Chapter 10

Hermione wondered how much of the altercation Professor Snape had seen before intervening. She braced herself for a reprimand; instead he raised an imperious eyebrow and said, "Miss Granger, you will accompany me to the lab."

"Sir?" she asked. She wasn't ready for Occlumency practice again, not so soon after yesterday. She needed to sort through her conflicted, jumbled feelings about the previous few days, and she needed a day or two away from the source of her difficulties, currently striding into the Potions classroom ahead of her. She needed time away from his mockery and his needling. Time away from having him inside her mind. Time to simply think.

Snape stopped at the door and looked back at her impatiently. "Now, Miss Granger."

Well, she wouldn't be getting it today; that much was clear. Pull yourself together, Hermione. You can do this.

...~...~...

Inside the Potions classroom, she began to ask him, "Professor, is this..." but he cut her off abruptly.

"Miss Granger. Your research proposal. Have you shared it with anyone else?"

She looked at him stupidly; her research proposal? She hadn't expected him to have even read it yet. He stared back, waiting for an answer. She cast her mind back through the work she'd done; had she told anyone else? She'd mentioned to Ron and Harry that she was working on an extracurricular project, but she didn't think she'd even mentioned that it was Potions-related, much less any specifics.

"Uh... no, sir. Just you."

His eyes narrowed. "Think hard, Miss Granger. Did you share it with anyone at all? Mention it to a friend? Ask another professor for assistance?"

His intent stare made her feel exposed and vulnerable. She had a sudden wild urge to hide behind one of the tables.

"Professor Snape, I'm sure. I worked on it alone and didn't get help from anyone. I only made two copies of it; Bellatrix Lestrange threw the first one into your f-fire..." She faltered briefly, thinking about the circumstances surrounding that incident. "... And the second one has been in my room since I finished it. I haven't told anyone. But... it's just some preliminary ideas I had about potion enhancement. Why are you..."

Snape interrupted her again. "Miss Granger, do you recall the part of your proposal regarding a suspension charm? One, I believe, of your own device?"

Hermione felt as though her head were whirling. Why was he bringing that up?

"Yes, sir, but that was just a footnote. I nearly didn't bother to mention it. It's... it's just a helpful little tool I came up with. You know, to save myself from having to constantly stir during certain parts of the potion preparation."

Silence stretched between them. And then under his breath, he said, "A helpful little tool. You really have no idea."

"I... sir? I don't understand."

"Clearly not. Come with me, Miss Granger." In a swirl of robes, he turned and disappeared into the classroom laboratory. Biting her lip, she followed him. It appeared this was not to be an Occlumency lesson. Or a reprimand for her behavior in the hallway earlier, which if she were to be honest with herself, she deserved. What had she been thinking, prodding at Malfoy that way? He'd been stretched out like piano wire for weeks now. She was lucky not to be in the infirmary. Or worse, she thought, but surely he wouldn't have unleashed an Unforgivable on her right in the middle of Hogwarts.

Why not? His Head of House certainly had no trouble doing so, she thought, but she immediately scolded herself for being unfair. You did tell him to do it.

The laboratory had been cleared of the day's experiments and paraphernalia. All of the tables were clean and uncluttered, save for the one in the middle of the room. On the bare wooden tabletop, there rested a small glass phial filled with a clear liquid. It looked like water, though Hermione had learned never to make assumptions in Potions class.

Snape faced her across the table, his hands clasped behind his back, never shifting his gaze from her face. Hermione felt a momentary disquiet at being alone with him, but her mounting academic interest in the situation soon took over. She couldn't imagine what on earth could possibly have Snape...a Potions master, for Merlin's sake...so worked up over a little footnote in a student's research proposal.

"Your suspension charm, Miss Granger. Tell me about it."

She was wary of his motives. This was uncomfortably close to being put on the spot in his classroom. Yet his tone held no sarcasm or mocking, and answering questions in class was a role she slipped into easily and comfortably. Staring at the glass phial, she said, "Well, preparing my range-increasing potion required several different mixtures to be stirred simultaneously. It occurred to me that it might be easier if I simply suspended the particles in solution, so I devised a little suspension charm to do it. I tested it several times and found it to be quite effective. Once you've combined substances with the suspension charm, they'll stay together, perfectly mixed, until you reverse the charm. Or forever, I suppose, if you never do. It's really very handy..."

