Hero Worship, Part 14 of 25
Nov. 18th, 2006 06:01 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ravenna_c_tanTitle: Hero Worship, Part 14/25
Author: Ravenna C. Tan
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Harry/Snape
Word Count: 36,901 total, 1283 this part
Disclaimer: This is non-commercial fanfiction. Trademarked characters are used for non-commercial purposes.
Beta:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
miraba, jordangrant
Author's Note: A gift forregan_v, as a request she made about submissive!snape brought this on.
Warnings: A touch of BDSM/power exchange sex.
Archive: Part of the From Dusk till Dawn Severus Snape/Harry Potter Fuh-Q-Fest at http://www.kardasi.com/HPSS/storyindex.htm (The Fest was due to begin Nov. 10th--now pushed back 1 month, but authors may post in their own journals).
Challenge/Summary: "What if...?" What if Snape did not escape at the end of Half-Blood Prince? What if Kingsley Shacklebolt caught him before he could Apparate away? Not trusted by the Order, but still determined to bring down Voldemort, Snape agrees to undergo an unusual spell.
Chapter One, Chapter Two, Chapter Three, Chapter Four, Chapter Five, Chapter Six, Chapter Seven, Chapter Eight, Chapter Nine, Chapter Ten, Chapter Eleven, Chapter Twelve, Chapter Thirteen
Hero Worship, Chapter Fourteen
by Ravenna C. Tan
True to his word, he goes in first. I realize that now that Minerva--the former Head of Gryffindor House--has taken up residence in the Headmaster's Office, in my mind it has become "the lion's den." We are sometimes quite alike, Minerva and I, in our notions of propriety and discipline, which is my current source of concern. She has always treated me as a peer and colleague since I joined the staff at Hogwarts, but the ability to reduce me to the role of recalcitrant schoolboy lurks in her glare.
Humiliation has never been one of my favorite things, which may be why I choose to take matters into my own hands. The door swings open to admit me and I enter to find them seated and waiting for me. A cup of tea has already been poured and sits on the side table by the empty chair I am to take.
I ignore the chair, and fold my legs under me so that I am sitting at Potter's feet.
Her eyes narrow just a fraction behind her glasses, as if she doubts my sincerity--indeed, had I not just contemplated this same action but in sarcasm a short time ago?--but she clears her throat and speaks. "So it's true, then, Severus." There is no hint of censure or rebuke in her voice, only mild surprise, and I know I have done the correct thing. "You've agreed to do as Mister Potter says."
"Yes." It's so easy. I cannot believe how easy. Resistance, that was hard.
She looks concerned. "This goes beyond what you agreed to with the spell, Severus. There are no compulsions to obedience or... or servitude in the Argus incantation."
"I know. Minerva, I made this choice of my own free will and the only thing binding me is my decision to carry it through."
"I see." She glances back at Albus' portrait, but the snoring figure has yet to wake up. "Well, that does make me feel better."
That and she has no idea that there is a difference between servitude and submission. I am not a servant. A pawn yes, in the largest game of Wizard Chess ever played. I have been that since before Potter was born. But these distinctions are not necessary to Minerva's understanding. Only mine. And Potter's.
"There is something I'd like to ask your advice about, though, Severus," she says, pouring herself another cup of tea. "Did you know that Gideon Vance has been brewing Wolfsbane for us?"
"I was not aware that Mr. Vance had the necessary background in potions."
"Durmstrang, class of 1975, with two years follow-up study at the Swedish Institute of Pharmacopoeia." She purses her lips. "Yet Remus has had a few... comments about the effectiveness of the potion."
I see where this is going. "Minerva, there is no need to approach this problem sidelong. If you would rather I do it, please just ask me."
"Hmm, well. Vance is a fussy sort, and he has already started a batch for this month. I wouldn't want it to seem as if..."
"Brewing Wolfsbane is tedious and goes much faster with two sets of hands. Shall I offer to assist him with this batch, and then surely next month you can find some other more useful task for him to perform for the Order?"
She nods. "He has complained a bit about needing to Floo in and out of Hogwarts constantly to work on it, and it is as you've said, we're spread thin."
Potter has not said a word through this exchange but I feel the warmth of his hand where it rests on my shoulder. He squeezes it when we are dismissed and I know he is pleased.
As we make our way back to the seventh floor, I tell him about Wolfsbane. "I put Osmanthus into it, to sweeten it."
"You put what?"
We pass a painting of two ladies playing croquet--they stare at us as we walk by. "Osmanthus. A small, yellow flower. The Chinese put it in tea to make it sweeter without adding sugar."
"Does making it sweeter make it work better?"
"The potion's base effectiveness should not be affected. But if a more pleasant taste encourages the drinker to take the entire dose? That may." We are nearing the stretch of hall that is our destination. "To add actual sugar would upset the balance of the ingredients, and it would burn in the cauldron when reducing. I know Lupin has a sweet tooth, though."
"Yeah, yeah he does." He looks puzzled. "How did you know that?"
"One needn't have been bosom buddies with him to have known that," I say. "Besides, I saw how many sugars he put in his tea at faculty staff meetings, the year he taught here."
