A Promise to be Better 9
Author: Raven Dancer
disclaimer: All characters belong to J.K. Rowling except for the Drs. Barnes and Beryl. I receive no monetary compensation for these works.
Summary: After a good night's sleep and another of Barnes' potions, Snape tutors Neville and Hermione.
Snape had walked about his rooms just looking at the chairs, the dry herbs, the note. He rearranged a few potions bottles that were on the shelf. Tugged on the blanket on the back of the couch. Barnes sat in a chair reading a book pretending to be disinterested.
Finally the Potions Master disappeared into the bedroom. Using a listening charm Barnes closely monitored the scraping of drawers and the closet being opened. Hangers clattered quietly as clothing softly whispered. Snape then moved into his washroom, retrieving a bottle of shampoo.
Returning to the main room, he went to his cupboards and added several ingredients to the bottle. "I thought I'd dye my hair all one color," Snape said by way of explanation.
"Ah, yes. Some peroxide? Going to go blonde on us, Severus?" Barnes asked with great innocence. Snape just sneered. Pocketing the bottle the Potions Master picked up his clothes and indicated he was ready to go.
They met no one on the return trip. The tired wizard put his things into the Headmaster's bedroom then sat near the Healer by the fire.
"I have to tutor two students tomorrow afternoon, Jeffrey," Snape had said, "so if possible could we try the next potion early on? I'd like to work with Longbottom and Granger."
Assured that it would be no problem, Barnes suggested dinner. Snape managed to eat enough to satisfy the doctor then showered. When he returned to make his goodnights the Healer noted his hair was uniformly black again. Wishing him good dreams, Snape went into the bedroom.
He lie silently under the covers, his mind racing over all the problems he'd caused, unable to sleep. He énoted the door was slightly open; the Healer checked on him several times. Snape figured he hadn't tricked the wizard at all, but at least Barnes was giving him time to be alone.
Lying there he could hear the door open and Dumbledore returning. Soft voices, no way to discern what was being said. He really didn't want to know, to be honest. He curled up on his side around a pillow. The evening's potion was starting to work; thoughts stopped racing, but sleep didn't come.
More movement as the door opened and a light came on. He listened to someone, probably the Headmaster, opening drawers and closet, clothing being shrugged off and slipped on. Another person entered the room and he felt a weight on the side of the bed, then a curious hand touched his hair.
"Playing opossum, Severus?" the mischievous tone in Dumbledore's voice caused a small smile.
"No," Snape whispered back, "just resting." Affectionate tug on his hair. Then covers opened letting in the cold air. After a moment another weight behind him, another body.
Snape idly wondered about the sleeping arrangement. He'd slept with Albus before, especially when he was younger and returning from a mission. The older man had monitored his dreams, sheltering him from the terror. Later, as Voldemort grew more insane, Dumbledore would soothe nerves damaged by curses.
As far as the doctor being there, Snape knew that wizarding healers would sleep with their patients to continue taking care of them. A good healer could continue treatment throughout the night. There was nothing strange about sleeping with Barnes, then, either.
Maybe it was because both men were sleeping with him. He considered feeling guilty, or ashamed, of creating the situation, of needing both wizards just to get through the night (and day). He was glad of the potion he'd taken. He could no longer concentrate on his emotional upheaval.
Once more snugged between the two wizards, Snape drifted into sleep feeling like a storm-tossed ship finally in safe harbour. He slept the night waking when Dumbledore called him to breakfast. Not particularly hungry, the Potions Master forced down a small bowl of oatmeal, grumbling when Barnes added fresh milk and some sugar to sweeten it. Snape actually liked hot cereal fixed this way, but didn't feel he deserved the treat.
The Healer mixed a new potion in a cup of apricot juice. Snape thinned the thick liquid with a little water, lip curling at the texture.
*Mental note #24, no vicid juice* Barnes thought. The Saturday potion made Snape very thirsty and listless for the bulk of the morning and early afternoon. What appetite there had been was wiped out and it was difficult to get the Potions Master to eat anything.
"Well, cross that one off, too," Barnes muttered to the Headmaster sitting across the desk, watching Snape stand at the open window staring blankly out over the brilliant fall day. The cold breeze ruffled his hair as he shifted to wrap his arms around himself.
