Author's notes: Finally, our heroes meet properly!
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~~~w indicates something written. Enjoy!
Six years later. Mid-summer. Wednesday.
Hermione was having breakfast. Her eyes idly skimmed the Daily Prophet while she was chewing her muesli. One might think that the general content of the newspaper had improved after the War, and by Jove there was a huge room for improvement, but it sadly and unsurprisingly hadn't happened. However, she still occasionally read it to be aware of the recent and popular news, hence what her coworkers talked about all the time. As if they can talk about anything else, the bitter thought crossed her mind. She was about to close the silly newspaper when the page slipped to the job advertisement section and her attention was caught by the last advertisement in a column.
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Inventing new potions, charms, hexes and magical gadgets interest you, enthrall you? Then this offer is for You! With us, you will do none of that, but you will be able to observe other people masterfully doing it. And, of course, you will have an opportunity to deal with all the paperwork and documentation connected to it.
Join us today!
Ignis Avis Inc. Tel. 271 828 182
~~~w
She stared at the six sentences for quite some time. The ad was weird and not only because of its incredibly arrogant tone. If her eyes were trustworthy, it contained actual muggle telephone number; and she was pretty sure that so far wizarding world hadn't managed to produce anything closely related to telephones, even taking into account unsettling fireplaces with faces made out of fire. The Latin name of the company was also unusual, translating as 'fire bird' in English, possibly being an obscure reference to phoenix. She had never heard of it hoping it was not because she lived under a rock.
Out of sheer curiosity, or that was what Hermione told herself anyway, she picked up her old mobile phone, typed the number and called. After three beeps, robotic voice, with something vaguely familiar about it, said:
"Congratulations, you have passed the first test. Your interview is scheduled for today, 11 o'clock. Rosendale road 3, London, second floor. Don't forget to bring your brains with you." And it hung up.
Well, that was more sarcasm than she had heard in a month, this was getting more and more intriguing. Her heartbeat quickened. The word 'test', especially coupled with the word 'passed', was one of her trigger words, so she simply couldn't back out now.
Hermione finished her morning routine, briefly considered what she should wear for this occasion, then simply donned her usual blue robes minus Ministry of Magic badge. She critically inspected herself in the mirror. She wore little makeup these days, only mascara and a lip tint, since it seemed unpractical to spend more than a minute on it per day. And she was lucky to be blessed with clear, unblemished skin. Count your blessings.
Her hair was shorter nowadays, just below her shoulders, it was still curly, but not as frizzy and unruly as before. That was because she finally managed to find some special concoction to tame them somewhat, which was named accordingly Curb your outer wilderness, the substance was green and gooey. For some reason better part of magical cosmetics' producers deluded themselves that their products had to have an unpleasant look to be deemed effective. Although one redeeming quality was its apricots and watermelons scent, probably designed to show that it contained only natural ingredients, whatever that means in the wizarding world.
Sometimes she wished finding her inner wilderness had been as easy as finding her outer one, but these days it seemed that inside of her was only disgustingly obedient rule-follower together with ardent change-hater.
After some thought she gathered her hair in a bun to look more professional she hoped. The last thing Hermione had almost forgotten to do was to send a letter to the Ministry claiming to be sick. Technically, she could have sent a Patronus, but she predicted that the sight of the Patronus trying to cough convincingly would have been ridiculous.
Sometime later Hermione was looking up at her destination: it was standard, not very modern office building located in a purely muggle part of London. She quickly realized that her choice of the outfit was clearly wrong since people already started to give curious looks to her unorthodox appearance. So without further ado she entered the building and as directed went to the second floor; she was about to reach for the door from the staircase when it burst open barely giving her the time to skit aside. A young man, also in robes, swished past her throwing his hands in the air in vexation.
"How am I supposed to know all these things? They should be glad I got this hellish device working right! So much time spent on these twisty instructions!" He looked around and pointed his finger at her. "You! Don't go in there," he warned her and stormed off.
"Well, that's very promising," she muttered. And went in there.
So far, so good, Hermione thought as she looked around an empty room, except for a table with a bunch of papers and a pen and a chair in the middle there was nothing. The strange thing was that it was not a parchment and a quill, and the text was obviously printed; the company did not seem to be overly magical thus far. She sat on the chair and started reading.
~~~w
Second test.
