The Ties that Lead to Trust

Warning: The following chapter contains reference to abuse. Nothing overly graphic, but be aware it\'s there.

Chapter 7~ Getting to Know You
It was early the next morning when Hermione peeked into the potions lab. The familiar scents of dried plants and pickled animal parts gave the room a slightly fetid, musky odour that was mildly unpleasant, like a compost heap. She wasn’t certain what had motivated his offer, but the chance to see innovative potions in the making was overpowering the small part of her that was questioning her right to be there. She saw Severus bent over a book on the counter, concentrating on its contents, then watched as he strode away into the private storeroom. She tentatively entered the room and made her way over to the book on the counter.

It turned out to be a logbook with recipes, research notes, interim records on progress and plenty of additional notes in the margins. Looking closely, the recipe appeared to have been altered. After twenty grams of fluxweed the words ‘minced finely’ were struck out and ‘whole’ written directly following. Remembering their conversation the previous evening, she wondered why he had chosen to alter the preparation technique. It seemed a big decision to make on a project this important. She was so wrapped up in the book that she didn’t notice Severus return and set an armful of supplies down right beside her. He moved behind her, leaned over an whispered in her ear, “You’re here awfully early.”

Hermione jumped and whirled around to see a look of amusement on Severus’ face. “As I recall, you said eight thirty, since it is almost nine, it would seem I’m late.”

“I recall telling you to come anytime you wished. I see you have had a look at my notes.” He stated smoothly.

Hermione shook her head, “I’ve barely skimmed the first page. Do you mind if I have a closer look?”

He moved towards the counter and began sorting through jars and packets, “Go ahead. There are some things I need to prepare before I can begin for the day.”

Hermione conjured herself a chair off to the side and sat down studying the log intensely. It soon became apparent that Severus’ knowledge of potions was vast, far beyond what she had imagined. It was exciting, if a little frustrating, that she had trouble understanding some of his theories. Though she studied hard at Hogwarts, she had never found any subject overly taxing. Divination was, of course, excluded since she found Trelawney’s misty manner impossible to take seriously. Every other class, with proper study, had become quite straightforward and logical. Looking through Snape’s log, she was reminded of how little she knew and how much study there was ahead of her.

When she looked up, she saw him staring intently at her, as if not really seeing her at all. His eyes held a far away look to them. She said, “I won’t pretend to understand everything you’ve written, but what I do understand is fascinating. How far from finishing are you?”

Severus appeared to snap out of his revery to answer, “The crushed moranlily roots and fluxweed are the last active ingredients. If effective, I should be ready to add a stabilizer and begin cooling in a couple days. I need to monitor and record the effects and reactions of the potion with the fluxweed very closely.”

“When will you publish your findings?” she asked with interest.

“Even if this is effective, publishing is a long way off. Poppy will likely be the first to use the trial samples. She has some connections at St. Mungo’s and a test program will be established there as well. If all goes well, I should be able to brew a second sample during Christmas holidays or perhaps next summer. Publishing is most likely two years away if not more.” He explained.

Hermione was slightly taken aback. Yes, she reminded herself, these things did take time. “It’s very similar to the way Muggles develop medicines and treatments, with control groups and test subjects. All very ordered.”

He nodded and reached for his log. While he began preparing the last ingredients, he asked her to stir the translucent green liquid steadily clockwise. It was monotonous work, but crucial for the final items to be incorporated effectively. When the moranlily root was added, the surface began to froth a sickly yellow colour, but as the fluxweed was incorporated, the froth settled and the liquid began to look creamy and opaque. Severus leaned over her shoulder with a satisfied look on his face. “Good. It looks as I predicted, which bodes well. If you care to continue stirring that for another five minutes, I will begin clearing up.”

Hermione noticed that despite the acerbic comments he often tossed at students in his classes, he was nearly silent as he worked. Even the sounds of chopping and grinding seemed somehow muted. She watched him clean up out of the corner of her eye. His movements were all very economical and precise, even in the meanest task. She should have been paying closer attention to what she was doing with the potion, but couldn’t help but let her mind wonder about the man she was watching. He was entirely more pleasant on a professional level, though she had never heard anyone say anything to that effect. ‘What was his life like before he taught,’ she wondered. She knew he had become a Death Eater when he was a young man, but something had changed his mind a great many years ago. What had it been?

