The Clean-up Operation

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Professor Snape and Neasa returned to the ruined Potions classroom, and Snape immediately went over to a cupboard of vials and removed one – a Calming Draught. He drank nearly half the bottle before replacing it, and then saying, "I don't need your help, Miss Casey – I can clean up a classroom on my own."

"Dumbledore told me to help."

"I don't need help."

Neasa ignored his stubbornness and started going desk to desk, wordlessly vanishing the contents of each cauldron, before levitating them to stand in a neat pile in the corner and making the abandoned schoolbags and textbooks follow. She was starting on the second row when Snape asked, "What are you doing?"

"Clearing the scene – someone needs to."

It seemed to take all the effort left in him, but Snape eventually started clearing the back row and they met in the middle. When the desks were finished Neasa levitated them all to stack up by the walls of the classroom.

They stood together in the middle of the room where the incident had occurred – charred workbenches remained, as well as upturned cauldrons and spilled potion on the stone floor. It had solidified – Snape tapped it with his foot, his expression sour.

"I don't even know what to do with this," he said. "The potion reacts to stone – that's why it's solid. Evanesco will only work when the potion is liquid."

"Is there an antidote?"

"Antidotes are for poisons only," he replied, his voice pained.

"You know what I mean," Neasa said testily. "Something to neutralise it – stop it reacting to the stone. The potion is clearly crystalizing – I'm sure there's some sort of neutralising potion out there."

"If I had any we wouldn't be having this conversation."

"So we just need to brew some, then."

Snape rubbed his eyes with his hand, his head hanging, and then yawned into his palm. Neasa glanced at the clock; it was only three.

"I don't have the energy," Snape said at last, looking up.

"Then let me help you. We can't leave your classroom in this state."

Snape considered Neasa for a moment, and she held his gaze steadily. With a flick of her wand she brought a workbench over to stand between them, and then levitated a small cauldron and weighing scales onto it.

At last Snape seemed to give in, and said, "The ingredients to a neutralising potion are in the second chapter of Antidotes to Hazardous Potions – a copy is on my desk. I'll prepare the cauldron."

Neasa found the book and began searching the ingredients cupboard; she brought each over to the desk while Snape measured the quantities on the scales. They worked in perfect silence, which was only broken by Snape whispering "Aguamenti," over the cauldron, adding a small amount of water and bringing it to the boil.

"Would you cut five triangles out of those peppermint leaves?" he asked.

"Scalene or right-angled?" Neasa replied.

"Equilateral," Snape said flatly.

"I was joking," she said with a smile.

"Scalene triangles would make this potion blue – right-angled ones would make it…"

"Pink," Neasa supplied.

"For someone who said they were terrible with Potions, you know your stuff," Snape remarked.

"I've picked up a few tricks," Neasa said evasively. "We should have a clear potion anyway."

"There you go again," Snape said. Neasa glanced at him: a smirk traced his lips, but it soon faded, allowing only a moment of respite.

But in the moment it was there, it was the only thing she could see. That tiny, teasing smirk transformed his face, making him look less aloof, more human... more attractive.

Neasa hastily looked away, not wanting the Professor to catch a glimpse of the emotions thundering through her like a speeding train. She knew they were bubbling under the surface for some weeks, but had ignored them, hoping they would disappear with time. She didn't want to catch feelings for the Professor, but she hadn't done anything to avoid it.

In reality, Neasa was deadly curious about Snape. She wanted to know what made him so disconnected, why he isolated himself from others. She wanted to know what his favourite book was and what music he liked the best and why he was addicted to coffee. She wanted to know him – she wanted to be with him, even if he was difficult to be with.

Neasa forced herself away from her thoughts, realising that Snape had started rapidly chopping up some more ingredients and was adding them to the cauldron. She watched the way he worked, so fluid and comfortable even while holding a sharp blade; he looked totally at ease, as if practicing an art. In a way, potion making was just that – an art form.

Neasa took over chopping the peppermint leaves while Snape turned down the flame – when she'd finished he added the peppermint triangles one by one. He stirred twice and then sprinkled in some crushed lime, before passing Neasa two Sopophorous Beans and a silver knife and saying, "Prepare these for me – I can't stop stirring until the juice is added."

Neasa placed the beans under the silver blade and crushed them both with ease. Snape had taken his eyes off the potion and frowned a little at her.

"You crush them?" he asked. "I've never seen another do it that way."

"Keep stirring or it'll turn violet," Neasa said evasively.

The potion was already changing colour by a hue, and Snape hastily focused on it instead of her. He added the Sopoporous juice from the tip of the blade and said nothing more on the matter.

