A Turn for the Better

Chapter 44 ~ The Meeting of the Masters

Hermione hurried to keep up with the Potions master's stride as they walked across the grounds of Hogwarts. She wanted to pull her hood down, but the wizard snapped at her to keep it up.

"We could be under surveillance," he said to her.

Snape wasn't about to take any chances his hand would be shown before he was ready. A touch of paranoia was a trait of any Potions master worth his brew. Snape didn't show it often, but he was as prone to it as anyone, more so now since he would be among his fellow masters.

The dark wizard wasn't a favorite among them in any case, because of the way he acquired his place among them. He was considered a rogue master, one who purposely flouted their treasured traditions.

Well, he wasn't going to win any awards today by bringing Hermione in their midst, that was for sure.

Hermione looked about surreptiously. No one could get on the Hogwarts' grounds that didn't belong there, although . . . she imagined a person could see across the landscape from the outside of the gates if he wished to observe the grounds.

She frowned slightly. All this cloak and dagger atmosphere was getting on her nerves. Who would have thought that becoming an apprentice would be so complicated? But, she did want to learn the subtle art of Potions, and if she had to be tried by the fire in order to do that, she was willing. Especially if it was Severus' fire.

That was worth facing a few ill-tempered masters in itself.

The wizard quickly unlocked the castle gates, let himself and Hermione out, then warded them back. He unceremoniously grasped her arm in preparation to Apparate, and Hermione let out a little gasp that made him realize that he wasn't paying attention to what he was doing and may have hurt her. It wasn't Hermione's fault he was so tense.

"I'm sorry, did I hurt you?" Snape asked her apologetically, his dark eyes full of concern.

"No, no. It wasn't you," she said, her lip trembling slightly.

Snape studied her.

"Coming down with a case of nerves, then?" he asked her as Hermione blinked up at him, her eyes becoming wet.

"No," she said tremulously, "not nerves. Cramps."

Snape stared at her.

"Cramps?" he repeated.

"Menstrual cramps. I'm . . . I'm starting my period," she said, as Snape had the usual male reaction of subdued horror. He hid it well, however. He was familiar with the phenomenon, being that he sometimes had to supply his Slytherins with potions to ease their cramping when Aunt Flow came to visit. Unfortunately, he didn't have any of it with him, and they were barely on schedule as it was.

"Do you think you can make it through the meeting?" Snape asked her.

Hermione usually got pretty bad cramps before her period came on, but she didn't want him to think she couldn't handle her monthly, so she nodded. Snape gently took the satchel from her, opened it and produced a small bottle of pain potion. He opened it and handed to the witch.

"This isn't made for your particular ailment, but it may help," he said softly.

Hermione drank it down and handed it back to him, then excused herself and walked into the wooded area to attend to her needs, creating a pad and inserting it into her knickers. With a sigh, she returned to the wizard's side and took his arm without looking at him.

She was so disappointed. Why did this have to happen today of all days?

"I'm ready," she said sullenly.

Snape studied her for a moment, and then . . . they Disapparated.

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They reappeared on a slope in a misty, mountainous area, the terrain looking rather forbidding with its low-lying rocks and gray, colorless atmosphere. Hermione could hear the sounds of Apparition all around them, and could make out robed, hooded figures moving through the mists, all heading northward in pairs, toward a rise.

Snape kept hold of her arm, the large bundle tucked securely under his other.

"Come along, and watch your step," he said, his voice rather hard as he drew up his own hood.

There was an errant wind that rose and fell in gusts, rippling Hermione's robes, the damp air rushing under them and chilling her bare skin. What was worse, she was hit by another painful, pulsing cramp.

"Shit," she swore, and Snape looked at her. He couldn't see much because her head was lowered and well within the hood now as she protected her face from the wind. The Potions master quickened the pace. He needed to get her out of the elements.

"We'll arrive shortly," he told her as they picked their way along the slope, coming to a rough path clear of stones. Before them walked other masters and their apprentices, bent against the wind, looking like wraiths in the swirling mists as they made their way toward the flickering lights of the mansion and what lay within.

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Ten minutes later, they reached the mansion, standing at the end of a line of masters and apprentices, which slowly moved forward as they were identified and allowed to enter. Presently, Snape and Hermione stood within the great doorway. A cowled wizard with a clipboard and quill stood there ominously.

"Name," he rasped.

"Master Severus Snape and Apprentice," Snape replied.

"Lower your cowl and be counted," the wizard said.

