Chapter 14
That's what he will do, he decides. Not immediately, but as soon as he's finished out the month here, staying as far away from Granger as possible. He'll go back to Rome, and let Lucius break the news here that he actually survived the war. Then, after it's become old news—and after Granger's divorce is final—he'll come back to Britain, with no one ever having to know that Steven Ebarossa and Severus Snape were the same person.
Easy peasy, as the firsties say.
He's not getting his hopes up, though, that Granger will ever look at him the way she did in the kitchens tonight once he's back here as himself. He reminds himself that doing all right with women as an Englishman in America isn't the same thing as doing all right with former Hogwarts students as the bat of the dungeons.
The knock at his office door makes him tense. Granger's son. He made the appointment for the boy to brew with him before his dinner with a drunk and loquacious Granger. He meant to cancel it, as staying away from Granger would be easier if he kept the boy at arms' length as well, but he forgot.
Severus has already seen the boy prepare ingredients and brew in class, so he knows he's competent. He starts him off brewing headache remedy for Poppy, and when it's simmering, has him prepare some of the ingredients for the potion that anchors his Glamour, as he's about to start another batch of it.
"What are these for, sir?" the boy asks.
"Just to have on hand. They're for several different potions."
Hugo frowns, looking at the ingredients. "Aren't all of these used in the potion you've been developing to anchor a Glamour to an object?"
Severus's head snaps up.
"I read your article," the boy says. "I didn't know you were at the point where you were ready to brew it, thought you were still working out the arithmancy."
Granger didn't tell him the boy had read his theoretical work, but he supposes he should have known better than to assume he hadn't. "I am still working on the arithmancy," he says. "I'm not ready to brew it yet."
Hugo looks at him with that same look Granger gets when she's trying to work something out. He glances down at the lab journal that Severus has been working out of. "Is that it?"
"No, Mr. Weasley, that is not it," Severus says, and snaps the journal shut. "And now I need to brew Skele-gro for your accident-prone schoolmates. It is one of the potions that will be on your NEWT exams next year. Would you like to help, or are you going to harangue me with questions until I throw you out and never invite you back?"
"I'll help, sir."
Severus puts the book with the Skele-gro instructions on the table, open to the correct page, and checks on the headache remedy. He takes it off the heat, and starts the prep work for the Skele-gro. He and Granger's son work in silence for a while, save for his occasional suggestion on how to hold the knife or how finely to mince. He's aware of the boy watching him as he makes his way through his own share of the ingredient prep quickly and efficiently.
"I thought Mum was fast with a knife," the boy says, "but you make her look like an amateur."
"Of course. I've been brewing since before your mother was born."
"I appreciate your letting me be here, sir. I'm sorry if I was out of line earlier."
"You can heat the cauldron now," Severus says in his stern teacher voice, to let the boy know that all is neither forgiven nor forgotten. "I'll finish chopping these."
Granger was right, he thinks as he watches the boy prepare the cauldron. He's good. But Severus isn't sure she was right about his being better than she was. Better than she was, maybe, but not better than she could have been, if Severus had been able to really teach her. He can make it up to her, though, at least in part, by teaching her son now.
The boy is completely absorbed in the brewing. His form is perfect as he stirs. Maybe he is better than his mother. Not in terms of intelligence or preparation or attention to detail, but in terms of instinct. There's an element to brewing that can't be taught, that has to be felt, and this boy feels it, Severus can tell.
"I'll bottle it after it cools," Severus says when the fire under the cauldron is extinguished. "Your performance was," he starts to say acceptable, but changes his mind, remembering what he owes to Granger. "You did very well, Mr. Weasley."
"Thank you, sir. Do you think I could come back again?"
Severus hesitates. It's probably best if he doesn't. But somehow, he finds himself saying, "Yes. Same time on Friday."