Part Twenty-Nine

AN: Thank you, Lariope, for all your patience and excellent beta work.

A bright, crisp morning greeted Severus when he exited the building housing his flat. A steadily increasing demand for potions from his primary customer had instigated the necessity for a fact-finding trip to the local apothecary. The written reply from Fingalnott's Apothecary Suppliers claiming they were simply increasing their customer base was believable, but in Severus' opinion, quite unlikely. He had played with the idea of opening his own shoppe a number of years prior, but there were an adequate number already in place. There had been an increase in the number of wizarding babies being born – according to the Quibbler it was considerably large – but as they weren't of age to imbibe spirits or worry about any of the other little habits that would necessitate the purchase of a contraceptive potion, a hair dye, a weight loss potion or a number of others, Severus was highly skeptical it had caused a boon of new apothecaries to fling open their doors.

The neighborhood shoppe, Wirestone's Potions and Notions, was only three blocks from his flat, but Severus had never entered its door before today. The bright greeting from the clerk behind the counter had been completely ignored, and Severus slowly strolled through the aisles of the items offered for sale. What he didn't find anywhere puzzled him, and Severus heaved a great sigh before he turned and approached the too-cheerful clerk.

"Good morning, sir! It's a beautiful day, isn't it?" the clerk bellowed in his direction.

Severus stopped a fair distance from the counter, studied the smiling young man and stated, "It was until your voice shattered the calm. If you require assistance terminating a Sonorus, I suggest you visit St. Mungo's immediately."

The clerk laughed and shook his head.

"I'm sorry," he said in a normal speaking tone. "I just assumed that you might be deaf since you didn't return my greeting when you entered."

Rolling his eyes, Severus approached the counter and raised a brow. He'd had to deal with idiots his whole life, and it appeared the burden would never be lifted. This particular twit might have some useful information buried somewhere under his curly blonde locks, and the effort of digging it out might prove amusing. Glancing at the flashing tag attached to the man's shirt, he waited until it got past the I'm here to help! and the Ask me! before it finally flashed the grinning baboon's name.

"Stewart. There is a notable absence of any Fingalnott potions on your shelves. Are they of an inferior blend, or are you merely unable to acquire them?" Severus asked with a raised brow.

The baboon broke out into a gale of laughter and actually had to wipe tears from his eyes before he gasped and said, "Oh, that's a good one, sir. I haven't had a laugh like that in ages."

"And what – exactly – is so amusing about my questions?" Severus asked in a deadly tone while his wand slid down into his hand.

Stewart, still grinning madly, turned and plucked a brightly colored folder off of a shelf behind the counter. Flicking it open, he stated, "There is a full line of potions available to the discerning customer. We have to keep them under lock and key to prevent pilfering. We have them all in stock, so if you'll tell me which ones you'd-"

He'd started to hand the folder to Severus, did an obvious double-take from Severus to the folder, and started to stammer, "Oh, my! It's – it's – oh, my!"

"Oh, your what, you bloody imbecile?" Severus asked while snatching the folder from the still outstretched hand.

"I can't believe it!" Stewart yelped before he turned and almost ran through a door behind the counter. "Margaret! Where are you? You'll never believe it! Grab the camera! Margaret, move!"

Stewart's voice, as Severus could attest, carried well even from the rear of the building. Not stopping to look at the folder now clenched in his fist, Severus turned and left the shoppe before Stewart could drag Margaret to the front.

"What in the bloody hell was that all about? It's not like I have a price on my head," he muttered as he turned several corners before slowing down. "On second thought, there is the possibility, I suppose."

Feeling suddenly exposed, he glanced around and noticed a shadowy area between two tall buildings. Not quite an alley, but it was more than adequate for Apparating away from Muggle eyes.

After he had returned home, Severus flung his cloak in the direction of the magical coat rack that had stood unused for so long. It creaked and muttered, "Merlin, I'd forgotten how heavy these things can be."

"Shut it," Severus stated firmly as he walked toward his desk, "or you'll find I can replace you with a Muggle hanger. How would you like to stand on a corner for eternity providing restroom facilities for the canine population?"

Yorick, who'd been preening his feathers, glanced over at the oaken structure and fluffed once before taking off and landing on one of the outstretched branches of the rack. Severus, noting this, shook his head.

"No, Yorick. Your perch is quite satisfactory; there's no need to dismember it quite yet."

