Chapter 05

V.

...

Her father had been named executor of her aunt's estate. Hermione thought that was a good thing; that meant she didn't have to deal with the British government insisting upon proof-of-death, arranging to have the body shipped home, waiting for the will to go through probate, paying the inheritance taxes... Jeffrey Granger had done something similar when his parents had passed away back during her third Hogwarts year, so it was familiar to him. Well, not the bit about shipping a body home for a funeral, but the rest of it was familiar enough. And he did have his wife Rachel to comfort him.

Hermione was grateful she had Severus. He hadn't really said anything, just lent her his chest to play sponge for her tears, and made sure she had cold compresses for her eyes. And when it was time for her to sleep, he made sure she was tucked into bed, then shifted shape and wormed his way under her arm. He found himself a little squished when she fell asleep with her arm still cuddling him, but not uncomfortably so.

They did discuss what would happen with the house. Whoever inherited it would undoubtedly want Hermione cleared out, cats and all. The joint bank-account would go to her, since it was a joint account; she would have to pay a bit of death-tax out of that, but Hermione fancied there might be enough to fix up a better potions lab in whatever Severus' Secret-Kept home was. When she broached the idea to him, and asked him who his Secret Keeper was, Severus admitted that it had been himself; he had coached Draco Malfoy into casting the spell upon him, allowing him to hide the boy. It had meant allowing Pettigrew continued access to his home, however...and he had yet to go back and see what sort of damage the rat had done to his domicile.

The day after Aunt Eumenia's death was announced, Severus fed Hermione lunch, wrapped her in his arms, and Apparated both of them to a nearby alley. They nearly had a bad shock; a moving van was crowded into that alley, its bonnet not more than a foot away. Edging around the bulky, boxy vehicle, they emerged on the street into a scene of chaos. Muscular men were moving furniture out of the few houses that were still occupied. Some of that furniture was going into the moving van, but some of it was going onto the pavement, and into overflowing rubbish bins. The occupants of the houses whose goods were being unceremoniously dumped were yelling at a clutch of business-suited fellows by a billboard with some sort of notice printed upon it.

Curious, Hermione headed that way. Rolling his eyes, Severus caught up to her, ready to tug her back. Except the words at the top of the signboard caught his attention, too. It had two parts. On the left was written NOTICE OF EVICTION, and on the right was NOTICE OF PROPOSED LAND DEVELOPMENT.

Someone had apparently bought up all the derelict old houses they could find, and was busy planning on tearing them down. The drawing at the bottom of the second notice showed a lovely sketch of brick-and-glass condominium-townhome things. A solid block of them...including the house at the end of the row, where Severus technically lived.

"When it rains cats, it rains dogs, too," he muttered under his breath, catching Hermione's wrist. Tugging her to the end of the lane, he whispered in her ear, waited just long enough for his house to unsqueeze itself into existence, then pulled her inside. The door wasn't locked, but then why bother? No one could find the place, and Pettigrew had never possessed a key.

There was no front hall, just a front room. It was lined with bookshelves...half of which were scattered over the floor. A soft cry of dismay escaped Hermione. She rushed forward, stooping to pick up the tomes. They weren't ripped or anything, just tossed onto the floor. Some of the pages were bent, and one or two had footprints, but that was the extent of the damage, thankfully. Severus joined her in picking up the books, fitting them back haphazardly onto the nearest shelves. Somehow, re-shelving them properly didn't seem as much of a priority, in the face of the townhome complex problem.

"We'll have to clear these out," Severus murmured. "Shrink them all, pack them up...take them back to your parents' home. We can't take them to your aunt's. Well, we can, but we won't be staying there for much longer."

"Come again?" Hermione asked, not following him.

"The townhomes," he reminded her, waving his hand in the direction of the billboard down the road. "Even if this place is at the end of the row, if the construction overlaps the site of this house, it could tear the Fidelius Charm apart, and cause both structures to collapse. It has to be placed on existing buildings...and if something new is built over it, then the spell fails, the next time anyone attempts to go in or out. Spectacularly, according to what I've read.

Hermione, head full of housing prices already, from the worry over where they'd have to live next, if not at her parents' place, blinked. "You mean...you're the hold-out for this block of houses?"

Severus blinked at her in turn. "...Brilliant. Utterly brilliant! We clear out the house...there's not that much magic to worry about dismantling and transporting, so it'll be the work of a few hours at most, and much of that the shrinking and packing of the books...and we break the Charm concealing it. The moment they see it, we'll approach them with the hold-out price. We'll have enough money to...well..." His speculation fell apart at that point. Running a hand distractedly through his hair, Severus shrugged. "I don't know if we'd have enough to buy our own place, actually. This neighborhood isn't the best, even if real estate is at a premium, now, and I couldn't afford a house in this sort of neighborhood, after taxes."

"Let's get to work. Even if it's not enough for a house, it might be enough for a flat with a spare bedroom we could turn into a lab, and enough for the tools and ingredients we'll need," Hermione reminded him.

She glanced around at the walls, taking in the spots of mildew-stain on the ceiling, the sagging, creaking floorboards underfoot, the secondhand furniture crowding the front room, and didn't find any of it appealing enough to feel sorry it wasn't going to be their new home. Aside from the books, of course. This new problem was an awkward thing, but at least it was a distraction from her aunt's death. They needed boxes, however. Even shrunk, he owned a salivatingly large number of books.

"...Do you want to keep the sofa?" Hermione asked him, an idea forming in her mind.

Severus eyed it critically. Compared to the nicer furniture of her parents' place, and the posh furnishings of her aunt's, it was downright shabby. "No. We can toss it out on to the curb without any problem."

"I have a better use than that." Drawing her wand, Hermione dissected the couch, reducing it to its components of cotton-stuffing, fabric, wooden frame and metal springs. The wood and metal, she charmed into wire-bound crates. The matted stuffing and fabric, she Transfigured into cotton-paper cardboard boxes held together with cloth tape. "There we go...boxes for the books to go into!"

"I'll trust you to shrink the books. Watch for the ones that are enchanted," Severus added in warning. "I'm going to go pack up my lab. Or what passes for it, in the kitchen."

