Maybe Things Are Going to Be Fine After All

Chapter 4: Maybe Things Are Going to Be Fine After All

Her third and fourth days at work went much the same as the second. The potions were horribly simple and the conversation nonexistent. She had expected much more interaction or even a bit of unwilling instruction from him. She knew he hated to teach, but he had done it for so many years she thought it would have been second nature to step in and instruct her during the first week.

He appeared to work tirelessly from dawn to dusk. He was already brewing when she arrived in the morning at seven o'clock. Hermione never noticed him eat lunch or stop to get more than a sip of water during the day. He was still hard at work when she left in the evening between five and six o'clock.

Hermione had always held a certain level of respect for Professor Snape, even when Harry and Ron were bent on ridiculing him. The respect was deepened during the height of the war with Voldemort when he had helped turn the tides of the final battle. The blow of his betrayal had been a heavy one because Voldemort had not expected it; Snape had been Voldemort's golden boy after he cast an Avada Kedavra on Dumbledore the prior year. Hermione saw him fight for Good on the day of the final battle, and she had gone out of her way to gather and present the proof of it during Snape's trial.

She had always respected him, but it had never crossed her mind to worry about him. After spending more than four full days in his presence, she developed a nagging feeling that he wasn't taking care of himself. He was far too thin, and sometimes, when she caught a fleeting glimpse of his eyes, they were heavy-lidded and just a bit red. She never saw him do anything but work.

However, it was not her place to point out the danger to his health. It would serve only to anger him, and that could possibly lead to her termination. The axe of unemployment was constantly poised over her head, and the stress was beginning to wear her down. Hermione Granger could have gotten a job anywhere she wanted, but her fake name carried no such esteem. She watched each step she made with Snape because he had an explosive temper and low tolerance for behavior that deviated from what he dictated. Hermione thought it was astoundingly unfair, but knew it was something she would have to deal with in order to keep her job.

Regardless of what she wanted to admit, she was upset that he had not even thanked her for her help during his trial. Had she not testified on his behalf with the evidence she had found, then he would most likely be in Azkaban or completely exiled from the magical world. A simple show of gratitude wasn't too much to ask, in her opinion. Apparently, Professor Snape thought differently.

It was Friday, and Hermione had decided to celebrate with a Butterbeer at the Three Broomsticks. She certainly deserved it after a tense first week working for her former professor. She laid the money for her food and drink on the tabletop and slowly made her way outside. The sun was out, and, despite the cold temperature, it was a beautiful day. She pulled her cloak tighter around her body and hurried back to Snape's cottage. If she got a few minutes' head start on the potions for this afternoon, then she might be able to leave before five o'clock today. She didn't have any special plans for the weekend, but that didn't stop her from wanting to get home to her own makeshift lab in her kitchen. She did not dare experiment in his laboratory.

As always, the cottage was quiet when she arrived. No one ever visited him, and Hermione wondered if he was lonely or if he had visitors after hours when she left. The place was becoming familiar to her now, even after just a week of working there. She did not presume to enter any of the rooms besides the ones necessary to get to the laboratory. The kitchen was beyond the dining room. She knew it was there, but had never been in it. The only other two rooms in the cottage were behind closed doors in the hall. One was most likely his office, and the other had to be his bedroom. Snape would hang her before firing her if she dared to invade his privacy, so she did not even think of entering them.

The lab was eerily still when she stepped inside. Right away Hermione knew that something was amiss. Snape was gone, and his cauldron was on the floor with the fledgling potion splashed across the stone. Luckily, the base of the potion appeared to have been water, and not much had been added to increase the volatility of the brew. With a quick sweep of her wand, she cleared the mess away. Hermione lifted the cauldron from the floor and sat it on the countertop of the island where Snape always worked.

With a deep, steadying breath, she scanned the floor of the lab and underneath the counters for him. She didn't really think he'd be there, but she was avoiding the creeping fear that foul play was involved. Snape wasn't exactly the most beloved wizard in the country, and he had many enemies on both sides, even after Voldemort's death. He would have never overturned a cauldron and left it on the floor. It wasn't in his nature to be so careless.

