Lab Coats and Wizard Robes

Chapter Five: A Spoilt Meal

When he arrived in Hogsmeade, the place was dark and deserted. The clock in the middle of the Wendelin the Weird Square was saying eleven o'clock. That meant he had missed dinner, and French fries. Snape cursed: he loved French fries. On top of that, it was raining not only cats and dogs, but all sorts of animals. He cast a Water Repelling Charm on the hydrochloric acid bottle (it was no use doing it on himself: he was already soaked), and started to walk to the castle. It was a trial for him: in wet weather, his knee hurt him more than usual. By the time he reached the castle, he was just feeling wet, and extraordinarily grumpy. As he limped to his office, he left a trail of water and mud behind himself.

Once there, he put the acid on a shelf, and lit a good fire with his wand: he'd talk to Dumbledore tommorow. He summoned a house elf.

"I was unable to eat dinner at the Great Hall tonight. I would like to take supper in my office now."

"Yes, Professor. What would you like to eat, sir?"

The house elf was looking expectantly at him. Snape considered it. Would he dare ask? The house elf was not going to gossip about it, come on, nobody would laugh at him. And even then, what was wrong with liking French fries? And it was not as if he hadn't earned them, today... In the end, he asked in an uncharacteristically squeaky voice:

"Could I have some French fries, please?"

Moments later, he was sitting at his dinner. The house elf had been so happy he had said "please" that he didn't only have a whole salad bowl full of French fries, but also ketchup, mayonnaise, mustard, vinegar, and for some reason harissa, to season them. In addition, he had gotten a bottle of foaming Butterbeer. Potter, Muggles, pastick boxes... all were gone from his mind. He would think about them tomorrow.

Halfway through his meal, however, someone knocked at his door. His mouth still full, he answered the door. Someone shot past him and started looking everywhere:

"Where is it? Where is the filthy little beast hiding?"

Argus Filch was already looking in the dirty clothes basket in Snape's bedroom when he finally managed to swallow. He used his most dangerous voice to calm the caretaker down:

"I have not allowed you to search my office, Filch. What are you looing for?"

"The student, Professor! The student that got into the castle with wet shoes, and walked to your office, thinking it would be great fun to befoul my clean floor!"

"That was me, Filch. I had to walk from Hogsmeade to the castle while it was raining. But I doubt you will have trouble cleaning it up: one good Scourgify and it will be history."

Filch blushed. He mumbled something, and bowed himself out of the room. Serves him right, thought Snape about his nasty comment. He has no business searching through my personal belongings. And with the grim satisfaction that the caretaker would spend the whole night cleaning after him, he went back to his solitary meal, no longer enjoying it, his mind now dwelling on the events in Cambridge.