General Disclaimer: I don’t own any of this. I’m making no profit. Yadda, yadda, yadda.
The winter was finally breaking and there was an expectancy that seemed to usher forth from the earth itself, expressed in greening grass and small, early blooms.
Anticipation was also present in the castle itself, except it was of a more negative quality. Everyone had thought Voldemort would attack before Harry Potter left Hogwarts, however, there had been a surprise raid by Aurors on a suspected Death Eater hide-out. That raid had captured nearly a dozen Death Eaters, three of them supposedly of the Inner Circle. It was suspected that this sudden break in the upper echelon had caused You-Know-Who to change his plans abruptly.
Now it was spring, and even though Harry Potter was in an undisclosed location preparing for battle with eleven other promising ex-classmates, everyone believed an attack was imminent.
Hermione certainly believed that. Whereas she was happy to be apprenticing to one of the most respected Potions masters in the world, she also felt as if she should be preparing more for battle instead of grading student essays or supplying the hospital wing with potions.
Snape had been watching her closely during this time. Her frustration was exhibiting itself in distraction and distraction was always dangerous around potions. However, Snape knew in humans, frustration was the same as letting a potion simmer. Sometimes, it was necessary to get the results you needed.
Perhaps he had let her simmer too long, he thought as he stood in a recess of the library, using a disnotatio spell and eavesdropped on a conversation between Hermione and Ginevra Weasley. The youngest Weasley was cajoling her friend to go with her on the next Hogsmeade weekend.
“It’s Saturday and you haven’t had any time off in forever,” she whined. “And with Harry and Ron both gone off to who-knows-where…”
Hermione giggled softly, “They’re off to who-knows-where to fight You-Know-Who.” The dark circles were deeper under her eyes. She felt sometimes as if she hadn’t gotten a good night’s sleep since Christmas. Going to Poppy for some Dreamless Sleep Potion would mean telling her about her problems and listening to the mediwitch’s assessment that apprenticing with Professor Snape was just too hard on her right now. And she didn’t want Professor Snape to make the same observation, so she couldn’t go to him either.
“Are you okay, Hermione?” Ginny asked, concern evident on her face.
Sighing, Hermione closed her eyes and barely shook her head. “I’m tired, Ginny. I’m tired of busy work and feeling like I’m doing nothing. I… I want something to do. I’m so tired of waiting. I just want to get it over with, one way or another.”
Ginny squeezed her hand. “All the more reason to go with me to Hogsmeade. I think I’ll have a surprise for you.”
Slowly, Hermione opened her eyes and forced a smile on her face. “That would be lovely, Ginny,” she said slowly. It was enough to placate her friend. “I’ll let you study for your NEWTs now. I’ve got some essays to grade for Professor Snape.”
Snape watched her leave before he melted back into the shadows. Her walk was listless and her head was down. It was the first time, in his memory, that she left the library without carrying at least one book. Biting back his inner feeling of satisfaction, he realized she was lonely and bored, a dangerous mindset for one as intelligent as she was. He rubbed his left forearm absently. Oh yes, he understood the danger.
His plan was working. Hermione Granger would come to depend on him. Ginevra Weasley would be leaving school in a few more months and Hermione would be even more isolated. Allowing her some fun now would only emphasize that isolation.
As he walked back to the dungeon, he realized the only enjoyment he really had these days was making plans for Miss Granger. Since he had decided she would make a fine wife, he had been studying her more and more and plotting. It was possibly the only occupation he had these days that gave him pleasure.
The Order of the Phoenix seemed to be doing little work, mostly intelligence gathering and their own plotting which he was not privy to. The Death Eaters were becoming more active, striking at Muggle-borns with impunity. His position was still in constant jeopardy due to the Dark Lord’s mistrust of him. Yet he was still needed to spy on the Order of the Phoenix. After so many years of teaching, he some days felt as if he had done it all before, even down to the occasional melted cauldron. No, Miss Granger was his only oasis in a sea of chaos and discontent.
Later that day, Hermione brought the essays she had finished grading up to him. “Professor Snape, would it be possible for me to go to Hogsmeade this Saturday?” she asked, setting the papers on the corner of his desk. She rested her hands atop the parchments, one over the other.
This was where manipulations turned tricky--physical contact. So far, he could keep her mind occupied, but too often, he had the feeling she still regarded him only as the authoritarian figure she had known for the past eight years. As his Apprentice, their relationship needed to become closer. Event though he was still her instructor, he no longer wanted to be thought of that way. No, Snape wanted to be her mentor at this point. From there… well, his plans were well laid.
He rubbed the line under his bottom lip, considering. From the corner of his eye, he could see Hermione watching his finger move back and forth. It took an effort to not smile, but he had long practice at that.
