Consequences of Meddling With Time
Disclaimer: Not mine. I just borrowed them for a while. I promise to put them back when I'm done. Oh, nope, no money either—just for fun.
I want to give a great big thank you hug to EverMystique for combing through this to point out my numerous errors and help me make this presentable for reading. You're the best, thank you!
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Severus slipped into the classroom after exchanging the books from his morning classes for his books for his double Defense class after lunch. Since his essay for Professor Molina was finished, he had a break. So, he decided to spend it with Hermione. She was sitting crossed-legged on her bed, practicing charms to make a book move about the room. "I see you've got the Summoning Charm down."
"I'm still not able to control the Repelling Charm though," she said, her expression one of intense concentration as she tried to return the book to the table. It fell with a thud. "Bugger."
"You're trying too hard. Relax and it'll come naturally," he suggested as he watched her Summon the book back to her.
"You're really a good teacher," she said as she caught the book easily with one hand.
"I hate teaching," he said, dumping his bag on the worktable.
"I know," she said with a smirk as the book sailed back toward him. "But you're good at it. So, you have a break now?"
He raised an eyebrow at her. "Do you always state the obvious?" He turned around to grab his cauldrons before she could answer and saw the book land on the desk beside him. "If you're done playing with the book, do you want to help me brew something?"
"Sure!" she said exuberantly, jumping from the bed.
He laughed at her enthusiasm as he pulled out his Comprehensive Compendium of Draughts and Potions and The Healer's Elixirs and Decoctions to get his Advanced Potions Making out of his bag. "Okay, I just need to go get some parchment to write out the directions," he said, realizing he was down to his last few sheets that he'd need for Defense later.
Hermione picked up her bag and withdrew a sheet for him. He was surprised by the quality of the parchment. "You gave me your good stuff," he said, handing it back.
"It's what I use for my essays," she replied, looking at him curiously.
Severus looked at the sheet and shrugged. "Thanks. I'll pay it back," he said, setting his bag on the floor.
She started to laugh. "No, it's fine. My dad bought me a ream of it for school," she said as he opened his book to the Sprain Paste and started copying down the directions for the potion, adding in the variations from his annotations. Hermione watched him, apparently amazed.
"What?" he asked, not bothering to look up.
"How can you read that? You've scribbled on every available space on the page!" she said in a tone of disbelief.
He pulled his book closer and bent over it as he copied down the directions. "It's not scribble—they're my notes. I experiment with the potions, try to improve them," he said coolly, glancing at her through his hair. She knew that he wrote in his books. It wasn't like he could afford journals to write his thoughts and annotations in or use medium weight parchment like she apparently could. He had to make do with what he had.
Hermione blushed and toyed with her thumb. "That's not what I meant! I just—I can't see how you can decipher… sorry."
His head jerked up. "I just know." He slid the directions he copied to the middle of the table between them. "I'll crush the pineapple, and you can dice the onion and the witch hazel." Hermione nodded and picked up the cutting board and his knife. "Don't peel the onion; I want the skin, too." She nodded that she understood him and set to work.
When the potion was half-way done, he showed her how to slide the knife to cut the Menkle skin. He had to correct her twice before she managed to get her slices thin enough and at the right angle. He then showed her how to do the cross-cuts so they'd be just as thin. He watched her to make sure that she had the cutting technique down and turned his attention back to the preparation of his buckhorn shavings. He coated them lightly in lavender oil, mentally crossing his fingers that they didn't soak up too much oil. When the timer went off, Hermione added the skins and began to stir.
Severus waited until she was done. "Okay, now back up." She took only one step back, clearly wanting to watch the process of the potion. Severus took a deep breath and mentally prepared for the worst. He pushed the buckhorn to the rim of his dish and then carefully pushed it into the potion. He cringed as the oily mess landed with a plop. He increased the flame under the cauldron and held his breath. Hermione watched in anticipation. The potion began to turn, coming up in the middle and rolling back under on the sides within the cauldron, and a large bubble slowly erupted on the surface followed several seconds later by another. He waited, watching the surface for signs of the color turning brown not purplish.
"What is the problem?" Hermione asked softly.