Snape released Hermione's arm and lowered his hood with one hand, revealing himself. The wizard glanced at him, his face barely visibly in the depths of the cowl drawn around his head.

"You are acknowledged, Master Snape. Take your apprentice among your own," the wizard intoned.

Snape took Hermione's arm again, and entered the mansion, following his peers into a cavernous stone room with a high ceiling that disappeared into darkness. Torches were ensconced on the walls and there were several tables on the far wall, on of which held parchments listing the name of the masters and the order in which they would introduce their apprentices. The other tables were presently empty, but food and drink would be supplied after the presentations. There were no chairs but a kind of raised stage in the center of the room. On it rested a podium and a small table, set back a ways, leaving a large empty area in front, presumably where the apprentice would stand so he could clearly be seen.

Snape escorted Hermione to the table and picked up a parchment.

Thirty masters were listed as presenting new apprentices this year. Snape was the last on the list. He frowned slightly as he read this. He was purposely placed last and knew it. By the time he took the stage, the masters would be tired and irritable, ready for the mingling and unwilling to take out too much time to acknowledge his choice.

But once they saw who he had chosen, Snape was sure interest would be instantly rekindled. He smirked slightly as he stared down at the parchment.

"Ah, Master Snape," a voice purred.

Snape turned to meet the spitefully sparkling gray eyes of one Master Antoine Vargas. The Potions master eyed the cowled Hermione with more than a little interest. Beside him stood a tall, hooded apprentice who had at least two inches on the rotund wizard.

"Your choice is a bit . . . small, Severus," Vargas said by way of criticism. "As you can see, I like my apprentices tall and strapping. I'm not threatened by that. I imagine some of us like to feel physically superior as well as intellectually, and make our choices based on that. Less challenge that way, is there not, Severus?"

Snape's eyes narrowed as Hermione wondered what the hell Vargas was talking about. What difference did size make? What did Vargas mean, less of a challenge?

"To be honest, Master Vargas, my choice of apprentice was not based on physical appearance, but potential. Your choice may be a fine physical specimen, but can he think for himself? Does he have a penchant for brewing? When the doors are closed, Master Vargas, his talents should extend to potions rather than your plump buttocks."

Hermione almost gasped when she heard Snape address the wizard in that manner. Did . . . did Vargas have sex with his male apprentice? Dear gods? What kind of den of iniquity did she walk into?

"Of course he can brew! He has to have some skill, some talent in order to be apprenticed. He made passing marks of course and shows a great willingness to learn," Vargas said evenly. "And the delicate nature of our personal relationship is not one to be recklessly bantered about, Master Snape, particular in such a crude manner. It is a traditional association after all, one to be respected. That I chose an appealing youth should be no surprise. And to be honest, your pitiful choice of flesh is of no surprise to me. You have never truly been on of us, but an upstart and a troublemaker, always challenging your betters!"

Vargas was red and huffing, his apprentice shifting beside him, the hood pointed toward Hermione, face hidden deeply within. Hermione's heart was pounding. Surely Professor Snape wasn't going to take that insult.

"Not one master here is my better, Vargas. You should know that. If there was a better master, then I wouldn't be among you, would I? Not one of you could combine the ingredients I did during my test. In fact, not one of you was willing to try out of fear you would be blown to bits. A boy of the tender age of nineteen bested all of you with a single demonstration of his skill. What kind of apprentice do you think such a talented individual would take on? Certainly not just a boy toy with the capacity to 'learn.' My apprentice could brew circles around most of these meager selections even at entry level. In fact, it's possible my apprentice might give you a run for your Galleons, Vargas."

Snape was definitely selling dragon tickets here. Vargas, as unpleasant as he was, was a full-fledged Potions master and Hermione could no more outbrew him than a child could. But, these meetings were for boasting as well, and Snape had no problem getting into the spirit of it, since he couldn't stand his fellow masters to start with.

Hermione was aware of grumbling now. Apparently, a few masters were listening in and didn't like what they were hearing from the Potions master. Hermione wished he would let go of her arm so she could grab her wand for comfort. Then she was hit with another cramp and gritted her teeth against the pain.

Master Vargas' face contorted unpleasantly, and he was about to respond when he was interrupted.

"Attention! Attention! All gather around the stage. It is time for the presentations to begin," a balding Potions master with a long crooked nose announced from the podium.

Vargas' gray eyes shifted to the stage, then back to Snape. They narrowed.

"I will see you on the podium, Master Snape," Vargas hissed, "ready to laugh your choice off the stage."

