Author's Note

I don't have a beta, so please forgive any spelling and/or grammar errors. I hope you enjoy it, please let me know what you think!

I'm not J.K. Rowling, so I don't own anything.

Ch 5: Brewing

Hermione was double checking the list of ingredients against what she'd collected when Snape swept in, robes billowing around his legs in a familiar way.

"Did you get the fresh mandrake shavings on your way back in? I didn't think you'd appreciate me leaving the dungeons to gather them myself," Hermione said quickly, trying to seem practical and unaffected by their recent tryst. She had no doubt that if she'd blushed and stammered he'd have sent her scurrying away with more than insults pelting her back.

"I did," he said approvingly, methodically unpacking the bag he was carrying. "I bought the lionfish spines as well, since I believe Slughorn used up all of the whole ones I once had."

"Dobby should be bringing the heart from the chicken coup momentarily," Dumbledore volunteered from his portrait.

He'd been watching Hermione since she'd arrived, but he'd not spoken until just now. Snape tensed visibly, but didn't acknowledge the headmaster. When Dumbledore sighed loudly, Hermione had to bite back an incredulous smile. Apparently he wasn't impressed by the silent treatment he was receiving. She wondered if Snape was actually getting any enjoyment out of his rather juvenile antics.

Snape glanced pointedly at Hermione, coolly informing her, "It's probably from the chicken that will be used for supper this evening."

"I assumed as much."

The snort he gave clearly indicated he knew she was lying, though fortunately, he didn't call her on it. The idea should have occurred to her sooner if she were honest.

"Is it all right if Dobby knows I'm here?" she asked suddenly.

If he knew, then there was a chance Harry might find out she was working with Snape. He wouldn't understand. Harry was completely irrational where Snape was concerned. And she didn't even want to consider how he'd react if he ever learned she'd slept with the man to acquire a potion ingredient. Their friendship would be over, she was convinced.

"I'm certain our former headmaster has already informed him as much, and taken the necessary precautions to ensure his silence in the matter. You, yourself, pointed out how effective he is at such earlier," Snape drawled, and Hermione winced in sympathy for Dumbledore. Snape definitely had a way of crafting the perfect jibe. It was a wonder anyone could interact with him at all and not be cut to ribbons in the process.

Once again Dumbledore sighed, though this one was far more dramatic, and she knew it was for effect alone.

"Are you worried?" she asked, wondering if she should go and come back once the elf had gone.

"We shall see," he said vaguely, but Hermione thought she detected a hint of worry cross his face. It was gone before she could respond, and he was focused on preparations once again. "We'll require a copper cauldron, size 4."

"I've only ever used pewter before," she noted absently as she went to retrieve the necessary item. Snape was already checking the measurements of the ingredients she'd weighed out while waiting for him to return.

"That is because potions never interested you beyond proving your ability to read and perform a set list of tasks better than your peers, or making it clear you'd done the required research," Snape stated critically.

She wondered if he'd meant it as an insult, but considering the way he wasn't paying her the least bit of attention, she figured it had been a sincere observation on his part. Was he aware of how abrasive he came across most of the time? Did he even care? Doubtful.

"An accurate evaluation," she finally allowed, knowing it was the truth. Why would she waste time trying to improve something that already worked? There was enough broken in the world that she could devote herself to fixing.

"What? Not going to argue that you secretly loved it?" he asked mockingly, pausing in his assessment to pin her with his penetrating stare. The dark chips pierced straight to the depths of her soul, forcing her to be nothing but honest with him.

"Clearly I didn't or I wouldn't have been so upset with Harry following the altered instructions from your old textbook last year – I would have tried my own hand at improving the ones I had," she said tartly, still annoyed with her friend for cheating. The only reason he'd out performed her was because he used Snape's directions rather than those published in a book.

It had been the only time a book had ever let her down.

Snape looked a bit surprised, though she couldn't tell if it was because she'd put Harry down or because she was agreeing with him.

"Luckily, for both of us, this potion won't need to be altered," he said, letting the matter drop just as Dobby arrived.

The free elf was savagely twisting an ear with one hand and looking terrified as he held a carefully wrapped object out towards Snape. His hand was trembling slightly, and Hermione was proud that he'd been brave enough to come despite his obvious fear of the wizard. If only the other house-elves would take their cues from him.

She also wondered what Dumbledore's portrait had said to convince him to help.

