Party Thirty-Two

AN: In addition to the normal, unending thanks that go out to Lariope for her wonderful beta work on our behalf, I wish to thank all of you who have reviewed and kept up with our story. It was born over two years ago, but the process of bringing up it, so to speak, has been delayed and convoluted by real life stubbing our toes. There will be one more chapter after this one and it may be slightly delayed. Not as long a delay as there has been in the past, by any means, but a few weeks may pass. Enjoy.

Rationally, Hermione knew that it was not Severus' fault that Lorenzo had reverted back to a love-sick rodent. Therefore, she hadn't been upset with Severus the previous night, she'd just been upset. Period.

When he informed her that their progress had only been a temporary thing, she'd felt an ache – an actual physical ache – in her heart.

Perversely, the more it looked like they might never find a viable solution to Dumbledore's horrid love potion, the harder Hermione wanted to work on the antidote.

She needed Severus to be free, no matter what the outcome. Even if he couldn't bring himself to care for her the way she someday hoped he might, she needed to know that it was his true, untainted feelings that kept them apart, not the love potion.

Hermione spent most of the night sitting on her bed, surrounded by her notes regarding the antidote. She managed to catch a few hours of sleep before she Apparated to Severus' flat at some point during the late morning, arms full of calculation-covered parchments.

Her hair was haphazardly pulled up, and she considered herself lucky that she'd remembered to change out of her pajamas before leaving.

"Severus? Where are you? Are you in the lab?"

-~8~-

"I am!" he yelled back for her benefit. "What choice did you leave, you mangy rodent?" he asked Lorenzo snidely. "Here I am again, chopping and crushing, because you couldn't be bothered to make up your tiny little brain."

He'd set up four cauldrons and was preparing the exact same ingredients they'd used on the last attempt. Severus knew that it was probably a step in the brewing process that might make the antidote more effective.

Merlin only knows how long it will take to find which little step will make the difference.

-~8~-

"Sorry, I didn't catch all of that." Hermione had heard him saying something after letting her know where he was, but she hadn't been able to decipher the actual words.

She stopped just in side the doorway of the lab and frowned at the four cauldrons.

"What are you doing?"

-~8~-

"What you didn't catch – which I assume is a quaint Muggle way of saying you didn't hear all that I said – wasn't meant for your delicate ears, Hermione," he said while shooting a glare in the direction of the cages. "I merely told Lorenzo he was failing miserably as a test subject."

Wiping his hands on a soft lab cloth, Severus raised a brow and reminded himself that she was there to assist. It helped to curb his irritation at what he thought was a very silly question.

"As far as what I'm doing, I thought it was rather obvious even to one who isn't a Potions master. We need to examine the brewing process itself, changing the order of the additions to begin with, then possibly the heating times and if those don't work, the directions and numbers of stirs," he managed to say – for once – without any sarcasm.

-~8~-

"Or, she began, "we could try it my way. I admit that I'm not a Potions master, but I do know my way around an Arithmancy equation, and I spent the night trying to understand why Lorenzo's version of the antidote worked, then why it eventually failed."

She dumped her notes on a table, careful to find a clear spot first.

"If my way doesn't work, we're out one potion full of ingredients and time. If it does work..."

If it worked, Hermione was fairly certain she would either cry or throw herself at Severus in joy. Or, perhaps, both.

-~8~-

It took a great deal of restraint on Severus' part to hold his tongue. Who did the chit think she was to advise him how to adjust a potion. He'd been devising improvements to standardized potions before she'd been born. Potter's use of his old text book during their sixth year, and his subsequent meteoric rise in the ranks surpassing Hermione's efforts should have been enough to make her keep her Arithmancy nonsense far away from his lab.

Severus, however, hadn't been sorted into Slytherin by accident. On the off chance her equations produced a viable antidote, he would have to apologize – again. If it didn't, which he thought would most assuredly be the outcome, he would always have the upper hand and be able to rub that delicate nose in it forevermore.

He sniffed once, nodded his head and said, "Very well. We'll give your equations a trial."

And then we'll burn them.

-~8~-

She had his agreement, however grudgingly given. She nodded and began to sort through her parchments, looking for the one that contained the rewritten brewing instructions, pausing only to stick her tongue out at his back.

"What I ended up with is remarkably similar to the version you used on Lorenzo, but with these alterations. I've charmed the changes to green ink so you can see the differences."

Her hair began to slip free from its pins, the ivory combs left on her dresser because she did not want them damaged while they brewed. Hermione batted the loosened hair out of her face.

"I need coffee. Do you have coffee or should I make some?"