"Exactly what are you looking for, Jeffrey?" Dumbledore asked, shuffling the ever-present parchments about.
"Well, usually an anti-anxiety potion will relieve the physical manifestations of stress: poor stomach, jittery nerves, rigid muscles, and so on. He's just sensitive," Barnes sighed. "You'd think someone who could withstand the cruciatus curse as long as he can would tolerate these potions better."
Dumbledore looked up at the silent wizard. "He withstands them by being so in-control. The potions removes his ability to control himself," the Headmaster pointed out. "Will he be able to tutor his students or should I arrange a different time?" the older man continued.
"He'll be ready. This potion's very nearly worn off," he watched as Snape moved away from the window and poured a cup of hot tea. He appeared to notice the tray of breads and cookies and selected one to dunk into the cup.
"See? Appetite's picking up," Barnes nodded towards the Potions Master.
"Good thing, it's nearly two and I don't think he's had more than the cereal you forced down him earlier," Dumbledore stopped moving the various messages and stretched. With a smooth sweep he stood and crossed over to his friend.
"Severus? Feel like some lunch now?" Dumbledore asked as he poured tea out for himself. Snape looked at the older man as if wondering where he'd come from, then glanced across the room as Barnes began to stand up.
"I can just eat this," he said quietly, "no trouble."
"I'd like some soup about now. The wind is fresh," the Headmaster shivered slightly. Snape nodded in agreement and turned to push the window mostly closed. Dobby was summoned and soon a pot of barley soup sat on the table with warm bread and iced juice.
Snape's hands were cold to the touch Dumbledore noticed as he passed bread. He wondered if the wizard was having trouble keeping warm on top of the other side-effects. Standing in the cold window in leggings and a shirt was not the best thing given how worn down he was. At least the soup would be warming. He made sure to ladle plenty of rich, fragrant broth into the bowl before setting it in front of Snape.
Barnes stood next to the table. "I am going back to the clinic for a few hours," the Healer said. "I want to touch base with my dad and get a couple of things."
"More potions?" Snape asked lightly, bringing a spoonful of steaming liquid to his nose to smell, then opened his mouth to taste.
"That and I need to pick up some reference literature to read for next week. I have a conference to attend Thursday in Glasgow, I'm sitting on a panel," the Healer explained.
"If you leave the potion for Severus," Dumbledore offered, "you could stay in town tonight." Barnes looked at the two men. It would make it much easier for him to stay in town and get a few things done. Snape appeared to be holding his own and the Headmaster was quite capable of sending for him if needed.
"I think I will, now that you offer," the Healer replied. He rummaged through his bag getting out the evening potion.
"I'll walk you down to the dungeons, Severus, then check on a few things while you're working," Dumbledore glanced over at the wizard eating his soup with more interest now. He nodded his agreement. More bread was nudged over to him and he selected a piece, tearing it so it could be dipped into the broth.
With the potion set on the table for later Barnes headed out the door and was off to Hogsmeade. Dumbledore surreptitiously watched the wizard eat the soup. He wanted Snape to fill himself, to build up his strength. Voldemort wasn't finished with testing Snape, not by half. The few tasks he'd been called to perform were nothing, not even much of a test of loyalty. Unfortunately, Voldemort had probably already decided he was a traitor. He was only trying to decide if Snape were of any use alive.
Such gloomy thoughts marred the Headmaster's normally peaceful countenance. Looking up the Potions Master caught the dark ruminations. He set down his spoon and folded his hands into his lap.
"Headmaster?" he queried. No response.
"Albus?" gentler this time. The older man blinked and looked at Snape.
"Yes, Severus?" he returned, flustered.
"I'd generally offer a knut for your thoughts, but I have a feeling this is one time I don't want to know," the Potions Master offered a small smile. Dumbledore held his eyes a moment, then allowed an answering smile.
"I don't believe so," he answered, reaching for the pot. Fresh soup was ladled into Snape's bowl. "A little more soup, Severus? Tutoring is sure to be hard work," a shy smile as Snape returned to eating the warm broth. Dumbledore stood and turned slightly, waving a blanket off the couch. This was carefully tucked around the younger man's shoulders and back, judiciously warmed by a small charm. A shiver passed through his body, accepting the warmth.
"Thank you," Snape said.
