“Miss Granger, what are you looking at?”  Professor Snape scowled as he passed behind Hermione Granger that Friday evening in September.

“N-nothing, Sir.  I was just wondering…” Hermione was in the Potions classroom serving detention.  Her Owl-Hastening Potion, a challenging but not impossible concoction, had been uncustomarily sloppy, and Professor Snape had held her back to complete it to his satisfaction.

“Hmmm…what a coincidence.  I was also wondering… Wondering how you can expect to obtain satisfactory marks in your classes if you do not pay attention to what you are doing.  Do you think I will find the answer to my speculations in this phial here?” He gestured with the filled container of viscous amber liquid in his hands.

Hermione shook her head, then said softly, “No, sir.”

“Then why are you looking there?  Does this bottle, unbeknownst to me, magically provide the answers to your questions?”  Professor Snape sighed.  “Never mind.  Carry on.”  He placed the phial carefully on the shelf of medical concoctions to be picked up by Madam Pomfrey, and sat wearily behind his desk.  “What were you wondering, Miss Granger?  To satisfy my curiosity.”

“Oh, it’s really nothing,” she replied.  Looking up to see her Potions professor grimacing at her, she added, “Your Vitality Tonic is so uniform, and such a nice caramel colour.  I was wondering how you get it like that.  I’ve been – ” Hermione trailed off self-consciously, betrayed by her guileless Gryffindor temperament…Snape saw instantly what he had come to think of as the ‘Gryffindor Wrongfootedness Face’ – the look that said ‘Oh crap!  Why did I open my big mouth!’

“You have been…” Professor Snape prompted in his softest voice, making Hermione shiver with foreboding.  For a beat the air was totally quiet, except for the softly-bubbling cauldron of Hermione’s assignment.

Suddenly Hermione Granger’s eyes filled with tears, and the Potions Professor sat up in alarm.  “I’ve been – practicing – the – Vitality potion – but – it doesn’t – ever – turnoutlikeyoursdoes,” she choked out before bursting into sobs and turning to face the back of the room, her face hidden in her hands.

“And why may I ask, would you be practicing the Vitality potion?  A very difficult and time-consuming concoction that – correct me if I am wrong – is not on the Potions Syllabus for Hogwarts students.  Or perhaps you again think you know something I do not?”  Apparently oblivious to her tears, Professor Snape continued to question her in his soft but insistent voice.

Hermione poked around in her pockets but didn’t seem to find what she was looking for, and took to scrubbing her blotchy face with the hem of her school robes.  Professor Snape sighed and cleared his throat.  Turning to look at him, Hermione saw that he was waving a square of white cloth from his place behind his desk.  “Oh, for Heaven’s sake.  Do you not carry a handkerchief, Miss Granger?  If you are going to continue to indulge in juvenile hysterics in my classroom, I insist that in future, you do so.”  Approaching him, she retrieved the iron-creased fabric and blew noisily into it. 

In fits and starts, with much sniffling and several drying charms, the truth came out.  Miss Granger’s cat, the unsinkable Crookshanks, was having trouble with his eyes.  The proprietors of the pet shop she’d bought him from had recommended several potions, but they hadn’t been working.  An expert, put upon by Miss Granger during the first Hogsmeade weekend, had speculated that the cat’s ancestry must contain blood from a more exotic creature than a kneazle, and the feline’s prognosis looked quite un-encouraging.

Miss Granger’s next step was to undertake a series of unsupervised, untested and unproven potions experiments, executed in some secret location during the wee hours.  Her recipes (the basis of her heartstoppingly glib and irresponsible trials) came mostly from the Restricted Section of the library, and her ingredients were (thankfully) purchased with her own money at the Apothecary in Hogsmeade.

“Do you have any idea what you could have done to yourself – to THE SCHOOL – with the ingredients you were working with in – in – in there?”  Snape yelled at her at the top of his lungs, once she’d finished describing, amidst sobs and snotty gulps, her tale of woe.  “Stupid girl!  You could have gotten yourself killed!  Burnt a hole in the floor!  Turned the next person who walked into the room into a creature too horrible to imagine!”  Snape paced in short turns behind his desk, wringing his hands as if in an attempt to keep from throttling his star pupil.  “You could have gotten me fired!”

