The Potions Master's Scholar
Summary: Hermione Granger/Professor Snape fic. Hermione has been accepted to an academic contest and needs a professor to sponsor her. Despite the offers of many well-intentioned teachers, she has her eyes set on Snape, and only Snape. She desires his expertise—and affection—in helping her prepare for the contest. Takes place at the beginning of the trio's 6th year. Read and review, thanks!
Rated: T for mild adult themes
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Harry Potter characters mentioned in this fic. They are all the creation of the delightfully ingenious mind of J.K. Rowling. I only play in the little world she has created for us. This story and concept is wholly mine and there are some original spells/magical creatures/magical devices/characters, but Hogwarts, Hermione Granger, Snape, etc. are all J.K.'s!
Chapter One: The Letter
A large, statuesque barn owl swooped low over the breakfasting Gryffindors. He dropped a large, bulging manila envelope in Hermione Granger's robed lap. Laying down her syrup-covered fork, she calmly picked up the envelope and closely examined the return address.
"Whatcha got there, 'Mione?" Ron Weasley mumbled, spraying the table with bits of waffle.
"Nothing of your concern, Ron!" she snapped at him, eyes glistening with irritation.
Ron quickly looked over at Harry Potter, and the boys shared a quick eyebrow raise followed by an exasperated sigh of "Girls!"—in unison—before they ferociously attacked their waffles with fervor rivaling that of a deranged and rabid animal.
Hermione suddenly felt a small twinge of guilt at having allowed her temper to flare, but it quickly passed. They were her best friends, but they could be bloody annoying at times.
She longed to read the letter immediately, but feared the contents of it might upset her and thus decided to save it for a more private setting, sometime after morning classes perhaps.
Her nervous stomach wouldn't allow her to finish her breakfast, so she stuffed her letter in her satchel and headed off towards the greenhouses for Advanced Herbology. Harry and Ron weren't taking this class and had instead opted to take Advanced Quidditch Techniques, taught by Hogwarts' newest Professor, Oliver Wood, after Madame Hooch decided to take a term off to train flying troops for the war against the Dark Lord.
Hermione had warned the boys that such a trivial subject would serve them no good post school, but they turned a deaf ear to her and signed up anyway. This left her with Neville Longbottom as a tray partner. She was by no means angered by this because Neville was smashing at Herbology, but found class time rather awkward since Neville seemed to have developed a bit of a crush on her during the summer.
"Oh, 'Mione! Let me pot that Grackobean! You'll get dirt all over your hands!" Neville yelled as soon as Hermione began the day's assignment.
"Neville, calm down! I knew perfectly well that my hands would get dirty when I signed up for this class! Besides, Grackobeans don't like males, so I have to do this or you'll risk getting attacked by the plants' roots!" Hermione patiently explained, growing increasingly tired of being "rescued" by Neville.
"I knew that…" he said, cheeks turning bright red.
The next hour went on without much incident. Hermione potted all of hers and Neville's Grackobeans and tried not to obsess over the extremely important letter awaiting her in her bag. Near the end of class, Neville disappeared for a few minutes only to return with a beautiful red rose.
"I tried to find something to compare with your beauty, but this is all I could come up with," Neville stammered, offering Hermione the rose.
"That's really sweet, Neville, but you should know that's a Red Rose of Rejuvenation. Any minute now you are going to fall into a deep—"
Hermione stopped short as Neville hit the floor.
"—peaceful sleep," she finished, dusting off her hands and calling Professor Sprout for help.
It seemed Neville's new infatuation for Hermione left no room for his old knowledge of dangerous plants and fungi in the magical world.
After assuring Neville was in adequate hands, Hermione quickly stole away to the library, eager for a few minutes of peace before lunch. She almost made it to the door of the library when Ron and Harry swarmed around her, buzzing with tales of their class period of Quidditch playing.
"…then Oliver showed us the Wronski Feint technique!" Harry yelled, interrupting Ron for the fiftieth time in ten minutes.
Ron jabbed Harry with his elbow and tried to yell over him about target practice.
"Hush, both of you!" Hermione chided. "You are making a ruckus very unbecoming of 6th years, especially considering one of you is a prefect!"
At this, she poked Ron hard on the arm and continued her rant. "And you, Harry! You should call Oliver Professor Wood if you insist on taking some idiotic class of his. Show some respect!"
By the time she had finished, it was past time for lunch and she grabbed a boy with each hand and herded them off to the Great Hall, the letter in her bag still unopened, but far from forgotten.