"Your welcome. I feel much warmer now," Dumbledore teased, sitting back down in his seat. He took some soup and bread, keeping his friend company.
Together they walked through the mostly empty hallways. Staff was off for the weekend, students were not yet back from town or out enjoying the last of a cold autumn day. Snape opened the lab door waving on lights.
"I think some bright paint, maybe yellow? To perk up this room," Dumbledore started in on an old joke.
"Albus," growled the Potions Master.
"Maybe a window, about there," he waved his hand creating a delightful window full of summer sunlight.
"This is a dungeon," grumbled the younger man, waving his hand. The gray stone returned, now sporting manacles and chains.
"New discipline technique, Professor?" the Headmaster countered, waving fresh flowers in the links. The greenery spruced up the dismal wall. Snape only snorted, leaving the latest handiwork in place for the moment. He started to rummage through his desk intent on finding the recipe he'd copied for Longbottom. This was secured.
"You don't have to hang around, Headmaster," Snape said as politely as possible.
"I don't intend to, Severus. I do need to check on a few rooms this afternoon. I'll be back before six," he smiled and started to leave the room. He noticed the wall slowly melting back to its original stone. He flicked his fingers, casting a timed charm. He loved getting in the last jab.
Snape was aware of the Headmaster's little coup d' grace, but decided to let it go for now. It was an old game, one they'd engaged in many years ago when tensions were running high. It made him feel better. Albus remembered.
A few minutes later a scuffle at the door coupled with a sharp whisper announced the coming of his tutoring students. Hermione Granger came in first pulling on a reluctant Neville Longbottom. Looking up from his desk, faced tooled in coolness, he watched them come into the room and towards his desk.
"Well, a few minutes past," he remarked.
"S-sorry," began Longbottom.
"Professor McGonagall stopped us," Granger added. Snape didn't quite contain the flash of anger that crossed his face. But at the least he did not act on it. He dismissed their comments with a wave of his hand and stood, gathering the note for the boy.
"Here, Longbottom. We'll pull two cauldrons together. You may work on this table. Miss Granger will work on the other. I," he said with a sneering smile, "will sit here where I can watch you while I review Granger's notes." Snape pulled a chair which put him close to Neville but nearest to Hermione. He handed the recipe to her who in turn handed it to the boy.
"Line up all the ingredients first, Neville," Hermione said quietly, "then we'll check them before you start brewing. If you need any thing, Longbottom, the student cupboard is unlocked," Snape added in his most unpressing tones. He turned his full attention on the young witch pulling books and parchment out of her school sack.
"Brought half the library, Ms. Granger?" the Potions Master said with a hint of sarcasm. She Looked at him, sizing him up, then smirked.
"Oh no, sir. Just the reference section," she replied in kind and was rewarded by a very small smile. She set out her quill and ink bottle. Snape was amused by her careful set-up.
"And what will we be brewing today?" he asked.
"I wanted to brew a potion to remove warts," she said. The Potions Master looked at her curiously, but did not ask. Hermione squirmed only a little.
"My father. He's a dentist. That's a muggle that takes care of people's teeth. He's always had problems with warts on his hands," she explained.
"But warts aren't contagious," Snape began.
"I know that, you know that, but his customers don't really believe it. Dad gets a little embarrassed when some of his clients tease him," she blushed slightly as she continued. Snape raised a dismissive hand.
"I understand," he ended the confession. "Show me which potions you've found."
So while Neville quietly sliced and shredded and prepared under the quietly observant eyes of the Professor, Hermione discussed three different potions she'd discovered and the relative merits of each. Two of the three were easily made from items in the students' stores and available in Hogsmeade. Glancing over the various ingredients the witch had pulled out she was prepared to work on either one.
The third potion, by far the most complicated of the three, required ingredients that were difficult to come by. Unless you were a Potions Master with a comprehensive store room. By asking questions Snape was able to lead Hermione through the three potions and the relative merits of each.
"How long have these warts been a problem?" he pursued.
"As long as I can remember," she said.
"Has he tried other potions?" he asked. She smiled, suppressing a laugh.
"Just muggle stuff, some from the doctor, some from the store," she managed to get out. Snape mulled it over. "Well, then, I suggest you make the third potion. If he's tried the basic muggle stuff then the weaker potions won't be much different," he decided. The witch sighed and looked a bit depressed.
