Chapter 3

Hermione flopped onto her cot very late Friday night, having completed one full official week of being a house-elf. With a frustrated sigh and a few tears, she lay there, exhausted.

She had quickly fallen into her routine as an house-elf, getting up each morning to prepare breakfast with the other elves, each of them taking time to show her how to cook the various foods, and to know which students in the various houses had dietary restrictions. She got an immense satisfaction when she had completed each task correctly, and the other elves would encouragingly pat on her on the back.

One thing she had been delighted to notice was that the elves had fun while they worked in the kitchen, and several of them had very sweet senses of humour, playing pranks on one another. One or two of the younger elves even asked her a few questions about some of the more confusing human habits they had noticed among the students and the staff they served. These questions made Hermione laugh because she had never noticed these strange characteristics before.

For example, the Headmistress preferred her greens to be served with very little dressing, and the mixture of greens—oat, wheat and a special buck oat grass—she realised, would be the sort you'd give a cat to prevent hairballs.

Professor Flitwick, because of his goblin blood, required a glass of mushroom puree at each meal. Several other professors has peculiar tastes, and it wasn't so much that Hermione noted these things were provided, it was that the elves took note of when the professor was looking ill or in some way upset, their elf took care to make sure a preferred food item was provided to ease their spirits.

Professor Snape was an entirely different story, and she decided he was a complete git. More than just the usual git, he was a git even the Muggle Queen would award an O.B.E for superiority in gitness! After the first two days of being bound to him as his personal elf, she thought it would be pretty easy to take care of him. Granted, washing his clothing made her a bit squicky; miles and miles of black cloth to wash, hundreds of buttons to iron around, black socks soaked in sweat from wearing his dragon hide boots all day, and interestingly enough, black boxers. Mmmm, she thought with a bit of a giggle; that answered the question all the sixth year Gryffindor girls wondered about.

The worst; however, were the cauldrons. These were usually taken care of by students in detention, but there was a suspicious lack of miscreants this week, and she was called to scrub them for him. They must have worked on a Sticking Potion this week because it took all of her muscles to remove the stuck on bits of flobberworm. Snape ordered her not to use magic, something about it imbuing the metal of the cauldrons and corrupting the efficacy of future potions. She wound up having to punish herself when she retorted that he should not use Evanesco on the cauldrons when vanishing ruined potions.

Then there was the incident with his dragon hide boots. It seemed as though three nights in a row, he had gone to the forest to collect ingredients. He must have tramped through every pile of dung the centaurs, unicorns, and various other woodland creatures left behind. Of course, he would have to walk through his entire quarters—sitting area, bedroom, and bath with a side trip to his office and private laboratory. The first time she had to clean the mess, she vomited into the boots themselves and had to clean up that mess as well. After that, she remembered to bring a small tube of essence of eucalyptus to dab on her upper lip to help mask the smell of the dung. She had started to use magic to clean the trail left behind, but he quickly put an end to that by claiming the same nonsense about magic near his ingredients as he did with the cauldrons.

His eating habits drove her batty as well. At first, the soup she brought him was too hot, then too cold, then not enough noodles, then too many noodles. When she called him Goldilocks, she had begun to punish herself, only to find him quickly snatching her hands away from the object she was using and ordering her to stop. In fact, after the third such incident, he forbade her from punishing herself, ever.

It was all she could do not to laugh out loud when he requested his 'usual drink' several times throughout the week, and she noticed he had a particular weakness for a late night snack of wine gums and had called her to provide this three times over the past week. Once she realised he liked them, she had popped into Muggle London when she had a moment and bought a box of them, placing them in the drawer of the table that stood by his bed. She Disillusioned herself that night and watched as he discovered them, a small smile creeping over his face as he pulled one of the packets out, replaced the box, and sat against his headboard to open them and eat them while he read a book.

With a great deal of satisfaction, she popped noiselessly out of his room.

Overall, Hermione, although exhausted, felt quite happy with herself for learning so quickly and for seeing the small smiles and pleased looks on all of the professors' faces. She resolved to ask the other elves if they felt that way as well.

The next morning, after breakfast was served in the Great Hall and the elves had a moment or two to themselves, Hermione asked a few of them about her thoughts from the night before. She was intrigued to hear their responses. They were, and she could think of no other word to describe it, protective of Hogwarts, her students, and her staff. They watched for changes in routine to clue them in where they might be needed at a moment's notice. It seemed as though their devotion to the school and their masters was their life blood. She knew, from only working a week now, that she too, felt that same devotion, that same...oh, she couldn't quite put her finger on it, other than 'happiness to serve'.

Tinty had stopped Hermione after breakfast to tell her that she would need to begin cleaning all of Professor Snape's rooms while he was teaching. So far, she had only Apparated to his quarters when he called for her. Tinty gave her Professor Snape's schedule and stated that she should clean only during those hours as it was a house elves duty not to be seen unless called for. Hermione took the schedule of classes that Tinty handed her and left the kitchen. She noted that he was in class during the first hour, had a free period, and then taught for the next three hour block of classes. She decided that the three hour block would be plenty of time for her to clean. She suspected his 'no magic' edict was simply to aggravate her, so she would make liberal use of her new magical abilities to get her work done.

