Disclaimer: Anything you recognise belongs to the immeasurable genius of JK Rowling; I just like to borrow them and play with them.
Chapter 14
Hermione awoke with the prickling sensation of being watched, and raised her head to see the Potions master looming over her where she had slept in one of his armchairs.
"I thought I told you to leave," he said in a low voice. The image of him standing over her was slightly less intimidating than usual, though, as he was dressed only a shirt – black, this time – and trousers, which were rumpled as though he had slept in them. On closer inspection, Hermione thought he probably had slept in them, the dirt on the knees indicating they were the same pair he had been wearing last night.
"I... are you okay, sir?"
"Do not try to change the subject, Miss Granger," he spat. "Why are you still here?"
"I thought someone should be nearby in case you had any recurring side effects from the potion." It was the truth, but obviously not what Snape wanted to hear.
"You thought," he mocked. "And I suppose it didn't matter what I thought, or what I wanted, given that these are my quarters."
He turned away and crossed to the windows, staring out across the white-shrouded landscape. Hermione got up from her chair stiffly, her muscles protesting at having been cramped up all night. She noticed the mask was no longer lying on the hearth. He must have put it away before she awoke.
"It does matter what you want," she said, walking over to stand beside him. He snorted. "But you weren't... in your right mind last night."
"I was perfectly capable of taking care of myself," he snapped. "Your intrusion was inappropriate and unwanted, and if I'd been in my right mind, you'd have been out of here faster than a Firebolt."
Hermione took a step back, stung... but then she remembered Dumbledore's words, and saw Snape was doing exactly what the Headmaster had surmised: pushing her away.
She watched his profile, taking in the dark circles under his eyes, the way his jaw was set tightly as he relived the previous night's events in his mind. How could she get through to him when he kept closing up like this? Trying to talk to him didn't help, and compassion was mistaken for pity, neither of which he would accept. She sighed. Maybe she was trying too hard... or was she not trying hard enough? Perhaps she had yet to convince him of her sincerity.
Saying nothing, she laid a hand lightly on his forearm where it was crossed over his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin through the soft fabric of his shirt.
He pulled away as though her touch had burned him, though, hissing, "Do not assume such familiarity with me, Miss Granger. You overstep your bounds."
"Oh, bollocks," she scorned. "What bounds? You said it yourself. This is a war. Normal rules don't apply."
"The war is not within these rooms," he seethed angrily, "and as such, I am still your teacher and you are my student. You would do well to remember that is as far as anything between us goes."
"Don't be ridiculous," she returned, dimly wondering how many House points Gryffindor could afford to lose. "Regardless of who or what brought us into this situation in the first place, we're in it together now, and I'm not about to walk away."
"There's nothing to walk away from, Miss Granger," he replied, his voice getting louder. "None of this is your business, not any of it. You have no right to be involved."
"Bugger your rights!" she yelled.
"Dumbledore already did that when he told you my accursed life story!" he shouted back, his face contorting with rage before he tamped it down again, concealing all emotion.
She took a deep breath, willing herself not to just slap some sense into the man in front of her. "I didn't ask to be shown," she bit out waspishly. "I even tried to talk him out of it, but you know what the Headmaster is like, once he sets his heart on something."
"Yes, I know how he likes to play with people's lives as though they were mere pawns in some sick, twisted game," the Potions master snapped, pressing his fingers to the bridge of his nose as he crossed the room and sank into one of the armchairs. He didn't appear to have fully recovered from the previous night, she noted, as she returned to the other chair, hoping they might be able to have a civilised conversation.
How could she make him see reason? Honestly was the key, she decided. She couldn't manipulate the Head of Slytherin into believing what she said; the only option was to tell it like it was and hope he recognised her sincerity.
"Dumbledore was wrong to show me those memories," she began, and he snorted in disbelief. "Just hear me out, sir, please."
"Very well," he sighed, "go on."
