![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
teddy_radiatorTitle: Take These Stars Down To The World
Rating: R
(Highlight to View) Warning(s): None in this chapter.
(Highlight to View) Prompt: Hermione creates a potion just for Severus, one which he doesn't believe he wants or needs (SS/HG or SS & HG).
Note: Special thanks to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
stgulik, not only for the delicious prompt, but for her Herculean effort to pull this together. Thank you for putting up with me.
This story is inspired by the film Chocolat, which in turn was based on the novel Chocolat by Joanne Harris. This fanfic is based on characters and situations created by J. K. Rowling, and owned by J. K. Rowling and various publishers, including but not limited to: Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books, Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended by the posting of this fanfic.
Summary: Severus' business, Potions Potentes, is not doing very well. In fact, he plans to shut his doors for good. Just when all seems lost, Hermione Granger arrives in town to open her own apothecary, bringing with her a very special brew. What exactly is she up to, and what exactly is this cure-all potion of hers? Severus knows more than most: nothing is ever given without a price.
Chorus:
Hannah Longbottom may have been a fellow Hogwarts alumna, and married to Hermione's old school chum besides, but she had shown no preferentialism when it came to the monthly rent of the old herbalist/tobacconist's shop in the dodgy side of town. "It's just one street off Diagon Alley," Hannah had explained. "Lots of through traffic to and from St Mungo's, plenty of potential customers. It's an up and coming area."
Now that Hermione had the chance to actually see what her hard-won rent money had bought, she realised her landlady had been just a wee bit duplicitous. Heading up the deceptively steep road, Hermione passed only three stores currently open for business: a fishmonger’s, a pawn shop, and a shabby candy store called Truffles Sweeties, notable only for the heat-stippled Honeyduke’s knock-offs moldering in the display window. Its clientele was mostly made up of shifty-eyed wizards hanging around the shopfront muttering at passing witches, including herself. Hermione had decided it was probably a front for a brothel; it was the only really prosperous business on the street.
Chapter Two: Medicura Apothecaria
Looking around her new shop, Hermione thought, Up and coming, my arse. That must be landlord speak for, "I've got to make something out of this white elephant and you look as gullible as any."
In all honesty, it was not a bad space. Though it had long been out of business (Mr. Peaky had been one of the unfortunates who had disappeared in Dolores Umbridge's purges during the war), there was no sign of damp or mildew; it still carried the faintest whiff of tobacco. It was open-planned and high-ceilinged, and the shelves that lined two of the walls looked sound for all their grime and cobwebs. There was plenty of room to display her stock, and the back portion of the shop had good light and ventilation for brewing. As a bonus, there was a living space upstairs for her use as well.
"It could be worse," she muttered aloud, whipping out her wand. "Well, time to get busy. Best side to London, as they say."
Six hours later, the front of the shop was sparkling. The drab, no-colour walls were now a soothing, happy shade of blue-green; the wooden shelves and counters were scrubbed and oiled until the wood grain shone through. Bright, colourful tiles, a happy surprise buried under years of embedded grime, made a pleasing, almost Byzantine-like mosaic on the floor. With the addition of an inviting wreath of eucalyptus and lavender hung on the door, the shop looked almost customer-ready.
As she sat her old carpetbag on the now-spotless counter, Hermione heard a sharp rap on the door. With a casual wave of her wand, she unlocked the clasp. "Come in! I'm not open as of yet, but give me a-"
"I am not here as a customer, Granger," came the terse, clipped reply.
It was true that the last ten years had been spent far away from old Blighty, but some things stayed with you, no matter how much time passed. Seeing her former professor standing in the doorway of this small, knock-about shop was like placing her old Time-Turner around her neck and giving it a twirl. He was ramrod straight, arms crossed imperiously across his chest, and dressed in his customary black, of course. His scowling face looked more lined than she remembered, but those snapping, angry eyes were the same. He looked as imposing, as immovable and unreachable as ever.
He also looked angry enough to spontaneously combust.
"Professor Snape─Ow!" She bumped her hip sharply against the counter in her haste to approach him. She held out her hand out in greeting. "You're the first familiar face I've seen since I've arrived back home! Well, aside from Hannah, but since she's my new landlady I don't suppose that counts, does it? Of course, I'd heard you were around. I mean, she, Hannah that is, told me you and I were neighbours of a fashion─"
A stray curl dropped over her face, bisecting her vision, and she huffed upward to blow it out of the way. Snape’s eyes followed the tendril as it wafted upward. But for that minute movement, he might as well been carved out of onyx.
"Anyway…" she trailed off, then gave up and lowered her hand. "I hope you're well?"
"What are you doing here?" he snapped.
"Excuse me?"
