Severus, Redux: Chapter Twenty Three
(In which Severus snoops where he shouldn't.)
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, 20 October 1996, 07:43 PM
Almost two full months after working things out with Hermione, Severus found that he was having an increasingly difficult time maintaining his dignity and not smiling all the time like a fool. Worse, he almost didn't mind. She was an extremely passionate person, he had found--about everything. She would champion the rights of house-elves of all things, apparently not understanding the relationship they had with magic users at all, as well as other magical beings. She would bemoan what she claimed was the illogicality of the Goblin banking system, and was almost religiously serious about her duties as a Gryffindor prefect. Severus had tactfully refrained from telling her that he had overheard some of the younger students call her "the Tyrant-Bitch of Gryffindor."
Hermione was also a fanatic about her homework, double- and triple-checking everything, sometimes a week in advance. Severus hadn't even realised one could get their homework that early, but his girlfriend apparently had standing arrangements with many of their professors. His girlfriend. The thought still made him slightly giddy. She was passionate about that, as well.
Only minutes earlier, she had been tucked neatly against his chest, half in his lap. Her breasts had been soft and plump through her school blouse and her lips teasing as she had nibbled on his neck and own lips. The way she squirmed in his lap was almost unbearable, her pert bottom torturous against his cock. Severus had never spent quite so much time in his life aching.
Hermione wasn't one for public displays of affection, thank the Founders, and they'd even managed to keep a low profile for almost a month. Severus had wondered if she was deliberately trying to hide their relationship, and his insecurity nagged at him. When he had finally asked, as casually and roundabout as he was able, why she was so concerned if people found out, Hermione had shrugged and said quietly, "I hate gossip, and there is always so much drama in the halls. It's not really any of their business. I know I'm not especially pleased when other couples are constantly snogging in front of me; I'd rather people kept private things private." She was silent for a moment. "If someone asks me, I won't lie. I promise, I'm not ashamed of what's between us in the least."
So when Ginny Weasley ran into him in the hall and had made a pointed comment about how she didn't see Hermione at their usual table anymore, Severus had nonchalantly mentioned that they had been studying together privately. As he had anticipated, Ginny had immediately taken an interest in the statement. He had then allowed her to wheedle out of him--reluctantly--that yes, they were in fact a couple. The news was all over the castle by the end of the following class period. It was a little astounding how reliable the gossip network's efficiency was at Hogwarts, no matter what generation it was.
A small smile tugged at his lips and Severus couldn't help but reflect to himself that being happy was an incredibly strange feeling. Most of his life had been spent tempered with an urgent need to prove himself. First to his father, who had very exacting ideas of what it meant to be a "man," most of which Severus fell short of. Then to Lily, who had very exacting ideas about what meant to be "right" with no room for grey or desperation. Then at school, to everyone, it seemed. His mother at home, who suddenly was interested in what he was doing for the first time in his life, his professors, his peers and the growing power outside school whose campaign he wanted to join. It had felt as if everyone needed Severus Snape to prove himself worthy of them, regardless of what their own failings might be.
Now...it was like he had a whole different life. He had been dating Hermione for almost two months now. Two glorious months of intense studies interrupted with intense snogging. She might always appear to be neatly buttoned into her uniform, but her emotions and her magic both ran as hot and wild as her hair. She was competitive with him both in the classroom and out, and Severus had never enjoyed school so much as matching wits, school marks and duelling reflexes against Hermione. They competed to see who could drive the other most insane with kisses, too. She was a gloriously good kisser--Severus lost and had to pull back a lot more often than she did. It was madness in the best possible way, and Severus found himself actually grinning on occasion, thinking about it.
The need to prove himself was still there, he mused. He wanted to be the best student in Ravenclaw, which was quite a bit more difficult than the best student in Slytherin. He wanted his professors to be pleased with him, particularly his own elder self, as absurd as that was. It was difficult to admit it at first, but he found that he wanted to be one of Dumbledore's special pets for once. Potter got special lessons and obstacle courses--that sort of private training would be invaluable. At the same time, the feeling of being never quite enough seemed to have eased. Not entirely, but enough that he no longer felt caged by it. He no longer felt angry at the entire world, however, or nearly as resentful that he wasn't popular. It helped that Hermione seemed to understand in a way that Lily never could have.
The thought made him pause in mid-step. Lord Voldemort had offered his followers a better life. Being accepted as a Death Eater meant that he would be given respect, power, access to cutting-edge research and a part of a more understanding world. A world where magic wasn't simply labelled evil because someone didn't understand it. Lily had been adamantly against all of that from the beginning. She, like most Muggleborns, simply couldn't understand the rich possibilities that lay in the more unexplored "dark" depths of magic. If she had lain low, if she hadn't been such an activist about it, she probably would have survived.
The whole basis of Severus' current antipathy toward Lord Voldemort was Lily's death. He couldn't help but hate the wizard for it. Voldemort had killed the only person who had ever been decent to him for any length of time. Did that necessarily mean that his movement was bad? Of course he didn't agree with everything Lord Voldemort touted. Despite his conviction only a few months ago that pure blooded wizards were superior, he had to admit that witches like Lily and Hermione didn't work with that theory; it had been a convenient one for his bruised ego to put stock in.
