Chapter Text
The kitchen of the borrow had been rearranged, the resident cat most disgruntled as his usual napping spot was off limits. The table was cleared and two cauldrons sat proud at either end. Albus Dumbledore knocked and waited with his travelling companion at the door.
“Albus! Saoirse! So lovely to have you both here! Come in, come in! Arthur has just left, you’ll stay for dinner though yes?” Molly Weasley said, dragging Saoirse into a tight hug.
“I’d love to Molly, if time allows me,” Saoirse replied, her smile bright.
She didn’t often meet other members of the order, she didn’t often meet with anyone so time in kind company energised her.
She practically lit up when Remus Lupin crept through the door behind her.
“Remus! How are you? Did you take any notes last full moon?” Saoirse asked, pulling the werewolf towards her, planting a kiss on each cheek.
“I did, all in order. I was far better rested when I’d changed back than usual, but it’s all in here.” He said warmly as he passed a thick envelope to the short woman.
“Brilliant, I’d make a start on these potions. Thank you again, Molly, for giving up your home. I couldn’t stand another day with…”
She was interrupted by Molly who shot up and pulled a man through the door, head to toe in black. Black hair, black eyes and the pastiest complexion Saoirse had ever seen.
“I don’t suppose you’ve met Severus yet, Saoirse. He was in the same year as Remus in school, isn’t that right? Would you like some tea, Professor?” Molly sang.
“I’ll be quite alright, thank you Molly.” He replied, his voice low and rich. He turned to Saoirse.
“Good afternoon, Professor Snape.” The black clad witch greeted him. She extended a hand to shake, remembering he was half blooded and that may appreciate the gesture. He looked at her hand and turned his back to her, walking over to the potion station that was set up in the kitchen of the Burrow as Saoirse glanced at Molly who passed her an apologetic shrug.
“Albus insisted I work on several potions with you, given the amount we have to do and the blessedly short time we have to complete it in, I’d suggest you get started.” Snape replied curtly.
“I expect you’re aware of brewing etiquette?” His hands were clasped before him as he peered down his nose at her.
“I think you’ll find my etiquette is more refined than your own, perhaps. Shall we?” She gestured towards the pile of unprepared ingredients.
Saoirse joined him at the table and whipped her sleeves up making short work of an eel, draining, slicing, stripping, gutting and dicing. In her ingredients went, she hardly glanced at the recipes in the book Albus had left her. Snape noted, on her left arm, a Dark Mark. He bristled, practically holding his breath as he stared.
“It’s rude to stare.” She stated without looking at him. “Surely you could stare at your own, should you be so inclined to examine one fully?” Her eyes met his.
Snape kept his mind blank and pressed his way forwards into her own mind. There was nothing there, if it was possible for a mind to echo, hers would have done.
“I’m a better Occlumens than you are a Legillimens, Professor. Kindly pass me the flobberworm mucus?” She asked, a smile on her face, her tone colder than snape liked.
Snape handed her the pot of wobbling goop and watched her keenly as she worked. She was methodical, meticulous and calculated, yet he noticed with a scowl that she almost bounced as she brewed, humming away.
She brewed with absolute grace and certainty, as though to her this was a dance and she was taking the lead. The others sat catching up, laughing and chattering away. They paid no mind to the sour professor and the woman beside him.
“You don’t hide your mark.” It was a statement as opposed to a query.
“An occupational hazard, Professor. Like you, I know how to spy. It means no more to me than any of my other scars, Professor.” She explained, a lightness in her tone. “I don’t know how you’re not boiling, coat and robes,” she mused as she stirred, her hair fighting to escape from her bun as the heat wafted against her face.
“You try spending the last decade plus with your face over a cauldron, you soon adjust.” He said.
She stepped behind him to collect some ingredients, placing her hand lightly on his upper back and announcing “behind you” as she moved. It was common courtesy amongst fellow brewers to announce “behind, left, right, behind hot” when you were moving around another person to prevent potentially disastrous bumps. Still, Snape hadn’t expected such a tactile announcement.
