Wordlessly, Severus reads over the list, and then pulls over a sheet of paper - with a little motion of his fingers, her list duplicates onto the blank sheet, and he begins to write out notes on the copy. It's not that he thinks her notebook's got cooties, or something, but that it's a habit; partially not knowing what enchantments she might have on her personal belongings, and partially just not wanting to muck about with anyone else's things. He ticks off objects that are on hand in the shop, notes down alternatives and substitutions for a few others, and in one instance jots down an easy recipe for a flesh-mending salve made from a few of the substitutions listed, making an assumption from her list what she might be up to in a few cases.

He works meticulously, his handwriting that familiar cramped scroll, neat and efficient and just as flowing and open as his personality (...which is not at all). Typically he hates helping people, and he's rejected a few individuals who've managed to catch him here before, but Hermione is potentially useful - if not to him, then to Sebastian, so he doesn't begrudge doing this. It's only a minor irritation, after all. (Someday he will live in a world where no one ever bothers him, ever. The Valhalla of misanthrope reformed villains.)

Severus hands it back, and then points out at the shelves. "They're organized by base use and name." As if he'd pull them for her.