A/N- Sorry for the delay, I didn't mean to take so long before I wrote this chapter. I hope that you like it, and I love reviews, so review away. Once again I am sorry for any bad grammar and whatnot.
Disclaimer- I own nothing of Harry Potter, and not of Severus Snape (No matter how much I wish on the latter that it would be true) Although, I DO own that little wizard figurine here in the corner.. *points to the little sculpture of a wizard fighting a dragon* Ok, ok, don't ask..
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Chapter 3- Of Marauders and Difficult PotionsHermione found she was standing in front of the train, and soon spotted the person she was looking for. She rushed over to him and stood, waiting for whatever it may be that happened to Severus in this memory. Just as usual it was rushed and crowded, and she found herself looking for his parents. They had more or less been in some way affiliated with every other memory so far in there, so why not now?
She was wrong though, for shortly a small familiar group neared the two, and she smiled. So that is what the Marauders looked like when they were in school. She found that Harry looked remarkably like his father the only difference being the scar perhaps and the eye color, the boy smirked.
"Why look, if it isn't Snivilus himself making a daytime appearance." A laugh came from the one that must have been Sirius. Her look of fondness suddenly transformed into one of horror as she watched them surround him. She noticed a muscle jump slightly in Severus' jaw, but he ignored them. "So, Snivilus, what brings a bat like you out in the light this fine, fine day? I always thought that vampires preferred the dark." This time she saw Potter laugh to Sirius' remark. It was like they were having a contest of wit, but having live bait. It was completely unfair. James put his arm around Severus' shoulders and the boy flinched, but still pretended that he was alone, burying his nose even further into his book. Sirius grabbed it from him, and started to read some of what it was he was reading. His face contorted into a look of disgust, and he threw it down into the train tracks. The moment he had done this, a small group of people started to gather around the small group and she noticed that Severus was now watching the group in cold speculation.
"I do believe I was reading that."
"The precise timing for wormwood to be added is 2 and ¾ seconds, to the exact. You call that reading, you bat?" The boy sneered.
"I happen to believe that it is rather intellectually stimulating, not rotting as that fluff you call quidditch magazines I see you and your wonderful little friends wondering about with all the time." It was low pitched and etched with more acid than one might think possible for such a lengthy spiel. Suddenly James' mouth twisted into a horrid smile as he flicked out his wand and muttered the spell under his breath.
"Aqueous Totallus!" In a quick burst of light Severus was drenched from head to toe. As the boy gasped for air as the water streaked down his face, the crowd erupted into laughter, and Hermione cringed as she saw the look on his face that meant that he was trying to hide inside of himself.
"Will you leave him be for once?" A Ravenclaw girl had appeared next to the Marauders with her arms crossed. She blew a stray strand of red hair from her face. It was. Harry's mom? To be sure, she stepped closer to them, and with odd resignation, she realized it was true. "Must you always hunt him down? Honestly, I would have thought you would have realized the error in your ways by now, Potter, and furthermore"
"I can handle this well myself, you idiot. I have no desire to be helped, nor will I receive it from someone from another house, let alone a mudblood." Hermione turned back to him and was surprised to notice that he must have used a drying spell upon himself. Her heart had fluttered with the way the term 'mudblood' had just flowed from his lips with such ease. How strange, as the same term if ever used came out as if it left a sour taste upon his lips, instead of the sweetness it had here. She was left with this thought as he continued his speech. "Now, if you all don't mind, I would rather board the train, hopefully without another incident." He turned sharply from the group but she heard him whisper to himself, "And don't worry, you shall pay for this somehow, Potter." He was soon gone, and she heard the whispers of the rest of them, the Marauders chuckling and sniping about Snape, and the last words she heard from Lilly.
"Why can't he just accept my help?"
Once again colors blended in together and she once again found herself in another place. Where was she now? She looked around her surroundings carefully, and noticed she was in a small, yet elaborate potions lab. It was dark green, with black tabletops, with just a shade lighter green upon the floor. She then noticed Snape, hovering over a cauldron, his stringy hair falling from his face as he carefully brewed a potion. She must have gone further back into time, as he looked only about seven years old in this memory. How strange. And yet.
And yet he was brewing a difficult looking potion with what looked like a normal expertise, his lithe hands carefully measuring and pausing for the perfect timing. Surely he had to be too young for this sort of work. She rounded him to see what it was that he was working on and gasped at what she found. The Lezathras potion? It was a potion to calm a person down who was near madness, or to help them deal with grief or near traumatic experiences. Why was he brewing that? They had learned the potion in sixth year, so it was a more advanced potion, and only half of the class had gotten it right, or would have if Neville hadn't happened to explode his cauldron that day. Again. She sighed at the memory, but watched the small boy work, even this young his hands and movements had grace to them when working with a potion, but anytime that the boy stepped away, she noticed the stiff way he moved, almost twitchy, or on edge about something.
She started to wonder why this was a memory important enough for the pensieve when a slim, tall woman with a sour expression walked through the room, her hands upon her hips, and a sneer of distaste upon her large lips. It must have been his mother, as she was as pale as he was, more with the currently than the paper white boy in front of her though. Unhealthily yellowish, the pale Dumbledore always complained about before the accident.
She moved closer to the woman and studied her, she was basically a beautiful woman, and she had full lips, a perfectly proportional body, and a face so eloquent it would put most royalty to shame. It was her eyes though that gave her away, so sour and angry, hatred almost poured out of them with tangibility. She suddenly was reminded of the tales of Medusa she had read about in Greek Mythology. She gave a sour laugh, and started to wonder if Severus would agree with her. Excessively beautiful, yet her soul was so full of acid the mere presence of it would turn anyone who looked into her eyes to stone, after all the eyes were the windows to ones soul.
She suddenly had the uneasy feeling she was about to find out why this memory had stuck out in his mind.