Shiitakes

Title: Shiitakes
Author: Excentrykemuse

Fandom(s): Harry Potter Series / Twilight Saga
Pairing(s): Bella Swan/Severus Snape, (past) Bella/Edward

Rating: PG
Word Count: 1.6k

Warning(s): do we hate Edward?, time discrepancy (takes place during the First War), mentions of death eaters and Voldemort, blood supremacy
Prompt: for Roxanne Hall who wanted Bella and a slightly younger Severus

Shiitakes

“I need shiitakes,” the young woman stated forcefully to the small gnome behind the counter. 

Snape at first hadn’t noticed her when he walked in, but there was a strange energy about her.  He wouldn’t exactly call it magic, but it was certainly intoxicating as it trickled from her out into the small shop.  The young woman had a swath of dark hair that was hiding her face.  Small, delicate hands were pressed on the counter where she had laid down an old piece of parchment that appeared to be a list.

The gnome shouted at her.  “We don’t serve your kind.”  He shoved her list back at her.  “Get out of here, Muggle.”

The young woman shook her head, the scent of her shampoo fluttering about her and that trickle of energy buzzing in the air.  She was clearly annoyed.

“I don’t know what—” she began angrily, but Snape intervened.

“This witch is not a Muggle,” he sneered, coming up behind her.  “Can’t you smell her magic?”

The young woman stilled at his words, and then turned around to betray large doe eyes in a pale face.  She took him in for a long moment and then turned back to the gnome.  “Are you going to sell me shiitakes or not?” she asked.

The gnome, who was quite ugly himself, looked her up and down and then took in Snape, who was a regular customer.  “You vouch for her?”

“She was my student at Hogwarts,” he lied.  “She is most certainly a witch.”  This young woman was barely old enough to be out of Hogwarts, but she had an American accent so she certainly would have gone to Ilvermorny.  Still, something about the energy surrounding this young woman was intoxicating, and he was hoping his largesse would convince her to come with him to The Sleeping Dragon for a cup of tea afterwards.  She was too clean to be an often-time frequenter of Nocturne Alley. 

Grumbling, the gnome heaved himself off of his chair and went into the back. 

The young woman turned to Snape again with a small smile.  “Thank you,” she murmured, her voice soft and a little shy, “Mr.—”

Caught in watching her sensual tongue flit out from between her teeth, Snape caught himself and supplied, “Professor Snape.”

“Professor,” she agreed, offering her hand, which he took.  “Of course.  I’m your student.”

As soon as he touched her, Snape felt that energy flit up his fingers, and she must have felt it as well, because they both immediately stilled and stared into each other’s eyes.  Her gaze was wide and so fearful that Snape, despite his usual dislike of the human race, wanted to pull her close and offer her protection.

They quickly dropped each other’s hands when the gnome came back out with a jar of mushrooms.  The little creature looked between them suspiciously.  “How much do you want?”

The woman looked at her list and told him, “four ounces.”

The gnome grunted.  “That’s enough to make any wizard fall in love with you.”

Her eyes flashed up quickly and then turned to Snape.  “I—I thought this was a potion to make him hate me.”  Clearly distressed, she picked up the piece of parchment and began reading the list under his breath.

Snape instantly recognized the potion.  Taking it from her to confirm, he looked down it and told her carefully, “This will create a weak infatuation.”

“Infatuation?” she asked, voice desperate.  “He’s already infatuated!  That’s the problem!”  She bit her lip in clear distress.

Looking at her carefully, Snape turned to the gnome and said, “The lady does not require your services at this time,” before ushering her out into the sunlight, parchment carefully folded into his breast pocket.

She allowed him to lead her out of Nocturne Alley and to the small café called The Sleeping Dragon.  There weren’t many people out in Diagon Alley given that it was only a few years after the war, but Snape knew his way around a wand, and he knew no Death Eater would dare attack him or any woman who was clearly with him.

Snape wondered to himself that he had taken such an interest in a woman who wasn’t Lily Potter.  He didn’t know his heart could heal even though it had been six years since Lily’s death.  He didn’t even know this witch’s name.  All he knew was that she was from America and that someone was infatuated with her—and she wanted to put an end to it.  He also knew that she was abysmal at potions, because any third year student would be able to tell that shiitake was colloquially known as the “mushroom of love.”

Snape pulled her seat out for her and watched as she sat down, only now seeming to realize she wasn’t in the small apothecary.  He sat opposite her and quickly ordered a pot of tea.

