Requiem for the Living
By Jinxd n Cursed
Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction. I merely play in the world of J.K. Rowling; she still owns the characters.
Dies irae, dies illa
Solvet saeclum in favilla,
teste David cum Sibylla.
Quantus tremor est futurus,
quando judex est venturus,
cuncta stricte discussurus!
Chapter Fourteen
It was already going much better than Hermione could have ever predicted. While abrasive, her former professor seemed to have mellowed some in the last ten years. He hadn't hexed her, removed her memory, and sent her on her way. He had not forced her to disembowel small creatures for their uses in potions.
His appearance had changed much as well. The billowing teaching robes that went from floor to chin had masked his slenderness. Clad in jeans with a charcoal button down shirt, and sturdy black leather shoes, he was lean but not skinny. His hair was longer than he had worn it when she was his student, long enough that he wore it pulled back in a tail at the nape of his neck. He had also grown a small goatee. In many ways, despite the ten years that passed, he actually looked younger than he had when he was her professor.
Snape led her in through the living room and into the kitchen. He gestured for her to sit down at the kitchen table. She did so and watched as he placed a pan of root vegetables into the oven beside a large chicken. Opening up her bag, she began pulling out her notes and placing them out on the table. She had already shared most of what she had brought with him, but she needed something to busy herself.
He set a glass of water down in front of her, keeping one for himself. Hermione watched with bated breath as he picked up the sheaf of her most recent notes. He began studying the pages, not just flipping through, but really reading her work.
She expected to be berated for her invasion of his privacy. After her dropping in earlier, she was especially dreading the return but she couldn't stay away. She wasn't even sure why she had to see him and talk to him. On the surface, it was academic necessity but she knew it ran deeper than that; she wanted to understand him, somehow. She needed a Potions master and even ten years later, he was the best she knew. She had read his work at University and had been shocked that such a brilliant researcher had spent most of his life teaching eleven-year-old children how not to blow themselves up. Most of his research had been about simplifying the creation of antidotes. In sixth year NEWT potions, they had learned about these and had been given a specific blend of poisons to create an antidote for. While Harry had cheated with a bezoar, they were an egregiously expensive ingredient, so creating antidotes with other ingredients was incredibly important. The method she had used was well known practice but it was very complicated and quite frequently needed to be bound to the brewer with the use of genetic material.
Intent was incredibly important in magic. They had learned and practiced hexes, curses, and jinxes in Defense Against the Dark Arts class. Most of those spells were fairly mild and were considered safe to use in a classroom setting. In the wrong hands, however, even the mildest of curses were dangerous. She thought of about tickling hexes. While seemingly completely innocuous, she remembered absolutely hating to be tickled by her father for any extended period of time. An extended bout of that particular hex would have been literal torture for her. It was even easier to think of how curses like a full body bind or a leg locker curse could be used maliciously.
Likewise, intent was important in creating potions and was especially crucial in creating antidotes, Snape had discovered. That was why the DNA from the brewer was so important: if the brewer had good intentions toward the person he was brewing for, the DNA (usually hair) made the potion all the more effective. The old theory had been this: the sum of the ingredients in the antidote had to be greater than the sum of the ingredients in the poison. Snape's work proved that the sum of ingredients did not need to be greater than the sum of the poison if the brewer's intent was to heal.
She idly considered what the effect of intent was on the Wolfsbane potion. Was it like an antidote that was stronger based on the intent of the brewer? It did not have to be bound to the brewer by DNA, nor had she heard any reports of decreased effectiveness from brewer to brewer unless the proper procedure was not followed. It was easy to mess up, especially given the length of the brewing process and the preparations of the ingredients. She didn't think it was likely that the Wolfsbane potion was affected by intent but she wondered if a cure for lycanthropy would be. She scribbled down a note for research phase two but it would need to wait until phase one was completed.
"Your research is surprising," Snape said at long last.
"How so?" she asked.
"No Potions master would think to do this work, least of all Damocles, the creator of the potion, who is now wealthy from his development. How do you intend to profit from this development?" he asked.
She shrugged. "A nice bonus from the Ministry and royalties on the sale of the formula? Really, my goal is to make the potion more affordable and accessible, not to make a massive profit margin. I made enough on the spattergroit cure to put both kids through Hogwarts and have a nest egg for myself."
"Kids?" he asked, a black eyebrow arched.
She nodded. "Yes, I have two children. Rose and Hugo."