”I’m sorry Sir,” Hermione replied wetly, “But I took lots of precautions, truly I did. I cleaned the bathroom floor really w – oops – I mean I never took my eyes off the cauldron when I was blackening the Vampire Bats’ guano, and – ”

Snape interrupted her.  “Vampire Bats’ Guano???  You were blackening Vampire Bats’ Guano in a student’s cauldron in a bathroom – without any supervision – and without proper ventilation?  WHAT WERE YOU THINKING?”

Hermione had started to cry again.  “I don’t know Sir,” she gulped, “I – “

Professor Snape silenced her with a wave.  “Never mind.  I don’t actually want to know what you’re thinking – I’m sure that whatever it is, I’d be disappointed.  Get out of here, Miss Granger.  Your detention is over.”  Professor Snape shook his head wearily and sank into his chair.

“But – my potion…”

“Miss Granger, you got zero on your potion.  Now leave.”

-*~~*~~*-

Hermione Granger was very apprehensive come the next Potions lesson.  She wanted very much to make up for the loss of marks from her last assignment, but she was afraid to draw attention to herself in case Professor Snape was still angry.

The lesson was uneventful, but her worst fears were realised when the rest of the pupils stood up to leave.  “Miss Granger.  See me after class.”  Professor Snape spoke without looking up from the parchment he was writing on, but Hermione thought she could feel the malice radiating from him nonetheless.

Hermione waited at her workstation until all the other students were gone, then she arose and stood in front of Professor Snape’s desk.  “Yes, Sir,” she said.

Professor Snape leaned back and sighed, eyeing her speculatively.  “During our – discussion – last week I neglected to extract a promise from you not to continue your ill-conceived experiments.  Have you?”

“Have I what, Sir,” Hermione asked, shifting her weight nervously from foot to foot.

“Never mind, Miss Granger.  You just answered my question.” For a moment she just stood there, staring at her Potions professor – who was in turn staring back.  What glittered in his black eyes, contemplation or malice, was difficult to tell.

“Miss Granger,” he said in his softest yet most dangerous voice, “You cannot continue to test experimental potions of your own design with inferior equipment in a disused, ill-lit girls’ bathroom without supervision.”

Hermione pressed her lips together and tears sprang to her eyes.  “But Sir, if I don’t find something that works, Crookshanks’ eyes will just keep getting worse, he – “

Snape waved his hand dismissively.  “Yes yes.  Spare me the sentimental mewling.  I assume you have been to see Madam Pomfrey about this matter?”  Snape crooked an eyebrow at her.

“No, Professor – I thought – well, I’m sure she would think it was a waste of her time,” Hermione said, looking at her shoes.

“Hmmm.  Possibly.  But I daresay she would consider re-attaching your epidermis to your corpus, restoring your humanoid features or re-growing one of your limbs to be if not a waste of her time, certainly a tedious diversion – and that is what I predict she will be doing to you, or something like, if you continue to fiddle with stuff outside your competence, girl.”

Hermione remained silent.

“So, I think the first order of business is for you to speak with Madam Pomfrey about your predicament – or should I say your feline’s predicament.”

“First step, Sir?” Hermione asked.

Professor Snape sighed.  “Yes, Miss Granger,” he said dryly.  “No sense in you wasting your time if a remedy already exists.”

“But – Sir, you’re not going to make me pro-“

Professor Snape silenced her with a glare.  “Miss Granger, what kind of a person do you think I would be if I were to allow you to continue those ill-advised experiments in the – loo?”  He made a face and continued, “During hours when you should be working on the challenging coursework of your final year?”  Snape shook his head.  “On second thoughts, don’t answer that.  Let me just say that it cannot be done.  It is dangerous, improper and a waste of time.  If something were to happen, or if any of the Governors were to catch wind of it, both myself and the Headmaster, not to mention your Head of House, would most likely be sacked.”  Hermione quailed at his words.

“However.  I am savvy enough about the stubbornness and irrationality of teenage girls – especially where their pets are concerned – to know that it would be useless of me to forbid you to try to come up with a solution.  Am I right?”

Thinking that he would take back his words and tell her that he didn’t want to know what she was thinking, Hermione kept silent.  When his speculative look turned into a glare, she nodded diffidently and sighed.  “Yes Professor Snape, I would continue to try, even if you forbade me.  But at least if you forbid me you can’t be held responsible?!  I’d be disobeying orders!”

Snape shook his head with a look that said ‘nice try’.  “No, I’m afraid that won’t do.  I know about it, therefore it is incumbent upon me to ensure that it doesn’t continue.  By whatever means necessary, including informing the Headmaster, which I have done.”

