Chapter Ten
August, 1976

Severus had just locked the front door of the shop when Jigger emerged from the laboratory. The older man muttered a quiet "good evening"—Severus idly wondered what had caused him to be in such a buoyant mood—and headed towards the back alley entrance. Severus hastily followed him, calling, "Master Jigger?"

Jigger stopped next to a barrel of serpent scales. "Yes?"

Severus caught up. "Have you had a moment to look at the applicant I recommended?"

He certainly had; Severus had left him all of the information two days previously.

Jigger stared impassively down (damn his sixteen-year-old's height) at Severus. "Yes," Jigger said. "The Muggle-born, was it?"

Severus suppressed an irrational burst of irritation. "The musician, yes."

Jigger's left eyebrow quirked ever so slightly. "Yes. Cardigan?"

Honestly. "Cadogan."

"Yes. Cadogan." Jigger's expression remained Occlusively passive as he said, "She's not qualified." And with that dismissal, he resumed his path towards the back of the shop.

Severus followed. "She knows more about potions than any other applicant," he said.

Jigger stopped in front of the door. "Does she?"

"Yes."

Jigger snorted. "Then I'd hate to see the other applicants."

He had no idea. "She knows more than enough to be able to help customers," Severus said. "And were she uncertain, she would be easily able to consult me, as I'd be just one floor away, in the laboratory."

"And if you were unable to step away from a volatile potion?" Jigger demanded.

Severus' irritation finally broke through and he found himself retorting, "In the unlikely scenario in which I would be unable to cast a stasis charm, the customer could bloody well wait."

Jigger's eyes narrowed. "If you think you can cast a stasis charm on any—"

"Stasis charms cannot be cast on potions with time-sensitive ingredients, including, but not limited to, moondew, wolfsbane, or Mooncalf dung—nor on potions affecting time, such as the Ageing Potion or any of the Everlasting—"

"Yes, thank you," Jigger cut in. (Severus ignored the strange compulsion to adjust his glasses.) "Very well. Putting aside that she has no Potions background other than, I believe, that 'she reads the quarterlies,' there's the matter that she has no retail experience whatsoever." Jigger regarded Severus and flatly added, "I believe it was you who argued for a required two years' minimum experience?"

"Nobody with usable Potions knowledge would consent to spending two years in retail," Severus snapped.

They looked at each other.

"Fine," Jigger said at last. "If she's inadequate, you'll dismiss her, and you'll be back behind the counter until you find a suitable replacement."

"Agreed," Severus said coolly.

Jigger raised an eyebrow. "Have her start Monday, Apprentice Snape," he said, just as frostily, and then he left the shop.

Severus locked up after him and, annoyance and cautious satisfaction struggling for dominance somewhere near his sternum, stomped up the stairs to his flat.

Dear Ms Cadogan:

I am pleased to offer you the position of Part-Time Shopkeeper of Slug & Jigger's Apothecary. As previously discussed, this position's hours are Tuesday through Friday, 10:00 a.m. to 6:00 p.m., with one half-hour for lunch. Compensation is 15s/hour.

If you are amenable, please sign and return the enclosed contract, and we will see you on the morning of Tuesday, 3 August.

Best regards,

Severus Snape

Dear Lily,

Fear not; I have, at last, obtained a suitable part-time shopkeeper. She seems to be a moderately competent human being; let us hope she lasts.

I do hope your summer continues to pass pleasantly, and that you have managed to avoid strangling your sister.

Best,

Severus

Severus, in the midst of polishing the counter, suddenly became aware of an unusual noise emanating from somewhere to his right.

Severus glanced up. He hadn't imagined it; Jigger was standing in the laboratory doorway, and he was…clearing his throat.

"Yes?" Severus asked, stilling his wand.

"If you have finished closing the shop," Jigger said, "I'd…like to show you around the laboratory."

Severus immediately slipped his wand into his sleeve. "Certainly," he said.

Jigger nodded, and, finally, Severus followed him down the stairs and into the laboratory.

The room, like the shop above, was long and narrow; unlike the shop above, it was antiseptically clean, with none of the ingredients-borne old-pantry smell, and Severus found himself breathing ever so slightly more easily. He stepped away from the staircase and took in the spotless countertops lining the walls; the cauldron rack hanging from the ceiling; the two industrial-sized sinks; the three work tables in the centre of the room; and the two doors at the opposite end of the laboratory, which—he estimated—would lead to the hot and cold storerooms.

"This is an excellently appointed laboratory," Severus said, turning to Jigger.

