From The Bottle

By Sarah Sparrow

Author's Note: Bring on the next chapter. I'm going to choose a better time to post now, yesterday it was around one in the morning, which I'm sure effected my review intake (or, you know, just me making up sad excuses to comfort myself.) I actually got a review the other day, asking me to make the chapters shorter. Wow. Never thought I'd hear that one.

By the way, you can check my writing status in my profile. I'll usually put up how far I am on the next chapter and such.

From The Bottle – Chapter 2: Change

On Monday morning, Hermione was sitting at the Gryffindor table in the great hall. She looked solemnly down at her porridge, absently stirring it and thinking of the house elves that she might be insulting if she didn't eat it.

"'Mione? Are you alright?" Ginny lightly nudged her in the side. Hermione slowly looked up at her friend.

"Mm, yes, fine," she replied absently. She hadn't told Ginny the total truth about the surprising events on Friday, and as such, couldn't tell the redhead what was bothering her now.

They had double-potions on Monday.

Everyone talked cheerfully for the rest of breakfast, and Hermione felt her gut lurch as people started leaving for classes. "Hurry up, we don't want to be late for potions," Harry urged her as she gathered her book bag. "Speak for yourself," she muttered under her breath, wishing fervently for something to cancel class. The last thing she wanted was to face Snape again.

Severus groaned as students started leaving the Great Hall. That meant it was class time, which meant he had to go teach, which meant there would be sixth year Slytherins and Gryffindors to handle, which meant Hermione Granger.

"Quite alright, are you, Severus?" The headmaster questioned as he passed him.

"Never better," Severus answered without looking at him. He had managed to keep Albus out of the light about his date on Friday, simply saying that the girl had gotten a boyfriend and they had dinner as friends. It was the truth, partially. He couldn't say he and Hermione were friends.

With a dejected sigh, he rose from his seat and followed the rest of the professors out the staff entrance.

Snape wasn't yet in the classroom when Hermione got there. She let out a deep breath and started unpacking her things, Ron on her right and Neville Longbottom on her left. She pulled out her books and her cauldron, and then paused as she felt the unfamiliar crinkle of paper in her bag. Frowning, she pulled it out to find the note Draco Malfoy had tossed at her last lesson. She had been surprised at it, because ever since Malfoy's father had been sent to Azkaban, he had been a bit of a loner, even Crabbe and Goyle avoiding him. He hadn't really bothered Harry or his friends the entire school year.

When she had gotten the note, she had had to stuff it in her bag because Snape had started talking. Now, she unfolded it and read the few words scrawled across it. "Bad choice, Granger." Hermione read it over several times, angry because it obviously was referring to Ron, but bewildered at the fact that after all the months of silence, Malfoy had suddenly decided to taunt her again. It made no sense.

Her thoughts were interrupted when a voice sounded next to her. "What's that, love?" She blushed and smiled as Ron used his new pet name for her. "It's nothing," she replied quickly, stuffing the note back in her bag.

With a load bang, Snape burst into the room, the door swinging open wildly. Everyone started and turned to look at him. Hermione shrunk in her seat.

Coming up to the front of the class, the professor raised his eyebrows and stared at them all. The students all looked back timidly and hatefully, as they always did when his towering black form entered the room. Like last lesson, he flicked his wand to make a set of instructions appear on the board, and murmured, "Get to work. In silence."

Severus sat at his desk, grading fourth year essays, basking in the precious silence. This time, there weren't even any giggles coming from the Gryffindor section. Just complete, lovely silence.

And he was bored.

Slowly standing, he made his way to the front of the class, then started weaving through the lines of students, observing them work and docking points wherever he saw a mistake. The potion was a bit difficult, a remedy for heavy blood loss, one he hadn't tested his students on before; but this generation would need it if Dumbledore's fears were correct.

True, Voldemort had been lying low since his inner circle of deatheaters were recaptured, but the peace wasn't expected to last. Like the quiet before the storm.

He now went through the Gryffindor rows, pausing at Neville Longbottom's cauldron, which was, as usual, entirely incorrect. "Ten points from Gryffindor, Longbottom," Severus said coolly.

