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And They Didn\'t Live Happily Ever After	By : ElizabethStump Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Snape/Hermione Views: 90306 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 81
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- 83
“And They Didn't Live Happily Ever After”

Chapter Eighty-One
“Disclosure and Bombshells”

Disclaimer: Harry Potter, a fanfic frontier. These are the literary ramblings of the OTP ship Snermione. Its 10+-year posting: to explore strange new lemony smut, to seek out new plot twists and new tropes, to boldly disclaim by stating Rowling owns it all.

A/N: Disclaimer a parody of the Star Trek: The Original Series prologue.

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Hermione could finally understand how Harry could fall in love with Zhubanysh so quickly. Once Hermione was back at the Potters' home, Zhubanysh helped bathe the shell-shocked witch and tucked her into a guest bed.

Hermione was convinced she wouldn't be able to sleep at all that night, with her mind filled with the fresh memories of gore and a torturous scene of Zabini's death. Then Zhubanysh started singing a soft, sweet song to Hermione, while stroking her hair and face.

Hermione found herself drifting off to a restful sleep, free of nightmares that would have normally kept her up after such an incident. Waking in the morning, she found herself feeling rested and relaxed, almost at peace. She wondered if there was something magical in the song Zhubanysh had sang, or in her touch.

The memory of Zabini's murder was still fresh in her mind and still caused her great distress, but somehow Hermione felt a little stronger the next morning. She felt as if she would be able to face going to the Ministry that morning and discussing the events without breaking down in the process. Hermione wondered if Zhubanysh's particular talent had helped Harry heal and quickly move past his sudden divorce with Ginny.

More than anything, Hermione wished she could have woken in Severus' protective arms. He was the only other thing, other than Zhubanysh's special talent for soothing her, who could have made her feel as if she could face the day ahead. When she needed sanctuary the most, he was gone. Hermione would have to find the strength within herself to deal with her problems, until she saw Severus once again.

But when would Hermione see him again?

Hermione had scanned the Daily Prophet the other day, noting the cost of Portkey prices to places like Auckland, San Francisco and Tokyo. Averaging out the price, she figured how much a one-way Portkey to Hawaii would cost, based on the triangulation of those three major Portkey destinations. There was a fleeting moment where she entertained the idea of spending a whole lot of Galleons and just showing upon his doorstep, but she squashed the idea. She had promised to clear his name. How would it look – since she had stayed behind – to drop that promise and arrive without completing the task yet? Hermione had tried to leave with him at the last moment, but given how Fate had decided she was not to go, she figured there must be a reason why she was stuck in England and was not in Hawaii with Severus.

With freshly-washed clothes, Hermione dressed and went down to breakfast. Dobby had made breakfast since – the elf proudly told her – Zhubanysh had been up most of the night tending to Hermione, ensuring she slept peacefully. Harry came down as Hermione was finishing her breakfast; he was looking up as if he too had been up most of the night.

Once at the Ministry, Hermione answered some questions, with Harry there beside her for support. Moody and Kingsley asked her some questions, and she truthfully answered them. Fortunately, she didn't have to answer any questions about unsanctioned work, as she would have to lie about that. Given how Moody could smell a lie from a mile away, she was glad that she didn't have to manufacture any until that point.

As the interview wrapped up, Moody got a strange look on his face. Holding up one of Hermione's recent purchases, he asked in a curious tone, “And while investigating Zabini's murder last night, we had to enter your flat, Mrs. Weasley. I saw a stack of some interesting books.”

In Moody's hand was a copy of Fodor's Guide to Hawaii.

“You went into my flat?”

“We had to make sure the killer wasn't hiding out there while we cleared the building. An interesting selection, Mrs. Weasley.” Moody thumbed through the book absentmindedly.

“And why would you say that?” Hermione asked, feeling her cheeks get hot and trying to not let the wild thumping in her heart give anything away.

“No reason,” Moody said. “Just wondering why you have so many books on Hawaii in your flat. Thinking of going on holiday there?” the Head Auror asked.

“Considering the fact my parents talked about going there, since they didn't get a chance to go when they were in America during their year-long 'holiday' to the States during the war, and they wondered if I was interested in going with them, considering I haven't been on a holiday in years and I'm recently divorced, yes. I am thinking of going there for a holiday. What of it?” the witch threw back at him hotly, trying to play innocent as to why she was being grilled about her choice of books.

“Muggle books,” Moody mused.

“Considering I'd be going Muggle-style with my parents, since they are Muggles, I thought it prudent to do research with Muggle books. Why this fascination with my choice of books, Moody? You want to come on holiday with me to the Aloha state?” she added sarcastically.

If anything, she wanted to deflect from his line of questioning to avoid Moody being suspicious of her knowledge of Hawaii, which he and only a few others knew about. Harry and Kingsley knew about Hawaii, but Moody didn't know that.

“Why are you acting as if a few Muggle books are so suspicious, Alastor?” Kingsley questioned his boss. “She's a Muggle-born, so Muggle books are not foreign to her?” Kingsley was directing that the suspicion Hermione was supposedly perceiving from Moody was for the fact they were Muggle books, not the choice of location.

“It's nothing. Nothing. Just not used to seeing so many Muggle books,” Moody blustered.

To follow along Kingsley's lead, Hermione added bitterly, “Well, it's a good thing you didn't find my stash of my Muggle parents' old medical books I've been reading. Heaven forbid you come across a copy of Gray's Anatomy!”

