A Twist of Fate

Anti-Death Eater sentiment ran high in the days and months following the downfall of the self-proclaimed dark lord, Voldemort. Those who were proven to have been supporters of Lord Voldemort were dealt with swiftly and without mercy. They were perhaps more fortunate than those who were merely suspected of being allied with the Dark Lord. Such suspects were shunned at best, persecuted at worst. Relatively innocent bystanders who were guilty only of being related to a known Death Eater or sympathizer were cast aside as well.

Albus Dumbledore, had he survived The War, would have been appalled by such goings-on. He also might have been able to do something to curb the rising wave of terror-induced violence that was perpetrated under the guise of preventative medicine.

As it was, Dumbledore was three years in his grave by the time The War finally ended. Harry Potter, who might or might not have chosen to use his not-inconsiderable influence to restore peace, lay near death for many months after he sent Voldemort to meet his Maker. The Ministry floundered, cast into disarray by the deaths and depositions of many high-ranking officials from the Minister for Magic down to the head of Misuse of Muggle Artefacts. There was no one to restore order, and no one to care what happened to those who were wrongly suspected of being in league with Voldemort.

And so it happened that one such man, a man who was in fact one of the heroes of The War, found his life had gone pear-shaped between the time he fell into bed one night and the time he rose next morning.

* * * * *

Severus Snape looked around the sparse rooms which had been his home for the past quarter century. The rooms had never been grandly decorated, had not been at all homey, but they nevertheless held the memories of the last twenty-five years. Of course, a good many of those memories were ones that Severus could very gladly live without. The rooms themselves, which were never warm enough even in the midst of summer, he would miss no more than said memories. And he certainly wouldn't miss the annoying pests that masqueraded as students. No, indeed. He was well shut of his position at Hogwarts. He had intended to leave anyway, now that he could.

Still, being summarily dismissed, shunted away like so much rubbish....

He hadn't gone quietly, at least. He had tried to reason with the Board, pointing to everything from the OWL and NEWT results of his students to the part he played in bringing about Voldemort's downfall. The Board of Governors had responded with tripe about compatible teaching styles, the children's need for gentleness and understanding, and the suggestion that he would be happier somewhere else.

Severus knew, of course, that the real reason he was being ousted was not because of his teaching methods (though as some of the Board members were former students, those methods might have had some influence on the decision), but because he had once aligned himself with Voldemort. Despite his change of allegiance, he would forever be viewed as a Death Eater, someone to fear and despise.

Without Dumbledore or McGonagall at Hogwarts to back him, Snape knew he didn't stand a chance against the Board. He knew also that letting his temper get the better of him, as he was sometimes wont to do, would only lead him into deeper water. So Severus had mustered every bit of pride and strength he had, looked down his nose at the Board members, and swept away to his rooms. There he tendered his resignation -- better to resign than to be sacked! -- and packed away his belongings.

Severus made a final tour of his rooms to check for forgotten items and silently say goodbye to the stone walls and floor that had given him sanctuary for so long. Most of his possessions had been sent ahead to the rooms he let in Hogsmeade, which heretofore had only been used during summer holidays. Those items which he would not entrust to other hands were tucked safely into a battered travel case that waited beside the door leading into the corridor. Final tour completed, Severus hefted the case, stepped into the hallway, and shut the door behind him. A scant half-hour later, he let himself into his rooms above Scrivenshaft's Quill Shop. With nothing more pressing to do, he sank into an armchair to consider his options over a tumbler of firewhisky.

Six weeks later, Severus was still considering his options. He'd started with a long list of possibilities, but as the days and weeks blurred by, he'd been stalled at every turn. Despite twenty years as a Hogwarts professor, despite his tireless work toward the eventual defeat of Voldemort, and despite his consummate skill in the brewing of potions, Severus Snape was unemployable. No one wanted to hire a former Death Eater, no matter how reformed he might be. It would, he was told, be bad for business.

If his presence would be bad for prospective employers, it stood to reason that it would also be bad for any entrepreneurial enterprise he might undertake. Snape crossed "apothecary" off his rapidly dwindling list. After a moment's consideration, he struck through "owl order potions" as well.