"The shaved buckhorn absorbs the lavender oil, which changes its magical property," he explained. "Menkle skin reacts violently to lavender oil, so it's generally never added one right after the other. Normally, the buckhorn would act as a stabilizer if I had added it first, then the oil, but this way the potion comes out better—if I do it right. The problem is that if there is too much excess lavender oil on the buckhorn or if it absorbs too much of the oil the buckhorn can't or won't act as a buffer. The other problem is that I have to increase the flame for the buckhorn to blend with the Menkle skin. Plus, the buckhorn has to be added all at once. That's the tricky part—I can't just dump it in—it has to be placed in carefully. Too quickly and it explodes. Too slow and it throws the balance off so the increased heat will make it start to boil, which will make it turn to a noxious sludge."
Hermione looked at her bed, deep in thought. "Have you considered using a slotted spoon, spatula, or even a frying spoon?"
"A frying spoon—spatula—this is Potions, not cooking," he said, one side of his mouth pulling back in a grimace.
She was still staring at the bed hangings, deep in thought. "A frying spoon is used with a fryer… Or a spatula—it's flat with slits—and both have long handles." She turned to look at him, ignoring his smirk. "You could use one of them to lower the buckhorn into the cauldron closer to the surface. They would also let the excess oil drain from the buck… horn," she explained, and then blushed as his expression changed to an incredulous stare. "Sorry, rambling. Don't mind me."
"No, that has merit. I know what a spatula is," he said, making a notation on his directions. "Where did you come up with that? But what's a fryer?"
"A hot oil deep fryer? My mum has one. It's a kitchen appliance," she stated. He shrugged and she continued. "Mum loves to experiment in the kitchen. She really gets creative with hors d'oeuvre, appetizers, and desserts." Hermione bit her lip as if waiting to see if he'd understand what she was saying.
He shook his head and shrugged not getting the connection. His mum never made desserts, and he had no idea what or-durves were.
She released her lip and continued. "If you make pastries or appetizers in a fryer or a pan of hot oil, you don't want to drop them into the oil—you want to place them in carefully, just over the surface, so that the oil doesn't sputter or splash."
Severus looked at her, catching on to what she was saying, and grinned. "Exactly. How can I get one?"
Hermione bit her lip again. "I'm not sure. Under normal circumstances, I'd ask my mum to send me one. But it's not like I can send her an owl now and ask her get it for me—I mean, I'm in my past, right? She might not know who I am, and I can't give you one once I'm back in my time. Well, I could, but that won't help you now."
Severus nodded, feeling disappointed, and turned his attention back to the potion. He added the comfrey and stirred seven times, then added the anti-clockwise rotation of the rod at the end while running over any possible way of getting a spatula or a fryer spoon in his mind.
"Do you know any Muggle-borns?" Hermione asked, tilting her head as she regarded him.
He snorted. "Loads. Just have to ask around the common room. 'Anyone got a Muggle parent who can send me a spatula or a frying spoon?' I'd be hexed for even asking."
Hermione exhaled loudly and crossed her arms at his snarky answer.
He smirked and cocked his head. "Hermione, I'm in Slytherin, remember? Pure-bloods—or related to pure-bloods. No Muggle-borns."
"And no friends in other houses?" she persisted, a habit that was getting annoying.
Severus turned his head and exhaled, thinking about Lily. "Not anymore." He started cleaning up the workspace. "I have to get to class. I'll see you after dinner."
Hermione sighed, but helped him tidy up. He knew that she wanted him to stay with her, but he needed some space. He didn't want to be reminded that he and Lily were not talking to each other anymore—well, not as friends anyway. He checked the potion and lowered the flame to let the potion simmer.
"When should I bottle it?" she asked, indicating the potion.
"It's a paste. This has to sit for an hour, and then put out the flame. Let it fully cool, then scrape it into the jars. I have double Defense. I'll see you at dinner, if not sooner," he said, grabbing his bag and hurrying off to class.
"Have fun," she called out after him.
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Hermione rummaged in her bag until she found a bent quill. It was a nice one she'd gotten from her dad last Christmas, and she'd been heartbroken when it had bent. She pulled out her Transfiguration book and looked up the spell to make a spoon. She'd changed rabbits into slippers, a tortoise into a teapot, a hedgehog into a pincushion… and a mouse into a teaspoon. The spell to turn a mouse into a spoon was her best bet, but she needed a mouse and hopefully not someone's pet. Only she'd never seen a mouse, or a rat for that matter, in the castle that wasn't someone's pet. She tried using the spell to turn the quill into a spoon and only managed to make the quill melt. She paced the room and decided to try the Summoning Charm to get a mouse, hoping she'd get a pest and not someone's pet.
