He tapped his fingers impatiently on his keyboard without actually pressing any keys and waited. As soon as he could email, he typed, without actively thinking what he wrote — not like all the other times when he had email Granger. Now, it was clear what to write her and he finished quickly, shut the laptop down and as he could still hear the shower running (did that boy even knew what saving was?), he left his house and hurried around the front and rang, furiously, on Eleanor's door. He had to talk to her, explain, make her come over to his place while he stayed, hopefully, probably, with Aideen, explaining the entire matter to her. While Eleanor worked her own magic on Draco. Was probably the best idea.

"Severus? Is my car broken now?" Eleanor snapped at him, opening her door wide but he didn't let her continue.

"Where's Aideen?" he asked in a whisper.

"Upstairs. What's happened?" she asked worriedly.

"Draco Malfoy, The Ungrateful is back. He's taking a shower over at..." he gestured at his house."

"What? He's back? Did he come back? How...What...was that why you needed the car?" she asked, rushed but in a whisper, mindful of Aideen.

"I brought him back, yes," he hissed. "But he is not that happy to be back yet and I'd...could you maybe..."

"Give me your key and you talk to the girl. She'll listen to you more than to me," she said immediately, thinking along his lines and he was glad, glad that she could follow what he had in mind already. He handed her his key and with a sharp nod, he entered her house and as he watched her walking as quickly as the old woman could, with a hand pressed to her back, he closed the front door to her house and took a deep breath.

It had gone much better than he had thought. Much better. Not that he had thought all that much which had probably been a mistake. He shouldn't have just shoved Draco into the car but...maybe the boy realised that he was throwing a wonderful future away. That he pushed people who liked him away and Severus had done that too many times to know that it hurt. Hurt worse than any curse. For a brief moment he realised that he, even if he decided to get his magic back, which he hadn't done yet, could not possibly leave those people behind. Not Eleanor and not Aideen and not Eleanor's family. People who had accepted him for himself. And Eleanor...Eleanor did more than just accept him. Eleanor loved him. She had said so many times and if pressed, he would admit that he felt a deep sense of affection towards her as well. If not love. This old woman had brought him back to life and if he was any judge of character, she would bring Draco back to life.

And if Aideen was any kind of — reasonable — she would do her share. Aideen trusted him and if he played his cards right, he and Eleanor would have two amorous, terribly sickeningly in love young people close by soon enough.

"Aideen!" he called, moving to the kitchen and putting the kettle on. They would need it.

She had slept most of the afternoon but Hermione was still tired and so, after brushing her teeth, getting ready for bed, wondering about Harry and Ron (and having observed them for the rest of the time she had seen them for any kind of clue why they acted so strangely and uncharacteristically), she just dragged her laptop to bed with her, wanting to send a brief message to Aideen and, well, sort of hoping that Snape had emailed her. Not that he would. Why should he? He probably didn't care about her working on the counter-curse as long as there was no result. Or she had still piqued his interest? Was he thinking about it?

Ah, it wouldn't do to think about him so much. She shouldn't. She really really shouldn't but he had...he had looked good. And he had smelled good. And she had wanted to step closer and take a good sniff but...it wasn't any good. She had to stop that line of thinking before it turned serious in her mind. Unrequited love was the last thing she needed at the moment. Most definitely the last thing she needed. Stop that line of thinking.

The laptop perched rather precariously on her knees and she shouldn't put it directly on the mattress or it would overheat and that couldn't be good. Thinking about the laptop was good. Emailing Aideen and one of her professors, asking about a paper. That was important. Everything else wasn't. And maybe she could postpone meeting Draco. Just to make sure she wasn't digging herself deeper into the whole — thinking about Snape thing.

She sighed, the junk food in her stomach not that happy anymore, and opened her mailing programme.

No.

That wasn't true now. Two seconds ago, she had agreed with herself not to think about him anymore. And what was he doing? What was he doing emailing her.

For a moment, a rather brief moment, barely the blink of an eye, she was tempted to just delete the email. Delete and forget but then, that brief, very brief moment passed and eagerly, and smiling shyly to herself, she double-clicked and opened his email and happily — too happily — read.

