Chapter 4 – Isn't it Ironic?
Angry was not the word to describe Hermione Granger as she stalked through the dungeon halls to her quarters. Livid, furious, in a towering rage; none of these quite described the way her hands were shaking, the tight clenching of her teeth, or the jumbled state of her thoughts. She was just plain brassed off and it was all because of the infuriating man she'd left gaping after her.
What the bloody hell were you thinking, Granger, she thought crossly to herself. But if she was really honest with herself, she knew it would have only been a matter of time before she'd blurted it out anyway. She still wasn't quite certain when it had happened but as she'd watched Severus Snape's life drain away that fateful night, she'd known deep in her heart she would never be the same. It was for this reason she had pushed so hard to become his apprentice. As she flung open the door to her rooms and slammed it shut behind her, she found herself thinking of that afternoon.
****
Hermione stood with her hand resting lightly on the door to the Hospital Wing, gathering her courage about her like a warm winter cloak. She was about to beard the lion – or rather, the snake – in its den and she wasn't quite sure how to go about it. The heavens knew, Severus Snape could be the most difficult of men to convince but she intended to do it. The practical side of her hated to be melodramatic but the romantic side knew that her very life depended at that moment solely on her persuasive skills.
Steeling herself for the task at hand, Hogwart's Head Girl pushed the door open, entered the room, and headed down the long row of beds towards the solitary occupant sitting beside the window. Although she took special care in treading lightly, he seemed to sense her presence and turned to watch her with impossibly dark eyes. The bandage on his left arm gleamed snowy white in the late afternoon sun, a glaring contrast to the darkness of the man who wore it. Reaching the invalid's chair, she drew herself up to her full height and looked him straight in the eye.
"Professor Snape, I've decided I want to become your apprentice as soon as I graduate," she stated in clearly rehearsed tones. In typical Gryffindor fashion, she'd decided the blunt approach would work best and the result was only to be expected.
"No, Miss Granger," he drawled and turned away from her to glare out the window once more. Hermione stood nervously in place, completely at a loss. In the scenarios she'd played out in her mind, he'd always ranted and raved before reluctantly acquiescing. His next words drenched her in cold. "I will soon be leaving this world."
"Professor, no! You can't do that, not after I saved you, not now…I-I don't know if anyone told you but I was the one who found you and saved you from yourself and you just can't go and do it again," she babbled in fear. "Not now that I…"
"If you are quite finished now," Snape's expression could only be described as bemused. "I have decided to engage in work in the public sector and will merely be leaving the world of Hogwarts." Hermione managed to blush a bright pink under his amused gaze, hotly embarrassed but no less determined.
"Regardless of what you meant, it doesn't change the fact that you cannot go. According to the Potions Handbook section eight chapter three, all Potions Masters are required to train at least one apprentice during their lifetimes so that the subtle art of potions making is not lost to future generations."
"I am fully aware of the terms of section eight chapter three and I do believe that one of the stipulations of said requirement is that I am allowed to choose my apprentice, not the other way around." He quirked an eyebrow in Hermione's direction, silently daring her to continue the game.
Sensing victory, she rose to the occasion. "I am the brightest witch to come through Hogwarts in the last fifty years, Professor."
"In your opinion, Miss Granger, not mine. I'm afraid I am unconvinced."
"My potions O.W.L. was the highest in a century and my N.E.W.T. is sure to be as well."
"You are becoming cocky, Miss Granger." He smirked triumphantly at her. "Pride is not something I find useful in an apprentice. Furthermore, though your grades are more than passing, I find your presence irksome. Therefore, my answer remains the same."
Hermione gazed at the intolerable Potions Master and felt tears coming to her eyes despite her efforts to blink them back. "But Professor, I need this. I need you."
For the first time in his life, Severus Snape felt something move deep inside him at his student's words. She looked forlorn and deflated, conditions he would have normally exploited to his advantage, but he felt no desire to strike a killing blow. In the place behind his heart, he felt as she did. Against his nature and his better judgment, he gave in to her gracefully.
"If your potions N.E.W.T. is up to scratch, Miss Granger, I consent to take you on as my apprentice," he sighed in resignation. Unexpected guilt welled up inside him as he watched the joy and relief spread across her face, heard her babbling thanks. She acted as if she'd been given her greatest wish and he felt distinctly unworthy of her gushing gratitude.
A moment later, she was gone, and he returned to his window, vaguely unsettled by the new lightness in his soul. Three days later, at a ministry celebration of the fall of Voldemort, he'd met Persia and completely forgotten the warmth he'd felt on that cold December afternoon.