Hermione stepped into Severus' quarters holding her breath. She didn't know why she was so nervous; after all, he was in classes, and this was her job since she was bound to serve him. Still, she nearly tiptoed around the sitting room, picking up, of all things, wine gum wrappers. This made her giggle, and she Vanished the little pile she had gathered. With a wave of her hand, she dusted the entire room, fluffed the pillows on his leather couch, and tidied the knick-knacks on the mantle. Curiosity overcame her, and she examined the items dotted along the old, dry wood.

In the centre was his Order of Merlin, First Class. To the left of that sat his Master's certification, framed in wood, the glass shining from her recent dusting. Farther along sat odds and ends scattered as though he would empty his trouser pockets each night and drop onto the mantle whatever loose money he had in his pockets, bits of parchment, that sort of thing, as well as a few candle stubs and wine gum wrappers. To the right of his OOM, was a small frame where, when Hermione looked closely, a picture of Lily Evans-Potter sat smiling and waving at her. Here was the woman for whom Severus had done it all...he protected her son, he protected her memory. Another photo sat tucked behind that, and when she drew it out, she noticed it was of a young woman with a chubby baby on her lap. The woman in the picture had long, dark hair and rather thick eyebrows. Her eyes were dark, but because the photo (which was definitely Muggle) was black and white, Hermione could not tell what colour her eyes really were. The baby was dressed in clothes too big for his small body, but he smiled up at his mother and a chubby hand was caught by the photographer as it waved, looking a bit blurry.

Hermione smiled at the image of baby Snape. It was always hard to imagine the adult she knew as anything other than an adult, so it was a bit startling when she realised he did indeed begin life as an infant; that he started life with every hope in the world of being a caring, intelligent, happy being. Fate had not been kind to him and for that, several tears of sorrow dropped onto her cheeks. Wiping them away, she turned to see what other tasks needed her attention before she headed to his bedroom and bathroom. All was in its place, and she padded quietly toward her next chore.

Opening the bedroom door carefully, she peeked around the corner before stepping into the room. She laughed out loud at the sight that met her eyes. Harry and Ron would so love to know this, she thought. But alas, she knew she could tell no one; she was bound to keep her master's secrets, and that meant even the state of his living quarters.

Whereas Severus Snape the Professor was meticulous about the cleanliness of his labs and potion storerooms, his impeccable dress, Severus Snape the man was a slob. Clothes were strewn everywhere. More empty wine gum wrappers littered his bed, the table beside his bed and the floor surrounding it. Towels lay on the floor, his wardrobe doors stood open with hangers dangling at odd angles, and books were everywhere, and on every surface.

She began to pick the books up first, and moving to the bookcases that lined the wall of the room and shelved them. Next, she levitated all the rubbish into a bin and then Vanished it. She attacked the wardrobe next, picking up all the clothes lying on the bottom of it, determining their cleanliness in the process, and re-hung what did not get tossed into the rather large pile of dirty clothes growing behind her. She would send all the dirty clothes to the laundry after she cleaned his bathroom. Moving to the bed next, she fished out three books, six pairs of socks, and a wet towel. She stripped the sheets and began to put clean ones on when a sound in the sitting room interrupted her work.

She slipped to the door and peeked out. Who could be here? Professor Snape was supposed to be in class. Perhaps it was another elf. She had no time to consider what her next step should be when the door was pushed into her face and a large black object bowled her over, falling on top of her as she fell backwards.

"What the devil?" Snape snapped.

"Please, sir! It's me, Hermione; I was cleaning your rooms."

The pair, with only a little bit of confusion of whose legs were entangled in who's, and two inadvertent gropes of fleshy body parts, stood up, brushing off their clothes.

"Oh, sir, I am so sorry. Are you okay? Why are you not in class?"

"Insufferable with the questions as always, Miss Granger. If you must know, a cauldron exploded, and the entire class become covered in potion. I had to dismiss everyone so they could change their clothes. As you can see," he waved a hand at his clothes, "so must I. Please find me a clean set while I shower. When you are done, leave."

Blinking at him, she began to speak, but he glared at her, and she was startled into action. The door to the bathroom slammed as she pulled fresh robes, trousers, and the other items he would need. She laid the items on the bed and left the room.

Hermione spent the rest of the afternoon at the various chores she knew needed completing as well as returning to Snape's quarters to finish cleaning. Dinner preparation took up the rest of the day, and with gratitude, she went to her bed once the tables were set up for breakfast the next morning. Just as she began to undress, she felt the familiar pull of Snape's call, and popped back into his quarters.

"Miss Granger," he began without preamble. "You will accompany me to the forest tomorrow evening. I have some ingredients to collect, and some of them will require elf magic to do so."

"How can I..." she trailed off.

He sneered before responding, "You will have noticed, I am sure, by now that you have been imbued with some elf magic by virtue of your oath. There are certain ingredients that a human cannot harvest, and for those I will need your help."

"It will take me some time to get used to having elf magic," she said. "Will you need help with preparing them?"

"No, once I have them harvested, I can touch them."

"Very well. When do you wish to leave?"

"I will call for you when I am ready." He looked at her curiously. "You will need different clothes. Do you have any Muggle clothes?"

"I can transfigure something."

"Do so. You should wear those Muggle jeans, and a long sleeved shirt. You might want a cloak as well. And some gloves."

"Very well, sir. Do you need anything else?"

"Not this evening. Good night, Miss Granger."

"Good night, Professor Snape."