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HARRY POTTER FANFICTION > Hogwarts Castle
Characters: Hermione Granger, Severus Snape Genre(s): Alternate Universe, Drama, Humor, Psychological, Romance Warnings: None  (Read 7 Reviews)| Print Chapter  | Print Entire Story |
 Chapter Ten: Jam Tarts Monday, 31 August 1998 “Hi, Severus! Mum and I spent Friday putting up jam, then we made some tarts on Saturday. I thought you might like some.” Severus took the basket from her and nodded, stepping back to allow Hermione entry. “I am uncertain when I will be able to eat them, however. The potions have some unpleasant side-effects.” Hermione’s brow furrowed. “The tarts should stay good for a several more days yet; I put freshness charms on them. The jam, of course, you can eat any time. I’m sorry you’re sick again.” Severus stiffened. “It will pass.” “Of course. Gareth didn’t give me any details, but it sounds as though Melina caught whatever it was just in time.” “You needn’t worry.” He set the basket down on the small round table in the back of his sitting room. He hated seeing the concern on Hermione’s face. “I can’t help it. I care about you. And you were so sick before . . . you seemed to be getting better.” “I thought I was.” “What happened?” Severus gestured to her to have a seat on the sofa. “Nothing happened, Hermione. It’s just more of the same.” Aware that he sounded cross and dismissive, he added, “Nagini’s venom had some continuing effects. It was not completely gone from my system. The magical components of her venom were still there, causing trouble and apparently beginning to grow or multiply, sapping my own magic.” “That sounds dreadful!” “The Dark Lord’s reach is long,” Severus said softly. Unconsciously, his right hand grasped his left arm where his brand once had been. “But he’s dead, and so is Nagini,” Hermione said forcefully. “Once Melina has finished treating you, you will be fine—you will be fine, won’t you?” The note of concern crept back into her voice. Severus shrugged. “That is what Healer O’Donald reassures me. Yes.” “Gareth told me you have to rest your magic.” “I am not allowed to use it.” Severus frowned. “Exercising my magic could cause the effects of the venom to increase and for my magical reserves to decrease. In addition, one of the potions I am taking acts on my magical core, and it can be dangerous to use magic whilst taking that elixir.” Hermione thought for a moment. “When can you use magic again? It must be difficult, especially here at Hogwarts, not to use your wand.” “No spells, no potions, no wandless magic—especially no wandless magic.” Severus met Hermione’s worried eyes. “It will be at least another week. If it’s not forever.” “Forever?” Hermione blinked. He shrugged slightly and shook his head. “It probably won’t come to that. But . . .” “But you are afraid that it might,” Hermione said softly. “What good is a Potions master at a wizarding school if he can’t use magic?” Severus asked bitterly. “Worse, I could lose it altogether, become hardly more than a Squib. As it is, I can’t even use any Charmed objects that depend upon my magic to activate the charm. I never should have returned.” “You mean to Hogwarts? But you will be fine, I am sure of it. Mr Weasley never had any problems with his magic after he was bitten; he recovered completely—” “It was different for him,” Severus interrupted. “For one thing, his bite wasn’t as severe, and for another, Nagini’s venom changed over time. The mundane components remained the same, and some of the magical ones that were inherent to her nature, but the Dark L–, Riddle, had been doing things to enhance her power, including feeding her magical creatures. She ingested the magic with the bodies.” “I thought that magic disappeared after we died,” Hermione said, confused. “The active magic, yes. But there’s still magic remaining. Think a moment, Hermione. If magic disappeared completely from our corpses when we died, the same would be true of all other magical creatures and plants. And a Charmed object always retains some amount of the maker’s magic. And remember Riddle’s Horcruxes. They required not only a physical object to hold them, but some magic to encase them and tie them to the object; that magic still resonated with Riddle’s own, and his magic called to it whenever he cast a spell. We die, and our spirits may go wherever it is that spirits or souls go, but there is always some lingering magic remaining—though you are right, it does dissipate over time. That is why some magical potions ingredients must be used fresh, depending upon the source.” “Of course . . . I suppose I see that.” Hermione smiled. “This reminds me of our brain holidays, but a bit too serious.” Severus smiled. “Hello, my name is Severus and I am a recovering Death Eater. Care to take a brain holiday with me?” Hermione laughed. “Well, we could discuss all this later, when you are better and it isn’t all so serious anymore. But we