Chapter Two

That evening found them clustered around the table at Grimmauld Place. It had become tradition over the past few years that the first Wednesday of the month saw them take tea with Harry and Ginny; second Thursday, and it was Lavender's turn to cook (Ron was more pleased to eat than to cook). Third Friday saw them at Hermione's, which was usually takeaway, and the last weekend in the month was when The Horde, as Molly affectionately termed them, descended on the Burrow. Since leaving school, it had been unsettling not to see each other so frequently. It had been Ginny's idea that brought them together again. Kreacher, still a miserable elf, was usually instructed not to enter the kitchen while they were there.

"He's still around," Harry sighed as Hermione enquired after the elf upon arriving. "Don't start," he added with a finger raised in warning.

Hermione huffed good-naturedly and sat down.

"Harry, you know what I'm going to say," she said reasonably. "Hello, Ginny; thank you for the muffins! They were delicious."

"New recipe," Ginny said as she bustled into the kitchen, followed by several plates. "Picked it up when we played the Kestrels. Thought it was worth a try." She waved her wand, and the plates settled before them, and for a few minutes silence reigned as the five hungry people tucked in.

Hermione kept glancing at Harry curiously. A thought had occurred to her as she was up to her elbows in work. What if he...?

"I had a visitor to the office this afternoon," she announced. "A client, in fact."

"A client? Oh, Hermione, that's wonderful!" Ginny enthused, helping herself to more pumpkin juice. "I told you people would start to come in!"

"Who was it?" asked Ron; although the question was muffled by the food in his mouth, she knew what he meant.

Lavender tutted and smacked his arm lightly.

"Don't talk through your food," she scolded. "Hermione, who was it?" she asked, glaring at Ron in case he tried to interrupt her.

Hermione smiled at what a domestic sight they made. "Professor Snape."

That got their attention. Ron started to choke on the chicken; Lavender thumped him on the back, her own mouth open. Ginny and Harry simply stared at her, amazed.

"Snape?" Ron gasped out once he had enough breath to speak again. "Snape? As in greasy git, bat of the dungeons, ex-Potions professor, sarcastic bastard Snape?"

Hermione thought it best not to encourage him to be polite since Lavender had that look in her eye that meant he was going to get it later.

"The one and only," she settled for saying. "He wants to set up a Muggle business to supplement his research." She fixed her eyes on Harry. "Did you put him up to it, Harry?"

"Me?" he asked, almost in a squeak. "Hermione, don't be daft. You know what Snape said he'd do to me if I ever contacted him again. I want a family one day!" His hands dropped protectively into his lap as he recalled his last encounter with the bad-tempered Potions Master.

"I just thought it was convenient timing that he would show up just after I told you I was shutting down," Hermione admitted, though from Harry's reaction it was evident the thought of interfering hadn't even crossed his mind. "Sorry, Harry. It's just an odd coincidence."

"Maybe it's Fate," supplied Lavender, still a firm believer in Divination. She did write the horoscopes for the Quibbler, so it was probably for the best that she believed in it. "It's a sign that you shouldn't give up, Hermione."

Hermione just about refrained from rolling her eyes.

"It's a good project," she said with a smile.

"Lots of galleons?" Ginny asked. Hermione nodded, and Ginny clapped her hands together, pleased. "Snape's a really big name to attract, too! Give it a few weeks, and they'll be beating down your door to work with you. I'm so glad I made something special for dessert – this calls for a celebration! Harry, be a dear and get something a bit stronger to drink. We need a toast, to Hermione's business finally taking off at last!"

Harry soon returned with an armful of butterbeer and wine and set them down with an embarrassed grin.

"I can't afford a hangover tomorrow, so the butterbeer is for whoever needs a clear head in the morning and the wine is for the lucky sods who don't."

Hermione reached for a butterbeer, but found a wine glass pushed into her hand instead.

"You are celebrating," Lavender said pointedly. "Have a glass."

Hermione thought about arguing for all of two minutes before giving in and helping herself to the wine. After all, this was the break she was looking for.

"To Severus Snape," Ginny said, lifting her glass. "May the dungeon bat bring good fortune to our Hermione!"