The boy looked up at him fearfully, "But, sir," his voice was a high squeak, "Nothing's happened. Why-"

As Severus had expected, the thick mustard-yellow potion (it was supposed to be a watery dark orange) suddenly bubbled and let out a loud popping sound, little drops of the potion splattering on the table. Then the cauldron bulged and started to melt, dripping down its stand and instantly forming an odd, bread-like crust. Everyone stopped what they were doing and stared at it.

"Because of that, Mr. Longbottom. Clean it up."

Hermione winced as the cauldron bubbled, then melted down into a puddle. So much for trying to help Neville.

She hurried to move her belongings away, accidentally getting some of the potion on her hand as she grabbed a parchment that had been sprayed with the stuff. "Oh!" she cried softly as half of her palm was enveloped with a strong stinging sensation. Tears welling up in her eyes, she turned to Ron on her other side. "Ron," she whispered anxiously. He immediately stopped stirring his potion and turned to her. "Ron, some of the- some of it got on my hand," she murmured, hastily wiping away her tears with her clean hand. "It's burning."

Ron stared at her palm in horror and cradled it in his hands, nudging Harry on the other side of him. "Tell Snape," Harry whispered urgently.

"Snape's a stupid gi-" Ron started, scowling.

"He'll know what to do," Harry insisted.

Hermione sniffled as the thick yellow substance on her hand bubbled a bit, sending a sharp sting up her arm. "Ron, tell-"

"I'm sure your conversation is frightfully interesting, Weasley, Potter, Granger, but in Potions class, people generally work on potions." Snape interrupted their conversation with a smirk.

"Hermione's got some of Neville's potion on her hand, sir," Harry said loudly. Neville immediately started stammering apologies and all the people near them leaned in for a closer look.

Snape's eyes widened and he rushed back over to where Hermione and Neville sat, pushing students out of the way. Ron growled as the professor kneeled down and took Hermione's hand from him.

Hermione felt blood rushing to her cheeks as the professor examined her hand, but was in too much pain to be too embarrassed. She was acutely aware of Snape's own hands gently holding hers, and she greatly wanted to tug hers away.

"I can't heal this with a spell," Snape muttered finally. Louder, he said, "everyone, continue with your potions while I take Miss Granger to the hospital wing."

"Sir, I can take her," Ron said, looking frustrated.

Snape sighed exasperatedly. "No, Mr. Weasley, you cannot, seeing as I am the only one who can tell Madam Pomfrey exactly what was in the potion. I will have no further protestations from you." Turning back to Hermione, he said, "come," and led her out of the class.

"Is it serious, sir?" Hermione asked quietly as Severus led her down the halls. He looked back at her, walking quickly behind him.

"You will make a complete and quick recovery, Miss Granger, if that's what you're worried about. I highly doubt Madam Pomfrey will want to keep you so long that you miss your precious final exams, or your hand will need to be amputated…unfortunately."

He saw her smile faintly and turned back to look ahead of him. Now that he had been with her in a more intimate situation, her injury had been a little more personal. Not much, but just enough that it mattered more than another student.

"Thanks for being so sympathetic," she murmured sarcastically.

"You're welcome," he replied seriously. "It would surprise you to know that I do actually worry about my pupils."

"Do I still have to report for detention tonight?"

He gave her a surprised look. "Of course. Don't jump to conclusions, Miss Granger. I'm not that worried."

She sighed.

"So you're going to be okay?"

"Yes, Ron, I'm going to be fine! Stop worrying! Honestly, you'd think I was your little sister or something." Hermione sat on a couch in the Gryffindor common room, Ron examining her now bandaged left hand and driving her crazy with questions.

He wrinkled his nose at her response. "Not my little sister, 'Mione, my girlfriend. I can worry over my girlfriend, can't I?"

"Yes, but not like an obsessed maniac!"

Ron huffed. "I'm not-"

"That's the sixth time you've asked her, Ron," Harry told him on Hermione's other side, smiling.

"Who asked you," Ron muttered darkly.

"It's okay, Ron, I'm touched that you're so worried; but…don't overdo it." She smiled fondly at him, a smile he returned sheepishly.

"Sorry." He leaned in and gave her a light peck on the lips, which Hermione returned with vigour, and soon they were kissing heatedly.

Harry groaned. "If you two are going to get into that, I'm leaving."

Hermione chuckled behind the kiss as Harry got up and moved over to where Dean and Seamus were playing chess. After a bit, she pulled away breathlessly, flashing a smile at Ron and then looking at the grandfather clock in the corner of the room. "I've got detention with Snape in half an hour," she said gloomily.

