Lindsay threw her pencil on the desk in frustration. The equation she was working on wasn't yielding the results she was hoping for. Her notebook was nearly full with a new Potions formula and its many variants; each one had a corresponding sheet of paper with a math equation on it attempting to predict an outcome. So far none of them had been favorable, and Lindsay was at the end of her ability. She needed help.
She looked at her watch. It was still early. Snape would be patrolling the halls this evening. She hoped he was in a charitable mood. It was a few minutes before curfew and students were scattering in all direction trying to make it back to their houses before Snape caught them. Lindsay found him stalking the second floor.
"Professor?" called Lindsay, and Snape stopped. "Professor, I need your help with a Potions formula."
Snape resumed walking. "My office hours are clearly posted."
"This isn't about schoolwork. I'm working on a new potion, my own."
Snape stopped again; an arrogant smirk graced his face. He saw her notebook and held out his hand for it. His smirk disappeared as his eyes scanned the pages. A crease appeared between his brows, and he lifted his eyes to her. "This is very complex."
"The more I work on it, the longer the list of ingredients gets. And I can't get the probable failure rate below eighty percent. Please, will you help me?"
"I will think about it after I've examined your notes." He tucked her notebook under his arm and began walking again, at a pace slow enough that it suggested she follow him. "You must understand that you're dealing with magical properties. Mathematical equations can be used as a general guide, but they can't accurately predict probability."
"I don't have your intuitive understating, Professor. That's why I'm asking for help. I've reached the limit of my ability."
Snape was true to his word. He returned her notebook and presented her with a lengthy piece of parchment at the beginning of her next lesson with him. He'd reduced the list of ingredients by a third. He substituted a single herb that had the same or similar properties as two or three herbs on Lindsay's list. Lindsay was unfamiliar with most of his suggestions.
"Those are very rare and very expensive herbs. I wouldn't expect you to know them," said Snape as he took a seat across from her. "My substitutions are less toxic. And I've broken the brewing process into three parts, which will make the brewing easier and faster, and will improve the success rate."
Lindsay scanned the bottom of the parchment and smiled at the math equation written in Snape's handwriting. "I didn't know wizards were good at math."
"We're a rare breed, but we exist," replied Snape. "I daresay a fifty-percent success rate is a great improvement over your eighty-percent failure rating."
"It certainly is. Thank you, Professor."
"I'll be going to Hogsmeade tomorrow. If you'd like to join me, we could discuss this further."
Lindsay smiled broadly. "Yes, absolutely; I'd love to."
Snape was surprised by her answer, and his nervousness began to show. His cheeks flushed slightly and he looked away from her. "Ex...excellent, I'll meet you in the Three Broomsticks."
###
George appeared out of nowhere behind Ron. He put his hands on Ron's face and turned his head sharply. "Look at that!" Ron searched the many faces in the room, wondering what George was getting at, when his eyes settled on a small table in a dark corner. He saw Snape and Lindsay sitting across from each other having a somewhat lively--at least on Lindsay's part--but clearly friendly discussion. "Oy, what's going on there?" asked Ron.
"Nauseated?" asked George excitedly.
"No."
"Oh well, it was a good effort, George," said Fred as he sat down, uninvited, across from Harry and helped himself to some of the food on Harry's plate. "Last week they were sitting like this." George moved to sit next to Fred. They leaned closely together, shoulder to shoulder, and looked at each other with exaggerated moony-eyed expressions. Ron made a sickening noise and wore an equally disgusted expression. "Ah, you're nauseous now, aren't you?" said George.
"For your information, they were working on an obscure potions formula," said Hermione. "Lindsay showed me the parchment."
"How do you know it wasn't a ruse, Granger?" asked Fred.
"Because Snape's scrawl is unmistakable, I recognized it immediately. The formula was really quite interesting --"
"Ugh, spare us the details," said Fed.
"A thought has just occurred to me, Fred," said George as he eyed the odd couple in the corner.
"What might that be, George?"
"How does the Greasy Git manage to keep from slipping off his chair?"
"Invisible seatbelt?" replied Fred with a shrug.
"It's obvious that your affection for Lupin has prompted this," said Snape tapping the parchment on the table with his index finger. "I suppose you haven't considered the many Potions experts who've attempted to create a cure for lycanthropy and failed, some disastrously."
"I have as much chance as anyone."
"The odds are not in your favor, considering the high failure rate experienced by previous altruists."