"I was told to bring this to Harry Potter's friend," Dobby said, looking comically from her to Snape and back again. To be fair, their alliance was rather shocking and unexpected.

Hermione noticed the way Snape's jaw clenched at the mention of Harry, and how he made no effort to accept the proffered heart.

"Yes, thank you, Dobby. You can set it just there?" Hermione suggested, trying to gauge if that was all right, but Snape remained determinedly silent.

"Does Miss need help?" Dobby asked, frowning at Snape and shifting from foot to foot nervously.

"No, Dobby," she rushed to assure him, knowing he'd try to intervene if she said yes.

Dobby frowned at Snape again, face twisting as though he was seeing something hideous and grotesque. It was easy to see that he was judging Snape and finding him to be comparable to the likes of Lucius Malfoy.

Her heart went out to Snape, recognizing what a sacrifice he'd made. He was a pariah now. Even house-elves looked down on him.

"That will be all," he barked darkly, dismissing Dobby with a fierce glare that promised there would be dire consequences if he dared linger any longer or tried to interfere further.

Hermione wanted to scold Snape, but he wasn't like her friends where she could browbeat them into being nicer to house-elves. Besides, shadows had darkened his face, tormenting him. He looked like a man staring out of his own grave.

"What can I do next?" she asked instead, sensing he'd feel on more even footing if he was taking command and accomplishing what they'd set out to do rather than dwelling on negative thoughts.

"Do not question any instruction I give you. You are to do as I say – no more, no less," he ordered smoothly.

She hadn't planned to, recognizing how delicate this potion was and how impossible it would be to start over if a mistake was made. But she also understood that her behaviour in class made him suspicious of the fact.

"I understand," she agreed stiffly when it appeared he was waiting for verbal confirmation.

He raised a brow at her tone, but fortunately didn't comment. She probably would have pointed out he wasn't her professor anymore if he'd tried to. Somehow, given what they just done together, she felt a little bolder – not that she'd ever had a problem standing up to people when the situation warranted it.

"The iguana blood must be heated with the oleander oil for ten minutes without coming to a boil, and it can only be stirred up to five times," he recited, not even needing to double check the instructions from the book, though she doubted he'd ever prepared this particular poison before.

"All right," she agreed, moving to complete the task as efficiently as possible.

It was rather boring waiting for the base to gradually heat. More and more frequently she found herself sneaking peeks at what Snape was up to. He was muttering under his breath at the mandrake shavings, his wand tracing over them slowly. The thin, curling peels twitched and writhed as though in pain.

"What are you doing to them?" she asked, unable to help herself when he paused.

His breathing was ragged when he answered, and he clutched the table as though needing the support to remain upright. "One of the Dark Spells. It preserves the screams of mandrake that was skinned to produce them. It should cause haemorrhaging in any who ingest the poison containing it."

"Oh. What is the effect if the poison is used on an object rather than consumed?" Would it still work on a Horcrux? A locket wouldn't have blood vessels to rupture. Nor would most of the other objects.

"Sufficient and lasting damage, I would think," he answered, straightening and walking across the room. "It will suffice for your purposes, trust me."

"You know…." She wasn't sure how she knew it, only that she was convinced he did.

"That you intend to destroy his Horcruxes, yes, I do," he finished smoothly, confirming her suspicions.

She wanted to say more, but he slumped into the only chair in the room. He looked utterly drained, enough so that she couldn't bring herself to push him and demand answers.

She'd not realised that using the Dark Arts might take a toll on the caster, however temporary. She'd always envisioned them as a bit of an easy shortcut. Especially when she considered the calibre of the individuals she knew who used them. Those like Crabbe and Goyle hardly seemed capable of expending energy or giving a part of themselves as Snape seemed to be doing now.

Or was it because he was more skilled and capable? His spells would, no doubt, produce a more profound effect.

"How do you cast a Dark spell?" she asked, eager to understand and learn something new and take advantage of his guards being a bit lower than usual.

"By channelling negative emotions with the intention of spreading your misery around," he said, running a hand through his hair.

She suddenly realised the dark strands were slick with some substance that hadn't been there when they'd had sex. She'd have felt it. But his hair had been surprisingly soft and clean. Thick too. Did he deliberately apply something when brewing? No wonder he'd earned himself a reputation as being a greasy, slimeball. He was almost always in a potions classroom at Hogwarts.

