Chapter 3

Author's Notes: I don't pretend to be British, but I do try not to make this story sound too American. Scabbyfish deserves major kudos on this chapter for all the comments she made to help me at least tone down my Americanisms!

Severus woke with a feeling of trepidation the morning after the cantharis powder incident. He desperately hoped that the effects had worn off. The previous evening, he had put off his brewing for fear of contamination – the potions he was attempting to create for the Department of Mysteries simply used too many expensive, difficult-to-replace ingredients for him to risk having a batch go to waste.

He had relaxed and caught up on reading some journals instead and had found some more detailed information about cantharis in his own personal library. He hadn't realised that it was covered in quite that much detail in the home medical remedies book.

He had to admit, to himself at least, that the thought had occurred to him that it was a shame that the heightened sensitivity wouldn't transfer from his hands to other areas he touched. He thought he could have won any battle with his conscience about the source of the sensations and relaxed in a completely different fashion instead.

Going about his morning ablutions, Severus gingerly turned on the hot water in the shower and stuck his hands under it. Nothing. It seemed that the preparation the Weasley twits – twins – had used kept the symptoms to a typical several-hour duration.

Thank Merlin for small miracles.

But he was still doubly determined to give them a detention they'd never forget. He had a hunch that the best way to do that would be to revisit some memories from his childhood that he'd rather leave forgotten – and all the tricks that Muggle children play on the odd one out.

Severus had nearly always been the odd one out. Either because of the typical childhood bursts of magic that had to be explained away by his overly-anxious mother, or because he was so bookish that he preferred reading to football, or simply because he had inherited the least attractive physical features from each of his parents. He had all the good genes when it came to stuff you couldn't see, but all the bad ones when it came to the things you could. So it was time to draw on the experiences of being the victim.

It was time to head to Muggle London and to some of the non-magical joke shops. He'd have to figure out where they were first, though.

Hermione meandered through Muggle London with no particular aim in mind. She wanted to find something for Ginny's birthday, perhaps, or if she was very ambitious, for Minerva's. She didn't know what she might get for either, but gifts were as good as anything else to look for when she just needed to get out and about to escape Ron and Harry. Well, at least Ron, but it tended to have the side effect of avoiding Harry as well.

She was looking in the window of a joke shop, debating whether or not Ginny would appreciate some Muggle "magic" tricks, when she heard a familiar voice behind her.

"Doing a little research for that sorry excuse for a shop, Miss Granger?" Severus sounded very close.

Turning to face him, Hermione had to tip her head back so that she could meet his eyes, as he was indeed just a few feet away, wearing a conservatively-cut Muggle suit, no less. Black, of course. "I thought you had agreed to call me Hermione, Severus."

He cocked a brow at her but didn't take the bait.

She snorted in disgust. "No, I am not doing research for the shop. And on that note, I trust that the powder has worn off by now? In all of the twins' personal experiments, it wore off long before the twenty-four hour mark."

"Yes, it has worn off, but don't think I've forgotten that it happened, or that you proved unable to help me find the information I needed yesterday. Because, of course, the Chosen One called," he sneered.

"Suit yourself," she responded, then quickly changed the subject back to less inflammatory topics. "I was actually wondering if Ginny would like some Muggle magic tricks for her birthday next week. For some reason, I'm still stumped as to what to get for her this year. I briefly considered them for Minerva, but decided rather quickly that that just wouldn't do."

He stared down at her with a look of confusion on his face, something she had never seen there before. "Minerva's birthday? We are talking about Minerva McGonagall, aren't we? Her birthday is two months away!"

Hermione stifled a grin. It seemed that the dour Potions master from her schooldays had hidden a significant part of his personality from the students. The side of him that she had previously seen would never remember a woman's birthday – or a man's, for that matter. "Yes, well, it's never too early to shop, is it? Percy's birthday is sooner, of course, but he and I have never exchanged more than cards."

Severus didn't seem to know what to say. "Hermione," he began, then paused and shook his head. "Do you mean to tell me that you shop for birthdays months in advance?"

