Dream

~*~

The Potions classroom door was ajar when Hermione reported for her detention.

"Good evening, Professor Snape."

"Miss Granger," he gave her a curt nod to acknowledge the greeting, but his eyes remained on the parchment before him. Seated behind the massive granite topped desk, Snape looked like a sharp-eyed heron staring unblinkingly on the essay before him with nary a movement, until a sentence or idea caught his eyes and with quick efficiency, the quill was employed in correcting the error. The cycle then repeated, until his eyes reached the final word on the parchment.

Satisfied with the completion of marking the essay, he finally looked up to scrutinise the girl who had stood a good three minutes in front of his desk in silence.

She used to be as easy to read as a picture book - no pun intended, his mind thought wryly. Like a picture book, her face illustrated the contents of her thoughts. He remembered detachedly how her 11-year-old eyes would light up eagerly in excitement whenever she knew the answer to any question he had for the class. He remembered that lip-chewing gesture she employed whenever she contemplated a particularly tough question and that smug, satisfied smile on her when she knew she had brewed the perfect potion. Her worries for that idiot Longbottom whenever he skipped a step in following the potions instruction given, would manifest in a furrow in her forehead; her resentment towards Malfoy's Gryffindor-baiting would show in her flashing, narrow eyes. It was not a surprise that he knew how to read her open emotions, he thought nonchalantly, as a teacher, a Slytherin, observation, after all, was a skill honed to perfection for Slytherins to gain the upper hand in dealing with their peers. No, that simple reading of her emotions was just as easily transferred to remembering how Mr Weasley would get that twitch under his right eye, whenever his temper was barely reined in when humiliated in his Potions class.

But where had that emotionally open young girl gone? In her place, there stood now a young woman, whose face and gestures betrayed nothing to him - no flashing angry eyes showing resentment at having to perform an unjust punishment and no lip-chewing concern about having to perform said punishment with him. She stood blankly, aloofly, awaiting further instructions, not volunteering any comments or inane chatter - something she certainly would have done when she was younger. She did not even fidget - nary an extra syllable or a stir while awaiting sentencing. No, she wasn't easily read anymore, he considered, and much like his Moste Potente Potions, she was incomprehensible at parts, but held just as many intriguing discoveries within her covers.

"Madam Pomfrey has requested a batch of dreamless sleep potion for the Hospital Wing. Apparently, the last Gryffindor-Hufflepuff match resulted in enough casualties to deplete the ample supply I had prepared for her at the start of the term. I should have known that with Mr. Weasley heading the Gryffindor Quidditch team, the team strategy would prioritise recklessness over finesse," he finished with a sneer.

Hermione remained silent, but he could see her bridle her anger that smouldered just beneath the surface in her eyes. Ah... so he had found a sensitive chink in her armour. Briefly, he wondered at her relationship with the two young men.

He had very few exchanges with Ronald Weasley ever since he dropped Potions after his OWLs, but since Potter was made Head Boy for this academic year, he had had the "privilege" of sharing mentorship of the boy with Flitwick. After all, the Head Boy and Girl, like the staff, were to be above such petty concerns like House affiliations. The duty of the Head pupils were to support the staff in dealing with the more trivial infractions in all Houses, as well as to provide counselling and leadership to all Hogwarts' students, regardless of House. Therefore, Potter's House colours and Gryffindor crest was removed from his uniform at the start of the academic year, and was given magical quarters that led to all the boys' dormitories in all the four Houses. As much as the Head pupils were expected to support the staff, the staff was charged with mentoring them, in order that their leadership potential would be primed. Hence, Snape found himself in the "happy" situation of fortnightly afternoon teas with Harry Potter. So far, he had had two rather instructive afternoon teas with the Head Boy, with another session lined up the following week. From what he could gather during his tête-à-tête with the bespectacled Head Boy, he seemed to be developing an interest in a certain raven-haired schoolmate. Which leaves Mr. Weasley...