Choose the correct answer (-s) out of 6 possible or write a correct word/sentence legibly where necessary. 90% of questions must be answered correctly. Put your signature on the last page when finished. Please, use your grey matter with extreme care.
~~~w
She scrolled through the array of papers and found out that there were one hundred questions. Challenge accepted.
The habitual concentration mode came as naturally as breathing to her and soon she was lost to the world. It took her several hours to complete the test; it wasn't the most difficult task she had ever encountered, but it required some consideration, especially because questions ranged from potions and spells to some odd facts about muggle technology and anatomy. For example, there was a question about the difference between computer mouse and the lab mouse, or what a remote was used for, or whether retina was an organism or part of the organism. There was one question that made her give an unladylike snort.
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Who thought that?
"If there was anything that depressed him more than his own cynicism, it was that quite often it still wasn't as cynical as real life." *
~~~w
Hermione looked through her work for the last time and with grim determination put her signature at the bottom line. Several seconds later the number 93 in red appeared on the paper and then:
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Congratulations. You have passed the second test. You can now enter the door in front of you.
~~~w
She felt the embarrassing surge of childish happiness she used to get receiving a pat on the head from adults. Upon looking up she, indeed, discovered a door, which somehow was unnoticed before. It was the most peculiar job interview, not that she had been on many job interviews in the past, since after the War it went approximately like this: "Hey, you! You're a Muggle-born, you probably know a thing or two about muggles. And I think I've seen your face in the newspapers lately. You will work in the Muggle department or whatever." And so, she dutifully did.
She got up, walked around the table and opened the door. A familiar silky voice drawled:
"You should be proud of yourself. You are the first one to actually–"
There was a stunned silence; in fact, it would probably need several days of rest and plenty of medication to recover from such a blow. Hermione stared at her former Potion Master as he stared back at her from behind his desk. She was quite certain her eyebrows had climbed up to her hairline.
Snape got over his astonishment first shaking his head and blinking.
"I really shouldn't be surprised it's you, Miss Granger, should I," he said quietly.
"Amm, I'll go then, sorry to bother you," she mumbled as turned around. She almost reached the second door.
"Wait, let's discuss this, Miss Granger," she heard Snape's voice behind her. "Is it still Miss Granger by the way?" She stopped with her hand on the door handle thinking what her next move should be. Deciding to diplomatically ignore that young man's warning and choosing the strategy of revealing as little as possible, Hermione answered neutrally as she faced him, "Yes, it is."
He was standing in the doorway. For the first time she noticed his unusual attire: black jeans and vertical striped shirt. Well, it was far from unusual for a normal person, but this was Snape and she had never seen or imagined seeing him without his customary heavy black robes, which, she now realized, provided a convenient illusion of him being bigger than he was. Now she could clearly see how thin he was. And the silver scar on his neck was clearly visible as he obviously hadn't attempted to hide it. She tried to keep her face carefully blank and was not at all sure whether she succeeded.
"Prof –, er, Mr. Snape, I had no idea you work here, I assure you, I wouldn't have come otherwise."
"Let us come and talk in my office," he replied motioning in the direction of the room she had just left and after a moment's hesitation added, "please."
Then he turned around managing to achieve dramatic effect without billowing robes to help him out and disappeared in what apparently was his office. Admittedly Hermione was still curious, even more so; she decided that in case this discussion turned out ugly nothing stopped her from leaving any time she wanted.
She followed him into the office and briefly looked around. It didn't look like this room was used very often as it lacked any personal details whatsoever. She sat in the chair in front of his desk while he took his seat behind it.
"You are the first applicant to pass the second test," Snape informed her bluntly. There was a small pause during which he leaned back and folded his arms across his chest. "The ad was in the newspaper for about a month now, but barely a handful of people applied and none of them managed to pass this test. And to think that in the beginning I intended to finish this off by interview to decide whom I should hire. Incompetent fools," Snape huffed and evidently was going to continue, but Hermione made a brave decision to interrupt him. So, Snape managed to infuriate this man so mush without actually talking with him. Impressive.
"Don't you think it was a bit difficult for this position. I mean I had an impression you were looking for a secretary or an assistant, yet there were some random questions about muggle technology and, for some reason, anatomy together with random questions about potions. It got quite confusing by the end." He was regarding her steadily with his lips tightly pursed. "Not that I'm an expert or anything," she added quickly.
