Chapter Eight
July, 1976

Mr Severus Snape
Slug & Jigger's Apothecary
Diagon Alley, London

Mr and Mrs Martinius Wilkes
Mr Martinius Wilkes, Junior
request the pleasure of
Severus Prince Snape's
company on Saturday evening the twenty-fifth of July
at ten o'clock
Wilkes Estate
Dancing
R.s.v.p.

Dear Sev,

If I don't get my OWLs soon I may die I honestly may. I know you've got far more to worry about what with the NEWTs but really. After speaking with Professor McGonagall you know I really have decided that Healing's what I want to do (and Heaven knows it will be useful). And I know my Charms and Potions are up to snuff but Herbology, you know I've always thought it so boring and I just hope I managed to retain enough of it to spit back out on the examination because if I don't make it into the NEWT class then my chances at being accepted at a really good program will be limited and I'll have to take a correspondence course or something.

Love from

Lily

Severus, old school robes in hand, exited through the back door of the shop and walked behind the buildings, coming back around to Diagon through the narrow alleyway next to the Quidditch shop. He strode quickly down the Alley, heading past Gringotts—the usual Friday lunchtime queue was already growing—and, finally, he reached his destination: The Second-Hand Corner.

It was much as he'd remembered from his time as a student (and, for that matter, as an apprentice): a dimly lit, but clean, room filled with a labyrinth of clothing racks, each crowded with multicoloured robes. Severus worked his way to the back of the shop, where the plump, alarmingly matronly shopkeeper kept her counter piled high with deposited garments. Madam Corner herself sat behind the counter, directing a needle through the motions of repairing a ripped seam on a plush-looking maroon robe, humming idly to herself.

Severus cleared his throat, and the witch glanced up, a smile suddenly appearing on her face. "Now there's a lad I didn't expect to see again so soon," she said. "Outgrow your Hogwarts robes again, did you? And only just getting a new set last year. Look at you, you lanky thing."

The woman actually clucked.

"Not exactly, Madame," Severus replied. "I've completed my Hogwarts education and, as such, now have no need for the school-issue robes. I'd like to trade them in, please, for day-to-day wear." Severus set his robes down on the counter.

Madam Corner directed her needle to a standstill and folded up the maroon robes as she spoke. "Completed, did you say? Funny, I always thought you for a NEWT student. It's not for everyone, though, goodness knows."

Severus inclined his head. "Your instincts were correct. I have indeed taken my NEWTs this year."

Corner laughed. "Goodness, how time does fly. I'd had you in my mind as a fifth-year!"

This conversation could not possibly have grown any more tedious. "Yes, well," Severus said.

Corner reached for Severus' discarded robes and unfolded the top set, holding them at arm's length. "Yes," she said, "these will do quite nicely. I'm in luck, actually—there's a young man in the dressing room right now who'll just fit them. Thank you for coming in, dear boy."

The shopkeeper rose to her feet, robes in hand, and walked between the clothing racks with surprising deftness until she reached a curtained-off cubicle. "It's your lucky day, young man," she said to the curtain. "I do believe I've just been brought the proper robes for you."

"Thank you, Madam Corner," said the curtain, who snaked out one pale arm to grab the robes and whisk them within.

The voice was familiar.

"And don't you worry, I'll switch the crest to Gryffindor as always," Corner continued.

Bollocks.

"How is the fit, then?"

The curtain was pulled aside to reveal, much as Severus had suspected, Remus Lupin—wearing his Slytherin robes.

"Perfect, as usual," Lupin said. "Hello, Snape. I rather suspected it was you."

Severus felt his face twist into a sneer and did nothing to prevent it. "You heard me speak at length, Lupin," he pointed out.

Corner laughed. "I believe Mr Lupin is referring to the fact that he has been the lucky recipient of your outgrown robes for the past four years, Mr Snape. You and he have remarkably similar builds—he's just a bit shorter."

Lupin shrugged. "I assumed it was you," he said. "You're the only Slytherin matching that description, and…" He trailed off, gesturing to the crest on the robes.

"Interesting," Severus said drily. "Does Potter know?"

"I hardly see how that knowledge would benefit either of us," Lupin said mildly. "I've never mentioned it, as I have no desire for a Potter-purchased brand-new wardrobe."

Severus sneered again. "Please, don't utter such inanities while clad in a Slytherin robe. It's ill-suiting."

Lupin, much to Severus' dismay, smiled. "Why, Severus, I do believe you've made a joke."

Severus bit back a retort and, instead, turned to Madam Corner. "Madam, if you'll excuse me, I'll begin my perusal of your stock."

"By all means," said Corner, who was looking obnoxiously bemused by his repartee with Lupin. "Mr Lupin, if you'll change back, I'll get started on switching the crests."

"Yes, please. Thank you, Madame."

