"Have you not exacted more than answers from me, Ms. Granger? The only thing left to give you is my life."
Were it another situation, Hermione would have smiled. It was quite romantic the way he put it. Instead, she settled for a slight curl of her lips, not entirely a smile.
"I did have more questions, Professor, but I could come back another day?"
"Another... Absolutely not! I have no more time to spare for you! We shall finish this, and be done forever." He glared down at her.
Hermione didn't say anything, but bit her lip.
"Oh out with it! I know you're dying to say something."
"Well, I was hoping..."
"What?" he snapped a few moments after she hesitated.
"I would be able to say things better if you weren't snapping at me all the time!"
"You are trespassing my peace, Granger, I have every right to snap at you!"
"Why do you always want to fight with me?"
"I have want for no such thing! I want the peace of oblivion back! If it wasn't for that meddlesome bastard, I would have never lost it!"
"Dumbledore merely suggested it, you didn't have to agree!"
"Would you have left it alone then? I very much doubt it! You with your utter nosy nature would find a way to stalk me and get your bloody answers! You just will never give up, even if it means ruining other people's privacy!"
"I don't... I didn't think..."
"Well that's a first!" He sneered at her.
"I..."
"That's exactly it, isn't it Granger?" he hissed, "All you ever think about is what you want and what you need, and in most cases, it's your obsessive want and need to know everything."
He was standing close to her now, she noticed, a little scared. He bent down near her ear, "Tell me, do you wish to know everything about me?"
She nodded slightly, not sure why she did it, maybe she was just too scared to think. But on second thoughts, she realised she DID want to know everything about snape. It scared her that she could be so bold.
"Yes," she whispered, while he drew back to his full height and Hermione had to crane her neck slightly.
He only stared down at her, his sneer in place, and stepped back.
"The attempt to know everything about me is futile. I suggest you not try. Now leave me," he commanded, turning to leave.
"Wait! You didn't let me finish!"
He said nothing, but didn't move further away, meaning he was waiting for her to say something.
"I need to get my Master in transfiguration, and I was hoping to get one in charms, potions and defence too."
"And this concerns me, how?" he threw over his shoulder in irritated tone.
"Well... I was thinking, that is, hoping you could tutor me in those?"
He turned and fixed her with an incredulous glare. "What makes you think I am in the least bit interested in doing that?" His eyebrow shot up, "Hmmm?"
"Well, I could help you with your research, and be your assistant in the business, gopher for you, so to speak, in exchange."
He seemed to think it over, and murmured, "Have my peace disturbed for a long time in order to have my peace disturbed for a longer time," he made a show of tapping his chin, "now that is a difficult choice to make, or..." She cringed at the sly smile on his face, "I could say no, throw you out and ward my Floo."
"You could, but I don't suppose I could retaliate by letting slip that you are still alive."
"Are you," he stepped close to her again, "threatening me, Ms. Granger?" he said in a silky voice, and she told herself that the small shiver was from fear.
"Of course not, professor, I couldn't think about doing such a thing."
"Is that right?" he considered her with an intense look that clearly showed his disbelief.
She only nodded, not trusting her voice to speak.
"Perhaps, but I'm sure that Dumbledore would be, how can I put it mildly," he thought for a minute, "just dying to ask someone who did that, why they did it, now, wouldn't he?"
Damn, she hadn't thought of that. She didn't say anything but stared defiantly (although scared) into his fathomless eyes. She could just stand here forever...
"Never threaten if you cannot carry through, Ms. Granger," she could hear the amusement colouring his warning. She felt a fool for even trying.
"Now, get out."
Hermione cursed, gathered her notes, and left.
There would be use for her, he thought. He could concentrate on his newer works if he left the research and the blasted documenting of all his notes, that his newly fired assistant was incapable of putting in the kind of order he wanted. Perhaps he could give her a chance; On the strictest terms of non-babbling that he demanded of course. The woman could become a nuisance.
He hadn't really meant the things he said about her lack of propriety and privacy, but there was no need for her to feel otherwise. These blasted Gryffindors would take the whole nine yards if offered an inch.
Albus was the prime example.
He sighed; he needed a gopher so to speak, he was already working on too many things, for lack of a competent and coherent assistance, and the Granger girl was not bad, as he put it.
Just too vociferous.
Perhaps there was hope for her yet. He walked to his lab to check on the newest potion being re-engineered by his charms; he was quite surprised at himself, he always thought he'd be making potions not … breaking them apart. But it was interesting work, and it satisfied him to rip apart some people's notions of how perfect their potions were.
Only the best survived his tests, and his reviews would either help sales or make the manufacturers bust. It helped people choose the best potions so they wouldn't have to worry about undue side effects. It was not exactly his intentions to help raise the cost, but some of the clients would return to him till they got his approval, and mark up the potions a little.
And of course his services were not cheap. It took a hell of a long time to finalise the formulas to build the charm, and almost the same amount of time to perfect the charm itself. Contrary to popular belief, he was neither incapable of mastering other fields, nor was he obsessed with potions. He was merely a master at potions, and of course many other subjects like Defense against the Dark Arts (not to mention the Dark Arts themselves), Arithmancy and charms. He was not all that interested in Transfiguration, but was adequate at it.
He had devoted his entire life to learning and spying, and now he was happily in control of the kind of work he did, or whom he favoured; he certainly didn't need to pretend that he liked people now. Once the Paranoid Seal (Name suggested by Albus, reasons obvious) gained credulity, he was at a liberty to choose clients, or to be an absolute bastard to people who deserved it. He was a potions' critic, and he, as per his nature, took his job with utmost seriousness. Those who thought they could just buy his seal were sorely mistaken, and people realised that after he literally reduced one product to ashes with his caustic words in the paper.
He was a bastard to most people anyway.
With these thoughts, he noted that the potion was surviving fairly well so far. It was the client's 12th trial. He would tell them not to waste any more money after this trial. He had no time, even if they paid extra, to deal with this level of ineptness.
He decided that he would indeed give the Granger woman a chance to prove her mettle. Or throw her out again, whatever the case.
Which meant that she would be curious about him, about his past, about everything under the sun that she thought was relevant to him. He would have to face that to some extent.
Or he could always curse her into silence. He was quite tempted with the latter choice.
He wrote a short, terse note, telling her to be in his living room Saturday morning, nine am sharp. Any other plans would either wait, or she would lose this opportunity.
He paused, then added at the end of the note, "If you ever step out of line again, Ms. Granger, you can be assured of not having the trouble of remembering anything at all about what has happened these past few days. And do learn to shut up."
He curled his lips a little and called the owl he used for personal deliveries.
"Take this to the insufferable Ms. Granger at Hogwarts," he instructed his majestic black eagle owl, "And do not bother to wait for a reply, Artemis," he stroked the bird gently on the head, and it responded with a hoot and friendly nip at his fingers. "I hope, Artemis, this will not cause either of us undue stress," he confided in the bird, who hooted and cocked it's head to one side, as if asking him to clarify.
"Perhaps Ms. Granger might turn useful to us, after all," he sent the great bird away on it's errand, and went back to his desk. The applications had piled and he had to sort through them to pick out his next commissioning clients. He would be glad to rid himself of the work involved, as he was sure Granger would leap at a chance.
But it also meant he would have to go back into making lesson plans; he groaned. His only consolation was that Granger was not like the other imbeciles with no brains. He sighed and settled down to the uninteresting job at hand.
He glanced at the clock. It was half seven; Granger had left only less than an hour ago, and she had made him tired. He smiled darkly; she would, no doubt, repay it in spades.
After all, he was a known taskmaster.