Brewing Glory

The next day Hermione spent most of the day alone in his chambers. Some would have thought they would get bored spending so much time by themselves, but she spent the day reading some of the books Snape had so graciously left for her to read. She had insisted on reading some of his books about the dark arts to see what they were all about, but he refused, slapping at her hand and telling her she did not need to read about such things. Hermione listened to him, rather grudgingly, and more than once pondered about going over to read them anyway but decided against it in case he had any wards cast upon his books.



Her nose was planted in a rather large book by the time Snape got back, and he made his presence known by the sound of the click when the door behind him came to a close.



Hermione looked up at him slowly and gave a small, unsure smile. She decided to close the book when he hovered over her and stared.



“Yes, Professor?”



He simply glared and motioned for her to get to her feet, and swept from the room. She followed behind him quickly into his office and stood by him when he took a seat at his desk. A bunch of marked papers were laying neatly on the right side of his desk, an empty cauldron and a large book about Potion making she had never seen before lying to the left of it. Snape suddenly grabbed the book and began flipping through pages before shoving the book in front of his face, his eyes darting across the pages. She heard him mutter to himself quietly. They sounded like ingredients for what he prepared to make.



He turned to look at her and Hermione almost jumped.



“Get to the cabinet and fetch one of the larger cauldrons,” he said quickly, waving his hand at her to get her going.



She turned around to get the cauldron when he thought of something else.



“Oh and, grab the rather large box next to it, if you don’t mind,” he smirked slightly as she gave a slightly exasperated look and then turned to get into his stores.



She searched for a few minutes before reaching in the back for a large cauldron, attempting not to knock over everything in her way. Setting it down on the table, she picked up the box on the right side and it was heavier than she anticipated, making her stumble.



“Careful,” Snape drawled.



Hermione flashed him a look of irritation and collected the things and set them on his desk. Snape began to read from the book again and Hermione watched his eyes quickly scan the pages. He must be a fast reader, she thought. Well of course, he had so many books in his rooms, so many interesting books she wished to one day read…



Excitement and curiosity began to overwhelm Hermione as she watched his hands so skillfully work to place the proper ingredients inside of the cauldron she had retrieved for him. She decided to finally ask him what he was making after a few moments.



“Excuse me, sir?” she asked discreetly, clearing her throat.



He grunted.



“What is it that you are making? You did, after all, ask me to come with you…” she swallowed, a bit nervous at what his reaction would be.



His eyes flickered over her to examine her features, and for a very brief moment, Hermione thought he was going to smile. Placing both of his hands on either side of the cauldron, he looked up to lock eyes with her.



“It’s a rather complicated potion, Miss Granger. One that requires very tactful and concentrated skill. Even the slightest mistake could taint it. Although,” he said smoothly, standing up slowly. He folded his arms beneath his cloak and stared down at Hermione, circling around her, “I suppose I could trust you enough to assist me?” He stopped, eying her cautiously. She stared up at him, her mouth slacking slightly. Her eyes blinked slowly, her long lashes fluttering.



“Hm?” Snape grunted, waiting for her response.



“Yes,” Hermione gasped, and she placed a hand over her lips. “I mean, you’re actually letting me help you?”



Snape quirked an eyebrow before holding out his hand, signaling that she could take a place in the spot behind his desk.



Hermione sat working diligently for the next few hours on the potion he had assigned her to. Snape sat at one of the tables, grading his papers and only looking up at her every so often. Every time he decided to peer through the gapes in his black curtain-like hair, he would find her working on the potion thoroughly. They exchanged a few words now and then and he would take a break from his work to stalk over to his desk and see how the potion was coming along. To his slight surprise, he found that the potion was going as planned and she had not even made the slightest mistake. He continued to go back to grading the fifteen-inch pieces of parchment he had assigned the previous day and almost knocked over his bottle of ink when Hermione let out a rather obnoxious gasp.



Snape looked up, steadying himself and placing his quill back into the ink bottle. A wave of relief passed through him when he realized nothing severe had happened.



“What is it that is so important that you nearly gave me a heart attack, Miss Granger?” Snape asked hoarsely, his voice dry from not speaking to her for so long. She had been so caught up in her work that the last time he had called for her, she simply ignored him. He let it slide.



Hermione looked up at him slowly, her eyes as wide as dinner plates. She stood slowly, making her way over to him before taking a seat next to him carefully. Staring for a brief moment, she spoke, “This is Felix Felicis I am making, isn’t it?”



“You figured that out all by yourself?” He asked sardonically, picking up where he left off on grading his papers.



“I didn’t know, sir. I knew that the potion was extremely difficult to make, but I never thought you’d assign me to make something so… delicate.”



Snape stopped, and considered looking at her. He simply continued on with his marking. “You’d be surprised.”



“Obviously,” Hermione replied with a soft sigh. “Sir?”



This time Snape plopped his quill back into the ink bottle, turned his chair to face her and folded his hands on his lap. “Yes, Miss Granger? Now that you have my full undivided attention, you may proceed.”



She mouth trembled at a loss for words. Hermione simply sat there and looked at her lap before looking up to him again. “Why is it you’ve had me helping you with your potions so much lately?”



Snape narrowed his eyes, searching for a quick reply. “You must have something to do while staying with me. You mustn’t be completely bored out of your mind.”



“What makes you say that?” Hermione asked curiously, tilting her head slightly.



Snape shifted a bit in his seat, unfolding his hands and purposely eyeing other areas of the room. “Living with a man such as myself would only entertain someone like you, Miss Granger.”



Hermione snapped at him, “What’s that supposed to mean?”