...

The business-suited fellows were just getting ready to leave when Hermione and Severus were ready for them. They had Apparated the boxes and crates back to Aunt Eumenia's place, for lack of a better location; the Grangers undoubtedly had relatives dropping by, as they contacted various family members about their kinswoman's death. Even the upstairs had been cleaned out, and the crawlspace of the attic had been searched. There wasn't much up there, just a few broken remnants of Severus' long-ago childhood. It was with relief that he pitched an old toy into the rubbish bin at the curb, guided Hermione past the edge of the Fidelius Charm's boundaries, and broke the spell with a complex murmur and pass of his wand.

The Suits, climbing into two posh town cars, paused, stared, and climbed back out again. They approached as a pack, five of them, but left the sharpest-dressed male to speak for the lot of them. He was middle-aged, in a grey suit with a burgundy tie with purple stripes...a school tie, from the looks of it...and a mustache "Hey, you there! What are you doing at that house? All the tenants are supposed to be off the property by no later than five o'clock!"

Severus, still clad in white shirt and black slacks, studied the fellow in a way that reminded Hermione of how her former teacher would study some deceased animal, before dissecting it for potions ingredients. "I am at that house, because I still own that house." As the other man bristled, Severus allowed himself a smirk. "Apparently, you forgot that 42 Spinner's End is still privately owned."

"Privately owned!" the mustached man spluttered.

"Very much," Severus confirmed, "privately owned. As I said."

"Smythe! You were supposed to buy up all the houses!" Mr. Red-Faced Yeller asserted, whirling on one of his companions.

"But...but I did buy all of the houses!"

The yeller in the burgundy tie whirled back to face Severus, a smirk twisting his own mouth. "There you have it. You're nothing but a squatter!"

Pulling a fold of paper out of his back pocket, Severus unfurled it, displaying its contents. "As it quite clearly states on this copy of the title, I still own it. Now, if you are interested in purchasing my lot, you may name your opening price, gentlemen. If I find it amenable, I will accept it. If not...you'll have to make a second offer, and so on, until I am satisfied with the purchase offer."

The leader of the group spluttered a little, growled a bit, consulted with his fellows, and finally offered, "Fifty thousand pounds!"

Severus folded up the copy he had enspelled into existence. "Your paltry offering does not appeal to me. And as your building design places my house square in the middle of that...cabana...in the drawing over there, I'm afraid you'll have to cut back drastically on the racquetball courts, or whatever it is you had planned for that section of space."

"Indoor pool," one of the other business men muttered, glaring at them. They huddled for a moment, then came back with a second price.

"Sixty thousand pounds."

"I thought you were businessmen, gentlemen. Not comedians," Severus retorted coldly. "The value of that property is exponentially higher than what you're offering. Try two hundred thousand pounds."

"Two hundred thou...!" Mustache Man spluttered again, then gritted his teeth. "Seventy thousand pounds."

"One hundred ninety-five thousand."

The business man turned a shade of red almost as dark as his tie. Hermione held herself ready, in case he suffered a heart attack and needed CPR. She'd performed it successfully on Harry, after all. But though he growled and he argued and threw himself against the stubborn rock that was Severus Snape, he didn't keel over. He looked like he wanted Severus to keel over, but he didn't drop into cardiac arrest.

When they finally settled on the parting price of one hundred fifty-five thousand pounds-sterling, the white-knuckled grip with which Red-Faced Mustache Man sealed the deal looked like the handshake should have crushed Severus' bones. Growling under his mustache, but promising the papers would be brought by on the morrow, the man departed with his equally glowering cronies. Only after they had driven out of sight did Severus gingerly shake out his fingers.

"Are you alright?" Hermione asked him, concerned. "He looked like he had a grip as strong as Crabbe or Goyle did."

"Try Crabbe or Goyle Senior," Severus muttered under his breath. He shook out his hand one last time, flexing his digits, then sighed. "We'll have to be here tomorrow, to receive that contract. It's a good thing Minerva isn't coming back for our next lesson until the day after tomorrow."

Touching her back, he guided her back toward the aging brick structure. With everyone else in the neighborhood either moved out or evicted, the place was a bit spooky. He didn't want to risk Apparating back to her late aunt's home until they were out of sight, however.

"Let's put up a few wards to warn us as to when they come back," he murmured, absently stroking the curve of her spine, "then return home. Even if it's our home only for a short while longer. This was never a real home, for me. Not since I was an unhappy child, stuck in an unhappy family."

Hermione felt sorry for him. She stepped inside, waited for him to turn and lock the door, then asked, "Was there any place that you could call home, growing up?"

"Hogwarts. From which I am exiled, for the sin of doing whatever it took to win the war."

She touched his mouth with her fingertips for a moment, soothing the sneer of his upper lip as she had soothed the pinch of his brow, then stretched up on her toes and replaced them with her lips. It was a soft kiss, sweet with sympathy. Unsure if he liked it or not...and fearing he did...Severus said nothing, just stepped back and flicked his wand. Within moments, the cramped little house was protected with wards sheltering it from vandalism...since it was no longer hidden by being Secret-Kept...and alarm-spells to let him know if anyone came to the door while they were gone.

...

The next day was taken up in reading through the contract, signing it, collecting the cheque, and cashing it at a Muggle bank. Like a number of Half-Bloods, Severus had maintained money in both worlds. Not much of it was kept in the Muggle world until now, but the cheque for his home was worth a substantial amount. Once it cleared and the full amount of funds had been deposited...Severus had insisted upon a payment in full, up front...he would have to pay Her Majesty's taxes...and if he converted any significant amount of it into wizarding funds, he'd have to pay the Ministry taxes on that as well. That would put a significant dent in the amount accrued. No, it was better to keep the funds of each world separate.

Except for the money they needed for the Animagus registry fee. Hermione and Severus argued back and forth over breakfast, regarding as to who should pay the money. He said that it was his responsibility, that he had far more money than her...albeit only a small fraction of the funds had been released by the bank as an advance, waiting for the rest of the cheque to clear and prove valid. She argued back that she had a Gringotts account already, so why waste the money that would be lost in the conversion fee and taxes that would be demanded.

