Chapter Three

Sunday found her at the Burrow. It seemed to be the place where those without things to do went, as if drawn by an otherworldly force and constant invitations from Molly Weasley of 'a nice bit of dinner, dear; you're far too thin'. Even though it wasn't their day to host, Molly had been overjoyed to see her second daughter and was quick to hug her, scold her for working too hard, and send her out into the garden where the boys were playing Quidditch.

As she left the warm kitchen in a daze, she looked up at the brooms. George, Ron, Bill... She squinted: yes, Harry and Ginny, too, and Percy keeping a respectable distance from proceedings in case George got over-enthusiastic with the lone Bludger. Below them, she could see Fleur, Victoire and Teddy making daisy chains in the long grass.

"Afternoon," she greeted, settling herself down between the two children. Teddy was doing his best with the fiddly flowers, and Victoire didn't quite seem to understand what was going on and was instead busily transferring the flowers from her chubby fist into her mouth. Hermione tickled Victoire, allowed Teddy to give her a hug, and then smiled at Fleur.

"Good afternoon, 'Ermione. I 'ope you are well?"

"I'm fine, thank you. Victoire seems to be teething again."

The little girl was dribbling petals and leaves all down her dress. Fleur smiled fondly at her daughter.

"Yes, she is growing too quickly. Like Teddy. 'E will be quite ze 'andsome man!" They both stared adoringly at Teddy, whose hair changed from ginger to blonde and back again as they watched. Andromeda frequently left Teddy with Harry or Molly, wanting him to grow up surrounded by his family, and he seemed to have inherited his father's gentle nature and his mother's sense of humour, making him utterly charming.

"You'll be up there on a broom soon," Hermione informed Teddy, who stared at her seriously and then, suddenly shy, simply held out one of the daisies. She took it and placed it in her hair, rewarded by a brilliant smile.

"Hermione!" Ron's voice drifted down from the manic game above them. "When'd you get here?" He landed with a soft thud in the grass next to her, ruffling Teddy's hair before he threw himself down. The game seemed to be breaking up; Percy retreated into the kitchen, closely followed by a smirking George who, judging from the hand in his pocket, was up to something.

"Only now," she answered Ron. "It's a quiet day, for once. I didn't know Harry and Ginny would be here too."

"They popped over this morning with Teddy. Andromeda's going to visit her friend, and they offered to look after him. You know how much Mum loves seeing him."

Molly had taken the loss of Fred hard, and it was only the new additions – Teddy, on a part-time basis, and then Victoire – that had brought her back to herself. As much as one ever recovered, anyway; there was still an empty seat at the table at Christmas, and Molly never seemed quite as cheerful as she had before.

"Who doesn't love seeing him?" Harry asked, dropping his Firebolt carefully out of the reach of small hands before joining their circle.

"'E is charming," Fleur said, catching him around the waist as he lunged across the circle to try and reach the brooms. "Except 'e is no doubt getting tired and will need a nap now." She gathered Victoire up in her arms, ignoring Teddy's shout of protest, and ushered the children back into the Burrow.

"She's actually learning to be subtle," Ginny said, high praise, from her. "So I hear the bat swooped in on Friday, Hermione."

"You're not being very nice," Hermione chided automatically. "Yes, he did. I had to set him up with a computer, and we're going to the bank tomorrow to get things underway."

"Snape's got a compooper?" asked Ron, interested.

"Computer, Ron," Harry muttered, just as Hermione corrected him.

"Computer, Ronald. Yes, he does now." She debated telling them about the mouse, and then thought better of it. Client confidentiality was important, not to mention if Snape found out she'd told them, she'd be spare potions ingredients by the end of the week. "He's not quite as good with the Muggle world as I thought he'd be," she chose to confess this, instead.

Harry had his head on one side and seemed to be counting.

"Well," he said at last, "he's in his forties, isn't he? And he's been a Death Eater since he left school. I doubt Tom would have let him have Muggle stuff in the house." Harry was the only one who called Voldemort Tom, although he fully encouraged everyone else to – best way to remove the fear of the name, he vowed, though privately Hermione felt it simply meant nobody would call their children Tom or Thomas, either.

