Disclaimer:- I didn't invent any of the characters that I am going to use in my story. That honour belongs to J.K.Rowling.

Thanks to everyone that's reviewed so far - especially laxgal042, TCFellows and T.C.Vincent who have been doing so throughout.


Chapter 7 - Getting Back to Normal

Some time later, perhaps a couple of hours, perhaps more, Snape came to his senses. The bottle lay on its side on the desk, empty. The beaker lay shattered on the stone tiles. Tiny shards of glass glittered threateningly. Their sharp edges pointing skywards. Snape had been lying with his head upon his hands; face down on the oaken surface. One cheek was etched with the grain of the wood. His eyes were red and puffy. His face was even paler than normal. His brain beat a never-ending rhythm inside his head, pulsing with pain. He groaned and sat up stiffly.

Groggily he looked around. Nothing had changed. The students' desks remained empty. The icy water continued to run down the walls in the corners, forming murky pools on the uneven ground. The fires were still burning, casting a gloomy glow round the dank room. He heard the scuffling of rats from somewhere nearby. He groaned again.

Resting his hands on the desk, he manoeuvred his body up from the chair, and staggered over to the gargoyle's head on the wall. Stooping slightly, he pushed its nose and it gave a dry grating sound. Moments later a stream of freezing water fell from its grotesque mouth. Snape cupped his hands, and splashed the cool water onto his face. It stung his eyes, but he persevered and soon he began to feel the effect of its cool relief. Shaking his head violently from side-to-side, he shook off the excess water sending the spray flying across the room.

He stood up, and headed to his potions cabinet. Removing a pain-relieving tonic from the shelf, he threw the violet liquid down his throat. Instantly, the pain in his head receded. Glancing at his watch, he saw the hands were coming up to lunchtime. Relived, he smiled. At least he hadn't been like that when he was needed to teach. At least he'd only had that one lesson that morning. Blessing those few lucky stars that he had left, he straightened his robes and headed out the dungeon, up the stone steps and towards the Great Hall. His stomach grumbled with hunger.

Upon reaching the Hall, he went up to take his place at the High Table. Students milled around. Hovering around the tables, gossiping with one another, eating and drinking. Dumbledore was seated already and in conversation with Professor Flitwick, who as usual was seated on a pile of numerous cushions so that he could reach the table. Both nodded their heads at Serverus to acknowledge his presence.

Snape took his seat, and helped himself to a goblet of fresh pumpkin juice. It was sweet, and refreshing, making his taste buds tingle. "Dragon steak, medium rare," he muttered at the golden plate before him.

A steak appeared surrounded by mounds of soft mashed potato and a variety of vegetables, complete with a generous helping of gravy. Snape took up his knife and fork, and cut himself a slice of the steak, before lifting it to his mouth. As he was about to bite down, he saw her.

Hermione had just entered the Hall, chatting with Harry and Ron. Snape sat with his mouth slightly open mid-chew. His eyes followed each movement she made. He hair bounced from side-to-side as she walked, catching the light that radiated from the ceiling above. Her cheeks glowed pink, and her lips were curled back into a smile. He saw the trio take their places at the Gryffindor table. Ron put his hand on the small of Hermione's back to assist.

Snape's mouth twitched violently when he saw this, and he gritted his teeth. "Don't touch her!" he thought to himself.

Hermione turned to Ron, pushed his hand away and scolded him. Ron scowled. Snape smirked. "Good girl."

He watched the boys tuck into their food, ravenous with hunger. Hermione shook her head in disgust, and daintily picked up her knife and fork, and began to eat. Snape watched her intently. Following her movements as she raised the cutlery laden with food to her mouth, before returning it empty to her plate.

She paused thoughtfully while chewing on a mouthful, and looked up to see the Potions Master's eyes fixed on her. She looked around, to see if he was looking at someone else, but no, he was watching her. She blushed, and feeling uncomfortable hastily went back to eating her meal, avoiding his gaze.

Snape saw all this and cursed himself. What was he doing looking at her every move? He should be planning how he was going to do it. He hadn't even thought about he'd be able to drug her. It wasn't like Hermione Granger was every going to get a detention! He'd have to be a bit more cunning then that. But that shouldn't be a problem, he was Professor Serverus Snape, and he hadn't been put in Slytherin for nothing.

After his lunch, he swept back down to his classroom, ready to teach the afternoons lessons. He endured two hours teaching a group of first years, frightening one little girl into hysterics. He gave out three detentions for a variety of misdemeanours, and snapped at the students a bit more. Another hour with his sixth year N.E.W.T. class, followed by an hour with the third years, who really pushed his temper to the limit. The vein in his neck throbbed venomously.

Afterwards, he felt much more like his old self. Unnatural thoughts linked to Hermione had been pushed to the back of his mind, and he was ready to concentrate on the task in hand.

Following a brief dinner, he returned to his dungeon and spent the next four hours next to a burning cauldron. Powerful fumes filled the room, which clogged his mind with a dense fog, making him feel drowsy. Sparks flew from the surface of the liquid, changing colour every few minutes. He chopped, boiled, stirred, sliced, drained, poured, mixed and cooled the potion at different intervals. Before finally adding the fuchsia roots from the Lepidium Meyenii, and leaving the cauldron to simmer.

The solution left was enough to fill six glass vials with the creamy coloured liquid, which tasted of butterscotch.

Yawning, Snape looked at the time. It was nearing midnight. Storing the bottles carefully at the back of his cupboard, he made his way to his chambers. He showered, and climbed into bed. Extinguishing the light with his wand, he soon fell into an exhausted sleep.