That Alluring Scent

All characters you recognize are the creations of the brilliant J. K. Rowling from her Harry Potter book series. I make no money from the writing and sharing of this story.

I would like to thank my hardworking betas, JENGEORGE and NervousAboutAngels, as always, for their hard work and diligence. They really helped to make this a better story.

Chapter 3

That Alluring Scent

The following afternoon, Snape made his way downstairs to find oatmeal with his usual breakfast, 2:00 p.m. on the dot. "Good afternoon, Winky," he announced as he settled himself at the kitchen table. "It looks delectable as always."

"Thank you, Master Severus. Will Winky still be going to town this afternoon then?"

"You may do as you please this afternoon, Winky. I wish to purchase something of a personal nature to add to the box, so I will owl it myself later."

Winky seemed even more pleased and excited that Snape felt the need to attend to Miss Granger's request personally. This was a good sign, a very good sign indeed. She hadn't seen her master this enthusiastic about life for quite some time.

He downed his food quickly, then ladled enough of the Calming draught into a phial for one week's worth of consumption and tightly corked the top. Then he put quill to papyrus and scrawled out the dosing instructions and arranged the phial and note, along with the packing material, into a box big enough to hold something else. He wasn't sure how big the item he needed to purchase would be, but he could always shrink or enlarge the box to fit appropriately.

"Have a good afternoon, Winky. Don't wait up for me!" he quipped as he donned his heavy winter traveling cloak, pulled the hood up so as to hide his face, and headed out the front door towards the river, which no longer reeked of pollution or dead fish. Yes, the environmentalists and the community had really worked hard to clean it up. It was actually a pleasant place to enjoy now, weather permitting. The neighborhood had really changed since his childhood. The inhabitants were not rich, to be sure, but they were good, decent, hard-working Muggles that always had a friendly word to say and kept the area clean and inviting.

His eyes scanned the riverbank for signs of intelligent life. Finding none, he spun on the spot and immediately felt the pressure of Apparition bearing down on him. It had been so long he had forgotten just how uncomfortable the experience could be. Just when he thought he would never take another breath, and his eyes were about to pop out of their sockets, he arrived in the deserted side street next to the Leaky Cauldron, behind which could be found the secret entrance to Diagon Alley.

In hope of not being recognized, Snape pulled the hood even farther over his face and quietly stalked through the pub. Since shady characters were not uncommon there, no one gave him a second glance. He eased out the back door, touched his wand to the proper sequence of bricks in the alley wall, and entered his destination. By this time the sun was low in the winter sky. The Owl Post Office would close soon. He had to find the right perfume and get over there quickly if he wanted this package to go out today.

The girl at the cosmetic counter in Madam Malkin's was so young, by Snape's estimation, that she had never been his student, and therefore, she would not have a clue who he was. So he pulled his hood back enough to show his face to the girl, but to no one else in the shop.

"Good afternoon, sir." She smiled broadly at him with flirtatious dark blue eyes. "May I help you?" Her long, straight, dirty-blonde hair had obviously been artificially highlighted with a lighter shade of blonde and hideous streaks of magenta, purple and teal blue. She might have been almost attractive if it weren't for the atrocious extra colors. But when she spoke, Snape noticed that, to top it off, she had something stuck into the center of her tongue. Silver in color with a loop and bead attached. He didn't know what it was, but it distracted him to the point of fascination. He almost forgot what he had come for.

"Sir? Are you OK?"

Suddenly, his eyes broke away from her mouth and looked at the fragrances on the shelf behind her. "Yes, sorry," he stammered with a touch of embarrassment and then gestured towards the shelf. "I'm trying to find a fragrance for an acquaintance. May I sample some of those?"

"Oh, yes, sir. We have quite an assortment to fit every need and pocket book. Would you want the economy brand?" she asked as she sprayed the air in front of him with the cheapest of the lot.

