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The Gilded Cage	By : ApollinaV Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Snape/Hermione Views: 118790 -:- Recommendations : 3 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I don’t own Harry Potter or anything recognizable to the HP-Universe, JK Rowling does. I’m not making any money off the writing of this fanfic.

Chapter List
- 32
- 33
- 34
Hermione Snape- That wasn’t something I originally planned… I may have to rethink that.
Voracious- I, Snape indeed. I think there will be a definite effect. Storm clouds on horizon.
Gertie- Knee in junk appears to be the order of the day, and I highly support kicking any locally elected official… doubly so for nationally. In theory of course…
Elo- Get in line baby – get in line.
ripley- Ah, the UST getting to you? Anything I say at this point would just come off as taunting you.
Clare1984- I’m thinking that will be on backorder for a long time, quite a few people have expressed an interest.
iamtherealmaverick- Hm… admitting the problem is the first step… no wait. Bad idea. *Pushes Hermione towards Severus*
Kimjo2- Thank you, I try.
CB13- Oh yes, it was an excellent game and I’m not all that big of a sportsfan. There are parts of this country where kids saying that will get them sent to the Principal’s office.
Phoenix Rhapsody- You weren’t the only person asking the question, (I post on FFnet) so I had to clarify. But no, I didn’t any offense at all. You brought up a very valid point and I responded. Unfortunately there’s no voice inflection or body language in the written word.
Rini- Welcome back! How was the cold fish head soup breakfasts? I think the two of them will get along swimmingly.

*

Chapter 33 - Illegitimis Nil Carborundum

Like most mornings, Hermione awoke with a good stretch, the obligatory cuddle with Crooks, and a smile on her face. Ever since she learned to restructure her time management skills, life had gotten much more relaxed. Even the soft guilty voice nagging at the back of her brain, insisting that her comfort was due only to Severus’ shouldering of her responsibilities, had gone away. And it only had taken two months of ignoring the voice to get rid of it.

Padding to the bathroom Hermione took an invigorating shower and dressed for the day. According to her day planner, she had only two meetings and a few phone calls to return, making it nearly as light as a weekend. Satisfied, she continued her routine, humming softly and mulling over the latest brilliant project, a self-warding door. It wasn’t her original idea, but it was another Muggle-fueled invention stolen from automatic-locking car doors.

Hermione was pleased that she was able to profit so handsomely off of the wizarding world’s ignorance and refusal to make even cursory investigations into the Muggle world. If even one of her competitors bothered to take inspiration from Muggle inventions, they might come close to matching her market share.

Of course she wasn’t counting on ‘Murphy’s Law’ to be in effect. She was lured into a false sense of security afforded by a larger staff, Severus’ unerring assistance, and more sleep, but all that could not shield her from angry asinine Douchebags.

The Douchebag (capital D as it was a proper noun) in question was none other than Horatio Sturdivant Hopper: sycophant, lackluster innovator, and all-around waste of space. In Hermione’s mind, Hopper was yet another glaring example of the impressive mistakes she’d made in the early days of Granger Industries. She’d been swayed by style over substance.

At his job interview, Hopper seemed to be the most ideal and qualified candidate she’d laid eyes on - dressed in smart pin-neat robes and appearing every bit as bookish and nerdy as a cliché Muggle chemistry teacher. Hermione’d been duped. His qualifications were exceptional. The chinless-wonder had had high marks at school, an outstanding recommendation from his former Head of House, Professor Flitwick, and several years of practical experience working as a research assistant in a theoretical Transfiguration think-tank that made her impulsively offer him a position.

She should have paused more when her eyes swept past the theoretical part. There shouldn’t have been anything theoretical about Transfiguration; the discipline bore instant fruits of conscious labor. Apparently he spent his time at the institute ‘thinking about Transfigurations’ and not doing a damn bit more, not unlike the service he’d provided Granger Industries.

Regardless, Hermione’d been schnookered and was stuck with him, until recently. On Severus’ urging she paused production and the company came to a grinding halt. She needed a week to paper the wizarding world with Help Wanted ads, sort through potential candidates, and rebuild her R&D ranks. Her employees, on the other hand, needed the week to relax and refresh. The resulting new hires led to a huge productivity boost which more than made up for the week of down time. And everyone was happy, except for Hopper. Hermione finally had enough competent new blood in the department that she could let him go.

He was not cut loose and cast abruptly into the cruel callous world. That wasn’t how she operated. Instead Hermione grudgingly, and with perhaps more bad grace than strictly necessary, offered him a more generous severance package than the ass-kissing do-little deserved.

