Interesting

Severus Snape jiggled the big skeleton key in the lock of the old apothecary shop. The faded sign swung on it’s hinges and the wind pulled off flecks of old paint. He passed the newly acquired deed to his apprentice and grabbed the brass doorknob to shake the door. The old key finally turned and the door swung open to reveal a small shop. A little bell on the back of the door rang from the vibrations, and Hermione smiled up at the cheery, Christmassy sound.

“Well, he wasn’t much of a housekeeper,” Snape said as they stepped inside the dusty shop. The shelves were dusty and had random vials of potions here and there. Some of them were quite obviously leaking. There were dozens of dead flies on the window sills and cobwebs in every corner.

“He was an old man living alone,” Hermione said as she took out her wand and scourgified the flies away. “I guess it was more than he could handle.”

“I’m an old man living alone and I’m quite capable of cleaning up after myself, thank you,” Snape said defensively. He pulled out his wand and made all the old potions vanish. “Never trust an old potion,” he said. “Especially if it’s spilled. Who knows what contaminants are on those shelves?”

“Yes, Master Snape,” Hermione said. “And, for the record, you’re hardly an old man.” She smiled at him and flicked her wand to remove the cobwebs.

Snape blinked at her for a moment, then asked, “How old do you think I am?”

Hermione blushed and ducked around a shelf, scourfigying the floor as she went. She did not want to offend him by guessing too high. “Forty-something?” she guessed.

Snape chuckled and walked down the next short aisle. He flicked his wand and the mouse poop on the shelves vanished. “That’s rather vague, Miss Granger.”

“Well, it’s hard to tell sometimes,” Hermione said as she met him at the end of the aisles. “We’re not always the ages we’re supposed to be?”

Snape raised an eyebrow and looked down at her. She had her hair up, as he’d instructed - more potions were ruined by loose hair than anything else - and it accentuated her smooth, white neck. The little know-it-all suddenly seemed quite pretty. He shook the thought from his head. “That sounds more than a little cryptic,” he said. “Are you not the age you’re supposed to be?”

Hermione bit her lip and shook her head. “I might have added a little age when I used the time-turner.”

Snape crossed his arms and tapped his wand with his finger in mild annoyance. “How much age?”

Hermione cringed. “Nearly two years,” she said.

“So you’re…”

“Nearly twenty-three,” she replied. “I didn’t change history,” she added quickly. “I just wanted to see what Julius Caesar looked like, and then I wanted to see Dumbledore as a child, and then Voldermort, and then I thought I’d visit Merlin, and then I watched them build Stonehenge, and then…”

“I get the picture,” Snape said. He rubbed the bridge of his nose and chuckled. “No harm done, I suppose.” He turned to go behind the counter and into the potions lab at the back of the shop. “Forty-eight,” he said, as he pushed open the back door. “Merlin’s beard, this place is a disaster.”

Hermione peered over his shoulder and surveyed the rusted cauldrons, unlabelled samples, and unfinished potions covered the long laboratory table and ceiling-high storage shelves. Snape shut the door and a wicked grin spread across his face. “You can clean all that this afternoon,” he said. “By hand, of course. I want to salvage as many things as I can.”

Hermione shuddered. Cleaning that lab was going to be worse than every detention Snape had ever given anyone, combined. She squared her shoulders and nodded resolutely. “It’ll be spotless, by the time I’m through with it, sir,” she said bravely.

Snape chuckled. “I know,” he said. He turned and went up the small set of stairs in the corner. Hermione soaked up the indirect compliment, but she only moved once she realized that she couldn’t smell the warm potions and spices on his cloak. She frowned as she chased him up the stairs. Since when had she liked that scent? Probably since last night, when he’d wrapped her in his cloak to carry her home… er… to his home that was.

The apartment above the shop was an even bigger disaster. The bed was dismantled and leaning against the wall and the couch and chair set looked like rodents had torn it apart. A rat stuck his head out of a cushion and regarded the intruders warily.

“Avarda Kedavre,” Snape said as he flicked his wand. The rat keeled over instantly. “I have no patience for rats,” he said darkly.

Hermione swallowed back her fear. Snape was a good man, but hearing the dark wizard utter those words spooked her. “I hate them, too,” she whispered, thickly. “Won’t you get in trouble for using an unforgivable?”

“The council made a resolution in 1344, stating that the killing curse could be used on rats,” he said. “It was the only way to fight the black plague.”

“Just the same,” Hermione said, “I’ll stick with poison and traps.” She moved across the mildewed rug to look out the window at the small garden in the back of the shop. The curtain was so yellowed and fragile that it fell apart as she moved it back.

There was a tiny kitchen on the other side of a paneled glass door, but Hermione didn’t bother going in… she could see the dirty dishes and smell the moldy food from the sitting room.