He coughed and took a step back, waving his hands to clear away the offensive odor. "Warn me before you do that again, will you?" He glared at her as he added silently, little twit! The instant the perfume hit the air Snape recognized it as Miss Granger's new perfume. Economy brand, eh? Leave it to the Witless Wonder to be a big spender.

"Sorry, sir. I didn't mean to imply..."

"One with a bit more subtlety, if you don't mind," he cut her off.

She reached back to the shelf and chose the gaudiest bottle in view, popping the lid off as she turned back towards him. This time he took a quick step back just as she squirted the offensive concoction into the space between them.

"I said subtle!" he growled between coughs and wheezes as he turned his head to the side in search of uncontaminated air. When he turned back to face her, his irritation was unmistakable.

"Not to your liking, sir?" she asked, cowering slightly under his stern authoritarian gaze.

His silence spoke volumes.

"I guess not," she concluded meekly.

This was getting him nowhere and time was short. With almost ten bottles left on the shelf he had to narrow down the choices. "Do you have anything with chamomile and rose hips?"

"Oh, yes, sir." The sales girl brightened up immediately. "That would be our top of the line item, 'Secret Recipe' from Paris, France. They say a Veela invented it centuries ago to win over the only man who didn't instantly fall in love with her."

Snape raised his eyebrows. As she reached for the bottle and turned to face him, he gently reached up and surrounded both her hand and the bottle she had retrieved in his long slender fingers. Her eyes met his with a startled look as she became immediately mesmerized by the endless depths of their blackness. He doubted that any of her thoughts or memories would be of interest to him, except... that thing in her mouth... It had been so long since he had cast the spell, he figured, what the hell, I could use the practice. Legilimens... He sifted quickly through the chaotic impressions of her mundane twisted life: defying her parents by listening to horrid sounds she seemed to consider music, unnaturally coloring her hair, getting a Hungarian Horntail tattooed across her left shoulder, and finally, the last straw that had prompted them to throw her out of the house, this... this tongue ring. So that's what it's called. How bizarre! With great relief, he quickly withdrew from the unfocused mayhem that was her mind.

"Allow me," he crooned in a silky deep voice and gracefully eased the precious bottle from her hand. Such a sophisticated substance didn't need a spray delivery system. He removed the stopper and passed it quickly under his nose. This was it. Even after thirteen years he would know that scent anywhere. "I'll take it. Only I want a new one, unopened, untouched... unspoiled."

"Of course, sir," she replied with wide eyes. She crouched under the counter and mumbled a charm under her breath to unlock the cabinet. Then she reached in and retrieved a rather dusty bottle, still sealed. "Sorry about the dust, sir. We don't sell many of these because they are so expensive." She blew violently on the bottle in an attempt to rid it of its unwanted decoration. Luckily, Snape saw what she was about to do and took a couple of steps back, or the dust as well as her questionable breath would have accosted his sensitive nostrils. "Shall I gift wrap it for you?"

"No, thank you, that won't be necessary."

"That'll be fifty galleons then, sir," she informed him as she slid the outwardly unimpressive bottle into a small paper bag.

Snape had no idea what the price of an average perfume bottle should cost because until yesterday he had never in his life even contemplated purchasing one. But he had come prepared and casually laid the necessary coins on the counter as if it were an everyday occurrence. Then, before she could thank him, he had pulled his hood back over his face, grabbed the bag, and swept from the shop.

Once outside he found a bench that was away from the main flow of foot traffic and sat down. He then retrieved the box with the potion, slipped the perfume in beside it, and added a couple of lines to the papyrus with an explanation about his gift. Satisfied that all was ready, he stood and headed for the Owl Post Office.

Only a couple of blocks from the bench he had sat on, the Owl Post Office stood next to Ollivander's, the Wand Maker. It was nice to know the old man was still in business after all the Dark Lord had put him through. Snape entered the Owl Post Office and glanced around. Three clerks stood at an expansive counter ready to help customers, and each had quite a long line waiting. Two of the three he thought he recognized as former students, so he picked the third young man. Again, like the girl from Madam Malkin's, he looked too young to have attended Hogwarts while Snape was a teacher there.

