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Flawed Chemistry	By : Prentice Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Snape/Hermione Views: 7052 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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Flawed Chemistry

Pairing: Hermione Granger/Severus Snape

Category: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, drama, future-fiction, first-time

Rating: PG-13,with future R-rated chapters.

Warnings: None thus far. Unbeta'd.

Summary: Hermione Granger has finally done what everyone else
has said was impossible to do but was it worth the cost?

Story Notes: This is set post-Hogwarts, after the trio has finally
graduated. There will be little to no mention of the events in any of the books
but I do try to stay as close to canon as possible. Also, for every "real"
chapter there will be a connecting half-chapter that will either be an a. diary
entry, b. journal entry, or c. letter. Sometimes they will tie into the chapter,
other times they will be entirely independent of it. It's up to you to
distinguish which is which.

Author's Note: I'm terribly sorry I took so long to update this.
I'm afraid I've been rather sick of late but I'm finally on the mend and able to
update again. Thank you for the lovely reviews! As always, I hope you enjoy!

******

Part 3

The enchanted fire glowed warmly in the oversized hearth, its embers floating
wildly in the air before disappearing into nothingness. It�s flickering orange
glow cast strange, foreboding shadows against the darkened stone walls; making
the room seem even more forbidding than it�s owner ever could. Of course, many
would argue that point.

Professor Severus Snape sighed, shifting in his cushioned arm chair to try to
find a more comfortable position though he very much doubted he would. His right
leg was paining him again, and had been for nearly a week now. The turbulent
weather of late was making it practically impossible for the man to be able to
walk without his otherwise virtually none existent limp becoming more
pronounced. As it was, no amount of masking with his robes could hide the
distinct dip in his step as his walked.

The injury was a relatively old one, sustained during the last moments of the
final battle. The memory of how he�d incurred it was a bit blurred, however;
just a jumble of noises, flashes of gore and blood, the sickening snap of his
wand and the painful twist of his legs beneath him. Days later, he had woken to
find that, though he had been saved by one of the scouting wizards looking for
still breathing wounded on the battlefield and that most of his wounds were
superficial due to his magic assisting in healing, his leg had healed badly,
wrong. It had taken a heavy dose of one of his potion�s, a re-breaking of the
healed limb and then several months of recuperative physical therapy before his
obvious limp had waned into something that was only noticeable if you were
looking. Or if the weather was bad.

Severus pursed his lips sourly, the taste of bitter regret churning in his
stomach before he thrust it aside. So much had been gained during that battle
but even more, for himself at least, had been lost. What use was he now, if not
a spy for the Order? He was nothing more than a burnt out old Potion�s
Professor. Or so he�d heard several of the younger members of the order whisper
to one another at the celebration feast days after the final battle.

Gossip and incessant chattering had run rampant there. The young had laughed
and drank, hopefully discussing what the future might hold for them and
�quietly� discussing the older member�s futures behind their backs. The old had
laughed and drank and soberly discussed what the future might hold�for everyone.

Voldemort was dead, yes, but much had changed in the Wizarding World. It was
not the same place it used to be. War had a way of changing things, people, in a
way that no one would have ever dreamed.

Battle changed everything. For the good and for the bad. It was just a matter
of opinion which was which.

Shifting in his chair again, the Potion�s Master let out an aggravated sigh,
flexing and wiggling his toes as numbness began to set in. His circulation in
his damaged leg was poor now and no amount of potions or magic would mend it;
many a morning he woke to find his entire leg numb from hip to toe, forcing him
to painstakingly massage the life back into it.

A small price to pay for living through one of the worst battles the world
had ever seen. But, nonetheless, worth a curse or two and, usually, the
deduction of house points from some poor unsuspecting student in one of his
Potions classes; usually a Gryffindor.

Severus pursed his lips again, fingers curling against the armrests. Yes,
things did change but how they stayed the same.

After the last drink had been gulped down and the last scream of celebration
had died out, no one at the celebration had thought of anything more to think
about, to do, than to go home and sleep; begin their new life. Not Severus,
however. He was going back to the scraps of his old life, to try to regroup and
reassemble them into some kind of order.

No one had realized that this was what he had to do. They had a new lease on
life, a new hope, a new chance; Severus had nothing. His life was built on the
building blocks of war; spying, subterfuge and strategy. The three �S�s of War;
the three steps it took to win.

No one had noticed then and still hadn�t today. Almost three years had passed
but yet, here Severus was, still trying to rebuild his pathetic scraps of
livelihood. Still trying to find his own little ball of hope in his afore bleak
existence. He was beginning to suspect that he never would find it, though. His
hopes had died just a surely as Voldemort�s remains had been burned and his
ashes spell-cast into nothing.

�Incompetent fool.� Severus muttered to himself, disgustedly. He was alive,
that should be good enough for the likes of him. After all, he�d spent years,
decades, carefully making sure he kept his life intact and now he was
unsatisfied. How very pathetic.

Shaking his head, black strands of hair gently slapping the sides of his
face, the man moved in his seat, pressing his lips together in a hard line as
sharp pains skittered across his leg. It was no use, he was never going to get
comfortable. Even the warmth from the fire did nothing. He was just going to
have to give up on any expectation he had of sleeping tonight. It was nearly the
morn, anyhow. Or, very close to. He could certainly fill the intermittent hours
with potion making as he did any night he wasn�t able to rest.

Taking a deep, fortifying breath in, the robe clad figure braced his hands
steadying on the arms of his chair and forced his self to stand, grunting with
the effort. After much exertion and his leg tingling in soreness, as much he
expected it to, he was finally on his feet. Allowing a brief moment of rest to
catch his breath and become once-again steady of his own two feet, Severus
stared into the fire, watching the flames dance as his mind ran over the list of
potion�s he could prepare that would sufficiently wile away the hours left until
daybreak.

There were very few which he could make that didn�t require hours of
preparation but the few there were would be complex enough to make, forestalling
any thoughts that might pop into his head. And, at the very least, he would be
able to have them in store should he be in need of them. Or should Madame
Pomfrey, in turn, since most of the potion�s were of a medicinal nature.

How very practical of you. He thought shrewdly. Yes, Severus Snape was
always practical. Always. That was what kept him alive for so long.

With another shake of his head, the Potion�s Master tested the strength in
his leg before moving slowly around the edge of his chair and towards his
potion�s lab. For a fleeting moment, the man mournfully wished for the days when
he was able to move around these rooms or anywhere for that matter, with an
agility that had been honed as a spy. But, that was another thought to be pushed
aside.

Shuffling slowly towards his laboratory door, Severus silently made his way
inside, mentally listing all the things he would need before beginning. He never
noticed the flickering flames of his fire or the odd colors and sparks coming
from it.
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Flawed Chemistry