With a frustrated sigh, Severus opened an old-fashioned leather-bound ledger and briefly perused the orderly columns, quickly assessing the current state of his finances. They were, as he had feared, somewhat less than adequate. He had never been very good at managing money. But then, he had never had much money to manage. Severus closed the book with a snap and shoved it aside to look over his list of options again.

Only two possibilities now remained: leave Britain or find work in the Muggle world.

After staring at the parchment for over a quarter of an hour, Snape rose, resolved. He had always been a survivor, and he certainly wasn't going to give up now. He knew what he had to do, and tomorrow he would see it through, no matter how much the thought might pain him.

* * * * *

The tinkling of the small bells over the shop door drew the attention of the plump, motherly woman who stood behind the counter. "Good morning," she called cheerily.

"Good morning," Severus replied in an affected warm tone.

"Can I help you?" the woman asked.

"Actually, I'm hoping that I can be of some help to you," he replied, unconsciously smoothing a hand over the Muggle jumper he had transfigured from an old set of robes especially for this outing. At the woman's puzzled look, he explained, "I saw your sign in the window."

"Oh! Right! Help wanted," she said with a small laugh. She reached beneath the counter, fishing around for something. "The last two who responded were teenagers. Now, I've nothing against teenagers, mind - I've got two meself - but I need more responsible help, if you know what I mean." She ceased fumbling beneath the counter and came up with a form. "You can just fill this out, and if you've got your papers with you...well, you could start right away."

"Papers?" Snape asked warily as he took the form from the woman's outstretched hand.

"Identification, you know. Your NIN or whatnot."

"Of course," Severus said, pretending he had some idea what the woman was on about. "I don't have them with me."

"Oh, that's bad luck, that is. I got a new shipment in this morning; I could have used a strong back today. Well, you just bring that form back with your other papers, and I'll be glad to put you to work."

Severus bid the woman good day and Apparated home. He would see if he could find out what documentation he would need to hand over, but first he would attend to the application form. Settling in behind his desk, he dipped a quill in the inkpot and set to work. Several agonizing minutes later, he crumpled the form and tossed it into the fire. He'd had enough of pretending to be someone he was not during his many years as a spy; he would not create yet another identity in order to work in the Muggle world.

Perhaps it was time to seriously consider leaving Scotland. But where would he go? He could read Latin and Greek. He spoke French passably well. And he had certainly proved able to adapt to a variety of scenarios.

As he continued to turn the matter over in his mind, he flipped idly through the pages of the latest edition of the Daily Prophet. He absently turned to the advertisements in the back and began to skim through them.

It was there that he saw it, halfway down the page, wedged between an advertisement for discount potions ingredients and one for racing brooms.

Income failing to keep pace with your outflow? Need to earn a little extra gold? Positions now open in research & development, quality control, and customer service. Send CV to P.O. Box A, Diagon Alley.

Research and development. In Diagon Alley.

The position likely wouldn't involve customer contact; his former status as a Death Eater would therefore be less of a liability to the company. And a job - any job - in Diagon Alley meant not having to venture off into parts unknown.

Snape took up the quill again and began to write.

* * * * *

When Severus still had not had any response to his CV and letter of application after three days of waiting, he began once again to consider going abroad; he was certain that the prospective employer had tossed the letter into the fire the moment he - or she - had seen the name Severus Snape.

On that third day, however, a tired-looking postal owl brought a brief note which gave him cause for hope.

Mister Snape,

After careful consideration of your skills and work experience, my partner and I have decided we should like to meet with you to discuss the possibility of your employment with our company. Should you still be interested in a position with us, please meet us at the Leaky Cauldron, Diagon Alley, on 14 October. Tom will know where to direct you.

The letter was signed only with the initials G.W.

Although he felt slightly uneasy about even meeting with someone who felt the need to be so secretive, Severus decided he would meet with GW. As long as the person in question was in no way connected with Voldemort, the meeting - held at the Leaky Cauldron as it would be - could hardly be more than an annoyance at worst. If the person did happen to be someone who had once pledged allegiance to the dark...well, in that case Severus would simply be thankful that there were no longer dementors guarding Azkaban, as even contacting such a person would likely bring heavy consequences.

