A Likely Story

Chapter 7 of A Likely Story

Hermione entered the flat she shared with her best mates at nearly 3:00 AM, and was grateful to find that everyone was asleep. The last thing she wanted was a late night encounter with one Harry Potter. She dressed for bed, smiling to herself, and fell asleep remembering how it felt to be held so gently. Severus really was an excellent dancer.

They'd decided as they talked softly together that Hermione would indeed help him to brew the Wolfsbane potion, so, late the next morning, she dressed hurriedly and exited her room, hoping he hadn't begun without her. She was delayed, however, by the sight of Harry and Ron sitting uncomfortably in front of the silent television, quite obviously awaiting her appearance.

"Morning," Ron said carefully. She looked from one face to the other and rolled her eyes.

"What is this, an intervention?" she asked irritably, with just a hint of humor in her voice. The boys exchanged a glance, Ron looking particularly confused.

"Sort of," Harry answered, swallowing hard. "We just wanted to be sure you're alright."

Hermione looked at him coldly. "You weren't exceedingly concerned about my well being last night when you insulted someone important to me."

Harry flinched, and Ron prodded him. "Sorry, Hermione. I wasn't thinking." He didn't look very contrite.

"Obviously." There was a beat of silence, then Hermione sighed. "Harry, do you really think you're better qualified than I am to decide who I date?"

Harry looked a little shocked at that question. He hadn't really thought of it from that position. "No," he whispered, finally. Behind him Ron winked at Hermione, pleased that progress had been made. She smiled back, and came to sit beside them on the couch. Harry scooted over to make room. Hermione put her arms around his neck, and he released a breath he hadn't known he was holding. He squeezed her hard. Behind his back, Ron took one of her hands. When the three friends broke apart, Harry was smiling sheepishly. "Permission to hex him if he hurts you?" he asked hopefully.

"Sure, Harry, what are friends for," she said, shaking her head. They laughed. "But ASK me before you decide I'm hurt, alright?" she added severely.

"Alright, alright," he said, laughingly, his hands in the air.

Hermione explained that she was on the way to Hogwarts to make a start on the Wolfsbane, and they parted as friends once again, though she didn't offer to heal the angry scrape on his cheek. When she arrived at Hogwarts, the Potions classroom was empty, though ten cauldrons had been set out, each with a spoon beside it. Severus had given her the password to his private quarters, so she used it, but he wasn't there either. Confused, she made her way back up the steps in search of Minerva. Eventually she found her pacing the Headmaster's office. Albus himself was seated in this chair, watching her with an expression somewhere between amusement and empathy. The gargoyle guarding the staircase had moved for her before she'd even started guessing the password, so they were both startled when she appeared in the doorway.

"Ah, Hermione," the Headmaster began, "we were hoping you would join us shortly." As he spoke, Minerva lowered herself into a chair, gesturing that Hermione should do the same.

"What's wrong? Where's Severus?" she asked, her eyes roving from one professor to the other.

"I'm afraid there was some trouble with Remus, and we had to send Severus after him," Albus said gravely. Unsure of what else to ask, or even if she'd be permitted any more information, Hermione remained silent. After a moment, he continued. "It is likely he will be away through the full moon, but he indicated that you would know what to do and could handle the Wolfsbane potion."

At this extraordinary statement, both Hermione and Minerva started. "Sir, I've never attempted to brew even one cauldron of it. He told me last night we'd need at least 20 cauldrons full, to be safe. We were going to do it together, since it wasn't practical for one person to handle more than five cauldrons at a time. Even at that, it was going to take us the whole two weeks!" As she'd spoken, she rose from the chair, and unconsciously began pacing the same circuit that Minerva favored. The professors exchanged a small smile, noticing.

But Minerva's smile disappeared abruptly as Hermione hit upon the solution, one of which she was certain Severus would approve. "Warrington," she said decisively, turning abruptly. The Headmaster turned his eyes to her as she spoke, missing Minerva's rather constipated expression. He frowned.

"I do not think it wise to inform outsiders of Order business at this late hour," he said.

"Severus trusts him," Hermione said impatiently. "And I can't think of anyone else I know who's capable of brewing it. I don't just need help. I need a guide."

In the end, the Headmaster was forced to agree that thirty-six wild werewolves in the castle posed too much risk. Hermione drafted a letter to Professor Warrington, arranging to meet him in Hogsmeade the following day if possible. Then she set about preparing ingredients. By dinner an affirmative answer had arrived, and Hermione couldn't help but notice that Minerva was nearly steaming at the ears in fury. She very wisely chose not to comment, and instead made her way back to the flat to tell the boys what was going on as soon as dinner was complete.

