Changes Made

Chapter Two

Snape sat silently eating his breakfast at the lone table in his quarters. He had chosen to "order in" once more as he did when there were no students in the castle. Dumbledore preferred the teachers to eat together with the rest of the castle if it was possible, and while Snape did not enjoy this practice, he did not wish to disappoint Dumbledore in any way. During holidays, however, and on weekends, Snape took his meals alone.

He finished his meal and stacked the dishes neatly before the fireplace. House elves would presently be whisking in to cart off anything unnecessary from the room. Only they had access to Snape's rooms by any means but the actual door; everywhere but the kitchens were blocked with charms. A sort of paranoia – not quite as acute as Mad-Eye Moody's, perhaps, but still rather healthy – seemed to cultivate a great many extra protections on Snape's surroundings.

After tugging his heavy edition of One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi from the giant shelf, Snape eased onto his sofa and began to read. For what seemed like the fiftieth time since the beginning of the summer, Snape felt he couldn't concentrate and looked round his lifeless room. With an irritated sort of noise, Snape pulled his wand from an inside pocket of his robes and jabbed it at the globe on the table across the room. At once a sparkling, pulsating light began to form inside of it and Vivaldi's Gloria began to sound from that side of the room.

"Too loud," Snape growled and jabbed in that direction with his wand again. Immediately, the supple strings of Messne filled the air. Snape leaned back and closed his eyes. If only that rolling and fluttering in his stomach would disappear, everything would be fine. After a moment or two of this quiet meditation, the Potions Master returned to his reading. It took only a few moments of reading before Snape decided that this was a waste of time. He already knew every word that Phydilla Spore had written about Asphodel and probably about the other 999 herbs and fungi listed in the book. He turned to a random page and began to read again.

Rosmarinus officinalis

Rosemary

This aromatic herb is commonly found in warm areas with mild seasons and a good amount of rain. Native to the Mediterranean coast, it grows well wild or in gardens, and may be grown potted indoors. Rosemary leaves are slender, green and leathery, and are found growing very close to the stem. Flowers of this plant are pale blue, and occasionally white or pale pink, and tend to be small.

In potions one may use the leaves, oil, or wood. Rosemary has long been a symbol of virtue, fidelity, purity, youth, and vitality, and may be used in potions regarding these traits. The leaves are used widely in cooking, useful as a flavouring and an antioxidant. One may steep the leaves in boiling water for a healthful tea or antiseptic mouthwash, add leaves to bathwater as a cleansing agent, and a tincture of Rosemary washed through the hair once a week will rid it of excess oil and dirt.

Essential oil may be extracted from the plant with the method described on page 26. Oil is used for anointing during particular ceremonies such as weddings and funerals. It may also be used as an insect repellent, but the oil should not be taken internally. The journals of several witches and wizards across England recommend boxes of Rosemary wood smelled once a day as an anti-ageing element, and rosemary leaves crushed and held under the tongue for nervous disorders. Ointments made with Rosemary are useful for sore joints and muscles, and may be used to soothe colicky infants.

Basic Uses: Tonic; diuretic; aromatic; stomachic; carminative; antispasmodic; cholagogue; antiseptic; emmenagogue

One case in Rottingdale reported an eight-foot tree of Rosemary that had turned a bright red in colour and began to snatch at passers-by. Contact with this particular tree made the traveller grow horns that could only be removed with holy water.

A whooshing noise at the fireplace interrupted Snape's reading. He looked up as a chubby house elf stepped from the ashes quite as if he had been there all the time. He produced a parchment envelope from his pillow-case-like garment and with an expression of apprehension, inched towards Professor Snape, who watched without interest. The elf flinched as Snape held out his hand for the letter, but handed it over all the same. As soon as Snape had the letter in his hand, the elf shot back into the fireplace, snatching up the dishes as he went. With a small 'pop', the elf disappeared, leaving the fireplace spotless.

Snape opened the envelope carefully and began to read the message inside. His eyes narrowed and he crumpled the latter in his fist. With out a thought for his reading or the music still emanating from the globe on the table, Snape stood and swept from his quarters to the chilly dungeons.

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Hermione waved goodbye as her parents pulled out of the driveway and headed to their office. As soon as they were out of sight, she ducked back inside and hurried up to her bedroom.

The day before, Hermione had counted up her rainy day savings and headed to the hardware store. Very carefully, she had selected two colours of paint, two kinds of brushes, painting trays and a drop cloth and carted it all home. A tense moment occurred when her mother, checking on Hermione before bed time, had gone to hang something up in the closet, nearly discovering the supplies hidden there.