Hermione tightened the grip on her wand and carefully edged out into the hall. She strained her ears in an attempt to hear the slightest shuffle of a shoe or cloth, any indication that she was not alone. There was nothing. The hall seemed immeasurably long, and the living area looked dark with all the shutters closed. It was also empty. The dining room was even darker than the living area because it had no windows. The only light it received was from the kitchen. Hermione carefully made her way around the small table and chairs and glanced around the corner into the kitchen.

Snape was hunched over a plate of food. His elbows were on the table, and his head was resting in his open palms. She could see his long fingers laced through his dark hair and the shallow rise and fall of his back as he pulled in breath. The plate in front of him looked like it had not been touched. She couldn't blame him; the food looked sickly and unappetizing.

She disliked him, that was for sure, but at the moment she felt a pang of sympathy for her old professor. Relief was riding the coattails of the sympathy because she had thought him abducted or killed by an enemy. He looked unwell, and Hermione wanted to help. It was in her nature to help those who didn't want it. It went all the way back to her fourth year and the debacle with the house-elves. A part of her still believed they needed her help, even if they would not accept it. She wondered if Snape was the same way. He'd curse her and promptly toss her out on her arse if she told him as much, though.

"Professor?" she called softly, stepping into the kitchen. "Are you well? Can I get you anything?"

"No, Miss Granger. I do not want anything but silence from you," he replied with his face still in his hands. Finally, he lifted his head and looked at her. His eyes were weary and his skin paler than usual.

"Sir, I really think you should eat something. You don't look at all well and some food would –"

"I do not need your assistance, Miss Granger." Snape cut her off with a sharp tone and an even sharper glare. "Don't you have work to do, or am I paying you to stand here and watch me eat?"

Hermione was so taken aback by his venom that she hardly knew how to respond. She made a brief, stumbling apology and rushed out of the room. It wasn't until she was back in the empty lab that what had transpired sunk in.

She was always a good student, eager to please her professors and her superiors. Despite her rampant rule-breaking with Harry and Ron, she had respect for the order of things and wanted to follow the rules as long as they seemed fair enough in her eyes. Her first inclination when confronted with Snape was to apologize for whatever slight she may have committed and immerse herself in her work as a way of making up for her indiscretion.

However, as she began gathering the ingredients for her next potion, her mind started stewing over the confrontation in the kitchen. She had merely been concerned for his health, nothing more. He seemed so frail in that moment that she was startled into offering her help, even when she knew he would turn it down. She never thought he would reprimand her so scathingly for her concern. As her mind worked out the details and put her intentions in line with his actions, she became angry.

How dare he be such a bastard when all I wanted to do was help him? A "No, thank you" would have sufficed before he sent me back to my work. There was no reason for his harsh words. The more she thought about Snape's reaction to her concern, the angrier she got. By the time he finally returned to the lab, she had worked herself up into a fine fit.

Hermione whirled around to face him as soon as she heard his footsteps at the door. He stepped into the lab, his robes flowing behind him. He still looked ill, but had pulled himself together somewhat. She suspected he had taken a potion.

"How dare you reprimand me and send me scuttling back to the lab when I was only concerned for your health?" she said, her fingers curled into fists at both her sides, her back straight and her shoulders thrown back in defiance.

"What are you going on about, Miss Granger?" Snape muttered as he resumed his place in front of his cauldron. This turned his back to her and only inflamed her anger further.

Hermione marched around to the other side of the island so she could see his face and he could see hers. "I refuse to tolerate your mood swings, and I think it's deplorable of you to treat me so horribly when I was trying to help you – when I was worried about you."

Hermione braced herself for his scathing response. Snape's eyes were thin slits, and his mouth was hard, his lips pressed tightly together. She wondered if she had started an argument that would cost her the job that she had coveted for so long.