A small whimper sounded under Severus' cloak, and the branch holding Yorick suddenly collapsed, dumping the falcon on the floor. When Yorick squalled and made as if to attack the rack, Severus turned and said sternly, "Stop it! Both of you! Immediately!"

Yorick returned to his perch and continued preening while glaring in the direction of the rack. With order restored, Severus pulled out his chair and sat down at the desk before straightening the crumpled folder he'd taken from Stewart. Fingalnott's Marvelous Potions graced the top of the folder and brought a frown to Severus' face. He'd chosen Fingalnott's, when he was Simon, because it was an older firm that was circumspect, quite solid and used a number of brewers – a safe haven for one who wanted to retain their privacy. He'd never heard of them sending out gaudy colored folders to sell their wares. The accompanying pictures beside the descriptions – and prices – of each potion made it clear that Fingalnott's was no longer quite so circumspect. The vials were fancy, swooping containers rivaling those that might contain scents.

"Good gods, what a vulgar waste of glass and glitter," Severus muttered. His brows rose when he noted the price listed beside a potion that was indecently cheap to make.

"My gods, Yorick. They're making a fortune if these are actually selling at those outrageous prices. What fool would pay that for a fancy bottle?"

He continued down the front page of the folder, shaking his head at the folly of the average witch or wizard and then opened it up fully.

"What the bloody fucking hell is this?" he bellowed as he jumped to his feet. His own visage stared back at him from a corner, and the words Brewed by none other than our own Severus Snape flashed under the scowling face.

The folder was inspected and an address noted before a furious Severus crossed the room, grabbed his cloak and slammed the door behind him. The coat rack – caught off guard by the sudden act – tilted, scrambled its three feet to try and maintain its balance, and ended up landing with a loud crash. Yorik started, gave what for him was a snort, and turned his back.

"I begged and pleaded with that damned carpenter to give me another foot, but would he listen? Nooooo, of course not," came the muffled voice from the floor.

-~8~-

Mornings were not her favorite time of day – specifically, that horrid moment when one had to leave the sleepy comfort and warmth of a good bed to face the cold reality of day. On a weekend, Hermione would most certainly have pulled the covers over her head and burrowed into her pillow for a few extra moments of blissful sleep, but this was a work day, and she had no choice but to roll out of bed and stumble into the bathroom.

That her flat seemed to be completely without tea did nothing to improve her mood.

An hour later, she strode into Marks and Sons, greeting her employees with a smile she didn't really feel. Once safely hidden away in her office, Hermione took a moment to fold her arms onto her desk and rest her head. Perhaps if she just closed her eyes for a second...

The enticing aroma of a well brewed cup of tea teased her into wakefulness. Hermione cracked an eye open and spotted the cup that was being held just in front of her face. She lifted her head and offered her first genuine smile of the day to Mister Fitzgerald. "What time is it?"

"Quarter past. I saw you come in and thought I'd give you a few minutes to collect yourself before jumping into last nights sales numbers and this morning's minor emergencies." The older man smiled back, placing the tea at her elbow on the desk.

"You, sir, are a gift from the gods."

"So you've told me, more than once. Drink your tea, and we'll get started."

-~8~-

Darrel Wallingford Fingalnott III was not the wizard Simon had made his initial agreement with. He'd taken over from his father only the year before and had increased the profits of the company seven hundred percent since then. This gave him the mistaken impression that he was a great deal more important than he really was and only had to smile long enough and hard enough to obtain what he wanted. The fact that Severus Snape was currently waiting in his office had him slightly apprehensive, but he was confident the other man was there to formally sign a contract. He was quite sure Snape was going to be properly grateful for all the free publicity he'd been given.

"Wait a moment," Fingalnott muttered to himself and stopped in the hall. "I should put a stipulation in the contract that he has to pay for a third...including the monies already spent. Yes!"

Jubilant that he'd be able to save his company even more money, Darrel hurriedly unrolled the detailed contract he'd had drawn up. Glancing through it, he grimaced once when he saw the section dealing with payment. After doing some quick calculations in his head, the section he added demanded that Snape pay for half of all advertising, including the monies already spent.

"That works out to us paying him almost exactly what we were paying before," Darrel said with a smirk on his face, fully aware it was actually less. A small skip and a soundless whistle carried him the rest of the way down the hall to his office.

