At morning, Snape awoke far earlier than he wanted, given how little sleep he was allotted. Rubbing his forehead as he sat before standing, he tried to clear his mind and face the day ahead. As he dressed, he contemplated his classes and the school business that should be taken care of today, as well as the work of storing the items from last night's harvest. And thus brought his thoughts back to the evening before, after nearly 60 seconds thinking of other things. His thoughts vacillated between irritation at himself for not having foreseen the possible effects of the bluebells and reliving the electricity of her touch. He had known the bluebells were there, but had not given due consideration to the history of his foraging companion. He'd been thinking overmuch about the past in the weeks leading up to this (thanks to that Dursley woman), not devoting the appropriate amount of planning to the harvest. Such a rare occasion, such an opportunity for the most powerful, most magical substances! The evening hadn't been a total loss, but he would need to do a more complete and thoughtful assessment of the samples later in the day. He exited, replaced the charms on his door, and tried to focus his mind on his classes for the day.
Morgan Hunter awoke in the dim light of her apartment, wishing again that her room had larger windows that faced east or south, rather than these that were small, up very high, and faced north. The stained glass pattern was simple, but she wished it were yellow or clear, rather than deep jewel tones of amethyst, emerald, and cobalt. Should she even go to breakfast, or skip and wait until lunch? It was probably best to get things back to normal (whatever that was) as soon as possible, rather than delaying. She stood and then tried to decide what to wear. It was getting chillier during the nights, but still warm at midday. Something transitional, or layers? She opted for a low-key midnight blue robe in light wool, with a smaller hat. Understated. Its color might bring to mind the bluebells. So be it. She quickly braided her hair tightly back and set out. They were to meet in the afternoon to catalogue and store the items from the night before. She worried for what to expect. Would he be as impatient and demanding of her as he was with students when things didn't go perfectly? Or would he simply grumble, as was more typical in his dealings with colleagues? Or would his kindness in the infirmary the night before (a surprising departure) show up again? Perhaps that was due to the presence of Mr. Filch and Madam Pomfrey. But they'd be alone in the afternoon. She didn't know what to expect. She decided to invite some of her 5th-year students to join her, to perhaps diffuse what might otherwise be a tense, unpleasant interaction.
Walking briskly to the staff table, concentrating on his own thoughts which continued in their turbulence, as always he took little notice the glances and mutterings of students, until he sat down to his plate of rashers and eggs, at which point their volume and obviousness became absurd. He glared out from the table, making as much eye contact as possible, enjoying the hasty looking away and rising redness in students' faces. At Professor Hunter's entrance shortly thereafter, more murmurings and some outright stares of disbelief.
Ron pulled his eyes away from Professor Hunter quickly and returned to shoveling in bacon. "I just can't see it. It's all just a stupid rumor. How could anyone...I mean….It's Snape, for crying out loud."
Hermione cast him a look of reproof. "Ron, there's someone for everyone. I think. I mean, surely even Professor Snape." Though even she looked skeptical.
Harry chuckled, mostly due to Ron's facial expression. "It is a little difficult to picture, Snape and romance. And with Professor Hunter. I would expect he would hate spending time with someone like her, sunny and cheerful." He ate another forkful of eggs. "Maybe the rumors are just that, rumors. People make stuff up all the time. Look at what the Daily Prophet wrote about me." Harry mulled over Snape's long-time love of Lily Evans, his mother, and what he did for that love. He found the notion of Severus Snape in love not so much difficult to believe, just unlikely. It would have to be someone truly remarkable. The rumors suggested something rather sudden and impulsive, the opposite of Professor Snape.
Hermione looked thoughtful. "Well," she said. "Demelza Robins heard it from Parvati Patil, who said she saw Snape running back to the school from the forest in the middle of the night with Professor Hunter in his arms, and she supposedly looked like a love-struck movie heroine."
Ron nearly choked on his breakfast. "Nah, can't be. What would someone glamorous like Professor Hunter see in Snape? Besides, how come Parvati was the only one who saw this? No one else saw it but her. Trelawney convinced her she has the Second Sight. I'm not convinced she has First Sight at this point."
Hermione remained skeptical. "Well, she said she was up really late, writing up her Divination paper."
"See?" Ron retorted. "She was in a mind to make things up, suggestible. And it was late." Ron turned to Harry in amusement. "Maybe she had a dream about Snape herself. Maybe she's in love with the greasy git."
Harry had no reply and returned his attention to his eggs.
