Thank you for all of your reviews. I was sick this past week, so it took me a bit longer to write this part than usual. I hope everyone likes the latest installment. I am trying to keep it away from a romance as much as possible.
Nightingale Blossom
By
Snivellus aka Heather Granger
Part III
I can't help but feel proud of myself, I have spent the past two weeks with Professor Snape after dinner, without him yelling once. Some days I would only stay for a few minutes and we would say nothing to one another But other days I would get into a lengthy discussion about how the bans of certain potions were required, and others were highly unjustified. I could not say for sure if he enjoyed these visits but nonetheless, he did not ever send me away.
Most exciting of all, I had gotten the root to sprout, of course, it was only a tiny shoot, but it was progress. I knew that I would have to plant it outside soon, if I wanted it to survive.
I finish my dinner in the Great Hall and head down towards the dungeons to care for my plant. The Potions classroom door was closed, which I found to be highly unusual, Snape always grades homework after dinner. I knock, but there was no answer. I had to care for my plant or else it would die, so I wiggle the door handle to check and see if the door is locked. Surprisingly it is not, he must of left it open for me, that or he forgot to lock it, I like to think that it was the first option.
I look around blindly, the room is dark, so I quickly mutter a lumos spell to light my way. I find my tiny plant on the workbench I left it on the day before. I pick up the pot and carefully examine to see if it has grown any since yesterday's visit. The small green sprout is poking ever so slightly out of the dirt. The color seems to be a bit off, from what my books have described it to be. The shoot of a Nightingale blossom should be a greenish hue with a touch of golden condensed in the center, however my shoot appears to be greenish blue with a reddish condensed center. After contemplating a bit over the difference, I determine that it has to be because the tiny plant has yet to be exposed to the sunlight.
I look through the shelf of pre-made potions that Professor Snape keeps in stock. My fingers dance across the labels, searching for one in particular. Finally, I come across it, Draught of Patience. I carefully place a few drops on the soil, and watch as the plant soaks it in.
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I seemingly drag my feet back down to the dungeons, I had to speak to the Headmaster about Potter's bloody Occulumcy lessons, apparently the boy is incapable of blocking out his emotions, even the Headmaster himself has been unsuccessful in his tutelage. The Headmaster asked if I would attempt teaching him again, to see if he would make any progress. I however responded by telling him no, and somehow after an hour of attempting to find every excuse possible, I now am scheduled to meet with the boy next Tuesday.
I run my hand over my face, trying to wipe away the frustration, however it does not work. I never ask for much, a little recognition for my efforts occasionally would be welcomed. I do my job, I may complain on occasion and make my frustrations known, but why not? Why am I not allowed frustrations? Why is it that others can be angry and I cannot? Why am I looked at like the plague when I merely state the obvious? Potter can jump foolhardily into extreme danger, and is met with open arms. No one's arms are open for me.
As I reach the Potions classroom, I see the door is ajar. As I am positive I shut it before I left, I draw my wand and enter cautiously into the room. Finally, I can catch the student who has sticky fingers, a mystery that has been ongoing for the past six years.
"Who's there?" I hiss.
"Professor!" She jumps.
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I heard his voice, it frightened me, and I struggled to keep hold of my tiny plant in my hands. I set the plant down, as he sweeps towards me. He is not pleased, apparently he did not leave the door unlocked for me. He quickly flicks his wrists and brings the room into light. Just as he comes towards me, he takes a sharp turn towards his left and goes to his desk.
"What precisely do you think your doing?" He asks in a low threatening voice.
"I am sorry sir, I had to take care of the plant, and it would die other wards." I say quietly.
"Miss Granger, give it up! For Merlin's sakes, do you not get it? The plant will not grow. I played along with your little whim for a while, but I do not appreciate being annoyed by your presence every evening. I am a professor, I spend all day with children, I like to be left alone in the little time that I have to myself, now take your plant and leave me be." He yelled at me. I stare back at him, how dare he call me a child!
"I am not a child!"
"Whether you choose to believe it or not Miss Granger, you are still just a child!." He yells back.
"You know, I felt sorry for you, being all alone, but obviously my feelings were misplaced. You are a mean, heartless man!" I yell, fighting back tears of anger.
"50 points from Gryffindor for your disrespect. Get out of my classroom." He hisses lowly.
I run out of the classroom having forgotten my plant on his desk.
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Why do girls insist on crying? She just had to cry didn't she? I did not ask her to leave her plant in my classroom. I did not ask her to make me some type of experiment. I am not a man who asks for pity. Yes, I will admit from time to time I do like some acknowledgement, but I do not want it in the form of pity.
