Chapter Text
His stomach growled.
Thank Merlin the potion was nearly at a point where he could let it simmer for several hours. He had been at it since the crack of dawn with nothing but a bowl of what passed for oatmeal in the research facility’s canteen. While just past the point of edible, it was hardly the breakfast of champions, and it was well into the lunch hour now.
There was a sharp rap on the door, just before it opened. “Master Snape, there’s someone here to see you.” Even without bothering to look up from his cauldron, Severus knew the boy would be hovering in the doorway, anxiously fiddling with the cuffs of his lab robe.
“Tell them to go away, Karlsen.” Turning his focus back to the bubbling potion, he added the thinly sliced dandelion root, stirring carefully anticlockwise thirteen times. When the boy made no move to leave, Severus finally deigned to throw a frown in his direction. “Yes?”
“I tried, sir,” Karlsen answered. Severus was struck by the fact that he’d never seen the young giant--well, not literal giant, but the man was just shy of six and a half feet tall--look so abashed. “She wouldn’t take no for an answer, sir. She said she’s here to take you to lunch.”
“To lunch?” He placed the stirring rod carefully in its proper holder and lowered the flames beneath the cauldron with a quick flick of his wand. “Just get rid of her. I don’t have the time.”
“I can’t, Master Snape.”
Moving towards the door where Karlsen stood and shrugging out of his own navy lab robes, Severus sighed. He was too patient these days. Ten years ago, a trainee would never have dared bother him with something as trivial as getting rid of an unwanted visitor, much less claimed that they couldn’t handle it. “Anyone without an appointment has no right to be here. Just call security. How in Merlin’s name did she even get access to the building?”
Whatever Karlsen replied, it was too muffled for Severus to make out, but he and the trainee stepped into the hall. Severus took a moment to set the complicated wards on his lab. “What was that?” he asked, beginning to make his way down the hall with the boy trotting beside him.
“It’s Hermione Granger, sir.”
Severus stopped abruptly, but luckily, Karlsen had been trailing far enough behind to avoid any collisions. “The British Hermione Granger?”
“Is there another, sir?”
No. No, there was no other Hermione Granger in the whole of the wizarding world, as far as he knew. No wonder Karlsen wasn’t willing to call security on her. After the War of the Dark Lord, as it had been named, she’d spent several years training in various fields before stepping into a position as the newly created Phoenix Unlimited’s research director. Not that she had much of a team to direct, in the beginning. But these days, she was just as famous as The Boy Who Lived, her various departments having turned out some of the most spectacular and innovative approaches to common household items and potions in the last several centuries. Even here in Oslo, she was widely held up as a paragon of researching virtue: putting it all on the line to recreate the everyday wizarding world as we know it.
And he knew, of course, exactly why she was here.
“Blast,” Severus murmured. “She’s in Reception B?”
“Yessir.”
“Well,” he remarked solemnly, “so much for my sandwich.”
Several minutes later, having scrubbed up properly, Severus found himself watching the witch in Reception B through the one-way glass wall. Despite having seen her photo pasted across numerous journals and newspapers, she wasn’t quite what he expected. The curls he recalled as nothing but a frizzy mess were tamed in a tightly pinned knot high on the back of her head. She wore a sharp, expensive-looking suit in dark gray, with shiny black heels and a pristine white blouse just visible at the collar of her jacket. From here, he couldn’t see her face, but her stance near the reception desk was a fighting one; she looked tightly wound, like a tiger on a short leash. Or a lioness, he supposed, though somehow a tiger seemed more fitting than her old school mascot.
Taking a deep breath, Severus stepped through the door into the circular room, making his way up to the large, curving wooden desk. He wasn’t even halfway there when Granger turned, and he met plain brown eyes in a face that was perfectly layered with makeup to appear both effortless and business-like. He had the passing thought that her nose was somehow too small to make it work, though he couldn’t have said what that meant, even to himself.
“Hello, Sigrid,” he greeted the trainee currently behind the desk. She smiled nervously at him and nodded, but didn’t reply. “Mistress Granger.”
“Master Snape,” she answered coolly. “I should very much like to take you to lunch.”
“I rather thought I made my answer to your recent missive quite clear,” he responded.
She smiled thinly, “I did appreciate your brevity. It is one of the qualities I look for in a department head.” Turning more fully to face him, she stated, “Let’s continue this conversation over a meal. I know it must be your lunch hour, and I’d love to share with you more details of the opportunity.”
“Trying to poach me from my position while in my workplace? Rather uncouth, don’t you think?” Severus drawled.
Her smile tightened further, and she glanced briefly at Sigrid, who seemed to be doing her best to ignore them while sorting through the most recent set of lab reports. “I prefer to think of my methods as direct. Besides, I’m well aware that Topp Forskning will soon be bought out--a shame, really, as you’ve produced some excellent work in the field of pain management--and everyone in your department is likely considering similar opportunities. No one here will be surprised, and we can dine in Muggle Oslo to preserve your anonymity.”
He crossed his arms, leaning casually against the desk just to contrast her offensive posture. “I’m not interested, Mistress Granger.”
“Then come for the free lunch,” she offered. “You can dine well, hear me out, and send me on my way, yes?”
“And if I refuse?”
“Then I shall be back tomorrow,” her smile was sickly sweet now, an intentional gambit on her part. She knew no one would deny her access, and he knew she was stubborn enough to keep returning.
