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Flabbergasted

Part 7: Lashes

Hermione stared, blinked, then stared some more. Amazing. Never in her life had she seen eye lashes as long as those. And it was on that face. That man.

Surely she should have noticed earlier, like maybe first year?

She snorted quietly to herself. The man had done everything in his power the last six and a half years to be the meanest professor at the school. It was no wonder she didn't realize he had gorgeous lashes.

So, why was she noticing them now?

Well part of the reason could be the fact that the war was now over, and the Potions Master had toned down a bit on his scathing replies. She knew he could be different, as she had had many a meeting with him due to her being Head Girl and all this year.

Maybe she was changing as well. Now that she wasn't worried about saving her friend from a powerful dark wizard, she could pick up the social life she had neglected long ago.

Social life? Hah!

More likely the reason was some stunted hormones making their belated appearance. What else could explain the new fascination she found in the delicate bridge of that man's nose, or how his lips were really quite nice when not pulled into a sneer?

Hermione shook her head in vain, as the thoughts she tried to dislodge clung like a parasite to her overactive brain. The man's eyes really were wonderfully dark, and she could notice that aspect even better now that they were a foot from her face. Wait…huh?

Hermione blinked, and realized that the potions master really was only a foot away, waiting for her to come out of her trance. Her face heated at record speed.

"Now that Miss Granger has decided to rejoin the class, I would like you to bottle a sample of whatever…" He sneered down at Neville's cauldron, which looked to be full of goopy grey tar. "…Substance you managed to concoct today, and set it on my desk, neatly labeled. That goes for you as well, Weasley. I don't read chicken scratch."

Hermione knew exactly what Ron's handwriting looked like, having been the corrector of many essays he wrote. It was harder than deciphering ancient runes at times. She winced at the thought that Professor Snape had to grade all of those essays.

"Once that is done, you can leave and begin working on the two foot essay about the next potion we will be doing. Due two days from now." Almost everyone groaned quietly about this, except Hermione, of course. Professor Snape smirked, and Hermione thought how even that was charming in its own way.

Hermione took her perfectly brewed potion to the front, stopping on the way to help Neville scrape some of the quickly congealing potion from the bottom of his cauldron and into his vial. Well, at least Neville's handwriting was legible.

She placed her vial on her professor's desk and turned to collect her things. When finished, she realized that the classroom was empty of everyone but her and the professor. The boys had probably escaped quickly so they could have time on the Quiddich pitch before she cracked down on them about the potions essay.

She noticed that her professor was looking at her, her vial of potion in his hand.

"Satisfactory, as usual, Miss Granger." His smooth voice sounded louder than it usually was, in the silence of the dungeon classroom.

All Hermione could do for a few seconds was digest the fact that her potions professor had actually complemented her, as she watched those eyelashes move hypnotically up and down over his eyes. Finally mentally kicking herself out of her daze, she nodded and left the classroom, hoping the man didn't see the blush that now stained her cheeks.

This was no time to get a crush. There were Newts in two months time!

Next Chapter: Laugh