Hermione checked her watch. She had just over seven hours before her parents were due to arrive home. If she worked quickly, she'd be finished before they even came home! She moved her furniture carefully to the centre of her room and covered it with the heavy white cloth she'd bought. A stepladder from the basement allowed her to remove the shelf carefully from the wall and tuck it beneath the cloth as well. Hermione painstakingly prepared her room for its new makeover, taping edges and removing the outlet covers and light switch plates.

Finally she stood back and took a deep breath. Letting that out, she lined the paint cans up next to the wall and levered the lid off of the first one. She poured a pool of paint into one of the trays, dipped the brush in and ceremoniously delivered the first rich strip of crimson to the wall.

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A few hours later, Hermione examined her handiwork. The walls were now quite covered in rich, deep red paint. The trimming was done all in a smooth golden yellow, as was the shelf that had held her old dolls. By now the windows had been opened to let the smell of paint diffuse a bit before the return of Hermione's parents. Feeling rather chuffed with her work, Hermione ventured downstairs for a glass of water and a break.

She headed for the back garden where sunlight warmed the grass and flowering foliage her mother had planted. The garden was surrounded by a small, masoned fence, just high enough to sit comfortably upon. Glass in hand, Hermione sat and closed her eyes, breathing in the scent of earth and growing things. Presently she heard a rustle in the bushes behind her and turned her head to see a bowlegged orange tomcat sidling up beside her. He sat back and examined the wall for a moment before gracing it with his presence, purring and allowing Hermione to pet him.

"Have you a had a good time, Crookshanks?" Hermione asked, setting her glass down. She set to work stroking his fur, picking bits of leaves out of it. "What have you been rolling in, you silly thing?" After a few minutes, she checked her watch. "I ought to get all that paint stuff put away. Do you want to come help?" Crookshanks just eyed her as she stood. Soon enough however, he followed her indoors and raced up the stairs ahead of her. When Hermione opened the door, Crookshanks stepped backwards as if slightly stunned by the change in scenery. He looked up with her and cocked his head.

"No, mum and dad don't know about this yet. Do you approve?" Crookshanks stepped gingerly inside the room and paced the perimeter, sniffing every now and then. When he reached the doorway again he rubbed against Hermione's ankles, purring. "I suppose that's a yes," she laughed, and set about cleaning up the painting supplies.

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That night at dinner, Mr. and Mrs. Granger chatted cheerily about the day.

"Little Robbie Fisher came in for his braces this afternoon, dear. He was so cute! Didn't want to let your father in with his tools. He was quite put out when his mother wouldn't let him get multi-coloured brackets in," Mrs. Granger laughed.

"And if you ever frequent an orthodontist other than us, Hermione, don't et anything but breath mints for an hour beforehand. We had on woman come in today whose breath smelled most terribly of onions and tuna fish. I can't imagine how she managed to eat something like that. It was awful," Mr. Granger complained.

"Did you have a good day, dear?" Mrs. Granger inquired. "Finish any homework?"

"Oh yes, mum. It was great. I still have to finish up an essay, but it won't take long," Hermione answered. A fluttery feeling crept into the pit of her stomach. Mrs. Granger paused and sniffed the air for a moment.

"Do you smell something?"

"Nothing, dear," Mr. Granger grunted.

"No, mum," Hermione replied untruthfully. She could smell paint. Oh dear. It was certainly lucky her parents slept downstairs or she could be in a lot of trouble before the night was through. Secretly, however, Hermione still felt quite pleased with herself. If only she could keep her mother from checking on her. Just this night is all it would take…

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A/N: Hurray! Another chapter. Anyways, the bit about Rosemary must be credited to The Encyclopedia of Herbs and Herbalism, edited by Malcolm Stuart, published by Crescent Books in 1979, I believe (MCMLXXIX, I can't read Roman numerals). Also to The Rodale Herb Book: How to Use, Grow, and Buy Nature's Miracle Plants, by no one in particular, published by Rodale Press in 1974. The bit about eh eight foot Rosemary tree I threw in for kicks. There's rather a lot about Rosemary and it's play in Christian mysticism…stuff about Mary's veil being tossed over a white-flowering Rosemary plant and it taking on the veil's hue (blue) and another bit about how the plant grew to six feet in 33 years, Christ's height and length of life, but never any higher because of reverence to the Lord or something like that. You learn something every day.