A Turn for the Better

Chapter 54 ~ Assistance Needed

Hermione’s apprenticeship started about two weeks later. Despite his intentions of being a strong master to the witch, Snape was too caught up in their new intimacy to focus on her instruction. He had to get used to her first. And Hermione was a very naughty little witch. Some of his nicknames for her were “Succubus, Lolita and The Devil Herself.”

Hermione didn’t mind it a bit as she’d pull him down into kisses, or caress the front of his trousers, or wrap her arms around him when his back was turned, rubbing against him like a little cat, her eyes hot and half-lidded. Snape was completely undone for an entire week. He began to show some mettle into the second week, able to resist her advances, during the day at least, making her tend to cauldrons although she tempted him all day long. She’d do things like letting her robes fall open and being nude beneath them, or bending unnecessarily when he was behind her and finding some reason to bump into his loins. Hermione really was the devil herself. But, Snape would get his own back at night, hissing her offenses as he worked off his sexual frustration from the day.

Hermione loved it. He was so—vindictive. But so much in love with her.

But once they settled in, Snape was indeed a strong master who worked Hermione quite hard as an apprentice. She tried to use his treatment of her as grounds to cut him off sexually, but the Potions master wasn’t having that.

”You came into this situation understanding it was my duty to teach you what you need to know. I must treat you as an apprentice, Hermione. You knew what to expect. You cannot and will not mix our master/apprentice relationship with our personal one. I won’t accept that,” he told her sharply. “Now, get in bed before I throw you in.”

Hermione stood there for a moment, then bolted from his bedroom. She did have her own rooms after all. But Snape chased her, buck naked, caught her and slung the kicking witch over his shoulder, carrying her back to his bedroom, then kissing and caressing her into compliancy.

”Sometimes I think you’re the devil,” she sighed up at him as he pulled away from her mouth gently. His black eyes were soft as he looked down at his witch.

”I am,” he said, kissing her again.

The following day, Hermione was carefully measuring out some ingredients in his lab, completely focused as she watched the scales. Snape crept in behind her, a small iron cauldron in each pale hand. He inched closer to her, just as she was tipping a bag of beetle eyes onto the scale. Smirking, he slammed the cauldrons together.

CLANG!

”Arrrrrrrrrrgh!”

Beetle eyes flew everywhere as a startled Hermione clutched her heart, spinning around furiously to see a rather calm Potions master standing behind her. His dark eyes scanned the counter and floor, then he looked at her.

Hermione wasn’t allowed to yell at Snape because he was her master. But she was clearly angry.

Snape shook his head.

”A good Potions master cannot be caught off guard, Hermione. I want every single beetle eye picked up, cleaned and measured. If I find even one on the floor, you can count on a few extra hours of thoroughly aerating the stinkflowers I’m growing in the Herbology greenhouse.”

Snape left the room.

”Bastard,” Hermione breathed as she began to collect the spilled beetle eyes.

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Only the first two years were rough for Hermione. When she entered her third year as an apprentice, Snape began to show her some respect and listen to her suggestions. It was very gratifying not to be treated like a peon in the labs. Now, she could decide what to work on herself without him overseeing and criticizing almost everything she did. To be honest, Snape had to really work at finding things to criticize about her work after her first year. She was a quick study and followed instructions well. But he found ways to toughen her up, even if he had to use a little magic here and there to make something fall and break, or a flame to go just a bit too high. It was dirty, but Hermione had to be tested constantly to make her strong and unflappable under fire.

The most frightening moments for Snape that third year was when he sent Hermione out on a weeklong excursion to collect fresh ingredients, such as Dragonsbane, Trollsbane and Manticore scales. These ingredients could only be harvested where the creatures dwelled and she had to go alone. This was a supreme test of a Potions master’s abilities. One error and she’d be dead. When he informed her of the task, Hermione was very excited. Snape lashed out at her.

”Stop jumping about as if this were some—some field trip to the amusement park!” he hissed at her. “You are going to be facing dragons, trolls and manticores! Alone! You could be killed!”

For the first time, Hermione saw fear in the wizard’s dark eyes as he glared at her.

”I won’t be killed, Severus,” she said softly, breaking the rule of addressing him as master when they were in work mode. “I’ll come back. I promise.”

Snape stared at her, torn between being her Potions master and her lover. He didn’t want her to go, but she had to go.