Now, as she clutched in her shaking fist a Muggle court summons for unfair dismissal, theft of intellectual property, and patent infringement, Hermione was beyond livid. And an overly polite note from his legal team suggested they were eager to discuss a monetary settlement out of court. Hermione was seething so badly she couldn’t even think of an appropriate enough hex, jinx or curse that would cause the kind of misery and pain she wanted to inflict. Short of running to the Black family library to find said appropriate hex, Hermione had to know how seriously she was fucked. A call to her lawyer, Mr. Tattings, was made, quickly followed by another call to Mr. A. Ffoulkes.

*****
“How fucked am I?” Hermione nervously asked. She sat impatiently in Ffoulkes’s conference room as the two wizards ran their noses through court documents.

Ffoulkes, who neither blushed nor admonished her for her colorful word choice simply stated, “This isn’t good at all.”

“You do realize this is extortion,” Tattings offered anxiously.

“Yeah, I got that even before the Ministry owl arrived,” Hermione bitterly conceded.

Mr. A. Ffoulkes shuffled piles of parchments and sat back, his arms crossed thoughtfully across his protruding belly. “He’s skating a fine line by using the law in both worlds to sue you. The allegations are frivolous and he has no way of proving patent infringement or theft of intellectual property. In Muggle courts, you would be able to take action against him for bringing forward such groundless threats. But by bringing you to Muggle mediation he’s able to simultaneously use the Wizengamot against you for revealing magic to the Muggle world. It’s clever, especially since it looks like he’ll win this one.”

“Why do you assume that? Have you already given up before even attempting any kind of solution?”

“Madam Granger,” Tattings began in a soothing voice, “You must have known you were taking a very serious gamble when you put your business directly in the Muggle world. To the British government your business does not exist. You’ve never paid their taxes, or even registered the company as legitimate. I doubt many of your employees have proper work documents, and though they are citizens, it’s going to look like you employ illegals. Right now he’s threatening to bring you before a civil judge if you don't accept his request for an out of court settlement. If you don't take it and go before a judge, it could open a criminal inquiry into your company. And once they start investigating some of his complaints it’s going to look like you’re running an underground slave shop.”

Hermione pursed her lips together. “It will look that way, won’t it?”

Tattings nodded, offering sympathy with his concerned eyes. “If he doesn’t get what he wants from them, he’ll sue you through the Ministry,” he continued, picking up a large roll of parchments already filed with the courts. “They’ll go after you criminally for tampering with the Muggle legal system, and it won’t be considered double jeopardy because the two governments won’t talk to each other, especially not on a matter of inconsequence like this.”

Hermione’s only small consolation was that she at least had made some friends at Azkaban prison, but she couldn’t guarantee they wouldn’t Kiss her either. It was more economical to keep prisoners in catatonic states. If she played her cards right, she might be able to get a cell near Severus.

“Did you have any plan to deal with Muggle authorities?” Ffoulkes inquired.

She sighed deeply. “No, not really. Nothing past a bit of Fascination, some well placed Obliviates, and anti-Muggle wards. I suppose I can’t Fascinate the arbitrator, can I?”

“I think not. It’s already in their computers and their inkerwebs.”

Prematurely, a crease had developed between Hermione’s eyebrows, and when her face pinched and her head throbbed, the line became quite deep. As Hermione worried over her fate, her business, and the futures of her employees who were like a family to her, she pushed her thumb into the crease trying to alleviate the pounding headache that was forming.

“How do I make this go away?” she asked, exhaustion clearly evident in her voice.

“If I may make a suggestion,” Tattings spoke up, “I propose we bring Mr. Hopper to a neutral third party location and negotiate a settlement. We won’t have a clear idea on how to proceed until we know exactly what he wants.”

“He’s going to want everything,” Hermione moaned. “God, he’s such a greedy bastard.”

Mr. Ffoulkes cleared his throat loudly shaking her from her visions of being alone, unloved, unwanted, and working for the Douchebag for the rest of her life. “Madam Granger, as necessary as this meeting has been, I believe we’re wasting time. You’re courting disaster the longer you allow your company to remain in Muggle London.” He peered out the enchanted window and estimated another four hours before the sun began to set.

“In my professional legal opinion, if you don’t move your labs right now, you truly will be fucked. You cannot risk the Muggle or the wizarding authorities gate-crashing and seizing your labs as evidence. And if your business does not exist, Mr. Hopper will not be able to substantiate his claim as well.”

His deep rumbling fatherly voice and coarse words pierced through her migraine to the part of her brain that itched to be triggered into action. She needed to protect her cub, and if that meant moving dens, then so be it. If any of her classmates had been around they would have noticed the maniacal glint in her eyes as her head snapped up to attention.

She readily agreed, then asked, “What about the lawsuit itself? Can I not even fight it?”

