wip beginning
A year after the war ended, they met again in the cafe in the economics building. That's what Harry told people anyway, later, when she had to explain how it had begun. By 'met', she meant that Snape had slammed a thick hardcover textbook on the table where Harry was working through some homework and said, "Why are you spying on me?"
The bang had Harry on a defensive crouch on the floor, wand out. When she saw who it was, she hastily cast an attention deflection charm got it back in her Muggle-proof holster, trying not to draw attention. "What are – I'm not – wait, are you spying on me?"
Snape gave her a look of pure hatred. "Don't give me the idiot routine. What are you here for?"
"I'm enrolled as a student!
"Oh, really? In what course?"
"Visual art," Harry said defiantly. "Not that it's any of your business, you bloody rude wanker. Why are you here?"
Snape's voice was arctic. "I'm studying computer engineering."
"Oh? That sounds... challenging." Harry hadn't the basics one needed to do any kind of engineering at a Muggle university. "If that's what you do to relax, I guess, more power to you."
Then she came to her senses. Why was she trying to be polite? Snape was the one who'd slammed books on her table and accused her of spying – she was about to open her mouth and tell Snape that she could fuck off now, surely they could arrange not to have their paths cross, when she saw the expression on Snape's face. Murderously, the woman hissed, "Relax? I'm not trying to relax, Potter, I'm trying to build up a new vocation. I don’t suppose you understand the concept, with your comfortable fortune lying in your hereditary bank vault padding your life.”
"A vocation?" Harry said slowly. "But what for? You can... brew, even if no one will hire you, surely..."
Snape sat down in the other chair at the table. Harry opened her mouth in protest, and then shut it again. "Potter. They stripped me of my magic."
People could do that? "Who? Oh..."
The Wizengamot. All the trials Harry hadn't been conscious for. Snape looked marveling. "You didn't know."
Harry said, "I woke up, I took my stuff, and I left."
Snape said, cuttingly, "Without bothering to do even the most basic of catch-up –"
"Aside from the Weasleys, I don't even know who's dead."
Snape's mouth sagged open. "You're joking."
"I don't know. I don't care. I don't get wizarding post. I talk to Hermione and Ron, but they don't know where I am, and I've told them not to give me news. And –" Harry said, as fiercely as she could, "I don't want you to, either."
"Bury your head in the sand –"
"Why fucking NOT?" Harry said. Her fists were clenched. She was ready to deck Snape. "I'm done. I'm done with Wizarding Britain and I'm done with you. Go harangue one of the other fifteen thousand students enrolled here. Get away from me and never talk to me again."
Harry noticed that Snape's lips were cracked. "Or what? You'll hex me?"
"Maybe I'll addle one of your Muggle professors to give you a bad grade," Harry said coolly. "Perhaps take an irrational disliking to you? Single you out for difficult questions in class?”
Snape bared her teeth and rose to leave. Harry hadn't quite done a good enough job with the attention deflection – their spot of the cafe was still drawing glances, although they tended to foggily meander away after a second. "Very well, then. I’ll leave you to learn to paint the asinine, amateur landscapes I’m sure will fetch thousands of Galleons once you deign to return to the only world where you mean anything.”
