Chapter Two

A/N: This story was originally written for the Autumn 2011 SS/HG Exchange as a gift for Droxy. Her prompt was: EWE. Single Hermione takes a profession that allows her to work in both the Muggle and magical world. She's a funeral home owner and director. One day Snape shows up; he's there to bury his wife and child. Have HG help SS though the grieving process. SS is in a lot of pain. Looking for hurt/comfort/angst/romance-or not. Happy or not happy ending is up to you.

This story would have never come to fruition were it not for the incomparable beta support of Juniperus and Lariope, alpha reading of Lady_rhian, Beffeysue and Timestep, and Brit-picker Teddyradiator. All of these ladies rock!

~~~~~

Severus paced the elegantly appointed sitting room as he cursed. What right do they have to ask such personal questions? "How long have you known the deceased?" Is it not enough for them to know this was my wife and child? "What religious or cultural backgrounds do you and/or the deceased practice?"

As if he would tell some anonymous funeral director? All they had to do was open up the ground, say a few words, and be done...he was not about to open that can of Pixies.

He stopped by the supine form of his wife. "Ah, Lena, what am I to do? They want to know so many things I've not thought of in all of these years... isn't it enough that you and Bee will forever be lost to me?" There was no answer... never again would he hear the melodious lilt of his beloved wife's voice, nor the laughter of his little Bumble Bee.

Drawing himself up, he checked his appearance one last time before Apparating to the location included with the questionnaire. He would keep the appointment. He would bury his family. But he would not give in to their idle curiosity.

~~~~

Hermione looked up as she heard a knock on the door. "Yes, Elyse?"

"Umm, your four o'clock appointment is here...early, but I thought you might want to know."

"That'll be fine. Please tell Mr. Smith I'll be with him momentarily." Hermione set to straightening her desk before switching her Wizarding Robes for a less conspicuous suit jacket. Hermione then walked over to her door and laid her hand upon the frame. With her murmured incantation, the door changed to a one-way window...it still appeared as a door to the outer office, but this gave her an opportunity to view the family and get an idea of what to expect.

Hermione's eyes widened as she took in the man sitting in her waiting room. If it weren't for the elegant Muggle suit and hair pulled back in a queue, she would have sworn she was looking at Severus Snape... but that was impossible.

Straightening her shoulders and checking the lay of her jacket one last time, Hermione opened the door and walked across the marble floor to greet her client. The click of her heels drew his attention...had Hermione been watching him more closely, she would have noted the flash of surprise in Mr. Smith's eyes before they were, once again, shuttered in blank neutrality.

"Mr. Smith? I'm Hermione Granger. Won't you come in?" She gestured toward her office, then stopped for a moment to dismiss Elyse for the day. She had a feeling this was going to be an interesting meeting...one that would require privacy and careful handling...as on closer inspection she was certain that Mr. Smith was, indeed, Severus Snape. But what was he doing in her office posing as a grieving widower?

When she entered the office, she found her former professor staring out the window.

"Professor Snape?"

Severus let out a sigh. "I should have known."

"Should have known what?"

"When Minerva said she had everything in order and was completely confident all of her wishes would be met...I should have known."

"You were at Professor McGonagall's service? I didn't see you there."

"Nor I, you. And had I connected you with the funerary, I assure you I'd not be here now."

"Professor, I do believe you have me at a disadvantage...why are you here?"

"You read the letter of inquiry and responded with a foot-long questionnaire...what is there to be confused by, Ms. Granger?"

"You really do have a family you are seeking a memorial service for?" she sputtered as her voice rose in question.

"Yes," he sighed.

"I'm sorry, Professor...I didn't know you had married since the war ended."

"The details are not important, Ms. Granger, other than how quickly you can procure a burial site and have an interment performed. I wish to have this matter settled post haste," he snapped.

"Once again, I am sorry, sir, but you have requested my services...had you looked over the brochure I sent, you would know the details are very important." Hermione didn't understand why, but his attitude raised her hackles, and she found herself responding to her client with far less diplomacy than she normally prided herself on.

"Ms. Granger, I am a busy man. I do not have time to school you on my familial history, nor is it any of your business. Just tell me when ..."

"No, Professor," Hermione interrupted. "I'm sorry, but if you don't care to adhere to the guidelines and practices I have outlined in the pamphlet you received, then I think it's best you contact someone else."

"Why, you insufferable..."

"Yes, yes, know-it-all...Merlin knows I heard it enough from you during my six years at Hogwarts...regardless, I take my profession seriously, and I will not compromise. I will not provide a generic, unfeeling memorial for any client...not even for the next Headmaster of Hogwarts."

Hermione turned away, effectively dismissing him from her office. "I think you can see yourself out. Good day, sir."