No...Lord Voldemort was intelligent. He was a true visionary about what magic could be if people would stop being so afraid of it. To change the wizarding world, one had to convince the people with the most power, both politically and socially. Those were, by long tradition, the purebloods. Purebloods who would see fresh and innovative newcomers like Muggleborns as a threat. Tell them what they want to hear until you have the power to change the world. It was a very simple strategy, requiring very little effort to win the important people over. In all likelihood, Lord Voldemort didn't actually believe it any more than Severus did.
These weren't the sort of thoughts one could voice out loud in front of Hermione, of course. She, like Lily, had been fighting against Lord Voldemort and all he stood for from the beginning, and she would only be hurt by them. It didn't mean that Severus wasn't right, though.
Feeling rather pleased and clever that he had worked it out, Severus knocked on the door of Professor Snape's office. There was no response at first; Severus had actually turned to leave again when the door finally opened. Professor Snape was in his shirt sleeves, sans coat and robes, the collar unbuttoned and the sleeve cuffs rolled once off his wrists. He was wiping his hands on a bit of towel, his motions neat and precise. The vision was startling, and Severus found himself staring as the harsh, older version of himself glared.
"What do you want?" asked Professor Snape.
Severus gave him a level look. "I want to learn Potions from you."
"How unfortunate for you that Professor Slughorn is Potions Master, then." The professor turned away .
"Wait!” cried Severus. “You of all people, know how he is, and you know I've got the talent for more. I know you still brew--you wouldn't just stop because you teach Defence. At least let me watch, or assist with preparation. Like with Hermione's potions, before."
Professor Snape paused for a long moment, considering. His voice was dangerously soft when he finally replied, "Your timing is...suspiciously punctilious."
Possibly because Severus had been discreetly making note of the professor's schedule and habits over the last month. He didn't know that the professor did his private research and brewing on Sunday evenings, but he had come to strongly suspect as much. Severus did his best to look innocent, and the professor snorted in blatant disbelief.
"Very well, you may attend if you do exactly as you are told and do not touch anything. Without waiting for a reply, Professor Snape turned and swept back into his office, leaving Severus to trail after.
"Yes sir," replied Severus anyway. He glanced around. The office was as he remembered from his first night--dark and intimidating, dominated by the huge, ornate desk and shelves of preserved specimens. One in particular caught his eye, and Severus couldn't help but ask interestedly, "Is that a mermaid? It looks...off."
The professor gave an annoyed huff. "That's because it hatched with a deformity. It did not survive past the juvenile stage, obviously."
"Obviously," Severus agreed in a faint voice, averting his eyes from the small tank. The professor had crossed the room to a side door Severus had not noticed previously, and placed his palm flat against it and murmured something too low to hear. His personal, private lab was locked by magical signature and a password, Severus noted with glee. It really might be available for exploration if he could figure out the password. There was a faint click as the door opened, and with an impatient hand, Professor Snape ushered Severus in.
The L-shaped room was everything and nothing like Severus had expected. There were the usual apparatuses one would expect to see in a private lab of a professional brewer: large floor burners as well as space for conventional brewing, a carrera prep counter with butcher's block and custom drawers for the variety of tools and appliances used. There was a crucible, vial metre, refracting microscope, centrifuge and a fanciful, curlicued glass distiller that looked like it should have belonged to a mad alchemist. Several shelves for potion vials and large cupboards that doubtless were used as cauldron and potion component storage lined one long wall. At the very end of the room stood a wash station and research area, including a small stone pensieve and a tall glass case full of bottled memories. It was high-end equipment, but not unexpected.
What did catch Severus off-guard was the location of the room. He had assumed that the lab, adjacent to the professor's office as it was, would be in the dungeon. Yet there was a wide, arched window just over the washing station. No light filtered in at this time--the sun had set nearly two hours previously this late in autumn--but stars shown through, placing the room definitely above ground.
Confused, Severus asked, "Sir? That window...We're...?"
The professor's expression was supercilious. "South tower--about halfway up. It is easier to use a translocating portal than to find adjoining quarters, laboratory and office of appropriate size near the Slytherin dorms. This way, the entrance to all of them is through my office. They all have separate entrances of their own, of course. It is...convenient."
Convenient, indeed. Not only to ensure that the professor had whichever available rooms in the castle that suited him, but it also provided a direct, near-instantaneous route to three separate areas of the castle! It was no wonder the professor seemed to be omnipresent. The quiet word he had whispered wasn't a password after all, but an instruction to where the door should open. The lock was his magical signature.
Now that Severus thought about it, a translocating portal likely explained Mr. Filch's ability to keep up with the students as well. It had always been a mystery how the old, half-lame squib had managed to be such a terror with his disadvantages. Severus chuckled quietly to himself, then asked politely, "What can I do to be of use, sir?"
The professor regarded him silently for a moment, then said quietly, "I am sure I do not need to impress upon you exactly how important it is that you not speak of anything that you see, work with or hear me talk about in this lab."
Severus shook his head emphatically.
"Good. I am currently trying to improve several different healing balms and elixirs by experimenting with the latex of the Croton lechleri."
"Sangre de Drago!" Severus exclaimed, "Like Daniela Delgado!"
The professor blinked. "Indeed. What do you know of Mistress Delgado's work?"
"I read Sprekelia and Sangre de Drago last spring, just after I got here, and over the summer her Master Class dissertation in the IGPA's publication. She's using it to make incredible strides in anti-nausea and digestive system elixirs."
