Eleven

Disclaimer: They're not mine.

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The third time Professor Flitwick swore, Hermione gave in to her amusement and giggled. The tiny Charms instructor was flailing his arms about almost comically, shrilly repeating the incantation that was supposed to alter the magical properties of the healing potion sitting unperturbed in the cauldron before him. His forehead bathed with sweat, he seethed and hissed, but the potion remained unresponsive.

"Wasn't it supposed to change color?" Madam Pomfrey called idly from the corner of the room. She'd stationed herself just inside the door nearly an hour ago and hadn't seemed at all compelled to move forward despite her interest in the proceedings. Hermione realized suddenly that she'd probably witnessed before the exasperating spectacle that was a Snape-Flitwick collaboration.

"You are speaking too rapidly," Snape reiterated for what felt like the eightieth time that evening, effectively cutting off whatever derisive remark Flitwick had been about to make, uncharacteristically, in the medwitich's direction. Hermione stifled a groan and glanced up at the portrait on the wall in desperation. Albus grinned at her, shaking his head fondly, but said nothing. They both knew better than to intercede when the two professors standing over the cauldron were in the process of expending so much energy and frustration in causing such a complex and highly unpredictable potion to respond.

"Really, this is becoming ridiculous," Madam Pomfrey insisted, pulling off her spectacles to polish them impatiently on her robes. "Miss Granger still has your examination to get through, Severus, and it's eleven o'clock. I'm sure I needn't remind you that Miss Granger should be in bed..."

"She is eighteen years old, Poppy," Snape retorted sharply. Hermione repressed a flush of pleasure at the fact that he'd even thought to defend her. "Surely you can extend her curfew to midnight on a Friday."

"I can't extend my own that long! Please, for the love of Merlin, wrap this up!"

Snape, rather than continue to argue with the mediwitch, turned a considerable glower in Professor Flitwick's direction. Flitwick swore again, though sotto voce, and threw up his tiny hands in disgust.

"I'm simply at my wits' end, Severus. I've nothing else to try, much as I'd like to help you. Are you sure you modified the potion properly? If you substituted anything else for the unicorn blood, its instability would be such that..."

"I did precisely as I have stated. Would you like Miss Granger to demonstrate on your own leg how she obtained the blood?" Snape growled at the smaller man.

"Severus, please," Albus said firmly, speaking up for the first time. "It's been a long evening. We've all...with the exception of Poppy...been here for over six hours, and if I'm not mistaken, the three of you have neither eaten nor rested in that duration."

Snape opened his mouth, likely to retort that he didn't require sustenance, and Hermione closed her eyes in brief pain. She was famished...genuinely so, not merely with the illusive needs of her appetite...and longed for a break. She'd spent every evening that week slaving over the final touches to her equations so that they could begin the incantations that evening, and between the loss of sleep and her desperate need for food, she didn't know how much longer she could tolerate her professors' arguments.

"I cannot condone the starvation of my best Gryffindor," Albus continued, more pleasantly. "Really, Severus, Filius, let's put a stop to this. We all know Miss Granger's calculations are unimpeachable; it is simply the lateness of the hour and the natural exhaustion of a long week. Get a good night's sleep and try again tomorrow."

Gradually, the good sense of his proposal sank in all around. Professor Flitwick, returning suddenly to his jovial and courtly self, apologized profusely to Hermione and Madam Pomfrey for his use of inappropriate language in front of ladies and excused himself for the evening. With the gathering officially adjourned, Hermione sank back against the nearest work bench, so relieved to indulge her exhaustion that she was oblivious to its sharp edge biting into her lower back. She was pleased to find that she could still feel her feet after eight hours of standing upright and theorized that it was due to Ginny's increasingly strenuous demands on her physically during their morning walks.

"It's been less than a month," Madam Pomfrey murmured gently, removing herself from the doorway and striding to the center of the room. Her gaze was fixed on Snape as he commenced dealing with the remaining potion. She had dark circles under her eyes and the pinched, overworked look Hermione had always associated with Muggle nurses. Suddenly, she felt terrible for requesting that the mediwitch stop by to look over the details of Snape's physical state that she'd included in the Arithmantic calculations for the charm and potion.

Not that it mattered all that much, she reflected with a sigh. The mediwitch had been too busy to stop by earlier in the evening, and now they'd brought their attempts to a close with little success. Apart from decreased viscosity and an increased heat tolerance...both Snape's achievements over the course of the week...the potion remained unchanged. She dreaded the moment when Madam Pomfrey revealed the elementary mistake she'd made that had cost them all their evening.

Hermione snapped back to attention, realizing that Madam Pomfrey was still talking desultorily as she yawned. "You shouldn't be so hard on yourselves," she continued with yet another yawn. "And furthermore, none of us can handle this schedule. I've got to return to the infirmary. I just wanted to stop by to tell you both that Septima sent me the calculations earlier today, and I can see only one difficulty."

