Dear me. I'm really doing this, aren't it? It has been a long time since I've written, and I'm actually doing this. I'm scared.
OH, THE HORROR!! THE FUNKY HORROR!!! (Cupcake if you can tell me where that quote is from)
Obligatory disclaimer: JK Rowling owns all of the characters in this story (no, I won't be creating any originals), I just borrow them and occasionally use them as my love slaves *pets Severus*
What Is, And What Should Never Be Chapter ThreeHermione's steps gained a small bounce on her way to the Great Hall for dinner. The elation of having her project approved pushed her issues with Ron to the back of her mind. But, only momentarily, for when she went to take her usual seat at the Gryffindor table, his scowling eyes met hers. She frowned slightly, moving over one place to sit between Harry and Dean Thomas. Harry gave her a brief smile before breaking the silence.
'So, how about the Potions project, eh?'
'It's bloody stupid, is what it is,' Ron replied, scrunching his nose.
'I like the idea,' Hermione said, quietly.
'Well, you would.'
Hermione ignored his comment and directed her attention to Harry. 'Which potion did you choose?'
'The Abeo Elixir, it's an invisibility potion. Ron's doing the Polyjuice potion,' he said, with a grin. 'He figures it should be easy considering our experience with it.' Ron gave a slight snort 'What about you?' Harry asked, ignoring him.
'Necare.'
'I've never heard of it.'
'It's not a particularly popular potion. It's rather… dangerous, actually.' Harry's eyebrows shot up, and Ron raised his head to look at her. 'But, Professor Snape said he'd oversee my brewing to make sure I don't do anything wrong.'
'Why the hell would you want to spend even more time with that slimy git?' asked Ron, wearing a disgusted look.
'I don't want to, Ron,' Hermione snapped. 'I have to. I don't want to risk messing up somehow. Trust me, I don't like him any more than you do, but I don't really want to kill myself.'
***
'Miss Granger,' said Professor McGonagall as the lunch bell rang. 'A word, if you will.'
'Yes, Professor.'
'Professor Snape would like for you to begin preparing the ingredients for your potion this evening. He wishes for you to be at his office at seven o'clock.' She peered at Hermione over her square rimmed glasses. 'I understand, Miss Granger, that you choice of potion is rather risky. Do be careful.'
'I will, Professor, thank you.' With a fleeting smile, she exited the room.
***
Ron ignored her through double Herbology that afternoon, so Hermione spent the period talking to Harry. She could tell her situation with Ron was putting him in a tough place, but she felt he was showing incredibly maturity in how he dealt with it. She very much wanted to just have her friendship back. But, considering the circumstances, she would settle for a 'lack of open hostility', as Professor Dumbledore had once put it. Strangely, Hermione found herself looking forward to going down to the dungeon that evening; not because she was feeling particularly happy about spending time with Snape, but because she wanted to give Harry a break from having to stifle his friendship with Ron.
Thankfully, for Hermione, seven o'clock came fairly quickly. She trotted down to Professor Snape's office, and, with a momentary involuntary shudder, she knocked firmly on the door. A few seconds later, Snape opened the door, looking slightly pink and disheveled, but sour as ever.
'Come in,' he said, with surprising civility. 'You will get started right away. Preparing the dwayberry will take at least three hours and I'd rather not have you here any longer than you have to be. I have work to do. I have set up my cauldron in the corner,' he indicated over to the steaming silver cauldron beside the tall bookcase. 'The dwayberry is in a jar on the table. You must first remove the berries and set them aside, then dice the stem, flowers and leaves finely, and boil them for an hour, keeping it in constant motion. After it's complete, it will be a paste. You then add the berries and boil it again. Once again, it will be a pasty mixture, which you must dry and dice up. You must not let any of it come in contact with your skin at any time. Do you understand?'
'Yes, sir,' Hermione replied, with a brief nod.
'Well, then, don't just stand there like an oaf. Get started.' He spun on his heel and went to sit behind his desk. Hermione dug her dragon hide gloves from her bag and set to work plucking the inky purple berries from the stems. The motions came effortlessly, and Hermione had soon been working for nearly two hours. Her arm was cramping up and her hand was seizing around the stirring spoon. She fell into a partially sleeping state, only conscious enough to maintain the stirring. The thoughts in her head seemed to have gone down for a nap and left her with an obvious glazed look on her face, because she was soon "awakened".
'Miss Granger!'
'Huh?' Caught by surprise, Hermione dropped the spoon into the cauldron and spun around. 'Damn it!' she cried, louder than she had expected, and, again not thinking, she plunged her hand into the cauldron to retrieve it. Pain seared up her arm and burned into her flesh. She yanked her arm out, sending more of the boiling substance splattering over her chest. She collapsed to the floor, desperately trying to wipe it off on her robes. She barely heard Snape's roar of fury from behind her, but she felt him wrench her around by the back of her robes and seize her arm.
'Foolish girl!' he spat. Hermione whimpered. 'Hold STILL!' He ripped a length of material from his own robes and tied it tightly around the top of her arm. 'Stay there.'
Hermione stood, shaking and crying, trying not to watch the skin on her arm bubble, while Snape whisked off to his stores. He returned hastily with a large phial of violently blue liquid and a cloth.
'Just sit down and stay calm,' Snape told her. 'Put your arm on the desk. The tie on your arm will have stopped the poison from spreading, but I need to extract what's already in your body. This will hurt, but it's necessary.'
Hermione nodded silently. Snape soaked the cloth in the blue liquid and began to rub it on her blackening arm. It felt like he was making absolutely no effort to be gentle. The scorched skin was peeling off, exposing the raw, pink layer underneath. Tears streamed down her face, but she made no sound, biting her lip hard to stifle it.
'Done,' said Snape. 'Aside from your arm, how do you feel?'
'Dizzy,' Hermione replied. Her head was spinning and she felt like she was going to throw up if she looked at her arm again.
'Did the dwayberry get anywhere else?' Snape asked sharply.
Hermione nodded and pointed to her chest. It had burnt through her robes, leaving small scorch marks across her breasts. She cringed at the sight. Her dizziness intensified significantly; she turned her head to the trashcan beside the desk and threw up into it.
'I'm so sorry,' she whispered.
'That is not important right now. I have to get the poison out of the wounds on your chest. I would send you to Madam Pomfrey, but it's too far. I need to get it out now.' He looked sternly into her eyes. 'You have to let me get the poison out of those wounds.'
Hermione's throat was beginning to close up. She knew what she had to do; she undid the clasps at the side of her robes and took off her blouse. Festering black boils were popping up where the dwayberry had splattered. With his eyes closed (Hermione was somewhat thankful), Snape rubbed at the sores, fiercer than he had rubbed her arm. Hermione could feel the pressure in her neck lessening and the dizziness fading. She became more aware of the pain all up her arm and chest and of how close a man she hated was to her nearly bare chest. A wave of disgust passed over her, causing her to shiver.
'What's wrong?' Snape asked.
'Nothing,' Hermione muttered, taking the cloth from his hands. 'I think I can do the rest myself.' She continued the work Snape had been doing, trying to avoid eye contact with him. In fact, more or less trying to ignore the fact that he was there at all. He remained seated next to her.
'That should do it,' he said, leaning forward to take the cloth. 'You should now. Stop by the hospital wing and get some ointment and gauze from Madam Pomfrey. I will clean up here.'
***
Well, uh, that's it for now, I guess. Tell me if you think I should change anything, because I often screw up. I never cease to amaze myself with that ability. Sorry it took so long to get up, I had a friend visiting from out of town for a couple weeks (author: Alendalian). So long for now.