“On two conditions,” it wouldn’t do to fold too easily. “First, you agree to answer every question I ask fully and honestly. And second, I retain the right to refuse any question you pose.”
She tilted her head slightly, still with that ridiculous smile on her face, but it was the first motion she’d made that reminded him of the bright-eyed child he’d taught so many years ago. “I will answer every question fully and honestly that is related to the position.”
He shook his head, his own smirk beginning. “Ah, ah, ah, Mistress Granger. I want full license.”
She studied him, and Severus could tell she was taking his measure. Just how badly did she want the opportunity to dump her silly job offer on him?
“I’ll answer all questions related to the position. And I’ll answer personal questions about myself, provided they don’t invoke trauma or harm. I will not answer personal questions that are for others to divulge.” She wasn’t smiling any longer, but her tone was sure. “I want your agreement that you will not just attend lunch, but will attend until I am satisfied that you have heard my full proposition. No coming for fifteen minutes, asking a barrage of personal questions, and leaving just as we start to discuss the work.”
“You have a deal, Mistress Granger,” he murmured, holding out a hand and enveloping her much smaller one with his. He gave it a brisk shake. “Lead the way.”
They wound up near Karl Johans gate, which was rather too touristy for him, though at this time of year there were few enough visitors that it hardly mattered. He smirked quietly over her numerous warming charms, amused that she’d come to Oslo in nothing but a dressy wool coat and flimsy, elegant gloves. She may have looked professional, but she was woefully underprepared for what passed as spring in Scandinavia.
Severus removed his own long, many-charmed coat, as well as his dense scarf, hat, and mittens, hanging them in the entryway before the host showed them to a table tucked next to a set of tall, elegant windows. He caught the witch with him blowing into her palms as though to warm them, a move at odds with the ultra-professional air she otherwise exuded.
He studied the menu briefly, already determined to order the most exorbitantly priced item, relieved to see it was some kind of lobster masterpiece and nothing in the disgusting pate family that was favored by many locals. Looking up, he studied the ethereal scene through the window, ignoring her even as she placed her own menu on the table. When the waiter arrived, they glanced between man and woman, and then addressed them both in English, having apparently decided they couldn’t possibly be true Norwegians.
Within a few minutes, they’d ordered their food--she smirked in amusement at his choice, which was rather unsatisfying--and coffee was served to the table. Severus sipped from the gold-trimmed cup, surprised to see that Granger also took her coffee black.
“I would have thought you one to enjoy the sweeter things in life, Mistress Granger,” he remarked cuttingly.
She responded with a slightly raised eyebrow and a quirk of her lips. “I’m sorry to have disappointed you, Master Snape. In all fairness, when you knew me I didn’t even yet drink coffee, so I hardly think your perception is likely to be all that accurate.”
“Indeed,” he replied and then waved his hand in a universal gesture of let’s-get-on-with-this. “So, Mistress Granger, enlighten me. Why have you trekked all the way to Oslo to drag a former schoolteacher back to Potter’s somewhat illustrious place of business?”
She took a sip of her coffee, absently brushing away one lone curl that had somehow escaped the rigid pins during their brisk walk. “Notably, it’s not quite Phoenix Unlimited that I’m here on behalf of. With the Potter-Malfoy wedding scheduled for this summer, they’re looking to merge their two companies. It’s that merger which brings me here.”
“Wait, what?” He blinked slowly at her, momentarily missing the old Occluding shields that would have hidden his gut reaction from the woman more easily. And yet, those days were gone--he could be surprised by a piece of information without fear of retribution. “I thought this liaison with Potter was… a fling. A moment of poor judgment.”
“You must be joking.” She cocked her head at him, and seemed to realize that he wasn’t. “Just how isolated are you here, Master Snape? Draco and Harry have been together nearly five years now. That’s hardly ‘a moment’ by anyone’s standards.”
“But… Potter? What in Circe’s name does Narcissa think?” Severus sat back in his chair, trying to remember the last time he’d seen his icy… comrade. It had been several years since she’d succumbed to leaving her manor, he supposed. Even longer since he’d been willing to tread British soil.
“I would rather imagine you are in a better position to answer that than I. I’m hardly friends with the woman.” For just a moment, a shadow passed through her eyes, and he found himself leaning forward slightly, intrigued. If Narcissa was icy, Granger was beyond sub-zero. Where was that self-righteous menace from so long ago lurking?
“Yes, very true,” he acquiesced. “I certainly can’t imagine Narcissa bringing you into her circle of serpents.” Making a sudden decision--all the better because it would annoy her to no end--Severus nodded sharply, setting his cup down. “In fact, I think I’ll go floo her now.”
“You think you’ll--what, wait!” Granger replied, startled as Severus stood, pushing in his chair and turning towards the door. “Your food hasn’t even arrived. You promised me a lunch to discuss the position.”
Severus shrugged, amused at her outburst. “Have them box it for me and send it to my office. I’m afraid a terribly important call has just come up. We’ll have to raincheck this time.” And with that, he headed to the front of the restaurant, bundling himself thoroughly. He was delighted to see their waiter reach the table with their meal just as Granger stood to come after him, forcing her into a rapid--and likely awkward--conversation.
Hopefully, she’d take him at his word. He really didn’t want to eat his sandwich, now that he’d seen the lobster from afar.