Seeking Sanctuary

Hermione marched purposefully down the familiar halls, her inner auto-pilot guiding her toward her destination. Her brain was mentally scanning the pages of her well worn copy of Advanced Potionmaking while also avoiding trick steps and steering her through her most favourite shortcuts and hidden passageways.

Peppermint extract, no, that's useless, the drinker will have hallucinations...

Hop one step, make a left.

Sugar, definitely not, it would ferment so rapidly that the drinker would immediately become incredibly intoxicated. Not good in life or death situations, you would definitely not want your judgment to become impaired...

Wait for the moving staircase.

Honey? No, best not to risk any sugar at all. How can you make a potion like that less vile to drink, there must be some additive...

Two rights after the suit of armor bearing a black and gold shield, being careful to keep out of reach of his sword. She knew that particular one enjoyed lifting up the older girls skirts when they weren't looking. The pervert.

How do you make something sweet without sugar? It's a riddle and damned if I can come up with a suitable solution!

Behind the tapestry that looked as if some inept first-year had attempted a cleaning charm and had accidentally rearranged the fabric. Now it looked like a tie-dyed sheep had coughed up a hairball and flattened it on the wall claiming it to be art.

Maybe Dobby down in the kitchens could recommend something to me. Although I hate to make the poor creature work harder than necessary, despite his eagerness to please.

Out the back of a portrait of Rufus the Randy (who shouted a catcall to Hermione as she exited). Down the hall to the right.

It would be ludicrous to ask anything of Snape, he'd probably die laughing at the gall of me requesting his help with anything, even if it would help him in turn. That's a thought, Snape dying. I wonder what his tombstone would say:

Here Lies

Severus Snape

"Good riddance to all you dunderheads!"

Hermione giggled aloud at the thought. Finally she had arrived. Now she had to refocus on what she would need for her studies. Cauldrons, many of them. A full stock of ingredients, one to rival Snape's private storeroom. And books! She would need all books available about potions and potion ingredients. She steadied her mind and began to pace.

I need a place to work on potions. I need books about potions. I need potions equipment and supplies, lots of supplies. I need a calming environment. She kept pacing. She added quietly and whispered aloud, almost as an afterthought, "I need help..." Where did that come from? she thought as the door to the Room of Requirement began to materialize on the formerly blank stretch of wall. She considered her last request of the room and while it was vague and probably ignored by whatever charm that listened to the various requirements of the residents of the castle, she decided that she probably could use help of some kind, since she was stumped. She didn't expect the kind of help the room provided...

Hermione heaved open the heavy door and hurried into the room before someone would see her and nose into her business. As she turned around, she met the inquisitive eyes of another student, his hair falling forward over his face that was partially tilted toward the cauldron beneath him. Obviously she had caught him in the middle of his own potionmaking and instantly felt embarrassed by her intrusion into his private work. It was clear that he had come here to work in solitude, and was not expecting any interruption, for he had taken his school robes and tie off and had undone a few buttons on his shirt and rolled up the sleeves, most likely due to the heat that his potion created in the room. She was reminded of the time her mother had treated her to a day at the spa for her 17th birthday and they had walked into a sauna. The heat was palpable. It invaded all five of her senses until she felt she could taste the humidity. She felt the beads of sweat prickling on her forehead and fought the urge to fan herself with her hand. Now was not the time for such a gesture, because the gaze he had locked her eyes into was almost frightening and she could feel him scrutinizing her. What she could read in the look he was giving her were vast amounts of curiosity, mingled with a bit of surprise and a hint of appraising, as if he were deciding how he should approach his new found situation. She stood up straight, making herself taller, which then drew his gaze away from her eyes and to her form. She could imagine how her hair looked in the heat of the room, mostly frizzy, and her uniform was wrinkled because she had hastily picked it up from the floor and thrown it on that morning. As his eyes lingered on her worn loafers, she felt her face grow hotter, if it were even possible in that room. Hermione did not bother wearing fancy stilettos or strappy sandals like the other girls her age did to show off their legs. She had always been of the opinion that no one paid attention to your feet anyway, so why bother squashing them into shoes that only gave you blisters and callouses? Now her feet were receiving a look of unbidden condescension and she wished she had worn something a little less revolting than her disgusting stained penny loafers.

