Potion Fumes and Cauldron Leaks
Chapter 16: Sit, Drink, Talk
(Click here for chapter 15!)
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Disclaimer: I don’t own the “Harry Potter” book series. The story of “Harry Potter” is the property of J. K. Rowling, it is not my intellectual property. There is no financial gain made from this nor will any be sought. This is for entertainment purposes only.
Severus could not help but notice a change in his apprentice’s behaviour over the next couple of days.
Unlike her last emotional low, Granger did still show up to class; however, she’d stopped raising her hand and kept her head down working quietly during the majority of the lessons. She also appeared to have changed her regular meal times, and, whenever she still could not avoid running into her “friends”, she would sit at the opposite end of the long Gryffindor table, eating alone. Sometimes, she would also just skip meals all together. And while she continued to visit his office on the daily, her mood had definitely changed as well. She seemed a lot sadder and less carefree than usual. Severus would often try to engage her in interesting discussions about potions and the like, but they would all soon fizzle out as she did not appear to want to talk much.
Severus was becoming increasingly irritated. Not only did it hurt him to see her feel that way, but he also selfishly wanted his Hermione back – the one he could spend hours quietly working on potions with, the one that would pester him with countless questions, the one that would give him a great big smile whenever she walked through his door. Now, she was only a shadow of her former self, and he hated it.
And so, he decided that he had to do something about it.
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Hermione threw her heavy bookbag on her bed with a loud grunt. She was feeling extremely frustrated. Not only was she currently struggling to come up with a solution for an especially tricky equation that was part of the Arithmancy homework she would have to hand in the following week, but she had also been unable to cast the new spell they had learnt about in Defence Against the Dark Arts earlier today. And while it was almost dinner time now and her stomach was actually growling, she really did not feel like going down to the Great Hall and facing her estranged friends. She could not stand the way they stared at her whenever she was forced to walk past them to sit down as far away from them as possible.
She sighed as she bent over and gave Crookshanks, who was curled up at the foot of her bed, a quick cuddle. Perhaps she could sneak down to the kitchens later and manage to grab a quick bite that way. Straightening, she then turned and walked into her small study, where she sat down at her overloaded desk and began to work on trying to solve that stupid equation.
It must have been about an hour and a half later when her concentration was interrupted by an all too familiar tapping noise. Sure enough, there was a little school owl sitting on the windowsill. Hermione wrinkled her nose.
Another late-night delivery? Surely it couldn’t be …
An uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach, she walked over, opened the window and made sure to give the bird a treat before carefully untying a small scroll from its left leg. After watching the animal fly away into the starry sky, she returned to her desk and unrolled the letter. Just like last time, there was no sender; however, the penmanship was all too familiar.
My office, 10.30 pm.
How strange, she thought. Why would he want to see her after curfew? Tapping her fingers against the tabletop, she allowed herself to ponder for a moment. But no matter how hard she cudgelled her brain, she simply could not come up with a plausible explanation for this ever so peculiar summoning.
Standing up, she began to pace around the room. The only possible reason he would invite her over this late that she could come up with was something forbidden, like dark magic or an illegal potion. Hermione could feel her cheeks start to burn. While she had never been one to break the rules, the thought of Professor Snape being a – for the lack of a better word – bad boy made her feel queasy in all the good ways for some reason.
Stop it, Hermione! That’s Professor Snape you are thinking of!
But with way too much time left on her hands until she was supposed to meet up with her tutor, the Muggle-born’s thoughts began to run wild: Professor Snape showing her a ground-breaking discovery he had just made, Professor Snape smuggling her out of school grounds to bring her to a secret gathering of the wizarding world’s best potioneers, Professor Snape regarding her intently as his lips were getting dangerously close to hers … Because if Hermione Granger was good at something, it was overthinking.
By the time she stole out of her tower to make her way down to the dungeons, Hermione had completely forgotten about dinner and Arithmancy. She had been too preoccupied by thoughts about the purpose of their meeting. Not by thoughts about Professor Snape, she tried telling herself; but subconsciously, she knew that she was lying to herself.
She did not know where it had come from, why her head was suddenly filled with unchaste ideas about her teacher. She was a bit too old to attribute them to pubertal confusion. All she knew was that she admired Professor Snape. He was a well-accomplished Potions Master, one of the smartest yet most mysterious people she had ever met and, if she was being honest with herself, not too bad looking either. He intrigued her, and the beating of her heart had suddenly quickened when she’d read his note. What would this encounter have in store for her?