****
Upon entering her room, Hermione had dropped her bag and flung herself backwards onto her bed, staring up at the ceiling. Her anger had faded away and she carefully considered every word that had come out of her Potions Master's mouth. Now that her shock and irritation had melted away, she realized that he had been purposefully antagonizing her. She sighed and pulled herself into a sitting position in the middle of her four poster bed.
Facing her across the room was a full length free standing mirror, a gift from her mother upon graduation. It was an antique and the only piece of furniture in the room she actually owned as well as one of only a few personal items. She studied her reflection for several moments, disgustedly taking in her tangled and bushy brown hair, her plain oval face, and the voluminous black robes she'd worn since her sixth year at Hogwarts. The quill she had stuck in her hair down in the dungeons was still there although a bit bedraggled looking. She looked every inch a student and the complete antithesis of everything Persia Pendleton was.
Hermione's first glimpse of Persia had come shortly after she had moved into the dungeons and begun her apprenticeship. She'd walked into the potions lab to find a woman sitting unconcernedly on Professor Snape's personal work table. The woman had waist length brown hair that turned in loose curls as smooth as Hermione's were tangled, silvery gray eyes that were nonchalantly studying her flawless manicure, and beautiful translucent skin. She was also quite petite, well dressed, and impeccably made up. Next to her, Hermione had felt like a frumpy, giant cow. Hermione had been rude, Persia coolly polite, and when Professor Snape had come in and greeted the beautiful woman with a kiss, Hermione had been devastated.
They were introduced of course and Hermione had made apologies, stammering and making an utter fool of herself in her surprise and disappointment. She had then gone on with her duties in the lab, carefully avoiding being within ten feet of the couple whispering quietly near the worktable. Soon afterward, Persia had left, the heels of her elegant boots clicking against the cold stone floor and Hermione had carefully avoided any personal contact with Severus Snape like the black plague.
But that damn man hadn't let her be. Gradually, through his far too casual offhand remarks, she'd begun to learn more about the woman she had begun to silently loathe. Her pure, aristocratic breeding, her gentle intelligent nature, and most disheartening: her superb performance in bed. She was first to know of their plans for a family, the first to hear of their success, and the only person aside from Albus who even knew of the affair.
Unrequited love could be a bitch.
****
Sitting in the dark once again, sipping firewhiskey for the second time that night, Severus Snape was truly baffled at the turn his life had taken. Hermione's angry declaration had shaken him to the very core and he was too tired to be annoyed by it. Love had always been a bother, something to scoff at and generally ignore as he had never experienced it in his life up to that point. He's dealings with Persia had always been cold and calculated, though he hadn't thought so at the time.
As he took another sip of the firewhiskey, the heavy dungeon door creaked open and a curly brown head poked into the room. Speak of the devil.
"Hello Persia," he drawled over the rim of his glass. "I can't say I'm surprised to see you." The slight woman slipped into the room and Snape noted the slim curves of her body under her cloak with a grim amusement.
"Severus, I feel awful about all of this," Persia twisted her slender hands together as her lover regarded her calmly from under hooded eyelids.
"I'm sure you do," was his soft reply. The gently spoken words did little to put her at ease and she stared at him at a complete loss for words. He quirked an eyebrow and smirked at her.
"I-I do, I really do," she finally found her voice. Now that she had started, it was easier and her voice once again took on the dulcet tones she had so carefully cultivated. "I was supposed to make you happy and you seemed hell bent on this idea of a child. So I did what I could. The Ministry provided the solution…" She took a deep breath. "…as well as the original assignment."
"Ah." Was all the reply he gave her.
"I'm sure you can understand our position, Severus. With your unstable behavior and previous…dark…ties, we felt it was in your and the community's best interest to placate you. We – I never meant for it to go this far."
"Miss Pendleton, I have little use for your excuses and justifications as I am sure you understand. Please give my regards to the ministry." He flung back the remainder of his drink and stood. "Now get out."
Persia gave the dark man before her a long look, sweeping his entire person with her gaze, the expression on her face unreadable. "Professor Snape, I do have one piece of information you may find interesting. Hermione Granger – "
"Out!" He roared unexpectedly and she gratefully turned tail and left. He passed a hand over his forehead and nearly growled under his breath. Persia's explanation, if it could be called that, had matched nearly exactly the conclusion he had come to on his own. It was the irony of the situation that had enraged him as Persia let Hermione's name slip from her lips. If the ministry had just left well enough alone…
Well, it was about time he rectified the situation.