“Now listen here,” Moody started in, but was calmed down by Shacklebolt who put his hand on his shoulder.

Hermione burst into tears, more for effect than the need to cry. It didn't take much for her to need to cry, despite how much Zhubanysh's gentle ministrations eased her mind the night before.

“Hermione hardly slept last night, and she's quite tired, Alastor,” Harry defended her, understanding the ruse Hermione and Kinglsey were pulling. “We're all tired this morning. Now if there is nothing else, I suggest I take Hermione back to my home where she can rest until the Aurors are finished.”

“I want a Floo connection directly to my flat so I don't have to walk in the atrium of that building ever again,” Hermione suddenly spoke up.

Moody began to stutter, but Kingsley quickly replied, “I think we can get that taken care of today, Mrs. Weasley. I can certainly understand your reluctance to have to walk through the area daily,” he assured her. “I'll take of it personally and make sure it's done before the end of the day.”

Hermione and Harry left, but not before Hermione took back her book that Moody had swiped from her flat. The two top Aurors bickered, given that Death Eaters used to be the sole occupants of that particular block of flats. As the door was closing, she overheard Kingsley remind his boss that there were no more Death Eaters living in that building at all.

“Listen, Hermione, I'm worried about you,” Harry admitted as they walked across the atrium of the Ministry. “This is the second murder that has happened in or around your block of flats. And I think it might be the same person, since Moody won't entertain the idea. There are some aspects that are the same, like a calling card.”

It chilled Hermione's soul to think that this is the second murder done in such a fashion.

“I want you to wear this.” Harry handed Hermione a necklace with a small locket. “Should you need me, just grab hold of the locket and call out to me in your mind. I will know you need me, as I'll be wearing its twin. It also acts as a locator so I can find you.” Harry pulled an identical necklace out from under his shirt and showed Hermione.

“That's brilliant, Harry. Did you come up with that?” she asked with great admiration.

“No, these have been in use with the Aurors' office since the last days of the war. Aurors tend to work in pairs, so if they get split up and one is in trouble, it's a way for us to find each other, even if one had been Apparated away. They've been working on a new version of these where you don't have to hold them to mentally call for help, but this older version will probably be enough to keep you safe. Few know about these in our arsenal, and we want to keep it that way. So your discretion is required.” Harry tucked his pendant back under his shirt.

“Harry, do you really think–”

“I don't know what to think,” the young Auror admitted, running his hand through his shaggy black mop that was in need of a trim. “But right now, I'm concerned about you living at the Red Ginseng. If you had come home during the time the murder was being committed, you might have been hurt as well, and we're not sure if the killer had an accomplice or acted alone this time. Just give me some peace of mind and wear it. Hopefully, you will never need to call me. But should you need it, I'll be there.”

Heaving a weary sigh, Hermione placed the necklace over her head and tucked the pendant under her blouse. “Fine, Harry. If you are that worried, I'll wear it.”

Hermione traveled via Floo back to the Potters' home while Harry went back to work in trying to figure out who killed Zabini.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The wastepaper basket in Severus' hotel room was overflowing. After starting his umpteenth letter to Hermione, he became frustrated yet again. The words had flowed so easily from his lips when they were together, which wasn't much given how he wasn't an effusive wizard who spouted off about his feelings. Now apart, it was even harder and the words stumbled around blindly in his mind, as if trapped in a dark, door less room. Now he regretted all the things he could have said but hadn't.

He was well read and normally eloquent, but now – while trying to put his heart to quill and parchment – he found himself dumb and lacking the resources which seemed just beyond his ability. Severus could write scrolls and scrolls about Potions, magical theory, literary analysis based on historical events at the time of a book's publication, Herbology, business matters and a slew of other areas of interests, but finding the right words to express his heart when his heart had lain quiet for so long was humbling to his ego. Intellect and brilliance were no match against the torrent of his emotions.

Severus could have consulted with Ginny, since she was a witch and knew Hermione well. She could help him, but his pride refused to let him seek assistance. His feelings for Hermione were a private matter. Even if Ginny could tell how much Severus was missing her, she never brought the subject up. There were fleeting moments where the two would exchange a glance and know the other was wishing Hermione was there as well.

'My darling Hermione...' There was another crumple of paper to fill the silence of his hotel room.

“Damn!”

'Dearest Hermione...'

Examining the parchment, he thought that that wasn't too bad. It had taken ten pounds of parchment for him to finally come up with a suitable two-word greeting to his letter. Now if he could only get a first draft written by the end of the day, he might have a suitable final draft to commit to parchment by the end of the week. But at this rate, it was going to be summer before he would have anything to send off.

Needing to take a break from this vexing task, Severus decided to go for a hike to clear his mind. Maybe the fresh air and sunlight would blow away the cluttered and unorganized thoughts, and help him find inspiration for his first opening sentence to Hermione.

The day was a bit warmer than usual, so he wore a pair of shorts and a short-sleeved button-front shirt, along with his hiking boots and a broad-brimmed hat to avoid sunburn. He packed some fruit for a snack and set off shortly before lunch time, as he had spent all Sunday morning on his letter to Hermione.

He reached the edge of town and began wandering off into the jungle, observing the plants and wildlife teeming about.

Using his wand, he cast a machete-like charm to cut through the thick growth. Once he passed through, he used his wand to repair the flora to preserve the habitat.

Muttering to himself, thinking that perhaps speaking the words instead of coming up with them in his mind alone might help him, Severus nearly tripped on the rotted fence that had fallen down. Swearing at the offending pieces of disintegrating wood that the jungle was reclaiming once more, he came across a sign.