And from Miss Granger's reaction at my barb--, he thought speculatively. Truth be told, he had little interest in the social lives of his students, and even less so for the annoying Gryffindors and their incessant noise during mealtimes at the Great Hall. Therefore, he had no idea if Miss Granger and Mr Weasley were involved or not.

Not that that bit of information was important to him at all. Not at all.

What is wrong with you, Severus? He berated himself again for this niggling, unproductive thought.

Snape stood up suddenly. "Come," he commanded.

Silently, Hermione followed the billowing shadow to the private potion store, through a door adjacent to the classroom, which housed Snape's private collection of potions ingredients. Unlike the general potion store at the back of the potions classroom that housed the more harmless ingredients used by the younger students, Snape's private store contained ingredients that were rarer, potentially more poisonous or used in more potent potions. Like boomslang skin and powdered bicorn horn, thought Hermione sardonically.

Since her visit to Snape's private stores in her 2^nd Year, Hermione had gone back for repeat visits both covertly and openly. Evidently, the younger Hermione did not know that Snape allowed the 6^th and 7^th Years access to his private stores when they opted to study Potions for their NEWTs. On hindsight, Hermione realised that it was inevitable that the older pupils got easier access to these ingredients, which would naturally be dangerous in younger, more inexperienced hands.

The shadow stopped just inside the open door, "You should be able to gather all the ingredients you need for the potion here," he told her unnecessarily. "Make enough to fill these bottles," he indicated a crate out in the Potions classroom, which held about fifty smaller glass bottles, "It should take you the better part of three hours to get done." He hesitated then, thoughtful, as if he wanted to add something more, but then carefully schooled his face. When it seemed that Hermione was not going to make any response to him, he sneered and added gruffly, "Well? What are you waiting for?"

Hermione was startled into action by his brusque tone. So, he wouldn't be providing a potion recipe for her to follow then. Git, she thought nastily, followed by a wry mental snort, fortunately, I can make the dreamless sleep potion in my sleep. Brushing her shoulders past the Professor to get through the narrow door, she turned and bent down by his tall form to pick up a basket from the pile next to the man. It took all of Snape's willpower to remain standing impassively when after retrieving a basket, Hermione stood up in such close proximity to him.

The potions store was a long narrow room with a high ceiling, magically kept at an optimal temperature of 4 degrees Celsius to preserve the ingredients and keep out pests. On left side of the room from the doorway, were rows upon rows of small neat drawers from the chest level to the floor, filled with dried potions ingredients, arranged by the universal Apothecary standard classification. Atop these drawers was a space where various weighing scales and jars were stored for ease in measuring out the necessary dried ingredients. Above this shelf were warded drawers holding the most toxic dried ingredients, which only Snape himself could retrieve.

The right side of the room held various aqueous solutions in large glass jars on open shelves. Plant extracts and animal parts floating in preservation fluids were within easy reach on the shelves. The upper shelves held rare potion ingredients, those which are not usually utilised in potion-making textbooks in the school curriculum, and the bottom shelves held the more corrosive liquids, which were warded in specially charmed unbreakable glass jars on the bottom shelf to minimise accidents.

There was a long granite-topped table with a deep sink at the far end of the potion storeroom holding various measuring beakers, knives and bottles for the initial preparation of the ingredients. Potion makers would use this area to measure out the necessary liquids or preserved animal parts before moving the ingredients out to the classroom for brewing. By the only door of the room was a cabinet charmed to hold fresh potions ingredients at freezing temperature. This magical equivalent of a Muggle refrigerator stood beside the pile of baskets.

Muttering a warming spell on her person, Hermione breathed in - that scent of spices! For a moment she faltered and frowned, confused. It was a scent familiar to her, but she couldn't place it. Determined not to draw Snape's attention to herself, she breathed in the frigid air again and moved quickly towards the drawers.

