Disclaimer: Aw, how sweet. You think I'm talented enough to write this universe myself. But don't, cause I'm not- its JK Rowling's.
Now, I'll admit that this chapter is a few hundred words shorter than I had wanted it to be, but that's not really that big a deal. It's certainly larger than the last little bit I posted. My author replies are enormous, though. Is that good or bad? Again, please notify me if you would like to be on my mailing list either by posting a review (muses bob up and down happily about this option) or by emailing me at amariran@yahoo.com Thanks. As a warning, this chapter covers a fairly long amount of time, so if you get confused at any time, feel free to post or email me questions and I will email you back and answer questions; I had to make myself a timetable to make sure I didn't make any huge errors. If you do see an error of any sort; big, small, plot, whatever; I beg you to point it out to me. Hope you enjoy reading this (I love Rent...La Vie Boheme…)
I'll Be On My Way
Severus Snape looked at his watch once more and sighed. Trust a woman to make a man wait for her. And he had been so ready to give her some of the praise she had obviously felt she had deserved during her formative years for the report that had appeared via a massive public post owl at his bedside Monday morning. The note attached had read I hope this satisfies your requirements. If it does, please send the rest of the money back with this owl. Thanks, HG. He had needed only a flip through it before he realized that this was undoubtedly spectacular work. Although the heavy parchment carried something of a scent with it; he was sure he could only sense it because he had trained his nose with years of delicate potions work, but it was nonetheless there. It didn't have the crisp office dry sent, didn't have the slightly dusty personal parchment scent, this was something altogether different. He had shrugged off the thought quickly, realizing it was nothing more than a tangent, and summoned the appropriate amount of Galleons to place in the owl pouch. The creature had given a soft hoot of recognition before it flew out of the dungeons.
Now, a day later, he stood waiting for the same person whose punctual work had always given him well hidden pleasure. He turned to leave, deciding that waiting fifteen minutes was certainly long enough, when he became sensible of the sound of running feet even above the other noises of the street. He looked the opposite way from where he had thought her office was to see Hermione running towards him, her hair flying out behind her. She looked cute, he thought. What the hell? By the time she reached him he had composed himself, melting into the cold Professor Snape persona that seemed his best defense against these odd and rather unwelcome thoughts for his former student.
"I am terribly sorry, Professor, it was simply that-." She stopped herself in mid-excuse, and changed what she had been about to say. "I got caught up, is all. I know how unpleasant it is to wait around for someone, and I assure you I didn't mean to make you do it." He nodded and gave her a cold glance, gesturing that she follow along as he led the way to where he had made reservations.
"Are we eating muggle, I hope?" Curious as he was to her question, he just nodded again. He heard her emit a frustrated sound and was shocked when he felt a hand tug on his jacket and pull him to a stop. "I said that I'm sorry, you know damn well that it wasn't intentional and if you don't stop acting like an ass you are going to be eating lunch all by yourself." He stopped dead still in the middle of the sidewalk and pulled himself up to his full height, turning to face the exasperating girl. The look on her face, though he could not pin it down, caused him to rethink his words.
"You are forgiven Miss Granger. We will be eating at a small café, very good food, very casual atmosphere, and just a short Apparition away. I trust that you have your wand with you?" He smiled at her then, allowing her to see the sense of humor he kept so well-hidden. She returned his smile with audible relief, patting her jacket pocket. He flicked a glance over her apparel so fast she didn't even see it, but he was rather surprised. Gone were her frumpy office clothes, but he didn't know as he liked these any better. They were simple, cheap, street clothes; beat up jeans and a sweatshirt jacket of a rather indeterminate color and material. The jacket had not been zipped up all the way, perhaps due to the heat of the day, and he saw her shirt peeking out of its depth. He nearly did a double-take when he saw a flash of bright color lurking. The gaudy orange was something he would have expected to see on a waitress at some bawdy pub, not conservative Hermione Granger. Well, that was her concern, he thought, continuing on to a shadowed part of the street where they could Apparate without passer-bys noticing, albeit at a more sedate pace. His anger lasted only through the time she grasped his arm before he could Apparate without telling her where they were going. Relaxing minutely at her calm acceptance of his mistake, he asked if he could Apparate them so that it could be a surprise. She acquiesced.