She presumed the slamming of the door meant that Professor Snape had taken her at her word.

~~~~~

The nerve of the witch!

Severus furiously paced the parlor floor. How dare she send me away, telling me that either I conform to her wishes or I find someone else? Who did she think she was talking to, one of her dunderheaded friends? She has no right to delve into my thoughts, my feelings...no right!

He would just find someone else. There were plenty of other funeral establishments throughout Great Britain. He did not want the Wizarding World to know, and if he used Granger, he had no doubt she would tell all of her ridiculous friends.

He should have Obliviated her before he left...too late, now.

Severus spent the next fortnight covertly observing funerals and memorial services throughout the British Isles. All of them were too cold, too maudlin, or just wrong.

It took another week before he sent an Owl.

Ms. Granger,

SS

~~~~

"Professor, I have to admit I was surprised to receive your Owl," Hermione greeted Severus. "I thought your family would have been buried by now, and you would be preparing for the coming school year."

"Indeed, I had thought the same, Ms. Granger...apparently you do know it all." Severus sneered, already convinced it had been a mistake to request this meeting.

Hermione maintained her placid expression, fighting the urge to roll her eyes at the man's comments...honestly, she hadn't suggested this meeting. She sighed. "Professor, I'm sure we could sit here trading insults all day long." She ticked them off her fingers. "Greasy Git, Bat of the Dungeons, et cetera... Instead, could we please get down to business?"

Severus clenched his teeth. "Agreed."

She smiled. "Now, how can I be of assistance? I was under the impression you did not approve of my professional approach."

"I do not. However, yours is somewhat less offensive than others, so I shall attempt to comply with your invasive, idle curiosity."

Hermione had a sinking feeling this was going to be...as her parents had always said...like pulling teeth. "Perhaps we should approach this a different way."

"I'm listening."

"Would you consent to my seeing them? I hope to gain a better understanding of the situation."

"Is that necessary?" Severus blanched.

"Professor, I cannot help you without access even to the bodies," Hermione replied in exasperation. "They need to be prepared for interment. At the very least, a Stasis Charm...."

"They are already in stasis," he interrupted.

Hermione frowned. "When were the charms applied?"

"Approximately six hours after death," he replied tightly.

"And that was..?"

"Is this really necessary?" he thundered.

Hermione looked at him, willing her face to hide how his growing agitation was affecting her...she was beginning to suspect she really didn't want to know the answer to her question.

Severus turned away from her. "Fine. If you must know, they have been in place, with regular renewal, for approximately six years."

"What?! You have had your wife and child in stasis for six years? But why?" Her voice rose as she lost her last hold on placid professionalism.

"Do use the brain everyone has heralded for so many years, Ms. Granger. Six years ago was the summer before what was to be your seventh year...can you think of any reason why I might need to have placed the charm? Hmmm?" He stared at her sourly.

Hermione was speechless. Six years?

"If you insist, we will go. Now." He reached out to grasp her arm. Hermione jumped. "Ms. Granger...as you well know...Side-Along-Apparition requires physical contact." He smirked.

"Y-yes, yes. Of course," she stuttered.

Without another word, Severus again reached for her arm, and Hermione felt the dizzying sense of being Apparated without direction. She opened her eyes to find herself in a typical...Muggle...parlor, staring at the apparently-Turkish rug on which she'd landed when Professor Snape released her arm immediately upon arrival.

Merely raising an eyebrow at her squeak of surprise when she toppled, he turned and walked purposefully through the house. "This way, if you please."

Hermione followed him through a formal dining room and what appeared to be a private sitting room before being led into what could only have been the master's study. Candles flared to life as he passed through the doorway. He waved his arm with a dramatic flourish to indicate two long library tables spaced close together in the center of the room.

Hermione could not stifle her gasp as her eyes came to rest on the late Mrs. Snape: her face still held the look of sheer terror she had died with. It was apparent she had been killed by the Killing Curse, but the Death Eaters had done more than that...Hermione could see where her blouse had been hastily repaired and barely covered the blood and bruising...the torture had gone on for some time before she died. One eye was blackened, her lip was split, and she could see the beginnings of a wound at her collar bone...Helena Snape had died afraid and in great pain.

Taking a deep breath, Hermione turned toward the child. In direct contrast to her mother, the child looked as though she were only napping and would awaken at any moment. Her dark brown hair was plaited down either side of her head, and her hand was curled along the side of her face. One lone thumb was out as though seeking the moist comfort of her mouth.

"What color were her eyes?" Hermione blurted out. She cringed at asking so callously, but...for some reason she didn't understand...she needed to know.

"Blue," Severus sighed, "like her mother's."

"And how old was she?" The information would be on the forms grudgingly filled out by the Professor, but she wanted to hear it from his mouth...

"Surely, this invasive questioning can't be necessary!" he bellowed. "Must you have every personal detail?"

Hermione took an involuntary step back at his vitriol, then squared her shoulders before looking him in the face. "Yes, I do. Age at death, birth date, and other vital statistics must be entered on the Certificate of Death."

Severus physically cringed at her last words.

"For that matter," Hermione continued, "we may have a few difficulties with the authorities, if they have been in stasis this long. They will want to know why they have not been buried before now."

"I don't suppose you would consider an Obliviate or well-placed Memory Charm?" Snape asked.

"N-no," Hermione stammered, shocked. "I will see to the necessary paperwork. I'll need to return tomorrow. Say, two o'clock?"

He barely had a chance to nod his consent before Hermione had turned on the spot, Apparating away with a soft pop.