To be continued…
Angry was not the word to describe Hermione Granger as she stalked through the dungeon halls to her quarters. Livid, furious, in a towering rage; none of these quite described the way her hands were shaking, the tight clenching of her teeth, or the jumbled state of her thoughts. She was just plain brassed off and it was all because of the infuriating man she'd left gaping after her.
What the bloody hell were you thinking, Granger, she thought crossly to herself. But if she was really honest with herself, she knew it would have only been a matter of time before she'd blurted it out anyway. She still wasn't quite certain when it had happened but as she'd watched Severus Snape's life drain away that fateful night, she'd known deep in her heart she would never be the same. It was for this reason she had pushed so hard to become his apprentice. As she flung open the door to her rooms and slammed it shut behind her, she found herself thinking of that afternoon.
****
Hermione stood with her hand resting lightly on the door to the Hospital Wing, gathering her courage about her like a warm winter cloak. She was about to beard the lion – or rather, the snake – in its den and she wasn't quite sure how to go about it. The heavens knew, Severus Snape could be the most difficult of men to convince but she intended to do it. The practical side of her hated to be melodramatic but the romantic side knew that her very life depended at that moment solely on her persuasive skills.
Steeling herself for the task at hand, Hogwart's Head Girl pushed the door open, entered the room, and headed down the long row of beds towards the solitary occupant sitting beside the window. Although she took special care in treading lightly, he seemed to sense her presence and turned to watch her with impossibly dark eyes. The bandage on his left arm gleamed snowy white in the late afternoon sun, a glaring contrast to the darkness of the man who wore it. Reaching the invalid's chair, she drew herself up to her full height and looked him straight in the eye.
"Professor Snape, I've decided I want to become your apprentice as soon as I graduate," she stated in clearly rehearsed tones. In typical Gryffindor fashion, she'd decided the blunt approach would work best and the result was only to be expected.
"No, Miss Granger," he drawled and turned away from her to glare out the window once more. Hermione stood nervously in place, completely at a loss. In the scenarios she'd played out in her mind, he'd always ranted and raved before reluctantly acquiescing. His next words drenched her in cold. "I will soon be leaving this world."
"Professor, no! You can't do that, not after I saved you, not now…I-I don't know if anyone told you but I was the one who found you and saved you from yourself and you just can't go and do it again," she babbled in fear. "Not now that I…"
"If you are quite finished now," Snape's expression could only be described as bemused. "I have decided to engage in work in the public sector and will merely be leaving the world of Hogwarts." Hermione managed to blush a bright pink under his amused gaze, hotly embarrassed but no less determined.
"Regardless of what you meant, it doesn't change the fact that you cannot go. According to the Potions Handbook section eight chapter three, all Potions Masters are required to train at least one apprentice during their lifetimes so that the subtle art of potions making is not lost to future generations."
"I am fully aware of the terms of section eight chapter three and I do believe that one of the stipulations of said requirement is that I am allowed to choose my apprentice, not the other way around." He quirked an eyebrow in Hermione's direction, silently daring her to continue the game.
Sensing victory, she rose to the occasion. "I am the brightest witch to come through Hogwarts in the last fifty years, Professor."
"In your opinion, Miss Granger, not mine. I'm afraid I am unconvinced."
"My potions O.W.L. was the highest in a century and my N.E.W.T. is sure to be as well."
"You are becoming cocky, Miss Granger." He smirked triumphantly at her. "Pride is not something I find useful in an apprentice. Furthermore, though your grades are more than passing, I find your presence irksome. Therefore, my answer remains the same."
Hermione gazed at the intolerable Potions Master and felt tears coming to her eyes despite her efforts to blink them back. "But Professor, I need this. I need you."
For the first time in his life, Severus Snape felt something move deep inside him at his student's words. She looked forlorn and deflated, conditions he would have normally exploited to his advantage, but he felt no desire to strike a killing blow. In the place behind his heart, he felt as she did. Against his nature and his better judgment, he gave in to her gracefully.
"If your potions N.E.W.T. is up to scratch, Miss Granger, I consent to take you on as my apprentice," he sighed in resignation. Unexpected guilt welled up inside him as he watched the joy and relief spread across her face, heard her babbling thanks. She acted as if she'd been given her greatest wish and he felt distinctly unworthy of her gushing gratitude.
A moment later, she was gone, and he returned to his window, vaguely unsettled by the new lightness in his soul. Three days later, at a ministry celebration of the fall of Voldemort, he'd met Persia and completely forgotten the warmth he'd felt on that cold December afternoon.