"He should never have shown me, but he did. I can't change that, and short of an Obliviate, you can't expect me to just forget what I've seen and continue on as though everything is as it was before."
"Everything is as it was before, Miss Granger," Snape countered. "The only difference is that you are now aware of it."
He wasn't going to make this easy for her.
"Yes, I am aware of it," she said firmly, "and if I'd been aware of it before, no doubt I would have wanted to help then, too. Whatever you want to tell yourself, I'm not here because Dumbledore asked me to-" Snape opened his mouth to protest but she rushed on, "-yes, that's why I was here in the first place, but not now. I'm here because I want to be, because I choose to be. Do you really think I would spend so much time here if I thought it to be such a chore? I know anyone outside these rooms would think me strange for admitting it, but I've actually come to enjoy most of the time I've spent here."
She paused. He was staring at the fireplace, watching the dancing flames with an unreadable expression on his face. At least he appears to be listening, she thought, and decided to press her advantage.
"I've learnt so much from you," she went on. "You've taught me so much more than you had to, given me opportunities to learn things I'd never have otherwise known, and I'd like to be able to give you something in return."
"So you feel you owe me; that's why you're here?" he sneered.
"No!" I-" She sighed, exasperated, and then said softly, "Is it so hard to believe that somebody might actually care about you?"
He didn't answer her.
"Look," she said finally, "if you're pushing me away because you think you're putting me in danger, it's a waste of time. I'm already in danger for who I am, and who my friends are. I think you do like having me around, but you're afraid I'll get hurt if I get too close to you."
He blinked, and she could see a muscle twitching in his tightly clenched jaw as he turned to her, his voice low and angry, but also holding a hint of something else... was it fear?
"What did you say?"
She looked away for a moment. Of all the terrible things she'd seen of his life in Dumbledore's Pensieve, the loss of the only two people who had seemed to care about the young Severus Snape had affected her most of all. In a way, she thought that was what had driven him to become such a solitary person, cutting himself off from all the world so he'd never again become close enough to anyone to be hurt by their death.
She met his eyes again, imploring him to see the truth and compassion behind her words. "I know you push people away so they don't get hurt," she said softly, as she stood up and crossed the space between the two chairs. She rested a hand on his arm again, and this time, he didn't pull away. "But I'm willing to take that chance."
"You don't know what sort of chance you're taking," he protested, adding gravely, "This isn't some game, Miss Granger."
"I know that," she replied. "This is war, even within these rooms, and I need to feel like I'm contributing, like I'm doing something for the Order, even if it's something as mediocre as brewing a fresh headache potion for their spy."
She smiled wanly, and was heartened when he returned the expression, even if it was more of a twisted grimace than a smile.
"I do appreciate what you've done here," he said after a moment of contemplation. "Both in the lab, and... I'm just not... I'm not well-versed at expressing gratitude."
"You're not good at expressing much at all, sir. You're a closed book, to most people," she said with a short laugh, then, more seriously, said, "I don't want thanks, anyway."
"A Gryffindor who doesn't want recognition and praise?" he quipped. "Are you sure you were sorted into the right house?"
She released his arm and threw his own smirk back at him. "The Sorting Hat did want to put me in Ravenclaw, you know," she commented idly.
He snorted. "What ever made it consider that?"
They had slipped back into their easy banter so quickly, Hermione had hardly noticed the change until she found him smirking at her, amusement dancing in his tired eyes.
"So, we've reached an agreement, then?" she asked hesitantly.
"So it would seem," he sighed, scowling half-heartedly. "Yet again, it appears that meddling old fool will have his way."
She nodded and turned away, walking across the room to stare out the windows again, the landscape almost blinding as the sun broke through a gap in the clouds. She was happy he'd given in, although if he were doing so just to keep Dumbledore happy, there would always be some sort of underlying resentment.
Perhaps sensing her concern, she heard him walk up behind her, felt his eyes on her. She didn't turn around.
"Hermione."
"I'm listening," she said quietly.
