Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

To have loved, and lost (was Missed Chances)	By : professorflo Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Snape/Hermione Views: 10775 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of the characters within. I make no money from this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Remebrance
- 2-2.
- 3-3.
- 4-4.
- 5-5.
- 6-6.
- 7-7.
- 8-8.
- 9-9.
- 10-10.
- 11-11.
- 12-12.
- 13-13.
- 14-14.
- 15-15.
- 16-16.
- 17-17.
- 18-18.
- 19-19.
- 20-20.
- 21-21.
- 22-22.
- 23-23.
- 20
- 21
- 22
Is anyone still reading this? Thinking of not posting here anymore.
The gentle bubbling and popping of the cauldron was soothing. It had been too long since he'd brewed, and he now realised just how much he had missed it over the last few weeks. Despite his once yearly requests to teach DADA, potions had always been his real love. As long as he didn't have a room full of dunderheads to try and keep from blowing themselves up anyway. The familiar processes, as well as the usual ambient noises that went with a secluded potions lab – empty of students – had always calmed him, useful for a man of his caustic and irritable nature.
He would need to send out owls to all of his customers, he realised. He'd abandoned all of his orders without any communication, and he wasn't sure how many would be willing to continue buying from him and how many would have already found new suppliers.
It was a good thing he had some money saved up, until he could either sort things out with his buyers, or arrange new contracts. Luckily he held the rights to several potions of his own creation, some of which were rather sought after, and he was once of the few potioneers powerful enough to brew certain potions. And of course, there were always the more lucrative potions, which were dark enough that most wouldn't dare brew them, even if they knew how.
These were always done off the books, paid galleons in hand, along with an oath of secrecy. Of course, there were some potions too terrible even for him to agree to supply to unscrupulous clients. Potions like the ones he had not so long ago considered brewing for his own purpose. Not that he would have ever even considered it, had he not been completely arseholed at the time.
Dropping the final ingredient into the cauldron in front of him, and stirring three times, he turned the heat down so it could simmer for a few minutes until ready. He then turned his attention to one of the other two cauldrons bubbling away on the bench. They were both for a similar purpose. They were for Hermione.
Two different types of nutritional potions, enough for a week each and meant to help her regain her health after weeks of neglect, sat before him. It had cut Severus terribly to hear from Minerva how she had barely eaten anything while hidden away in a bedroom in that nasty old dump of a house. And of course now her current fixation with the children begotten of that damnable law would have left her barely eating and sleeping enough to survive. He'd seen what she was like when in the grip of an obsession – watching her around exam time had always amused him greatly - but Minerva had told him this went beyond anything she'd ever seen. At least in the past Hermione had been badgered into looking after herself to some degree by her friends. This time, though, nothing anyone had said had managed to make any difference.
Of course, Severus had no idea whether she would even agree to see him, let alone listen to anything he had to say. The likelihood of her actually accepting the potions he had brewed for her was surely infinitesimal, but he had had to try. It was all his fault, after all. Even if she took them and threw him back out it would be something. Not that that would be enough to erase even the tiniest amount from what he owed her. He only hoped that Minerva' plan was the right one.
To not tell Hermione that he was coming was a risk, but he understood her reasoning, that if he knew in advance she may well refuse to see him or even disappear to avoid the meeting. He was just concerned about how she might react to his sudden appearance, especially if she was in such a state. It could be the cause of a complete breakdown. There was also the possibility that she would lash out with her magic. She was in poor health and clearly not in full control of her feelings. And she was far more powerful that the average for her age.
He'd noticed the small tasks done almost unconsciously with little more than a flick of her fingers. Such control over her magic at such a young age could only further prove that muggleborns were in no way inferior to pureblood. He himself had not been able to wandless magic with such ease until his late 30s, and he knew he was more powerful than others his age. A large proportion of wizarding folk never gained much wandless magic beyond the ability to complete a few very simple spells at the height of their abilities, later in life.
The potential for fallout, therefore, was rather concerning. That was why they'd chosen for him to visit her at Grimmauld. The fact that the house was inherited with years of protection against the juvenile magical outburst of generations of Black children, as well as the relative privacy the old dump would provide, meant it was the first choice of venue for such a meeting. Minerva and Potter would be staying in the house, although the Weasley girl – Potter now, he supposed, would be visiting her mother with the children, just in case.
