Author's Note: Shoutout to my alpha readers Ruby, Juby, and Bryra, as well as my mom and my husband for all the encouragement along the way!

Massive amounts of thanks to SnakegirlSprocket for beta-ing and getting this ready for fan eyes!

And of course, if you're here, you probably know - I do not own Harry Potter, I just like to play here.

Chapter One: A Chance Meeting

Hermione Granger

"Pumpkin Pasties! Licorice Wands! Sugar Quills!"

Hermione nodded politely to the young wizard who manned the sweets trolley on her street, pulling her plum cloak tightly around her against the winter wind. The cobblestones were slowly developing a layer of icy slush from the falling snow, despite the warming charms she knew must be in place. Investing her final paycheck in a pair of hefty dragon skin boots had been the right move.

Days like this reminded her how lucky she was to have found an apartment near Diagon Alley. She was only a few minutes walk from any of the shops or pubs she could possibly need to visit in Wizarding London. For her business today, it was a simple thing to reach the Ministry of Magic's visitor's entrance. Her proximity to the red telephone box was a boon in the frigid weather, given that she no longer had floo access to the Atrium. A small price to pay for her resignation.

Still, the January weather was bleak enough that Hermione was grateful when the tiny booth rattled into the Ministry. The roaring floo fires of arriving witches and wizards ensured the Atrium was a delightful respite from the cold. Hermione unwrapped her scarf as she made her way through the morning crowds to the lifts. Checking the large grandfather clock while waiting in the queue, she sighed at her own penchant for worrying.

Of course, you're not late. You left with half an hour to spare.

Although she had plenty of time to make it to her appointment, Hermione's nerves were on high alert. When she finally stepped into the lift, she discreetly showed the operator her bronze visitor's badge, ensuring he would make the extra stop at her destination. Finding her place amongst the crowd, she smiled at the other occupants while the operator called out each level and what offices it contained. Her eyes met those of a wizard around her age, and his gaze widened in recognition.

"Oi, Granger! It's been awhile."

"Seamus," Hermione said warmly. "How are you?"

"Oh, you know, can't complain," he said, shuffling to stand beside her, drawing the ire of several of the older occupants in the process. He continued, either oblivious or ignoring the harrumphs and glares directed his way. "I'm working in the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes."

Hermione barely stifled the giggle that bubbled up. "Well, I can't imagine anyone more fit for the job. Good on you!"

Seamus blushed and laughed congenially. "And how about you? Still in MLE with Potter and Weasley, then?"

Hermione's smile stiffened. There was always a downside to running into old friends. "No…actually I–"

"Fifth Level Mezzanine! Department of Employment and Assignments," intoned the operator in a bored voice and the golden gates slid open.

"This is me!" Hermione said, grateful she wouldn't have to explain further at the moment. "It was lovely to see you, Seamus!"

"Oh…alright. See ya round."

As she zipped out of the lift, she caught Seamus's incredulous repetition of the office to which she was headed.

When she was well and clear of the elevator, Hermione stopped to gather her wits and let the slight flush of embarrassment fade from her cheeks. It would surprise many in her class that Hermione Granger, the supposed brightest witch of her age, was at present without gainful employment or prospects befitting all the hopes that had been placed on her. The pressure to succeed had not been limited to her school days, since her role in vanquishing Lord Voldemort had been immortalized in many issues of the Daily Prophet and several best-selling books in the 9 and a half years since the end of the war.

After finishing her NEWTs, she had gone directly into Auror Training with Ron and Harry with hopes of continuing their triumphs from the war. But it hadn't taken long at all for her to find friction points. In training, she achieved as she always had. The problems arose after she entered the field. Hermione was no stranger to having much more knowledge than she'd actually need to utilize. But she'd been unprepared to ignore her lived experiences on the frontlines of the war to take orders from Ministry drones…many of whom had hardly stood up against Voldemort and his Death Eaters.