"Hello, Helen. Have you made our guest comfortable?" he asked the young woman sitting at the desk in the outer office.

"He didn't want nothing," she replied quietly and peered closely at the letter she was holding. Truth be told, she hadn't asked and was glad to retreat after showing Severus inside Darrel's office.

"Helen," Darrel said with a small trace of exasperation in his voice. "What have I told you time and again about the use of double negatives?"

When Helen looked up with a slightly confused expression on her face, he sighed before stating, "You should have said he didn't want anything, not nothing."

Not waiting to see if his words of wisdom had penetrated, Darrel swept on to his private office. Swinging the door open, he bounded into the room and stopped dead when he didn't see anyone there.

"Helen," Darrel called over his shoulder, "did he leave?"

Helen didn't have to answer, as the door slammed behind Fingalnott. Darrel spun and almost fell over before grabbing the back of a armchair to steady himself.

"Good gods, you scared me half to death!" he shouted at the man standing next to the portal.

Tapping the tip of his wand against the palm of his left hand, Severus raised an eyebrow, pulled away from the wall he'd been leaning against, and said, "I could rectify that quite easily, Mister Fingalnott."

-~8~-

Once the sales figures from the night before had been scrutinized and added to the weekly report for the store owners, Hermione dove into the rest of the paperwork that Mister Fitzgerald had brought her.

When she had taken the manager position at Marks and Sons, Hermione had gone to a lot of effort to establish a friendly relationship with several auction houses. Once a week or so, those houses were kind enough to dispatch a list of recently acquired books and tomes to her office. Comparing those lists to the special order requests of her customers took some time, but she insisted on doing the work herself. It gave her a chance to make note of any texts of interest that the store might wish to purchase outright. There were several titles that were routinely in demand, even if no such order was currently in the books.

Lunch was going to be a sandwich from up the street, but one of her afternoon clerks owled in sick, so Hermione found herself behind the counter and on the sales floor, pitching in.

She smiled as a family came through the door, two parents and a small, dark haired boy that reminded her of Harry. The little boy adjusted his glasses and gazed around the bookstore with the same amount of wonder that she used to exhibit at Flourish and Blotts. His parents looked somewhat lost, and all three were dressed in perfectly ordinary Muggle clothes.

With a smile, she moved to greet them.

"Welcome to Marks and Sons. How may I help you today?"

-~8~-

"I'm quite all right." Darrel replied. "There's no need to apologize." Pasting a broad smile on his face, he stepped forward and held out his hand. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you, Severus."

Narrowed eyes glanced at the extended hand before they flicked back to Darrel's face. Severus' eyebrow rose slightly higher as he tilted his head and studied the other man.

"I do not recall offering one," Severus stated in one of his more dangerous tones as his wand kept up the same steady pace, "nor do I recall giving you permission to use my given name. I also do not recall giving your company permission to use my full name or my image in your vulgar advertisements. Would you care to explain?"

For a few moments, Darrel was transported back in time to a classroom housed in a dungeon, and he hastily pulled in his hand.

"No, sir! I mean, yes, sir!" he stammered before remembering who he was, and more importantly, where they were.

"I mean, no," Darrel stated almost firmly. When Severus' eyes narrowed again, Darrel retreated behind his desk and stammered, "I mean...there's no explanation needed, is there? It's merely a way to get the best prices for our products. Even you should...I mean, you understand the business angle, don't you?"

Darrel raised his hand to wipe the perspiration off of his forehead and became aware of the contract still clenched in his other fist.

"Here," he said quickly while holding it out and taking a seat. "Sign this and you can have your own copy."

"I don't believe that will be necessary, Mister Fingalnott," Severus stated in the same quiet but deadly tone.

Relief spread over Darrel's face, and he nodded briskly. "I quite agree," he said quickly. "There's no need for contracts between us, is there? I mean...our association has worked quite well as it is. There's no need to tie it all up with legalities."

Severus snorted and gazed around the opulent office. It was quite clear that Fingalnott hadn't spared any expense in outfitting it while Severus had squirreled away every spare Knut available his whole life.

"You misunderstand, you ignorant twit. Shall I correct you, as you corrected Helen earlier?" Severus asked. Not waiting for an answer, he grabbed the rolled parchment and read enough to make his already thin lips thin even further.