They were still arguing when Minerva arrived, Apparating into the parlour as she had since her third visit, when Hermione had suggested she do so to cut down on the curiosity of the neighbors. Wincing at the raised voices, the Headmistress strode into the kitchen, where she found the pair arguing on either side of the butcher-block island in the middle of the room. Neither really noticed her visit, both of them too intent on sniping at each other, stubbornly insisting each would pay for the registry fee.

"...Enough!" Minerva's sharp voice cut through the argument. "I will pay for the registry fee! Severus, you haven't been employed in over a year. You cannot afford to spend the funds on something that isn't food, shelter, or clothing. Hermione, you haven't been employed yet, so the same goes for you. And if I hear one more word out of either of you, I'll march down there and have you both registered as illegal Animagi!"

That silenced them. They both glared at her, but it silenced them. Minerva wasn't quite satisfied.

"Now, apologize to each other."

They glared mutinously at her.

"Oh, come now! I'm not demanding that you kiss and make up! Just apologize to each other," the older witch snapped.

This time, when Severus and Hermione glanced back at each other, they could see the same thought lurking behind each other's eyes. Leaning over the butcher-block, Severus cupped Hermione's cheek even as she leaned over as well, pulling on the nape of his neck. Their heads tilted and their lips met, lingering together in little nibbles.

When they pulled back from their kiss, it was to see Minerva McGonagall's cheeks flushed almost as red as her favorite tartan. But rather than railing at them for such lasciviousness, she cleared her throat and addressed something that made the two of them blush tartan-red.

"Well. My only piece of advice for you...aside from may you be happy together...is that you do not attempt to copulate whilst both of you are cats. Felines only feel inclined to do such things when they're in heat, and I'll remind both of you that they usually get pregnant in multiples. So it's best not to risk it."

Hermione shivered, feeling like someone had dumped a cup of ice water down her spine; the thought of having twins was scary enough, but most cats had litters of four or five. Severus felt his loins shrivel and shrink to pre-pubescent size at the thought of having a wife who was pregnant with quintuplets. He hadn't even asked himself how he felt about having children or not, let alone Hermione.

Clearing her throat, Hermione stated delicately, "...I don't think that will be a problem over the next few days. And...we've already decided to get to know each other first, over the next month or so. We are adults, Minerva. We don't have to be mindlessly ruled by our passions."

"I should hope not," Minerva returned primly. "Now, are you ready for your next lesson?"

Hermione exchanged a look with Severus, then shifted shape, leaping up onto the countertop between them. He shifted as well, though he stayed on the floor. A moment later, both of them reappeared, with the younger witch now perched on the island, her legs dangling over the edge, ankles primly crossed, and the wizard leaning his hip against the butcher-block, arms folded across his chest.

"I'm impressed! Excellent work, both of you. Since you can do that on the spur of the moment and so easily, there's no need to wait any longer, is there? Come along, both of you. We'll need to Apparate to the Ministry, since you're not on the Floo, here."

...

Somehow, the Headmistress convinced the duty-guard to let them both into the Ministry proper with their wands on their persons, due to, "...the need to register a new piece of magic with the Ministry, which would require their having their wands with them, now wouldn't it?" He was very suspicious of Snape, who was drawing double-takes and dirty looks from the various visitors and Ministry employees, but with Headmistress McGonagall and war-heroine Miss Granger vouching for him, they were let inside, wands still tucked up their sleeves. Or rather, with Hermione's stuck in her upswept hair, which was where she favored putting it during the summer months.

Minerva leaned in close during the ride in the lift to the appropriate floor, whispering into Severus' ear, "...I didn't want you to come in here unarmed, in case someone hasn't read all those lovely articles I've been having spread around the wizarding journals, regarding your work as a war-hero. But do try to just Stupefy them, rather than hex the boogeys out of the idiots, should anyone be foolish enough to attack."

Nodding his thanks, Severus remained stoic in the face of the startled expressions and narrow-eyed stares he received. Sandwiched between the two witches as they walked single-file between the cubicles and office doors, he knew they had done it to protect him from the others in the Ministry, but he supposed the others thought it was to guard him, in the sense of protecting them from him.

The doorway they stopped at had a sign next to the frame: TRANSFORMATION REGISTRY, and the name Noleta Corrigun printed underneath. It had a sub-sign listing things such as Lycanthropes, Half-Breeds (resulting from pairings with other species such as Veela and Merfolk), Metamorphmagi, Animagi, and Accidental Animorphs. Hermione suddenly remembered that woman stuck in the bed in the Spell Damage Ward at St. Mungo's, the one who looked like a half-woman, half-dog. She herself had once had the ears, tail, and muzzle of a cat, thanks to her accidental use of a cat hair in a dose of Polyjuice Potion. That had been thankfully reversible...and might have actually helped predispose her toward a cat for her Animagus form...but this, she gathered, was for those individuals who couldn't have the process reversed.

Tapping upon the partially open door, Minerva stepped inside. "Miss Corrigun?"

"Mrs.," the woman inside grunted.

She was fairly unattractive, with frumpy, grey-streaked brown hair, smudged glasses, and a rumpled brown calico dress. Her desk was covered in paperwork that looked like it was organized on the geologic principle, but she did have one of the few, highly coveted, magical windows in the Ministry, depicting a sunny day overlooking a flower-filled meadow. An orb-spider had taken up residence on the outside of the window frame, with a beautifully spun web covering the lower left corner of the picture. Because it was on the outside, it wasn't a real spider, but the illusion was very detailed.

Mrs. Corrigun eyed them skeptically. "Who are you, and what brings you to my office?"

Minerva gestured for Severus to shut the door, since the office did actually have enough room to hold all four of them, plus enough room to have held a hippogriff or two. Despite the mess, it really was a very nice, very large office. Hermione suspected it was because whoever came here had to have enough room to transform and display their markings for registry.