-~8~-

He was already studying the notes she'd indicated, and everything inside him, all of the years of experience, hunches, and just plain common sense, screamed that they shouldn't attempt that many changes at once. The tried and true method, one step at a time, would ensure they didn't stray too far from the original. Deep in thought, attempting to determine beforehand what effects would be wrought if all the alterations were done at once, Severus made a shooing motion with one hand in the direction of the kitchen without taking his eyes off of her notes.

"There's tea in the pot – coffee's in the cupboard – you'll need to make it," he muttered absently as he turned a page. His head popped up, and he added, "Secure your hair, Hermione. We don't need any accidental additions."

-~8~-

She shuffled toward the kitchen, muffling her yawn with one hand. Once the coffee was ready and she had her first sip, Hermione dealt with her hair.

"We don't need any accidental additions," she mimicked in a high pitched voice that sounded nothing like Severus.

Coffee mug clutched between both hands, Hermione returned to the lab. "So, is it feasible? It's not going to cause an explosion or a toxic gas or anything, is it?"

-~8~-

His own hasty notes – added to the side of hers – were irritating Severus more and more as he realized the changes her equations called for were, in all likelihood, the same he would have taken in shorter stages.

If this gets out, Vector will be entirely too pleased with herself.

He looked up at Hermione's entrance and raised a brow.

"It is, and it shouldn't," he advised shortly before removing three of the cauldrons, along with three sets of supplies, from the main lab table.

"Are you going to lollygag around all morning or did you come here to brew?" he asked before using his wand to light a fire under the remaining cauldron.

-~8~-

Well, someone is a cranky pants today.

"Actually," she began, "I came here for some sweaty, naked frolicking on the living room floor, but brewing it shall be, I guess," Hermione finished with a sigh and another gulp of the all important caffeine.

She set her empty cup aside and double checked to make sure her hair was properly contained. "All right, where do you want me, and what do I need to shred first?"

-~8~-

She's not only a temptress, but a wicked one, Severus decided as an image of precisely what Hermione'd described teased him and made his body respond in a way that wasn't conductive to brewing. Not only was she trying to show him up by using her superior Arithmancy skills, she was now taunting him with what they'd once shared.

"Under me – panting – on the living room floor, and my clothes. Although if you want to be efficient, the latter should probably come first," Severus snapped while sending Hermione a glare. "I was under the impression you'd left your foolishness behind you at Hogwarts, Miss Granger. Prove me wrong," he stated while stepping back from the table and crossing his arms.

"I will assist. You brew."

-~8~-

Back to Miss Granger, again.

She thought of protesting that she had only been joking, but she suspected her words might ring false if she did. There was a teeny, tiny – Liar. Not tiny at all. – part of her that longed for exactly what he described. She, underneath Severus, sweaty and panting and hungry for more.

Right. We'll just ignore that part, then, and move on.

She returned his glare with one of her own and moved into the space he'd vacated. "Fine. You shred the belladonna and I'll prepare the base for the antidote." Then, she turned her back to him and began to work.

If she muttered under her breath, who could blame her? And if the words she muttered sounded suspiciously like, "Not my fault he can't take a joke," who could blame her for that either?

-~8~-

Every move Hermione made, every stir of the cauldron, was watched with an intense regard by her former professor. Severus was waiting for one infinitesimal mistake on Hermione's part to swoop in, scalding remarks ready, to prove that he – and only he – was the Master of Potions. The longer she labored – correctly – the grouchier and testier he became.

They had taken a small break when the potion needed to sit for fifteen minutes, and he'd wolfed down a sandwich and a tepid cup of tea for lunch. He'd left Hermione at the dining table and gone back to check the ingredients they would need for the next stage, sure that she'd make a mistake in the hours remaining.

She didn't.

It was all he could do to contain his ire, when a thought occurred to him. A small smirk appeared on the corner of his mouth as he set their cold supper on the table and waited for Hermione to appear from... wherever she'd gone after they'd set the potion aside to cool.

Of course she's exceptional. I, after all, instilled in her how important it is to be careful and guided her the first five years. What other witch or wizard could brew a Polyjuice potion – correctly – as young as she was?

A fresh pot of hot tea, along with a bottle of what he thought was Hermione's favorite wine, joined the dishes on the table.

"Hermione!" Severus bellowed as he sat down in an almost good mood. "Dinner will be getting warm if you don't move that talented tail of yours."

-~8~-

Hermione didn't remember Potions class at Hogwarts being nearly as nerve wracking as today had been. She knew it was utterly ridiculous, but it felt almost as if Severus were watching her every move, just waiting for her to make a mistake, no matter how small.