Hermione smiled as the other four cheered and they all clinked glasses. For the moment, she felt as though everything would work out okay after all.

clickclickclick

Hermione clicked her pen rapidly, breathing deeply and trying not to explode as she listened to the ruckus coming from just outside her office. Sandra's high-pitched tones were easy to discern, and it wasn't hard to guess which wizard was behind the deep voice that was making the poor receptionist so irate. She had been trying for the past ten minutes to ignore them. After all, it was only Friday, and he didn't have an appointment. She glanced down at the mess of paper and parchment in front of her...

clickclickclickclick

"Bloody professors!" Hermione growled under her breath, getting up so quickly that her chair was knocked backwards into the wall. She marched across to the door of her office and flung it open, abruptly silencing the argument that had been raging on. Snape stood with his arms folded, watching her silently. Sandra hung her head.

"I'm sorry for disturbing you, Miss Granger," she said meekly.

Hermione softened her scowl enough to let Sandra know she didn't blame her for the ruckus, then glared at her ex-professor.

"Is there a reason why you are here, Professor Snape?" she asked sweetly. "I was under the impression your appointment was next week."

"And I, Miss Granger, felt that two days was ample time to prepare yourself," he sneered. "It is hardly as though you are swamped with work."

"One more jibe about my clientele, Professor, and I will kick you out myself. I don't know how you managed to establish a working relationship at Hogwarts with an attitude like that, but I will not have you treating me like an idiot, or a child, or insulting me." Hermione held his gaze firmly, refusing to back down.

At last, Snape broke the silence.

"I am merely keen to conclude our business swiftly, Miss Granger." It wasn't an apology, but she wasn't expecting one.

Hermione sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose to fend off a headache. It made sense, really. Snape must hate having to rely on her for help – an ex-student, a Gryffindor, and a friend of Harry's. All three strikes in one fell swoop.

"I am willing to double your fees for a swifter service."

She looked up, gobsmacked. Snape was utterly serious: there was, for once, no sneer or smirk on his sallow face. It was odd to see. Hermione took a deep breath. One wasn't going to be enough; she exhaled, took another. He was still serious. With double the fees, she'd not only be able to stay in business, she'd be able to expand her own marketing on the side too.

"If you are willing to sign your contract today," she said slowly, "then I believe we could discuss the preliminaries and begin to set things in motion. However, you would be signing it in the full knowledge that I have not had the time requested to devise the best possible plan of action." Throwing all business jargon out the window, Hermione smiled. "We'd be winging it, Professor."

Much to her surprise, the contract she had given him only two days previously was offered out to her, signed, and with higher fees than she had originally asked for. She took it with hands that trembled slightly.

Snape smirked, then resumed his impassive features so quickly she thought she'd imagined it.

"You are a Gryffindor, Miss Granger. I hardly expected anything else."

"Yes, well." She was momentarily stumped by the sight of the contract – her first contract! – but recovered her composure quickly enough. "If you would care to step into my office, I can, in fact, show you the list of items I was preparing. I would recommend purchasing all of the above and would be happy to procure them for you..."

"I do not need meddlesome witches to do my shopping for me," Snape said, sneering at Sandra as he passed through into Hermione's office. "I am not that out of touch with the Muggle world."

"Excellent. This should make things a great deal simpler, and faster." Hermione gestured for Snape to sit. He glared at her and opened his mouth as if to comment and then shut it abruptly as if remembering that she wasn't a student any more. Hermione decided to ignore this, as tempting as it was to tease him, and instead started scribbling a list on a piece of parchment.

"Now. I would highly recommend getting a computer and getting hooked up to the internet, Professor. You may need to be careful using magic around it; you know what happens to electronics at Hogwarts after all." She glanced up but Snape's face showed nothing of what he was thinking. "A mobile phone would be useful too, since you're going to need to be providing contact details, at the very least to the bank. Let's see..." She skimmed the list once more. "That ought to be enough to get you started. I've written the name of some shops at the bottom. PC World would be the best place to start – if you're sure about getting everything yourself."

"I am fully capable of purchasing equipment, Miss Granger." The list was snatched out of her hands and tucked away into a pocket of Snape's robes without him even consulting it.

Hermione sighed.

"I hadn't finished writing it, Professor. Just remember to get a mouse for the computer as well. I've listed everything else. Now, you also need to think about funding and marketing," she continued as if nothing had interrupted her. Thinking of Snape like Ron was helping: every time Ron interrupted her to complain or comment, she simply talked over him until he listened. Hopefully the same approach would stop her from hexing Snape every time he was rude. "I can set up appointments for you if you tell me when is convenient."

"I believe I am paying you to assist me, am I not?"

"Yes, but..."

"Then stop wittering on at me and do it, Miss Granger. I would expect you to at least understand the basics of your job; although, perhaps you struggle with something that you can't look up in a library."

