Disclaimer- I do not claim to own Harry Potter or anything mentioned in this story. This is all from the mind of the lovely and talented Ms. Rowling. Also, in my fan fiction, certain events in Deathly Hollows will not take place. In order to risk not giving anything away… Here we go!!
"Where were you last night 'Mione?" Ronald Weasley asked as he poured some pumpkin juice into his mug. He offered to pour for his friends via a simple glance between the two and his sister. Hermione shook her head, too enthralled by a muggle book to care for pumpkin juice; Harry held out his mug and muttered a thank you, as did Ginny. But Ron's eyes were locked on Hermione Ganger, waiting for an answer.
The young witch looked up, the small voice in the back of her mind urged her to answer the question and stray from the novel for a mere moment. "I went to the library. I thought I told you that last night Ronald," she spoke with a hint of venom. The young Miss Ganger was not in a pleasant mood that morning. The events of the previous night or lack of events, just made her feel horrible. She had just known that the owls she received were cruel jokes. Probably from the mind of Draco Malfoy, just so he could entertain himself during his Christmas holiday. Hermione Jean Granger felt horrible, and she was hurt. In fact, the mere thought of it sent tears to her honey-like eyes.
"Oh, yeah," was all the red-head could muster before he consumed a sip of his daily pumpkin juice. He didn't notice the pain and hurt in dear Hermione's eyes. However, a pair of obsidian ones could. After all, they knew their own looks and could spot the horrid emotions in any other living being. And it killed the owner of these black eyes for he could do nothing to comfort the young Gryffindor.
A night of fire whiskey and destroying one's room often left a mess. Professor Severus Snape was a walking example of it that morning. After retreating from the library, Snape stormed to his quarters; malice, hared, and pain all played, disapprovingly, with his emotions. Surely, a man of his stature, age, and education would be able to control such petty things that emotions were to him. Merlin knows that he's done a good job of it after his verbal assault on Lily Evans nearly twenty years prior to that day. That, along with being Dumbledor's secret liaison, a wizard had to know how to control his emotions and put up a façade. But after seeing Miss Granger so upset…it hurt him as much as Lily showing obvious disdain towards him, if not more hurt. To know that he had caused her tears, the beautiful blush of embarrassment that the young witch wore so well… It took a part of his already shattered heart away, causing more cracks for his outward persona to creep into the core that held the true Severus Snape.
That morning, however, he had to be composed. He had to be the miserable professor that he was every day, not some miserable man who had caused pain to his star pupil, (he only denied it for the sake of his reputation.) Still, he watched her taking breakfast in the Great Hall. The spark of excitement was not present in her honey brown eyes like they had been the previous night. She barely even responded to her "best friends'" ramblings that surround her. Instead, she was lost in her personal escape: A book. This morning's literature consisted of "Emma" by Ms. Jane Austin. The normally cherry Gryffindor was lackluster that morning. The wonderfully brilliant comet that was being hidden at that moment by the sun, kept her noise in that bloody book with pain laced in the eyes that scanned the pages. And Snape had no one to blame but himself. If only he hadn't made such dangerous plans to reveal himself as the maddened man that he had become…Suddenly, defense against the dark arts with Miss Granger didn't seem as exciting… Not if she were to give a dull performance.
"Ron…Be careful with those!" Hermione, though still plagued with her sorrow, did not let that small detail distract her in today's potions class. Not when ashwinder eggs were being used. He sure was getting on her nerves that day. He had already been careless with their first batch of amortentia and had placed too many of his own hairs into the potion. How is it that every potion that involves human manipulation needs hair from the target? Hermione thought as she rolled her eyes and nudged Ron to one side. She was in no mood to deal with Professor Slughorn and Ron was not going to help her cause in the slightest by turning their potion the shade that his hair was. "Ashwinder eggs are precious," the young Gryffindor stated as she plucked a few of her hairs and placed them in the cauldron, causing the steam to dance in the air. The show was like watching lovers' bodies mingle, desiring one another, and forming a large heart in the movement. The scent was familiar. Professor Slughorn had warned that the potion would be alluring; she had not imagined it being like this. The scent of rain, herbs, and smoke assaulted her sense of smell. And she found it comforting. In fact, it reminded her of grandmother's home. Perhaps that's why it comforted her so?
"Miss Granger, Mr. Weasley…" The tall figure, better known as Professor Slughorn, came up behind the pair. His long arms were folded over his chest as he looked down to the friends. He had come to examine their progress, hoping that they would not fail with this task. "I see your potion has become a most attractive color. This color tells us that your concoction is read for testing." He leaned over the cauldron, checking the color. The duo from Gryffindor had done their job correctly. And more than the color told this to Snape.
