-------
It had started out a simple fantasy.
He had been teaching dunderheads all day long and their insipidity and perverse thrill of getting the wrong answers constantly had drained on him to the point where he was in danger of booking Filch�s detentions for the next 100 years.
His foul temper had escalated until Albus had suggested that he go back to his room and relax.
Go to his room, like some ridiculous child!
But he had done so; he had stalked back to his room and delighted in deducting as many points as he could on his way.
He�d slammed into his rooms and kicked the door shut behind him in a fit of temper.
Before the reverberations had stopped he had thrown himself in his favourite chair, flicked his wand at the fireplace to start the roar of the fire, and accio-ed a bottle of scotch to his welcoming hand.
His head lay back on the comfortable chair and he sighed, long and heavy with the relief of not having to accommodate anyone�s wishes except his own.
But in that thought, for once, there was dissatisfaction. He had no one to accommodate his wishes either. What he wouldn�t give for a willing woman to kiss him, hold him; perhaps just knowing that someone was here to welcome him back or even more simple; some decent conversation that didn�t revolve around the boy-who-didn�t-know-when-to-quit� or Quidditch.
His fellow colleagues seemed incapable of talking civilly to him, even when he made the effort to appear cordial. No, that was unfair, they were most obliging. The problem was that their conversations always seemed bland and he made no mind to hide the fact that they bored him. Who cared about Ravenclaw�s challenges for the quarter or where Hufflepuff sat on inter-house relations and, for Merlin�s sake, what did he care for student relationships?
He sighed again and cast a glance at the stack of papers that he had to mark and contemplated ignoring them and failing the entire class. He scoffed at the thought that they�d even notice until his gaze landed on the name on the first essay.
Hermione Granger.
He tilted the scotch back and leaned over her essay, his eyes pouring over the parchment, his lips curving at her direct summary of the questions main points and then her confident conclusions and tentative additions and possible avenues of further research.
He would never, ever tell her, or anyone else for that matter, but her essays were one of the highlights of his week. It was one way that he could be intellectually stimulated without the added pressure of being sociable. Her thoughts were usually concise and well presented, researched thoroughly and enjoyable.
He pulled the essay from the pile and sat back with it, imagining her soft voice speaking the words out to him.
�The main ingredients in both the Befuddlement potion and the Confundus draught are Sneezewort, Scurvy-grass and Lovage, Professor.�
�Quite right,� he muttered out loud and then started at hearing his own voice, loud in the silence. He felt foolish for a second for talking to himself, or even worse, talking to her essay. But there was no one around to hear him.
Whether it was the Scotch or something else he continued.
�So, Miss Granger, what other uses can there be for the Confundus potion?�
�Well, Professor. I have long disliked the casual use of Obliviate as an easy-cure for Muggle memory erasure. There have been no studies on the long term effects of this curse on Muggle physiology and I believe that it may have detrimental effects, not that I believe that Muggle physiology is in any way deficient you understand.�
�Of course,� he murmured, his eyes scanning the paper.
�But I do maintain that it would be far better to use a simple Confundus draught in this situation. Under most circumstances Muggles want to believe the mundane and the effects of the potion, coupled with strategic suggestion would have better effects than hu- Muggles going around with missing moments.�
He nodded at that, she had an interesting theory. He wondered if there were any effects on Muggles under repeated Obliviate.
He finished the last few words and sat back, the room oddly bereft of her lilting voice as she �spoke� to him.
�Maybe I should make the essays longer?� he mused as he swirled the remaining Scotch in his glass.
Or maybe�
He concentrated hard on the chair opposite him and tried to conjure a picture of her in his mind but for some reason couldn�t quite finalise the details. He knew that she stood about as tall as his shoulder, her hair was unruly and� and� that was it.
He sighed again and stood up, stalking around his room as he cursed the fact that he could recall every second of every Death Eater meeting he had ever attended but couldn�t even remember the colour of her eyes.
Oh, well it wasn�t like he needed to see her to hear that voice. He cleared his throat.
�So, Miss Granger, what do you think of the ethical use of magical remedies on Muggles?�
-
The next morning he had cursed himself for his foolishness and determined not to fall folly to it again. That didn�t stop him from checking in double potions and noting that she had brown eyes with flecks of green.
Two weeks after that episode he was sat in his room again staring at the fire and, once again, wishing for someone to talk to.
He had read this article in Potions Monthly about the use of a new variation of Polyjuice Potion in which the doses didn�t have to be constantly reapplied every hour. The author went on to talk about long term transformations and the after effects. It was a unique subject and he wondered what someone else would think about the author�s conclusions.
He paced his room, his mind swept along with the theory and its implications and he found himself talking out loud again.