“Good gods, Miss Granger,” Snape said suddenly. “Have you even had a day off yet?”
She started to shake her head, then remembering how he hated that, said: “No, Sir. I haven’t needed one since…” since my parents died… “last summer.”
“Would it be too much trouble for you to drop an order off at the Apothecary there?” Snape asked smoothly. Hermione hesitated, not sure of what this sudden politeness was indicative. Lately he had become more respectful and less sarcastic with her. But that didn’t mean you could ever take him at face value.
“I’d be glad to, Sir.”
“If you would be good enough to pick it up Friday after the last class,” he murmured, setting his quill down on the desk, his pinkie on his right hand brushing against her fingers. “I will have a list then for you, Hermione.”
He made sure he didn’t pause before saying her name; it seemed almost an unconscious slip of the tongue. Only a Slytherin born and bred could have said differently. And Hermione was no Slytherin.
Snape looked up, his expression carefully neutral. Taking a deep breath, he looked directly into her large brown eyes which were shining with… happiness, he determined clinically.
“My apologies, Miss Granger,” he murmured. “I should not forget formalities.”
The light in her eyes dimmed somewhat. “But I’ve read other Apprentices call their Master by first names and vice versa,” she began, but he held up his hand for silence.
“Miss Granger, as my student, we must observe propriety at all times,” Snape told her in a voice that brooked no argument, which, of course, meant she had to argue. After all, he had given her the perfect loophole.
“I’m no longer your student, Sir,” Hermione said proudly. “I took my NEWTs nearly a year ago.”
“Yes, you were quite… remarkable,” he murmured, watching the pleasure alight her eyes again. Odd, you go out of your way not to compliment someone and then any small observation of the truth would pleasure them greatly. “I believe you had the highest in ten years.”
“Fourteen, Sir,” she corrected proudly, then flinched, flushed and looked down.
Deliberately keeping her off-balance, Snape placed his hand on top of hers. “I apologize, Miss Granger,” he purred. “But do not be embarrassed by your achievements. Be proud. After all, you keep proving the Dark Lord wrong in his silly assumption that Muggle-born witches and wizards are somehow less than Purebloods.” His thumb moved over her hand in a lazy, unconscious caress. With detachment, he noticed how she stared at that and her breathing became ragged.
Ah yes, boredom and busywork, he thought gleefully. What trouble that causes in an intelligent mind.
Snape knew he was not a handsome man. However, he was a Slytherin and Slytherins all dearly loved power. Seduction was power, so he had learned to work with what he had--his voice, his hands, his intellect, and his ability to observe others and see their weaknesses. And he was using that all to his advantage.
He was still congratulating himself on his most successful manipulations of his future wife on Friday, when his NEWT-level Potions class met. Ginevra Weasley was talking with her partner, Margaret Dorcas, before he entered. Their seat was in the very back. He suspected that position was in a desire to be as unseen as possible, which meant he spent a good amount of time touring the back of the classroom.
“Bill’s in town and he asked if I could arrange a meeting with Hermione tomorrow,” she was telling her friend.
“He’s still sweet on her?” Margaret asked. “Can I borrow a quill? The point on this one is bad.”
“Here, take this one,” Ginny said. “Oh yeah, he thinks she’s an angel and Ron’s a prat. I’m going to have her as a sister one way or the other.”
“Well, if he doesn’t work out, there’s always Charlie!” Margaret giggled when Snape threw open the dungeon door with a bang.
Eyes blazing, he strode to the front of the classroom, his robes billowing more than usual. Taking his place in the front of the class, he glared at his students, especially two young women in the back.
“Today, we will begin brewing the Oblivisci Potion. Miss Weasley, what does this potion do?” He asked silkily. She looked up, startled and speechless.
Smirking, he continued, “What is the matter, Miss Weasley? Did you… forget?”
Those who knew the answer laughed; his four Slytherin students laughed loudest and longest. “Mr. Patterson, can you explain to… the less intelligent members of this class what this potion does?”
“It works like a liquid Obliviate, Sir,” Mr. Patterson obligingly replied.
“Very good, Mr. Patterson. Five points Slytherin.” He turned back to look at Miss Weasley. “And five points from Gryffindor for being unprepared.”
While the students were brewing, Snape sat at his desk staring sightlessly at his inventory sheet. How many Weasleys will I have to pull off the girl? he wondered furiously. Once he had thought her virginity was unimportant. However, despite the issue of virgin blood, he found he disliked the thought she would have another man to compare him to sexually.