"With Weasley?" he asked.
"Of course with Ron!" she exclaimed, indignant. "Just who else did you think it would be?"
"I wasn't imply anything," he said. "I was merely inquiring. I recall that your husband is deceased a year now. I offer my condolences to you and your family."
"Thank you," she said, a little calmer.
"How old are your children?" he asked.
"Rosie is not quite three and Hugo is four months," she told him.
He looked at her with shock. "Your son was born after your husband's death?"
She nodded. "Though the curse's affects were certainly present from the day it was cast, Ron was relatively healthy until about a month before his death. A few potions helped to slow the progress but they failed. Ron found out we were having a boy the night he died."
Hermione couldn't read Snape's expression as he slowly nodded. "Where are your children? It's the weekend. Aren't you responsible for their care when you're not working?"
"Normally, yes, but they are with Molly for the weekend with the rest of the grandchildren having a big sleepover," she told him. "She watches the children during the week while I work but Rose doesn't get to see her cousins very often."
He nodded once more. "I see."
"There are only so many options for a single mother," she said.
Snape cleared his throat. "Be that as it may, clearly you have dedicated a lot of time to this research. This is skilled potions work, yet you are not a master."
"I chose to go into healing because of the multidisciplinary aspect of it," she told him. "I was always an academic at Hogwarts and I would have been hard pressed to choose a favourite subject."
"I do not recall you having a particular passion for potions," Snape told her.
"You wouldn't have. I had to train myself to be quiet in your class. The perpetual hand raising appeared to annoy you," she told him. "But you should have seen me in Slughorn's class. I resumed my habit of wild hand waving, though Harry took honours as best potion maker to my fury."
"Ah yes," Snape said. "Potter found my book with all of my improvements to various potions. He was very foolhardy to use an alternate recipe without even knowing the brewer."
"Which I told him multiple times," she replied. "He was quite the determined little wanker, and Slughorn mistook your brilliance for his. To this day, Horace thinks Harry is a natural potion prodigy."
Snape sneered. "Horace Slughorn is easily persuaded by fame. It is easier for him to believe a famous person is gifted than for him to believe that they are a cheater. He wanted to assign Potter brilliance."
"You are right, of course," Hermione said. "He feels the need to point out brilliance despite my Muggle parents every time he sees me. He has also questioned whether I am sure that I am not related to the Dagworth-Grangers many times."
"It doesn't surprise me," he said. "He once mentioned to me what a shame it was about my father, implying that the biggest tragedy of my life was that I had a Muggle father."
"That's awful," Hermione said.
He shrugged. "There is nothing to be done of it now."
"I suppose not," she replied.
"This conversation has little to do with the topic at hand," he said finally. "I presume the reason you have invaded my privacy is to discuss your research."
"Yes indeed," Hermione told him. "I've done all the potion work on this project, and as you say, I am no Potions master. I do think however that my work has been more than adequate."
He inclined his head toward her. "Indeed, you have been successful in your endeavours thus far. I am not sure you are up to the task soon to come, however."
She nodded her agreement. "I find myself woefully beyond my depth in regards to the enchanted Belladonna. As you so kindly pointed out in one of your missives, the Wolfsbane will never be affordable while it is still on the ingredients list."
"I was not being kind, as you well know," he sniffed.
She snorted. "Yes, I realize that. Even after ten years, you are still not nice, nor did I expect you to be."
"You are of course correct," he said. "Do you have any experience with Herbology?"
She shook her head. "Not beyond what I studied in my studies at University and my apprenticeship. What about yourself?"
He ignored her question. "You will need to consult with a Herbology expert in order to work on that particular substitution. You may need a charms expert as well in regards to the enchantments."
"Do you have any experience with replacing enchanted ingredients?" she queried.
He sighed loudly, clearly annoyed. "No, I do not. Are you aware of someone you would be able to consult?"
"Yes indeed," she said. "You are familiar with this person."
"Dare I ask?" he replied.
"Neville Longbottom," she replied. "I mentioned him in a previous correspondence."
"I have been away from British Wizarding society for nearly ten years and that imbecile continues to haunt me."
"Neville is a war hero," Hermione argued. "He slew Nagini in the last battle and reformed Dumbledore's Army right under your nose. He is the one who figured out what to tell the Room of Requirement to keep them all safe."
Snape rolled his eyes. "I knew about his plot. Who do you think kept the Carrow's off their tail?"
Hermione looked shocked.