Ginny glanced sideways at the staff table. "You know, he does look a little different nowadays. Maybe it's less pressure, I don't know, new clothes? But maybe not as unattractive as before…." She trailed off under the disbelieving stares of both Ron and Harry. Hermione glanced up to the staff table, and returned an equivocal look. A silent agreement seemed to have been reached that further conversation on this topic was done for the meal. The first class of the day was Advanced Potions, so they'd get a good chance to see their professor up close and in person soon.
Then the owls arrived, carrying the Daily Prophet in their talons. Chaos erupted immediately.
"Wonder what all the fuss is about, " Hermione said, grabbing her edition and unrolling it on the table. Harry was forced to read it upside down, but the picture was clear enough.
"Son of a Bludger," choked Ron, staring slack-jawed over Hermione's shoulder, bits of toast falling from his mouth. "Just like Parvati said."
It was. The large photo on the front page was clearly the Headmaster, running towards the castle with Professor Hunter in his arms, as well as his sample case. The full moon lit the scene. He looked rugged and determined, his black cloak billowing behind him. She had her arms wrapped around his neck and a look of enthrallment on her face.
Hermione snorted, then blushed, smoothing out the paper. "It looks just like the cover of a romance novel. Except Snape's shirt and jacket are still on him and buttoned up all the way."
"Looks like he can't get back to the castle fast enough. Read it," Ginny said urgently, ready for the story.
"All right, settle down," said Hermione quickly. "There must be an explanation."
Romance Blossoming at Hogwarts, Or Just Another Poison Pill? by Rita Skeeter
Questions of romance in the air are circling Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry this morning after the late-night adventures of Headmaster Severus Snape and the new Potions Professor, Dr. Morgan Hunter. The Headmaster, rumored to be the heir to the Snape fortune and wealthy in his own right due to his previous "career" prior to taking the Potions Master position at Hogwarts, had most recently been cleared of his most serious war crime charges but remains on probation due to conviction on other minor charges. His ascent to the position of Headmaster of the school was temporarily derailed due to his war activities which have been extensively reported in these pages previously, as well as his death. Which was followed by his recovery, a phenomenon which has never been fully explained, leading to rumors of just how this occurred, by whose assistance, and for what reason.
Professor Snape was seen making a beeline back from the Forbidden Forest with newly-appointed Potions Mistress Morgan Hunter locked in his embrace. But who is this new American transplant? No one seems to know for sure. What is known is that she comes to Hogwarts from the Sedona School in Arizona (US), where she had gained international renown for her research and technique, based on both her publications and extensive speaking tours. But what made this successful Potioness decide, after so many years dedicated to the Sedona School, from which she graduated with High Honors in Potions, Transfiguration, and Spells and varsity runes in swimming, dueling, and broom squad, to transfer from the sun and desert, to Hogwarts, here in the wind-swept Highlands? Some close to her have noted that she claims a desire to understand the synergies between New World and Old World potion making (and it's clear some mixing of Old World and New World is going on!). Others have suggested still baser motivations.
One such theory is a desire to escape charges related to the untimely and suspicious death of her husband, Phillipus Alden, a little over a year ago. Alden, a pure-blood wizard with roots that stretch back to the Mayflower in the American colonies and earlier in Britain, was known to have a personal fortune amassed for at least 20 generations. A wizard of modest talent, employed as an astronomer and Divination chart writer, he was rumored to have felt overshadowed by his famous wife. Having no children during their 7-year marriage, the fortune is assumed to pass directly to her. While cleared of wrongdoing in a criminal trial kept closely under wraps, Dr. Hunter now finds herself embattled by the extended family of the unfortunate wizard, who are contesting his will in the civil courts of the US Council of Magical Persons.
What is to become of these star-crossed lovers? Will the famously icy Professor Snape warm to the Witch from the West? Will Dr. Hunter lose one fortune, but manage to gain another in short order? And what of the students of Hogwarts? What will they be learning from this example of indiscretion…
"Incendio Prophet" rang through the Great Hall, as the Headmaster drew his wand, his spell spilling forth in a shower of crisp white sparks. The newspapers, some still tied to the later-arriving owls, were immediately in flames. Though not hot and not catching anything nearby on fire (such as feathers), the anxiety of the birds was readily apparent, spoiling breakfast for nearly everyone and causing many students to need to change robes before class. Not one student risked either a giggle or even a glimpse as Snape stormed from the hall, his robes billowing like storm clouds behind him, and the doors closing with a thunderous crash that shook the nearest torch from the wall. Professor Hunter, for her part, joined the rest of staff in wide-eyed silence, paired with a deep red blush, but grateful that her breakfast was still edible and there was nothing amiss on her blue robe, nor the matching hat.
After a few moments of stunned silence, Ron spoke. "I wonder if Advanced Potions will be cancelled. It's double today. If not, it's a sure thing we'll all get detentions."