"I don't always expect to find things that early, but I start thinking about it that early, yes. Otherwise you get stuck with a few days left and no ideas. Like I've found myself with regards to Ginny – and I am extremely displeased about it. If you think about gifts early, then generally speaking, chances are you'll find some inspiration before you actually need to buy the gift."

"I'll bet you have all your Christmas shopping done by the end of November, as well," he muttered.

"Oh, definitely not," Hermione replied cheerfully, "but I usually have a fair start by then, and have a good idea of what I want to get everyone."

He shook his head again. "Well, it looks like this shop doesn't open up for another hour on Sundays. I suppose I'll come back later. Knowing my luck, you'll be here when I do." He turned in the direction of the nearest Apparation point.

On impulse, she placed a hand on his arm. He checked his step, but didn't turn back to face her.

She pushed the words out quickly. "There's a good Muggle café just a little way from here. I've been walking around window shopping for a couple of hours now, and I could use a break and a cup of tea. Would you join me?"

Severus slowly turned back to face her. "Surely you'd rather go do something like visit your friends until the shop opens?"

"Hardly," she snorted. "I'm sure you don't want the details of my personal life, but I'll just say that at the moment I need to stay away from Ron, and that generally means giving the entire Weasley clan a pass as well. And Harry, too, of course. Though obviously I won't be able to completely avoid the twins."

"Do you mean to tell me that the Dream Team isn't inseparable anymore?" he asked acerbically.

"I told you," she repeated, "that I don't think you want the details of my personal life. And I assure you that I have no desire to share them, either – but if you must know, we've been growing a bit more distant from each other ever since I decided to move into my own flat. I love them dearly, but I have no desire to live with either of them, especially at Harry's house."

"I see," he replied.

"So, now that you've heard more than you undoubtedly care to about my life, could I interest you in that cup of tea or coffee? No personal conversation, if you please. I was just looking for a discussion about something like the latest Ars Alchemica."

She held his eyes while she waited for him to decide. Even though it was a Sunday morning in London, the silence between them was punctuated by car horns.

"Very well. I certainly could find something more productive to do, but you'll probably nag at me if I don't say yes, so I might as well get it over with," he brusquely agreed.

"Don't do me any favours," Hermione muttered. "If you're interested, the shop is just on the next corner." She pointed towards a building in the opposite direction to the Apparation point, then set off for it without looking back to see if he was following.

A few feet down the street she heard him fall into step next to her.

"You don't have robes to swing about today."

"Must you always state the obvious?" he retorted. He lowered his voice as he continued. "Your powers of observation are astonishing. If this is how you got by at Hogwarts, I have no idea how you did so well in your other classes."

"I was only making conversation. You don't have to insult me about it. I was just surprised; none of us have ever seen you in Muggle clothes."

"I know that you and your friends are aware that I grew up with a Muggle father. Regardless of what else you may have heard about my childhood, I am comfortable with Muggle clothing and customs. I am perfectly capable of blending in."

Hermione couldn't help but roll her eyes at that. "Professor Snape – Severus – if there is one thing that I don't think you're capable of, it's blending in."

"How do you think I was a successful spy for so many years, then?"

"Not by blending in. Not exactly, anyway. You were very good at appearing to align yourself in the right way, but you always stood out."

"Lucius Malfoy stood out."

"Yes, he did," Hermione agreed, "but in a completely different way. He stood out as the person who ever-so-politely shoved his way to the front of the line. You stood out because you didn't appear to care, yet everyone knew you could get to the front of the line faster than anyone else if you wanted to."

Hermione wasn't sure whether she wanted to continue this somewhat uncomfortable and awkward line of conversation, so she was glad to notice that they had arrived in front of the café. She was reaching for the door when Severus leaned past her and opened it first, gesturing for her to enter.

"Must be nice to have long arms," she said.

"Indeed."

As they ordered and paid for their drinks, Hermione once again goggled at Severus's familiarity with Muggle customs. He didn't hesitate at all in ordering an espresso, nor did he show any signs of confusion with Muggle money as he paid.

They found a spot near the window and sat down to enjoy their drinks. Hermione idly stirred her tea long after she had added milk and sweetener. (She'd prefer the taste of sugar, but it was one of those side effects of growing up with dentists for parents: she couldn't quite justify the potential problems that sugar could cause the teeth.) The monotony of the task had her thinking about Ron and what to do about him. She couldn't quite bring herself to just let it go.

