A/N: Wow! I apologize for the delay in this chapter. I have been really busy and trying to find a moment to sit down at my computer has almost been impossible. I made the chapter extra long and should have another chapter this week. Again, I am sorry for taking so long. Please read and review. I truly appreciate it!
Esme knocked on the door to her father's laboratory, waiting until she had heard the invitation to come in. She had learned her lesson as a child never to enter his lab without permission. As she waited, she shifted, gripping the book tightly in her hands, hoping that her father would appreciate what she had done, but realizing that she was probably expecting too much.
"Come in," he said, his gruff voice sounding clearly through the heavy wooden door.
Pushing it open, she entered the room, closing the door quietly behind her. She turned and looked at her father bent over the cauldron. Placing the book on a nearby table, she walked over and stood beside him.
"What are you working on?" she asked, attempting to peer over the edge of the cauldron. She knew that it was probably a potion for the Infirmary. Normally by this time, he had already stocked the Infirmary's storeroom with the basic potions and salves that Madam Pomfrey would need to begin the term. However, this year was a little different.
He turned and gave her an exasperated look, waving her away from his area. "You should be able to tell."
She grimaced and stuck out her tongue. She always hated his on-the-spot quizzes. As the daughter of the Potions master, she was expected to identify a potion by sight, smell, and sometimes taste. Although she really hoped that he would not make her taste any potions today. When she swallowed, she swore she could still taste the Strengthening Solution she'd had to taste a few months ago as one of his challenges. Turning to look at the ingredients on the table, she eyed them intently.
"Let's see. Echinacea, goldenseal, hellebore," she ticked off the ingredients on her fingers and turned an impish grin to her father. "I would say that you are brewing a Pepperup Potion."
He shook his head, not even bothering to look up, as he observed the steaming potion. "It certainly took you long enough."
Esme frowned at the dismissal. "Couldn't you just be pleased that I was able to identify it? Most people wouldn't have been able to tell you what it was using only three ingredients."
Severus glanced up for the first time since she entered the room, a disapproving look on his face. "You are not most people. You are my daughter and I expect better."
She bit the inside of her cheek, holding back the retort that was on the tip of her tongue. "May I help?" she asked curtly, once she was certain she could control herself.
Severus straightened and gestured toward the mortar and pestle on the other side of the table. "Grind those echinacea roots into a fine powder." He gave her a stern look. "Make sure it is a fine powder and that there aren't any clumps in it."
She muttered under her breath as she pushed up the sleeves of her blouse. Picking up the pestle, she started grinding the roots. She felt her father's eyes on her, observing her progress.
"Put your shoulders into it," he said. "I don't want to come over there and have to redo it." Dropping the pestle, she glared up at him.
"Do you want to do it yourself? I believe that you were the one who taught me how to grind roots, but if you don't trust me then, by all means, please do it yourself."
Snape smiled slightly at her angry tone. "No, no, please continue." He picked up the nearby knife and started chopping the goldenseal. "Well, now it seems like old times. I was wondering where you had gone off to."
"What do you mean 'gone off to'?" she asked as she resumed her grinding.
"You haven't seemed like yourself lately," he held up a hand as she opened her mouth to speak. "Even before your mother's death." He was silent for a few moments as he laid down the knife and checked the cauldron, sprinkling the goldenseal over the bubbling potion. As he stirred the herb into the concoction, he continued, "You've been withdrawn for several months and strangely compliant. It has been very," he paused and looked at her, "unsettling."
"You're complaining because I've been an obedient and respectful daughter?"
"Complaining is not the word I would use. I am concerned, because you are not, and have not been, behaving like yourself."
She pushed roughly against the pestle feeling a certain satisfaction as it scraped loudly against the bottom of the mortar. "Perhaps you should save your concern for Sidney. He needs it more than I do."
Severus looked up from the cauldron and gave her a warning glance. "Esme," he began.
