Chapter Eleven
August, 1976

Dear Lily,

Your visit will be the only bright point in the weeks leading up to September 1. Anticipating a great rush of Hogwarts shoppers, Master Jigger has returned me to the shop, where Cadogan and I have spent the last two days assembling forty "Hogwarts Potions Kits," as Jigger believes—and I am inclined to concur—that the average eleven-year-old is incapable of procuring the individual ingredients unguided.

As is, for that matter, the average parent.

I look forward to seeing you on Sunday. As I—along with the barely-competent Cadogan—will be working in the shop at that time, I do hope you'll bring with you several questions that only a talented Potions apprentice can answer.

Sincerely,

Severus

It was chaos.

With barely a week left before the first of September, Slug & Jigger's Apothecary was constantly filled with a rotation of Hogwarts students, their parents, their family friends who had tagged along in order to celebrate little Hippolyta's going off to school, the parents' friends who were taking advantage of their being in London to catch up after all these years…

And the children.

Severus was perfectly capable of handling even the youngest Hogwarts students—after seventeen years as an instructor and as the Head of Slytherin House, he ought to be—but first-year students, he was quickly discovering, were often not the youngest children in their families.

If he saw one more five-year-old thrust his grubby hands into the supplies barrels, his use of Diffindo Manus would become indiscriminate.

So as Cadogan attempted to ring up customers' purchases as quickly as possible, Severus did his best to corral the child whose mother seemed to think "in a shop full of toxic substances" was the perfect place to ignore him in favour of a banal conversation with another woman (whose child had, incidentally, wandered off to the rear of the store and fallen asleep behind a cabinet).

And that was, of course, when Evan Rosier and Maximilian Mulciber walked in.

"A-ha!" Rosier cried, triumphant, and three mothers' heads whipped around to cast dirty glances in the direction of the loud, teenage boy. "The elusive Snape!"

"Looks like Marty Wilkes was right," Mulciber added, leering. "You are a shop boy."

Severus, who had leaned down to physically restrain the child from putting a chizpurfle carapace into its mouth, straightened to standing. "Rosier," he said. "Mulciber. What a pleasant surprise." He plucked the carapace from the child's hand and pushed the brat unceremoniously toward its mother. Tossing the carapace back into the appropriate barrel, Severus turned to his former classmates and nodded. "How may I be of assistance?"

"I say, Snapey," Rosier said, "whatever happened to 'brilliant Potions apprentice'?"

Severus allowed his irritation to show in a scowl. "I've taken time away from my studies in order to provide assistance in the shop, as we are rather…busy at the moment." He spread his fingers and indicated the pandemonium around them.

"Right, right," Rosier said. "So your NEWTs were sufficient, then?"

Severus, remembering that the boys in front of him had "sabotaged" his performance, affected a glower. "Yes," he said, drawing out the last consonant in a show of sibilant annoyance.

"Good, good," Rosier said, grinning, as Mulciber smirked.

"Excuse me, young man," a harried-looking father cut in. "Where are your cauldrons?"

"We don't sell cauldrons," Severus replied. "You'll want Potage's Cauldron Shop, across the Alley."

The man blinked. "But aren't you a Potions supplier?"

"We're an apothecary, yes," Severus said. "We don't sell cauldrons. You'll want Potage's for that."

"Across the…?"

"Across the Alley," Severus repeated with concealed exasperation.

"Right, then. Cheers." The man left…but, of course, his absence was merely filled by yet another shopper.

Rosier and Mulciber watched the man leave. "So how many times has that happened?" Rosier asked.

"Only twice," Severus replied.

"That's not so bad," Mulciber said reasonably.

"This morning."

Rosier and Mulciber winced.

"Then we won't keep you," Rosier said. "Seeing how much fun you're having here…" He grinned wickedly at Severus, who fixed him with a flat stare. "We'll just be needing the supplies on this list." He brandished a scrap of parchment, which Severus recognized at a glance as the standard ingredients needed for sixth-year Potions class.

"You'll be taking the NEWT, I see." He turned and briskly began gathering the supplies needed, in duplicate.

"Well, we figured if you can do it…" Mulciber said, as he and Rosier fell into step behind Severus.

