Infinity Times Infinity

The soft roiling of potions brewing in the far corner, the smell of drying herbs, and the earthy must that was the dungeons… it was all familiar to you. 

Snape sat behind his desk, clean and organized save for a few papers in front of him. He motioned for you to take a seat on the chair across from him and you obliged. 

“Good evening, Professor.”

He shuffled the papers that were in front of him, stopping at a select few. “Evening.” 

It remained silent for a few more moments before he spoke. 

“As your Head of House, it is my duty to work with and guide you through your educational path.” He opened a drawer from below his desk and extracted a moderately sized manilla folder; your name was written on the front cover accompanied by your student ID. “Tell me, what are your plans once you’re out of Hogwarts?” 

He rose a curious eyebrow that was more for show than anything. 

You wanted to sit confidently, but your own demeanor betrayed you. Instead, your shoulders gave a little slouch, something one wouldn’t particularly notice if they weren’t paying close enough attention. What you wanted to be wasn’t your decision to make, yet you planned to keep it in your grasp for as long as you could. 

“I want to become a potioneer, open up my own apothecary.” 

He studied you curiously. “A potioneer?” 

Something like amusement sparkled in his eyes, onyx now compared to his usual coal black. The look quickly subsided as he shuffled through the multi-colored pamphlets. He fiddled with a dark blue pamphlet, one with the picture of a bubbling cauldron.  

“You’re not saying this expecting me to shed a tear because I moved you with the art of potion-making… are you?”

“Sir, as much as I enjoy your yearly speech of the arts — no.” You shifted a bit in your seat. “Besides, becoming a potioneer it’s… it’s my second option.”

The shuffling stopped, a soft oh escaping his lips. “Well, what’s your first?”

You tried your best to not look crestfallen, distracting your mind by playing with the hems of your sleeve. “It doesn’t matter, I won’t be able to achieve it anyway. That’s why I’ve decided to become a potioneer, it’s the closest to my goal —”

“Miss Lupin.” His voice grounded you before you could continue rambling. "What is your first option?” 

You chewed the inside of your cheek nervously, the rumpled cloth of your robes sucking up the clamminess of your hands. You took a deep breath in, then smoothed out the creases you had made. 

“For a while, I dreamed of becoming the Head of the Department for the Regulation of Magical Creatures. If not that, then the head of the Beast and Being divisions.” When you didn’t hear a laugh or scoff, you continued. “It means well as a department, but there’s not much regulation, to begin with.” 

Snape remained quiet for a few moments before responding. “Now why would you want to join the Ministry?” 

He was trying his best to hold back his sneer but he looked somewhere between being in major pain and being constipated. You would’ve laughed but thought it inappropriate. His incredulity was warranted. So why would you – a registered werewolf? 

But you had your reasons, you knew why. 

“The werewolf division is practically non-existent and useless. Did you know that for the longest time, they never knew where to put werewolves?” You drew in a deep breath to calm yourself. “We’ve been shunted between two divisions for decades: Beast and Being. Don’t even get me started in the so-called ‘Werewolf Support Services’ that never had outreach programs. That got shut down within months of its conception. 

“The registry isn’t well maintained — like at all. Seriously, I think the only reason why it even exists is because my dad’s name and mine are on there,” you explained. “Werewolves are scared to admit their lycanthropy because of all the expectations they’re forced to maintain. I thought that maybe if they saw someone of their own kind maintaining the registry, they’d be more open to the idea of getting help.”

You took in a deep, feeling energized about being able to talk to someone about this. 

“Which brings me to my second point: becoming a potioneer.” His curiosity quirked a bit more at that. “I want to open up my own apothecary to help wizards with lycanthropy — make the potion more accessible. You know how it is, how expensive the ingredients are, how fussy the potion can be.”

“Having done so for your father every month, yes.” 

You chuckled, humor kept to a minimum. 

“I’ve never seen him like this. So rejuvenated and — well not really carefree — but that’s beside the point. I never thanked you for that,” you remembered, then smiled genuinely. “Thank you.”

His eyes flitted away from your gaze for the briefest moment before regaining his composure. It was funny, seeing him look so stoic. That was one thing you noticed about him. Snape was amazing at hiding his emotions behind a mask, keeping it unknown to the public what he was really feeling, hell you wouldn’t know if it weren’t for the fact that you were a werewolf. 

All you had to do was focus on him closely and you could feel his heartbeat shift. Sometimes the pheromones were a clearer marker of how a person felt. It was primal… biological, something people couldn’t really hide. Like now, how Snape’s heart stuttered slightly at the words thank you, but his face remained all the same. 

“I’m not doing it out of my own generosity. The Headmaster would have my head if I didn’t make sure your father had his Wolfsbane.” 

“No one is thinking so, Professor.” A quiet laugh escaped your lips, one that sounded happier. “But the fact that you still do it and make sure my father is well is why I’m grateful.”

“We’re getting sidetracked with our council.” He cleared his throat before crossing his arms. “Anyway, as we’re both aware, Wolfsbane is expensive.” 

“Yes, which is why…” you began, the thought trailing off as you turned to grab your bag off the floor. 

You looked around in your satchel until you came across the tattered journal. A few pages of the journal were dog eared (a habit you got from your father) and some loose sheets of paper poked out from in between the pages. Snape watched curiously as you handed it to him. His eyes trailed over the pages filled with inky words, drawings, smudges, and other curious substances (you’ve knocked too many vials and drinks to count, honestly). 

“… for the past three years, I’ve been trying to break down and substitute the wolfsbane potion to its bare elements. So far I’ve found perfect substitutions for two ingredients, however, that also means that I have to alter the potion’s brewing instructions, something I still don’t know much of.”