In retrospect, she should have known it wasn't her calling in the first year of service, when it became apparent that the Aurors who'd dedicated themselves to the Order of the Phoenix were the exception and not the rule. The great majority of Magical Law Enforcement workers were bullies, more interested in upholding the letter of Ministry law than actually detecting dark magic and protecting others. She'd held out for years with the hope that she might fix the system from within, throwing herself into casework and developing her magical skills. She was Hermione Granger, after all. If anyone could lead what seemed to be such a logical change, it had to be her and her friends. Pursuing that ideal had driven her to her wits end, destroyed her romantic relationship with Ron, and had threatened her friendship with Harry and the Weasleys.

But she didn't want to think of that now.

The past four months had been her first break from any sort of work since she'd graduated. However, there were only so many times she could go to Flourish and Blotts during the day and scan the shelves for something she hadn't already read. And despite her smart financial planning, Hermione wouldn't be able to live off her savings forever. Her burnout had been a big sign for recalibration and rest…but she was starting to feel restless.

After scanning the classifieds in the Quibbler and the Daily Prophet for a month – and even checking out some muggle work opportunities – she'd longed for a more methodical process. Additionally, after spending entirely too long in a dead end career, she'd learned what she was worth. Her skills were broad, her desire for challenge was ravenous, and she was finally ready for the proper career search she'd been too traumatized and stubborn to entertain directly after the war.

So here she stood, peering through the frosted glass door of the Department of Employment and Assignments.

Hermione cast a Tempus charm. Still nearly 15 minutes until her appointment, but it was finally an appropriate amount of time to arrive early. With a final calming breath, she ran a hand through her curls (which were thankfully behaving today) and pushed into the office.

Entering the tense quiet of the space was like walking into a wall. Hermione's brave momentum disappeared as she readjusted. The witch at the front desk's customer-service smile faltered as she listened to the hushed complaints of a man in a long, dark cloak who loomed over her.

"I understand that's what you've been told to tell me, Miss Grenville," the man said in a measured, sardonic baritone. "But I insist, I must speak to Mr. Hemlocke right away about the candidates he's been sending me."

Hermione stood in the doorway, surprise stilling her steps. It had been years since she'd seen her old Potions Master out in public. In fact, she hadn't heard much at all about the reclusive war hero for some time. He generally refused to attend any Order meetings or celebrations. He'd never warmed to the limelight even after tales of his heroism and near-sacrifice had been shared with the larger wizarding public. What could he possibly be doing here?

"Like I said, Mr. Hemlocke has a full schedule of meetings this morning," Miss Grenville replied tersely. Her hair and makeup were done to absolute perfection and her very white teeth flashed as she spoke…but Hermione could tell by the familiar trepidation in her eyes that she too had likely been a student of Severus Snape.

"Well, if he's just meeting with more subpar job candidates, I think he could squeeze a potential employer in somewhere, don't you?" Hermione could hear the sneer in his voice and was suddenly struck by an odd wave of nostalgia. Without thinking, she released the door and the resulting thud echoed through the room.

With a look of relief, Miss Grenville seized the opportunity.

"Ah, here's Mr. Hemlocke's Nine O'clock right now, if you'll allow me to check her in."

Snape whirled around to glare at the source of the offending noise and his nemesis for the department director's attention.

"Hello, Professor," Hermione said, unable to keep a cheeky smile off her face. She was embarking on the belated career search of her forgone youth, after all. How better to start than with a chance run-in with the most supercilious of her teachers to make her feel young again.

Snape's trademark glare remained in place, as if he weren't at all surprised to see her, though his spine straightened with recognition. It only made him loom even taller.

"Granger," he drawled, his voice dropping into the bored, languid tone he'd used so many times to lecture her in class. "How quaint. I suppose even the Aurory must turn to such means of recruitment in these…peaceful times." He said it as if he hadn't sacrificed the most to end the war, as if peace was a drag. Maybe it is to him, after spending nearly two decades living at a wand's point.

"Peace is relative," Hermione quipped, grimacing as thoughts of her final case came to mind again. She walked past Snape to the reception desk, noting how his dark gaze followed her, more like a particularly haunted portrait than a living human. "And actually, I'm here as a— what did you call it? Oh yes, a subpar candidate."