Once again she was lost in contemplation when he returned to the room. He took her hand gently and guided it away from the cauldron, lifting the stirring rod out of the potion. The corner of his lips curled slightly, and he plucked the rod from her fingers to wash. After he cleaned and replaced the rod, the fire below the cauldron was lowered to allow the potion to simmer. He picked up his log and made to leave the room, motioning for her to follow.

Out in the hall, Severus broke the silence. “I should check in and record its progress every hour, but for now I’d like a cup of tea.”

They turned down the armour-lined corridor and entered his chambers once more. In the cosy dining nook, bright morning light was streaming in. She noticed the false window gave a clear view down to the lake. He summoned a pot of tea and two cups. Looking over the steaming rim of her cup she asked, “Why are you so harsh during class?”

“I am a harsh and cruel man.”

“A blatant lie.”

He sighed deeply, “You know very well that potions is a serious and potentially dangerous subject.”

“So is transfiguration,” she countered, “but Professor McGonagall isn’t harsh in her classes. Only strict.”

He took a long sip of his tea. “Very well, if you must know, it is because I was very shy before. I had never intended upon teaching. It is a way to keep the class in line.”

“Surely you could control the class with respect.” she answered in disbelief.

He shook his head, “Do you honestly believe that? I doubt it would have worked then, and it is far too late now.”

“So you are going to be a git again on September first?”

A wry smile crossed his face, “I already am.”

Hermione sat up and inspected him closely. “No. You aren’t. I know you have your own reasons for being tolerable to me these past couple days, but what I have seen is nice. Sorry, but your big secret has been found out.”

“And just what do I have to do to keep your silence?” he queried.

A wicked smile spread across her face, “ If you keep your snide comments to yourself come September, I won’t breathe a word.”


Severus couldn’t help but chuckle, “I hardly think I shall be making them towards you anyway. A great many things have changed since the last school year, and I hardly think making such comments would be beneficial to my marriage.”

Hermione choked and sputtered on her tea. “I don’t expect-”

“I know you don’t, but it hardly seems friendly. Besides, knowing you, you would talk back and I would be forced to give you a detention in the interests of fairness. You wouldn’t be able to throw nasty hexes at me either.” he bantered.

“How exactly does that work anyway? I understand the principal, like the brother wand effect, but if I didn’t have my wand, what stops you from hexing me?” she voiced a question she had been wondering about since the previous day.

Severus admired her reasoning. “Well, the light is the visual manifestation of what offers the greatest protection. It acts somewhat like a shield charm, but close to the skin. Spells have a tendency to be pushed to the side, rather than bouncing back. The effect deteriorates over time. For a couple like the Weasleys, I imagine they could do some damage to each other if they haven’t renewed the binding.”

Hermione nodded, “Ginny told me about her parents renewing their binding when she was seven. I didn’t really understand what it meant, but it’s somewhat like renewing vows. My parents have been talking about doing that.”

“Are you close to your parents?” he asked.

“Well yes and no. When I was small, my parents were my best friends. I didn’t have any friends my age. Odd things kept happening around me and no one knew why. They thought I was unlucky. Someone called me a nasty name in second form and I set his trousers on fire.” She snickered at the memory.

“A talent you seem to have developed if I recall correctly.” he added sarcastically.

Hermione stifled a giggle, “Oh, I am sorry about that. I’m not sorry about the boy who got singed though. He was awfully cruel. Since I didn’t have friends, I buried myself in school work and reading. Dad used to read with me for an hour every night. After I came to school here, it seems like I’ve lost my parents in many ways. Mum used to help me with schoolwork, but she couldn’t do that anymore. I go home less and less now. I suppose that’s part of getting older. This summer I’ve spent the most time at home I have in years, and they keep asking me what’s wrong.”

She lowered her head and examined her teacup when he asked, “How much did you tell them?”

She shook her head, “Not much. A lot of lies. I feel badly for lying, but they would be furious now if I told them that for the past six years I’ve come close to being killed on average once a year by the evilest wizard of the century. I told them that Ron had died in an accident. I feel so horrible about that, but I’d already gotten myself in too deep. I am very good at lying to them now, but I promised myself last year that I would come clean this summer. Then once more, I turn my back on them and go ahead and marry someone without telling them why. Dad will be livid when he finds out.”