"My reasons for doing this really aren't important," replied Lindsay as she set her empty teacup to the side.
"You are setting yourself up for great disappointment, Miss Gray."
Lindsay wasn't sure if Snape was really trying to protect her from failure, or if he was just trying to keep her away from Remus. The man could be inscrutable at times. "There's only one thing that matters, Professor: can we make this work?"
"As you wish," said Snape, heaving a deep sigh. "May I suggest you familiarize yourself with the research of other Potions makers before continuing with your own—to avoid unnecessary mistakes?"
"I deliberately didn't want to do that because I didn't want to be sidetracked by someone else's theories."
Snape's posture changed, becoming less rigid, as his mind locked onto the problem at hand. "The fifty-percent success rate I proposed is optimistic. In actual practice, it will likely be somewhat less, and that will vary from patient to patient. Are you prepared to have patient deaths on your conscience?"
Lindsay chose not answer the question directly. "What if the patient was placed in a medically induced coma first? The stress on the body could be drastically reduced, which should—in theory, produce a higher success rate. Is that possible, Professor—a magical coma?"
"Placing a patient into magical stasis is possible, yes; but only if he is still in human form. It would be impossible to contain a werewolf in such a way."
"What if said werewolf were given Wolfsbane potion first? The patient would be placid, and we'd be able to work with him."
Snape shook his head. "Wolfsbane combined with your potion would be toxic."
"Couldn't we wait a few hours to let the potion cycle out of the body?"
"It's not just about the excretion of a drug from the body, Miss Gray. There are also magical properties to be dealt with." Snape leaned forward and pointed at the list of ingredients on the parchment. "Many of the herbs in your potion are toxic in themselves. I've reduced their toxicity to acceptable levels, but any patient who was administered this potion would still become very ill and need intensive medical care. Adding Wolfsbane would cause certain death."
"Dang!" Lindsay flopped back in her chair in frustration.
"Perhaps if you explained to me how you formulated your theory, we could devise a safer, more refined potion."
"I was thinking that lycanthropy mimics a parasitic infection in some ways--"
"It's a curse, Miss Gray. It's magic, not science."
"Please, just hear me out, Professor. A parasite requires a host for its own survival. As long as the host lives, the parasite lives."
Snape folded his arms across his chest. A malicious grin spread across his lips. "So kill the host and the furry parasites dies with it. Go on."
"Very funny, Professor; I was thinking that the curse resided too deeply in the body to be removed. Much like a virus buried deeply into the nervous system, it's too hard to kill without causing irreparable harm to the host. But if we attack it while it's visible, when the werewolf comes out, we might be able to kill it...um, I mean, break the curse."
"That is interesting, Miss Gray," said Snape, passing his index finger across his lips. His eyes were glittering and Lindsay was sure that she caught hold of his intellectual curiosity. Snape sat up suddenly and leaned forward a little. His mind was turning over potential scenarios instead of dismissing her theory as quackery.
"For the present, we will keep this potion divided into three parts. The magical properties will have to be tested at each stage of the brewing process. If the changes are too great or too little, we'll have to start again..." Lindsay remembered almost everything that she saw or read, but speech was harder for her to remember. Snape's rapid-fire talking and ability to work through entire potions formulae in his mind made it difficult for her to keep up with him, but she was very much enjoying the challenge.
###
In the dim light of Lindsay's sitting room, two bodies moved in perfect time with the music playing softly in the background. Neville had borrowed a record player from Minerva. He was practicing dance steps with Lindsay. He even found the courage to dip her, despite her greater height.
"You're doing brilliantly, Neville," said Lindsay. "I think you've discovered a second talent."
"Do you really think so?"
"Absolutely; as long as you stay relaxed and focused, your timing is excellent." Neville moved to turn off the record-player. "Have you found a date yet?"
"No, I can't work up the courage to ask anyone. I'd ask you if you weren't going away for the holidays."
"Sorry about that, Neville, but it's a family tradition."
"I understand; family traditions are important."
"All you have to do is ask the girl if she has a date. If she doesn't, ask her if she'd like to go to the Yule Ball with you. The worst she can do is say no."
"That's not the worst thing, she could hex me."
"No one would do that to you," said Lindsay as she cupped his chin in her hand. "Just avoid the Slytherin girls, and maybe focus your efforts on the Hufflepuffs. They're mostly good natured."
"Okay," said Neville, still sounding uncertain. "Can we try one more time? I want to know the steps perfectly."
"Certainly," replied Lindsay cheerfully.