"Yes." Professor Snape began lecturing clinically. "The latex has been used by Muggles for centuries in relation to various digestive complaints, which Mistress Delgado has been focusing on, but also topically on lacerations. That is where I am focusing my efforts. I have managed to successfully improve several healing balms. When added as a component to topical potions, I've found that lacerations and wounds heal between twelve and nearly twenty-two percent faster, depending on how it's prepared with which balm it is used in."
"That's...that's…" Severus worked his jaw, unable to find words. Finally, he breathed, "Have you patented any of it yet?"
The professor shrugged the notion off as unimportant. The gesture nearly brought Severus to tears. That sort of improvement would mean an enormous and nearly immediate wealth. There wasn't a healer or hospital in the world that wouldn't want to use a recipe improved on by nearly twenty-two percent. Severus was unable to keep the whine from his voice. "Why not?"
The professor glared. "You sound ridiculous, don't ever make that sound again. You cannot control your circumstances, but you may control your own reaction to most of them. Sounding like a petulant child is the first and easiest way to lose face with your peers and superiors."
It was difficult to not make a face at that, though Severus rather supposed that was the point. His elder self continued to explain. "Improvements I make to potions currently are better off unpatented until the political climate has been resolved," he said pointedly.
Ah. Of course. Once it was patented it was a matter of public record. Then the professor would have to explain to either or both sides why he hadn't kept it private for their side alone.
The professor cleared his throat and began to carefully remove several vials from a cupboard, holding each one up to a light before dropping it into a stand on his workspace. "I am currently attempting to use Sangre de Drago to improve wound balms that can be used in conjunction with an antivenin."
"Like for acromantula or grindylow bites?"
"Yes. This particular version is for a serpent bite, as it happens. A patient was admitted last year to St. Mungo's that I did some consultant work on. The patient did survive, but it was a near thing and a long and painful process. I'd like to improve on the potions used for that particular breed."
"Oh." Genuinely interested, Severus tilted his head, "What kind of snake is it?"
"I'm not entirely certain; I haven't really been able to study it. I strongly suspect she started out as vipera ammodytes but has been magically encouraged to change quite a bit. There are no horns on her snout, and she has definitely been magically enlarged. She is nearly python sized. She is definitely a viperid, not an elapid. Hinged fangs, triangular head, stocky despite her length. The venom is both neurotoxic and hemotoxic."
Severus hadn't actually known the difference between an elapid and a viperid, but he was able to follow the rest. "So the victim is immobilised and the blood is coagulating, the antivenin is trying to counter it but the Sangre de Drago to heal the wound itself is interfering with the anti-hemotoxic properties of the antivenin."
"More or less, yes."
"Someone magically bred a creature like that larger?" Severus was aghast. "Why?"
One of the professor's shoulders twitched slightly. "I really couldn't say."
Severus snorted a little. "Compensating, you think? Not very subtle imagery."
"Not everyone is." A hint of a smile ghosted across the professor's lips, before he suddenly hissed in a breath, and he muttered, "Oh, of course."
"What?"
The professor gave a soft sigh. "I've just remembered a prior engagement; I'm not sure how long I will be." He paused for a moment, flexing his fingers indecisively, then said, "If you are set on making yourself useful, then mince these--no larger than a pinhead, mind--and place them in a jar of rosemary extract for preservation. Clean up after yourself and go back to your room." The professor hesitated, and then gave him a direct look. "Do not touch anything. If I find a single instrument out of place or component missing from the cupboard, I will hold you personally responsible and use your hide to bind my grimoire. Have I made myself quite clear?"
Severus blinked, and then nodded rapidly. That was a rather dramatic threat to make, but he supposed that it was understandable that he would be especially protective of his personal research and equipment.
The professor gave him a hard look, and then exited quickly, robes flaring. Just like that, Severus found himself alone in his professor's private lab.
He managed to mince the long spiky root he had been left with for about twelve minutes before--after a paranoid glance about--abandoning his task to prowl about the office, taking a closer look at various things. He ended his circuit at research desk, cabinets and pensieve.
There were a total of fourteen shallow shelves of bottled memories behind sliding glass doors in the cabinet. They seemed to be organised using different colours of yarn tied about their necks, and then further labelled in surprisingly neat block writing. Severus leaned in closer to one of them to get a better look without touching. The yarn holding its tag in place was a bright yellow, and the tag simply read S3-T2-P37. Its neighbour, also with yellow yarn, was similarly labelled, S3-T3-P41. Disappointed, Severus leaned back again. Clearly, one had to understand the professor's organisational system to know which memory might be worth looking at.
Restlessly, Severus ran his eyes over the rest of the bottled memories, not really expecting to see anything that might help. There were other colours of yarn involved--blue, purple, green, all labeled with varying combinations of S, T and P numbers. Then he frowned. Each shelf had its own glass sliding door and small silver lock, so why was there a subtle handle on the side of the whole cabinet?
Feeling a small surge of adrenaline, Severus reached out grasped the handle and tugged. Nothing happened. Taking out his wand, Severus aimed it at the handle and whispered, "Alohamora." The cabinet clicked and the whole side of the cabinet separated from the wall. Curious, Severus nudged it open further and found a second set of of shelves. These didn't have a glass cover, and the memories inside were not colour coded, only labelled with a simple date.