"Is Mr Avery not joining you in this endeavor?" Severus asked, as he wordlessly Conjured a small basket, into which he placed the boys' purchases.

"Avery's a big no," said Rosier. "He didn't get the OWL, so…"

"Given that he hardly studied, I am unsurprised," said Severus. He pushed the basket into Rosier's hands. "There you are. Thank you for visiting our apothecary. Ms Cadogan will be happy to ring up your purchases."

"Oi," Mulciber said, frowning. "No discount or anything?"

"You have had your ingredients hand-selected for you," Severus pointed out, a tiny, sharp point of pain amassing somewhere behind his eyelids.

"That's true," Rosier replied with a show of thoughtfulness. "The service has been superlative. Do give our compliments to your…employer."

Mulciber snickered. Severus briefly resisted—and then gave in to—the temptation to roll his eyes. (Honestly. As though he could be shamed by a reminder that he worked for a living.)

And—well, in for a Knut, in for a Sickle. "My employer, as you say, is providing me with research opportunities unavailable anywhere else in the world," Severus said, adjusting his glasses. "I'd say you should see the laboratory facilities here, if I thought you able to appreciate them."

"Oh, shut up, you bloody swot," Rosier replied good-naturedly. "Nobody cares about your precious laboratory."

Five points to Slytherin.

"So that bird'll ring us up, then?" Mulciber asked, gesturing towards Cadogan.

As Severus nodded, Rosier grinned and added, "I'd like to ring her up, yeah?"

Mulciber elbowed Severus. "Did you ever, eh?"

Severus curled his lip. "Hardly."

"What's the matter?" Rosier said, his eyes lighting up, like a dog who had just scented a wild something-to-mock-Snapey-with. "She seems fit."

"She's my employee," Severus spat out.

"Exactly," Mulciber insisted. "She couldn't very well refuse her boss."

"That's repulsive," Severus said flatly. "Regardless, she is married." When neither Rosier nor Mulciber seemed impressed by this line of reasoning, Severus added, "And she's not…my 'type.'"

Inexplicably, Rosier and Mulciber both nodded sagely at this admission. "Right, right," Mulciber said. "I like 'em more womanly myself."

As Severus digested this unpleasant fact, Rosier nodded and said, "Ta, Snapey," and both boys headed towards the ever-growing queue at the till.

Severus watched their progress, which culminated in Rosier's sending an exaggerated wink in Cadogan's direction. Cadogan, Severus was pleased to note, looked vaguely disgusted.

At that moment, the shop's front door entered, and, as a family of six squeezed out into the open air, two dark-haired teenagers pressed their way into the apothecary.

Severus had no sooner registered the faces of James Potter and Sirius Black than he was striding behind the counter, telling Cadogan he was taking his lunch break, ignoring her dismayed reaction, and sweeping out the rear door of the shop and into the back alley.

He leaned heavily against the brick exterior wall of the apothecary and exhaled loudly.

"You too?"

Severus glanced over. Mimicking his position behind the back door of the telescope shop was a short wizard, also wearing a set of uniform work robes, whose expression went beyond exhausted and all the way to desperate.

"I don't envy you," the wizard said. "At least I only get first-years and the rare NEWT student who's upgrading."

"Yes, well," Severus said.

"But I'm trying to stay positive," the wizard continued. "It could be worse. I could be…" He indicated the shop on the other side of him with a jerk of his head.

The two shopkeeps stood, wordless, surrounded by the echoes of the screams and shrieks of children, doubtlessly pressing their grimy faces against the freshly-cleaned glass of the shop window in order to take in the latest inventory—the shouts of parents telling their children that, no, they couldn't afford a new broomstick this year—the wheedling pleas of first-years asking their parents to bend the rules, just this once—

Severus closed his eyes and silently thanked the unlikelihood of a deity that he was not employed at Quality Quidditch Supplies.

Severus wasn't sure which was worse—the never-ending parade of first-years (how, he wondered, did there seem to be so many when he knew there to be only a certain number of children in each year—it must be the way they swarmed), or the occasional NEWT student who knew exactly who he was, and delighted in letting him know it.