This bit of information ruffled his composure somewhat and his eyebrows knit together in consideration. From close up, Hermione realized that while he looked a bit older, his complexion wasn't nearly as drawn as it had been the last time she'd seen him. Granted, it's hard to look worse than when you're bleeding out of the neck from a poisoned snake bite.

"You are no longer an Auror?" he asked. Then, as if he realized how genuinely interested he sounded, he added mockingly, "Trouble in the Golden Threesome?"

She reached for the forms that Miss Grenville offered and ignored his purposeful malapropism for the cringeworthy nickname the press used for her, Harry, and Ron. Instead, she shrugged casually, noting this might be one of the first times in memory that Snape actually wanted her to answer a question.

"It took awhile, but I realized it wasn't the right fit for me," she said.

"Quite," he said tartly, causing her to cast a dark glance at him. "If I recall correctly, you had somewhat of an issue with authority."

Hermione barely resisted wincing as she considered all the times he'd been the receiving party of her rebellious and self-righteous actions.

"I would call it 'critical thinking' or 'leadership prowess' in current company," she said, gesturing around the office with her quill before going back to scratching her general information on the parchment.

Snape barked a laugh and Hermione froze in shock. She'd never heard him release anything like it during their time at Hogwarts. Perhaps even more surprising was the expression on his face. It wasn't a smile, per se, but his habitual scowl had relaxed into something less contemptuous. Hermione forced her eyes back to the forms before her gape became too obvious.

Signing the parchment and sliding it back to Miss Grenville, who appeared just as surprised at Snape's suddenly warmer demeanor, Hermione cleared her throat.

"So what brings you here, Professor?"

Just like that, the cold arrogance returned

"I have not been a Professor for nearly ten years," he snapped. "And I am here because what they say is true: you really can't find good help anywhere these days. Isn't that right, Jonathan?"

Hermione turned to see a somewhat sweaty and balding wizard who could only be Jonathan Hemlocke. The nervous man had clearly approached reception only to hide in the shadows of the office corridor when he saw who awaited him. He took tentative steps towards them and Hermione was immediately struck by the image of a dog with his tail between his legs. She glanced back at Snape, a wolf who had just caught the scent of blood in the air.

"Severus," Mr. Hemlocke said, his friendly tone too shaky to be genuine. "I hadn't expected to see you again so soon. How is the placement of…um, I'm sorry, but I've forgotten who we most recently sent to you."

"Mr. Joren took one step inside my office and turned around, acting as if he'd somehow gotten the wrong address. Just as cowardly as he was as a student," Snape hissed. "It seems that he wasn't informed of just exactly who he'd be working for." Hermione watched in awe as the man's pallid complexion slowly turned crimson.

"Severus, can we talk about this later," Mr. Hemlocke said, eyeing Hermione obviously. "I have a free block in the afternoon. 1:30, I believe it is. I'm sure we can work out something then."

Snape glanced around, clearly deciding if he'd rather be a bastard now or later. Evidently, it was better to spread out his ill will. He sighed laboriously and regarded the other three with mild disgust.

"I suppose that will be fine," he said. "I won't keep you from your meeting with the best and brightest." Although his words dripped with sarcasm, Hermione felt a familiar surge of energy to prove herself despite his lowly opinion. Bet he'd die if he knew that was exactly what I needed just now.

"Thank you, Severus," Hemlocke said. Snape waved away the unnecessary words - he certainly is going to be just as much of a pest later.

"Professor," she said, nodding her goodbye.

He scowled but still deigned to respond with an icy "Granger," before he swept out of the office, the door closing soundlessly behind him.

Hemlocke and Miss Grenville sagged in relief, as if all the air had been let back in the room.

"I swear that man is a vampire," Miss Grenville hissed under her breath. "Miserable sod."

"Martina," Jonathan Hemlocke chided his receptionist, though there was little energy behind the words as he mopped his brow. "He is a difficult client, yes."