I could have not been as harsh, I could have sugar coated my feelings as many of my colleagues do, but I am not that kind of man. The girl must learn that not everything is capable of being saved. Sometimes the damage goes much too deep to be repaired. Spending years and years in the dark, it would be impossible for it to grow.
I look over at the ridiculous plant, it's sprout staring at me, mocking me, showing that it has grown, that it is still alive. If she can fix a stupid plant, why can no one fix me? Why will I not let them help me? Why am I so afraid?
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I slam the Head Girl's bedroom door shut. I throw myself rather haphazardly onto the bed and start to cry. Why does he have to be such as snarky bastard? Why? There must be a reason. I thought I knew, I thought it was because he felt no one cared, that he only had his stupid potions, but I guess I was wrong.
I was not helping him, not really, after all I had done the past two week. Maybe I should have reached out in a more forward manner. Maybe I should have shown compassion him in another way.
I turn over so I am now staring blankly into my ceiling. What kind of life has he known? Why can I not help him? Why can I not ask him what weights so heavily on my mind? What am afraid of?
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The next morning, as I head towards the Great Hall, I see the plant lying on my desk. I knew I would have to face her today, NEWTs Potions was always directly after breakfast. I think the Headmaster planned it so that I would not loose my temper as quickly. Last year NEWTs Potions was at the end of the day, directly after First years Potions, that was a bloody catastrophe. I believed I received seven howlers a week from Seventh year student's parents, claiming that I had made their daughter cry, or that their son had received far too much homework.
I take my seat at the staff table for breakfast, I notice that Miss Granger decided not to show. This means one of two things, one, she was in the library, or two she was avoiding me. Neither really should have bothered me, but the way she looked at me when she told me that I was a mean and heartless man, I could not help but feel a twinge of dare say guilt.
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I arrived one minute early for Potions, for me this was being tardy. I always arrived at quarter to nine in order to set up for the day's lesson, but seeing as I was avoiding Professor Snape, I saw it fit to be late. As I walk into the room, I notice that he is busy scribbling away on his blackboard. I also see my plant. It is withered and weak looking. I have to take it. I quickly walk to the desk and put my hand around it.
"Put it back Miss Granger." I hear him hiss.
"But sir?" I question.
"I said leave it, now take your seat, do not make me take points." I let go, and walk to my desk. So now he wants the plant to die? I truly was wrong in trying to understand him.
"Class, today we will be starting on the Draught of Patience. The instructions are on the board, if you did your reading, this potion shall be easy work for you. Begin." He says to the class.
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I watch her, glaring at me. She is apparently still bitter from the night before, I do not blame her, after all I know all about bitterness. I look again at the tiny plant on my desk. I think of the magnificence of a Nightingale blossom, how each petal is unique, how each one takes on its own variant of color. I had seen a nightingale blossom once, I was much younger then and the world had not weaved its wicked fate, and I had not yet been my own undoing.
The bell chimes, and my students begin cleaning up for the day. I again look at Miss Granger, stuffing her books in her sack with the force of a hippogriff. I smirk, she should have been in Slytherin, she would have done well had she been a pureblood.
She heads towards the door, I call out to her.
"Miss Granger, come here." I say in a rather low voice.
"Sir?" She questions, do I detect a hint of contempt? I dare say I do.
"You forgot your plant." I say, pointing at it.
"You said I could not have it back." She replies.
"Do not speak for me, for you heard no such thing. I had every intention to give it back, however did not want you fussing over it when you clearly needed to concentrate on today's lesson." I merely point out.
"Thank you sir." She responds as she takes it carefully off my desk. I watch her as she turns to leave.
"You will have to plant it outside soon." I say, this makes her stop.
"I was planning on it."
"Where?" I ask.
"In the school garden I think, Neville has several plants growing right now." She says now looking back at me.
"It would be a shame if it were to be trampled by one of Hagrid's hideous pet projects, as they tend to spend a majority of their time so near by." I say sarcastically.
"I suppose you have a better idea?" She questions.
"Why most certainly." I say rather pompously.
"Care to enlighten me?"
"Meet me here at 10 o'clock on Saturday, I will show you where to plant your little project. I may think this idea is hopeless, but that root did not come cheap, and if you were on the off chance to succeed, perhaps I can gain beneficial research material."
"Thank you." She says as she walks silently out of the classroom. I watch her as she leaves, thinking that the girl has far more patience than I, putting up with me that is.