He had managed to avoid Potter and Black ("Your friends," Cadogan had told him when he'd returned from the back alley, "are arseholes," and then she'd gone on break for an hour, which Severus had rather thought was fair), but he had not been able to so expeditiously evade a rash of Slytherin sixth- and seventh-years, including the Prefect Selwyn, who had attempted to be "chummy" with him. (It hadn't worked.)

He'd also seen the custom of Lily's friend Mary, who kept watching him as though she expected him to turn into a gorgon, and a Ravenclaw girl he couldn't quite place, who kept fixing him with an inexplicably knowing smirk.

Of course, not all visits from former classmates were entirely unpleasant—they were merely fraught with the danger of attracting the attention of the Dark Lord. When Regulus Black entered the shop, Severus nodded to him, but attempted to keep his distance.

He was unsuccessful.

"Severus," Regulus said, approaching him, another boy in tow. "It's good to see you. How is your apprenticeship going?"

"It goes well," Severus said neutrally. "How is your family, young Mr Black?"

"As well as they ever are," Regulus replied. "I'm sure you've heard about my…brother."

Severus raised an eyebrow. "I have not."

Regulus' eyes flew open, and he coloured slightly. "Oh," he said. "Well…he's been, ah, disowned."

"Am I sorry to hear that?" Severus asked quietly.

Regulus' embarrassment turned into a small smile. "Well…not entirely."

The boy who had come in with Regulus took this opportunity to clear his throat. "Oh, Merlin, I'm sorry," Regulus said, and just as Severus recognized the other boy, Regulus said, "Severus, may I present Bartemius Crouch, Junior."

Severus accepted the boy's handshake. "Pleasure," he said.

Crouch nodded and asked, "Did you really stab Evan Rosier?"

Severus scowled. "I did not 'stab' Evan Rosier," he said, as Regulus sharply elbowed Crouch in the ribs.

Severus hadn't known Barty Crouch at school, though in retrospect he had surely been aware of his existence, as a Slytherin only two years behind Severus. But he was familiar with the Cruciatus-happy Death Eater and the insane fanatic who had arranged for the Diggory boy's death, and he had seen him receive the Kiss.

Seeing him as a young, tactless fourteen-year-old was, admittedly, a slight shock.

"My apologies," Crouch said, rubbing his ribs, and shooting Regulus an annoyed glance. "But one hears things. And given how…unpleasant Rosier can be…"

"Mr Rosier and I have made amends," Severus said, "although, now that I have moved on to my post-Hogwarts education, it must be admitted that we have little in common."

"How did you convince them to sit your NEWTs at sixteen?" Crouch asked. "And now you're apprenticed to Master Jigger—how did you do it?"

"Barty wants to follow in your footsteps," Regulus said wryly. "He's quite the swot. Not, that—I mean—" Regulus' face turned quite red.

"Do go on, Mr Black," Severus said. This conversation was the most entertaining aspect of his afternoon.

"I mean, he's taking all twelve classes," Regulus continued. "I imagine he'll lose his mind somewhere over the next year."

"I'm trying to drop Muggle Studies," Crouch said conspiratorially, "but Father rather insists I keep on with it."

Regulus wrinkled his nose. "Eugh."

"Might I interject," Severus said, "that the best manner in which to ensure academic success is preparedness. May I assist you in gathering your supplies?"

He had already turned to begin retrieving them.

Of course, the majority of customers were merely irritating in their tediousness. He had especially tired of the mothers who were convinced that higher quality supplies would ensure a higher class performance; they refused to believe his assertions that, no, they wouldn't, and regardless, the apothecary did not keep a hidden store of superior materials.

Although it did occur to Severus that he had a rather easy way of earning a few extra Galleons, should he choose to take it.

But most of his time was spent reiterating that the shop did not have a public W.C., that he could not exchange pounds to Galleons, that—

"No, we don't sell scales," Severus said. "They have them at Wisacre's, six shops down."

"Hold on." The ruddy-faced man who'd inquired after the scales seemed utterly perplexed. "You don't sell scales?"

"No."

"Aren't you a Potions supply, then?" he asked sceptically.

"Yes," said Severus, his limited patience stretching especially thin. "We are an apothecary. As such, we do not sell laboratory equipment. Wiseacre's Wizarding Supplies, six shops down, has an admirable selection of scales."

