It was Valentines day, and the whole school was beyond relief. Anyone who had been there during Professor Lockhart's employment, at least. Today, there were no pink flying hearts, no singing valentines, and absolutely no dwarves in embarrassing costumes. It was a perfectly normal, miserably cold, slushy snowy February day. Then again, nothing is normal at Hogwarts.
The sixth-year Gryffindors trudged into the chilly potions room (dungeon seven) for another day of verbal abuse, intimidation, revolting smells, and, or course, some learning. Hermione Granger thudded her books and potion supplies down at the table , fully expecting a thoroughly standard class. Looking at the board, which bore the day's assignment, she paused. For one thing, the potion they were to prepare didn't have a title. Usually, it would have some impressive name like, The Draught of Shame or Giant's Drink. This, however, went straight into the procedure. However, this anomaly paled in comparison to the fact that it was a full half minute into class and Professor Snape hadn't admonished them yet. (Hermione had deduced over the years that if the entire class hadn't their supplies out in ten seconds, five if it was a particularly nice day outside, Professor Snape would begin deducting points.)
In fact, Snape seemed not to notice that the class had even entered the room. He was there, standing at the head of the class as usual, with his unhappy scowl and crossed arms, as usual, but he took no notice of the class. He was staring out the small, barred window next to his desk. This was highly unusual. They were going to begin class almost a minute late! This was far too much for Hermione to bear. Professor Snape, she began tentatively, I... believe class has started. Upon hearing himself directly addressed, Snape twitched and turned to the class.
Three points fro Gryffindor, Miss Granger. Class, silence is required, or more points shall be docked.
Nice going, Hermione, Ron hissed, cramming a Martin Miggs' comic back into his bag. Within nanoseconds, the class returned to order, and Professor Snape was detailing that day's work.
Curious, thought Hermione, as she scanned the board more carefully, If I wasn't mistaken, I'd say that the ingredients here were all safe... and edible. As far as she could remember, every single potion they had made since their first year had at least done something. This, from the look of the ingredients, was (could it be?) some kind of food. Familiar food, at that. Hermione was clearly not the only student with this idea.
Seamus asked, are we making chocolate? Lavender and Parvati giggled, but Snape grew livid.
Mister Finnegan? Are you implying that I am no more than a mere cooking teacher or squirrel? Detention. Seamus paled, but wondered with everyone else what the hell Snape was talking about. Usually, his verbal barbs had at least a modicum of sense in them. Hermione raised her hand to inquire further, but the professor seemed to be lost looking out the window again, scowling something fierce. She opened her mouth to catch his attention again, but her focus was diverted by Ron sniggering,
Perhaps he's trying to impress a lady,
...or a man, Dean added, raising his eyebrows.
Harry couldn't help himself, ...or the Squid! With that, the three boys, along with Seamus, couldn't contain themselves any longer and began laughing. This got Snape's attention, as well as what may go down in history as the most unpleasant glare ever. They quieted down and got to work.
By the end of the class, there was no doubt in anyone's mind that they were making chocolate. However, their professor's demeanor certainly prevented further questions.
Place your final product in the box, Snape announced, pointing to an oddly shaped red foil affair on his dingy desk. Despite the dubious construction, they will be, for the most part, acceptable, he added, casting a disparaging look over to Neville's semi-liquid glob. So, one by one the students placed their work into the box, noting that, upon closer inspection, it was shaped like a heart. The lumpy, four chambered outline of a heart. Snape stood over the box as the students approached, glaring at them and daring them to say anything. No one said anything. With that, he slammed the box shut, announced, Class is dismissed, and stalked down the hallway, whistling a menacing tune.
Was he just whistling? Harry said, his facial expression teetering between amazement and fright.
That's not the strangest part, Hermione goggled, looking at Ron's watch, he let us out ten minutes early.