The Right Time

By rhitmcshanm

It was a fairly common scene in the dungeons that Saturday morning. Potions were bubbling merrily away in cauldrons while a diligent potions master continually checked on their progress. There was, however, one very atypical element present.

“Could you hand me the unicorn tears, please?” Hermione Granger requested of the man standing at her elbow.

“Unicorn tears? Don’t you think that a unicorn hair will suffice?” Severus Snape asked, his face uncharacteristically devoid of its usual sneer.

Hermione bit her lip as she thought about the question. “No,” she said finally. “No, I don’t think a tail hair will work as well as an actual tear.”

“Are you certain?” a hint of the old Potions Master sneer crept back into his voice. “Unicorn tears are far to valuable to waste when a tail hair will be adequate.”

Hermione ran a hand through her hair, a habit she had acquired from him, as she thought about the problem. “I am certain, Severus. I need the tear.”

“Very good, Miss Granger. I see that working transfiguration for the ministry hasn’t addled your brain,” her former Potions professor said, respect tingeing his voice. He even allowed himself a small smile. In the seven years since Voldemort had been defeated, Severus Snape found that a smile every once in a while kept those around him off balance. And for the times when he really needed to stir things up, he would laugh. He did not laugh this time. “Well, not completely addled,” he added as an afterthought as he moved to get the required ingredient.

She looked up from her potion to pin him with a glare. “Why thank you Professor Snape. How kind of you to compliment my work.” She turned around to face him fully, carefully hiding the grin that threatened to escape. She continued, “How is it that working amongst the terminally inept hasn’t turned your brain into pumpkin juice? Do share your secret.”

He cocked an eyebrow and looked at her. “Why, because every few years one with some talent comes along. Those are the ones that keep my trying.” He eyed her significantly.

She felt a blush creep up her cheeks and looked away from his intense eyes. A bark of laughter immediately followed her break of eye contact. She shook her head and smiled as she realized how he had baited her. And how she had taken the bait: hook, line, and sinker. A quick glance up at the face of the still amused potions master caused her breath to hitch in her throat.

He’s just your friend, Hermione, she told herself, trying to stop the surge of desire that his relaxed expression brought on. Remember? You tried that whole lovers thing right after you graduated and Voldemort was defeated. Remember how that ended? She certainly did. There had been tears and name-calling and swearing upon ancient wizards the day they had finally broken up. It had taken nearly a year for them to be able to speak civilly with each other again. And almost two years before they could be comfortable alone together. But she couldn’t stop herself from eyeing Severus Snape with more than just friendly eyes, especially when he laughed—and noticed that he was looking back with the same intense speculation. Do you really want to jeopardize your friendship…again?

She cleared her throat to break the tense, loaded silence that had fallen. “The unicorn tears, Severus?”

The dangerous moment passed. He nodded, his eyes still dark and speculative, but not filled with the suppressed passion of a few moments ago. “The bottle is in my storeroom. I’ll go get it.” He started to leave the room, but threw over his shoulder a wry, “Don’t trouble yourself.”

Hermione grinned and waved cheekily back at him.

She returned her attention to stirring her potion, but her concentration was broken almost immediately by a loud crash from the storeroom. Moments later, Snape burst back into the room.

Startled, Hermione half-stood, eyes questioning.

“Boggart,” Snape gasped, leaning heavily against the door. “Jumped out of the shadows and surprised me.”

“Did you take care of it?” Hermione asked, surprised by the amount of…fear? Was that fear in Severus’ eyes? The man who had actuallyspit in Voldemort’s face during the last battle was afraid? Of course, boggarts did take on the shape of your worst fears… “What form did it have?” she asked, trying to reconcile the obviously terrified man in front of her with the man she had known for nearly two decades.

