The Huntress

A/N: I hope everyone is well. Thank you all so much for the reviews. As always, my deepest thanks to karelia, Beth, and Maria. I hope that this chapter will make up for the wait!

***

The first person to greet Severus' return was nine-year-old Alice Longbottom. She still had the temper of a Manticore, but she had learned to rein it in around the Potions master. She was sitting near the bottom of the main staircase, reading a book that looked as large as she.

He regarded the small girl; her dark hair had increasingly blackened as she had aged. Its wavy curls gave it life and certain prettiness to it. She was deeply concentrated and oblivious to anyone else that might be around.

"Miss Longbottom," he greeted her.

Her face snapped up, as did the rest of her, and he was faced with her pink cheeks and large, dark chocolate eyes. She smiled at him, and he saw that dimple that had always bothered him. He had maintained his distance for many years now, just watching to see if she would one day be one of his Slytherins when the day came. Now, something else was nagging at him.

"Hello, Professor," she said politely with an awkward curtsy.

His lips twitched as he watched her try and train her little legs to do what she wanted.

"Very nice, Miss Longbottom. I assume your Great-Grandmother has been teaching you deportment?"

"Oh, yes!" she said enthusiastically. "I'm reading this book, but I also am learning to walk with it balanced on my head. I'm not quite there yet, but Gran says I am self-reliant and will learn in time. She says it is character building."

Well, far be it from anyone to question Augusta Longbottom, Snape thought with a snarl.

"Miss Longbottom," he began, "I never quite understood the reason for your name. Alice, of course, makes complete sense and is only fitting that your father named you after his mother. I knew her. She was a loving, gentle, young woman. However, how did you come by your middle name?"

The young girl smiled brightly and replied, "My Aunt Hermione...she's my godmother. She writes my mum every week and tells her to read to me all about her adventures! She's lived practically everywhere, studying potions and all kinds of exotic magical plants and their properties. She's in Paris now and owns her own store! My parents say when she is ready to come back to England, I'll meet her. Why? Do you know my Aunt Hermione?" She looked up at him with wide, hopeful eyes.

He absent-mindedly traced a finger around his mouth. "In fact, I do. She was a student of mine when your parents were also students. She was a very bright and intelligent witch. She also fought in the war," he recollected.

"She's also best friends with Harry Potter!" She beamed as she talked fast. "I've read all about him and the wizarding wars. First, the war with Grindelwald where he was defeated by Dumbledore, and then the two wizarding wars against Voldemort," she informed him. "I read all about it, in Hogwarts: A History."

Snape thought he was going to vomit. It was like having a little Hermione Granger, the eager first-year, reincarnated. He decided then and there if she was to become a hand waver like her "Auntie Hermione" had been, he was going to retire. "Thank you, Miss Longbottom, that was quite... informative," he replied before giving a sharp bow and going on his way.

***

The search of Avery Manor proved fruitless. Robards, Savage and Snape sat down to rest on the front steps after searching the entire dungeons and after finding nothing, collected their thoughts.

"Makes no sense," muttered Robards. "Not one human bone in that rat hole! Reckon he was lying?"

"No," answered Snape. "Unfortunately, I have a feeling she might be out there. A thin, brown-haired woman...not much data to go on."

Robards looked over at Snape and said, "Well, not to be crude, but you saw her up close more than anyone else. Were there any markings, scars, birthmarks, anything that you were aware of?"

Snape hung his head and hid his face with his hair. "No," he replied. "My mind was focused on how to get myself out of the situation alive. To my everlasting shame, I never thought to commit her physically to memory."

***

Hermione's business was starting to take off, much thanks to Monsieur Valois' help and assistance with the elite French society. She had kept the corner store for a couple of years before moving up the boulevard to a better locale. The name of her business had brought many of the old potioneers out of their hidey-holes to test the mettle of the young and tenacious Mlle. Granger. Hermione learned quickly to spot those who were riff-raff versus those who truly wanted top of the line merchandise. It had taken the lady, known as, "The Huntress," a handful of years, but her dedication and inability to be cowed or bullied by the lesser respectable competitors helped to solidify her standing. La Chasseresse was now servicing only the best of potion makers.

When she was in the city, and a potential client would enter La Chasseresse, they would first be struck by the large and impressive portrait of Diana, the Huntress, or Diana Chasseresse, in French. The shop itself was small. A large mahogany desk stood near the painting. The floor was of a plush cream carpet, with ivory and gilt wallpaper. An impressive chandelier hung from the ceiling in the center, and the large window to the right of the entrance was lined with a number of antique gilt chairs with ivory sateen padding.

The client would sit in one of those antique chairs until Mlle. Granger would enter the room from the back and greet the customer warmly, offering them a seat across her mahogany desk. An assortment of coffee, tea, wine or champagne would be offered by her assistant, Thérèse, and then business at hand would commence.

Many of Mlle. Granger's competitors tried to find her techniques and trade secrets. Of course, none of these Frenchmen knew Hermione Granger, the brilliant witch from England, who had helped defeat Voldemort. She knew better spells, charms, and curses to stop any attempts at corporate piracy.