Flipping it over, it said: “For Sale.”

Looking about, there seemed to be no house. Severus followed the rotting fence line around the property, cutting his way through the vines, bamboo, and other plants that had woven themselves in and around the old property perimeter. Once he had made a full pass around, he determined it was a good acre in size, plenty large enough for his needs. Exploring inside the property boundary, he found a clearing. There was a stone-and-cement pad indicating where a house once stood. The remains of a fireplace, mostly demolished, was at one end of the house's footprint. It was made of large chunks of black lava rock. The white grout, in between the stones on the partially dismantled chimney flue, was dotted with moss and ferns.

Severus gazed out at the view from what must have once have been the front porch. There was a lovely view of the Malu Palekaiko, with the edge of the main part of town about a quarter to a third of a mile away. You couldn't see the streets, but you could see the second and third stories of the taller structures just above the palm trees that lay on the slope below him. He could even see the top of the roofline of his hotel.

He found and followed the old stone pathway that went from the outline of the old house down to a walkway that had become overgrown. Cutting through with his wand, he followed the path until it ended. Close to where the path ended, Severus could hear voices. Scything and cutting away at the thick growth, Severus found himself along a road that led back to town. He had walked this road before, as it had led up to a few other houses of people he had come to know and visited, as well as being the major trail that led up to the volcano from town. A few hundred yards up the road was a couple walking back up to their house. He had passed by countless times, and never knew the place even existed.

Heading back up the now cleared path, Severus looked about the property, noticing there was a fresh water stream that trickled through it, mostly covered by the undergrowth. There were areas that were flat and some that look like they had once been terraced, much like some of the small taro and rice farms he had seen next to some homes in the more rural parts of town and around the island.

There were spots he would need to clear to make his two gardens, but for the most part, this was perfect, except for the part that there was no house. Severus would expand the footprint of the house, making a second story terraced above and behind the first story, just as he had always imagined.

Picking up the sign once more, he almost could make out the name on the sign for whom to contact. With a wave of his wand, the name at the bottom was restored.

“Bugger,” Severus muttered.

Tina, Draco's real estate agent and infamous wizard-chaser, was the one he had to deal with. Severus was willing to pay full price, and even extra, if that meant he didn't have to go out on a date with her in order to secure this property.

Severus already had to decline her request for a commission of a love potion. There was little doubt who the intended target of his commission would be.

Sitting on the edge of the concrete-and-stone foundation, the Potions master transfigured a rock into a glass, spelled some chilled water into the glass, and drank the water while eating his fruit. Surveying the lay of the land and the orientation of the foundation, he thought the house would face almost squarely south, slightly angling off towards the west.

As he munched on some fresh pineapple, Severus mind began to fill in the gaps. He could clearly envision a row of cucumbers, tomatoes, and sweet peppers for his gazpacho. Over there would be his Potions lab, and next to it, his Potions garden, filled with plants that Pomona grew in her greenhouses, but he would grow them out in the open air in the rich volcanic soil. There would have to be a shade structure, as some of the plants he wanted to grow required partial to full shade, and not full sun.

Severus was no closer to having any idea what he wanted to write to Hermione, but he had, in his wandering, stumbled across the future site of his home, a home that maybe even Hermione could live in as well. Just the idea of having his own home once again made him feel as if his life was finally coming together bit by bit. He even smiled a little as he got up and dusted the dirt from his shorts to begin the trek back down the overgrown pathway and into town.

If Tina wasn't working at the apothecary, where she worked part-time, he would brave going to her residence in person. Severus had a new project to look forward to and to keep his mind off of how miserable he was without Hermione. It wouldn't make the longing for her any less, but it would keep his mind otherwise preoccupied.

Walking briskly with a purpose, Severus didn't notice the Albatross which had taken flight as it was circling the town. It was climbing higher and higher in order to catch a favorable wind current that would carry it off towards its distant destination, with a letter clasped in its webbed feet.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

It had been a very taxing week at The Lovely Lavender Company. Moody and the Aurors were once again at Hermione's work, grilling Lavender about Blaise Zabini's work for her as a gigolo. Not only had two of her Death Eater gigolos gone missing, but now a third was dead. Miss Brown assured Moody she had no more interest in keeping the side business in operation, given the only three she would trust enough to carry out the work were now gone, and Macnair was in Azkaban. Upon further questioning as to why Macnair was ever in her employment, he dropped that line of questioning after Lavender gave him the short and grisly version of why she'd had him in her employ, a story which seemed to please Alastor. There was no mention about Parvati. Moody knew all too well the history behind that.

Not only were Hermione, Albert, and their employer, Lavender, dealing with Zabini's death, though Hermione had no great affection for him, but now the president of the company was out a key employee who was doing a good job. Blaise had been picking up the slack where Draco had left off. Zabini didn't have quite the finesse of Draco, but he had been getting the hang of it.

Once the Aurors were gone, Lavender had used her business connections to see if there was anyone with marketing and advertising experience to take over the vacated position. There were a few who might have fit the job, but lacked a certain je ne sais quoi Draco had in spades and Blaise possessed in clubs, but was honing his skills with time.

By the time Friday rolled around, Lavender was fit to be tied. There were deadlines in upcoming publications, and new products which were to be launched soon. While Blaise had kept his boss thoroughly in the loop, Lavender had other things to do to run her business than deal with this aspect, though she would if it was absolutely necessary.