She stepped out of the loo just in time to hear Severus yell. "Talented tail? You know what, I'm not even going to ask."

The table was set when she arrived, and Hermione flicked her gaze from the bottle of wine to Severus. His earlier grumpy mood seemed to have waned somewhat.

"Tell me you've got chocolate biscuits hidden somewhere for afters and I'll – I'll think about moving your name to the top of the waiting list for the Thorndike manuscript you've been wanting." She had been about to tell him that if he had biscuits she would be his, but that would have been too close to the truth for comfort.

-~8~-

Severus' eyes narrowed slightly while he nodded his head. "I see how you are. I can't believe you're attempting to blackmail me out of my minuscule stash of chocolate biscuits." Heaving a great sigh, he returned to the kitchen and rummaged around for a bit before he returned and placed the packet on the table. "Happy now?" he asked with a small smile. "The last box of chocolate biscuits in the place and I have to use them in order to have an opportunity to laugh at Thorndike, worthless blowhard that he is. Although, he did come up with the cross cut on the–"

Severus' words cut off as another thought occurred to him.

"Have you ever thought of using Arthimancy to improve other potions? Wolfsbane for example?" he asked while passing a dish in Hermione's direction. "I've tried for years to make it non-perishable, as its potency diminishes when you put even a common Stasis Charm on it."

-~8~-

Biscuits! Score!

The hand that had been about to sneak out and snag the package of biscuits got diverted by the dish that Severus passed her. With a longing look toward the biscuits, Hermione answered, "After sixth year, when Harry had the infamous Potions book, I will admit to trying some calculations to see if I could improve my results."

She popped an olive into her mouth, swallowed, and reached for her wine glass. "From what I remember, Wolfsbane is particularly difficult to predict. Even the smallest variation can cause unexpected results. You add two symbols that should equal one thing, but when you apply it to the potion, you get something completely different."

Hermione had another sip of wine as she thought, reaching up to pull out a particularly annoying hairpin that had been poking her for the last hour. A bit of hair fell, but Hermione ignored the loose curl. "It's quite puzzling, really."

-~8~-

"Wolfsbane is a very unforgiving potion. The smallest error cannot be corrected," Severus stated as he helped himself to a sharp dill pickle. He relished the crunch as he bit off a portion and chewed. "I knew at one time how long it took Damocles Belby to perfect it, but I was astounded that he'd labor that long surrounded by werewolves, not knowing from one full moon to the next if he'd survive to try again."

Severus realized he'd been using what was left of the pickle to gesture as he'd talked, and he glared at it before tossing the rest on his plate. He'd had his fill of their cold supper and realized the talk of werewolves – which he'd started – had quite killed his appetite. Severus looked toward the clock over his mantle and raised a brow.

"I'll check the temperature of the antidote while you finish," he said before standing up and wiping his mouth. "It should be cooled enough by now."

As he walked toward his lab, Severus pondered the foolish bravery of Mister Damocles Belby.

If anyone earned their Order of Merlin, it was him. Too bad he didn't persist and find a total cure.

I'll have to check and see if there are any other Gryffindor werewolves on file. It's the sort of foolhardy thing they'd do.

With his mind safely occupied puzzling out how to get an uncontaminated sample of werewolf blood, Severus checked the temperature of the antidote.

"Are you ready to try the new batch, my little band of love-sick rodents? Pay proper attention and I won't have to feed you to Yorick just yet."

-~8~-

Hermione joined him in the lab just in time to hear his threat to the mice. She hid her amused smile behind her loosened hair. She waited while Severus administered the antidote, her lower lip caught between her teeth as she studied the cages.

"There!" She pointed at Juliet. The mouse twitched, then blinked and sat up on her back haunches. Juliet looked around, then began to groom herself, ignoring Romeo.

Then Petruchio wandered away from the side of the cage where he had been mooning over his mate. Desdemona rolled on to her back and went to sleep. Cleopatra climbed into her food dish. One by one, each of the mice reverted to their natural behavior.

And Hermione barely kept herself from shouting out in joy.

With a deep breath, Hermione mentioned that it was far too early to assume the antidote had worked. She knew she was speaking to remind herself more than Severus.

Still, she felt giddy inside.

Hermione threw her arms around Severus and buried her face against his shoulder. "I really think this is the one," she whispered against the material. She pulled away and with one last glance toward the mice, mentioned that she'd be back the next night after work to check on the antidote's progress. Then Hermione popped up on her toes, pressed a kiss to Severus' lips, and Apparated home.

