Mend Me

Four

Professor Snape isn't nearly as terrifying when he's ignoring you, and that's precisely what he's done for the last six weeks. Twice a week he opens the potions door for her, tells her to scrub first year cauldrons and chop various potions ingredients, then leaves. Apparently to terrorize the rest of the castle for a few hours before curfew. He must be absolutely fuming at the thought of having four whole hours a week that he can't schedule someone detention with himself.

The first week, she wasn't even sure if she should leave after the two hours were up, since he hadn't given her explicit instructions to do so, and she'd managed so far to avoid any form of detention with him. Whether by sure dumb luck, or his unfounded hatred toward her. Whichever it may be, she was thankful. This, however, led her to stay in his potions room an additional two hours, ultimately breaking curfew. Once she was positive he was not coming back that night, she slipped out of the room as quietly as possible, and quickly made her way back to her dormitory. She was almost there, could practically hear the portrait on the back side of the door asking her a riddle. And that's when Filch grabbed her by the collar and spun her around. Another stroke of good luck for her that night, Filch has never stopped her before. Not only has she never had a reason to be out after curfew, but Mrs. Norris seems to have taken a liking towards her, making it impossible for Filch to actually punish her for anything. He simply turns her around by the shoulders and pushes her in the direction of the common room entrance, whistling for Mrs. Norris to untangle herself from her ankles and lead him towards their next victim.

Tonight however, is different. Instead of Snape practically running from the room the instant he admits her, he's cataloging the inventory of the potions room with his back towards her.

"Tell me, Miss Black," he begins, startling her, "what good is it to have a vast knowledge of potions ingredients, if you do not plan on learning potions?"

Surely, this is a rhetorical question, right? She's in his N.E.W.T level potions class for gods sake. The only reason either of them are even here to begin with is so that she can learn! He can't possibly be planning on blaming her for any of this, can he? What is his plan, glide up to Dumbledore's office and tell him that she is incapable of learning? Well, she'll just have to follow him there and tell Dumbledore herself that Snape is just simply incapable of teaching her.Before she can even formulate a response, he whirls around to face her, nothing more than a streak of black hair and robes, looking furious.

"What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

"Drought of the Living Dead, sir." She answers quietly, looking down at the stone floor beneath her feet.

"What potion includes the addition of one pinch of powdered unicorn hair stirred clockwise twice, and two mistletoe berries stirred anti-clockwise twice?"

"Antidote to Common Poisons, sir." Her lips begin to tremble from fear.

"What would happen if my hand just...slipped an ounce of slivered mandrake into a cauldron of Calming Drought before you get the chance to chop more lavender?" She can feel him slinking around her, feel the anger radiating from his core. He smells of cinnamon and cloves, and something undetected. Perhaps an herbal soap of some kind.

So this is an attack. He wants her to be scared. She lifts her eyes to him, catching him glaring down at her only feet away.

"It would blow up in my face, sir." She manages, between gritted teeth. Her hands begin to shake with adrenaline.

"You'll do well to remember that, Miss Black. You, organize the jars of ingredients on the back wall, quietly. I have quizzes to grade. Afterwards, you will brew another Calming Drought. Successfully this time, might I add. I shall return to check your progress in precisely one hour and forty-five minutes." With that, he slams the door to the potions room, leaving her too stunned to move from the very spot she stands.

—

Organizing the potions ingredients may have been boring, but it was easy. That must have been what he was doing when she walked in. Purposely rearranging the glass jars and vials, just to give her busy work to do. In six years of being in this very room, she's not once seen a single jar out of place, even at the end of a class, as many of the students were too terrified of Snape's wrath to mess anything up.

The hard part, however, was brewing the Calming Drought. She knew the recipe by heart, didn't even need to consult her study guide or the potions book he'd left open on the shelf next to the cauldron he'd placed out for her. Her hands shake with each chop, she weighs every ingredient twice for good measure. She is so careful with the heat, ensuring it never reaches a single degree above the recommended temperature. Finally, just as the brew begins to turn its signature brown, Professor Snape walks in the room to assess her progress. Danu steps away from the cauldron and places her knotted hands behind her back. Snape eyes cauldron with disgust, before whirling around to face her.

"Out." He sneers, his eyes flaming with fury.

He doesn't have to tell her twice, she grabs her bag with one hand, nearly spilling the contents within across the cold stone floor and runs back to Ravenclaw Tower.