After lunch and no mention of Snape's weird pattern of behavior to anyone else-but honestly she had no way of explaining it without revealing who she truly was-Béatrice and Phœbé invited Hermione to take a trip to a nearby town for something different.
"Finally some fresh air," Phœbé said, after they apparated into a side street of the village. "But more importantly, no students in sight."
"Are they really that intolerable?" Hermione asked, thinking her friend must be exaggerating.
"How long have you been at this? One week? Come back to me when you've been doing it as long as we have," Phœbé responded.
"It's not that they are intolerable, more that it's nice to walk around and not constantly be on patrol for troublemakers," Béatrice added.
Hermione could understand that. She smiled to herself wondering what her two new friends would have made of her and her old friends at school. Dumbledore had most likely been amused by their antics, but she did not know if she could say the same thing for her head of house. Hermione made a mental note to send Minerva McGonagall an owl, thanking her once more for the years of what could only have been described as teacher torture.
"Clearly your first impressions have been good then," Phœbé said.
"They're excellent. I think teaching will be a rewarding profession for me," Hermione said, aware of how naïve she must sound.
"Rewarding spiritually? Maybe. Rewarding financially? Certainly not," Phœbé responded.
The group ended their stroll at a café with a breathtaking view of a valley among the many mountains of the area.
"So, Jean, if you weren't teaching, what would you be doing instead?" Béatrice asked after a quiet moment.
Hermione laughed nervously. "Good question. Uh… I don't think my education credentials provide me with much of another choice. I suppose I could also be a writer."
A writer? Hermione had never considered herself a writer; she much preferred being on the other side of the book.
"You're also a witch, surely you had some magical careers in mind as well. You were reading that potions book," Béatrice said, sounding sweet as ever.
Hermione could not help growing suspicious. Was this turning into another well-meaning person telling her she was squandering her potential?
"Naturally, I did. I like all manner of magical subjects. I think that's part of my problem-I have too many interests, too many options to choose from," Hermione said, surprised by the truth in her words. She had not really thought about it, but she supposed this was where some of her anxiety after Hogwarts had come from.
"Yes, I understand," Béatrice said. "Having no choice is certainly less than desirable, but many options can sometimes feel worse because then every decision can feel like the wrong one."
"Yes, and then once you've settled on a decision, all other paths feel closed off to you permanently," Hermione added, happy that someone seemed to agree with her.
"Well, on that note," Phœbé said, raising her glass, "here's to making the right decision and even if we don't, finding satisfaction anyway!"
That evening Hermione was pleased to have plenty of free time on her hands, allowing her to finish the stupid book she had begun regretting borrowing in the first place. On Sunday she returned it to the library, but Hermione was still undecided about what to do next. Her favorite option would be to do nothing and to just have the librarian inform Snape that his book was available. Despite her better judgment, this still felt like the cowardly way out. Moreover, part of her was still interested in seeing his lab; telling him that she had finished would be the perfect excuse to see it. This would not force her to act on his offer, only provide a short visit. Mind made up, Hermione brought herself to talk to Snape, giving Crookshanks a pat as she left. The only problem was, she had no idea where he or his lab was.
Her first step was to check his office. When she saw no sign of him, she checked his classroom, followed by their shared classroom. Hermione was beginning to question her decision. How was she supposed to find him in this huge school? Though she disapproved of its use, just this one time Hermione really wished she had a Marauder's Map for Beauxbâtons.
Then an idea came to her. Why would his lab not be where the others potions labs were? She remembered Sébastien mentioning his own lab was on the first floor of the east wing. Hermione headed there, confident that she would find her goal.
"Looking for someone?" she heard a voice say behind her.
She turned abruptly to see Sébastien, leaning against the wall, arms crossed, a smug look on his face.
She must have looked surprised because he asked, "What happened to you to make you so jumpy?"
"Nothing happened," Hermione said. "I'm just naturally so. Maybe I was a rabbit in a past life."
Wow, he really makes me say the lamest things.
"Yes, I can imagine your Patronus would be a hare…" Sébastien said, looking thoughtful. "Anyway, you looked surprised to see me. Would you not expect to see me, a potions professor, here, in the potions wing?"
"I didn't think you would be working on the weekend, but I should've known you would be so diligent. But actually, I was looking for the Professor Rogue," Hermione said, reflexively tucking her hair behind her ear. Of course her hair was no longer long enough to perform such a motion, but the nervous tic remained.
"You won't find him here," Sébastien responded, matter-of-factly.
"Oh," Hermione said, met with another dead end. "Would you know where his lab is then?"
