About A Potions Master

Chapter 6

By Pigwidgeon37

Men... Cassandra Snape thought, looking down into the garden from the window of her boudoir. They were lovable because they were so infinitely less cunning than women. Her own son… he had reacted so predictably and with such satisfying chivalry to her increasingly horrible behaviour toward the girl. How fortunate that she had been able to drop a hint to Miss Granger; better still that the girl was bright enough to catch it.

“What is so interesting out there?” her husband asked.

She turned round to smile at him. “They are taking a stroll through the garden. After all, he has to make up for his mother's awful conduct, you know.”

**°°**°°**

“I thought he was going to strangle her,” Hermione said.

Ginny's head, sitting amidst the flames, grinned diabolically. “Amazing strategy,” she said. “And probably the best she could have chosen. So she was really horrible?”

Hermione nodded vigorously. “She was every inch your cliché of the vicious mother-in-law.”

The grin became a little more diabolical. It went rather well with the flames dancing around it. “Mother-in-law? Are your thoughts going that fast?”

“No!” Hermione said, maybe a little too quickly. “Of course not. I just said that to better describe how she behaved.”

“Believe it or not, but I’d like to hear how he behaved.”

“Well, I already told you. He was furious. You remember his voice when he’s really, really angry, don’t you? Well, it was worse.”

Ginny nodded. “Yes, you already said so three times. What about when you were alone with him? After dinner, in the garden?”

Hermione's look took on a somewhat distant quality. “Oh… well… there's nothing much to tell, really. He was… nice.”

“Considering that it's Snape we’re talking about, I think ‘nice’ needs a more accurate definition. Did he kiss you or did he just refrain from throwing you into the duck pond?”

“They don’t have a duck pond!” Hermione said indignantly.

“Does that mean he kissed you?”

“No! Of course not! Severus would never—”

“Severus?” Ginny interrupted her with raised eyebrows, “On a first-name basis, are you?”

“Er… yes, actually he…I suppose it was just out of pity…”

“Hermione!” Ginny gave her a stern Molly-Weasley-look. Hermione cringed. “Listen to me, this is important. If this was any other man on the planet, I’d willingly admit that he’d do something out of pity. But this is Snape, Hermione! Snape, our former Potions teacher! I’ll grant him that he’s not Snape-the-bastard anymore, but he is still Severus Snape. So you’d better believe that he's interested, my dear. What did you talk about?”

“Oh, this and that,” Hermione said, trying to sound aloof.

Ginny was visibly fuming. “Hermione, I’m not asking out of voyeurism, I just want to see a little more clearly. So tell me, for Merlin's sake!”

“Well,” Hermione said hesitantly, “he mostly asked me about my life, how I liked my work, whether I had a boyfriend… general stuff, you know.”

“He asked you whether you had a boyfriend?”

“Yes, I told you he did.”

“Well, what did you answer?”

“I said that I don’t have the time… Ginny, do you think that was the wrong thing to say?”

Ginny's face was momentarily covered by her hands. “Please,” she muttered, “please tell me you didn’t say that.”

Beginning to feel very stupid, Hermione threw her an apologetic look. “I’m afraid that’s what I said… do you think… I mean… he won't be discouraged so easily, will he?”

“I don’t know, honestly,” Ginny replied, shaking her head. “But you’d better be a little more careful next time.”

**°°**°°**

Of course, you never knew with Granger. After all, the girl was a Gryffindor, and this particular subspecies of human beings was famous—no, make that notorious, for never thinking before they spoke. They just said what passed through their heroic heads, regardless of what the others might make of it. Afterwards, they were always deeply astonished at being misunderstood. Granger… well, Hermione did sound nicer, didn’t it? Hermione was no exception. And if she continued behaving like this, he was going to be skin-less on Sunday evening. Because right now, he was soaking in another hot bath (sandalwood and orange blossom), musing about this night's events.