"I am Minerva McGonagall, Headmistress of Hogwarts. These are Miss Hermione Granger, and Mr. Severus Snape. I have been engaged in teaching them how to become Animagi over the last month, a task at which they have now succeeded," the older witch stated formally, if with a few white lies hidden in her words. "They have come here to be duly examined and legally registered as such."

"Right." The woman's grunt was skeptical. She twisted her swivel-chair, opened a drawer in a cabinet, and pulled out a white disk something the size and shape of a hockey puck. "I'll have to Truthstone each of you. Place that between your palms, state your full name, and the date of your first successful Animagus Transfiguration."

Hermione was the first to receive the stone. Placing it between her palms, she glanced at Minerva, then nodded to herself and spoke. "My name is Hermione Jane Granger, and to the best of my recollection, the day that I first successfully shifted my shape to that of a cat and back, all on my own, was just two days ago."

Opening her palms, she displayed both sides of the stone. It was still white and pristine. Mrs. Corrigun grunted and nodded for her to hand the stone to the wizard in the room.

Pressing it between his palms, Severus followed her statement, glad she had phrased it that way herself so that his own word-choice wouldn't seem amiss. "My name is Severus Septimus Snape, and to the best of my own recollection, the day that I first successfully shifted my shape to that of a cat and back, all on my own, was just a few days ago as well."

A display of the Truthstone showed it was pristine as well. He handed it back to the registrar, who grunted and pressed it between her own palms. "My name is Helga Hufflepuff, and I am a pygmy puff." The stone, when it was revealed, was pure black. Pressing it between her palms again, the woman stated, "My name is Noleta Regina Evans-Corrigun, and I am a bitter-seeming old fart who secretly loves her job."

The stone had whitened again. Smirking...she actually had a nice smile, when she deigned to use it...the witch tossed the stone back into its drawer, then gestured for Hermione to stand next to her.

"Alright, young lady. Tell me what you are, and demonstrate a successful transformation and back, three times. Hold yourself in your Animagus shape on the third time, if you please."

Nodding, Hermione concentrated, shifted into her cat-form, shifted back, shifted again, shifted back, and on the third shift, remained a cat.

"Impressive, in one so young. Up here, if you please," the woman stated, patting the pile of papers covering her desk.

Hermione eyed the stack warily, uncertain if it would shift under her if she leapt up there. Severus scooped her up while she was still debating, depositing her on the most level, stable-looking spot he could find. Grateful, she purred, sat on her haunches, and curled her tail around her feet.

"No sitting on the job, young lady," Mrs. Corrigun grunted. "Upon on all fours, tail up, chin level. Just like you were being judged at a Cat Fancier's Ball."

Assuming the position indicated, Hermione allowed herself to be photographed, touched, prodded, turned, photographed again, and peered at, even to her pale cream underbelly, while the other witch wrote down her distinctive markings. Once finished, the registrar told her to get down and transform back. Leaping free of the paperwork, Hermione Transfigured herself mid-act, landing with only a slight wobble on two human feet as she steadied herself. The Ministry worker asked Hermione a few questions about herself, her residency, and other such wizarding-world legal matters. She filled out the necessary forms, then nodded.

"...Nicely done. And now you. Same thing," Mrs. Corrigun directed Severus. She arched a thin brow as Severus changed himself into his own cat-form This time, Hermione lifted him to the desk. The registrar poked and prodded at him, hmm-ing. "...I've never heard of two such distinctly cat-like cats before, in all the images of all the Animagi ever registered through this office. In fact...if I remember correctly, you are a cat Animagus, Madam," she said to Minerva. "And if I remember the old files correctly, you merely have squares around your eyes in the shape of spectacle-markings?"

"That is correct," Minerva confirmed, adjusting said spectacles.

"Extraordinary... Alright, then. Get down, puss; I'm all done with you, save for the filling out of the forms," Mrs. Corrigun directed Severus. He, too, transformed as he jumped, twisting to face her as soon as he was properly upright and human again. Again, she asked him questions about his age, date of birth, employment record, residence, and so forth. Her quill danced across the lines on the forms, filling them out quickly and neatly. "...Very good. And now, the painful part of this whole process. The registration fee is two hundred fifty Galleons."

Minerva spluttered, hand rising to her throat. "Outrage! Highway robbery! It was only a hundred when I was registered!"

The slightly younger witch eyed her over the tops of her smudged glasses. "That's a hundred and twenty-five apiece. Inflation has risen the costs since then, but it's no more than what inflation should demand over that much time."

"It's still highway robbery," Minerva snorted, digging into her purse. "Luckily, I don't trust the government to keep its hands out of my pockets, so I brought enough to cover an impossible increase..."

Pulling out a sack that was larger-looking than the purse itself, proving it was enchanted for expansion room inside, she counted out the requisite number of coins, then tucked the rest back into her reticule. Mrs. Corrigun tucked the money away, muttered words over Hermione's certificate, touched her wand to the paper, then to the younger witch, and back to the paper again. It poofed, creating three duplicates. She shrunk one of those duplicates, laminated it with a charm, and passed the wallet-sized card to Hermione, then repeated the whole process for Severus. Each of the originals...unshrunk...went into one filing cabinet, and the remaining two were folded into paper aeroplanes and enchanted so that they lifted into the air and hovered there, waiting for the door to open.

"There you are. Two duly registered Animagi. Now, get out of my office and stop wasting my time. Mind you let the memos out when you go!"

Tucking his registry card into a pocket of his frock coat, Severus opened the door, ushering out his two companions; he was forced to duck reflexively as the four paper planes zoomed past his head, escaping to their pre-spelled destinations. Catching up to the other two, he accompanied them back to the lift, where he murmured in Minerva's ear, waiting for the next car to arrive. "I should repay you for the extra expense, on our behalf."

"Nonsense," Minerva muttered back. "But if you insist on some sort of recompense, you had better treat my favorite ex-pupil with honorable intentions, if you intend to continue kissing her like that."

As much as he liked and admired the older witch, Severus had spent too many years in opposition to her, Head of Slytherin to her Head of Gryffindor. Smirking, he murmured, "Allow me to introduce to you my betrothed, Miss Granger."

