Work Text:
A New Master
April 1, 2020
Avalon Cottage, Glastonbury, Somerset
“Oh, Merlin.”
“Draco - “
“Why did I do it?”
“Love - “
“Why did you let me?!”
Hermione bit her tongue, knowing that, as with grief, Draco’s whinging usually had seven stages. Rolling her eyes, she realized he’d moved past ‘denial’ and on to ‘accusation’. She kept her mouth shut and her fingers running through his hair, but he refused to be comforted.
Half an hour ago things had been peaceful. Hermione had made a cup of tea, selected a nice, thick, ancient book that smelled of dust and must and knowledge, and settled herself on the library sofa - the most comfortable spot in the house, according to her.
The afternoon sun had just found the perfect angle to illuminate the tome on her lap when Draco barged in…
‘It’s the end of the day,’ he stated, his whole being practically vibrating with nervous energy. ‘The day has ended ,’ he enunciated carefully when Hermione didn’t react.
‘Yes…?’
‘ End of day, on the first of April . Ring any bells?!’
Hermione knew where he was going with this and attempted to tread carefully. After all, Draco had flat-out refused to take any tutelage or advice from Severus, and she knew if he failed his Potions mastery he would take it as a personal failure rather than a professional one.
‘You… haven’t had an owl yet, then?’
‘No, I bloody haven’t had an owl yet!’
‘Ah.’
‘’Ah’? ‘Ah’ ? Is that really all you have to say?! You’re impossible, Granger!’
And, with that, he threw himself across the sofa, planted his head in her lap - dislodging her book, to her annoyance - and began one of his epic pity parties…
“There is no possible way this could end well. You should have told me. You should have warned me!” he snapped, turning his head to glare at her. “You knew ! You knew they would never allow me my rightful place! Why didn’t you stop me?! Why didn’t you - “
“If you utter one more word I’ll finish what Professor Moody started in fourth year and turn you into a ferret permanently ,” she growled, finally losing patience. Her eyes darkened and the tips of her hair sparked, and Draco’s naturally pale complexion lost another shade.
However, reason seemed to have abandoned him, and he sprang up, drawing his wand. Hermione copied him, ready and willing to put him back in his place by force if need be. Silver eyes narrowed as Draco squared off against the witch, a bit of colour coming back to his cheeks with the prospect of a good tumble.
“You wouldn’t dare,” he sneered, a bit of the obnoxious boy he’d once been rearing its head.
“I’d love nothing more,” she returned, a muscle in her neck twitching.
“Don’t you hex me, Granger - don’t you dARE!”
“DON’T SHOUT AT ME!”
“LOWER YOUR WAND!”
“I WILL IF YOU SHUT UP AND SIT BACK DOWN! YOU’RE ACTING LIKE A LUNATIC!”
“DON’T TELL ME WHAT TO DO!”
“DON’T BE SUCH A CHILD!”
“I AM NOT BEING A CHILD!”
“WHAT DO YOU CALL THIS, THEN!? REASONABLE BEHAVIOUR!?”
“I’M A MILLION TIMES MORE REASONABLE THAN YOU !”
“OH, YEAH?”
“YEAH!”
“CHILDREN!”
As they argued with one another, neither had noticed the floo activate, or a tall man clad all in black step out of it and brush the soot off his robes. They noticed his voice, however, the deep, magnetic timbre provoking a near-Pavlovian response and rendering them momentarily speechless.
“Severus, you're home,” Hermione greeted, sending him a small smile, wand still trained on Draco.
The Potions Master stared at the two of them, looking thoroughly perturbed at the scene in front of him. “You realize, of course, that part of the reason I retired from teaching was because I loathe witnessing infantile arguments .”
Hermione bristled a bit at that. “ I was not being infantile,” she insisted.
“Are you implying that I was?” Draco interjected, insulted.
“You were .”
“I most certainly was not !”
“An owl came to the Apothecary.”
Severus’ spoke quietly, but the statement carried through the room. Hermione darted a look at Draco. The young man stood stock still, his only movement being the rapid rise and fall of his chest. Reaching into his robes, Severus pulled out a small scroll of parchment with an official-looking seal on it.
“It is addressed to you,” he said, handing the scroll to Draco.
Slowly, the blond lowered his wand and reached out, taking the parchment. He held it with the tips of his fingers, as though afraid it would disappear, or possibly blow up, if he gripped it too tight. “Did… did you read it?” he asked, clearing his throat as his voice broke.
“It is addressed to you ,” Severus repeated. “Honestly, how I ended up playing house with the two of you is beyond me,” he continued, shedding his robe and laying it across the back of the sofa. He sank into a comfortable armchair and began undoing the cuffs of his sleeves, rolling them up for comfort.
Hermione perched herself on the arm of his chair and he wrapped an arm around her. “Did my boomslang skin come in?” she asked.
Severus hummed an affirmative. “I thought it safer to leave at the shop. I’d rather you did your brewing there where I can keep an eye on you.”
“I’m not completely incompetent, you know.”
“I do know that. But when it comes to potions, you can’t be trusted alone with dangerous ingredients.” He quickly held a finger to her lips to cut off whatever indignant remark she was going to make. “I never lie to you, Hermione,” he said. “While you are extremely talented in many areas, your skills at potion-making are merely adequate. I say that because it is the truth, not because I wish to hurt you.”
Hermione bit her lip and looked down, but nodded. She hated to hear it, but she knew he was right. As she grew older, it seemed that the highlight of her potion-making career had been the Polyjuice in her second year. Her skills lay in the research, not the brewing. She was completely the opposite of Draco, who seemed to have not only the skill but also the unerring instinct of a great potioneer.
“Are you going to open that scroll, or simply stare at it until it crumbles to dust?”
Draco attempted to glare at Severus, but couldn’t quite manage it. Nervously, he untied the ribbon and unfurled the letter.
“ ‘Dear, Mr. Malfoy’ ,” he read aloud, “ ‘we are pleased to inform you that you have passed the Mastery exam. You may now claim the title of ‘Potions Master’, with all the rights and privileges…’ ”
“Draco!” Hermione exclaimed as he crumpled to the floor in a dead faint. She rushed to his side while Severus sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.
“He’s going to be insufferable from now on, you know,” he said as the witch revived Draco and helped him onto the sofa, his right hand still clutching the parchment.
Hermione smirked and cast a sideways glance at the dark wizard. “Severus, I live with him. And you. I may be only an adequate brewer, but I think I’ve proven myself quite capable of handling ‘insufferable’ men.”