Hermione was beginning to work herself up into a state when she felt hands tugging at her arm. She stood, while Severus sat down in her chair and pulled her into his lap. The panic that had been building released and she felt sick, hot tears leak out the corners of her eyes. Swiping angrily at her eyes, she felt herself enveloped in a strong embrace. It was a comforting feeling. He didn’t try to stop her tears, only held her firmly. Soon she felt her tension recede and a sense of calm take its place.

“Thanks,” she mumbled into his chest.

He didn’t speak, but continued to pat her shoulder and rock gently. Hermione was surprised by the tender gesture. Definitely not what anyone might expect from the hard and sarcastic potions master. Once she felt fully in control of her emotions, Hermione pulled back a little and he dropped his arms. She stood and looked back at him with a profound sense of embarrassment. “I don’t know what to say...”

Severus Snape was looking back at her with an equally embarrassed expression on his face, but managed to reply. “You can say anything you wish. I will listen.”

He glanced at his watch and stood, “But you will have to wait. I must get back to the lab. Stay if you like. Take a look at some books...”

Both at a loss for words, she simply nodded and moved out to the sitting room to browse the shelves. He looked back at her for a long moment, then left the room.
*********

Severus bustled back and forth between the potions lab and his rooms throughout the day. Each time he entered the room he felt oddly startled to see Hermione curled up in his old leather armchair immersed in a book. It was nearly nine o’clock when he came into the room, conjured a second chair and sat down heavily. Hermione looked up from her book and raised a brow in question. The corners of his mouth turned up a little when he said, “The potion seems to be progressing nicely. I should be able to leave it for the night now, since it appears stable. Have you eaten?”

Hermione smiled in return, “I’m glad to hear that. Yes, I had the kitchens send something down. I had no idea when you would be finished.”

“That’s just as well. I’ve already had a bite, too. What are you reading?” he asked.

She lifted the large tome off her lap to show him the title, “Creating Curses. I know I should be thoroughly sick and tired of Defence related work, but I couldn’t help myself.”

Severus started a bit when he realized just what book she was reading. It was one he had considered removing from his library, but hadn’t because of whose hands it might fall into. He quietly spoke, as if to himself, “That’s not a Defence book.”

“As I have been reading it for several hours now, I am well aware that it is a Dark Arts book. It has academic value, however, and that is what I am interested in.” She replied tartly.

Sitting quietly for a moment, he seemed to be mulling something over in his mind. Standing up abruptly, he extended his hand. “Come with me.”

It sounded like a question. Hermione nodded and took his hand. When he grabbed his cloak on the way out the door, she asked, “Where are we going?”

“Just outside. It’s stuffy down here and I would like some fresh air.”

They continued out of the dungeons without a word. Outside the main doors, Severus steered them off to the side and over to the slope above the lake. Shaking out his cloak, he laid it on the ground. Together they sat back and enjoyed the evening air. It was quiet and almost serenely peaceful. Sometime later, Severus broke the silence. “I’ve thought about getting rid of some of my books.”

“Which books are those?” Hermione said in a would be innocent tone.

“You’re going to make me tell you, aren’t you?”

She shook her head, “No, but I’ll listen if you tell me.”

In the dark she felt his gaze on her and could almost hear him wondering how much he could tell her before he ended up telling her everything. A cool breeze lifted her hair and she gave a small shiver at the contact. A warm arm extended around her shoulders. “Are you sure you want to hear it?”

His voice was soft, completely void of its usual edge. He felt her nod and took a deep breath, letting it out with a sigh.

“I should start with the beginning, I suppose. My father was a cruel man, always determined to have his way. A bully. I still wonder how my mother ever ended up with him. I expect he forced himself on her. Anyway, she would never stand up to him and he constantly blamed her for everything. I know they often fought over my brother.” He began careful to keep his voice even, but Hermione could tell he was keeping some powerful emotion, anger or tears she wasn’t sure, at bay.

“I didn’t know you had a brother.” she whispered gently.

“He would have been four years my senior, but he died before he turned three. I don’t know how, but I have my suspicions. I can remember my father yelling at and hitting my mother for as long as I can remember, but I can probably still count the number of times he hit me. My mother had several miscarriages when I was a child. Father wanted several successful sons to prove himself, and she couldn’t deliver. She died when I was in my third year. Once again I have my suspicions.”

