A/N: Woot! A new chapter. Life happened, and then I really just wasn't in the right state of mind to write. Although the chapter after this is already on it's way to my fabulous beta, so hopefully you'll see that soon.
As he carried the woman back from the forbidden forest he thanked the spiders. They had formed a protective circle around her while she fought the onslaught of power. A small spider led him directly to her with only a minimal amount of salivation. When he had picked her up she'd opened her eyes in defense only to close them again after saying his name. Now as she was completely unconscious, he assessed the damage. All the small scratches and her broken wrist would be easy enough to fix; however, Pepper Up potion wouldn't be strong enough for the exhaustion she'd feel in the morning.
He looked at her face. The angelic structure was his most redemptive heaven, and most condemning hell. So reminiscent of the face he thought to never gaze upon again. Her hair while dark was not naturally black; he could see the hair from the top of her scalp was the same rich color he remembered, mahogany brown with dark cherry highlights. He knew without chemical treatments her hair would hang heavily in soft waves.
He had always loved that about Chelsea, she'd learned to be herself with him. She hadn't bothered spelling her hair or make up. She had been beautiful, but unconventionally so. She'd had the same cat-like eyes as Amethyst, but Chelsea's were an interesting shade of aqua. While Amethyst's eyes used to have foretold wisdom, Chelsea's had the youthful naïveté. Now Amethyst's eyes were bitter, even when she smiled, he could tell it didn't reach her eyes. He followed the contour of her upper lip with his gaze. The exquisite torture of knowing exactly how to kiss the bow-shaped mouth, how he could part it with a well placed slip of the tongue. It truly pained him. It was the right face, the right body, but the wrong person.
He had loved Amethyst too, as a sister, as a daughter, as a friend, because of Chelsea.
He looked at the castle. He knew as soon as he walked into the unity house he'd be barraged, but not in the traditional sense. No, whereas Amethyst looked like Chelsea, Miss Hermione Granger acted like her. He remembered the perfectly manicured hand waiving in the great hall, Chelsea still was the only student ever to ask a question about being sorted. After Hermione sat in her first class he had downed three bottles of the finest Firewhiskey in Hogsmeade. He had learned to deal with the constant presence of Hermione, how he was going to deal with Amethyst remained to be seen.
Amethyst stirred in his arms and mumbled incoherently. He sighed and headed into the castle. Because the tower was next to the potions classroom, walking toward the new tower was still familiar enough that he had no need to pay attention, and his mind wandered. What was he to do about Hermione? He knew that the misguided headmaster had put her in his care, and he knew he was expected to fix her but, how? Finally he reached the entrance, and he extended his hand toward the painting and it swung open, revealing Granger in another negligee. This one was a deep vibrant purple. He hissed as she stepped closer and bent over the woman in his arms, her breasts almost spilling out of the nightdress.
"As thrilling as it is to have your femininity on display, Miss Granger, I would appreciate if you put on proper night attire." He said through clenched teeth.
"My father rid me of all my 'proper night attire' as you call it." She said monotone.
He truly did not know what to say to her so he averted his gaze and started walking through the portrait. Setting her down on the cream colored couch was not his smartest idea. Her hand fell to the cushion and left a small streak of blood. The house elves were godsend in this instance. They knew how to do the impossible, and getting blood out of a sofa was infinitely easier than getting it out of a stone.
Hermione looked at both of her professors, and then sighed. "Something has rendered Snape speechless. I'll have to remember that." She trekked into her bedroom and rifled through her trunk, grabbing the small box that held all of her medicinal potions. Then summoned a washcloth and basin from the bathroom, and walked back into the common room, past the still stoic professor. She set everything down on the floor, and then knelt next to the couch. She summoned water into the basin and dipped the washcloth in it.