Hearing him, Hermione turned to see what her former teacher's reaction was. The lift door chimed at that moment. A gasp and a shout made her whip back around.

"...You! You murderer!"

Yanking her wand out of her hair, Hermione crossed arms with Harry Potter, all but poking him in the nose with her vinewood shaft. His own holly-carved wand arrested itself mid-swoosh. "Care to rephrase that, Harry?"

"I don't care what the Ministry says...he's a murderer!" He tried to shift around her, but Hermione blocked his path out of the lift car. "Hermione, move out of my way!"

"Oh, look, everyone," she drawled tightly, loudly. They were drawing a crowd anyway, so she might as well play up to their expectations for a rousing show. "It's the Boy Who Conveniently Forgot All The People Who Helped Him To Win The War. Or should I say, the Boy Who Wouldn't Be Alive Today, If It Weren't For Me."

"Hermione!" Harry protested, glaring at her. His eyes looked even more green, contrasted with the reddening of his face.

"I told you to grow up, Harry James Potter!" she snapped, cutting him off. The lift doors chimed, letting them know they were holding up the other passengers on the other floors. "You wouldn't even be alive, if it weren't for me. And since you refuse to do it of your own free will, you are forcing me to call upon the life-debt you owe me!"

He paled, at that. Pettigrew had been forced to answer to his life-debt to Harry, at the final battle. It had helped them to defeat the Dark Lord, but it had cost the ratty little man his life. "Hermione, you don't..."

"I call upon your life-debt to me, Harry James Potter," Hermione intoned, her wand beginning to glow with a faint bluish light. He lowered his own wand in shock. "From this day forth, you will be polite to Severus Septimus Snape. You will be respectful. You will be civil."

"But..."

"You will not attempt to deliberately harm him by either magical or Muggle means, nor collude with others to harm him, nor stand aside and just watch, if you see him being harmed or plotted to be harmed in your presence, while you have the power to prevent that harm from happening to him."

"Hermione, I..."

"You may defend yourself from him, if he is foolish enough to attack you, but you may not kill him, nor cause lasting nor life-threatening injury in doing so. And lastly, you will acknowledge, publicly, the truth that he is just as much of a war-hero as you, as he has suffered even more than you, in the cause of freeing the wizarding world from the depredations of the Dark Lord and his followers. You will do so in the face of anyone attempting to decry him a murderer, a true Death Eater, or any other of the falsehoods you know to be untrue, and you will do this for the rest of the life which I have restored to you."

"But..."

"...Or you will forfeit the new life I have given you."

The magic illuminating her wand intensified abruptly, spearing out and smacking him in the chest. It washed over him in a wave of blue, absorbing into his clothes, skin and hair. Satisfied on the outside, though trembling on the inside, Hermione carefully re-inserted her wand into the pinned-up mass of her curls like an overgrown hair accessory.

"...Is Severus Snape a murderer?" she asked Harry in the stunned quiet that had followed his binding, a quiet broken by the chiming of the lift as it tried to get them out of the way so its doors could close.

"No," Harry stated, half-choking on the words. "Severus Snape is...a war-hero. He...did whatever he had to do. Just to help us end the war."

"There. That wasn't so difficult, was it?" Hermione remarked, knowing she was poking him in the wound of his prejudice by doing so. "You obviously didn't drop dead from acknowledging the truth."

The elevator pinged again, then kept pinging, apparently taking offense at how long they'd been blocking the doorway.

"Clear the way, clear the way! What's the holdup with the lift?" an irritated, authoritative voice demanded. The gathered wizards and witches started scattering, suddenly remembering they had work waiting for them somewhere else. Harry fell back into the elevator car with a petulant frown. Hermione pressed forward, stepping inside. She backed him up until there was room enough for both of their former teachers to enter as well. No longer being held open, the lift doors slid shut with an almost happy sigh.

"What are you doing here, anyway?" Harry hissed at her as the lift slid into motion.

"I just got my Animagus license," Hermione told him with a touch of pride. "It took me less than a month, too!"

"So why is he here?"

Overhearing that, Severus decided he didn't want the Idiot Who Lived to know about his newfound ability. He also knew that, after her little display of Potter-management, she would expect him to get along with the scarred twit. Or at least be civil in his presence. "I have invited Headmistress McGonagall to lunch. Since she and Miss Granger were coming to the Ministry for registering and wanted to celebrate it afterward, I thought it would be convenient to accompany them."

Harry blinked at him, then scowled. He couldn't say anything scathing, however, only a muttered, "That's nice."

"What are you doing at the Ministry, Mr. Potter?" Severus found himself asking. He almost sneered it, but considering the lengths Hermione had gone to ensure that her friend behaved civilly toward him, he thought it would be prudent to please her by being civil as well. Hermione, he cared about. The Potter Twit could stew in his own juices, for all Severus cared. Personally, he had enjoyed the sight of Potter impaled on Hermione's wand like an olive on a swizzle stick.

"I'm an Apprentice Auror. I work here. Good day," Harry added tersely as the lift opened on his destined floor. He couldn't escape them fast enough, from the quick way he dodged around two witches and a fluttering horde of paper aeroplanes out in the corridor. The lift moved on, taking them toward the main lobby.

Minerva eyed her former colleague. "You're taking us to lunch, Severus?"

It had been an impulsive comment on his part. Seeing the pleasure on her face, and the matching light in Hermione's eyes, Severus found himself nodding and admitting, "We have much to celebrate."

"So, then where should we go?" Hermione asked.

"There's a Muggle place I know, somewhat upscale, specializing in seafood," he offered, exiting the lift car with them. "Does that appeal to you ladies?"

Minerva fussed for a moment, digging out her wand. She tapped her clothing, changing her blue Wizarding gown into a more modern-looking office dress. "I believe I look presentable enough."

Hermione checked her own clothes, jeans and a blouse. Wrinkling her nose, she drew her own wand, changing the denim trousers into a knee-length skirt in royal blue. "Will this do?"

"Eminently. If you'll take my arms, ladies, I'll Apparate us there..."

Someone spat on him. Severus flinched, glancing down at the globule of saliva on the front of his frock-coat. Looking up again, he glared at the wizard responsible, a youngish fellow with an ugly scowl on his face. The other man spat again.