He just shook his head. Hermione wasn’t sure if that meant he didn’t kill it or he didn’t want to tell her what form it took. “Was it Voldemort?” she asked. Again, the only answer was a silent shake of his head. For the life of her, Hermione could not figure out what Severus might have seen that would have frightened him so badly.  As far as she knew, he wasn’t frightened of snakes—that would be rather ironic in a Slytherin, spiders, dementors, the moon, or any of the other things that her friends feared. Deciding that some levity might draw a response from him she asked, “ Was it a werewolf?" Nothing. "Was it Sirius?”

Snape’s head snapped up. “You think I am afraid of Sirius Black?” he thundered moving away from the shut door. He advanced toward the sitting Hermione still shaking — though this time in fury and not in fear. It took him a few moments to see the smirk on her face through his rage. His anger lessened as he realized what she had done. And the distraction had the added bonus of removing some of the initial fear.

Seeing that he was in a slightly more receptive mood, she asked again very casually, “So, what form did it take?” She put her hand on his shoulder, hoping the tactile contact would wring out an answer.

Again, he shook his head and glared at her. Muttering, “I’ll take care of it. You stay put,” he shook off her hand and headed back to the door. Some of the fear was back in his voice. He tried to hide it, but it was obvious to anyone who really knew him. And the one person who really knew him was sitting there in the room.

Hermione watched him make his way back to the storeroom. He pulled his wand out and entered, shutting the door behind him. It was only a moment before her Gryffindor instincts kicked in, and she stealthily followed him. Gently opening the door a crack, she peeked in to see Severus Snape battling…Severus Snape?

Quickly rubbing her eyes, Hermione could see that she wasn’t hallucinating on potion fumes. There really were two Snapes. Hermione ordered her libido to behave. This was hardly the time for that.

She watched, eyes wide as one advanced menacingly on the other, feet grinding shards of bright blue pottery that were scattered across the floor into dust. The crunching noise was eerily reminiscent of the sound that Severus’ bones had made in that final terrible battle. Drawing her mind away from painful memories, Hermione refocused on the two Snapes. They were identical, right down to the black robes and lank, greasy hair. She couldn’t tell which Snape was the real one and which was the boggart. And she finally understood just what had scared Snape so thoroughly.

To defeat a boggart, one had to be able to laugh at it. To yell “Riddikulus!” and change it into something ridiculous. And Severus Snape had never, ever been able to laugh at himself.

Hermione felt a flash of fear for her friend. She couldn’t recall exactly what happened to one who could not defeat a boggart, but she remembered that it was fairly gruesome. And fairly fatal.

Hermione watched, barely breathing as the Snape who was being backed toward the wall whispered, “Ri-ri-riddikulus.”

Nothing happened.

Hermione wanted to yell encouragements to Severus, but she knew that she couldn’t distract him. And she couldn’t let him know that he had an audience. Perhaps, if he felt that he were alone, he would be able to find it within himself to laugh at himself.

Again, the true-Snape called with a little more force, “Riddikulus!” Crack! The Snape-boggart turned into a Snape-in-Dumbledore’s-clothing-boggart. To be more specific, the Snape-boggart was now wearing the robes the Headmaster had worn at last year’s Valentine’s Day feast, complete with winking hearts, naked cherubs, and obnoxiously singing flowers.

Hermione stifled a snort of laughter. For a start at laughter, it was really good.

Crack! The boggart became Snape again. Snape seemed to gain more confidence at this small victory. “Riddikulus!” he called again. This time, the boggart turned into…a distinctly Harry Potterish Snape. Barely pausing for breath, Severus cried out in quick succession, “Riddikulus! Riddikulus! Riddikulus!” In short order, the boggart took on the forms of Ron Weasley, Rita Skeeter, and Neville Longbottom, but each was still recognizable as Severus. Hermione could see that the monster was weakening with all the shape shifting. Severus called out a very powerful sounding, Riddikulus! The monster transformed into an unbelievably happy and young looking Severus Snape. With a final ‘Riddikulus’ and a burst of laughter that lacked all humor, the boggart disappeared with a crack.