Seeming to remember that Hermione was there, Hemlocke smiled apologetically and stepped forward, offering her a damp palm to shake. "My apologies, my dear," he said. "Miss Granger, it is wonderful to finally meet you! Let's step back into my office and Martina will bring us some tea. Extra strong."

Hermione followed him back into a modest office that was absolutely stuffed to the brim. She almost didn't realize at first that most of the space was taken up by filing cabinets as there were so many folders loose, covering every single flat surface. Hemlocke levitated a stack of binders out of the guest chair in front of his desk with another apologetic smile. Once they had both settled in across from each other, he squared her with a solemn look.

"Miss Granger. While I am more than honored that you've considered using our department for your new career search, I fear I must warn you that we do not have many opportunities befitting your CV. Are you really quite sure there is no place for you at the Auro—"

"Yes, sir," Hermione replied, steadfast in her decision to never return to any type of magical law enforcement, barring a massive reform. "To be quite honest, sir, I'm looking for something different. While I would be overjoyed to find something that would become a new life pursuit, I must admit that I am quite happy to bounce around to where my skills might be needed."

Surprise lit up Hemlocke's face as he considered her. "Are you quite certain, Miss Granger? Someone of your stature…well, it might be surprising to the public to find you working odd jobs."

The real issue at hand dawned on Hermione. She should have seen this coming, given her experience with the press. "Well, to use your own words, someone of my stature also has an active cease and desist against the Prophet to print anything about my personal life without permission. And while I may have at times been interviewed by the Quibbler, I assure you that the wizarding press at large is very aware of my demand for privacy."

In other words, her own career trouble was not going to reflect poorly on the small and oft overlooked department. She could imagine the headlines now "Dept. of E and A Fails Brightest Witch of Her Age." She shivered at the ghastly thought, happy she'd put up enough fuss during her and Ron's break up that the Prophet knew coverage of her personal life would come at a great cost to them.

Hemlocke appeared to relax at her words and then even more so when Martina arrived with the tea tray, including a large assortment of biscuits. They both thanked her and went about preparing their cups. Hemlocke took a deep sip and then sighed in relief.

"Nothing like a spot of tea when things get tough," he said. "Now, Miss Granger, if you are truly just looking for some temp work, I think we can find that for you. I'm aware of what the papers and books have said about your heroic efforts during the war. But what do you like to do? What do you feel you personally excel at."

Finally, they were to the part that Hermione had prepared herself for.

"Well, Mr. Hemlocke, I'm a problem solver. I think systematically and across subjects. I'm an avid reader and research comes naturally to me as I have a photographic memory."

The director nodded, making notes on her form in bright green ink.

"Is there anything you can't do, Miss Granger?" he joked. "What about your working style?"

"I work best when given a task and left to it. I am timely, but thorough." She bit her lip, wondering if she should share the next part that came to mind. Deciding that the whole reason she was doing this was to find a less toxic work environment, she continued. "To be honest, I want to go where my work is respected and appreciated. I don't need to be patted on the head for doing things right, I just need to know that my labor is actually going towards something worthwhile."

Hemlocke made a thoughtful sound as he considered. "That's quite the thing to know about yourself, Miss Granger. Thinking about it now, there are several prominent businesses locally that might work out. None of them are looking for permanent employees at the moment, but they could really use a hand with some of their systems switching. I don't know if you've heard, but all businesses are required to have the option of wand payments by the end of this year."

Hermione had heard of the development and was certainly looking forward to it. Relying on metal coin money alone to do her general shopping in the wizarding world was cumbersome compared to the plastic domination of muggle stores.

"What exactly does that entail for the businesses?" she asked thoughtfully. "I had only been thinking about it from the customer's point of view of making sure their Gringotts vault was correctly connected to their wand."

