Disclaimer: Anything you recognise belongs to the immeasurable genius of JK Rowling; I just like to borrow them and play with them.


Chapter Five

Hermione stretched and massaged the muscles in the back of her neck, sore from bending too long over the steaming cauldron. It was almost three hours since Professor Snape had been summoned, leaving her in charge of the Wolfsbane, though in her concentration, she had hardly noticed the time pass.

She truly appreciated, now, the skills and dedication it must have taken Snape to become a Master of Potions. Brews such as the one she had just completed were only the surface of a Master's capabilities, yet required utmost precision. Stirring had to be precise in both number and speed, ingredients added at exact moments, and the flame of the burner carefully controlled.

As with all her Potions work, the brew appeared exactly as described in the text. The real test, however, would be the change in colour as the potion cooled. Properly brewed, the murky grey-green liquid should lighten to a very pale grey when cooled. Any trace of green meant an error in brewing, and the retention of the poisonous component of the hellebore. Such a concoction would be fatal to the drinker.

Anxiously, she watched the cooling potion for signs of the change. Nothing so far, and she consulted the textbook again: "At the precise moment the brew reaches 174 degrees Fahrenheit, the colour-change should begin to take place."

She bit her lip nervously. She knew a number of temperature detection charms, but she was hesitant to use any of them on such a volatile mixture. What I wouldn't give for a Muggle thermometer right now, she thought wryly. If there was one thing she'd learnt in her years in the magical world, it was that wizards didn't always do it better. Mostly, but not always.

She started suddenly as the cauldron gave a large belch. Then there was a soft hiss as the potion faded to pale grey without a hint of green.

"Ten points to Gryffindor, Miss Granger," she mimicked, then snorted. That will be the day. I've brewed a Master level potion and I bet he won't even have the grace to say well done.

She made quick work of cleaning up most of the lab while waiting for the potion to finish cooling. As instructed, she bottled the potion but for a goblet-full, then cleaned the cauldron. Looking around, she felt satisfied she'd left Snape's private laboratory in pristine condition. She double-checked all the work benches were clean, and then picked up the goblet of potion to take to Professor Lupin.

The door snapped shut behind her as she exited the room, the same dull blue shimmer as before indicating the reappearance of the wards. A quick muttered Lumos gave her just enough light to navigate the narrow stairwell and passageway, before she found herself back in his classroom office.

From the passage to the office, the office to the classroom and the classroom to the main dungeon corridor, all the doors warded themselves with the same spell as she closed them. And I thought Moody was paranoid, she mused. It was one thing to ward a room full of dangerous potions ingredients, but this was ridiculous!

Leaving the dungeons behind, she made her way carefully up three flights of stairs and through the classroom to the Defence teacher's office. The door at the top of the stone stairs was ajar, and she could hear low voices coming from within. She knocked tentatively, and a moment later, the door opened to reveal Professor Lupin and the Headmaster sitting either side of the desk, with a round porcelain teapot and two cups between them.

"Ah, Miss Granger!" said the Headmaster, glancing at the goblet still held carefully in her hands. "I trust the brewing was a success."

She nodded, "I think so, Professor."

She handed the goblet to Lupin and watched as he took a whiff of the brew and wrinkled his nose.

"It smells right," he said, and proceeded to drink the entire gobletful down in one gulp. "Ughhh," he shuddered, as he set the empty cup on the table. "It certainly tastes right. I had hoped that Severus, in all his brilliance, might have found a way to make it taste better after all these years."

The Headmaster chuckled.

"Thank you, Hermione," Lupin said seriously. "I'm lucky to have one, let alone two, people skilled enough to brew this potion for me. You truly are a very talented young witch."

"Thank you, Professor," she replied, flushing slightly. "But Professor Snape still did most of the preparation. Everything had to be so precise. It would have taken me hours to complete what he managed in minutes. He really is brilliant when it comes to Potions, isn't he?" she added.

Both Professors nodded in agreement, Dumbledore somewhat sadly.

"That he is, Hermione," Lupin elaborate. "I was in class with him for seven years, and the only time his potion came out less than perfect was—"

"Ahem."

