Chapter Two

Chapter Two

When Doris returned from the dining room, she seemed to have no more objection to the new order, and Barb followed her lead. They brought in five tables' worth of tabs...and so, the evening began.

Hermione stepped into the dining room to lend a hand. But within minutes, she came back and moved to Severus's side as he diced onions at a prep station. "Merlin, there are a lot of people out there."

"I thought you knew what we were getting into," he murmured. "But if you think we can't handle it, we'll just close the place and turn them all away."

She straightened and took a breath. "No! Absolutely not. We can absolutely do this. Absolutely." The next moment, the zealous look was back. "I can't believe you had any doubts, Severus."

She turned and stalked back out, still wearing her ridiculous chef's hat. Severus smiled as he watched her go. He loved watching her try and patch the world together with Spell-o-Tape. It almost made up for having agreed to take orders from a jumped-up little bottle washer with a paranoid streak.

"Do you have that water boiling yet, Mr. Snape?" he called from across the kitchen. "Where are my onions? Bring out the veal cutlets. That greasy hair must be put up...we have a health code to mind! And why aren't you wearing an apron yet?"

Severus stared at the assistant chef until the other man suddenly remembered urgent business elsewhere. He surreptitiously pulled his wand from his sleeve and tapped the large pots, causing the water to jump to attention. Then he hung up his black coat, tied his long hair back in a queue, donned a long apron and fell to work.

-o0o-

After the third upended plate of eggplant ricotta, the seasoned waitresses of Gallivant's pulled Hermione Granger into the kitchen and encouraged her, politely yet firmly, to look for a new line of work. They set her up at a station nearest the dining room door, where she was to tally receipts, fetch wine bottles and put the final touches on plates that were ready to go.

"Stop smirking," she ordered Severus without turning around.

"What makes you think I'm smirking?"

"They have a system out there, like a well-oiled machine. I'm much more useful back here."

"I agree. The dishes have never been so well-garnished."

"Presentation is important!"

"You're the princess of parsley."

"Shut up."

-o0o-

Patrons turned up in droves for Gallivant's opening night, and soon the entire staff had their hands full. In the kitchen, Severus and Hermione helped keep up with orders, learning on the fly from the surly but competent little assistant chef.

"We're out of dishes," called Arnie after about an hour. "We need more dinner plates, bread plates and stemware."

Hermione glanced at the passthrough cupboard, where only a little while ago, heaps of gleaming white dishes had been stacked. "I'm sorry, did we go through all those already?" she asked stupidly.

"Of course we went through them all. Now they're out in the sink and they need to be washed. Hurry!" he barked.

Hermione stepped through a swinging door to the sink area, where she found dirty dishes and glassware stacked in precarious towers taller than her head.

"I think I just figured out what Dave's job is around here," she muttered.

There was nothing for it. Glancing behind her to make sure Arnie was not paying attention, she shut herself in the tiny room with an enchantment and proceeded to wash all the dishes with a household spell. Soon, the plates, bowls, flatware and glasses were jumping into their respective spaces in the passthrough. Hermione smiled as her confidence reasserted itself somewhat. She might be rubbish at food service, but at least she was still good with a wand. She fervently hoped Arnie would not wonder how she had cleaned up so fast, or she would have to break her own rule regarding localized Obliviates.

As she returned to the kitchen, pretending to wipe her hands on a towel, Doris stopped in with half a dozen more table orders and some gossip. "That food editor for the Times is here...diMarco or some such," she informed them.

Arnie seemed to freeze in place. "You mean diFranco? Armando diFranco? He's really here?"

"That's the one. Old codger. Roaming hands. He's ordered the merluzzo al forno. And he'll want to pay his compliments to the chef. Says he'd like to do a write-up for tomorrow's column."

"Oh, by all means, show him back," Arnie said excitedly. "I'll give him an interview!"

"God, no," snapped Hermione. "That's a crazy idea! He can't know the chef is missing on such an important day! Doris, you and Barb do whatever you have to, but do not let him in the kitchen."

Arnie looked supremely disappointed, but did not raise a verbal objection. Instead, he rounded on Severus, as though wishing to take out his anger on someone he could boss around.

"Mr. Snape, I asked you to chop the saffron finely," he said snidely. "This is nowhere near what could be termed finely chopped. Haven't you ever used a knife before?"

