Accidental Encounters

Chapter Thirteen: When the Tables Turn

Hermione stumbled her way through the thick green smoke, frantically choking out, “Elizar … Elizar … what’s happened?”. She finally felt the hearth at the Bacon house, and tripped over it, landing on her knees in the middle of the cluttered office. She looked up and found herself eye to eye with Elizar, who it had to be said, did not look at all panicked. He waited patiently for Hermione to put herself to rights, but did not stop looking at her, and did not step back at all.

Hermione pulled herself up and looked down at the little man. “What’s happened?”
“Relax, dear. It is not as dire as you imagine.”
Hermione’s mouth dropped, but she quickly shut it again.
“What, then?”
Well, it is an emergency of sorts. A routine accident, actually, but given the way things have been going lately, I thought you would prefer to handle this one yourself.”

Hermione had learnt that Elizar, like Dumbledore, didn’t miss a trick. He knew everything that went on in his domain. Now the little man simply nodded, and handed her the red parchment. Hermione quickly scanned it, aware that the hands holding the parchment were bunching into angry little fists:

…single wizard … possible botched experiment … Hogsmeade…”

There was only one thing this could mean, and she wasn’t impressed.

***

The field outside Hogsmeade looked different in the full noon sun. The night she had last been here, it had seemed small and sinister, flanked by large dark shapes that could have been either trees or dementors. Now though, with a perfect autumn sky singing above, the field was enormous. The trees were far away, and the long golden grass swayed gently in the breeze. Just like last time, though, this ocean of perfect blonde carpet was interrupted in the middle by a small mound of black.

Jaw set, Hermione marched towards it. When she got there, the lump didn’t move. No longer feeling even remotely charitable, she gave it a little nudge with the tip of her shoe. It still didn’t stir. This time, she gave it a little kick, accompanied by a harsh voice she barely recognized as her own. “Severus Snape, you bastard. You’ve really done it this time!”

***

This got the lump moving. He had previously been face down, but with Hermione’s words he rolled over. His eyes stayed shut, and his face was a sick shade of gray. He eventually managed a half-hearted groan, but it went largely unnoticed, for Hermione was now behind him, examining the experiment he had left behind. There were three beakers lying on their sides, each with some potion still in it. She whispered them back to her office, before turning back to the man behind her. She was ready to give him all that he deserved.

She found though, that she couldn’t. Snape was more than just a little winded this time, for he had rolled over again, and was now vomiting into the grass. Screwing up her nose, Hermione knew she had no choice. She bent down and, despite his protests, heaved him into a sitting position. He looked as though he were about to vomit again, so Hermione quickly grabbed his hands and apparated home.

***

It was getting to be familiar, seeing the formidable Severus Snape tucked up on her couch, looking like an overgrown baby. She still wasn’t feeling particularly charitable towards him, given what he had done, but she summoned some Pepper-Up potion from her office all the same.

It took two doses before the man in front of her returned to his normal colour. He looked momentarily confused to see Hermione perched on the coffee table, peering into his face with an expression of both concern and distaste on her delicate features. When he realized where he was though, he sat up quickly, obviously intending to get away from her as soon as possible. He was stopped in this though, by a sudden dizzy spell, and sank back down onto the couch with a sour face.

They sat there, staring at each other with open hostility, for, oh – a good five minutes or so. Neither seemed too keen to make the first move, and for his part, Severus didn’t seem too sure if he was even up to it.

At last, though, Hermione sighed and looked down at her lap. Keeping her gaze fixed there, she asked quietly, “Just what do you think you were doing?”
She tried not to feel a surge of delicious triumph when he bristled under her best teacherly tone.
“Don’t even come that path with me, Miss Granger.”
“Excuse me?”
“Oh, yes. Interfering …” Here he trailed off to take a deep, steadying breath.
Her eyes flashed back at him, but she refrained from saying anything. Another double dose of Pepper-Up should help.