She picked up a cauldron and her wand, walked over to the door and opened it about two inches. "Accio mouse," she whispered with as much determination as she could. Nothing happened. She tried again, speaking clearly and determinedly. This time a soft squealing could be heard as a mouse sailed through the air toward her. She grinned as she caught the brownish-grey mouse in the cauldron and closed the door. The rodent didn't have a well fed, cared for look and certainly wasn't tame. "So, I'm going to assume you don't belong to anyone," she told the mouse.
The rodent scurried in panic, and it tried to bite her fingers when she reached in to grab its tail. Smiling, Hermione turned it into a teaspoon, turned it back and then tried changing the mouse into a larger spoon. It looked like a slightly enlarged soupspoon. "Easy enough, but not the right shape." She pictured her mum's frying spoon in her mind and tried again. It didn't come out right at all. She tried several times, each time failing at recreating the desired spoon. "So, I can turn you into a teaspoon or a soupspoon, even a serving spoon—just not a frying spoon. How about just making a long handled serving spoon, only wide and flat with slats?" Two tries later, she had something that would serve Severus' needs.
She put the cauldron back on the bench and laid the spoon next to it, eagerly anticipating Severus' arrival at dinnertime.
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Severus picked up his spoon, examined it for a moment, and smiled, catching an odd look from Avery. They were having Shepherd's pie in individual crocks that had appeared at every place setting on the table. Severus loved Shepherd's pie—especially the ones at Hogwarts since they had chunks of meat and loads of peas and carrots. He had wanted to simply grab two and leave, but his friends had stopped him, wanting him to stay. So, he'd relented, opting to eat hurriedly and leave for the classroom.
He was actually looking forward to seeing Hermione. She was corker, Hermione. She'd defied him two days ago and had gone out into the corridors to find a mouse, although she'd denied it adamantly, claiming to only have opened the door an inch or so. At least she hadn't been seen.
But the fact was, she'd made him a spoon—out of a lousy rodent.
Right clever, too—almost like a long-handled spatula but curved, the bowl of the spoon wide and flat with holes. She'd said she'd modified it specifically for me, to best suit my needs, he mused as he broke the crust of his Shepherd's pie with his tablespoon.
She'd actually given him a gift, a fact that still amazed him. She'd made it for no reason other than to give him something he could use.
It was perfect though. He'd used it that night, and the Sprain Paste had turned out exactly how his older self had said it would.
He scooped up a bit of his pie and smiled at the spoon in his hand before eating the bite of crust, gravy, and peas.
He did appreciate her thoughtfulness.
She had read the entire stack of books he'd hauled down to the room in only two days. All twenty-four. Quite impressive actually, considering she'd read his books as well. He smiled as he ate his Shepherd's pie, listening to Hurshiser and Rowe across the table discuss who they were asking to go to Hogsmeade with them. Severus knew that Thortenson would take Linnet, and Avery would be with Victoria Myers all day.
Severus wished that he could take Hermione, but that would be way too risky. Still, it would've been nice to ask a girl to go who might actually want to be seen with him. Seen. He cringed. Oh, yeah, that would be great—seen with Hermione.
"So, Snape, who are you asking?" Rowe inquired.
Thankfully he'd just shoved a spoonful of pie in his mouth.
"He's taking that mystery girl, that's who," Avery stated.
Severus wanted to hex Avery's bullocks off. He didn't need Avery getting Rowe curious about some nonexistent girlfriend. Rowe might find Hermione if he got too curious and bothered to look in the old classroom.
"Nah, Snape don't have a girl," Mulciber said, shoving Avery's shoulder good-humoredly, making Avery spill a bit of his pumpkin juice on his robes.
"Watch it!" Avery glared at him as he wiped the spilt juice.
Severus took a drink of his own juice so he could speak for himself.
"I bet he holes up with a stack of books and finishes my essay for Transfiguration for me," Mulciber stated, in a vain attempt, yet again, to get Severus to write his essay for him. Mulciber grinned, ignoring Severus' scowl, and tucked into his dinner.
Severus set down his goblet forcibly, making the dish in front of him bounce. "Not bloody likely—"
"So, you do have a girl?" Avery asked a bit too loudly as it made several heads turn.
"No, I'm not asking a girl to go to Hogsmeade with me," Severus said and shoveled another large bite into his mouth.
Rowe looked up at him, his fork posed a few inches from his mouth. "You're not asking a bloke are you?" he asked, smirking.
Hurshiser snickered.
Severus gave them both a hard glare. "Did you want the Hair Restoration Potion or not?" he snapped at Rowe. "Because I could use the time for revision instead."