Severus's knuckles whitened on the handle of his kitchen knife. "Actually, I have, a time or two. Would you like a demonstration?"

"Don't get churlish on me, Mr. Snape." Arnie crossed his arms and looked down his nose, a gesture which had no impact as he was at least a foot too short. "I am giving you the benefit of my experience. Who could ever work with what you have prepared? This saffron isn't fit for dog food. Do it again."

Severus leveled Hermione a look fraught with meaning before deliberately scraping his cutting board and reaching for more herbs.

-o0o-

In between washing dishes and fetching things, Hermione arranged bowls of dinner salads and fancy desserts on long trays for the waitresses. In her anxious state, it was a job everyone felt she could handle without spilling more food.

"Boys, please," she growled for the tenth time, "play nice."

Arnie had continued to frequently visit Severus's work station to check his progress. Each time, he seemed to go out of his way to find grievous fault with the way Severus chopped vegetables, ground seasonings or grilled chicken breasts.

"We only have three more hours. Surely we can get along together for the rest of this evening," said Hermione diplomatically.

"I doubt it," grumbled Severus.

Barb laughed as she passed by with a drink tray. "Pay them no mind, Hermione. They're just having a pissing contest. Men are all the same! By the way," she added, "we asked that Times bloke to come back in a day or two, when we're not so frantic back here. He seemed to understand. So, one less man in the kitchen to worry about, eh?" Both men grunted in derision at Barb's last words as she sailed out the door again.

Hermione laughed. "Now, boys, what should I do about this pissing contest?"

Severus did not look up from his vigorous chopping. "I have one or two ideas," he growled, "all to do with knives."

"Young man, I think I ought to place you in detention for that," she teased.

"Or take points from Slytherin," muttered Arnie.

The cleaver came to a halt. A salad bowl crashed to the floor. Two pairs of eyes swiveled to the little chef, who had gone absolutely white and was staring around in horror.

"What did you say?" asked Severus in a dangerous tone.

Arnie shook his head mutely. He backed away, spun around to flee, and crashed right into Hermione. They fell to the floor in a heap, both of them swearing. Severus jumped to pull Hermione to her feet.

"Arnie!" she gasped. "Are you a wizard?"

"Yes," he replied reluctantly. He slowly picked himself up off the floor and dusted off his knees, not meeting their eyes.

"You used to go to Hogwarts?"

"Class of '89." His tongue seemed to loosen then, perhaps because his big secret was finally out. "I recognized the famous Snapes the moment you two set foot in here," he said, glaring at Hermione. "You were after my time, but he should have spotted me from the off. I'm not surprised he didn't, though." He glanced contemptuously at Severus. "You never spoke directly to me...only to my cauldron! You know how that makes a boy feel? I put up with it for five years. Five years! When I got a 'T' on my O.W.L.s, I was finally shut of you."

"I can't believe this!" exclaimed Hermione. "What on earth are you doing working for Muggles?"

"And what's wrong with Muggles?" Arnie retorted. "I'm going to be a chef, open my own place one day. The Muggles got it all over us when it comes to the culinary arts, don't they? I mean, you ever ate at the Leaky Cauldron? Fish 'n' chips, pumpkin pasties, and everything else boiled to death."

"Well, that much is true." Hermione passed a hand over her forehead. "Still, Arnie, I think you should have told us what you were." She gave a wry laugh. "I mean, I've been washing the dishes by charm all night, whenever your back was turned, worried the whole time that you'd notice how fast it went. But think how much faster we can go now! We can ..." Her voice trailed off when she saw the two men were still glaring at one another. Wands had yet to come out, but there might be only seconds left.

"Boys, please," she began.

"Arnold Ramekin Fassbender," Severus proclaimed in sepulchral tones.

Arnie seemed decidedly nervous now.

"There was nothing wrong with the saffron, was there, Mr. Fassbender?" snarled Severus. "Nor the basil. Nor the onions. You had me re-chop those onions twice." He began to advance on Arnie.

"W-well? How does it feel, Professor, to have someone deriding your skills at every turn?" asked Arnie defensively, backing away.

Hermione hurried to place herself between them. "Severus, calm down. There was no harm done, really. Arnie, why don't you go ahead and take a short break while I talk to..."