could take a different sort of brain holiday now!” “Do you have any particular destination in mind?” “Oh . . . what about Transfiguration? Gareth and Alroy have discussed my Animagus training, and I’m going to begin meeting with Alroy one afternoon a week. Right now, he just has me doing more reading, but pretty soon, I’ll begin doing some of the preliminary exercises.” “I thought McGonagall was going to have you concentrate on just the apprenticeship for now,” Severus said. “Gareth said that as long as I don’t neglect my apprenticeship, I can get a start on my Animagus training. Alroy’s agreed not to give me any exercises that will tire me too much or require monitoring yet.” Hermione made a face. “I hate having them make all the decisions about what I study and when, but it’s part of the deal!” “You are an apprentice, Hermione, or you will be tomorrow. Your life isn’t your own any longer,” Severus said warningly. Hermione laughed. “Well, it’s not that bad. I think Gareth will be okay about most things. I get weekends off—that’s when I’m meeting Alroy, on Saturdays—and if things go well this autumn, he’s going to let me take a Muggle class or two next term and just adjust my Arithmancy schedule.” Severus nodded slightly. “You are fortunate, then. He would be within his rights as your master to insist you study nothing but Arithmancy.” “I know. And I get every weekend off, both Saturday and Sunday, and that’s more than the law requires. And,” Hermione said with a sly grin, “Professor Dumbledore put in a ‘renegotiable’ clause for me.” Severus’s eyebrows rose. “Renegotiable?” “Yes, after six months, and Gareth agreed to it. I still would have to continue in my apprenticeship for at least another six months, of course, or until I qualify, but I can renegotiate the terms or even decide to take an extended break. If I take a break, he’s not obligated to take me back at the end of it, though.” “Why would you do that? I can understand wanting to renegotiate some specific term that you might decide in retrospect was unfavourable to you, but breaking your apprenticeship in the middle—it would be frowned upon by other masters and employers, and it would not be in your best interests educationally, either. You need the continuity and intensity of training, or doing an apprenticeship is pointless. You will have wasted the first six months with nothing to show for it.” “Oh, I don’t intend to take a long break from it; it’s just one option. I thought . . . I’d like to take Muggle courses. Maybe I might decide I want to take more than one or two at a time, that’s all. Or there might be some other opportunity that I don’t want to pass up.” “Opportunities are fine, but you don’t want to throw away your apprenticeship on a whim.” “Don’t worry about it, Severus. I doubt I’ll be leaving my apprenticeship until I attain my mastery.” “Hmmph. Good, then.” “But I’ve been reading more about internal Transfiguration. Alroy said that if everything is going well, I might be able to begin trying it by Christmas.” She sighed. “That seems so far away. I’m sure I could perform internal Transfigurations sooner.” “Perhaps, but as you say, your first obligation is to your apprenticeship. You will likely find yourself so well occupied that you have no time to contemplate the pace of your Animagus training.” Hermione smiled. “You’re right, of course. I just always want to dive in and do as much as possible.” “But thoroughly, Hermione. That is important.” He looked over at the basket. “You know, I just might try one of those jam tarts.” Hermione brightened. “Oh, good! I hope you like them.” Severus started to reach for his pocket for his wand, which wasn’t there, but stopped himself. He stood, retrieved the basket, and set it on the coffee table in front of them, then sat back down in the chair at the end of the couch. “You made them with your mother? No magic?” “No magic. I actually am not very good at cooking, either with or without magic, but at least I know my way around a Muggle kitchen. I’d be hopeless in Mrs Weasley’s kitchen.” Hermione stopped, remembering that the Weasleys’ kitchen was now bereft its mistress. “That is, I don’t know how to cook using magic.” Severus nodded, subdued. It was never a comfortable thing for him to remember those members of the Order or of the staff who had died, and Molly’s and Sinistra’s deaths weighed particularly heavily upon him. Had he lived at their expense? Or at least, at Sinistra’s expense? “I’m sorry . . .” “It does not seem that we can speak of anything without the conversation turning toward . . . more serious matters,” Severus said. “It is simply the way things are, Hermione.” “What about those tarts, though? If you think you could eat one.” “My potions were a few hours ago. I believe a tart would be welcome. And some tea to go with it. I should have offered when you arrived.” “Tea would be nice.” “Twiskett!” Twiskett arrived with a hollow pop. “Tea, please, a large pot,” Severus