"I know that now, Harry. I just didn't think of it when he first approached me. I'm worried now about overloading him with information."

"Nah, don't worry about that." Ron waved his hand in the air, lazily dismissing her words. "He's Snape. He'll just give you detention for being a know-it-all."

"He's already taken points from me," Hermione admitted sheepishly.

Three pairs of eyes fell on her in shock before being followed by a wave of laughter. Harry, in particular, seemed to be enjoying the idea.

"Even I haven't managed to lose points after school." He chuckled.

Hermione kicked his shin and smiled sweetly. "No, but we ought to deduct some for being down Knockturn Alley. How did it go?" A subject change was more than welcome.

Harry shrugged.

"Cho was okay, I suppose. Didn't get much out of Borgin; he wanted us to just find what was stolen and hand it back, no questions asked. Doubt we'll be following this one up." Harry kept stealing glances at Ginny as he spoke, but she seemed perfectly at ease with the mention of Cho.

"Harry, you're an idiot," Hermione said with a sigh. He gave her a puzzled look which grew more concerned when Ginny gave a wicked grin.

A small explosion from the house, followed by Percy's cursing and Molly's shouting – not to mention hysterical laughter from Teddy – brought an end to further conversation.

Ron groaned. "George is a right git! He was supposed to wait for me. He's been working on a new sweet for the shop. Confess All Candies, they're called; you eat one, and they make you say what you're really thinking, not what you want to say. Percy was going to see his girlfriend this afternoon." Ron leapt to his feet and darted for the Burrow, closely followed by Harry.

Ginny lingered next to Hermione.

"Percy told George the other day that it's a good thing she's equipped from the neck down because there's absolutely nothing between her ears," she said.

Hermione clapped her hand to her mouth.

"And George just made him tell her that?"

"Sounds like, or worse. Come on. Mum'll need help clearing up because it sounds like Percy's gone mental over it."

"I would too. Remind me not to eat anything that George might have been near, ever again. The last thing I need is to tell Snape what I really think of him."

"And what exactly is that?" Ginny asked, nudging her. "You've always defended him, Hermione. Now, I would pay good money to see Ron fed one of those and stuck in a room with Snape."

"Snape would kill him," Hermione said.

Ginny grinned.

"Nah. He's not a murderer, just a bastard. We'd pick up a few new hexes off him, though, and Lavender might never get those kids she wants off him."

Hermione grinned despite herself. She'd often dreamt, when they were dating, of doing exactly the same thing to Ron.

An explosion from one of the upstairs bedrooms shook the small house. Hermione and Ginny exchanged looks and sprinted for the house, their worried shouts drowned out by a bellow from Molly Weasley.

"Percy Ignatius Weasley you come down here right now!"

They entered the kitchen just as Arthur was retreating to his shed. He gave both girls a smile.

"Best be careful, Ginny, Hermione," he warned. Ginny shrugged and slipped straight past, but Hermione lingered, always happy to chat to Arthur.

"How're you finding the laptop I gave you?" she asked, falling into step beside him.

Arthur looked sheepish.

"Erm, well, it's..."

"Broken?" Hermione supplied, laughing. "I can get you another, don't worry. You can always ask Professor Snape for lessons – he's learning how to use a computer too."

"Severus is? Ron mentioned you were working with him. How are you finding it?" He ushered her into his shed, and Hermione gladly entered, not wanting to risk the wrath of Molly Weasley in the house.

"He's... prickly," she admitted. "He's refusing to follow my advice, he treats me like I'm still a student, and he's very demanding. It's all I could do at first not to hex him, but now I just treat him like a more irritating version of Ron, and it seems to be keeping me sane."

Arthur laughed, rummaging amongst the Muggle paraphernalia on his desk until he found the laptop Hermione had given him. She could already see the problem with it – he'd completely dismantled it. The keyboard dangled loosely from a few wires connecting it to the body of the laptop.

"Severus has always been difficult," he reflected, handing the laptop over to Hermione.

She shook her head, impressed as always at how thoroughly he managed to break things.