�One can only think of the detrimental effects� the ability to impersonate people for a long period of time can only be devastating to society. After all what other uses could such a potion have but the negative and nefarious?�
He stared at the chair by the fire.
�Well, Professor,� Miss Granger said as she appeared, her unruly hair sticking up and her back straight. �It doesn�t have to be just detrimental you know.�
�Oh no?�
�Imagine a person who has been disfigured from an accident which no charm is able to remove� say a botched Avada, or perhaps an acid-based potions accident. All that that person would have to do is find an old hair of their own and they can be their former self. It would save their self-respect at least in public, without the constant having to take Polyjuice and find old parts of themselves.�
Snape nodded, �Good point, Miss Granger. However, you neglect to mention that the natural progression of that would be a sort of eternal youth potion, all one would have to do is to collect samples from their youth and continue to apply and there you would have the appearance of youth for as long as you lived.�
�Whilst I see nothing wrong with that��
�Nothing wrong!� he interrupted. �It�s vanity at its most destructive.�
�Professor!� she admonished respectfully. �People will always try to find the secret to eternal youth, potions are one way of ensuring long life and as long as no one is hurt then there isn�t much in the way of pain in that arena.�
He bit his lip and looked down at her hazel eyes; the flecks of green that he had noted in the classroom glinting in the fire light.
�What I was going to say was that there are few people who can actually brew the potion accurately and even fewer who have the patience to do so, you know how long it takes and the stages that are needed. I think that if a restriction on certain of the ingredients, or even a careful monitoring of who has them, could be called into effect by the ministry then it could be that the new variation for Polyjuice could be advantageous. Mediwitches, especially would have use of such a potion.�
He nodded and was about to retort when there was a knock on the door.
He glanced towards it and then back at the empty chair. He felt oddly disappointed with the sudden absence of his spectre.
�Come in.�
�Ah, Severus, there you are.�
�Albus,� Snape�s greeting was short and not as entirely welcoming as it usually was. Not that he was ever pleased to be interrupted anyway.
�I was on a walk and thought I�d drop by and see how you were.�
�Your concern for my welfare is always touching,� he drawled. �Since you insist in being here then I suggest that you sit.�
�Don�t mind if I do,� Albus twinkled at him and sat down as if he was there for the afternoon.
Snape sighed heavily and offered him tea and resigned himself to an afternoon of conversation with the headmaster, all the while wishing that he was someone else.
Someone with unruly brown hair and an inquisitive smile.
---
�Hey �Mione!�
Snape shuddered at the shortened version of her name and glanced back to the front of the class to see Mr. Weasley poking Miss Granger in the back in order to gain her attention.
�Shh!� she admonished her face stern as she stared at him. Mr. Weasley must have done something to placate her because her face softened and a small smile flitted around the corners of her mouth. �Idiot,� she said softly and turned back to her potion.
Snape stepped back into the shadows and watched her as she swept her hair back so that she could smell her potion before nodding in satisfaction.
It had been three weeks since he had first started to imagine Miss Granger in his quarters and she had become something of a permanent fixture. Her essays were her voice and he took pains to note things about her in class that he could transfer to her image in his room to make her more real.
He now knew things about her that he never even thought about in other students.
He knew the way she scraped her hair back when she was annoyed or the way her eyes flashed in indignation when she perceived herself slighted. He could tell by the twitching of her mouth whether she was genuinely amused or just humouring the boys. He knew that when she was pleased with herself she�d nod and smile and he knew that, when it came to her schoolwork, her whole face lit up in satisfaction at a job well done.
He knew� too much.
He shook himself back to the present and swept forward to take points from Gryffindor for something, chastising himself for being ridiculous.
But no matter how ridiculous he felt now, he knew that when he entered his chambers at the end of the day and she was waiting there for him with a small smile flitting around the corner of her mouth, it made everything that much easier to bear. It was one of the only things that kept him from hexing someone to oblivion.
He dismissed the class and spoke before they left the room. �Twelve� fifteen inches on the effects of opiates on the potions.�
He watched as everyone else groaned and Miss Granger smirked at their expressions. His eyes watched her light figure as she walked away and he cursed himself for doing this. No matter how intelligent she was she was still a student and it was wrong to fixate on her this way.
But there was still more to her than her obvious intelligence. She had a light, pleasing figure and� despite the heavy book-bag weighing her down� she carried herself with a dignity that belied her years. Her hazel eyes with flecks of green sparkled in good humour and her smile was nothing less than radiant. Her loyalty was something that he admired and respected and he had heard that she had a temper, although he hadn�t seen it. She was kind to her classmates and took every opportunity to help them out with anything, not just academia issues. She was pure innocence and� and� a student!
He had to stop thinking about her.
He sighed heavily and retired to his rooms.
He pushed open the door and stared around the dark room. He gestured towards the fireplace and a blaze struck up, warming the room.
