Independent Researchers

Chapter Nine

Independent Researchers

The sun was just too bright for a Sunday morning. Hermione blinked slowly, rolled over in bed, and promptly bumped into... Severus Snape? She sat up quickly, surprised. The dark man in her bed did not stir at the sudden movement; rather, he began to snore gently.

Hermione forced her thinking processes to function despite the throbbing ache that pounded through her head. He was still dressed--she was still fully dressed--they hadn't had done anything last night. Good.

Or was it? There was a part of her that really wouldn't mind seeing him undressed. "Wouldn't mind? Not quite the words I'd use. I think 'desperate' might be a more apt term," she mumbled to herself as she stumbled out into the sitting room. A flick of her wand in the direction of the kitchen and a mug bounced down onto the counter while the coffee maker gurgled to life.

"Merlin's beard, Granger, you look like shit," sneered a familiar aristocratic voice.

Spinning around, she saw Draco Malfoy sitting in her favorite chair.

"What are you doing here, Malfoy? How'd you get in my house?"

"You didn't bother to close the door last night, much less lock or ward it."

"I don't know what you want, Malfoy, but whatever it is can wait until I've had some coffee. Preferably the whole pot."

He smirked at her but nodded. She shuffled into the kitchen where she did, indeed, down the entire pot of coffee, after which she ran like crazy for the loo. As she washed her hands afterwards, she looked at her reflection in the mirror and laughed. She could pass for Medusa with her hair in its present state--no wonder Malfoy was so amused!

After combing out the worst of the tangles, she returned to the sitting room to greet her unwanted visitor.

"So what do you want?"

"Well, you might not believe this, but I was at the Leaky Cauldron last night, and who did I see but a former professor of ours? He had a bottle of Ogden's in one hand, and he was dancing a jig on one of the tables! When Tom told him to get down, he said it was the full moon, and he was still human; why shouldn't he celebrate?"

"Why should you care that the cure worked? There's never been any love lost between you and Remus," Hermione snapped.

Draco rolled his eyes at her. "Granger, Granger, where do you think my family gets its fortune from?"

"Oh, I don't know. I've always assumed it was inherited."

He grinned. "At least you didn't say 'stolen from Death Eater victims' or something like that."

"Are you kidding? I doubt your father would have touched anything having to do with Muggles."

"Touché, Granger. No, seriously, we own several companies. Some are overseas, so you wouldn't have heard of them. But others are right here in the good ol' UK. The one that concerns you is Malfoy Medicinals."

"Never heard of it," she said promptly.

"Never read the labels on the bottles in the Hospital Wing?"

"No. I thought Severus, er, Snape brewed Pomfrey's elixirs."

"The ones whose recipes are public domain, yes. But there are others for which the recipe is still under patent. Skele-Gro, for example." Reaching down, he pulled a thick catalog--containing the complete Malfoy Medicinals line--from a bag Hermione hadn't noticed before. Thumbing through, she was surprised to see how many medicinal potions were the intellectual property of the Malfoy family.

"Got any more coffee, Granger? I've been up all night doing research." She nodded and flicked her wand at the coffee maker again, not bothering to look up from the catalog.

"No Wolfsbane, Malfoy?"

"Nope. That one is too hard for our flunkies to make. Otherwise we would have bought the recipe, I'm sure. But we don't need the recipe--not now, anyway."

"Why not?"

"Slow this morning, aren't we, Granger? Because you and Snape just came up with a cure for lycanthropy, dolt! Hold on; let me get my coffee. Want more?"

Hermione waited until the blond Slytherin returned from the kitchen with two steaming mugs before speaking up again.

"The cure is even more difficult to brew than Wolfsbane."

"Ah, but that's fixable. See, Wolfsbane had to be manufactured in large quantities--enough for every werewolf, every month. There weren't enough Potions masters in the world to handle that. But the cure--that's a one time thing. That we can handle. Gotta come up with a better name than 'the cure,' by the way--it's just not marketable."

She blinked at him. "How much are you willing to pay?"

"For the patent rights? Hold on..." He pulled out a parchment and glanced at some figures. "Maybe two hundred thousand Galleons. And if you and Snape contract with us to manufacture the potion, maybe a hundred Galleons a dose."

"Couldn't we just sell it ourselves?"

"You want to be a worldwide saleswoman, Granger?"

She shook her head. "But still--no, hold on. How many werewolves are there worldwide?"

"Ten thousand, six hundred and twenty two. No, hold on--" He consulted the parchment in front of him. "Ten thousand, two hundred and sixty two."

"Good grief. With that small of a market and the high consulting and patent fees--how in the world do you expect to make a profit? Werewolves are usually quite poor--"

"They are also a menace to society, and, as such, governments will be quite pleased to pay for the cure." Snape's voice was a bit raspy. "Get me some coffee, Hermione. I don't suppose you have any hangover remedy in this house of yours?"

"If I had, I would have used it by now."

Draco reached into his bag and pulled out two small bottles. "On the house." As the two bleary-eyed researchers downed the potion, he tossed a roll of parchment on the table. "Here's a contract. Look it over. I'll be back tonight at dinner time."

Hermione didn't notice the door closing behind Malfoy. She was fixated on the wording of the contract.

"Two hundred thousand Galleons..." whispered Snape softly.

"One million two hundred thousand," she amended. "If we brew it for them, anyway."

"I could be an independent researcher. No more silly elixirs for Poppy. No more dunderheads to teach." His face was glowing, his voice suffused with energy.

"You could probably buy something a bit better than this lousy cottage with your share."

"Yes, of course. A real house with a huge Potions lab in the dungeons... far away from prying eyes.... I would do all my ordering by owl, never have to talk to anyone unless..." He broke off suddenly and looked shyly into Hermione's eyes. "Hermione--are we still going to work together?"

"You wouldn't have to, if you didn't want to," she said with a sigh.

"I do want to," he said. "Very much. Besides, Carly would kill me if she couldn't see you anymore. And I was wondering, well--" He broke off suddenly, staring off into space.

Without thinking, Hermione reached up and brushed a strand of hair out of his face. "You were wondering what?"

He turned back to look at her. "Well, it would be more convenient if we lived near each other, and I was just thinking that if the house was big enough, well--there might be room for two of us? You in one side and me in the other?"

"I would love that, Severus. You don't mind?"

He shook his head solemnly, and she realized with a start that her hand was still stroking his hair. His eyes were fixed on her; his hands were on her waist, drawing her near. He leaned down gracefully and pressed his lips to hers.

She was lost in his kiss. She'd kissed others before, but she'd never realized how much tenderness and emotion could be wrapped into a simple gesture. When, at last, they came up for air, she looked at him shyly and said, "On second thought, the house wouldn't have to be very big at all."

He pulled her towards him with a growl and didn't give her a reason to say anything else for over an hour.

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Author's Notes: Many thanks to SoulBound for doing beta duty.

Just the epilogue left: we get to see what becomes of Severus and Hermione as the years pass.