"May I help you, Granger?" Those eyes were locked on hers again. She searched for words, begged her brain and her mouth to cooperate.

"Uhhh..." Dammit, stupid stupid! Say something, don't just mumble like bloody Frankenstein! Although with that hair you probably look more like the Bride of Frankenstein. Uuughh!

"I'm sorry, I just gave away the last 'uhhh.' Would you settle for a 'What?' instead?"

"Uhhh..." Wow, who would have thought you were top in your class Hermione. Merlin! Get it together!

"Enough pleasantries, Granger. Do you think you can string together enough words and make a sentence to explain how and why you have disturbed me?"

Snap out of it! "Actually, I didn't mean to barge in on you, I was just trying to use the room to brew a few potions of my own. I didn't know you would be here." There, two sentences!

"Obviously, otherwise you wouldn't be gaping at me like I had grown three noses. I haven't, have I? You never know with these potions." He gave her a smirk as if daring her to tell him his face wasn't perfect in every sense of the word.

"Well I'll just work over there if you don't mind." She gestured to the opposite side of the room. "And I'll put a cooling charm on the room since it's so hot in here." She took out her wand from her belt and raised it into the air to cast her charm.

"DON'T!" His eyes were wide in panic, his hand outstretched as if trying to reach and stop her. She gave him a questioning look and his expression suddenly changed from panicked to peeved. "What are you, stupid? Or just ignorant?"

The words stung her. Of course she wasn't stupid! She wanted to shout at him, defend herself from his insults. Instead she began, "Well actually, you should know I am-"

"Yeah, the top of our class." he cut her off. "That just goes to show you how worthless classes here are. When the top student doesn't have the common sense to know that obviously I could cast a cooling charm if I wanted to. And obviously I didn't. And as you can plainly see I am brewing a potion in this heat. And someone with any real intelligence would put two and two together and realize that this heat I am suffering through in here is for the benefit of said potion. And as you have probably already memorized from a book," at this he snorted, "the potion Ferrediamus has a higher than normal freezing point. And if you let this particular potion cool at any time during the process, it will become a paste prematurely. Once you reheat the premature paste to boiling point and attempt to complete the potion, the version of Ferrediamus you make will be-"

"Considerably weaker and of lower quality." Hermione finished lamely.

"Instead of making something harder than diamonds, it would be as soft as margarine. So I ask you again, are you an idiot?" Hermione stared at him, wand still half raised in uncertainty. She shook her head and her frizzy coif bounced along either side of her face. "Then put your damn wand back in your belt before you do something stupid, you fool!"

At this Hermione bristled. How the hell was I supposed to know all that! And who is he to just take over this room as if he owns it! I have just as much right to the room as he does, I mean it's the freakin' Room of Requirement, and I bloody well require it so he can shove the giant squid up his rear end! "Who do you think you are? You order me around as if you own the whole damn school when I have just as much right to be here as anyone! And it's not my fault if I didn't know what potion you were brewing or why it was so hot in here, I mean anyone could have made that mistake!"

"But you're not just anyone are you?" His tone of voice held neither sarcasm nor ridicule. Only observation. "You pride yourself on not being an average student here. So act like it and take responsibility for your actions." He looked up at her, expecting a response. But what could she say?

"I'm sorry." There, she had humbled herself. To him of all people. He who needed no help at all humbling her every damn day. "Would you mind if I worked on a potion at the other end of the room?"

"Go right ahead, you won't bother me, Granger."

"I'll just get my supplies and be out of your hair, Malfoy."