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Patience on Sunday	By : Snapeoutofit Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Snape/Hermione Views: 14134 -:- Recommendations : 4 -:- Currently Reading : 4
Disclaimer: All characters and settings are the creation of JK Rowling. I own nothing of Harry Potter and make no money from this story.

Chapter List
- 1-One
- 2-Two
- 3-Three
- 4-Four
- 5-Five
- 6-Six
- 7-Seven
- 8-Eight
- 9-Nine
- 10-Ten
- 11-Eleven
- 12-Twelve
- 13-Thirteen
- 14-Fourteen
- 15-Fifteen
- 16-Sixteen
- 17-Seventeen
- 18-Eighteen
- 19-Nineteen
- 20-Twenty
- 21-Twenty One
- 22-Epilogue
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The Headmaster was brooding as he made his way through the corridors. The scowl on his face looked as if it were etched in stone as his features twisted into a caricature of himself. His long, purposeful strides meant he covered the distance from his office to the dungeons rather quickly. That was a good thing, too. He didn’t need any time to get more pissed off than he already was.

His footfalls were nearly silent despite his haste. Old habits from his time as a spy died hard. He was stealthier still than he intended to be, or was necessary. It did make sneaking up on snogging students a hell of a lot more entertaining, though.

Stealthy silence wasn’t the only remnant of his past life that he would never be able to shake. He had been trained to be hyper-aware. His ability to observe people and situations and take in all the details was still as sharp as it had ever been. Within moments he could easily tease out the mood in the room, assess a situation, and notice things not meant to be noticed.

His black cloak billowed in his wake as he flew down the stone steps. The sconces lining the corridor cast a dim light through the hallway that was necessary for most people to see where they were going. He, however, could make his way to his old classroom with his eyes shut if need be. He had long ago memorized each imperfection in the stonework and curve in the hall.

Rounding the final corner towards the potion’s classroom, he finally forced himself to slow his pace. He took purposeful steps and willed himself to soften his features. He didn’t want his anger to be so visible on his face. An expression of general frustration would be fine, but he didn’t want to give away how truly upset he was.

The Headmaster grabbed the heavy door handle and was just about to storm into the potion’s classroom when he suddenly stopped. He pulled his hand back from the iron handle and closed it into a fist to knock lightly on the heavy oak. No answer came, so he knocked a little bit louder. Unable to control his anger enough to knock for a third time, he grabbed the handle once more and pulled hard. The heavy door creaked loudly as it swung on its hinges.

He found himself momentarily glued to the spot as he wandlessly charmed the door to stay open. He was bombarded with the scent of citrus and nutmeg emanating from a cauldron on the front table. The humidity in the air was high and it was obvious that the cauldron had been simmering on low for a long time.

He glanced around, then stilled when he heard rummaging from inside the storeroom. He sneered as he stood in the doorway, painstakingly trying to decide if he should go in or wait for her to emerge. He contemplated for a moment and decided it had already been too long. He nearly growled before walking towards the open door to the storeroom. As he closed in on the small closet, he nearly collided with the distracted Professor. She emerged through the open door and could barely balance the various boxes, jars, and vials in her arms.

“Oh! Hello, Headmaster. I apologize I didn’t hear you enter...” she said with cheerful surprise as she made her way to the lab bench. He plucked a jar off the top of the pile to keep it from falling as she attempted to place her armful of ingredients on the table.

He held the jar up to the light to inspect its contents before placing it beside the others. A snarl curled the corner of his lip in a way that made her uncomfortable as she looked at him.

“An apology is not necessary, Professor Granger,” he said with deliberate slowness. “However, I was hoping you could provide me with some...clarity.” His long, tense fingers gripped the edge of the lab bench as he leaned over it.

The rough edge to his voice made Hermione’s spine stiffen. One would imagine that his somber snark and sarcastic melancholy would have worn away more than it had with nearly eight years as Hogwarts’ Headmaster under his belt. Now that he had to interact with the public more than ever before he was better at placing and controlling his temperament, but he still succeed in striking fear in people. At his best he still made others uncomfortable, and it was clear he felt no need to adjust.

