Chapter 6: Early Advances Between Dusty Phials

Even though she would have never admitted it to anybody – especially not to her friends or the Potions Master himself – Hermione started to regret being Snape's apprentice relatively soon. After embarrassing herself so severely and barely being able to hold back her tears during their first lesson, it only went downhill from there.

Having to create the start-of-term assignments for all years (except for her own, of course) turned out to be the most pleasant task the teacher had planned for her. After only a few weeks of working under Professor Snape, her back was already in constant pain from crouching over to finely mince hundreds upon hundreds of Alihotsy leaves, her hands were terribly calloused from pestling the rock-like horns of Catalonian Fireballs, and her eyes were reddened and unceasingly burning after spending dozens of hours over bubbling cauldrons while stirring various types of concoctions. Even though she had always loved the art of potion-making and was actually thinking about pursuing a career in that field, she was now questioning whether or not she should continue with the apprenticeship. To make matters even worse, the Quidditch trials had started at the beginning of the second school week which meant that Ginny, Harry and Ron were too busy to spend a lot of time with her. And so only a few days into her final year, the teenager already felt pathetically lonely.

"I just don't understand why he's being so nasty to me," Hermione thought grimly as she made her way from the light-flooded Advanced Arithmancy Studies classroom on the castle's first floor to the bitter cold depths of the dungeons. Earlier this morning, an owl had delivered a note from her tutor to the window of her small suite. It had instructed her to come to his office at 10 a.m., despite the fact that that was her free period.

"I've never had these kinds of problems with any other professor! I mean, not to sound smug, but I'm one the most accomplished students Hogwarts has ever seen – and Head Girl on top of that! Every other teacher is at the point where they almost treat me as their equal, but Professor Snape doesn't even show me an ounce of respect. Why does he have to be so vicious and mean? Unlike Harry, Ron and his 'oh so cherished' Slytherins, I at least put some genuine effort into my work. And yet he still hates me for some reason!" The young witch furrowed her brows as her light steps echoed across the grey stone floor.

"And he's not even taking his job as my instructor seriously! How will hours of scrubbing stinky cauldrons and polishing the classroom's desks help me in becoming better at brewing potions?"

Soon enough, she reached the heavy door leading to the professor's office. Before she had the chance to knock, however, a disgruntled "Enter!" resounded from the room on the other side. Pushing the door open, she caught a first glimpse of the pale man's moody expression. "Great," she thought to herself. "It's not even midday and he's already in a sullen mood. Lucky me!"

"You're late," he snarled before she could even take a step into the room.

"Late? But it's only two past ten, Professor!" the girl said with a quick glance at her wristwatch.

A look of surprise crossed Snape's face for a millisecond before he was able to mask it. The small Muggle device looked almost identical to the one he had on his wrist at this exact moment; they were both made of the same plain black leather. While most electrical devices did not work at Hogwarts, old-fashioned watches seemed primitive enough to not go haywire around all the magic. He himself had found this out during his own years as a student, but he had yet to encounter anybody else who also knew of that piece of information. So he was genuinely caught off guard.

The Potions Master growled quietly. He was more than irritated with himself over this little surge of emotion. "Don't be foolish, Severus! Sooner or later, some student who grew up in the Muggle world would have been bound to discover this detail. That stupid brat isn't special in any way," he berated himself.

"I do believe my note said ten o'clock, not two past ten."

"Well, yes, but I had Advanced Arithmancy Studies until ten. Even though I left early, it still takes a few minutes to get from the first floor down to the dungeons, sir."

"Aren't you a witch, Miss Granger? As one, being punctual should be an easy task. I do seem to recall a period of time when you were able to attend several classes simultaneously. Yet you cannot arrive on time to a simple meeting?"

He saw her open her mouth to fire back, but he quickly cut her off. "Anyway, it is not my job to teach you basic manners. For your tardiness, I shall deduct ten points from Gryffindor. Now that that's settled, let's move on to the actual reason of why I ordered you here."

She frowned in frustration as he continued. "Yesterday, our beloved gamekeeper decided to introduce the first-year Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws to a pack of Crups. Interesting creatures, I'll admit; however, he seems to have forgotten to warn them about the beasts' dislike for Muggles beforehand. Two Muggle-born Hufflepuff students, fraternal twins to be exact, wore hand-knitted scarves made by their mother. Irritated by the scent, the alpha male attacked the both of them. Thankfully, they didn't obtain any severe injuries, but they are suffering from concussions and are still slipping in and out of consciousness. Madam Pomfrey has therefore asked me to prepare two fresh batches of Wideye Potion. As this is an urgent matter and the potion already takes a long time to brew as it is, I require your help to speed up the process."

The brunette had a shocked expression on her face. "Two injured students? Why was I not informed of this immediately?! As Head Girl, it is my duty to –"

Severus cut her off. "Lighten up, would you? I am sure that Madam Pomfrey had other things in mind while she was busy caring for those two students. Besides, it would have been unnecessary anyway. What would you have done – go to the infirmary and hold their little hands?"