On the 14th of October, Severus groomed and dressed with deliberate care. On the off chance that whoever he was to meet could actually offer him gainful employment, he wanted to do what he could to make a favourable impression. There wasn't much he could do to make himself appear personable, but at least he looked less like a madman when he'd cleaned up a little. Feeling every bit the anxious schoolboy he had once been, Severus Apparated to Diagon Alley.

* * * * *

"Right this way, Professor," Tom said almost the moment he saw Snape enter the Leaky Cauldron. Without either questions or explanations, he led Severus up the stairs toward the guestrooms. Pausing halfway down the hallway, Tom rapped smartly on a door. When a voice cried, "Come in," Tom opened the door and bowed Snape inside.

Severus had hardly crossed the threshold when he stopped dead in his tracks. There in the room, obvious expecting him, stood the Weasley twins.

"Another of your practical jokes?" he snarled, gathering his cloak around him.

One of them opened his mouth to say something, and the other promptly stood on his foot.

"Ow! George!"

"Not a joke at all, Professor," George said smoothly. "We honestly need help, what with losing some of our best employees and with the addition of our new shop in Hogsmeade. You're experienced with research and development and especially knowledgeable about how various components interact with one another. And now that you can't put us in detention or take house points away, we should get on just fine," he explained without pausing for breath. Clearly, he could see that Snape was ready to bolt and wanted to get his say in.

Severus' pride warred with his strong sense of self-preservation; his pride lost.

"I will hear you out," he said magnanimously. He shut the door he had entered through and leaned back against it with his arms crossed across his chest.

"Not many people know this, but there are actually three brilliant minds behind Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes." At Snape's derisive snort, George rolled his eyes. "For ages, Fred and I kept our business almost exclusively between the two of us, with only occasional advice or other help from Lee Jordan."

"That all changed about eight years ago," Fred interjected. "When we brought Harry on board."

"He was a bit put out with himself for not managing to get into your NEWT level potions class. Threw himself into learning the material anyway."

"He was forever badgering Hermione to help him with it."

"Until she hooked up with Ron and fobbed Harry off on Susan Bones," George added with a nod. "Harry thought he might be able to get into the Auror programme without the NEWT as long as he knew enough about potions."

"But by the time he'd left school, he realised he'd have enough of dark wizards just being involved with the Order."

"So he came to work with us," George concluded.

"Right," Fred said. "Having an extra mad genius on the payroll made it easier to expand the business."

"Without him to help us develop new products..."

"And with all the added responsibilities we have these days..."

"We could really use someone who knows as much as you do."

Severus abruptly held up one hand, gesturing for silence. The other hand pinched the bridge of his nose; he hadn't even gotten past the interview, and already the twins were giving him a headache.

Fred and George sat in silence for as long as they could, which, of course, wasn't long at all.

"We've prepared an offer," Fred said. He handed a rudimentary contract to Snape. The salary figure named therein was enough to give Snape pause.

Taking the offered contract, Snape looked it over carefully. He was being offered a reasonably large sum of money, and he wouldn't have to deal with the children who made up a large percentage of Wheezes' clientele. Severus traced his mouth with one finger as he continued to scrutinize the contract.

At long last, he looked up at the twins. "I want a clause which states no one will test products on me without my knowledge and consent."

George took the parchment from Snape's hand and scribbled the requested addendum at the bottom. "Anything else?"

"The rest of the contract is satisfactory."

"In that case," George said, "welcome aboard." He held his hand out, and after a long moment, Snape clasped it uncertainly. They shook hands briefly, and then Fred shook Snape's hand as well.

The three men signed the contract, then, and it was done. There was no going back. Severus' fate was tied to that of the mischievous twins, and - sadly - he was grateful for it.

* * * * *

Working for Fred and George Weasley was not the nightmare that Snape had imagined it would be. Perhaps the two of them had finally decided to start acting their age. Or maybe the loss of their father had matured them. Either way, they adhered strictly to the contract they'd signed, never daring to slip any of their god-awful inventions to Snape on the sly.

On more than one occasion, Severus' intervention saved the twins from certain disaster. They maintained that inventing their 'Wheezes' wasn't as much fun if they didn't blow up a cauldron now and then, but they also listened attentively when he explained how to avoid some of the mistakes they were making.

