Family Businesses

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 September 1995

In the early evening, four days after the meeting Florence and he didn't attend, Severus was in his office, grading the few essays of that first week of classes, working to finish it all quickly to go home to enjoy the weekend with his wife and their two younger children.

Bubotuber pus, he read in a fifth-year essay, is used for healing potions. Right. ...the plant's petrol stench discourages many to have it in their greenhouses. Right again.

He was about to read the next sentence but stopped – the sound of the door being opened and of steps on the stone floor let him know someone had entered his classroom, unannounced; and before he had raised his head to glare at whoever had dared to bothered him after hours, the sound of a throat being cleared had him wincing at the instant realisation of who they were.

Shit. Severus immediately recalled Florence saying that the toad-like woman was interested in making a husband out of him.

"Can I help you, Prof. Umbridge?" he asked, refusing to look at her.

"Yes, Prof. Snape," she said in a disgusting saccharine voice, "I hope I'm not being too forward with my question, but I'd like to know your plans for the weekend. And suggest that, perhaps, we could find something to do together."

Fucking hell. He slowly raised his head from the essays and nearly gagged at the sight in front of him: Umbridge had changed her usual pink tweed suit to a dress, a long-sleeved magenta dress that made her look like a balloon piñata at a little girl's party.

He had to control his sudden need to laugh at the mental picture of kids beating her up in the hope of getting candy.

"So?" she insisted, taking his prolonged silence as a positive reaction to her chosen attire, "Are you staying in the castle?"

He looked back down at his essays and replied coolly: "No. I have plans."

"Couldn't they be postponed so that we could, you know, enjoy some time getting acquainted?" she said, coyly.

He felt his afternoon tea try to make its way back up to his mouth a second time.

"No," he drawled, and if he tried to sound any drier, he'd be spitting sand, "I have plans that can't be postponed," he paused before adding: "But if it's company you're looking for, I'm sure Prof. Flitwick would be happy to provide it, professor."

Umbridge walked closer to him in a clear attempt of sexiness that had him jumping up from his chair in disgust, looking down at her, and speaking with his most authoritative classroom voice:

"Prof. Umbridge. I must ask you to leave my office. I want to lock it for the weekend."

She was about to reply when she glanced at his chair and frowned.

He followed her gaze and found a lilac jumper hanging from the back of his chair.

Florence's jumper.

He saw Umbridge's face change from attempted-seduction to restrained-fury as she quickly realised with whom he was going to spend the weekend.

"I see," she pressed her lips in a thin line of disapproval, "There seem to be one thing I must do before we can enjoy some time together."

Severus stopped himself from smiling, knowing she'd be going after Florence – and he couldn't wait to see his wife crushing that pink toad.

_________________

Second week of classes

Florence was getting ready to leave the hospital wing after a calm Thursday afternoon, when someone entered the infirmary.

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