Haunting the halls of Hogwarts was a tiresome job. Cape flips, sneers and leers, appropriately creepy stalking along corridors came at a steep price of feeling like his body was that of a sixty year old man, also it didn’t exactly endear him to students.

However, what did Severus Snape care for what his students thought? If their vapid little brains were filled with the vapours of half completed thoughts -even more useless completed-, then why would he give a rat’s ass if those thoughts were positive in regards to him? Better to frighten the poor sheep so they didn’t waste any more of his time than they already did.

So he stalked the halls, merciless with whatever first to third year he met, and down right spiteful with any wandering fourth to seventh year.

Tonight his rounds had been going faster than usual, the perpetually snogging couple on the second floor had either learned to respect the school rules or, more likely, had learned Severus’ schedule, and he was now nearly done. However, on this floor, instead of his snogging couple he’d come to enjoy turning into blubbering messes, there was a strange smell in the air.

Sniffing the air, Severus narrowed his eyes and tried to pinpoint where it was coming from. It was a bit like a wet dog, but a specific wet dog, one which had something very familiar to it.

Inching his way forward, sniffing the air on occasion, he came to the door of the girls' lavatory. He stopped, head swivelling to see if anyone was nearby. Straightening his spine, a particularly cruel sneer being chosen for his entrance, he opened the door.

Inside it was empty. He walked in, peering around before waving his wand. Still empty.

Then he noticed something.

In the corner was a small portable stove, a large pot placed on top, and around it various equipment. Approaching he eyed the items dubiously, they certainly weren’t potions instruments, nor were the products of whatever this was potions.

On a large tarpaulin there were a variety of roundish objects bundled up in thin, white cloths. It clicked, the smell, the equipment, the strange objects. Someone was making cheese.

Severus felt a surge of joy, excitement, and anticipation.

This would be unusual to those of us unfamiliar with the intricacies and joys of cheese making, however, if we go back to when the big bat of the dungeon was the little adored bat of the kitchen, things become a little more clear.

The year is 1966, Eileen Snape nee Prince stands in her kitchen, aproned in a nice frilly but well used bit of cloth, and is holding out a wooden spoon for a little black haired boy to inspect. The word ‘coagulant’ is being explained quite lovingly and a hunk of cheddar cheese is in the child’s hands being slowly and carefully devoured with devotion. Six year old Severus Tobias Snape eats cheese, basks in his mother’s attention, and begins the process that most children are wont to do, and links the stench of a bleu de gex and the smooth texture of a fresh vacherin with a mother’s love.

Back in the year 1996 a thirty six year old Severus Snape re-lived, for just a moment, the ecstasy of cheese making memories.

Stooping down, he grabbed the first wheel and started to peel back the layers of cloth.

“Don’t do that! It isn’t yours!”

Severus looked up to see the miserable ghost known as Moaning Myrtle giving him a rather nasty look.

“Then whose is it?” he asked rudely.

The ghost grew little grey spots on her cheeks and looked very cross.

Severus considered himself the winner in that little exchange and continued pulling back the cloth.

“He won’t like it!” she screeched, soundlessly stomping her foot.

“Oh, so it’s a ‘he’ is it?” Severus said, putting on his silky toned voice which never boded well for an erring student.

She slapped a hand over her face and if possible looked more upset.

“You should leave before you unmask this person and do them further disservice,” Severus was too much the cat for Myrtle the canary, and the ghost zoomed off with a screeching wail.

Now left alone, Severus happily finished unmasking what he really cared about. Looking down he felt himself overcome with joy, to the point of a crooked -rather disturbing to an onlooker- smile creeping its way onto his face.

Cradled in his hands was a beautiful little wheel of what he thought, with a quick sniff, was Dorset Blue Vinney. He was so immersed in admiring it that he didn’t hear the bathroom door open.

“Oh shit.”

Severus knew that voice and like a bucket of cold water being dumped on him, he felt a chill run over his spine and his good mood was dampened. Rising, he spun around to see that it was indeed the horrible Potter.

He narrowed his eyes, trying to guess if the boy had somehow wandered in here or if, Merlin forbid it, he was responsible for the little piece of heaven which Severus had found.

“So, Potter,”
“So you found my cheese-”

They spoke at the same time and both stopped short. Both appraised each other, eyes narrowed.

“This is your cheese, Potter?” Severus asked, eyeing the boy suspiciously.

“Yes,” Potter replied, his response drawn out, and eyeing his professor with equal suspicion.

There was a beat of silence.

“You have a good rennet,” Severus said.

“Thanks.”

Another few moments of silence.

“Look, you won’t tell anyone…” Potter trailed off.

“No, no I don’t think I will, but we should come to,” Severus dramatically paused, “an arrangement.”

“What kind of an arrangement?”

Severus glanced down at the cheese being cradled protectively in his arms.

“Cheese. In exchange for silence.”

Potter appeared to think for a few moments before his gaze steeled and he gave a slow nod.

“Maybe, you could move it somewhere more hygienical, somewhere… closer.”

Potter gave another nod.

They continued to stare each other down until Severus took a slow step forward. Then he began walking toward the door.

He paused by Potter and leaned in and spoke softly, “we’ll discuss the terms more thoroughly after class. Bring a Lancanshire.”

“Crumbly or the Beacon Fell Traditional?” Potter asked.

Severus smiled (the self same shudder inducing one) approvingly.

“Surprise me,” he said and then whisked out of the room with a swish of his cape.