Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter NOR any of his friends NEITHER any of his enemies. It's hard to admit, but when I'm done with them all, I have to return them to Joanne K. Rowling in an original wrapping and unharmed. I make no money, I mean no harm.
Patchwork
Big Eyes
The three veterans approached the Defence classroom with mixed feelings. Hermione had assured them several times they had covered most of the seventh year curriculum during the war - the teacher, however, was Mad-Eye Moody, which meant he would expect them to have covered it, which meant he would expect them to learn more.
Once again, the former Auror surprised them, when he motioned them to the first row of desks.
"I suppose you haven't paid much attention to the theory during the last year, have you?" he barked as soon as they took places. Hermione blushed and the boys shook their heads. "Let's see what you do remember, first. What is the best way to get rid of a boggart, Malfoy?"
"To turn it into something funny with Riddiculus," Draco answered quickly, remembering the first lesson with Lupin.
"And?" Moody's own eye looked at him, while the other seemed to be looking through him. Draco suppressed a shudder. It was no secret that Moody didn't like him and Draco had to concentrate hard to remember his question under the scrutinising gaze of one human and one magical eye.
"To... laugh?"
"Is that a question or an answer, Malfoy?" Moody barked impatiently.
"An answer?" Moody frowned but didn't comment on the questioning tone of Draco's answer.
"Granger, what do you concentrate on when casting Riddiculus?"
"Picturing my worst fear turning into something funny," Hermione answered swiftly. Moody nodded.
"How do you tell a werewolf from a common wolf, Longbottom?" Neville tried to remember the five differences, but came up only with a furry tail and a vague memory about something concerning the whiskers, so he decided to go for a simple answer:
"If it's a wolf, it runs away from me, if it's a werewolf, it attacks." Moody's frown deepened as both his eyes focused on Neville's face.
"There are five very distinctive differences, Longbottom," he said coolly.
"If it is a werewolf and if I can see its whiskers, it's already too close," Neville explained. It was a healthy theory, Hermione thought - one that could keep one healthy - and she looked up, half expecting Moody to praise the logic and vigilance behind it. But Moody squared his shoulders as if preparing for a battle.
"You are getting quite cheeky there, Longbottom." He turned and retrieved a chalk from his desk. He started drawing a diagram on the blackboard, explaining the theory behind common blocks. Hermione frantically tried to both copy the diagrams from the blackboard and put down what Moody was saying, while the boys exchanged a puzzled look. They glanced at Hermione's quill scribling as fast as possible and decided to share, Draco carefully drawing the diagrams and Neville writing every single word Moody said.
Tisha piled the Muggle books on her table and checked she had written everything important on the blackboard. She was ready for the next lesson and there was really nothing she could do to postpone reading the letter.
It bore the Ministry credentials and Tisha reluctantly broke the seal. Her eyebrows creased as she reread the few lines the letter contained. She subconsciously tapped her pockets to get her cell phone and let out a short laugh when she realised it was stashed in her Muggle purse, since it wouldn't work at Hogwarts.
In the end she copied the letter and headed to the owlery.
"Why was he so bitchy?" Draco asked Neville as soon as they left the Defence classroom. "I understand why he hates me, but what has he against you?" Neville shrugged.
"Guess it's about Severus, really," he said after letting a group of third years pass them. "If you think he hates you, you've never seen the two of them together."
"That bad?"
"See you," Hermione piped in and took a turn into a longly unused corridor, which she had learned led directly to the library.
"Worse." The boys stopped when they reached the marble staircase, realising they had been heading to the Slytherin and Gryffindor common rooms, while their own lay in a completely different direction.
"Want to have a game?" Draco suggested, eying the clear sky outside through a nearby window.
"Me?" Neville laughed. "No, thanks. I think I'll go work on my Potions essay."
"Didn't you finish it yesterday evening?"
"Er, not completely. I need to check something in the library," Neville lied. He had been studying Potions, only he had abandoned his essay after few sentences in a pursuit of an interesting footnote.
"You should have gone with Hermione."
"Oh, now I can't find the library on my own? Watch me," Neville challenged and ran up the stairs, hoping the library was in that direction.
"Mister Brocks," Snape drawled in his most vicious voice when the air in the classroom finally cleared. The student in question raised his head sheepishly. His face was dirty and his hair had become a smelly mess during the explosion of his cauldron, but otherwise he seemed unharmed.
"Yes, Professor?" he asked as meekly as a Gryffindor ever could. His eyes were unusually big and open and his fear was almost palpably emanating from him.
"What were you doing to this simplest of potions to let it explode?" Snape asked in a low, threatening voice. The boy shrunk a little, but his voice didn't falter as he answered:
"I read that wartcap powder added before porcupine quills allows the quills to be added before the heat is down," Brocks answered,eyes suddenly lighting up, fear gone, "... in general, and doesn't usually influence the result aside from its colour and flavour and I wanted to find out whether it was true for boil cure potion and since there was wartcap powder among the ingredients I just tried it." Brocks shot an embarassed glance at his immediate neighbour, Elizabeth Jorkins, who had managed to escape being sprayed by the thick result of Brocks' experiment by ducking under her desk, and then looked back at Snape. "Turns out it doesn't, sir," he added with a small smile.
"Correct," Snape mumbled before he could stop himself, then glared to make sure everyone forgot he had just said anything. He was at a loss. A part of him could perfectly understand Brocks' train of thoughts, and it was this part of his brain that followed the boy's explanation and even admired the theory. On the other hand, experiments like that surely shouldn't take place during classes, especially when carried out by an unsupervised ignorant first year.