During the weekly staff meeting, Lavender went over Albert and Hermione's progress regarding the development and testing of some new products. But then the company president and owner picked up her tea cup and threw it against the fireplace in frustration.

“Damn it all to hell!” she bellowed at no one in particular.

Hermione wondered if Lavender let her temper get the better of her at home with Ron around, and how well he handled it.

Knowing it was futile, but wishing to offer some comfort upon seeing the pressure her boss was under, Hermione asked timidly, “Is there anything I can do?”

Spinning around on her heel, Lavender looked at Hermione and rolled her eyes, while snidely saying, “Oh, if you just happened to know someone well versed in advertising and marketing who can take Blaise's place and help run that department – because my company will fail if I don't find someone competent eventually. Otherwise, no, there is nothing you can do. Thanks for asking.”

Suddenly, Hermione remembered she did know someone. She would have to speak to her parents first, but for the moment, she thought she would give Lavender a glimmer of hope since the blonde witch looked like she was near the end of her rope and close to panicking.

“Actually, I do.”

“What?” Lavender and Albert said in unison, the witch responding more vocally of the two.

“My Aunt Christine. She's a vice president at some big, multinational advertising and marketing corporation.”

“Why didn't you tell me this before?” her boss nearly shrieked.

“Because she's a Muggle and doesn't know I'm a witch! That's why. And until you mentioned it, I didn't even consider her,” Hermione admitted a bit hotly in response to Lavender's tone.

Lavender started stuttering, stopping and starting a string of unfinished sentences. Her frustration was partially out of exasperation that the source of her solution was working across the hall from her all this week, and partially out of excitement that she found someone who would have a fucking clue what to do.

“Well?!? Let's go tell her you're a witch and get her into the Muggle Alliance Network!” Lavender blurted out excitedly.

“First, I need to talk with my parents.”

“Can I come along? Anything to help,” Lavender offered.

“Considering you're the one who Ron left me for, that might not be the best thing right now,” the former Mrs. Ron Weasley gently reminded the new Mrs. Ron Weasley. “Aunt Christine might be a bit more understanding and you should come along when I go meet with her and break the news about me being a witch, but we'll break that other bit – you being the one Ron married – to her and my parents later.”

“Oh. Right.” Looking at Hermione she said, “Well...? Go! Go Apparate over to your parents and tell them you need to tell your aunt that you're a witch.”

Hermione looked at Albert for his approval, since she had been planning on doing work with him today, but he shrugged and said, “Our boss says to go. Our work will wait, the publication deadlines will not.”

It was nearly lunch time, and Hermione knew she would probably be able to catch her parents before they left to catch a bite together.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Tina and Manny glared daggers at one another across the table. Tina had sold the abandoned property finally, but she was still no closer to a date with Severus than before.

That talk, dark, yummy British wizard showed up on her doorstep the day after Valentine's Day. She thought her winning charms and looks had finally brought him to her, inspired by the holiday. Her hopes soared for a brief moment, only to be dashed when he handed her the "For Sale" sign indicating his interest in buying the property.

It wasn't even worth that much, considering there was no structure to inhabit. Severus was able to steal the place for a little under 20,000 Galleons, but it would probably cost another 20,000 to 30,000 to get a house built on site, depending on how large and complicated the design was.

Manny was pissed he had to share his commission with the witch. He felt that he was entitled to the entire commission, since he had been doing all the leg work, dragging Severus around the island. But it was by sheer luck Severus had stumbled across the abandoned property. It had been on the market for so long, nearly everyone forgot about the place. The house had been razed in a hurricane which had blown through there several decades ago. The property's current owners, the grandchildren of the original owner, kept paying Tina a small "maintenance fee" to mind the property and to sell it, though there was nothing to maintain, given that the house was destroyed.

Severus sat there gauging the tension between the two real estate agents. Even though Manny and Tina couldn't see it, Severus could plainly see the sexual tension between them. Manny was single, and Tina was single. Though Manny was not the most handsome of wizards, he wasn't that bad looking, if only he would ditch the bad comb-over. And though he was a bit older than Severus, Manny wasn't so old as to not be within the acceptable dating parameters for Tina, given that she was no longer a spring chicken herself.

Perhaps Severus could brew a double love potion batch, gratis, without informing Tina, should these two need a little help recognizing the attraction between them. Better yet, there was still one more meeting until the deed was handed over to Severus. Surely that would be time enough to brew a version of Irresistible, the Arousal Potion, but he would use regular mother of pearl in the mixture instead of the Caprese mother of pearl, since Lavender and the twins had an exclusive distribution deal on that ingredient.

Yes, a nice box of homemade chocolates with passion fruit, pomegranate, and Fairy Brandy liquid centers left in the room for the two to partake would certainly move things forward so Tina could stop harassing him and set her sights on some other wizard.

Life was moving along quite swimmingly this week for Severus, even though he had yet to finish his first draft of a letter to Hermione.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Though Wendy and Wallace Granger were a bit circumspect about Hermione's intent to tell her Aunt Christine that she was a witch, they were much more open to the idea after their daughter's explanation about her boss' need for someone with advertising and marketing skills. It seemed that those were specific skills which few in the wizarding world possessed or encouraged as a career, nor was it even a job description widely recognized in the wizarding world.

Hermione's Aunt Christine had recently left her high-powered and very well-paying job at a large international marketing and advertising firm. It seemed that – despite the company's Human Resources Department assuring her that they were supportive of Christine in the time after her miscarriage – her superiors were not exactly patient or understanding. They were mostly men who told her to get a stiff upper lip and crack on with her life, haranguing her as to when she was going to get back to work as soon as possible.