His mother had been horrible to the girl. Impossible to understand why, unless she feared that her son might be attracted to and bestow his affections upon an unworthy object. Which was exactly why he was now chin-deep in scented water. Was he attracted? He had to admit that she looked lovely. And she was really brilliant. Now that she didn't display her knowledge in his classroom anymore—not that he had ever blamed her for being interested, but she had frustrated her classmates with her loud-mouthedness, so that in the end they had simply given up on raising their hands, because Granger knew it all anyway… Now this wasn't a disturbing factor anymore; the mists of the classroom had cleared, and he could look at her from a purely personal point of view. And he had to admit that he liked what he saw.

Of course, she was still very young. Still an overachiever. So very eager to please. A certain shyness that spoke of lack of human contact—he had hidden that shyness behind an overall harshness, but it had been there. And she was so very insecure. Usually, this brought out the worst in him. Maybe now to a lesser degree, but essentially he still detested weakness. Only her insecurity didn’t stem from weakness. So what, Severus? You like what you see, but is that enough to risk a serious conflict with your mother? Can you imagine anything like a common future with the girl? And if you can, why?

Such a lot of questions, and each of them more unanswerable than the last. Although he was sure about one thing: With Hermione Granger, he could either have a serious relationship or nothing. Not that he was above the occasional fling, on the contrary. The occasions were pretty few, but they had been there, and they had been thoroughly exploited. Not with her, though. There was a vulnerability about the girl that pretty much forbade any such thought. Not the general idea of taking her to bed, oh no; the mere memory of her entering the dining room tonight was enough to produce a medium-sized earthquake in his nether regions. And while they had been walking through the gardens, his height—he was almost one foot taller than she—had given him the very-much-appreciated advantage of being able to peer inside the neckline of that dress… Her breasts would just fit into his hands, and very nicely so.

But this isn’t the point, Severus. No, he admitted, that was definitely not the point. Physical attraction was only one of many components of more complex emotions. Then there was his fascination with her intellect. And that strange urge to protect her. On the other side, the age difference and his mother’s obvious dislike of the girl were looming in a very unpromising fashion. Twenty-two years could not, not even by the most lenient standards, be called a small difference. He had to admit, though, that this was more her than his problem. His mother… Well, she had two more days to try and change her opinion. He had to talk to her first thing in the morning.

Don’t forget that she told you she doesn’t have time for a boyfriend, the ugly little voice piped up. Ah, that! Yes, that had been… a little strange. It might very well have been a subtle way of giving him to understand that she didn’t want him, or anybody else for that matter, as a boyfriend. On the other hand, she was everything but subtle. If she didn’t want a boyfriend, she would have said so, without unnecessary subterfuge. Come to think of it, it sounded more like the typical reaction of who wanted but couldn’t get. A defence reaction against frustration. He didn’t doubt for a single second that she had crammed her life with work and studies and whatever else she could dig up, so that there really was no danger of having to stop and think. In his days of loneliness and desperation, he had had this coping mechanism down to a fine art.

In the end, he decided that it was at least worth a try. If only because it had been dawning on him, during the last few months of what Albus called his ‘recovery’, that he craved the company of a woman. Not just any woman, but then Hermione certainly wasn’t just any woman. If he wanted a female presence in his life, he would have to start searching sooner or later. So why not begin right now? If she rejected him, tant pis. If she was interested, they could still wait and see how things worked out. Any further musings he might have wanted to entertain on this matter were cut short by his toes: they began to look like shrivelfigs. Time to get out of this tub and into bed.

