Severus woke up to the feel of a ray of sunshine breaking through the tiny, high window in his bedroom. He felt a pang of regret for having sold the cottage at Spinner's End, but he really couldn't afford to keep his capital tied up in two properties, and the cottage had never felt much like a home. He was more comfortable underground after all those years in the Hogwarts dungeons, and this little warren of rooms under the shop was perfectly suited to a bachelor of his years and needs. The last of the legalities being settled, he'd moved in, and now he knew he had to find a way of covering that window. It was all going to turn out all right.

Except that he sounded like a Hufflepuff. Could those girls he'd hired have been slipping something into his food? He'd never had such juvenile thoughts even as a child. Thank Merlin he hadn't actually devolved to saying that sort of thing out loud.

He made his breakfast, checking each item carefully to make sure it hadn't been tampered with. There was a faint smell of... something, but he couldn't quite tell what it was or where it was coming from. It was on his food, but also on his clothes and in his hair. It wasn't unpleasant; if nothing else, he could sell it as an air freshener.

There he went again! Looking on the bright side was not part of his character, but now that he'd noticed it once, it was pervasive, and deeply disturbing. If he didn't find out what was causing it soon, it'd become second nature. The thought that he might end up not minding his own cheeriness filled him with horror.

Breakfast done, dishes tidied away, showered, and wearing fresh robes, Severus mentally reviewed his agenda for the day. While his schedule was no longer as regimented as he was during his teaching tenure, he still liked order in his life; hence why he'd taken on employees to deal with what customers appeared, bringing disorder by their very nature. First he'd check on his employees, and perhaps do a brief scan to check whether the scamps (bitches, he corrected himself mentally) had done this to him. Then out to find a competent barber, lunch at the place where they served a delicious pate, and finally back to his workshop in order to check in on the batch of anti-Cruciatus potion which had been simmering for about two and a half of the required three months.

These plans were being put into effect when he noticed the smell was stronger near his storeroom. As he stepped in to investigate, the smell grew stronger, to the point where the smell of melon and vanilla grew cloying, with the beginnings of decay creeping in. “At least I know what doesn't work!”

That was the worst one yet, and Severus struggled desperately to hold on to his horror. The smell was centered around the steeping potion, and the effects were very like a combination of cheering charms and wit-dulling potions. Covering his face with one sleeve to dull the fumes he was forced to breathe in, he bottled a small portion of the potion and banished the rest into the stasis room. He didn't dare throw it out before determining its potential usefulness, but he also didn't dare keep it simmering until he could improve the ventilation and prevent any further potions fumes from seeping into his living quarters.

“Looped out on happy fumes,” he snarled, “and not one of those idiots noticed or cared about the change.” Feeling a bit more like himself, Severus used his wand to clean the air and the outside of the potion bottle, and pondered whether he should go see the Weasley girl to get checked out for any lingering effects.