or needed, potions. He didn't count that one year he had taught Defence against the Dark Arts. And at university, well, they would be all interested, wouldn't they?More or less at least, as he had found out that term. Not sure if he was qualified for that, or if he ever wanted to do it. The degree, yes, further options would be discussed with other professors, not Dr Deveney.

That woman was strange. Truly, truly strange. And he wanted to stop thinking about it. That minute. Severus leant his head back and stared up at the ceiling. All his papers were done, all his exams written. Nothing to do until September. Maybe, the thought entered his mind quickly, he would have to go and find a job after all. Otherwise, he would be truly lost that summer. True, Eleanor had mentioned wanting to go on a trip with him, but...he couldn't possibly do that. He would sleep in the next morning. And then he would check on his garden, mow his lawn, mow Eleanor's lawn. Other than that, he had no other plans and...

No, he wasn't sure what he felt about that. For the first time in a long, long while, he had absolutely no plan. He had more than a month of having no plan before him. No house to clean — it was spotless, no furniture to buy — he had all he wanted or needed. He didn't know what to do. Other than Eleanor next door, there was nothing in that summer. No duty, nothing to be done. It was — strange. What a strange feeling, really. He could read, he supposed. The local library had a rather large collection of books he had not read yet. And then there was always that trip Eleanor had mentioned. Wanted to go down to London to see her eldest Stephen and he was supposed to go with her. London...London. Stephen. Not sure. She would probably make him, had a way to make him do things he wasn't sure he wanted to do. Learning to cook, going to university, talking to Aideen, giving Draco a Christmas present, putting those shelves up for her. And in the end, none of the things she had made him do in the past had been of any disadvantage for him. Quite on the contrary.

But no, that was another thing he truly didn't want to think about — didn't want to explore why that old woman next door only wanted his best. Didn't want to realise that she might or might not have any motives. And in that moment, he realised that he thought it would be worse for him if she had no motives at all. No motives would mean she was just acting like that because...she wanted to act like that. Because she did care for him for no reason at all. And that made absolutely no sense in his opinion, in his eyes.

Still. It made no sense to think about it, it made absolutely no sense. And if he didn't move soon, she would knock on his door and collect him for that meal. At least he didn't have to be terribly pleasant over there. At least those people let him be quiet when he wanted to be.

"Patience, Miss Granger," said Mrs Callaghan, looking over Hermione's shoulder. "And you don't have to stir in a particular pattern. Just make sure it doesn't burn."

"Okay," said Hermione, knowing she was too eager, she was too academic in her pursuit to learn cooking. She was too analytical, and Mrs Callaghan had said so. She had actually laughed at her when Hermione wanted to measure the salt. Wanted to know exactly how much salt went into the pot. She wanted to recreate that meal. Wanted to show Harry that she could cook. Oh, and Molly Weasley would be impressed, probably. Maybe not. She wasn't sure.

"Try it now," Mrs Callaghan pushed a spoon in her hand and Hermione turned her head to see her still standing behind her, smiling. Until, well, she pushed her hair back. Mrs Callaghan pushed her hair aside. Oh, she hadn't put it up. She should have...

"Someone is having a good hair day today," the older woman smirked and Hermione stood there, the spoon in mid-air, hovering over the pot.

"I...erm" target="_blank">I...erm, sorry, I didn't...I mean, I usually pull it back but this morning...I'm losing hair lately because I'm always wearing a ponytail or have it up and then my hair falls out more and I didn't think I'd be...I mean I had only my Ancient Ru...a translation exam this morning and my hair didn't get in the way, so I..."

"Stop, Miss Granger," Mrs Callaghan's smirk grew. "I was joking."

"My hair...I mean, it's been trouble since forever. I can't..."

"No, she was worse at school," she heard Draco's sneering voice behind her. "Needed to get clearance to walk and the birds had to watch out."

"Draco," she heard Aideen and whipped her head around to look at the two of them just in time to catch her slapping Malfoy's arm. "Be nice. Curly hair is nice and with that steam in here, even my hair would get curly."

"I wish you'd leave your hair curly instead of using that straightening iron all the time," Mrs Callaghan grumbled and pointed at the pot. "Try now what you cooked."

"Granger cooked?" Malfoy asked, smirking at her evilly. She wasn't sure what to make of this. Sure, Mrs Callaghan had made a comment about her hair but yes, she had to agree with that. Her hair was a mess, but then Draco? Who looked so sappily happy with that girl, with his hand sneakily in hers. "I'm sure it will taste wonderfully."

"Try it now, Miss Granger," Mrs Callaghan put her hand on her back and smiled encouragingly. Hermione nodded, glaring at Draco over her shoulder and then turned back to the put, dipping the spoon deep into the stew she had made. Well, she had helped made. It actually tasted — amazing. It was good, it was the way it should be. Without measuring or weighing any of the spices they had put in.

"Well?" Mrs Callaghan asked, her eyebrows arched, her lips in a smile.

"It's...it really tastes wonderfully," she gushed, her eyes growing bigger. She put the spoon into the stew again and tried once more. It was even better then.

"No science needed for that," the older woman said and winked. "Aideen, the table. Draco, you get your godfa..." she was interrupted by the doorbell ringing. "No, Draco, open the door for your godfather. He seems to have developed a feeling of when to show up," she chuckled and Hermione felt cold dread entering her stomach. Yes, she had pushed the head-Severus almost entirely from her head, she thought, but that didn't mean that she actually wanted to see him now. Or worse, eat with him.

"I...erm, I need to go," she said, pushing the spoon back into Mrs Callaghan's hands. "I..."

"Nonsense," she felt the older woman's eyes on her, felt how she watched her curiously. "You helped, you get to eat."

"But I...my flatmate, he..." she shook her head, yes, it was Snape's neighbour but she had helped. She had cut carrots. Peeled onions. Peeled potatoes. She had waited and had listened to Mrs Callaghan telling her about her family and had told her about her NEWTs while they had waited for it to simmer. She had formed dumplings and had put them into the stew. She had watched, she had waited, she was hungry. And it tasted grand! She was proud of herself. Not that she had done anything without supervision or without Mrs Callaghan standing behind her or beside her, but she had helped. She had a reason to be there. She had been invited and if Snape was there, so be it. Her head-Severus was gone. Most of the time. Only when she couldn't sleep and didn't want to think about...no, he was gone most of the time.

And she had helped make the meal. She would eat. She would then leave and she would see Snape. Snape who had been unreasonably unfair to all of them at school, just because they had been Gryffindors and just a bit...well, adventurous. Just because...he didn't like her friend's family. Because he had held a grudge.