Chapter Ten

Disclaimer: It all belongs to JKR, whom I bow before in gratitude.

A/N: Many thanks to Psy for her encouragement and Rhiannon for catching the errors I miss.

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Several hours later, Severus was sitting in his favorite sitting room chair, sipping a cup of dark roast. He smacked his lips as he read over the article in his lap:

My research has proven that the addition of Ashwinder eggs to the base of Amortentia is highly dangerous, with the potential to affect both the environment in which the potion is brewed and the unfortunate brewer. The blood-boiling birth the eggs undergo create in them a highly volatile tension ...

"Rubbish," he muttered under his breath, tossing the article to the side. He brought the steaming cup to his lips, inhaling the aroma, savoring the taste. Dark roast was perfect at any time of year – even in the balmy Italian summers.

His eyes flickered to the open window. A blue-gray owl was flying towards him, and it gracefully landed on the arm of his chair.

"Athalia?" he muttered, extracting the letter from the owl's beak. He had not seen this particular owl in a very long time.

The beige-colored envelope was sealed with the royal blue signet of the Apothecary Guild. A curious expression rippled across Severus' features. He peeled off the signet and opened the envelope. A crisp beige page fell out. He ran his fingers over the smooth stationary, turning it over to read its contents.

5 July 2002

- Archie

"Humph!" Severus set the letter on his lap, thinking. Impertinent old bugger. Telling him what to do, giving him orders. It was so like Archie. So nauseatingly Gryffindor.

Much as Severus hated to comply with Archie's outlandish requests, one had to admit that they held a certain dangerous appeal. It wouldn't take too long for him to get his hands on the herbs in question, provided enough egos were stroked and enough women were flattered. His connections were perfect and would quickly serve his purpose. It would almost certainly guarantee a run-in with Ignacia du Montmorency – maybe this could benefit his rebuttal of her foolish arguments.

His jagged nails gently clicked against the china cup in a distinct rhythm as he perused the letter.

He caught his breath.

In the excitement of his potential compliance, he had overlooked the detail with which Archie had described his 'favorite customer'.

Hermione. It had to be. There was no other young woman in England who could possibly command the kind of praise Archie had bestowed on her. "Almost as good as yourself!" And what other woman would request such rare ingredients?

His hand clenched and his face tightened. Damn the girl! He should've known that such an intriguing intellectual challenge could only come from her. Who else would be pursuing the betterment of society with such an ambitious ingredients list?

Hermione was doing something – researching something – that was big. Those two herbs would not be used for anything less then world-changing material.

He stood up and began to pace in front of the dormant fireplace, racking his brain. What had Minerva said about Hermione's work? Preventative potions for children. A noble cause, to be sure, certainly not one frequently researched beyond rudimentary levels.

Minerva had said something on her last visit – something about Hermione working with the Weasley twins. He smirked. She could do better than that ...

Apparently she was. Aglaophotis and Orielibos ... Gods, why couldn't Minerva talk more about Hermione's potions research and less about Ronald Weasley?

"Severus?" a throaty, domineering voice filled the room.

He started and then stopped pacing. Speak of the devil, he thought, looking down at the green head in the fireplace.

"So good of you to call, Minerva," he spoke, his voice laced with sarcasm.

"I know you're overjoyed. Now dismantle these dastardly wards and let me in."

He chuckled and waved his hand over the marble stones. Minerva McGonagall came through the fireplace almost instantly, dusting the green powder off her robes.

She looked at him ruefully. "You know I come to visit; why do you not lower your anti-Apparition wards?"

"They are not anti-Apparition. I can Apparate on the premises."

"Yes, you and no one else! Floo is so cumbersome, Severus."

He snorted. "If you desire to see me so fervently, I'm afraid you must find a way to do so."

"Feeling peaky, dear?" Minerva humphed, walking a few steps and seating herself in the other chocolate-colored lounge chair. She flicked her wand towards the window. A breeze quickly swept through the room.

"I purposely ward the windows against the wind."

"I know." She looked up challengingly. "That's better, though, don't you think?"

Severus used his arm to brace himself against the mantle. "Why don't you get it over with, bring your suitcase, and move in?"

"Impossible. I might actually grow accustomed to your cheerful disposition."

"I doubt that." He allowed a smirk.

"Why don't you sit with me?" she asked, patting the lounge chair next to her.

"I'm sure I can hear your nattering from here."

"Don't get cross with me, young man."

"I'm hardly young, Minerva," Severus said tiredly, sitting down in the chair.

"Younger then this old witch, that's for certain."

"Can't have everything."

Minerva chortled.

"Dark roast?" Severus offered, summoning an additional coffee mug and a pot of the said liquid bliss.

"I'd love some." Minerva eyed the coffee gratefully. "I could use a stiff pot. I've nearly run out of what you've given me at Hogwarts, and Hermione is at the Brighton house."