He uncrossed his arms and approached her with that same menacing, gliding speed that had scared her almost to the loss of bladder control in her youth. "I said, what are you doing here? Why have you dared open an apothecary opposite my own?"
Hermione peered through her shop window. "Oh, is that your shop? I thought it was just one of the closed…” She heard the words leaving her mouth, and cringed. “I─I thought Hannah said you were located on the opposite end of the street."
"I am located on the opposite side of the street."
"Huh. Well, easy mistake to make, I suppose. On the bright side, we're both in a prime location, aren't we? With St. Mungo's on the far end, and─"
"Prime location? Is that what our august landlady told you? Let me assure you, Miss Granger, the only way this could be a prime location is if they shut down Diagon Alley, fumigated Knockturn, turned all the Janus Thickey Ward patients out onto Regent Street and dropped a bomb on London for good measure."
Hermione blinked. "Did you just make a joke, Professor?"
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. His voice took on a prim, fastidious note. "I am making a point, and it's Master Snape, or if that makes you uncomfortable, Magister Snape. I have full accreditation as Master Potioneer. As I was saying, Miss Granger-"
"Mistress Granger, actually. I'm fully accredited as well. You were saying…?"
Hermione waited him out. Finally he took another deep breath, and released it. A bit of the tension in his shoulders went with it. "I was saying, Mistress Granger, I have been here for four years, and business has not grown. In fact, quite the opposite. I very much doubt it will support your endeavour. Perhaps another location would be better suited for your…" he looked around with an expression of mild distaste. "…name and reputation."
Hermione could not suppress a smile. "Are you saying this street's not big enough for the both of us?"
"I am merely suggesting that you might be more successful elsewhere."
“I see.” Hermione crossed back to her large carpetbag. "What if I said I thought we could help one another's business by each specialising in different things?" She opened the bag and started rummaging through its contents. "I could send you business, and vice versa."
Snape's eyes widened at the sight of her arm disappearing into the carpetbag up to her shoulder. "I'd say you have a lot to learn about business. Extension charm?"
"Yes. I had a little bag I carried around during the war. It held everything but the kitchen sink..." She floundered a bit, hating the idea of plunging her head down into the damn bag but if she couldn't find─her fingers closed over the small case. "Ah! Here we are.” She hauled it out and placed it on the counter. Engorgio!" It enlarged to the size of a suitcase. Snape drew closer as she opened it, revealing dozens of vials, each snugged down into its own padded compartment.
She plucked one of the vials from its bed, and held it out to him in silent offering. With his eyes still pinning her in place, he took the bottle from her hand. His fingers brushed hers as they closed around it, his touch warm and vibrant. "Exactly what the healer ordered," she said with a tentative smile.
He gave her one of his epic frowns, then directed it at the vial so quickly she was sure it would shatter under such laser-intense scrutiny. "Go on, try it," she urged. "It's perfectly safe to use."
He sneered in heroic contempt. "You should know better than most that I never take a potion without fully examining its contents."
Her eyes met his, and held his gaze in friendly regard until some of the twitchy, nervous anger in his frame slowly bled away. Using The Gift on his large, black eyes was like scrying in ink; iffy and unreliable, but worth trying because when it worked…
He was there. She saw him there. Not a memory, as could be seen through Occlumency, but a whiff of emotion that smelled like bleach and camphor; failure and resignation…
Loneliness. Deep, drowning loneliness. I'm so tired of being lonely…
He flinched, then turned on his heel and headed for the exit. At the door, he turned back. "I hope you are at least planning on cleaning yourself up before this stampede of imaginary customers overruns your establishment. You look a complete urchin. Your clothes look like you slept in them. You have a great black streak of dirt across your nose, and a spider the size of a gobstopper in your hair."
She managed to remain still until he left, then she flung herself around the shop, batting her hair furiously to dislodge the spider, but she never found it. She could hear him laughing outside the door as she performed a thorough Tergeo spell on her entire head.
"Git!" she muttered under her breath. Bloody git. He was still the most infuriating─
But fair play, he had made a joke. And played a harmless prank on her.
And he had taken the potion with him.
Chapter Three
Rating: R
(Highlight to View) Warning(s): None in this chapter.
(Highlight to View) Prompt: Hermione creates a potion just for Severus, one which he doesn't believe he wants or needs (SS/HG or SS & HG).
Note: Special thanks to
stgulik, not only for the delicious prompt, but for her Herculean effort to pull this together. Thank you for putting up with me.This story is inspired by the film Chocolat, which in turn was based on the novel Chocolat by Joanne Harris. This fanfic is based on characters and situations created by J. K. Rowling, and owned by J. K. Rowling and various publishers, including but not limited to: Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books, Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended by the posting of this fanfic.
