Hermione Granger stepped gracefully from the fireplace and dusted a smudge of ash off her sleeve. Her gaze traveled over the room, taking in the shabby furniture and faded wallpaper with no particular disgust, but Severus felt a pang of shame anyway. He knew his home was a far cry from Hogwarts, but he wasn't really in the position to do more than basic magical maintenance on the worst of the problems. And he rarely used the parlor, anyway.

"You wanted to see me, Miss Granger?" he snapped with a bit more malice than he intended.

She ignored his rudeness, though, merely extending her hand politely for a thoroughly muggle handshake. "You look well, Professor."

He inwardly bristled at her tone, but refused to let it show. Despite his irritation, he did rather need this meeting. Assuming she actually meant something by it, and it wasn't just a social call . . .

"You mentioned a business question?"

She smiled without malice. "Yes. It's just - nice to see you, is all. But I did have a proposal for you, if you're interested - shall we talk here, or is there somewhere else?"

Severus eyed the faded armchairs, but . . . "Come, I'll show you my workroom."

She followed quietly down the short hallway. Severus's house was rather small - all he needed for just one person, really, but small all the same. His one concession to the need for more space was in his laboratory, which was rather larger than the footprint of the house would make it appear. He opened the door and held it for her as she stepped through.

"This is . . . very charming, actually. I expected something darker."

Severus scowled. "Nothing about potions require them to be brewed in a dungeon, Miss Granger. I happen to like having natural light available when possible." He indicated the two chairs flanking the rather scarred wooden workbench in the center of the room, and they both sat.

"I saw your article in Potions Weekly last month - how is the custom potion market these days?" she asked.

None of her damn business, he thought. A single glance at his house and his laboratory should have been enough to tell her all she needed to know - the wizarding world may have been recovering after Voldemort's death, but curiously few witches and wizards were keen on special-ordering custom potions from a former Death-Eater. Even one who was technically a war hero.

But he wasn't going to say that, of course. He settled for a bland, "Acceptable. I've been keeping busy."

Hermione didn't contradict the obvious lie, just smiled politely. "That's good. I'm here to ask a favor, honestly - Ron and I are in over our heads."

Now there's a surprise. Of course Severus had seen the advertisements for the Granger-Weasley business enterprise - felt like you couldn't turn your head without stumbling across another tacky poster or banner or magazine ad with Ron Weasley's inane grin and frighteningly inane logo. The Potion Pot - all you'll need, guaranteed! Severus had hated the name at once, and only grew to hate it more as time progressed.

But it was interesting to hear Miss Granger admit she needed help. "Potion-making get the better of you after all?" he asked. "Start messing up your Pepper-Up Potion recipe?"

She waved his question away with a graceful swish of her hand. "Nothing like that. I enjoy the work, actually. Ron and I have reached a comfortable split - I make all the potions, and he handles the business end of things. It's worked just fine so far. But we've taken on a new contract and it's going to be more than I can handle on my own." She shot him a lopsided smile. "I was hoping you might be able to furnish me with a list of former students who might be interested in some short-term work - someone who had some actual talent for potions would be preferable, of course."

"And what, you assume I carry such a list around with me?" Severus sneered. "I'm afraid I can't accommodate you, Miss Granger. Perhaps Longbottom is free."

"Can't, or won't?"

"It hardly matters, as I will not be providing you with such a list in either case."

Hermione sighed. "In that case, I suppose I will have to fall back to Plan B - hiring you. I know you're busy with your own mail-order business, of course, but you're the only one I know who would do a passable job."

Severus frowned. "I doubt you need a potion master of my caliber to brew the swill you undoubtedly sell by the gallon, Miss Granger. Surely you could place a notice? Next to one of those garish advertisements you've splattered all over most of the potions magazines, perhaps?"

Her smile widened at that, clearly unperturbed by his deliberate needling. "No, it's not that. We're going to be the sole supplier for St. Mungo's, you see. Ron just finalized the contract this week."

"Congratulations." Severus was impressed in spite of himself - their business must be even larger than he realized, if they were able to produce that quantity. St. Mungo's went through an incredible variety and volume of potions on a daily basis.

"Thank you," she said without any hint of sarcasm. "However, Ron also promised them one brand-new potion per month - something nobody has made before, and preferably something useful for the types of cases the staff at St. Mungo's often see." Her smile faded and she huffed softly. "He didn't consult me before agreeing, though, or I would have told him it was too much. I can step up the amount of time I spend in the lab and meet the volume demand easily enough, but I can't guarantee having time to research something - especially a regular output of somethings."

"And you believe I could?"

Her eyes narrowed as she swept a critical look over his form, then over his laboratory. "I'm not blind, Severus. You're wasted here. Even with your mail-order business, you're making what, a thousand galleons a year? I'd wager you sell no more than a potion or two a week, and that can hardly take up all your time."

Her assessment of his income was dead-on, which irked him all on its own. "Perhaps I should splash my face around more, like your Mr. Weasley."

"Do you honestly think that would help?" Hermione leaned forward to brace her elbows on the table and fixed her gaze squarely on his face. "You're a former Death-Eater, Professor. I'd wager most witches and wizards wouldn't be comfortable with you making them their potions even if they knew you were available."

She was more right than Severus liked to admit. Still . . . "I'll have you know I'm providing all the potions for the rebuilding crew at Hogwarts, Miss Granger, thank you very much." He didn't know why felt obligated to defend himself, but something in him bristled at a former student (Granger, at that!) knowing how badly his business was failing.

That brought an unexpected smile. "I know. We turned that contract down, actually - I decided that making Pepper-Up Potions and strength potions by the gallon would be more tedious than I wanted to take on, and the Hogwarts crews were unlikely to need anything much more than that. You must be getting bored with it by now, Professor."

The damn witch was right, of course. Severus kept silent and gave her his best glare.

"Look, Professor, I'm not going to browbeat you into it." She stood and tossed a muggle-style business card onto the table between them. "Here's my card. Come or not, it's up to you, but that card is spelled to become a portkey at nine o'clock sharp tomorrow morning. We can work out the details at the company lab."