It was a long walk from the Head Girl Tower down to the Potions professor’s office, but Hermione knew that she would not get caught. Among the perks of her position was knowing the patrol schedule as she too was sometimes required to aid school staff when it came to making rounds through the castle’s endless corridors. Her outfit was a bit more casual than what she would normally wear to see one of her teachers. She had combined a pair of light wash jeans with lined slippers and a really thick, bright-red woollen sweater, with the latter intended to protect her from the penetrating November cold – after all, Hogwarts was not exactly known for its good insulation. She had debated about whether she should have kept on her uniform but ultimately decided that Professor Snape could not expect her to be dressed formally if he sent for her past regular school hours.
It felt like an eternity had passed before she finally turned the corner and found herself in the corridor in which Professor Snape’s office was located. She knew that she was running a few minutes early, and she had actually planned to wait them out before knocking on the door; but to her surprise, the wizard was already waiting for her in the hallway. Seemingly out of nowhere, she felt her hands get sweaty.
“Good evening, Professor,” she said quietly; it was merely a whisper. “Aren’t we going inside?”
Snape mustered her for a second, noticeably surprised by her attire, and Hermione promptly started to regret her fashion choice; however, he did not comment on it. Instead, he let his voice resonate from the stone walls as he replied, “No. Tonight, we shall retreat to my private quarters. Follow me.”
And before she could get another word in, he had already spun around and was hurrying through the gloomy dungeon maze.
Hermione could feel her chest tighten painfully as she tried to keep up with the man’s long legs. “Private quarters? What in the name of Merlin is going on?!” the voice inside her head screamed. Sure, she had been in there before, but that had been during an emergency situation; she would have never thought that he would ever invite her back. Yet again, her own thoughts were threatening to overwhelm her.
Soon, they arrived at the portrait marking the hidden entrance to the professor’s rooms. Hermione could hear him mumble something under his breath before she watched the painting swing open. Almost instantaneously, she felt his hands on her shoulders. He practically pushed her inside.
Stepping into his sitting room, she immediately felt calmer. She had fallen in love with this place the very second she had first laid eyes upon it. The countless books lining the walls, the dark yet homely interior design as well as the overall cosy feeling just filled her with joy. If she were to imagine her dream home, it would definitely look something like this.
As soon as she turned around, however, her blissfulness swiftly turned into nervousness again. There he was, Professor Snape, just standing in the corner and staring at her with an expressionless face that made her whole body stiffen up. His presence was looming over her, and it somehow made her feel excited and scared to death at the same time.
You’re not twelve anymore, Hermione. He doesn’t scare you any longer. He’s still the same person you’ve been spending time with every day for weeks now!
But she simply could not help it. Merely standing next to him made her feel incredibly anxious.
“Sit down,” he all of a sudden ordered, pointing at one of the wing chairs in front of the fireplace – and without thinking, Hermione complied.
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The only thing interrupting the silence was the crackling sound of fire. Sitting in the other identical chair just a few feet away, Severus watched the girl closely. She seemed nervous for some reason – her right leg was bouncing up and down restlessly, and she was back to gnawing at her bottom lip. Her eyes would not meet his; instead, they were clued to the floor. But he guessed that he could not blame her since it was indeed an incredibly weird situation.
Truth be told, he felt very much the same. Internally, he was chiding himself for being such a slave to his emotions. He knew that it had been wrong to invite her here, of course; that it would only make their relationship more personal which it definitely should not become. But he had just felt this inexplicable urge to do something, and, with how inexperienced he was when it came to social interactions, this was the only thing he could come up with – to try to make things better.
Admittingly, Severus was still a bit shocked by her look. He obviously knew that students often chose to wear casual clothing outside of class; after all, he had been a student at one point, too. And needless to say, he had seen her dressed in something other than her uniform before – during their coincidental confrontation in the Hospital Tower, a couple of times at Grimmauld Place, and in the memories which he had secretly viewed over a month ago, to name just a few instances. But for some reason, tonight was something else. Her outfit was definitely not special or provocative by any means, yet it threatened to disarm him wholly. The way the tight jeans hugged her curves, the way that the red of the jumper complimented her complexion – she was effortlessly breath-taking. It literally took him all of his hard-earned self-control not to start drooling right then and there.