Word spread quickly around the continent that there was a new player in the Potions business, and she was not a witch to be crossed. She never indulged romantically with clients and kept her word to the letter. Soon, La Chasseresse was not only catering to the elite of wizarding Paris, but of Europe's privileged as well.

***

Around the same time Hermione was making a name for herself in Paris, Severus Snape was in Moscow, attending the latest Potions Symposium. He was rather impressed with this year's gathering. The food and drink was exquisite. Vodka and caviar were in abundance and the conversation most stimulating. Never one for being a social man, he easily found himself drawn into many conversations about one of his own country's witches. The French were going on and on ad finitum about some sort of huntress woman who had strong-armed and insinuated herself on the sacred ground of wizarding Paris' High Street: La maison de Guinevere.

Severus was in a wonderful mood, watching the Old Guard of the Potions world grow apoplectic with the news of a young English chit taking over a wizard's profession and assuming a position which was not hers to assume.

"Severus!" called out a short, thin man sporting a thin, greased mustache and wearing a pince-nez.

Snape turned and smiled warmly. "Bonjour, mon ami!"

"Bonsoir, Severus!" corrected the Frenchman. "And 'ow ezz my favoreet apprentice theez days?"

"Splendid, Monsieur Boulanger," replied Snape with a deep bow.

Severus had been Boulanger's apprentice the same year he had finished his education at Hogwarts. Although both wizards were on an equal level, being Potions masters, Severus preferred not to take on an air of familiarity that so many apprentices couldn't wait to take advantage of, and still treated his old master with the same deference as he had when he was eighteen.

The two wizards weaved through the room together. "'Ave you 'eard about zees witch from your country, Severus?"

"Hmm," Severus replied non-commitally. "I have been trying to avoid and deflect all conversations about her the entire day." He took a sip of his vodka and warily watched the room as he spoke.

Boulanger laughed. "You will nevere change, mon garçon!"

Another man joined them. "Bonsoir, Professor Snape, Professeur Boulanger," he said upon meeting.

"Ah!" said Boulanger. "Severus, you remembere Monsieur Roudett? 'E ezz one of our most distinguished Governors at Beauxbatons."

The two Frenchmen kissed each other's cheek, and Severus shook Monsieur Roudett's hand.

"Thees 'az been a verry interesting evening, Professor Snape," replied Roudett.

"Indeed?" said Snape, suddenly feeling quite bored.

"Now, Severus," urged Boulanger. "You must tell us alle about zees Engleesh mademoiselle in La maison de Guinevere!"

"Antoine," pleaded Roudett. "I am sure Professor Snape doez not want to be bozered wiz theez."

"Howevere," he continued gently as he fished the olive from his martini and ate it. "Do you know zee girl?"

Severus smiled after he drank down the last of his vodka. "Gentlemen, I am sure you are both are quite skilled in your abilities in verbal dueling, but I am not in the mood to be skewered."

"Touché," admitted Roudett as he chuckled. "Come now, Severus! You tell us. Theez girl 'oo has no credentials nor has studied Potions eez now working amongst the verry best in our profezzion! 'Oo eez theez girl? This Mlle. Granger. What a brutish name! Granger."

"Oui," replied Boulanger. "Howevere, her name for her buizness eez génie pur!"

"What is it called?" asked Severus as uninterested as he could be.

"La Chasseresse."

***

Back in his hotel room, Severus recounted the evening. He had claimed not to know the young witch who was upsetting the balance of the Potions world in Paris once her name had been revealed. Potions was a wizard's profession, and precious few female Potions apprentices ever made the cut. Many witches tried, but had failed, largely due to sexual harassment and blackmail by their male masters, or apprenticed under tyrants so cruel and abusive they would quit in terror.

There had been one woman there whom he had never seen before at any of the past symposiums. She had been quite the beauty with rich, red hair that flowed to her waist and eyes that were wide and blue. She had been fresh from Durmstrang, Boulanger had told him.

"Ah, Severus, to be young!" he had sighed. "She eez just eighteen, and from what eez rumored, an innocent. That bastard Kazakov, eez 'er master now."

She had swept past him and had said as she opened the door, "Mne eto vs'e osto'eblo! Stáryy perdún."

***

As he lay in bed, Snape was glad he didn't know what Katya had been saying. He was sure if he had, he would have broken her neck. But he had been riveted with thoughts of the lovely woman in his mind. Would Miss Granger be coming back to England? He wanted nothing more than to see her shop, look at her services, what her travels had been like...what she was like.

Severus felt strange. It gnawed at him. He had no right to have a claim on her, she had never been his, but his body told him something else. Otherwise, why would she have popped into his head the moment he was just getting into some very good sex with Katya?

Was there something wrong with him? Had he secretly desired his students sexually? NO! his conscious screamed out. He had never thought of Miss Granger sexually whilst she'd been a student. But she was no longer a girl; she was a woman, and a lovely woman at that. The image of her he had imagined returned, and he found himself growing hard. As he stroked himself to the thought of her riding his cock wantonly, he swore to himself he would see 'La Chasseresse,' this 'Huntress,' and figure out this new found attraction. His body shook violently as he came, hungry for her now more than ever.

***

Bubenčiki – balls.

Mne eto vs'e osto'eblo! Stáryy perdún – What a waste of my time! Old man pervert.