"I stand corrected," Severus stated firmly before wadding the document up and tossing it toward the fire in the grate. "You're not an ignorant twit." Severus leaned down and placed both hands on the top of Darrel's desk. Glaring the other man in the eye, he shouted, "You're a bloody fucking moron if you imagined, even for a moment, that I'd sell myself to your company so cheaply!"

-~8~-

As she had expected, the little boy was Muggle-born and had recently received his Hogwarts' letter.

Hermione knelt down to look at the boy eye-to-eye. "Have you purchased your school books already?"

She smiled when he nodded shyly. "Have you had a chance to look at them yet?" Another silent nod was her answer.

"Was there anything in them that seemed really interesting to you? Something you wanted to learn more about, perhaps?"

"Dragons," came the quiet reply.

Hermione stood and offered her hand to the boy. "I have just the thing for you. Come with me." She led the family into the children's section and inspected the shelves until she found a large book that appeared to be covered in iridescent green scales. "Here we are. The Illustrated Encyclopedia of Dragons."

The boy took the book and carefully opened it to a random page in the middle. A Hungarian Horntail blinked its yellow eyes, then breathed flame all the way into the next page.

She escorted the family to the cash register, chatting with the parents as the boy continued to examine the pictures of dragons. Once they had purchased the book, she bent down to speak to the boy once more. "When you get to Hogwarts, find Professor Hagrid and tell him Hermione said hello. Will you do that for me?"

-~8~-

Darrel's head had retreated as far as it could, and it now rested against the back of his chair. His eyes had widened, and he was extremely thankful he'd paid a visit to the lavatory before meeting with Severus. "I'm sure it's a mistake," he stammered. "I'll have them double...no, triple the amount, shall I?"

Severus rose and glanced toward the ceiling as if asking for strength before glaring down at the other man. "Listen very carefully, Fingalnott. I shall not repeat myself. My association with your company has ended. Not only have you abused my name and image, you've sold products made by other, possibly inferior, brewers using it!"

Fingalnott shook his head furiously before daring to rise from his chair. "No, I haven't! Truth in advertising is something we take very seriously here! As soon as I knew you were making potions for us, I fired all the others. You're our only brewer!" Fingalnott clapped a hand over his mouth and groaned before sinking down in his chair.

"Well, well, well," Severus said with a smirk. "That puts quite a different spin on things, doesn't it, Mister Fingalnott? I was prepared to grant the Quibbler an interview they've been seeking in order to expose your shenanigans, but we might be able to come to an amicable agreement after all."

Darrel swallowed hard and nodded his head while a shaking hand reached for a fresh sheet of parchment. He wondered briefly if he'd be able to talk his wife into selling the new house they'd purchased just last week.

A few hours later, as he strolled along Diagon Alley, Severus almost wished for a cane, even one as gaudy as Lucius possessed. He could have swung it as he walked along in the late morning air. Almost carefree, and decidedly much better off financially than he had been earlier that morning, he'd come to Diagon Alley to make a rather substantial deposit in his vault at Gringotts. Rather than hurry home, he'd decided to waste a little time looking in windows before taking his favorite bookseller some lunch. Stopping in front of Dingberry's Fine Magical Antiques, a delicate set of ivory hair combs caught his eye.

"Perfect," he muttered under his breath. "They'd be a great deal easier to abide in her hair than those blasted pins." A short time later, he emerged from Dingberry's with a shrunken parcel in one of his pockets, quite pleased with the transaction, and set off to acquire their meal.

-~8~-

After one final wave for the departing young boy and his parents, Hermione returned to the counter and began restocking the shopping bags that were stored beneath it. Her impromptu shift on the sales floor would be over soon enough, and then she could escape to the warehouse to dig through the new shipment of books to see if there was anything that piqued her interest.

Hermione was kneeling behind the counter, out of sight, when the door opened to let in another customer. She was going to let the other clerk help them, but the way he stood next to her – frozen and staring toward the door as if Death himself had appeared – told her that her presence might be needed. She peeked over the counter and felt a grin spread across her lips.

Severus was there, dressed much as he'd been the night they had gone out.

Which probably explained why her poor employee looked as if he was ready to bolt. The poor man was only a bit younger than she and had most likely been at Hogwarts for Severus' last few years there.

Severus was also carrying a basket over one arm, and she wondered if he'd been shopping.

She quickly stood, brushed any stray dirt off of her knees, then came around the counter to meet him.

"Severus. Looking for a book?"