Summary: Severus' business, Potions Potentes, is not doing very well. In fact, he plans to shut his doors for good. Just when all seems lost, Hermione Granger arrives in town to open her own apothecary, bringing with her a very special brew. What exactly is she up to, and what exactly is this cure-all potion of hers? Severus knows more than most: nothing is ever given without a price.
Chorus:
Hannah Longbottom may have been a fellow Hogwarts alumna, and married to Hermione's old school chum besides, but she had shown no preferentialism when it came to the monthly rent of the old herbalist/tobacconist's shop in the dodgy side of town. "It's just one street off Diagon Alley," Hannah had explained. "Lots of through traffic to and from St Mungo's, plenty of potential customers. It's an up and coming area."
Now that Hermione had the chance to actually see what her hard-won rent money had bought, she realised her landlady had been just a wee bit duplicitous. Heading up the deceptively steep road, Hermione passed only three stores currently open for business: a fishmonger’s, a pawn shop, and a shabby candy store called Truffles Sweeties, notable only for the heat-stippled Honeyduke’s knock-offs moldering in the display window. Its clientele was mostly made up of shifty-eyed wizards hanging around the shopfront muttering at passing witches, including herself. Hermione had decided it was probably a front for a brothel; it was the only really prosperous business on the street.
Chapter Two: Medicura Apothecaria
Looking around her new shop, Hermione thought, Up and coming, my arse. That must be landlord speak for, "I've got to make something out of this white elephant and you look as gullible as any."
In all honesty, it was not a bad space. Though it had long been out of business (Mr. Peaky had been one of the unfortunates who had disappeared in Dolores Umbridge's purges during the war), there was no sign of damp or mildew; it still carried the faintest whiff of tobacco. It was open-planned and high-ceilinged, and the shelves that lined two of the walls looked sound for all their grime and cobwebs. There was plenty of room to display her stock, and the back portion of the shop had good light and ventilation for brewing. As a bonus, there was a living space upstairs for her use as well.
"It could be worse," she muttered aloud, whipping out her wand. "Well, time to get busy. Best side to London, as they say."
Six hours later, the front of the shop was sparkling. The drab, no-colour walls were now a soothing, happy shade of blue-green; the wooden shelves and counters were scrubbed and oiled until the wood grain shone through. Bright, colourful tiles, a happy surprise buried under years of embedded grime, made a pleasing, almost Byzantine-like mosaic on the floor. With the addition of an inviting wreath of eucalyptus and lavender hung on the door, the shop looked almost customer-ready.
As she sat her old carpetbag on the now-spotless counter, Hermione heard a sharp rap on the door. With a casual wave of her wand, she unlocked the clasp. "Come in! I'm not open as of yet, but give me a-"
"I am not here as a customer, Granger," came the terse, clipped reply.
It was true that the last ten years had been spent far away from old Blighty, but some things stayed with you, no matter how much time passed. Seeing her former professor standing in the doorway of this small, knock-about shop was like placing her old Time-Turner around her neck and giving it a twirl. He was ramrod straight, arms crossed imperiously across his chest, and dressed in his customary black, of course. His scowling face looked more lined than she remembered, but those snapping, angry eyes were the same. He looked as imposing, as immovable and unreachable as ever.
He also looked angry enough to spontaneously combust.
"Professor Snape─Ow!" She bumped her hip sharply against the counter in her haste to approach him. She held out her hand out in greeting. "You're the first familiar face I've seen since I've arrived back home! Well, aside from Hannah, but since she's my new landlady I don't suppose that counts, does it? Of course, I'd heard you were around. I mean, she, Hannah that is, told me you and I were neighbours of a fashion─"
A stray curl dropped over her face, bisecting her vision, and she huffed upward to blow it out of the way. Snape’s eyes followed the tendril as it wafted upward. But for that minute movement, he might as well been carved out of onyx.
"Anyway…" she trailed off, then gave up and lowered her hand. "I hope you're well?"
"What are you doing here?" he snapped.
"Excuse me?"
He uncrossed his arms and approached her with that same menacing, gliding speed that had scared her almost to the loss of bladder control in her youth. "I said, what are you doing here? Why have you dared open an apothecary opposite my own?"
Hermione peered through her shop window. "Oh, is that your shop? I thought it was just one of the closed…” She heard the words leaving her mouth, and cringed. “I─I thought Hannah said you were located on the opposite end of the street."
"I am located on the opposite side of the street."
"Huh. Well, easy mistake to make, I suppose. On the bright side, we're both in a prime location, aren't we? With St. Mungo's on the far end, and─"
"Prime location? Is that what our august landlady told you? Let me assure you, Miss Granger, the only way this could be a prime location is if they shut down Diagon Alley, fumigated Knockturn, turned all the Janus Thickey Ward patients out onto Regent Street and dropped a bomb on London for good measure."
