The Potions Master and the Ravenclaw

Through the Veil

"That's actually quite good, Miss Granger." Snape said begrudgingly, staring down into the cauldron.

"Thank you, Professor," replied Hermione, smiling up at her potions master.

He nodded to her, regarding her carefully.

Snape had succumbed to the wishes of his wife and had been giving supplemental advanced potions lessons to Hermione Granger. He knew that a time might come when Harry Potter and his friends would have to leave the safety of Hogwarts and live as fugitives on the run from the Dark Lord.  He wanted to teach the girl how to brew potions that might be helpful in that situation - healing potions, antidotes, strengthening potions, and the like - and some of them were quite complex.

He was forced to admit that she was an eager learner  and was becoming a highly proficient potioneer. She soaked up his knowledge like a sponge.

Perhaps it had not been a complete waste of time. Madeline had been right.

"Yes," he said softly. "I am pleased with your progress.  There are some empty jars in the cupboard. You may take your potion with you if you like. Once you've cleaned your cauldron, you are free to go."

"Yes, Professor."

Snape went to his desk and began to mark essays as the young witch tidied her workspace.

"Next Tuesday after dinner, Miss Granger," he said without looking up from his work.

"Yes, sir." Hermione put her school bag over her shoulder and walked toward the door.

She paused, then turned back.

"Professor?" she asked tentatively.

"Mmm?" He looked up to meet her eyes.

"Thank you. For everything. I really appreciate what you're doing for me."

He nodded to her silently, unused to thanks from students, and she turned and left the classroom.

...

"What kept you?" Madeline asked, kissing him on the cheek and handing him a glass of brandy.

"Private lesson with Granger. I taught her how to brew an anti-swelling potion this afternoon and then I had essays to mark," Snape replied, crossing his long legs as he sat down in his favorite chair by the fireplace.

Merlin jumped into his lap, rubbing against his hand, and Severus stroked him lazily.

"I'm so glad you've been working with her, Severus. Thank you for helping her. She's so brilliant and I'm so pleased that you're encouraging her."

"I must admit that she's doing quite well. She's much less annoying in individual sessions than she is in class."

"That's unkind, Severus. You're awful."

"It's true. I am awful," he drawled.

She laughed. "Seriously. How can I thank you, Severus? I know you didn't want to give Hermione these extra lessons, but I'm grateful."

His eyes slowly raked over his wife's body as he sipped his drink.

"You wish to thank me?" His voice was velvet and silk.

Her breath hitched in her throat. Oh, that look he was giving her. He wanted her and she was instantly ready for him, a sudden heat spreading through her body.

"I do wish to thank you. Tell me what you want." She paused. "Sir."

His brow arched and the corner of his mouth turned up in a devilish smirk.