Snape's reply never came. She watched as his face slowly softened to its usual hard stare. His eyes never left her face, and he continued to watch her for several seconds before he finally spoke. "Do have respect for your elders, Miss Granger," he said, before averting his eyes and busying his hands with several ingredients on the countertop.

Hermione opened and closed her mouth several times. She had been expecting a vicious argument or her walking papers, not a gentle rebuff and a dismissal from one of the most feared professors to ever teach at Hogwarts. When he didn't acknowledge her again, she snapped her jaw shut and stiffly walked back to her working area. The odd interaction between them was weighing on her mind. It was obvious she had pushed him close to breaking point. He most definitely had wanted to snap at her and knock her down several pegs, but she was unsure why he had not.

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The afternoon slowly dragged by, and, despite the incident after lunch, she finished her assignments for the day several minutes before five o'clock. Snape had been silent for hours. As much as she disliked his company, she longed for conversation and stimulation from a like-minded individual – someone who preferred potions to Quidditch and girls. She adored her two best friends, but they were sorely lacking in the conversation department.

As she cleaned up, she tossed glances over her shoulder. Snape's full concentration was focused on the potion in front of him. The cauldron was small, but the ingredients were many. She counted over seventeen laid out on the countertop, and that wasn't even including the ones he had already stirred into the brew. Hermione wanted to ask him about the potion and its properties. If he didn't fire me for my outburst this morning, then perhaps I can get away with asking about a potion every now and again, she thought.

Hermione softly cleared her throat and clasped her hands behind her back. "I've finished my work, Professor," she said, walking over to stand beside him.

Snape grunted in acknowledgement and threw in what looked like a stone of some sort.

"If you don't mind my asking, sir, what is this potion? I've been trying to match the ingredients to known potions, but haven't had any luck thus far."

Snape's eyes tracked across the ingredients and finally lifted to watch her face. "You've finished your work?"

"Yes, sir."

He gave a slight nod and stepped aside, offering the spot in front of the cauldron to her with a small gesture of his hand. "It's a lust potion."

Hermione didn't move from her position. Snape gestured again, almost impatiently. "Go on," he finally said. "You may as well learn it, as I'm sure you will need to brew it yourself."

Her response was nearly instantaneous. Hermione's cheeks burned, and she opened her mouth in indignation. "Sir, if you are implying that I would sink so low as to administer a lust potion to –– "

She barely heard Snape's soft chuckle, but when she did, she broke off her sentence right away. He walked around the island and pulled a stool up to face her from the other side. With a weary sigh, he sat down and brushed his hair back from his face. "I was not implying anything of the sort, Miss Granger. The potion is one of the more lucrative items I offer. You are my employee, and it is only natural that I would require you to brew and bottle it for sale."

"Oh." Hermione's voice was small and her face was still red, but this time from embarrassment. "Forgive me for my presumption then, Professor."

He waved her apology away and pointed at the three beetles on the table. "When the potion turns yellow, you will need to add all their wings. Immediately after, and before stirring, you will need to add the seawater from the cup next to the beetles. Slowly stir for three minutes, and then let it sit for another ten."

Hermione was nearly jumping out of her skin with excitement. This was real potion-making, not basic stuff like what he had been making her do up until now. She had never made a lust potion before, so it was new to her. She carefully watched the liquid in the cauldron as it slowly shifted from a murky white to a bright yellow. She quickly divested the dead beetles of their wings and placed them on top of the boiling potion while her other hand reached for the cup of seawater, which was carefully measured by the line on the side of the container. Once she added it the potion became much more active. The yellow shifted into multiple shades of color as Hermione slowly stirred it.

Even though she was concentrating on the potion, she could still feel Snape's eyes on her, watching her like he had watched her weeks ago during her audition, as he liked to call it. She preferred to call it a practical interview. He seemed different this afternoon, and was almost being nice to her. It was a refreshing change, but it was also disconcerting. Hermione had found her footing and her routine with the Snape that she had been forced to deal with during this week, but she was not sure where she stood with this different Snape –– the one teaching her how to brew a complicated potion that he had started. She doubted Snape had ever let anyone finish one of his own creations.