Lupin disappeared back into the cubicle, and Severus quickly scanned the shop until he found four sets of plain, black robes, which he brought to the counter. "Will any of these fit me?" he asked simply.

Corner peered at the robes briefly. "That one should do," she said, indicating—to Severus' total lack of surprise—the longest and narrowest set. Severus nodded and handed the robes in question to Corner, who made short work of wrapping them up.

"Let's see, that's one Galleon eight Sickles for each of your robes turned in, and two Galleons for the robes you're taking, which comes to… five Galleons six Sickles back to you, dear, and the robes of course."

"Thank you, Madam."

As Madam Corner counted out Severus' coins, Lupin exited the cubicle and reached within his own pocket. "That's ten Galleons for the full set of five?" he asked.

"Yes, yes, dear, and here's your package." Corner pushed a larger bundle towards Lupin, who counted ten Galleons out of his pocket and laid them on the counter. Severus, meanwhile, took his own money, and attempted to head unobtrusively out of the shop—only to be joined just outside the door by the young werewolf.

"Funny old world," Lupin said mildly. "May I ask where you're headed?"

"No," said Severus abruptly, and he turned and strode off in the direction of the apothecary.

Lupin was shortly at his heels. "Conveniently, my errands this afternoon also bring me in this direction," he said.

Severus stopped in the middle of the Alley. "Please tell me," he said softly, "that you are not headed for the Apothecary."

Lupin smiled. "As a matter of fact—"

"Merlin save us." Severus resumed his journey back to the shop, his pace quickening just beyond the speed at which Lupin's slightly shorter legs could keep up, and he managed to lose his unwanted shadow completely as he ducked into the alley behind the Quidditch shop and strode back towards the apothecary, through the back and up towards the front door, which he unlocked promptly at 1:30.

The moment the door was unlocked, Remus Lupin opened it. "Hello, Snape," he said.

"Welcome to the apothecary," Severus said flatly. He walked back behind the till, where he laid his hands flat on the counter and asked, "How may I be of assistance?"

Lupin, an obnoxious smile flitting briefly around his (less-) scarred face, stood with his hands clasped behind his back, surveying the interior of the shop. "I say," he said, "how do you manage to deal with the…smell, all day?"

Severus said, in the perfect detached tones of a professional, "I imagine my sense of smell isn't as highly developed as yours, Mr Lupin."

Lupin flinched and glanced sharply at him. "I beg your pardon?" he asked.

"How," Severus said again, "may I be of assistance to you?"

Lupin seemed to be chewing on his tongue. "Muscle relaxant," he said at last.

"Very good," Severus said. He walked around the counter and back down the shop, reaching down for a small bottle of thick liquid, which he brought back to the till. "Is there anything else I can help you with?"

"Have you been talking to Lily this summer?" Lupin asked with clearly forced pleasantness.

"I'm afraid I can't help with that," Severus said flatly. "Is there anything else I can help you with?"

"I was just curious," Lupin continued. "I know she likes to write to her friends all summer. She's been writing to me, for example."

"Has she."

"And she hasn't, for example, been writing to James."

Severus maintained his perfectly neutral expression (and did not visibly clench the bottle in his hands). "Is that so."

"It is," Lupin said. He leaned forward, over the counter. "I just thought you might like to know," he said. "And yes, that will be all."

Severus rang up Lupin's purchase, bagged it, and handed it over. "Thank you for visiting our apothecary."

"Thanks for not hexing me out the door," Lupin replied.

"I'm not allowed."

Lupin blinked, and smiled. "That's two jokes in one day. You should be careful, or I might start to think that you enjoy my company."

"Have no fear of that," Severus said drily. "And I wasn't joking."

"I'm sure," Lupin said. "Take care, then."

Lupin headed out the door, an infuriatingly mysterious smile still on his unnaturally young face.

Mr Severus Snape
regrets extremely that a previous engagement
prevents his accepting
Mr and Mrs Wilkes'
kind invitation
for Saturday the twenty-fifth of July

Dear Lily,

Don't be ridiculous

[The above has been crossed out.]

Dear Lily,

I have the utmost confidence in your abilities and therefore your inevitable OWL scores. Do kindly remember that you are a brilliant witch and, in the extraordinarily unlikely event that you receive anything less than an Outstanding on your Herbology examination, you will most assuredly receive the Acceptable necessary to continue your Herbological education at Hogwarts.

Best regards,

Severus Snape

Snivellus Snape,

It has come to our attention that your nose has been abusing customers in Diagon Alley, which is of course not on at all. We regret to inform you that we are dispatching hit wizards henceforth to remove the problem.

"Thank you for visiting our apothecary," Severus said as he handed a package to a witch who had, in fact, been in the shop thrice in the past fortnight—each time buying a bottle of Pepperup. Evidently the woman enjoyed a nice steaming placebo for a tipple.