“You’re highly skilled, Professor.” She said as she watched him stir counter clockwise intermittently. “You remind me of someone I worked with, once.”
“And who would that be?” He asked, boredom littering his tone.
She shrugged. “Never knew his name. Were you in the same house as Remus?” She asked politely.
“No. Nor were we friends. We still are not friends.” He stated.
“That’s a shame, he speaks highly of you.”
“Oh of course he does, and I suppose you’ve heard all about me from Black as well, no doubt he speaks highly of me too?” He spat back bitterly.
“Sirius Black? I barely tolerate the man when he’s silent let alone when he opens his mouth. I know Albus is fond of him but to be blunt with you, he’s a fuckin’ arsehole.” She laughed, then noting the look of shock on Snape’s face, she corrected herself. “I apologise if I offended you Professor, I merely meant that I don’t…”
“A pedigree, pure bred, prime specimen of an arsehole.” He said with a smirk.
“To put it politely. Always flicking his fucking hair and his stupid grin on that stupid face!” She seethed. “I broke his nose, once.” She whispered.
Snape laughed and looked at her. There was a glimmer of sheer glee behind her eyes.
“You… how?” He chuckled, still staring at her in joyful disbelief.
“Punched him.” She said with a shrug. “Pass me that boomslang skin will you?”
Saoirse stripped the skin of unessential bits of fat as Remus approached.
“How’s it coming along? Molly wondered if you both might like to pause for tea?” He asked, crinkling his nose slightly at the way she split tissue and fat.
“I’d love a good cuppa, Rem, but I’m not at a stage where I can stop.” She turned to Snape.
“Would half an hour work for you? Quick pit stop?”
“I’d rather complete the potions, I’d gladly take a glass of water though, if you wouldn’t mind?” He replied, the epitome of sterile politeness.
“Of course, Severus.” Remus replied, leaving Saoirse with an awkward smile.
“How do you know the wolf, if I may ask?” Snape asked.
“Remus? Well, I’m working on adapting the wolfsbane potion and he volunteered. We’ve been friends a good few decades, I met him through Sirius, Albus asked me to brew at headquarters but I suggested it would be, perhaps, better for Blacks well-being if we found a location that was devoid of his presence.” She explained awkwardly.
“I’m no fan of his either, I hope your hand didn’t suffer from the impact with his nose?” He asked dryly.
“Oh yes, I broke a knuckle.” She said, proudly pointing at a bruise on her right hand, “it was most worth it.”
“I’ll personally see to it that you receive a bruise salve for your efforts, one of my own concoction.”
“Why thank you Professor, I’m sure it’ll come in handy should I wish to even out his jaw.” She said, mischievous notes annotating her voice.
“I do hope Severus isn’t giving you a hard time, my dear?” Came the kind voice of Dumbledore.
“Not at all, Albus. He’s an excellent brewing companion indeed.” She replied politely.
Albus looked at Snape with a twinkle in his eyes, a coy smile playing across his lips. Snape knit his brows together.
“I find her to be tolerable.” Came his assessment.
Albus beckoned them to join the others on the patio for a break.
“Come on, let’s have some tea.” She encouraged.
Snape shook his head.
“I’m not one of them,” he said.
“No, but you’re one of us, Professor.” She replied, waving him toward her.
“No, thank you.” He said.
Snape watched her leave, joining the others, she smoothed her robes and did her best to reset her hair. It was long, bright, hot red. Not like the red of Lilys, he mused, as his heart constricted. He longed for their days as a student when they would work in pairs together in Slughorns classes. He missed their time spent during breaks sitting on the fields, planning their futures. He only had the present left, one day at a time.
He carried on working on the potion, Saoirse came back to the station after fifteen minutes, a quick pit stop indeed. The others stayed in the hum of the sun. In a blink, she was back and sectioning a toad when she stopped suddenly, left the station and disappeared around the corner. She waltzed back, with clean hands, Snape noted, and placed a glass of water and ice to his left.
