Severus was sitting in a restaurant in London when his afternoon was interrupted by the last person he'd ever expected to see again.

"Harry, could you take table twelve's order? I've got to take table nine's food back for the second time, and he's been waiting for close to twenty minutes."

"You should have said something to me sooner, Bonehead." Severus looked up at the sound of that voice. "This is why you get so few tips. I'll handle twelve, but you're finishing out the tab. If Josh finds out I helped out in someone else's section again when we aren't in a rush, he'll take my head off."

"You bet, Harry. And thanks."

Severus watched the approach of the Wizarding Savior, dressed in the restaurant's uniform white button-down and crisp black slacks. Potter didn't even falter as their eyes met, only continued to his table. Severus closed his book soundly.

"Potter, what're you-"

"Good afternoon, Sir, would you like to hear our lunch specials?" The brat interrupted.

Severus frowned. "No, I've already decided on the clam chowder."

Potter smirked, pulling a pen and pad from his pocket. "I don't recommend it, sir. We don't make fresh until the evening rush. What we do have was made a few hours ago, and it barely resembles a chowder anymore."

Severus couldn't help smirking as well. "Then what do you recommend?"

Potter gestured to his closed menu. "May I?"

"Please," Severus said, pushing the plastic-covered list towards the younger wizard.

Potter smiled and leaned over the menu, flipping it open and running his finger down the first page. "I don't think you're a fish kind of guy," He mumbled, looking the menu over.

"I am not," Severus confirmed.

"Here!" Potter said triumphantly, pointing to a dish on the second page. "Chicken marsala. It's my personal favorite, and I'd recommend it to anyone with discerning tastes such as yourself."

Severus considered this. He rarely ate anything that was cooked with wine if he didn't prepare it himself, since most restaurants either boiled it down too much, or not enough. Potter seemed to read his hesitation as if he'd spoken aloud.

"I can personally guarantee that you'll like it, or I'll comp the meal myself. I'm actually the one who taught Bert, the chef on shift, how to make it properly, so if it's wrong, then I'd be honor-bound to take full responsibility," The former Gryffindor promised.

"Very well, Mister Potter," Severus said, closing the menu again. "You've convinced me. I'll have the chicken marsala, with a side of steamed spinach."

Potter wrote this down on his little pad. "Very well, sir, and would you like your potato baked or mashed?"

"Which do you prefer?" Severus asked. He actually found this somewhat fun, interacting with his former student as if they had never met.

"Oh, I would definitely go with the mashed, sir," Potter said. His mask of professionalism appeared to be slipping, as he looked ready to chortle laughter.

Severus nodded. "Then mashed it shall be."

Potter grinned, letting some of his laughter show on his face. "Very well, sir. We'll have that out to you in a tick." He started to walk away, but Severus reached out and touched his arm, halting his steps.

"Potter…" Severus began in a low tone. "What are you doing here? I find it hard to believe the Savior of our world has had any trouble finding a job, or even that you need the money."

Potter shrugged, dislodging Severus' long-fingered hand. "I like it here, actually. I'm finally normal. I rarely get wizards in here, and no one else knows who I am."

As if to prove him wrong, a girl, also dressed in the restaurants uniform, scurried towards him. "Harry!" She moaned in a whining whisper. She gave Severus a nervous smile before grabbing her fellow waiter and leading him slightly away from the table. "I'm so sorry! I thought this was your section today, so when Josh asked me what you were doing, I-"

"Potter!"

Severus watched the whispering duo cringe simultaneously.

"I'm so sorry, Harry!"

The girl scurried away again as a man about Severus' age, who the Potions Master took to be Josh, came out of the back looking thunderous. He marched past the tables without even glancing at his patrons and came to a stop in front of the Wizarding Savior. Potter didn't seem to mind at all when the man pushed his face into his.

"What have I told you about covering your colleague's tables? How can I look for incompetency if you're constantly picking up the slack?" The man demanded, loud enough that it drew the attention of half the restaurant; the half that hadn't already been staring at him, wide-eyed, after his sudden and angry appearance, that is.

"Josh, you're scaring the customers," Potter pointed out calmly.

"Hang the-"

"Josh!" Potter said sharply, his tone never rising.

