In the Open

A/N: Hope all are well during the Arctic Blast! I'm stuck at home, no school for my girl, and mommy's gettin' stir crazy! So please review! As always, love to beta, karelia, and my cheerleaders, Beth and Maria!

***

Hermione set up a small shop in wizarding Paris. The entrance was through Le Chaudron Percé, the French translation of The Leaky Cauldron. She was surprised to learn that every wizarding city used the same name, just in their own language to enter the wizarding community.

It was positively audacious, Hermione had first thought, to have the entrance to wizarding Paris right on the Champs-Elysées. Yet, she did admire their boldness. The French, and especially Parisians, are notorious for their confidence and arrogance. To hide in plain sight on the most beloved and famous street in Paris was a stroke of sheer genius, not to mention daring.

Once entering wizarding Paris, Hermione had opted to remain there. Nothing really mattered to her in Muggle Paris. The traffic was horrid, the air smelly, and the apartments were going at extortionate rates. The main street in wizarding Paris, La Lisette de Lapin Boulevard, was like Diagon Alley, except the shops were extremely high-end and gilded in colors of lily-white, gold, silver and deep ivories. It was a breathtaking sight. The magnificent street was named after the fifteenth-century witch who was convicted of witchcraft by the Muggles. She had escaped the day before her execution through her Animagus form, which was a bunny. Legend said she was taken away in a cauldron and eventually became an advisor to England's Henry VI. There were many alleyways, or Allées in French.

She walked, feeling she would soon be lost if she didn't reach her destination soon.

Hermione walked and walked until she found Gringotts, the wizarding Bank that was the same as in London. She made her transfer of funds from Australia to Paris and felt content that she was now officially here to seek her fortune. After she and Jack had parted company, she had enough knowledge to embark on her own trips. She learned in another two years about the exotic locales of many a magical plant or herb, and she had a nice collection to begin her enterprise.

Hermione went deeper into the heart of wizarding Paris, which was at the center of La Lisette de Lapin Boulevard: La maison de Guinevere. There was an old magical stone made of rose quartz and next to it a small golden fountain. Hermione read the plaque and learned it was the last piece of masonry left from the small castle Lancelot had built for Guinevere after they had fled Camelot in shame and haste.

The energy, light, and glimmer of the stone gave the entire boulevard an extra magical aura. However, Hermione was carried away by the romance of it all. She needed a place to live. She found some at the edge where the boulevard dead ended in a "T" cross pattern with another road called, Rue de Bistrot, or Bistro Row. There was a very small building on the corner that looked quite shabby, but the price was decent.

In addition, the ivory with gold finish on the building had faded. Not having many Galleons, she figured that what she lacked in aesthetic quality, she could make up for in advertisement. She decided to contact the owner and begin negotiations immediately.

The building, which was terraced, as every other building on the boulevard, had two stories. Hermione was quite pleased. She could use the second story as her living quarters and the main room for her business. In no time at all, Mlle. Hermione Granger was hanging out her shingle, which was done in ivory and gold for the lettering and border. She named her new store to reflect exactly the function for which it served: La Chasseresse, meaning "The Huntress." For that was what she would do for her clients. She would hunt and search for whatever ingredients were needed.

All she had to do was to hire a solicitor to make sure she could not be held liable for any ingredients obtained and sold in her establishment that were used for Dark magic. It was a dilemma, for so many various, hard-to-find ingredients were used both in perfectly legal potions and Dark potions alike.

Her solicitor, Monsieur Bonhomme, said it was a clear matter of having the buyer sign a magical waiver that would, when signed, be automatically sent to "Ministère de la magie" the French equivalent of England's Ministry of Magic.

So it had been settled. Hermione was ready to begin her life as an entrepreneur and have the career that she had only dreamt of having. She only prayed that her good name and reputation for being an honest witch would catch on and spread. After all, she had only so many Galleons. She styled herself as a no-nonsense young spinster and wore the nicest Muggle clothes she could afford. She would live and compete in this world of Potions, but she would do it as a woman and as a Muggle-born witch.

Whenever she was spotted walking in wizarding Paris, she cut quite the figure and stood out amongst the other witches. Most of her time was spent either in her shop or out on the field, searching for an ingredient for a client. She hired a witch who was part-Veela but not as snobbish as Fleur Delacour had been and left the shop in her capable hands when on a job.

So when Mlle. Granger was in town, it was a bit of entertainment for the local Parisians. Some witches asked about her clothes and the shoes she wore. She made no apologies for being a Muggle-born. She explained to any of the old cats that came sniffing their disapproval her need to live in both Muggle and wizarding worlds. She chose what she liked and made her own rules of style. Soon, she was known by many as La Chasseresse, or The Huntress.

***

It had been Monsieur Philippe Valois who had broken the stalemate of a silent war between the old guard of wizard potion makers and the new witch upstart. He was a well known flamboyant old wizard who was a cousin of Lucius Malfoy, whom he referred to as "a pompous ass." Hermione had laughed so readily and her voice so full of mirth that he declared,"A un jeune chasseur, il faut un vieux chien"

Hermione allowed herself to be taken under the old gentleman's wing and quickly learnt the intricacies of the elite in wizarding France.

Before long, Mlle. Granger was an established and respected businesswitch. Her honest nature and organizational skills along with her innate bossy temperament had made her quite the standout. And if the French loved one thing, it was une originale.

***

It had been in the ninth year after Alice Longbottom's birth that Severus Snape received an owl from Azkaban Prison. Makepeace Tyne Avery, convicted Death Eater, was finally going to receive the Dementor's Kiss. Snape heaved a sigh as he read the parchment in the privacy of his quarters. He wasn't surprised that Avery's time had arrived. He had exhausted all his appeals. What bothered Snape the most was that Avery was asking as his final request to speak with Severus Snape one last time, in the presence of an Auror, to confess a wrong he had committed against the person to whom it had been committed. It couldn't have come at a worse time. The Ministry had found a body in a shallow grave near Malfoy Manor, and the testing at St. Mungo's proved it was the remains of Hannah Abbott.

Hannah. Her name had etched itself upon his soul. She had to have been the one he had violated that night all those years ago. He had always wondered what had happened to that faceless young woman. Did she know him? Did she realize it was he, her professor? The shame of it had never gone away, never faded. Tomorrow was her burial. He would go and pay his respects and beg her forgiveness. Yet another young woman he had to make absolution for...

***

The service had been very quiet and somber. He stood in the back, under some trees, not wanting anyone to see his grief. He felt the tears roll down his face and begged for forgiveness. After the funeral party had left, he went forward and placed a long-stemmed white rose on her freshly dug grave. She would always be pure, always be a sweet girl, who had never deserved what fate had given her.

Later that night, after he had come back from visiting Hannah's grave, Snape stared into the fire for a long time. Suddenly, he felt his age. He had felt at times older than this but only when he had been ill. He was perfectly fit and healthy, but now he felt forty-seven. He read the letter from Avery over again. He remembered the old days at Hogwarts when it had been all so easy and they had been so eager to join the Dark Lord. Snape closed his eyes and envisioned the laughing face of his old friend, his friend who would soon be no more than a shell.

A/N: "A un jeune chasseur, il faut un vieux chien"

(A young hunter needs an old dog.)