"Never Presume" by Periwinkle
A short, very short, story that I wrote for mugglegirl0908's enjoyment and to hopefully cheer her up.
Title: Never Presume
Author: periwinkle27
Beta: sinfuldraconis
Pairing: Snape/Hermione (Gen)
Rating: G
Summary: Snape can’t let anyone know he’s not a total Greasy Git.
Word count: 1057 words
Disclaimer: This is a work of fan fiction and meant for personal enjoyment only. I do not own the characters and I am not making any money from this.
A/N Thanks to CrimsonInHumanBlood and guanyin_kun for their input and suggestions.
NEVER PRESUME
by Periwinkle
“Miss Granger, I assure you that I am quite capable of brewing this potion without your interference.” He avoided looking at her face, preferring not to see the hurt written upon it.
“Professor, I simply thought that you could use some assistance with the more mundane tasks,” replied Hermione, hands on her hips, legs spread slightly apart and a defiant look upon her visage.
“I assure you, Miss Granger, that it will be a very long time before I ever come asking you for help.” He leaned forward with a threatening look on his face, trying to get her to step back. Unfortunately, it didn’t work, so he turned and stepped away from her.
“Professor, I admire your abilities and I have great faith that you can satisfactorily complete the potion. But why send an expert to do an assistant’s work?”
Abruptly, Snape pivoted on his heel, letting his cloak swirl dramatically, and advanced on Hermione. His eyes had hardened and he got as far into her personal space as he dared, so close that she finally took a step backwards.
“If I needed an assistant, and I don’t, what makes you think you would be my choice?” he snapped at her. He needed to keep her off-balance, keep her afraid of him. No one would ever see a soft side to Potions Master Severus Snape.
They were standing in the kitchen of Grimmauld Place and Professor Snape was supposed to be working on Order business before he had to rush back to Hogwarts. He only had a limited time to do it in and, truth be told, he could actually use her help. But to admit that would make him seem like someone other than the Greasy Git image he cultivated. He never, ever acted nicely to Potter and his friends, though he secretly admired Hermione’s intellect and quick thinking. He couldn’t afford to be anything other than the nasty Potions Master Potter believed him to be if he was to survive as a spy. Unfortunately, Dumbledore was also in the kitchen, and Snape could tell that he hadn’t fooled the old coot one bit, based on the twinkle in his eye. For the thousandth time, Snape hoped the Headmaster would choke on his lemon sherbet but, as with all other wishes in Snape’s life, he was not to get what he wanted.
“Severus, I really think you should accept Miss Granger’s offer,” Dumbledore said.
Snape growled back, “I haven’t time to explain this to her.”
“I think you’ll find she doesn’t require a lot of explanation if all she is doing is chopping roots,” Dumbledore replied.
Ah well, he had only protested for the form of it anyway. He could afford to grudgingly accept without appearing too nice.
“Well, Headmaster, if you insist upon it, I suppose I can tolerate Miss Granger in a small dose, although I would prefer to work alone.”
“Ah, Severus, I do insist.”
Snape turned to Hermione. “Well then, come on. I can’t wait for you.” He abruptly left the room, forcing Hermione to have to run to keep up, and headed for the potions lab he had set up in the house.
---
They worked together in silence for a while. The chit actually knew when to keep her mouth shut, Severus realized. And, as he and Dumbledore had both known, she didn’t require any instruction. Snape might actually get back to Hogwarts in time for a few hours sleep before breakfast. She did ask a few questions, but they were insightful and he actually enjoyed discussing the subject with her although he hid it under a scowl.
Hermione looked up. “Professor, what if we tried fresh Sneezewort instead of dried?”
He started at the interruption. “Silly chit, you just broke my concentration. And you don’t even know what potion I am making - how dare you suggest changes?"
“Sorry, sir,” Hermione said and she looked down at the table and continued to chop the Sneezewort. “I had thought it was a variant of the Befuddlement Draught.”
He looked at her. “Actually, you’re right. But I have made some changes to it. This recipe is unique to me.”
“I see, Sir. I’m sorry to question you,” and once again her eyes went back to the Sneezewort.
His curiosity got the better of him. “Why did you offer to work with me, Miss Granger? You know I am not a pleasant person.”
Hermione put down her knife and looked at him. “You may not be pleasant, but how much of that is because of the role you’re forced to play and the balancing act you have to do? I’ve often thought it must be extremely stressful to have to act as a Death Eater knowing that Voldemort might discover your lies any day. In some ways, it’s harder than what Harry goes through. He has to be ready to fight. You have to go to Death Eater’s meetings, hope you’re not discovered, and quite often endure Crucio and other hexes. I admire you for it and want to help if I can.”
“Miss Granger, you speak of things which you don’t understand. Never presume to know what I feel,” Snape growled at her.
“Yes, sir,” Hermione said quietly, picking the knife back up. “But it won’t stop me from admiring you.” She should have known better than to try to compliment him. He rejected any positive remark. She still hadn’t determined if it was because he didn’t believe anything she said or because he had no faith in himself. She suspected that it was a form of self-punishment and wondered if he had even understood that she had been praising him.
---
She would have been surprised had she seen him later that night. He had returned to Hogwarts and was replaying the events of the day in his mind. Miss Granger had real potential as a Potions Mistress. He had liked discussing the process with her. He hadn’t had a companionable conversation like that in a long time. And she had faith in him. That was nice to hear. Maybe when the war was over they could do more work in the labs together.