Severus reached out to touch one of them, and only barely caught himself before he did so. Circumspectly he drew back again, glancing wryly at a clock on the wall, and the spiky root he had yet to finish mincing. He had no idea when the professor might return and even if it wasn’t for several hours, Severus' currently dirty gloves would have given him away by leaving smudges on the glass bottles.
Really, he was smarter than that. Especially since he was fairly sure he could access the lab again, and had a fairly good idea of the professor's schedule. Getting caught because he wanted to see his counterpart's research and was too impatient to wait until a better time was beyond idiotic, and very Gryffindor. Hermione must be rubbing off on him.
That thought got him thinking about Hermione rubbing on him, and with a chuckle at his own dirty thoughts, Severus returned to his prep table. It took a few tries, but eventually he was able to concentrate once more on the root under his fingers and not his new fantasy about a naked girlfriend in the forbidden professor's lab.
When he finally cleaned up after himself and left, the root neatly jarred and left out for the professor's inspection, it was just after ten in the evening and the older man had still not returned.
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, 23 October 1996, 10:03 AM
It was two days before Severus was able to muster the nerve up to try and sneak back into Professor Snape’s lab. It was surprisingly, ridiculously easy. Despite knowing he was more clever than most, he hadn't really expected to gain entrance. Yet both the office door and following translocation door had parted willingly for his magical signature. Apparently, however different they might be, their magic was still the same. It was a little surprising that his older self hadn't realised and taken extra precautions to keep him out.
Once he was actually standing in the beautiful lab again, Severus found that he had to muster his courage to snoop once more. He wasn't really worried about being caught; the professor had a double period and wouldn't be free for at least another hour and a half. It was still nerve-wracking to think of invading the privacy of the dangerous and pitiless older man.
Severus made his way back to the research area and the pensieve, and pulled a pair of freshly cleaned gloves from one of his robes pocket. He studied the bottled memories in front of him for a moment and then decided the purple group appeared to be the most recent. A soft Alohamora on the small sliding door lock later, and Severus had the last bottle of the series in hand. A few seconds later he was sinking into the pensieve.
The professor was standing in the same lab, wearing brewing protective gear. A small cauldron was simmering in front of him. Behind him, at the desk, there was an open journal and a Self Writing Quill taking notes as he spoke.
"Study eight, trial five. Notes beginning on page 78 purple. Base is Nagini Antivenin Number Four. Current hypothesis: using powdered dragonfly wings instead of doxy wings may cause a faster reaction and allow the pennyroyal to juice quickly enough to keep the ashwinder eggs from being destroyed."
As he spoke, the professor carefully measured out a small spoon of the powder. He sprinkled it into his cauldron, and stirred gently, making note the changes he found in the process. After several long minutes, he hissed in a breath and ground out, "Trial failure. Ashwinder eggs ruined, threat of imminent fire." Looking frustrated, the professor dumped several spoonfuls of Lapland snow into the cauldron just as actual flames started to flicker from it.
A burst of amused laughter behind him had Severus whirling, and to his shock, Damian Vector was sitting at one of the prep tables, watching the professor work. He was wearing ordinary trousers and brown robes rather than the elegant, deep blue Unspeakable issue, and his dark curly hair was tied back in a short, messy queue.
"It isn't funny," the professor groused. "It's a process. It happens to everyone."
"Maybe I'm laughing at those ridiculous goggles. I still don't understand why you want me here. You know that Sesh is better at both research and potions than I am," Damian said idly, fiddling with the cuff of one of his sleeves.
"She isn't a medic, and you are more familiar with the process of trial and error." Professor Snape's voice became mocking. "Also, she asked if I would mind you this weekend."
Damian's expression became sulky and the memory abruptly ended, the world around Severus tugging away. The professor must have removed that memory for bottling at that very moment. Well, the filing system was certainly explained now. A quick glance at the bookcase of journals did indeed reveal that they, too, were colour-coded. Why had Vector been in the lab? Surely just being a medic wasn't enough to bother including him in the research, and Severus didn't believe for a moment that Professor Snape actually needed to mind a grown man enough to want him in his private lab.
Eagerly, Severus watched the previous sequential memory, but it was clearly on a different day, and devoid of the Unspeakable. Study eight, trial five went much the same way as the last had, with a failed experiment involving keeping the ashwinder eggs cold enough to be stable but the pennyroyal hot enough to juice.
Disappointed, Severus glanced at case of memories again, and considered going back further, then shrugged a little and unlocked the back cabinet. Perhaps the memories there had some interesting or useful information. Uncertain which to choose, and feeling a clench in his gut that perhaps this was a very bad idea, he chose one from the middle. The date it was labeled for was August 12th of that year. Moments later, Severus was again submerged in the pensieve.
When he resurfaced nearly fifteen minutes later, all he could do was stare wide-eyed at the pensieve. He replaced the memory in its bottle with shaking hands and shut the cabinet door firmly. Eyes still wide, he exited the lab, shaken.