"Yes," Arthur mused, tapping a kettle with his wand. "You could understand it, of course, during the wars. Man was risking life and limb to bring us the information – he saved dozens of lives, maybe even hundreds, and not a one of them ever said so much as a thank you. Now, I think he just doesn't know how to be any different."

Hermione said nothing as she tried to piece the laptop back together. Arthur's insight always amazed her; what he had said made perfect sense.

"Of course," Arthur added, producing a mug from amongst the rubble, "he could just enjoy being awkward." He turned and smiled at her. "Tea, Hermione?"

"No thanks," she answered, returning his smile. "Keep this one to fiddle with, Mr Weasley. I can get you another one to use – but this time, try not to take it apart."

He cleared his throat and turned away, embarrassed.

"Well, just persevere with Severus, Hermione. If anyone's got the patience to work with him and the nerve to argue, it's you. You're not a Gryffindor for nothing," he said, waving a teaspoon at her to emphasise his point. "Just keep your chin up and remember: he needs your help, not the other way around."

"I will," Hermione said, feeling much better about herself. When she saw Snape the next day, she'd be ready for him

Ten to two found Hermione at the bank, glancing about her at the seated Muggles for her ex-Professor. There was a little old lady sitting with a small dog at the mortgages desk, a man in an ancient tweed suit reading the paper, a young family arguing at the counter with one of the bank employees, and a smart man in a suit evidently waiting to see someone. She studied him carefully, looking for any indication that it may be Snape wearing a Glamour, but he became unsettled under her gaze, and she knew he was not. Sighing, Hermione let the lady on the desk know she was there for the appointment and then settled into a seat to wait.

"You are late, Miss Granger."

She glanced about, immediately alert, as Snape's voice rang low in her ear. Still, she couldn't see him until, with an elaborate sigh, the man in tweed folded the newspaper to reveal that he was, in fact, Severus Snape. He wore a dull, ill-fitting brown suit with a too-wide collar and a slight flare to his trousers that reminded her instantly that he hadn't 'gone Muggle' since Saturday Night Fever was fashionable. When she reached his face he was scowling.

"Seen everything?" he asked smoothly.

Hermione shook her head.

"Professor, where did you get that suit? I didn't think they made them like that any more."

He shifted uncomfortably. "Minerva may have assisted me in transfiguring something suitable," he admitted haughtily.

Hermione's jaw dropped.

"Minerva? As in the headmistress? The woman who would rather transform into a cat than try and blend in as a Muggle? A woman who, most likely, wouldn't know current Muggle trends even if they waltzed into her office and danced in front of her?" Her voice was rising with each question until eventually she finished in a sort of squeak.

"That is rather uncalled for," Snape said sternly.

"Uncalled for? Professor, you're about thirty years out of fashion. I could have got suits for you easily: modern ones, well-tailored ones. You won't be taken seriously as a businessman in this! You assured me you could do this!" Hermione took several deep breaths, trying to stop herself from hyperventilating. It was no good; they were firmly in the Muggle world, so a discreet transfiguration was out of the question. She couldn't even do anything about the colour. Even his usual black would be better than the brown which made him look washed out and ill.

"Professor, this is going to make my job a lot harder," she said at last, massaging her temples and wondering if she had a headache potion in her bag. "First impressions make a difference, and right now your appearance says you are completely out of touch and possibly eccentric; neither of which is good for persuading them that you can start a business and do well in the current economic climate. It implies you will be out of touch with the consumers as well; not to mention, it raises questions about what products you intend to supply. We will now have to work twice as hard to convince them. Professor, what were you thinking when you asked Professor McGonagall for fashion advice rather than trusting me?" She paused for breath and noticed that Snape's expression was becoming darker and darker.

"It's too late to do anything now," she sighed before he had a chance to answer her tirade. "We'll just have to manage."

"It's alright, dear," the old lady with the dog said, having caught enough of their conversation to get the gist of it. "My granddaughter is always going on at my husband for his clothes. Young people," she said, shaking her head at Hermione and going back to fussing with her dog.

"Granddaughter?" Snape asked through clenched teeth.