Desperate to distract herself from thinking about how she'd had her hands all over him not too long ago, Hermione asked, "Would guilt work?"

"If it was strong enough," he said cautiously, considering it for a lengthy pause. "I sincerely doubt you have ever done anything that would qualify."

The last image she had of her parents. The fear etching deep grooves on their faces as she aimed a wand at them, burned painfully into her mind. Blinking did nothing to dispel the afterimage. It was indelible. The last thing she thought of before sleep claimed her, and her first thought upon waking each day.

Forgiveness wasn't even a possibility for her. How could it be when those she'd wronged held no memory of the extent of her transgressions?

"You might be surprised," she said bitterly, giving the potion the fourth stir. She was a bit too rough with it, but fortunately, the cauldron was empty enough that none spilt as it splashed against the sides.

"Hmmm," Snape hummed noncommittally. Hermione studiously avoided looking at him, positive he'd read too much written across her face. Then he surprised her by acknowledging, "Perhaps."

Could he truly read her so easily, or had he entered her mind again? It was an alarming –

The timer dinged, startling her. She practically jumped out of her skin at the sound.

"Snuff the flame," Snape intoned, ignoring her reaction and focusing on the next steps of the preparation process. "Add the two largest bones then stir the potion once clockwise, then three and a quarter times counterclockwise. It will need to sit undisturbed for thirteen minutes afterwards."

Hermione felt her stomach lurch unpleasantly when she reached into the bag on the table he'd nodded at, but she did not baulk.

The potion bubbled black around the bones as she lowered them into the thick mixture. It reminded her of acid eating through metal, and it was strangely hypnotising to watch them dissolve.

"Be careful of the fumes," Snape said suddenly, appearing behind her and urging her to take a step back with a hand wrapped around her middle. Her back was flush against his front, and he didn't immediately release her. "They're toxic."

"Thanks," she muttered, grateful he didn't say more or berate her for the foolish mistake she'd not made since her first year. She knew proper protocol, but the sight had beckoned her closer, nearly irresistible.

A bit unsteadily, she reached for the timer as Snape returned to preparing the ashwinder egg. Sweat beaded on his forehead, despite the noticeable chill in the room, as small holes appeared, dotting the shell. From each puncture, a drop of blood slowly oozed out like tears of despair.

He brought it to her once the blood stopped flowing. There were so many questions she wished to ask, but she knew it was not the time. He clearly needed to focus, and she was determined to prove she wasn't always the annoying know-it-all he believed her to be. Honestly, this whole experience was too fascinating to risk banishment just to sake her insatiable curiosity.

"When the timer goes off you may add this to the potion base. One and a half clockwise stirs every two minutes for the next hour. At the twenty-eight minute mark, add the dried tormentil root and give it three and a quarter counterclockwise stirs," he said, nodding to confirm she understood.

She felt a bit like a robot, moving mechanically with little thought or effort to her actions. Snape, meanwhile, set about efficiently slicing, chopping and mixing other ingredients in a wide, brass bowl. At forty-three minutes, he added the paste he'd created to the cauldron. The potion flashed from a deep navy to a vivid green that reminded her disturbingly of snake scales.

Carefully, Snape placed the tiny heart in front of him then flipped a page of the book, checking something. Hermione could just make out the words on the page and the name of an unfamiliar spell.

When he cast it, a flame of orange light shot out, flaying the heart open.

Hermione's breath caught in her throat roughly, nearly choking her. It was the same spell Dolohov had used on her in the Department of Mysteries when they'd foolishly gone to the Ministry to save Sirius. That spell had nearly killed her. Would have too, if this was any indication.

If Dolohov had not been incompetent, she'd have looked like the mangled meat sitting on the bench. If he'd had Snape's ability, she wouldn't be here now.

Ideally, she wondered how much he'd appreciate it if the tables were turned, and he was the one on the receiving end of that particular spell. Because Hermione wasn't inept. She wouldn't botch it.

"Was that wand embellished at the end necessary?" she asked casually, straining her neck to reread the passage he'd left open.

Except Snape slammed the book shut.

"The Dark Arts aren't for you, Granger. That's why I'm here," he said chillingly.

"I wasn't going to use the spell. I simply wanted to understand how it works," she refuted, feigning indifference. He didn't buy it. Not even for a second.

"You're walking a dangerous path. Take care not to lose sight of what's most important," he warned.

Had it begun like this for him? Revenge and curiosity. Was it truly such a dangerous combination?

