Disclaimers

This is a nonprofit work of fiction. The Harry Potter Universe, in its entirety, belongs to the wonderful and exceedingly talented J.K. Rowling, Warner Bros, and other affiliates. No infringement is intended.

The views and opinions expressed in this story are solely those of the characters being portrayed and do not necessarily express the views and opinions of the writer.

Never attempt to win by force what can be won by deception.

-Niccolò Machiavelli

Friday, September 2nd, 1977 - Part II

By the time Professor Slughorn was finished speaking, she was already out of her chair, making her way to the supply cabinet. As much as she had despised the Half-Blood Prince's book, she had studied it diligently behind Harry's back. It wasn't that the book itself frustrated her; it was that Harry, who was, at best, a decent brewer, suddenly had higher marks than her. Not because of any real talent, or research, or even sheer dumb luck, but because he was using superior instructions. It was like cheating off of the brainiest kid in class. Which would usually have been her.

She didn't like being second best. It seemed that she and Lily Evans had that in common.

She had never fully trusted the book, and therefor never attempted to apply it to any of her potions, regardless of Harry's results. But now, she knew who it belonged to. She had memorized those recipes. And, if she wasn't mistaken, she had the upper hand. Because it was not a seventeen year old Snape who had taught her. It was a fully grown, and exponentially more experienced wizard that had ingrained in her proper technique. She had a feeling he had made discoveries later in life, and she suspected he had taught them to his students. Some of them, at the very least.

Persephone was the first to reach the supplies, gathering everything that she needed and meticulously choosing the best of each specimen. She and Lily had been closest to the stores, seated at the front left, and the redhead was hot on her trail. But not before the Slytherin had time to mix the remaining African sea salt with citric acid. It wouldn't create a negative reaction; only render the salt less potent. Just as Seph grabbed the last of her needed items, Evans began rifling through the shelves.

In her sixth year, Horace had informed them all that only one of his students had successfully brewed a perfect Draught of Living Death within the one hour allotment. He had never specified just who that was, though they had all, at the time, assumed it to be Severus Snape. She intended to make sure that didn't happen.

Hurrying back to her table, she retrieved her personal Potions Kit and carefully aligned each item in the order it would be needed.

Beginning with the two hundred and fifty fluid ounces of water and five ounces of salt, she combined them in a beaker, then left them to sit for the necessary five minutes to properly dissolve, careful not to shake it. Her Gryffindor partner was sliding into place beside her as Seph carefully ignited a fire beneath her cauldron, adjusting it to a medium flame. This was the first point at which she would be using her advanced knowledge from Snape, unsure of whether or not he had learned this particular trick before or after graduation.

The instructions said to shake her vial of moondew, but instead, she swirled it carefully within its containment, creating a whirlpool like effect until it was sufficiently mixed. She carefully measured out twelve fluid ounces, pouring it in to set as the base. As it warmed to a simmer, she used her graduated cylinder to obtain forty fluid ounces of wormwood. It was important to complete this stage before the handles of the cauldron became too hot. Gripping one with her left hand, she used her right to add ten drops of the infusion, then tilted it again towards her to add the remaining ten drops. When she released it, the pewter handles were just beginning to burn her fingers.

Five minutes had passed now, and her salt solution was ready. Slowly adding it, she simultaneously lowered the flame to low. Under no circumstances could it come to a full boil. The potion darkened to a smooth, blackcurrant-colour.

Directions called for three valerian roots, chopped into two centimeter squares. However, Persephone had learned in her third year that the skin of the roots was less effective. Therefor, she used four roots, discarding all pieces with remnants of the outer layer, and ending with a total of thirteen cubes. Three of these she placed in a clean beaker with eighty fluid ounces of distilled water. This, like the salt solution, needed time to settle.

The juice of twelve sliced sopophorous beans, it said. She smirked, thinking of Harry, as she used her silver dagger to crush thirteen before adding the juice.

Still needing time for the valerian root solution to complete, she risked a glance around the class. Most weren't far behind her, though those on the sopophorous beans were having difficulty cutting them. One person, however, was far behind.

Severus Snape was examining his salt solution with frustration. From the discarded beakers on his desk, this was not the first time he had attempted it. She knew that citric acid was soluble in water, but it made the liquid much cloudier than the african salt would have. He was clearly aware of this.

As if feeling her eyes on him, he whirled around, searching for the source of disruption. When their gazes met, he showed his first sign of true emotion to her. Outright suspicion and irritation. Seph offered him an apologetic smile, before mouthing 'sorry.' His pallid face flushed when he realized that she was responsible.

Finally adding seven drops of the reduced valerian liquid, careful not to allow any fragments of the actual root, she heard murmuring behind her.

"I think it's supposed to be black," whispered the girl, whom she had already decided was most assuredly Alice.

"It's almost black," said Frank in confusion.

"More of a deep, midnight blue, I'd say."

Counting out seven counterclockwise turns, followed by a clockwise, she bit back any sense of guilt she might have otherwise felt for the intentional sabotage. The majority of the class never would have brewed a successful Draught of Living Death, anyways. Within just a few repetitions, her potion had turned pale periwinkle, before becoming clear as water. If it weren't for the sulfurous smell, she could have mistaken it for veritaserum.