-~8~-

Severus returned Hermione's grin with a modest smile of his own.

"No, I've actually brought along a celebratory lunch in the hopes you would join me. Although," he stated while casting a questioning look in the direction of the counter, "I admit I'm assuming the mannequin behind the counter will be able to handle things in your absence."

-~8~-

Hermione glanced over her shoulder at her clerk and gave him a Look. He blinked twice, then quickly found something fascinating to study near the cash register.

"Must you intimidate all of my employees?" Hermione eyed the basket with great curiosity, then cast a critical eye around the nearly empty store. "The lunch rush is over for the day, and my replacement will be here soon enough, so it should be safe to hide in my office for a bit."

She almost reached for his free hand to guide him, then thought better of it. Then, in a fit of mischief, reached for it anyway.

-~8~-

Severus allowed himself to be towed along in Hermione's wake while giving the young man behind the front counter a glare that promised death if he snickered.

"I should resent that remark, but as it's my goal in life to intimidate any and all fools that I run across," Severus remarked in an almost teasing tone, "I'm actually quite pleased that you've noticed."

-~8~-

She shook her head and ushered him into her office. "Oh, I've noticed, Severus. I think everyone who has ever met you has noticed."

A flick of her wand had her chair padding its way around her desk to join the chair she kept for visitors to her office. Hermione released his hand and quickly cleared a space on the top of the desk.

"I thought you might prefer sitting here to attempting a picnic on the floor. Unless you'd rather?"

-~8~-

Severus snorted lightly before placing the basket on the desk. "No, the chairs are fine. If we ever decide to picnic, it won't be on a hard floor in the middle of London. We'll find a nice, soft patch of grass that will be kind to my middle-aged body."

Sandwiches, fruit and biscuits were placed side by side on the desk before he produced a small bottle of champagne.

"You will have some, won't you?" Severus asked and pulled out a set of wine glasses. "I'm not an expert on champagne, but the clerk advised it was an agreeable year."

-~8~-

Champagne? He really was celebrating something.

It can't be the antidote. After his reaction to Lorenzo's progress, she didn't think he would be nearly as teasing and pleasant if the antidote was finished.

"It would be a shame to waste an agreeable year. Not too much, though, I am still at work." Her fingers caressed the soft fuzz of one of the peaches before plucking a grape. Hermione popped the small fruit into her mouth as she settled into her chair.

"All right, I'm dying of suspense. Tell me your good news."

-~8~-

After removing the cork and pouring a good measure in each glass, Severus handed one to Hermione before sitting down. He raised his and held it out in front of him.

"First, a toast to Fingalnott's Marvelous Potions, the founder of our celebratory feast," he said while holding the preposterous folder in the other hand out of sight.

After Hermione touched his glass and they both took a sip, Severus held out the advertisement for her to take.

"I'd like your opinion on this, please."

-~8~-

It was a good thing she had swallowed the champagne already, or there would have been a serious choking risk when she saw the picture of a scowling Severus.

Hermione quickly flipped back to the front of the folder and noted the prices listed next to each bottle of product.

She cleared her throat and tried to come up with a tactful way of expressing her thoughts.

"Well... It's all a tiny bit garish. The bottles are very - ornate," Hermione rushed to reassure him. "Are you dead set on this for your marketing strategy?"

She certainly hoped not.

-~8~-

"Not at all," Severus advised with a broad smile on his face. "In fact, I was quite furious earlier today when I obtained the folder. Due to the stupidity of the current owner of Fingalnott's Marvelous Potions, I will not only be getting paid a percentage of their profits – with them supplying approved ingredients – but I have control over all the advertisements with my name appearing anywhere."

Reaching over, Severus plucked the offending folder out of her hand and said, "This monstrosity has already been pulled from all the apothecaries they supply."

As they ate their lunch, Severus gave her a brief run down on his morning, including the fact that he was now the only brewer being employed by Fingalnott.

Narrowing his eyes, he glanced at Hermione before he admitted, "It puzzles me that the same witches and wizards that damned me before would pay these exorbitant prices to obtain a potion made by me. Frankly, I thought the exact opposite would occur, and I'd have to sell my potions abroad. Did you, and the others, have to deal with this type of...foolishness?"

-~8~-

"Yes. And no."

Hermione finished the champagne in her glass and held it out to Severus for a refill.

