Snape stared in wonder at the plethora of cans that towered above him.
Creamed corn. Baby corn. Corn kernels. Corn and peas. Mushy peas. Peas and carrots. Sliced carrots. Baby carrots.
What was the obsession with infant vegetables?
Apricots in syrup. Dried apricots. Diced apricots. Diced pears. Pear slices. Banana chips. Canned bananas. Canned mangos. Mangos and peaches. Peaches and cream. Creamed corn.
Oh. He was back at the corn.
Canned asparagus. Asparagus spears. Black olives in jars. Green olives in oil. Tuna in oil. Tuna with chilli. Tuna in flakes. Salmon slices. Pink salmon chunks. Red salmon chunks. Canned Irish stew. Canned beef. Ravioli in cans. Sausages in cans. Sausages and beans, both separate and together, in cans.
Cream cheese in jars with blue labels. Cheddar cheese in blue boxes. Smooth peanut butter. Crunchy peanut butter. Peanut butter next to jars of jam. Peanut butter in jars of jam. Or was it jars of jam with peanut butter?
Honey. Vegemite. Marmite. Marmalade.
"You're staring," Harry said, giving Snape a subtle nudge to the ribs.
"Hell's balls, Potter," Snape said, face wrinkling in disgust. "People consume these products? Human people?"
Harry snorted. "Yes, and have for decades. I admit; most canned goods are inferior to the fresh stuff, but there are some things that you can only buy pre-packaged. Marmite, for instance."
Snape recoiled from the jar in Harry's hand as if it were about to spout fangs and inject him with its yeasty goodness. "Get that away from me. If I want to ingest products created in a brewery, I'll drink a pint."
Harry put the offending jar back on the shelf and leaned into Snape's side, staring down the aisle of grocery goods. "I'd love a pint."
"Yes, well, if you'd have planned things better, we wouldn't be in this predicament, would we?" Snape softened his words with a quick kiss he dropped on Harry's parted lips then wrapped his arms around Harry's waist, tightening the strings of his apron.
"Thanks," Harry said, kissing him back.
A loud, disembodied voice echoed through the building.
"Clean up on aisle twelve. Bucket required, aisle twelve."
Harry opened his mouth and Snape raised his eyebrow.
Harry pouted. "Fine." He grabbed the mop and bucket leaning against a stack of vegetable stock. "But you owe me."
"I owe you nothing," Snape replied primly. " I mopped last time. After an incident, I believe, involving a wayward trolley, a harried mother and a display of pasta sauce. It's your turn."
Harry sighed heavily and hung his head. "How much longer?"
"My shift finishes in an hour and a half. Your shift finishes in two hours. I shall meet you at the pub around the corner where, all things going according to plan, I will have consumed at least three alcoholic beverages and a large plate of hot chips with vinegar."
Harry used the mop to carelessly push the bucket along the floor, dirty water slopping out over the sides. "Guess that means I'm topping tonight."
Snape cleared his throat.
Harry looked back at him over his shoulder.
"Strawberry-flavoured lubricant in on sale in aisle two. Twenty percent off."
A smile broke out over Harry's face. "I'll buy two," he said, winking.
Snape turned away lest Harry see the slight blush he could feel rising up his face.
When Potter had convinced him to run away together and live secretly in the Muggle world, Snape knew they would face difficulties.
But sometimes, a person was lucky enough to be in the right place at the right time, and score a bargain.
Author's Chapter Notes:
A kind person gave me the prompts of Snape, Harry, canned bananas and vegemite. I've done my best to not only include these words in the fic, but to have them make sense.
