Author's Note: I forgot, last time to thank my reviewers! First and foremost, I want to thank Lady Game for the suggestions and the praise. I like that combo! ") And I would like to thank J-Chan, for her words of encouragement! And I thank Iabrisa, Sio's Death, Agreos, and Marauder3Moony (whose name I happen to find very catchy). Ok, now, read! Read and then review, if you please!
***
Everything Severus needed was at hand in the shop: unicorn horn, dryad fingers, whipspike ear, and pixie wings, among other things. In the Dark Lord's storage room alone he found at least half a dozen choices for a cauldron—Rookwood said that one of them was probably meant for Snape anyway—and he chose a sturdy iron one with a rune for "success" molded into the metal along the thick rim. He examined it first to make certain that its design would in no way affect his potion-making.
"I assume you've all decided you're above helping me prepare?" he asked the other Death Eaters scathingly.
"Hmm. Yes, quite," said Lucius absentmindedly, still entirely focused upon the book he'd found to read: "History of the Great Wizarding Families of Britain."
"Never been good with potions," Rookwood replied with a shrug.
"Can't," said Karkaroff cheerfully.
"Bugger all of you," Snape grumbled. He was starting to feel like the "little red hen," and he'd always hated that blasted bird.
To be fair, he probably wouldn't have wanted their help anyway. He knew what he was doing, and he liked to have everything just so. If he let anyone assist, he admitted to himself, he would only end up doing their bit over again, just to make certain they'd done it correctly. That did not, of course, excuse their refusal to even offer to make themselves useful.
Severus was quite sure of himself in the initial preparation of the ingredients, but once he had ground the horn and cut the fairy wings and gotten everything organized, he realized his pressing need for a written list of steps. He knew he could find it in "Pertinent Present-Day Potion Problems," but he had left it at home with the automatic assumption that he would not need it. He guessed that Borgin and Burke's, having so much stock both useful and useless, might have the book sitting about somewhere.
"Accio Libro," he said quietly with a flick of his wand, inserting a spell word in place of the full title of the book.
A second later, there was a very loud "thump" on the other side of the door, startling everyone in the room, including Severus.
"What the devil was that?" asked Rookwood with some alarm. "Borgin can't have returned so early!"
"Not that it's an impossibility, but I believe that's just my book," said Severus impatiently, moving to open the door.
"Then get it now, and stop making a nuisance of yourself!" snapped Malfoy irritably.
Glaring over his shoulder, Snape yanked on the door handle and caught the heavy tome in his hands as it glided towards him obediently.
"I think that spellbook weighs almost as much as you do, Severus," Karkaroff commented in a tone both jocular and insulting.
"Shut it, or I'll just leave you to the Dark Lord," said Severus with a look of loathing. Karkaroff seemed unaffected.
"Would you please be quiet!" directed Malfoy blazingly before returning his chill eyes to his book. Severus glared at Lucius hatefully as he moved to collect his chosen cauldron, relenting only at the sound of Karkaroff's appreciative laugh, whereupon Snape finally averted his eyes and concentrated on his work.
There weren't any magical Bunsen burners to be had, so Severus decided to use the next best thing: the great fireplace in the shop's main area.
He had to admit, as he gathered his belongings and departed the back room, that he was glad to be away from the others for a bit. It gave him a chance to think.
The potion would be difficult to make, he knew very well, but he reassured himself that he would get it this time. In his little home, one of his favourite pastimes was working with difficult recipes, and he had managed a fair number of them. Once he had even submitted a sample to the ministry's potions research branch, but as he'd never heard back from them, he suspected they had ignored his owl and brushed the sample into the dust bin.
The half-burnt logs ignited beautifully when he used the "incendio" spell upon them, and he immediately set up the iron pot-hanger over the new flames. He filled the cauldron one quarter full with water, but hesitated before positioning it in the fire and beginning the potion. Turning to the correct page in the book, he read that the addition of the first ingredient must take place exactly six seconds after the first bubble broke the surface of the cauldron water. The following passages called for sometimes more time and sometimes less time between steps, but all of them required exactitude and careful concentration for the potion to be a success.
Severus read through the instructions once more, and then laid the ingredients out according to the order in which he would need them. He smiled at his work in satisfaction. Now he lifted the cauldron onto the hook and watched with bated breath for the first bubble to show. He could be patient when he needed to be.
There! A very tiny bubble, to be sure, but he knew what to do. The tension made him cold as he reached for the pickled tongue of dog and counted of the seconds in his head.
Splash! The dog's tongue was in the pot, and he had thirty seconds until the next ingredient was due to makes its entrance into the potion. One... two... three... He gripped the dried deer liver firmly in preparation. His timing was perfect; twenty-eight... twenty-nine...
NO! The liver had stuck to his sweaty palm for such a tiny stretch of time, but it had thrown off the addition by almost a full two seconds.
"Damn!" burst Severus, enraged. He pointed his wand at the cauldron with a flourish, and it clattered angrily against the pot-hook from which it hung as it turned upside dumped its useless contents into the fire, splashing over the grate and onto the brick hearth. He must start again.
From the beginning, he thought, annoyed. "A maker of potions must be calm and patient, or he will always fail:" he tried to concentrate on that phrase, but could not help but smirk. That was what his first year potions teacher had told him, and look at what he, Severus "slow-down-or-you'll-ruin-the-brew" Snape, was capable of. But he must focus, this time! He must be patient. He must be calm. He drew a quick breath and set up his ingredients again...