Wiping the professors' wounds proved a tedious job, and Hermione's mind wandered. She offhandedly admired the lithe woman's form. Then her thoughts ran to Snape. He was a hard man, in the figurative and literal sense. His nose wasn't actually a beak as many students had assumed. If you actually looked at it you could see that it had just been broken one too many times. The lines that seemed permanently etched in his face actually diminished a great deal when he wasn't in the classroom, and he had a strong jaw line. All in all with a haircut he'd be good looking with a little attention to hygiene.
She stopped that train of thought before it started. She forced herself to think of the other woman in the room. She'd talked to her about things that she hadn't spoken to anyone about. Why'd she done that? Maybe it was because she was brought up to tell the truth first. She would've attributed it to that if she could but every time she tried it left a piece of her mind wriggling in doubt. Maybe it was because Amethyst seemed like an honest person? Every avenue of thought left either something to the imagination or it left Hermione uncomfortable because it either meant that she'd been persuaded or she'd gone soft.
She then thought about what they'd talked about. Had her father turned her into a whore? She thought of sex as an answer. Maybe he had. Maybe she would turn into the woman asking the man to leave the Knut on the nightstand. But nothing was concrete. Nothing was definite, and Hermione, for the first time in a while, wanted those definitive answers.
She startled out of her thoughts when she realized Snape had turned his head towards her and she'd unconsciously followed the wounds to Professor Sertlin's chest. Luckily, the wounds here were superficial and didn't trail far enough down to necessitate the removal of any clothes. She moved to her arm and muttered a low curse.
"Professor Snape?" She asked not looking up, when he didn't respond she tried again.
"Professor Snape?"
He startled and focused on her. "Yes?"
"I can't heal her wrist, sir." She said quietly. He looked at her, and realized she was exhausted. He didn't know the ramifications with pregnancy and sleep, however he saw the dark circles under her eyes deepen, the sallow shade of skin begin to rival his own. She should be resting; she shouldn't have to deal with petty fights because of his inability to control his emotions, and he didn't need his ward draining herself when he was still in the same room.
He cleared his throat as he saw her begin to sway slightly. "I believe I can take over from here and do what you cannot, if you'll allow me, Miss Granger?" He lifted a sardonic eyebrow, and then belatedly wished he hadn't. Her eyes welled with tears she tried to fight. He quickly saw her expression turn to one he didn't understand, and he gently let a small wisp of his legilimency brush only the forefront of her mind.
Why should it surprise you? You're nothing! You mean nothing to everyone! Your knowledge is failing you and where will you turn? Ha! Trying to raise a baby! It'll grow to hate you too. Just as your friends have, just as the Headmaster has learned to. Just as the only bloody man you trust. You mean nothing! It would be better without you here. And Severus bloody Snape as your savior is an almost laughable plight in itself. He fed you because you're too incompetent to do it yourself.
More splintered thoughts came his way. He was almost drowning in her self-loathing, and he pulled back carefully. He looked at her face and realized if someone didn't do something to stop this soon she would fall into that hole. He took Amethyst's wrist gingerly and healed it. Granger was still standing there not seeing anything around her. Everything else was healed, so he covered the unconscious professor, and turned to his most recent plight. He finally had a thought, one that would have worked on Chelsea.
"Miss Granger." She turned her head towards him.
"Yes, Professor Snape?" She sounded fragile.
"I need your assistance. I assume that is not disagreeable?" He found he had to work for the harsh 'professor' tones that he had perfected over the years.
"No, Professor." Still she showed no reaction.
"Fine." He managed to ground out. He wondered if he'd been the one to completely break her. Remembering his earlier assessment of her health he went into his rooms he grabbed a heavily diluted pepper up potion and walked back to the doorway, almost running over Hermione in the process. He could see the energy it had taken her to get to his doorway. He handed her a carefully measured dose of the potion. "Take it." He said, and she slowly but steadily drank it. He didn't know why she'd trusted him, but was severely disheartened to see her do so with no qualms or questions. She was that bloody submissive dog again. "Come." It didn't take him much to growl the last.
He led her into his private labs pointed her towards a chair and waited until she was seated.
"Miss Granger, prepare a strengthening draught."