The older man had enough intelligence to look ashamed. Luckily, the restaurant only had two handfuls of patrons on this late afternoon, so there weren't too many to scare. Severus smirked at how well Potter was handling his superior.

"Now, I know we've talked about this, but I had planned to come to you later, in the hopes you might make an exception this one time," Potter told the man, smiling. "I wasn't covering for anyone, I asked for this table. You see, I know this man."

Severus straightened as muddy brown eyes turned to look at him uncertainly.

"You know him?" Josh asked querulously. "You don't look related."

Potter chuckled. "Oh, I hardly know him that well. No, Mister Snape is…well, let's just say he's an old family friend."

Severus snorted at the implication. Technically, he had known both Lily and James Potter, but he hardly counted as a family friend, since his friendship with Lily had dissolved in their Fifth Year, and he and Potter Sr. had been mortal enemies almost from the moment they'd met.

Josh grunted, tilted his head in acknowledgment to Severus, and turned back to Potter. "Fine, I'll let it slide this once. But get back to your section."

Potter mock saluted, making Josh scowl impatiently as he moved back to the back of the restaurant, presumably to some back office. The former Gryffindor turned back to Severus, grinning.

"See, no one would dare treat me like that if I worked in Diagon Alley, or even Knockturn Alley," He joked. Severus smirked. "I'll have your order out soon, Professor. Though, I think Marcus, the waiter you had before, will be the one to bring it to you. I apparently need to get back to my section."

Severus gave a nod of acknowledgment and watched his former student retreat through a nearby swinging door.

-Break-

In the end, it was Marcus who eventually brought Severus his food, though it took longer than it perhaps should have. Severus wound up enjoying it as much as promised, and though it pained him to do it, gave his waiter a generous tip. Though, he did not give this tip when he closed out his tab. Marcus' shift ended before Potter's did, and Severus carried his bill over into another's shift to remain.

Something about Potter had sparked his interest during their short interaction. He couldn't say if it had been the easy way Potter had addressed him, as if they didn't have years of mutual loathing between them, or if it had perhaps been how easily Potter had handled his superior as if he were his inferior, but something had him remaining at his table long after his meal was finished. He sipped at a supposedly bottomless cup of coffee (he saw the bottom more than once while in the care of 'Marcus', but didn't again once the boy had been replaced by another) for close to three hours. Finally, he saw Potter come out of the back with a shoulder bag. He was glad to have a new waitress by this point, as she closed out his bill succinctly, taking a quarter of the time it would have taken good old Marcus. He hurried out of the restaurant, his finished book in hand, and caught up with Potter near the corner.

"Professor?" Potter asked, looking over at him as he came up beside him. "What're you doing here?"

"I was waiting for you," Severus answered. This wasn't what he'd wanted to say, but he could hardly claim he'd only just finished eating, and nothing else came to mind in the moment.

Potter scoffed, his good humor from earlier gone. "Why?"

"You intrigue me," Severus said honestly.

The Gryffindor had the gall to roll his eyes. "Sure. Years of verbal torture, and now you're intrigued. And if I buy that, you've got some coastal real estate for sale in Arizona, right?"

Severus raised an eyebrow curiously.

"Some American saying I picked up from a couple tourists a while back, at the restaurant," Potter excused. "Now really, what do you want?"

"I assure you, Mister Potter, I want nothing from you," Severus insisted.

Potter frowned. "Good," He said sternly. "I'll see you around, Snape."

And with that he was gone, having disapparated on the spot. Severus frowned as well, looking around him, and realized he'd allowed himself to be led into an alley. He didn't know what he'd expected of the conversation, but it had definitely not gone as planned. He had hoped to ask Potter to get coffee (not that he would be very willing to drink anymore this evening, himself), perhaps engage the puzzling young man in a conversation. The friendliness that he'd witnessed earlier had surprised him, and made him, for the first time ever, actually want to get to know the son of James Potter. Said young man obviously did not feel similarly.

With a scowl of determination (Severus would be the first to admit he could be incredibly stubborn when he got something into his head) he turned back towards the restaurant. He was going to have a discussion with Potter's manager. If Potter didn't want to talk, he would just have to put up with being watched until Severus grew bored, or satisfied his curiosity, whichever came first.