Lupin trailed off at the Headmaster's loud, obvious interruption and Hermione gave them both a quizzical look.

"I think enough of Severus' past has gone on display, for now," he said softly.

Now it was Lupin's turn to give the Headmaster a curious look.

"Well," said Dumbledore, feigning unawareness of Lupin's confusion. "We better leave you to sleep that potion off, Remus. Come along, Hermione. I'd like a word about your Head Girl duties."

Hermione allowed herself to be ushered from Professor Lupin's office, and didn't speak until they reached the stone gargoyle at the foot of the Headmaster's hidden staircase, which sprang aside without a spoken password from the aging wizard.

"Headmaster, Professor Snape didn't come back to the lab before I left, but I've left everything as I found it. I wasn't sure how he preferred to ward the storage cupboards, but the room seemed to lock itself when I left."

"That should be quite all right, Miss Granger," he assured her, as they reached the top of the stairs and entered his office. He gestured her into one of the chair by the fireplace. "I will be sure to mention your success with the potion to Professor Snape when he returns. I may even be able to persuade him to award you some House points."

If Hermione had been any other student, at that moment, she would have been imagining with glee the look on Snape's face if he were forced to award points to Gryffindor. As it was, she hardly heard the comment about the points.

"He hasn't returned?"

"Not yet," said Dumbledore heavily. "Although often he does not return until just before dawn, depending on the circumstances of the night."

Depending on how many raids have taken place, Hermione thought, her stomach turning at the thought of another front page Daily Prophet report; another family massacred.

"Have no fear, Miss Granger," Dumbledore assured her. "Severus has been doing this for a very long while. I have as much confidence in his skills as a spy as I do in his talent as a Potions master. Every summons he attends brings us one step closer to discovering Voldemort's plans for a final confrontation."

"It also brings Professor Snape one step closer to death," she murmured sadly, almost to herself.

Dumbledore regarded her carefully over the top of his half-moon glasses.

"Forgive me, Miss Granger," he said, conjuring a tea set – silver, this time – with a wave of his hand. "I sometimes forget how perceptive you are."

She favoured him with a wan smile as she accepted the steaming cup of tea. True, she was perceptive, but she had discovered it wasn't always a good thing. It had certainly given her a lot more to worry about in the last few days.

"I hope Severus didn't direct any of his anger towards you, earlier this evening," Dumbledore inquired.

She shook her head. "No, sir. He was angry, but all he said was that we were in the lab to work, and he wouldn't hear mention of anything unrelated to the potion."

"Ah, that sounds like Severus," he mused. "He's a brilliant man, and very dedicated to his work, but he tends to use it as a front when he is upset."

Hermione didn't have time to digest the comment because at that moment, a piercing cry rang out across the room, and Fawkes the phoenix appeared in a blaze of glorious colour. The beautiful bird circled the room twice, before coming to rest on its perch near Dumbledore's desk.

"Speak of the devil; is that not the Muggle saying, Miss Granger? I believe Severus will be with us shortly."

"I'll go, sir," she said, standing up quickly.

"I think, actually, I may ask you to stay," the Headmaster replied, motioning for her to retake her seat.

She stood undecided for a moment. On one hand, she wanted to see the Potions professor and reassure herself that he had, indeed, returned in one piece. The feeling she had in the pit of her stomach all night, knowing he may be in danger, was something she was unwilling to examine at the present time.

On the other hand, she was scared of how he would react to her now, without the Wolfsbane Potion requiring their utmost attention. Perhaps resolving the matter with Dumbledore present was a good idea. Still... it felt wrong.

"Sir, it's not my place," she began, but the Headmaster raised his hand.

"I wish for you to stay," he said firmly. "Besides, if Severus has anything to report, it may do us well to have a different point of view. As I said, you are very perceptive."

She sat down again, twisting the folds of her robes nervously in her hands. Dumbledore, too, sat down, after first conjuring another armchair to join their two by the fire.

A moment later, they heard heavy boots on the stone steps, and the wooden door swung open.


To be continued

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