"His lab? Rogue doesn't have a lab. Unless you mean a language lab," Sébastien said, laughing at his own joke.
"Okay, thanks for your help. Sorry for bothering you," Hermione said.
"Bothering me? Does it look like you're bothering me?" Sébastien said, moving away from the wall.
"I suppose not. Still, you're probably working on something and I'd hate for you to ruin it for my sake."
Hermione turned away, to either continue her search or give up-she would decide along the way-when she felt Sébastien grab her arm.
"Wait. Why would you think Rogue would have a lab?"
Crap. Hermione did not know how to respond. She felt no allegiance to Snape but she still did not want to reveal to Sébastien that Snape apparently had a secret lab, especially if that was likely to draw suspicion.
"I must have misheard him. You know how bad my French is."
Hermione hoped her self-deprecating joke would satisfy Sébastien.
"Yes, of course," Sébastien said with a wolfish grin. "Want to see mine then?"
"Yours?" Hermione asked.
"My lab. And I should clarify: a potions lab."
Hermione just nodded. It was not like she had anything better to do. She would have to talk to Snape another day. Or, a better idea popped into her head: she could just use Sébastien's lab, if he let her.
"This," he said, leading them into the room closest to them, "is my private lab."
The room was much brighter than Hermione would have thought and seemed to be missing the jars that Hermione had come to associate with potioneering.
"What are you working on?" Hermione asked-the potions were all too far away for her to get a good look.
"Nothing too exciting, just restocking the infirmary."
"Not exciting, but nevertheless important!"
Hermione took a deep breath, realizing her opportunity.
"Do you need help with that? It must get boring making the same potions over and over. If you had help, you could focus on more 'exciting' projects."
Sébastien laughed.
"You mean from you? Do you already hate your students that much that you want to poison them?"
Hermione was, admittedly, very hurt at first. But the pain eased slightly when she remembered that Sébastien did not really know her. She may have mentioned an interest in potions but she had yet to show him her abilities.
"You're funny," he added.
"I know," Hermione said, defeat washing over her. "You've told me. Not haha funny."
"No, I think that was haha funny."
After an awkward moment, Hermione finally made her excuses and left. She had wanted to stay longer and learn more about the tools Sébastien had at his disposal but the man was being less than forthcoming. Surely at this point he knew she was bright? Was it not apparent in her bookishness or rampant curiosity? Or maybe she was not bright at all and Snape had been right; she just absorbed information and parroted it back out, not really thinking at all. Still, it was nice to finally be friends with someone with more academic pursuits, even if he did not always share them with her. That had to be better than nothing, right?
Then, one evening, following a full day of teaching, grading, lesson planning, Hermione was in her office marking the French-learners' first written assignment. Spelling aside-for who did not struggle with the language's orthography?-the students were making excellent progress. At least she thought they were-it was hard to know otherwise. Hermione made a mental note to ask Snape what he thought. Normally she would not want to talk to him unless necessary but this seemed to be class related and for that she could put aside their differences, at least for the sake of their students.
"Miss Granger."
Hermione jumped. She had really ought to research a blind-spot spell, or whatever it was called, to prevent such occurrences. Knowing Snape however, he would probably find a way around it. Or, more likely, he was already highly skilled at slipping past blind-spot detectors.
"Yes?"
"You're not at dinner."
Really? What time is it? I got lost in my work. These were some things she could have said, but for some reason being around Snape made her bristle.
"I wasn't aware I had to be at dinner but thanks for being my nanny and watching out for me."
Hermione bit her she went, always being meaner than necessary.
"Just an observation. I did not go to dinner either. I came here to get the notebook I had left."
Snape stepped beside the desk at which Hermione was sitting and reached into the lower right-hand drawer, pulling out a leather-bound notebook.
"Hope I wasn't too much of a nuisance. I'll be going."
"Wait," Hermione said, as he was walking out the door.
He turned abruptly on his heel and gave her a confused look. She could not believe what she was about to say.
"Could you show me your lab? I mean, I'm assuming that's where you're going."
Hermione was sure he would shut her down. Yes, he had offered that one time, but she still was rather rude to him, seemingly without fail.
"You assume correctly." Snape looked mock-pensive for a moment before adding, "Yes, I suppose you may tag along."
Hermione gathered the papers and placed them into her bag before following Snape out the door. She was not entirely sure where they were going, but it was not in the direction of the other potions labs.
"Sir, are your labs off your quarters?" Hermione asked.
"Yes," he replied.
Hermione balked.
"Is that really out of the realm of possibility? It is a magical castle after all. Rooms can be added at will."