The next customer—a youngish wizard in his fifties—stepped up to the counter. "Excuse me, young man. Do you know much about sleeping draughts?"

Severus inclined his head. "I do."

The man smiled. "Wonderful. I've just brewed one this morning, but as I was cleaning up I noticed that my starthistle leaves had gone slightly brown. Is the potion still safe?"

"Which draught?"

The man frowned. "I beg your pardon?"

"Which draught did you brew?" Severus repeated with as much patience as he could muster.

"A sleeping draught, I said."

Merlin save him from inept potioneers. "Ah, yes, my apologies. I meant, Mr…?"

"Unger."

"Mr Unger, I meant which sleeping draught did you brew—Borage's?"

Unger scratched his head. "It was…"

Severus refrained from sighing and asked, "Do you recall which book the recipe was in?"

At that, Unger brightened visibly. "Yes, certainly. Medicinal Draughts for Daily Discomforts."

"Ah, the Viridian, then. Yes, Mr Unger, that should be fine."

As Severus spoke, the door to the basement began to open, and Severus—on reflex—stepped to his left and, as usual, felt his spine tense up. It always did, when Jigger entered the room.

As Master Jigger passed around the counter, heading for the back door to the shop, Severus' customer asked, "So you're sure it's safe to ingest?"

"Certainly," Severus replied. "A sleeping draught is designed to be mild, and if the starthistle has gone slightly dry, it may decrease the potency of the draught, but it certainly will not affect its toxicity. If a truly deep sleep is your goal, you may wish to consider re-brewing, but—"

"My apologies," came Jigger's gravelly voice from Severus' right. Severus glanced over to see that Jigger had paused on his way through the shop and was looming at him from just beyond the counter. "My young employee has misspoken," Jigger continued. "Given the volatile nature of other ingredients in the draught, the moisture level in the starthistle could indeed have grave consequences. I do recommend that you re-brew. We also carry a fresh stock of sleeping draughts, if time is of the essence."

As Unger blinked in confusion, Jigger turned slightly to Severus and said quietly, "Do not give advice on matters in which you are not qualified to evaluate."

Severus turned to Unger, said, "Please excuse us, sir," and cast a quick muffliato—Jigger raised an eyebrow—and said, "Sir, forgive me if I speak out of turn, but I spoke with Mr Unger about the particulars of the draught he was brewing. I assume you to be concerned about the amount of potassium in the standard Borage recipe?"

Jigger nodded, and Severus continued, "Mr Unger did not brew the Borage draught, but rather the Viridian, which—"

"Which has inherently low potassium levels," Jigger cut in. "Very well, Mr Snape. Your reasoning was sound." To Severus' complete shock, Jigger nodded curtly and resumed his path towards the rear of the shop—but not before pausing before Severus' customer and saying, "My young employee's advice was sensible, Mr Unger. In the future, may I suggest Borage's sleeping draught, which tends to have slightly fewer side effects."

Jigger swept out of the shop, leaving Unger, who, to Severus' continued dismay, smiled at him.

"Bosses, eh?" the man said, shrugging.

Severus blinked.

Mr Potter:

You will not contact me at my place of employment again.

Sincerely,

Severus Snape

Sev,

You're sweet.

Lily

Dear Severus:

I saw you're unable to attend the reception—does Jigger have you working, then? If you're able to get away I do hope you will. Many interesting guests will be in attendance. I have much to celebrate.

Very sincerely,

Martinius Wilkes, Jr.

"Hello, Snape."

Severus glanced up from the till to see a young teenager—no more than fourteen, he'd gauge, and after fifteen years of teaching, he was adept at such estimates—looking at him expectantly. The dark-haired boy wore high-quality robes (common to wealthy Pureblood children on holiday) in a Slytherin green, which might explain why he seemed to know Severus—and the distinctive family crest on the robes' buttons explained who the boy was.

Regulus Black was young even in Severus' memory, having died at the age of nineteen, but it was still a surprise to see him looking like such a…child.

"Good morning, Black," Severus said. "How may I be of assistance?"

"Mother has run out of armadillo bile," Regulus said, wrinkling his nose. "She would also like some scarab beetles, if you carry them pre-ground."

Severus nodded. "I can certainly grind them. Did Mrs Black mention a quantity?"

Regulus shrugged. "Not of the beetles. She said at least six ounces of the bile, though."

Severus nodded and walked around the counter to the opposite side of the shop, where the more common liquid ingredients were kept on tap in long, narrow barrels on the wall. As he measured out the armadillo bile, he asked, "If Mrs Black has requested six ounces specifically, how many ground beetles do you suppose she needs?"

"I've no idea."

"Think, Mr Black, of which common potions require both ingredients, and which might be of particular interest to Mrs Black." Severus stoppered the vial of bile and walked down the shop toward the barrel of scarab beetles. Regulus, following him, shrugged.