"No," he said, "look at me."
She turned around. He was standing so close, she had to actually tilt her head up to meet his eyes, but she didn't step back, and neither did he.
"The truth is," he said, his dark eyes locked with her own, "having you as an assistant has been enjoyable. It's been a long while since I've taught anyone who really cares for what I'm teaching, let alone someone genuinely interested enough in the subject to want to spend extra time, learning, testing, researching. I might never have discovered your interest were it not for Dumbledore, and I doubt, even given your enthusiasm, you would have volunteered such information to me under normal classroom circumstances."
"As you said, I haven't allowed anyone close enough to be considered a friend in a long while and..." he cleared his throat, "... I won't deny I feel some sort of affinity with you, perhaps because your thirst for knowledge is so like my own was, at your age. I wasn't merely playing with words when I told the moonfilly you were my friend… so if you feel I am worth the risk, I would be pleased to consider you so."
She stared at him for a moment, moved by the sincerity of his confession, and then smiled.
"I'd be honoured if you considered me a friend, sir," she said truthfully.
He nodded, and seemed to exhale a breath. "You're braver than you think, Miss Granger, I'll give you that," he said.
She raised an eyebrow and batted him lightly in the arm. He returned both the expression and gesture in kind, and she laughed.
He cleared his throat after a moment, glancing at the clock on the mantle. "Now, I believe we have a potion to attend to, do we not?"
She nodded and followed him into the lab, trying not to grin too widely. Snape had finally conceded, not only to allow her to help him, without them going through this argument every time, but also that he did, in fact, enjoy her company and consider her a friend.
It was a momentous occasion, for both of them, if she wasn't mistaken.
Back in teacher mode, Snape instructed her to line up a dozen large flasks to store the antidote, and stood over the cauldron until the precise moment the sand in the hourglass timer ran out. He hefted the cauldron of the flame and moved it to the cooling stand, extinguishing the flame with a murmured word, but no sign of his wand.
Hermione leant forward cautiously to peer into the cauldron. The mixture was thin, and a sickly green colour.
"Is that what it's supposed to look like?" she said, wrinkling her nose at the unpleasant odour coming from the brew.
"Hmmm," Snape said noncommittally, picking up the first of the flasks and siphoning a portion of the brew into it. "Its appearance is correct based on my theoretical calculations, however the only way to be sure is to test it."
Assuming Snape meant to try a sample of the potion himself, Hermione retrieved a small phial from the shelf and held it out to him, but he didn't take it.
"What's that for?"
"I, uh, assumed you were going to test the potion?"
He shook his head. "No, we won't know how successful it is until it's been tested on someone suffering the full effects of the original potion."
She furrowed her brow, thinking. "But you're still suffering some effects from last night, aren't you?"
He eyed her shrewdly. "Yes," he said. "But I don't believe it's enough to prove conclusive of the antidote's success."
"Couldn't hurt to try, anyway," she murmured.
If he heard her, he ignored it, and continued to bottle the potion until all the flasks were filled. Then, however, he took the small phial she had left on the workbench and half-filled it from the nearest flask.
She watched interestedly.
"Well, Miss Granger," he bit out. "Are you merely going to sit there and watch, or make yourself useful and note down the results of this little test?"
She heard him snort as she scrambled for parchment and quill, and then looked confused to find him watching her expectantly.
"Sir?"
"This was your idea, Miss Granger," he smirked. "I am merely the text subject. I await your instructions."
She flushed and looked down at her blank parchment. "Right," she said hesitantly. "I suppose we should start by listing the symptoms you're currently experiencing, so we can compare them to those present after you've taken the antidote."
He nodded approvingly and she scribbled the question on the parchment before looking at him to answer.
"Headache," he said with a slight grimace. "Nausea, dizziness, fatigue, chills..."
"You feel all those symptoms now?" she asked, and he raised an eyebrow. How did he manage to stand up, let alone concentrate?
"Right," she murmured. "Anything else?"