By the time she had added her seven squares of valerian root, her fifty ounces of powdered root of asphodel, and the paste she'd made from pickled sloth brains, it was a perfect shade of lilac, and she had three minutes left. She extinguished her flame and used her sleeve to wipe the sweat off her brow. It was shockingly warm in the usually frigid dungeons; no doubt from all of the fumes.

At this point, Slughorn was making his rounds, currently leaning over Amie's cauldron and shaking his head. As he straightened up, she timidly raised her hand to get his attention. Walking over to her, he glanced down curiously, and promptly did a double take.

"My dear!" he exclaimed, canted down to closer inspect it. "A perfect specimen. I daresay one small drop would kill us all!" He was, of course, exaggerating, as he was wont to do. It was a sleeping draught—a powerful one, to be sure, but not a poison. If a single drop were to kill a man, the potion would in all reality have been incorrectly brewed. But she accepted it as the praise it was.

"However," he continued, "we must wait until time is up. I have some rather stupendous students in here, who may rival you yet." He winked at her, clearly proud to be boasting about his pupils.

However, when the clock on the chalkboard flashed red, he was disappointed. "Miss Evans," he sighed, looking at her final product, "I do not believe you allowed your salt solution to sufficiently dissolve. A commendable effort, regardless." Lily's disappointment was bad, but not nearly as bad as the resolute acceptance on Severus's face when Horace approached him.

Slughorn didn't say anything to him. Just furrowed his bushy brows in disbelief. Snape shot her a glare, which she pointedly raised a brow at, as if to say, I am a Slytherin, am I not? She had learned the expression from him, albeit an older, more self aware version. What did he expect? Had he never heard the tale of the frog and the scorpion?

She accepted the Liquid Luck with grace, offering a heartfelt thank you and appropriate responses to the Head of Slytherin's warnings. Once he was fully satisfied, he allowed her to leave the already empty classroom. Packing up her supplies and swinging her satchel up over her shoulder, she made her way out into the dungeon corridors.

Persephone had made it only a few paces when she became aware of another presence. Glancing to her left, she was taken aback to see a figure walking alongside her.

She gasped, startled. In the span of time it took for her to identify her companion, she had already dropped her bag and pulled her wand out. Her potions kit spilled out onto the floor with a clatter.

"Jumpy, are we?" asked Snape, his tone malicious but his actions gentlemanly. He was leaning down to gather her things and ignoring the vinewood following his every move. After a few moments of consideration, she slipped it back into her pocket and watched him ponderously. The man obviously had some experience with sneaking up on people. If he'd intended to hex her, he would have done so before she noticed him. That would come in useful when he became a spy.

"Don't do that," she told him. She'd meant it to come out sternly, but instead it sounded tired. He straightened up and handed her things back to her. "What do you want?"

His hair swung forward to hide his face as he hoisted his own bag up further onto his arm. She couldn't help but notice the hunched set of his shoulders. No doubt he was just as tall and capable of intimidation as he had been—would be—in his adulthood, but to look at him now she'd never have known it. This certainly wasn't the dreaded bat of the dungeons that she had been familiar with in her own time.

"How did you do it?"

"How did I do what?" She inquired irreproachably. She gave him her best deer in the headlights look, batting her eyelashes like she'd seen so many brainless bimbos do before.

He seemed more offended by that than by her refusal to answer. "Don't play coy with me," he growled. "I can see right through you, you know. All your insipid stories and brown nosing. What are you playing at?"

She snorted, walking again towards her original destination. "And here I thought Slytherins were supposed to be cunning. Wasn't that one of the words associated with our house?" Ambition was, too. If he was as quick as he would grow to be, he should catch on to her meaning easily enough. He'd already called her a brown noser. Surely it wasn't so hard to believe that she just intended to be at the top of her class.

"You were sucking up so hard I thought you'd choke. What was in the salt?"

There was a pregnant pause in which she hesitated, before giving in. "Citric acid," she admitted grudgingly. It couldn't hurt to tell him now. She forced herself to keep her gaze ahead, but she was tempted to observe his reaction. From her peripheral vision, she could see him nodding thoughtfully. Neither of them felt the need to continue the conversation, now that he'd gotten his answer.

They'd finally made it to the top of the stairs and into the Entrance Hall. Double potions had been at nine, and lunch would be starting soon. She'd skipped breakfast. But it was necessary to make sure the new hierarchy remained in place.

"Oi! New girl!" called a voice near the Great Hall's double doors. A wolf whistle followed immediately after. Beside her, Severus stiffened.

Author's Notes

I really wanted to include Snape's influence on Hermione, what she learned from him and the Half-Blood Prince, and to show Hermione's Slytherin side. The simple treachery, in my opinion, was a good way to get started. Citric acid does, indeed, look like salt, and is a relatively common product in pharmaceuticals. There are several different recipes known for the Draught of Living Death. I combined knowledge from the books, movies, and video games. You can find my version of the instructions on my tumblr (vivikathemis). The tale of the frog and the scorpion was first introduced to me in the fic Just to Be. The moral is basically not to except betrayal when betrayal is in someone's nature. Also, it wasn't until I was editing this that I remembered that the fourth potion was Veritaserum, not Draught of Living Death. Oh well.

Interactive Question

Do you feel that everyone is currently in character? I'm trying to write a more adult!Hermione, ruthless!Hermione without losing her essence.

Reviews are my muse.