"Goddamned Death Eater! You should have whatever passes for your rotten soul sucked out by a...!"

Grabbing the elbows of his companions, Severus concentrated, Disapparating with them. He left the spittle behind as he did so. Appearing in an alleyway that reeked of the Thames, he released Minerva's elbow and shifted Hermione's arm so that it was tucked through his own. The younger witch faced him, concern pinching her brow.

"Are you alright, Severus?" Hermione asked him. She'd had an impulse to hex the boogeys out of that nameless man, but her first concern was him, now that they were well shot of the fellow.

It felt good to have someone concerned about him. Nodding, he muttered, "I'll live. The restaurant is over here."

"I think I knew that fellow," Minerva muttered, taking his other elbow as they walked out of the alleyway and crossed the street toward the restaurant. "...Thaddeus Finkerleigh, that was it. Terrible in Transfigurations, if I remember right. He must have been a good four, five years ahead of your own year. Hufflepuff, but mostly I think only because he wasn't quite smart enough for Slytherin."

Hermione snorted at that, hastily covering her nose with her hand. "Erm...how can you not be smart enough for Slytherin? And still get a job working for the Ministry, I mean..."

Severus was glad for her amendment; he'd hate to hex his betrothed before he had even bought her a ring.

"In the sense of cunning, of course. He was just a little too honest for his own good. What do you think, Severus?" Minerva quipped. "Was that a janitorial outfit he was wearing?"

"Since I left his saliva behind, it would be only fitting for him to have to mop it up," he muttered back. Releasing Minerva's grip, he reached for the door into the establishment, opening it for his companions. "Come. I have enough Muggle pounds for this place...and much to celebrate."

"Do tell, Severus. And do explain that comment you made, right before Mr. Potter showed up," Minerva instructed him.

He made them wait until they were shown to a table overlooking the wharf, then picked up his water glass. "A toast: to successful transformations, old and new friendships, silenced dissidents, enforced peaceful interactions...and a five-year future to look forward to."

"Come again?" Minerva questioned, though she clinked her glass against his and Hermione's and sipped from it all the same. "We know what the transformation bit is, and I'm pleased to see you including Hermione in your admittedly rather small circle of friends... Silenced dissident and peaceful interactions would be young Mr. Potter, but I don't get the bit about the five-year future."

Blushing, Hermione cleared her throat. "It's a private matter, between him and I."

"Actually, not that private," Severus corrected her lightly, smiling slightly behind the rim of his glass. At Minerva's questioning look, he deigned to explain. "It's part and parcel with our betrothal. We've decided we enjoy each other's company enough to want to still be in each other's lives five years from now. To that end, we have agreed to a longish engagement...and if we're still compatible within a year or so, we will most likely marry. It's a very practical solution to our regard for each other, wouldn't you agree?"

That made Minerva snort. "I wouldn't call romance a practical sort of thing...but if you're both happy with each other, then I'm equally happy. Frankly, I was wondering whether you'd ever find a woman worthy of you, Severus," Minerva added, tucking her napkin into her lap. "And despairing at the same time whether you'd realize it or not, if an when you did. Hermione is definitely worthy of you...and you, my dear boy, are definitely worthy of her."

"I doubt I would have found anyone, if that rat Pettigrew hadn't done to me what he did," Severus hedged delicately. They were in a Muggle restaurant, after all. "I am forced to admit that having to live like that has changed my perspective on life...and on how to live it."

"Hear, hear!" Minerva praised, lifting her water goblet again. "To felis domesticus, and all the joys contained therein!"

Once more, they clinked glasses. The waiter approached at that point, wanting to know if they were ready to order. The trio bent their heads to their menus, hungry after the morning's excitement.

The appetizers didn't take long to arrive. Severus had ordered oysters on the half-shell, which Hermione daringly decided to try, while Minerva ordered an 'onion blossom', confessing under her breath that, lingering heart condition be damned, she was in the mood for something fried. The enthusiasm with which she tore into the batter-dipped vegetable had the other two intrigued enough to try it. The onion blossom was indeed good, but Hermione eyed the half-dozen oysters arrayed on Severus' plate, fresh and raw, and wondered where her earlier daring had gone.

"Er...do they really taste all that good?"

"With lemon and horseradish, yes," Severus told her, squeezing a lemon-wedge over the first oyster. Using the knife provided, he made sure the mollusk had been loosened from its shell, then added a dollop of the root-paste and tipped the shell up over his lips. It slithered into his mouth, and he chewed and swallowed with one of his usual slight smiles.

"Oh, stop teasing the girl! It's only a Muggle aphrodisiac," Minerva muttered. "Even I know it has no basis in Potions-making."

"Not entirely true, Minerva," Severus stated as he set the shell down. "The liqueur, the oyster juices, are used in at least three such brews that I know of. Shall I prepare you an oyster, Hermione? Or are you going to disappoint your former Head of House with a lack of bravery?"

Biting her lower lip, Hermione wavered, then nodded. "Alright. Pick me out a good one."

Severus eyed the oysters on his plate, resting on a bed of lettuce leaves. One of the shells caught his eye. Squeezing the lemon over it, he prodded at it with his knife. Unlike the first one, which had been properly cut free of its shell, this one had somehow missed that process in the kitchen. A little bit of sawing slipped the knife under the muscle clinging to the mother-of-pearl surface...and a faint tik reached his ears.

Frowning softly, Severus prodded again with the tip of the knife. Tik. Brows rising, he peeled back the muscle. A pearl lay in the liqueur, sliding a little as the oyster meat moved. It wasn't outstandingly large, but neither was it exactly small...perhaps about eight millimeters in diameter, and a lovely silvery-blue in colour. Hearing Hermione's appreciative sigh and Minerva's astonished mutter, Severus set his napkin on the table and reached for the salt shaker. Several hefty shakes, a dribble of water, and he transferred the pearl to the damp spot on the napkin.

