CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR—Itinerary
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Hermione had left the lab after her assigned two hours were up. She walked all the way to her rooms, through her bedroom and Severus', and back into his lab through the other door.
Severus narrowed his eyes at her but kept stirring the Strengthening Solution.
"Hope it's alright I came back," she said, already returning to her workstation.
Severus pointed his wand at the door—the one that led into the hallway—to lock it.
The strange part, he thought, was that she had tidied her table before she had departed—so now she had to unpack everything again.
He could not fault her for the precautions. The Carrows and Draco had a habit of barging in whether Severus was busy or not. The other students would at least hover outside the door for a time until he snapped at them to come in.
From here, Severus could see Hermione struggle to decipher very large, very messy handwriting. Whatever task Hagrid had set them.
"Oh, thestrals," she said once she had figured out a word. "That makes more sense."
"Don't you have anything better to do?" he griped. When she was in here for the apprenticeship, he could snap at her to work quietly.
He still could, even though she was in here on her own time, but he'd probably get an earful in return, per their agreement upon entering this marriage.
"No." She began coring apples.
Severus had wondered why Hagrid needed apples for this potion Severus barely looked at, but thestral-feed did make sense.
His chest still throbbed from last week's…excursion. Whether Hermione knew that, he wasn't sure. Their proximity in the lab lessened his pain.
"No trouble to get into?" he asked, crabby. Two potions had exploded, one class after the other, this morning and set the tone for the rest of the day.
"My schedule is cleared of all trouble today."
It also annoyed him that Hermione wasn't annoyed by him anymore. His sharp tone and less-than-friendly words rolled off her back. He had spent many long years, before she even came along, honing his personality, making it sharp enough to keep people away. And she acted like it didn't cut.
He tossed half a dozen newt eyeballs into his potion. "I find that hard to believe."
"Severus, please don't underestimate me. I've been making trouble, and not getting caught at it, for several years now." She looked over her shoulder at him. "Even if I was making trouble at this very moment, you might not ever know it."
Severus rubbed his tongue against his teeth.
"Christmas is coming up in three weeks," she said, cutting the apples lengthwise.
"And?"
"I think you should stay here."
"Obviously."
"And I will go to Grimmauld Place."
Severus put both his hands flat on the table and hung his head. Half of him would rather spend the hols cracking open holes in the lake for the squid than risk several days apart from Hermione.
"That way suspicion is taken off of you entirely," she concluded. His wife did not sound thrilled with her plan.
"We'll see," he replied. He could not know what direction either of his masters would point him just yet.
"You usually stay here, right?" she asked. After she dumped the skinned apples into a cauldron of boiling water, she turned to look at him.
"Yes." Severus pulled a fresh Shrivelfig from its bag.
Hermione found a towel and wiped off her hands. "Where would you go, if you don't stay here?"
"Home." He held the Shrivelfig to the table and began to skin it from end to end.
"Where's home?" She stood on her toes to reach for several powdered ingredients on the top shelf.
"You haven't heard of it," he muttered. Nosy Gryffindors.
"Spinner's End?"
Severus clutched the slimy Shrivelfig so hard it almost shot out of his hand. Slowly raising his head, he asked, "How did you know that?"
Hermione glanced back at him then did a double-take upon seeing his face—probably a mixture of panic—who else knew?—and anger—who else knew?
"I guessed."
He set the blasted thing on the counter. "You guessed?" he hissed.
"Harry had your book all last year, until you caught him out. I did some digging." Hermione remained guarded, her body stiff and reactionary. "I found one Prince and happened to see that she relocated to Spinner's End when she married."
He saw her resist pulling her bottom lip between her teeth.
Bloody. Fucking. Gryffindors.
Severus needed every ounce of strength he had to calmly continue skinning the Shrivelfig.
Who else knew how much? What was just lying in the open for schoolgirls to find?
Severus would have a hell of a headache from all the tooth-grinding if Hermione hadn't been near.