Rowe had the decency to look abashed. "Sorry, mate."
Rosier stopped laughing, looking up at Severus with awe. "So, you got it then?" he asked, his eyes wide and his mouth open. "You'll make a pile of gold!"
"Nope, still makes your nose, ears, armpit, and groin hair grow—not the hair on your head," Severus said, still disappointed with the last batch he'd tried. Mr. Rowe was offering Severus a fortune if he could make the potion work on baldness. "So if you want to look like a bald-headed mongoloth—it's perfect."
"Bummer," Avery said, grinning over the rim of his cup.
"I was thinking of slipping it to Black," Mulciber said, turning slightly in his seat to look at the Gryffindor table.
"Already did," Avery said, still smirking over his cup.
"You what?!" Severus snarled, looking up at the Gryffindor table just as Pettigrew handed his goblet to Black. "Slughorn knows about the project…" His voice trailed off as Pettigrew started sprouting hair from his nose and ears, making everyone but Lily, Black, and Potter burst out in laughter around him.
"Relax," Avery said, setting down his cup. "It's all in the—" Just then Black and Pettigrew jumped up and ran for the door, their long nose hairs looking like a walrus mustache and sporting thick tufts of hair from their ears. "Oh, that wet prat is so gullible!"
"I gotta go," Severus said, climbing to his feet.
"You ain't even finished your pie?" Mulciber protested. "I wanted to ask you about the conversion—"
But Severus was on his feet.
"He never eats," Severus heard Avery say as he headed for the door.
"You are gonna help me with my essay, right?" Mulciber called after him.
Severus shrugged as he walked away.
Lily intercepted him at the door. "What did you do—"
"What did I do, what, Lily?" Severus asked, interrupting her, knowing full well what she was accusing him of. He wanted to get to the kitchens, get another Shepherd's pie for him and one for Hermione, and go work over his notes.
"I know about your project, Severus," she snapped accusingly at him.
"And so does Professor Slughorn. Do you really think me thick enough to use the potion on Black and Pettigrew here—in the Great Hall—in front of Slughorn, Headmaster Dumbledore, and Professor McGonagall?" he snarled at her, indicating the staff table with a sweep of his hand. "I just know Professor McGonagall is going to demand that I confess I did it so she can put me in detention for using an experimental potion on her cubs—which I didn't do—but I'll be accused of it regardless!"
"Sev—"
"No, Lily, I didn't!" he snapped at her. "I am not some dunderhead who would try that in the Great Hall—just so your Head of House can ream me, yet again, for something I didn't do!"
"Then how did it get in their food?" she snapped back at him, her hands on her hips.
"I dunno? Ask Potter? Ask the house-elves. Ask your housemates. Maybe Pettigrew ticked off someone in your house," he sneered at her. "Slughorn had it in his office. Maybe you should ask him why it wasn't locked up." He turned and stormed away from her.
Despite his outburst in the Great Hall, the house-elves were more than happy to give him two Shepherd's pies, apples, slices of cheese, and several chocolate-covered éclairs. He didn't bother concealing the food as he stormed off to his lab.
Hermione was on her bed, reading when he came in. "Hi! I… What's wrong?"
"Avery used the potion in Black's and Pettigrew's food. That's what," he snapped at her, dropping the tray on the desk. "You'll have to drink water. I forgot the juice."
"That's fine," she said, ambling from the bed. "When did you go see Madam Pomfrey?"
"After Transfiguration," he said through gritted teeth. He'd had to spend the entire lesson with the itchy feeling of extra long hair in his armpits, arms, legs, and groin. Thankfully, the batch they'd brewed that morning hadn't affected his ears or nose.
She nodded slowly, looking at him from under her fringe with expectant eyes. "And you were late leaving Transfiguration, weren't you?"
He looked up, amazed at her perceptiveness. "Yeah, Professor McGonagall held me up after class to assign me and Black detention. I only had enough time before dinner to run up to see Madam Pomfrey and ask her about the antidote because mine didn't work…" His eyes narrowed in suspicion. "How'd you hear about that? You weren't supposed to leave the room—you promised!"
"I heard your house mates complaining about Black in the corridor. One of them was really mad, so I opened the door a crack to listen, and I overheard about how Black got you in trouble in Transfiguration," she said off handedly, waving him off. "So unless you managed to spike the food sometime between getting your detention assigned by Professor McGonagall and when you went to Madam Pomfrey to have the hair growth reversed, you couldn't have had time to run down to the Great Hall early enough to slip the potion into Black's goblet before any of the Gryffindors came down to eat."
