The Quicker Fixer-Upper

Quicker-Fixer-Upper

Summary: A playful little fic, very light-hearted (for me) in which Severus needs help in the lab and Hermione obliges. Features some initial awkwardness and hopefully yields some citrus fruit.

AU—the only kind of magic that can raise the dead. If I mention them, odds are for the purposes of this fic, they’re alive (unless I happen to say otherwise).

Oh, and I started writing this… over spring break (and now it’s a chilly, chilly, snowy December). I’ve held on to it, not wanting to post it until I complete some of what I’ve already published to the site, but now I’ve been bitten by the writing bug again, and am having trouble picking up where I left off. First three chappies are written, but I intend to string you along.

Chapter One
Help for the Hero

Severus Snape sighed as he watched yet another cauldron melt. What kind of perverse joke was this? He truly, truly hated it when things did not work. He had locked himself in his lab in attempt to dissuade his newly found fans. As it happened, he was now quite the war hero, quite against his own will.

His idea had been to immerse himself in work. This particular technique had always been successful in the past. Not only did it take his mind off his troubles, it was a legitimate excuse. Now that he was working on Lupin’s wolfsbane potion, it was an even more ironclad excuse. The problem was, he was making absolutely no progress whatsoever. Lupin, it seemed, was a war hero married to a war hero, with an infant and therefore an even bigger deal than himself. For once, he did not care.

No, he was definitely better off here. He had taken his post back as Potions master, and Minerva was now Headmistress. It would be her responsibility to find a new DADA professor, and good bloody luck. Though everyone KNEW that the spell had been broken when the Dark Lord was killed, it didn’t prevent people from feeling more than a little nervous.

Waving his wand lazily, Severus cleaned up his mess. Such a fussy potion. But that was why he loved this field, and no matter what he had maintained over the years, this was exactly where he wanted to be, Horace Slughorn be damned. His final act as headmaster had been to terminate the old slob (which was no more than he deserved for leading Slytherin house down a path of treachery). He had been somewhat disappointed when the old man did not challenge the suggestion that it was time for him to move on. Severus had a shining moment of self-control when he refrained from suggesting that Slughorn either retire or die. Minerva was so proud.

His relationship with the old witch was very… odd now. She had a way of making him extremely uncomfortable. When he was a student, he had hardly known her. She had sent him many stern looks for misbehaving in her class, but he was careful never to do anything too bad… that he could be connected to.

She had known his history when he was a young teacher; she steered clear of him, occasionally saying something disapproving to Dumbledore when she thought he couldn’t hear. Time mellowed her and she got used to him. He was always courteous with her, never engaging in more conversation than was required. But outright defiance was the only way to describe her reaction to his term as Headmaster. She had been obstinate and resistive from start to finish, often making scathing remarks well within earshot.

Of all the things she had said, of all the ways she had treated him this apologetic, patronizing, guilty sniveling was certainly the worst. Severus went out of his way to avoid her whenever possible.

Within the walls of Hogwarts, especially with the students, things were much the same as they had always been. He found he had to turn up the snark to keep them frightened enough, now that they knew he was not working for the Dark Lord. But that came naturally. His biggest fear was that soon, like Filch, he would become a part of the castle landscape. A fixture. Severus shuddered at the thought. He had always, always wanted to stand out.

Returning his mind to the task at hand, he carefully read and re-read his notes on Lupin’s potion. It would revolutionize wizarding culture if he were successful. He thought of all the people who could be freed from life as an untouchable, but being the dark man he was, he could not help but consider those who would deliberately refuse to take the cure. Those like Fenrir Greyback who infected the population out of spite. For revenge. Of course, the Ministry of Magic would become involved. It could be ugly. Vaguely, he wondered if he were capable of brewing a potion that would end his untouchable status. But cosmetic potions were dangerous, and besides, it was better this way. He was better off alone—the world was better off when he was alone.