Mr. Ffoulkes smiled jovially; his eyes twinkled in a way that reminded Hermione of her beloved Headmaster. “Naturally, we’ll fight this battle, Madam Granger. Once your labs have been cleaned out, I’ll file every petition I possibly can against him in the Muggle courts to keep him so painfully entrenched in motions, he’ll spend whatever measly settlement he may receive paying his lawyers to sort it all out. It may take years, Madam Granger,” he conspiratorially winked.

“Meanwhile, I intend to play the same game he is, only better. Much better. I’ll have the Aurors go after him for magical exposure to the Muggle world. And I do believe you know a few Aurors in high places. Are you not good friends with the department head? I’m certain we can find a way to knot him up good.”

“Why, yes… that’ll work nicely.” A predatory Hermione exhaled, feeling giddy and eager to twist the knife into Hopper. “Does anyone have any suggestions on the move, then?”

She’d been looking for ages for a larger new location for Granger Industries and always come up woefully short, but she’d shrink everything down into doll house size and pack it underneath her bed for good rather than let her life’s work get taken away from her.

“There’s some new construction out in Hogsmeade. I don’t know if anything’s available,” Tattings offered helpfully.

“Nonsense,” Ffoulkes broke through, “I think it should be obvious; the Prince Homestead is an ideal choice. It’s secret-kept, the surrounding structures should be plenty large, and you’re already obliged to move there anyway. Although you may not appreciate living so close to where you work.”

Obviously Ffoulkes did not know Hermione as well as he thought.

She furrowed her brow, “Did you say it’s secret-kept?”

“Do you honestly believe Severus would have left it wide open for the Ministry to trample through any time they felt like it?”

Hermione quickly shook her head, “No, of course not. Am I to assume you’re the Secret-Keeper, or that you at least know who is?”

She knew Severus was leery of the Fidelius charm. As she understood it from the last chapter he'd written, Severus had stood guard and quietly protected his tormentor Sirius Black from harm, believing he was indirectly keeping the Potters safe.

“That I do. I suggest we meet back here in two hours. I’ll have my assistant arrange for a moving crew for your labs. If we work quickly we can have everything packed up and in the Homestead by morning.”

Hermione nodded an affirmative. She didn’t feel the need to ask Severus’ permission; she knew he’d support the move, especially given the circumstances. She wasn’t particularly worried about leaving her flat either. She owed more rent on it, but for the moment Hermione wasn’t hurting for cash. She had more than plenty to last her several lifetimes in both worlds. At least until Hopper got his mitts on it. Truth be told, Hermione was feeling overwhelmed by an excitement that was quickly building.

It was an exhilaration she really hadn’t felt since her wild dragon ride in the bowels of Gringotts. After the war, the surging, rushing feeling that tingled through her body simply disappeared. She’d sought out adrenaline highs from several sources, but nothing felt genuine when she was chasing it in a monitored, controlled situation.

The thrill of sex with Charlie in public places, knowing full well they could be found at any moment, wasn’t nearly as exciting, knowing they could Obliviate any intruders. (And she’d screamed for hours when he had.) Throwing herself passionately into her work held its own stimulation, but there really weren’t any serious consequences to failure. She wouldn’t make as much profit. Big deal. She wasn’t very material, and she enjoyed spending her money on people and experiences, rather than on things that sat and collected dust. What was the point of having oodles of cash, if she just bought crap with it?

For the first time in a long time, Hermione had no idea what was going to happen to her and everything she’d worked towards. The fear was real and palpable, it gripped her in her chest and squeezed until she struggled to breathe. At the same time her cheeks flushed with an infusion of blood.

Taking her leave, she quickly Apparated to her modest flat. It had been the first place she could truly call her own; she had moved in while still working out of the Weasleys' garage and hardly had a knut to her name. The furniture was mismatched, and came either from rummage shops or a Scandinavian company that used what looked like Arithmancy diagrams for assembly instructions, but it was home.

Hermione concentrated her thoughts entirely on packing. She didn’t wonder what kind of accommodations she’d find at the Homestead, or how she might inform her employees. Hermione simply channeled. Her wand flew through the air in quick precise movements, and by the time the last potholder and scrap of parchment were packed away, a gloss of perspiration covered her body and her wand was humming from exertion. She hadn’t felt so magically exhausted and completely energized in years.

*

A/N:
Chapter title: Illegitimis Nil Carborundum - Don't let the bastards grind you down

Three cheers for Christev20 for her crazy-mad beta skills. She keeps me sane too... big added bonus.
And another round of Huzzahs for aberlioness for Brit-picking this chapter to make sure the legal jargon wasn't off mark. Many thank you's my dear!

Thanks to all who've reviewed too. You make this story a success. -AV
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The Gilded Cage