"Oh." He sighs. "It's a good thing I don't need to know much about Potions to defeat Voldemort."
He sees me wince at his use of the name and he frowns. "Will you be all right with Gideon Vance? Or should I...?"
"You need not set foot in the laboratory to babysit me if you are uncomfortable there. I promise I shall be a model of tact and restraint."
He looks relieved. "Let's work on blocking hexes for an hour, and then you should go look in on him."
I raise an eyebrow. "I thought you said I was in charge in the Room of Requirement?"
"We're not inside, yet," he says with a cheeky grin, and begins pacing up and down the hall to open the doorway.
I accede to his wishes, though it is closer to two hours later that I make my way to the dungeons.
Vance is seated on a stool, reading a book with a single, conjured canary circling his head, as the cauldron in front of him bubbles and simmers. He shuts the book as he hears me in the doorway. "Ah, Snape. McGonagall said you'd be along." He stands and peers into the cauldron. "I've only just finished the first stage."
The canary twitters as he wafts some of the steam rising toward his nose with a cupped hand. "Seems about right, wouldn't you say?"
I do the same. "Perhaps ten minutes more. Have you already peeled the aconite rhizomes?"
"Ah, over here."
I can see he started the task, but hasn't finished it. We set to with silver knives, neither of us speaking, which suits me well. When the batch of roots are cleaned of their pulpy outer layers, I set to mincing them fine as he stirs the contents of the cauldron.
The only hint of friction between us comes perhaps an hour later, as he prepares to take his leave and I prepare to monitor the simmer for another half-hour or so before letting a charm do the job overnight. He is packing a few books and tools into a satchel when he says, "Emmeline and I used to work on potions together."
"You must miss her," I say, with no emotion in my voice.
"I had always worked alone before we met. But she could somehow always anticipate what I needed, always ready with a phial or an ingredient. We fit together like two dancers, finishing each other's sentences..." He snapped his satchel shut. "You're a poor substitute, Snape."
"I am sure I am," I say, remembering my promise to Potter. Model of tact and restraint. "Good night, Vance."
He stalks out, his anger coming off him like fumes from an overboiling solution. Emmeline Vance died because of information I passed from Dumbledore to the Dark Lord. There is no way that Gideon Vance should know that. And yet, information has a way of worming its way to places we don't expect. I wonder if he hates me for causing his wife's death, or if this is just general enmity toward me for being in her place. I almost want to tell him to blame Dumbledore. But we pawns do not blame, do we? And I am a model of tact and restraint.
--
{Go on to chapter fifteen.]
Author: Ravenna C. Tan
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Harry/Snape
Word Count: 36,901 total, 1283 this part
Disclaimer: This is non-commercial fanfiction. Trademarked characters are used for non-commercial purposes.
Beta:
miraba, jordangrantAuthor's Note: A gift for
regan_v, as a request she made about submissive!snape brought this on.Warnings: A touch of BDSM/power exchange sex.
Archive: Part of the From Dusk till Dawn Severus Snape/Harry Potter Fuh-Q-Fest at http://www.kardasi.com/HPSS/storyindex.htm (The Fest was due to begin Nov. 10th--now pushed back 1 month, but authors may post in their own journals).
Challenge/Summary: "What if...?" What if Snape did not escape at the end of Half-Blood Prince? What if Kingsley Shacklebolt caught him before he could Apparate away? Not trusted by the Order, but still determined to bring down Voldemort, Snape agrees to undergo an unusual spell.
Chapter One, Chapter Two, Chapter Three, Chapter Four, Chapter Five, Chapter Six, Chapter Seven, Chapter Eight, Chapter Nine, Chapter Ten, Chapter Eleven, Chapter Twelve, Chapter Thirteen
Hero Worship, Chapter Fourteen
by Ravenna C. Tan
True to his word, he goes in first. I realize that now that Minerva--the former Head of Gryffindor House--has taken up residence in the Headmaster's Office, in my mind it has become "the lion's den." We are sometimes quite alike, Minerva and I, in our notions of propriety and discipline, which is my current source of concern. She has always treated me as a peer and colleague since I joined the staff at Hogwarts, but the ability to reduce me to the role of recalcitrant schoolboy lurks in her glare.
Humiliation has never been one of my favorite things, which may be why I choose to take matters into my own hands. The door swings open to admit me and I enter to find them seated and waiting for me. A cup of tea has already been poured and sits on the side table by the empty chair I am to take.
I ignore the chair, and fold my legs under me so that I am sitting at Potter's feet.
Her eyes narrow just a fraction behind her glasses, as if she doubts my sincerity--indeed, had I not just contemplated this same action but in sarcasm a short time ago?--but she clears her throat and speaks. "So it's true, then, Severus." There is no hint of censure or rebuke in her voice, only mild surprise, and I know I have done the correct thing. "You've agreed to do as Mister Potter says."
"Yes." It's so easy. I cannot believe how easy. Resistance, that was hard.
