Left Behind
Chapter Eight
"The school of suffering tempers man, the arena of combat strengthens the soul."
The Reign of Greed
The Headmaster would not have her clean anything.
This she knew because she noticed how brighter students tended to be assigned academically related work for detention. She'd made this observation to Professor Lupin when he was still their professor and he'd confessed that the professors simply could not resist the chance to pass off grunt work to students who could be expected to do it reasonably well. She had laughed at that time, not realising how the information would benefit her much later on.
'So cutting or brewing it is.' In the mirror earlier, Hermione had seen herself fairly spruced up and as mature as she could get with a lengthier school skirt, neatly pressed blouse and her best robes. Underneath it all, separated from her skin only by a hair's breadth of air lay the horcrux, beating like a living heart against hers.
There. Again. She felt the silent tremor of her ribcage crushing in on itself – or at least, what she thought it would feel like should such a thing happen. A split-second and it was gone, leaving her gasping and breathless, leaning against the wardrobe. Quick analysis allowed her to renew the protective charms around the horcrux and reminded her that she needed to keep her strength up.
Her analytical mind had also quickly found the easiest route to added time with the Headmaster: a repeat of her performance with Professor McGonagall, or in short, apprenticeship. She carefully catalogued away the regret at losing her spot for Transfiguration knowing full well that yet again, this was not the time to become maudlin. Instead, she gobbled down a bit of her pepper-up-laced chocolate then dabbed a bit of the Luscious Lips, which the twins had miraculously not tampered with, hoping it might be of help.
'Well, if I'm going to die, I'm going to die looking good.' Grinning to herself, she raised her hand to knock on the dungeons door.
As it swung open and hummed under her touch, she wondered perhaps if the lipgloss had been too much. She did not wonder long, however, because of the quick directive to –
"'Prepare enough Pepper-Up, Ms. Granger, for thirty students. Use these ingredients."
Laid out before her were standard ingredients in their rawest forms. Newt eyes with pupils intact, snargaluff pods still attached to the vines, the berries of the sneezewort nestled among the poison-tipped thorns. It was either the Professor had ordered ingredients from a shockingly incompetent apothecary or this was some kind of test.
Hermione was smiling inside. She could do tests.
Unlike what most dunderheads would have done, Headmaster Snape noticed Ms. Granger scribbling on parchment what he supposed were her computations for the changes that brewing in bulk would require before she sought a larger cauldron. It seemed she knew the theoretical basics of mass potioneering because she did not resort to simply tripling ingredient measurement. Practical basics, as well, for he observed nimble fingers making quick work of the salamander skin he had left not flayed. He was surprised to note some techniques he had neither taught them nor had them read about. Ms. Granger was not pedantic in her method but more of practiced and sure in her handling. Tempted as he was to begin questioning, he could not disturb the brewing process, however, and marked papers while waiting until her two hour's worth of effort had been finished.
For Hermione, Potions was not her first passion but it came as a close second. It was for this reason, she hoped, that her apprenticeship scheme would not come across as utter fraud. She had turned from the worktable to bring the tray of cooling vials to the Headmaster's desk when she found larger hands taking the tray from her.
"Thank you, Ms. Granger," The Headmaster carried the vials to a cupboard, returning swiftly to assist her in cleaning up the equipment.
"You're welcome, Sir."
Hermione was thankful that she had empty bowls and knives in hand for she was now faced with the necessity of bluffing to the master spy himself and she was aware that fidgeting in fear would undermine whatever chance she had. Her being muggleborn or from Gryffindor were surely not plus factors. All she had were the outward appearance of maturity, a good work ethic, and a track record of excellence that she knew even he had to admit. Then again, who had ever understood the mind of this man or made him admit to anything he didn't wish?
"Ms. Granger," the girl in question met her professors' tone of courteous detachment with but a quick double blink of the eye, "have you ever read about mass potioneering?"
"It was mentioned briefly in the Seventh Year text, however, I regret that I have read only a little more about it outside the book, Sir."
"Ah yes, well, very few do."
Work done, he led her, at that moment, to sit on the chair in front of his desk – a courteous act both contradictory with his usual behaviour and resonant with the silent, polite man she'd witnessed tonight. He had let her brew in peace, hadn't he?
A miracle, quite frankly.
"What do you know about it, Ms Granger?"
Much as she hated to admit, "Not much, Sir," and the admission caused the professor's left eyebrow to reach its familiar added height, "but I do know that it isn't as basic as increasing ingredients wholly in order to increase the production output. I mean, it's not just a matter of doubling the ingredients to get double the potion volume. Certain formulae for mixing ingredients affect the outcome and need to be computed."
The line of black above his eye lowered to meet the other's height and the thin lips parted into a momentary smirk that Hermione could have sworn meant he was pleased by her response. But that couldn't be, could it?
"Ms. Granger, I find,' Hermione found the coal slivers now forming full black diamonds, looking straight at her, as if addressing the concern directly to her eyes. "your work was... adequate."
They both watched his long digits tipping over and over again one of the glass vials she had prepared just minutes ago, its translucent liquid contents sloshing as he spoke.
"I find my added duties" – as Headmaster, it need not be said, it was too painful to be said – "time- consuming and I seem to need capable assistance." She felt his gaze fixed on her again. "Would you consider, Ms. Granger, assisting me in brewing the potions the school requires?"
She was silenced by surprise; plausibly, he mistook it for apprehension.
"You will, of course, receive extra credit should you be discreet about it."
That snapped her out of her reverie. Snape offering extra credit without her asking for it? That was simply unheard of. Surely, something was afoot. Yet it would also serve her purposes to be in close proximity to the Headmaster, to even, Slytherin a tactic as it might appear, fall into the trap willingly so as to be close enough to find what it is all about and Hermione planned to take full advantage of that. It was also a plus point for her to save the apprenticeship proposal should she need to bargain for more time one day.
"Thank you, Sir." Her tone sincere and her heart simultaneously lighter and heavier, "Even without the credit, I would be honoured to help."
The gleam in his eye of him being pleased was gone, replaced with only a dry look and the dull tone of business to accomplish. "Very well then. Come by after diner whenever you are free and you can do work then, so long as you keep me informed me of what you are doing. I shall leave a list of what the infirmary, various teachers, specific students and even the gamekeeper requires. You need not inform me in advance if you're coming for I am always in my laboratory until curfew."
Ignoring the veiled reminder, Hermione smiled in response and thanked him before leaving. She then set off for the Room of Requirement, finding she needed time to think. She had school work to finish, horcruxes to hunt, a handful of hours of sleep to be savoured and she was unsure of what exactly had just happened.
But for all intents and purposes, without lifting the figurative finger, it is interesting to note that Hermione Granger's career as a spy on the master of all spies had unequivocally and unexplainably begun.
AN: I'm sorry it took forever to update. Shortest chapter to date, as well. Not that you guys would mind too much, I think, since greater fics have taken ages, so I'm sure you'd forgive a newbie with an okay fic for taking even longer, right? :D
Also, I'm in need of a beta because I'd like to post this up in PP and Ashwinder, but I feel queasy approaching people so um.. if you're interested, drop me a note so I can check out your profile and see if we'll work fine? Thank you.