Folding over the cloth, he rubbed the pearl into the salt, using the granules to scrape off any lingering mucus. Rolling it into a clean spot, he dampened the cloth again, polished the pearl a little, and exposed it to the air. It wasn't perfectly round, being just a little bit teardrop-shaped to one side, but it was mostly round. If it were set just right in a ring, one wouldn't be able to see an imperfection.

"...It's beautiful," Hermione breathed, admiring the sea-gem. "And so big! I didn't think that eating-oysters were the same as pearl-oysters."

"Usually, they're not. Most eating-oysters these days are farmed on long lines dangling in the ocean, strung above the sandy floor where grit is most likely to get into them, and well above the normal range of predators who could devastate them. Most pearls these days are also cultured, artificially implanted and grown in a similar chain-like fashion in specially bred stock for that purpose. This one appears to be naturally seeded," Severus murmured. An idea came to him. Scooping up the pearl, he tucked it into his pocket. From the disappointed look on Hermione's face, he thought he had made the right choice.

"So, what are you going to do with it?" Minerva asked him.

"I have something in mind." He resumed preparing the raw oyster with a dab of horseradish, passing it to Hermione before she could question him. "Here, tip this into your mouth, give it a chew, and swallow it down. Or just swallow it, if you're not brave enough to chew."

"Do you really think prodding me about bravery will get me to do anything you want?" she countered skeptically, though she did accept the shell from his fingers.

"Why not? It usually works on most Gryffindors," he teased, and earned matching dirty looks from both women.

"I ought to hex you, for that, Severus," Minerva muttered.

"I was almost placed in Ravenclaw," Hermione informed him tartly. "So I'm too smart to fall for that."

She tipped back the shell, chewed a few times, then swallowed. Severus smirked. "And yet you did as I suggested."

Breathing through her mouth to cool the fire instilled by the horseradish, Hermione scoffed, "Only because it was good advice! Wow...spicy. Not quite so much sauce on the next one, if you please."

"And do check for other pearls," Minerva added, tearing off another piece of her batter-fried onion. "I'd hate to see either of you choke on a small fortune."

...

When Severus and Hermione returned to her late aunt's house, with its parlour now crowded with boxes of his belongings, Severus excused himself with a murmur, heading for the various chests and crates Transfigured for storage out of spare sofa parts. A moment of thought, and his wand flicked through the air. "Accio Svenir's Artifactum! Accio Dee's Annulum!"

Two of the crates banged open, crafted as they were with hinged lids. Two shrunken books sailed out of those crates. Severus caught them deftly. Curious, Hermione joined him.

"What are you doing?"

"Looking for something."

"Going to have a good read?" she teased, tucking her hands around his elbow. "Want a cat to cuddle with as you do so?"

Severus appreciated the flirtatious pose; he hadn't had many chances for a witch to drape herself around him so coquettishly, given his past. Unfortunately, if he wanted to keep her properly in the dark, he couldn't let her know what he was researching. However, a blunt no would not be appreciated by her, either. Even he could figure out that much. And he definitely knew that lying was not an adequate way to hedge. "Normally, yes. In this instance...I would rather give you free reign with my books, as a distraction. Additionally, if I remember correctly, today is the day you are to water the houseplants. Perhaps you could occupy yourself with either task?"

Puzzled, Hermione studied him. She had never heard him speak so bluntly, before. Normally the wizard liked to keep his secrets behind his crooked, yellow teeth, even the fact that he had secrets...but if he wanted to keep those secrets, he could, she supposed. For now. It did make her want to research something of her own, now that she thought about it. Lifting her head, she kissed his cheek, then replied loftily, "As you wish. You may read what you like. As I will read what I like."

Watching her flounce off, Severus frowned softly in confusion. Unfortunately, he couldn't protest too much, since he didn't want her to accuse him of applying a double standard. Settling into an armchair, he unshrunk the tomes and started flipping through their pages. Somewhere in these two books were the spells he wanted. Not that he had anything truly specific in mind yet, just a general idea of what he wanted.

For her part, Hermione retreated to the far end of the cottage, and Disapparated. Flourish & Blotts should have the information she wanted. If not, St. Mungo's surely would.

...

She found the spells she needed in the wrong section, at the bookstore. Mainly because, while she was on her way to the right section, she spotted a book with an intriguing cover. Normally it wasn't the sort of volume she'd read, but Hermione had some ideas in mind for things she wanted Severus to try. The young shop clerk arched a brow at her choice and smirked. It took Hermione a moment to place his face, a Slytherin from two years ahead of her.

"Looking to make yourself vaguely presentable, Granger? You'll need something more powerful than Better Magic For A Better You, to make you look good," the clerk scoffed.

"Whereas you, Jacob Marsters-Smythe, have free access to this entire bookstore and all of its contents, all of its books...not just this one...and yet you still look like...you." Grabbing her book, glad she'd paid in exact change, Hermione left the bookshop. If it weren't such a good bookstore, she'd not patronize it while that particular idiot worked there.

The book was interesting mainly because it contained the same tooth-reshaping charm that Madam Pomfrey had used on her, years ago. And a whitening potion, and shampoos and conditioners, skin exfoliants and smoothing cremes. There were charms to determine which colours went best with one's hair, skin-tone and eyes, and what cuts were most flattering for a specific figure. And the fashion advice wasn't for fads, like shades-of-orange stripes or something equally silly. The solid-colored garments being displayed in the illustrated plates were the kind that endured more transient trends. Plus, the details of the garments could be seen without the clutter of a pattern or prints to the fabric.

It was time he stopped hiding his potential. He wasn't a spy anymore, so he didn't have to push people away with either a repugnant personality, or a repulsive physicality. Especially if they were going to court each other. To be fair, Hermione intended to try out these things on herself as well, though at least her own teeth were already white, straight, and neat. The Hair Care section looked like it had some promising unguents for managing her type of bushy, frizzy hair, as well as for degreasing and livening dull, flat locks like his. And perhaps there's a way to alter and improve some of these recipes. The Beauty Industry makes millions of pounds every year in the Muggle world; it's bound to make some money in the wizarding one, since women are women everywhere...