After telling them where they could shove their well-intentioned and completely insensitive remarks, Christine Taylor – with the support of her husband, Tim – decided it was time to start her own small firm where she was her own boss. She could set her own hours instead of being a slave to the pressures and demands of her old job. It would hopefully cut down dramatically on her stress, which her obstetrician said had been a possible factor in her trouble conceiving the first time and her recent miscarriage.

Hermione and her boss Apparated to a nearby alleyway that was a four-block walk away from Christine and Tim's house. It was the closest place they could Apparate to without being seen or splinching, as Hermione had been to her aunt's house before and was familiar with the area. She was also familiar with how nice her aunt's front yard used to look when she had a high-paying job and could afford to pay for a full-time gardener. The yard looked rather scraggly now. This only made Hermione more determined to see her aunt take the job offer.

After Hermione and her boss knocked upon the door of the two-story house, Uncle Tim opened the door.

“Hermione! Your mum told us you were coming over. And this must be your friend... Lavender, right?” Tim said cheerfully, welcoming them into their home.

Hermione and Tim exchanged a brief hug before Lavender and Tim shook hands. Tim popped his head out the front door and asked strangely, “Where's your car?”

“Oh, we took the train,” Hermione lied plausibly, as the train station was a six-block walk away.

“Well, Christine is in the spare bedroom we converted into an office for her,” he explained as he showed the two witches the way down the hall.

Hermione walked past the room that was going to be the nursery and noted the door was shut.

Knocking on the door to his wife's newly-converted office, Tim called out, “Dear, Hermione and her colleague are here.”

Christine bid them to enter, as she was busy on her computer typing something up. Rising from her seat, she walked around her desk and gave Hermione a brief hug, showing more genuine affection for her niece than Hermione could ever remember.

Hermione asked her uncle to stick around for the meeting, since he would need to hear this as well.

“It's good to see you,” Christine said.

Hermione could tell her aunt was still recovering from the emotional strain of losing her child, but seemed to be making the best of it. Her bosses at her old work were certainly of no help to her in that regard.

“Aunt Christine, this is my boss, Lavender. Lavender, this is Christine Taylor, my aunt.” Hermione purposefully omitted Lavender's last name for the time being.

The two women shook hands. Christine offered them a seat, as she had two chairs ready and waiting for them. Tim stood up against the wall behind them, leaning sideways against a couple of short filing cabinets.

“Wendy told me over the phone you need someone to do marketing and advertising for your business, Lavender. Is that correct?” Christine began.

Hermione and Lavender exchanged curious glance at one another.

“Yes, that is correct, Christine,” Lavender replied. “The... person I employed who did all my advertising and marketing recently met with... an untimely death. And I'm rather in a bind.”

“Well, I'm very sorry to hear about your loss. I'm sure it was a great shock to you both,” Christine said with great empathy. “But I'm afraid I'm in the dark about how I can help, as Wendy didn't say exactly what your company does or makes.”

“It's a beauty and cosmetics company,” Hermione jumped in, trying to avoid any unusual jargon that Christine might find too strange, until more information was revealed.

“Have I heard of this company, or are you a new start-up? You look like you're barely out of university, so is this a small operation?” Christine asked.

“Actually, I have my products sold and distributed in all European countries, plus northern Africa, the Middle East, Russia. I'm planning on expanding into India later this year,” Lavender informed her.

Christine's eyes got very wide, a mixture of surprise and disbelief. “And just what is the name of your company? And did you inherit it?”

“It's The Lovely Lavender Company. And no, I started it from scratch and built it from the ground up myself, with my own blood, sweat, and tears.”

Now Christine was really suspicious. She crossed her arms and leaned back in her chair. “You say it's not a start-up and you sell in several countries, yet I've never heard of such a company. Considering I had clients in the beauty industry recently, I would have heard of you before if your distribution is that broad, since I still read all the trade rags.” She practically snorted at her potential new client.

“The reason why you haven't heard of her company is because it's not in any circles you're familiar with, Aunt Christine,” Hermione gently informed her.

“Uh-huh. And why is that?” she casually threw back, squinting her eyes, thinking this was either a cruel joke or waste of her time.

“Because I'm a witch,” Hermione announced.

Tim jumped into the conversation. “You're not a witch, you're a lovely person. Who would call you such a thing?”

Hermione turned around in her seat to look up at her uncle, her face perfectly serious. “No, I mean I'm an actual witch.” To prove her point, she pulled out her wand and said, “Wingardium Leviosa.”

The pen-holder on Christine's desk began to float, guided by the movements of Hermione's wand.

Christine leaned forward to touch the floating pen-holder. “Is this a trick?” she asked with disbelief.

“No, it's not,” Hermione corrected her aunt. “I didn't go to that posh boarding school that Mum and Dad told you about. Well, I did go to a boarding school, but I went to a special boarding school for training witches and wizards for seven years, starting when I was eleven.”

Christine and Tim looked at each other and began laughing hysterically. “Either you're fucking bonkers and you've lost your mind after Ron left you, or this is the best joke I've ever had played on me,” the circumspect Muggle insisted as she leaned back in her chair.