There was small smile playing around his face.
Title: Never Presume
Author: periwinkle27
Beta: sinfuldraconis
Pairing: Snape/Hermione (Gen)
Rating: G
Summary: Snape can’t let anyone know he’s not a total Greasy Git.
Word count: 1057 words
Disclaimer: This is a work of fan fiction and meant for personal enjoyment only. I do not own the characters and I am not making any money from this.
A/N Thanks to CrimsonInHumanBlood and guanyin_kun for their input and suggestions.
NEVER PRESUME
by Periwinkle
“Miss Granger, I assure you that I am quite capable of brewing this potion without your interference.” He avoided looking at her face, preferring not to see the hurt written upon it.
“Professor, I simply thought that you could use some assistance with the more mundane tasks,” replied Hermione, hands on her hips, legs spread slightly apart and a defiant look upon her visage.
“I assure you, Miss Granger, that it will be a very long time before I ever come asking you for help.” He leaned forward with a threatening look on his face, trying to get her to step back. Unfortunately, it didn’t work, so he turned and stepped away from her.
“Professor, I admire your abilities and I have great faith that you can satisfactorily complete the potion. But why send an expert to do an assistant’s work?”
Abruptly, Snape pivoted on his heel, letting his cloak swirl dramatically, and advanced on Hermione. His eyes had hardened and he got as far into her personal space as he dared, so close that she finally took a step backwards.
“If I needed an assistant, and I don’t, what makes you think you would be my choice?” he snapped at her. He needed to keep her off-balance, keep her afraid of him. No one would ever see a soft side to Potions Master Severus Snape.
They were standing in the kitchen of Grimmauld Place and Professor Snape was supposed to be working on Order business before he had to rush back to Hogwarts. He only had a limited time to do it in and, truth be told, he could actually use her help. But to admit that would make him seem like someone other than the Greasy Git image he cultivated. He never, ever acted nicely to Potter and his friends, though he secretly admired Hermione’s intellect and quick thinking. He couldn’t afford to be anything other than the nasty Potions Master Potter believed him to be if he was to survive as a spy. Unfortunately, Dumbledore was also in the kitchen, and Snape could tell that he hadn’t fooled the old coot one bit, based on the twinkle in his eye. For the thousandth time, Snape hoped the Headmaster would choke on his lemon sherbet but, as with all other wishes in Snape’s life, he was not to get what he wanted.
“Severus, I really think you should accept Miss Granger’s offer,” Dumbledore said.
Snape growled back, “I haven’t time to explain this to her.”
“I think you’ll find she doesn’t require a lot of explanation if all she is doing is chopping roots,” Dumbledore replied.
Ah well, he had only protested for the form of it anyway. He could afford to grudgingly accept without appearing too nice.
“Well, Headmaster, if you insist upon it, I suppose I can tolerate Miss Granger in a small dose, although I would prefer to work alone.”
“Ah, Severus, I do insist.”
Snape turned to Hermione. “Well then, come on. I can’t wait for you.” He abruptly left the room, forcing Hermione to have to run to keep up, and headed for the potions lab he had set up in the house.
---
They worked together in silence for a while. The chit actually knew when to keep her mouth shut, Severus realized. And, as he and Dumbledore had both known, she didn’t require any instruction. Snape might actually get back to Hogwarts in time for a few hours sleep before breakfast. She did ask a few questions, but they were insightful and he actually enjoyed discussing the subject with her although he hid it under a scowl.
Hermione looked up. “Professor, what if we tried fresh Sneezewort instead of dried?”
He started at the interruption. “Silly chit, you just broke my concentration. And you don’t even know what potion I am making - how dare you suggest changes?"
“Sorry, sir,” Hermione said and she looked down at the table and continued to chop the Sneezewort. “I had thought it was a variant of the Befuddlement Draught.”
He looked at her. “Actually, you’re right. But I have made some changes to it. This recipe is unique to me.”
“I see, Sir. I’m sorry to question you,” and once again her eyes went back to the Sneezewort.
His curiosity got the better of him. “Why did you offer to work with me, Miss Granger? You know I am not a pleasant person.”
Hermione put down her knife and looked at him. “You may not be pleasant, but how much of that is because of the role you’re forced to play and the balancing act you have to do? I’ve often thought it must be extremely stressful to have to act as a Death Eater knowing that Voldemort might discover your lies any day. In some ways, it’s harder than what Harry goes through. He has to be ready to fight. You have to go to Death Eater’s meetings, hope you’re not discovered, and quite often endure Crucio and other hexes. I admire you for it and want to help if I can.”
“Miss Granger, you speak of things which you don’t understand. Never presume to know what I feel,” Snape growled at her.
“Yes, sir,” Hermione said quietly, picking the knife back up. “But it won’t stop me from admiring you.” She should have known better than to try to compliment him. He rejected any positive remark. She still hadn’t determined if it was because he didn’t believe anything she said or because he had no faith in himself. She suspected that it was a form of self-punishment and wondered if he had even understood that she had been praising him.
---
She would have been surprised had she seen him later that night. He had returned to Hogwarts and was replaying the events of the day in his mind. Miss Granger had real potential as a Potions Mistress. He had liked discussing the process with her. He hadn’t had a companionable conversation like that in a long time. And she had faith in him. That was nice to hear. Maybe when the war was over they could do more work in the labs together.
There was small smile playing around his face.