Rather than Apparating straight back to her aunt's cottage, Hermione detoured to her parents' house, banging into her bedroom. She felt a little guilty at not being there to help her father with managing Aunt Eumenia's estate, but she'd had her own concerns to deal with. Given it was a Friday, the day her parents didn't see patients in their joint practice, she headed downstairs to look for them. They were seated at the kitchen table, going over what looked like a mess of paperwork.

"Hello Mum, hello Dad," she stated, swooping in and giving each of them a kiss on the cheek. "What's going on?"

"We got Aunt Eumenia's will back from the barristers. It passed the probate, and came with an Inland Revenue Service form attached. We're figuring out which of your Aunt's bank accounts to drain to cover the costs...nearly 50% of it's been taxed to death," Rachel informed her daughter with a grimace.

"Mostly because it turns out Aunt Eumenia was as rich as Croesus," Jeffrey added, wrinkling his own nose. "But not enough of it lies in funds. Most of it is tied up in her artifacts collection. It's a good thing you're here, actually. If you could tell us which of her artifacts you'd be willing to sell at auction, either before or after the inheritance tax is settled, maybe we could recoup some of the losses for you. Your mother has a friend who works at Sotheby's, remember?"

"Er...why are you asking me which of the artifacts I'd be willing to sell?" Hermione enquired, thoroughly puzzled. "What say do I have in any of this?"

Rachel and Jeffrey Granger blinked blankly at each other for a moment, before her mother muttered, "...You didn't tell her?"

"Well, no; I think it just slipped my mind," he muttered back. "And we haven't exactly seen her until now."

"Would one of you please tell me what's going on? I know I haven't been around here, but I've been keeping an eye on her place, at least until the new owner needs to kick me out so they can take over," Hermione reminded them.

"Sweetie," Rachel told her daughter, "you're the new owner."

Hermione gaped, stared. Then fumbled the third chair out from the kitchen table, sinking into it to get off her suddenly rubbery legs.

"She left almost everything to you," Jeffrey confirmed. "There's about a tenth of her artifact collection that is being farmed out to various family members, maybe as much as an eighth of it, but the rest is to go to you. Here...a copy of the will."

Setting her package down, Hermione took the stack of photocopied pages, thick with information detailing the various artifacts in her aunt's collection. Some of them were on loan to museums, she noted, mind whirling with the news. The cottage was now hers, if they got the taxes paid on it. It was hers. This wasn't in their plans.

Severus had been forced to sell his own property, since he wouldn't be able to hide it underneath the weight of Muggle construction and progress; as a result, they had near-silently resigned themselves to just holding place in Aunt Eumenia's cottage until the new owners kicked them out. Originally, that had meant trying to find a place to live that wasn't in her parents' home. They couldn't stay here; Severus wouldn't be able to be his human self very often, if they stayed too much at the Grangers'.

But now, it wasn't going to be necessary. Hermione hadn't let herself fall in love with the overgrown cottage, not thinking she would ever be anything more than a mere houseguest...but now she could admit that she did love the place. It even had a basement that could be cleared out, hidden, warded, and turned into a laboratory, spare bedrooms to be turned into library space, and still have room for children, eventually...

"...Earth to Hermione," Rachel stated, patting her daughter on the hand. "You look a bit done-in by the news. Why don't you take some time to think about it, while we handle coming up with the funds to pay the inheritance tax for you?"

Nodding, clutching the papers in her hands, Hermione Disapparated with a crack. Her parents jumped, then chuckled wryly. Sometimes they forgot they had given birth to a real, live witch.

...

Crack!

Severus fumbled with the Galleon in his hand, hastily resorting to stuffing it between the sofa cushions to hide it in his startlement. Nearly impaling herself on the wand in his other hand, Hermione flung herself at him, straddling his lap and peppering his face with noisy, pecking kisses. This was highly unusual behavior for her, not to mention something he had never received from anyone, before. While he was still reeling from her attack, she fastened her lips to his and kissed him hard enough to steal away half of his breath, and most of his senses.

When she finally pulled back, he realized through his befuddlement that she was clutching a rumpled sheaf of papers in one of the hands on his shoulders. She was also grinning. Blinking, he gathered his scattered wits. "What...what was that about?"

Giddy with realization, and the feel of his lips, Hermione asked in a rush, "How would you like to stay here? Permanently?"

That made him frown. "But what about the new owner?"

"I am the new owner!" she all but squealed, lifting both arms into the air.

The way that action changed the shape of her breasts right at his eye-level was definitely a distraction. Severus sternly focused his mind on her face...after a moment of aesthetic enjoyment. And higher than her face, on the papers still clutched in her fist. "You...are the new owner?"

"Aunt Eumenia left most everything to me," Hermione admitted with a grin, lowering her arms. She smoothed out the stack of papers and presented them to him. "I inherit the house, and her bank accounts, and most of her artifacts. Now, Mum and Dad are still figuring out what will have to be sold to pay the inheritance tax, but I figure we can sell most of the artifacts to cover that, and have enough left over for sundry expenses. Then, we convert the basement into a laboratory, buy supplies with the funds from the sale of your house, ward it, secure the property without actually making it Unplottable outright, and have the best of both worlds. Electricity and gas for light and heat, space and privacy for magic and manufacturing.

"Mind you," she stated, sobering a bit, "I could rather wish Aunt Eumenia hadn't died, and that none of this was achievable at her expense...but it's a good piece of fortune for both of us. With the upscale quality of this neighborhood, it's not very likely that they'll be buying up lots and tearing down homes for a good, long time."

Severus realized she had just flung herself into the future with him firmly in tow, his presence in her life firmly accounted for in her mind's eye. It was a new sensation for him, being included in someone else's life-plan. Not a battle plan, nor an espionage plan, but a life-plan. He decided that he liked it, unnerving though it might be. He also realized after a moment that she was peering quizzically at the book open on the end-table, and hastily shut it, hoping she hadn't read the spell on the pages. "Don't you have a will to read?"

"Actually, I have a book of my own to...oh! I left it at Mum and Dad's!" With another crack, she disappeared.

Severus sighed in relief and fished the Galleon back from the depths of the settee, his secret temporarily safe.