Not Yet (A Hermione Granger fanfic)

Chapter 18

"You know," Snape says over his cauldron, "I really don't love brewing."

Hermione snorts into the tea she's just made, sending dribbles down her chin.

"I gather you're surprised."

"You've done a good job of hiding it."

Snape shrugs. "I've done a good job of hiding a great many things."

"What about the theatrical speech you used to give to your First Years?" She says, dabbing her chin with her sleeve. "Ensnare the senses, and all that?"

"Because a wizard who can't brew is subjecting himself to a lifetime of relying on others for his potions. And others make mistakes . . . Or try to kill you."

"So you think everyone except you is incompetent."

Snape glances at her. "Just about."

"I guess you always did want to teach something else?"

"It's hardly a secret I wanted to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts."

Hermione nods. "Not many secrets at Hogwarts."

"Not to you and your little gang, anyway. But there was plenty you didn't know about."

"Like what?" she asks, curious.

Snape ignores her question and dips a bit of the potion he's been brewing into a crystal vial. He brings it to Hermione's chair. "Drink this."

Hermione takes a whiff. "Whew! What'd you put in it—dragon dung?"

"It'll ease your pain."

She has a sudden urge to pinch her nose while she drinks it, but doesn't want to look like a coward, so she tips it up and drains it in one go.

It tastes like raw sewage.

She almost spews it all over his robes but manages to swallow it without gagging. "Oh . . . Merlin, that's disgusting!"

Snape smiles. "Dragon dung usually is. Ten points to Gryffindor for figuring out the main ingredient."

Hermione's mouth hangs open. She seizes her tea and slurps it down in one gulp. It only makes the taste worse. "You. Could have . . . added something to make it . . . more palatable."

"I could have." Snape smirks again. "Now, are you going to let me look at your shoulder?"

Hermione grimaces again with the aftertaste of the potion. "Was the dragon dung even necessary? Or did you add it just to torture me?"

"I thought it was very necessary. Stand up."

With a sigh, Hermione stands. She's wearing her customary large long-sleeve t-shirt over leggings. Because it's cool (and because she suspected Snape would insist on seeing her injury) she's wearing a tank top beneath the t-shirt. She turns and peels off the top layer, putting her back to him.

Snape mutters something over her back, his wand following the line of the fresh pink scar there. He moves the strap of her tank, pushing it down her arm. Then he mutters another incantation.

He presses two fingers into her spine.

Hermione hisses. "Ow."

"You're right, I think. It's just bruised. More of the salve will help."

Hermione rolls her eyes. Great, more skin on skin contact with Severus Snape. But her back is too sore for her to argue. "Okay," she breathes.

Without another word, Snape retrieves the salve from his pocket and she hears a soft pop as he pulls the stopper from the vial.