Once she had forced that into him (with Severus protesting meekly all along), she slammed the vial back onto the coffee table beside her. Trying not to sound too shrill she said, “Interfering? Me? Well excuse me, but I was under the impression we were doing this project together.”
Now she didn’t care if she did sound like a fish wife. “What makes you think you have the right to go off and experiment with our trial potions, especially with an element, when we hadn’t even agreed on its role in the antidote?”
Severus was beginning to look annoyed, restored further by the Pepper-Up. When he replied, it wasn’t soft and dangerous, it was irritated. “Well forgive me, partner, but it seems some of us are happy to only work when it is convenient for them.”
“What? Last night? I went looking for you! You were the one who disappeared on me!”
“Au contraire, silly girl. I wasted half my night looking for you after you failed to return to my office.”
“Whatever. A misunderstanding still doesn’t give you the right to go ahead on your own. I thought we were in this together.”
“No, you insisted on being involved. In fact, you blackmailed me into it. Quite a Slytherin thing to do, really.”
“Slytherin my ass,” she shot back, not really caring anymore about the impression she was making. “We were equals!”
“Hardly. You’re only involved because you want to escape your dull ministry reality. It is not my responsibility to keep you involved.”
“Dull reality? Well you’re the one who is involved because of your crushing guilt!”
“Guilt?”
“You heard me. You feel bad that you didn’t do enough, and what remains of your conscience is giving you a hard time-“
“You wouldn’t know the first thing about me or my conscience!”
“Well, I know that you aren’t really the scary old bat you want everyone to think you are. It’s all just a game, isn’t it? To stop people from coming too close and to see what you really are.”
“Oh yes? And what, pray tell, would that be?”

He had her there. The very thought of what was really underneath made her uneasy. Sure, she was angry at him going ahead in the research without her. She was angry that he had probably wrecked a heap of that research. But most of all she was angry at what she had found. That the certain truth about Severus Snape, the greasy, nasty ghoul, was a mask. It had shaken her world as much as someone removing the certain truth that the sun rises in the east. She was annoyed that she even cared about who the real Snape was. And she was irritated that he had her standing here now, in the middle of her living room, with her hands quivering on her hips and her mouth gaping open like a goldfish.

A smirk slid into place on his lips, and he leant back on the lounge. The soft, controlled voice came back. “See? You think you know it all. I had thought you were different, Hermione, but now it seems I was sadly mistaken.”
“What?”
“Oh yes. You see, I have as much an opinion of you as you of me. All through your time at Hogwarts, I regarded you as a little know-it-all, keen to show off everything she knew and could do.” Hermione gasped indignantly, but he continued without missing a beat. “Do you know that it makes it very hard to like you, when you make people feel as though they are merely a vehicle for your brilliant achievement? I have seen it often, you know.”
“I never considered you to be merely a vehicle for me.”
“Oh? But that is not what came across. All of the acting for the Slytherins aside, why do you think I never let you excel too far?”
The image of Snape shaking her hand grudgingly as she was awarded the Achievement Award for Potions flashed back into her head. “Oh…. You bastard.”
Again, he ignored her and kept going. “You see, when we started working together on the antidote, I was surprised because finding one wouldn’t mean glory for you. It would only mean anonymously saving lives. From that, I thought then that I had been mistaken. It seemed you were keen to perform, and to learn, for deeper reasons.”
“Oh, but I do.” Hermione was feeling sick. She had never realized that this was why he had disliked her so much.
“Do you really? Well, this little fit you just threw was the trademark of a show-off know-it-all.”
“That is untrue. I have never wanted to prove to everyone how brilliant I am. I don’t actually think I am all that brilliant, but I love to learn, and to explore. And I wanted to work on the antidote with you because I wanted there to be a cure. Not so I could show you how wonderful I think I am at potions.”
A small smile played on Severus’ lips, but he didn’t say anything.
Hermione smiled uneasily back, before adding, “Anyway, I know exactly why you detest such a trait. I have seen it too, and it is disgusting.”
“And where could you have seen it? You were the brightest witch in your time at Hogwarts. No-one came close. Although, Percy Weasley was quite annoying…”
“Oh no. Actually, there is this wizard called Martinus Maggle…” Hermione trailed off as a soft chuckle emerged from the man sitting opposite her. He looked alarmed, too, that it had escaped, and quickly made his face neutral.
“You’ve met Maggle? Why, Hermione, what a privilege!”
The return of his sarcasm after his previous frank tone, and that laugh had her confused.
“What are you talking about?”
“Well, Maggle is always the one in my mind that I hold up as a symbol for all of that self importance I so despise. He was in my year at school, and he was possibly the only person I hated more than James Potter. He viewed everyone – including our professors and headmaster - as nothing more than a head to step on on his way to the top.”
“Mmmm. I am not at all surprised to hear that.”
“How do you know Maggle, anyway? Is he still with the Ministry?”
“Ah, well, that is a story. Would you like a coffee first?
Severus looked surprised, but then nodded.
Their fight apparently forgotten, Hermione waltzed into her kitchen, and dug into the cupboard for the gourmet coffee beans. Trying to keep the laughter from her voice, she called back, “Was that black, Severus?”