The Yenta Livery Company

Disclaimer: see first chapter.

Many thanks to my beta Dacian Goddess for her time.

Eighteen months. I’ve already been in my new life for eighteen months. I brew potions and create artefacts against the Dark Arts for the Weasley twins. Honestly, things could have gone worse. All I miss is a new Dark Lord, but one needs time to reach that goal. Maybe I’ll be dead before the next one arises. Right, I needn’t dwell on depressing thoughts.

I’ve more or less followed the changes in the Wizarding world, but nothing worth of notice seems to have been happening. I’ve heard that Potter and his two sidekicks, Granger and Weasley, went back to Hogwarts to fulfil their education after my trial and that they all passed their NEWTs. Much good may it do them!

Right after Hogwarts, Potter was enrolled by the Aurors, Weasley became a pen-pusher in the Ministry, and Granger got into … politics. I owe one of my best laughs to Miss Know-It-All. On New Year’s Day, she launched SPEW, the Society for the Promotion of Elvish Welfare: a trade union for house-elves! The event was covered by that rag, The Quibbler. She was on the front page, showing a very toothy smile—not that her teeth are her best feature—flanked by the only two free house-elves in the world, one of them being too drunk to stand without support. It seems she’s made my employers laugh too. I heard George Weasley say that Granger had her eyes on St Rita’s sinecure—you know, the patron of seemingly impossible causes and situations—and that she wanted to have as many statues as the saint. This didn’t prevent that clown Scrimgeour to be reelected. I don’t care; I don’t have the right to vote.

Well, everything was nearly for the best when Weasley and Weasley announced their engagement party with the Patil twins on Monday, February 14th, at the Burrow. They added that the whole staff was invited since the shop would be closed for the day. I understood from their faces that the “invitation” was more of an order. I’ve really come to believe that they’d have left me alone, given that they’d rather see me far from their beloved family, if not for the fact that they know me well enough to understand that was what I wanted. Perhaps if I had shown a bit more enthusiasm…

“Oh, Severus, it’s so nice of you to join us!”

“Please, Molly, I would not have missed this for anything in the world.”

The matron smiles at me widely; obviously, she’s missed the sarcasm in my voice. Well, if I could bear the old lunatic and his yellow sweets for more than fifteen years, I can certainly bear an evening at the Burrow. I need my salary after all. I would never admit it aloud, but working in the Weasleys’ laboratory isn’t a chore. I only regret the power they wield over me.

“Mister Snape, we’re so pleased to see you here!”

I cast a very dark look at Fred Weasley.

“Such a jovial chap,” George Weasley adds from behind me. He claps me on the back.

They always do this to me! I hate this as much as I hated Dumbledore’s silly Christmas crackers, which must explain why they carry on acting like children; they like to bother me. I mumble some congratulations to my employers and try to slip away. Bad luck, Potter is in my way!

“Hello, sir.”

His smile is warm; he’s still grateful for the help I never provided him with. I take it upon myself to hide my hatred; I want to get out of here alive.

“Potter.”

And I go on my way, though I have to take a detour in the kitchen to avoid Lupin and his pink-haired girlfriend before I can rush up the staircase. If anyone asks, I can always say I’m looking for the loo. I sneak into a bedroom with the idea of getting comfortable on the bed and reading Potions Today when I hear the staircase creak. I only have time to dive under the bed before the door is opened and two people come in. Shit! I’m stuck in this dust nest, spying in spite of myself on Granger and Weasley—Ron. The Weasleys are so numerous that one always has to be specific.

They sit on the bed. I can hear sucking noises, and I fervently hope they will stop there. I must have been heard: the noises stop.

“Hermione, you’re really beautiful in this dress.”

Why do they feel the need to be sentimental in this family? A dress is just a dress. It isn’t the dress that makes the beauty of a woman.

“What about without the dress?”

But she’s provoking him!

“Don’t tempt me, Hermione. I didn’t lead you here for this, even though I wouldn’t have any objections against a bit of action.”

I am sure that Weasley has wiggled his eyebrows in a suggestive mimic when he said this. I know it is not possible, but I swear I could hear them.

“All right. What did you want to tell me?”

I’m sure I’ve heard Weasley blush as well.

“Well … So … We’ve known each other for a long time, you and me …We’ve been together for more than two years … and …”

When will he get to the point?

“I’d like to be with you for the rest of my life.”

The bed creaks. I guess Granger has thrown herself at Weasley. Besides, the sucking noises have resumed.

“Oh, yes, Ron,” Granger manages to say between two tonsillectomies.

“The only thing is, before we make things official, we have to take the Yenta Livery Company tests.”

“The matrimony agency?”

Matrimonial agency? If only she knew.

“No, Hermione, the YLC is more than that. It’s the company that created Geneamorology. You know what Geneamorology is?”

“Of course, Ron. Geneamorology is the study of matchmaking, psychology, romance and genealogy. It’s used to determine the compatibility of two persons for marriage. But there’s no obligation to take Geneamorological tests to get married.”

Ah, Miss Know-It-All isn’t dead!

“You’re right. But, you know, there are a lot of advantages for those who use their services, like tax deductions or a quota of jobs at the Ministry. That’s how my father got hired there. You also know that every married couple in the Wizarding world has taken their tests. It’s such a tradition!”

That’s why there are more and more unmarried couples, Weasley; but it seems this little fact has escaped your notice.

“Besides, my parents will never accept that I marry someone who hadn’t taken the tests of the YLC first. Even for you, Hermione.”

The chit of a girl sighs noisily.

“All right, I’ll take the tests; but I only do it for you.”

“We can do it tomorrow, if you’d like to.”

Silence; she’s thinking.

“All right,” she concedes.

Some more sucking noises and at last, the lovebirds get out of the bedroom. I leave my hide hole, cast a few Distracting Charms on the door and read my periodical.

I descend back to Hell. I have to make an appearance, or else I’ll never hear the end of it. Blast, Lupin! We shake hands, he with warmth, I with reluctance.

“Severus, how are you?”

Argh, his smile is too broad. Since when have we been chummy?

“As well as possible, given the circumstances.”

“Yes, I understand. To have Dumbledore’s death on your shoulders, to play the Death Eater part, all of this must still be wearing down on you.”

Obviously, he didn’t catch that I am alluding to the present company and not to feelings I never felt. However, I take advantage of his uneasiness.

“Excuse me, Lupin.”

He nods; he’s all comprehension.

I spot the drinks and I help myself with a very generous amount of Firewhisly. I glance at the assembly. Argh! All Gryffindors, with the exception of the WWW salesman who is politely listening to Mad-Eye Moody’s sermon about “constant vigilance.” This one was a Hufflepuff. I notice Granger and Weasley exchanging sweet nothings in a corner. It’s time for me to leave. I take care to say goodbye to my employers and to their parents before I go out and Apparate to Spinner’s End.