"Don't hex her," Hermione warned. "We need to be professional." She nodded to where a keen looking banker had emerged from an office.

"Miss Granger? Mr Snape?" he called.

Hermione rose and plastered a smile onto her face. Snape shot her a look that said he wasn't going to forget how she had spoken to him and instead frowned at the banker.

"Professor," he corrected sternly.

The banker was taken aback by this, but quickly rallied. "A professor, how wonderful! And what do you teach?" he asked politely.

Hermione froze and had but one thought in her mind: please don't mess up, please don't mess up...

"Chemistry," Snape said after a long pause in which Hermione could hear every beat of her racing heart. She let out a breath she hadn't known she was holding.

"How lovely. Would you care to step into my office, Professor? Miss Granger?"

He ushered them through the door, offered them tea, introduced himself as Matthew, and then sat smiling at them over the table. It seemed as though being a chemistry professor was enough to excuse Snape's apparent eccentricity. Hermione felt herself calming. This might just work after all.

"I understand you're looking to start up a business," he said, focusing his attention more on her than on Snape. "You're looking for an initial business loan to assist with start-up costs, correct?"

"Yes, that's right," she said. "Professor Snape here is looking to, uh, retire from lecturing and try something different. He has pharmaceutical qualifications, and, well, he just fancies a change."

"Lovely. And how much were you looking to borrow?"

"Between fifteen and twenty thousand. We're looking to start small and branch out. I've brought some information with me which should be helpful: business plans, projected figures..." Hermione produced a sheaf of papers from her bag and slid them across the table where Matthew began studying them carefully. Snape leant over, and she could hear a faint buzzing reminiscent of the Muffliato.

"I am capable of speaking for myself, Miss Granger," he growled.

"I'm sorry, Professor. I didn't realise you were well-versed with Muggle banking," she snapped back. "And what are you thinking, casting a spell in front of him?"

"Allow me to conduct my own business," he warned, cancelling the spell just as Matthew looked up.

"This all seems very thorough," he said approvingly. "If all goes according to your plan, Professor, you should have no trouble repaying the loan, which, as I'm sure you can appreciate, is very reassuring for us here. In fact, based on your figures, we may be able to stretch to a higher sum than your initial request." Hermione could practically see the pound signs appear in the man's eyes as he re-read her reports.

"My plan?" Snape asked quietly.

Hermione nudged him sharply. "I'm doing my job, Professor," she hissed under her breath, maintaining a friendly smile for the banker's benefit. "Let me."

"I believe I am fully capable of negotiating a simple transaction."

"Like you were capable of dressing suitably, or sorting out your computer?"

Snape was not amused, any fool could see that, but thankfully the oblivious Matthew chose that point to begin typing on his computer.

"Let's see... You don't appear to do any personal banking with us, Professor. Is that something you're also interested in?"

Hermione folded her arms and sat back, waiting for Snape to answer; if he was so competent, he could do it himself.

"Not at present," Snape said when he realised what Hermione was doing. "However, it is something I will consider in the future."

"Excellent. Well, you can always pop in for a chat with one of our advisers. They'll be happy to set up the most suitable account for you. Now, what term were you looking at?"

"I'm sorry?"

"The term of the loan, Professor Snape."

Hermione suppressed a smile as she saw a brief flash of panic in Snape's eyes. He hadn't thought about this – any of it – just as she'd suspected. Time to teach him a lesson, she decided. That way he might listen to her without arguments in future.

"Will you gentlemen excuse me?" she asked sweetly, rising. "I just need to make a phone call. Professor Snape can handle it from here." She slipped out of the room, bestowing a brilliant smile on Snape as she did so. Once out, she walked the few steps to the entrance and couldn't contain her laughter any more. Unprofessional? Of course, she knew that, but he deserved it. She knew she could fix whatever mess he made in there. Satisfied with her plan, Hermione leant against the wall to wait.

She wasn't waiting long; about five minutes later, there was a tap on her shoulder. When she turned, however, it was to see Harry, not Professor Snape.

"Harry! What're you doing here?" she asked, greeting him with a hug.