"How much do you need me to brew, Professor?"
"Only enough for one vial, I assume she won't need any more before it expires." He answered honestly.
He saw a faint glimmer of life leech back into her eyes. "Who am I brewing for?"
"Obviously, the unconscious Miss Sertlin," The name tasted like acid on his tongue.
"She can't take it." Her tone brooked no argument...
"I assure you, although there are better students, your brewing spells are competent enough." When she made no move to get the supplies, he turned to her. "What?" he hissed.
He glared, and growled, "Explain."
"They're the poster children for homeopathy. Their bodies are simply not made to use things which are processed. The base of the concentrate is a thing that's not natural enough for her to tolerate." Her eyes, for the first time since she'd been back, held a faint shimmer of the knowledgeable light which had bothered him all these years.
He gritted his teeth and forcibly stopped the scathing comment that came so naturally, and then took a breath. "How is it you know this?"
"I spent most of my free time hoping to be anything other than I am. Being an elemental would allow me to escape, and so I read up on it." She seemed to make it less than it was, but he took it. He took the evasion because that light was growing.
He realized he may know how to fix her.
"You're aware that all the professors have been instructed to take an apprentice this year?" He asked, a plan formulating in his mind.
"Yes, that's why you agreed to take me as your mock apprentice, so I'd have an excuse for the classes I wouldn't be able to take. But, it's also so you didn't have to take a real apprentice." She had been told that by McGonagall, Harry and Ron. They'd tried to get her to apply to different teachers.
He nodded. "What do you plan to do once you are out of school?"
Her face pinched and she replied bitterly. "I'll be a mother and a wife, Professor. I'll be married to a man whose only example of wives is that they stay home and raise Quidditch teams. I will be doing exactly that."
He looked at her and realized she didn't have a choice. She'd gone from a man who'd controlled her, to a boy who'd do the same given the chance. She reminded him of a cat at that moment, a cat that hated cages and was being let out only to be put back in again.
"What if I said I'd help you in that area, plus give you an actual apprenticeship." he paused, drawing it out. "If you teach me all you know about elementals, and…" It wasn't a fair trade, and he knew she'd point that out. Grasping at straws he said the first thing that came to mind. "I, unfortunately, am not omniscient, and I have need of a watchful pair of eyes… I need to know someone's true intentions on being here."
She looked scandalized. "Who's?"
The only one who he could think of that would go along with a façade like this was in the next room. "Amethyst's."
"Professor Sertlin?" She stared at him. "Why?"
"I hardly think that is any of your business."
"I thought you loved her sister."
He blanched, "I cared for them both in different ways. Do you agree or not."
"I'm hardly able to watch her constantly."
"Do your best and you get a continued education and a qualified mediwitch to watch your child." He growled. If she said no he would just tell the headmaster he'd tried his best, that she just…
His musings were cut off as she answered. "You'd have to answer questions, and possibly act a little less… abrasive."
Bloody hell she was going to take this as she had that insipid house elf campaign. "Fine." He ground out.
"How will I work with the potions if I can't breathe any of the fumes in?"
"Maybe I was wrong in offering you this position. I assumed you knew of the bubblehead charm." He scathed.
"I didn't know if it would be sufficient, sir." She recoiled visibly.
He mentally smacked himself. Of course she didn't know. It wasn't taught as a safety charm.
"Do you agree?" He asked hoping to bring her back.
"I'd planned to apply for an apprentice with you when this year was over."
"Then you'll get what you want."
"But with a baby, and a husband I'll have to clear it with." She sighed, it was finally out, but only part of the reason she didn't want to marry Ron.
"Then do it for now." He sighed. He hadn't known what answer he wanted until he was fighting for it, and then he knew he not only wanted her to have the light back. He wanted to bring it back to stay, if only because he couldn't for Chelsea. He allowed himself a moment to mourn, then became the composed potions master again.
"You'd allow me to drop my apprenticeship if I was not allowed to continue?" She asked incredulous.
"Yes."