Promptly at 9am the following morning, Hermione apparated to the gates of Hogsmeade, startling Professor Warrington, who'd arrived only a moment before. She'd spent half the night sitting on the couch, staring at her Potions text. Harry and Ron thought she was preparing to brew the Wolfsbane, and they were correct. But she wasn't thinking about potions. Instead, she was considering just what she was going to say to the man who would soon be her professor. The man who, she was now positive, had been Minerva's date for the cancelled Halloween dance two decades ago.

"Sorry Professor!" she exclaimed as he stepped back in shock at her arrival. He scowled at her briefly before recovering himself, then grinned and said hello. The sudden shift made her very uncomfortable, but she stuck by the plan she'd decided on. If he could give her advice, the least she could do was share her own knowledge. Of course, being a Slytherin he probably wouldn't appreciate her coming right out and saying it. (Hadn't that been what he'd warned her about in the first place?) She'd decided last night that some cunning was in order. Side by side, they started towards the castle.

"I'm so excited to get started! I was thinking it would just be you and me, and no offense, I was afraid it would be dreadfully tense after the convention and all - " she took a quick breath and continued, watching his amused face out of the corner of her eye. "- but then Professor McGonagall - oh, Minerva. She told me to call her Minerva now - said she'd help, and I just know you'll like her, she's - " Here Hermione left off, then stopped walking, forcing a thoughtful expression onto her face. When she continued, her tone was just a little condescending.

"Well, she's a Gryffindor like me, so I'm afraid you'll have to be very blunt with her and say exactly what you mean, or she'll do something stupid like I did with Severus."

If the old man was onto her, he gave no indication. However, he no longer looked amused as he returned her gaze. He worded his question very carefully, obviously making an effort to sound unconcerned. "I wondered what you needed me for with him around. I suppose he won't help you with it? What could you have said to upset him that much?" Hermione knew at once that he was trying to get more information than she was willing to offer. She confined her answer to things about the convention.

"I wanted him to explain the advice you gave me, because it didn't make any sense. Of course, Minerva eventually explained to me that by asking him to do that I was completely disregarding your advice," this she said with an apologetic smirk. "I guess she's just spent more time around Slytherins, so she understands how you think better than someone my age." It was a ploy, of course, to get him to realize that her Head of House had matured since he'd known her. If he entered the castle with an open mind, they'd have a much better chance of getting along.

The brewing went better than Hermione had hoped. It had been a stretch for her acting ability to convince Minerva to help. She'd used the pretext that she wasn't comfortable alone in the dungeons with Warrington. Plus they could really use another stirrer. The Professors had worked in silence the whole first week, each of them speaking only to Hermione, who wondered every moment who would break first, one of them, or she, herself!

Finally, as they neared the end of the recipe on the first batch, Minerva threw her wooden spoon across the dungeon classroom. It clattered dully to the floor and Hermione and Warrington paused in their own stirring, looking up. "For Merlin's sake, Damian, you win! Aren't you going to SAY ANYTHING?"

Hermione turned to Warrington in time to see a smirk creep across his face. She stifled a giggle, thinking that Severus would have sported that exact expression in this situation. The next instant, however, thoughts of Severus overtook her. She'd been immensely worried. Neither the Headmaster, nor Minerva had offered her any further information. She could only assume that the task must have been important indeed for them to send him, considering that he was still being sought feverishly by his one-time allies. She was pulled out of her thoughts by a bright flash of light, and she instantly regretted ignoring her helpmates, who'd apparently begun to fight in earnest.

Shocked, she summoned their wands. It was her turn to smirk. Warrington's nose had been transfigured into a miniature sailing ship, sails and all, and he was supporting its weight with his hands, as it was too heavy for his neck. Minerva was no better off, as she stumbled around the classroom, blind, deaf and mute, oh, and furious as well. Hermione quickly put her to rights, afraid she might spill their precious potion. In a rare instance of tact, Hermione left the silencing charm on her. Warrington wouldn't say anything at all if Minerva got started first.

It took several attempts to undo her professor's handiwork, but after a few minutes, Warrington's nose appeared to have regained its original shape. He sat down with a thump, massaging it unhappily.

Hermione put on her best stern expression, which she'd copied shamelessly from McGonagall herself. She was pleased to see that Warrington looked concerned. "Now what exactly was that all about? Is this how you behaved when you both worked at Hogwarts together?" she demanded. She noticed Minerva blushing profusely, but kept her eyes on Warrington. "WELL?"

"Of course not. Minerva was much more discreet in those days." He shot a triumphant look passed Hermione and Minerva scowled. She had no choice, however, but to wait her turn as Hermione continued to question him.

"It has been a nightmare working with the both of you. I can only imagine that the Headmaster was forced to ask one of you to leave because he couldn't stand the tension. Merlin knows I can't! Now, why exactly are you refusing to talk to her? And none of this Slytherin craftiness. You've been plain enough with me this last week, I'm sure you can keep it up long enough to work this out." Her tone brooked no argument and Warrington heaved a great sigh. If he noticed Minerva's pleased expression, he didn't show it as he began to speak.