"No, I'm done here!" Arnie pulled off cap and threw it to the floor in a fit of pique. His bunched-up apron followed. "I'm done putting up with him and I'm done taking orders from you. You and your husband just waltz in here out of nowhere and take over my kitchen? I'm surprised you didn't have the Daily Prophet do a human interest story while you were at it! Well, I don't care if you are the owner. I quit!"

He turned and strode out the dining room door.

Hermione immediately rounded on Severus, poking him in the chest. "This is all your fault, Severus Snape!"

"My fault?"

"You abused him when he was a student!"

"He abused me all evening!"

"You could have been nicer to him."

"Impossible. You're lucky I didn't hex the little bastard. I can't be held responsible for the occasional student who holds a grudge against me."

"If all the students who hold grudges against you got together, they could populate Belgium," she spat.

He crossed his arms. "Fassbender was as ham-fisted making potions as he was a chef. He probably failed his O.W.L.s on purpose just to save himself further embarrassment."

"That's not fair. Arnie was a fine chef! You're just being..."

"And what was that he said about you being the owner? Hmm?" asked Severus shrewdly.

Hermione was brought up short by that. "I...Well, I have no idea what he meant by that, obviously," she finally replied. "I must have gotten on his nerves a bit. I've been told I can be rather bossy every once in a while." She gave a false laugh. "You know what? Never mind about Arnie right now. I'm sure this happens all the time in the restaurant business...People storming out and all that."

He gave her a level stare. "Quite."

"The question is," she went on, "what are we going to do about it?"

"Do? The I part of we will continue to cook, of course."

"But you can't cook."

"Merlin's beard, woman, quit assuming I can't cook! In case it has escaped your notice, I've been cooking all evening. Now come here." Severus took her by the shoulders and walked her over to the grill. "You have just been promoted to assistant chef. Congratulations."

"Mother of God."

"Here's your spatula. We'll have it suitably engraved later. Hurry, those mushrooms are going to burn."

-o0o-

Severus left her to it and checked on his pasta. Judging by the volume and intensity of the swearing, he estimated she would be tired of her new responsibilities within minutes. Fortunately, he had come up with a mad new idea. Before he could change his mind, he turned down the heat on the sauces, excused himself and stepped into the walk-in refrigerator, where he Summoned an old friend.

"Good evening, Headmaster," said Winky happily.

"Good evening, Winky. It was good of you to come."

She shivered and looked around, her eyes growing wide. "What does the headmaster require of Winky in this chilly room of foodstuffs?"

"We could use a hand from the best cook at Hogwarts." Another minute spent alternately flattering and instructing, and Winky the house-elf felt ready for her duties. "The important thing to remember is, never, ever let yourself be seen. We are working in the presence of Muggles."

"Oh, you can trust Winky, Headmaster!" she squeaked.

"And I'll pay you, of course."

She looked offended at that. "Though Winky is still, regrettably, a free elf, Winky has never, and will never, work for pay."

"Winky ..." Severus pinched the bridge of his nose. Hermione would kill him if he ever used a house-elf as slave labor.

"But the headmaster may offer a trade."

"A trade? Wonderful. No time to negotiate. Be thinking of what you'd like in exchange for an evening's worth of work. Come with me."

He installed the house-elf at Hermione's place at the grill. Five seconds later, an astonished Hermione marched him back to his place in the walk-in.

"What is this?" she hissed. "Now you've called in Winky? Have you gone mental?"

"It was the most efficient thing to do," he replied calmly. "Winky is a professional. She knows not to be seen. Besides, I'm going to pay her in trade."

"Trade? Trade for what?"

He shrugged. "I don't know yet. It's up to her."

Hermione shook her head in wonder. "Blimey, you have gone mental." She heaved a big sigh and smiled shyly up at him. "Perhaps I have, too, because I'm beginning to think it's brilliant."

He leaned in with a sexy smile. "How about a kiss for your mental husband?"

She paused to consider, her eyes sparkling. "Well, you are being very sporting about everything." His fingers brushed a wisp of hair behind her ear, and her eyes fluttered shut. "Oh, Severus, I've missed..."

Her words were cut off by high-pitched giggles. They both looked up in shock. Sitting high upon a shelf were two tiny, naked, snickering elf babies. Hermione clapped a hand over her mouth and backed away slowly. However, Severus immediately knew what had happened, and why. He plucked the little creatures off the shelf and, cradling them carefully in his arms, shouldered open the walk-in. Seeing they were alone, he made his way to his new assistant chef and wordlessly presented his findings to her.