It had been four hours—he had a talent for measuring time in his head—and Severus had not yet gotten past the twenty-second ingredient before making a mistake. His skin felt clammy to his touch, but against his stringy muscles it felt hotter than the fire crackling beneath his cauldron. The hearth was splattered with unusable attempts, and little, filmy bits of pixie wings drifted about the room like phantom snow, casualties of a fit of anger in which Severus had lacerated a few pairs of wings with a well-aimed spell. At the moment, he was tugging at his stringy black hair and convincing himself that it would be best not to blast the entire room to bits.
He whirled around, placing his back towards the fire, at the sound of the door to the back room opening. Lucius swept into the room, followed by Rookwood. Their relatively relaxed air made Severus' eyes narrow.
"How's it coming then?" asked Rookwood when he was halfway across the room.
"Obviously he hasn't yet been able to produce the potion, or he would have been straight in to inform us," said Lucius with a horrible smirk. "How many tries would you say it's been, so far?"
"I have no idea," snapped Severus, although he was quite certain that it had been fifteen failed attempts. "Why are you so smug? If I fail, you'll be in as much of a spot as I will!"
Lucius laughed and said, "Oh, I don't know. Something about watching overconfidence take a fall."
"I am no more arrogant than you, Malfoy!" said Snape indignantly. Rookwood chuckled, ignoring the fleeting look of disdain which Lucius shot his way.
"But I've good reason," replied Lucius smoothly, again displaying that hateful smirk. Snape looked at him for a moment, his mind tumbling in confusion and anger. Why didn't he seem concerned that the best potion-maker of the four wizards present was unable to produce the one potion that could save them? Severus' eyes narrowed.
"You've been putting me on," he said shortly. "I'll bet that Mr. Burke isn't even really dead!" exclaimed Snape, his voice rising.
"Oh, of course he is," responded Lucius, who sounded a bit exasperated. "Our situation is perfectly real, I assure you!"
"Then you've got another way to get out of it," Severus accused.
"Not exactly." But Lucius' tight-lipped smile had become unbearably self-satisfied. "Actually, I already have a flask of concealment potion with me; the sort that takes so long to make. Avery stole it from the Auror headquarters at the Ministry. That's why I thought of the idea in the first place."
"How dare you," growled Snape. "I have wasted ingredients, patience, and time on this project, for nothing!"
"Not 'nothing,' " responded Lucius coolly. "I'm sure that you would not have found a better use for your time. And just think how terribly useful it would be if you were to succeed in creating a batch of potion. Not that I expected you to be able to," he continued lightly. "Incidentally, how far did you get with the steps?'
"Twenty-second," spat Severus, hoping this accomplishment could restore his wounded pride.
"Twenty-second," repeated Malfoy thoughtfully.
"That's rather good, really," put in Rookwood, disregarding Lucius' glare completely.
"I am impressed in spite of myself," said Malfoy finally, allowing a shade of a grin to pass over his countenance.
"And you should be," Severus declared venomously. "If you'd said any different I would have known you were lying through your teeth!"
"Hmm. I doubt it," Malfoy looked at Severus down his nose and without another word strutted straight back into the back room.
"Sorry about that nasty little surprise; didn't know he had it, myself," said Rookwood, who seemed to be needing to give out a great many apologies today. Severus scowled.
"A complete and utter waste," he muttered murderously in response and began to scour the hearth with a wave of his wand.
"Possibly," Rookwood agreed, shrugging and twirling his wand to catch the wafting pixie wings with a net of air and blow them into the fire. "But you have won respect through your efforts. From myself, of course, and even from Lucius, as far as it's possible to get him to appreciate something that isn't a Malfoy wizard or at least blond-haired and female," he laughed. Severus refused to break into a smile, but he sniffed in a very odd way that might almost have been interpreted as a chuckle.
"I am fully capable of making a concealment potion," responded Severus after a moment. "It would have been only a matter of time before I completed it."
"Yeah, could be," said Rookwood, smiling good-naturedly. "Planning to go about it the longer way?" he asked, still grinning.
"No," Severus said bluntly, allowing his scowl to remain in place as he began scooping unused ingredients into piles. Rookwood barked a short little laugh.
"Right then. I suppose you'll join us shortly," he said, his grin intact as he retreated through the back room door.
Left alone in his comfortable and familiar silence, Severus stood still with indecision for only a moment before scooping the remaining ingredients into his deep robe pockets.
***
A little bit shorter than usual, but it seemed like a good place to stop. Please leave a comment or suggestion or even just an impression on the review page. Thank you for reading so far!
Author's Response: About the hour-made potion: I'm sorry, I did not mean to imply that there was only an hour's time available in which to make the potion; I meant that, properly brewed, the potion takes exactly one hour to make. Including the many restarts it often takes to get everything perfect, it can take "forever." So, I hope that clears it up. Remember, the potion must be very precise, and must therefore be created within that complete hour. The advantage is that it doesn't take long to make (if you do it right the first time), but the disadvantage is the need for exactitude.
Also Author's Response: Lucius just had the potion with him, and, as he said, his plan to use it gave him the idea for asking Snape to make the hour-made variety himself. After all, a concealment potion could be useful in a great many different situations, don't you think?
And yes, Lucius is "quite a prat," heh heh. ")
And, I'm sorry for the short chapters. How about if next chapter, I extend its length? Just for you reviewers, how bout twice as long as usual? Mind you, that will take twice as long to write, but it should be more satisfying for everybody!
And lastly, how far do I plan to take this? At least until Voldemort's downfall. Although that could take a while, at the rate I'm going.
Ok, thanks for the reviews! I'm three Microsoft Word pages into the next chapter, but I've a ways to go. I'll probably post sometime in the coming week. See ya!
