Every morning it was the same; 3 o'clock wake up call, a quick shower and barely a glance in the mirror as she pulled her hair away from her face. By 3:30 Hermione was in her shop, working on barely 4 hours rest as she rolled dough, charmed the front seating area to tidy itself, and organized the upcoming workday for her employees.
She yawned, concealing it in her sleeve before continuing on with her morning ritual. It wasn't a big shop, barely ten patrons could be seated at a time, but every day she nearly sold out of her supply. After the first trying year of living month to month, barely scraping by, her shop had exploded. The niche she filled in this particular market couldn't have been more receptive to her.
The oven hummed to life with a flick of her wand, the proofer fogged with obvious warmth and humidity, and the mixer beat a rapid time as another batch of dough slapped merrily along the side of the bowl. In the final minutes of mixing, Hermione cast two charms, a mouth cleansing and freshening charm and a hair grooming charm that never seemed to work on her own mass of curls that had been recently neglected in the past year.
This is what kept people coming to her shop. With a combination of potions and charms, she was able to create a litany of fresh pastries, cakes, and cookies that not only tasted good but actually aided the 'every man's' morning. She had gotten the idea from Fred and George but rather than pranking people, she wanted to help people. If she hadn't praised their intelligence before she did now more so than ever as creating the spells and wand work necessary for her products was no easy feat.
A buzzer rang and Hermione smiled as Terri walked in through the front door and immediately went to the employees changeroom in the basement. Hermione glanced at her watch, 5:45; there was never enough time.
Terri reappeared a moment later, dressed in a chocolate-coloured t-shirt with her company's insignia on the front left breast. It was simple, a coffee cup with the steam charmed to spell out Hermione's Haven, in an elegant script.
"No offense, but you look like shit," Terri said with a concerned smile as he tied his apron around his waist.
"Well good morning to you too," she mumbled with an eye roll. Terri was the only one of her employees that treated her like a friend. She was equally endeared and aggravated by him on a regular basis about everything from work to her nonexistent social life.
Hermione pointed to the list she had drawn up, "That's for today, I think you should start with the memory brownies as we've only got about 15 left in the freezer."
Terri looked down the list and groaned, "Hermione, this is nearly double what we usually do on a Tuesday."
A different buzzer rang, making Hermione turn on her heel from the dough she was currently beating into a rough ball shape. She pulled the risen rolls from the proofer and set another timer for the oven as she threw them in. "I know Terri, I've got a new girl coming in at nine so maybe we can pawn off some off the simpler stuff that doesn't involve wand work. We were insanely busy on the weekend and yesterday I couldn't come in because I was brewing all day and -"
"Hey, hey it's all good. We'll get it done." His reassuring smile calmed her nerves, she knew she could always count on him.
"It's in order of-"
"Priority. Got it. You think it's my first day here?"
Hermione rolled her eyes and went back to work on her dough, a small smile gracing her lips for the first time in days.
Some people would think, and more often had said, that Hermione was wasting her intelligence, throwing away the opportunities that had all but lined up for her after the war. But she was tired. She was tired of the limelight that followed her like an annoying shadow, it had been weeks of interviews after the initial battle, months of trashy gossip rags after her amicable parting with Ron, and a further several weeks of interviews after their awards ceremony.
That's when she'd last seen Severus Snape, accepting his Order of Merlin First Class with a stoic nod, and a ghastly scar covering nearly half of his neck. The sight of him, so close to her as she too reluctantly accepted her Order, haunted her still. They had seen his final moments, they had left him in the shack to die alone, and some how he had survived.
Those same gossip rags that had torn her down, spun a tale of epic proportions as they speculated on how he survived, the tragic romantic war hero that risked everything for the love of one woman. Well, they were bound to get one or two facts right.
The guilt of his near passing ate at her core with feverish intensity if she was left alone too long. So, she threw herself in her work, immersing herself in potions, charms, and baking.
But even she knew it was becoming too much.
Seven o'clock approached swiftly and the first rush of customers arrived, from ministry workers and stay at home parents alike, no one was neglected in her concoctions.
"I swear, Benji just fakes a cold to get some of your Pepper-up Peppermint Patties." A woman with a sniffling child in her arms that immediately quieted when munching happily.
"I'm going to need a shot of whit sharpening in my tea, important interview at 9." A rather nervous looking, middle aged man with pants too short and tussled brown hair.
"I couldn't get through a day without one of your morning glory donuts." A younger blonde man who she suspected spent his nights partying until he was sick.
It really was a pleasure to see the change in their face from the first sip or bite of whatever they happened to purchase. Her Pepper-up connoisseur smiled happily as steam piped out of his ears and chocolate laid smeared across one cheek. Her nervous interviewee chatted up a rather attractive witch in her shop, the sound of her giggle trilled in girlish delight. And her dear party animal looked fresh showered, hair groomed, and had a near spring in his step as he left.
In between customers she scanned the ads in the prophet. She was in desperate need of a potioneer. With the amount of work in the shop, Hermione could no longer keep up with the additional potion making. They went through nearly five batches of invigoration draught a week alone. She needed someone who knew what they were doing, someone who could do this stuff with their eyes closed and still produce potent and precise potions.
She tore out a few ads, some looked promising and others she took just for good measure. It was the final and smallest ad that caught her eye:
Potion's Master
Flawless potions guaranteed.
Weekly deliveries.
Contracts only.
Hermione frowned, it was terse, very little was detailed about their background, and they had only left a numbered owl post for her to deliver an inquiry to so she didn't even have a name to address it too. With a resigned shrug, Hermione tore out the final ad and threw it with the others. If this person really was a potion's master then she could definitely be assured of their potion making capabilities.
It couldn't hurt to check it out.