"Oh, those," said Winky nonchalantly. "Those is Winky's children, Headmaster."

"Your children." He shook his head in wonder. "You failed to mention... Never mind. Is there any way you could send your children to a babysitter...er, I mean, an elf-sitter, for one night?" he asked delicately, keeping an eye on the door.

"Oh, no, sir," she replied, clearly taken aback.

"No, of course not."

"Severus, mind the sauce," warned Hermione. "Here, I'll take those off your hands." She appeared to have recovered quickly as she lifted the squirming babies gently out of his hands. "Oh, aren't they're the cutest little things. Winky, I didn't know you were married..." The dining room door swung open. With a squeak, Hermione dove out of sight under the counter. Winky joined her.

Barb looked around in consternation. "We saw Arnie storm out of here a few minutes ago. Now where's Hermione?"

"Loo break," said Severus tersely. Dividing his attention between the warming pans and the stove, he quickly made up plates and ladled sauce over pasta while Barb, and then Doris, watched him work. The waitresses left with loaded trays, shaking their heads over amateur chefs with time management issues.

Hermione and Winky popped up from behind the counter. Hermione was now cradling the elf babies with a maternal air. "Winky just told me elflings are born under a filial bond," she informed him. "They are unable to stir more than a few feet from their mother. If they leave, Winky has to leave. No choice. Oh, also, they can Apparate already. And, er, house-elves don't marry."

"This will never do," growled Severus.

"I know! If house-elves want to marry, they should have every right..."

"No! I mean, if they're seen by...Get down!"

Hermione and Winky ducked behind the counter again as the door swung open. Severus was shocked to see Arnold Fassbinder step in. For a moment, Severus wondered if the little man had reconsidered stranding them and had decided to come back and help them finish out the evening. But the malicious smile on Fassbinder's face belied that notion.

"Good evening, Mr. Snape," said Fassbinder with false good cheer. "You'll never guess who I met outside. None other than Armando diFranco, the food critic from the Times!" He ushered in a white-haired older gentleman in a stylish suit. "I knew you wouldn't want him to leave the restaurant without allowing him pay his compliments to the chef." Fassbinder looked around theatrically. "Oh, now, where is the chef? She must be here somewhere. Mrs. Jones? Mrs. Jones, are you available for an interview?"

Severus reached for the wand in his sleeve, only to remember it was not there. Sometime during the evening, when he had rolled up his sleeves, he had transferred his wand to the pocket of his trousers, which were bound by his sauce-stained apron. He fumbled with the bow while he fumbled for the right thing to say.

"Good evening, Mr. diFranco!" Hermione popped up from behind the counter, all smiles. She was holding a very large stock pot, her thumbs firmly tamping down the lid. "How kind of you to come in and pay us a visit. Marcie Jones, at your service."

She set the pan on the counter and held down the lid with an elbow while shaking hands with the other hand. Fassbinder watched them talk, a cross between ire and disappointment on his face. Severus finally freed his wand and held it low, ready to send a Stinging hex his way. But Fassbinder caught sight of the wand just in time. His eyes widened and, making obsequious excuses, he hastily left the kitchen.

"Let me show you around," Hermione was saying to their guest. "Oh...would you kindly take this pot, Mr. Snape? Thank you so much." Severus relieved her of the stock pot and she linked arms with the journalist, turning to stroll with him to the other side of the kitchen.

-o0o-

"If you have a few minutes, Mrs. Jones, I just want to compliment you on a delicious merluzzo," said diFranco, "and ask you a few questions for an article I'd like to publish in tomorrow's paper. First, what made you decide to go into the business?" He pulled out a notepad and pen as he spoke.

"Well, I was bored at home," she began, throwing an impish glance at Severus, "and I needed something interesting to do."

"If you need your life to get even more interesting, Mrs. Jones, just say the word." He waggled the stock pot meaningfully. Hermione quickly looked away.

"And where did you study?" asked diFranco, scribbling away.

"Well, after school, I attended Kirklee's." Hermione knew Marcie's biography very well. "My first love was Italian cuisine, and I had always dreamed of opening my own restaurant. I was so fortunate to land an apprenticeship at Capella's. After that, I basically came up through the ranks, as we all do, don't we? Then a few months ago..."

