WITH A DASH OF LEMON JUICE

By Madame Plot Bunnie


Welcome to the Tower of Babble: Just a few quick notes.

~IF YOU HAVE NOT READ ORDER OF THE PHOENIX, PLEASE SKIP THIS NOTE!!!~

ARE YOU STILL READING THIS??? OKAY.

Upon reading of the death of Mr. Sirius Black, I became quite emotional. I do not want to part with him. Therefore, I have decided to keep Mr. Black in this story. I may or may not think of a plausible excuse for his "death", but more likely will I just form another plausible situation.

Please bear that in mind. (Did anybody else cry when they read that?)

Okay, on with the show!

*~*~*~*~*~*

   Lunch, Hermione found, could be quite a long affair.

All of her former professors were keen to hear details of University life, asking whether she knew such-and-such a professor or had used a certain text. Minerva McGonagall actually spent twenty minutes reminiscing on an exam she had taken for Transfiguration.

That was not to say that it was disagreeable for Hermione, on the contrary, she loved answering their questions. But other thoughts that had been lost had suddenly jumped back to the front of her mind.

She had been seated next to Severus Snape, her former Potions Master. He looked as formidable as always, but she noted that he had also looked slightly uneasy around her. His dark curtain of hair drew a shade around his eyes, so she could not have read his thoughts, even if she had dared.

This was, of course, before he had stormed out of his seat nearly ten minutes ago.

"Hermione?" A crisp, Scottish accent sliced through Hermione's Snape-musings. Hermione blinked, to find that the whole table was staring at her. She felt her cheeks burn.

"Sorry," she said quietly. Minerva had the oddest expression on her face, as though she were somewhere between a scolding and a grin. Instead, she began to speak.

"I have arranged for you to meet with the three professors you will be working most closely with this year," Professor McGonagall said, fixing her glasses while looking at Hermione. "Which are, of course, Cassia Vector, Severus Snape, and myself."

Some of the staff members exchanged looks. Hermione knew what they were thinking: how was she managing it all?

Not breathing adds a whole lot of time to the day, Hermione thought sardonically as she smiled up the table. Minerva surveyed her with a look of pure pride and continued.

"You will meet with Cassia at two o'clock, myself at five, and Severus," Minerva said, pursing her lips, "at eight. If you will come with me, Hermione?"

Minerva stood and exited the Hall. Hermione made to follow her, and Draco also got out of his seat. He hurried to catch up with her.

"Three Apprenticeships, Hermione?" He whispered, smirking, in her ear as they exited the Hall together.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Professor McGonagall showed Hermione the way to her new quarters, which were located somewhere on the fourth floor. A painting of a sleeping, grouchy looking old wizard and his wife guarded the entrance.

Professor McGonagall led Hermione right up to the portrait.

"Lorimer!" McGonagall said, rapping on the frame of the portrait. "Miriam!"

Miriam, upon hearing her name, opened her eyes and saw Minerva and stood. "Good afternoon to you, Lady McGonagall!" Miriam said, in a clear Scottish accent to match McGonagall's. She curtsied to McGonagall, and her eyes fell upon Hermione.

"Lord be praised, we have a newcomer! Lorimer!" Miriam turned and whacked her husband on his head. Lorimer gave a start and awoke, looking even surlier than he did when sleeping.

"What is it ye want, crazy witch-woman?" he cried, frowning grumpily. 

Hermione stifled a giggle. The portrait couple had obviously been married for quite some time. Miriam faced Hermione once again.

"Ye'll have to forgive Lorimer, dear. He becomes quite nasty if he doesn't sleep fifteen hours of the day," she said. "Are you to be the chamber's new lady?"

Hermione nodded. "I am. I'm to be a teacher here."

Miriam clapped her hands together in joy, causing the ill-tempered Lorimer to wince.