"That is sufficient, Miss Granger. You would do well to learn to answer questions succinctly and without a surfeit of detail." Her cheeks reddened again; how was he able to so constantly and effectively wrong-foot her?

He continued, "Now. What would happen if you used this suspension charm on particles that were so small they could not be detected with the naked eye?"

She frowned. "Well, assuming that you're referring to a microscopic scale..." She broke off and said, "I'm sorry, that's a Muggle term; I meant..."

Drily, he said, "I am familiar. Continue."

"Er... yes, well, if the particles were that small, then the solution would appear identical to the base liquid of the suspension. So for example, if they were mixed into water, it would look like... water..." She trailed off, looking at the innocuous little phial of liquid in the center of the table.

"Indeed. A further question: What if the... microscopic particles were toxic in nature?"

"Obviously you'd have a poison, but of course any standard poison detection spell would... oh... oh, my God."

She braced her hands on the edge of the table for support; the blood had run out of her head and she felt faint. Potions preparation was an incredibly common skill in the world of magic, and she herself had wondered, when she first came to Hogwarts, what stopped everyone from constantly poisoning all of their enemies. It would be easy enough to prepare a toxic potion and disguise it as something else...the victim's tea, for example, as Bellatrix Lestrange had proved with her Lumia potion. But of course Lumia wasn't a toxic poison; if it had been, the standard poison-detection charm incorporated into every mug, cup, bowl, and other serving dish would have neutralized it. Nobody would even think of buying dishes without such a charm, and so the idea of poisoning someone else was... well, quite literally unthinkable. It wouldn't even occur to someone to try because it would be completely pointless. Completely impossible.

Except that she'd just come up with a way to make it possible. Her knees felt watery and weak.

Snape waited with a look of grim satisfaction.

"Continue, Miss Granger."

Still leaning hard against the table, she drew a deep breath and said, "Normally toxic particles would be detected by a poison detection spell, but in this case, the charm would have encased each of the particles in its own tiny little bubble of magic. The poison would be... would be..."

"Totally undetectable," he said. "Full marks, Miss Granger."

She looked at him helplessly, still unable to tell whether he was angry, or pleased, or... something else. His face was calm, composed, just as though he were instructing her in a standard potion in his classroom. Classroom, yes; standard, no, she thought and had to stifle a sudden near-hysterical giggle. Snape took no notice.

"Let us continue with this... thought experiment," he said, the words unrolling like a bolt of fine satin. "What if the substance weren't toxic at all? What if, instead, it were... explosive?"

"I don't understand, sir."

"Do you know what these are?" He withdrew a small pouch from inside his robes and opened it, shaking out a handful of glittering, iridescent wafers, glinting red and gold in the light.

"Professor, are those... firedrake scales? But those are impossible to... where did you even..."

Ignoring her unfinished questions, he said, "Well done, Miss Granger. Now tell me their properties."

She frowned again. "Well, they're not very useful in potions because as soon as you cast any sort of magic on them, they explode."

"Exactly. Now outline for me, if you will, what would happen if you were to use your helpful little suspension charm on firedrake scales."

"They'd explo..." but she cut herself off, her brow wrinkled in thought. "Wait. No, they wouldn't. The charm encases the suspended particles in a bubble of magic; it doesn't actually use magic on them. So you could easily suspend them in liquid that way, and then if you wanted, you could reduce the little magic bubbles down in size to the microscopic level. The firedrake scales would be unaffected by magic; they'd only be along for the ride. At least, I think that's how it would work." Her face was animated with the challenge of solving an interesting puzzle.

"Very good, Miss Granger." His voice had grown softer, quieter; his stare never wavered. "What would happen... if you administered this suspension to a person?"

She thought for a moment. "Well, nothing; the suspension would be inert in their body, except that... except..." Her eyes widened in horror.

"Go on, please."

In a whisper, she said, "Except that the tiny little firedrake particles would travel throughout every part of their body, lodge in every cell, waiting there forever, totally harmless, until... until..."

"Say it."

She had trouble drawing breath; her chest felt as though there were a heavy weight sitting on it. What had she done? "Until someone ends the spell, and then... then..."