"I strongly suspect a certain potion—fourth-year standard—and if you will answer one question for me, we can be sure to provide Mrs Black with the precise amount she requires," Severus said, standing next to the barrel of scarabs. When Regulus gestured for him to continue, Severus crossed his arms and asked, "Do you know of any social engagements on her schedule for this evening or tomorrow?"

Regulus frowned. "Nothing unusual, I wouldn't think. Our cousins are joining us for dinner tomorrow, of course, and this evening is her book club, but—"

"Indeed," Severus said. "Thank you, Black." He reached down and deftly counted out eighteen scarabs, which he placed into a bag for transporting back to the front counter.

"How did you know to take sixteen?" Regulus asked, following him back to the front of the shop.

"Eighteen, I think you'll find," Severus said, "and simply thus: the ratio of armadillo bile to scarab beetles in a standard wit-sharpening potion is one ounce to three units."

Regulus leaned against the counter. "Are you sure that's what she's making?"

Severus pulled out the larger mortar and pestle from under the counter and began to grind the beetles with an easy, practised motion. "So I assume," he said. "The other likely suspects were a certain fertility potion and a notoriously difficult-to-brew weed killer, and, given that Mrs Black does not plan to do any gardening today, and does have a meeting of her book club…"

"I see," Regulus said, as he watched Severus funnel the crushed beetles into a paper packet. "I say, you do know what you're doing, don't you?"

Severus snorted. "I should hope so."

"My git brother didn't think you would, you know," Regulus said.

"Is that so?"

"He heard you were here from that Halfblood, Lupin, you know the one—"

"Unfortunately."

Regulus smirked. "And he said you'd be the worst shop boy that ever was and really it would be hilarious, he said, hilarious, to see you forced to be nice to everyone, and he couldn't wait for an excuse to come in."

Severus finished ringing up Regulus' purchases. "That will be fifteen Sickles, nine Knuts, please," he said. As Regulus reached into his pocket, Severus asked, "I may regret this, but may I ask why I have not, then, been gifted with the dubious pleasure of Mr Black the elder's company this morning?"

Regulus handed over a Galleon, which Severus popped into the till, and said, "Because that would require running an errand for Mother, not to mention getting up before noon, of course."

"Of course," Severus repeated. As the Sickle and Knuts clinked into the change cup, and the till's quill wrote out Regulus' receipt, Severus asked, "And, out of sheer curiosity, may I ask if you will you be telling him that I am, in fact, the worst shop boy that ever was?"

Regulus scooped up the coins and, looking at Severus quite as though hippogriffs had just flown out his ears, said, "Why would I tell him anything? He's a Gryffindor."

"So he is," Severus acknowledged. "Well, Mr Black, thank you for visiting the apothecary this morning. Given the alternative, you have my sincere thanks indeed."

Severus handed Regulus his parcel, and Regulus asked, "Will I be seeing you at the Wilkes party?"

Severus shook his head. "I'm afraid not."

Regulus, to Severus' surprise, flushed slightly. "I—well, not many invitations were sent out," he said. "I'm the only fourth-year invited, I'm fairly certain, and it's just because of my family I'm sure—you shouldn't feel slighted, or anything—"

Severus, feeling oddly charitable, shook his head. "I unfortunately had to send Mrs Wilkes my regrets," he said, "as I am unable to get away from the shop that day."

"Oh," Regulus said, his tense grip on his parcel loosening from its visible tightness. "Well, then, that's… what a bit of bad luck, I say."

Severus inclined his head. "Thank you for visiting the apothecary," he said again. "Should Mrs Black find she is low on the ginger required for her potion, we received a fresh batch just yesterday. Please feel free to visit again."

"Yes, thank you, Snape." Regulus headed for the door. "I'll be returning before long, I'm sure. Mothers, you know." The boy flushed again. "Not that—I'm sure—oh Merlin, I'm sorry, I know you—that is, I heard that your—"

Others' discomfort was, truly, endlessly amusing. "Take care, Regulus," Severus said, and, in a flash of embarassed gratitude, the boy fled from the shop.

Dear Martinius:

I am so sorry that I shall be unable to join you on the twenty-fifth, as I am unable to arrange time away from my place of employment.

With many thanks for your kindness in thinking of me,

Best wishes,

Severus Snape

Dear Lily,

I am sure that I do not

[The above has been crossed out.]

Dear Lily,

I only speak the truth

[The above has been crossed out.]

Dear Lily,

Not as swe

[The above has been crossed out.]

Dear Lily,

[The above has been crossed out.]

A/N: Thank you so much for all of your reviews-reading them (and all of your kind birthday wishes) made my birthday week truly a delight! I should now be able to return to my regular posting schedule, which means the next chapter (which should be longer) should be posted next Wednesday.

Coming up: Severus' test scores (and the return of the inexplicable giggler).