"Are you ever going to drink your tea, Miss Granger – Hermione – or do you plan to stir it into a vortex?"

His comment brought her back down to earth, at least temporarily. "My apologies, sir; I invited you here, and now I'm being rude and ignoring you. I assume you've read the latest issue of Ars Alchemica? I was wondering about one of the articles. . ."

They both lapsed into polite professional talk for quite some time. Hermione was enjoying the rare privilege of talking with someone who appreciated the same subjects that she did. She noticed that there were times when she didn't understand the details of what Severus was talking about, but thankfully he didn't talk down to her or make her feel inferior for it. On the other hand, she could discuss anything in her entire Potions knowledge, and he was able to address her questions. She realised that despite his acidic response to her invitation, he was treating her as an adult. Perhaps not an equal, but an adult nonetheless. How – odd. Refreshing, but odd. Even the twins tended to still treat her as an annoying little sister or simply a walking encyclopaedia, rather than as a true business partner.

And on the subject of the twins – it was almost opening time. "Severus, why are you going to a Muggle joke shop, anyway?"

He instantly clammed up. It was rather amazing to see how quickly his expression changed. It had been, if not relaxed, then at least not sneering or dismissive. But as soon as she asked that question, his expression reverted to his typical derisive sneer, complete with ice-cold eyes. It was disconcerting – Dr. Jekyll had just turned into Mr. Hyde, albeit in a less extreme fashion.

She eyed the transformation warily. "I take it that was a bad question to ask."

"I don't believe my personal shopping is any of your business."

"I would tend to agree. But if you're so against telling me, it does make me wonder if it's something that I'm going to be unhappy to see again in the future."

Severus looked at her evenly, his expression remaining unchanged even as he pushed aside his empty cup and saucer.

Hermione returned his gaze. "I believe I would hate to play poker with you."

"Quite probably," he agreed.

"Does this have anything to do with a threat of detention that you made to a certain pair of redheads? The threat that they neglected to mention to me?"

"If I said no, you undoubtedly would not believe me. If I said yes, you would likely press me for more information, which I would be unwilling to provide."

"Perhaps. Though I wouldn't want to know the details, including anything you might buy to incorporate into it and that I might later recognise. But perhaps you could avoid me getting caught in the crossfire, so to speak?"

His expression shifted into a twisted thoughtful look – very Professor Snape – as he stood up and automatically moved to pull her chair back for her.

"I could. Or I could take the opportunity to allow you to make up the detentions you never served as a student. Setting fire to a teacher? Stealing from my private stores? Do any of these sound familiar to you?" As he ended his mini-diatribe, his face lost its thoughtful expression and returned to its customary sneer again.

So much for being treated like an adult. Hermione was rarely tempted to insult her teachers behind their back, much less to their face. This was rapidly approaching one of the few times that she was. She rose from her chair and stood in front of him, unwilling to yield.

"I was twelve and thirteen at those times, and you had only ever given evidence that you hated my brains, hated my friends, and hated me. While I never disrespected you, I was a child, and didn't always see beyond my actions. If you, as the adult in the situation, have held a grudge for this long, then I think you might reconsider who deserves detention," she concluded with as much dignity as she could muster.

He crossed his arms, took a step back, and declared, "A Slytherin would have thought things through and avoided detection. You were sloppy and didn't cover your tracks properly. Not to mention irresponsible – if your brain is as logical as you purport it to be, you should have known how risky it was to let Potter throw something in a brewing potion to cause a diversion, even if it was just a Swelling Solution."

"I hardly think that any student would have got away with stealing from your stores, and certainly not at that age. But if you'd like to think otherwise. . ." She ignored the comment about her intelligence as she put her rubbish in the nearest bin. "Good day."

"Good riddance," she heard him mutter.

Hermione shook her head and left the café, heading away from the magic shop and Apparation point, instead choosing to walk back to Diagon Alley. Birthday shopping could easily wait for another day. She fumed all the way back to her flat, irritated beyond measure at the vagaries of Professor Snape.