Within a moment, they were standing in an alley. Bright sunlight was a foot away, and Hermione could hear a foreign language being spoken. French, she knew. Severus led her to a small café and Hermione realized that she was rather hungry. She had been working hard all day.
Both academics having loosened up a bit, they were able to enjoy a delectable lunch, the ordering of which fell to Snape, as he had obviously been here before. However, and he almost forgot himself and mentioned it to her, she had a wonderful grasp of the French language for someone whom he didn't think had any connections to the country. He did manage to slip out a suitably complimentary statement on her work on the Unforgivable Potions and Curses. She had stared him as though he had jumped and danced a jig while chanting the Gryffindor motto at the top of his lungs. The thought of him doing so caused her to laugh. Snape's smirk turned into a look of perplexity as he wondered what was so damn funny. He asked her the question aloud. Hermione looked at him for a moment as if considering telling him, then smiled widely and waved a hand in dismissal.
"I thank thee muchly for the compliment, my Lord. No matter how discreetly you had to couch it." She arched an eyebrow at her former Potions Master and current…friend, whose smirk had returned in its full glory. Was friend the right word? Did she dare ask him directly? She opened her mouth, but closed it as he leaned forward to hear what she had to say in the noisy café. It was too soon. And she was distracted by his proximity, the essence that seemed to emanate from him, and the dark pools in his eyes…
Their conversation, though neither directed it, flowed freely and eventually turned to Hogwarts business. That had been the excuse, er, reason for their meeting after all. Severus was listening intently to Hermione's input as they toyed with the dregs of their wine when she stopped in mid-explanation, her eyes going wide in fear.
"What time is it?" she demanded, and then pulled up her sleeve to check the muggle watch that was banded around her right wrist. Severus thought he saw…but she pushed the sleeve back down and he dismissed the thought, realizing it was a shadow. Years as a spy had been known to make on paranoid and jump to bizarre conclusions, he admitted to himself. He was slightly startled when she stood up, pushing back her chair and rummaging in her messenger bag for money. He forcefully insisted that she allow him to pay, and she apparently could not afford to stand there arguing with him, for she quickly and grudgingly capitulated and rushed out. He knew without going to check that she had Apparated back to her job. He paid the bill and left at a less hurried pace. He realized that they had forgotten to set a time for the next meeting. He had really enjoyed today. As an exercise in listening to someone else's critique of his decisions, that was. He Apparated back to his castle wrapped in safe self-delusion.
***
Hermione arrived at her workplace out of breath from running. If she found her skirt in the small back room of the diner quickly, she should make it on time. Of the three jobs she now worked, this was probably the best, but even so that didn't make it so great. Not that she was complaining. This was the only place in the wizarding world that had been willing to hire her. The man she had met with on her intensive job search had demanded that she work in three of his businesses, but he paid her for each and that was what counted. By now, she had flung off the old pair of jeans she had thrown on, thanking the gods above that she had decided to wear her top just in case she ran late. She pulled on the short skirt quickly, wincing as a bit of the elastic in the waste bit into her skin; the result of its being so tight. She wriggled a bit, trying to get more comfortable, but it was difficult to do so as she was trying to spell her flats for protection from aching feet. The hours after her first shift were spent in furiously searching for a charm to get rid of the throbbing in her muscles, and she found it to be much easier to simply be proactive. Hermione swept her hair into a quick ponytail, fighting it as it tried to outsmart the band she pulled around it. Finally, the girl was ready, and she ran out the door with about a minute to spare. She had learned last night what happened if she didn't do what she was told. Oh! She had almost forgotten to charm her arms with a quick glamour to cover the bruises. They weren't many and they couldn't be helped, so she wasn't going to raise a fuss over them. She had enough to worry about. Hermione paused for a moment, wondering if, even in spite of her jacket, Snape had seen them, but surely he would have said something. As she flashed a cursory and shallow smile at a customer, she pondered how on earth it was that Severus hadn't heard the news. Probably because it was gossip; she doubted he had much patience for it.
