And when you asked him over the Floo, you had just had your ears blasted by the Yodeling Earmuffs you were testing, you insolent shit.

George scowled at him. “Fine. I'll ask him again, Snape, but I'm telling you it's eighty orders! ”

Severus locked the laboratory door behind the freckled pain in his arse with a snarl. Idiot. He should make his brother use numerals like the two of them did. “Eighteen” versus “eighty”. Ridiculous. Fuming, Severus stalked to the supply cupboard, pulling the beetle legs he'd dejointed yesterday. He would make eighteen batches, and damn George for a fool.

He was on the tenth cauldron when George knocked timidly on the door. Severus flicked a hand, unlocking it, and his employer slunk in, ears red. “Eight. Teen.” George enunciated the words very clearly. “You were right.”

Inclining his head, Severus graciously accepted his win without losing count of the stirs. George waited patiently for him to reach the point where it needed to cool before being molded. “Well, I'm glad you dug your heels in on that.”

As am I, wrote the chalk. I had no intention of brewing that many batches in any case.

George barked a laugh. “Merlin's saggy underpants, Snape...you are one funny bastard.”

Hermione flicked her wand and the sheets began folding themselves as he hung the neatly pressed dress shirts in his closet next to the waistcoats and frock coats. Pants and socks went into the dresser, and trousers were hung on the other side of the closet. It was all very tidy, just the way he preferred it.

It was companionable, doing household chores and watching the way she still blushed shyly as she folded her knickers. Merlin knew he'd peeled enough of them down her legs, after all. By now, she knew how he liked his shirts pressed and his pants folded, and he knew how to hang her bras to dry on doorhandles rather than putting them in the decrepit dryer he'd have to replace sooner than he thought.

August was mercifully half over and the days were starting to cool drastically. They'd gone from a sweltering heat wave to brisk winds better suited to late September or October. At least Hermione had had the thought of a warming candy, similar to the cooling ones, so he'd proposed that idea to George after he'd laid out what they'd need – thank Merlin that they two were incredibly similar.

Better, George had begun looking into contractors. They had amassed several types of products and were beginning to have trouble meeting demand, so it was time for a change. Severus would become more of a researcher/developer, rather than main brewer, while the brothers would maintain management of the shops. Most of the product would be produced off-site, with some key items done by Severus or George..or Ronald. The boy was inordinately proud of his 'Fartos' (similar to a Muggle fart machine, only smaller and it produced an actual acrid smell) and insisted on making the single-use pranks himself.

Hermione was considering a change in jobs herself – she was growing weary of her boss' ploys to sabotage her and was a step away from using her status as a heroine to oust the man. Severus kept counseling her to simply undermine the little shit but she was trying to go through the proper channels rather than running to Kingsley.

But her patience was wearing thin, and he could see her seething on nights she came home late, hair crackling with static and anger.

Severus picked up the stack of folded sheets and towels, carrying them to the linen cupboard – he had a linen cupboard now. It had been an empty storage closet previously, but Hermione had simply overtaken it. He wondered where she'd accumulated placemats and napkins and tablecloths, not to mention all the different towels and various bed linens as she didn't seem the type to make such purchases, but he'd find tags in the kitchen trash can and figured out after a few weeks that it was Jean adding to their home when they had visited the Granger house. And so, grudgingly, the damn things stayed in the linen cupboard.

He did like the frames, however, that Hermione had put up in the hallway. They were mostly photographs of the two of them, some were from the newspapers and some from Harry's wedding along with a few Muggle ones her parents had taken.

In short, she had blazed ahead and turned his house into their home.

Scowling, Severus slammed the apothecary door behind him, ignoring the cheerful jingle of the bells. My arse that those were proper Ashwinder eggs. Bloody sub-par ingredients! I should just go to Knockturn... Undoubtedly the eggs would have unorthodox origins, but at least I'd know they were the best quality! At least their peppermint wasn't bruised... He was fuming until he almost stepped into another wizard's back. What the hell?

There was a crowd surrounding Flourish and Blott's and he frowned. Hermione had gone to the bookshop while he was in Slug and Jigger's. Sure enough, the door opened and bulbs went off, quills leaping to hover into the air.

“Granger! Over here! ” called several people in the crowd, and Severus saw a mass of brown curls recoil. Thankfully, he was so far unnoticed in the back of the group.

“Granger! Is it true you actually reside with Severus Snape? ”

What the fuck?

“Granger! Miss Granger! Are the two of you planning on making an announcement soon? ”

“What's your private life like? Does he have black silk sheets? Are you two into rough sex? ” A crack rang out and Severus smirked as the crowd fell silent. His witch had an excellent right hook.

“First of all, ” Hermione's frosty voice carried to the back of the crowd. “Our private life is none of your damn business, so print that. Second of all, get out of my way before I hex the lot of you.”

“Grang-ow! ” The man who'd tried to pester her further fell back. As the crowd parted to let the angry witch through, Severus recognised the clear signs of a powerful Stinging Hex. His lips curved in approval.

Unfortunately, the reporters caught sight of him the same time as Hermione.

“Snape! Care to shed any light on the allegations that the two of you reside unwed in the same home? ” He sneered at the reporter who'd asked and reached over, snapping the woman's quill in half.

“How about it? A kiss for the front page? ” A flash went off in front of him and Hermione zapped the man's camera. Almost immediately, it began smoking, and Severus swirled his cloak with an imperious look, obscuring Hermione beneath it, and together they walked briskly to the Apparition point with a billow.

