"The weight of water," the bored voice drawled on, "is dependent on its mass, or more simply, the amount. Also its density, which can change with altitude or temperature. The maximum density of water is at 3.98 degrees Celsius."
A wave of the long-fingered hand and several simple but informative diagrams appeared on the chalk board behind him. They came to life, their white lines delicately
vacillating to demonstrate fluidity. "Water becomes even less dense upon freezing, expanding nine percent. This causes an unusual phenomenon: ice floats upon water,
and so water organisms can live inside a partly frozen pond because the water on the bottom has a temperature of around four degrees Celsius."
Fourteen quills scratched obediently as the morning wore on towards lunch. Students stole glances towards the small windows near the ceiling, imagining the misty fog
of the morning burning off as the sun rose higher. Breakfast digested. Quidditch in three hours. The weekend waited patiently ahead.
Severus Snape, Potions Master and impromptu chemistry teacher, opened his notebooks and marked his place with a ratty ribbon as he inhaled and continued his longest recitation yet.
"On 7 April 1795, the gram was defined in France to be equal to 'the absolute weight of a volume of pure water equal to a cube of one hundredth of a meter, and to the
temperature of the melting ice.' For practical purposes though, a metallic reference standard was required, one thousand times more massive, the kilogram. Work was
therefore commissioned to determine precisely how massive one liter of water was. In spite of the fact that the decreed definition of the gram specified water at 0 °C—a
highly stable temperature point—the scientists chose to redefine the standard and to perform their measurements at the most stable density point: the temperature at which water reaches maximum density, which was measured at the time as 4 °C."
Hermione Granger's father had been a botanist by hobby, and it was his aptitude in sciences that had piqued her interests in biology, chemistry and physics. As early as
five or six, she was putting together erector sets and using dish detergent to study the Kaye effect. Her first Styrofoam solar system was more for the purposes of
demonstrating Kepler's third law of planetary motion than identifying Neptune from Pluto. In fact, she'd been secretly pleased when her teacher at the time was rendered speechless during Hermione's presentation. Of course, at six, she'd been the only student to have a presentation prepared, but that was besides the point.
Miss Granger, third row, first seat, legs crossed at the ankle, found it all very interesting, even if a bit basic for her tastes. Still, she scratched her quill along in time to Professor Snape's words. She wondered vaguely what a sonnet would sound like, bent by his voice, consonants sharpened by his tongue, vowels rounded by his lips. Her brow furrowed and she shook her head as though a gnat had entered her ear. What a random thought, she dismissed.
"And so," Snape continued, sounding even a bit bored by his own topic of choice, "we arrive at the crossroads of Muggle science and Wizarding theory. We have
discussed the physical principles of water and those principles' effects as the state of mater changes. By simply cooking with water, a great number of physical traits are
observed. For homework you will compose three feet on the properties of pure water and physical traits observed when used in any quantity in potions making."
He closed his notebook and glanced up at the class. Surprisingly no one's attention was visibly wandering, nor was anyone groaning or rolling his or her eyes. Snape's face didn't show it but he felt quite satisfied and unexpectedly said, "I am dismissing class twenty minutes early today. I suggest that anyone who received a ninety-five percent or worse on yesterday morning's assignment stay until the official end of class in order to review and achieve a higher score on his or her exam this Tuesday. Otherwise, class dismissed."
Hermione, having received a ninety-nine on the assignment Snape had spoken of, began to gather her things into her bag. She was a bit lost in contemplating what she
would do with the next free twenty minutes when Snape addressed her. She very nearly didn't hear him.
"Sorry, Sir?"
"I said, meet me in my office."
Too good to be true. Always. Hermione never got out of anything. There was always a Hippogrif to save, or a prophecy to protect, or a Professor asking her to stay after
class when everyone else got to go off to lunch early. What the hell?
Snape piled his notes on top of his books and gestured to them with a curt nod of his head. "Get those for me, will you?" he said, a definite tone of derisiveness added for good measure. Hermione stopped dead, backtracked, and picked up the half dozen texts and personal notes of Severus Snape. She literally bit her tongue to keep from protesting. She might have been one of the three main people to defeat the most evil and rather powerful dark wizard of all time, but she was back in school now, by her own choice; firing off a sarcastic, snotty comment, no matter how witty, was not within her privileges.
As she entered Snape's private office her skin prickled with goosebumps. It was depressingly stone cold in there, and darker than she'd remembered. He hadn't lit a fire in days, perhaps, and there wasn't even a flicker from the sconces. "Put them on the work table, please," he said, catching her off guard yet again. The man had thanked her, and Harry and Ron, in his own terse way, months ago after the battle against his false master had been won. But he'd returned to teaching with the same sardonic, snaky attitude he'd always had those previous six years, and, Hermione expected, the nine before that. "Please" was simply pushing it.