"Watch where you're going, girl." The man growled at her as he shoved her away from him. She forced her voice to sound upset as she apologized to the clumsy buffoon, and ignored the aching in her arms. She knew that just like yesterday, the shift manager would be waiting for her with warning words. Hermione had been told that she had four strikes and she was out. The thin, severe man who oversaw the diner from the after breakfast crowd through the lunch rush, where they were now, pursed his lips and held two fingers up at her. Somehow, everyone seemed to know her business no matter where it happened. At least no one had recognized her yet, save the owner of the place. Places. The brainy witch planned to give herself a makeover tonight with some heavy-duty cosmetic charms; Harry or Ron wouldn't even be able to tell it was her when she was finished. The rest of the afternoon was spent in a rush of clattering dishes, impatient and obnoxious customers, and squalling children whose parents seemed to think that she was not just their server, but their personal baby sitter as well.
***
Hermione was exhausted, but she needed all three of her jobs to make enough money to pay for her flat, utilities, and food. It hadn't seemed like a problem even when she had her minor and dead-end job, but waitresses and cleaners didn't make a whole lot. Most of the other girls who worked in the place when the sun went down picked up extra cash by other jobs. It didn't require someone with the score she had gotten on the NEWTs to tell how it was they earned their supplementary money. Still, she would be damned (more) if she resorted to that. Besides, she wasn't really attractive enough for that sort of work. Her boss had told her that she would earn a lot more money as a dancer than as a server on the floor, but had allowed her to decline the offer, simply handing her a short notice of rules and shoving her out the door. Even on a weeknight, this place was hopping. The diner, located next to this place, was still open. This was much, much different. She straightened her thin white top, wishing it covered more, and tried to tug her black miniskirt down. She glanced in the mirror hanging by the dressing room, a blissfully muggle one that didn't speak, and decided that her garish lipstick was fine. She watched with something akin to fascination as her smile blossomed and her eyes appeared to sparkle with color. She strutted out into the smoky, dimly lit room, eying the men in their posh business robes and the others girls, looking for tonight's mark and the big tippers. A huge bar wrapped around the stage, and there were booths situated in the back of the room. The place was filled, but never got as annoyingly packed as a muggle joint. Unless you were a waitress, serving more than a dozen at once. Hermione Granger, the smartest witch to ever pass through the halls of Hogwarts since Minerva McGonagall herself, was assigned to wait on several tables full of drunk, horny men. And cautioned to act 'much pleasanter' than she had last night. She nodded in mute acquiescence and made her way to the table nearest the door. Hours were spent taking drink orders, listening to the comments about her ass as she made her way from the table, watching the crowd get more drunk, spend more money, and hearing the pounding beat of the music rage on and on. She never once glanced at the brightly lit stage. Hermione finished her shift and went home, not noticing the scent that clung perniciously to her; wizarding tobacco, alcohol, and lust.
The former Head Girl crept up the filthy stairwell to her apartment, trying to ignore the blatant sounds from the apartment next to hers. Cynically, she bet the girl was faking. None of the guys she'd ever met could make a girl that happy. She scraped her key against the lock on her door, adding one more scratch to many. Her apartment was just one room. Her bed was neat and tucked into the far left corner, a mini-kitchen took up most of the right side, and a midsized table with four chairs filled the rest of the floor space. Well, that and the bookshelves. She had charmed them so that they all fit, and so that there was room for a small but fairly comfortable chair with a lamp above it for reading. She never had time for it, though.
She showered in the cramped bathroom. Hermione had to stand in the shower to see herself in the bathroom mirror, and she could reach her toothbrush from there, too. At least it saved time; even after just a few days of this she knew that once she got home about one, all she was able to do was clean up and sleep. A forgotten tome lay on a chair in just as much disuse.
***
The sun was shining down on Harry Potter again as he sat on his veranda with his girlfriend at his side. And if he had his way, she would be more than just his girlfriend. The word fiancée felt like champagne on the tip of his tongue, bubbling and sweet and so wonderful he wanted to share the feeling with the whole world. He set down the glass of lemonade that he had been unconsciously toying with and turned to Mireille with a look that she would treasure forever in her mental picture book of 'Priceless Harry Moments'. He took a deep breath, not realizing how obvious he was. Mireille idly brushed her thick brown hair back across her shoulders, pretending she didn't see him taking the box out of his pocket until he had gathered up the courage to tap her on the shoulder. She turned with surprise.