"There are those who would still worship the ground the 'heroes of the war' walk on, if we would let them. It's more of a problem for Harry, as you can imagine. The rest of us still get more than our fair share of uncomfortable attention – don't imagine that we're free of scrutiny – but it has died down somewhat over the last two years."

She shifted in her chair, trying to make herself more comfortable. Her foot bumped against Severus' boot, and she left it there, liking the small contact.

"The public has had time to adjust to us, you see. We were heroes and did extraordinary things, but now we're just normal, every day people again, and that is, well, boring. Interest in us never really goes away, but it does ebb and flow, until someone does something to bring themselves back into the spotlight. You should have seen the circus that surrounded Harry and Ginny's wedding.

"You, on the other hand, with your miraculous resurrection from the dead, are fascinating. The public has had time to digest the stories, both good and bad, and to form their opinions of you. Harry spent a lot of time and energy convincing anyone who would listen that you were a good, brave man. I imagine you've been romanticized in the minds of women and men alike, and now, here you are. In the flesh. If they can't touch and hold you, they want the next best thing: something you created."

Hermione nudged his ankle with her foot. "If it makes you feel any better, I wouldn't pay those prices for something I could get at any common apothecary – no matter who made the potions."

-~8~-

As tempted as he was to scoff when Hermione mentioned heroes, Severus held his tongue and listened while he refilled their glasses. All in all, it sounded like he'd managed to avoid two years of hell.

When Potter's name came up time and again, Severus thought he did quite well in merely clenching his jaw. To hear firsthand how Potter had used his influence on Severus' behalf was annoying, to say the least.

It's not like I'd rather be spending the remainder of my years in Azkaban, but...

Fuck it all, I'm beholden to another Potter.

This realization soured his mood slightly, but her use of the word romanticized drove it out of his head and left his mouth gaping open a slight amount. Clicking it closed, he listened to the rest of her words before taking a large gulp from his glass.

Nudging her foot back, Severus gave her a half-smile and nodded. "It does, indeed, make me feel slightly better that there's at least one other person who hasn't taken leave of their senses.

"I don't know how happy I am that Potter apparently blew the proverbial smoke up their arses, but I am...satisfied not to be in Azkaban," he admitted while dropping his head. Bringing it back up rather sharply, he added, "He'd still better not name any of his spawn after me!"

Sitting back in his chair, one arm supporting the one that held his glass, Severus narrowed his eyes slightly before leaning forward again.

"I take it that this phenomenon may completely end within a year or trickle down to a mere handful of orders. Good to know," he said before draining his glass and setting it on the desk. The action of leaning forward allowed the small package in his inner robe pocket to bang against his side.

"I almost forgot," he stated while bringing it out and enlarging it. "I picked up a little something for you today. Something I hope you will use," he said as he presented it to her.

-~8~-

She bit her tongue to keep from telling him that he had better enjoy his 'adoring' fans while they were still willing to overlook his sparkling personality and biting wit.

Instead, Hermione reached out and took the package he offered. "What is this?" Her eyes flicked from the package to his face, searching for some hint. All she saw was his smile, which didn't tell her much.

Carefully, she unwrapped the package and was unable to stifle the soft gasp that escaped.

"Oh, Severus. They're beautiful."

She looked up, blinking hard. "Would you mind?" She gestured toward her hair, then reached up and started pulling out pins with her free hand.

-~8~-

Never let it be said that Severus Snape couldn't learn. He was stubborn and very opinionated about numerous things, but when something was to his advantage, he learned quickly. Instead of the slightly sarcastic comment her question conjured up in the arse-hat section of his brain, he merely smiled a little and shook his head.

"I wouldn't mind in the slightest, Hermione," he stated while watching the strands fall free. It was tempting to think of assisting and being able to run his hands through them, but he remained stalwart and just observed.

I should point out that their beauty will only enhance hers.

Suited for a dinner with candles and not a basket lunch at her desk. I'll keep it in reserve for later. Now shut it.

"I'm pleased you like them, Hermione. I was told that you only have to state what style you desire while holding all four in your hand, and they will do the rest. Of course, they date from the last century and might require a bit of assistance with any modern styles, but I have to believe they're far better at following instructions than the imitation ivory they use now."

-~8~-

The final pin slid free, and she shook the last few curls loose to frame her face. Hermione knew she was making a mistake asking him to touch her, but she couldn't bring herself to care enough to put a stop to it. They were safe enough in her office, she thought, even as a voice deep down admitted that they could have been locked in a room with only a large bed for company and she would have still sought out some excuse to touch him, or have him touch her.