Overall, Severus' working relationship with the Weasley twins proved to be not only mutually beneficial but also rather pleasant. However, the young man that the twins hired to run the shop in Hogsmeade was a different story altogether.

Rufus Walpole, formerly of Hufflepuff house, seemed to hold Snape personally responsible for his not having earned his potions NEWT, as if it was Severus' fault that the boy had all the brains of a turnip. On the days when Snape laboured alone in the rooms behind the Hogsmeade shop, Rufus did his best to make life miserable for Severus. Typically this consisted of making disparaging remarks and doing everything in his power to break Snape's concentration. Somehow, Severus held his temper - although at times it was a near thing.

Having worked with volatile potions for many, many years, Snape knew full well what happens when pressure builds inside a small, sealed container: eventually the pressure reaches a point where it causes the container to explode. And so it was with Snape.

On the last Hogsmeade weekend for students before the Christmas holidays, Weasleys Wizard Wheezes in Hogsmeade was overrun with teenagers, most of whom Snape had been teaching just over six months before. Not wanting to deal with the little reprobates, Snape shut himself up in the laboratory behind the shop and lost himself in his work.

To Severus' surprise, Rufus barged into the workroom in the middle of the afternoon, just when the shop should have been the busiest. Straightening, he turned to watch the boy, suddenly wary.

"Out of canary creams," Rufus muttered, moving past Snape to fetch a fresh crate of the horrid sweets.

Severus turned back to his brewing. A split second later, Rufus had tossed something into the cauldron and bolted through the door. Snape didn't have time to do more than stumble backward and cover his face before the concoction erupted like Vesuvius, drenching Snape - and everything else in the room -- with a gooey purple sludge. In the next instant, Snape could feel the potion taking effect; unfortunately for him, he had been working on a variation of a change-sex potion for use in one of the twins' trick sweets.

Fuming, Severus summoned a towel from across the room and began to wipe off the purple goo. Being drenched in the slimy liquid was less than pleasant and enduring half an hour as a woman would never top Severus' list of enjoyable activities, but at least there seemed to be no serious interaction between the potion and whatever Walpole had tossed into the cauldron. And there was no one around to see him in his current state.

Turning to toss the dripping towel aside, Snape caught sight of Rufus peering back at him from the other side of the now transparent front wall of the workroom. Behind Rufus, a shop full of Snape's former students stood pointing and laughing.

It was then that Severus' temper exploded almost exactly as the potion had done only minutes before.

Snatching open the door, Severus strode into the main area of the shop and snarled, "Out! Out! The shop is closed!" Although the snarl was less effective in Snape's new, higher-pitched voice, the students still nearly trampled one another in their scramble for the door; no one wanted to fall victim to Snape's wrath.

"Lighten up, Sev," Rufus said. "You've got to learn to laugh at...."

Whatever nonsense Walpole had been spouting was cut off mid-sentence as Severus stunned him. Fortunately for Rufus, Snape had just enough grasp on his formidable temper to refrain from casting an Unforgivable or two. Severus locked up the shop with a spell and Apparated to Diagon Alley.

Snape stalked down the street, his hands clenched into fists and his robes whipping and snapping threateningly around him. Even as a woman and with his hair still dripping purple goo, Severus sent people running for cover.

Fighting hard to keep from hexing anyone who happened to cross his path, Severus burst into Weasleys Wizard Wheezes and slammed the door shut hard enough to rattle the hinges. Unlike the shop in Hogsmeade, the Diagon Alley store had few customers just then.

"I have had enough," he ground out, surprised at the sound of his own rather shrewish voice. He deliberately lowered his tone. "I have withstood having my heritage, appearance, and intelligence maligned. I held my tongue when my allegiance and my sexual proclivities were called into question. I never once complained about being forced to work with a complete imbecile who liked to constantly natter at me. I even managed to refrain from strangling the cretin when he blew up my cauldron. But this...this is...I've had enough!" he sputtered.

"Severus?" George asked, incredulous. Beside him, Fred stared in shock.

"I quit!" Snape roared. And just as quickly as he had stomped into the shop, he slammed out again.

In the wake of hurricane Severus, George and Fred merely looked at one another for a moment. "What do you reckon?" George asked at last.

"I reckon one of us had best pop over to Hogsmeade and make certain Snape hasn't gone and killed the hired help."