The young woman was visibly boiling inside but kept her mouth shut. He continued, "I have asked Mr Filch to supervise the students I would have normally taught this period. Since they were given a written assignment and aren't working on a potentially dangerous potion, he should be able to manage. However, this means that the classroom is occupied. I therefore have no other choice than to use my personal laboratory for this task." He could see her hazel eyes light up immediately.

"Don't get any foolish ideas, Miss Granger. This will be a one-time-only occurrence. As you will enter my private chambers, I will expect you to behave accordingly. You will not touch anything or move around freely unless permitted. You will also not mention the fact that you entered my rooms to anyone." The wizard made a small pause before carrying on. "We will be using ingredients from my personal storage room, which you shall use sparingly. I will require your help for the first few steps after which the potion has to brew for several hours. Following this, I will perform the final steps on my own and then deliver the bottles myself after dinner. Now, we shouldn't waste any more time. Follow me."

Standing up abruptly, Snape left through the office door and started to make his way through the dungeons' winding hallways. Not once looking back to make sure that his apprentice was still behind him, he soon made a turn and entered a small passageway hidden behind a statue of a famous wizard, who lived during the 17th century. Reaching the unsightly painting leading to his quarters and ignoring the tedious knight living inside it as always, he quickly muttered his password – of course, making sure to be quiet enough so that the witch couldn't hear it. When the frame swung to the side, the both of them entered and found themselves in the teacher's sitting room.

He could see her look wander across the room, and he knew that she must have been taken aback by its appearance. Except for a small open-hearth fireplace and a black wooden door on each wall, every single inch of vertical space was covered in old, battered book shelves, which literally held thousands of literary pieces. Severus had always been a bookworm and while he owned an impressive collection of wizarding books – some of which were rare one-of-a-kind volumes – he also possessed a wide array of Muggle classics. And though he had always been a true Slytherin, the former Death Eater hadn't found it necessary to decorate his quarters in the corresponding colours. Truth be told, there wasn't a splatter of silver or emerald green to be found in any part of his private chambers. The two big wing chairs facing the fireplace were of a deep purple colour and the fuzzy rug on the floor in front of them was midnight blue. The large mirror hanging above the mantel as well as the elegant chandelier lightening up the room with faint candle light were coated in yellow gold. In the back of the sitting room, there was also a navy blue sofa and a small table made of Macassar ebony next to an old-fashioned secretary loaded with dozens of pieces of parchment paper and some ink-smeared quills.

Before the student could take in anything else, Severus ushered her through one of the four doors which led to the Potions Master's pride and joy: his private laboratory. It was a rather cold room, only embellished by the countless phials in all the colours of the rainbow that lined it. Over the years, he'd equipped his workroom with numerous appliances and tools from all over the world, thus making it a potions lab even the most experienced brewers would give a finger for. He kept it immaculately clean too as dust and other forms of dirt could easily distort the ultimate result of a potion. No one, not even the headmaster himself, had ever set foot in this room. And now he was standing here with the insufferable know-it-all. Severus sighed internally.

"All right, Miss Granger," he said. "We shall start immediately. I am sure that you have had the Wideye Potion recipe memorised since I taught it to you during your third year."

She nodded her head to confirm. "Good. While I will begin by crushing the snake fangs and the Standard Ingredient, I would like for you to heat up the Dried Billywig Stings in that cauldron over there. Remember that since the infirmary is in need of two batches, we will need to double the amount of every single component. You may take the required ingredients from my storage room in the back, but do not touch anything else."

For a short while, they worked in silence. Using an antique mortar obtained during a recent journey to Bulgaria, Severus was so focused on his task that he'd almost forgotten about his student's presence in the room. Once he had finished and looked up, however, he had to gulp. Having taken off her long robes and grey jumper, Granger was biting her chapped lips in concentration as she was standing bent over the bubbling cauldron, which was almost half her size. The first few buttons of her white blouse had been opened and its sleeves were rolled up to her elbows. Due to the heat and steam coming from the boiling potion, her brown locks were clinging onto her forehead as a few beads of sweat were rolling down from her pale face to her slender neck.

The half-blood quickly turned away. It was the first time that he noticed that the girl he had taken a dislike to during the very first lesson he'd taught her was not the same bushy-haired 11-year-old child with the buck teeth anymore. Unbeknownst to him, she had blossomed into an attractive young lady right in front of his eyes.

"Attractive?! She's my student! I must have been lacking female company for a bit too long if I am starting to have impure thoughts about the Golden Trio's Hermione Granger herself," he criticised himself angrily.

"Sir?"

Alarmed, Severus turned around only to stare directly into the widened eyes of the Gryffindor Princess. "Oh, I'm sorry! I didn't mean to startle you. It's just that I'm done with the Dried Billywig Stings and would now like to add the rest. If you're finished, that is," she said, seemingly a bit out of breath. The wizard noted that her cheeks were slightly blushed.

"Ah, yes, Miss Granger … Go ahead." He frowned at how hoarse his voice suddenly appeared to sound.