It really was a shame he'd not welcome her questions. There was no denying that she was intrigued by the man. Always had been, but now…after he'd taken such care and shown her how incredible sex could be, she wanted to know more about him.

But he'd never answer. At least not truthfully. It didn't matter that he'd been noticeably less snarky and abrasive than usual while working on the potion together. That would vanish in a second if she tread on the thin ice protecting his privacy.

"When the timer goes off, add the four smallest bones," he said flatly, dropping the matter.

"Anything else?"

"No. It will sit for twenty-one minutes, then the tormentil petals will need to be added one at a time. The potion should be colourless by the last one."

While the brew was sitting, he handed her a copper knife and nudged a fluxweed stem towards her, then reopened the book to the relevant passage. She began cutting as the page instructed, but had barely started when Snape's hand covered hers, adjusting her grip and the angle she held the blade.

His grip was firm and warm, and she recalled the surety and confidence with which he'd touched her. He'd made her body sing. She was positive no one else would have taken such care or been as adept at reading her. Years of practice as a spy had definitely been to her benefit.

Would he have acted the same if it hadn't been necessary for her to orgasm? Somehow, she simply knew he would. Snape seemed to relish being the best at all the endeavours he undertook.

She wasn't sure what to make of it when he released her, his fingers flexing briefly before he stepped back. But she was relieved to be able to concentrate and think clearly again. His proximity had caused a flutter low in her belly, as though readying and eager for more of his attention. It didn't matter that her mind was all too aware that it wasn't going to happen.

Carefully, she cut the root as he'd shown her, glancing up just in time to catch his nod of approval. Her core clenched, and the twing of pain made it impossible to forget that he was the cause of both her soreness and her desire to repeat the act.

The last few steps of the preparation seemed to take no time at all, though from the way her back and feet ached, they'd been at it for several hours.

She forgot all about her burning, throbbing muscles though when he held up the phial he'd collected from her earlier. "One drop each day, precisely twenty-four hours apart. You can collect it from me once it's ready," he announced, adding a single, shimmering, pink-tinged drop. The potion flashed a brilliant scarlet red, and Hermione resented the fact that it reminded her that it contained virgin blood from herself. It was beyond embarrassing.

Without another word, Snape began cleaning up.

"All right," Hermione said uncertainly. Was she just supposed to leave now? Annoyed with his inability to communicate like a regular person, she walked steadily towards the door.

"Granger," Snape called, stopping her in her tracks.

"Yes?"

Hesitantly, he informed her, "They're targeting your family."

Her breath caught. He hadn't needed to share that information. Probably, it was dangerous for him to have done so. So why had he?

"I know," she admitted. "I've already taken care of it…. Even if they're found, they know nothing that will put Harry at risk," she added, not entirely sure why she was sharing, but feeling the urge to unburden herself to someone unlikely to judge her for her decision.

The statement was so quiet she almost missed it when he whispered, "I see."

And perhaps he did. Two such inconsequential words, but when strung together by him, held a wealth of meaning.

"Why did you warn me?" she asked, needing to know his motivations. Had Dumbledore put him up to this as well? Did he feel guilty over sleeping with her? Or was he truly a decent man beneath his armour of insults and snark?

Snape's jaw clenched so hard she could see a muscle ticking in his cheek.

"I am a spy, trading information is what I do," he said blankly, not an ounce of emotion colouring the well rehearsed phrase. How many times had he said the same to the Order?

She couldn't be sure, not really, but she didn't think it was a very honest answer. It made her wonder if the real reason was possibly because he was grateful that at least one living person didn't see him as a monster for his role in Dumbledore's death.

"I don't believe you," she said simply.

If he was taken aback, he didn't show it.

"The Carrows will be here by now. Take the Floo to The Three Broomsticks, then Apparate from there," he said, turning his back on her to continue cleaning up the workspace they'd used.

"All right."

She watched him methodically wiping the table. Here was another warning he hadn't needed to issue. Though this one made more sense. The potion they'd gone to such lengths to create would be useless if she wasn't around to pour it on the Horcruxes once they located them.

"The potion will be ready in five days. I will add the blood each day, then it must simmer overnight after the final drop. You may collect it on Monday," he said without looking at her. He must have sensed her lingering.

"Thank you. For everything," she said quietly, slipping from the room before he had a chance to say something nasty and ruin her sincerity.