"It's called general knowledge for a reason. I was hoping that the average IQ in our country was higher than in Hogwarts," Snape replied sardonically.
"I'm deeply sorry for your shattered hopes then, but our world is full of stupid and deluded people, Mr. Snape," she could not help but say in a similar manner.
"Believe me, Miss Granger, I know that perfectly well since I had the misfortune to teach at Hogwarts for almost two decades. What an ordeal that was." His mouth twisted, and he glanced at the ceiling reproachfully as if blaming some higher Creator for that.
"Actually, I can relate better than you think. I worked at the Ministry for the last six years," the words were out of her mouth before she could stop them. So much for her strategy. "Though I admit, it's not as horrifying as twenty years," she finished.
"Oh, really," he drawled. "I cannot see why you would decide to inflict this upon yourself. It was my understanding that Potter's friends should get only the best." It was not a question as such, but it asked nonetheless.
"It was considered the best, for me at least," Hermione said looking at her hands on her knees. Only it wasn't me who did the thinking on the matter, she mentally added."And they needed my help with reorganizing the whole institution." Pause. "In a manner of speaking."
She suddenly felt slightly embarrassed with her lack of persistence in achieving her goals; on the bright side years of experience taught her how to control her blush. She expected further inquiries or at least another sardonic remark, but to her surprise none followed. Snape decided not to pursue the topic.
"Anyway, I wouldn't have some useless dunderhead for an assistant," he concluded dismissively. "My work is far too important for that." The arrogance with which it was spoken, however justifiable it was, stirred something inside of her.
"Maybe then you should have attempted to make a more appealing advertisement to a bigger part of the papulation interested. You can't expect people to read that haughty piece and be delighted to apply. It creates rather bad impression of the working atmosphere; that is, supposing anyone would have survived the initial interview to even start thinking about such trivial things." Her lips quavered slightly as she refrained from smirking. "And why on earth would you give an ad only in Daily Prophet, the most unreliable newspaper ever? If I didn't know any better, I would have thought you did it on purpose because you hadn't really wanted to hire anyone, subconsciously or not." There was a long silence after her little observation.
Hermione anticipated being kicked out at any minute now, but she simply could not refrain from trying his patience, which by her experience was extremely short. There was something refreshing about annoying her former Professor without risking getting a detention. However, he didn't seem very annoyed or angry, not that she was a good judge of his emotional state; he just looked away, and if this was not Snape she would have thought that he was mildly embarrassed.
"Frankly I couldn't help myself," he said quietly with a tinge of irony in his voice. His unexpected confession baffled her for mere seconds. It explained a lot.
"Happens with me all the damn time. That's why my coworkers don't like me much." Hermione met his eyes as she smiled for the first time since she came here. For a moment she thought that he would smile back, the way his face relaxed fractionally, but of course he didn't. Instead he directed the conversation to the original topic.
"So why did you come, Miss Granger, if everything was done so poorly?"
"I accidentally saw the ad and couldn't ignore the sight of muggle telephone number in purely magical newspaper. I became curious, you see," Hermione answered deciding that at least for now honesty was the best policy, she wasn't sure for whom though.
Snape put his elbows on the table and rested his chin on his interlaced fingers; his dark eyes studied her closely.
"And now that your curiosity is satisfied you'll just go, correct?"
"Well, I wouldn't say it's satisfied, more like temporarily appeased. I still don't know what this company does exactly." She practically smirked. Some inner part of her was horrified at her behaviour, because it was Snape, the former Death Eater, after all, but currently this part was stripped of its vote. Strangely he still didn't seem to be inclined to verbally dissect her.
"In this case you can inform your curiosity that even I don't know exactly." He paused dramatically. "Because technically it's still doesn't exist."
Hermione's head tilted in question.
"So far Ignis Avis consists only of aspirations and me." He sighed. "Perhaps some explanation is in order. You see, in the past several years I've been brewing complicated potions for private clients, hospitals and other institutions, and I managed to do it almost anonymously. I've improved many potions in the past as well as created original ones and invented some spells, as you surely know, being acquainted with Half-Blood Prince so well." He sneered half-heartedly, and she stoically fought a blush. "Also, I have several new projects in mind which currently demand for my attention. Consequently, I need a dedicated employee to uptake the task of procuring various ingredients, contacting with some of the old clients and searching for new ones, also to properly keep records of income and expenses."