Hermione’s face crumpled, and she fished in her sleeve for a moment and retrieved a huge, wrinkly ball of polka-dot cotton.  At Professor Snape’s look of dismay, she said, sniffling, “It’s Hagrid’s.  I was visiting him, and I got to talking about Crookshanks, and…” Snape rolled his eyes.  “What did Professor Dumbledore say?”

“He agreed with me,” Snape said silkily.

“Oh.”  Without asking to be excused, Hermione turned and after picking up her book bag from her desk, made her way to the door.  Professor Snape’s voice stopped her.

“Miss Granger.”

“Yes Professor?”

“You give up too easily.  Come back here.  And pick up some backbone on your way, if you please?”  Hermione trudged back to Snape’s desk.  “Miss Granger.  I advise you not to go into a career in the area of Magical Law Enforcement – you make a terrible interrogator.”

Hermione again stood before the Potions master’s desk, looking confused.  “Sir?” She said questioningly.

“For the record, you never asked me what the Headmaster was agreeing with.”

After a pause, Hermione closed her eyes in frustration before saying, “Professor, what was the Headmaster agreeing with?”

Snape nodded.  “That’s better.  He was agreeing with my suggestion.  Miss Granger.  Neither the Headmaster nor I can allow you to continue your potions experiments unsupervised.  To that end, Mr Filch and Mrs Norris will be on the lookout for you, and points will be taken and detentions levied if you are found doing so.” Hermione hung her head and blew noisily into Hagrid’s handkerchief. 

“However.  Every Thursday, I spend the whole evening here, grading papers.  It would be acceptable to me if you came here and, using your own ingredients, conducted your experiments with my supervision.  I would not be available to advise or – rescue – you, and you would be allowed to work for only one night a week, but in this more suitable venue, you will probably find that you won’t lose too much time.”  Hermione looked up in surprise and Snape shook a finger at her.

“I will not have you bothering me or interrupting my work.  At the beginning of the evening, you will tell me what you plan to do that evening and I will tell you what’s wrong with your plan.  You will execute your experiments quietly, you will clean up your area to a pristine state when you are done, and sneak out like a church mouse.  You will defer to my judgement in all matters, and you will not conduct any experiments outside of your allotted time.  Do I make myself clear?”

Hermione nodded numbly, while tears dripped from her cheeks onto the front of her robes. 

“What do you say,” he asked sharply.

“Thank you, Sir,” Hermione whispered.  For a long moment they just stared at each other, Hermione safe behind her pilfered hankie, and Professor Snape secure behind his desk.  “Shall I come this Thursday?”

Professor Snape nodded.  “Bring your ingredients, your notes and your Potions book.  You may use one of the school cauldrons.  I am here from seven ‘til eleven.  I will give you a note to return to your Tower if you stay past curfew.  Dismissed.”

-*~~*~~*-

For six Thursdays, Hermione appeared at the Potions classroom on the dot of seven.  Each week she stopped at a workbench to put down her supplies, then approached Professor Snape at his desk and handed him a sheet of parchment.  On it she had written a recipe she had copied from a book in the library (a different one every week), her thoughts on how it could be modified, and what she planned to do that night.

Snape always kept the parchment.  Sometimes he just nodded, said ‘carry on’ without looking up, and continued marking.  Sometimes he growled or snorted derisively at something – she hoped it was the original recipe – or gave a long-suffering sigh.  Sometimes he said ‘that isn’t going to work, Miss Granger.  Try this…’ and he would make notes on a separate parchment for her to take away.  And sometimes he would just make comments about portions, cauldron temperatures, uniform ingredient processing, or wand technique.  After the first ten minutes she was there, it was as if Hermione was working alone.

At a quarter to eleven, she began to clean up, and at eleven on the dot, she preceded her Potions Professor out the door.  She said ‘Good night, Professor’, and he reciprocated.  The seventh Thursday was the first instance Professor Snape had spoken a word to her between seven-fifteen and eleven o’clock.

“Your parchment didn’t indicate you would be working on a Vitality Tonic tonight.”  It was ten o’clock exactly, and Hermione had finished what she had planned for that night.  She thought she’d practice the elusive concoction, since she was hoping it would be the basis of her cure.

“No Sir.  I was done early and I thought I’d practice it, since it is the most dynamic in its family of potions, and particularly because of the use of Tincture of Giant’s Whiskers – I believe that a tonic for Crookshanks will be very much like this potion, Professor Snape.”  Hermione braced for the chiding her irascible Professor was bound to give her.

