Severus was always busy, and now near Christmas, busy even more than enough, thank you very much. He certainly didn't need some petrified brats on his hands too. It wasn't only that he didn't have the mandrake needed for the un-petrification solution, or that the description of the base in the old book was as vague as his mother's preference for uncouth muggles, or the book itself was as old as when Albus grandmother wore a nappy and turned to dust if one wasn't carefully touching the sheets, no, it was not because of these that he was bloody pissed at the world for throwing stones at him while down, also meaning Hermione Granger turning herself into a cat.
If it wasn't for his busy-ness he would have doubled in half from laughing at the sight of her.
Brightest witch of her age.(his ass)
Right now a fury little ball of Ginger, with cat paws and everything.
How he was tempted to leave her as she was, in a body of a nosy bossy feline, that perfectly suited her.
As if he wasn't bloody busy enough! The nincompoop had to go and brew poly juice unsupervised. How in Merlin's pants the kid hadn't blown half of the castle was beyond him. Of course, she had somehow altered the recipe or fucked it up to allow turning into an animal. The original recipe wouldn't turn a human into a half-cat, only humans were allowed. mayhap she tweaked it?
And wasn't Severus itching to know how.
So all in all, a day from hell.
Not only He had to brew for the hospital, do paperwork and deal with the stupid essays his nutcase students wrote.
But also go through a 3-foot form.
So it was midnight and He was still juggling between the base of the Granger cure, the phase 1 base of the petrification cure, and writing the form.
Oh the form! Merlin Forbid he forgets the bloody thing! The funny little form Albus gleefully gave him this morning! The nerve of these molding wrinkled idiotic board of governers! he had to fill in a form to acquire the know it all father's blood, as it was necessary for the cure. Of course, Hogwarts had the blood of the children's parents particularly for these cases because the little miscreants couldn't pass a day without doing some shit and getting themselves in trouble, but he had to substitute a stupid form every bloody time as if he needed the blood for some nefarious purpose of his.
Seriously what was he to do with those blood tubes? Feed a vampire pet of his?
He cursed. Where is something you need when you need it? So help him if those daft elves pawed his things again!
Thrice damn this castle, where was that blasted quil of his?
He searched some corners, walked up and down his office and library, and nothing.
Absolutely nothing.
One would argue he could have filled in the form with any quil, so why bother?
But Severus had to be cautious, so he had spelled the quil so that no one but him could use it, or change what was written with it. How else could he stay alive if he wasn't as mad as Moody about his affairs? Who knew what incriminating things one could write on the form ?
He was about to call it a night and return to the boiling potions in his lab when something broke under his feet.
So He accioed the little thingy.
Darn! He mentally rolled his eyes, cursed something that would have him in detention with Minerva until he was forty-regardless of age and looked at his favorite quil which lay at his foot, broken.
How was he to know he had left the quil on the floor? His perfect quil! He had personally picked a feather from one of Lucius' ridiculous peacocks without him knowing. Then turned it into his quil.
His favorite mind calming quil.
He had used reparo on that too many times for it to work again.
Just his luck.
He did not know how he reached his station. He was turning the broken quil between his fingers and busy feeling bad for himself.
He sighed again and floated it towards his table at the other corner, dicing some poor ingredients.
While he was distracted with sorrow over his perfect quil, he cut his finger with the knife while trying to cut some carrot roots.
He cursed again as some tiny drops of blood found their path to a cauldron bubbling nearby, making it useless.
The sodding potion for the Granger Girl was ruined completely with his blood instead of her sire.
He sighed in exhaustion. Another base added to tomorrow's workload then. He carefully bottled all potions, ruined or not, it was a potion and he needed it bottled, not rotting in a dirty cauldron making it dirtier. After that, he cleaned his station and suppressed a more than a yawn or two.
When he looked at his watch, it was well past 3 am, plus he had a brewing session early in the morning. He summoned an elf to get the bottled potions to Poppy and went to bed to hopefully catch an hour of sleep.
He woke up at 6 am sharp, by his damned habits. Years and years of having classes in the mornings taught his body to wake when the first rays of the sun reached his bedchamber. One would argue that he lived in a dungeon and where in hell was sunshine available in a dungeon? Severus simply smirked at their idiocy and answered magic of course, but only on his good days.
It was not a good day. It was Christmas, and he hated it with a passion, there was always something happening to him in this particular event. Since nothing pleasant happened to him ever, it was bound to be quite distasteful .
He stretched on his bed like a cat, and remembered the damn base of the ginger Granger cat girl which was ruined, then shrugged. She could maintain the rule of a tomcat a little longer while people who had actual useful work to do got it done. Meddling bint better learn her lesson.
He was reminded of her look as a cat and laughed a little, if she wasn't a brash Gryffindorish mule he would have said she looked cute. She reminded him of his only aunt, Tania too much. He had only met him twice and that was more than it needed for a lifetime. She had bushy white hair, rabbit-like front teeth, and was quite bossy. He was so glad that she went and died when he was 8. Not sure it was because she went on a strike about women's rights, or if one of her wild experiments on explosives went wrong. All that mattered was that his not father was absent for a whole week taking care of his sister's affairs, which Severus celebrated with a rereading of Hogwart's history.
A couple of hours later, he finally had finished another base for the un-petrification cure, and because of his bad luck or the occasion (blasted Christmas) it had gone wrong, again.
He cleaned the slimy goo, and left for the hospital wing, to get a hair sample from his half-cat student. Maybe he would have success with the Granger thing.
Imagine his surprise when he found the bed empty. Did the chit die of a hairball she was unable to rid of overnight?
Of course, he was not that lucky.
Poppy entered the room.
'Oh Severus! Did you come to see the result of the potion? It was a mad success! Just in less than an hour and she was right as rain!'
Then patted him on his shoulder.
' I know you didn't have time for that form, so I registered it for you. Of course, it stays between us, it won't do anyone good to think our dour potion master has a heart'
Severus was more than confused, what form? The form he had not submitted? How in the world Granger was cured of her ailment when the potion didn't have the main ingredient?
He racked his brain for an answer, he didn't add the blood, did he? He had not the father's blood part for heavens sack! He was waiting for the bloody form!
What was Poppy on about?
...' I knew you are a good man behind those dark robes! You won't let a child suffer in the hospital wing alone in Christmas, laddy!'
He was baffled so much that he only uttered a vague thing about hearts, which Poppy laughed and ushered him to the dining hall. Maybe he had low blood sugar, or hallucinations due to being overworked and lack of sleep.
He was debating whether he was still napping on his sofa suffering indigestion to hear these things, but when he entered the dining hall, he met a bushy ginger-haired girl looking too much like Hermione Granger to be a copy.
'Oh Harry, you know I think I should knit more hats for house elves..'
Yep, even poly juice couldn't make one produce that shrill voice, neither it could make some respectful individual utter such nonsense as knitting hats for elves of all things.
Hermione Granger, cured from a cooked-up potion containing his blood.
He was so screwed.