“Regarding...” she replied gently. The tone of her voice held a question and it irritated him. Her calm, controlled salinity always irked him. She had never once allowed herself to become perturbed by his sardonic nature since he begrudgingly hired her as Hogwarts’ potions mistress after several interim failures.

Initially, he had continued teaching potions after his appointment to headmaster, but the other staff members proclaimed it to be abysmal. He thought there was little reason he shouldn’t do both, but ultimately defending his position in the classroom accounted for more interaction than he cared to have.

He had brought in several professors before he was officially replaced my Miss Granger. He hadn’t wanted to, but when her resume came across his desk he knew it was finished. No one would let him get away with rejecting ‘the brightest witch of the age,’ and so the decision was made. He wasn’t particularly excited to have her, but he knew she’d at least do a decent job.

“Regarding your lack of attendance, Professor,” he spat. “Far be it from you to miss another staff meeting.”

She blinked twice as he lorded over her. Then, sighing suddenly, she dropped the formality and braced herself on the lab bench. Her other hand moved firmly to her hip as it jutted to the right and Hermione rubbed her brow in frustration.

“Severus,” she began exasperatedly while she gestured to the cauldron simmering nearby. “I’m in the middle of brewing Protegas Immuneas...you know the hospital wing always runs low at the start of cold season and it takes forever to brew.” She glanced up at him. “Four hours on...”

“Low.” The headmaster’s voice timbered as he cut her off. “I’m well aware of the brewing process. This does not explain, however, why you have not tended to your duties.” The straight line of his mouth did not move.

“In what manner am I not attending to my duties?” She gestured at the cauldron with both hands this time. “Cold season. The stores need to be maintained lest we’d rather clean snot from desktops.”

“Professor Granger, it is your responsibility to...”

The sound of the cauldron bubbling over and scorching on the low flame pulled both of their attention to the workbench. Severus immediately flicked his wand at the cauldron and cut off the flame. The potion stopped overflowing almost immediately but the scent of burnt orange permeated the room.

If the glare she shot him could take lives, she would have cut him to shreds. She chewed her lip momentarily.

“May I please attend to my duties, sir?” She asked slowly and through gritted teeth. The intentional pause she placed between each word demonstrated clearly that she was trying suppress her irritation, but it wasn’t working in the slightest.

The Headmaster took a step back and looked as if he might leave. Instead, however, he decided to look her directly in the eye.

“I am well aware of the demands associated with teaching potions here at Hogwarts. Yes, you have additional responsibilities, but that does not mean you may neglect your other obligations.” His statement flew out in one breathless and monotone burst. His words and tone of utter disgust speared her.

Subsequently, Hermione hung her head. She hated when she found herself in the space between right and wrong; fair and unfair. Truthfully, she didn’t want to apologize, but it felt like the easiest option.

“I apologize, Headmaster,” she said with some sincerity. She knew she wasn’t wrong, but he wasn’t completely wrong either, and ultimately the only way reconciliation would come was if she took full responsibility whether it was fair or not. And ultimately, this wasn’t the first staff meeting she had ever missed and it wouldn’t be the last.

The Headmaster replied to the generic apology with a curt nod. Turning on his heal to leave, he began walking towards the door. Hermione released the breath she’d been holding before flicking her wand at the cauldron and reigniting the cold flame. She uncorked one of the bottles she had brought out of the stores and didn’t noticed when he stopped in the doorway.

He stood with his back to her as he thought. He was inclined to speak, but could not understand why. The feeling he was having was rare, but he allowed himself the opportunity to act on an impulse despite his better judgement. He turned around to speak before he could overthink it any longer.

What he wanted to say to her was thank you. A simple thank you for ensuring that the hospital wing was always well stocked and rotated properly. He wanted to thank her for this because her potions were always impeccable. He wanted to apologize for distracting her and compromising the potion.

Instead, however, he continued out of the classroom and she was none the wiser. The Headmaster released the charmed door as he passed and it slammed with a deafening boom.
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Patience on Sunday