Hermione stood up and decided to cast a powerful Transfiguration spell on all the furniture around her. She changed Christine's desk into a giant aardvark, all her desk clutter into blooming flowers and twittering birds that hopped about, the ceiling fixture into a small replica of the tower clock of London mounted upside down that began to chime, the curtains into a waterfall that stopped short of the floor and left the carpet dry, the carpet into a grassy meadow, and the filing cabinets into a couple stone gargoyles. When her aunt stood to inspect everything, Hermione transfigured her chair into an ostrich.

“Whoa, did someone secretly slip me some acid or 'shrooms,” Tim asked in awe, his eyes agog at the visions before him.

With a wave of her wand, Hermione ended the spells she had cast.

There would be no Ministry officials showing up, since Hermione had given them notice she would be informing a close blood relation, who was not a parent or sibling, of her magical abilities in order to encourage them to join the Muggle Alliance Network. Had she not informed then, Ministry officials would have started showing up and adjusting the Muggles' memories.

“No, Uncle Tim, you are not on drugs. I'm a witch and so is my employer,” Hermione informed her Muggle relations. “There are approximately 15,000 witches and wizards in Great Britain alone, with a total of over 300,000 in the countries where Lavender currently sells her products. With her emergence in India, that will double to over 600,000 potential customers. That is almost one-third of the world's population of witches and wizards, to whom she needs to market and advertise her products.”

“One... third of the world's population?” Christine asked for clarification.

“Of the world's wizarding population,” Lavender amended. She wanted Hermione's aunt to understand that though the scope was not as grand as marketing to millions or billions, it was still a large segment of the wizarding world.

Hermione could tell this was a lot to process for her aunt.

“If you're so magical, why didn't you save my baby.” Christine glared at her niece, her face showing how distraught she was. The tears began to fall.

Lavender had been briefed on Christine's recent miscarriage, so she was not surprised by this response.

“Because there are laws preventing me from using magic on people who are not magical, even close family members who know that I am a witch. If Mum or Dad were dying, I am prevented by the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy of 1692 of using my magic to save even them – because then every Muggle they knew would wonder how they 'miraculously' survived.” Hermione looked gravely at her aunt, feeling just as torn that she could do nothing if she had been there. “As much as I wanted to do something, I still couldn't have done anything for you and the baby. I'm so sorry.”

Christine steeled herself, trying to make the tears stop. “Well,” she bit out, “isn't that convenient. Your magical society can use the resources of us non-magic people while we can't use anything of yours.”

“It's a slow process, Aunt Christine,” Hermione tried to assuage her aunt's bitterness. “All the concern about secrecy started because Muggles were persecuting witches and wizards – burning them at the stake and such, as you remember from history lessons. It was only because of the war I was able to get a movement started to allow the Muggle Alliance Network to include people who were not just immediate blood relations, but more distant blood relations as well. It is a way to begin an outreach between our two societies while still observing secrecy laws.”

“Muggle?” Tim prompted, perplexed.

Lavender turned around and simply said, “Muggle means non-magical people like you and your wife.”

“How long have your parents known?” Christine asked.

“Since I turned eleven and the Headmaster of my school arrived to inform them that I was a witch, and he invited me to attend Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.” It was one of the most memorable days of her young life, and Hermione would never forget a moment of it as long as she lived.

“And you're only telling me this now because you need my skills?” Christine asked, taking a slight accusatory tone.

“Expanding knowledge of our world to more distant blood relations is only permitted when there is a viable reason to include them into the Muggle Alliance Network, which only came about because of the war. Otherwise, it is discouraged in order to hold within the ISWS,” Hermione explained.

“The war? What, the Afghanistan and Iraq war going on now?” Tim asked for clarification.

“No, the wizarding war that ended in 1999,” Hermione said, her voice somewhat hollow.

“A war of wizards? That sounds cool, like it could be the name of an old Doctor Who episode,” Tim responded with inappropriate zeal.

“Seeing all the friends I had die in the war, many right in front of me, there is nothing 'cool' about that, Uncle Tim,” Hermione said with a quiver in her voice, her response morphing into a sob.

Lavender began to silently weep.

“I'm so sorry. I had no idea,” Tim apologized with great remorse.

Lavender conjured handkerchiefs for herself and Hermione, which startled the two Muggles who were still unaccustomed to magic performed in front of them.

“Thanks, Lav.”

“If you don't mind me asking, did you lose friends in the war, Lavender,” Tim asked trying to be delicate.

Lavender spun around in her seat and looked at Tim harshly with red-rimmed eyes. “If you call having my best friend's mind scrambled by a curse while she was being raped in the next dungeon cell, besides losing friends in the war too, then I guess you could say so. Oh, and the wizard who did all my advertising and marketing – the one who died recently – he saved me from her fate.”

There was a long pause of silence while Hermione and Lavender collected themselves.

“Maybe this was a bad idea. Maybe we shouldn't have come,” Lavender said somberly.

“No! Please, I want to help,” Christine pleaded. “I have been calling leads, but all the contacts I have are large corporations. Given the fact I am now a company of one, none of my old contacts wants to hire me. And it's hard trying to break new ground with small- and mid-sized business. I need the work. Please.”

“You'll have to join the Muggle Alliance Network for a small fee, but that will give you access to work for Lavender and any other businesses run in the wizarding community,” Hermione said. “Unfortunately, you can't tell any of your Muggle clients about the work you do for us or any other wizarding businesses. It's in this contract, should you agree to join.”

Hermione waved her wand and a thick contract suddenly appeared on the desk in front of Christine. She jumped back a little, being suddenly startled by yet something else suddenly appearing or changing before her eyes.