requested. Twiskett smiled shyly at Hermione and nodded. “And light the lamps,” Severus added. Twiskett snapped his fingers and the lamps lit; another little flicking of his fingers, and all the candles but one were snuffed. When there were no further orders, he disappeared with a small snick. After Twiskett delivered their tea, Hermione poured for them. Severus took two tarts from the basket and set them on the table. “They look nice,” Severus said, trying to think of something appreciative to say. The jam filling was beautifully glazed and the crusts, golden brown. “Thank you.” Hermione blushed. “Actually, these are ones that Mum put together. I helped with the jam and rolling out the crust, but . . . well, the edges on hers were nicer. Mine were kind of blobby.” “You have had little opportunity whilst at Hogwarts to practise any culinary arts,” Severus pointed out. “I am sure that your skills will improve if you wish to spend the time on such things.” Hermione nodded as he took a bite of the tart, waiting anxiously for his reaction. He chewed, swallowed, and took another bite. She relaxed. She supposed that taking a second bite meant he liked it. “Did you know that they used to teach a twice-weekly course in Culinary Charms and Housewitchery at Hogwarts?” Hermione asked. Severus nodded, mumbling something through another bite of jam tart. “I didn’t. Well, I found out, obviously. When I was doing research for Harry a couple years ago.” Hermione didn’t mention that that was when she had discovered the identity of Severus’s mother. “But they were optional courses, I guess. They never gave NEWTs in them, and they stopped even giving OWLs in them by the fifties. I don’t know when they stopped offering them.” Severus took a sip of tea. “It was when I was a student. It wasn’t something I would have been interested in or noticed—but Madam Penrose still came in and taught a Housewitchery course one afternoon a week until my fifth or sixth year. She retired or got sick, and they never hired anyone to replace her. I don’t think there was much call for it. It was more of an organised activity than a real course.” “I would have been interested,” Hermione said. “You’re interested in everything, though,” Severus said with a smirk. “Not everything,” Hermione said with a roll of her eyes. “Who used a Time-Turner her third year to try to take every optional course offered?” “But I dropped Divination! You knew about that? About the Time-Turner?” “Mmph. How else were you to take all the classes with the conflicting schedules?” Severus asked rhetorically. “Not that I was told until after the foolishness had begun. I would not have approved.” “Would you have forbidden it?” Hermione asked, eyes wide. Severus twitched. “I could not have forbidden it. I had no say in the matter. My class was not one of the ones affected and you were not a student in my House. It was up to the Headmaster and his Deputy.” “But you would have.” “It is moot. I was not even asked an opinion. And I understand from the impossible events at the end of the year that it proved a useful device.” His tone was grudging. “For at least some people.” Hermione remembered that although she and her friends might have been relieved that they could effect the simultaneous rescue of Sirius and Buckbeak, Severus likely had experienced it all quite differently. Especially since he’d been hexed. And she’d been one of those who had done it. He had done what he’d thought was best, and even though he hadn’t liked them, he had tried to save them. Of course, his dislike of Sirius had probably played a role, too. Finally getting revenge for Black’s prank all those years ago . . . and for his presumed betrayal of the Potters. “I’m sorry,” Hermione said. “We were all in the dark, really.” “Some of us more so than others,” Severus said, setting down his teacup. His shift in mood was palpable, and Hermione felt a sudden chasm open between them, as though the events of the last few years hadn’t happened and she was sitting with the Potions master who “had seen no difference” when she had been struck by the curse on her teeth, the teacher who had hated Harry from the moment he’d set foot in his classroom, the one who had made so much of their school experience unpleasant, to say the least. “I’m sorry,” she repeated softly. Severus shook his head slightly, seeming to contemplate his tea. “It was all . . . . It was a lifetime ago. I don’t even know what I feel about it all any longer. Too much has happened. And for you to apologise or express regret—you really had little to do with any of it, Hermione. Not then. And not what had already happened, what couldn’t be changed.” He raised his head and looked at her. “You can be glad that you had the Time-Turner, that you could change what seemed to be the inevitable. And not for the last time, either. My own . . . inevitable death . . . my unexpected survival . . .” “I know that you said that you sometimes wish