No matter how much he heated the room it wasn�t until she appeared that it was truly warm in here.
�Hi,� the soft voice made him smile reluctantly as his mind conjured her up.
�Hello,� he said stiffly. He couldn�t believe that he was going to continue with this. It was the sort of ridiculous foolishness that he berated his students for. Fantasies were a useless waste of time and effort and were unhealthy.
He was about to banish her when she smiled the same way she had at Weasley, her face softened and his self control melted.
�Professor, did you have a good day?�
�No,� he confessed and sank into the chair opposite the fire and motioned for her to do the same. She swept her hair back and sat down in a most lady-like manner.
�Wanna talk about it?�
�What will talking accomplish?� he fixed her with an arched brow and she shrugged and pulled at a curl.
�It�ll make you feel better,� she grinned, �trust me.�
And the strange thing was that he did.
�Double Potions with first year Hufflepuff and Slytherin first thing on a Monday morning.�
�So bad?� her quiet voice asked.
He laughed humourlessly, �The Slytherin brats who expect first class treatment mercilessly bully and intimidate the Hufflepuffs until even the most competent exhibits traits akin to Longbottom at his worst.�
�Ouch,� she winced and he smiled, laying his head back against the back of the chair.
�That about covers it. Of course one particular student has decided to try to tie Longbottom�s records with cauldron melting. She has managed eight so far this term. If she wasn�t so good at transfiguration then I despair as to how she could afford to survive the term.�
�But that�s not all?�
�No,� he sighed again and pinched the bridge of his nose. �I had to answer a summons during second lesson and had to leave the brats an essay to write. I underwent the Death Eater equivalent of a staff meeting and couldn�t even bait Minerva for the privilege and when I returned it was to Albus� infernal sweet machinations.� He frowned. �I believe that he has become addicted to Lemon drops and needs to be sedated.�
�More for your pleasure than his, Professor.�
�Yes, perhaps,� he allowed himself a small smile. �Then a lesson with dunderheads from the third year who still don�t know the difference between Nightswood and Nightsbane. I am severely tempted to poison them to try to get them to learn the damn things and they served liver at dinner, which is an evil thing to do to anyone,� he shivered. �And to top the day off, of course, Gryffindor and Slytherin double potions.�
Miss Granger was silent and he opened one eye to see if she was still there or if his imagination had gotten rid of her already.
She was still there staring at him in that inquisitive way of hers.
�Professor, do you hate teaching?�
�No.� he was surprised at how fast that had come out of his mouth. �What I hate is the fact that those I teach do not wish to learn, they do not wish to be instructed and those that do are unable because of blind prejudice that simple minded peers have on the acquisition of learning. With the notable exception of yourself, my dear.�
She smiled broadly at him, �Maybe� well, there are other places that you could teach.�
�Beauxbaton?� he sneered, �Durmstrang, or perhaps one of the American schools? The Cleveland Conservatory? The European Exchange or the Indian Institute? Maybe even Billiford in Greenland. All children, same dunderheads, different language.�
She smiled ruefully, �I meant a college. Maybe the American Academy or Arcacia in Switzerland? Those who want to learn will go on to college; you�d be surrounded by those that want to be there.�
He opened his mouth to retort before it hit him that maybe she was right. Older students who actually wanted to learn and not just pass. Maybe a college position would be more fulfilling for him.
�Possibly� I should think on that one Miss Granger.�
�Good, one question, sir?�
�Yes?�
�Why don�t you actually try to have a conversation with me in real life?�
That seemingly innocent question had haunted him for days. Why didn�t he try to engage Miss Granger in conversation?
Maybe because she was a student. But then again his morals had never been an issue to anyone, as a Death Eater they all thought the worst of him anyway and it wasn�t like he was going to force the girl into anything, just conversation.
Maybe because� because. Actually that seemed to be the only reason. Other than the fact that she was young enough to be his daughter and was a Gryffindor to boot.
Minor considerations really.
It would be pathetic to just go up to her and ask for a chat. It�d be insupportable for him to let her know how much he wanted her to talk to him.
Detention was too obvious and might blur those lines that he was too eager not to be crossed. Plus it would mean that she was obligated to talk to him, and what he wanted was for her to come to him voluntarily. What he really needed was to be sneaky about this whole thing.
He smirked. Sneaky he could do.
--
The staff room and its meetings had been something that he accepted with the same degree of affability that he regarded his students with.
None.
He was here because it was required for them to meet once a week to complain about his Slytherins, to banter about Gryffindors chances at Quidditch and to glare at him for his flagrant favouritism to those Slytherins.
If it wasn�t for the fact that these things annoyed Minerva so much and thus added to his enjoyment, he would forgo them completely and develop whole new diseases as excuses as he had done in the past to get out of social functions. He could be quite creative when it was called for.