"Oh, but it was true then, Minerva! This is the Hermione we have heard the portraits whisper of! My dear," she said, while Hermione turned a delicate shade of red, "forgive me. We have not had an occupant for many years now." She turned to McGonagall. "She is every bit as pretty as Octavio on the first floor said she was."

By now, Hermione felt as though she would have liked to sink into the floor. The portraits are gossiping about me, she thought, mortified. Professor McGonagall seemed to notice her embarrassment, thankfully, and cleared her throat.

"The Apprentice Hermione wishes to enter her quarters," McGonagall said, cutting through Miriam's delighted ramblings. Lorimer looked highly grateful.

"Of course, of course," Miriam said. "Know ye the password?"

Hermione shook her head, but Professor McGonagall said "Lemon Drop." Miriam and Lorimer swung forward on their hinges, and Hermione and Professor McGonagall stepped inside.

Hermione's immediate reaction to her chambers was "WOW."

The room had three walls; the fourth was a wall-to-wall glass window that looked south to the lake. The walls were blue, (her favourite color) a cool, satin-y blue that reminded Hermione of a Mediterranean sky, seen so many times on holiday.

A large, comfortable-looking armchair sat tucked in a corner near the unlit fireplace, and waist-high bookcases adorned the walls. A table and several chairs were in another. A wooden doorframe led to what Hermione supposed was her bedroom.

"Oh my…Professor McGonagall…is this really mine?" Hermione breathed, awed by the beauty of her rooms, her mouth open and eyes wide.

McGonagall smiled. "Albus thought if we did the rooms exactly to your liking, you would not become so homesick," the older woman said kindly. "I am glad to see that he was right." She swept toward the entrance before pausing. "Your things are in your room. We're glad you're back with us, Miss Granger."

And with that, McGonagall left the Hermione, who was still gawking at her wonderful surroundings. She strode over to the window, where she could see the sun's light dancing off of the lake. The fain outline of the giant squid could barely be seen from its depths.

"I can't believe this place…" Hermione whispered to herself. Never in a thousand years could she have dreamed of such a palace of a room.

Quickly, she entered her bedroom, which gave her another gasp of delight: the walls were a cool green that compared the sky and ocean; there was a large four-poster bed, and a large window that gazed out to the lake. Remind me to thank Dumbledore sometime, she thought to herself, awed and appreciative.

It was then that she noticed the time—it was already 1:30. Her meeting with Vector was at two, and she still needed to freshen up. Hermione sighed, eying the bookshelves, but went into the bathroom.

The bathroom rivaled that of the Prefect's, with a large bathtub and marble sinks. The entire room was white. Hermione quickly brushed her hair and splashed water on her face, before leaving to go to the sixth floor.

*~*~*~*~*~*

   Slightly winded, Hermione reached Cassia Vector's office at exactly 1:59 (she had always been one to be punctual.) After regaining her breath, she knocked on the door.

"Come in," Cassia Vector's voice rang. Hermione pushed open the door and entered.

Cassia Vector sat behind her desk. An intelligent woman of roughly fifty, Cassia's long brown hair was tinged with the lightest shades of gray. When standing, she reached an imposing height of nearly six feet, which had given her great advantages while teaching.

Vector had been one of Hermione's favourite teachers, because she could make even the difficult subject of Arithmancy easy to understand. Needless to say, she had excelled in the class.

"Good afternoon, Professor Vector," Hermione said with a wide smile. Vector pulled out a chair for her, all the while saying, "Please, my dear, call me Cassia. We are colleagues now." Hermione sat while Cassia waved her wand, and a tea tray appeared on the desk.

And so began Hermione's first interview of the day.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

An hour and a half later, Hermione emerged from Cassia's office, biding her a good afternoon.

Only two more to go, she thought, weary from answering still more questions and going over lesson plans. I don't even know how I'm going to be able to do three Apprenticeships this year. She rounded a corner, past a small congregation of ghosts, to whom she nodded.