Granger,

just to inform you: Draco Malfoy is now back at Manchester and not with his father in case you were meeting him there. I suggest you wait a day or two until you contact him since he has to readjust to being back here. In the meantime, you should check Flamel's book on curses. I believe there is a rather long chapter about chants in there.

Snape

Hermione smiled broadly and without emailing Aideen, without emailing her professor, she shut down her laptop and snuggled deep into her covers and into her pillow and tried to remember what he had smelled like and what he would smell like being closer to her. She could always reprimand herself for that brief lapse in the morning.

"What?" she hissed angrily.

"Just what I said," he replied.

"Over there? At your house?" Aideen was close to actually hissing and spitting, reminding him more of a hag from the Black Forest than a civilised English Muggle.

"Yes, Aideen, he came back," he replied calmly. She had reacted so differently from what he had expected. He had expected tears and fear and general irrationality and not with cold-blooded inquisitiveness. Women were known, he had experienced in all his life, to be unreasonable and irrational when it came to men. His mother was a prime example. Deveney, who had thrown a vase at his head, another. But Aideen — angry. Only angry. And not angry because he was back — but angry because he had taken so long, it seemed.

She huffed and without taking a moment to think, and maybe she was still irrational, she jumped up from her chair and out of the back door and judging by the noise, she was climbing over the stepladder in the garden and...he followed her as quickly as he could, but the door to his kitchen was already and open and all he could do was step in as well. Unsure where to go, he listened in his kitchen, then followed the angry hiss and stood just a step behind Aideen in his living room. Which, obviously, Eleanor had cleaned up a bit. His mug was gone and his jumper was gone. He suppressed a growl and focused on Aideen and on Draco.

Poor boy sat stiffly on the couch, Eleanor's hand on his arm and Aideen stood in front of him, glaring, her fists, much like Granger's on her sides (so all women, including Granger and including Aideen did that — and were irrational after all. Even though, Granger, irrational? He'd have to see about that...not thinking about her now. Focusing on what was going on in his living room).

"Aideen..." Eleanor said with a menacing undertone to her voice.

"No, Gran," she spat, "Get up, Draco!" she shouted then and the boy, strangely enough, obeyed and stood before her and barely a second later, he heard a resounding slap and saw how Aideen's flat hand connected to the boy's cheek.

"How dare you just disappear on me like that? I needed some time and you just decide to run back home to Daddy. I swear to God, Draco Malfoy, if you ever pull something like that again..." she slapped him again and this time so quickly that she could barely see her hand flying.

He was about to pull her back and Eleanor had got up as well, probably to pull him or her away as well or to stand between them when something so irrational, so strange happened that he could only stare at Eleanor and those two and took two steps back. Unlike any other normal man, Draco didn't step back either. In fact, he pulled his lower lip between his teeth and stepped towards her. Towards the woman who had slapped him (maybe some men were irrational as well) and Aideen, instead of slapping him again — or throwing a vase at his head (like any irrational woman would) — stepped towards him as well and a heartbeat later, they were in each other's arms, hugging violently.

Severus shook his head resignedly and was quite happy when Eleanor, with a grin, gestured him to follow her in the kitchen. He was quite obviously surrounded by irrational, strangely behaved people, but at least Granger and Eleanor at least seemed quite normal — for females.

72. Dispreferred Second

As is often the case, the expression of a refusal (a dispreferred second) can be accomplished without actually saying 'no'. Something that isn't said nevertheless gets communicated in the following:

Becky: Come over for some coffee later.

Wally: Oh — eh — I'd love to — but you see — I — I'm supposed to get this finished — you know.

After a preface ('Oh') and a hesitation ('eh'), the second speaker produces a kind of token acceptance ('I'd love to') to show appreciation of the invitation. Then, the other's understanding is invoked ('you see') and an account is presented ('I'm supposed to get this finished') to explain what prevents the speaker from accepting the invitation. There is also a meaning conveyed here that the speaker's circumstances are beyond his control because of an obligation ('I'm supposed to') and, once again, the inviter's understanding ('you know') is invoked.