Oh, crap. I've got it bad. I know I'm going to end up hurt when this is all over, and I still can't stop myself as long as there is that teeny, tiny twinge of hope... This is so much easier when he's been a bastard.

Might as well enjoy it while I can, right?

She offered the combs to Severus.

"I just need to keep the hair out of my face for work – whatever you think would be best."

-~8~-

After taking the combs from Hermione's outstretched hand, Severus rose and stood behind her, pretending to lift the mass of hair in order to determine the best style for her armor. In reality, he already knew the perfect one and was taking the opportunity to reacquaint himself with the silkiness that was Hermione's hair.

Deciding he'd delayed as long as he possibly could, Severus cupped the combs in his hand and whispered, "Gibson girl, with long strands by her face," before stepping back and watching the magic begin.

He gave the antique dealer credit, they were indeed wonderful combs as they flew, tucked and puffed Hermione's hair into the desired style. In the time he took to walk back around and sit down in his chair once more, they had almost finished. He frowned, cleared his throat and watched, slightly amused, as one of the combs flew out and gently fixed the omission he'd specifically asked for.

"Much better," he said while sending a very smug smile in Hermione's direction. The style not only kept most of the hair out of her face, but it was – for lack of a better word – romantic, in his opinion. It had always been one of his favorites, even if it was considered old-fashioned.

-~8~-

With remarkable restraint, Hermione did not purr when Severus slid his hands into her hair. In fact, she made herself sit perfectly still until he took his seat.

His frown made her worry slightly, and she almost reached up to see if she could tell what was bothering him, but then she had felt tendrils of hair caressing her face and his frown had disappeared.

Sensing that the combs were finished, Hermione stood and leaned across her desk to open the center drawer. She pulled out a small hand mirror and inspected the ivory combs' work.

The style was older than she normally wore, but she thought it gave her face a softness that she found appealing.

Hermione settled back into her chair and offered Severus a pleased smile. "Thank you, again. I almost feel guilty. This is your celebration, yet I'm the one who received a gift."

-~8~-

It surprised Severus how much it pleased him that she liked the combs. Giving a small snort, he stood and gave her a kiss on the nose. His right hand slid under her chin and gently moved it back and forth. It gave the appearance he was studying the combs' work, when in fact, he was doing nothing more than touching her skin.

"I believe the old saying, 'It's much better to give than to receive,' would fit in quite nicely here," he advised before removing his hand. Glancing at the mess they'd left on her desk, he used his wand to clean it up and pack it neatly back in the basket.

"I should go and let you get back to work," he told her with a gentle smile. "What time should I call on Saturday?"

-~8~-

She didn't want him to leave.

Good gravy, woman. Act your age. You are not a simpering adolescent in the throes of your first real crush. You are an adult; now act like it.

Besides, Saturday isn't that far away.

Hermione stood up, too. She would have helped him clean up, but he seemed to have taken care of everything already.

"I'm expecting a shipment of books Saturday morning, but I should be done by early afternoon. Would five or six work for you?"

-~8~-

"It would," Severus stated and then tilted his head. Saturday was too blasted far away without something to hold him over, especially if he had to work on that damned love potion of Dumbledore's. Giving her both raised eyebrows while one hand played gently with a strand of hair, he asked, "What are my chances of obtaining a nice, long goodbye kiss from the lovely Gibson girl now standing in front of me?"

-~8~-

Her eyes flicked toward the closed door, and Hermione tried to remember if she'd locked it when they came in.

It doesn't need to be locked for a kiss. And that's all you're going to be offering, so don't get any ideas.

Hermione couldn't help but think that, even in her own thoughts, she was a dreadful spoilsport.

Her tongue flicked out to moisten her lips. "I would estimate your chances are pretty good, actually."

She lifted both hands to rest against his chest, then dug her fingers into the material to pull him slightly closer, raising herself up on her toes so she could reach his mouth with her own.

-~8~-

The morning had been beautiful, and the afternoon promised more of the same as Severus strolled along the streets of London on his way back to his flat. There were times when he barely refrained from giving those he met a broad smile, if their disposition was at all friendly, and that would never do. He decided then and there that his next purchase would be a cane.

A long black one.

With a pointy end.

********