Hermione allowed her mind to wander as she walked the path back down to her fourth-floor rooms. She thought of her day so far, Vector, and the twins, before her mind flicked unwillingly to Ron.

  In her mind's eye, she could see Ron at her twenty-first birthday party at the Burrow, him greeting her after his return to England, and Ron surprising her with roses at her flat. Hermione sighed, and then she could see the fight that had eventually driven her to the Leaky Cauldron last night.

   Hermione stopped, and realizing she had missed the portrait, retraced her steps. Fuming with the combined anger of Ron and missing her exit, she muttered the password as politely as she could muster to the squabbling couple.

Once inside, Hermione threw herself on the bed, still musing about Ron. And why on Earth did I go get drunk? She wondered, laying her head down on a fluffy pillow. Even after witnessing the killer hangover she had had this morning, she couldn't believe she had done it. And what was worse, everyone knew! Ginny knew, and she had told Harry, who in turn told Draco. The word probably would get to Ron too…

   This thought made her smolder with rage. If only she hadn't cared so much. But Hermione simply wasn't one of those girls who, after being ridded of one boyfriend, went and got another. She didn't flit from man to man.

   Her thoughts flickered to her mysterious but humorous drinking companion of the previous night.

Hermione gave a small intake of breath and sat up. "How could I have forgotten him?" she muttered to herself, rubbing her forehead. She couldn't remember all the details of the man, for she had been credibly drunk when she first noticed him, but did remember that he had been rather tall, with dark hair and dark eyes, a deep, rumbling voice and laugh.

   Hermione fell back on the bed, grinning somewhat stupidly. And he tried to kiss me! She thought, giddy as a schoolgirl with a crush. She allowed herself a small giggle, before realizing that she had pushed the stranger away.

Even when I am drunk, I'm practical, Hermione thought with a small sigh. Deciding to stop brooding while she was ahead of the game, she propelled herself off the bed and walked into her antechamber, gazing at the bookshelves. Still, no matter how hard she tried, she could not expel the image of her handsome stranger from her mind.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

   Hermione decided it would be well to skip dinner that evening, as she had had tea with McGonagall at five. McGonagall, who was abnormally fond of biscuits, had forced so many on Hermione, she felt as though she had quite lost her appetite.

   So instead of joining the other staff members for dinner, Hermione returned to her rooms to tidy up for her visit to Snape.

For half an hour she sat on her bed, deep in thought as to whether she should change her clothes or not. She did not want to appear as though she was striving to impress the man, for she knew that no matter what she did, he would still be Snape, although she did not want to appear as though she didn't care for her appearance, either.

   In the end, Hermione decided she might as well change, and so dug out a blue skirt from her trunk. She brushed out her hair (thankfully tamed…) so it was devoid of frizz, and then twisted it back up into a low bun.

She gazed into the bathroom mirror, inspecting herself. Not too dressy, doesn't look like I'm overdoing it…I sure wish I had Ginny's advice, I don't know why Snape makes me so nervous after all these years…

   Sighing, she checked the time—seven o'clock. One hour till show time, Hermione thought, moving out of the bathroom into her bedroom. Hermione sat on the bed, daydreaming about her stranger from the night before. She couldn't get the man out of her head!

"The same to you, beautiful," he had said, after she had toasted him. Hermione could remember the sound of his deep voice, and smiled in delight. The voice would reside in her dreams for years to come, a bright spot in dark places.

   If only I had not turned him away! Hermione thought despairingly. There had been only the lightest contact, a tingle of his lips on hers before she had shoved him off…

"Ah, WHY?!" she cried, tossing the pillow across the room, frustrated with herself. Hermione regained her composure and glanced at the clock again. Quarter till eight.

Time to go, she thought, giving herself one last all-over before quickly exiting the room.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Severus Snape paced his dungeon office, clearly angry.

The reason for his anger was one he planned to keep a deadly secret: Hermione Granger.