"Pettigrew's goblet—he handed his to Black," he corrected her, remembering what he'd seen. "I saw Professor Slughorn in the Entrance Hall. He told me to stop running and to hurry or I'd be late to dinner." Severus mentally recounted his conversation with his Head of House. "I did tell him that I'd just come from seeing Madam Pomfrey, and he'd asked me what for."
"So you have an alibi, two actually," Hermione said triumphantly.
"Thanks," he said, really glad that she was there to talk to. "But I don't want you opening the door—what if one of them had seen you? Remember what they'd said the first time you came here?"
Hermione dropped her head and her face turned red. "Yes, I remember." She looked up at him imploringly. "Surely they aren't so mad that they'd hurt me now?"
"Why chance it?" he asked. "C'mon, let's eat. Tell me about which book you devoured today."
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Hermione watched him slyly as he worked on his essay for Ancient Runes. It still amazed her that he took the same classes that she did. Well, mostly. He didn't take Muggle Studies or Divination, calling Divination woolly and Muggle Studies a waste of her time since she was Muggle-born. She also had Magical Arts and Literature, which he thought was for dunderheads who had to be told what art was and couldn't understand what they were reading so they had to have it explained to them. Nevertheless, Hermione liked Magical Arts and Literature, although she certainly agreed with him about Divination.
Severus checked something in one of his books, then compared it to something in another. He had an intensity about him when he studied, the same as when he brewed potions, as if nothing could distract him. Somehow, she knew he was very much aware of everything around him, at least she knew that his older self was. He also tended to look at her through his hair, a habit Professor Snape had when he was writing at his desk in class.
Unlike his older self, Severus had the habit of keeping his left elbow on the desk and either caressing his lips with a finger or resting his forehead on his fingertips as he read, then putting his head against his fist as he wrote. He also occasionally tapped his quill on his thumb when he was deep in thought over a problem. Other than that, his face was nearly expressionless, his dark eyes always intently focused. And his hands… He had the most incredible hands: long, supple fingers, quite strong, very dexterous, and always meticulously manicured without any hangnails or cuts marring his skin. Hermione really liked watching his hands…
He looked up as he dipped his quill. "Why are you staring at me?"
"I was just thinking," she replied, staring at his dark eyes and the lines of his face. He was kind of attractive in his own way—intriguing and mysterious. He had that adorable awkward 'not yet grown into his features' look that would change when he grew up. Of course, the years would weigh heavily on him and the strain of being a…
"About what?" he asked, breaking her train of thought.
Hermione jerked her gaze from his lips to his eyes. "Ah, what?"
"What are you thinking about? You're still staring," he snapped irritably.
"Things," she said noncommittally, dropping her attention to the spell book he'd brought her.
"Well, stare at the wall instead of me when you're thinking," he growled softly, leaning over his paper so that his nose barely touched the parchment.
She didn't like seeing him hunch over that way. "Why do you do that?" she asked.
He looked up again. "Do what?"
"Hunch over like that," she said, pointing at him. "You don't do it all the time, so I know it's not because of your eyesight."
"I have excellent eyesight," he said, his brow creasing as he regarded her. "What are you on about?"
"You hunch over, like when you're eating or writing, with your nose barely over the plate or parchment. But you don't do it all the time. Like you're blocking me out or closing yourself off, and you do it when you're annoyed," she explained as best as she could.
His eyes narrowed and the crease between his eyes became more pronounced, and she hoped she hadn't insulted him. "I just mean, you seem to hunch over like that when you're annoyed or something. As if I might copy from your paper or you don't want me to see what you're writing. But you don't do it all the time. I was just curious."
"Are you through?" he asked and Hermione felt her cheeks heat up. "It's a habit, I suppose. I don't really pay attention to it."
She shrugged and nodded, then turned back to her book.
"Why do you bite your lip?" he asked, looking at her through a slit of his wall of hair.
She released her lip, unaware that she'd tucked it under her front teeth. "I dunno. I do that when I'm thinking, I suppose?"
"You do it when you're nervous, when you're reading, writing, chopping or cutting ingredients, and when you're stirring a potion. You even do it when you braid your hair," he pointed out, still watching her through his hair hanging down over half of his face.
"You noticed?" she asked, amazed that he'd actually paid that amount of attention to her.
"It's… noticeable," he said, ducking his head down over his parchment again.
~ T. B. .C. ~