He turned and walked through the crowd, his tall, robed apprentice in tow.

"He's horrible," Hermione hissed with some venom to Snape as they walked toward the stage. She was aware of eyes on them, the masters looking at them openly as their robed apprentices turned their hood openings in their direction.

"He's just like every other master here," Snape said in a low voice, "just keep your head."

"I wish everyone would stop looking at us," Hermione groused as another painful cramp hit her.

Snape glanced at her. She sounded . . . well angry.

They finally found a location to stand, Hermione setting the satchel on the floor beside her.

"Pick that up," Snape hissed at her.

"You pick it up. Isn't there any place to sit down here? My thighs are killing me," Hermione responded crabbily.

What in the world was wrong with her? This wasn't the time to start acting up. Rather than get into an argument with his apprentice, Snape retrieved the satchel himself. He didn't want it compromised. An asp or any manner of nasty, deadly object could be dropped inside it. But, he'd be giving Hermione a good talking to about following orders on their way back . . . if they made it back.

Hermione shifted next to him impatiently as the first Potions master took the stage, followed by his apprentice. The elderly wizard had violet eyes, gray, short cropped hair and a large golden hoop in one ear. He looked well over a hundred as he looked out at his fellow masters. The robed, hooded, apprentice stood before the podium, facing the crowd.

"I am Master Gunther. I present to you my newest apprentice, Horatio Blanks!"

The apprentice removed his hood and let his robes drop to the floor. He was wearing only briefs, socks and boots, his lean, tanned body glistening slightly as if oiled. He had blonde, curly hair and the bluest eyes Hermione had ever seen. The imprint of his rather ample goods was clearly visible against the tight-fitting briefs. Murmurs of appreciation rose from the master's at the apprentice's beauty.

"What the hell is this?" Hermione hissed to Snape. "It feels like a slave auction."

Horatio slowly spun as Gunther cited his abilities.

"He was top of his graduating class, and has already brewed several difficult brews from memory. He is obedient and courageous. His wand work is above average. His greatest contribution to date has been cutting my brewing time in half. I am sure within two years he will be able to take over my work, thus freeing me for further experimentation on my own projects. I believe him a worthy apprentice."

Snape rolled his eyes as everyone clapped and voiced appreciation for Gunther's choice. To Hermione, the apprentice's qualifications sounded rather mundane. Except for how cute he was, he didn't seem to be anything special.

"Fuck," Hermione hissed as another cramp hit her, making the master on her right turn to look at her in disapproval.

"What are you looking at?" she snarled from within the hood. Snape yanked her arm.

"What's wrong with you? You don't address masters in that manner! Now, hold your tongue," he warned her, apologizing to the indignant wizard, who sniffed at him.

"A fine apprentice. Did you choose him for his respectfulness?" the wizard sneered, turning back to the stage.

Snape reached into his pocket and subtly cast a slightly altered Silencing spell around them. They could hear what was being said around them, but no one could hear their conversation. It was quite handy. He had altered it himself years ago after creating the Mufflato spell.

"Hermione, what is wrong with you? You can't speak to my peers in such a disrespectful manner, and I'm sure you know that," he said to her angrily.

"I can't help it. I don't feel good. I'm achy, feel bloated, I'm cramping and I want to sit down someplace, Severus. The last thing I want is some old coot in a robe gawking at me," she said bad-temperedly. "And I don't need you correcting me at every turn!"

Snape blinked at her. She was about to be gawked at by a number of old coots, and most likely booed and yelled at before he straightened them out. He studied the slightly bent witch.

Shit, this had to do with her period.

And he couldn't give her anything for pain now. He could be accused of enhancing her in some manner if he were seen. Apprentices had to be in a normal state of being and wearing nothing other than what belonged to them beneath their robes. A state of undress was not required, but made the apprentice's "attributes" more appealing, especially if lacking in skill or great intellectual capacity.

Flesh sells.

Snape decided to keep the Silencing spell up for the duration, so no one would hear Hermione griping under her breath. A good thing too, because as her cramps became worse, so did her observations, accurate though they were. Few of these apprentices seemed to be anything more than potential playthings for the masters, who would be educated in the art of Potions. Not all masters were premiere, some were just entry level and remained that way all their lives, selling common brews and potions and never making any true contributions to the field.

Vargas mounted the stage importantly, clearing his throat several times as his apprentice took the stage.

"Ah, my fellow masters, I have found a diamond among the coals. A brilliant student, a fine specimen with a special ability," he stated. "His name is Conan Moores. Reveal yourself, Conan."