The line he was in slowly dwindled down until finally there was only one person in front of him. As that witch finished up, the young clerk pulled out his cash drawer and looked up with a smile at a much older gentleman coming up with his own cash drawer in his hands. "Break time, Larry," said Stan Shunpike.

"About time!" the young man replied as they switched out the drawers.

Snape was mortified. He has spent the entire afternoon in Diagon Alley without being recognized, but he knew that would come to an abrupt end as soon as Stan looked up and heard his voice. Damn!

"What can I do for you, sir?" asked Stan.

Snape took a deep breath and steeled himself for the inevitable. Although the hood still successfully hid his face from plain view, his unmistakable voice would surely give him away. He removed the box from his pocket and pushed it towards Stan. Could he get away without speaking? It was worth a try.

"Mailing a package, then?"

Snape nodded.

Stan put the package on the scale. "Eight ounces. Where's it goin'?"

He would have to speak. It was unavoidable. "Local."

That one word was all it took. Stan's eyes grew wide as he bent his head slightly and tried to get a better look at Snape's face. "Severus Snape, I don't believe it."

"Then don't. How much do I owe?" Snape asked tersely, hoping not to draw attention to himself.

"Five knuts. Where've you been? Nobody's seen you for ages. People were beginning to spread rumors that you were dead!"

"And you needn't inform them otherwise. I am dead as far as the wizarding world is concerned," Snape replied bitterly. "I did my time. I just want to be left alone." He was beginning to regret coming. Why had he let sentimentality grip his heart? She had made him vulnerable again, damn her! And now he would pay for it. He couldn't let his appearance here become a spectacle. If he was going to correspond regularly with Miss Granger there had to be another way.

Suddenly a solution came to him. He retrieved the package that was still sitting on the scale and stormed out of the Owl Post Office, leaving Stan standing there with his eyes buggy and stammering to the next wizard in line. "That was Severus Snape – did you see him? Severus Snape!"

Snape knew he was cutting it short if this package was to make it to Miss Granger before she left her office for the day. He headed straight for Eeylops Owl Emporium, where he got away with simply pointing and paying without uttering a word and headed outside with a beautiful barn owl perched on his shoulder. He didn't believe in cages, having spent six months in one himself. Perhaps she could find a mate and they could nest in the eves of his house. He often thought it would be a perfect location for a barn owl nest.

But there was one other thing he wanted to add to the letter, the brilliant revelation that had come to him in his haste to escape Stan Shunpike. He sat with his new owl by his side on the very same bench that had served his needs earlier, scribbled one last line on the parchment, then placed it back in the box and tied it to the bird's leg with the string he transfigured from a dead leaf that happened to be floating by. "Come back to my house on Spinner's End once you deliver this." He spoke to the bird as if speaking to a human, and she seemed to understand, as she rubbed her face affectionately against his outstretched hand. He gently scratched the back of her head in return. "Off you go, then. You may hunt on your way home if you like," he added as she flew off.

Snape stood and quickly retreated back through the Leaky Cauldron to a quiet side street where he hastily made his exit before Stan Shunpike alerted the wizarding world to his continued existence.

*****

A few minutes later, Snape's beautiful barn owl was tapping on the glass beside Hermione's desk. With a quick intake of breath and a wildly beating heart, she opened the window and welcomed the bird inside. With trembling hands, she untied the package. In an instant, the bird had disappeared through the open window. As cold as it was outside, Hermione didn't stop to close it again. She cut through the string with her wand and eagerly opened the box.

"Whatcha got there, Mrs. Weasley?" asked Agnes Garmand, one of her coworkers.

"Oh, just a potion I ordered to try and calm Hugo's nerves," she answered.

"Poor little bloke," commented Agnes. "Hope it helps."