He'd been polite, and even slightly amusing, when discussing birthdays. Then cynical about spending an hour in her company, though he decided to anyway. Pleasant and almost congenial as they discussed the latest developments in the Potions field. Then flat-out rude and closed off when she asked something that might possibly relate to her friends. If he had just been pleasant about it, she would have laughed it off and apologised for being so nosy. But no, he had to go and make a mountain out of a molehill.

Come to think of it, he had left abruptly when Harry had arrived the previous night, too. It was almost as if he would rather talk to her only when she was disassociated from her friends and colleagues. Well, she might be frustrated with Ron at the moment, and unfortunately that meant avoiding Harry as well, but she wasn't about to cut off her friends just to find a truce with Severus. No matter how interesting his conversation could be.

Hermione realised that she was standing in front of her door with no memory of weaving her way through London – and Diagon Alley – to get there. She shook her head in a vague attempt to clear away her thoughts before she turned to unlock her door.

"Hermione! There you are! I've been looking for you. Again." Harry's voice reverberated down the alley, and she turned to face him.

"Hi, Harry. Didn't we run this scene yesterday?"

He laughed. "Seems so. That's what happens when I never know where you are these days."

She grinned back. "You seem happy, so I assume things are going well with Ron, at least physically if not with regards to me?"

"Definitely," he replied. His face fell a bit as he continued. "Hermione . . . are you sure you won't get back together with him?"

"Did he send you as his emissary again?" She gritted her teeth. "No, Harry, I will not get back together with Ron. I love him, but I love him the same way I love you. Which is not the way you and Ginny love each other."

He made a face. "I assume that being an emissary means being sent to talk to someone about something."

"More or less."

"I guess I'm a self-appointed emissary, then. I was just hoping – it would have been nice, that's all. I suppose I was still wishing that the four of us could all be together, living near each other and raising kids together."

"Harry, you want kids. Ginny wants kids. Ron wants kids. I don't. At least, not anytime soon. Maybe I'll want one – one, mind you – when I'm older, but not yet. I liked the way I was raised, as an only child, with lots of attention from my parents. Ron made it clear that he hoped that we could raise an entire Quidditch team between the four of us. I'm sorry, but no, thank you."

She turned back to her door and finished unlocking it with a few whispered incantations.

"Come in, Harry. There's no point in standing out here discussing this where anyone could come by and listen."

Harry followed her inside, and they both made themselves comfortable in Hermione's small sitting room. They sat, facing each other, silent. Harry didn't seem to know what to say any more than she did.

She took a deep breath and said, "Have you and Ginny set a date yet?"

"Yes, just yesterday," he replied with relief. "More or less. We've decided on December, a holiday wedding, but we need to check the exact term dates at Hogwarts before we finalise things – we want to be sure Remus and Minerva can be there."

"Oh, that sounds lovely. It's been such an unhappy time of the year, and a wedding will be just the thing to help the Weasleys find some happiness again." Arthur Weasley and Tonks had died, in a skirmish with Death Eaters, just before Christmas one year. Since then, the holiday spirit had been understandably lacking.

"That's what we were hoping. Ginny's planning to have Remus give her away. She wants you to be in the wedding party, of course."

And just like that, the tension was back.

"I'm not sure that's a good idea right now, Harry," Hermione said tentatively. "Of course I'd like to, and I'll be there that day no matter what, but I'm afraid it might be too uncomfortable for all of us for me to be so involved in the wedding."

Harry sighed. "Ginny and I will have to talk about it again. Obviously, she had initially mentioned the idea before your, er, talk with Ron this morning, and we'll need to revisit our decision." He narrowed his eyes in thought. "Ron's being kept at St. Mungo's for another night to make sure nothing goes wrong, so are you free for dinner? It might be a good time for you to come over."

"I'd be happy to," Hermione agreed.

After a delightful meal in which Dobby prepared some of Hermione's favourite dishes – "Miss Hermione has not been here in weeks!" – Harry retreated upstairs and left the two women to themselves.

By silent accord, Ginny and Hermione moved to the library and settled into chairs facing one another.

Ginny spoke first. "Harry hasn't told me anything beyond 'Ron and Hermione had a falling-out and maybe Hermione shouldn't be in the wedding party'. I assume there's more to it than that."