"Snape," Ron growled, grimacing. "I bet he was completely rotten when he took you to the hospital wing."

Hermione didn't say anything, but in her head she knew Ron was wrong. She was surprised how comforting Snape's dry humour had been. She smiled, thinking about how before the date she would have been insulted, but now she just took it like a joke. What was even more surprising was that now, that was actually how he meant it too. Or, at least she thought he did. Well, either way, he couldn't be all that bad. He had even stayed after he had told Madam Pomfrey what had happened, watching the mediwitch bandage Hermione's hand.

She would never tell Ron that.

Malfoy was already there when Hermione entered the potions classroom, and she felt a little pinch of annoyance. He was supposed to drag his feet in, ten minutes late and scowling. Coming before her, and she was even early, completely threw off her perspective of him. Hermione hated it when her perspectives were thrown off.

Then again, Malfoy had been acting out of her perspective for the entire school year.

He didn't turn when she came in, didn't even say anything when she came to stand beside him in front of Snape's desk; he only continued his odd stupor-like staring at nothing, so she took a little time to observe him.

He didn't wear his hair slicked back any more, since it had grown too long. Now it just hung layered around his face, following his jawline and ending at about his shoulders. His eyes, she now realized, had more grey in them than blue, a bit like ice against water. He was considerably taller than her, maybe just an inch or so below Ron, and playing quidditch had filled out his frame, so now his build was more healthy and lean than gangling and oblique.

Despite all of this, Hermione knew he still looked pretty much the same…but then why did he seem so different? Almost like a complete stranger, like she was seeing him again after five years instead of one summer. Maybe it was his face, the way it was so stoic now, instead of mocking or sneering. He had sort of a glacial angelic beauty about him, Hermione decided with surprise. If she didn't know his true character, she might even take a fancy to him.

But, did she know his true character any more?

Losing one's father, she imagined, especially if it was because of such a horrible cause, would definitely change a person, even one as cold-hearted as Draco Malfoy. Perhaps that was why he had left them alone all this year. He simply didn't have a reason any more. Hermione didn't know much about Draco's mother, except that she was part of the Black family. But, maybe she wasn't a deatheater? Suddenly, Hermione had a weak hope that maybe Malfoy had 'seen the error of his ways'.

Then she remembered the note, and she hated him again.

"Am I that fascinating to gawk at, Granger?" A soft voice murmured, and Hermione took several moments to realize it had been Malfoy. Her blank face immediately took on a heavy scowl.

"I was trying to see how long it would take your thick head to react," she replied snappishly. "Still in shock about getting detention from your favourite professor, ferret?"

He flinched visibly at the name, but didn't say anything.

When Severus entered the classroom, he could already see that Granger and Malfoy had had a go at eachother. Hermione was red in the face and scowling, while Draco stared straight ahead with his jaw stuck out noticeably.

"You will be scrubbing cauldrons this evening, Miss Granger, Mr. Malfoy. Without magic." He moved behind his desk and raised his eyebrows at them. "No questions? How refreshing." He waved his wand and the desks moved to the side of the room, immediately replaced by a set of several dozen pewter cauldrons. "Here are your cleaning supplies." He handed them a sponge and bucket each. "Get to work. I'll be in my quarters."

He lingered for a moment, watching them resignedly kneel down to the nearest cauldron and begin scrubbing. "If I find any missed spots, you'll be doing them again."

Hermione looked up angrily, her brown eyes flashing. "Yes, Miss Granger?" Severus asked mockingly, challenging her to answer.

"Nothing, sir," she mumbled, looking down.

"That's what I thought."

It had to have been at least an hour since Snape had swooped in and out with their orders. Neither Hermione nor Draco had said anything in that time, and Hermione was starting to go crazy in the silence. The constant scratch of brush bristles against pewter made her jittery. She opened and closed her mouth several times, sneaking glances over at Draco, who was scrubbing his cauldron with fierce concentration.

"Wha- What did you mean…by that, err, note?" She finally stammered.

"I'd think it would be obvious to someone with your brains, Granger," Malfoy answered between heavy breaths, without looking up.

