Chapter Five

Hermione was startled the next morning when Sandra burst into the room like a whirlwind, not even bringing the tea she had started making twenty minutes ago. The giddy receptionist grasped Hermione's hand, dislodging several papers, and started pumping it up and down enthusiastically.

"Oh, well done, Miss Granger! Well done indeed!"

"Well done what?" she asked, bewildered, as Sandra had been mostly kept out of her conflict with Snape.

Sandra beamed at her. "The Head of Magical Law Enforcement just requested an urgent appointment with you!"

"Kingsley? Wants an actual appointment?" Hermione prised her hands out of Sandra's grip. "Why?"

"He wants to discuss business with you!"

Hermione felt her stomach drop into her boots. Was he coming to speak to her about the incident at the bank? Sandra didn't know about that...

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves," she managed to say, smiling weakly. "Did you book him in?"

"Half one this afternoon. He said he'd be in Diagon Alley anyway so it was no trouble." Sandra's smile faltered. "Is something wrong, Miss Granger?"

Hermione looked at her loyal receptionist and her smile brightened.

"Of course not! I'm just trying not to get too excited before we know what Kingsley wants, that's all. Who knows; maybe this is the start of things!"

Sandra cheered up instantly. "That's the spirit, Miss Granger!" She clapped her hands again and tottered out of Hermione's office.

The instant the door shut, Hermione's smile faded, and she wondered if she would be able to get hold of Harry before half past one. Then again, even if he was to tell her off, Kingsley wouldn't be too hard on her. Hermione shook her head and began to tidy her papers. She was getting ahead of herself now. Whatever Kingsley wanted, it could wait until half past one, and she would panic then.

"Kingsley, how wonderful to see you again."

At precisely half past one, the head of Magical Law Enforcement was entering her office, a warm smile on his face. Hermione held out her hand, and he accepted it at once, giving it a brief shake before sitting down. Sandra arrived instantly with tea – no doubt she was excited to find out what was going on – and had to be reminded by Hermione to shut the door behind her as she left.

"Thank you for seeing me at such short notice," Kingsley said, his deep voice booming in the small office.

Hermione waved a hand dismissively, not wanting to admit that she was hardly busy. "It's never a trouble for you, Kingsley. How can I help today?" He was in a good mood, she could see that already, so it was doubtful that he was about to rake her over the coals for the bank debacle. She started to relax.

"I hear you had an interesting day yesterday," he said with a wink and a grin.

Hermione cringed. Maybe he was going to after all. "Working with Severus has been... enlightening," she said as diplomatically as she could.

Kingsley laughed, seeing right through her.

"You mean you wanted to kill him," he said. "Harry and Ron stopped in to say what had gone on. I don't blame you in the slightest; he's a difficult man to handle."

"Especially if you're an ex-student," she admitted. "He kept trying to take points."

Kingsley laughed again. "He would. Well, I won't keep you for long, Hermione, so I'll get straight down to business. As I said, Harry and Ron told me what had happened yesterday, and after Ron's insights into it – more specifically, what Severus was wearing and his excuses for the Muggles – I got to thinking." He leant forward, elbows on the table, and Hermione was so intrigued she didn't even think to tell him off for it as was her usual habit.

"Back before the first war with You-Know-Who, there used to be a position in the MLE filled specifically by a Muggle-born. Their job was to liaise with the Aurors who were going out into the Muggle world, either for surveillance or clean-up, and ensure that they would blend in. They also handled press releases for incidents like explosions or duels, to cover up what we couldn't Obliviate. When You-Know-Who rose to prominence, the position was dropped by Ministry officials too afraid of repercussions for associating with the Muggle world." Kingsley paused, and Hermione was afraid to blink or breathe in case he stopped talking altogether.

"Now, however, we have a situation where pureblood Aurors think it is acceptable to wear robes in Muggle towns, or where they cannot tell what passes for Muggle and what makes them stand out. Ron seemed to think Severus was fitting in well, but Harry had other opinions entirely, and it made me realise that a large percentage of our Aurors have no idea of how to behave in front of Muggles. As such, I would like to hire you as a consultant for the Ministry. You wouldn't officially be a Ministry employee, so you won't get tied up by the red tape, but as a consultant for our field agents, I would expect you to help them prepare themselves for the Muggle world, teach them how to behave, how to speak, how to dress – in short, help them to pass for Muggles. We would pay you a retainer as well as additional fees on a case by case basis. If you're interested, I have a draft copy of the contract with me for you to read over." Kingsley stopped and studied her, unsure if she was interested.

