One thing Severus understood intimately was the hatred of looking like an idiot, of being humiliated or poked fun of for something that he couldn't control. His large nose, his familial poverty - he had a long list. Perhaps it was sympathy with her in that which made him so accommodating.
As she put away the bread and meat, he paused with the fridge door open.
"I like a bit of mayonnaise on my bread," he said, seeming to muse aloud as he tapped the lid of the jar. "Sliced cheese, tomatoes and lettuce are never amiss, either. I know Narcissa has always liked those delicate little cucumber sandwiches." As he mentioned each item, he shuffled it around in the refrigerator as if by accident, as if merely looking for the ingredients for his pasta sauce.
He took out a head of garlic, some onion, peppers and tomatoes and moved to the counter.
"Each cottage is basically the same, but I suppose everyone puts their dishes and flatware away in different places. I like my butter-knives and other flatware next to the sink here. Be careful when you use the knives from the block, though - they're quite sharp."
He took out the butcher knife and cutting board and set to work at chopping the vegetables he'd gotten out.
"If you didn't have it much, perhaps you've never seen it made? Everyone has their own recipe. I like plenty of flavour in mine. There's a pound of ground sausage on the bottom shelf of the fridge. If you'll get it out, I'll show you how to brown it."