When he had initially come up with his plan to help her feel better again, he had not thought about how it would all actually go down, and so quite frankly, the awkward silence was intimidating him a bit now. In an attempt to break the tension that currently filled the room, he conjured a silver tray with a large teapot, two dainty porcelain cups and a plate of biscuits straight from the nearby kitchens. A flick of his hand was all that was needed to propel the iron kettle into the air and command it to pour out the piping hot herbal tea. Leaning forward, Severus then handed Granger one of the cups without a word before setting the other one down on the small wooden table beside him. She accepted the beverage without complaint; however, after a few more minutes of uncomfortable silence, Severus noticed that she still had not touched it.
“Drink,” he said a little bit too loudly, making her jump. But still, she did end up taking a small sip. His own cup continued to sit on the side table untouched, where it would remain like that for the rest of the night.
Taking a deep breath to gather up his courage, he then finally managed to force out the words, “Now talk.” He prayed to the gods that she had not heard the slight crack in his voice.
“Pardon?” Granger looked up at him with her brows furrowed in confusion.
Severus gulped. This was not going well.
“Talk,” he repeated hoarsely, staring directly into her whiskey-coloured eyes.
“About what, sir?”
He was not sure when it had started exactly, but he had come to hate it when she used honorifics to address him. It merely served as a reminder of their teacher-student relationship – of how inappropriate his crush really was.
“Your … feelings.”
As expected, her mouth dropped open. “Um –“
Severus interrupted her quickly, internally starting to panic.
“Miss Granger, I simply cannot work like this! I need an apprentice who is able to dedicate herself completely to the subject of potion brewing, and the conflict with your little friends is obviously preventing you from doing so. You left me with no choice but to do something about it! If I have learnt anything from mainstream literature and cinematography, it is that women like to solve their problems by talking about them. So go ahead.” He knew that he was speaking too fast – he was painfully aware of it, in fact – but he simply could not help it. “Talk.”
Granger’s puzzled facial expression showed just how lost she was for words. “Professor Snape, I don’t –“
“This is probably the only time I will ever say this aloud, but you are truly an excellent apprentice. I enjoy working with you, and so if this is what it takes for you to become productive again, then please, by all means, speak!”
It was rather fascinating how easily readable she was sometimes; Severus was practically able to watch her inner debate with his own eyes as a whole array of different emotions washed over her face. Finally – it felt like it had been forever – she came to a decision.
“I mean, I can understand that they feel a bit let down by me, but I still don’t think that their reaction was justified,” she mumbled, the primitive dance of the flames inside the fireplace reflecting in her pupils.
Not saying anything, Severus waited until she was ready to continue. He had learnt a long time ago that most people would eventually start talking again just to make the unpleasant taciturnity go away.
“Every single year, during the height of Quidditch season, I barely get to see all three of them. But did I ever complain? No! I have always understood that that’s their passion. I have always put their needs and wants before mine. I come to every single one of their games to support them, to cheer them on – yet they complain whenever I ask them to join me for a study session at the library. But then as soon as exams roll around, I’m suddenly in high demand again …”
Barely holding back tears, her whole body began to shake, and there was nothing that Severus wanted to do more than to close the short distance between them, to hold her and calm her down like he had done that one night in his office. But he forced himself to stay put.
“I don’t even know how many assignments I have helped them with over the years. You better don’t believe that even half of the essays they have submitted to you were actually written by them. I normally take academic integrity really seriously, but shit!” Severus’ eyebrows shot up in surprise at her use of a curse word. “Ron and Harry wouldn’t even have made it past first year if I hadn’t helped them. I pretty much pushed them through six years of schooling myself, and this is the thanks I get? THEY DIDN’T EVEN CARE ENOUGH TO SPEND TIME WITH ME ON MY BIRTHDAY, BECAUSE OF FUCKING COURSE QUIDDITCH IS MORE IMPORTANT! DID I SAY ANYTHING BACK THEN?!”
The petite woman was screaming at this point.
“Do they think I enjoyed being pushed to the centre of a bloody war just because I was friends with The Boy Who Lived? Do they think I enjoyed putting my life on the line every single day starting when I was still just a child? Time after time, I saved their asses from certain death, and now that the war is over, now that I do not have to worry about that shit anymore, they get mad at me for finally doing what I enjoy?!” By now, her face was covered in tears. “How dare they fuck me over like this! HOW DARE THEY! It’s like our friendship only exists on their terms. So what if I fucking missed lunch with them? Oh yeah, because that totally cancels out the time I got FUCKING TORTURED by that bitch Lestrange; when I was almost killed but did not say a single fucking word because I had to protect them!”
