Chapter 3: Science, in a Nutshell

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author.

I would like to say a big thank you to VIVAvivacious for all of her hard work beta-ing this chapter for me.

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After all, science is essentially international, and it is only through lack of the historical sense that national qualities have been attributed to it.

– Marie Curie.

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Wythenshawe, Manchester: 9th June, 2009

Hermione was packing the last few items of clothing she would need for the conference into her suitcase when the doorbell rang.

Making her way downstairs, she paused to brush her hair out of her eyes before opening the door. She smiled on seeing Ginny Potter, who was wearing a pink baby sling with her little girl inside. She opened the door wider to let them in, and the two women bussed each other on the cheek in greeting.

'If I'd known to expect visitors, I would have had something better out for lunch than bread and sandwich condiments,' Hermione said with a smile as the two walked through to the kitchen.

'I didn't mean to stop in unannounced, but the boys are both with mum for a few days. Harry and I have to go to Bulgaria tomorrow for some silly international relations banquet that Kingsley is forcing him to attend,' Ginny explained. 'And I knew you were going to be at that convention, so I thought I would bring Lily by to see her godmother.'

'Oh, really, Gin? You're not actually going to make me the godmother of all your children, are you?' Hermione exclaimed as she opened the fridge.

Ginny smiled. 'Of course we are! Who could be a better example? And this way, you're more or less an official Aunty and part of the family without even having to be married to one of my idiot brothers,' she said enthusiastically. 'I always wished to have an older sister, and you're the closest I have to that.'

Hermione blushed a little at that. 'All right,' she agreed as she made two turkey, cranberry, Swiss cheese, and lettuce sandwiches. 'But I'll have you know, even if you didn't make me their godmother, I'd still consider you family.'

Hermione sat down at the table and pushed one of the plates towards Ginny, who, with the ease of practice, negotiated around the baby sling to eat her food. After lunch, Hermione cleaned up the kitchen, and the two women went into the warm sitting room, where she took hold of little Lily. The baby already had a precious shock of red hair growing in wisps on her tiny head, and she had the softest skin imaginable. She was enchanting. She wondered whether she would have Harry's green eyes or Ginny's blue ones when she finally deigned to open them properly for the world to see.

'She's such a beautiful little thing,' Hermione said softly, stroking Lily's cheek. 'I can see a heartbreaker already.'

'That's what Harry has been afraid of ever since the moment we found out we were having a girl,' Ginny replied. 'He's worried that the second he sends her off to Hogwarts, she is going to be stolen away from him by some thug who doesn't deserve her.'

'He'll always worry about his only girl,' Hermione said bluntly.

Harry and Ginny had decided together that after Lily was born, there would be no more Potter children. Hermione thought it was nice they stopped before they got ahead of themselves like so many others...like Molly and Arthur had. She was not a terribly family-orientated person, and while she loved the Weasleys, she had trouble fitting in with all of them when she was so used to just being by herself or with her parents. Hogwarts had been a real struggle for her when she realised you needed friends in order to avoid becoming an outcast.

Shaking herself from her thoughts, she looked down at the little girl in her arms and smiled. If she ever had children, she would make sure that they had everything she had in her life from her parents, and more.

Ginny left with Lily snuggled back in the baby sling an hour later, the two women hugging each other awkwardly so as not to squash the baby. Hermione closed the door behind them and went back upstairs to her bedroom, intent on having her packing done before going to bed that evening. She was planning to Apparate to London early the next morning to get a decent cup of coffee before resigning herself to the caterer's coffee at the symposium. When her bags were packed, she got all her notes together in the study and packed them into her briefcase so she could work on them when there was free time or if she was bored.

When her packing was complete, she pottered back down the stairs to her lab where she had a single glass cauldron simmering softly over low heat. The liquid within was a clear purple colour, and after testing it, she found that the potion base was just as it should be. She wrote down a few more notes in her journal, noting the difference in colour and flavour from the last time, and musing over her introduction of the lemongrass into the potion rather than the knotgrass.

True, both had different properties – the knotgrass comprised of dark green leaves and had a purple flower atop it that was much softer and finer and came in weedy bunches that were often caked with dirt. They required a lot of preparation beforehand and often dissolved too quickly in potions if one was not careful keeping the temperature at its absolute lowest. Lemongrass was much more coarse and hardy, allowing the use of high temperatures during brewing for longer periods of time, something that she had discovered that was required for the base. It also gave the potion a much more appetising flavour.