The patterns associated with a dispreferred second in English are presented as a series of optional elements below:

delay/hesitate: pause; er, em, ah

preface: well; oh

express doubt: I'm not sure; I don't know

token Yes: That's great; I'd love to

apology: I'm sorry; what a pity

mention obligation: I must do X; I'm expected in Y

appeal for understanding: you see; you know

make it non-personal: everybody else; out there

give an account: too much work; no time left

use mitigators: really; mostly; sort of; kinda

hedge the negative: I guess not; not possible

(Yule, 1996)

With a jolt, Hermione woke up. She sat bolt upright in her bed and as quickly as she could, she pulled the laptop on her lap and started it. Faint recollections were there only. She had probably not been as sober as she thought she had been. Snape had written her. She remembered that. Snape had written her that Draco had gone back to Manchester? Could that be? Really? In her jammies, she had to check. Draco couldn't have gone back. He was sprouting his Purebloodism everywhere, explained to her that he was only tolerating her because she had proved herself to be thinking more like a witch than a muggle. And because she knew how to work on this counter-curse. But that didn't mean he respected her in any way, quite on the contrary. And him going back to Mrs Callaghan? Or even to Snape...that was close to admitting defeat and close to admitting that the Purebloodism wasn't any better than living in the Muggle world. With his godfather and...

Well. If Draco was back at Manchester, did that mean that he didn't need his godfather to have his magic back? Did that mean that...it couldn't be. She had misread it. Or it had been something out of her imagination and Snape had, naturally, not emailed her. She had just dreamed that. She had gone straight to bed after their McDonald's meal and had not even touched her laptop.

No, that was rubbish. Why else should it be next to her bed if she hadn't.

Finally, it her laptop was running and she could check.

There. It was. There. He had emailed her! He had. And Draco had indeed gone back.

Well. Wow. Well. She wiped the last bit of sleep from her eyes and blinked. Snape had truly emailed her. Snape had emailed her. She couldn't stop the grin from appearing on her face. Snape had emailed her.

Ah well, she had more or less made the resolution not to think about him anymore and to put the entire project with Draco and his magic on ice and maybe, with Draco and his godfather probably sharing a house now, or being neighbours, or close, she didn't even need to pursue the project anymore.

Even though — why should Snape mention another book, with another reference to chants if he wasn't interested in the least? She had suspected she would but that was without Draco in the equation.

Oh but it was so much better. Snape had emailed her so she had waited for him to make the, well, first move now and with Draco back with him, this changed the entire situation. She sighed as dreamily as she had never ever sighed in her life before (suspecting she sounded somewhat like Lavender Brown back at school) and lay back on her pillows, her arms stretched out to her sides. It would, definitely, be another early morning visit to Snape but this time, it wasn't anything about gushing, it wasn't anything about her or him — she was simply curious about Draco Malfoy. That was all there was to it. And by sending that email, Snape was basically issuing a formal invitation. He didn't have to write to come. That wasn't necessary. She could read the subtext. Even though...I suggest you wait a day or two until you contact him since he has to readjust to being back here.

It was a day. Almost. And she didn't want to contact him, she just wanted to see him. To make sure he was really there, really.

But. No.

She had only embarrassed herself lately when it came to Snape. And anyone else for that matter. She wasn't her usual put together self and she wasn't...she wasn't herself anymore and she needed to get a grip on things. Needed to get on top of her work and today was just the right day to do it. Tomorrow, she had her first lecture at eleven, she could briefly, on her way to Uni, drop by. Yes. Much better. Even though it was tempting and it was just early enough to hope to see another glimpse of Snape from the shower...no. No. No. Maths. Analysis. Geometry. That was on today's schedule. But he had emailed her.

Maybe...just a brief email back? Before she went down for breakfast? Maybe just a brief one? Or during breakfast? Kreacher could make her a nice cup of tea and she could read that email and email him back and...she sighed again. This was not normal. This wasn't her.