And Bill Weasley was a curse-breaker. Intelligent enough to stimulate Miss Granger’s mind. Not to mention, he was a young stud with tight pants and an earring to stimulate her in other ways. Bill Weasley was no boy content with pawing her in an alcove. His plan was in serious jeopardy.
Touring the classroom, he managed to take another twenty points from Gryffindor from Misses Weasley and Dorcas for slight infractions. And before they left, he used a quick incantation to move their potion sample to the edge of their desk where it fell.
“I believe that is a zero for the day,” he murmured in false sympathy. “And a detention tonight with Filch for your carelessness.”
When Hermione came in for his list of supplies, Snape hid it under some essays. “I do apologize, Miss Granger, but I seem to have mislaid it,” he told her. “What time will you be leaving for Hogsmeade tomorrow?”
“Two, Sir,” she looked concerned. He had never lost anything before. “Is everything all right?”
“It will be, Miss Granger. It will be.”
That night, he thought. He could claim some emergency potion to make and keep her in the castle, but that would make him look bad. Sitting in his wingback chair by the fire, a book unread in his hands, he thought. What could he do to keep her here and make it seem like her idea? Suddenly, he smiled most maliciously as the idea struck him.
Yes, he thought, that will work most admirably.
At 12:30, she came to the Potions classroom, looking for him. Snape was stirring a cauldron and looked surprised when she came in. “Oh, Miss Granger,” he said in the voice of one occupied with a problem. “I need you to enter my library and find a book for me--Alchemic Solutions for Curses. It should be on the third shelf on the right, second shelf from the bottom if I remember correctly.”
“The password, Sir?” she asked with barely contained excitement.
“Scheming snake,” he replied. “And do hurry.”
Hermione had only been in his personal library twice before, both times under his supervision, so she had only caught tantalizing glimpses of the books housed there. Quickly, she found the book and took it to him with a regretful look over her shoulder at the knowledge bound behind her.
“Look up the Dreamer’s Sleep Potion on page 63 and read the ingredients,” he ordered, giving the cauldron one last stir before placing a stasis spell on it. It was merely inert ingredients thrown together, but she didn’t have to know that. “Make sure we have enough on hand to make this.”
She returned to him shortly. “Yes, Sir, we do. Though we are running low on poppy leaves, we should have enough for two batches.”
“Please add that to the list then, Miss Granger,” he told her, handing her his list of supplies needed. “Ask the apothecary to deliver, if you please. Now, I have a meeting to attend. If you would return the book and reset the wards before you leave. When are you going to Hogsmeade?”
“Two o’clock, Sir,” she told him, her hands stroking the book’s cover. “I’m meeting Ginny at the Three Broomsticks at 2:30.”
“Fine, then,” he told her, hiding his smile. Time to see if his gamble would pay off. “If you wish to look at the books when you replace that one, the ones that can’t be opened are Dark Arts books. Leave them alone.”
She looked as if Christmas came early. “Oh, thank you, Sir!” Hermione exclaimed. “That is most kind of you!”
“You are quite welcome, Hermione,” he said smoothly, allowing his voice to drop in both volume and tone. At her startled expression, he gave a small smile. “I decided you are quite correct. In private, we should use our first names.”
“Thank you, Sir.. Er, Severus,” she stammered slightly.
“Sir Severus,” he mocked gently. “It makes me sound like a knight.”
“In some ways, you are, Severus,” Hermione smiled up at him.
“Enjoy yourself today, Hermione,” Snape told her before slowly walking out of the classroom. When he glanced back, she was already heading towards his private library and missed the gleaming smile of triumph on his face.
Much later that day, he returned to his private rooms to find her still in his library, a book in hand and one by her side.
“Hermione!” he called out sharply. “Why are you still here?”
Hermione looked up in shock. “Severus, you told me I could look around,” she began, but he cut her off.
“That was nearly six hours ago,” he told her emotionlessly. “Have you been here all this time?”
She looked panic-stricken. “Your supplies…” she gasped. “I’m so sorry, Sir. I’ll run down to the Apothecary’s now and place your order.”
“No need, Hermione,” he said smoothly, sitting on the divan, next to her. “What are you reading?”
In their rather intense book discussion, she quite forgot all about Miss Weasley so the younger girl’s anger at her when she made it to the Great Hall for dinner was understandable.
Quite understandable.
Severus hid his smile.
Author’s Notes
Notatio means notice (Thank you, my dear Latin-English dictionary) so I would assume, disnotatio would be do not notice. And before anyone gets on me about my Latin, try the spell. It works. Unless you are a Muggle.
Also, all the terrific reviews have kept the plot bunny alive. I thank each and everyone of you who have been so kind. And my plot bunny thanks you, too. His life was in your hands. My muse, however, is still insane. Can’t have everything, I guess.