That night, Snape made love to Hermione with quiet desperation. There were no moments of roughness or animal passion this time. Only tenderness and above all, Love. Hermione could feel the difference in his sex, in his kisses, embraces and caresses as he took her. When he was finished, he drew her into his arms, but didn’t speak. She lay curled into him, listening to him breathe. Finally, she spoke.

”Severus?” she said hesitatingly.

”I’m going with you,” he said softly.

Hermione frowned slightly.

”With me? Where?” she asked him, not connecting the statement with her upcoming excursion.

”To collect the ingredients,” the wizard said, turning his face toward her now.

Hermione blinked at him, then smiled and kissed his nose.

”You can’t come with me, Severus. I have to do it alone. It’s required,” she told him.

”No one would know, Hermione,” Snape said.

”I’d know. What kind of Potions mistress would I be if I couldn’t harvest ingredients on my own, Severus? You’ve always said you wouldn’t coddle me because that would be a disservice. Why try and coddle me now?”

”Because—because I could lose you, Hermione,” the wizard said, not wanting to imagine the ache of it.

”You could lose me anytime, Severus, or I could lose you. We can’t let that fear control our actions, curtail our lives. I have to do this, and I have to do it alone. Accept it, and trust that you’ve taught me enough that I can do it.”

”But, you’ve never had to apply . . .” Snape began, but Hermione brought a finger to his lips, quieting him.

”I’ll do fine, Severus. Believe in me,” she said softly.

Snape looked at her, his heart aching.

”I do believe in you,” he breathed.

”Good. Now, let’s go to sleep,” Hermione said with a yawn, sliding closer to him. In a moment she was asleep. But it took her lover a long, long time to let sleep overtake him.

Of course, Hermione managed to collect all the ingredients. She was dirty and sooty, with ripped robes and her hair in tangles upon her return, but she survived and collected quite a bit of the precious ingredients. Her reward was her own Potions store, and of course a very tender, relieved Severus Snape.

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It was summer and nearly the end of Hermione’s third year, when Snape received a surprise visitor. Several visitors in fact.

”Hallo! Hallo! Professor Snape?” a voice called down the dungeon corridor.

Since it was summer and no students were about, the classroom and the lab was kept open. Snape and Hermione both looked up as the voice echoed in the corridor.

”Who is that?” Hermione asked as Snape covered the cauldron he was tending and cleaned his hands.

”I don’t know,” he growled, exiting the lab.

Hermione followed him.

As they walked up the corridor, they saw four robed people with hoods drawn over their heads, hiding their features. Both Severus and Hermione drew their wand. Who were these people?

”Professor Snape?” one hooded figure said.

”Yes. Who are you and why are you here?” Snape hissed at him.

”I—we needed to see you, sir,” the wizard said.

”Lower your hoods,” Snape demanded.

All four persons did as the dark wizard asked. Hermione’s eyes widened in recognition as she looked on the handsome features of Antoine Vargas’ apprentice. He looked hardened now, and tired. Hermione started as he turned his head to look at the others with him. He had an ugly burned patch on his cheek that stopped just beside his eye.

“I am Conan Moores, sir. I don’t know if you remember me. I was Antoine Vargas’ apprentice,” the wizard said to the Potions master.

Snape just stared at him stonily. Conan gestured to the other three.

”These are also former apprentices, sir,” he said, “we’ve come to you in hope of getting your assistance. You see, we left our masters. I left shortly after the meeting.”

Here, Conan’s dark eyes rested on Hermione.

”I couldn’t deal with the fact that my master would try to kill another Potions master’s apprentice. And—and—there were other things I could no longer stomach . . . “

Hermione could only imagine. Conan’s hand reflexively touched the burn on his face.

”Master Vargas didn’t take my leaving well, as you can see. I was lucky it wasn’t my entire face.”

Snape stood there, unmoved as Hermione studied all four young wizards. They were all very handsome. They would be, however, since they were former apprentices and the Potions masters all had a fine eye for man-flesh.

Conan looked a bit nervous at Snape’s silence. He quickly continued.

”We’ve all been studying potions on our own, sir, following your example, teaching ourselves by experimentation. We’re all quite skilled sir, but . . . but we were hoping that you would show us your technique for blending ingredients that normally do not . . . do well together.”

”You mean explode,” Snape said quietly.

”Yes, sir. We wish to become masters the way you did, sir. You are our inspiration.”

Snape’s dark eyes washed over the group.

”I’m afraid that’s impossible,” Snape told them, turning and walking back toward his labs.

Hermione stared after him, then looked back at the crestfallen wizards. They had hoped beyond hope that he would help them.