Any responsible, ethical Potions master considered the repercussions of his work very carefully. It often slowed down the inventing process, especially where such life-altering consequences were involved. He hated this part; it was Severus’ position that any such considerations got in the way of progress, and were premature anyway. Who knew how the Ministry would respond to anything from day to day?

After five or six more attempts to spot the error in his formula, he decided to step away. It had started blending together, and he knew he would never spot his own mistake if it didn’t stand out right away. The question then became where to find someone talented and knowledgeable enough to locate his miscalculation. He clearly did not want to choose someone active in the field; any skilled, motivated Potions master would kill to have made as much progress as he had. That was not a viable option.

There was always the option of consulting an apothecary, but the profession was known for its mouthiness. No details need be shared with an apothecary save those you want the whole town to know. So clearly, this was not an option, either.

Perhaps a former student? Precious few of his students were skilled enough for such a task. Many had deep seated resentment for him, anyway. Severus thought back as far as he could, beginning at the start of his teaching career and working his way forward. Before long, the answer was staring him in the face, but he didn’t like it. He didn’t like it at all.

Hermione Granger. That Know-It-All friend of Potter’s. She could find his mistake in five minutes flat, he was certain. What had she done with herself? He seemed to remember Minerva rattling on about a promising career as a healer at St. Mungo’s, but was unsure. Well, now he’d have to hunt up the old bat, talk to her and find out. Doubtless she would want to know why he was curious. He didn’t really want to share the details with her, but knew his request would seem very odd.

After finishing tidying up the lab, he made for the door and the Headmistress’ office.

He arrived to find Minerva sitting down to tea with Flitwick and sighed. An audience; exactly what he needed. Steeling himself, he marched up to the Headmistress and requested to speak with her privately. None such luck; she smiled sweetly and insisted that Filius was the soul of discretion and all would be well. Severus sighed.

“I was wondering where I might find a former student of your house,” he said smoothly.

“Which one?” Minerva asked eagerly. Severus had never expressed interest in locating a former student before. It was a momentous occasion. It must be important.

“Miss Granger,” he ground out through his teeth.

“Hermione?” Minerva responded, rather in shock.

“Yes.”

“Well, I expect she’ll be at St. Mungo’s at this time. Don’t you ever listen?”

He assumed the question was rhetorical. Assuming that was all, he turned to face Flitwick as well.

“Good day.”

At the very moment his hand touched the doorknob, Minerva stopped him.

“Severus, what do you want with Hermione Granger?”

Considering his answer carefully, he responded, “A know-it-all, and everything that comes with it.”

Minerva said, “A project?” just as Severus Snape slammed the door to her office.

All the way down the staircase, he could hear the two speculating and gossiping. It didn’t matter. He had his answer and his mind was made up. He would visit Miss Granger’s job site immediately. It would be worth the impulsive movement just to see her face.

As he made his way back to his quarters and the floo, Severus thought about what Minerva had said, or rather, what she hadn’t said. He had assumed Miss Granger would be Mrs. Weasley shortly after graduation. Minerva had not corrected his use of her name, so he assumed this meant she was not married. He wondered what might have happened, but stopped when he realized he didn’t care. Miss Granger had always been the chatty type, and little doubt he would know before much longer.

“St. Mungo’s main lobby,” he announced and began to spin very quickly.

He emerged from the floo with more grace than any individual had a right to; agility came naturally, and such skills had been further honed by years and years of spying.

He approached the desk and inquired as to where to find Miss Granger. It would be more efficient than merely searching for her.

Affixing his customary scowl to his face, and walking quickly enough to cause his traveling cloak to billow out behind him, in his distinct, batlike manner. Needless to say, there were no interruptions as the crowded waiting room’s occupants parted before him like… well, he was glad they had the sense to avoid him. He was determined to get all the snark and intimidation out before reaching Miss Granger, because if he hoped to win her for his cause, he would have to be… civil. Sure, it would be easy to go in there and drop Lupin’s name and appeal to her better nature, which to be honest was his back-up plan. No, if he was going to use her intellect, first he had to ascertain that it was still intact.



A/N Revisited: A few more reviews and I'll release the hostage.