“Now,” he began, “why don’t you tell me your name and tell me who’s bothering you, Mademoiselle—?”

She swallowed, looking like a deer caught in wandlight, before answering: “Bella Swan.”

“Mademoiselle Swan.”

She looked up as if chastising herself and then amended, “Mrs. Cullen.  That’s the problem.  I’m on my honeymoon—and I wasn’t quite prepared—” Bella let her voice hang.

He folded his hands and leaned forward, “Madam Cullen,” he began again, “has your husband hurt you?”  The idea of any man hurting such a beautiful young witch was quite despicable. 

Bella shook her head, her dark hair sliding around her shoulders.  “It’s nothing like that.  Edward convinced me to marry him right out of high school—he’s obsessed—”  She blew out through her nose.  She then shifted her chair forward and said, quite seriously, “I understand you’re all witches and wizards here.”

Startled, Snape sat up and took her in.  The same energy pulsed around her—but it wasn’t magic.  Was she really a Muggle?  “Yes,” he began carefully.

“Edward’s a vampire,” she told him. 

At this a sinking feeling entered his stomach.  A vampire had married a Muggle woman? 

His thoughts were broken off when the tea arrived, and he waited for the server to leave.  Bella just sat there, staring at the pot and the two cups, and he realized she didn’t know how to serve tea.  She was, after all, American—and so he played mother.  Pouring her a cup, he started over, “You are a normal human woman married to a vampire who is obsessed with you.”

“Yes,” she agreed, seemingly relieved.

“How unnatural,” he commented.  “How did you get to Diagon Alley?”  Snape now poured himself a cup.

Bella looked to the side.  “I have my ways,” she murmured before picking up her cup and taking a sip.

Well, whatever Bella’s faults as a Muggle (the lack of magic being one of them), she was clearly had ingenuity.  She’d gotten her hands on a potion, she’d gotten into Nocturne Alley, and Snape had found her in the middle of a monetary transaction with a gnome.  Still, she had that energy.

Taking his wand out, he handed it to her.  It was thirteen and a quarter inches, maple, unicorn hair core.  Bella looked at it and held it between her thumb and pointer finger.

“Grasp it in your fist.”

She did.

“Wave it around,” he ordered.

She did after a pause and auburn sparks emitted from the end.  Well, that answered that.  Her intoxicating energy was some form of magic.  He took his wand back and slipped it inside his robes.

“Was that supposed to happen?” she asked.

“Only if you’re a witch,” he answered her.  He set down his cup.  “You don’t want to be married, then, I take it.  What changed your mind?”

She breathed out through her nose.  “I never believed in marriage.  He rather—forced the issue.  We’re here on our honeymoon, and I just want to go home without him.”

Snape took her in again, her long beautiful hair, her doe eyes, her pale skin.  “I can hide you,” he promised her, “behind wards where he can’t find you, and then we can find a more permanent solution.”  He would have to research her genealogy.  America was different than England.  Blood purity was paramount.  It was illegal for wizards to marry Muggles.  She must come from a line of wizards and be unaware of it.  He might have to involve the Lucius Malfoy and the old crowd depending on the vampire’s persistence, but only after he knew exactly Bella Swan Cullen’s heritage.  “Does that sound like a possible solution, Madam Cullen?”  His eyes connected with hers and he saw her looking unflinchingly back.

“Was it magic when we touched, Professor Snape?” she asked boldly.

“A type of magic,” he agreed carefully.

She leaned forward, clearly interested.

“I would never wish to impose on you,” he began carefully, “but when soulmates touch for the first time, they spark.”

This immediately startled her.  “Edward’s not my soulmate,” she breathed, clearly thinking.  “He lied.”

Snape looked her over again, taking in her natural beautiful, and admitted, “I suspect Mr. Cullen has lied about a great many things.  One of them being that vampires can legally marry human women—”

Startled again, Bella looked up.  “There are laws about such things?”

“A great many laws,” he told her, putting down a few sickles and standing, coming around and pulling out her chair.  “I was not expecting guests, but I hope Spinner’s End will not prove too much of a disappointment.”

“Nothing can be a disappointment after the last five weeks,” she promised, standing.

Snape offered her his hand and she took it.  He led her to an apparition point and pulled her close.  “This may be uncomfortable,” he warned her.

“Just don’t let go,” she begged him—and then they apparated away.

The End.