“I almost forgot! Sorry, Professor.” She said as she dug back into her toad, searching for its spleen.
“Severus.” He said.
“Saoirse.” She replied.
“Your last name?” He queried, cocking an eyebrow.
“Not on your life,” she laughed, “if you can guess it with legillimency, I’ll confirm it.”
“That seems rather childish. I don’t indulge in childishness.” He said, his voice firm.
“I’d bet you do, I saw your face when I said I’d punched Black. It that wasn’t a childish grin then I’m a giant.” She shot back.
He looked down at her. She barely came up to his chin. He scoffed.
“Look at me, then.” He said, facing her.
“Go on, draw your wand. A gentleman doesn’t do half a job. Etiquette, Severus!” She tutted.
Severus rolled his eyes and did as he was told.
“Legillimens!” He hissed.
Her mind swam before his eyes, usually he was able to formulate a clear picture, choose a direction in which to pry, but there was nothing but a blank swirl of grey haze. He focussed. He could pick up a faint song…
Emmanuel Kant was a real pissant,
Who was very rarely stable,
Heidegger Heidegger was a boozy begger,
Who could think you under the table…
He withdrew, blinking at her.
“Monty Python?” He asked.
She nodded.
“Philosophers Drinking Song. Muggle telly is one of my many vices.” She said with a triumphant smirk.
Severus straightened, impressive, he thought as she worked her knife into the toad once more. She brushed a strand of hair away from her cheek, leaving in its wake a light trail of toad innards. Severus wrinkled his nose.
“You have…”
“Toad. Yes. This is why I preferred herbology,” she laughed, wiping her face on the top of her sleeve.
“You chose not to pursue herbology?” He didn’t know why he was asking, he didn’t care, but the lack of findings when he delved into her mind made him curious. Who would possibly need that level of occlusion?
“I do what is needed because it must be done.” She replied simply. Her brows furrowed. “Severus, Hogwarts has greenhouses, doesn’t it? What is it like?”
“Surely you could ask Remus. He delights far more in mundane conversation than I, however I don’t imagine they’re much different to whatever was at the school you attended.” He said.
“I didn’t get to go, my education was somewhat unconventional.” She said, a sadness in her voice.
Severus sighed. It wasn’t as though she was asking anything personal. He could indulge her in chatter he thought, as he took a sip of the water she’d brought him.
“They’re large, set down some steps. There’s an ancient tree rooted through the waters, each greenhouse has a veranda to overlook the floors, there are several small fountains dotted about. They’re humid, Pomona, that is Professor Sprout, takes great pride of and care over the plants in there.” He paused, seeing she was keen to listen and continued, “the more murderous plants are kept in her personal greenhouse. We work in tandem on certain ones to ensure I have the necessary ingredients to keep the hospital wing stocked with ingredients to relieve students of whatever moronic scenarios they find themselves in.”
He realised she’d stopped working, fascinated. A smile took over her face and toyed with the light in her eyes.
“Surely you’ve seen a magical greenhouse before?” He asked in an attempt to break her from her daydream.
“No, no. I was privately educated, I didn’t choose my subjects. Did you like hogwarts? Remus seemed…”
“No.” He stated. “The castle and the education was faultless but as I said before, I’m not one of them.”
“I’d say, Ravenclaw. You’re a Ravenclaw.”
He cocked an eyebrow at her.
“You’re hardly a Hufflepuff.” She shot back.
He couldn’t counter that point.
“Go on. Legillimency. I’ll humour you.” He said, arrogantly folding his arms.
She glanced at him quickly and said: “Oh, Slytherin. Oh, you’re the head of Slytherin. That makes more sense.”
“You… got through?” He stammered.