"So do I," Hermione answered truthfully.

She lifted the note and temporarily put it aside but picked it back up immediately when she realized that there were two containers inside the box, one homemade, and one store-bought that looked vaguely familiar. Where had she seen that little perfume bottle before? Then it hit her. Viktor Krum had given her a heavenly bottle of perfume upon her graduation from Hogwarts. She remembered how soothing its aroma had always been. It had been her favorite, and since she had used it very sparingly, it had lasted for over five years. But when they got married, Ron insisted that she throw away the empty bottle. He didn't want any reminders of Viktor Krum in his house. Could this be the same perfume? Was this package from Viktor, not Snape? She anxiously began to read.

Miss Granger,

P.S. Do you have access to e-mail? If so it could solve the other problem you spoke of. You may reach me at HalfBloodPrince@yahoo.co.uk

Hermione stared in disbelief at the note in her hand. Snape's tight anal scrawl had not evolved in the slightest since his time at Hogwarts, although she was glad to read that he had enjoyed the chocolates. But that was only the beginning. The note had been written on the finest 100% papyrus, a paper that was quite difficult to find at all and exorbitantly expensive when available. In addition, he didn't provide her with a recipe to help Hugo, he provided her with the finished product. Was he actually being thoughtful? Severus Snape? And as if this were not enough, he would be sending her a different potion each week, and he expected, in fact required, a reply with the results from her so he could modify the potion accordingly. Finally, after all these years, the correspondence would go both ways.

And what truly flummoxed her was the addition of the Secret Recipe fragrance, one of the finest and most expensive perfumes on the market. Never mind the money he must have spent. Had he actually remembered what it smelled like from her previous letters after all those many years? And if so, what did that mean other than that he had actually read them? How could he have detected the trace of scent on those letters much less known which perfume it was?

And he had signed it, "Your Humble Servant." Well, obviously he was serving her needs by fulfilling her request, but what an elegant way to sign the letter. No man had ever said such a thing to her much less put it in writing.

But what the bloody hell was Snape doing with an e-mail address?!

She remembered reading about them in the computer books from her parents' house. If he had an e-mail address, that must mean he had a computer. Her mind began to race. Perhaps one of her Muggle cousins could help her get that old computer at her parents' house up and running, and she could set up an e-mail address. That would require electricity. And if she was going to start spending time there, she may as well have the water turned back on... and some food in the place and...

Suddenly, for the first time in years, Hermione was excited and happy about her future prospects. And, finally, she had someone on her side again. Thank Merlin. Severus Snape... Who'd have thought?

It was time to leave work behind for another day. Little Hugo would be OK at his grandmother's house for just a little longer. Hermione quickly sent off her patronus with a message to Molly letting her know that she needed to stop by her parents' house to check on things. It had been over two weeks; no one would think anything of it. Then she sent another off to Ron, asking him to stop by and pick up Hugo. She gathered up her new box and the treasures it contained, and then she headed for one of the fireplaces in the lobby. Her parents' fireplace was still part of the Floo network. She could Floo home from there.

Once at her parents' house, she began to go through all of their old utility bills to retrieve the necessary phone numbers and have things turned back on. It was too late to deal with it all today, but she could find a pay phone at lunch tomorrow and make the necessary calls. Once that was done, she could spend her lunch hours at the house and learn about the computer and, if necessary, employ her cousin's help to set up an e-mail account.

*****

Later that night, as Hermione snuck two tablespoons of the precious potion into Hugo's warm milk, she felt a warm wave wash over her. Did the warm wave make her think of Snape? Or did thinking of him cause the warm wave? Was Snape at home right now thinking about her? She hoped so as she watched her son down the full glass.

"Sleep well, love," she said as she caressed his sweet face with one hand and took the empty glass away with the other.

"'Night, Mum," came his drowsy reply.

Yes, she thought as she quietly closed Hugo's door, things are definitely looking up.