It wouldn't be long before it was time to go. He was just waiting on Minerva's patronus to appear to inform him that Hermione had returned from the Ministry. He'd timed the potions to be ready at about the usual time she had always left work to return to their home at Spinner's End. The mindless work had done much to calm his anxiety – the main reason for doing it at such a time, the other reasoning being that the calming draught that he had made for himself, (although he was going to take a phial with him, just in case) was most effective immediately after brewing.
The last of the ingredients went in, the final stirs counted, and the potions left to cool for a few minutes before bottling. Once completed and tucked away in a pocket, he finished tidying his lab. As time passed and no message cam. The tidying turned into a deep clean, ridding the room of the weeks of dirt and grime, as well as a number of out of date ingredients. When he finished, he was surprised to find he'd spend a good two hours scouring and scrubbing, and yet there had still been no word. What was keeping Minerva? Had something gone wrong?
As dirty and sweaty as he was now, he was in no fit state to be going anywhere without a shower in any case. It was as well that the call had not yet come, giving him the chance to restore himself to his earlier appearance.
Of course, it had to be the moment he'd stepped into the shower that Minerva's cat patronus bounded through the wall, causing him to drop the phial of shampoo on his big toe. Unfortunately, unbreakable glass wasn't any softer than uncharmed glass, quite the opposite in fact. He almost missed the message the patronus spoke as he hopped around in agony sure that the phial had shattered the bone in his toe, instead of itself.
"She's arrived," the cats spoke in Minerva's crisp tones. "Come as soon as you can."
Quicker than he would have ever thought possible, Severus was dry and dressed, and pulling his front door closed behind him. His last thought as he apparated off the front doorstep was that the calming potion he'd taken had long since worn off.
3 weeks earlier
His own sneering face upon the mantle mocked him, yet he was incapable of removing the offending image from its place. He deserved to be reminded of his own foolishness every moment of the day. He'd stared at the photo for enough hours that the joyful smile of his new bride was all but burned into his retina. A smile that he had driven from her face with his cruel words and actions, not just on the night of their wedding, but on every day since she'd become his wife.
In his drunken haze, he'd flayed himself more times than he could count with the remembrance of the many things that he had done and said to her. He'd begun with the way he'd used her youthful crush on him to manipulate her for years. He'd denied her the opportunity for a real relationship, by giving her enough encouragement to keep her interest, while still keeping her at arm's length. It had been almost ridiculously easy.
He'd learnt, from the early conversations of their friendship, that her reason for never pursuing a relationship with the Weasley boy had been their academic and intellectual compatibility. He had been looking for someone to fulfil his mother's role in his life, while she had needed a partner who wouldn't stifle her dreams, and who had more than a modicum of intelligence. The fact that there were no wizards of a similar age with half her intelligence and only a few he'd taught in all the years he'd been at Hogwarts who would suit, had left her short of potential suitors. Not that Severus minded.
Of course, there were always foreign wizards, who she'd had plenty of chance to meet in her work at the Ministry, even though she had worked in one of the quieter departments. She was Hermione Granger, after all, and famous enough to receive attention wherever she went. The few times that she had agreed to a date or two with a wizard that seemed to have the potential to be a suitable partner, Severus had either used their 'friendly' drinks as a chance to subtly convince her that the wizard in question wasn't a good choice, or, on the rarer occasion that she was genuinely interested, he'd gone as far as to warm the wizard off.
His notoriety was good for somethings, at least, besides the hero worship from a number of witches that had translated into a generous number of notches on his bedpost. He'd not even had to mention who he was or what he would do to the wizards that had dared ask his witch for a date. Just the merest suggestion that the relationship had a poor chance of working out, and the pathetic creatures were falling over themselves to cancel their next dates.
It had been an inwardly smug Severus that comforted a miserable Hermione following these occasions. She had bemoaned her terrible luck with men, and had wondered what it was that she was doing that seemed to land her with unsuitable dates, or drive away the few that she had actually likes. It had been the perfect opportunity to pay her the sort of compliments that soon ha her warm smile directed his way, as well as the usual lustful thoughts lingering near enough to the surface of her mind that he could easily read them without trying.
As he drunkenly replayed all these machinations over and over in his head, Severus had pondered his almost pathological need to stop Hermione from entering a relationship with another wizard, especially when he'd had no intention of forming one with her himself. He could only find the one reasonable explanation for his actions – that he had been denying his feeling for her even then since he was clearly incapable of seeing her with anyone other than himself.
Now he'd realised that, his next task would to pick apart why he'd been unable to recognise his own feeling. But for that, he'd need another bottle.
- 20
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- 22
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To have loved, and lost (was Missed Chances)