He was trying not to grin, as he thought of his one time �Animagitus� wherein he was inexplicable allergic to those who could change into animals, when the others arrived. Late, as usual.
He sat back as Albus launched into his usual spiel about inter-house cooperation and the severity of lost points. Severus wondered when he would just give it up and admit that he was going to award last minute points to Gryffindor in order for them to win the house cup� again. He wondered what the occasion would be this year, if Voldemort didn�t make his planned move. Maybe he would award Potter two hundred points for �surviving the year� or maybe Weasley would get bonus for �not getting kidnapped, cursed, hexed or killed�.
He amused himself by contemplating how easy it would be to poison Albus� lemon drop supply with Veritaserum and force him to admit his own partiality to the Boy who-against-all-logic-rhyme-and-reason-continued-to-live. Minerva was shooting him odd looks and he realised that she had just insulted his house and he had done nothing but stare at Albus.
�Of course I should bow to the opinion of someone who has a litter tray instead of an inbox.�
The insult had the desired effect and Minerva turned an interesting shade of red and insulted his heritage in Scottish brogue.
�I never discussed that aspect of my parentage with my mother so I am unable to say if you are correct,� he said archly and Albus cleared his throat before they could resort to a fist fight.
Since he had taken part in the meeting� well his share anyway, Snape was more interested in staring around the room. His eyes fell on a pile of papers by Minerva�s side. Her marking, obviously.
He edged a bit closer, wondering what kind of marks she considered fair.
His eyes fell on the top paper and his breath caught.
Emblazoned on the top were Hermione Granger and a red grade, 122%.
There within his sights was a paper of hers that she hadn�t purposely written to him�like a forbidden conversation, or maybe an overheard one�it was not intended for his eyes and so would have the added bonus of not being exclusively tailored to him, as he knew her potions essays were.
If he judged correctly it was about thirty inches which would give him a whole� hour of her voice, if savoured.
But it wasn�t his to use, it was Minerva�s and would definitely be missed if he was to take it.
It would also annoy Minerva.
Bonus.
He pulled his wand out his sleeve surreptitiously and aimed it at the great glass arches set in the wall. �Relashio window,� he whispered.
The windows burst open letting the cold Scottish air blast in sending wind soaring throughout the staffroom.
Another quick charm had Minerva�s papers heading straight for the fireplace, except for one that was swiftly accio-ed to his pocket.
�Peeves!� he yelled and faced the opposite way to the scrambling staff who were anxious to save Minerva�s marking from the fire, but to no avail as half the seventh years work went up in smoke.
�Albus, I demand that you exorcise that ghost!� he said. �He is a bloody menace.�
�I agree,� Minerva said angrily as she clutched her remaining papers to her chest. �Ten papers have been incinerated and those students won�t get their papers back!�
�I was referring to the draft,� he baited her and she stood up, her eyes flashing.
�I think students��
�You made copies of their marks, I presume,� Snape interrupted archly and she nodded briefly.
�But it�s not the same as having their words in front of them.�
�No,� he said as he walked towards the door. �To most of them, it will be a blessing.�
He shut the door on her remarks and fingered the paper in his pocket with a small smile.
The meeting wasn�t a total loss then.
He stalked back towards his room, deciding to venture across the courtyard thus fulfilling his daily recommended allowance of �fresh air�. He nodded to Draco Malfoy and resisted the urge to hex the annoying boy for simply being alive and related to his father.
He glared at a Ravenclaw who was foolish enough to stumble into his path and took points off a Hufflepuff for dropping his bag.
He was about to head back inside when he heard delighted laughter coming from the far side of the courtyard.
He turned slowly, relishing the fact that the news of his appearance had sent most students scattering, and wandered over to where the melodic sound was coming from.
He paused behind one of the main stone pillars in the yard and peered out from behind it.
Just as he had suspected, the voice belonged to Miss Granger and she was sitting with the two miscreants who had the fortune to call her friend.
He watched as she and Potter threw their heads back and laughed at a squealing Weasley as he jumped up and darted away from where he had been sitting.
She was wearing what he assumed were Muggle clothes, some tight deep blue jeans and a short t-shirt with some slogan emblazoned on her chest. Her hair was in a pony-tail and made her look fresher and more innocent than when she let her curls tumble around her ears. Her smile and bright eyes added to her enchanting appearance and he wondered that neither of the boys had noticed it just yet.
�It�s just a spider, Ron!� he heard her trill and she crawled over to where he had been sitting and let her hand trail on the ground, obviously picking up the unfortunate creature.
She removed it from her friend�s sight and he heard Ron laugh, �My hero!�
�Heroine!� she admonished.
