Hunter and Prey

Good news was in short supply. Professor Snape had begun with the Wolfsbane potion then paralleled development with other more experimental potions. Courtesy of Headmistress McGonagall expediting the grant process, the Potions Master had lavish amount of coin to spend. But he was conservative. If the new recipes mixed with the Wolfsbane, a tried and reliable brew, then he would take them onto the next step.

“Which seems a seven-league stride at the moment.” Snape informed her, not quite professor to student but far from crony. The laboratory reeked of scorched metal. The acrid tang did not sit well with Hermione’s stomach. “Two cauldrons melted through, and not for lack of tending.” He added lest she think the students he had chosen were less than the most diligent. “But we are being as scientific as possible.”

“Is that a jibe, Professor?” She asked, meeting his gaze. It was difficult to tell with him. The old sarcasm lingered as did the acid memories of his teaching. Harry had told her a little of what he and Snape had discussed after the Slytherin Head had recovered. It had taken Fawkes, Madam Pomfrey and months of convalesce for him to recuperate from Nagini’s bite but they could do nothing for his people skills.

“No.” Snape said after a moment of silence. “While you were insufferable as a student you have shown your maturity by overcoming your need to show off.” He spoke as though he was bestowing a seal of approval. A small one and belated but something she should treasure. Hermione smirked. She had also outgrown her need for a teacher’s commendation. Probably sometime in that restful gap year she spent running for her life.

“I appreciate your restraint, Professor, but you needn’t condescend.” She gave him a courteous smile. Hermione respected him, who could not? However, liking him was entirely too much of an ask. “I would rather have had less spite when you were my teacher then a left-handed compliment now we are peers.”

“Peers? You rate yourself highly.” The old disdain was there, a reflex once honed now blunt with disuse. He was burnt out but refusing to surrender or ask for help. While pride could take you a very long way, it was a lonely journey.

“Of course I do.” She was mild not boastful. “I learned from the best and I know what I can do.” Hermione hesitated. She had wanted to say this for a very long time. “Harry tried to excuse your malice as sharpening us for the fight ahead. I think you were spitting bile on those least able to retaliate.”

“Thank you for your insight, Ms Granger.” He cut in sharply. “Seldom have I been so well patronised by a former student.” His tone was so arid it put dry ice to shame. “Do you think I have not heard such sparkling wisdom before?”

“I’m not patronising you, Professor. I said it so you would understand when I explain I regret I was not sorted into Ravenclaw. I might have been able to learn enough to help you now.” Hermione folded her hands to keep from fisting them on her hips. She had been trying to thank him. “Books take you only so far. I haven’t got the same feel for Potions as you do. Or Neville does with Herbology, for instance.” That last was a dig. The student who had suffered Snape’s wrath most had deserved it the least. “You should speak with him. His camouflage ointment is brilliant.”

“I read his article in the Journal Alchemica.” Professor Snape seemed to think those lean words sufficient. Hermione raised an eyebrow at him but he was a past master of inscrutability and ignored her unspoken query. “I would be obliged if you would concentrate on the matter at hand, Ms Granger.” He guided her over to his notes and proceeded to explain the more technical details.

The careful entries made depressing reading. None of the Ministry approved coagulant charms worked with the Wolfsbane potion. That was not disastrous as she had planned to take the potion under medical supervision but it meant she would need a very competent Mediwitch in attendance. Or throw herself down a lot of stairs. That usually worked in the soap operas. If only life were so trite.

Hermione dragged her mind back to Snape’s oration. Half of the materials her research had garnered he had dismissed already, several after spectacularly violent reactions. That had proved useful in a sideways manner as it seemed likely to improve the efficacy of the Wolfsbane potion itself. She tried to remain positive but it was an uphill battle. She nodded when he concluded.

“Thank you, Professor. Your work is everything I expected of you.” Hermione gave him a watery smile and resisted the urge to sob into his shirt front. It was past time she took herself off to Grimmauld Place. What a laugh riot that would be. “There is something else I would like to ask.” She leapt her fence to get it over with. “Fenrir Greyback got into my house through the wards using the Dark Arts somehow. Is there anything you know of that can breach wards?”

“More than few but all either in Ministry hands or locked away in private vaults. It is extremely unlikely anyone even a former Deatheater would assist a werewolf as mad as Greyback. Even during the war he was avoided.” Snape paused, skirting a painful topic for them both. “I do know in spite of his blood heritage he is not much of a wizard himself.”

“He mentioned speaking to Malfoy.” Lucius et al were too tempting targets so Hermione spoke lightly. Snape considered his hands.

“I will make inquiries. The Malfoys have been shunned by the wizarding establishment. Turncoats twice over have few friends.” Again, he was tactful. Narcissa may have saved Harry’s life but she had not been lauded for it.

“You sound like Harry.” Hermione smiled and made her farewells.