Granger let out an agonised whimper as she grabbed the left sleeve of her jumper and yanked it up, revealing a horrific sight: there, on the inside of her forearm, the word MUDBLOOD was carved into her delicate flesh over and over again, marking her from her wrist all the way up to the crook of her arm. The cuts – the dozens of them that were there – must have been extremely deep, as each dark red letter was elevated noticeably from her pale skin.
Without thinking, Severus jumped out of his seat. He was by his beloved’s side in no time.
“Bellatrix,” he hissed under his breath. The witch was lucky that she was already dead, because he certainly would not have been nice to her – not after seeing this. Kneeling next to the weeping girl, he carefully held her fragile arm in his wiry hands as he nonverbally cast different diagnostic spells.
“Why have I never seen this before?!” He had known that Granger had briefly fallen into enemy hands during the final battle; but no one, neither the Order nor the Dark Lord, had ever mentioned that torture had taken place. He could feel himself get angrier by the second. “Albus should have told me!”
Granger would not meet his gaze. “I don’t think he knows. Nobody knows. I usually cover it up with a charm.”
The anguish in her voice made his heart ache.
“This looks bad,” he whispered, even as everything inside him screamed to go on a murderous rampage. “But I am sure it could be fixed. We could try an ointment, maybe a potion. If you’d just give me enough time to come up with –“
“No,” she cut him off, pulling back her arm and covering up the marks with her sleeve again. “It’s of no use. She used some type of ancient pure-blood curse so it would never go away. Trust me, I’ve tried everything.”
Severus was taken aback by the sudden lack of emotion in her voice.
“I’ll just have to live with it. It’s a daily reminder of my real place in the wizarding world … a daily reminder of how worthless the blood running through my veins really is.”
Hopelessly despaired, Severus wanted to say something – anything – to the contrary and was desperately searching for the right words. But in the end, he stopped himself; nothing he could possibly say right now would make this situation any better. He had seen his fair share of magical injuries over the years, but this was definitely one of the worst. If Granger was right – if this had really been an ancient curse – then there was nothing he or anyone else could do. The fact that she was able to cover it up when needed was already incredible and showed just how unbelievably capable she truly was.
Still wanting to comfort his little witch and show sympathy somehow, he found himself reaching out and carefully placing his hand on hers. He heard her draw a sharp breath upon contact, and for a split second, he was afraid that she would pull away from him. But then, ever so lightly, she squeezed his fingers.
They stayed in that position for a very long time, holding hands in silence as they watched the fire slowly burn out. It was not until there was only a handful of dying embers left that he spoke up again, having to clear his throat first after not saying anything in so long.
“I know that nothing could ever possibly replace your friends, but if you want to then you can come here anytime you wish. I have a lot of books that I am sure you would enjoy, and if you ever don’t feel like eating in the Great Hall, the house elves do offer rather good room service. And they are very much discreet at that, too.” His heart was beating so fast and loud that he was sure all of Scotland could hear. “I wouldn’t really mind your company either. After all, you do seem to be the only person in the entire castle that is able to hold an intellectually stimulating conversation for longer than five minutes.”
For the first time tonight, he saw the corners of her mouth lift a little.
“I’d love that,” she said softly.
Severus could not stop himself from grinning back at her.
“Great!” he exclaimed without a care in the world about whether he sounded just a little bit too enthusiastic in that moment. “Then let me just quickly jot down the password for you.”
“A-are you sure? I mean, I could just knock!”
Severus chuckled at her shocked expression as he stood up and walked over to his secretary desk.
“I think your position as Head Girl proves that you are more than trustworthy. As long as you promise me that you are over your ‘breaking in and stealing from other people’s private stocks’ phase from five years ago, I think that we should be just fine.”
Granger’s face instantly mottled crimson.
“You know that was me?” she whispered, positively mortified.
“You were sitting in the Hospital Wing a half-human half-cat. It did not take a genius to connect the dots. Besides, who do you think brewed you the antidote?”
“Oh god! Sir, I am so, so sorry! I –“
“It’s all right. Here,” he said, handing her a small piece of paper. “Come and go as you wish. Even when I am not here.”
“I, I –“ Severus could not help it – the mean professor inside him still for some reason enjoyed seeing a student stammer helplessly right in front of him. “I don’t even know what to say, sir. Thank you so much. For your kind offer and for letting me get it all out. I appreciate it, really!”
An hour later, as he laid alone in bed, Severus could only think of one thing: he never knew that Granger could swear like that.
(Click here for chapter 17!)