Mr. Hemlocke smiled, taking another sip of his tea. "Well, I'm afraid there is a bit more to it than that. Up until now, the exchange of money for goods was entirely handled by the businesses themselves, the majority of the accounting in terms of physical goods for physical money with physical records to go along with them. But wand payments are possible only through–"

"Wand tracing…" Hermione finished for him as the mammoth proportion of that task dawned on her. "So the Improper Use of Magic Office is involved? What an odd designation, but I suppose the enchantments are useful for many things." She realized she was rambling. "My apologies, sir. I hadn't realized earlier what a significant change that would be."

"Not at all, my dear girl," Mr. Hemlocke said kindly. "It's lovely to see that big mind at work. But you are correct - the Ministry will now be much more involved with day-to-day commerce." He paused and looked around conspiratorially before lowering his voice. "And between you and me, some of the businesses are far from equipped to handle such an increase in oversight on their own, if you catch my meaning…?"

Hermione nodded. Honestly, it came as no surprise that many of the Diagon businesses would be audited to smithereens in their current state. While she was all for their government taking care of the population, she'd also seen how the Aurory mishandled its galleon-rich budget every year and knew it was barely a drop in the entire coffers of the Ministry at large. She was suddenly very interested in doing what she could to help out these local businesses through the changing times.

"I must say, Mr. Hemlocke, I really like the sound of something like that," she said. "I understand it won't be a forever job, but that might suit my purposes just as well. And it sounds like I might get to work with a few different businesses?"

"That's correct. Pending their acceptance of your application, of course, but given your accolades and their…shall we say, eagerness, for outside assistance, I can't imagine not finding you a placement within the week. The ones that spring to mind at present are Flourish and Blotts, Bourgin and Burkes, and Slug and Jiggers, among several others that have all reached out looking for this kind of help."

Hermione nodded thoughtfully. Since the war, Knockturn Alley had cleaned up quite a bit, but she imagined those shops were run even more casually than the popular Diagon establishments. She wondered why the Ministry itself hadn't hired staff to assist in this transition directly, but something told her now was not the ideal moment to ask.

"Thank you so much, Mr. Hemlocke!" Hermione said. "I'll look forward to your owl, then."

As she began to stand and collect her things, Hermione paused, deciding to ask the question that had been nagging at her since the moment she'd stepped into the department waiting room.

"Um, sir, if you don't mind me asking," she began hesitantly, unsure of how deep the tensions truly ran. "What is the opportunity for which Professor Snape is hiring?"

Despite her gentleness, most of the color and cheer that Hemlocke had regained drained from his face. "Oh, I nearly forgot for a moment that I offered him a meeting later today, didn't I? Heavens, don't you worry yourself about that. It's an impossible task for an impossible man, and I'm afraid that he'll never be satisfied with any of the candidates we send his way. We've gone through hell just trying to get anyone up to the task, but as soon as they know it's for him, they bolt."

Hermione smiled tightly. She couldn't necessarily blame them. But something of the precocious student she used to be - raised a hand in her head, desperate to prove herself against supposedly impossible odds.

No! You just came from a job where you were ignored and berated for doing more than the bare minimum.

She'd never been very good at resisting her own curiosity, however, so she gently pushed again.

"Just out of curiosity, what is his business?"

Mr. Hemlocke waved her question away as if the answer was the silliest part of all. "That's the other infuriating thing– the man is so damn secretive while demanding the highest caliber candidates. From what I understand, though, it's an investigation service of some type," Hemlocke shrugged. "Work better left to the professionals in Magical Law Enforcement, if you ask me."

Hermione politely collected her things and bid the director and his receptionist adieu before leaving the office at a leisurely pace. After all, she didn't have anywhere to go anytime soon. Since she was already dressed nicely and about town, it seemed a waste to just go right back to her apartment. Before she shuffled into the lift again, she decided to send her patronus to Harry and Ron, inquiring after their lunch plans.

As she watched the silvery otter caper away with her message, it occurred to her that the challenge of the day wouldn't be finding something to do. She could easily spend the next several hours wandering about town, maybe popping into the same establishments she'd be helping in the coming weeks. Instead, what seemed most pressing was keeping her mind away from the curious and yet surely doomed employment opportunities offered by one Severus Snape.