Hermione sat on her hands to stop herself hugging him.

"That sounds interesting," she said, impressed at how steady her voice was when all she wanted to do was jump up and down. "Why, though, don't you just bring back the position you mentioned?"

Kingsley grimaced. "Believe it or not, it's still 'too soon' for the Ministry to be comfortable creating an internal position solely for Muggle-borns, especially one dedicated to helping integrate wizards into Muggle society. This is the best way – the Ministry is happy because you're an external consultant, not an employee, and to be honest I'm happy because it means a competent person taking the job." He studied her again. "If you're interested, that is."

"Very," Hermione squeaked and then looked mortified. She sounded like Snape's mouse. "I mean, yes, I am interested, Kings. I'd like to have a look at the contract first, of course, but I can't see there being a problem." She beamed at him and Kingsley returned the smile.

"I'm glad. Harry and Ron will be happy to have an excuse to work with you again, too. Just... No more Apparating in front of Muggles and we'll be fine, yes?"

Hermione laughed. Right now, she felt so happy that she thought she might just float away. Kingsley offered his hand, and she accepted it gladly, barely registering the rest of their idle chatter as he saw himself out.

Once she was certain he had gone, Hermione cast Silencing Charms on her office and broke out into overjoyed squeals. Another client – and not just any client, the Ministry itself! Sandra entered to find Hermione dancing around the office for joy. The business was saved with this contract alone, and it was all thanks to Snape's suit.

"Good news, Miss Granger?" Sandra asked.

Hermione ran to her receptionist and swept her up into a hug. "Brilliant news, Sandra. We're saved! If this contract works out, you're getting a raise," she laughed, almost giddy with delight.

Sandra hugged her back. "I knew you'd do it, Miss Granger," she said, pleased. "I always had faith in you."

"Thank you." Hermione felt tears prick the corners of her eyes as the weight of the business began to lift from her shoulders. "I don't think it was just me, though. Can you bring me an owl, please? I have a really important letter to send."

Sandra squeezed her shoulders, pride evident in her features, and nodded. "Of course," she said, exiting the office.

Hermione sat at her desk and without hesitation began to write.

Severus,

S Snape

"Ginny! Ginny, Ginny, Ginny!"

Hermione Apparated to Grimmauld Place and burst into the house, praying her friend hadn't left for training.

"Ginny!"

"In here, Hermione!" Ginny emerged from the kitchen, a slice of toast in hand. "Were you born in a barn or something?"

Hermione's wand pointed behind her and the doors slammed shut. "Ginny, I need your help." She grabbed her friend's free hand. "I can't cook."

"I know. We all know. For this you barge in at seven thirty in the morning?" Ginny evidently hadn't had her coffee.

Hermione sighed. "I'm sorry. I only got a response this morning, and I'm desperate."

"I'll say you are; we've been telling you that you need to get laid for months. Response from whom?"

Hermione stared at her friend.

"Coffee?"

"Two sugars, and you'd better make it a good one; then you can start again."

Ginny ambled back into the kitchen and Hermione followed, head hung in remorse. In her panic and excitement, she hadn't checked the time before leaving the house, and she distinctly remembered that these days, Ginny Potter was not a morning person.

One cup of coffee and a quick browse through the sports section of the Daily Prophet later, a much brighter Ginny was sitting before Hermione, intrigued by her friend's sudden descent into madness.

"Right," she said firmly. "What's going on?"

Hermione took a deep breath. "Harry probably told you how much of a disaster Monday was with Severus at the bank? Well, after that, we worked out a few differences, and now we're working together again, and thanks to the incident at the bank, Kingsley wants to hire me to help teach his Aurors how to be Muggle, and the contract by itself is enough to keep me in business, and I invited Severus to dinner to thank him, but he won't go out, so I said I'd cook, but I can't cook, and he's coming over at half seven tonight, and I don't know what to feed him!"

Ginny stared at her.

"Who are you, and what have you done with Hermione Granger?"

"Ginny!"

"I'm serious. You're babbling, Hermione. You don't even babble when you're drunk. I'm glad business is going well, but you're acting like you've got a date and nothing to wear."

"I do not fancy Snape!"

"He was Severus to you just now." Ginny winked. "Alright, I'm just teasing. So basically you didn't think before opening your mouth, and now you're stuck. Let me guess: you want me to cook something?"