You continued as Snape flipped to a new page. 

“As we know, the original potion was created by Damocles Belby, but what many don’t know is that Belby was a rather racist wizard who cared more for money and class than accessibility. He made the potion with the most expensive materials and no one ever questioned him about substitutes because no one wanted to put any extra effort.” 

You shifted in your seat, eyes focused on the journal in Snape’s hands rather than the man himself. 

“I want to help others with my affliction. If I make it easier to access, people with lycanthropy might have a fighting chance at rejoining the wizarding world… they can get their place back.” 

Snape looked up from your notes, his hands closing the journal slowly to collect his thoughts.  

“I must say, your notes are rather informative and definitely thorough.” He handed your journal back. “Although a bit scatter-minded.” 

You glared at him, an empty threat dawning on your features. Snape was indifferent to it and ignored your childish mannerisms. Something in his face, however, you noticed something else… an internal debate. You didn’t even have to ask if something was wrong, he was already talking. 

“I propose an offer.” Snape leaned closer into his steepled hands. “If you pass your Potions O.W.L., I’ll extend my mentoring services and teach you advanced skills on top of those taught at the NEWT level… and I’ll teach you how to properly brew the Wolfsbane potion.” 

You froze. “Really?”

“Yes.” He calmly rested his hands on his desk. “But only if you achieve an O in your Potions O.W.L. Maybe then your father might stop nagging me every month. It’ll save me the headache.” 

You snorted. 

“You’ll fall under an apprenticeship so you’ll be free to use the lab for research.” He seemed pained to say the next part but proceeded anyway. “And you’ll have access to the ingredients from my personal reserve — as long as you report and manage the amounts used.”

You nodded, excitement barely contained. And you weren’t sure if it was all the excitement riling inside of you, but you swore you saw Snape’s lips twitch into a smile. An almost smile — hey, you’ll take it!     

“I’ve seen your work for the past five years, believe me when I say that I know you can do this, Miss Lupin. You are one of my brightest, if not tolerable, students after all.” 

A pang of melancholy flourished from your chest, constricting your throat as it ravished for a way out. You didn’t even fight it as your vision blurred a few seconds later, unsure as to why until Snape presented you a box of tissues. You blinked away the tears, confused from the sudden waterworks, but grabbed a tissue and wiped the tears away. 

“Merlin, I’m sorry professor. I promise you I’m not such a crybaby.” 

He scoffed playfully. “I’ve seen my fair share of your whining. You were an incredibly sentimental child.” 

Right. You had forgotten that. The memories made your cheeks flush and feel a bit warm to the touch. 

“In fact, I remember you crying over —” 

You covered your face. “No! Don’t you dare bring any of that up!” 

“You were —” 

“I was a child! Of course, I cried.” 

He rolled his eyes, a faint playful smirk on his face. “You wanted me to give your doll a haircut and cried when I gave her a fringe.” 

“She didn’t want a fringe, I told you that.” 

“I thought she looked great. She even agreed herself.” 

You fake coughed. “Liar.”

He hummed amusedly as he drew from the stack of papers a dark, muted red pamphlet. The silhouette of a soaring owl encompassed by various circles was by no means anything unfamiliar. You had seen the pamphlet every year in the Slytherin common room for the past five years. 

“Here’s the pamphlet for the Ministry’s Department of Magical Creatures.” Snape opened it to the requirements page. “It’s recommended you obtain at least an Exceeds Expectations in the following N.E.W.T.s: Defense Against the Dark Arts, Care of Magical Creatures, Charms, and Transfiguration. You’re a Slytherin so I know you’ll give your absolute best, correct?” 

“Of course, sir.” 

Snape went through the folder with your name on it. “Your marks exceed the average for your year. Most of your professors have marked you between Exceeds Expectations and Outstanding, more leaning towards the latter.” 

He continued to speak of your marks, there wasn’t much to add. They were above average, not really near-genius, but they were outstanding. He bored you with a few minute details about the O.W.L.s before putting everything he had taken from your records away. 

His eyes sauntered. “I must give caution, Miss Lupin, that if the worst is to occur that you follow your second choice. Are you aware of the entrepreneurship process? Would you like a pamphlet regarding the necessary steps of legal wish-wash?” 

Your mind wandered back to two redheads. Of course, you knew the entrepreneurship process, you were helping the boys with their own after all. Any of it was yet to become true, ideas of opening a shop remained ideas written on paper. Give or take a few years, those ideas would become printed on paper advertising their shops. It was all you could hope for them: success and happiness. 

You nodded and Snape handed you a sage-colored leaflet. You gave it a brief glance before stashing it in your bag alongside your journal. 

“Do you have any other questions or concerns about your O.W.L.s? N.E.W.T.s? Sixth-year curriculum?” He asked automatically, years of career meetings surfacing. 

You were about to shake your head when you suddenly remembered — “Do you know if Hogwarts is going to offer Alchemy next year?” 

“I’ve heard multiple students express interest in the subject. I don’t see why it shouldn’t be offered next year.” Snape scratched his cheek as he pondered. “Should I jot your name down as interested?” 

“Please, sir.” 

He nodded. 

“Well then, if that is all, this concludes our meeting.” When you said nothing more, he closed the folder and shooed you away. “Off you go, I have other students needing my council.” 

You scoffed playfully, already out the door when you turned to look at him. “Ever the gentleman, Professor.” 

He grunted, already busy looking for the next student’s file. Once you were out of the room, you relaxed your shoulders, the strap of your bag drooping alongside you. It seemed like everything was going well. If it stayed like that, then hopefully all would go according to plan.