With Hermione standing momentarily so close to him, all thoughts Snape had left him. When had she grown so tall? Indeed, Hermione was one of the tallest girls in the school, towering over half the boys in her level. As it was, she was only a few inches shorter than her Potions Master, a fact he could plainly see with her back so close to his front. Riveted to the floor scant inches away from the girl, the Professor felt the sudden warmth radiating from her from her warming spell. The warmth assaulted his scent glands with her head perfume of lusciously ripe, red summer strawberries from her riotous brown curls just in front of his nose, and instantly, the image, scent and warmth of her form from last night's dream was brought to the forefront of his mind.

Sweet Athena!

Just as he found the resolve to step back from her, she had already moved forward to the left, brushing past him once again.

~*~

Hermione peered surreptitiously at the Professor marking behind the teacher's desk, as she stirred the bubbling cauldron.

She would readily admit it to anyone who would ask - she was very disconcerted by Snape's presence, although she took great pains not to show it. She figured that Snape had purposely set about to unnerve her just to make the detention more unpleasant than it usually was.

Like any detention could ever be fun, she thought wryly.

It wasn't as if she didn't have anything better to do on a Friday night, she reflected. This detention was both an inconvenience and a huge waste of valuable research time. Since she had decided long ago that she would get involved in the war on her own terms, she had been spending what little time she had apart from her standard schoolwork, her special paper classes and her 3^rd Year remedial lessons, practically living in the library, ploughing through a ton of research materials in the hope of finding something, anything, to hamper Voldemort's rise and to bring him and his minions down.

Therefore, she was less than thrilled to be stuck wasting three hours in the Potions classroom serving detention, brewing the very simple dreamless sleep potion.

Although... in a purely un-Hermione schoolgirlish way, she supposed that her dream of the Professor last night could have contributed to her nerves somewhat. Only in the most abstract way, of course. Not that -God forbid! - she had a crush or anything on the elderly Professor.

Eeeww... Honestly Hermione, the dream-guy was mostly in the dark, and he felt much younger, you know? He'd only turned out to be Snape at the last second. It was definitely not him, she huffed. She couldn't explain how she knew that the man had felt younger, only that he was.

How old was the git, anyway? She stole another look at the lined face and the crooked, hooked nose which was partially hidden by a curtain of black, lanky hair.

Honestly, she had never taken time to consider his age, nor had she found it necessary to do so. Apart from his Potions classes, and the occasional altercations Harry, Ron and herself got into with him in their younger days, she had not given much thought about Professor Snape's private life - certainly not anymore than she had considered Professor McGonagall's or that of any of the other Professors. It was not surprising really. In her childhood innocence, she had thought of her teachers as larger than life caricatures, and they fell neatly into one of three distinct categories.

The first category was obviously the "nice" teachers. They were "nice" because they treated the students "nicely", and did not expect much from their pupils. They usually allowed classroom discipline to be a little slack in their "niceness" and blamed it on "children being children". Both Hagrid and Lockhart were examples of "nice" teachers. So was Quirrell.

The second category belonged to the "boring" teachers. Like Binns, they were uninspiring and their teaching style left much to be desired. Fortunately, most of Hogwarts teachers were a little livelier than Binns, no puns intended.

The last category belonged to the "disagreeable" teachers, to put it diplomatically. These were the teachers you did not want to cross your path with. They were extremely strict, expected a lot from their pupils and controlled the class with an iron fist. Like Snape. Or McGonagall, if she were really honest with herself.

The other Hogwarts Professors were a combination of all the categories. There were times that Professor Filtwick went on and on about some Charms to the point that Hermione had tears in her eyes. Also, she doubted that nice Professor Vector would ever be able to control a combined class of Slytherin-Gryffindors with her brand of classroom management.

Hermione shook her head. Brewing potions, like all work of concentration, always set her mind in a meditative mode that allowed it free to wander. Many an introspective thought was literally brewed in the quiet efficiency of her potions classes.

So, back to the original question: How old was Snape?

Going by looks, she glanced at the Professor again, I'd wager, at least fifty.