The three minutes of stirring were nearly up and she carefully sat the stirring rod beside the cauldron. "Lower the heat just a bit," Snape said. He was watching her with his face cradled in his right hand and his elbow propped on the table. He looked more relaxed than she had ever seen him. He also looked exhausted. Maybe he's nicer when he's tired. In that case, someone should slip him something to give him insomnia. Hermione felt bad for the thought right away because it looked like Professor Snape didn't need any help with insomnia. He was probably well acquainted with it already. Even she had her periods of bad dreams about all those years lived in unrest and terror of Voldemort.

Just as she lowered the fire beneath the cauldron, Snape stood and gathered a journal and several large reference books from a drawer across the room. He carried them back to his spot across from her, and sat down again. She watched as he spread his work out and took up a quill to note the day and time in the journal. From the angle she had, she was unable to read anything on his paper, but she did watch him flip through one of the books and stop on a page that named the most effective ingredients in restorative potions. Her curiosity was almost unbearable, but she thought asking him any more about his work would be pushing her luck one step too far. Instead, she watched the potion and dared only brief glances at him.

He carefully transcribed something from the text into his journal. A long strand of hair had fallen in his face, and Hermione caught herself wanting to lean across the table and tuck it behind his ear. The thought startled her, and she shook her head to clear her mind of it. He was always so intense when he worked that she found it intimidating to be around him, even though she herself worked much the same way.

"Watch the potion and not me, Miss Granger," Snape said in a low voice that made her jump. "That's next." He used his quill to point to the ingredient. "Once you've added it, you'll need to stir continually for fifteen minutes."

Hermione did as she was told, and she forced her attention back to the potion and away from her employer. Stirring a potion had always been soothing to her, even as a child. It was a way to focus her attention, but to also let her mind wander. Her best ideas came while she was stirring.

Silence had descended upon the room again. The only sound was Snape's quill scratching against the parchment as he bent low over the journal and wrote furiously. After a moment of fervent writing, he left the quill in the inkstand and flipped the pages of one of the books. His long fingers turned page after page, and Hermione found it almost as hypnotic as her stirring.

She finally broke herself out of the trance and cleared her throat again. "Professor, I'd just like to say that I appreciate the trust you've placed in me to complete this potion. I look forward to any other potions that you may want to pass along to me, and I promise to complete them to your... exacting standards."

Snape raised his eyebrow and looked up to look at her. "Exacting standards?" he repeated.

Hermione wanted to smile, but she was afraid that it would ruin the moment. "Yes, sir," she replied with a straight face.

"I would hope so." He returned his attention to the textbook in front of him, and began flipping the pages again, swiftly scanning each for some bit of information that was still a mystery to her.

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She finished the potion just after seven o'clock, and Snape dismissed her for the evening just as he had always done. Instead of going home to seethe over the injustice of using her mind for menial potion-making, she threw herself on her bed and smiled.

Maybe things are going to be fine after all. Maybe Snape really is willing to teach me his art and even recommend me to another Potions Master. Of course, he would be the ideal person to apprentice under, but I've never heard of him taking an apprentice.

Her thoughts were both frantic and calm. She had enjoyed the evening greatly, but did not want to show her full enthusiasm to Snape for fear that he would become annoyed with her exuberance and cut off any further lessons. The last thing she wanted to do was stop them before they really started. Her mind was hungry for the practical knowledge of how to brew the complicated potions she had read about in textbooks and academic journals so many times. She knew that teaching herself from books would only go so far.

Hermione resolved to weather his mood swings and grumpy behavior in the hope that perseverance on her end would lead to a more willing professor to show her the ins and outs of advanced potions.

Author's Note: Snarkyroxy has been the best beta ever. She deserves all the credit I can give her. Jessica and Allyness have been extra helpful as well. As for the updating, I'm trying to get two chapters in every seven days. I promise I am not withholding chapters that are ready to be posted. All of them get a final once-over by me before I submit them.