�Just say no to drugs!� Potter remarked and the two of them burst into laughter again at the random statement. It seemed that Weasley also missed the joke.
He withdrew before he could be found out again but he couldn�t forget the way she had shimmered when she laughed.
---
��So the theory of transfiguration of inanimate objects can be likened to Muggle science fiction stories of molecular manipulations and the connotations could have as far reaching effects as those discussed.�
Snape sat back in his chair as her voice faded.
He had known that she showed amazing perception in Potions and was undoubtedly clever but this� this showed her sheer brilliance and inventiveness. He had to admit that transfiguration had never been his best subject and so some of what she was talking about, he had no idea about. But what he did understand he understood to be far ahead of leading transfiguration theory to date.
He stared at the chair in front of him. �Miss Granger, you�re theory is more than sound and your ideas are��
�Adequate?� she sighed, �What do I have to do to impress you, Professor?�
�I�m impressed,� he said stiffly.
�Sure you are.� Her tone was patently disbelieving.
�I am. Just because I choose not to mollycoddle you��
�Or give me any recognition at all!� she burst out. �How am I suppose to like you if you don�t even acknowledge that I exist?�
He swallowed as he knew that she was right. He didn�t acknowledge her in class or even when he saw the gruesome trio as they paced their mayhem around the halls. How was she supposed to want to talk to him if she didn�t like him? Especially now he realised that she would have her share of Professors to talk to if this work was anything to go by. Any of them would be eager to get her opinion on her work.
He had to make her want to talk to him.
He nodded slowly, �Okay.�
She beamed and he watched as her school robes gave way to the tight Muggle jeans and t-shirt that she had been wearing in the courtyard, her hair was still a riot of curls and she inclined her head.
�Better, Professor?�
�Much.�
The knock on his door wasn�t totally unexpected. In fact the very sound caused his breath to catch in his throat as he started like a school boy. He quickly pulled some papers to his side and picked up a quill feigning industriousness.
�Enter,� he said in an annoyed tone and waited for the door to be pushed open.
As he had predicted it was Miss Granger who hesitantly stepped around the heavy wooden door.
�Professor Snape?� she said cautiously.
He held up a hand as if telling her to wait while he finished a train of thought when, in fact, he was trying not to smile at her obvious hesitation.
Despite his desire to have some sort of interaction with her he could still glean joy from the wariness with which he was treated by his students.
However nervous she was she waited patiently as he took a breath and looked up.
She was standing in front of him looking more mature than her seventeen years should allow, dressed in black trousers and a navy sweatshirt under her school robes.
Although the dress code for seventh years was more lenient than the other years they were still required to wear robes for class and she obviously hadn�t taken the time to change. By the ink stains on her hands it was clear that she had been in the library.
He tried not to smirk.
�What do you want, Miss Granger?�
She bit her lip in a distracting way and said, �Sir, the essay that you set for the class?�
�Yes?� he raised his eyebrow archly, knowing full well what she wanted.
�I� couldn�t find any information on the bonus question. The� the uses of undiluted Yew branches in Threstral calming draughts. I went through all of the Herbology books for Yew use and� and all our Care of Magic texts on Threstral care but I couldn�t find anything.�
�And you simply couldn�t let it go?� he queried and she blushed.
�Sorry, sir.�
�Miss Granger,� he took a breath. �Never apologise for the pursuit of knowledge�� she gaped, ��only your acquisition techniques; which leave a little something to be desired.�
Before she could realise that she had been complimented by Snape he moved smoothly onwards.
�Simply put, Miss Granger, there are no texts on this particular ingredient mix� at least not for student hands. They do not even appear in the restricted section. What can you tell me about Threstrals?�
She promptly spoke up. �Thestrals are amazingly magical animals, however are quite invisible to anyone who has not seen death. This, unfortunately, makes people think that they are bad luck, but that is just superstition. In appearance they are large creatures with white shining
eyes, dragon-like faces and skeletal black bodies. They are attracted to the smell of blood. Although Hogwarts uses them to pull the carriages, Thestrals have an amazing sense of direction and move magically fast through the air�even if they are uncomfortable to ride,� she finished with a grimace.
He was intrigued as to how she knew this and even more intrigued to know if she could lecture like that on any subject.
�Well done, Miss Granger, five points to Gryffindor.�
Her jaw dropped open.
He smothered a grin, if he knew that that was all it took to shut her up her would have� no even that was no reason to give points to Gryffindor.
�The reason that there are so few Threstrals in captivity is that they are notoriously afraid of humans� and with good reason.� He gestured to a chair in front of him and she sat. �Humans have hunted Threstrals almost to extinction, partly due to the fact that they do see them as a bad omen and partly because Threstral blood is a potent poison.�
�Oh!� Her eyes lit up at the new kernel of knowledge. �So the reason that we have been unable to find information is that if we could make a calming draught for them, that would make them less skittish and people could harness their blood easier?�
He tried very hard not to blink.
