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The New Life	By : lilith395 Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Snape/Hermione Views: 14590 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I do not own anything to do with Harry Potter and I don't earn anything from these stories.

Chapter List
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A/N: Good Morning everyone! My apologies for the hold-up, things have been a little hectic on my side of this big ball of dirt, so I really am sorry. Special thanks go out to pittwitch, who, though probably a very busy person, went out of her way to quote Wikipedia at me because I missed a capital letter in the title. Thank you! Changed it. I can't believe anyone has ever taken that much effort to make a point, most people would've just gone: 'Oi, you've forgotten something!' ... Anyway, on with the story I guess, you guys have waited long enough for me XD

In the dungeons

I’m staring at the notes on the table, mine on one side, hers on the other. She stands next to me, staring at the same things as I am.

“When did you do this?” She asks me.

I glance at her, trying to follow her gaze to see exactly what part of my notes she is referring to. She seems to be scanning it all.

“What part?”

She looks up at me, puzzled. “All of it.”

I shrug. “Over the last twenty years. Whenever I could fit it in.”

She falls silent again, and I turn back to her notes, comparing them to mine. They are almost an exact copy, even our handwriting is so much alike it is frightening. She has a bound ledger of her research, I have the original books, marked on the texts needed. The only real difference between our work is that some things which I knew from experience would not work, she has tried. I am sure that if I had started at her age instead of ten years later, I would’ve tried it all as well. I can’t imagine how many times the cauldron must’ve blown up in her face, leaving her covered in multi-colored goo. The mental image makes me chuckle.

“What’s so funny?” She sounds a little offended. I don’t really blame her. She probably thinks I’m laughing at her work.

I pick up a piece of paper and shove it her way.

“Why didn’t you come to me sooner?”

She huffs. “I can do it without any help, had I not needed the moly.”

My time to huff. “I could’ve spared you a lot of blown up cauldrons.”

She glances down at the parchment in her hand, and flushes a nice angry red. The parchment is covered in old dried-up potion, smearing half of her notes.

“Oh really? You could’ve, could you?”

By the sound of her voice I imagine she’s riling herself up for a nice fight. Though I usually do not shy away from a fight with the girl, I’d rather avoid it today. I pick up a piece of parchment from my own notes and shove it at her.

“Yes, I could have.”

Looking down at the notes, I can see all the anger drain from her face. Wide-eyed she stares at the blotched ink, the same colored stains as the ones on her own notes, and she starts laughing. Great.

“What’s so funny?” I bite out.

“You.”

“Me?”

She nods. “You. I just had a flash of how you would look covered in the same goo as I was.” Her laughter dies down a bit. “Oh”

“What?”

“That’s why you were laughing just now.”

I smirk at her.

“Very good, Professor Granger. Now, shall we get back to work?”

We must’ve missed dinner. Though we are shut up in the dungeons, both bent over a cauldron of our own, working in perfect unison, I can feel the light withdrawing from the grounds. I believe the years of being a spy have taught me to tell time even in a cellar, though the majority of the student body would swear I can feel sundown because of my vampiric tendencies.

We are almost done with the first batch of our potion, and I wonder whether she noticed how much in sync we really are. Every stir, every chop, every crush we manage at the exact same time. This, more than her title, more than her appointment, more than her diploma, tells me she is truly a potions mistress. I stand back after the last clockwise stir, and watch both the contents of the cauldron in front of me, and the one next to mine, turn a deep orange. Just the way it’s supposed to.

I glance at the young woman next to me, and notice her eyes flicking from her own potion to mine several times before she allows herself a small smile. Almost as if she’s afraid she has done something wrong, while I have no other word for her potion than perfect. The look on her face amuses me, but at the same time bothers me. What has made her so insecure?

“You are aware I can no longer take points from you, are you not?”

She looks up at me, as if she had forgotten I was in the room at all. Her arms crossed over her chest, almost a perfect mirror of my own stance, she nods. Poor thing probably doesn’t trust her own voice.

“Tell me, miss Granger.” Reverting back to her old title as a student comes surprisingly easy when trying to teach her something. “Can you see any difference between the contents of your own cauldron and mine?”

For good measure, I raise one of my eyebrows. Granger, looking about five years younger, inspects her cauldron, then mine, and then hers again. It seems endless, and my patience is growing thin. I place one of my hands on her shoulder, moving a little closer so I can look at the potions over her head. Gods, the witch is small.

“Stop worrying, Hermione.” I don’t believe I have ever used her given name before. It feels a little odd. “One glance, is there a difference?”

She gulps, and glances, once at the orange liquid in my cauldron, once at her own.

“No?”

Gods, this woman is infuriating.

“Is that an answer or a question?” I practically growl into her ear. I feel her body stiffen against my hand on her shoulder. I hear her swallow a few times before she finds her voice.

“No, Severus, there is no difference.” I start to smile. She just has to ruin it. “At first glance.”

Fine, I’ll bite. “At first glance, miss Granger? But you are sure there will be a difference when you examine further?”

“Probably.”

“And why, pray tell?”

I fight the urge to take a step backwards, a part of me is telling me I’m standing a little too close to the young woman. I try to ignore it. She looks up at me, over her shoulder, her honey-colored eyes too close for comfort. Something inside me stirs, but I kick it back into its prison. This is not only an employee, this is one of the most annoying people I have ever met, one of the golden trio, and not to mention only a child. Unfortunately I am still a man, who, at the moment, has a young woman in his arms. Some neglected parts of me have all the right to protest. Which means they can just be neglected a little while longer. I have nothing if not control.

“Because I’m not you.” She murmurs, her lips only inches from mine. The sincerity is her eyes is almost painful. I look down on her, and it’s my time to gulp. For a moment, I do nothing. I only stare at her.

Something inside of my breaks, and I step back hurriedly, releasing her arm and breaking all contact. I will not be taken in by a few words of admiration. I have to leave her presence before I do something the both of us will regret.

“There is nothing wrong with your potion, woman. You need to learn not to doubt yourself, not to need confirmation. Believe in your own skills, not in what others say of them. Trust me on this, your potion is as perfect as mine.”

I turn to make my escape, but not before seeing her eyes light up at my words. Gods, I tell her off and she still only hears me say she’s done good. I stalk out of the dungeons, leaving her to oversee the bottling of the potions after they cool down. I trust she can handle that on her own. I take long, angry strides up to my chambers. It is all I can do not to actually run from her presence.

A/N: Thanks once again for reading, and please tell me what you think!
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The New Life