She set the books and papers down carefully where he indicated, stood quietly, and tried not to look too put off.
Snape gestured vaguely at the fireplace and flames roared to life before settling down enough to catch the older sooty logs. Magic fire always impressed Hermione. It flared faster and heated a room quicker than a fire made with matches. Her physical discomfort abated, she refocused on Snape. She realized he was looking at her just as intently.
"At what point did I lose your interest?" he asked with a hint of genuine concern.
Hermione, for all she had seen in her life, raised her eyebrows in confused shock. "I'm so sorry, Professor?" she said questioningly. "I don't understand."
"Isn't that really the sad point, Miss Granger? That you understand perhaps all too well?"
Hermione's mouth opened, then closed, then opened again. She stared off to the left a bit stupidly. "What?" she finally settled on.
"You cannot hope to convince me that after seven short years, you have divulged all the secrets potion making holds?"
"Certainly not."
"And as carbon is a basic building block of life, is not water an inevitable and irreplaceable constant?" Snape drew his wand and poised it over the mouth of an empty glass beaker. "Aguamente," he pronounced clearly, and a gentle stream of pure clear water poured forth. "Miss Granger, I suggest that there is nothing so complex as
simplicity. That the greatest questions find the deepest answers floating quite near the surface." The beaker filled, halfway, two-thirds. "I propose that water is boring to
most because it seems quite mundane, and therefore no answers are found because no questions are posed."
"I would never have thought a person cound find water so interesting," she ventured. "I wonder though, if there will be another handful, let alone thirteen other people,
who will feel that way."
Surprisingly Snape did not snap at her, insult her, or even sneer. He seemed appraising. The water reached a centimeter tot he brim of the beaker and he flicked his wrist to stop the flow. "Thirteen. Then you find it interesting, do you?"
"Yes. Of course I find the simplicity of water interesting. Though not exactly fascinating, or all that challenging, as you say. In fact I find it more fascinating than
challenging."
"Then a challenge is what you are asking me for?"
The odd sensation of catching herself mid-fall startled her, and the slightest sparkle of adrenaline burst under her chest. Like walking on eggshells and feeling them give
way and not being anything to do about it, Hermione felt herself step on a potential crack. He was very nearly smiling.
"I suppose what I am asking for," she replied slowly, "is something that might possibly confuse me."
"That, Miss Granger, is a dangerous request."
Hermione's instincts quelled beneath the flesh of her wand hand. She'd stood against a band of Death Eaters and had felt more sure of herself. Why, now, was she so sure
that Snape looked as though an asp ready to strike?
"The German Muggle Einstein said, 'Any intelligent fool can make things bigger, more complex, and more violent. It takes a touch of genius -- and a lot of courage -- to
move in the opposite direction.'" He stepped around the work table towards her and drew her attention to the end of his wand again. "Hold out your hand."
Fleetingly and foolishly she thought of rulers and knuckles and Muggle primary school. She resisted stepping backward.
"Miss Granger," he said quietly. "Hold. Out. Your. Hand."
She thought better of questioning or resisting and held her left hand out to him. The wand tip touched her open palm and he breathed, "Haud exuro incendia..."
Trust was not a word she readily applied to Severus Snape. But as the flamed licked her fingertips and did not burn, she peeled back and exposed a new layer of respect for
the man. Gently and almost seductively tongues of warm orange flame, reds, blues, whites, yellows, mixed and parried, embraced her hand. Her shock outweighed her fear and she became entranced. She looked up at Snape in wonder; this was different than the fire which warmed his grate.
"Sir?" she whispered, afraid she might extinguish the glowing ball before her.
His voice came equally low, almost a whisper too, but far less unsteady than his student's. "I wish for you to answer me this, Miss Granger: what is the weight of fire?
When you have answered that, you may return to class. But in the meantime," he said straightening, for he'd bent to observe the flames caressing her fingers, "attempt to expand on Einstein's insights, will you?" He turned from her and said gruffly, "Dismissed!"
Tearing her interest away from the flames engulfing but not harming her hand, Hermione looked up and was about to speak when she suddenly looked quite determined, shook her hand as though a bee had landed upon it, and gathered her things together.
There was no one left in the classroom as she exited the office. Had there been, someone might have wondered what she meant by stopping in the middle of the room,
double-taking back at the office door, examining her hand, and then marching out of the room and down the dungeon corridor.