"You really are an unpleasant bastard, aren't you?" Hermione's eyes were narrowed, but she didn't realise she had spoken aloud until the prickly professor raised an eyebrow.

"You intend to insult all your clients?"

"I suspect most people have enough sense to listen to what I'm telling them, rather than sniping at everything I say. I am a consultant, Professor. I am here to advise you, not make every decision for you. This is your business we are setting up, not mine. You have to do some work too."

Snape glared at her, but eventually she was surprised to hear a small sigh from him.

"I am... unused to dealing with you in a professional category, Miss Granger," he said in clipped tones. "You will have to allow me time to become accustomed to... working with you." It sounded unpleasant, the way he said it, as if he would prefer to be ankle deep in sewage whilst slicing rat spleens.

"Try calling me Hermione. I promise it won't hurt." Hermione, much to her surprise, was amused at his discomfort – it wasn't like her to take pleasure in other people's misery, but taunting Snape when there wasn't the threat of a detention was rather fun. Snape stared at her as if she'd sprouted another head, and there was a flicker of panic as she extended the invitation. This was quickly replaced by amusement.

"Ten points from Gryffindor for informality," he said drily.

Hermione broke into a grin.

"Why, Professor, I do believe you just made a joke."

"Contrary to popular belief, Miss Granger, I am fully aware of what humour is. I simply do not see the use in wasting it on simpletons."

"Careful. That was almost a compliment." Her grin widened as she saw Snape's shoulders relax. He turned his back on her to gaze out the window, but in that moment, she understood why he was being so awkward to her.

"It is hard to break the student-teacher barriers, isn't it?" she asked cheerfully, pulling one of the information packs from her filing cabinet. "Here. Take this and read over it. I'll arrange for BT to come and sort your phone and internet out. I presume you still live at Spinner's End? Once they've been, either call me – my number is on the parchment you took – or send me an owl, and I can pay you a home visit and help you get started."

"You are not setting foot in my house, Miss Granger!"

"Yes, I am, Professor," she said firmly. "And as you don't make a habit of having students underfoot, it will help you sort out your attitude problem."

He met her eyes and then, much to her surprise, nodded.

"I see. I will contact you further, Miss Granger. Good day."

"Goodbye, Professor Snape." She smiled at his retreating back. It seemed that being pleasant was far more unsettling to her former professor than being rude. She resolved to be as nice as possible. A part of her wondered, as she began to tidy her desk, if it was possible to give Severus Snape a nervous breakdown simply by being nice to him. At least now it was easier to understand why he was so abrasive to her. In fact, Hermione mused, if anyone had said to her five years ago that she would be working with Snape to set up a Muggle company selling beauty products, she'd have handed them over to St Mungo's immediately.

Ah, well, she thought, shrugging. Treating Snape like a surlier version of Ron was working wonderfully – she rather thought she'd come off better in this instance.

"Coffee, Miss Granger, or something stronger?" Sandra slipped into the office and stood before her, wringing her hands anxiously.

Hermione beamed. "I think this is going to work out, Sandra. I really, really do."

That evening, as she was curled up with Crookshanks and a good book, she was startled by a shimmering doe prancing into her living room. It stared at her, and she shivered at the haunting, beautiful sight. Then it spoke, and the moment was ruined.

"Miss Granger. You appear to have misinformed me as to the myriad uses of a computer; the infernal contraption appears to be broken. Put your book down and fix it immediately," Snape's voice snapped at her. The doe vanished, as did Crookshanks, who had let out a startled yowl when the voice began to speak and was now disappearing through the cat flap.

Hermione sighed. Only Snape could ruin a perfectly wonderful evening with such flair.

"Sorry, Crooks," she called out. An affronted meow answered her, and she knew she wouldn't be seeing him again until he could pretend, as all cats did, that nothing had happened. Hermione put her book down – it wasn't really surprising that he'd guessed that much; after all, he had taught her for six years – and left.

Spinner's End was in a dingy, miserable part of Manchester. Walking from the Apparition point to Snape's house meant she had to endure the bravado and attitude of the kids on the street corners, who were thoroughly deserving of a Stinging Hex or five. After the last jeer about her hair, Hermione turned, raised her middle finger, and stormed the rest of the way. Snape had evidently been awaiting her, for the door opened immediately upon her arrival.

"Why do you live in such a miserable place?" She scowled as she stomped into the house. "With your temper, I'm surprised you haven't just hexed the lot of them, Ministry be damned."