The man gestured toward the counter, where a bemused-looking Cadogan seemed to be watching their exchange. "You have scales there," the man said pointedly.

Something within Severus finally snapped. "So we have," he spat. "We do have a set of scales. Those are the shop's scales. You may likewise note that we sell neither quills, nor tills, nor barrels for holding things in. We sell Potions ingredients. Are you in need of Potions ingredients?"

"Should I come back later?" a high, clear voice cut in.

Severus turned away from his now-irate customer to see the ang—

To see perf—

Severus shook his head slightly.

"Lily," he said. "Not at all. I was just directing this gentleman to Wiseacre's Wizarding Equipment. Sir," he said, turning back to his customer, "if you tell Julian at Wiseacre's that Severus at Slug & Jigger's sent you, he'll be glad to provide you with a ten percent discount."

Severus had no idea if Wiseacre's employed anyone called Julian.

The ruddy-faced man broke into a smile. "That's all right, then. Six shops down, you said?"

"Six shops down," Severus confirmed, and the man departed.

Lily, to his surprise, darted forward and squeezed his hands with her own. "It's so good to see you," she said, grinning.

"And you," Severus returned. "Is your mother…?"

Lily waved a hand dismissively. "Oh, she's seeing a show with a friend tonight. She finally realised I'm old enough to do my school shopping by myself." She glanced around and added quietly, "And, things being like they are, I figured she might not feel so…welcome in Diagon."

Severus nodded. "Possibly a wise decision."

"So…" Lily glanced around the shop. "How much longer until you've closed up?"

"A few minutes yet," Severus replied.

Lily smiled. "I don't suppose I could talk you into coming out to dinner once you're free?"

"He's free now!"

Severus turned to the counter, from whence Cadogan had cheekily spoken out of turn. "Am I?" he asked drily.

Cadogan didn't even have the grace to blush. "I don't mind closing up. Sir." She winked at him.

"I won't forget this," Severus promised flatly.

"Oh, think nothing of it!" Cadogan said. "We're not so busy tonight. I don't mind closing."

"That's so nice of you," Lily interjected. "I'm so sorry, you must be Ms Cadogan. I'm Lily." She and Cadogan shook hands.

Severus did not visibly wince, for which he thanked seventeen years of spying.

"Oh, it's Sheridan, please," Cadogan said. "So Severus has mentioned me? Oh, I do hope he hasn't said anything too terrible."

"Of course not," Lily said, because she was effortlessly charming.

"Thank you," Severus cut in, "for closing up tonight, Ms Cadogan. Should you need my assistance, please do contact me."

"I'm sure I'll be fine," Cadogan said. "You have fun."

Severus turned away before he could see her wink at him again. Lily, calling out, "It was lovely to meet you, Sheridan!" fell into step behind him as they made their way out of the shop.

"She seems perfectly competent," Lily said, once they were outside.

"She's deceptive," Severus said darkly.

They both automatically started for the Leaky Cauldron—Lily, presumably, because she wasn't familiar with anywhere else, and Severus, because he wasn't sure what else he could afford—which was predictably crowded for a Sunday evening. But they were able to find a small table for two in a back corner, and Tom arrived in short time to take their orders—or, rather, to say, "I won't serve you naught but Butterbeer, kids, but I've some tasty pies if you're looking for a bite," which they happily accepted.

As Severus watched Tom's retreat back to the kitchen—and marvelled at the newfound sensation of being utterly unrecognised by someone who had always seemed simultaneously awed and disgusted by him—Lily laughed. "I guess we don't pass for seventeen, then," she said. "And you in your smart glasses and your shop's robes and everything."

Severus glanced down at his apothecary robes. "I suppose 'menial labourer' doesn't necessarily imply age," he remarked.

Lily huffed. "Oh, please, you're much more than a menial labourer. How is your work with Master Jigger going?"

Severus shrugged. "It's been temporarily halted, as, during the August rush, I'm frankly of more use to him as a shopkeeper." When Lily opened her mouth to protest, he shook his head. "I speak only the truth," he said. "But, with any luck, I'll be able to resume my formal apprenticeship forthwith."