A/N: Sorry it's been so long! Life got very busy all of the sudden! In two months I went back to full time, got a promotion, had a new doctor join our staff, had our primary doctor change the office hours, accepted the resignation of our lead assistant, and oh, yeah, found out I am pregnant. I've also joined the Inter-House Fest on LJ. Because I'm a masochist. ;-) Please forgive me for not working on this story much. As always, much adoring love to my reviewers and the alpha/beta team that is so patient and awesome with me! ~Tyche
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Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, 20 October 1996, 07:43 PM
Almost two full months after working things out with Hermione, Severus found that he was having an increasingly difficult time maintaining his dignity and not smiling all the time like a fool. Worse, he almost didn't mind. She was an extremely passionate person, he had found--about everything. She would champion the rights of house-elves of all things, apparently not understanding the relationship they had with magic users at all, as well as other magical beings. She would bemoan what she claimed was the illogicality of the Goblin banking system, and was almost religiously serious about her duties as a Gryffindor prefect. Severus had tactfully refrained from telling her that he had overheard some of the younger students call her "the Tyrant-Bitch of Gryffindor."
Hermione was also a fanatic about her homework, double- and triple-checking everything, sometimes a week in advance. Severus hadn't even realised one could get their homework that early, but his girlfriend apparently had standing arrangements with many of their professors. His girlfriend. The thought still made him slightly giddy. She was passionate about that, as well.
Only minutes earlier, she had been tucked neatly against his chest, half in his lap. Her breasts had been soft and plump through her school blouse and her lips teasing as she had nibbled on his neck and own lips. The way she squirmed in his lap was almost unbearable, her pert bottom torturous against his cock. Severus had never spent quite so much time in his life aching.
Hermione wasn't one for public displays of affection, thank the Founders, and they'd even managed to keep a low profile for almost a month. Severus had wondered if she was deliberately trying to hide their relationship, and his insecurity nagged at him. When he had finally asked, as casually and roundabout as he was able, why she was so concerned if people found out, Hermione had shrugged and said quietly, "I hate gossip, and there is always so much drama in the halls. It's not really any of their business. I know I'm not especially pleased when other couples are constantly snogging in front of me; I'd rather people kept private things private." She was silent for a moment. "If someone asks me, I won't lie. I promise, I'm not ashamed of what's between us in the least."
So when Ginny Weasley ran into him in the hall and had made a pointed comment about how she didn't see Hermione at their usual table anymore, Severus had nonchalantly mentioned that they had been studying together privately. As he had anticipated, Ginny had immediately taken an interest in the statement. He had then allowed her to wheedle out of him--reluctantly--that yes, they were in fact a couple. The news was all over the castle by the end of the following class period. It was a little astounding how reliable the gossip network's efficiency was at Hogwarts, no matter what generation it was.
A small smile tugged at his lips and Severus couldn't help but reflect to himself that being happy was an incredibly strange feeling. Most of his life had been spent tempered with an urgent need to prove himself. First to his father, who had very exacting ideas of what it meant to be a "man," most of which Severus fell short of. Then to Lily, who had very exacting ideas about what meant to be "right" with no room for grey or desperation. Then at school, to everyone, it seemed. His mother at home, who suddenly was interested in what he was doing for the first time in his life, his professors, his peers and the growing power outside school whose campaign he wanted to join. It had felt as if everyone needed Severus Snape to prove himself worthy of them, regardless of what their own failings might be.
Now...it was like he had a whole different life. He had been dating Hermione for almost two months now. Two glorious months of intense studies interrupted with intense snogging. She might always appear to be neatly buttoned into her uniform, but her emotions and her magic both ran as hot and wild as her hair. She was competitive with him both in the classroom and out, and Severus had never enjoyed school so much as matching wits, school marks and duelling reflexes against Hermione. They competed to see who could drive the other most insane with kisses, too. She was a gloriously good kisser--Severus lost and had to pull back a lot more often than she did. It was madness in the best possible way, and Severus found himself actually grinning on occasion, thinking about it.
The need to prove himself was still there, he mused. He wanted to be the best student in Ravenclaw, which was quite a bit more difficult than the best student in Slytherin. He wanted his professors to be pleased with him, particularly his own elder self, as absurd as that was. It was difficult to admit it at first, but he found that he wanted to be one of Dumbledore's special pets for once. Potter got special lessons and obstacle courses--that sort of private training would be invaluable. At the same time, the feeling of being never quite enough seemed to have eased. Not entirely, but enough that he no longer felt caged by it. He no longer felt angry at the entire world, however, or nearly as resentful that he wasn't popular. It helped that Hermione seemed to understand in a way that Lily never could have.
The thought made him pause in mid-step. Lord Voldemort had offered his followers a better life. Being accepted as a Death Eater meant that he would be given respect, power, access to cutting-edge research and a part of a more understanding world. A world where magic wasn't simply labelled evil because someone didn't understand it. Lily had been adamantly against all of that from the beginning. She, like most Muggleborns, simply couldn't understand the rich possibilities that lay in the more unexplored "dark" depths of magic. If she had lain low, if she hadn't been such an activist about it, she probably would have survived.
The whole basis of Severus' current antipathy toward Lord Voldemort was Lily's death. He couldn't help but hate the wizard for it. Voldemort had killed the only person who had ever been decent to him for any length of time. Did that necessarily mean that his movement was bad? Of course he didn't agree with everything Lord Voldemort touted. Despite his conviction only a few months ago that pure blooded wizards were superior, he had to admit that witches like Lily and Hermione didn't work with that theory; it had been a convenient one for his bruised ego to put stock in.