"I know, I know. You are the parent and I am the child. But do you even know where he is? Do you know that he spends all his free time in the cemetery talking to mother's headstone? Does that not concern you in the least?"
"We are not going to discuss this," he growled.
"No, Merlin forbid that we discuss anything that makes you uncomfortable. No matter who may end up paying in the end." She put the pestle down on the table and looked at her father. He was standing stiffly in front of the cauldron, refusing to look at her. She didn't even know why she tried. She watched him drop the rest of the chopped goldenseal into the cauldron, stirring it precisely three times. He stepped back and glanced at her. Without saying a word, she handed him the mortar. He held it closely, moving the powder aside with the tip of his knife. She knew that he was searching for clumps and that he wouldn't find any. She was the Potions master's daughter after all.
Sniffing, he said, "It will do." Esme felt the brief pang of satisfaction she always felt when her father praised her, as rare as it may be. When he did compliment her, she knew that it was sincere and that they weren't merely words to assuage her insecurities.
He passed the hellebore to her and opened his mouth to give her directions.
She shook her head and glowered. "I know what to do."
He rolled his eyes. "Ah, yes. I forgot that you are now an expert in Potions simply because you now have the unfortunate duty of teaching Charms."
"No, I am an expert because I have made this potion countless times and I watched you and mother brew it every summer that I can remember," she replied, a small smile lighting her face.
Severus stopped and watched her. He had to admit, at least to himself, that she did know what she was doing. Her knife strokes were swift and precise, making short work of the hellebore. He felt a sense pride watching her. Why had he never noticed before how much like him she was?
Esme looked up and caught her father staring at her. She gave him a questioning glance. Looking back down at the hellebore, she asked, "Am I doing something wrong/"
"No, your work is sufficient."
Esme just shook her head knowing that she couldn't expect more of a compliment. Finishing up quickly, she wiped the knife off and placed it back on the table. She handed the minced hellebore to her father and watched as he finished up the potion.
"About Sidney," she began.
Snape sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "I thought we decided that we were not going to discuss this."
She inclined her head and said, "Actually, you decided that we were not going to discuss it. I, however, am very concerned about him."
Severus crossed his arms in front of his chest. "He is grieving, Esme. Let him be. We all grieve in different ways."
"Yes, some of us grieve at the bottom of a bottle," she said coolly, not even flinching under Snape's glare. "But it is not healthy to converse with the dead for hours each day."
"If the boy wants to talk to his mother, then who am I to stop him?"
Esme just shook her head, incredulous that her father was not the least bit worried about Sidney. "Fine, just don't come to me when the term starts and we can't drag him out of the cemetery for classes."
"Mesmordia!" he said, heatedly. She looked up, not used to hearing her full name from her father's lips. Snape rubbed his forehead wearily. "Just let him be. If it continues, I will address it." He eyed her and said forcefully, "I will address it, not you."
She turned away, feeling the sting of dismissal for the second time since entering the lab. "As you wish," she said quietly. "If we are done, I have a few things to prepare before the staff meeting." Her hand was on the door, when her father's voice stopped her.
"Where did this come from?"
Esme looked over her shoulder and saw her father holding the book she had placed on the table earlier, a pale look on his face.
"I found it in Harry's classroom and knew that you would want it."
He pierced her with his gaze and asked icily, "Harry? Since when do you call Professor Potter, Harry?"
She blushed, shifting under her father's stare. "He told me to call him Harry, since we would be colleagues and all that."
"Does he know that you took this book from the room?"
Esme shook her head slowly, her eyes on the floor. "Mother said that it was the first gift you ever gave her," she said, her voice tight with emotion. "She told me it was the book she treasured the most, not because of the content, but because of the sentiment. I couldn't just leave it there." She ran the back of her hands over her eyes, wishing she could be as self-possessed as her father.