To his surprise, Jigger snorted. "Compared to the student laboratory at Hogwarts, anything would be," he said, and Severus cursed inwardly and belatedly reminded himself that, no, he had never been to Munich, or Paris, or New York…

Severus affected a small smile. "Indeed."

Jigger indicated the left storeroom with a jerk of his hand. "Cold storage," he said, and, pointing to the right storeroom, added, "Warm storage." He gestured toward the lantern affixed to the wall near the foot of the staircase and said, "Should your new shopkeeper pull the cord at the top of the stairs, this lantern will flare green. Do try to head upstairs shortly after it does so."

Severus nodded, and Jigger took a few steps toward the staircase. "You will not," he said, "brew anything non-standard without consulting me. You will not brew anything both non-standard and potentially toxic without my presence. Is that clear?"

"Certainly," Severus replied.

Jigger pointed at the work table closest to the staircase. "That is your station," he said. "You will maintain it in perfect order."

"Of course."

"Very well. Then…" Jigger began mounting the stairs. "Good evening."

Severus watched Jigger's ascension until the man was out of sight. He turned to his new work station and spread his fingers across the smooth stone countertop. After a moment, Severus turned and walked down the length of the laboratory to the storage rooms.

He assembled the ingredients for Felix Felicis and brought them—along with a spotless, smooth iron cauldron—back to his table.

Dear Sev,

Aww, I'll have to tell Tuney you're asking after her.

…kidding obviously. Seriously? I have basically had it up to here with her. She finally met some boy at a local pub—he was in town for some dull-as-doorknobs business conference—and he's perfectly hideous. I would say "at least he treats her well" but all I can say for him is that he takes her out to nice dinners (which are totally lost on her since she doesn't eat).

Anyway all she talks about is "Vern this, Vern that" and it's nauseating.

So tell me more about your new shopkeeper? Are you her BOSS?

Love from

Lily

Severus stood behind Cadogan and silently observed as she interacted with their few Tuesday afternoon customers.

It was, he reflected, even duller than speaking with the customers himself—and standing next to the door to the laboratory, while unable to enter through it and begin brewing, was beyond frustrating.

Fortunately, Cadogan looked the part of shopkeeper more than he did—the woman was, admittedly, capable of smiling, and she somehow seemed less dishevelled than he in her uniform work robes. But he had had to step in thrice thus far to keep her from mis-totaling a purchase, or forgetting to offer a receipt, or inaccurately weighing a handful of newt tails (which was dangerously shoddy potioneering). But she seemed to be learning, if slowly, and Severus felt confident that he'd be able to leave the storefront for the laboratory within a few days.

"Pepperup Potion? Yes, I think that'd be fine to take concurrently with a Fever Reducer."

Severus sighed and upgraded his estimate to "within the week" as he stepped forward to prevent their customer from burning himself alive.

Dear Lily,

She's called Cadogan and I overestimated her.

Sincerely,

Severus

A week later, Severus sat on a stool next to his work station—a cauldronful of Felix merrily bubbling away on the far flame—as Jigger eased himself onto the stool opposite and, sliding a parchment booklet across the table to Severus, said, "I've outlined your next year's study here. It's rather loose, so that we might spend more time on the particular areas that interest you."

Severus nodded and flipped through the pages quickly. When he had finished, he looked back up at Jigger. "And we'll be doing original research simultaneously, or…?"

Jigger frowned. "You won't be embarking on your 'original' research until you've passed your QUAILs, of course."

"QUAILs?" Severus repeated.

"Yes, your Quintessentially Unpleasant Area-Intensive Levels," Jigger said. "As is standard for British potioneers, and as was laid out in your contract. Which you did, I trust, read."

Severus had, in fact, read the entirety of his contract, but had dismissed the exams as a formality. "So we'll begin my research after I've sat my QUAILs?"

"Yes, yes," Jigger replied testily.

"I see," Severus said. "Shall I make an appointment with the Ministry for, shall we say, mid-September?"

"Whatever for?" Jigger said, now outright scowling.

"For taking my QUAILs," Severus said. "Unless we don't need to register with the Ministry…?"

"Yes, you'll need to register with the Ministry. When you take your exams. Which you will, with sufficient hard work on your part, next July."

Severus felt the muscles along his jawline tense up. "'Next July'?" he repeated.

"Yes, Mr Snape, next July. A year from now." Jigger glared at him from across the table. "You did, I trust, read your contract before you signed it?"

"Of course," Severus snapped. "I simply—" He inhaled and exhaled slowly. "I had rather hoped to expedite the examination process."