No...Lord Voldemort was intelligent. He was a true visionary about what magic could be if people would stop being so afraid of it. To change the wizarding world, one had to convince the people with the most power, both politically and socially. Those were, by long tradition, the purebloods. Purebloods who would see fresh and innovative newcomers like Muggleborns as a threat. Tell them what they want to hear until you have the power to change the world. It was a very simple strategy, requiring very little effort to win the important people over. In all likelihood, Lord Voldemort didn't actually believe it any more than Severus did.
These weren't the sort of thoughts one could voice out loud in front of Hermione, of course. She, like Lily, had been fighting against Lord Voldemort and all he stood for from the beginning, and she would only be hurt by them. It didn't mean that Severus wasn't right, though.
Feeling rather pleased and clever that he had worked it out, Severus knocked on the door of Professor Snape's office. There was no response at first; Severus had actually turned to leave again when the door finally opened. Professor Snape was in his shirt sleeves, sans coat and robes, the collar unbuttoned and the sleeve cuffs rolled once off his wrists. He was wiping his hands on a bit of towel, his motions neat and precise. The vision was startling, and Severus found himself staring as the harsh, older version of himself glared.
"What do you want?" asked Professor Snape.
Severus gave him a level look. "I want to learn Potions from you."
"How unfortunate for you that Professor Slughorn is Potions Master, then." The professor turned away .
"Wait!” cried Severus. “You of all people, know how he is, and you know I've got the talent for more. I know you still brew--you wouldn't just stop because you teach Defence. At least let me watch, or assist with preparation. Like with Hermione's potions, before."
Professor Snape paused for a long moment, considering. His voice was dangerously soft when he finally replied, "Your timing is...suspiciously punctilious."
Possibly because Severus had been discreetly making note of the professor's schedule and habits over the last month. He didn't know that the professor did his private research and brewing on Sunday evenings, but he had come to strongly suspect as much. Severus did his best to look innocent, and the professor snorted in blatant disbelief.
"Very well, you may attend if you do exactly as you are told and do not touch anything. Without waiting for a reply, Professor Snape turned and swept back into his office, leaving Severus to trail after.
"Yes sir," replied Severus anyway. He glanced around. The office was as he remembered from his first night--dark and intimidating, dominated by the huge, ornate desk and shelves of preserved specimens. One in particular caught his eye, and Severus couldn't help but ask interestedly, "Is that a mermaid? It looks...off."
The professor gave an annoyed huff. "That's because it hatched with a deformity. It did not survive past the juvenile stage, obviously."
"Obviously," Severus agreed in a faint voice, averting his eyes from the small tank. The professor had crossed the room to a side door Severus had not noticed previously, and placed his palm flat against it and murmured something too low to hear. His personal, private lab was locked by magical signature and a password, Severus noted with glee. It really might be available for exploration if he could figure out the password. There was a faint click as the door opened, and with an impatient hand, Professor Snape ushered Severus in.
The L-shaped room was everything and nothing like Severus had expected. There were the usual apparatuses one would expect to see in a private lab of a professional brewer: large floor burners as well as space for conventional brewing, a carrera prep counter with butcher's block and custom drawers for the variety of tools and appliances used. There was a crucible, vial metre, refracting microscope, centrifuge and a fanciful, curlicued glass distiller that looked like it should have belonged to a mad alchemist. Several shelves for potion vials and large cupboards that doubtless were used as cauldron and potion component storage lined one long wall. At the very end of the room stood a wash station and research area, including a small stone pensieve and a tall glass case full of bottled memories. It was high-end equipment, but not unexpected.
What did catch Severus off-guard was the location of the room. He had assumed that the lab, adjacent to the professor's office as it was, would be in the dungeon. Yet there was a wide, arched window just over the washing station. No light filtered in at this time--the sun had set nearly two hours previously this late in autumn--but stars shown through, placing the room definitely above ground.
Confused, Severus asked, "Sir? That window...We're...?"
The professor's expression was supercilious. "South tower--about halfway up. It is easier to use a translocating portal than to find adjoining quarters, laboratory and office of appropriate size near the Slytherin dorms. This way, the entrance to all of them is through my office. They all have separate entrances of their own, of course. It is...convenient."
Convenient, indeed. Not only to ensure that the professor had whichever available rooms in the castle that suited him, but it also provided a direct, near-instantaneous route to three separate areas of the castle! It was no wonder the professor seemed to be omnipresent. The quiet word he had whispered wasn't a password after all, but an instruction to where the door should open. The lock was his magical signature.
Now that Severus thought about it, a translocating portal likely explained Mr. Filch's ability to keep up with the students as well. It had always been a mystery how the old, half-lame squib had managed to be such a terror with his disadvantages. Severus chuckled quietly to himself, then asked politely, "What can I do to be of use, sir?"
The professor regarded him silently for a moment, then said quietly, "I am sure I do not need to impress upon you exactly how important it is that you not speak of anything that you see, work with or hear me talk about in this lab."
Severus shook his head emphatically.
"Good. I am currently trying to improve several different healing balms and elixirs by experimenting with the latex of the Croton lechleri."
"Sangre de Drago!" Severus exclaimed, "Like Daniela Delgado!"
The professor blinked. "Indeed. What do you know of Mistress Delgado's work?"
"I read Sprekelia and Sangre de Drago last spring, just after I got here, and over the summer her Master Class dissertation in the IGPA's publication. She's using it to make incredible strides in anti-nausea and digestive system elixirs."