Lily's lips quirked. "'Forthwith'?" she repeated. Severus scowled, and she quickly added, "Oh, I'm only teasing. You do realise I would remember that you're a genius even if you spoke normally, don't you?"

Severus, to his dismay, felt his cheeks heat slightly. Lily caught his eye, smiled, and quickly turned her gaze to the table.

Thankfully, Tom arrived at that moment with their dinners and drinks, which he set before them with a jolly, "Enjoy!"

They hesitatingly began to dig into their pies, which, as it turned out, were nowhere near as good as Tom had indicated, but were a far sight better than Severus had rather expected. He mentioned as much to Lily, who, satisfyingly, snorted into her Butterbeer, sloshing just a bit over the edge of her mug.

"So," Severus said, "have relations with the dreaded Petunia improved at all?"

Lily rolled her eyes. "Never," she said. "At least now that she's got that wretched boyfriend she's out of the house more. Did I tell you he came over for dinner last week?"

"You did not."

"Yes, and he was dreadful. Beyond dull, just…" Lily shuddered. "Not an original thought to him, he just parroted things he'd heard on the telly or read in the paper, and, Sev, he talked about his boring job endlessly, as though anyone cared—"

"Didn't Petunia care?" Severus asked casually.

Lily set her mug down with a clunk. "Ha very ha," she said, obviously fighting a smile.

They talked well through their meal, and well afterwards—Severus learned that Lily had spent the summer reorganising her childhood bedroom ("Severus, you would not believe what I found in the back of that closet") and had entertained visits from her friends Mary and Maureen ("I thought Petunia's head was going to explode at the thought of three witches in the house"). Severus, for his part, entertained Lily with stories of the more ridiculous customers ("Sev, he did not say 'priorgative'—please tell me he didn't say 'priorgative'").

Around them, the pub gradually cleared out, and eventually, they were among the few diners left. When they could no longer ignore how many times Tom had cleared his throat, Severus closed their tab—"I really must insist, Lily"—and they headed through the back and once more into the night.

Severus glanced up and down the Alley, which was nigh on deserted. "It must be quite late," he remarked. "My apologies for keeping you so long."

Lily swung her arms back and forth. "Oh, please don't apologise!" she said, smiling. "I don't care how late it is."

"Surely your mother is expecting you?" Severus asked pointedly.

"Oh, not 'til tomorrow," Lily said. As Severus' heart stopped and his throat closed completely, she added, "I'm spending the night at Maureen's—her family lives just off the Alley."

Severus smoothly regained his composure. "I see," he said. "In that case, please allow me to escort you there."

Feeling simultaneously quite bold and rather foolish, he offered her his arm—which, to his tremendous relief, she took with a smile.

He allowed Lily to direct them both back past the apothecary, all the way past Gringott's, and around a small corner to a clearly residential inlet. She stopped in front of a particularly well-appointed townhouse and said, "This is it."

"Then I bid you adieu, Miss Evans," Severus said, releasing Lily's arm with a slight bow. "Thank you for a lovely evening."

"No, thank you," Lily returned. She placed one hand on the waist-high wrought iron fencing in front of the house and leaned against it. "So…what are we doing tomorrow?"

Severus blinked. "I'm sorry?"

"Mum's not expecting me til the afternoon, and Mo's got Quidditch practise tomorrow, so I'm free all morning." Lily shook her radi—hair back from her face and smiled at him. "So I thought we could spend a little more time together."

Severus, in what was becoming somewhat of an unpleasant trend, found himself at a loss for words. "I—I would be , ah, delighted," he said, "but regretfully I must spend tomorrow in the laboratory."

Lily frowned. "But—but you have Mondays off."

"I do, generally, but Master Jigger has ordered me to spend tomorrow in the laboratory, so that I might catch up on the stock brewing I've missed," Severus explained, as he watched Lily's expression grow increasingly disappointed.

"Oh," she said in a small voice. "I—I guess I just assumed you'd be free, and thought you'd want…"

"I would," Severus said. "Truly. If it were any other Monday…"

"But Master Jigger ordered you to. No, I understand." Suddenly, Lily's eyes flew open as she straightened up and said, "I know! What if I just sat with you, in the laboratory, while you brewed?"