"I seldom find they bother me," Snape admitted, though his lips twitched as though he were amused. "Being a teacher has its uses in both worlds."

Hermione glared at him and then sighed. The man had a point: he radiated authority and promised a miserable life for anyone who interfered with him. It kept everyone away.

"Alright. Where is this infernal contraption?" she asked.

Snape's lips thinned, and he turned, leading the way into the back room of his house. Hermione followed, taking in the dark, miserable rooms and old, broken furniture. It wasn't what she had expected at all.

In the back room, however, a new desk had been installed, and on it, in a jumble of wires, were all the parts of the computer. Even to her eyes, which were hardly expert when it came to computers, it was all wrong.

"Professor," she asked gently, as if not wanting to alarm him, "who set this up for you?"

"I set it up myself, Miss Granger. I have no need for every Tom, Dick and Harry to know where I live."

Hermione couldn't resist.

"Harry does know where you live, Professor. And technically, I suppose Tom did too."

"Then I just need to worry about Dick."

Again, she thought she saw the glimmer of a smile on his lips, but when she blinked it had gone. Hermione smiled at him, noticing the startled look in his eyes when she did so.

"You didn't know what plugged in where, did you?"

His silence was telling.

Hermione rolled her eyes. He really was like a surlier, more anti-social version of Ron. "Alright. Make yourself useful, Professor – put the kettle on. I'll sort this mess out."

"I believe that is what I'm paying you for."

"Exactly, so let me get on with it." Hermione turned the tower around and began by promptly unplugging everything, praying that he hadn't managed to bend the pins or damage the plugs in his misplaced sense of independence. Luckily everything was still intact, and it was the work of a few minutes to set it to rights. She arranged it neatly on the desk, and then her brow furrowed.

"Is this everything?"

"Indeed, Miss Granger." Snape's voice floated through from where she presumed the kitchen to be.

"Where's the mouse?"

"Behind you, Miss Granger. I assume you are not blind?"

Hermione turned around, extended her hand, and blinked.

The mouse blinked back at her.

Where she had expected to see a computer mouse was, in fact, a cage containing a very real, very alive, very mouse-like brown mouse.

It twitched its nose at her.

"You got an actual mouse?" she asked faintly as Snape came through with two cups.

"You ordered me to, Miss Granger. I obeyed."

"I said a mouse for the computer."

"Which is why I have set its cage down where it is, although I fail to see how Muggles have integrated animals into technology this way."

Hermione counted to ten silently. It wasn't enough.

"This is not the sort of mouse I meant, Professor. Didn't you ask about one in the shop?"

"They did try to sell me one, however I informed them I would prefer to procure my own. I visited Diagon Alley this afternoon." He really didn't see what was wrong, Hermione realised, sitting down and accepting the proffered mug. He hadn't the faintest clue. A thought struck her: a worrying thought.

"Professor, when was the last time you were heavily involved with the Muggle world?"

"The Dark Lord would not have approved of his loyal followers consorting with Muggles, Miss Granger."

Meaning, Hermione interpreted, he hadn't integrated with the Muggle world since the 70s. Oh, Merlin. This was going to be much, much harder than she'd originally anticipated. The mouse squeaked. Snape, even when sitting opposite her with a cup of tea, was still an intimidating presence, and it took a lot of nerve for her to begin to speak again.

"That's not the right sort of mouse, Professor." She spoke quickly so that he couldn't interrupt. "A computer mouse is a device that plugs into the computer, not an actual live mouse. Your computer won't work until you buy one and... Look, can I Floo from here?"

He nodded mutely, his face like stone. Hermione leapt up, sensing he needed a moment.

"I'll Floo home and get mine. I can replace it tomorrow."

"That would be appreciated, Miss Granger." His voice was slow and oddly formal, and she knew then that he was embarrassed by his error. Hermione was quick to exit, emerging in her living room with a soft smile on her face.

Severus Snape, the spy, the man who had survived undefeatable odds, was embarrassed. It was oddly endearing. And he was actually making an effort to be nicer, too. Perhaps, she mused, unplugging her own computer's mouse and untangling the cable – how they always got so tangled she would never know – perhaps he was actually all right. Not the sort of friend you'd go out for a few drinks with or hit the shops with, but maybe he would be the sort you could have an intelligent discussion with. She already knew his loyalty was the stuff of legend, outclassing all Hufflepuffs bar possibly Helga herself. Now all he did was hole up in his dingy house and hide away from the world. Hermione stared at her mouse for a moment and then laughed softly.