"Then I'll do it, Professor." She smiled.
"I'll ask the headmaster to perform the bonds tomorrow. I expect only the best from an apprentice, which is exactly why I haven't taken any before. Tell me exactly what I am adding to the mixture and what medicinal properties that product has."
He took out a dry metal bowl and began grabbing ingredients out of his supply closet laying them on the counter as he went. He allowed his fingers to touch each, make sure they were fresh.
He pinched a bunch of leaves and added them to the bowl.
"That was peppermint leaves. They're used for gastro-intestinal problems mainly; side uses would be as a decongestant, to prevent headaches, and to treat anxiety caused from depression. You grabbed a pinch of both alfalfa and nettle, both used to supplement calcium, iron, and vitamin c. Oat straw, which I believe you just grabbed is high in vitamins, but is commonly used as a nerve tonic. Lemon balm, used normally to treat either gastrointestinal problems, or mild depression. Raspberry leaf can be used for wounds, respiratory problems, or overall wellness in pregnancy." She said with precision.
He added water to the mixture and in one graceful movement of his arm, his wand was out and he heated the mixture, bringing it to a rolling boil. Soon the mixture was thick and gave a plume of flavorful steam.
"Grab a mug, Miss Granger." He said removing the spell from the cauldron. She did as he was told and handed it to him. He grabbed a mason jar and he could tell that she didn't recognize the clear syrup mixture.
"I don't know what that is." She sounded disappointed.
"I didn't expect you to. It's a mixture of sugar and water called simple syrup."
He transfigured the bowl into a teapot and filled the mug. He added two spoonfuls of the syrup before handing it to her. "Now drink."
"I thought this was for Miss Sertlin." She said looking at him oddly.
"She will have some as well. Take it." The dour man ground out.
She took it and cautiously took a sip. He could see her inhaling the steam and relaxing minutely.
"What do you know of the new class, Miss Granger?"
She swallowed the mouthful of tea and responded. "Only that you'll be teaching it, and other students will be under a spell or a potion to simulate a pregnancy."
He sighed. "I developed a potion when I found out about Chelsea's condition that would replicate her pregnancy in another person. The students in advanced potions will have a chance to partake in the class, with parental permission. After I have the number of students who will be in the class I will gather women who've had children previously and collect blood. You'll help me make the potion, and differentiate what vial goes to what student. All students, including you, will have to keep a journal about the changes in their body, in their psyche, and in their magic. The students will all be at various stages in pregnancy, about six weeks separating the extremes. It all depends on how much false unicorn root I put in the mixture, which is the only ingredient that is added right before it reaches the students lips. Simulators will be given out to the mothers for half of a term, then to the fathers for the same duration. Then everyone will get a break for the rest of the duration of the pregnancy. After the 'birth' you'll be living 'as a family', with partner and child, until the end of school.
"Unfortunately, Albus has deemed it necessary for a female teacher to take equal control of the classes. Miss Sertlin was picked as she has only a slightly heavier class load than I. She'll have an apprentice that will major in child development and DADA. Unfortunately you'll have to share in the spotlight of piloting the course with whoever she picks."
She thought for a moment. "I think that's actually a good idea. I mean we're going to be discussing the changes in our body with the teacher of that class. I really don't think a lot of the students in this are going to be comfortable telling you that their breasts are swelling, or they're having cravings for bleach."
"Bleach?"
"It's a muggle cleaning product." She said.
"I know what it is. I just wasn't aware People had cravings for bleach." He asked.
"It's almost always a marker for a dietary deficiency, but yes, people can and do crave bleach, ammonia, dirt, or any number of other disgusting or poisonous things. I really don't think that the majority of your students will think it's acceptable to come to you with something like that."
He made a gruff sound, then hearing his clock chime twice, sighed and said "Go to bed Miss Granger. It's early and we have to introduce the class tomorrow. We can meet after breakfast and finish discussing the class."
She nodded. "Thank you for the tea, Professor."
She slowly walked out of the lab.