Hermione blinked. "Did you just make a joke, Professor?"
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. His voice took on a prim, fastidious note. "I am making a point, and it's Master Snape, or if that makes you uncomfortable, Magister Snape. I have full accreditation as Master Potioneer. As I was saying, Miss Granger-"
"Mistress Granger, actually. I'm fully accredited as well. You were saying…?"
Hermione waited him out. Finally he took another deep breath, and released it. A bit of the tension in his shoulders went with it. "I was saying, Mistress Granger, I have been here for four years, and business has not grown. In fact, quite the opposite. I very much doubt it will support your endeavour. Perhaps another location would be better suited for your…" he looked around with an expression of mild distaste. "…name and reputation."
Hermione could not suppress a smile. "Are you saying this street's not big enough for the both of us?"
"I am merely suggesting that you might be more successful elsewhere."
“I see.” Hermione crossed back to her large carpetbag. "What if I said I thought we could help one another's business by each specialising in different things?" She opened the bag and started rummaging through its contents. "I could send you business, and vice versa."
Snape's eyes widened at the sight of her arm disappearing into the carpetbag up to her shoulder. "I'd say you have a lot to learn about business. Extension charm?"
"Yes. I had a little bag I carried around during the war. It held everything but the kitchen sink..." She floundered a bit, hating the idea of plunging her head down into the damn bag but if she couldn't find─her fingers closed over the small case. "Ah! Here we are.” She hauled it out and placed it on the counter. Engorgio!" It enlarged to the size of a suitcase. Snape drew closer as she opened it, revealing dozens of vials, each snugged down into its own padded compartment.
She plucked one of the vials from its bed, and held it out to him in silent offering. With his eyes still pinning her in place, he took the bottle from her hand. His fingers brushed hers as they closed around it, his touch warm and vibrant. "Exactly what the healer ordered," she said with a tentative smile.
He gave her one of his epic frowns, then directed it at the vial so quickly she was sure it would shatter under such laser-intense scrutiny. "Go on, try it," she urged. "It's perfectly safe to use."
He sneered in heroic contempt. "You should know better than most that I never take a potion without fully examining its contents."
Her eyes met his, and held his gaze in friendly regard until some of the twitchy, nervous anger in his frame slowly bled away. Using The Gift on his large, black eyes was like scrying in ink; iffy and unreliable, but worth trying because when it worked…
He was there. She saw him there. Not a memory, as could be seen through Occlumency, but a whiff of emotion that smelled like bleach and camphor; failure and resignation…
Loneliness. Deep, drowning loneliness. I'm so tired of being lonely…
He flinched, then turned on his heel and headed for the exit. At the door, he turned back. "I hope you are at least planning on cleaning yourself up before this stampede of imaginary customers overruns your establishment. You look a complete urchin. Your clothes look like you slept in them. You have a great black streak of dirt across your nose, and a spider the size of a gobstopper in your hair."
She managed to remain still until he left, then she flung herself around the shop, batting her hair furiously to dislodge the spider, but she never found it. She could hear him laughing outside the door as she performed a thorough Tergeo spell on her entire head.
"Git!" she muttered under her breath. Bloody git. He was still the most infuriating─
But fair play, he had made a joke. And played a harmless prank on her.
And he had taken the potion with him.
Chapter Three
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2016-06-06 08:23 pm (UTC)More more more more more
no subject
Date: 2016-06-07 02:02 am (UTC)Time for her to go across the street and visit him next? I quietly await Chapter 3.
no subject
Date: 2016-06-07 02:21 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2016-06-07 03:54 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2016-06-15 07:07 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2016-06-08 11:46 pm (UTC)He also took her gift of the potion with him when he left. I've got a hundred Galleons that says he's going to attempt a little reverse engineering.
~smiles~
no subject
Date: 2016-06-15 07:06 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2016-06-15 01:58 am (UTC)I'm so tired of being lonely... made my heart ache.
Yay! I see the link to Ch. 3! ❤️
no subject
Date: 2016-06-15 07:06 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2016-06-15 07:00 pm (UTC)In the meanwhile, I'd like to visit Hermione's shop! Sounds charming and vibrant: teal walls and Byzantine floors and all.
Oh, Snape! His loneliness aches. But what is Hermione up to?
no subject
Date: 2016-06-15 07:05 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2016-06-15 07:35 pm (UTC)So I've placed all my hope on the fishmonger for nothing? Drat. I do love a good fishmonger. ;)
no subject
Date: 2016-06-15 07:36 pm (UTC)Alas, I regret to say the fishmonger was naught but a red herring. Get it? Herring? ;)
No, I'm not ashamed.
no subject
Date: 2016-06-15 07:45 pm (UTC)