"I doubt Snape wants any friends," she murmured. "Maybe, though, he needs one." It was certainly worth being nicer to him, at any rate, and she was more than up to the challenge – Hermione Granger, champion of lost causes. Not that she'd given up on S.P.E.W. It was just taking longer than she'd expected.

By the time she Floo'd back to Spinner's End, Snape had suitably recovered from his embarrassment and decided to take it out on her.

"You're late," he sniped.

Hermione rolled her eyes.

"No, I'm not." She ignored the way he opened his mouth to snap at her again and instead plugged the mouse in and booted the computer up. Snape's mouth closed instantly, and he came to hover behind her, though his looming was less intimidating when she wasn't trying to brew a potion. She frowned as the computer started up and began demanding installations.

"Where's your floppy, Professor?"

"My what?"

"Floppy. I need to insert it to get things going."

He made a strangled noise.

"I beg your pardon?"

Hermione turned in her seat impatiently. "You must have been given one, Professor. Pass it over so I can pop it in."

Snape blanched and two tiny red spots appeared on his cheeks. Was he blushing?

"I fail to see why that would be necessary."

"Well, do you want me to get you started on this or not?" Honestly, the man was impossible.

"I didn't realise you felt that way, Miss Granger."

"What?" Now it was her turn to become confused. "What do you mean?"

"If this is all a ploy so you can sell the sordid details to the Prophet, then you may remove yourself from the premises immediately!"

"Professor, I have no idea what you're talk... Oh, Merlin." She replayed the conversation quickly in her head and, once again, pretended Snape was Ron – someone utterly ignorant of the latest advances in Muggle technology. Her face turned bright red.

"I didn't mean... It's not like that, I..." she started stuttering. She should have been more specific. "It's a disk, Professor, a small black square disk for the computer. It's called a floppy. I wasn't interested in your... Look, I need it to get your computer working, and..." She had never felt more uneasy in all her life. Snape's face was slowly returning to its usual sallow self, rather than the horror it had just held.

"A disk," he repeated.

Hermione sighed.

"Yes. A small, black, square piece of plastic with a metal clip on it."

"So not..."

"No, sir." She grinned, feeling wicked. "You need the internet before the computer's any good for that."

Snape blanched again and mutely began handing her boxes and bags which had no doubt once contained the computer. The disks were there, thankfully – she had been dreading sending Snape back to the shop for them, and after this conversation, she needed to scour her mind before even thinking about them again. Snape was now seated on the settee, and she imagined he was feeling pretty sheepish.

"Miss Granger," he began, after five minutes of near-silence punctuated by mouse-clicks from the computer and squeaks from the mouse.

"Sir?"

"I must apologise for misinterpreting you."

Her face started to feel warm again.

"It's quite alright, sir. The Muggle world can be confusing after you've been out of it for a while. I understand."

"Very well." He said nothing further until Hermione sat back, a small smile on her face from satisfaction at a job well done.

"This is all ready to use now, sir, although I doubt you'd get much use out of it until the internet is set up." She turned around in the chair. Snape had been watching her intently, but he looked away now to set his tea cup aside.

"I was going to owl you in the morning, Professor, but I may as well tell you now, since I'm here. You've an appointment with Barclays on Monday afternoon with a business manager. You'll need to dress appropriately – I can get some suits for you if you give me your size."

"I have clothed myself for over forty years, Miss Granger. I suspect I can manage the task." His tone left no room for argument, but she supposed it was unlikely he would mess it up – he had been a spy, after all. He knew to pay attention to the details.

"If you insist, sir. I've organised the appointment for the branch closest to Diagon Alley, as it seemed the most logical place. Your appointment is at two. I would recommend arriving there slightly early so that I can answer any questions you may have. I've prepared all the paperwork you may need, so, well, just bring yourself," she finished with a smile. "Once we've sorted your finance, we can really get this under way."

"Then I shall see you on Monday, at slightly before two," he replied.

Hermione nodded, recognising a polite dismissal when she saw one, even if she hadn't expected to see one from Snape.

"Monday, then," she said with a cheerful wave. She headed towards the front door, but he nodded towards the fireplace instead, and so she Floo'd out quickly. Her last glimpse was of Snape standing in front of the computer, as if it were a deadly adversary rather than a piece of equipment.

Ah well, she thought, emerging back in her kitchen. Surely he can't break it before Monday.