"Yes, I knew. Though I did not know about the Room of Requirement or his slaying of the cursed snake. If only he had done so prior to me being attacked by the beast."
"Would you still have chosen to hide from society if you hadn't almost died?" she asked.
"You still cannot contain your questions, can you woman?" he demanded. He appeared to consider for a moment. "I do not know. I am not sure that I truly intended to hide from society this time, only that it happened that way."
She nodded. "I suppose that makes sense."
He pushed away from the table and walked over to the oven. Hermione watched him open up the oven and remove a steaming roasted chicken and the tray of roasted root vegetables. After checking the chicken for doneness, he waved his wand to care the bird. She was extremely surprised when he pulled two plates down from the cabinet and began dishing up chicken, vegetables, and salad greens with salad cream. He placed one in front of her and one at his place, sitting down once more.
"It is not poisoned," he informed her after she had spent a full minute gawking at the plate in front of her. "It is herb and lemon roasted chicken with carrots and parsnips."
"Thank you?" she said, her voice rising in a question.
Her dinner companion chose to ignore her surprise and continued peppering her with questions about her work. The dinner was delicious and Hermione did the washing up with one of Molly's cleaning spells that had the job done in two minutes flat. He continued to review her extensive notes over tea and a few biscuits.
At last, the hour was drawing late and Hermione was tired. She needed to ask the question that had been at the back of her mind the entire time, the selfish question that she just couldn't keep herself from asking. "Is there anyway that you would consider joining our team?"
"What makes you think that I would ever do such a thing?" he asked.
"Clearly, you are interested in this work. You've been contributing to the process today and for all of last week. There must be some curiosity," she said.
He considered. "Your work is more intriguing that most. I have been approached via owl for a number of projects over the years but yours is the first that has caught my interest."
"You are a hero, you know," she told him. "Your name was cleared of any wrongdoing. Harry personally saw to it. If you were to return to society, you would not be sent to prison."
"Society will not forget my crimes, Hermione!" he exclaimed. "No more than I can forget them myself!"
She was startled not only by his outburst but also by his use of her name.
"Do you really think that they will forgive the man who not only tortured countless students over a twenty year career, but who also happens to be the person who killed Albus Dumbledore? You are hopelessly naive," he told her with a derisive laugh.
She bristled at his insult, and then stuffed the reaction back down. It would not do for her to react negatively. "Perhaps you are right. I will confess, you never seemed the type to be concerned over the opinions of others."
He glared at her sharply. "I am willing to work on your team as a consult. You shall be my only contact and you will not show up unannounced ever again. You will tell those in charge of pay scales at St. Mungo's that I expect thirty percent more than the offer you have previously given me. They will contact me via owl next week."
She nodded, keeping her expression neutral despite her happiness.
"Now, I presume what you have brought with you is a copy of your work thus far?" he asked.
She nodded.
"Good. Then I shall keep it all. You have imposed on my kindness far too long. It is time for you to go home. You will contact me via owl on Monday."
She nodded. "Of course," she said. "Good evening, Prof—Mist—"
"Severus will do if we are to be peers," he snapped. "Now be gone."
"Yes, of course," she said. "Good evening, then, Severus." She rose from the table and went to the door.
"You will find that the anti-apparation wards will allow you to disapparate from the front step," he called after her.
"Thank you!" she said. As soon as she was outside, she gave a silent cheer before apparating home. As she readied herself to go to sleep, she thought back on the day and admitted that it had gone much better than she could possibly have predicted. In all, it had been a very good Saturday.
Author's Notes: I'm going to say something sacrilegious here: as much as I love Alan Rickman, he is a lot older than Snape is supposed to be. I envision Snape as looking fore like Andrew Rothenberg. Now I'm going to date myself slightly. Andrew Rothenberg plays the strict judge in the movie "Save the Last Dance" (a 2001 teen movie) and that is how I imagine Snape to look.
Sadly, Severus does not use the same roasted chicken recipe that I do. If he truly wanted a delicious bird, he would have allowed it to rest for fifteen minutes prior to carving.
Many thanks to my lovely beta, DanB86. Any errors left are of my own doing.
Thank you to my (im?)patient readers. I did not intend to delay a full week but that it how it happened. The wedding went well and I followed it up with a weekend away and then time spend setting up our apartment. I had to re-edit this chapter on the fly as my amazing husband bought me a new laptop for my birthday and the editted chapter some how got lost in the shuffle. Strange.