****
Upon entering her room, Hermione had dropped her bag and flung herself backwards onto her bed, staring up at the ceiling. Her anger had faded away and she carefully considered every word that had come out of her Potions Master's mouth. Now that her shock and irritation had melted away, she realized that he had been purposefully antagonizing her. She sighed and pulled herself into a sitting position in the middle of her four poster bed.
Facing her across the room was a full length free standing mirror, a gift from her mother upon graduation. It was an antique and the only piece of furniture in the room she actually owned as well as one of only a few personal items. She studied her reflection for several moments, disgustedly taking in her tangled and bushy brown hair, her plain oval face, and the voluminous black robes she'd worn since her sixth year at Hogwarts. The quill she had stuck in her hair down in the dungeons was still there although a bit bedraggled looking. She looked every inch a student and the complete antithesis of everything Persia Pendleton was.
Hermione's first glimpse of Persia had come shortly after she had moved into the dungeons and begun her apprenticeship. She'd walked into the potions lab to find a woman sitting unconcernedly on Professor Snape's personal work table. The woman had waist length brown hair that turned in loose curls as smooth as Hermione's were tangled, silvery gray eyes that were nonchalantly studying her flawless manicure, and beautiful translucent skin. She was also quite petite, well dressed, and impeccably made up. Next to her, Hermione had felt like a frumpy, giant cow. Hermione had been rude, Persia coolly polite, and when Professor Snape had come in and greeted the beautiful woman with a kiss, Hermione had been devastated.
They were introduced of course and Hermione had made apologies, stammering and making an utter fool of herself in her surprise and disappointment. She had then gone on with her duties in the lab, carefully avoiding being within ten feet of the couple whispering quietly near the worktable. Soon afterward, Persia had left, the heels of her elegant boots clicking against the cold stone floor and Hermione had carefully avoided any personal contact with Severus Snape like the black plague.
But that damn man hadn't let her be. Gradually, through his far too casual offhand remarks, she'd begun to learn more about the woman she had begun to silently loathe. Her pure, aristocratic breeding, her gentle intelligent nature, and most disheartening: her superb performance in bed. She was first to know of their plans for a family, the first to hear of their success, and the only person aside from Albus who even knew of the affair.
Unrequited love could be a bitch.
****
Sitting in the dark once again, sipping firewhiskey for the second time that night, Severus Snape was truly baffled at the turn his life had taken. Hermione's angry declaration had shaken him to the very core and he was too tired to be annoyed by it. Love had always been a bother, something to scoff at and generally ignore as he had never experienced it in his life up to that point. He's dealings with Persia had always been cold and calculated, though he hadn't thought so at the time.
As he took another sip of the firewhiskey, the heavy dungeon door creaked open and a curly brown head poked into the room. Speak of the devil.
"Hello Persia," he drawled over the rim of his glass. "I can't say I'm surprised to see you." The slight woman slipped into the room and Snape noted the slim curves of her body under her cloak with a grim amusement.
"Severus, I feel awful about all of this," Persia twisted her slender hands together as her lover regarded her calmly from under hooded eyelids.
"I'm sure you do," was his soft reply. The gently spoken words did little to put her at ease and she stared at him at a complete loss for words. He quirked an eyebrow and smirked at her.
"I-I do, I really do," she finally found her voice. Now that she had started, it was easier and her voice once again took on the dulcet tones she had so carefully cultivated. "I was supposed to make you happy and you seemed hell bent on this idea of a child. So I did what I could. The Ministry provided the solution…" She took a deep breath. "…as well as the original assignment."
"Ah." Was all the reply he gave her.
"I'm sure you can understand our position, Severus. With your unstable behavior and previous…dark…ties, we felt it was in your and the community's best interest to placate you. We – I never meant for it to go this far."
"Miss Pendleton, I have little use for your excuses and justifications as I am sure you understand. Please give my regards to the ministry." He flung back the remainder of his drink and stood. "Now get out."
Persia gave the dark man before her a long look, sweeping his entire person with her gaze, the expression on her face unreadable. "Professor Snape, I do have one piece of information you may find interesting. Hermione Granger – "
"Out!" He roared unexpectedly and she gratefully turned tail and left. He passed a hand over his forehead and nearly growled under his breath. Persia's explanation, if it could be called that, had matched nearly exactly the conclusion he had come to on his own. It was the irony of the situation that had enraged him as Persia let Hermione's name slip from her lips. If the ministry had just left well enough alone…
Well, it was about time he rectified the situation.
To be continued…