“Well, Miss Granger, you may be correct.  You will find, however, that you cannot learn to make the Vitality Tonic from a book.  It is one of the potions that require a specific frame of mind – something that cannot be quantified in a manual.  Good makers of such potions usually learn from a Master.”  Professor Snape had spoken without looking up, and continued his red-pen analysis of an essay without skipping a beat.

“Aaah,” Hermione said.  She killed the flame under the cauldron, cleaned up and left early, feeling very discouraged.

The next week, when Hermione handed Professor Snape the parchment detailing her plans, he looked up in surprise.  “I thought you were interested in the Vitality Tonic.”  Hermione nodded.  “Then why are you not planning to work on it?” he inquired softly, holding the parchment lightly in his hands.

“You said it could only be learnt from someone else.  I didn’t think it would be any use to work on it on my own,” she replied, dejected.  “This potion is another family entirely, I already have the skills to brew it.”

“Yes, skills you learnt here in class.  You won’t get where you want to go with just your Hogwarts education under your belt, girl.  There is a great deal more to learn.”  Snape leaned back and crossed his arms.  “I advise you to work on the Vitality Tonic.  Prepare a double batch of ingredients, but only use one batch for now.  Heat the Hart’s blood, add the ground Mouselmeg and stir it with a hazel twig, not with a steel spoon as the recipe indicates.  Tell me when you’re done.”

Twenty-five minutes later, Hermione was ready to tell Professor Snape.  The Potions professor had been busy with his normal load of marking, but he found time to glance at Miss Granger on occasion, and was stowing his quill in his desk in anticipation of her signal.  “I’m finished, Professor,” Hermione said, even as Snape got up from his chair.

“Yes, I noticed.  There is some particulate matter in your Tincture of Giant’s Whiskers, but the Hart’s blood base appears satisfactory.”  Professor Snape peered carefully into the simmering cauldron, whisking the hazel switch around energetically.  He signalled Hermione to sit and leaned back against the front of his desk, crossing his arms and sighing.  “I believe that your are correct to concentrate your efforts on the Vitality Tonic.  You will find – “ Snape shook his head, “Never mind.  That is for another day.  When you have mastered the potion.”

Hermione nodded, a look of confusion on her face, and took out a parchment and quill.  “Don’t expect me to provide assistance like this every week.  However, I think it would be a waste of your time to pursue any other avenues, so I will work with you on the potion, this once.”  Hermione nodded again.  “The problem with the Vitality Tonic is that, because it is affecting the energetic centres of the subject, it requires not only ingredients and magic to be successful, but it actually requires a particular frame of mind on the part of the brewer.  It is arcane but not overly-taxing.  You should be able to master it at one go.”

Over the next two hours, Professor Snape instructed Hermione in the proper mind frame for the creation of the Vitality Tonic.  At one point, when Professor Snape was telling Hermione that it was one of many potions – too advanced for Hogwarts students – that relied upon the personality of the brewer for its properties, she must have made a face – because he said wryly, “Caution, Miss Granger.  I cannot take points for what goes on in your brain, unfortunately, but I will be eager to do so if you let fly with that loose Gryffindor tongue of yours.”  Professor Snape seemed a little surprised and embarrassed by his own joke, and added, “I expect you to brew this potion successfully on your own from now on, Miss Granger – I’ve already spent far more time on you than you deserve.” 

Hermione only nodded – she did not appear to take offence at Professor Snape’s words.  The Potions master continued to lecture and advise, demonstrating as he went on one batch while Hermione practiced on the other.  At eleven, the concoction wasn’t finished, and Snape said “It will be another twenty-five minutes before it’s done – you should be able to complete the potion in four hours in future.  You should be able to continue on your own from here, I will wait until you are finished.”  And with that he turned on his heel and strode to his desk, where he remained, apparently oblivious to the presence of the young Gryffindor, until she began to wash the cauldrons.

-*~~*~~*-

From then on, Professor Snape took a slightly greater interest in her work.  Slightly greater.  He seemed to have some kind of magical radar for improperly-sliced, diced, minced, mashed, dissected, denuded or extruded potions ingredients, and Hermione became accustomed to hearing, head bent over her cutting board, “Miss Granger.  I know Muggles have machines that do that, but since you are at Hogwarts, kindly remember blanks don’t just blank themselves, you know.”  (Insert potions ingredient and cutting method therein).