His face was expressionless as he poured a cup for his companion, waiting for her to launch into the Hermione Report. She sipped her coffee, her face simultaneously lighting up. Ahh, he thought, there is something to tell.

"Ronald is engaged!" She smiled widely.

Severus grimaced, both in disappointment and near-physical pain. "Who is the unfortunate lady?"

"Oh, do put aside that schoolboy grudge of yours. It does not become you."

"Nor does the flattering of mediocrity benefit yourself."

"Ronald is a fine, upstanding young man."

"You jest. What idiotic lioness has seen fit to attach herself to the Quidditch idiot?"

Minerva smirked. "Not quite a lioness."

"A raven, then."

Minerva smiled, quietly drinking her coffee. She paused, tapping her cup. "You might want to look a little closer to home, Professor Snape."

Snape blanched. "You cannot be serious."

"I'm afraid a little lady serpent has been charmed by the pride of the Chudley Canons."

"I cannot bear to hear this."

"Daphne Greengrass."

"Ahh." Severus relaxed into his chair. "She's marrying him for his mother."

"Severus!"

"Daphne's a fine young lady; of any Slytherin candidates for a Weasley marriage, she'd be at the top of my list."

"You love Molly just as much as I do."

"Perhaps not quite as much as you do, Minerva."

"Well, Ron and Dahpne are very happy."

"I wish them the best, and when I say them, I mean Daphne." A smile quirked at Severus' lips; baiting Minerva was far too easy. One needed only to poke at one of the cubs in her den and the emotions would roar.

Minerva seemed to be calming down. "Your dislike of him will vanish when you see how he treats Daphne."

"Doubtful."

"A man could not treat a woman better."

"It is no less then Daphne deserves."

"You will like Ronald eventually."

"Idealism is not what they say it is in Gryffindor House. You are too romantic," Severus said matter-of-factly, sipping his coffee. He glanced over at the window. The birds were flitting about outside, chattering incessantly in a way remarkably akin to the woman he was conversing with.

"And you're not?"

Severus turned to face the older woman, who had a wry smile on her face.

"Not what?"

"Idealistic. Romantic."

"I most certainly am nothing of the kind."

Minerva chuckled. "Just look at you, Severus, sitting there, drinking a cup of the most divine dark roast, brooding and moody, an entity unto yourself. You're living in a stunning Italian villa, solitary, alone because you fear your past more than you fear love. And the only reason you're here is because of the Ministry's request that you extricate yourself from British wizarding society. You were a double agent for over twenty years, pretending to be evil, but at heart a good soul."

"I must stop you while you're ahead." Severus raised a hand. "I am none of what you say," he muttered under his breath.

"Yes, you are. You're a good man," Minerva stated kindly.

"I killed your husband."

"A necessary evil that only you could do," she replied automatically. Her eyes glistened. "You knew he was dying."

He sat stoically, unmoving.

"The ring's effects would have taken him, Severus. You only bought him time ..."

"I took it instead."

"Why haven't you forgiven yourself?" she asked forcefully. "I have, the Order has ..."

"Really?" He raised an eyebrow. "You honestly think that every good witch and wizard in Britain has forgiven me as effortlessly as you?"

"You are making excuses. Even if there was an Order member who held it against you, it would not keep you from coming back to England."

He jerked his head. "What?"

She looked him straight in the eye. "The Ministry has finally acquiesced to our demands that you be reinstated."

His eyes narrowed. "And who did you bring to ensure such a promise? The Golden Trio?" he quipped.

"Bill and Fleur are highly respected in the community, as are Andromeda and her daughter."

Severus looked at her, demanding. She slumped her shoulders.

"Harry, too."

He snickered. "As ... pleased ... as I am ...that so many Order members have taken such a vested interest in my well-being, I am not keen on returning to England. I have outstanding resources at my disposal here in Naples. The weather is better, the people are better, and the seclusion is addicting!" he finished.

Minerva simply smiled. "It seems you've gone on a tangent, Severus."

"Yes, well," he mumbled, "don't expect it very often." He looked at her. "I do not wish to return, Minerva. There is nothing for me there."

"Isn't there?"

For a moment he thought a knowing look had passed over her face. He dismissed it.

"Surely you have other purposes on this visit aside from telling me to come back to England and teach at Hogwarts."

"I never mentioned teaching, but I am sure we will discuss it another time."

"Absolutely not, Minerva."

"You're a brilliant instructor."

"And they're complete dunderheads."

"Isn't it time you found a new term to describe the future of wizarding society?"

"Please don't call them that. The thought of any one of them being the Minister of Magic is enough to make me roll over in my grave."

"You aren't dead yet, my dear."

"One day I will be, and, when I am, those blasted idiots are going to come dance on my corpse, and I assure you, Minerva, that I will roll over."

They sat at an impasse for several moments.

"Is there anyone you would like to hear about?" Minerva asked sweetly.

Severus' eyes flicked, remembering what he'd been so intent on before she'd arrived. Hermione's research.

Hermione.

Hermione was in England.