“Hmm? Yes. I suppose I did. Whilst you got to enjoy herbology I was learning legillimency, occlumency and dark arts. It was all rather boring, truth be told.” She said with a shrug, stirring her potion as it turned from thick purple to bright blue.
Severus turned back to his own potion, stewing over her words, he’d plucked several dittany leaves and was about to drop them into his cauldron when suddenly her right hand clasped his wrist and her left hand cupped the leaves, preventing their descent.
“That’s mallowsweet, here,” she said quickly as she motioned to the correct leaves.
Severus wrenched his arm out of her grasp.
“Do not grab at me like I’m some stupid child incapable of brewing!” He snapped at her.
“Do I have your permission instead to hold your skull together when you blow your brains out with mallowsweet next time?” She asked, her voice airy and sweet. She looked at the space between them and waved her wand and cast a shield charm between them. “Do carry on, Severus.” She said with a smirk.
He muttered something about insufferable under his breath and continued, with the dittany. The afternoon closed in hungrily on the evening, together they’d brewed, bottled and labelled quite an impressive array of various healing and defensive potions. Saoirse had enjoyed working with Severus, they’d had battles of wits and he’d indulged her readily with the same dry, dark humour that she herself possessed. Largely, though, she was impressed with his skills. He was able to take shortcuts that didn’t compromise the final product, he was swift and efficient.
She greeted Arthur as he came through the door, they exchanged chatter about muggle objects and Severus heard her invite them to tea at her home. She was one of them, he thought as he looked on through the outskirts, but she very much wasn’t. They all shared the same common ground: Hogwarts.
Albus had appeared at his side.
“You know, Severus…” he began.
“I know a good many things, headmaster. Your propensity to meddle in things you shouldn’t is something I’m keenly aware of.” He stated, not taking his eyes off the bottle he was stoppering.
“I was merely going to say that it’s late and that we should return. Is there something else you’ve brewed that I’d happen to enjoy meddling in?” He asked innocently, his eyes awash with that knowing that Severus was determined to hate.
“Let’s go, headmaster.”
Severus span around to stalk towards the door, desperate to escape the pleasantries, when he barrelled into Saoirse, knocking a glass of water down her front.
“What was that about brewing etiquette? Severus?” She chided.
Severus opened his mouth to say something but snapped it shut as he heard Albus chuckle what he was sure was touché .
“I wondered if I might have a word with you? If you’re done pouring water over people, that is?” Her voice. She was condescending but with all the innocence of someone who merely doesn’t realise that they’re bright to begin with. Severus followed her towards the very back of the kitchen, his cheeks felt warm with embarrassment.
“This,” she said as she handed Severus a large, thick notebook, “is what I’m working on. Albus told me you have an affinity with dark magic and I wondered if you’d perhaps fancy a bit of a project with me?”
He snatched the book, scanning over the first few pages.
… contemporary approaches to lycanthropy must tackle the subject from the perspective of what they are: they are a dark creature. Modern healing and potions need to reflect this fact in their approach. Whilst werewolves are every bit as deserving of humanity, love and compassion, in order to fully support them we must treat them and approach them as what they fundamentally are. Beasts.
“Wolfsbane?” He asked, his interest piqued.
“No. Wolfsbane approaches the drinker as a human, it allows them to keep their humanity. This potion should, no, will, turn a werewolf into a human. It focuses on the blood of the werewolf, by taking it every day, it’ll suppress the dark magic in their body, fully preventing transformation.” She said, a passion burning behind her eyes.
“And you want me to do what, exactly?” He asked, handing her the book back, feigning boredom.
“I want you to read over this, give me your thoughts, and brew it with me.” She said, almost breathless with excitement.
“Why would that be a good use of my time?” He drawled.
“You’ll be on the patent. 80/20 split.”
“70/30.”
“75/25.” She countered.
“Fine. Where?”
“I’ll send you an owl.” She said, her smile widening, “good evening, Severus.”
Severus nodded and followed Albus to the apparition point. He had much to consider.