“Yes Sir,” was her reply.  Sometimes cheerful, sometimes glum, depending on the progress of her work. 

As predicted, she had mastered the basic Vitality Tonic and was working on modifications, progressing methodically through likely families of ingredients, using her stock of arcane recipes from the Restricted Section for ideas and inspiration.

Crookshanks often accompanied her and was (with Professor Snape’s approval) dosed regularly with the resulting concoctions, to no obvious effect.  His vision steadily deteriorated, while on a weekly basis the Potions Professor muttered acid comments and suggestions from behind his desk, without so much as raising his head.

In early March, Hermione caught the flu, twice, and both Poppy and Snape forbade her from entering the Potions classroom for the rest of the month, citing respectively her weakness and need to study for NEWTs.  The first Thursday in April, Hermione showed up at the classroom as usual, carrying Crookshanks.  Professor Snape looked up and commented on the absence of her satchel and shrunken box of potions ingredients.  As Hermione stepped up to her usual workbench and laid Crookshanks on the table, Poppy Pomfrey knocked and stepped through the door.

“Good evening, Professor.  Miss Granger asked if I could pop by.”  Professor Snape glared at Hermione and shook his head in irritation.

“Professor Snape – Oh, and thank you, Madam Pomfrey, for coming by – I hope you don’t mind too much, Sir.”  Hermione looked back and forth between the two as both approached her workbench.  “You see, Professor, Crookshanks seems to be getting better.  Here, look.”  Hermione held him as first Poppy then Professor Snape peered into his eyes.

“Yes, Hermione – he does look better.  What have you been doing to him?”  Madam Pomfrey looked quizzically at Professor Snape, who looked back and shrugged.

“Madam Pomfrey, I really don’t know.  You see, the potions I’d been working on, with Professor Snape’s help, we – I didn’t have high hopes.  I really don’t understand why this is happening, especially after missing a month of research,” Hermione said, glaring reproachfully at her Potions professor.

Snape sighed.  “Well, it might just be the cumulative effect of being dosed for three months with variations of Vitality Tonic,” he said.  “I don’t believe it’s ever been used for long-term therapy – “ Snape scowled at Poppy, “Unfortunately, in the area of wizarding medicine, if a potion is tried once and doesn’t work, it’s usually discarded.”

Poppy ‘hmmph’ed indignantly, but Snape cut her off with a dismissive wave.  “At any rate.  I expect Madam Pomfrey will wish to examine the – er – patient thoroughly,” Snape bared his teeth at the mediwitch, but it couldn’t really be called a smile, “And if – he – turns out to be as well as he looks, I expect you shan’t need to return, am I correct?”  Professor Snape looked at Hermione with a crooked eyebrow.

“Yes, Professor, I suppose so,” Hermione said reluctantly, as Madam Pomfrey gathered the cat in her arms and made her way out the door.  “I guess I’ll go with Madam Pomfrey now – shall I pop by later and let you know how it went?”

“No need.  I am certain the Matron will fill me in when I see her tomorrow at breakfast.  Good day, Miss Granger.  And – good work.”

-*~~*~~*-

Seven years later…

Professor Snape was sitting at his desk, marking papers as was his habit of a Thursday evening.  When a knock came at the closed door, he answered, “Come in,” without looking up.

“Good evening, Professor,” a familiar voice said softly.  Professor Snape looked up in surprise.

“Good evening, Miss Granger.  It is still Miss Granger, I presume?”  Hermione nodded.  “What brings you to Hogwarts this evening?”

“Well Professor, I don’t know if you heard that I’m working in the research laboratory at St Mungo’s?”  Snape nodded.  “I came tonight hoping that you still made a habit of marking papers on Thursdays,” Hermione smiled and her old professor looked back at her evenly, “to – actually – ask you something about the work I did for Crookshanks during my final year here.”  Snape continued to stare at her.

Hermione babbled on, “I realise that it was seven years ago,”

“That’s comforting to know,” Professor Snape muttered in an undertone.

“And I know that you didn’t pay much attention to what I was doing,” At that Snape’s eyes flashed with – something – but Hermione didn’t notice.  “But I was wondering if I could just pick your brain a little – “ She trailed off as the Potions professor made a face, presumably at her choice of words.  “Sorry Sir, you know what I mean?”

“Regrettably, yes, I do.  It gratifies me to see that you haven’t grown out of your Gryffindor artlessness – the Sorting Hat never lies, or so I’m told.”  At that Hermione rolled her eyes.  “However.  Yes, go ahead.  Pick – away.”  Snape spread his arms in a gesture more of resignation than welcome.

