Chapter - 45 : Potions and Pride

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"Because the potion's still correct," I said, watching as Snape bent over Parkinson's cauldron. Her potion was a dark red and she was looking nervous. Snape scowled and told her where she'd gone wrong. Parkinson winced. I smiled slightly. "I don't think he's mad."

And that was true. Of all the reactions Snape had to the ginger, mad wasn't one of them. He'd looked surprised, curious, a little… I don't know, maybe impressed by my gutsy move? But no, guts wasn't what was required in this class. Precision was.

"Then why does he want to talk to you?" Harry countered. I shook my head.

"I don't know," I admitted. "But I don't think I'm in trouble."

By the end of the class, could tell that our potion was the best. Hermione had gotten close, but her potion was still a few shades darker than it was supposed to be, and she kept shooting me annoyed looks as Harry and I waited by our perfect potion.

To my annoyance, Malfoy also did reasonably well. That wasn't a surprise to me though – Snape actually helped him. He seemed to genuinely like Malfoy, for reasons I couldn't even begin to fathom. From what I'd seen, he ran on a steady stream of disdain and sneers.

The rest of the Gryffindors packed up quickly around me. Harry and even Ron shot me sympathetic glances before they left. The Slytherins had no problem lingering and talking instead of making a quick escape. I packed up my materials and trooped up to Professor Snape's desk.

He sat behind it, hands folded in front of him, staring at me.

"Stop dawdling," he ordered. I looked behind me and saw that several of the Slytherins were fiddling uselessly with their bag and books, trying to hear what Snape was going to say. Whether they were genuinely worried about me or just curious or excited to hear me get reamed out, I had no idea.

But at Professor Snape's command, they all quickly hustled out, shooting me curious glances over their shoulders.

"Miss Potter," Snape began, "at the beginning of class you answered my questions, proving that you're not completely hopeless. I fail to see, then, why you would go on to add ginger to a potion that doesn't require it. What were you hoping to accomplish?"

I considered lying, saying I hadn't put it in, saying I'd just set it out to get at another ingredient in my kit more easily. But I assumed Snape wouldn't fall for such a weak lie. I then considered denying using it at all, saying I just considered it, but again, I assumed he'd see through me. In the end, I settled on the truth.

"I thought it would help combat the nausea the book mentioned some users having, sir."

Snape's eyes glittered. "Under ordinary circumstances, adding ginger would result in the potion going brown and losing all potency. Unless you did something else?"

"I did, sir. I added an extra horned slug to prevent that from happening."

Snape was looking me over intensely. It was a little uncomfortable. "I see. That would certainly do it. Tell me, what made you think of ginger?"

I opened my mouth, surprised. "I, erm, I knew it worked against nausea. Even Muggles use it. Some people drink ginger tea when they're sick."

"And is that the only step you added?" Snape pressed.

"I- no, sir."

"What else did you do?"

I bit my lip, admitting, "Well, the book mentioned that the onions were cut up to allow the juice to blend into the potion more easily. And I knew that rolling a lime on the counter a little makes it juicier, so I did that too."

Snape looked, dare I say it, proud. "I see. Those are all excellent additions to the recipe. And all are correct. I would caution against experimenting in the future, however, unless properly supervised. You are still too young to have the knowledge of potions required for real testing."

I smiled, glowing at the praise. Unlike Hermione, who'd made a fool of herself trying to get his attention, I'd managed to actually impress Snape just by thinking the problem through. And Snape seemed like the sort of man who wasn't easily impressed. I was feeling rather proud of myself.

"Twenty points to Slytherin," Snape allotted, "for your innovation."

I beamed. "Thank you, sir."

"However," he added sternly. My smile instantly dropped and I waited for the hammer to fall. He was going to yell at me for answering the questions at the beginning of class, or tell me that what I'd done was dangerous and needed punishment to keep me from doing it again.

"Yes, sir?" I asked, cringing as I waited for the inevitable.

"You will tie your hair back for my next class."

I blinked. That wasn't expected. In a way it was almost worse. I smacked my hand to my cheek, protesting, "But sir-!"

He cut me off. "Better potions mistresses than you have inadvertently trailed their hair into their cauldron and set their heads ablaze. I won't have you doing something so foolish in my class for the sake of vanity, particularly after you've showed some small amount of promise."

I winced, one finger absently tracing the scar on my cheek. "Sir, I-"

"I fully understand why you hide your face, Miss Potter. However, I think it shows a rather shameful weakness to allow vanity to determine your safety in my class." He observed me intently, daring me to argue again. "Are you that weak, Miss Potter?"

I scowled thunderously. "No, sir, I am not."

He sat back in his chair, pleased with my answer. "Good. I would have been annoyed with you if you were, especially considering your mother's ability with potions."

My head snapped up. "M-My… Sir, you knew my mother?"

Snape nodded slowly, eyes going thoughtful. "I did."

"You say she was good at potions too?"

"Indeed. She had the mental rapacity necessary to complete a potion quickly and correctly, even while making similar additions to yours."

"Was my father any good at potions?" I asked curiously.

Snape's face immediately clouded with fury. "Your father," he spat, "was hardly capable of boiling frog spawn. He was far too busy showing off and causing misery to those around him that he deemed lesser to be bothered with potions."

I recoiled at the sheer loathing in his voice. Clearly Snape had known both of my parents rather well. While he seemed to at least respect my mother – probably thanks to her skill in his chosen field – it seemed like he thought my father to be the lowest form of scum to ever grace the planet.

I couldn't help but wonder what had made him hate my father so much. Surely that would be an interesting story. But I knew better than to press, at least not right now.

"I see," I replied, keeping my expression blank and my tone neutral. "Thank you for the compliments professor."

Snape nodded. "You're free to go, Miss Potter. However, in the future, I'd rather you partnered with a Slytherin. I have no desire to help Gryffindor along on your work."

I snorted, covering it with a cough. "Of course, sir."

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(P).(A).(T).(R).(E).(O).(N)

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