Severus traced the letters on the cover reading them silently: Potions for the Modern Age by Herbert Mullins. He hadn't seen this book in years. He closed his eyes and saw Serena sitting in front of the fireplace, her head bent over the book. That was the first moment of true happiness that he could remember. Severusopened his eyes and saw her stiff, protective stance, as though she were waiting for the lecture he knew he should give, following her admission that she had practically stolen from a fellow professor. The book may not technically belong to Potter, but it was a part of his inventory and he should have been consulted before it was removed from his classroom. He opened his mouth to berate her utter lack of respect for the property of others, but found he could only say, "Thank you."
He watched the look of shock cross her face and wondered how they had drifted so far as to only expect the worst from each other. He stepped forward and gathered her in his arms, knowing that Serena would expect him to. "Thank you," he whispered again against her hair. He felt the shudders run through her body and the tears that wet his shoulder. Stroking her hair as she sobbed, he made a silent vow to Serena that he would try to be a better father and not to allow their children to suffer alone, although he honestly wondered if he was capable of fulfilling such a promise. Time would certainly tell.
Snape entered the teacher's lounge in a foul mood. He had better things to do then waste his time in pointless staff meetings, such as finishing up the potions for the Infirmary that should have been done weeks ago. He slumped in a chair near the door hoping to make a quick exit as soon as Dumbledore was finished. Although knowing the Headmaster as well as he did, Severus was sure they would be there for several hours. The old goat did like to drone on. Snape watched the rest of the professors drift in, milling around and catching up with each other. He resisted the urge to roll his eyes at the hum of superficial conversations swirling around him. Instead, he folded his arms across his chest, glaring at anyone who even dared to think about approaching him. Esme entered the room, her hair pulled back into a tight bun, her robes swirling around her. Severus just stared at her. When did she suddenly grow up into a young woman? Her eyes searched the room and landed on her father.A corner of her mouth lifted in amusement as she took in his seat near the door and his unapproachable posture. Tilting her head, she looked pointedly at the chair next to him a question in her eyes. He nodded once and she glided over and sat down next to him.
Severus looked at her out of the corner of his eye. With her hair pulled back, the resemblance to her mother was even more remarkable. His mind was drawn back to the first time he met Serena. The spell was broken when Esme leaned in and said quietly, "How long do these things usually last?"
"Longer than I would like," he replied.
"Did you finish the potions for the Infirmary yet?" she asked.
He just shook his head, wishing that he were back in his quiet lab.
"I would be willing to come back and help you finish up. I have nothing better to do," she said softly, hoping that their previous encounter meant that he would not push her away as he normally did.
He glanced at her, his eyes narrowing as he considered her offer. On the one hand, he wanted nothing more than the complete and utter privacy his laboratory provided. On the other hand, he knew he would be unable to complete the work on time by himself, and he did not want this year to be the first year that he was unable to stock the Infirmary storehouse. "Alright," he conceded, "if you have nothing better to do."
Esme sat back, a satisfied expression on her face. She looked up as Harry entered the room. He scanned the room, smiling widely when he spotted Esme. Snape was strangely pleased to see the smile waver slightly as the brat's gaze shifted to him. Harry ran a hand through his hair, and walked over to stand in front of them.
"Good afternoon, Esme, Professor Snape," he nodded his head toward his former professor, acknowledging him. His eyes went back to Esme. "I just wanted to thank you again for showing me how to properly clean your mother's books. I would not want to be responsible for any damage, and that potion seems really handy."
Esme felt her father turn slightly in his chair, staring at her. A blush spread up her cheeks and she managed to croak out, "It was not any trouble, Harry. It was my pleasure."
Harry smiled, his gaze flickering over to Snape. "Well, I better find a seat before Professor Dumbledore starts the meeting. I'll talk to you soon." He nodded toward Snape and said politely, "Professor."