Hermione swallowed and sat in the chair behind her old workbench.  “Well Sir, I don’t know if you recall the variant on the Vitality Tonic that I was working on right after Christmas?”  Professor Snape pursed his lips and stared at the ink blotter on his desk, then nodded.  “Well, after Crookshanks got better – he died by the way, just last year, with perfect vision ‘til the end – I couldn’t stop thinking about the work I did here, and wondering why he just spontaneously recovered.  Did you ever?  Wonder?”  Hermione looked steadily at her old professor, who stared expressionlessly back at her.

Hermione continued.  “When I did my graduate studies and went to work at St Mungo’s, the work I did helped me narrow it down.  I never really bought the notion that it was the cumulative effect of the potion,” she looked apologetically at Professor Snape, who made no signs of either offence or recognition.  “And I began to narrow it down in my mind, eliminating the variations that, based on what I was learning at Mungo’s, were unlikely to have caused the reaction.  You see,” Hermione’s eyes began to sparkle with enthusiasm, “I believe that the potion, whatever it is, may have restorative properties for other senses – particularly hearing, for which there is no satisfactory magical treatment.”

Snape nodded and said, “So, why are you here?  I saw you taking detailed notes, why don’t you refer to those?”

Hermione smiled ruefully.  “Yes Sir, I did.  However – I was so flustered, after seeing the way Crookshanks made his way, or didn’t make his way more like, around my parents’ house that – well,” she smiled again and Snape nodded in agreement, “I was in too much of a rush during the first few weeks of January.  When I looked back at my notes, the very ones I wanted were incomplete.”  She shrugged and looked hopefully at Professor Snape.

“So, I was wondering – could I jog your memory a little bit about that time?  I did some preparation,” Hermione rooted around in her pocketbook and retrieved a wad of parchments, “Here are the notes I did take.”  She rose from behind her workbench and laid the parchments on the Potions Professor’s desk.  “Perhaps that will help.”

Snape sighed.  “I am afraid these are terribly incomplete, Miss Granger.”  Hermione hung her head and traced a figure eight on the stone floor with her foot.  “However,” Professor Snape stood up and went to a chest of drawers in the back corner of the room.  “I might be able to provide some assistance.”  He seemed to know exactly what he was looking for – in a few seconds he was back, and placed a large, neatly-tied bundle of yellowed parchments in Hermione’s hands.

Hermione thumbed through the parchments for a few moments, then looked up incredulously.  “But – these are notes on my work – in your hand.  How is this possible?”  She moved unsteadily back behind the workbench and sank into the little wooden chair.

Professor Snape returned to his own chair and sat down.  “Well, it’s quite obvious.  I made notes of what you were working on during the time you were here.  The parchments are chronological, from oldest to newest.  The January ones are in the middle.”  Hermione stared at him, her mouth hanging open, and Professor Snape allowed himself a small smirk.  “I actually expected that you would misplace your notes eventually, Miss Granger.  Lucky for me they were incomplete, or I wouldn’t have had – “ The Potions master paused and brushed a speck of something off his desk before continuing softly, “Had the opportunity to give you those.”

“Professor, I – I don’t know what to say.”  Hermione shook her head.  “All that time, I thought… I thought you weren’t paying any attention at all – “ She trailed off and stared for a moment into his fathomless black eyes.  “These notes are perfect, much better than I could have done…” Hermione looked down at the parchments then back at her old professor, shaking her head in amazement.

“If you kept these, then – then you must have made the connection also.  To the significance of the January potions?”  Hermione asked.  Snape nodded.  “But – well, that’s pretty major – you could have,” Hermione shook her head, “You might have contacted me!” She said, defiantly sticking out her chin.

“It would have been unseemly to do so, Miss Granger.  You needed to work out the connections for yourself.  I assumed that once you went to work at St Mungo’s, the gears would begin to turn – and, that you would find your way back here.”  Professor Snape’s face was impassive, but his eyes flashed with triumph.

“But… didn’t you work on it at all yourself?  If you figured it out?” Hermione asked. Professor Snape glared at her and shook his head disapprovingly.

“Miss Granger.  It was your work. I was just waiting until you were – old enough… to… appreciate it.”

FIN

5011

SilentG – gnat67@telus.net

Ten points to your house if you can identify Mouselmeg.

Teeny Blackadder reference (paraphrased).  Anyone?