He shook his head.
"Okay, uh, I guess you should, er, test the antidote, then," she faltered, feeling distinctly uncomfortable giving the Potions master instructions, although he seemed to be enjoying the game.
Without a word, he downed the contents of the phial, and Hermione held her breath, hoping Snape hadn't made a mistake and the potion was actually a deadly poison.
Nothing happened for a few minutes, and Hermione ended the silence by asking impatiently, "Well, do you feel any different?"
"I thought you'd never ask," he sneered lightly. "It appears, Miss Granger, we have a working antidote."
"The symptoms are gone?" She put aside the parchment and jumped off her stool, walking around the workbench to inspect the professor more closely.
"All gone," he confirmed, a smile playing on his lips. "However," he cautioned, "we still need to test it more thoroughly to be sure."
Her face broke into a broad grin. Yes, it still had to be tested, but she had no doubt the tests would be successful. She felt immensely proud to be a part of such a momentous creation, even if she had only contributed to the brewing, not the development of the potion in itself. She said as much to the Potions master.
"You've been more help than you realise," he commented, as he stoppered the flasks and she helped him move them to a lockable cabinet at the side of the room for safe-keeping. "Without you having taken over the brewing for Poppy, I would have had far less time to be working on the antidote. I wouldn't be anywhere near completing it by now."
She blushed at the praise, which she still wasn't used to receiving from her teacher. "So, what do we do next?"
He cleared the workbench with a flick of his wand and beckoning for her to follow him back into the sitting room. "Next, I need to speak with the Headmaster, and you," he said, glancing at the clock again, "have a train to catch, I believe."
Hermione glanced at the clock herself, realising it was just before noon. Lunch was about to be served in the Great Hall, and the Hogwarts Express was leaving at two o'clock to take the students home for Christmas.
"I suppose I should be going, then," she said awkwardly, unsure how to handle the strange, but nonetheless welcome, change in Snape's behaviour.
"Are you leaving the castle for Christmas, sir?" she asked, more out of the need for something to say rather than any real curiosity.
"No," he said shortly. "I have much to do, especially without the help of my assistant."
"Oh," she murmured. Was he angry she was leaving for the holidays? It was only a week, but it hadn't even occurred to her what might become of her duties when she'd told Dumbledore she would be going home for Christmas. Had Snape expected her to stay?
"Miss Granger," he admonished. "I thought you would recognise a joke, even from someone so unlikely to make one as myself."
"Oh!" she exclaimed, berating herself for not seeing the glimmer of amusement in his eyes earlier.
"Although," he conceded, "I daresay your assistance will be doubly appreciated when you return."
She smiled sheepishly. "Thank you, sir. Have a nice Christmas."
"And you, Miss Granger," he replied, as she walked over to the door leading to the corridor.
She opened the door and then stopped, turning back to face Snape. "Sir, do you think since we're... friends, you might consider calling me Hermione? I feel like I'm going to be told off whenever you call me Miss Granger."
He eyed her contemplatively for a moment, before replying. "I believe I could manage that, Hermione," he said, smirking, but then cautioned, "only within these rooms, and never within earshot of another person."
His concession was reasonable, and she smiled and wished him a Merry Christmas once more before closing the door between them. He hadn't offered her use of his own name, but she hadn't expected it. Though the man she'd just parted company with was definitely Severus, as opposed to Professor Snape, she wouldn't address him as such without his agreement.
Despite NEWTs drawing closer and the threat of war looming, Hermione felt, as she made her way down to the Great Hall for lunch with her classmates, that this Christmas was going to be a good one. And with only four days until December 25th, she'd just discovered another person to add to her list of friends to buy for.
To be continued
As always, thanks to everyone who has taken the time to review. I love hearing your comments and speculation. This chapter just didn't want to be written, for some reason, but it's done, and I have the next chapter planned and ready to write… mostly.
I'd love to hear what anyone thinks Hermione might buy Snape for Christmas ;)