Damn, she was quick.
�Again your reputation as a know-all is well deserved, Miss Granger.�
She frowned more in consternation than at the nickname. �So, why set the question if it was impossible to answer?�
Suddenly she seemed to remember who it was that she was questioning and her hand flew to her mouth. �Sorry, Sir!�
He turned quickly to hide his smirk from her, really she was too amusing. �I will overlook your impertinence on this occasion, although my patience is not endless. My motivation was to see if any of my students had the will to learn and the temerity to ask. The last thing I want is for all students to be so afraid of me that they would rather fail than ask a question.�
�How many have asked, sir?�
�One.�
�Ah.� She tactfully didn�t say anything else.
�Seventh year is a time when students transform from children to adults, Miss Granger. They will find, perhaps regretfully, that the real world is far more nerve-wracking than even I can be. If they can�t even force themselves to ask me a question about something which affects their grade and in turn their life� then how do they expect to face some of the dangers that they will come up against?�
He seemed to want a response so she bit her lip again.
�Perhaps it�s a quantification question.�
�Explain.�
�A weighing out. On the one hand is how badly they want to pass, on the other is how afraid they are of you. In one hand is the grade and the other is inevitable confrontation with you. If� if they decide that the grade is not worth the effort of coming to you then they�ll forgo it,� she shrugged.
He watched her for a second, �But not you?�
She smiled a little, �Grades are weightier than my fear, sir.�
�All the better for you,� and me. �Perhaps then I could tempt you with another matter?�
�Sir?�
�A further motivation of my asking the Threstral question. I have need of Threstral blood in one of my potions. A limited amount of the poison acts against certain diseases and viruses of Muggle nature. It also counts as a counter agent to Unicorn blood.�
Miss Granger blinked and her mouth dropped the connotations of this racing through her mind. �Lord Vold��
�Yes,� he interrupted harshly. �Do not speak his name!�
�Sorry,� she flinched.
�I will require someone to aid in research of various texts that I have in my possession. Someone who can be counted on to keep quiet about the fact that I both have and use them and someone who knows why I would be attempting this potion.�
�Sir.� He could tell that she was overwhelmed at the responsibility that this would afford and the trust that he would have to put in her.
�I would, of course, place that person under strict confidence and have to come up with a subterfuge.�
�I could say that I want to be a Potions Mistress,� she said. �Perhaps if I asked you for tutelage on the grounds that recommendation would come from my work.�
He let a small smile slip his lips, �I wasn�t aware that Gryffindors could lie so easily, perhaps you were miss-sorted.�
She blushed, �Practise� and the fact that you should stay as close to the truth as possible. I� I� do want to be��
He let her trail off and flush a brighter red before he softened his voice. �Want to be what?�
�Aposhunsmissress.�
�I find it easier to understand speech if it�s actually spoken, Miss Granger.�
Her chin rose in classic defiance. �I do want to become a Potions Mistress.�
Silence.
�I see.�
More silence.
�Sir?�
�Perhaps we can come to some kind of arrangement, Miss Granger.�
--
Snape shut the door behind him and headed straight for his chair his thoughts awhirl but a spring in his step.
�You�re a tad cheerful,� a voice said equally as cheery. �Good day?�
�I talked to her� to you.�
Miss Granger put down the book that she had been reading and smiled up at him, �Well done, you. What about?�
�She� you, came to see me about that bonus question.�
�Which, I might add, you added in quite unfairly,� she frowned at him. �Slytherin tactic!�
He smirked, �Of course. It was highly unlikely that anyone else would dare to come and ask about it.�
�Except her.�
�Except her,� he acquiesced. �But we spoke about her aiding me with that research on Threstral blood and its connotations. She was amiable and offered her assistance. She also let slip that she has ambitions in the Potions field. You never mentioned this to me.�
She shrugged, her thin strapped top slipping off her freckled shoulder. �You never asked.�
�Of course it naturally follows that I couldn�t have elicited a correct response from you about her since I had no idea that that was what her ambitions were.�
She blinked, �Are we confused yet?�
�Indeed,� he accio-ed a glass with Scotch in and took a sip.
Her eyes glinted at the glistening liquid. �Can I��
�No.�
She pouted, �I�m of age.�
�And maturity,� he nodded. �However, I�m unsure of the spiritual connotations of letting the imaginary manifestation of a student drink alcohol.�
She raised an eyebrow in an eerie imitation of him, �Uh-huh.�
�Okay, I don�t share.�
�Much more truthful at least,� she giggled. �So, now you have me in your evil clutches, what are you going to do with me?�
He choked on the liquor and she coloured, �I meant her!�
�Not much better!� he gasped.