Harry grinned.

"Ron and I are paired back up – Ginny sent a letter," he started. Hermione winced at the thought of being on the receiving end of Ginny's temper. "Anyway, when we got told about blatant use of magic in front of Muggles, Ron remembered you were here today and managed to get us assigned to deal with it."

Hermione's smile froze and her heart almost stopped.

"What?"

"Ron's gone in ahead. Sounds like Snape lost it and started hexing people. What are you doing out here, anyway?"

Hermione groaned, turned, and started beating her head against the wall.

"It's my fault, Harry. Snape was being just so... so... He's such a bastard, he wouldn't listen to me or let me do my job – he's paying me to help him, but he won't take the help! I thought if I left him to try and sort it out, he'd learn his lesson, and things would go a bit easier."

Harry laughed.

"Least you didn't hex him, or we'd be in St Mungo's now. Come on, let's see the damage."

Harry led the way in, and Hermione followed reluctantly, afraid to see what she'd unintentionally inflicted on poor Matthew. When they entered, they could see Ron chatting cheerfully with one of the bank employees, turning on his charm.

"It's all okay, luv. Bit of a problem with the lighting, that's what the flashes were – we'll just pop in and check it's safe. Why don't you go have a cup of tea? You look like you had a bit of a fright." He smiled, and the flustered woman wrung her hands and then nodded.

"Yes, I think I'm due for my break now. Thank you, Mr... I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name?"

"Call me Ron, luv. Go on now." He watched her go and then winked at Hermione.

"Keeping us busy, aren't you?"

"Ron, I'm impressed. You managed to come up with a plausible excuse." She poked him in the ribs to let him know she was joking and then let herself into the office. Matthew was unconscious against the wall, and Snape was sitting with his arms folded as if nothing was wrong.

"Granger. Potter. Weasley." That was all they got by way of greeting.

Harry burst into laughter. "Hermione, that's what you dressed him in? Tweed and flares? He looks like the photos of my Uncle Vernon's father crossed with John Travolta in..."

"Harry, don't you need to go checking on the Muggle?" she interrupted quickly, seeing the scowl reappear on Snape's face. "Professor McGonagall did a lovely job on the professor's clothes, right?"

"Oh! Um, yeah. Let's have a look at the poor bloke then." Harry sidled around the table, keeping as much distance between himself and Snape as possible, and then crouched down by the unconscious man.

Ron glanced Snape over.

"You really pass for a Muggle well," he said admiringly.

Snape stormed out.

Ron turned to Hermione.

"What did I do?" he asked, confused.

Hermione shook her head.

"Just... Please, Ron, just fix things here," she sighed. "I'll sort out Snape."

By the time she caught up with him, he appeared to have transfigured the suit back into his robes and was glaring at passers-by with such ferocity that no one dared comment.

"Professor, I'm sorry."

"Only that it backfired on you, I have no doubt." His voice was cold. "I should have expected as much."

As guilty as she felt, her hackles rose at his words.

"Well, if you would only listen to me and let me do what you're paying me for..."

"That would require me to believe you have an ounce of common sense, Miss Granger. You do not; indeed, five years of being treated as an adult seems to have pushed you further towards the juvenile behaviour favoured by your peers at Hogwarts. Perhaps I overestimated your capability."

Hermione's hands had curled into fists.

"Then why the hell did you hire me?" she all but screamed at him. "Why bother if you so clearly know better?"

"I'm starting to ask myself the same thing," he sneered, and it was the last straw.

"Fine!" Hermione threw her hands up in the air, partly from exasperation but mostly to stop herself trying to hit her former professor. "I give up! Do it your own way, Professor. You're going to anyway, and believe it or not, I really do have better things to do than watch you mess up. I am sick of your condescension, your insults, and your sheer pigheadedness. You're worse than any Gryffindor I have ever met for being stubborn. Damn it, Snape, I have had it with you!" She threw the papers from her bag at him, turned on her heel and Disapparated, not even caring that they were surrounded by Muggles.

When she found herself back at her office, staring at Sandra's worried face, she broke down crying.