“I guess if I'm going to have any work, I'm going to have to agree to this.” Hermione's aunt flipped quickly through the pages, which made a soft thwapping noise.

Tim came along to stand next to Christine's desk and asked meekly, “Does Ron know you're a witch?”

Hermione and Lavender turned to each other and began laughing simultaneously. “Ron and I met at the school we both went to,” Hermione said, gesturing to herself and Lavender. “He comes from a pure-blood family.”

“Pure-blood?” Tim asked.

“It means he comes from a long line of witches and wizards on both sides,” Lavender volunteered.

“Probably thought he was too good for the likes of you then, which is probably why he divorced you,” Christine snarled.

Just then, Christine's computer began to blink and brighten spontaneously.

“Lavender, calm down,” Hermione warned, sensing the computer's surge in power was due to anger suddenly building in Lavender. The blonde witch might fry her aunt and uncle's electronics in the room.

Christine looked at her future client and said, “Don't tell me you side with Ron for dumping Hermione?”

“Aunt Christine,” Hermione began, trying to diffuse the situation, “Ron and I both agreed to a divorce. He was pressured into marrying me, I felt obligated to accept. We never were really in love from the start.” Hermione had only volunteered a minimum amount of information to her parents as to why they divorced. “The divorce was amicable and mutual.”

“If she's your friend, then why does she look that way when I bring up your ex?” Christine challenged, pointing a finger at Lavender.

“It's complicated,” Hermione replied, placing a hand over her eyes, hoping she wasn't about to get a headache.

“Well, since we're having quite a bit of disclosure, I think I can handle a bit more, if it will clear some things up.” Christine folded her arms and sat back in her chair.

“You want my business and the full disclosure?” Lavender asked, feeling a bit hostile at the moment.

“Yes, considering some of the shit I've seen pulled in the corporate world and this recent revelation about this magical world I was unaware until a few moments ago, I think you can lay it on me. Hit me with your best shot,” Christine dared, throwing down the gauntlet.

As much as Lavender was crossing swords with Christine, who needed her as much as she needed her, Lavender admired this Muggle, who seemed like she had a backbone and a set of brass ones. She needed someone a little fearless to help take her company into the future.

“Fine.” Lavender huffed and stood up as she began to pace back and forth across the converted bedroom.

Hermione had seen that look on her boss' face and had heard stories from Severus. She knew there was nothing to do but let the storm blow over, ducking for cover at the appropriate moments, especially if crockery was involved.

“Ron and I had been having an affair for most of Hermione and Ron's marriage,” Lavender yelled, beginning her tirade. “Ron was miserable, Hermione was miserable. I had been hoping for an opportunity to pry the two apart, since Ron was reluctant to divorce Hermione, feeling some obligation to stay married to her for financial reasons and his family pressure. I set Hermione up with a former employee of mine, and he set up an apprenticeship for her to finally leave her miserable job for better pay. Then Ron could finally leave her. Ron and Hermione are now divorced, both happier for it. Hermione is in a long-deserved apprenticeship – by me, as it happens – and with better pay. Shortly after the divorce, Ron and I married. He's now my husband. Any questions?”

Tim went over to the cabinet and poured himself a drink, holding the bottle up to offer something to steady anyone else's nerves that were as suddenly as frazzled as his.

“Don't tell Mum and Dad,” Hermione insisted. “I'll tell them all that in time, just not now.”

Sarcastically, Christine raised her eyebrows and looked around. “Gee, I wonder why?”

“So who was this bloke you were involved with, Hermione? Where is he now?” Tim asked after drinking half of his Scotch in one go.

“It's complicated,” Hermione groaned into her hands.

“Oh, please.” Christine snorted again. “It can't be more complicated than you working for the... witch who stole your husband and now work for.”

Hermione glared at her aunt. “You have no fucking clue, and I'm divulging nothing more. You already know far too much. Be glad I will not cast a Memory Charm on you to wipe away this whole meeting,” Hermione snapped, looking every bit as serious as her promise.

“I could use a cup of tea,” Lavender stated plainly, her tone civil once more. “Do you think we could adjourn to the kitchen?”

Christine's head felt it was close to imploding from all these new revelations.

“Memory Charm?” Tim asked with a squeak, wondering if he wanted to know.

“A commonly used magical spell, often used to erase or adjust the memories of those who you want to forget certain information. The Ministry often uses them on Muggles who have inadvertently witnessed the use of magic and shouldn't have,” Lavender said, a little too cheerfully for the tone of the conversation.

Tim and Christine exchanged worried glances.

“Oh, don't worry. We won't cast one on you,” the blonde witch assured her future marketing and advertising consultant. "It's in the contract."

The four of them moved to the kitchen. Hermione made tea, using her wand to fetch the cups and saucers that were on the top shelf, as she couldn't reach them without a stool.

Christine's hands shook a bit a she drank her cup of tea.

“So, let's say I do take you on as a client. And let's say you do hire me to consult for you,” Christine began, her voice faltering a little. “What sort of retainer did you have in mind?”

Pausing for a moment, Lavender thought. “Well, considering your experience, as this would be nearly a full-time job, I was going to suggest 20,000 Galleons a year, plus bonuses tied to meeting certain sales goals.”

“Galleons?” Christine asked.

“She's offering you approximately 100,000 pounds a year,” Hermione said, doing the conversion in her head.

“And your retainer will go up to 35,000 when we launch in India.” Lavender looked at the Muggle sitting across from her. “Is that acceptable?”