She looks concerned. "This goes beyond what you agreed to with the spell, Severus. There are no compulsions to obedience or... or servitude in the Argus incantation."
"I know. Minerva, I made this choice of my own free will and the only thing binding me is my decision to carry it through."
"I see." She glances back at Albus' portrait, but the snoring figure has yet to wake up. "Well, that does make me feel better."
That and she has no idea that there is a difference between servitude and submission. I am not a servant. A pawn yes, in the largest game of Wizard Chess ever played. I have been that since before Potter was born. But these distinctions are not necessary to Minerva's understanding. Only mine. And Potter's.
"There is something I'd like to ask your advice about, though, Severus," she says, pouring herself another cup of tea. "Did you know that Gideon Vance has been brewing Wolfsbane for us?"
"I was not aware that Mr. Vance had the necessary background in potions."
"Durmstrang, class of 1975, with two years follow-up study at the Swedish Institute of Pharmacopoeia." She purses her lips. "Yet Remus has had a few... comments about the effectiveness of the potion."
I see where this is going. "Minerva, there is no need to approach this problem sidelong. If you would rather I do it, please just ask me."
"Hmm, well. Vance is a fussy sort, and he has already started a batch for this month. I wouldn't want it to seem as if..."
"Brewing Wolfsbane is tedious and goes much faster with two sets of hands. Shall I offer to assist him with this batch, and then surely next month you can find some other more useful task for him to perform for the Order?"
She nods. "He has complained a bit about needing to Floo in and out of Hogwarts constantly to work on it, and it is as you've said, we're spread thin."
Potter has not said a word through this exchange but I feel the warmth of his hand where it rests on my shoulder. He squeezes it when we are dismissed and I know he is pleased.
As we make our way back to the seventh floor, I tell him about Wolfsbane. "I put Osmanthus into it, to sweeten it."
"You put what?"
We pass a painting of two ladies playing croquet--they stare at us as we walk by. "Osmanthus. A small, yellow flower. The Chinese put it in tea to make it sweeter without adding sugar."
"Does making it sweeter make it work better?"
"The potion's base effectiveness should not be affected. But if a more pleasant taste encourages the drinker to take the entire dose? That may." We are nearing the stretch of hall that is our destination. "To add actual sugar would upset the balance of the ingredients, and it would burn in the cauldron when reducing. I know Lupin has a sweet tooth, though."
"Yeah, yeah he does." He looks puzzled. "How did you know that?"
"One needn't have been bosom buddies with him to have known that," I say. "Besides, I saw how many sugars he put in his tea at faculty staff meetings, the year he taught here."
"Oh." He sighs. "It's a good thing I don't need to know much about Potions to defeat Voldemort."
He sees me wince at his use of the name and he frowns. "Will you be all right with Gideon Vance? Or should I...?"
"You need not set foot in the laboratory to babysit me if you are uncomfortable there. I promise I shall be a model of tact and restraint."
He looks relieved. "Let's work on blocking hexes for an hour, and then you should go look in on him."
I raise an eyebrow. "I thought you said I was in charge in the Room of Requirement?"
"We're not inside, yet," he says with a cheeky grin, and begins pacing up and down the hall to open the doorway.
I accede to his wishes, though it is closer to two hours later that I make my way to the dungeons.
Vance is seated on a stool, reading a book with a single, conjured canary circling his head, as the cauldron in front of him bubbles and simmers. He shuts the book as he hears me in the doorway. "Ah, Snape. McGonagall said you'd be along." He stands and peers into the cauldron. "I've only just finished the first stage."
The canary twitters as he wafts some of the steam rising toward his nose with a cupped hand. "Seems about right, wouldn't you say?"
I do the same. "Perhaps ten minutes more. Have you already peeled the aconite rhizomes?"
"Ah, over here."
I can see he started the task, but hasn't finished it. We set to with silver knives, neither of us speaking, which suits me well. When the batch of roots are cleaned of their pulpy outer layers, I set to mincing them fine as he stirs the contents of the cauldron.
The only hint of friction between us comes perhaps an hour later, as he prepares to take his leave and I prepare to monitor the simmer for another half-hour or so before letting a charm do the job overnight. He is packing a few books and tools into a satchel when he says, "Emmeline and I used to work on potions together."
"You must miss her," I say, with no emotion in my voice.
"I had always worked alone before we met. But she could somehow always anticipate what I needed, always ready with a phial or an ingredient. We fit together like two dancers, finishing each other's sentences..." He snapped his satchel shut. "You're a poor substitute, Snape."
"I am sure I am," I say, remembering my promise to Potter. Model of tact and restraint. "Good night, Vance."
He stalks out, his anger coming off him like fumes from an overboiling solution. Emmeline Vance died because of information I passed from Dumbledore to the Dark Lord. There is no way that Gideon Vance should know that. And yet, information has a way of worming its way to places we don't expect. I wonder if he hates me for causing his wife's death, or if this is just general enmity toward me for being in her place. I almost want to tell him to blame Dumbledore. But we pawns do not blame, do we? And I am a model of tact and restraint.
--
{Go on to chapter fifteen.]