Having not received any notification that Advanced Potions was cancelled that day, the students filed down to the dungeon after quickly changing into clean robes. They steeled themselves for the day's lesson, which was written on the blackboard as always. "Felix Felicis Minor" it read, followed by a complex and extensive ingredient list and instructions so detailed, they were written in tiny script and continued on a second board.
"Good grief," Hermione said. "This will probably take more than even the double class to do. Better get started."
Ron moaned. "We'll never finish, it's detention for sure, even you, Hermione."
Janiss Ames was at the next table. What were they all groaning about? This was a complex potion, but the instructions were clear enough. Just do what is says, no more, no less.
She leaned over to Ron. "Hey, Ron. Is that true, you get detention if you can't finish?"
"Yeah," said Ron, blushing slightly that the lovely new student was talking to him. She usually favored Neville more, to the aggravation of most of the upper year boys. "Been trapped with Snape probably a hundred times, as least. Harry here's even had to take Remedial Potions," he added, gesturing over his shoulder.
"Really?" Janiss said. "The Headmaster claimed there were no remedial classes offered here."
"There are if he wants to torture you," Ron said. Harry stood behind Ron, gesturing in contradiction.
Snape strode in, with no sign of the fury they'd seen only the hour before. He reached the front of the class and cleared the boards with a small swish of his wand. Hermione, who had already gathered about half the items and set up her equipment, let out a gasp, which she terminated under Snape's stare.
"Change in the lesson plan for today. In light of recent events, we will be making Amoreverselixir today. Who can tell me the purpose of this valuable concoction?" he asked, his tone perfectly controlled.
Hermione's hand was raised, but Snape continued to look around the room, his gaze at last resting on Janiss. She looked back at him, but made no sign of knowing the answer. Harry felt pity for her, knowing what it felt like to be asked difficult questions and coming up short.
Seeing no alternative, Snape turned to Hermione.
"Miss Granger, enlighten us."
"It works to either protect the user from love potions of various forms or as an antidote to them."
"Correct, as always." Snape next turned to Ron. "Mr. Weasley, please describe the effects of a love potion, if you recall it ... from your reading," he said with a smirk.
Ron became bright red at the rising giggles around him and replied "It isn't real love, but the feeling is strong. The victim can't tell the difference, sir."
The giggles in the class were silenced as Snape returned to the front of the classroom, turned to the lecture board and illustrated his talk, showing them drawings of wizards and witches in various states of excessive, obsessive love. "Mr. Weasley is correct. As he knows from previous... lessons, love potions and other items do not produce real love, but only infatuation. To the victim, these effects can override good judgement and seem very real." He continued his stroll through the room. "Many an … unscrupulous … witch or wizard has taken advantage of that infatuation to sign contracts, execute marriages, and wreck existing marriages, among various other kinds of mischief."
Having reached the front of the classroom, he turned. "With this potion, you will have the opportunity to both defend yourselves from such deplorable trickery, as well as to come to the aid of friends or colleagues who may find themselves unwittingly exposed," he said, each word carrying meaning as he uttered it.
"You have until the end of period to produce this." He waved his wand toward the blackboard and a new recipe and brewing illustration appeared. They got to work.
Janiss read the instructions. It was like a love potion, only made in reverse. Stirring counterclockwise, chilling rather than boiling, mixing rather than extracting. Fascinating. What if she also pressed the herbs, instead of grinding? Let's find out. Her concoction turned brown and pasty. It was supposed to be purple and swirly. It smelled terrible, like a rotting frog. It was supposed to be odorless and tasteless. Well, that didn't work. "Better start over," she thought. Good thing it was a relatively straightforward preparation. She would have plenty of time to try again, given that it was a double class. As she turned to dispose of her cauldron contents, she collided headlong into Professor Snape, who had been hovering behind her, observing the ill effects of her experiment.
"What is that smell?" he sneered, his nose curled back as the contents of her cauldron spilled on the floor, sizzling and smoking.
"I've done it wrong, sir," she said hastily. "I'll redo it."
"Indeed you will," the professor said coldly. "In detention. This evening at eight." She choked in protest. "Sharp."
"Yes, sir," she said, and began to clean up her things, retaining a sample of the paste. She pretended not to hear when Dean Thomas said "She's supposed to be a potions whiz," nor to notice when Cho punched him.
The rest of the class continued to concoct the potion, stirring, swirling, mixing. Snape continued to stalk the lab, pacing. As the other students turned in their vials, he noted " I will be testing the potency of this by the end of term, after each of you has been given a love potion. I expect it will be an interesting class."
Harry managed to suppress his guffaws at the expression of horror on Ron's face.