"Mi-Mireille. I…Damn it. Sirius said it was going to be hard, but this is crazy. It wasn't as hard to kill Voldemort as it is to propose to you…shit!" Harry suddenly realized that he had ruined the whole thing. He blushed a deep brick red. Mireille smiled at him with a bright, vaguely puzzled expression.
"I'm sorry, sweetheart. What were you saying, again? I didn't quite catch any of that." Harry looked at her with gratitude, recognizing that she was giving him a chance to do this right. And he did. He got down on one knee in front of the white wicker chair in which she reposed and opened the scarlet velvet ring box. He and Sirius had picked it out after hours of searching in Diagon Alley when Hermione left. As he did so, he gazed steadily into her eyes, trying to convey all the love he felt for her in that one look, in that one moment. And he asked her if she would do him the honour of becoming his wife.
***
Hermione had settled in to her routine. It had been about a month since her exile from the majority of the wizarding world, and by now she wasn't so sure either was an improvement on the other. Drudgery, dreariness, and nothing to relieve it. It was her one night off, but she had nowhere to go. Harry and Ron had, thankfully, decided not to go looking for her. She had tactfully ignored the two letters Snape owled her about another meeting. She would not break an already made commitment, but she couldn't handle another tension-filled meeting. Eight o clock and she had nothing to do but sleep. Already wearing her ratty, but extremely comfortable pajamas, Hermione turned down the sheets of her bed. She was interrupted by tapping on her window. Immediately believing it to be an intruder, she grabbed her wand and turned to face the window, which was right behind her bed. She was rather surprised, and slightly annoyed, to discover Hedwig. Harry's owl was getting older, but magickal owls had an increased lifespan. Her own Crookshanks would be in the prime of his life right now if he had been a kitten when she got him, but since he was a full grown half-Kneazle on the cusp of old age, she had suffered the tragic loss in her seventh year. Didn't matter now, anyways, as none of the apartments she had rented for the past few years had allowed pets. She opened the window to admit the bird, untying the letter and breaking the seal as she walked the few short steps to her pantry to get the owl some biscuits. She absently laid some on a napkin as she read the short letter. Then she re-read it. Despite her severe disassociation with all of the remnants of her former life, she couldn't help but be overjoyed at that fact that her Harry was getting married. His love for the girl literally shown from even so short a missive as that which he sent. Hermione was just a little bit wistful. She had given up hope of Prince Charming well before she had even graduated. Soul mates were not for bushy-haired, dull-faced brains like herself. But the second part to the notice, the part that requested her attendance at Mireille's bachelorette party in a few weeks…that she would simply have to send an earnest no in reply. She could hardly get out of going to the wedding, and she did so want to see Harry standing at the altar, but other than that she didn't wish to have any other part. She summoned a piece of paper and a pen from a drawer and penned her reply, attaching it to the owl's leg. Then she opened the window again with a flick of her wand and watched the snowy white bird soaring gracefully out of her dingy apartment into the inky sky she could see beyond the glare of the neon store signs and streetlights.
***
"Severus."
"Harry." Silence fell over the Headmaster's office for a few minutes until the man behind the desk gave a deep sigh of frustration. "You requested this meeting, boy. I assume that it was not merely to enjoy the pleasure of my company?" Harry expelled a breath he hadn't realized he had been holding and leaned back into the rather uncomfortable chair he had been motioned into after arriving at Hogwarts. He gathered his thoughts for a moment, then spoke.
"No, I had a reason. Hermione." Harry didn't see the strange look which passed over his companion's face at her name. "She…well, you've heard the gossip, no doubt?" Severus nodded.
"I heard it a few days after I met her for lunch. She didn't really seem strange then. But in any event, I fail to see what this has to do with me." For a moment, Harry looked straight at the former Potions Master, face hopeful.
"You saw 'Mione?"
"Tuesday…about five weeks ago. I sent her an owl about another meeting, but she ignored it." Harry heard some bite in the man's words, and because he had gotten to know the man in the past few years, realized that it hid some hurt. He was wise enough not to mention it.