-~8~-

After Hermione left, Severus tidied up the lab, covered the antidote and continued to study the behavior of the mice. He'd noticed the twitch Juliet had given as well as the apparent nap Desdemona was taking. When he poked her in the side, she didn't respond, and it was only by watching carefully that he saw the tiniest of movements around her rib cage that indicated she still breathed. After approximately fifteen minutes, Desdemona staggered to her feet and almost drained the water supply in that cage.

Thirsty little bugger, Severus decided after refilling it and making a few brief notes on their behavior. There was nothing left to do but wait.

Wait. That's all I've ever done, it seems.

Wait for the Dark Lord to either kill or be killed.

"I'm bloody tired of waiting," he growled at the mice. "Make up your minds and be quick about it," he instructed them before extinguishing the lights in his lab.

Yorick was fed, their cold supper put away, and Severus prepared for bed. He wasn't alone. Too many people, both alive and dead, pranced through and around his thoughts to allow him to drift off to sleep.

"Bugger it all," he said after an hour before getting up and heading to the cabinet in the lavatory.

The next morning, he carried the empty vial into the lab to check on the mice. He'd intended to refill and replace it, but it ended up as shards on the floor.

Stunned didn't begin to describe how Severus felt. True, he'd gone to bed with mixed emotions, and it had taken a bit of Dreamless Sleep to finally shut down all the thoughts that had whirled through his head and allow him to sleep, but to walk into his lab and find the occupants of the cages... dead. He didn't understand what could possibly have gone wrong. They hadn't had to use anything remotely poisonous in their efforts and none of the items they'd used combined to form anything deadly.

"Why are you dead?" he finally yelled at the twelve little bodies. He'd poked and prodded, ran one diagnostic spell after another and still could find nothing wrong with the wretched little mice.

He slammed the lab door closed on his way out, too disturbed to care when Yorick squawked his disapproval. "Shut it," he growled on his way to the bottles of liquor he kept on the side table. "Now what? Hermione will be heartbroken that the little shits are dead, and I don't know why they are! It doesn't make sense," he said after letting his hand drop off the container of Ogden's and turning toward Yorick. "It doesn't make any sense at all."

Flopping down in his chair, Severus stared at the ceiling, still thinking aloud. "It won't help to start over with new mice until I – we – figure out what went wrong. She was right not to allow me to use human volunteers, and I'll probably never hear the end–" Severus suddenly sat up straight and looked in Yorick's direction again. "Human. Could it be as simple as that?" he asked while staring at the bird. "Nothing more than that?"

The notes they'd taken while running the experiments were hastily grabbed, and Severus flipped back to the beginning. "They always reacted with great stress when they couldn't see the object of their desire, but I don't recall that feeling when I couldn't actually see Lily; of course, she was already dead, but her picture... Her picture was never enough," he added softly. Slowly, he opened the secret drawer of his desk, drew forth the torn picture, and studied the smiling, happy Lily. "Would the potion hold true if I died with it still affecting me, Lily? Would I become a fool chasing the spirit of the woman I love, have always loved?"

The thought of Potter, Black and even Lupin snickering behind his back – even in the spirit world – was too much to bear. He'd suffered many indignities at their hands while alive, and he'd be damned if it would continue for eternity. The photo was put away, and he straightened his desk quickly. Glancing around the flat, he pulled out a fresh sheet of parchment, a regular quill and his black ink.

April 16, 2001

Severus Snape

He didn't really think that he'd die, but Severus had never been one to leave things to chance. Given the choice of living with Dumbledore's last, best jest or dying with the potion finally beaten – he'd choose death.

A second piece of parchment was drawn out, and he gave great thought to what he wanted to say in case it really was the last time he'd be able to tell her anything.

April 16, 2001

Severus

The note, which had turned into a letter, was quickly folded and placed into an envelope. After her name was written on the front, Severus turned and glared at Yorick.

"This is not to be delivered, understood? If and when it's needed, she'll find it."

Severus rose and went into his bedroom. He pulled out his best frock coat, robes and trousers before taking a hasty shower and drying his hair. Looking at his reflection, he wondered what death – real death – would feel like.

"You're being stupid," he told himself, scowling at the reflection. "There's nothing in the potion that would harm a fly."

Only a mouse.

After dressing, he took the precaution of settling himself in the middle of his bed before downing the vial of antidote and placing the vial on the table next to his bed. Folding his hands across his stomach, he waited, eyes open, for what was in store.

Too bad the little bastards couldn't talk and tell me–

A sharp pain lanced through Severus' chest and left him gasping for air.

"That was unexpected," he muttered before another sharper pain followed in its wake, this one in his head. "Crucio still has you beat; try again," he taunted it. And it did – again and again – until the wizard on the bed was sweaty, pale as a ghost, and unconscious.

**********