There was a loud sound twin bangs behind them. They hurried back to find Severus wearing an astonished expression and holding the open stock pot in one hand, the lid in the other.

"Mr. Snape," Hermione began, searching for the right words, "weren't there a couple of...of lobsters in that pot?"

He gave her a bleak look. "There were, Mrs. Jones," he growled, "but they got away."

"My word," remarked diFranco cheerfully. "I didn't notice Lobster Thermadore on the menu! How ambitious for a first-time chef. I look forward to trying it next time." He glanced down at the floor and did not notice both the chef and her assistant were glancing up. "Well, a couple of shellfish can't have gone far, can they? Let's take a quick peek under the..."

"No!" they shouted. "That is," continued Hermione, firmly steering the man back around, "I'm sure my assistant will find them." She walked with him and gamely chattered without hearing herself, her eyes roaming everywhere. Those little buggers could appear and disappear at will, and Winky...wherever she was!...seemed ill-disposed to rein them in. Maybe Severus had given orders that she was following to the letter.

"Um ... at Capella's I once served the Parker-Bowles," she babbled. "Isn't that extraordinary? Camilla particularly liked the, erm ... You know, that's not a particularly large family, for all that they have two last names ..."

There! One of the elflings was perched on a high shelf. It had hold of a big bowl of gnocci and was eating large handfuls, slurping and giggling. Hermione gamely kept walking. "And over here is where we, er, mold the bread." Did one even mold bread? She had no idea. What did it matter? They were sunk. Within moments, diFranco was sure to spot one of the house-elf babies. He would shout bloody murder, and then there would be a panic, and then she and Severus would have to Obliviate every single Muggle in this crowded restaurant. Maybe even the whole street for good measure...everyone within earshot, at the very least. And then the Ministry would come crashing down upon them, and the Wizengamot would be convened, and that odious Arnie Fassbender would be called to testify... Oh, why did she ever think managing this restaurant would be a good idea?

She looked around, hoping Severus was doing his part to round up the little elves. To her shock, he was on the other side of the kitchen, nonchalantly ladling sauce onto a plate of pasta as if he had all day, while Doris stood quite close, saying something to him in a girlish voice. In fact, Doris really seemed to be taking advantage of her chance at alone time with Severus. And... was she actually batting her eyes? Was the woman flirting, with her husband, at a time like this?

"Mr. Snape!" she cried. Everyone jumped. "I...I think I found one of those lobsters you were looking for earlier." She glanced sharply in an upward direction with her eyes, trying to convey nonverbally what her words could not.

"How could a lobster get up on a shelf?" asked diFranco.

"Never mind, my mistake," she growled and pulled him along. "And here is our newly-refurbished walk-in," she continued as she started to open the door. "We've very proud of...bollocks!" She slammed the door again, throwing her whole weight into it, to block out the sight of the second elfling perched on a shelf and taking big, toothy bites out of the butter. "On second thought, I'm afraid I can't let you see inside. Health code, you know." She all but pulled him away. "And so, we come to the end of our tour. What do you think of the kitchen?"

"Small, but perfectly adequate for your first place. You should be very proud," replied diFranco graciously. They made their way back to the stove, where Hermione caught her breath while she pretended to check the fire under pots Severus had had to vacate in a hurry. She glanced around for him, but neither he nor the elf babies were in sight.

The reviewer paused in his writing. "This is going to be a wonderful article. I just have one more question for you, Mrs. Jones. Readers will want to know: what was your inspiration for starting Gallivant's? What made you take this ..." diFranco gestured expansively, "this leap of faith?"

His kindly face seemed open and genuine, as if ready to be regaled by a heartwarming story. Hermione paused to gather her thoughts. This was the time to really let Marcie's voice come through.

At that moment, a shimmer on the wall beside the wine rack caught her eye. As she watched over diFranco's shoulder, Severus appeared briefly, cradling one elfling firmly in each arm. He inclined his head, and look he gave her was a rare combination of gentle irony and pure love. In that moment, Hermione felt a great rush of affection for her husband, and as he gestured with the wand in his fingers and Disillusioned himself and the elves again, she thought of just what she wanted to say. She opened her mouth and duly regaled Mr. diFranco with the truth...keyed to two sets of ears.