Snape pointed his wand at the little phial of water in the center of the table and said, "Finite Incantatem." The phial exploded outwards in a gout of flame, sending a column of water into the air and glass shards flying in every direction. Hermione shrieked and ducked, protecting her head with her hands, but Snape arrested the shards, holding them motionless in the air before letting them harmlessly drop to the floor.

"And then," he said, "the scales come into contact with magic, with... predictable results."

Hermione straightened up from her defensive crouch. She folded her arms tightly against her body to stop her hands from uncontrollably shaking. "Every cell in the person's body would simultaneously explode."

"Quite. I believe the effect would be rather... what's the Muggle term? Pyrotechnic."

Her face was white. "I didn't know... I didn't mean..."

"Miss Granger, you have created a weapon."

"Sir, I didn't mean to, I swear, I just..."

He ignored this. "A weapon that I intend to use."

The words she'd been about to speak died on her lips. Snape watched and waited as realization dawned on her face. Bright girl.

Fixing her with an even stare, he said, "You will tell no-one about any of this."

"No, sir," she managed unsteadily.

"Not the Order. Not your friends. Not anyone. Trust me, if this information is disseminated at large, it will be used, and there will be no stopping it."

"Yes, Professor," she said and then hesitated. "Professor Snape, I have to ask... why did you tell me? Why not just use it yourself?"

"For two reasons, Miss Granger. First, I could not take the chance that you would tell some... friend about your clever little discovery. Your ignorance of its implications was dangerous." He noted her cheeks redden and felt gratified. Yes, even brilliant H. Granger misses the obvious sometimes.

"Second, and more to the point, every day that passes increases the likelihood that I will not survive one of my encounters with the Dark Lord." Her eyes widened. In pleasure, perhaps; he imagined that she savored the thought of his death. He wondered if she fantasized about it.

Enough self-indulgence.

"If I do not, someone else will have to cast Finite Incantatem in his presence. That person will have to be you."

"What?"

He enjoyed her shocked expression. Weren't expecting that, were you?

"Who would you suggest, then?" His eyes glinted in challenge. "What member of the Order would you trust with this knowledge? Who would you trust implicitly not to tell? Who would you trust not to use it?"

She stared at him in silence.

"Precisely."

He had considered this at length the night before. He would be damned if he let any other human being lay eyes on the girl's poisoning charm...for that's really what it was...and it would be stupid not to have a backup plan. He was mildly surprised every time he managed to leave Voldemort's presence still breathing. It would be a waste to go to the trouble of brewing and administering the firedrake potion only to be unable to activate the fucking thing. So Granger would be his backup plan.

He'd asked himself whether she were trustworthy for something of this magnitude... whether she could be relied on to carry out the task if need be. He thought about how she'd demanded that he cast an Unforgivable on her and how she'd held herself in perfect stillness while she waited for him to do it. He thought about how she'd picked herself up afterward and limped to the door, broken and bruised, refusing any help. He thought about how she'd suffered through his excoriation in the classroom. And through all of this, she had told no-one. She had suffered alone in her misery.

Yes, he thought that she would prove sufficient to the task. If necessary.

"But Professor Snape, why not simply poison Lor... him. Poison him. Surely that would be easier?"

He lifted an eyebrow. "Your definition of the word 'easy' is rather different from mine, apparently. But you are correct. There are poisons that would be simpler and less time-consuming than the firedrake potion. Tell me why we are using the firedrake scales in your suspension charm instead."

She stifled the urge to point out that she was the one who had asked him. Fine, she could work this out. Her eyes unfocused as she cast her mind through the various properties and characteristics of firedrake scales. What did I miss?

With the part of her mind not otherwise preoccupied, she noted that Snape's attitude was different from his usual classroom demeanor. In the classroom, he took delight in publicly humiliating her; he relished her failures. But not now, not here. Now he merely waited for her answer with an unreadable expression on his face. And then she blinked and realized that it wasn't unreadable at all. She just hadn't recognized it, never having seen it from him before: He is confident in me.

Shortly after that, another realization struck her, and her cheeks reddened slightly.

"I am an idiot."

Snape's eyebrow lifted even higher, and he murmured, "Oh?"

She shot him an accusing glance. "You could have just told me, you know."

"Your assessment is, as usual, correct, Miss Granger. But please, elaborate."

She sighed, and recited out of the fourth-year Potions textbook (how could she have forgotten this?): "There is no known magical poison that has proven effective on incorporeal persons."