Pleased with this little bit of progress, she turned off the flame beneath the cauldron and immediately put a stasis charm on it. Moving it to her shelf, she set it to one side and cast a few simple protective shields on it to prevent any breakages or contamination while she was away. The stasis charm was good for five days before it would wear off and she'd have to re-brew the base from scratch. She left her workroom, taking her last few journals with her, locking the door to the basement with an old-fashioned wrought iron key, and slipping it into her pocket with her wand.

After that she went through the motions of making and eating dinner, bathing and settling into bed with a good book to read before going to sleep. She fell asleep with the book upside-down over her lap.

--

Piccadilly, London: 10th June, 2009

Severus Snape frowned deeply as he stared at the small groups of people who decorated the small reception area.

For the entirety of the 'Potions Through Time' symposium, 250 guests in the Potions field had been invited to attend various lectures and talks that were to be presented. That year, the organisers had chosen London, and more specifically, the William Kent House off the Ritz as their venue of choice. The house was more of a large manor, really, and while all the different workshops would occur there, the guests were still roomed in the actual hotel itself. Despite all the grandeur, Snape felt uninspired from the moment he had walked through the doors of the house.

There were too many people, and the number of strange looks he was continually on the receiving end of had not changed one whit over the years. People were always far too curious for their own good. He wasn't spending his hard-earned galleons to attend the symposium to simply be gawked at over half the time. He found it terribly rude of people to assume he wanted to be seen or socialised with simply because he had shown up.

As usual, he stood in a quiet corner, leaning against a wall and staying as far away from everyone else as he could. He could see all of his exits and would make use of the nearest one if someone decided to put on a brave act and walk over to him. As the afternoon drew on, Snape was relieved to find that nobody had been stupid enough to try and confront him.

It wasn't until nearly three o'clock that they were finally given their room assignments and keys for the hotel rooms that had been reserved in the main hotel.

'Here you are, Professor Snape,' said a familiar-looking young blonde boy, who handed over an envelope presumably containing his room key.

Snape simply nodded at him before turning on his heel and leaving William Kent House, making his way back to the hotel to retire to his rooms for a while until it was finally time for dinner in the Music Room. Weary from spending long hours in his potions laboratory, he simply fell onto the delightfully comfortable and roomy queen bed in his room, still wearing his boots, and passed out.

He didn't wake up until nearly seven that night, and when he did, he hurried to shower quickly and make himself a little more presentable.

When he was ready, he made his way back down to the lobby via the elevator and walked back over to the Kent House. There were people still out in the hallway chatting to one another. Frowning, Severus passed them by and went straight to the Music Room for dinner. He always hated the first afternoon of the symposiums and conferences, as they were oftentimes the part when all of the initial socializing began and people would form cliques that would remain together all the way through. It was like starting at a new school every year.

Once in the makeshift dining area, he saw that there was a simple layout with large round tables scattered around the middle of the room, a buffet along one wall, and a few small tables that were on the outskirts of the room nearest the windows that looked on outside. He collected a plate and piled it with various dishes, not really interested in what the fare was by that point, and moved to one of the small tables, his back to a wall. He picked at his meal slowly, eating the parts that looked enjoyable and discarding anything to one side of the plate that tasted like cardboard.

Snape thought it was interesting that even in fancy hotels such as The Ritz, the catering was subpar at best.

As he was coming to the last few bites of the enjoyable parts of his meal, he looked up to watch the people come and go from the room, analysing each of them. Some of them he knew, others he did not know or care about. In fact, there were very few people in the field that he had any respect for. And why should I? he thought. He was one of the very top Potions masters in the world, and very few held more clout or even equalled his talent. While he was not exactly likeable, he was the best, and everyone knew better than to upset the go-to man.

He was brought back out of his thoughts, however, when he saw a tall, elegant brunette witch enter the room, her curls pinned out of her face, which was still very much the same despite her age. Snape frowned. He would know that face anywhere, no matter how old the witch was. Her hair and figure may have improved since she was a teenager, but he very much doubted that anything else had changed. The wasn't a doubt in his mind that Hermione Granger was still every bit the swot and know-it-all she had always been in his eyes.

He paused, recollecting the memory of the last time he had seen her in person. It had been a very similar circumstance to the one they were currently in. She had still been a greenhorn back then, a rookie. Now he was faced with this attractive, mature-looking woman who smiled and walked across the room with a calm grace he had never recognised she had the potential to develop.