Hermione did not approve of him talking down to her. She was a witch; she knew what magic was capable of. She just did not think his lab would be there, of all places. Then, Hermione realized, with a shiver down her spine, that she would be seeing his chambers. She imagined an all black room covered in jars. Even his bathroom walls would be shelved with jars. Well, she was not likely to see his bathroom. Unless, she thought, his potions lab was located off of his bathroom. Maybe, Hermione thought, smiling to herself, he had transformed his otherwise unused bathtub into a very large cauldron.
The living space that greeted Hermione after Snape unlocked and unwarded his door was surprisingly mundane and jar-free. He decorated sparsely save for, like her, many bookshelves. Nothing was black, but he did seem to favor the color gray. Snape walked to a bookshelf and pulled down a book-he moved too fast for Hermione to see which one-and the bookshelf scooted over, revealing a staircase. Hermione wanted to laugh at the theatricality of it. Hermione wondered if Snape knew he was being clichéd or if he had set the bookshelf-door up unironically. If he were anyone else, maybe she would have asked him. Snape did not even light his wand as he descended into the dark space, but since Hermione did not want to break her ankle around Severus Snape, cast a wordless Lumos and followed after him down a tight, spiraling staircase.
The laboratory did meet Hermione's expectations in terms of jars but it lacked the dungeon-ness she remembered from her potions lessons. Hermione was feeling a bit sad at this revelation, which struck her as odd, but she decided the blame could be placed solely on the misrememberings of nostalgia.
"Not as nice as what I had back at Hogwarts, or even at my old home for that matter."
Did Hermione detect a note of embarrassment in his voice? So, perhaps it was second-hand embarrassment that caused her to reply in such a way.
"No, it's great."
Wow, could she sound any lamer?
Though Hermione had no idea if they were above or below ground, the windows seemed to be letting in some sort of light. Whether natural or magical, the window sills and shelves were covered in plants to take advantage of this. Clearly potions ingredients, Hermione thought. Remembering her herbology classes, she identified wormwood, nettles and wolfsbane, to name a few. Nestled beside the plants were, of course, many jars. To Hermione's amusement many seemed to be recycled pickle jars.
Nestled away from the windows' outpouring of light were even more of Snape's bookshelves, likely because they were old, rare, and photosensitive. In this corner Snape awaited her. He stood beside a large-Hermione estimated fifty liters-cauldron full of a puce liquid. Bubbles were forming at the surface of this concoction but more akin to sparkling water than a rolling boil. Hermione would have liked to get closer, hoping to identify the mystery substance, but was equally wary as curious. She was also trying to breathe it in as little as possible in case Snape was trying to poison her with the fumes. This was not a bad place to commit homicide, Hermione thought. She was greeted with the intrusive thought of Snape dismembering her and pickling her parts in one of his many jars.
"This," Snape said, gesturing to the cauldron, "is why I needed that book."
Hermione peered at the potion again, trying not to think about her final resting place being among lacewing flies and rat livers. She was fairly confident that she had never encountered such a brew though this was not wholly unexpected. As much as she hated to admit it, Snape was an accomplished potioneer and this was likely one of his own invention.
"What is it?" Hermione said, daring herself to inch closer.
"Sort of an Obliviation potion," Snape began.
Hermione was surprised by the lack of haughtiness in his voice. Surely he would not expect her puny mind to fully appreciate his work?
"Except it works on all the memories featuring a certain person rather than a single event."
Hermione nodded dumbly, trying to think of intelligent questions to ask. Many were swimming around in her head but she needed to grab the most eloquent one.
"Unfortunately it takes six months to brew properly, which is why I was looking for a suitable catalyst to start the process."
To Hermione the most pressing question was why he even wanted to develop such a potion but perhaps it was purely out of academic interest.
"Do you think it's an interesting endeavor?" Snape asked.
Hermione looked at him then, trying to gauge his his intent. Did she find it interesting? What kind of question was that? But Snape was not looking at her.
"Yes, I suppose so."
"Then how would you feel about helping me perfect it?"
Hermione wished she still had her time turner so she could rewind time and listen to his question again. Surely he was not asking her, Hermione, insufferable know-it-all, for help in his area of expertise?
"I would be flattered, naturally, though also confused. Would it not be better to ask Sébastien? He likely has experience designing experiments as well, considering his background."
Snape shook his head.
"Only you know who I am. I… do not feel comfortable disclosing such information to Mr. Montclair."
"You're saying he's untrustworthy?"
"I am not trusting by nature."
"And yet you trust me to help you. Why?"