Hermione didn't bother beat around the bush. "Yes." She took Ginny's hands. "I know it was stupid of me, but I have to thank him somehow, Gin. If not for his hiring me, I wouldn't be getting anywhere. Worse, he knows that, so I have to try and repay him."

"Can't you repay him by doing your job well?"

"I intend to do that anyway. Anything less would be completely unprofessional of me. Please, Ginny."

Ginny rolled her eyes and prised her hands from Hermione's pleading grasp. "I wouldn't exactly leave you in the lurch, would I?" she asked.

Hermione gave a relieved sigh. "I love you."

Ginny grinned. "Don't let Harry hear that. Now, what am I cooking? Professional, friendly, or more?"

"More?"

Ginny's grin turned lascivious.

"Do you want to eat dessert or to be dessert, is what I mean."

"I do not fancy Snape!"

"You are so easy to bait." Ginny held her hands up in mock surrender as Hermione fingered her wand contemplatively. "Fine. How about lasagne with cheesecake for dessert? Nice and neutral, and since he'll probably bring a wine, most things will go nicely." She caught Hermione's glare. "I'm not teasing, Hermione. It's good manners, that's all, and Snape's as proper as they come. He's so straight when it comes to things like that that you could use him as a ruler. I'll send Kreacher over to set everything up just before half seven, so you can pretend it was all you." Ginny was almost knocked out of her chair by the force of Hermione's hug.

"Thanks, Ginny. I'll let you know tomorrow how it all goes. You are the best friend anyone could ask for."

"I know." Ginny, ever modest, managed to untangle herself from Hermione's hug. "Now go to work and be busy," she ordered. "I'll see you at Ron's tomorrow, and I expect to hear how well it went."

"Yes, Miss," teased Hermione.

Ginny flapped a tea towel at Hermione to shoo her out.

"Oh and if I were you, Hermione, I wouldn't dismiss Snape so quickly. He's got a lot of good qualities. These days, quite a lot of people fancy him – he came in at number seven on Witch Weekly's 'Most Eligible Bachelor' list, and there was a lot of talk about men with big noses who are good with their hands." She winked.

Hermione remembered what George had said and groaned. "Are all Weasleys obsessed with how well hung Severus Snape is? George was telling me the same thing about his nose on Monday."

"You'd best take the plunge and find out, then. Satisfy our curiosity." Ginny nudged her and smirked as Hermione's face turned bright red. "Oh, Hermione. What will we do when you stop being so easy to wind up?"

"Severus and I have a strictly professional relationship. Until George started asking, I had never even considered or wanted to consider his... prowess. I would be quite happy if I never had to think about it again." Hermione eyed her friend sternly. "I don't know the spell yet for washing out your mind, but if you keep making me think of him in that way, I'm going to have to either learn or invent one."

"Fine, fine," Ginny said with a laugh, giving up. "Go and be strictly professional with him, then. Kreacher will be over tonight. Oh, Hermione?" Hermione turned in the doorway. Ginny's face softened into a warm smile. "We're all thrilled that things are looking up for you."

Hermione returned the smile. "Thanks." She waved, turned on her heel, and Disapparated, leaving Ginny to stare after her with a contemplative look before closing the door.

The day passed quickly, contrary to what Hermione was used to. She ordered several fine Muggle suits for Severus, mostly black, and requested they be delivered in time for their Friday appointment. She reviewed the contract from Kingsley and did another delighted dance around her office before sending an owl to him requesting a meeting to finalise the paperwork. Before she knew it, five o'clock had arrived, and she was standing in her living room, realising that she had just over two hours to make it presentable. Her gaze took in the piles of books toppling down the sides of chairs, the papers and parchments spread over tables, the abandoned cups, and she groaned.

"What was I thinking?" she sighed. Really, she should have just insisted on taking him out somewhere. It wasn't that her flat was a mess as such; it was organised chaos. And it needed to be somewhat less chaotic, quite quickly. Hermione chewed on her lip as she considered, then rolled up her sleeves.

"Right," she said, brandishing her wand and thanking every god in existence that Molly had thought to buy her a book of household charms when she moved in. A few swift incantations later and the dishes were washing themselves, a duster was moving over the scattered ornaments and photo frames, and the books were piling back onto the bookshelves. She took a satisfied look around and sighed as she saw Crookshanks batting at the duster.

"Crooks, we're having company tonight. You may need to make yourself scarce; I'm not sure how he feels about cats."

Crookshanks gave an offended mrrowr and arched his back, clawing her cushions before stalking out of the room.