"This is a potion I always admired – it's the fussiest I've ever brewed," he said.

"Fussy?" Neasa asked, even though she knew exactly what he meant.

"In a moment I have to stop stirring for exactly five seconds, start again after exactly three, and stop again seven seconds later. This little potion is in a class of its own – like Felix Felicis, if you don't get it exactly right…"

"What do you like about potions, Professor?"

Snape was quiet at first, and Neasa thought that he might be mentally counting the seconds, but he was just considering her question for he said a moment later, "I'm good at potions – I understand how each one ticks, how they all work. I've worked hard at it for many years and I take pride in my work – and my teaching."

He stopped then, and began whispering as he counted aloud – five, three, seven seconds – and then let go of the stirrer. He turned the flame up a little and added some more water, before turning to chop up some more peppermint – in perfect squares this time. Neasa watched carefully – not wanting to pry, but also not quite being able to look away – he worked with incredible focus and concentration, handling his ingredients with such delicacy.

Then he looked at her, his gaze soft, and said, "My life has not been easy sailing. Potions is something that…"

"Keeps you going," Neasa said.

"Keeps me going."

Snape added the peppermint squares one by one, and then began stirring the potion again – he added, "It needs ten minutes of constant stirring now."

As he did he yawned tiredly into his hand again, and then left it to rest on the back of his neck. He looked dazed – which was understandable: his classroom was in ruins.

Neasa reached over and gently took the stirrer into her hand, beginning to mix the potion herself. She glanced up and said, "Take a seat – you're tired. Allow me."

Snape didn't object; he just left to find a chair, sitting a few feet away. His eyes fell on the solidified potion on the floor, and he heaved a depressed sigh and looked scathingly at the scorch mark on the ceiling, his arms folded.

"You alright?" Neasa asked, trying to sound kind. Snape's eyes fell to scrutinise her, as if deciding if she was trustworthy. There was something deeper in the resigned look on his face than annoyance at his classroom being vandalised.

"I know that this falls outside of your brief… but keep an eye on Severus as well, would you?"

Dumbledore's words echoed in her mind, and she softly asked, "Have you… been suffering from fatigue, Professor? Is that… why you're not allowed coffee?"

Snape looked at her for an even longer moment now, not offering any sort of answer, or even an acknowledgment that he'd heard her. Neasa looked away, back to the cauldron, but she still felt his gaze on her back. It didn't make her feel uncomfortable.

Feeling a twinge in her right wrist, she began massaging it between the fingers of her left hand, continuing to stir the potion.

"If your wrist is hurting it's because you're stirring too fast," Snape said quite suddenly, and stood up to join Neasa at the workbench. He kept a little to her right, and reached over to take the top of the stirrer; Neasa allowed him control over it. His hand was just brushing hers as he slowed its pace.

Snape continued: "There are few potions that require a certain speed – but I would advise caution, especially if you're not familiar with brewing. If the original potion is volatile, you can bet its antidote will be equally… temperamental."

His voice was hardly anything more than a whisper, but Neasa caught every word. She stole a glance at him: he was leaning very slightly over, peering into the cauldron; his left hand gripped the edge of the table, and although he stood a distance away, his head was only inches from hers. Surprisingly he wore soft cologne, such that Neasa had sat next to him at many mealtimes and had never even caught a whiff. Or perhaps it was just new.

"What's the most volatile potion you know of?" she asked.

"It's not strictly speaking a potion, but Muggles used to brew liquid gunpowder, and if they stopped stirring it… it exploded."

He said this rather offhandedly, making Neasa fight back an amused smile. A moment later Snape let go of the stirrer, allowing her control over it again. They lapsed into silence, but the next question to leave his lips was the last she expected:

"What do you know of fatigue?"

She could feel his gaze on her again, but she didn't match it this time.

"Enough to recognise the signs," she said.

When the neutralising potion had finished brewing twenty minutes later, they were able to dissolve the solidified potion on the floor and vanish it all. The charred desks were returned to normal with a single flick of Neasa's wand, but nothing would remove the scorch mark on the ceiling.

"I might just get Ms Royal to do it as detention," Snape muttered as they returned the desks and cauldrons to their places.

Satisfied that she'd done all she could to help, Neasa said her goodbyes and made to leave; when she was opening the door Snape called after her, "How can I thank you, Miss Casey?"

She paused, and smiled softly at her feet.

"You can give up the coffee, Professor."

"Can I buy you some?"

"Saturday." She looked at him. "I'll meet you in the Three Broomsticks."

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