He pulled his arm away from Hermione and continued to talk. Each word telling a long buried secret she was sure he had never told anyone.

“I wasn’t a happy child. It wasn’t safe in my house. I learned quickly that if I was reading my father would leave me alone. He knew that learning was important for the success he wanted me to attain for him. I remember spending hours with the books in our house. At first, I read anything that would make me look busy. One day, I found a Dark Arts book. I was seven at the time. The pictures in the book were horrifying, but fascinating at the same time. I spent a couple weeks reading that book. I remember the fear and anger I felt when I heard my father use a curse from the book on my mother a short time later. She spent two weeks in hospital. After that, I read up on every curse, hex and jinx I could find. I was determined to be able to defend myself when I got a wand.”

Severus had turned slightly away from her, arms wrapped around his knees, looking into the velvety black night.

“My father never once hit me after I started school. I suffered many hexes though. All the pureblood families at school knew about him --what he did-- but never said anything, never spoke to me. Outside my house, everyone made my life miserable. I didn’t have friends. I was always the subject of pranks. Always in trouble when I fought back.” He paused, as if trying to find the right words to continue.

“After finishing school... I was at loose ends... My father was furious that I didn’t get perfect NEWTs. We had some horrible duels. He ended up in St. Mungo’s a couple times. I left home and tried to find my way. I had good marks in everything except charms. I met Lucius Malfoy again when I tried applying to the Ministry. He told me about a group of people who would be interested in meeting me because of my particular proclivities. Lucius found me a cover job during the day and at night we would socialize with various ‘friends’ of his. Within a month I took the Dark Mark.”

Severus’ voice was trembling slightly as he tried to continue his story. “My father... came to my job at the Ministry... He berated me. I was about to throw a hex at him.... my colleagues held me back. I spent a week in hospital recovering from the curse my father hit me with. When I got out, I learned that the Dark Lord had arranged for my problems with my father to be terminated. Namely by having Death Eaters terminate him. I wasn’t upset by what they did.... He deserved it.... I just began to realize what I had gotten myself into.... I did horrible things... but I couldn’t get out... It was empowering at first... making people tremble in fear before you... I was on the other side...”

A hand on his shoulder made Severus start. He had been so wrapped up in telling his story that he had forgotten that she was there. Looking up into Hermione’s face, he was struck by how young she looked. “I am a horrible man.”

She touched his cheek. “No. You may have been once, but you aren’t now.” Wrapping her arm around his shoulder she gave a squeeze. “You stopped a long time ago. It’s over now.”

He shook her arm off his shoulders and stood up, speaking angrily, “I can’t get rid of it. I’ll never be able to remove this from my body.”

He ripped the sleeve of his robe as he yanked at it to show her the faint shadow of his Dark Mark. Breathing heavily he glared at her then slumped his shoulders in defeat. “With or without a wand, I’m dangerous. You shouldn’t feel safe around me. My hands could hurt you even if my wand can’t.”

Standing up, Hermione nodded and confidently said, “I know.”

Moving towards him, she reached for his left arm and rolled up the ripped sleeve. Hesitantly she began to trace the faint shadow that could just barely be seen now, only because his skin was so pale. She thought about how terrible it must feel to have a constant reminder of the past. At some point in time, a person should be able to put the past behind them. She turned his arm back and forth slightly, looking at the mark from different angles. She had never been allowed to look at it very closely before. Even if it was dark out and difficult to see, she was fascinated by it. He watched her examine his arm with feather light, but insistent, fingers, completely enthralled. She slowly leaned over and softly, just barely touched her lips to his mark.

Severus was not fully aware of himself as Hermione wrapped her arms around him and whispered, “I trust you. You aren’t your father.”

His arms reached around her and held her to him. Tears were burning at his eyes, but he refused to cry. Clutching her tightly, he mumbled into her hair, “Albus said that to me... years ago... that was exactly what he said...”

Hermione clutched him fiercely in return. “Albus Dumbledore is a wise man. He was right.”

The night breeze picked up and she felt a bit cool, but she didn’t let go, knowing Severus needed someone to hold on to him, to comfort him. In the late August night, they both held on seeking comfort and solace in the other, each beginning to feel more comfortable with themselves and connected to the other.
*********