Snape just smirked, watching as Harry walked away and made his way to what he mentally called the 'Gryffindor' section of the room. Shifting his attention to Esme, he took in the blush that was still present on her face and the way her eyes followed Harry's trek across the room. Merlin help him. Anything but this.
Esme turned and caught her father's scrutiny. "What?" she asked, defensively.
"You tell me. Suddenly, I find out that you are all chummy with Potter; using his first name like you were the oldest of friends, cleaning his books, and you are blushing like some besotted teenager. Is there something you wish to tell me?" Snape glared across the room at the affable man who was laughing at something Hagrid had said. He knew that he could handle anything, except a daughter who had, he sneered slightly, 'feelings' for Harry Potter.
"There is nothing I wish to tell you, Father, and glaring at Harry is not going to work. We are friends and we will remain so. I think I am beyond the age where you can tell me who I can and cannot be friends with." Esme replied, her green eyes flashing.
Snape snorted but his reply was cut off by the arrival of the Headmaster in a flurry of bright blue robes. Snape closed his mouth and shifted in his chair, somewhat grateful that the conversation had been interrupted. He found it difficult to talk to Esme at times. She was stubborn, willful, argumentative, and from time to time an irritating know-it-all. It was like trying to reason with himself.
"Ah, welcome everyone to the start of another year at Hogwarts," Dumbledore began, his eyes sweeping across the room and warmly smiling at everyone. "I am so happy to see all these eager faces ready to begin the new term." His eyes landed on Snape's scowling face, and his lips curled in amusement. Gazing back at the rest of the staff, he continued, "This is going to be a great year, one that will forever change the destiny of Hogwarts and the occupants of its hallowed walls."
Snape almost groaned. Was it really necessary to use the same speech year after year? You would think the man could come up with something different after all this time. At least some slight variation. Severus was sure that anyone of the tenured faculty members could have recited the welcoming speech and saved Albus his precious breath. He looked at Esme out of the corner of his eye and was amused to see her sitting on the edge of her seat, taking in every word the Headmaster was saying. Oh, to be young and impressionable again. Snape's attention shifted back to Headmaster as he continued.
"As you all are aware of, we have two new professors joining the staff here at Hogwarts. Harry Potter will be teaching our Defense Against the Dark Arts classes and with his background as an Auror, I am sure that he will bring some hands-on experiences to the students that will be greatly beneficial."
Snape watched in interest as Harry stiffened and looked coolly at the Headmaster. There appeared to be some sort of tension between the two. Narrowing his eyes in thought, he wondered what possible could have happened to separate the Headmaster from the Golden Boy's affections.
"Also, the Charms position will be filled by our very own Mesmordia Snape, who has decided to put off the university for a year."
Harry caught Esme's eye and mouthed 'Mesmordia', a smile tugging on his lips. Esme grimaced and stuck her tongue out in disgust, which caused Harry to laugh. Snape's arms tightened against his chest as he watched the exchange, causing him to take a deep breath as he cut off part of his air supply. Esme looked at her father sideways in concern. He loosened his arms and just shook his head at her unasked question. She turned back toward Harry and gave the man a brilliant smile that made Snape's stomach drop. He'd seen that smile so many times before on a similar face. To see that smile turned on Harry Potter of all people, was truly distressing.
Tuning out the Headmaster's speech, he tried to think of how he could convince Esme to end this, whatever it was, with Potter. Shaking his head in frustration, he knew that no matter what he said or did, she would do what she wanted to do. If he knew his daughter as well as he thought he did, forbidding her to see or become friendly with Potter would only increase the odds that she would run straight to him. No, this was a delicate operation: one that would require patience and cunning. There was only one way to turn Esme against Harry: to let the brat make a mess of things as he normally did. When that happened, Severus would be there to shatter any illusions she held about the Boy-Who-Lived. A slow smile crept up Snape's face as he eyed Potter. Oh yes, this plan held definite possibilities and tonight would be the perfect opportunity to begin to plant seeds of doubt in her mind.