you hadn’t lived,” Hermione said. “Do you still feel that way?” Immediately, she regretted the question. Severus grimaced. “You cannot know. When I returned to Hogwarts last week, I thought I might have some normalcy, even though I’m not sure what that is. But it seemed better, a little better, at least, than sitting at Spinner’s End. Now, though.” He took a breath. “I tell you not to worry, but I don’t want to become a Squib. I don’t even want to have to recover from this. I don’t think I have the energy left to do it. Hard enough, just living.” Hermione reached across the coffee table and took his hand. “Is there anything I can do? Anything I can do to help?” He shook his head and folded his fingers around hers. “Nothing . . . except . . . another brain holiday? If you can visit again. We’ll both be busy.” He cleared his throat. He feared he was sounding maudlin. “Of course! I’m sure we can find the time. But if there isn’t anything I can do, you should still ask for help from anyone who can help,” Hermione said. “If you aren’t well enough to teach this week, I’m sure that Professor McGonagall would understand and—” “I must teach,” Severus interrupted. “The Headmistress already inquired. I don’t want her to think I’m incapable. Or for the students to learn of my current state. I need to get on with it. She’s already made allowances for me, for my illness, for my absence this summer. Flitwick is practically her deputy already.” He sighed. “I don’t want to be ungrateful, but I want everything to be as normal as possible.” Hermione frowned. “As long as you don’t ignore your health. I’m worried that you’ll do too much. You seem so tired. What about your classes?” “Strong coffee will help. And I’m not doing any demonstrations until I can use my magic again.” “But there might come a time when you think you have to use your wand. You could hurt yourself. And you might just overtire yourself even if you don’t.” Severus grunted and released Hermione’s hand. “It’s not that dire. Madam Pomfrey is being annoyingly conscientious in checking on me every few hours, and the Headmistress is requiring me to have Twiskett present whilst I teach, just in case one of the students has an accident. As for my wand,” he added, trying to lighten his tone, “I am not carrying it, so I can’t use it. The way that I feel now, I doubt I will forget I’m not supposed to perform any magic. The potions I am on are quite enervating. I actually felt in better health before the Healer got her hands on me.” “Well, I still think you should ask for help if you need it. I’m glad that you are being well-looked-after, but don’t be stubborn. I am sure that Professor McGonagall wants you healthy, and if she wanted to replace you as deputy, I think she already would have done it.” “Speaking of which, I need to speak to Flitwick about some staff issues, and it is almost lunchtime.” Hermione stood. “Do you need anything from Hogsmeade? I should have asked before I came up this morning, but I have the entire afternoon free. Or if you need anything else? Something I can do?” Severus stood and quirked a smile at her. “The only thing I needed this morning was a brain holiday with you. I have appreciated your visit. I am sorry if it was not pleasant for you, especially on your last day as a free witch before you begin your apprenticeship.” “Oh, no! I enjoyed it! And if you need any help . . .” “No, I have my classroom set up, with the house-elf’s help, and Flitwick is assisting me with the few other tasks I might have had today. The Sorting is this evening; I thought I would take the afternoon to . . . to prepare for that.” He needed a nap, but didn’t want to say that to Hermione. “All right, but if you change your mind, just owl me. I’ll only be settling into my new room this afternoon, or maybe helping in the garden. Nothing that I couldn’t leave.” “Have a good afternoon, Hermione. I will owl you when the Healer pronounces me fit for magic, and we can take another brain holiday. Perhaps in more pleasant environs.” He walked her to the door. “I enjoyed spending time with you. I hope you enjoy the jam and the rest of the tarts.” Severus smiled. “Thank you for those. I will enjoy them, I am sure.” As he opened the door, Hermione reached up and touched his shoulder, then she stood on tiptoe and kissed his cheek. He barely had time to be startled by that when she was out the door and hurrying away. His fingertips went to the spot where her lips had just brushed his skin; he felt his face warming as he incongruously thought that he was glad he had shaved that morning. He closed his door with a gentle click, still smiling. Next Chapter Eleven: Don’t Frighten the Firsties Monday, 31 August 1998 Severus greets the first-years, and it’s a more memorable occasion than he’d anticipated. He obtains a new admirer before the Sorting. Characters: Severus Snape, Rubeus Hagrid, Poppy Pomfrey, Twiskett |
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