Hermione huffed and kept scrubbing, her fingers raw from rubbing against the metal of the cauldrons. "Well, yes, you were insulting Ron," she paused, glaring at him. "But, why? You've left us alone all this year and suddenly you start taunting me again."

"I wasn't taunting you," he said indignantly, which made Hermione look up in surprise. Why would he deny it?! "I was simply sharing my thoughts."

"Since when were you, Malfoy," she spat the name like some foul food, "concerned about my social affairs?"

"Hardly concerned, Granger. I only was surprised at your choice, when you're supposedly the smartest witch in the school. Why wouldn't you go for someone famous, like Potter? At least he has a minimum amount of intellect. Not like Weasley."

Hermione reached into her robe pocket and clenched her fist around her wand. "Don't you dare insult Ron, you filthy, stuck-up git." Her voice was a threatening purr, anger making the words quaver.

The slytherin appraised her coolly. "Go ahead and hex me, Granger, if it'll make you feel better." He looked back at his cauldron and kept on scrubbing.

Slowly, Hermione flexed her fingers and turned back to her cauldron as well. His words played over and over in her head, her teeth grinding furiously, until she realized completely what he had said. "You just complimented Harry," she exclaimed softly.

Malfoy looked up, his brow furrowed. "Yes, I suppose I did."

"You never…" she was at a loss for words.

Malfoy glared as she gaped at him. "Some things change a person, alright, Granger?" He growled and grated the brush along the inside of a new cauldron with refreshed fervour.

"What could possibly change you enough to make you compliment Harry?" Hermione asked skeptically.

With an echoing clang, Malfoy dropped his brush in his cauldron and stood. "Ever heard of self-realization, Granger?" His voice was low and vibrating with emotion. "Ever thought that maybe, just maybe, I might be effected by things too? But you wouldn't know, would you, what it's like to have your family destroyed, to have your father, your idol, locked up in prison and your mother an inch from death at the hands of the most brutal murderer of all time?"

Hermione let go of her own brush and slowly started crawling backwards, looking with fear up at Malfoy, who was moving slowly towards her as his voice grew louder.

"Ever been forced into a life you didn't want, but had to live anyway to save your own life? Have you ever just been alone, Granger? Just so desolate that you can't even find yourself any more?"

Hermione scrambled to her feet and moved around the cauldrons as Malfoy came closer, his lip curled and his eyes blazing.

"You can't possibly imagine change, Granger. You can't even grasp the very tip of it, can't get close to the edge where everything drops away and all that's there is darkness and death."

He was now only a few feet away from her, and then with one giant step they were nose to nose, and Hermione could feel his cold breath on her face, and see the white fire burning somewhere in the back of his eyes. The depth of his speech frightened her, and she felt tears building up in her eyes as he grabbed hold of her arms.

"So don't you bloody treat me like some sort of emotionless worm, Granger," he hissed, "don't even try."

"Mr. Malfoy, I will give you five seconds to leave this class immediately before I hex you beyond recognition." Hermione welcomed Snape's voice like an angel sent from heaven, and she almost fell to her knees when Malfoy let go of her.

"Yes sir," he growled, and with one lingering stare, he turned away from her and started towards the door. Snape watched him go from the opposite end of the room, where the entrance to his quarters was, with his hand clenched over his robe pocket.

As Malfoy was about to step out of the room, Hermione choked out, "Malfoy…Maybe I don't know, but- but I bet you Harry does."

He stared at her in shock for a moment, and then quickly exited, slamming the door behind him.

Severus gaped as Malfoy walked out the door, and then almost jumped out of his skin when Hermione tumbled backwards.

"For the love of Merlin," he grumbled quietly, moving to help Hermione to her feet. She shakily accepted his hand and sat down on a nearby cauldron.

"Erm, sorry, professor," she said anxiously, blushing and brushing off her perfectly clean robes.

"I think we're a bit past formal titles now, Granger."

"Right," she said absently, her voice still quavering, "Snape."

"Uh…I hope Mr. Malfoy didn't…er…cause any…er…"

"No, I'm fine, thank you," she told him a little more firmly. "Just, just shaken up is all." Then she added with a weak smile, "why are all you Slytherins suddenly changing?"

Snape raised his eyebrows, sitting on a cauldron next to her. "How have I changed?" He asked sourly.

"Oh, well, I used to hate you," she told him brightly.