She grinned, �Well, my mind wasn�t in the gutter, sir!�
He scowled at the grinning manifestation of his best student. �Thank you, Miss Granger; I was well aware of your initial meaning.�
�Uh, huh,� she said again with that cheeky grin that was normally directed to one of the two dunderheads that masqueraded as her friends.
Realising that he was losing ground to someone who wasn�t even there he changed the topic.
�During my recent forays into the examination archives to write the sixth year exams I came across some school papers from recent years.�
She eyed his shrewdly, �In other words you went through the exam archives to find my� her work.�
�Are you sure you weren�t miss-sorted?�
�No,� she pushed herself out of the chair and dropped the book to the floor. �But I�m beginning to think that you were. Isn�t it Ravenclaws who have obsessive tendencies?�
�Don�t remind me,� he sank into the chair. �I must be losing my mind. She�s a Gryffindor for Merlin�s� sake. A child. What am I doing?� he glared at the papers on his desk.
Miss Granger bit her lip, �Are you okay?�
�No, most decidedly not. Miss Granger is a seventeen year old girl with a bright future ahead of her and more options than she will know what to do with and here I am stealing her coursework and exam papers and making a fool of myself just to get her to talk to me. I am pathetic.�
�Nineteen� almost twenty,� she corrected.
�Excuse me?�
�See I � she�we used a time turner in our third year to make all of our classes.�
�It was mentioned.�
�Obviously,� she snorted, �Professor, despite the ethical ramifications here. As a product of your imagination�twisted or otherwise�I can�t tell
you anything that you don�t already know. In that respect you are not breaching any kind of protocol or� misusing power or even violating student trust. She is not here.�
She had a point; it wasn�t like he had sequestered Hermione Granger in his quarters. What this manifestation appeared to be was a mental scratching post. Just because it happened to be in the form of a student who was marginally attractive and far more intelligent than most women� and men around at this point in his life, didn�t mean that he was some lecherous old pervert. It just meant that he was more discerning and astute than most. He was obsessed over the lack of intellectual conversation, not the girl herself. It wasn�t like he followed her around or spied on her with her friends or even went out of his way to arrange meetings�like setting an impossible homework question knowing that she was the only one who would come to see him about it.
Damn.
As Snape thought about this he realised that he was getting a headache; too much philosophising on an empty stomach would do that to you.
Even as he thought about getting up to get his headache relief potion he could feel cold ghostly fingers against his nape and along the contours of
his throat, massaging up to the crown of his head and over his temples.
�Better?� she whispered.
�Hmm,� was all he could come up with as she massaged away his tension.
�Maybe if we found some way to disassociate her with me, you�d feel more comfortable. After all if you don�t see her as me and me as her, then you�ll feel better about me in your room.�
�Hmm.�
The smile was evident in her voice, �What would Hermione Granger never do, sir?�
That made him sit up a bit straighter and he thought as she massaged. After a long silence when it seemed that he wouldn�t answer, he finally said.
�Severus. Call me Severus� Hermione.�
5. Start of his plan
Hermione Granger waited in his classroom with her eyes bright and books planted in front of her like the diligent student she was.
Snape smiled indulgently but masked the expression before she could see it. He stalked into the room making her jump and scowl at him.
Snape didn�t care. He finally had her, in the corporeal flesh, ready and willing to sit with him and have a decent intellectual conversation. This was an experience to be savoured.
�All right, Miss Granger,� he began and watched her relax, �I see that you have brought Care of Magical creatures books with you.�
�Yes, sir. I assumed that it was the Threstral potion that you wanted to see me about,� she paused as if suddenly insecure, �It was, wasn�t it?� She seemed to wrack her brain for any misdemeanour that he could possibly have summoned her for instead.
He wondered if he left a long enough pause she�d start to confess her mischief; unfortunately she wasn�t a Slytherin and so would likely be more resilient to that kind of tactic.
All he had to do was sit Goyle down for ten minutes and the boy would spill every transgression of his own and each and every house mate for the past six months in an attempt to placate an irate Potions Master; it was most satisfying.
But he knew that his Miss Granger was made of sterner stuff than that.
Even though it would be interesting to find out exactly what she and her fellow rule-breakers had managed to achieve.
�Quite correct, the question that I gave on the homework was to do with the effects of undiluted Yew branches as a calming draught?�
�Yes, Sir.�
�What were you able to decipher for yourself?� He knew that she would have at least made some connections or deductions by herself, even if she hadn�t been able to complete the assignment.