   I can't believe I tried to kiss that insolent little brat! He thought, enraged with himself. I must have been completely trashed.

Yes, that would explain it, and make a fine excuse. If only Severus could believe it. Deep down, however, he knew he had been acting purely on male instinct. This, combined with the way he had surveyed Miss Granger during lunch this afternoon completed his feeling of overall despair.

So he had become hopelessly drunk. So they had shared a few drinks. So he had tried to kiss her. So what?

   Of course, there was the small fact that she was now his Apprentice, for Merlin's sake, and she was coming to meet him in exactly twelve minutes.

   Severus groaned and stopped pacing, thoroughly disgusted with himself. He was not going to act like one of his hormonal fifth-year students! He would remain in control; he would have the upper hand.

Perhaps she will not recognize me, Severus thought optimistically, running a hand through his black hair thoughtfully. But maybe I'll test the waters…play a little game, to see how much I can embarrass her, he thought gleefully.

For that was his philosophy to smooth over his own faults and wrongdoings: act like a complete bastard incarnate towards someone else.

It was the only life lesson his father had ever taught him that was actually worth knowing.

   Still, he mused, he might as well make sure he looked presentable. Not that he was trying to impress Granger, or anything of that nature. No, he thought, as he stood in front of his mirror. Just making sure I don't look too…frightening. Deciding that the black robes looked as well as they ever would, his hair did not obstruct his vision, Severus walked over to his cabinets and pulled out a tray of bottles. Smirking, he readied two seats by the fire.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

   Hermione rushed down the steps to Snape's dungeon. She knew his office was somewhere along the cold passageway.

   About halfway down, she passed a door that was slightly ajar, and took this as Snape's sign. She raised a fist to the door, taking in a deep breath. Don't show fear or anger or intimidation. Everything will be fine.

"Everything will be fine," she repeated to herself quietly, knocking on the door bracingly.

   "Come in," was the curt reply. Hermione took a deep breath, smoothed her hair, and pushed open the door.

   Her eyes took in the tall form of Severus Snape, who was standing behind his desk expectantly, his long fingers linked together. His eyes, which were the darkest black of a stormy night, stared across the room at her. Hermione steeled her insides and did not loom away.

   "Good evening, Miss Granger," Snape said, in a fairly pleasant tone. Or rather, one that's usual vindictiveness was somehow diluted. Hermione mentally shook herself. You're imagining things, she said sternly.

"Good evening, Professor Snape," Hermione said, allowing a small smile. Snape continued to stare at her, almost as though he were trying to read her thoughts.

Hermione took the brief opportunity to survey the Potions Master. He really can't be all that old, she thought. I'd say 40 at the absolute extreme. And to tell the truth, Professor Snape wasn't all that bad looking, with his stately height (he towered over Hermione's five foot five) and dark hair. Hermione noted his looks were dark and slightly enigmatic, almost brooding, complete with mysterious onyx eyes.

   "Please, Miss Granger, take a seat," Snape's voice cut silkily through Hermione's thoughts about his mysterious, onyx eyes. She gave a little start and felt her cheeks burn, but took a seat next to the fire. Snape was smirking.

He pointedly took the seat next to hers and continued to stare her down. Hermione tried her absolute hardest to maintain an outward appearance of cool. But that's really hard to do when the person staring you down is Severus bloody Snape, she thought. She cast around her mind for something to help her keep her cool, and it fell on the mysterious, kissing drinking companion. Her muscles relaxed.

   Snape must have picked up on this, because he began to speak, still smirking faintly. "May I offer you something, Miss Granger?" he asked politely.

Whoa…"Snape" and "polite" in the same sentence…weird, Hermione thought. Snape continued.

"Tea? Gillywater?" What in the Hell? She thought, caught between concentrating on that deep-voiced, good-looking dark haired stranger, and the antics of her Potions Master. Confusion splayed across her face, and Snape's smirk widened.