But it was impossible to tell with wizards - Dumbledore was a robust 157 that year, and although McGonagall looked in her late 50s, she could very well be much older. Also, not to mention the magic available to the wizarding community through glamours, charms and potions - a vain 90 year-old witch could very well look a sprightly 20 year-old if she so desired.

Therefore, she could not rely on her sense of sight. She'll have to use her rational then. She remembered her meeting with the fugitive Sirius Black back in her 3^rd Year. Sirius had been in Snape's cohort at school. Ergo, Snape ought to be the same age as Harry's godfather. She thought back to the dark-haired animagus and tried to determine his age.

I won't put him pass 40, she furrowed her brows, but I could be wrong. I wonder if there are Annuals in the library that chronicles Hogwarts' history?

Curiosity piqued, Hermione knew that she would solve this enigma in no time at all.

Hermione's right hand reached out for the bottle of keluak oil and put two drops into the cauldron. At once the Potions Master stood up and confronted her.

"What on earth are you doing?"

In her confusion at the tone of his voice, Hermione jolted out of her reverie and stared blankly at Snape.

"The oil, girl, the oil. Dreamless sleep potions do not require keluak oil."

Hermione looked at the oil bottle in her hand and turned to her Professor, looking a little affronted, "The dreamless sleep recipe before 1995 did not contain keluak oil. As you would know, the keluak oil is a recent addition to the UK's potion making vocabulary, but the mystics in the Indonesian islands have long used it for its ambrosial properties. In the 1995 copy of Modern Potions of Our Time published by the International Society of Potion Researchers, the recipe clearly included the addition of the oil. Apparently the oil not only helps the potion effect faster, it binds the asphodel to the lavender better, creating a less addictive, but more powerful dreamless sleep potion. Also, the oil makes the potion more palatable by removing the bitter aftertaste."

Snape looked surprised at Hermione's impromptu lecture. For almost the entire two hours in the classroom, the girl did not even breathe a word, apart from her greeting when she reported for detention. He had intended, by not giving Miss Granger the recipe for the dreamless sleep potion, to rankle her or at least get her to request his expertise on the subject. But that opportunity was lost when she moved efficiently through the potions store, collecting, measuring and processing the potion ingredients, as if she'd spent all her life in that long narrow room.

When he saw that she was quite capable of completing the task on her own, he returned to marking the 4^th Years' assignments. The dreamless sleep brewing process was a time-based potion, as it required ingredients to be put in at intervals of 5 minutes. Consequently, he had timed his marking of each essay to be completed in less than 5 minutes, so that he could observe that Miss Granger made no mistake in creating a potion that was meant for the Hospital Wing. Not that Miss Granger had ever knowingly made a mistake in potions brewing, but it was always better to be safe than sorry in matters such as these.

Therefore, just when she'd added the keluak oil, he was up from his desk faster than one could say 'Neville Longbottom', only to be lectured by the impertinent girl on the uses of the keluak oil in a dreamless sleep potion! Well!

Not used to being corrected by a student, the Potions Master stood glaring at his pupil and merely confirmed with narrowed eyes, "Modern Potions of Our Time, you say?"

The girl, realising that she had used what Ron called "The Voice of She Who Must Be Obeyed" on her Professor, blushed to her roots and nodded, adding meekly, "I read it some time ago whilst researching poisons of South East Asia; the reading had a cross reference to the use of keluak oil in dreamless sleep, which led me to the research into variants of the dreamless sleep."

She knew she was babbling in embarrassment. Oh Hermione, haven't you learnt by now to keep your big mouth shut? Or do you really think Snape is interested to know about your research into the poisons of South East Asia or the variants of the dreamless sleep?

If the Professor was surprise at her extra-curricula investigations, he did not show it. Instead, he sat himself down on a student's chair in front of her, folded his arms on his chest, stared at her pointedly and asked, "What else can you tell me about dreamless sleep potions?"