Severus stood up slowly, his knees creaking at the effort. He looked around, but to his surprise - and pleasure - nobody was looking at him. Nobody expected him to speak, after all.
"Excuse me," he said, catching a glimpse of Hermione's wide eyes, still fixed on Martin. The words came out in a hiss, and only four or five people peered around at him, their expressions bored. Disinterested.
Unsettled, Severus none-the-less opened his mouth. Martin needed to show people he'd fucked up without it looking too obvious that Severus or Hermione had orchestrated the entire damned thing. Think, Severus. Think! From the corner of his eye he could see Hermione was muttering something, her fingers flickering down by her hip. Cooking something up.
"Erm-" Severus started, trying to keep the crowd focused on him. "I-"
Severus' hand was shoved deeply into his trouser pocket in a way he never stood in public. His nerves really were getting the better of him. But… all of these people. They were old enough to remember both wars. To know that Severus had been involved, had seen some of their loved ones tortured… killed…. The bracelet was cold against his fingers, snapping him out of the downward spiral of his thoughts. Severus took a deep breath, ready to try again to gain the attention of the crowd, the reminder that Hermione was his friend egging him on.
A sharp movement from a cloud of curly brown hair, a loud crash- Severus drags his attention - along with everyone else's - back to Martin.
"Merlin's balls!" Martin screamed as the warm liquid coated him. "This robe was damned expensive."
As he wiped it off the material, it stuck instead to his hands - and, to Severus' glee, a large drop found its way to his nose as he flicked the robe down in dismay.
"What happened?" Hermione asked, hovering at his elbow. Slowly Severus sat back down. Everything was under control. She didn't need him.
"I don't bloody know, I turned to put back the knife, and I must have caught the leg of the bloody table somehow." Martin snapped, flinging the knife across the floor towards the wall in a violent wrench. His nose turned a dark purple, so dark it was almost black.
Hermione yelped. "I think you've hurt yourself - your nose. It's bruised."
Severus winced again. Trust Hermione to ruin the thing with compassion.
As Martin lifted his hands up to his nose, he caught sight of the purple skin with a start. "What in the-"
Even as he stared, the colour faded, being mixed with silver - curiosity - and a streak of the light blue. Fear.
"What-"
"I don't think that was a Burn Salve," Hermione mused, turning back to the table where the potion still dripped out of the cauldron. Her voice was stretched and distorted, and Severus winced. She didn't even appear to be attempting a poker face, her lip crushed between teeth.
"Not a Burn Salve? What in blazes are you talking about?" The dark purple bloomed, clouding out all of the other colours as Martin clenched his teeth towards Hermione. "What the hell have you done?"
Severus cleared his throat and stood again. "It appears you failed to follow the recipe, Mr…" Severus let his voice trail off, one eyebrow raised.
Martin didn't reply, only growled.
"You never were one for rules, I suppose. You have added more than twice the amount of lime stipulated on the wall behind you." Martin turned to read the recipe, and Severus saw Hermione's hand shoot out and grab the recipe from the table, neatly covering it in the mood paint.
"I… I could have sworn this said a whole lime…." Martin's voice tailed off, and then the colour changed for a split second to the deep, Slytherin green. "But this is fantastic! I have discovered a new Potion! Some kind of colour changing paint. Imagine the uses for this!"
The crowd murmured with interest, pressing more closely to identify the liquid.
"As adept as you are at stealing work, sir," Severus continued, finding his footing. About half the crowd turned back to look at Severus, as he stood slowly again. "As you have clearly demonstrated by your failure today, you are not the inventor of this potion."
"No? But this entire room just saw me create it!" Martin grinned, spreading his arms wide as though to encompass the room in an embrace. "And I've certainly never heard of it before. Trust me, brats up and down England would be painting themselves with it in no time."
"Then that is lucky for the patent owner," Severus smiled. "Which is myself."
Severus took rather more satisfaction from the bloom of hot pink embarrassment spreading across Martin's face - both the paint and his clear cheeks - than he should, but the man was a pig. Bullying Hermione, stealing credit for work he didn't understand - and a Pureblood purist, by the sounds of it. Severus had no sympathy left in him for such as this.
For a moment the room hung in silence, the crowd hushed and expectant. Then a dignified looking witch in the front row - pencil thin, with a bun reminiscent of Minerva - raised a hand over her lips and tittered. The laugh grew inside her, becoming a cackle and then a belly-aching roar of laughter.
The crowd followed suite, catching the giggles like an infectious disease as Martin stood below them, dripping in drying paint, the colours swirling in shades of pink over his hands and face.
Martin drew himself up to his full height and stormed out of the room, his cloak stiffly hanging behind him as he did so.
"Sorry about that," Hermione addressed the crowd, amplifying her voice through a sonos charm. Severus could see the laughter hiding in the ever-bright eyes as she drew everyone's attention back to the demonstration table, the paint drying in a long strip by her feet. "I will continue the demonstration until Martin feels better."
"No offence, little lady," the portly gentleman stood up, his suit bristling under the motion. He was almost of a height with Severus. "But why should we continue the demonstration? Surely you have just proved why such classes should only be taught by accredited Potions Masters. If just anyone taught our students how to prepare Potions - why, they would have just been taught how to make colour changing paint instead of a Burn Salve, and imagine how dangerous that could be. At the very least, the children would be frightened, thinking that they might be harmed, without someone knowledgable there to protect them."
"I-" Hermione stared up at them, her mouth hanging open. "I- If you'd just let me demonstrate the charms portion, you'd know that-"
"Hear hear!" The pencil thin woman agreed. "I fear that you've only proved the opposite point, my dear. You've shown that Potions are a dangerous and temperamental subject, best to be left alone. Perhaps you could have some kind of small classroom that taught only easy subjects - certainly no flying or Transfiguration, but perhaps History of Magic and Charms? Without a Mediwitch at hand…"
The murmuring around Severus increased, and he caught Hermione's eyes. Their gazes interlocked over the scandalised crowd, and Severus could feel the pull of desperation deep within them. She needed his help.
"Silence," Severus demanded, the power of his voice silencing the chatter.
—
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