Chapter three: The Accident

Hermione made sure to put on her school robes the next night, for fear that Snape would take points off if she didn't. Looking at the clock, she realized that she would be late if she didn't run (which was also against the rules posted by Filch). She decided to take her chances with Filch and Mrs. Norris, and ran down the main stairs and into the dungeons. She knocked on the door of Snape's classroom and heard his voice murmur an unconscious "come in."

She slowly opened the door, and suddenly found herself staring at the rear view of the most hated professor in the whole school. Not that it was necessarily a bad view, of course, but she was amazed to find herself "checking him out," as Lavender and Pavarti called it.

He, apparently, had suddenly realized that someone had come in, and whipped around, shocked to find Hermione staring at the place where his bum had been only second before.

"Ahem, Miss Granger, is there something I can help you with?"

"I . . . uh, I'm here for my Experimental Potions class with you, sir," she stammered. Good Merlin, I hope he doesn't notice I'm blushing! she thought. "Should I come back later? I thought you said seven o'clock tonight, but I can go . . ." Trailing off, she reached back for the doorknob, hoping that he would tell her to go so she could go crawl under a rock somewhere and die of embarrassment.

Snape studied her face, and when her eyes finally met his, he mouth twisted into his characteristic smirk and said, "No, Miss Granger, let's begin. As much as it pains me to say this, I was actually looking forward to this- I haven't had a student worthy of Creative Potions in quite a few years, if ever. Go to that far cabinet-" he said, directing her to the one he wanted, "No, the one on the far left, yes, that's the one. Grab three ingredients that speak to you and bring them over here." And with that, he turned back to his own cauldron.

Hermione followed his directions to the cabinet and was amazed to see thousands of tiny bottles, vials, and boxes. All but the bottom shelf had small pieces of parchment on them with their names, written in intricate swirls of gold and ivory. Delicately, so as not to break the tiny containers, she chose one from the bottom shelf: no label, but the matter inside was a deep purple that weaved in and out of a large piece of ebony rock. She looked, and decided upon a small jar with a label that said "Asphodel" in beautiful gold and green script. Hmm, one more, but which one should I choose? she wondered. She finally selected a tiny spherical vial filled with glittering ivory and silver dust, however, no label. She gathered up her choices, and carefully carried them back to Snape.

"Aha, Miss Granger, now, before I tell you what the resulting combinations of these three ingredients are, I want you to explain why you chose them to me." Snape's eyes seemed to sparkle, and for a moment, Hermione thought perhaps he and Dumbledore were related. Snape leaned over his desk, watching Hermione look down at the vials with visible apprehension, wondering what she would say.

"Well, I haven't been sleeping well lately, and I remembered that in your first year speech, you ask about the combination of powdered root of asphodel and infusion of wormwood- it makes a very powerful sleeping potion." Hermione finished this pronouncement with a flourish of her hands, something like a curtsy, but with her fingers instead of her body, as if she was holding a wand. Her cheeks flushed, and she began to giggle, thinking she was making a total fool of herself.

Severus Snape found it entrancing.

Clearing his throat, and hoping she wouldn't notice he was staring, he waved his hand for her to continue.

She looked at him carefully, and wondered what he was thinking about, but then went on with her explanations. "Purple is my favorite color, and that's pretty much why I picked this one."

"But, Miss Granger, there are hundreds, no, thousands of shades of purple in that cabinet, why this one? Clearly, there is something more than a color preference at work here. What is it?" Snape asked, honestly curious to know.

Because it reminded me of you was the thought that nearly escaped her lips, but she caught it at the last moment. "In any case, I like purple, and my view is the darker the better. Dark colors are my favorite colors." Unaware of it, Hermione was beginning to flirt with her snarky potions professor. There was, however, one person very aware of it -Severus.

"Miss Granger, why did you pick this last one? I can understand the appeal of an attribute of a sleeping potion, and I additionally understand the association between this other one and your favorite color, but this last one puzzles me a little. Please explain it to me, if you would." Now, Severus moved to a stool directly in front of Hermione and sat down. She had to look up to look him in the eyes, and when she did, her throat worked furiously to swallow.

"It seemed like something you would want."

Her eyes fell to her hands and she began cracking her knuckles, a nervous habit of hers. Severus watched her for a moment, but when he saw a tear fall to her lap, he could be still no more. With hardly any hesitation, he reached for her hands with one hand, and lifted her chin with the other. She resisted only for a moment, and then looked at him, her eyes brimming with uncried tears. He wiped them away with his thumb, and she leaned into his palm, loving the feeling of complete and utter serenity that filled her. Severus watched her expression, and then asked her a question that had bothered him since the silent exchange had begun.

"Miss Gran-- Hermione, why are you crying?" Hermione's eyes connected with his, and suddenly pulled away from his touch.

"I'm sorry sir, but I think maybe I should be going. Perhaps Creative Potions is not for me." She got up, and backed into the table behind her. The jar of asphodel fell to the ground, shattering the jar and its contents. Hermione, trying to help, picked up a piece of the glass that was covered in the herb, and as she felt its sharp point digging into her hand, she heard Snape yelling for help, and then . . . nothing. Mercifully, she passed into a gray fog before there was too much pain to bear.