"Well, that's just it, Severus. She has kicked us, me and Ron and Sirius and Ginny and everyone, out of her life. You know I proposed to Mirielle last week, of course; and I do hope that you will join us for the wedding… And I sent her a letter inviting her to the wedding, and Mirielle asked that she be invited to her bachelorette party as she has heard so much about this best friend of mine that she's never met. Hermione sent a reply saying that while she will attend the wedding, there is no way that it was possible that she could be part of the party. And she also said that the reception directly coincides with an important day at work." Severus looked at the boy in front of him.
"Her work? What does she do now?"
"I don't know." Severus was aghast. This man called himself Hermione's best friend, yet he had no idea what she did for a living?
"Mr. Potter, you undoubtedly win the Most Devoted Friend award. Congratulations." His voice was dripping with sarcasm.
"When I said she kicked us out of her life, Snape, I wasn't kidding. She made Ron and I promise that we wouldn't contact her, so all I know is that she is alive and not living in her old apartment. Out of respect for her, neither of us have gone looking, much as we want to. Our monthly get-togethers just aren't the same without her." Harry looked so despondent, yet Snape had to keep himself from cracking up. He wasn't even sure what was funny about the situation, just that it was.
"How very sweet. You say she made you and Weasley promise not to find her?" Harry nodded, wondering what the man was going on about. It wasn't like the powerful wizard to be a parrot. Then he caught the look in the Headmaster's eyes. He hadn't promised her anything.
***
Hermione winced as she set her feet into the steaming water in the bowl in her kitchen. A sedentary bookworm all her life, she was not used to a life that required her to be on her feet all the time. The best thing that could be said of her jobs right now was that they kept her busy. She had no time to reflect upon what she could have done, what she could have been. She had just gotten back from her work at the club, putting water on to heat up and throwing on the tattiest clothing she had. Although pretty much all of her wardrobe was shabby. It wasn't like it really mattered anyways; she didn't go anywhere except for the grocery, and she hardly needed to dress up for that. And while she didn't have a uniform for her first job, it wasn't as though she was going to wear designer clothing while cleaning a restaurant from top to bottom at six in the morning. She had sold all of her frumpy office clothing to a thrift store, and bought some equally frumpy clothing more suitable to her current life. Of which skirts longer than a few inches past her bottom were not a part. The most polite thing that could be said about any of her clothing was that it was clean. Well, mostly, she thought, frowning irritably at a stain on the discoloured bottom of her short sleeved shirt. Harry's wedding was not for several weeks, thank goodness, so she didn't have to do anything yet. She had also written that she would be unable to be part of the party. She was sure that Mirielle had friends of her own that she would rather have stand up for her. She didn't need a witch who was currently working two bit jobs for a sleazeball. For that was the only name by which her boss could be known. It had taken her a while to figure it out, but it was true. She had to face the facts that she was a sorry judge of characters and situations when it came to her own life. When it came to saving the ass of the entire wizarding world, she was as ace as Harry, but she couldn't even find a decent place of employment for herself.
"Granger, you are a fucking pathetic piece of-."
"Well, the flat, yes. Your clothes, most certainly. But you? Oh, no, my dear Miss. Granger. Pathetic is not a word that I would use to describe you attributes." The words were cool and collected. Hermione shivered and turned in her chair to face the man who had suddenly Apparated into her apartment.
Again, please feel free to tell me if you think I suck. However, I would also like to say how incredibly much I appreciated all those people who reviewed and told me that they enjoyed this and that I wasn't horrible at this. And by the way, if all you have to say is: I like reading this, and I am doing so…that's okay with me. I adore constructive criticism, but anything is really all right, so long as it tells me that there are people reading this.
**LMiC2001: Hmm, you're absolutely right; fighting with the muses is a bad thing to do. Thank you for the assurance.
**Mylin: Thanks a ton for the sympathy; I quit in the middle of writing this thank-you because I realized that I was actually procrastinating about studying for a test. Don't worry, I was going to post this at the same time regardless.
**MissCrystalix: Whoah, glad this makes you so eager. The thing is, Hermione doesn't want this job; she doesn't want to have a boss like Gavin. Also, she is a really proud person, and wants advice; not a white knight. Whether Severus wants to be the white knight, well, that the muses will have to tell me.