"I'll have to find a source for some of these ingredients," she lamented.
"Oh, really," Snape muttered, stood and walked into his office. He was gone a few minutes while Hermione looked over Neville's ingredients. She showed him how to shave the licorice root thinner. When the Professor returned he set several glass jars down on the table before moving to look over the potion about to be brewed.
"Much better, Longbottom. It will help you keeping your ingredients lined up like this. How are you going to proceed?" Snape asked as calmly as he could. He didn't feel like having a cold shower this afternoon. After stuttering a bit Neville referred to his recipe and explained how he would start the water base and what he'd add first. Nodding in agreement, the Potions Master sat back down by Hermione.
"There are the things you'll need. This potion will require at least two periods to prepare and brew. Three periods to be safe. You can get everything cut up today," he said. Hermione smiled broadly.
"Maybe I can get it done by his birthday," she said. Snape sneered at her.
"A guarantee with Longbottom, here," and Neville blushed. He was stirring thGe simmering mixture carefully, having just added the lemon grass.
"I guess I'll be having Saturday tutoring for a little while," he said weakly. Both Hermione and Snape grinned. Shaking himself, Neville grinned back.
"like duh," the boy chuckled. The witch laughed but Snape looked at him quizzically.
"'like duh'?" he repeated, plainly confused. Hermione launched into an informative mini-lecture on muggle phrases. 'No brainer' was a little more understandable. The Professor just lifted his eyebrow.
"Meaning, Mr. Longbottom, you, I and Ms. Granger are going to become well-acquainted between now and Christmas break," but the sneer was gone and the face nearly kind. "Don't worry too much, though. I have a few other students that will be joining us. You may feel hopeless about potions, Neville, but be assured, you are not the only one," Snape reached over for a jar and opened it, returning to the potion at hand.
"Devil's tongue. You'll need to use a mortar and pestle to make a fine powder," and he began to instruct the eager girl in the fine arts of potion brewing.
Dumbledore leaned back in the chair. He'd crept in a few minutes before just to check up on the trio. It pleased him that Snape was working easily with the children. It would help the Potions Master a great deal having this success. Neville's potion was sure to be correct at the rate he was going.
Snape stood again and returned to his office. He returned this time with a small box of new jars. Standing over Hermione he handed her a black marker. She looked up at him with a questioning face.
"Oh, it's a muggle pen. The ink is permanent. It's much easier to writeI on the plastic lid than dragging out the labels, quills and ink. The apothecary in Diagon Alley had marked her jars with one and I thought it was a good idea," Snape admitted.
"You mean a muggle actually had a good idea?" a sarcastic voice sounded from the doorway. Minerva McGonagall stepped in. "Really, Severus, you shock me," her hard eyes swept around the room. Everything seemed in order. Neither child seemed too upset.
Snape's stomach dropped. He had not expected any visitors (except for the Headmaster who had already intimated he'd be wandering back). The jars clinked together in the box and Hermione reached up to take them from him. Snape stepped away from her and retreated to the other side of the table.
"I'm not out to shock anyone, McGonagall. I'm only trying to teach Miss Granger proper potion brewing," his face lost the animation and steeled into blandness. It bothered Neville especially, but he struggled not to mess up the fever potion.
"You're doing fine, Longbottom," Snape said quietly. "Just slide in the sliced comfrey root. That's right, no splashing." Neville managed to follow the direction and resumed stirring. Hermione quietly began printing ingredient names on the jars while the Transfiguration teacher moved down to join them.
The next thirty minutes were not as pleasant as the first hour. McGonagall said nothing but watched everything. Snape felt as if he had to weigh every word he uttered. Neville was nearing his breaking point. Finally the boy bumped into the table causing the cauldron to wobble dangerously.
Snape was up in a flash, catching the hot cauldron and righting it. Liquid splashed up and burned his hand but he managed to quell his exclamation of pain.
"It's ok, Longbottom," he managed, "just take it easy! Your potion is fine so far!" Walking over to the large sink he ran ice cold water over the burn. When he turned he saw McGonagall's deep disapproval. His temper flared.
"You wish to say something, Professor?" he sneered at the older witch. She glared harshly apparently wanting to say quite a lot but was hampered by the students.