"From the time I was a little girl named Marcie Granger," she began, "the thing I loved to do best was feed my friends and family. It's funny, but while all the other little girls were playing princess, I played Court Chef. So you could say opening a restaurant has been my lifelong dream. But I could not have done it...taken this leap of faith...without two very special people in my life.

"The first is my cousin Hermione. We renewed our acquaintance just a few months ago, but she was kind enough to put up the capital to take this old building and make it the beautiful place it is today.

"And the second person," she continued, gazing steadily at the blank wall where Severus stood, "is my wonderful husband. My surprising, resourceful, darling husband, who supports me unconditionally as I try and realize my dreams... even when I'm not quite sure what those dreams are at the moment." She sighed happily and then turned her attention back to diFranco. "Will that do for your article?"

His reply was flattering enough to earn him a generous slice of torta Caprese in a take-away box. Hermione and the two waitresses accompanied him to the front door.

"What was that all about?" asked Barb as they waved goodbye under the awning.

Hermione shook her head. "That was a near-miss, my dears. A very, very near-miss. I'll explain it all to Marcie when I call her tomorrow."

Though it was after nine, Gallivant's showed no signs of slowing down. "Well, let's be about our business," said Hermione briskly. "Give us a moment to regroup and we'll be back on track in no time. Oh, and Doris?"

"Yes, luv?"

She lifted her hands in apology. "I'm sorry to have to tell you, but it turns out Mr. Snape is already seeing someone."

"Oh, no." Doris made a moue of disappointment. "Isn't that always the way?"

"I know! All the good ones are taken."

-o0o-

Quiet and order had been restored when Hermione returned to the kitchen. Winky stood on a stool, slicing bread for baskets while expertly minding the grill and the oven. Severus was working double time everywhere else to make up for all the disruptions. He waved his wand and perfectly-grilled shrimp jumped into a basket. On the stove, various sauces stirred themselves with long-handled spoons.

"Where are the elflings?" she asked.

Winky beamed. "The headmaster thinks of everything," she said simply.

Severus hitched a thumb at the office. "See for yourself."

Hermione peeked in the window of the office door. There she saw the two little elves perched together on a swivel chair, still as statues, eyes glued to a Dr. Seuss cartoon on the little DVD player.

"Brilliant. And they do look a little like Thing One and Thing Two," she murmured. "How appropriate."

It struck her suddenly, the lengths to which Severus had gone to keep this place running. It was true that most of the trouble had been of his own making, but somehow, that was not important. For the first time in their brief marriage, they had come together and worked as a team, and the results had been nothing short of remarkable.

She walked over to where he stood. "You really can cook," she marveled.

"Oh, ye of little faith," he replied with a smirk.

"Hey." She took his face in her hands and kissed him softly. "You're amazing," she said sincerely. "Thank you for everything."

"You are most welcome," he replied, and tenderly returned her kiss.

"I've thought of what I'd like engraved on my spatula," she murmured against his lips.

His hands encircled her waist and began to travel downward. "And what might that be?"

"'To Mrs. Snape, with Love from Mr. Snape.'"

"Done."

-o0o-

The look on Severus's face was decidedly smug after that. And Hermione's dishes were rather heavily laden with parsley.

-o0o-

"Well, Hermione," called Doris, "we're cashed out. The dining room is swept and the linens are in the hamper for pickup. How is everyth..." She looked around in amazement at the spotlessly clean countertops, stove and floors. "Lord love you, will you look at this? It looks like it was cleaned by magic!"

She gazed at Severus admiringly, watching him flick an imaginary speck off the spotless counter with a clean white cloth. No, he wasn't a bit handsome, she thought, but he certainly knew his way around a kitchen. It really was too bad he was taken.

-o0o-

After the staff left and the doors were locked and warded, Hermione and Severus nestled close together at his favorite table in the candlelit dining room and split a well-earned bottle of Chianti. Presently, they were joined by Winky and her elflings. Severus scratched one of the little elves behind the ear with a lazy hand. The other elfling leapt into Hermione's arms for one last hug.

"Winky, you went above and beyond tonight!" exclaimed Hermione. "You really rescued us."

"Thank you, Miss," replied Winky humbly. "Headmaster, Winky has decided what to ask for in trade for the work she did this evening."

"Is that so?" replied Severus. "Well, I said you could name your price. What have you decided to take?"

"This!" Winky snapped her fingers. Instantly her arms were full of electronics, straps and dangling cords.