**°°**°°**

Last night, Hermione had had no difficulties finding sleep. She had been tired because of the emotional roller coaster ride she had endured over the past few days; moreover she hadn’t slept well the two nights after the auction. When she woke up from a deep and refreshing, but short, slumber, the horizon was only just beginning to take on a pinkish hue. It couldn’t be much later than five in the morning. A rather ungodly hour to wake up at, especially because it was Saturday, and not just any Saturday. Yesterday had only been a kind of preliminary. But today and tomorrow were important. Turning over, so that she now lay on her right side, facing the window, she gazed out into the treetops. They were perfectly immobile, no breeze moving the leaves. The air streaming in through the open window was heavy with the scent of dew and humid earth, and the birds were singing their twittering odes to Aurora. How peaceful it was…

Hermione decided to make the best of this early hour, got out of bed, put on a dressing gown and left her room. Already halfway down the stairs, she noticed that she was barefoot but felt too lazy to go back and fetch her slippers. The house was still utterly quiet; not in a bad way, though. More like a huge, sleeping creature, breathing evenly, protecting the ones living under its roof. Noiselessly, she proceeded to where she supposed the kitchen had to be. Maybe the House Elves were already up—in fact, she strongly supposed they were—so she could ask them for a cup of tea and some biscuits to take outside. Then she might watch the sunrise, sitting on the stairs outside the entrance, sipping her tea and nibbling her cookies… Yes, that was definitely a nice way to start the day.

“Such an early bird, Hermione?”

She almost jumped out of her skin with shock. “Oh, Professor… I mean Severus… Don’t you ever again… good morning!”

The problem was, Hermione thought, that she simply wasn’t used to seeing men in pyjamas and dressing gowns. The men she usually met wore robes or at least clothes; but somehow this state of deshabillé was very… unsettling. Strange, because what he was wearing now revealed much less than yesterday night’s shirt and trousers. Mmh… maybe some inches more of throat and chest, but that couldn’t be enough to short-circuit large parts of her brain, could it?

Enjoying her obvious embarrassment, Severus allowed his eyes to feast on her. With her hair open and still slightly sleepy-eyed, she was closer to the girl he had known at school. But still very enticing. Her skin had to be still sleep-warm; his sensitive nose could catch her scent much more clearly now than yesterday night.

“I suppose you were on your way to the kitchen?” he prompted.

“Yes, I… I wanted to get a cup of tea and some biscuits. When I wake up early, I’m always quite ravenous. And it’s so beautiful outside…”

“Then let us go together. I feel a certain need for tea myself. Would you mind if I kept you company, or do you prefer to stay alone?”

As if she had any experience with company in the early morning! But she always talked to Crookshanks, if that was any indication. “I don’t mind in the least. On the contrary.”

There! She had said it! Ginny would be so proud! Although she would certainly not approve of her appearance—barefoot, untidy hair, no lipstick… had she but known that the man roamed the house at dawn!

His hand came to rest lightly on her shoulder. “Come on then, let’s see what Piggy has in store for us.”

The centipede problem! There it was again, worse than ever! What on earth was she to do with her right arm? If she just let it dangle where it was, chances were that her hand might brush against his body while walking—parts of his body it certainly wasn’t decent to brush against at five o’clock in the morning. To put it round his waist would have been very nice, but maybe also a bit too intimate. She had to use it, and quickly. Oh, maybe… yes, the dressing gown had pockets. Gladrag’s be blessed!

Piggy had provided them with a large tray, the contents of which emanated mouth-watering scents; he had insisted on carrying it, so this specific form of the centipede problem didn’t arise again.

Putting down the tray on top of the stairs, he pulled out his wand. “Chairs or cushions?”

“Cushions, I think. They make for a more picknick-ish atmosphere.”

“As you wish. And, I daresay, you’ll need one for your feet, too. Unless you’d rather have a pair of slippers.”

He was pleased indeed when she opted for the cushion, because he liked her feet. They were small, well formed, and the second toes were slightly longer than the big ones. One of ancient Greece’s criteria for perfect beauty, although he had never been able to understand why. After a brief reflection as to whether those feet might also be sensitive to being caressed, he sternly called himself to order and produced a small black velvet cushion. That was going to showcase them nicely…

The tray was standing between them, much to the silent regret of both; they were drinking their tea, looking out over the trees and the softly undulating hillside, savouring the combination of hot liquid and cool morning air.

The peaceful serenity was interrupted by Hermione’s voice. “I just can’t understand how, having grown up in a place like this, you could have become a Death Eater.”