"Indeed, Miss Granger."

"Although usually that's assumed to refer to ghosts, and not... whatever Lor... You-Know-Who is."

Snape inclined his head slightly, the most assent she'd likely get from him on this subject, and said, "The point remains, he is at least semi-incorporeal."

"But firedrake scales will work? You can't know that. Have you considered using a Muggle poison? Something non-magical?"

Snape ground his teeth. He wasn't sure what irritated him more: her questions or the fact that she had a point.

"I will admit that I am not... entirely sure that the firedrake scales will kill him. But I believe that the physical effect of the explosion will at least harm him, yes. His body may be only semi-corporeal, but he still requires it in order to live and function. And there are no Muggle poisons that would be both undetectable and instantaneously fatal. Yes, I've checked," he finished, forestalling the obvious follow-up question.

She opened her mouth anyway, but before she could launch into what would undoubtedly be an interminable series of ideas he'd already considered and dismissed, he cut her off.

"Miss Granger, I think you will agree that this means the need for you to be able to effectively use Occlumency is somewhat more... urgent, shall we say."

If Voldemort...or any other Death Eater, for that matter...saw into her mind in its current unprotected state, they'd be fucked, no two ways around it. He could see in her eyes that she knew he was right.

Her voice was even and level: "Yes, sir. When?" Her mouth tightened a fraction as she braced herself against the possibility that he would want to begin immediately.

"My next lesson with you will have to wait. I have an... appointment this Friday evening, and I will need to spend what little spare time I have beforehand brewing a sufficient quantity of potion."

Her eyes widened a little, but she said nothing. Snape wondered with irritation exactly how she'd thought they were going to get the potion to Voldemort. Obviously he'd have to take it there himself. This hardly warranted surprise, he thought.

Though he had barely enough time. He was to report to Voldemort on Friday about his progress on the restoration potion. If the firedrake potion was ready by then, he would easily be able to pass it off instead.

This potion, unfortunately, was more difficult and time-consuming to brew than most. The firedrake scales were slow to shrink and required constant observation to keep the magic field around them from inadvertently causing an early detonation. The demonstration phial he'd made up had incorporated only a single firedrake scale and had taken most of a night. He had no time to spare if he wanted to have enough for Lord Voldemort in three days' time.

Granger stood waiting for instructions. Always a good student, he thought blackly.

"In the meantime," he told her, "you will practice on your own. Part of successful Occlumency, as you may have heard from your friend, Potter, is being able to completely clear your mind of thoughts and distractions."

He could not keep the loathing out of his voice when he mentioned the boy's name. Teaching Occlumency to Potter had been a complete fucking nightmare, and he didn't enjoy thinking about it. He composed himself and went on, "You have discovered that you can overpower the Legilimens with brute emotional force. This is crude and unsubtle and will therefore ultimately prove ineffective. Clearing your mind perfectly is the first step towards true Occlumency."

Her eyes were fixed on him; she was absorbing everything he said, as he'd seen her do so many times in his classroom.

He said, "When we next meet, I will enter your mind. You will keep it completely blank, clear from all thoughts. This is a skill that you can learn with practice." He stopped, then said, "Or at least it is a skill that some can learn."

"I... think I can do that, Professor."

"See that you can," he said sharply. "You will be here Saturday at 7 o'clock exactly. I expect you to be ready."

It occurred to him that she might have to cancel evening plans for their lesson... perhaps a snogging session with Weasley. He thought of the memory she'd shown him, thought of how Weasley had humiliated himself at the end of their last evening together. But that was of no consequence. It was nothing to him if she wanted to use her talents...her body...on some puling little twit. Hardly any of his concern. And hardly any of his concern if she'd have to cancel such an engagement in order to learn how to keep the Dark fucking Lord out of her head.

With a scowl, he said, "Dismissed, Granger. There's no need to stand there like a sheep chewing its cud."

Her cheeks colored and her eyes flashed. She said, "Sir," nodded to him with a jerk, and left without saying anything further, closing the classroom door behind her a little more loudly than usual.

Snape expelled a long breath. He wondered whether he were trying to make her hate him. But he dismissed the thought as nothing more than sentimental rubbish. He was above that sort of thing.

And at any rate, he certainly didn't have to try.