Hermione's heart plummeted to her feet. Snape's hands, she was relieved to see, continued the process of placing very delicate, very advanced stasis charms on the precious healing potion. She didn't doubt that he was actively taking in every word the mediwitch spoke and their implications, but as he hadn't yet turned the full force of his disapproval and frustration in her direction, Hermione managed to continue breathing.

"This is nothing for which you ought to blame yourself, Miss Granger," Madam Pomfrey continued, removing a small stack of parchments from her pocket and returning them to their proper size with a wave of her wand. "It's a well-established but little-discussed theory in Wizarding medicine. Certainly it's nothing I would expect you to have encountered at your level of education, and as it's outside the realm of Severus' area of expertise, neither of you could have hoped to catch on to it.

"You've forgotten to include," she explained matter-of-factly, pointing out the relevant equations, "that Severus is impotent."

Hermione was amazed to find that she could choke on her own saliva considering how dry her mouth had become. Snape, whose back was toward her, stiffened perceptibly, and the movements of his hands stopped. She saw Albus, still sitting quietly in his portrait, grimace lightly.

"I realize that this probably seems of little importance compared to his other problems," Madam Pomfrey said, "but even a Muggle physician could extol for you the benefits of sexual health and the drastic complications of its loss. After all, Muggle researchers have been claiming for years in their journals that the release of chemicals like oxytocin and endorphins can have a tremendously positive effect on pain thresholds and healing..."

"What would you suggest, madam?" Snape's voice had never, to Hermione's ears, sounded softer or silkier. He was utterly and completely furious, and she watched with fascination the way he gripped the cauldron, white-knuckled. Hermione wished quite suddenly that she could melt into the very floor and join with the ubuiquitous dark mold that inhabited its many crevices.

"I would suggest," Madam Pomfrey said in her most commanding voice, "that the two of you stop dancing around the uncomfortable aspects of his venture. I gather from my brief talk with Miss Granger yesterday that she has yet to perform a second physical examination. She said she mentioned it to you once and you brushed her off."

Hermione wanted to hang her head. She hadn't meant to complain to Madam Pomfrey in the manner of a whiny insubordinate criticizing her superior, but that was, in retrospect, what she'd done...and it was how Snape would undoubtedly deem her behavior. He would make her pay for that, she was sure. But she'd been unable to hold back her frustration when he had, yet again, resisted her suggestion. He'd thus far ingested three batches of modified healing potions, all of which had seemingly failed; but without a clinical comparison using the diagnostic spells Madam Pomfrey had taught her, Hermione felt at loose ends, unable to quantify their progress, or lack thereof, for Professor Vector.

"You must give careful consideration to every aspect of this, Severus. I realize that this has the potential to be very awkward for the two of you, but Miss Granger is very nearly graduated, and we all know she's far more mature than her peers. If you really wish to obtain the maximum benefit from this process, you need to consider all variables. Wizarding medicine holds that sexual energies are the most potent form of both pathology and of healing. It's a promising avenue and a critically important part of being a human being. Don't dismiss it so quickly."

She handed the papers over to Hermione and gave the two of them a reproving look with fatigued eyes. "I want a revised version no later than five o'clock tomorrow afternoon, and I want to know precisely how you intend to address this with modifications to your potion base. I know your past few attempts have been less than successful. If you yourself report that you felt no improved efficacy as compared to the control batch, then Merlin knows you've nothing to lose but a few more hours of your time. I'm sure Miss Granger won't put up a fuss. If you need any suggestions for ingredients known to stimulate sexual health and the activities of the male reproductive system, I'm sure Pomona would be more than happy to..."

"Enough." Snape spoke with deadly finality. "You shall have your resolution by tomorrow; I shall see to it personally. If you have finished humiliating me in front of my student, kindly remove yourself from my laboratory."

"Don't be unkind, Severus." She folded her arms across her ample chest and looked at him sadly. "We're none of us idiots, least of all you. The pains and regrets you carry psychologically can have a more profound effect on the healing process than you realize. I don't want you to reach the point where you've only your own obstinate repression holding you back."

Having spoken her last, she exited the room slowly, leaving Hermione and Albus to glance at the Potions master with utmost trepidation.

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It was hardly the manner in which she'd envisioned becoming better acquainted with her professor, but Hermione soon found herself...at eleven-thirty in the evening, nonetheless...traipsing down to the kitchens to fetch him some food. In the aftermath of Madam Pomfrey's horrendously uncomfortable declarations, it was only Albus Dumbledore who'd possessed the calm and forethought to say aloud, "Hermione, be a dear and run to the kitchens to fetch some supper. You and Severus have a great deal of work to do, and I'm sure you're both very hungry. I shall pop over there briefly and instruct the house-elves to prepare you both an adequate meal."

Still reeling from the mediwitch's demands, Hermione had nodded dumbly and set off for the kitchens. The moment she'd stepped out of Snape's sight, she had pulled her thick, unruly hair off her flushed neck, leaned desperately against the cool walls of the dungeon, and exhaled a deep sigh of relief. Discussing matters sexual in Snape's presence was difficult enough, but she'd convinced herself that she would have the advantage considerably more time before it became necessary to address his issues of his erectile difficulties.

