AN: I don't know if I'll be able to post anymore this week. I'm leaving for vacation tomorrow and don't know when I'll have access to a computer. Still, thank you for all the support! It is very deeply appreciated!
Most evenings, Hermione would be frustrated that she couldn't find Crookshanks. The last thing she needed was for him to ruin one of Neville's flower gardens or knock the papers from Minerva's desk. Still, if he managed to find his way into the dungeons he may have given her the opening she needed to speak with a certain snarky potions professor.
While the pretense for her visit was the very real possibility of Crookshanks being lost, she could claim to have other motives. If she played her cards right she may be able to entice Severus with the promise to help her with her course. It was clear he wasn't pleased with the curriculum. Could he pass up the chance to have some kind of impact upon it?
She knocked upon the door and smiled. Her parents had always emphasized the importance of a pleasant expression and a little sense of humor. Time to put their teaching to good work.
"Who is it?"
"Someone who needs to find her half-kneazle."
"You lose that bloody thing again?"
"No, I simply misplaced him."
She heard a string of profanities from the other end of the door.
"If it makes you feel better, I don't see him in your classroom," Hermione offered.
"It doesn't," he growled from the other end.
She heard the shifting around of items and the scooting of chairs. After a few moments, she heard footsteps approach the door.
"Could you find him?" She asked,
"Thankfully for you, no," he answered.
"Great."
Silence.
She shifted her foot and bit her lower lip.
"You may leave at any time," Severus intoned.
"I actually had another motive for coming."
"Of course you did." He sighed.
"I came to ask you help on my course."
"I don't remember offering my services."
"Yesterday you were less than willing to offer me assistance, but I figured after a day you'd taken some time to reconsider."
"I gave it as much consideration as I would about infecting myself with the bubonic plague."
"Would you truly go that far for your research? That seems a bit…extreme," she said.
"Of course it is. No dunderhead would allow himself to be his own test subject."
"It's a great thing being a test subject is unnecessary given that there are muggle treatments for the Black Death."
"I'd imagine they are quite painful and only partially effective."
"Actually they are relatively safe and fairly effective if the illness is caught in time."
Silence.
She ran her finger along a groove in the cherry wood door. "You did know about the antibiotic treatment for Black Death, didn't you?"
"You mean to tell me a treatment exists?" His voice wasn't nearly as hostile.
"Yes."
"Wizards have been struggling to find a cure, yet muggles already have one?"
"They've had one for decades."
More silence.
"It's quite effective too. There's really no need to find a magical cure," Hermione said.
"If the cure involves getting hacked up, I would say there's value to finding a more magical cure." Severus' footsteps were getting closer to the door.
"Actually, it's nothing more than an antibiotic regiment administered by an IV, which is hardly being hacked up."
The door knob clicked. Her smile widened. She had his interest. Now she just had to keep it.
"If you know so much about muggle medicine." He opened the door. "Why are you speaking with me about your course and not incorporating that into your curriculum?"
"Because I enjoy your presence and our conversations," she gave him the sweetest expression she could muster.
"You mean to tell me that you enjoy being berated?"
"I enjoy intellectual banter, and receiving timely advice." She paused. "Severus."
He scowled. "Do not call me by my first name."
"But it's such a lovely first name, Severus."
"Goodbye Ms. Granger," He began to close the door
"Wait." Hermione grabbed the door. "Do you want to know more about the antibiotic regiment for the bubonic plague?"
There was a flicker of interest in his eyes.
"We could discuss it over tea, if you would like."
"First of all, I am not interested in tea time."
"Of course, we could have something else." She released the door.
"No, you will return to your quarters and have your beverage alone. I will enjoy a glass of Firewhiskey in solitude."
"Firewhisky sounds even better. What is your favorite brand?" She asked.
"That is none of your concern."
"It may be if I ever decide to buy you a drink."
"I would rather die of dehydration than have any kind of drink with you."
"I would pour water down your throat to prevent that from occurring," she said. "If I had my own glass, we would technically be having drinks together."
"If you so much as attempted to bring a drink near me I would tell the headmistress what kinds of boundaries you insist upon crossing."
"You would tell them that the big bad potions master couldn't handle a former student on his own?"
There was no amusement in his eyes.
"So, do you think the bubonic plague cure should be taught to my seventh years?" She asked. "Some muggles don't even know it exists, so it would be quite informative."
He gripped the doorknob.
"A knowledge of antibiotics could prove quite informative for your potions students."
"How?" There was a flicker of interest in his eyes.
"When I minored in Potions, I noticed that most, if not all, of the ingredients were magical in origin. There was little interaction with muggle technology."
"It is a rather unfortunate aspect of potions." He lessened his grip on the doorknob.
"Why is that? Even as a student I wondered why we needed twenty ingredients for a potion when a simple Aspirin would do."
"Because purebloods have more influence in the field than they ought to," he explained.
"Because of blood prejudices?"
"That, and because they tend to have more money than muggleborns," he answered. "The more money one has, the easier it is to get into a prestigious university. The more prestigious the university, the more likely one is to get a job. The more likely one is to get a job, the more likely one is to get published…"
"And the more likely one is to get published, the more likely they are to dominate the field as a whole."
"Indeed." There was more than a hint of regret in his voice.
"It isn't always the case though," she replied. "I read several of your published articles in my courses. You are well-respected in the field."
"Rest assured, I am a rarity. I was lucky to be unusually gifted in the field and to have my talents recognized. Still," his voice was laced with bitterness, "It is difficult for some in academic circles to take a glorified secondary school teacher seriously."
"You could quit and become a university professor. I'm sure universities would be lining up to hire you."
"And miss a chance to terrorize teenage dunderheads on a daily basis?" He huffed. "I couldn't bare to think of anyone going through Hogwarts without a little potions inflicted trauma."
"Don't sell yourself short. You could terrorize a few undergrads."
"Some of them do deserve to be terrorized, or at least taught respect," he mused aloud.
"I could see you as a university professor."
"And I could see you exiting my dungeons immediately." His face hardened again.
"Why would I do that when we're having such a lovely discussion?" The playfulness in her voice returned.
"Because I need to prepare for my own classes, not develop yours."
"We could make an exchange," she offered. "You help me with your classes, and I do you a favor."
"What favor could you possibly do for me?"
"You'd be surprised."
He raised an eyebrow.
"I can do quite a few things, things you would find…useful."
"What types of useful things could you possibly do for me?"
"Things you can only dream of," she lowered her voice.
"Any dream I have of you is a nightmare."
"So you do dream about me?"
"Against my will."
"I'm sure your dreams are more pleasant than you let on."
"How can a nightmare be pleasant?"
"Some people enjoy being frightened. It exhilarates them."
"How can...?" He shook his head. "No, I do not care enough to continue this silly game. You need to leave now.
"Fine, I'll go." She backed away. "But do reconsider my offer for help, if only so you can lord something over me. It isn't often I am in need of assistance. You should consider it a great honor that I would seek you out."
"This is about as honorable as living with a rat."
"Pet rats can be sweet and adorable though."
"Unless their name is Pettigrew."
"True," the playfulness evaporated from her expression.
"Goodbye Ms. Granger." He began to close the door.
"Fine, I'll give you more time to reconsider my offer," she backed away "Perhaps when I see you again you'll have some ideas for what I should teach my seventh years."
"At this rate I would recommend teaching the students about a security system, so they can teach me how to install one in my quarters to keep out bushy haired know-it-alls."
"On that lovely note, it was great to see you again." She waved. "Severus."
He slammed the door behind her.
A grin graced her face. He was not entirely averse to having a civil conversation with her.
She could work with that.