Damn it, he wasn't going down this road. He would not move back just for a woman. He might visit, though ...

"... Bill and Fleur are expecting again, isn't that wonderful?" Minerva was saying.

"Yes," he said off-handedly.

"And Hermione is doing well. I just visited her a few days ago. Wasting away with research. I tell you, she's becoming more and more like you every time I see her."

"Research tends to have a negative effect on fat deposits," he said, encouraging her to continue.

"Her research is getting her nowhere." Minerva sighed. "I'm so sorry for her. Several people warned her at the onset that finding a preventative potion for an Unforgivable would be impossible ..."

"A preventative potion for an Unforgivable?"

Minerva turned to him, looking at him quizzically. "Yes," she said, slightly flustered, "Have I never mentioned it to you?"

"No ..." Severus trailed off, his brain working a mile a minute. Hermione was researching a preventative potion for an Unforgivable ...

"Which Unforgivable? Crucio, I presume?" he asked in an academic tone, trying not to betray his mounting excitement. Excitement for the girl or the research? That small little voice in his brain quipped.

"Yes. When last I visited her, she was very discouraged. It's so sad to see that," she said slowly, drinking her coffee. "When academics find themselves disappointed in their research. Especially when they have put so much of themselves into it." Minerva set her cup down on the small table to her left. She put a hand to her temple, massaging. "I fear for her," she said worriedly. "If she cannot find the right ingredients for this potion, I fear what it will do to her. She has accomplished so much, so much that she does not realize! And she won't release her findings without the cure for the Cruciatus." Minerva's eyes welled with tears. "I love this girl, Severus," she looked at the man opposite her. "You worked with her; you know how brilliant she is. She is losing hope, and she's throwing herself into last-ditch efforts that will probably not work. I'm sure she went to Archie yesterday; all he can give her is false hope!" Minerva wiped a tear. "This potion eludes her, and she is the most brilliant witch of our age. If she has not found the cure by now, Severus ..."

He allowed a few moments of silence to pass, filled only with the wiping of tears.

"I have still not found a cure for lycanthropy," he said simply.

Minerva looked up.

"Archie wrote me," Severus said, reaching for the letter. He handed the tawny page to Minerva. "You'll see that he clearly describes Hermione."

Minerva's eyes glazed over as she read the note. She nodded slowly, handing it back to him. "More impossible ingredients she could not have asked for," she said simply.

"True ..." he trailed off. "But, Minerva." He leaned forward towards her. "I can get these. You have shown me that it is a matter of utmost importance. You and Archie desire her success. Loathe as I am to admit it, I have a certain fondness for Arthur and Molly, and their family is invested in this research. The entire Order is."

"Why, Severus," Minerva chuckled softly. "I didn't know these things mattered to you."

"They don't," he stated. "But they matter to you. And I owe you."

He cast his eyes downward, avoiding her piercing gaze.

"You owe me nothing," she whispered.

"Yes I do." He waved his hand, dismissing the issue. "In addition to that, I did work with the young lady. A more brilliant witch you could not find. It would be a disaster were the wizarding world to lose such a promising mind."

"Since when do you care for the wizarding world?"

"I agree to help you, and you play Devil's Advocate?"

"When I'm around you, it just comes naturally." Minerva's eyes twinkled in a nature frighteningly similar to her late husband's.

He cleared his throat. "To answer your question, the wizarding world in the context of politics matters very little to me indeed. However, the academic world is one that I desire to see thrive," he continued. "Therefore, I will assist you as soon as I can."

"Thank you." Minerva rose from her seat, and embraced the stiff Potions master. Severus closed his eyes, desperately wanting the moment to be over.

"Oh, indulge me." She wrapped her arms around him tighter. He awkwardly patted her back, hoping that it was the magic solution.

She released him. Oh, thank God.

Minerva stood to full height, and Severus rose from his chair to stand next to her. "I will expect to hear from you soon," she said.

"You will." He nodded curtly. "I will act as quickly as I can."

"This means so much to me, dear." Minerva put her hand on his cheek. "I know you're not one for emotion and affection, but I really know no other way to express my gratitude. You are my last hope to save her."

He nodded, ignoring the lump in his throat.

"I'll see you soon, then," she said, walking over to the fireplace. "Take care."

She disappeared in a puff of green smoke.

Severus stood there, immune to his surroundings. The streaming sunlight and chirping birds were active as ever, but they did not stir him.

He would act ... this he knew. And soon. For Minerva's sake, for society's sake. This potion could forever alter the wizarding world as they knew it. His services were needed.

His eyes flickered to the letter, which lay on the table between the two armchairs.

...Almost as good as yourself, old boy! ...

His throat tightened. He concentrated, attempting to control the emotions that were welling within him.

It wasn't just that society needed him, or that Minerva needed him.

The woman he loved needed him.

What a terribly romantic sentiment, he thought. With that in mind, he Apparated away.

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A/N: Comments? Critiques? I'd love to hear from you. :)