Hagrid's requirements for the thestral-feed floated in the air at Hermione's shoulder. She sometimes glanced at it but Severus assumed she winged it. As long as it didn't kill them, Severus didn't care.
Hagrid had asked Hermione for assistance with some animals, and Hermione asked Severus if it was something she could pay for herself. He told her the school's stores would be more than adequate for whatever task Hagrid threw at them. This would repay Hagrid's kindness to Severus in his weakened state.
If she killed them, he would say he had no knowledge of this project at all. If they lived, he assumed no one would come demanding answers.
Hermione frowned at whatever was left in her cauldron after forty-five minutes.
She grabbed the parchment from the air to read again.
"I don't think they're gonna go for that…" Hermione murmured to herself. She snapped her fingers.
She set up a massive strainer overtop of an empty cauldron and ran her concoction through it.
Severus finished his work. As much as he would rather not leave her alone in here, he was tired. And frankly, she would be fine.
It was too early for sleep. And there were papers to mark.
Severus rubbed the back of his neck. New plan—he would mark while in the lab. He collected the essays and returned to his table.
Hermione continued to strain and test her potion. The Monster Book of Monsters growled at her before she stroked the spine.
It popped open to the thestral page.
"Alright, vitamins, vitamins," she repeated to herself as she poked through each jar on each shelf. "Ah-ha."
Her constant noise annoyed him less lately. Which was fortunate for them both.
Hermione tossed in spoonful after spoonful of different vitamin powders. She set the cauldron to boil.
Someone knocked on the door.
Both Snapes froze.
Hermione nodded at the door to the sitting room. Severus flicked his wand at it to shut it. He shook his head at her. It would be difficult to explain why he set up a potion in the farthest possible corner from his desk.
Hermione continued to work, shoulders tense.
Severus unlocked the door from his seat. It swung open to reveal Alecto.
Great, he thought.
Alecto gave Hermione a puzzled look. "Didn't I see—never mind." She strode to Severus's desk. "Severus, I have finished with the book, but I'm afraid I need another favour."
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She handed Severus a book.
Hermione mocked Alecto's voice in her head. She wasn't jealous of Alecto—Severus didn't seem any more interested in Alecto than his wife—but she didn't love seeing another witch flirt with her husband.
Ginny had a point, in the end. Sure, Alecto didn't know she was making eyes at a married man. Oh, Hermione would love to see her face when she told her Severus was already taken. She never would, of course, but she would love to.
Oh, and tell Millicent Bulstrode that yes, Severus Snape had snoggable lips. And tell Pansy Parkinson she had a husband that was not legally blind nor deaf.
Hermione tuned back in as Alecto described the issue: "Basilisk venom is not easy to come by."
"It can be purchased," Severus assured her.
"Didn't Potter kill one in this very school?"
Hermione glanced over her shoulder to find Alecto perched on Severus's desk, legs on display. Hermione turned up her nose. Alecto may have longer legs, but Hermione had nicer hands.
Nobody cares about your hands, Hermione, she scolded. When's the last time Rita wrote a column titled 'How to Get Nicer Hands'? Never.
"While he claims that happened," Severus drawled, "no one has been able to find any skeleton to verify."
Alecto laughed. It was a bit shrill.
Hermione stopped mid-chop.
Basilisk venom.
That's what had killed Riddle's diary.
"So obvious, idiot!" she whispered to herself.
"What was that, Miss Granger?"
She whipped around to face the two professors. They must all get together and practice the degrading looks they'd send Muggle-born wizards.
"Sorry, Professor—I may have gotten guts all over my hands."
"Ten points for wasting my stock—and for interrupting me," he said.
"Sorry, Professor," she mumbled. Git.
She resumed straining the experimental thestral multivitamin. Carrow resumed flirting with Severus.
Sorry Professor Carrow, she said gleefully in her head. We'll be fresh out of basilisk venom before it comes time to brew your potion. She'd have to buy her own from Bulgaria.