His eyebrows rose. "How kind of you to say so. And now, you suddenly don't?"

"Well, you never made jokes around me before," she said thoughtfully. "And I suppose going on a date with you helped."

"Err, quite. And how is Malfoy changing?"

"His father's arrest has really…affected him. He was very, well, deep, just now, if a bit frightening. And he hasn't insulted me for ages."

Snape snorted. "Charming."

Hermione then frowned. "You didn't take any points away. He manhandled me!"

"My main focus was on getting him away from you," Snape commented resentfully. "I wasn't necessarily thinking about Gryffindor justice at the time."

"Oh, sod off," Hermione said irritably. Then she looked at him oddly.

"What?" He asked shortly, feeling uncomfortably self-conscious. He instinctively moved back as Hermione burst into laughter. "Err, Miss Granger? Are you feeling…quite…well?"

She laughed until tears came to her eyes, and then kept chuckling softly as she wiped them away and got to her feet. Snape was still sitting on his cauldron, looking rather affronted.

"I'm sorry, professor- Snape, I mean," she sighed, a little bit of laughter escaping. "But, don't you think it's odd? Us sitting here on a pair of cauldrons, talking like old friends, even about our date, when less than a week ago you were just the slimy potions professor and I was the insufferable know-it-all." She paused and looked at him thoughtfully. "I can't believe it, really. I can't believe I just said all of that either. I can't believe I'm saying this to you!"

"'Slimy' is hardly how I would describe myself," Snape said, scowling. Hermione burst into another fit of laughter. With a floppy wave of her hand, she said breathlessly, "goodnight, professor," and left.

Severus stared after her, as he seemed to be doing after each of their odd encounters. He supposed it was to regain his footing.

Later that evening he realized he had never actually dismissed her from detention.

Hermione didn't go straight back to the Gryffindor common room, but decided to sit at the library for a while and read something to calm herself down. Madam Pince had actually given her a late pass to the library, since she was always there, and now she could go out even past prefect curfew, and read whatever she wished.

She idly grabbed an unfamiliar title from the shelves and collapsed into a chair. William Dethridge: A Biography read the title. Hermione cocked her head. She had heard of Dethridge. He was a famed alchemist in the Elizabethan era, one of the few great wizards to ever stay in the muggle world. Apparently he had been tried and condemned for witchcraft to death by burning, but had disappeared before the sentence was carried out. She read the first few chapters and decided to check out the book to read it later, when she had more time to enjoy it.

When she finally did return to Gryffindor Tower, Ron was sitting on the couch waiting for her.

"'Mione!" he greeted her cheerfully, smiling sleepily.

"Ron, it's past midnight," Hermione exclaimed. "What are you still doing here?"

"I wanted to make sure you got back from detention with Malfoy unscathed," he said jokingly.

Hermione sat down on the couch beside him and he pulled her into a laying position, so they were on their sides with him behind her, facing the fire. He wrapped an arm around her waist and she covered his hand with hers. "'Mione," he whispered into her hair. She turned onto her back and looked at him.

His fiery red hair was tousled from dozing on the couch, and Hermione was tempted to tangle her fingers in it. His wide blue eyes looked at her warmly, crinkling at the corners when he smiled. She smiled back faintly and reached up to trace his jawline with her finger.

She was lost in fantasy and half-slumber, one side of her warmed by the crackling fire and the other by Ron's body. She felt herself just starting to drift off to sleep when his quiet voice broke through her reverie. "You're tired," he said softly. "You should go to bed."

"No," she groaned contentedly, shifting so that they faced eachother and resting her head in the crook of his neck. "I'm comfortable here."

He smiled and nodded slightly, wrapping both arms tightly around her. "Goodnight, then," he murmured.

"Goodnight," she replied softly.

"'Mione?"

"Mmm?"

"I-" he sighed. "I love you."

She stirred slightly and looked up at him, beaming sleepily. "I love you too, Ron," she said, and they both fell into a deep slumber.

Awwww. Isn't that sweet. I liked the Draco-with-depth part better though, hehe. Isn't this getting interesting?

William Dethridge was, in fact, a real person, just like Nicholas Flamel. That book will be showing up in later chapters.

I need some feedback here, which pairing are you guys rooting for? Because I'm honestly not sure which one I'm going to make Hermione end up with.

Ta, loves.

xoxoxox

Sarah