Madam Pomfrey definitely had not been lukewarm on the matter. Hermione released a nervous sigh, recalling the venom with which the Potions master had stared at her. She had a valid point...it could very well have been the most important avenue for them to explore, and they'd ignored it outright...but she could have pursued a less confrontational way of voicing her concerns.

Hastening her steps once her stomach began to growl its demands anew, Hermione made the round trip to the kitchens and back in what she proudly believed was record time. She knocked tentatively on the door of Snape's private laboratory, but it was instead a door farther down the hall that swung open to oblige her. She stepped inside hesitantly and found herself in the dimly lit hallway leading to his private rooms and storage area. Farther along, to her left, the beautiful tapestry beckoned her to run her fingers across its luxurious surface.

She forced herself to put aside her thoughts of all things sensuous and walked as purposefully as possible into Snape's quarters. He remained in his formal attire, but he'd pulled back the sleeves of his frock coat to reveal the white dress shirt he wore underneath. He was seated in an armchair and appeared exhausted, cradling a small crystal goblet filled with a shimmering liquid Hermione suspected to be some sort of spirit. She spared a momentary prayer to whatever deity happened to be listening that it would revive him somewhat, for she'd never seen him so open and willing to reveal his vulnerability in her presence. It boded ill indeed, and it stunned her deeply.

"I've brought your supper, Professor," she began. "If the Headmaster's order isn't to your liking, I'd be happy to fetch something else..." She had barely an instant to step forward and hold the plate out before her when he spoke.

"It's fine." His voice was short and brusque. "Have a seat, Miss Granger. I shan't take up much more of your time this evening, I assure you."

The fatalistic tone of his voice set alarm bells clanging in Hermione's head, but she did as she'd been bidden, placing the magically warmed plate heaped with roast beef and vegetables in front of him on the dark, burnished coffee table. His glance moved only briefly and dismissively over the nutrients he so desperately needed; she wanted to pick up his fork and force feed him as a mother would a sick and recalcitrant child.

"Madam Pomfrey's highly inappropriate outburst has illuminated for me a point which I sought to overlook," he began, his fathomless eyes fixed on some point above her head as he swirled the liquid in his goblet, "namely, that the position in which I have placed you by volunteering for this trial is both undesirable and highly unethical. For that I must apologize."

Hermione, having completely forgotten about her own supper, realized with mounting horror that she could predict precisely the direction in which his words were headed. Even the shock of having received an apology from Severus Snape could not override her need to speak up urgently. "Really, Professor, I want to help..."

"I shall withdraw my participation and allow you to find a more suitable subject," he concluded, his voice rising. She watched the tension in his jaw as his Adam's apple slid slowly up and down while he swallowed, hard, and met her eyes. Leaning forward, he set his goblet on the table before him with a jarring thud.

"Please don't, sir. Not because of Madam Pomfrey, anyway. She was accurate in her statement that we have to address all possible avenues of concern, and I'm perfectly capable of being professional..."

"It is unthinkable, Miss Granger." He leaned back in his chair and regarded her with such dispassion that she felt as though he'd delivered her an actual physical blow. "Surely you didn't believe that even the greasy bat of the dungeons would stoop so low as to force you to endure discussions of his sexual difficulties. One must assume you couldn't manage to do so without seeking relief in vilifying my private matters with your reprehensible friends," he finished menacingly. His eyes were a matte, dead black.

"That's unfair, sir!" she burst out, nearly knocking over her plate as she slammed her right hand on the table, outraged. She thought guiltily of her fevered discussion with Ginny over the holidays, but she didn't for a moment believe that Ginny was capable of compromising Snape's medical history. "With all due respect, I believe I've behaved nothing but professionally since we began this study. I was well aware of these facts from the beginning, and my primary objectives remain the same: to help you and to complete my project to secure an apprenticeship." Hermione sat back, frightfully conscious of her sweaty hands and heavy, increasingly labored breathing. Surely he wouldn't withdraw now, when there was a chance that Madam Pomfrey had clarified for them the proper focus for their research to assume...

"Do you expect me to believe, Miss Granger, that you will be able to withstand the temptation to compromise my privacy? That you can continue to behave properly in my classroom with the added complication of wholly and insupportably inappropriate knowledge..."

"I do, sir," she interrupted boldly, staring him directly in the face. A stray curl flew before her face, but she told herself forcefully to ignore it. Inhaling deeply to further master her reactions, she continued assertively, "And what's more, I insist on having the opportunity to prove to you that I can do it. I want nothing more than to be a professional."

Snape's lips curled condescendingly. "I believe we passed the point of merely professional interaction some time ago, Miss Granger, and I've no one but myself to blame. Find yourself a new subject, and get out of my rooms."

Leaving his plate untouched, he rose from his chair and disappeared into the bedroom. The large wooden door closed behind him with an ominous silence as Albus looked down on her with sad eyes.