Snape gave her a pointed look, as if to indicate that he did not wish to argue with her further.
"Better the devil you know," he said.
Despite the deeply unsatisfying answer, Hermione did not continue her protestations. Perhaps it was better to be silent and accept that he found her at least capable enough to ask in the first place.
"So, will you do it?" Snape asked after a stretch of silence. "There will be monetary compensation, of course."
The question of money had never even entered Hermione's mind. Snape could not have even mentioned it and she would have gladly worked for nothing. Though she could not help but think that money did sweeten the deal.
"You're being paid?" Hermione asked, an obvious question, of course.
"No, I just do this because I genuinely enjoy it," Snape responded sarcastically.
"You don't?" Hermione asked, feeling dumber by the minute.
"It is true I am interested in potions but I also value my free time, so if I am to work on a project, I would like to receive money for it."
If it was not making potions in his free time, what was he doing then? Hermione was not imaginative enough to figure out what his other hobbies might be. Either Snape was using legilimency, or-more likely-Hermione was wearing her confusion on her face, because Snape continued.
"Believe it or not, I do have a life outside of my current job and potions."
Hermione did not believe it, but mostly because she was not sure if she had a life outside of her job either. She spent time outside of work with her new friends, but they were also work friends. Hermione wrinkled her nose. Did her former professor have a romantic life?
"Are you done mentally insulting me or do I have to continue watching you make faces?"
"I know, I know. I would make a horrible spy."
"It's not just you, all of you bleeding-heart Gryffindors wear your hearts on your sleeve," Snape said with a rare smile. "We still have to work on your Occlumency."
Hermione realized then that she had neither accepted nor rejected his offer. Sure, she did not have much time on her hands as it was, but could she pass up this opportunity to learn under him, especially since her potions skills were oxidizing after years out of school? And while she had technically been under his tutelage for five years, this would be more intimate, one-on-one learning. This could either be good or bad, but she was leaning more towards bad. Although he had yet to criticize her teaching, she had no reason to believe that he would behave similarly in this situation, in his domain. This would also mean spending even more time with a man she was already being forced to interact with. And yet, despite all of this, her insatiable desire to learn was winning her over.
"Alright, sir, you have yourself a deal," Hermione said, holding out her hand.
Snape accepted her and shook it firmly. He did not hurt her, but she could admit that she was a bit envious of his firm handshake. She was also surprised how dry his hands were compared to her own moist ones. Despite his perceived misgivings about personal hygiene, Hermione was sure he found that exchange disgusting. But, as always, his face betrayed none of this.
"When do we start?" Hermione asked, surreptitiously drying her hands by sliding them into her pants pockets.
"I was thinking now, but if you had other plans?"
"No, nope, I am free the rest of the night," Hermione said, while privately mourning her reading time that night.
"Excellent, then we can delve a little into Occlumency as well."
Great, like double potions all over again, Hermione thought.
Snape began describing the process by which he started on the potion, beginning with the theory. The base was similar to the contents of a pensieve and the person-unique qualities came from some elements of the Polyjuice potion. This particular iteration was his sixth and had been sending every previous attempt to the potions-making community to develop their recipe. Hermione listened with rapt attention, enamored.
"I'll admit I've never tried it myself but my colleagues have had some success."
Hermione's eyes widened.
"Is that ethical, to take someone's memories unnecessarily? Who would they even test it on?"
Snape gave her the second toothy grin of the evening, although if she was not mistaken there was a bit of mischief there, much to her chagrin.
"That's what their apprentices are for."
Snape nearly cackled at Hermione's horrified look.
"I don't expect the same from you, but I will admit I myself was the subject of many experimental potions during my own apprenticeship."
"That's barbaric."
Snape shrugged. "Someone has to do it. Would you prefer we tested on house elves?"
"No," Hermione said, defeated.
"Well, you'll be pleased to know that I don't expect the same from you."
Snape looked at her then and raised his brow perceptively.
"Unless you would prefer to try it?"
Hermione began to shake her head but thought about it for a second. Maybe there was one person she wanted to forget. No, as much as it might feel good now to forget it all, in the end she knew it would be devastating. As much as she hated to admit it, he had been a large part of her life and her formative years. Would she be the same person she was today if she forget every moment with him? Especially when so many were so important?
"I thought not," Snape said, a wry smile curling his lips. "I think that's a good enough introduction for now. Now tell me what you have learned from those books I lent you."
Hermione cast a surreptitious glance at her watch. It was getting late. Surely, Snape must be growing tired of her. Still, in her usual manner, Hermione recited verbatim important points about Occlumency from its history, to its famed masters, and of course, a description and theory on how each technique functioned.