Miss Granger bit her lip in that distracted (and distracting) way before answering, �Well, Yew is one of the most valuable sources to use for wand work, so it has magical channelling processes although Yew trees are symbolic of death and resurrection, so I suppose that only certain types of Wizards would attract to those wands with a Yew surround?�
Snape perched on the edge of his desk and allowed himself to feel the pleasure of her company. She was quite pretty when she wasn�t surrounded
by immature foolishness and a peevish expression at their behaviour. �Correct, Miss Granger, In point of fact the Dark Lord himself has a wand made out of Yew.�
Her eyes widened, �Oh!�
�Continue.�
�Well, the wood is particularly resistant to rotting so it would be a good choice for wands. But I couldn�t see the link between calming draughts and Yews, which is where I got stuck,� she confessed.
Snape nodded at her, �With the books on hand that is as far as you could have gotten at this juncture.�
He stood in front of his desk and motioned for her to open her books. She recognised his usual �lecture� stance and looked up, eager to listen to
what he had to impart.
�The Yew tree or Taxus baccata is notoriously toxic; especially the berries which are a bright red- orange colour and entice animals to eat. The animals do not survive.�
She nodded, scrawling with her quill and looked up, �I read that the leaves could be used to produce a drug which stops cell mutation.�
Snape stared at her, �I wasn�t aware of that.�
�I was waiting for my parents one day and in the waiting room they have various journals and it was in a Cancer research paper.�
�Waiting room?�
She blushed, �It�s a Muggle thing. My parents are dentists� uh doctors of the mouth? When their patients queue up, they wait in the uh� waiting room.�
His mouth tried to twitch into a grin at her obvious unease, �I see, and you read that--?� he prompted.
�Oh, that Yew leaves are used to produce a drug which inhibits cancer cell growth permanently, called taxol.�
Snape sat back on the edge of the table and nodded thoughtfully, �Well, Miss Granger, that is interesting. However due to its toxicity I wonder at Muggles use. I happen to know that the flesh of the berries is used as a laxative and diuretic.�
She bit her lip engagingly, �Many animals and plants develop repellent traits to dissuade hunters. Like fish that have spikes or insects that are brightly coloured. The Venus fly-trap for example.�
�Not the best example,� he sneered, �The Venus fly-trap was invented by a bored Wizard with an aversion to flies.�
�Still, if the Yew tree has so many toxic parts that could be to detract from its more valuable uses. Because the leaves bark and seeds are poisonous, people would overlook the actual wood.�
He allowed her to see a small part of his approval and saw her almost faint in shock.
He felt slight irritation that she should have so little confidence in him that any slight commendation was enough to derail her train of thought. But to his surprise it was more irritation at himself for the role that he was often forced to play.
It had never been his desire to molly-coddle certain students and to ignore those who brightness naturally eclipsed those less deserving but that was the hand that fate had dealt him. Instead of dealing with one or two exceptionally clever students who he could mould and shape into the Wizarding future he was destined to deal with mediocrity and dunderheads on a daily basis who had no more notion of the fine art of potions than he did on Muggle aeronautics.
As one Hufflepuff memorably once said, it sucked.
She looked down and he realised that he had been staring at her for too long. She was such an enticing mixture with her blend of intellect and naivety, innocence, experience and sweet, unassuming good looks. If he had to describe the perfect woman for him�
What the hell was he thinking? He barely knew the girl. Yes girl. Time turner or no she was still a student and therefore too young. He would keep this strictly professional.
�Perhaps you are correct. People do tend to overlook the more important aspects when they are seemingly overshadowed by perceived inadequacies. Like a young girl too smart for her own good overshadowed by her heritage and friendships.�
Damn, damn, double damn blast and curse it. Yes, that was professional.
Miss Granger blinked. �Excuse me?�
Severus raised an eyebrow, �Surely that was self-explanatory?�
�And a little personal, sir.�
�I see,� his lips thinned.
�Besides I don�t think that I am overshadowed by Harry and Ron.�
She was almost pouting and Severus was finding his gaze drifting to her mouth.
�You do not feel that you are just a part of the Golden Trio�the brains?�
�Maybe,� she acknowledged, �But it�s nice to have a place with people who like you.�
�Do they like you? If you stopped helping them on their ridiculous adventures or stopped doing their thinking for them would the friendship still stand?�
�Yes.� She stated firmly, �Since sixth year I refuse to help them with any homework unless they particularly have trouble and then it�s only to suggest a book and part of being a friend is putting up with those adventures and standing by them when they are in trouble. It may seem like faulty Gryffindor loyalty to you, but its part of who I am. I could no more watch Harry get himself into trouble and do nothing than I could��
�Curse a teacher?� he suggested sarcastically.
She winced, �Extenuating circumstances?�
His lips twitched, �Hmm.�
�Besides which, we weren�t talking about me, we were talking about the potion,� Miss Granger pulled them back on track, her face still flushed.
He allowed himself a smirk and nodded, �Very well.