"Men are the masters of understatement." Hermione tucked her feet up underneath herself as she recounted the conversation between them at St. Mungo's that morning.

"Baboons," Ginny said decisively, leaning forward. "Would I have liked it if you and Ron had worked out? Of course I would have, I'd love to have you as a sister-in-law. But I completely understand that you and Ron want different things out of life. I would much rather keep you as a family friend than have the two of you get married and end up miserable or divorced."

"Thank you, Ginny. You have no idea how relieved I am to hear that not everyone thinks it's a foregone conclusion that I am destined to marry your brother just because you and Harry ended up together. Heck, even Professor Snape got all sneery-faced about how – what did he say exactly? – oh, yes, 'the Dream Team isn't inseparable anymore'."

Ginny looked askance at her. "When were you and Snape talking about you and Ron and Harry?"

It was on the tip of Hermione's tongue to tell Ginny it was Professor Snape when she remembered that it wasn't. And she realised that she had never told Harry about the incident with the Can-Touch Talc, so she decided to only mention today's run-in with him. "Long story," she finally said, "but I ran into him today in Muggle London. He was remarkably pleasant, given his normal self, and actually sat with me in a café for almost an hour, letting me ask him questions about Ars Alchemica."

"Arse what?" Ginny asked, wide-eyed.

"Not 'arse'! Ars Alchemica," she enunciated carefully. "It's an academic research journal."

"Oh. I see. I think. Maybe? Why did he let you ask questions?"

"I have no idea! I invited him to join me on a whim, and Severus agreed with ill grace, I must say. But I'd have been a fool not to follow through when he said yes."

"Severus?" It was a half-shriek, half-squeal.

Hermione winced. She hadn't meant to let that slip. "He got upset when I called him Professor Snape, and I explained that it somehow seemed disrespectful to call him Mr. Snape. Oddly enough, he extended the invitation to call him by his given name." She didn't mention that he had done so the previous day, in a completely different conversation.

"How totally out of character," Ginny said.

"I think he's trying to put things behind him as best he can, and perhaps it's manifesting in a mellowing of his disposition? I really don't know. But he was almost pleasant for most of our conversation. Until the twins came up." Oops, didn't mean to mention that bit. Cover-up time. "Of course, they can be enough to make anyone cranky, so I really can't blame him for that."

Ginny laughed. "Too true. How's the shop going, anyway?"

They lapsed into safer conversation about popular items and the twins' latest romantic escapades. Hermione was careful to avoid talking about the Can-Touch Talc, however, just to be on the safe side. Quite aside from her reluctance to discuss Severus any further, she had no idea if the rest of the Weasleys – or Harry, despite his more-or-less investor status – knew about the apothecary "experiment" with the cantharis product. Better to let Fred and George bring it up. Hermione was rather certain that she had no interest in explaining the details again.

Eventually, however, the talk came back around to Hermione and Ron.

"Ron's being a stubborn idiot, but despite all this, I'd still like you to be in the wedding party," Ginny said, bringing the conversation full circle.

"Are you sure?" Hermione asked. "I would completely understand and wouldn't be at all offended – not that I don't want to be there for you!"

Ginny shrugged. "I'll see what I can do about setting him up with someone to distract him. Can you think of any suggestions?"

"There were several very nice Hufflepuff girls in our year. Susan Bones or Hannah Abbot, maybe?"

"Good ideas," Ginny agreed, "but I think Neville is dating Hannah, so it'll have to be Susan. She's single."

"That works, then. I doubt there's anything I can do, but if you think of anything, let me know. I suspect that Ron will take some serious convincing at this point to shift his attentions. You might try the 'make-Hermione-jealous' argument if all else fails, and hopefully Susan can take it from there."

"Another good idea."

"And, as I'm assuming you know your fiancé's opinions on the matter, you might want to sort out what you're going to tell him."

Ginny laughed at the face that Hermione made. "You're just full of excellent points tonight, Hermione."

"I always am, it's just that most of the time no one listens!"