Considering that Christine was bringing in zero pounds and was spending money in order to try and get new clients – with the purchase of a new computer, business cards, stationery, web domain address, website design, business license – 100,000 pounds a year to start was pretty damn good for her first client.

“We have a deal,” Christine agreed and stuck out her hand.

The two women shook on it.

"The Muggle Alliance Network will advise you on the taxes and banking, Aunt Christine."

“We'll need to get you an owl,” Lavender offered.

“Owl?” Christine asked, her face looking a little stunned at yet another revelation.

“Yes, it's our mail delivery system,” Lavender rambled on. “Hermione's parents have one in their backyard. They can help you learn about the care and feeding of your owl, since I'll need to purchase it for you. I can take you to Diagon Alley so you can select one that agrees with you.”

“Diagonally?” Tim queried.

The rest of the afternoon was spent bringing Christine and Tim up to speed on many aspects of the wizarding world they would have to adapt too. Christine eventually fetched a pen and notepad and took copious notes.

“So...” Christine said, glancing over her notes. “I can use the... Floo to contact you, by sticking my head in the fireplace, but I can't use it to transport through? Is that correct?”

“Yes, it's something to do with the charms, the connections. and the magic imbued in the Floo powder. It gives Muggles just enough magic to make a Floo call, should you be approved for a connection, but not enough to travel. We can get you a connection within a week or two,” Lavender assured her.

“And you have no computers, and no electricity. You use candles and quills. You have printing presses run by magic. You have photographs that move but make no sound,” she asked for further clarification.

Hermione produced a copy of the latest Daily Prophet to give her aunt a sense of the style and layouts common in the wizarding world, especially the magazines, which included moving photographs.

Lavender produced a few magazines herself, showing Draco's work for the Valiant Wizard line and the cologne for men called Haunt. There was also some ad work by Draco for The Sirens' Secrets, and various other layouts over the past couple years.

“This guy is good, who designed these. A natural. Is he the one who died,” Christine asked delicately.

“No, he left,” Lavender replied. “His replacement was the one who died. His replacement was on the job for almost three months. So you can understand why I am in a bind. Publication dates are coming up, and I don't want to miss the launch of some things for the spring.”

“I'll need editorial calendars, rates, and so on,” Christine informed her new client. “Also a list of publications you currently advertise in and the ones you don't, and their demographics.”

Talking advertising and marketing was putting Hermione to sleep, even with two cups of tea in her. This was devolving into marketing gobbledygook that just went over her head.

Instead, Tim and Hermione went to the living room and let the two women talk business.

Letting out a huge sigh, Tim said a bit wistfully while staring blankly at the wall, “You know, if you talked to me yesterday, I'd sooner believe that aliens from another galaxy lived among us than to believe there was a magical world existing right alongside ours, with us completely unaware of it. Quite the little reality shatterer.”

“You'll get used to it. I supposed since I was approached at age eleven, it wasn't quite the shock to me. Given that strange things had happened for most of my life up to that point, it was just one more thing that explained how my magic was popping up inexplicably at the weirdest moments.”

“Oh, like the time when you were a child and you claimed to have jumped off the roof with an umbrella and floated down?”

“Yeah, that and more.”

“And we can't tell anyone. Except your parents, who already know,” Tim asked.

“Yes, that's it in a nutshell.”

“Fuck me sideways with a pineapple,” her uncle sighed with awe.

There was a long pause before Tim spoke again. “So that ginger and lemon iced tea thing. Was that magical?”

“No, it's just regular ingredients that help any pregnant woman with morning sickness.”

“Because that really did the trick until...” There was more awkward silence.

“I really wish I could have helped,” Hermione confessed. “And by the time I found out, it was too late. I was away for the weekend at the time.” She sighed, remembering how it ruined an otherwise perfect weekend with Severus.

Her uncle noticed an odd look on Hermione's face. "That guy. The one you got involved with. Do you want to tell me? I promise not to tell your aunt,” Tim said seriously.

“Uncle Tim, it took me months to come to terms with some of the aspects of that particular situation and half the things involved with that story would make what we just discussed pale in comparison,” the witch warned him. “Perhaps sometime in the future, but it's something still very raw for me. It is beyond complicated.”

“Well, I'll be ready and waiting with a sympathetic and confidential ear, should you need one,” he offered.

Hermione had been missing someone she could confess all the troubles on her mind, as if the pressure behind the dam was building, given that her lover and former confessor was gone. But given Tim's lack of context and history of many aspects of her world, it would be hard to drag up many of those memories with which to fill him in. Hermione would suffer them in silence instead.

============

A/N: As always, thank you to my lovely and helpful betas for this chapter, JuneW and Cygnuz.

To calculate the rough approximation of the wizarding population, I used the Harry Potter wiki site (http://harrypotter.wikia.com/wiki/Wizarding_world) which estimates the wizarding population at 12,000 to 15,000. I decided to play it generous and stick with 15,000. England's population is roughly 60 million, so that winds up being one out of 4,000 who is a witch of wizard.

Adding together the populations of other countries – roughly, Europe as a whole (740 million), Russia (125 million), the Middle East (300 million), North Africa (50 million guesstimate) – that is a population of about 1,225,000,000. Divided by 4,000 leaves a little over 300,000 witches and wizards. India's Muggle population alone is approximately 1,225,000,000, so adding them to Lavender's distribution would double her potential customer base of over 600,000 if every witch and wizard used her products.
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And They Didn\'t Live Happily Ever After