”Wait here,” Hermione said to them. “I’m going to talk to him.”

Conan’s brown eyes lit up.

”Do you think you can convince him to help us?” he asked Hermione hopefully.

Hermione looked up at him soberly.

”I don’t know, Conan. But, I’ll try,” she said. “Just wait here.”

”All right,” the wizard said. He watched as Hermione walked up the corridor and turned into a room.

”Conan, we can still try to get in ourselves, without his help,” another blonde hunk said.

”I know, Cyrus, but this way we’d be certain to get in. Not one of those masters has ever attempted to duplicate Snape’s abilities. They’re all cowards. If we can recreate what Snape did, they’ll have to let us in. Otherwise, we don’t stand a chance. They’ll give us impossible tasks, I’m sure. This way, we’d have some control. He just has to help us.”

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Hermione entered the lab to find Snape standing over a cauldron, stirring it methodically. She walked up behind him.

”Severus,” she started.

”No, Hermione. I will not help them,” he said softly.

”But why, Severus? You hate the way the field of Potions is run. If you agree to help them, you could bind them to an oath not to continue the perversions of the other masters. You could have them take on apprentices according to their abilities, not their beauty. You could make them promise not to take advantage of them. Isn’t that what you want, Severus?”

The Potions master didn’t answer her, but kept stirring the simmering cauldron.

Hermione scowled.

“It’s something else, isn’t it?” Hermione asked him.

Snape didn’t answer her, but it was something else. It was—jealousy. Every young wizard in that group was gorgeous, even Conan with that scar on his face. He didn’t want them around Hermione. It was petty, but true.

“I won’t help them, Hermione, and that’s my final word on it,” he said to the witch.

Hermione frowned at his back.

”Fine, if you won’t help them, I will,” she said.

Snape whirled on her.

”You’re no Potions master,” he snarled at the witch. “You don’t have the authority . . .”

”I don’t have to be a master. They don’t have masters, remember? I’ve watched you work, seen how you’ve blended ingredients. Maybe I can reproduce your technique,” she said stubbornly.

”And maybe you’ll get yourself killed trying,” Snape hissed at her.

”Maybe I will,” Hermione said, “but I’m going to be a part of that group of Masters in another year, and I hate what they do, Severus. They’re all posers. If we can get an influx of new masters, ones with morals and ethics, we can make positive advances. Renew the honor of our Art. That’s worth the risk of getting killed in my book. At least I’m willing to do something.”

Hermione began to walk toward the door, her chin held high.

”I won’t let you use my lab,” Snape called after her.

”Fine, we’ll find some other place to work. They probably have labs of their own,” the witch shot back, almost at the door now.

Snape faltered. This would be even worse than having the young men here. Hermione would be alone with them. At least here, he could keep an eye on them.

”Wait, Hermione. Very well. I’ll help them,” he said heavily.

The witch turned with a broad smile, then ran to him, embracing him tightly.

”I knew you would help them, Severus. You’re wonderful. It will be worth it. You’ll see,” she gushed.

Snape rested his chin on top of her head, his eyes distant.

”Yes, I’ll help them, witch, but only because of you,” he said softly. “I hope I don’t regret this.”

Hermione pulled back from him and looked up at his face, which was rather drawn as he looked back at her.

”Regret it? Why would you regret it, Severus? This is something good for everyone,” she said to him. “I don’t understand why you aren’t more . . .”

Suddenly she stopped speaking, noticing the pain in his eyes. Then she knew what it was.

”Oh, Severus, are you worried one of them might woo me away from you?” she asked him. Snape looked away from her, unable to answer. Hermione gave him a soft smile.

”Oh, Severus. I love you. Not one of those ‘pretty boys’ out there can hold a torch to you. Not one. You needn’t worry about that at all. My interest is simply because of our Art. I have the wizard I want. I was meant for you,” she said to him gently.

Snape looked down at her, reassured. Yes, she was his and would always be his. He really needed to get that firmly in his head after three years.

”I know that,” he said gruffly, trying to pull himself together. He didn’t like to show Hermione his weaknesses. But she couldn’t help but see them. She was his main weakness after all.

”Of course you do,” Hermione said soothingly, which irritated him.

”Let’s go talk to the ‘pretty boys,” Snape snarked, “and if there’s a dunderhead among them, out he goes.”

He strode from the lab. Hermione covered his cauldron and slowly walked after him, smiling.

He didn’t fool her one bit.

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A/N: Thanks for reading.