It was the first day of seventh year and a handful of students crowded the corridor outside of the advanced potions class, waiting for professor Snape. Leaning against the farthest wall away from everyone (with an exceptionally large book under her nose) was a particularly bushy haired brunette. Her deep, brown eyes darted back and forth as she sped through each sentence. Her cheeks were rosy with delight as she absorbed the information and committed it to memory.
A group of pretentious and rather callous looking students openly snickered at her- their silver and emerald ties shimmering in the faint glow of the gas lamps that aligned the stone corridor. The tallest and most attractive of the bunch ran a hand through his pale blonde hair, gently brushing his bangs from his eyes. Mockingly he reached into his bag and pulled out one of his own books, opening it wide in front of his face and peeking out over the top. A girl who appeared to be, for the past three or four years now figuratively attached to his waist, cackled loudly and called over to the girl from across the hall.
"Hey Granger does it say anything in there about how to treat that savage beast growing out of your head? Or is it a side effect of whatever spell created those hideous teeth of yours?"
Hermione tried her hardest to ignore them, but failed miserably when the entire class burst into laughter. The entertainment at her expense rang through the dungeons, and echoed like a torturous afterthought.
"Silence," drawled professor Snape as he opened the classroom door and allowed them to take their seats.
As quick as her short legs could manage, Hermione found herself a seat at the very back- secluded from everyone else who occupied the first two rows of desks. Class began immediately and to Hermione's relief no further attention was drawn to her.
Gingerly she sliced her ingredients and ladled them into her steaming cauldron- following the instructions Snape had given them with utter perfection. The alluring scent of cinnamon wafted her face soothingly. She could almost feel herself dozing off as she daydreamed of many, many things. She imagined being out by the lake with her two best friends. She imagined being in the dormitory curled up in a chair by the fire with one of her favourite books. She imagined a pair of familiar grey eyes. She imagined long, slender fingers trailing over her spine, grazing the nape of her neck and hungrily weaving them in her hair...
"This potion may seem frivolous as its main use is to produce dreams, but it is highly dangerous. The minds of many are weak, remember that," advised professor Snape from the front of the room.
He continued to speak in his drawling tone as he strolled back and forth between the rows. When he drew near to where Hermione sat he paused, but she didn't notice him. She was too preoccupied with her own imaginings.
"If you all turn and take notice to a lovely example of this. Miss Granger seems to be under the effect of the potion and can't control her drooling as she dreams of things I assure you all are less than amiable."
Her face burned as cat whistles sounded throughout the dungeon. Every head in the room turned in her direction. His eyes locked with hers- his beautiful grey eyes. A sudden wave of nausea hit her stomach like a ton of Hagrid's pound cake. She had been imagining his eyes?!
He smirked knowingly as she stared back at him with wide, frightened eyes. He knew. He knew she had been daydreaming about him!
Snape, no longer interested in her mortification, dismissed the class. Hermione shoved her equipment in her bag and fumbled with her books. When she finally had everything neat and orderly in her bag she made a run for it, but a tall form blocked her way. The majority of the class had already bustled out, except him.
He twirled his wand between his fingers and eyed her with a mingled air of curiosity and disgust.
"So what was I doing Granger? What was I doing that made you all hot and bothered in that little dream of yours?"
Hermione panicked and responded the safest way she could, with denial.
"I wasn't dreaming anything of the sort and certainly not about you Malfoy!" she snapped fiercely.
Draco Malfoy smirked once more and titled his head down, leaning closer to her.
"I saw the way you looked at me," he whispered, "I'm not as dim as the other boys you've played with."
Hermione flushed crimson.
"I haven't played with any b-boy," she stammered.
Draco's smirk broadened, "Whatever you say Granger."
And with that he left. Hermione watched his retreating back for a moment, and only a moment because she refused to allow herself any more than that. Draco Malfoy was a despicable prat, and she wouldn't have for such stupid fantasies. It was the potion, not her. Still though, it was remarkable how when he had been mere inches from her face, his breath had smelled strongly of cinnamon.