The potions master closed his eyes, holding a neutral expression as he took a step away from the work bench. "Mr. Weasley," Slughorn said as Ron looked to Hermione with a frightened look on his face all while swallowing whatever pride he brought into this classroom. "Take a sample of your potion; let's see if your potion is effective," The professor smirked as he watched Ron meticulously drank some of what Hermione easily made. The poor red-head was mostly afraid of what would happen. Even he knew this could end badly. But it was either drink the draught or have Gryffindor loose points. What other choice did he have?
Two pairs of eyes eagerly waited for the result of such a draught. Slughorn's reasoning was simple: He had to see if his students performed the task properly. And Hermione watched because she knew that her chestnut hair made her the target of the love potion. She winced as Ron drank the potion and looked down, prepared for what obsession and infatuation would come within the next few days.
"Professor…" Hermione spoke softly as she looked up to the black figure hovering over her work station. She needed to be out of the class room as quickly as possible lest she wanted to be embarrassed further. "May I be excused from this exhibition?" She kept her nervous brown eyes on her professor, hoping he would grant her one wish.
"No. We must see how this affects him." All Hermione could do was shake her head, her hand over her mouth. She felt as though she was going to vomit, fall ill to her nerves. She had known for ages that Ron had fancied her and she…did not return his affection. All while Slughorn watch intently.
"I'm sorry Professor." Hermione got up quickly, gathering her things and running out of the class room. She wasn't going to stand to watch Ron's not-so-obvious attraction turn into very obvious attraction. She needed fresh air. But even that seemed impossible as she closed her eyes and took a deep breath of the air that circled around the castle. It was as if the fates were trying to punish her that day. Within the moment that she closed her eyes and turned the corner, she hit something, or rather…someone…that'd stop her progress to Gryffindor Tower. She was paralyzed. The scent…rain…herbs…smoke…The scent of alchemy, the scent that comforted her so much.
"I trust, Miss Granger…" A deep voice penetrated her sense of hearing; much like the scent of the amortentia potion assaulted her sense of smell. Now, Hermione dare not open her eyes. If you had been in Hogwarts one day, you would have easily known who that voice belonged to. "…Your lack of paying attention is due to your Gryffindor friends finally corrupting you." The smug smirk crept across Snape's lips as he looked down to the young witch. It was like a solar eclipse; the smirk lasted only a few seconds if that.
"I-I'm sorry Professor Snape." Hermione still had her eyes close, but she knew her head was bowed down. Even with eyes wide shut, she could feel the cold, black eyes of Severus Snape burning holes into her being. "…It won't happen again." She mumbled, pulling her bag further up her shoulder, closer to her neck.
That slight movement caught Snape off guard. He was thankful that Miss Ganger's eyes were closed. Had they been open to him, she would have caught him looking at her neck. He would compare it to that of a swan, long and graceful as it tilted stretched slightly to one side to accommodate what must have been a heavy bag. Snape adverted his eyes quickly, rolling his eyes at himself for even thinking of her as something more than a student. "Open your eyes you foolish girl." The comment held Snape's usual brand of impatience for Gryffindors and for her in particular. And she did. Hermione opened her eyes and looked up at Snape, the embarrassed blush from the night before back on her cheeks. And he rolled his eyes again.
"I'm sorry Professor." She repeated as she nodded her head. She could feel the heat in her cheeks and she looked down again, hoping Snape didn't notice that she was obviously flushed. Further more, she didn't want him discovering the reason why. She already had to deal with Ron and the affects of the amortentia potion; she did not need an infatuation, especially not with a Professor.
"Do not let it happen again." Snape said in his deep voice, moving to one side to let the young witch pass. She nodded towards him again as she walked past him. The air behind her leaving a scent of lavender and old books along with the scent of winter. Oh god. Snape thought as he continued his journey to Dumbledor's office. The scent that followed the muggle-born girl reminded him so very much of another muggle-born witch: Lily Evans. Oh sweet Merlin. He shook his head, keeping his demeanor even if he just wanted to clutch his heart and weep. He would have plenty of time to do that later in the privacy of his quarters.
Back in the comfort of the Gryffindor common room, Hermione sat in front of the fire that the house-elves had made. Crookshanks pounced onto her lap, sensing Hermione's distress. The young witch let out a soft smile as she stroked the orange fur of her pet and pondered what had just happened. She remembered Professor Slughorn mentioning something about how the amortentia potion gave off the scent of what one finds most appealing. In Hermione's, case it was the scent of alchemy and rain. And how odd it was to her that Snape would possess these qualities. Qualities that brought her back to the holiday the students had just returned from. Gergor would bring her letters and along with the scent of parchment, she could smell the herbs that were on hands of whoever wrote to her. The puzzle pieces were there and the image on the box left Hermione confused. That confusion got to her and by the fire side, she combusted and succumbed to the tears that wanted to be set free. Not even magic would be able to solve this one easily.