Snape wiped the sweat from his brow and heaved a silent sigh of relief. He turned around suddenly and saw Hermione watching him before she could duck out of sight. With a sardonic twist to his lips, he approached her repentant figure.

She backed slowly out of the doorway and into the classroom. Step by step, he followed her.

“How much did you see?” he asked in a tone of voice that was colder than any she had heard him use since her fifth year.

“All of it,” she whispered, not meeting his eyes. She knew how angry he was. There was silence, and Hermione decided to take a chance. “For the record,” she said quietly, “I didn’t think that last one was amusing at all.” She could sense he was about to say something so she quickly inserted, “Nor did I find the possibility of you being happy the least bit ridiculous.” She peeked up at him.

His face was unreadable, but his body language said that he was unsure and out of his depth. Hermione grabbed his arm gently and pulled him onto her lap. It was a rather awkward position as he was at least fifteen centimeters taller than she. She wrapped her arms around his waist and pillowed her head on his chest.

“What inside you frightens you so much?” she asked quietly.

He was silent for a moment before replying, “I succumbed to the evil once…what’s to say it won’t happen again? What’s to say that I won’t hurt those I care about a second time?”

Hermione rubbed her cheek against his robes and said, “Severus, all of can succumb to evil. At any time. But you can’t let that fear take over your life.”

Severus sighed and said, “I do not intend to diminish the importance of what you have said, but the sentiments mean very little coming from one who has never felt the touch of evil. From one who does not know it’s draw.”

“I do know the power evil has,” she corrected him, drawing his face to hers and forcing him to see the truth in her eyes. “I will tell you about it some day because I trust you.” She paused, licking her lips, and said, “That’s why it didn’t work out before for us. Before. I didn’t trust you then. Oh, I mean, I trusted you with my life and all, but I didn’t trust you.”

Severus gave a mirthless laugh and said, “You didn’t trust me? I believe a large quantity of the blame rests with me. I certainly didn’t trust you.” He paused for a moment before adding, quietly, “You were…it was….” He trailed off, breaking eye contact.

“Convenient?” Hermione supplied.

Severus looked at her, searching for hurt in her face. Seeing none, he replied, slightly puzzled, “Yes. Convenient. A chance to prove that I was...redeemed.”

She nodded and said, “I was a way to remind you you were human.” She added gently, “You did the same for me. But it wasn’t the right time.”

“No,” he agreed, “it wasn’t the right time.” He ran his fingers through her hair as he contemplated that torrid, perfervid affair they had had all those years ago.

“And now?”

“Now?”

“Is now the right time?” Hermione asked carefully, realizing how much was at stake.

“I don’t know,” Severus sighed. “Is there ever a right time?” He was silent for a moment, thinking. Finally, he spoke. “Perhaps.”

Hermione nodded, knowing that was the most she would get out of him and willing to leave the rest up to fate.

Snape broke the silence with a sigh. “I need to go repair that hideous blue and gold pot of Dumbledore’s.”

“Oh,” Hermione said, “was that what the first crash was?” Severus nodded. With a wicked grin, Hermione said, “I say leave it. The world has enough ugliness in it without re-adding that horrible excuse for pottery.”

“Well,” Snape said, looking at her, “That just leaves the potions. We should return to them.”

“About time,” Hermione said with a laugh as she tried to push Severus Snape’s bigger frame off her lap, “I have lost circulation in my legs. Why didn’t you tell me you weighed so much?”

“Hm…” Snape began in a playful tone, the former edge barely noticable, “Gravity must have increased while we were sitting here.” He let all of his weight rest on his friend, and they tumbled to the floor in a heap.

“Ow!” Hermione tried to sound angry, but the effect was ruined when she laughed, falling against him where she fell on the floor. “The potions will be ruined!” she exclaimed, hoping fear for his precious ingredients would bestir him from where he was, pinning her to the ground.

“Let them be ruined,” he said, voice rough and eyes intense.

Hermione met his eyes with a happy smile and nodded in agreement.

Perhaps, now was the right time after all.

**~**~**