"There will be no expedition," Jigger said, his nostrils flaring. "The Ministry mandated time is one year, as it has been for every English potioneer since 1643."

Severus had not, originally, been apprenticed to an English master. Since Rotislavic had used Severus primarily as a brewing factory, the man had allowed him to set his own schedule—and Severus distinctly remembered having worked on his own research as often as he could, as early as he could. But given that, at the time, he had been rather occupied with being a servant to the Dark Lord, he could not remember when he'd taken his QUAILs. Presumably, the answer was "whenever he bloody well got around to it."

"Read up on the theories listed on the first page," Jigger said pointedly. "We will discuss them tomorrow. I trust you will have no further objections?"

Severus shook his head, and Jigger rose from his stool. "Then we will meet again tomorrow morning," he said. "Which reminds me. Did you finish the batch of Calming Draught?"

When Severus nodded, Jigger said, "Good," and headed up out of the laboratory.

Severus stared down at the year's worth of lessons that stood between him and a Horcrux disposal solution.

He stopped himself short of a wordless, wandless Incendio.

Dear Severus,

Oh, you poor thing, having to work with a mere mortal! I'm sure she's perfectly competent. She's just not perfect. The nerve of her, really! (- Please note sarcasm.)

And wait, wait, does this mean you've been able to start working with Master Jigger? WHAT is he like when you're learning from him? Have you discovered the Next Big Thing In Potions yet? Please tell me you have so I can brag about you to Petunia, because frankly if she tells me one more word about the Dreaded Vern's middle management expertise I will hex her hair out.

Love from

Lily

The following afternoon, Severus was preparing ingredients—Jigger had ordered him, as a "review," to brew the antidote to an "unidentified poison" (which was obviously a draft of Weedosoros)—with Jigger half-observing, half-brewing his own potion at the next work station.

Severus began mincing a small tray of billywig stings and, flipping the knife over, began crushing the sting ends with the flat of the blade. Almost immediately, Jigger was on his feet. "Explain yourself," he said, standing beside Severus' table.

"These are drier stings," Severus said. "But the ends still retain a bit of moisture, which is exuded more readily when crushed with the flat of—"

"What makes you think this antidote requires more moisture?" Jigger said.

"It's Fire Seed-based," Severus replied. Obviously.

Jigger frowned, nodded, and returned to his table. Severus resumed preparing the stings.

When he had finished, he set them aside and picked up a graphorn horn, which he pulverized with a quick tap of his wand, and set the powder—

"Explain."

Severus glanced up from his powdered horn. "I'm starting with the antidote to uncommon poisons base," he said.

"Why would you ever use your wand to prepare an ingredient, Mr Snape?" Jigger said, his eyes fixed on Severus.

"This antidote works primarily on a purely chemical level," Severus said. "Moreover, pulverizing the horn does not alter it on a magical or chemical level, but merely enables it to be more easily dissolved."

Jigger nodded. "Carry on."

Severus set the horn aside and, placing a low-sided cauldron over a medium flame, proceeded to dry-toast half a dozen Fire Seeds. He shook the cauldron in a smooth, circular motion, and when the seeds were evenly toasted, he took the—

"Mr Snape."

Severus' growing annoyance at being repeatedly interrupted reached its peak. "I'm dry-toasting the seeds because, as you know, Fire Seeds react poorly to being cooked, from raw, in liquid." He took the cauldron off the flame and set it on a cool section of his work table. "Master Jigger, haven't you repeatedly stressed the importance of not interrupting a potioneer mid-brew?"

Jigger raised an eyebrow. "Are you implying that you lack the concentration to answer my questions as you prepare the ingredients for a standard antidote?"

Severus turned to face him. "I am implying that it is unnecessary, and distracting, to repeatedly ask me questions to which any potioneer with a basic grasp of theory knows the answer. More than that, it is insulting."

Jigger paused, his expression unreadable. "Mr Snape," he said at last, "may I remind you that I do not know how well you know your Potions theory, and I cannot unless I ask. More importantly, you are taking shortcuts, and unless I ask after your reasoning, I cannot know if you are a clever potioneer or if you are merely lazy. If it is the latter, you are all too likely to blow yourself up, and take my expensive laboratory with you."

Severus, his hackles only slightly soothed by Jigger's use of the word "clever," nodded, and reached for a fresh cauldron.

"But Mr Snape, when you interrupted me, I had not been about to ask you a question."

Severus turned back to Jigger. "No?"

"I had been about to tell you that, starting tomorrow, you will tie your hair back while you are in my laboratory."