"Yes." Professor Snape began lecturing clinically. "The latex has been used by Muggles for centuries in relation to various digestive complaints, which Mistress Delgado has been focusing on, but also topically on lacerations. That is where I am focusing my efforts. I have managed to successfully improve several healing balms. When added as a component to topical potions, I've found that lacerations and wounds heal between twelve and nearly twenty-two percent faster, depending on how it's prepared with which balm it is used in."
"That's...that's…" Severus worked his jaw, unable to find words. Finally, he breathed, "Have you patented any of it yet?"
The professor shrugged the notion off as unimportant. The gesture nearly brought Severus to tears. That sort of improvement would mean an enormous and nearly immediate wealth. There wasn't a healer or hospital in the world that wouldn't want to use a recipe improved on by nearly twenty-two percent. Severus was unable to keep the whine from his voice. "Why not?"
The professor glared. "You sound ridiculous, don't ever make that sound again. You cannot control your circumstances, but you may control your own reaction to most of them. Sounding like a petulant child is the first and easiest way to lose face with your peers and superiors."
It was difficult to not make a face at that, though Severus rather supposed that was the point. His elder self continued to explain. "Improvements I make to potions currently are better off unpatented until the political climate has been resolved," he said pointedly.
Ah. Of course. Once it was patented it was a matter of public record. Then the professor would have to explain to either or both sides why he hadn't kept it private for their side alone.
The professor cleared his throat and began to carefully remove several vials from a cupboard, holding each one up to a light before dropping it into a stand on his workspace. "I am currently attempting to use Sangre de Drago to improve wound balms that can be used in conjunction with an antivenin."
"Like for acromantula or grindylow bites?"
"Yes. This particular version is for a serpent bite, as it happens. A patient was admitted last year to St. Mungo's that I did some consultant work on. The patient did survive, but it was a near thing and a long and painful process. I'd like to improve on the potions used for that particular breed."
"Oh." Genuinely interested, Severus tilted his head, "What kind of snake is it?"
"I'm not entirely certain; I haven't really been able to study it. I strongly suspect she started out as vipera ammodytes but has been magically encouraged to change quite a bit. There are no horns on her snout, and she has definitely been magically enlarged. She is nearly python sized. She is definitely a viperid, not an elapid. Hinged fangs, triangular head, stocky despite her length. The venom is both neurotoxic and hemotoxic."
Severus hadn't actually known the difference between an elapid and a viperid, but he was able to follow the rest. "So the victim is immobilised and the blood is coagulating, the antivenin is trying to counter it but the Sangre de Drago to heal the wound itself is interfering with the anti-hemotoxic properties of the antivenin."
"More or less, yes."
"Someone magically bred a creature like that larger?" Severus was aghast. "Why?"
One of the professor's shoulders twitched slightly. "I really couldn't say."
Severus snorted a little. "Compensating, you think? Not very subtle imagery."
"Not everyone is." A hint of a smile ghosted across the professor's lips, before he suddenly hissed in a breath, and he muttered, "Oh, of course."
"What?"
The professor gave a soft sigh. "I've just remembered a prior engagement; I'm not sure how long I will be." He paused for a moment, flexing his fingers indecisively, then said, "If you are set on making yourself useful, then mince these--no larger than a pinhead, mind--and place them in a jar of rosemary extract for preservation. Clean up after yourself and go back to your room." The professor hesitated, and then gave him a direct look. "Do not touch anything. If I find a single instrument out of place or component missing from the cupboard, I will hold you personally responsible and use your hide to bind my grimoire. Have I made myself quite clear?"
Severus blinked, and then nodded rapidly. That was a rather dramatic threat to make, but he supposed that it was understandable that he would be especially protective of his personal research and equipment.
The professor gave him a hard look, and then exited quickly, robes flaring. Just like that, Severus found himself alone in his professor's private lab.
He managed to mince the long spiky root he had been left with for about twelve minutes before--after a paranoid glance about--abandoning his task to prowl about the office, taking a closer look at various things. He ended his circuit at research desk, cabinets and pensieve.
There were a total of fourteen shallow shelves of bottled memories behind sliding glass doors in the cabinet. They seemed to be organised using different colours of yarn tied about their necks, and then further labelled in surprisingly neat block writing. Severus leaned in closer to one of them to get a better look without touching. The yarn holding its tag in place was a bright yellow, and the tag simply read S3-T2-P37. Its neighbour, also with yellow yarn, was similarly labelled, S3-T3-P41. Disappointed, Severus leaned back again. Clearly, one had to understand the professor's organisational system to know which memory might be worth looking at.
Restlessly, Severus ran his eyes over the rest of the bottled memories, not really expecting to see anything that might help. There were other colours of yarn involved--blue, purple, green, all labeled with varying combinations of S, T and P numbers. Then he frowned. Each shelf had its own glass sliding door and small silver lock, so why was there a subtle handle on the side of the whole cabinet?
Feeling a small surge of adrenaline, Severus reached out grasped the handle and tugged. Nothing happened. Taking out his wand, Severus aimed it at the handle and whispered, "Alohamora." The cabinet clicked and the whole side of the cabinet separated from the wall. Curious, Severus nudged it open further and found a second set of of shelves. These didn't have a glass cover, and the memories inside were not colour coded, only labelled with a simple date.