"Oh, hush," she said, heading for the shower. "You can finish whatever's left of the lasagne." A loud purr came from the direction of the cat flap, and she heard it click shut. Hermione couldn't help but laugh. If only all her friends were so easy to please.

One hurried shower later found Hermione wrapped in a towel in front of her wardrobe, cursing colourfully. Normally she never bothered about what she was wearing when she went out for dinner – if it was posh, she wore a suit or nice dress robes; if it was casual, jeans. But how did you define dinner with Severus Snape? Yes, it was work related, but if she wore a suit, he would no doubt mock her mercilessly. On the other hand, jeans were completely inappropriate. He would be no help, no doubt wearing the same thing he wore every day (she remembered Fred once taking bets on how many black robes Snape owned before trying to break into his rooms; they'd never got an answer). In the end, frustrated, she knelt down by the fire and called, "Grimmauld Place!"

"Hermione?" Harry's head appeared instantly in the fireplace, then disappeared just as quickly.

"Harry?"

"Hermione, why aren't you dressed?" His voice was muffled and she rolled her eyes.

"Harry, now is not the time to be embarrassed! Is Ginny there?"

"She's cooking. What's this that you've got a date with Snape?"

Hermione narrowed her eyes and glared at the fireplace until Harry's head appeared again. He took one look at her expression and winced.

"Go and get Ginny," she ordered.

Harry gulped and left; within seconds, Ginny's head replaced his.

"Let me guess," Ginny said, looking her over. "You don't know what to wear."

"Exactly."

"I'll be through now." She cut the call off, and Hermione sat on her bed, arms folded, perfecting her glare for when Ginny came through. The fireplace flared green, and Ginny stepped through, laughing at her friend's expression.

"That look might work on Harry, but it's useless on me. I'll apologise later." Ginny reached instantly for the piles of clothes in Hermione's wardrobe. "So, suits and jeans are out?" Ginny had been teasing her for years about how predictable her clothing choices were.

"I don't want to make it feel too formal," Hermione said, joining Ginny at the wardrobe, "but I can't just wear jeans and a T-shirt since he's concerned about maintaining professional boundaries. I need it to be casual, but still strictly business."

"You don't know what you want," Ginny grumbled, flicking through hangers. "Look, Hermione. Is this a business dinner?"

"No."

"Right. Is it a friendly dinner?"

Hermione hesitated. "It's a spur-of-the-moment dinner to thank him for helping me save my business," she said frankly. "One that is now making me panic because evidently I did not think this through in the slightest. Call it what you want."

"I don't think they do oh-shit-now-what robes in Madam Malkin's," Ginny said with a snicker. "Since when do you not think things through?"

"I was really pleased and I wanted to thank him."

"So he's a friend now?" Ginny was wearing a calculating expression again.

Hermione winced when she saw it. "Don't even think about it, Ginny. I know that look."

Ginny shrugged and went back to the wardrobe. In the end she withdrew Hermione's tidiest pair of jeans and a cream blouse. "Mix and match," she said. "It's all you've got to work with, anyway. If we had more time I'd lend you something of mine, but you're a different shape to me so we'd need to transfigure it."

Ginny sat on the end of the bed as Hermione dressed. When Hermione turned around, she saw she was being carefully scrutinised.

"What?" she asked.

"Are you sure about this?" Ginny asked, blunt as ever.

Hermione looked confused. "About what?"

"Inviting him to dinner. Breaching the professional boundaries. Making friends with him – you are, Hermione; I know what you're like when you've got a project. If Snape wanted friends, he would go out and get them. As it is, he probably felt obliged to come over because you're working together."

"It's just dinner, Ginny. I just want to thank him." Hermione sat down next to the redhead. "No project, I promise."

"No Save Our Snape?" Ginny teased.

Hermione rolled her eyes and elbowed Ginny in the ribs. "No. No projects, no badges. Just dinner to thank him and probably discuss more business. Besides," here she eyed Ginny shrewdly, "since when do you care about people inflicting themselves on Snape?"

"Since Harry told me what happened to the last Prophet reporter who tried to get an exclusive interview," Ginny said frankly. "It took them three days to put him together again. Snape is not a pleasant man."

"I'll be fine, Ginny. Promise."

"Okay." Ginny gave Hermione a brief hug. "For Merlin's sake do something with your hair. I'm going to check on the food. Good luck." She disappeared back through the fireplace, leaving a very subdued Hermione sitting on the bed, wondering why she was putting herself through this after all.