The crowd followed, shouting rather impertinent questions and other shoppers scurried out of his path. A quick Reducto blasted the pavement just behind them into rubble, blocking the crowd long enough for him to Disapparate them to their living room.

“What the hell, ” Hermione seethed, kicking off her shoes. “I work at the bloody Ministry! They've known we've been seeing each other for months! Why the hell has it taken them this long to harass us? ”

Severus shrugged, also uncomfortable with the scrutiny of the public. His private life was just that – private. Hermione's eyes were flashing in anger and she reached for the morning's Prophet that they'd missed in favor of early errands.

“Oh, this explains a lot, ” she said. “Listen to Skeeter's nice little article – 'An anonymous source in the owl post sorting office tipped off The Daily Prophet of a scandalous bit of news! The Malfoy-Greengrass wedding committee has sent a joint save the date to war-heroes Severus Snape and Hermione Granger, who apparently reside at the same address. This reporter has to wonder if this odd couple has any sense of propriety, or if there's a bit of news that has yet to be announced! '”

She snorted in disgust and threw the paper down. “Bloody hell, to borrow Ronald's favourite phrase.”

Indeed, he signed before starting the kettle.

“I'm going to write a response, ” she said firmly. “Skeeter should know by now not to mess with me, and I've bloody well had enough.”

He watched her stomp up the stairs muttering something about bubotuber pus and a rather vicious hex, his lips curving into a satisfied smirk at his witch's ire and protectiveness. Rita Skeeter deserved whatever Hermione had in mind. 'Scandalous' indeed... Well, it would only be scandalous until the year's end.

Assuming she said yes.

Lift the stasis on three and I will handle it from there, he wrote with a jab of his wand at the chalk. The Healers nodded and counted.

“One..”

“Two...”

“Three! ”

The stasis lifted and the patient screamed, long and loud, as Severus began casting the counter. It was a rather nasty little curse, one that provided the illusion of fear and pain until the heart merely gave out from stress, and not easy to find. The poor bastard was damned lucky that St. Mungo's had decided to put him on retainer, because Healer Burnden's solution had been a Finite.

...Right.

Obviously it hadn't worked (in fact, it made things worse), so they'd frantically sent him an owl. It was by pure chance Severus was familiar with the curse – he'd seen Bellatrix cast it only once and had promptly researched the bloody thing as there was no love lost between the two of them. He hadn't needed the elaborate counter curse before, though.

Sweat beaded on his brow, dripping down his nose as he fought to maintain the magic. Thank Merlin he'd never had to cast the counter before – if he'd had to try to do this while under the curse... he'd be in a shallow grave.

The victim cried out, but it faded to a whimper. He took it as a good sign and continued, knowing his damn frock coat was constricting his arm movements and his hair was becoming more lank with sweat, plastering to his skull. But he couldn't stop. There was a low moan of pain, and the curse fractured, splintered, rebounding and he swore he could see the fragments embed itself into his Shield Spell. The man on the cot was silent, unmoving, and he bowed his head.

He'd failed – the man's heart had given out before the curse could be lifted.

“Not your fault, ” the brunette healer told him, a gentle hand on his arm. “We don't know how long he was under the curse before you arrived.”

Severus shrugged the woman off with a vehement hiss. Pull the caster signature and make sure it is delivered to the Auror in charge of the investigation. If they need to know which curse it was, I am certain they'll be able to contact me.

Without waiting for confirmation, he spun on his heel and swept from the room, seething. He Did Not Like Losing. Severus Snape did not lose to second-rate casters who thought they were being clever by tossing around Dark curses.

'Don't know how long he was under' his arse. That curse ran its course within six hours – not that a Healer would know that without having dealt with the spell before – so either that man had been suffering for a very long time, or Severus had failed spectacularly. One more I could not save, he thought miserably, jamming his hands into his pockets as he stalked down the sidewalk.

“Don't you dare think you're leaving with only a nod, ” Minerva told him crisply and he winced, freezing in place. Damn the woman... you'd think that having worked with her and over her for so long he'd have lost the urge to obey that particular tone.

Even as he turned, she called several elves, most of whom happily carted the year's potions off to the hospital and the rest popped in and out, bringing a tea service. “You've become more than a bit elusive of late, Severus, and owe me tea at the very least.”

He acquiesced to her primly-set lips with a sigh, sitting in the offered chair with a graceful sweep of his robes and accepting the offered saucer with one long-fingered hand. With the other, he pointed with his wand and she squawked as he deliberately chose her favorite footstool to transfigure into a chalkboard. Quirking one insolent eyebrow he pulled out a piece of chalk and cast at it as well.

I am expected elsewhere, he told her with a sneer.

“I'm sure. But you can spare an old woman a bit of your time.”

If only because otherwise I will know no peace, you harridan. Grudgingly, he took a half-sandwich. Minerva shook her head at him.

“You never change.” I've changed more than you know, he thought with a smirk. “How have you been? ”

Passable.

Minerva snorted at him, taking a biscuit for herself. “More than passable, if the papers and what I saw at Potter's wedding is to be believed.”

And here comes the interrogation... Severus merely arched a brow, waiting. Minerva sighed. “She is good to you, isn't she? ”

It was by sheer willpower that his jaw didn't drop. Hermione be good to him? Had the witch gone batty?

You've spent far too long with his portrait. Severus managed finally.

“Have I? ” The witch had the audacity to twinkle at him; he glared at her. “Oh, come now, Severus. We just want to know if you're happy.”

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