The robes dropped and the audience gasped appreciatively as Vargas' apprentice bared his goods. He was garbed only in a leopard skin loincloth, his olive toned body glistening in the torchlight, tight and chiseled, hairless and beautiful. His long dark hair fell wildly over his shoulders and he wore a proud, disdainful look as he glared down at the masters with sharp brown eyes.

Hermione thought he looked like Tarzan of the Apes, particularly since he had a dagger attached to the loincloth, and said so, making Snape chuckle despite himself.

"Show them your ability, Conan," Vargas ordered, and suddenly a snarling leopard appeared on the stage, pacing back and forth, lips pulled back from its fangs. The front row of masters drew back, almost causing those behind them to fall.

"Conan slaughtered a young dragon several weeks ago with only his wand and dagger, then harvested it himself. A brave and daring deed, don't you agree?"

Cries of agreement arose as the leopard turned back into the handsome youngster.

"He is loyal as well, and would give up his life for me if I asked it of him. What better qualifications are necessary in an apprentice?" he asked.

"Having half a brain," Hermione muttered.

Vargas looked around the room and his eyes fell on Severus.

"I doubt any other master has an apprentice to match this one. He will make a fine master one day," he concluded as Conan picked up his robes and put them on, aware of the hungry eyes on him and posing for a moment before fastening them.

"Oh Merlin's pubes," Hermione snorted.

They suffered through the rest of the presentations, most of the apprentice long on looks and short on substance as far as Hermione could see. It really was like a meat market, the masters clearly interested more in the carnal than the cerebral.

"I'm not going to have to bare myself like that, am I?" Hermione asked Snape, who shook his head.

"No. Your robes will be sufficient. More that sufficient, believe me," Snape replied. "Although you may have to reveal what I carry under my arm."

"What is it?" she asked the wizard.

Snape told her.

"Oh, I'll show it to them all right," she said, her voice hard.

Snape had a feeling Hermione was going to get a reception much like he did when he appeared among the masters many years ago. More than likely, she would respond much as he did as well and shake up these stuffed robes.

Finally, it was their turn. Snape removed the Silencing spell and mounted the stage, Hermione following.

"What's this, Snape? Did you only bring half an apprentice?" someone shouted from the crowd, which roared with laughter, delighted to make the dark wizard the brunt of their jokes. In reality, they were all jealous of him, and felt he believed himself better than they by not coming to their meetings and participating in their gatherings held several times a year. So this was an opportunity to show their displeasure and maybe bring him down a few pegs.

"My choice of apprentice has received the highest marks the illustrious school of Hogwarts has recorded in over fifty years," Snape announced to the crowd, "and maintained the highest Potions marks in my class consistently since the first year. Not only is my apprentice accomplished in Charms, but in every other field of study as well, with the exception of Divination, which is a wooly science in itself. Unlike most of you, I did not choose my apprentice on the basis of physical beauty or sexual pleasure . . ."

Here Snape was met with grumbles, because the masters were also masters of deluding themselves that they chose their apprentices to improve their art. Their being beautiful examples of the male body was just . . . gravy.

"I chose my apprentice based on ability, potential and promise. When this course of study is finished, I will have produced a truly worthy addition to our field, one who will not be relegated to a shop selling low-level lust potions to adolescent wizards for a pittance or beauty potions to aged witches far past their prime. My apprentice will break new ground and be a true light in the darkness of stagnation our art has become, thanks to you lot."

Cries of "How dare you?" and "Upstart" as well as a few obscenities rang angrily through the crowd of masters. Wand use was forbidden at these meetings, otherwise Snape would have been dueling an entire room of irate Potions masters.

From within her hood, Hermione frowned at the sea of wizards raging before her. Snape was right, they were all a bunch of posers. She had thought Potions a noble art, and it still was, but these sad caricatures of Potions masters before her set her teeth on edge. Coupled with her cramps, this didn't make her the least bit amicable.

Snape stared at Hermione's back. Her moment had arrived.

"Apprentice, reveal yourself!" he thundered, and Hermione dropped her robes.

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A/N: Sorry this took so long to get out today. I was involved in another project. A paying project! Yay for me! I finished it, so I was able to focus on this story. It was related to writing, basically giving my written opinion and critique of a short 68-page work. It was very enjoyable to do, although I was a bit disappointed, because it wasn't finished. Still, it's nice to make a little money doing something I enjoy while helping someone out. :::waves to K*::: Well, anyway, thanks for reading.