"Only that the boy is trying. There's no reason to berate him," she ground out. Hermione looked over at Neville, confused. Berate? Neville just shrugged. If Snape was berating him he'd missed it.
"Minerva," Snape once more tried to tone down his anger. "Neville is doing just fine. He bumped the table. It's not a big problem."
"But you're saying he's still a problem," McGonagall tried twisting Snape's words. He sank down onto his chair.
"Professor," Hermione picked up quickly, "he didn't say anything about Neville being a problem. He said he was doing fine."
Bad move. Now the woman glared at Hermione. "Miss Granger, attend to your work," she snapped.
"Minerva, I wasn't implying Neville was a problem," Snape gave another try. His stomach hurt. This was ridiculous!
"Exactly what did you say, Snape? I don't seem to have heard it correctly," McGonagall's voice was dripping with disgust.
"I believe he said that Neville was doing fine," Dumbledore's rich voice broke into the rapidly declining conversation. He was sitting near the back of the room watching the confrontation. He wanted to blast the witch across the room, but that would be a poor choice. His appearance surprised her greatly and she backed away from both children and Potions Master.
"Headmaster, I didn't hear you come in," McGonagall said weakly.
"I've been in and out," Dumbledore said with his most disarming smile. "Mostly in," and the smile brightened considerably. Snape moved to hide his burn, turning his attention to Longbottom.
"You're nearly finished, Longbottom. What's the next step?" the Potions Master quietly prompted.
"Just the licorice. Then stir and simmer for 10 minutes," Neville glanced at the list one last time. Snape nodded and sat back, tired. Dumbledore had been right, tutoring was hard work. He glanced across at the younger witch and found her staring thoughtfully at him.
"Is everything all right, Ms. Granger?" he asked, returning her scrutiny. Ingredients were lying untended. Nodding her head she began to fill a jar.
"Yes, Professor. Actually, I was wondering how bad that burn was," her comment pulled Dumbledore's attention away from McGonagall. He glanced at the Potions Master who was trying to ignore his questioning glance.
"I'll attend to it later," Snape tried to deflect both. Neville finished stirring and moved around to the wizard. "Let me see it; Professor Sprout taught me a healing spell last week when one of the mother-in-law tongues lashed me," he felt bold with the information. Herbology was the one thing he was very good at. If Professor Sprout taught him something he remembered it. Grumbling, Snape held out the damaged hand. The splash had burned the back of the hand including part of the wrist. It had blistered in places.
Neville nearly dropped back knowing he'd caused this injury. But Snape didn't appear angry or condemning. Plus the Headmaster was nearby in case something went wrong. He gently put one hand underneath, as support, as Sprout had shown him then carefully brought the other hand over the wound. He murmured the charm, concentrating hard.
The coolness embraced the burn, soothing the pain. Snape watched the boy speak the spell, putting effort in the casting. He knew the charm, it was not particularly difficult, yet it was not easy for a beginner either. Longbottom impressed him. He was a talented wizard growing into his own right. The blistering receded and only red skin marked the burn.
"Thank you Neville," Snape smiled at the young wizard. The boy smiled wide at his accomplishment before blushing slightly. He had done it!
"I will have to thank Louise for teaching you the charm, too," the Professor continued. The boy's eyes widened. "Now back to the potion, child. It's about time to bottle it, I think," he shooed him away. Neville scurried around the table to check his brew and then back to the supply cupboard for bottles. Hermione continued to put her prepared ingredients into jars, then set them back into the small box. All three ignored McGonagall and Dumbledore, intent on their projects.
The Transfigurations Professor moved away from the tables, back to where the Headmaster sat. She was unhappy with being found is such an unfavorable light. She was sure Snape was up to something, but what it was she couldn't tell. For the time being he held the Headmaster's favor and he was acting much more civil. Best to acknowledge that and cut her own losses. She'd just keep an eye on the Potions Master.
"He's making good progress," the older witch said quietly to Dumbledore.
"Neville is a talented young man," came the reply.
"I was referring to Severus," she grudgingly muttered. The Headmaster smiled sweetly, refraining from comment. He made no move to offer her a chair. Nor did he seem interested in continuing a conversation.
"I need to go up to my rooms before dinner," McGonagall continued feebly.
"We'll see you in the dining hall," the older wizard said equitably