"But that's later. If you decide to take me up on my offer, your first task will be to write down my every invention with descriptions in a special book, because as of now they are all in different places in a complete mess. And, of course, register my business in the Ministry, I anticipate it will take some time, and find out the laws concerning intellectual property in wizarding England." He grimaced. "Or at least whether they even exist," he said as an afterthought. "Is that clear? You may close your mouth, Miss Granger."
Still digesting all this information, she said thoughtfully after a while, "That's a lot to take in. I need time to consider."
"Quite understandable. I'll give you my number, my real one, and you can inform me whenever you decide," he replied promptly giving her a small card.
She took it and put it carefully in the pocket of her robes. Then she stood up.
"Goodbye, Mr. Snape."
"Goodbye, Miss Granger, think carefully about it."
"I certainly will."
Hermione hesitated by the door.
"Just to be clear in your ad by 'other people' you meant you and by 'us' you meant also you?" she dared to ask.
She fancied that she caught a flicker of wry amusement in his eyes, but it could be a play of light just as well. His lips quirked slightly and then he replied:
"Yes, of course. Any problem with that?"
She bit her lower lip stifling a chuckle.
"No, no, not at all," she managed to say, barely stopping herself from lifting her hands defensively.
On the way home, it dawned upon her that she completely forgot to ask him about the salary, one of the most important things about a job.
For the rest of the day Hermione was contemplating this unique job offer and the employer himself. Snape seemed different, changed and not only because of the absence of black robes. At first, she couldn't put her finger on what exactly was different. She tried to recall the details of his appearance during her schooldays, but the memories of that time faded as they were gradually replaced by more recent ones. The last time she saw him was at that infamous meeting near Gringotts and she had still been in shock at the time and probably her PTSD had started to develop, so that memories weren't particularly clear too. But she remembered him standing there with that odd look in his eyes as if he was gazing down the cliff at the sharks swimming in the sea, knowing that he was quite safe from them; it was saying something considering that generally they were cold and unexpressive.
Anyway, Snape looked healthier, admittedly this wasn't overly difficult knowing his starting point. His skin was no longer sallow, just naturally pale. And as a dentist's daughter one of the first things she subconsciously noticed was that his teeth were white, still crooked, but white. Though his hair was the same as ever without a single strand of grey.
However, it all was almost irrelevant comparing to the fact that Snape treated her almost as an equal rather than a disrespectful student. And she wasn't a scared unsure first-year anymore, she was just unsure but hopefully experienced adult now. So, she felt certain that she could deal with his temper.
Several hours later despite still not knowing anything about salary and the precise range of obligations Hermione impulsively sent Snape an SMS. Technically she could call, but then she wouldn't know how far his command of the muggle communication device extended.
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Mr. Snape, I have thoroughly considered your offer and thus am happily to inform you that I can get to work the day after tomorrow.
H.G.
~~~w
Surprisingly, the answer came promptly. She could practically hear his voice while reading it.
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Miss Granger, I am positively thrilled with your decision. Please, come to the same place at 9 a.m. the day after tomorrow. Don't be late.
S.S.
~~~w
It turned out that her future employer could not only read messages but also type them himself. He was the first wizard she had met who owned a mobile phone and could use it properly, because it seemed that every Muggle-born and Half-blood eventually decided to abandon his or her non-magical roots and chose to do everything magically even though muggle way sometimes was far more efficient. At first, she thought it was only Harry, taking into account the way his relatives treated him but after Hogwarts she discovered that it was generally the case.
However, her decision wasn't totally impulsive: she had a plan. More or less. Tomorrow she was going to go to the Ministry and ask for the three weeks' holiday since she hadn't had it for over a year. During that time, she would attempt to work for Snape and see how it goes. I can always quit after all, right?
Hermione tentatively knocked on the door and entered. She chose her outfit smartly this time i.e. universally accepted jeans and a t-shirt. Just as before Snape, in black and white check shirt, was behind his desk writing.
"Your punctuality doesn't disappoint, Miss Granger," he said looking up. "Sit, please." He gestured at the familiar chair.
"Good morning to you too, Mr. Snape," she answered smiling as she sat down. "So where do we start?"
