Of Slytherin Descent (Snape/reader)

Ch. 7: Liquid Luck for the Unlucky

I wanted to wave my wand and use a little wordless magic to set everything up, but something told me that Snape was very peculiar about his space. Since I'm in his classroom, the least I can do is respect his boundaries, so I do.
I let him set up the space, as I watch quietly as he deliberately moves things where he wants them.

"What will we be brewing first?" I ask this in hopes of breaking the ice..and tension.

"Felix Felicis...liquid luck" he says, and then pauses for a moment,"maybe if I drink it then it'll lead me away from you."  Snape says this sarcastically, but with a bit of amusement as he begins to set the potion to a boiling temperature.

I snort at his antics,"touché, thought I was growing on you." I smile, a little amused.

And then, against my best wishes, his demeanor turns cold again.  His face contorts into a scowl and his walls go back up immediately.  It's almost as if he's scared to drop his guard around me.  It's as if we had not been jesting moments earlier. 

Why is he so hot and cold?

After a moment, I return to match his demeanor, drawing my guards up equally.  I decide not to dwell on the matter.

A taste of his own medicine, if you will.

After about an hour, the Felix potion is ready to set for the next few months, only needing to be tended to once a day.  We didn't talk again throughout the entire process, which was somewhat relieving to me. 
It seems that Snape has taken it upon himself to do as much as possible.  Perhaps he doesn't trust my skills, or he just doesn't want to me to even bother.  However, I know that if I dwell on it then I'll just start overthinking, and this man is the last who should cause that to happen.

Nevertheless, it was incredibly obvious how proficient he was at potion-making.  It was like watching an artist painting his muse, quite shockingly beautiful.  I kept my inquiries to myself though.

After a moment I hear Snape's hollow voice echo through the room, the sound bouncing off the walls of the dungeon,"That is all," he stops to look down at me over the cauldron, sparing me at least a glance,"I trust that you can see yourself out?"

I scoff,"I don't know Professor, I might get lost."

He scoffs in return,"You don't know when to quit do you?"

At this point his eyes are sharp and his face is getting increasingly white with annoyance.  His crows feet are becoming even more evident as he eyes me over his crooked nose.

"What is your problem with me anyways?  You hardly know a thing about me.  Since the first day we met, you've been nothing but discourteous."( I say.)

Thoughts of him have kept me up, despite my better judgement.  I can't help but wonder what I've possibly done to this entitled man.  Perhaps all of this really is my fault, maybe I'm the problem in our ...acquaintance-ship?

He seems at a stand-still, neither moving, nor responding.  He face changes back to that of a neutral expression, not allowing emotion to show through the mask he subconsciously wears...or perhaps he consciously wear it.

I sigh and march out of the dungeon, satisfied that I at least got the last word.  Snape is not so satisfied with this though, or at least I could guess this by the way his knuckle turn white gripping vial, breaking it.

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Over the next couple months, I have few run-ins with the Potions Master beside our potion work, but we've made this unspoken agreement to never see each other while working.  He makes the potions and I document the research.  When I'm there, he's no where to be seen, and vise versa.  The potion project seems to be having the exact opposite effect of whatever Dumbledore would have wanted, but neither of us dwell on it.

I decide to distract myself in the library, I find myself there day after day.  It was only inevitable that I'd become well-acquainted with the Librarian, Madam Pince.  She was strict, but I respect that, she wants all the literature to be preserved.

She dressed quite unusual, but that seemed to be common amongst certain Hogwarts staff, I found it quite intriguing.

Pince was disliked by the student body for her strict demeanor, but at the same time, she was incredibly good at her job.  She could find information for the students in seconds, and always made sure the library was pristine.  She was also known to be very peculiar about the restricted section for reasons that I'm unaware of, but it seemed to lie outside the obvious.

Throughout the weeks, we became fast friends, and I began to help as an unofficial library assistant to spend time with her.  As it turns out, she was quite pleasant, but kept a harsh reputation with the students to "intimidate them" into bringing their books back on time.

""The cleverest of all, in my opinion, is the man who calls himself a fool at least once a month,"" Pince said, raising an eyebrow curiously.

We had begun this ever-lasting game, it bonded us the fastest.  We would quote a famous author and try to guess the person.  It would often bring on a discussion of the authors that held a special place in our conscious' and make us delve into passionate conversations about literature.

"Dostoevsky," I said with confidence, he was one of my personal favorites of his time.  I was familiar with most of his works.

Madam Pince, Irma as I called her now, chuckled as she playfully swatted my arm.

"I'm never going to get you am I?," she asked with a teasing smirk playing at her lips.

I returned her smirk with the same enthusiasm,"Not even in your dreams."

Whomever didn't guess the author lost for the day and owed the other coffee the next morning, the two of us had made a habit of seeing each other outside of the school grounds on the days that the teachers had off. (Little did Irma know, I had a couple hundred years of experience and knowledge on her, so I rarely payed for coffee.)  Most of the time, it was just us; however, it wasn't uncommon for other staff members to accompany us occasionally.  This would mostly include Minerva or Madam Hooch, who also shared literary passions.

After a couple hours, Irma and I had completely filled the shelves with the books that had been brought back by the students; filling the gaps among the shelves.

Irma smiled, a rare sight,"thank you, you've been such a help, and quite wonderful company."

I relished her smile, it was contagious, she was such a ray of sunshine.  It made me give my greatest sympathies to the students that would never see this side of her.  It was only natural that I smile in return.

"I'm always happy to help," I said, finally getting off of the ladder I was using to shelf books and stretching my legs,"I'm always happy to share your company Irma."

Though we didn't need to, we enjoyed putting the books away by hand, Irma believed it was the best way to do it.  Though, in my mind it was a little old fashioned, but I still relished the moments it gave us.

I was happy to finally find people to fit in with among the staff after such a rough beginning with Snape.

Perhaps luck is on my side...