Hermione was on low-level tenterhooks whenever she was anywhere near the twins. She was rather certain that Severus hadn't put aside his plans for detention, but since she had left in the middle of an upset, she didn't know if he'd returned to the joke shop – or what he might have bought – so she had no way of being on the look-out for a set-up.

It was nearly a full week after The Apothecary Incident, as she had taken to calling it, when the twins finally bothered to ask her what had happened when she'd left to sort out their mess.

She was sitting at her desk in the upstairs office, reading and taking notes on some additional information about cantharis reactions in wizards, when there was a knock at the door. "Hermione?"

"Yes, come in," she replied absently, tucking her quill behind her ear.

"Good grief, you look like Ginny's friend Loony, Hermione." She wasn't sure which twin it was, and fleetingly thought that perhaps Severus's reference to Tweedledum and Tweedledumber was more accurate than she'd like to admit.

"Luna puts her wand behind her ear, not a quill . . . George?"

"Nope, Fred. Sorry. Still haven't tattooed our initials on our foreheads."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "I'm sorry I'm not reliable at figuring out which of you it is when there's only one of you, but at least I seem to be in good company, since few others can, either."

"Most people can't figure us out whether we're together or apart. How d'you do it?"

"Nope, my secret. I'm sure you didn't come up here to chat about my twin-recognising ability, anyway. What can I do for you?"

Fred grimaced and pulled out the extra chair from a slightly dusty corner of the room. "Snape. Is, um, everything okay on that front?"

"That depends on how you define 'okay'," Hermione replied. "If you mean, is he physically recovered and did he deal with it, yes. He had already noticed something was happening to his hands when I ran into him in Minerva's office."

"Good, good, so things are all sorted," Fred said with relief.

Hermione clucked her tongue. "That's not quite true, Fred. Yes, he's physically fine, but he was livid. Truly. He made me explain the entire scenario to Minerva, dragged me to see Professor Slughorn for more information, which he didn't have, and then dragged me to the Hogwarts library to see if we could find anything."

Fred closed his eyes and winced. "Oh, dear, I'm sorry, Hermione."

"You will be, I think. I don't know about his threat to tell your mother, but I'm fairly certain he's planning revenge. That would be the bit in the name of detention."

"How do you know?"

Hermione explained about running into him the following day.

"Shit. We are royally fucked."

"Though I wouldn't have used precisely those terms, I am inclined to agree with you over the basic premise, yes."

Fred stood and paced the tiny room as well as the tiny space would allow him. "You said you had a civil conversation with him? Do you think you could find out more?"

"Hardly, or did you not listen to the bit about his reaction to my questions about it? And how did you get stuck talking to me about this, anyway – or rather, how did George get out of it?"

"We flipped a coin for it. I lost."

"Obviously. Are we almost done? I've been reading here for several hours and before that had already put in a full day at the Ministry. I'd like to get home and get some sleep."

"Oh, right. And I have to get back to the Pygmy Puffs shortly – this breeding thing is an absolute pain, but they sell incredibly well . . . so you're saying we should be on the look-out for something from a Muggle joke shop, because that's where he was looking for supplies for this so-called detention?"

"I have to assume so, though I certainly could be mistaken. I have no way of knowing. He seems to have been trained early and thoroughly to control his expressions. As I told him, I'd hate to play poker against him."

"I think we all would." Fred frowned as he shoved the extra chair back into the corner. "Thanks for what you could tell me, anyway. We appreciate it. And we'll be on the look-out for Muggle joke shop goods," he said with a smirk.

"Fred, what–"

But he was already out the door. Hermione rested her head back against the chair and decided she didn't want to know what the smirk was about after all. It could only possibly make her more stressed out and anxious. And that was hardly the way to get caught up on her sleep.

Instead, she gathered her belongings, lit a fire in the small fireplace, and travelled home by Floo powder to do just that.

Severus was sitting in his office one evening in the weeks following the Can-Touch Talc fiasco. He was admiring the large collection of Muggle joke wands and other so-called magic tricks that were in front of him. The shop he had gone to had been happy to order him entire cases at a highly discounted rate. Now all he had to do was figure out an actual plan. And eventually, he would set it in motion. Eventually.

This was going to be fun, in a warped kind of way. Which was just how he preferred it.