"Twenty years or so ago, I learned that I was mistaken in my faith in Minerva, and decided my time here was finished. The Headmaster was not forced to remove me, thank you very much," he finished, sounding as though he'd just tasted lemon juice and found it sweeter than this conversation.

"YOU WERE MISTAKEN?" As soon as the deputy Headmistress found her voice returned, she stood abruptly and made her way to the table at which he sat, facing him down over the boiling cauldron. "You're telling me that you left over that ridiculous Halloween dance?" she demanded, irate. His eyes were fixed on the table, much like Neville Longbottom after he'd melted his first cauldron.

Hermione was watching them carefully for any further signs of violence. There was a long pause, punctuated by the insistent bubbling of the cauldrons. It was nearly time for the next step.

"I never knew why you left. I just thought you'd changed your mind," Minerva continued finally. Warrington met her gaze with his own wide brown eyes. Behind her, Hermione summoned the wooden spoon from the floor and cleaned it. Then she thrust it back into Minerva's hands, effectively breaking up the moment. She was sure they'd be able to work it out now. She grinned to herself as they all went back to stirring, plotting how she could maneuver them to sit together at dinner.

Soon the first batch was bottled and cooling on Severus' desk, and they began the process again. Conversation was still sparse, but not entirely non-existent. They were off to a slower start this time, as Hermione hadn't prepared the ingredients ahead for this batch, afraid they wouldn't keep long enough. By the end of the week they were rushing to complete the final steps. On the evening of the full moon, they were hurriedly bottling the last of it. Wordlessly, Minerva picked up a tray to follow Warrington to the rooms the werewolves occupied. "Where are you going?" he asked coldly.

The answer was so obvious that Minerva didn't feel it necessary to answer. Instead she swept by him, delivering the flasks to several grateful men and women in the first corridor. Narrowing his eyes, Warrington did the same, but as soon as they'd reentered the classroom, he slammed the door and took her by the elbow. "That was foolish. In the future you will not venture beyond the sealed door. If any of them hadn't taken even one dose of potion, or was allergic to the ingredients, and couldn't keep it down - "

"I am well aware of the risks, Damian," she replied, her eyes flashing. "The more trips you have to make, the later the night becomes. Let's just finish before there's any danger, shall we?" Hermione watched the exchange breathlessly, amazed at how close they could come to giving it all away without actually noticing what they'd said. Studying them these last two weeks had been like taking a class in Slytherin/Gryffindor relations for her, and she'd had to resist the urge to take notes. For example, they'd both just managed to express their concern for one another's well being without ever stepping out of the careful framework of implied disregard. It was such an elaborate dance that Hermione found herself wondering what she was getting into with Severus. How would she ever be able to tell him how she felt without scaring him away? Obviously even Minerva hadn't figured out how to manage it yet!

Memories of his arms around her the night before he'd had to leave brought a smile to her lips as the two bickering professors exited the room again. She shook her head, trying to imagine what would happen when he finally returned. She could just see herself throwing her arms around his neck and being scowled at as he pried her off. No, he'd likely not take well to that sort of thing. Her thoughts were interrupted yet again by the sputtering flames of the office fireplace. A moment later, the Headmaster appeared. At almost the same instant, Professor Warrington pulled the door of the classroom open and allowed Minerva to precede him into the room. When the men's eyes met, Warrington scowled. Albus managed to keep his expression neutral, but it seemed to Hermione that it was a very near thing.

"Hermione, my dear," the Headmaster began, "Severus and Remus have just arrived. I believe they are on their way to the hospital wing." There was no twinkle in his eyes, but Hermione guessed that had more to do with Warrington than Severus.

Just in case, though, she voiced the first question that came to mind. "Is he alright?"

"He is none the worse for wear, all things considered."

Hermione glanced at Warrington and Minerva, who looked remarkably uncomfortable. She thought fast. "Would you two mind very much clearing up? I'd really like to go up and see him." As soon as they'd nodded their acquiescence, both of them hiding pleased smiles, Hermione turned back to Albus. "The moon will be rising any moment and Remus won't have had the potion. I don't think we'll be able to handle him without you," she said, not needing to affect worry as the truth of her own words sank in. Severus was in the hospital ward with an unmedicated werewolf.

Albus looked with concern at the two professors who'd already begun to clean up the cauldrons, but followed Hermione back through the green flames without comment. They heard Severus long before they saw him. He wasn't shouting, but the intensity of his words carried down the hall.

"Of all the juvenile, irresponsible, pig-headed, foolish - " Hermione pushed open the door, and Severus stopped speaking abruptly as she rushed toward him.

"You're alright!" Reminding herself that he wouldn't want to be molested in public, she held out both of her hands and took his, squeezing them tightly. "I was so worried," she whispered, looking up into his eyes.