He turned to face her again and leaned in to rest his elbows on his knees. He was smirking, his eyes glinting mischievously. “It means, Miss Granger, any other incompetent idiot in this school would rather frolic through their own lives, worry about nothing but themselves and their love affairs, than sit around brewing potions and reading about spells repelling the dark arts.”



“But those things interest me,” Hermione said quietly.



“And that is what makes you so different.”



Hermione let her thoughts wander. If it was Felix Felicis he had her brew, than why was he brewing it? He certainly didn’t brew it every other week to have a good day of docking points from Gryffindors and winning the House Cup for Slytherin. No, there had to be some other reason to explain it all. She came out of her thoughts and looked back at the Potions Master who stared at her. His face was expressionless he looked tired, like he always did at this time in the evening.



Hermione tried her luck. “Why is it you have me brewing Felix Felicis then, Professor?”



“You will need it,” he responded curtly.



For one, frightening moment in Hermione Granger’s eighteen years of existence, she felt a rush of gratitude for her Potions Professor. He had been extremely tolerant of her these last few days, taking care of and letting her live in his rooms. Hermione wondered if he hadn’t already gone to the Headmaster, complaining about her presence and insisting she leave as soon as possible. She figured she probably had, but the mature side of her wanted to thank him, tell her how grateful she was. Then again, Severus Snape being the man he was probably wouldn’t even consider her gratitude to his somewhat benign hospitality.



“Thank you sir,” she murmured quietly.



He turned away for her, for the third time picking up his quill to finish marking his papers. “It’s my job,” he muttered.



Hermione examined her hands thoughtfully before looking up again. “It’s not your job to look after me.”



“In a way, Miss Granger, it is. I’ve had the displeasure of making sure the Golden Trio has kept away from life-threatening situations for the past seven years.” He said neutrally, his hand scribbling away at making notes and passing grades to each of the essays.



Hermione shook her head, “You deserve to be thanked. You could have refused to take me in and help me, you know.”



Perhaps she was giving him too much praise.



Snape scoffed at this. “With a man like Dumbledore, there is no avoiding the less enjoyable tasks.”



Hermione felt a bit taken-aback by his bitterness at her being polite. She should have expected it though; he was not an over-all average nice guy. Taking a stand, she walked over to the door of his rooms. She placed her hand on the doorknob before turning to look at him. He studied her quietly, his quill still pressed to the parchment but his attention was on her. For a very brief moment...



He smiled.



Hermione just stared back at him defiantly, before turning her back to him and shutting the door closed behind her.



The next morning Hermione scrambled out of the bed and felt extremely moody. She yawned, and her stomach growled hungrily. She had not eaten properly in days and she realized she truly missed the food from the Great Hall. Opening the door lazily, she stumbled out into the main room where Snape sat in arm chair, drinking a steaming hot cup of coffee and reading the paper.



“Don’t you look comfortable,” Hermione muttered grumpily, plopping into the armchair next to him and yawning again, her eyes hanging droopily.



Snape actually chuckled lowly at this. He set his paper down and took a swig of his coffee and sputtered, his eyes becoming wide.



“Hot,” Hermione giggled.



Snape choked and set the coffee down, pulling out his wand and flicking it angrily. He transfigured two plates of bacon and scrambled eggs onto the table between them, and conjured up a glass of pumpkin juice.



Picking up the plate, Hermione eyed the bacon carefully and picked it up distastefully, as if it were some sort of dead insect. “I’m not fond of meat, sir.”



Snape rolled his eyes and muttered, “Evanesco.”



The bacon disappeared and Hermione smiled, eating her eggs and sipping at her pumpkin juice in peace. They exchanged a few words during their breakfast but did not say much to one another before Snape got up to go to his office to finish up the Felix Felicis. He came back a several minutes later to find Hermione sobbing uncontrollably in the chair.



“What’s got your wand in a knot?” Snape kneeling down and prying a hand from her face to look her in the eye.



“Don’t touch me!” Hermione shrieked.



Snape raised an eyebrow and got to his feet, and simply sat down in his chair. He placed a finger to his lips and tapped it a few times before he came to a realization of what the problem may be. “Have you taken your potion at all yet today, Hermione?”



“N-no,” Hermione sputtered out, not even noticing the fact he had called her by her given name. She wiped at her eyes and looked up at him. Her eyes were red and swollen again and she seemed to stare through a haze of pain. “It’s been so hard… you know, living here with you. I miss my friends, I miss my life, and I’m sitting here blubbering in front of you and that’s not making it any better.”



“Well,” Snape drawled, contemplating picking up his cup of coffee again, which looked much less threatening. He picked it up and sniffed it before raising his eyes to meet Hermione’s. He could not think of a damn word to say. Nothing. He heaved a sigh and took a small sip of his coffee. “Continue.”



Hermione sniffled and continued on her spiel. “And all of this, after all this time trying to help Harry, it’s all been in vain. I don’t want to die, Professor, I’m not ready for this.”



At this, Snape set down his coffee and got on his knees in front of Hermione. He drew her arms away from her face and looked her dead in the eye.



“You are not weak, Miss Granger. Your efforts in what I have taught you have been rather adequate. The Dark Lord may possess weapons you do not, but you have the mind, the power, and many skills he does not have. There are weaknesses and vulnerabilities within Voldemort that he himself cannot see. But you can, Miss Granger. You can,” he said quietly, his voice just above a whisper.



Hermione looked him in the eye. His face was expressionless, but for a brief moment she knew he understood what it was like to face something dangerous. Something like death. She threw herself onto him and embraced him, crying into his shoulder.



Snape knew the most professional thing to do was to pull her off of him and tell her to go and lie down, but instead he slowly drew his arms around her and just let her cry. Were she to do this at any other time, he would have threw her off him hastily and taken points away from Gryffindor. But this was a crucial part in her life and he realized it was in his, as well.