"First of all, you should know that you won't work here, this is just an office I've specifically rented to interview people." One corner of his mouth curved slightly. "We'll mostly work at my house where I have a laboratory set up. You'll be on probation for about a month during which I judge how well you fulfill my expectations, after that we'll see. Here is the contract, but before you sign it you should know that my house is under numerous protective spells, but I have to make sure the thought of revealing its location wouldn't even cross your mind." The crease between his brows deepened. "You should make an Unbreakable Vow," he stated. Hermione had to make an effort to keep her jaw from dropping.
There was a dead silence. Hermione stared at him. But after the initial astonishment wore off she realized that the request was reasonable enough, for ex-double-spy at least. This certainly was an adequate way to prove a person's commitment. She swallowed.
"I thought you needed a third person to do it…" Her voice sounded pathetically weak to her.
"Not if the oaths directly concern or involve the second person, meaning if it's about my property. I can cast a spell." He leaned back in his chair and regarded her sternly. "Unless you do it, you can leave."
"Isn't it a little over the top, tell someone the address and die?"
"It obviously wasn't so seven years ago," he replied promptly. "Look, it only sounds intimidating, but it's a simple request and I value my privacy."
"Oh, I'm aware of that," she huffed.
"Then you know there is nothing illogical about it," he said pointedly. "Why would you ever need to reveal the location of my house?" The question hung in the air.
He just wants to make sure I wouldn't babble about it to my friends, Hermione thought. He has no way of knowing that we are not that close anymore. She gave him a wry smile.
"Fine, if you wish so."
Snape's face remained impassive as he stood up, walked around the desk and silently extended his right hand. She eyed it skeptically, still not sure whether it was the right way to do it, not that she had vast experience in taking the harshest of the oaths.
"Don't we have to kneel opposite each other?" she finally inquired dubtfully.
"It's a little-known fact, but kneeling is optional," he answered simply. "It used to be done for theatrical effect, to make the process more meaningful and complex, but nowadays everybody thinks that it's obligatory. Personally, I blame outdated textbooks."
"Really?" she asked intrigued. "And how many other things are complicated just for the sake of complexity?"
"Quite a lot, I assure you. Our community always rather liked to be pompous." Hermione wondered whether he included himself in the last statement, he should in all honesty considering his dungeons at Hogwarts.
"Can you –," she began but was interrupted.
"Miss Granger, I know perfectly well that you can ask endless amount of questions, but I don't have all day. Let us get on with it." His tone was carefully patient. This was the closest he had come to being insulting in the recent days, which in itself was a mystery, so she wisely decided not to push him further.
Hermione stood up and took his right forearm, his hand encircled hers lightly in return; she felt tense muscles under the fabric and realized that he was nowhere near as calm and collected as it seemed.
Snape took out his wand with his left hand and put the tip onto their linked hands.
"Do you, Hermione Granger, promise to keep the address of my home a secret?"
"I do."
A thin dark blue streak emerged out of his wand and interweaved with their hands, creating a sensation akin to a sea breeze. She wasn't prepared for the second question.
"Do you, Hermione Granger, promise not to reveal without my permission or appropriate any confidential information concerning me and my inventions you might discover while working for me?"
Like an avalanche, her reply could not be arrested.
"I do." And thus, everything was sealed. For several seconds the sensation intensified, the cold going deeper than skin, then the magic faded.
She glared at him rubbing her right wrist.
"As I recall," she said bitterly, "you mentioned only the house. You know I can leave right now." In fact, it was the most advanced non-disclosure agreement that had ever existed, it simply could not be stricter. She could bet many creators in various areas wished they could have used it.
"You can, but after coming this far, are you really going to give up?" Snape asked showing a remarkable insight into her nature.
She was silent.
"Now to the important issues," he continued.
"Right," Hermione agreed still trying to keep her anger at bay, "because we were just joking around with all these idle wand-twirling." She threw her hands into the air, resisting the hysterical laughter.
Contrary to her expectations he just ignored it.
*Guards! Guards! byTerry Pratchett, but the correct answer here is 'Vimes'.
Author's notes: For those of you who think that Severus is a little mild here, his perspective will be provided in the next chapter. And don't worry, he'll surely make up for it!
By the way do we know anything about how business registration and taxes work in wizarding Britain? If anyone even thought about it at all…
And do you, guys, recognize that mobile number?;) Sorry, I just had to make it meaningful.