"And have you tried any of the techniques recommended?" Snape asked after Hermione's lengthy soliloquy.
"I've tried a little, but it's hard to know if you've succeeded without something actively trying to gain access to your thoughts," Hermione said.
"Yes, well, it will be awhile until we reach that part anyway… In any case, I have found those techniques to be overly complicated, so I will be teaching you a different method-"
"Then what was the point of giving me those books in the first place?" she said, her tiredness starting to tug on her mask of civility.
Hermione rummaged in her beaded bag. She wanted to slam the books on the table for dramatic effect, but cared too much for their safety to do that, so she was forced to gently place them instead.
"You like reading, don't you?" Snape asked.
Hermione looked at him, exasperated. "Yes," she said with a sigh.
"Did you not enjoy every minute of absorbing every minutia?"
"Yes, but-"
"Then it was not a complete and utter waste of time, was it?"
Hermione sighed again, this time even louder. Why was she here again?
Snape continued. "As I was saying… what I have discovered is to do something similar to Muggle meditation."
"I've heard of that. It's when-"
She wanted to continue but she was shot down by Snape's annoyed look. Hermione had no idea how he could be so self-righteous when he was the one who had her read and take notes on a half-dozen books for apparently no reason.
"The first step in meditation is to think of nothing. It helps to focus on your breath."
Hermione was quiet, waiting for him to continue and looking at him with full attention, despite her growing fatigue.
"Alright, I think we're done here. Meet in two's night time?" Snape said, not even making eye contact.
"Is that all you've got to say on the matter?" Hermione asked. Surely there had to be more. She already knew as much about meditation and could have told him had she not been given dagger eyes.
"Your homework is to practice that," Snape responded.
"That's it? That's your 'brilliant' advice on the subject?"
"It's harder than you'd think. Once you've mastered that, then we can move on to step two."
Despite Snape's usual propensity for disagreeableness, Hermione left feeling excited by the promise of more learning, albeit confused as to how she got roped into spending even more time with her former professor, who ostensibly did not like her. She supposed he must be truly desperate to come to her for help.
"Hey," she heard a voice say, "what are you doing in the men's wing at this hour?"
Snape had told her the coast was clear when she had left his quarters, but she had suspected she would be only be lucky for so long and that someone was bound to see her there. As a teacher and a grown adult, she was fully within her rights to be in that hallway, but it was a bit suspicious considering she would not normally have cause for being there. She made a mental note to tell Snape that they needed to devise a better way for her to sneak into his rooms at night.
"Funny you should say something, Sébastien. I was looking for you, in fact."
"Really? And how were you going to do that? Knock on every door until I answered?"
"Well, I figured one of these guys would know where you lived so I only needed one to tell me which door was yours."
"Fair point," Sébastien said, crossing his arms. "So, what's up?"
"I wanted to ask you about fencing," she responded-the best lie she could come up with on such short notice.
"You wanted to ask me about fencing?"
"Yes, I liked it so much and thought you were such a good teacher that I wanted to ask if it would be possible to do more of it."
Hermione was sure she was smiling much too broadly, so she tried to do what Snape had told her and clear her mind.
"You want to fence more?" Sébastien asked, amused but less than convinced. "And this was so urgent that you wanted to find me in my quarters to ask me about it?"
"Well, when you put it that way…" Hermione said, concentrating on her breath. She did not know what step two entailed, but perhaps step one was still a good start in hiding her true thoughts.
"No, I'm just teasing. I think it is an incredibly sweet gesture. Now that you mention it, the team could use another coach."
"Coach?" Hermione squeaked, losing her focus. "How can I coach if I am barely a beginner?"
"You know what they say about teachers…"
"Yes, ha ha, it's a very funny phrase but it's not meant to be taken seriously. I have zero knowledge of the sport."
Sébastien looked at her, blue eyes twinkling.
"Read a book about fencing."
Damn, she thought. She had walked into that, hadn't she?
"Still, I don't think my presence would be value added."
"Au contraire, I think your presence would be value added... for me."
"Why? By making you look good in comparison?"
Sébastien just laughed, shoving his hands back into pockets. Hermione could see the outline of his knuckles through his dress pants.
"I'd love to keep talking to you but it's time to for me to go to sleep. I'll see you Saturday for the first practice-bright and early! And in the usual room."
Hermione was mentally kicking herself. How had she got roped into another extracurricular activity? Wasn't her time stretched thin as it was already? Perhaps she could write to the magical French government to request another time turner.