"Perhaps a cocktail, Miss Granger? I do believe you are…of age now," Snape continued, his low voice going softer. "Perhaps a vodka—with a dash of lemon juice? I've become quite partial to them myself."

   Hermione gasped and sank bat in her chair, her hands over her opened mouth. Snape smirked.

It had all suddenly clicked in her mind—Severus Snape was her dark and mysterious drinking companion from last night! Oh God, she thought, feeling the blood rush to her head, I'm going to die.

   Quickly, Hermione pulled herself together. She could play Snape's game too—all Hermione had to do was stay cool and collected until she could get out of there, and then talk to Ginny. Smiling composedly, she blinked up at Snape.

"Oh, no thank you, Sir," Hermione said sweetly, crossing her ankles. Snape's smirk faded a watt or two as he slowly set the decanter of vodka down on the table. "You see, I'm very picky with my cocktails—I'm not really all that fond of vodka." She turned on a mega-watt smile for him.

Snape sat back down in his chair, a tight, angry look about his face. Hermione could tell that last night's events were still clear in his mind as well. He wants to get me back for getting him piss drunk, I suppose, Hermione thought, stifling a giggle at the thought of him drunkenly grabbing her for a kiss. Severus Snape, snogging his Apprentice in a London bar, my goodness.

   "Well," Snape said, "to business then." He pulled out a folder and flipped through its contents. "You are currently studying under Euclid Mishbee at the University, are you not?"

Hermione nodded. "I am."

Snape continued, still looking sour at her refusal of the drink. "And it says that your Apprenticeship is for two semesters, and you are studying under Minerva, Cassia, and myself," he paused, clearly impressed at her academic achievements. Hermione felt a little glow of pride.

"Not overachieving anything, are we, Miss Granger?" Snape asked softly.

Her glow of pride was quickly doused.

  "You will be studying under me, and that, Miss Granger, means we will be playing by my rules," Snape said, leaning forward, his dark hair falling in his eyes. "If I need someone to cover a class, you will do it. If I need materials, you will pick them up. If I need a potion, you will assist me in making it. I take no fooling around."

Hermione was inwardly seething. Being treated like a common servant? She thought indignantly. She was here to learn, not be treated like some little errand boy! But she merely nodded, murmuring, "Yes."

   Snape glared and leaned in even closer, his voice even softer. Hermione tried her hardest not to stare into his "enigmatic" eyes. "I am still your teacher here, Miss Granger," he whispered. "You will refer to me as 'Sir' or 'Professor.' IS that understood?"

   Hermione inhaled sharply. "Yes, Sir," she muttered through clenched teeth, her hands balled into fists under the table. How on Earth could one man be so different—one night, he tried to kiss her, the next he was lecturing her! That stupid bast—

   "And, Miss Granger," Snape said, his voice barely above a hoarse whisper, "do not give me any…lip. I will have no trouble sending you away," he hissed. Hermione glared.

   He was really asking for it. Send me away…just like you did last night, eh?

"Just like what, Miss Granger?" Snape's voice asked. Hermione mentally kicked herself—she hadn't realized she'd said that last part aloud.

"Nothing," she said, before quickly adding, "Sir."

Snape glared at her for a moment, and she glared back. He blinked first, straightened, and said, turning away, "That is all, Miss Granger. You are dismissed." He gave her an impatient wave of his hand.

   Hermione stood up so fast her chair nearly fell over. "Thank you, Professor," she hissed, turning on her heel and stalking out of the room.

    But before she slammed the door, she thought she heard Snape's soft voice murmur, "And do stay out of the bars, Miss Granger."

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

A/N: Oy.

I have not updated this in like a month and a half, whoa! Life is crazy, man. My brain took a three-week long vacation and just settled back in, yay.

Uh, yeah, I'm REALLY tired, so you're spared of review-pleads (it's so not worth it) and message crap tonight. Sorry! I LOVE YEW ALL!

Review Whores Unite! (HINT HINT)

*Madame