**Alex: Glad you don't think so, and thanks!
**Deritine: *Author glares for not sympathizing with her for her evil, evil muses. Realizes that reader has faithfully reviewed past x chapters, brightens up and smiles* No, really, I am thankful for your continued comments. This one was up in a fairly short time and is almost normal length, so I hope it makes you happy (sure made me happy when I realized it was at a point where I wanted to end the chapter). Severus will have other things to get on her ass about than the research, promise. And while he does read the Daily Planet, he was really caught up in school and reading her report; he's a very busy man, doesn't read or listen to gossip; and his most common conversation companions (Sirius and Harry) are under orders not to tell him. And I think Remus is too nice to gossip. Oh, I;m so glad that you understand why Hermione isn't letting everyone else help her. She needs to grow a little bit. I really loved hearing the reasons you found my fic good and down to earth, so thank you. Hope you liked this chapter.
**Eternal Queen: *Laughs* Er, it may take a while longer yet, but with my muses you never know. They're going slow, because neither of them are the type (in my story) to jump into a relationship; and they both have heavy pasts and busy presents.
**Madeleine Jete: Well, I've always thought I'm god, to tell the truth (why *do* people look at me oddly when I say that). But honestly, I know well how that feels. Happened to me when I got back from my tournament at about one in the morning, and went to check email and stopped for fanfiction. Yay. Woohoo on the well-reviewed play, that's always cool. If you think I sound weird, your right, I'm trying to study and write and its late, but I want to make sure that I have this all done so that I just have to post it up tomorrow afternoon. I really actually adore constructive criticism, and your reviews are all well-thought out; I often can leave nothing more than a "good job", but I always want to let the author know that it was. Hm, I may take a look at the first part, although since it didn't leave any permanent confusion it may not change. And that is one of the points I'm trying to make; I'm sort of a new author, and my personal stories take a long time to develop, so this story gives me a great chance to try and work on characterizing correctly and making my characters imperfect and fallible, but still likeable, and always growing and changing. Hermione has to decided whether to go and try to be perfect again, and I'm not positive what she is going to do (damn muses…)
**Fang-gurlie: Thanks, and that's true; I was probably too harsh about other people's stories: I promise that I would never actually send that to anyone!
**Thea: Oh, I am so happy that you like this; my other story is rather cliché, but interesting to write, and this one I've been striving not to make cliché.
**MadAboutHarry: I forget, did I answer your comments in the email I sent you? I hope that was okay; I just had to tell you how stupid I am when it comes to HTML. Luckily, the wonderful person I mentioned in the mail fixed it. This chapter is at least a little faster, so I hope that you enjoy that. I am blushing after hearing the nice things you said; they also sounded well-thought out. And again, thanks for not being hesitant about pointing out my errors, I'd love to be a better writer.
**Orenda: It is slow, but it will get there, and I'm glad that you like the set-up. Thank youJ
**Sam: Thank you:D
**Rhiannon: The Snape in my story isn't the greasy git as mentioned in JK Rowling's book, and he is the only one (although I can't see Rowling having him do this) I can imagine sexually harassing anyone, if at all. But the Gavin in my mind is a slimeball..Hermione does seem to pick them, doesn't she? Its going to take some time for Hermione to get back to the same girl who was instrumental in the downfall of the Dark Lord (although my muses aren't telling me exactly what, I think her job was much more dangerous than either Harry or Ron's), and until then she isn't going to be bold enough to give him what he deserves, but she is most certainly NOT broken. Thanks a lot for the comments.
**Stellar Snape: See, see, this one was longer. Yay. Yes, Hermione is trying to start controlling her own life again, its just going to take her some time. And now *I'm* starting to want to castrate her boss…but I don't think the muses will let me.
**Clarity: I love you so much for taking the time to give me that encouragement. When I saw it today it made me very happy. The bout of self-doubt has…quieted. I'm a shy person when it comes to things I do, and I don't like thinking I'm good at things (my friends get rather ticked sometimes), but knowing that people who have no reason to lie to me think there's something of value in my writing does indeed give me confidence. Especially because you gave specific things, so it makes it seem valid. I really hope that you like this chapter.