Something squeaked in the fireplace flue and Hermione looked to Snape for an explanation. “Bats,” he said, absently, as he went to open another door that led to a slightly smaller room. “I think this is your bedroom,” he said.

Hermione went to his side to look. She was cold without her coat and the heat that radiated from him felt good. The room had a big window that looked out over Hogsmeade and there was a beautiful old wardrobe set up in the corner. The large mat was rat-chewed and the bed was missing. Large chunks of plaster were missing from the ceiling and the flowered wallpaper was peeling off. “I guess that’s my bed in the sitting room,” she said as she ventured into the dirty room. She pushed open the door to the bathroom and screamed. In two long strides, Snape was at her side. He looked at the cracked toilet with the heavy urine stains and the dead rats in the bathtub - the rats had obviously fallen in and been trapped until they starved. “Didn’t he know how to flush?” Hermione wailed.

“It reminds me of the house I grew up in,” Snape said. “Minus the dead rats in the bathtub.”

Hermione looked sadly at him and he shrugged and led her out of the room. He must have had an awful childhood, she thought. No wonder he was so strong and powerful… if you could live through something like this, you could live through anything. When she was a child and teenager, he had always made her feel so safe… and now she knew why… his miserable life had given him tremendous resilience and confidence. She suddenly knew that she could do this. She would be confident and resilient like him and she would survive… even if Ron was a prick and even if no one in the whole world loved her.

Snape gave her a sly smile for a moment she wondered if he could hear her thoughts. He walked over to the fire place and asked, “Would you like to learn how to get bats out of a flue?”

“Sure,” Hermione smiled.

“Incendio!” Snape said as he flicked his wand at the fireplace. A cheery fire erupted in the hearth and there were little screams in the chimney as the bats ran from the heat and smoke.

*****

Hermione apparated outside The Burrow and set her jaw firmly as she marched across the snowy ground to the door. Snape’s last words echoed in her head as she knocked loudly at the door… “You can do this,” he’d said.

Ron opened it and she breezed by him and headed for the stairs. “I’m just collecting my things and then I’ll be gone,” she said.

“Where have you been?” he said. “Minerva said you were with Snape!”

“I was,” Hermione said, coldly. She went into the room she shared with Ginny and opened the trunk that she kept at the foot of the bed. She flicked her wand and her clothes and books flew through the air and settled inside it. “I’ve taken an apprenticeship with him, effective immediately. He’s re-opening the old apothecary shop in Hogsmeade.”

“What?” Ron spat. “You can’t just take off without talking to me about it? Why were you gone all night? You weren’t with him, were you? I was looking for you!”

Hermione pulled her coat on and whirled around to face him. “Well I wasn’t in Lavender’s fucking pants, Ron, so I guess you didn’t look for me all that hard when you were fucking her against the shelf of canned peas!”

Ron’s face turned as red as his hair. “You saw… I mean, no! I didn’t!”

Hermione’s palm connected hard with his face and he made a sudden angry move toward her. Suddenly, an invisible hand shoved him out of the room. “No hit girls,” a little voice said.

Hermione turned and noticed for the first time that Dobby was sitting in the corner of the bedroom, repairing a muggle flashlight from Arthur’s shed. Ron stomped angrily down the stairs and Hermione went to the little house elf. “Thanks, Dobby,” she said, quietly.

He gave her a sad smile. “Is Missy Granger okay?” he asked. He wiped his nose with his tea-towel toga and went back to the flashlight. He looked bored.

“Not really,” Hermione admitted. “What about you?”

Dobby sighed and two fat tears slipped down his cheeks. “Harry Potter does not have time for Dobby,” he said. “No one has time for Dobby. Hogwarts elves don’t want to be Dobby’s friend and Missus Weasley doesn’t let Dobby touch things.”

Hermione patted the little elf’s shoulder gently and passed him a tissue to blow his nose. An idea popped into her head and she smiled at him. “Dobby, why don’t you come with me? Professer Snape’s going to pay me ten galleons a week as an allowance… I can pay you out of that money and we can work together to fix the apothecary’s shop.” She shrugged as the little elf looked up at her in disbelief. “I’d really appreciate the company,” the young witch said, and the shop is really dirty… dirtier than anything I’ve ever seen.”

“Really?” Dobby asked. His eyes opened wide as he listened to her describe the terrible state of the apartment and the potions lab. “And you would not bind Dobby?” he asked.

“Never!” Hermione said. “You know I don’t approve of elf slavery. I could pay you… two galleons a week?”

Dobby shook his head. “Ten knuts,” he said.

“Fifteen,” Hermione countered.

Dobby thought for a moment and then tossed the flashlight aside to shake her hand. “Deal, missy Granger,” he said with a huge grin on his little face. “Dobby will gets your cat.” He jumped up and hurried out of the room. Hermione shook her head as she heard Crookshanks yowling as the elf tried to stun him. This was going to be interesting.