Severus reached out to touch one of them, and only barely caught himself before he did so. Circumspectly he drew back again, glancing wryly at a clock on the wall, and the spiky root he had yet to finish mincing. He had no idea when the professor might return and even if it wasn’t for several hours, Severus' currently dirty gloves would have given him away by leaving smudges on the glass bottles.
Really, he was smarter than that. Especially since he was fairly sure he could access the lab again, and had a fairly good idea of the professor's schedule. Getting caught because he wanted to see his counterpart's research and was too impatient to wait until a better time was beyond idiotic, and very Gryffindor. Hermione must be rubbing off on him.
That thought got him thinking about Hermione rubbing on him, and with a chuckle at his own dirty thoughts, Severus returned to his prep table. It took a few tries, but eventually he was able to concentrate once more on the root under his fingers and not his new fantasy about a naked girlfriend in the forbidden professor's lab.
When he finally cleaned up after himself and left, the root neatly jarred and left out for the professor's inspection, it was just after ten in the evening and the older man had still not returned.
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, 23 October 1996, 10:03 AM
It was two days before Severus was able to muster the nerve up to try and sneak back into Professor Snape’s lab. It was surprisingly, ridiculously easy. Despite knowing he was more clever than most, he hadn't really expected to gain entrance. Yet both the office door and following translocation door had parted willingly for his magical signature. Apparently, however different they might be, their magic was still the same. It was a little surprising that his older self hadn't realised and taken extra precautions to keep him out.
Once he was actually standing in the beautiful lab again, Severus found that he had to muster his courage to snoop once more. He wasn't really worried about being caught; the professor had a double period and wouldn't be free for at least another hour and a half. It was still nerve-wracking to think of invading the privacy of the dangerous and pitiless older man.
Severus made his way back to the research area and the pensieve, and pulled a pair of freshly cleaned gloves from one of his robes pocket. He studied the bottled memories in front of him for a moment and then decided the purple group appeared to be the most recent. A soft Alohamora on the small sliding door lock later, and Severus had the last bottle of the series in hand. A few seconds later he was sinking into the pensieve.
The professor was standing in the same lab, wearing brewing protective gear. A small cauldron was simmering in front of him. Behind him, at the desk, there was an open journal and a Self Writing Quill taking notes as he spoke.
"Study eight, trial five. Notes beginning on page 78 purple. Base is Nagini Antivenin Number Four. Current hypothesis: using powdered dragonfly wings instead of doxy wings may cause a faster reaction and allow the pennyroyal to juice quickly enough to keep the ashwinder eggs from being destroyed."
As he spoke, the professor carefully measured out a small spoon of the powder. He sprinkled it into his cauldron, and stirred gently, making note the changes he found in the process. After several long minutes, he hissed in a breath and ground out, "Trial failure. Ashwinder eggs ruined, threat of imminent fire." Looking frustrated, the professor dumped several spoonfuls of Lapland snow into the cauldron just as actual flames started to flicker from it.
A burst of amused laughter behind him had Severus whirling, and to his shock, Damian Vector was sitting at one of the prep tables, watching the professor work. He was wearing ordinary trousers and brown robes rather than the elegant, deep blue Unspeakable issue, and his dark curly hair was tied back in a short, messy queue.
"It isn't funny," the professor groused. "It's a process. It happens to everyone."
"Maybe I'm laughing at those ridiculous goggles. I still don't understand why you want me here. You know that Sesh is better at both research and potions than I am," Damian said idly, fiddling with the cuff of one of his sleeves.
"She isn't a medic, and you are more familiar with the process of trial and error." Professor Snape's voice became mocking. "Also, she asked if I would mind you this weekend."
Damian's expression became sulky and the memory abruptly ended, the world around Severus tugging away. The professor must have removed that memory for bottling at that very moment. Well, the filing system was certainly explained now. A quick glance at the bookcase of journals did indeed reveal that they, too, were colour-coded. Why had Vector been in the lab? Surely just being a medic wasn't enough to bother including him in the research, and Severus didn't believe for a moment that Professor Snape actually needed to mind a grown man enough to want him in his private lab.
Eagerly, Severus watched the previous sequential memory, but it was clearly on a different day, and devoid of the Unspeakable. Study eight, trial five went much the same way as the last had, with a failed experiment involving keeping the ashwinder eggs cold enough to be stable but the pennyroyal hot enough to juice.
Disappointed, Severus glanced at case of memories again, and considered going back further, then shrugged a little and unlocked the back cabinet. Perhaps the memories there had some interesting or useful information. Uncertain which to choose, and feeling a clench in his gut that perhaps this was a very bad idea, he chose one from the middle. The date it was labeled for was August 12th of that year. Moments later, Severus was again submerged in the pensieve.
When he resurfaced nearly fifteen minutes later, all he could do was stare wide-eyed at the pensieve. He replaced the memory in its bottle with shaking hands and shut the cabinet door firmly. Eyes still wide, he exited the lab, shaken.
A/N: Sorry it's been so long! Life got very busy all of the sudden! In two months I went back to full time, got a promotion, had a new doctor join our staff, had our primary doctor change the office hours, accepted the resignation of our lead assistant, and oh, yeah, found out I am pregnant. I've also joined the Inter-House Fest on LJ. Because I'm a masochist. ;-) Please forgive me for not working on this story much. As always, much adoring love to my reviewers and the alpha/beta team that is so patient and awesome with me! ~Tyche
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