Severus reluctantly shook his head. "As much as I would enjoy that, we cannot," he said.

"I wouldn't get in the way," Lily said, "you know that. And I'd be happy to help with the prep, or even just the washing up, if you like."

"I would love your assistance, and your company," Severus said, "But—"

"But?" Lily said.

"But I'm afraid that wouldn't be acceptable for Master Jigger," Severus said. "He's said many a time that the laboratory is only to be entered by licensed Potions Masters and their apprentices. Even Cadogan can't set foot down there. And if he found out—and I'm certain he has it warded—I'd be out of a position and out on the street before you could say 'Libatius Borage.'"

Lily shoved her hands in her pockets. "I—I guess I sort of figured that. I just…" She smiled ruefully. "It's just, we were so close for so long, and then this last year…not so much, and then just when I felt like I was finally getting you back, the real you…you'd gone." She shrugged. "I guess I was just hoping for one more day together."

"I wish the same," Severus said softly.

To his surprise, Lily suddenly flung her arms around him. "I know you do," she said. "I know." She withdrew and, blinking, said, "I guess I'll see you at Christmas. Unless—unless, is there any way you'd be able to make it up for a Hogsmeade weekend?"

Severus waited for his brain to fight through the realisation that, yes, Lily had embraced him, and, yes, she no longer was. "I'll find a way," he said, once he had processed what she'd said.

"Wonderful," Lily said. "Then—then I'll see you soon." She leaned forward, pressed a warm kiss to his cheek, and quickly darted back to the house's doorstep. "Goodnight, Sev," she said, and then she'd disappeared through the door.

Severus dazedly retraced his path back down the deserted side alley and back to the main street. He wondered if he'd be able to leave the shop for a weekend, and how he'd get to Scotland, and if he could go in disguise so that he wouldn't have to put up with Potter, and come to think of it, had anyone seen him with Lily at the Leaky Cauldron?

"You think it's good sport, fucking a mudblood, do you?"

Before Severus had completely processed what he'd heard, he'd ducked into the shadows beside the Magical Menagerie, crouched behind a garbage bin, and drawn his wand.

The voice had not, as he had first feared, been addressing him. Across the Alley, he could barely make out three figures just off of Knockturn—one man had another pinned against a building, while a third shoved the point of his wand into the second man's neck.

The wand-holder spoke again, and Severus recognized his voice—it was Antonin Dolohov.

"You're diluting Wizarding blood," Dolohov said, "and it's bloody disgusting."

"Disgusting," echoed the enforcer, whom Severus identified as Amycus Carrow.

Their victim said something that Severus couldn't make out, but which Dolohov, evidently, did not care for, as he struck the man soundly on the side of the head.

Through the man's gasps of pain, Dolohov said, "I'm sorry, what was that you said?"

"She's—she's my w-wife."

"Now, that's what I'd thought you'd said," Dolohov remarked. "You really oughtn't say such things of mudbloods—they'll only put on airs."

Either Dolohov or Carrow—Severus couldn't quite make it out—struck the man again.

Severus had no idea who the man was; he was, most likely, merely someone who had offered some slight to either Dolohov or Carrow—possibly both—and who was now being taught a lesson for daring to have a muggleborn wife.

Dolohov and Carrow were, of course, both loyal servants of the Dark Lord, whose service well predated his own. And Severus had little doubt that any interference in their endeavours would be met with further violence—and that there was no way, short of killing them and disposing of the bodies, that the news of that interference would not make its way back to their master.

The Alley was otherwise deserted; there was a chance that an Alley resident might hear the scuffle and call the Aurors, but given the late hour—and that the Diagon residents typically ignored the Knockturn goings-on—Severus felt it rather unlikely.

Dolohov's voice cut clearly across the Alley. "Crucio."

Severus lifted his wand.

He silently Disillusioned himself and crept past the intersection with Knockturn Alley. He headed for home.

A/N: Dear readers, thanks so much for all your reviews! Next week's chapter will post on Thursday, rather than Wednesday, but will defintely post before Christmas.

Chapter notes, chapter progress updates, and responses to anonymous/unsigned reviews can be found on my livejournal (debpeters). Happy holidays, y'all!