The Apprentice of Potions (A Severus Snape FanFic) *Finished*

Chapter 8 - Confessions in the Night

            “Well Miss Marques, I suppose it was lucky he got you down in time, there doesn’t seem to be any real damage. You’ll be good to go in the morning,” she informed. Vienna simply nodded.

            “Miss Marques how do you feel,” Professor Snape asked. Vienna shrugged her shoulders, a great feat, considering she still was sore. Vienna looked at them both sheepishly, not knowing what to say she settled with weak answer, “I don’t think I should drink fire whiskey anymore, that’s for certain. I’ll be a goner by weeks end.”

            Vienna saw that Professor Snape’s lips move into a half smile, making one cheek higher than the other. He stroked her black, sweat-matted tresses away from her head. Vienna and Madame Pomfrey just stared at him in shock. He noticed this, pulling his hand away he returned to his emotionless composure, “Miss Marques, I have asked the house elf to bring me your box of herbs. The contaminant was more than likely in the mint leaves. I could not quite tell what it was, so I will need to speak with Professor Sprout about assisting. Furthermore, we’ll have to find a way to purchase you fresh supplies, so I’ll speak to the Headmaster about that.”

            “Sir, I have tons of Galleons in my room, perhaps we can send my owl out,” she inclined. Professor Snape arched a brow in consideration. He stood up and moved to the foot of the bed. Vienna and Madame Pomfrey continued to watch him. Professor Snape stood like a dictator, one hand over the other down in front, and shifted his head upward slightly. He was regal in the way he held himself, like a dark prince, his obsidian eyes looked over them.

            “No,” he said plainly. Vienna shocked that she’d been refused by her favorite professor, just gaped. Professor Snape moved his hands behind his back, which made him, seem taller, looked down his nose and spoke in the assertive tone he used often, “I cannot permit that. Your herbs were tampered with sometime between the start of term until when you took a pinch to your fire whiskey. I do not take that likely.”

            “Severus, you take nothing, don’t fool yourself or the girl for that matter,” Madame Pomfrey scolded. Vienna let out a small laugh, wincing at the pain it created. Professor Snape rolled his eyes and snapped back at the Matron, “THAT, Poppy, is neither here nor there! Someone tried to harm her, didn’t they? Could you please go and get her a tonic for the pain?”

            Madame Pomfrey was taken aback at the way the potion master spoke at her. She stood up him, looking like an aged doll to the tall dark man, her face twisted in scorn, “I was just stating the obvious, Severus, you’ve no need to tear me down or order me about like I am one of your students. But you had best be careful,” – she threw a sideways glance at Vienna and back at Snape – “some people may accuse you of having feelings after all.” Madame Pomfrey stormed out, her shoes echoing loudly.

            Vienna looked back at Professor Snape, his figure a looming shadow in the dark. She didn’t necessarily feel uncomfortable around him, just unsettled by his penetrative silence; she smoothed the sheet that covered her disconcert. Her ruffling took him out of whatever absorption he was in. He skulked thunderously to her side again, leaned in her whispered, “I beg your pardon at the outburst you witnessed. Poppy is a sweet old woman, she just doesn’t know when to hold her tongue. I however have no use for a dead apprentice. Come to the dungeons when you are released later in the morning. Bring your money satchel, I will go and gather more supplies for you myself this weekend. Since we begin brewing the Wigginweld potion later today, I will provide you with reserves from my stores.”