Something had obviously changed Hermione Granger.

--

Berlin, Germany: 2nd July, 2005

He snarled as he watched the newest Potions masters be introduced to the world of science in the magical realm.

They all were smiling exuberantly with their young, fresh faces. Their optimism was practically rolling off of all of them in waves, crashing against him. Diamonds, however, did not erode as rock did in the face of water. So, too, was Snape impervious to their presentations. None of them really seemed to exert any brilliance, and if they did, they hid it very well. Through the powers of observation, Snape could pick up anything he liked from the speeches that were being given. At the moment, the only thing they were saying to him was that it had been a bad idea to accept the invitation to this conference in particular.

Just as he was about to make good on his escape from the hall, the master of ceremonies announced the next speaker: Hermione Granger.

He paused, balancing on the edge of disinterest and curiosity about the girl. His decision could have slipped either way at that point, but he decided to stay. She was, after all, the only of his former students to achieve Master status in Potions. He had not seen her in a long while and was interested to know if she was as good as he had heard on the grapevine. She spoke for ten minutes, keeping the talk about her projects concise but just descriptive enough to discourage further questions on it. Snape left the room afterwards feeling mildly impressed.

Although he shouldn't have been surprised, he was. Granger had a lot more fortitude than he had given her credit for.

Later that day as everyone was heading to the dining hall for the afternoon tea, Snape kept himself to a corner to enjoy his tea and biscuits on his own. He opened a book in front of him, intent on reading and not anticipating that anyone would try to bother him. He was corrected of his assumption immediately when he looked up to see Hermione standing right in front of his table with a small smile on her lips.

'May I sit with you, Professor?' she asked hesitantly, her smile faltering when he looked up at her darkly.

'I don't suppose I would be able to stop you,' he murmured, looking back down at his book.

She, apparently, had take that for a 'yes' and plopped herself down into the chair across from him. 'I was surprised to see that you will not be giving any talks here, sir,' she commented idly as she sipped at her own tea.

'Why is that, Miss Granger?' he asked, his boredom at the topic quite evident.

'Well, Professor, to begin with, you're one of the most sought-after Potions masters in the whole of Europe,' she answered. 'Everyone is always saying that should any problems arise, you are the man to see.'

'And why should that be of importance to me? Tell me, Miss Granger, do you need the attention of other people to feel that your work is important?' he sneered in reply. 'Do you needs the sycophants to kiss your feet and tell you what a great job you are doing at your job, when really you should know far better than anyone whether or not this is so?'

Hermione looked stunned but still opened her mouth, attempting to form some sort of rebuttal.

'Well, what do you have to say in response to that?' he taunted as she snapped her mouth closed.

She took a moment to glare at him then. 'I came here with the hopes that we could talk about potions and similar interests with one another,' she said, her eyes glowing with anger. 'I can see now that it was a fruitless waste of time. I should have taken the advice of the others and stayed away.'

Snape smirked. 'I see you're finally getting the idea,' he said, crossing his arms in front of him.

Hermione gave him an exasperated look at his lack of cooperation. 'Look, we don't really have to even like each other to speak to one another here,' she said simply. 'Why don't you just pretend I wasn't your student for six years at the conference? It can go back to being however you would like after we leave.'

'Unfortunately, Miss Granger, I do not organise my social obligations around the wishes of silly girls with more brains than they know what to do with,' he snapped, noting her slight flinch at his use of the word 'miss.' It seemed he had hit a sore spot with the young woman before him with that one.

Huffing angrily, she picked up her tea cup and drained the cold contents. 'You, Severus Snape, are an insufferable bastard, and I hope you rot.' She stood and stomped out of the dining hall muttering something that sounded vaguely like 'miserable git.'

He looked at his tea in front of him and then back across the table to where the insufferable girl had been sitting. There was a tan leather-bound journal sitting on the edge closest to the wall. Presumably it was hers, but just to be certain, he unbound the leather straps tying it shut and flipped to the title page and ascertained that it did, indeed, belong to Miss Granger. He was tempted to open it up properly and look through the pages, but his stomach turned as a fit of conscience overrode his curiosity. He immediately closed the books and tied the leather straps back into place, returning the book to where she had left it. Soon she would realise that she had forgotten it, and he would not be caught holding it when she did.

After all, despite all his faults and antisocial tendencies, Snape was not the sort of man who would invade the intellectual property of another. For him, some things were just too sacred.

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To be continued.