"You want the DVD player?" laughed Hermione.

"Yes! Winky has never seen a better 'elf-sitter,' Headmaster. May Winky have it in trade?"

"You may, indeed," said Severus. "Take it with our deepest thanks. Be sure and grab a few movies as well."

Winky smiled and said her farewells, and she and her babies Apparated away with loud pops.

"Do you think she'll be able to get that thing working in the castle?" asked Hermione.

"Oh yes. If anyone can do it, it's Winky." Severus yawned. "I'm rather more worried that we've potentially corrupted a whole generation of house-elves with children's films."

"One wonders what they'd make of the movie Gremlins."

"I shudder to think."

They sat in comfortable silence for a time. Then Hermione leaned her head on one hand and began to fill in the blanks of the story of Gallivant's. "After I... moved out... my parents retired. They sold the practice in Sydney, along with some real estate, and they sent me quite a nice pile of dosh. Said it was my early inheritance. Between that and the award from my Order of Merlin, I'm rather well-off now. I decided to use some of the capital to invest in my cousin Marcie's restaurant."

"That was an admirable thing," he replied. He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it. "And I already knew."

She snorted inelegantly. "Of course you did. I don't know why I bother to keep such things from you."

"So, you're Gallivant's angel investor, hmm?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "I hate that term."

"Why? It suits you." He moved to take her in his arms. "Angel investor. Angel investor. Just listen to how it rolls off the tongue."

"Mm," she purred. "Anything sounds good when you say it with your posh voice."

"Do I have a posh voice?"

"Yes. We voted. The motion carried. Don't deny it."

"On the contrary; I've worked for years to achieve it." He kissed her ear. "Whenever I turn it to full gain, people do anything I say." He licked her earlobe, causing her to shiver. "Come back to me, Mrs. Snape," he entreated.

She giggled. "Nice try."

"It was worth a shot. But I really do wish you'd move back."

She pulled away a bit and regarded him seriously. "Tell me the truth. How long before you noticed I was gone?"

He dropped his gaze to her hand on the tablecloth and began to play with her fingers. "It might have been a day and a half," he admitted.

She cocked her head. "Had to make your own coffee?"

"No."

"Had to answer your own Floo calls?"

"No! Holy hell, woman, I don't think of you that way."

"Just checking. Then what was it?"

He sensed this was a moment to speak the absolute truth. "It was your perfume," he said with a sigh. "It had dissipated from the air. The whole house seemed bereft then, and I knew nothing but the absolute worst could have caused that."

She kissed his nose. "I understand. I think I do. Thank you."

"Do come home," he said. "Let's start again. I should not have ignored you like I did. I love you and I miss you."

She stared at the place where their fingers intertwined. "I love you too, so much, and I really want to." She sat back and picked up her wine glass. "But there have to be some changes in our lives, Severus. Real changes."

"I agree."

"I know I was a harpy about the hours you put in. I know you have some sort of convoluted long-range plan. I mean to try and respect your work more, but you need to meet me halfway."

"Obviously." He sighed and drained his glass. "To start with, I think it's time I tore up that infernal Parkinson contract," he said.

"Would you really do that?"

"I would. The whole point is to spend less time in the laboratory. Besides, I can do better than Parkinson. He is beginning to take liberties with my patent rights."

Hermione went still. "Sorry? Did you say patent rights?"

"Yes."

"You never told me you hold patents."

"I distinctly remember telling you about them. You just don't pay attention. That's your whole problem."

Oh,I don't pay attention? I'm the one who doesn't...?" He gave her a long, lingering kiss then, stealing her thunder. When he settled her head against his chest, she chuckled and snuck an arm around his waist. "Oh, never mind."

Severus reached for the bottle to refill their glasses. Drinking on an empty stomach was making them pleasantly squiffy.

"You know," continued Hermione, "you should probably be paid much better than you are. In fact, you could be contracting with others to brew potions of your own design. What if you went into business for yourself?"

"I did think of that, a long time ago. But being in business would just make me busier. And busy is a bad thing, or so I've heard."

"But I'm not so sure it would have to work out that way. Let me draw up a business plan. Believe me, I think I can arrange for you to do less work for more reward."

"Go into business for myself, eh? Hmm. But where would I get the starting capital?"

"Well, you'd need an investor ..."

They picked up their glasses and toasted the future.

The End