"That would be ten points from Gryffindor for not following my instructions and you'll see me for a detention tonight," Snape said with a scowl. He replayed the experiment before his inner eye to guess at what the result of it could be like and what could it do when mixing with the rest of the ingredients on the table and with a sigh vanished the mess with a swift Evanesco. "Clean up the rest. Was there anything you wanted, Miss Jorkins?" The girl blushed a little.
"I'm done, sir, so I wanted to help Robert." Snape inspected the contents of her cauldron. Big puddles of thick lime cream were slowly dissolving into what might have been an adequate boil cure potion before the explosion.
"You had better thank Mister Brocks for spoiling your work as well," Snape said casually and vanished the contents of her cauldron. "There is no way to tell how well or bad you have done. If you are feeling unwell, Mister Brocks, you should visit the infirmary." The concoction shouldn't be dangerous as far as Snape knew, but it would probably give Brocks nasty rash since he didn't seem to be interested in getting it off of his face and hands.
"Are you burnt?" Snape asked, for the second time during the same lesson letting his mouth run away from him. Of course the boy wasn't burnt; the wartcap powder should have calmed the potion down, and probably did.
"Oh, no, Professor, it is quite cool," Brocks answered indifferently, sniffing his fingers curiously. He didn't seem to mind he had lost his House any points or had been given detention and there was part of Snape's mind that understood that quite too well.
"I think I used too much wartcap powder," Brocks informed Jorkins, who tried to stare him down and failed. "And maybe I should have added the quills more gradually, so the reaction wouldn't be so violent." Snape realised two things - first, what Brocks was saying was a naive, but logically solid argumentation. The boy had talent, but lacked knowledge, experience and a sense of self-preservation.
Second, the whole class was staring at him.
"Mister Brocks," he said meaningly, leaning over the destroyed cauldron and reaching into the Brocks' personal space, "You should have followed the instructions in your textbook. You definitely used too much wartcap powder, as there was none listed among the ingrediences you were supposed to use. This class is not your playground and you will not carry out any more experiments in here, understood?" The long and intent speech made the boy fully aware of the fact that he had made his professor very, very angry, and he looked up at Snape's looming face and nodded, and added a timid "yes, Professor" to confirm he had understood.
"Class dismissed," Snape said shortly as the bell sounded. As the students were leaving the class, Tisha slipped inside. She nodded at him, but kept silent until they were alone.
"Quite harsh," she commented. "Poor boy was just naturally curious."
"If he carries on like this he may easily get naturally killed,", Snape retorted calmly. "I suppose you didn't come all the way here just to complain about my teaching methods?"
"I'm not complaining. It's your student who may not remain as enthusiastic a brewer after your, umm, excellent motivation."
"What is it you want, Professor?" Snape asked, trying to express his irritation both by the sound of his voice and by turning his back to her.
"Changing subject, Severus?"
"I do not have the time nor the will to exchange meaningless retorts with you. What do you want?" Snape faced Tisha, glaring at her with all malevolence he could gather. She tilted her head slightly, studied his face curiously and smiled.
"I missed your sense of humour." Snape's eyes narrowed in suspicion. Tisha, however, stood her ground, her expression a picture of innocence, her lips still curved into a mischievious smile.
Snape's own expression shifted. Tisha wasn't able to decipher it, but there was something unbelievably uncharacteristic and incredibly delicate - at least Tisha was sure it was there, until Snape's expression shifted back to his usual hard-stone one. The desire to tease him having left her, Tisha felt her own smile getting gentle. She amicably patted Severus' shoulder.
"Have a nice day." She left and carefully closed the door behind her. Snape abandoned his preparations for the next class and frowned at the door. He had given in the temptation to have a look inside that blonde head of hers, but it had done him no good. Her thoughts had been like a beehive to him: filling enough, but completely confused.
Upon mounting the staircase out of the dungeons, Tisha ran into Neville - literally. She grabbed into the railing with one hand, stretching out the other to steady the clumsy boy.
"Sorry," he muttered.
"No harm done," she reassured him with a wide smile. Neville glanced down the stairs.
"Have you been downstairs to see Severus?" he asked, sounding surprised and blushing violently at once.
"Sort of. Listen, Neville, do you think you could do me a favour?" Tisha inspected her watch and calmed down. She still had enough time before her next class.
"Uh... what kind of a favour?"
"Nothing too horrible. I need to pop to London in the afternoon. Could you come to the gates with me and call me the Knight Bus?" For several seconds Neville just stared, then he realised Tisha didn't have a wand to wave at the bus.
"Certainly. Wait - did Severus refuse to do that?" Neville's eyes grew ridiculously large as he contemplated this new possible level of rudeness.
"No," came the embarassed reply.
"No?"
"I didn't ask."
"You didn't ask? But..."
"I couldn't," Tisha admitted. "He thought I wanted something and it never even crossed his mind I would come if I hadn't."
"You did want something," Neville pointed out.
"That's the point," Tisha hissed. "Don't tell him," she begged. In retrospective it seemed stupid to pretend she hadn't sought Severus in order to ask him a favour. She was a newbie, after all, and she hadn't asked that much of him so far. But still.
"At what time do you want to leave?" Neville decided to cut the growingly uneasy conversation short.
"I have a class now and then I'd like to have lunch. At two? Does that suit you?"
"It would be my pleasure. At two in the Entrance Hall, then." And with a polite smile Neville retired in the direction he had originally come from.
A/N: Okay, okay, I know it took me ages to update. I'm sorry - I just couldn't set my mind to work at it. Please don't sue me (I don't have any money anyway). Reviews would be highly appreciated. :)