Severus chewed on the inside of his cheek.

"It's a question of hygiene," Jigger continued. "And you will cast more frequent cleaning charms on your spectacles. I won't have the purity of my shop's potions compromised due to your…personal habits."

Severus stared at Jigger. When the man made no move other than to continue to look expectant, Severus lifted his wand and tapped first the back of his head—he felt a twinge as his hair snagged on his newly-conjured elastic—and then the side of his glasses.

"Good," Jigger said. "Continue."

Severus turned the flame on under the cauldron, which he imagined as Jigger's self-important head.

Dear Lily,

I have not yet been able to start any original research, as Master Jigger seems to be under the impression that I will first need to sit my QUAILs. Frustratingly, he has thus far insisted that I spend a year preparing for them, which is, of course, nonsense. I'm fully confident I could earn top marks if I sat the exams in two weeks. He seems to enjoy finding fault in the mildest offense and is an entirely unpleasant person; regardless of his Potions acumen he is by no means qualified to teach. I am now unsurprised that he has never before taken an apprentice.

Don't hex your sister's hair out. Hex her repulsive boyfriend's instead.

Or Master Jigger's. (Please note lack of sarcasm.)

Sincerely,

Severus

"Oh, good," Cadogan said, as Severus emerged from the laboratory. "Jigger wanted to speak to us both."

Severus raised an eyebrow. "And Jigger would be…"

Cadogan shrugged. "He said he'd be back. He did not, quote, 'have all evening to await Mr Snape's arrival.'"

"Charming," Severus said drily.

"I think he'll be back before too long," Cadogan said. "If he doesn't, he'll owe me overtime."

"You don't get overtime."

"If he doesn't come back soon," Cadogan said grimly, "I'll ask for it."

"Bon chance, Ms Cadogan."

The rear door to the shop opened, and both employees silently watched Jigger make his way towards the counter. "Excellent," Jigger said flatly. "I wished to speak to you both about scheduling for the next two weeks."

Cadogan crossed her arms. "Is something the matter, Mr Jigger?"

Severus smirked inwardly at the way Jigger seemed to flinch each time Cadogan called him "mister."

"Merely the impending arrival of September first, Ms Cadogan," Jigger said. "We are sure to shortly experience the August rush." When neither Severus nor Cadogan reacted, Jigger continued, "Given that neither of you has any Diagon experience, you may be unaware that this shop—as all shops—experiences an extreme uptick in business in the weeks preceding the new academic year at Hogwarts. Not only do the children come in for supplies, but their parents accompany them and often see it fit to do their own shopping while they're here."

"So…scheduling?" Cadogan prompted.

"Quite. Severus, I'll need both you and Ms Cadogan in the shop over the next two weeks. And Monday, I'll need you downstairs, brewing, so that we might keep our stock supplied."

"You'll need me on the weekends?" Cadogan asked.

"Yes."

"Then I want overtime."

Severus glanced sharply at Cadogan before he could stop himself. Jigger, to his amazement, snorted. "Fine," Jigger said. "You'll get time and a quarter on Saturday and Sunday."

To Severus' left, Cadogan smirked.

"And I'll be brewing on my day off?" Severus asked.

Jigger's expression turned from one of slight amusement to one of annoyance. "Yes," he said. "If you must, you may have a day off of your choosing. After September first."

Severus felt a snarl of frustration rise in his chest. "I don't mean to insist—"

Jigger waved a hand. "Regardless. I will see you both in the morning."

As Jigger walked away, Cadogan turned to Severus and whispered, "Jaysus, Snape, what did you ever do to him?"

Severus shook his head wordlessly.

Oh Sev,

I'm sure Master Jigger just wants you to have the best education possible. (Besides…the QUAILs are not the NEWTs! Maybe even you could use more than two weeks' preparation? I'm confident in your abilities but do you really think you already know everything about the current state of the field of Potions? What's the rush?)

I'd love to hear more about your apprenticeship…maybe you can tell me in person? Mum and I are coming down to London this weekend for school shopping. I hope I'll be able to see you! We'll be there on Saturday.

Love from

Lily

A/N: Dear readers, I can't tell you how much I regret how late this update is! A full list of apologies/excuses can be found on my livejournal (debpeters). There, you'll also find more extensive chapter notes and responses to anonymous/unsigned reviews (to which I am unable to respond here).

I shall endeavor to post the next chapter—which, yes! has more Lily! and others!—within the week. Thank you so much for your patience, your reviews, and your engagement with this story—it means the world to me!