The Emotions of Potions Rein Elanor
Chapter 1: A Potion to Make your Dreams Come True
Disclaimer: You see this story? The one printed below? Well, I don't own anything you recognise. And I probably don't own many things that fail to recognise. I'm not making money on this, I'm just getting it out of my system If I didn't do this, I'd most likely be sitting in a small white room humming. Wait . . . I'm already doing that. Well, this is already way too long. Please don't sue me.
Author's Note: This is the first fan fiction I've ever posted, although I've been writing it since before I knew it was called fan fiction and that lots of people did it. In case you can't tell, I'm madly in love with Severus Snape. (And Sherlock Holmes. That type of standoff-ish, nasty seeming man always gets me.) This is just happy fluff. Like I write anything else. :)
I also have a "leaky pen" problem. I can't seem to stop babbling about nothing. It happens when I'm talking, and apparently when I'm typing as well. Sorry.
Warning: This is Severus/ Hermione (later. I like tension). If this grosses you out, you might want to pick something else. Even though you are missing out. Poor you.
The Emotions of Potions: Chapter 1
It was Thursday. Hermione Granger hated Thursdays, mainly because she had Double Advanced Potions with the Slytherins that day. The Slytherins jeered, Snape sneered, and Ron always tried to grab her butt while she was bending over her cauldron. Ron was very immature. And he was a very sloppy kisser, as Hermione had found out.
She and Ron had been going out for about four months. The only reason Hermione had consented to go out with Ron was because she was feeling . . . well, desperate. She had a few needs to fulfill, and while Ron was not Cassanova, (or even Gilderoy Lockhart) he was a boy. Not a man, but a boy.
Hemione sighed as she sat down at the regular Potions bench between Harry and Ron. They were talking about some Quidditch move or another, saying it would revolutionize the game, and blah blah blah. Hermione concentrated on reading the board that outlined the day's potion. As her eyes moved over its description, she gasped.
"A Potion to make your Dreams Come True"
Snape was talking.
"If you make this potion correctly, as some of you will undoubtedly fail to do," he glanced at Neville Longbottom, "then when you ingest a small dose, you will see the subject of your most frequent dream appear in smoke on the desk before you."
Snape strode in between the tables, looking at the students scornfully and sending his greasy curtains of black hair flying about his face.
"This potion is most difficult, and it requires precise measuring. If you fail to follow my instruction to the letter," he gestured at the board, "you will be very unhappy when the time comes for us to test your concoctions at the end of class. Get to work."
Hermione read the instructions all the way through, carefully, and then started her potion. Ten minutes into the period, Snape walked over to Neville's cauldron and looked distastefully at it.
"And what is this, Longbottom?" he asked in his deadly cold voice, loud enough for the whole call to hear. Hermione felt a shiver run down her spine.
"It's my Dream- Image Manifesting Potion, sir," Neville said nervously.
"It's supposed to be gelatinous by now, Longbottom," Snape sneered, spooning some of Neville's watery potion up so everyone could see it.
The Slytherins laughed derisively at this, and Ron and Harry clenched their fists.
"What is it, Longbottom, that makes you so very hopeless at potion- making?" Snape asked as he continued his patrol of the students.
Neville looked sadly at his runny orange potion and Hermione saw a single tear run slowly down his face and into his cauldron.
"He makes me so mad!" She whispered fiercely to Harry and Ron a half- hour later.
They were sitting at the benches again, with their cauldrons behind them, cooling for six minutes. Ron had his hand of her knee under the table, and even through her robes she could feel that it was a bit sticky.
"Who, Snape?" Harry asked absently. He was drawing a picture of a Quidditch field on a spare bit of parchment, featuring himself holding the Snitch and waving triumphantly.
"Of course Snape! Who else would I be talking about?" She snapped, almost forgetting to whisper.
"Draco Malfoy? He has been talking about how much he hates "filthy mudbloods" all class, you know," Harry pointed out mildly.
"Yeah, you know what, Hermione?" Ron began, and then he jumped a bit in his seat. Hermione had slapped his hand away from her leg (it had been roaming a bit too far for class time). Ron continued without blushing, "I think Draco fancies you, Hermione. He's always trying to get your attention."
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Give me a break, Ron," she said. "Malfoy is a slimy little toerag."
Ron shrugged. "I just call them as I see them."
Hermione started to reply, but she was interrupted by Snape.
"Your potions should have solidified into a gel by now, and I want each of you to cut yourself a piece of your own potion and place it on the table before you."
As the students cut themselves pieces of Dream- Image Manifesting Potion and put them on their desks, Snape walked about and inspected their work. Hermione's was a perfect light lavender color. Snape didn't say anything until he got to Draco's potion square. Draco's was a sort of violet color, and Snape said, "Good work, Malfoy."
Draco sneered at Hermione, who rolled her eyes.
"Now," Snape ordered, "you will take up your piece of the gel and eat it."
Everyone did so, with similar looks of distaste on their faces. The pieces of potion were jiggly and slightly sticky. They gulped them down as fast as possible.
Hermione felt as though her brain were being drawn out of her head through her eyes. She squinted a bit, and then, amongst the cries and gasps of the other Gryffindors and the Slytherins, she saw the subject of one of her most frequent dreams forming.
On the desk in front of her stood a miniature version of a tall, dark man. He was obviously tall, on spite of the miniature size of him at present, and he was well- muscled under his dark suit. Not only was he was romantic in a mysterious, dangerous way, but he was also strikingly handsome. And he was beckoning to Hermione.
The underground room was loud, being as it was filled with the exclamations of Hermione's classmates. Harry was looking at a faintly visible pheonix that was slowly flapping its wings and looking back at him.
Ron's desk showed a spider with red hair that was sanding stock- still on the desk and emitting a faint humming sound. It sounded a bit like a clock.
Draco Malfoy was staring lecherously at a mermaid on his desk. The mermaid was scantily- clad and she was flipping her bright hair at him. Malfoy was positively leering. Neville Longbottom's Dream- Image Manifesting Potion seemed to have backfired.
There was no miniature person or thing on Neville' desk. But Neville seemed to be reliving a dream, He was calling out something about Trevor and a boggart with his eyes tightly shut.
Hermione glanced back at her own Dream- Image on the desk. She was surprised to hear it speaking clearly to her. No one else's Dream- Image had really spoken.
In a soft and smokey voice that was nevertheless as smooth as silk, the man on Hermione's desk was saying, "I can teach you, darling. If you only come to me, I could fulfill your every dream. I would teach you how to become a woman."
Hermione blushed and glanced around to see if anyone else had heard what her Dream- Image had said. Ron and Harry were too transfixed by their own Dream- Images to pay any attention to Hermione's. But she say Professor Snape looking at her in a snidely knowing way from across the room. Hermione tossed her head angrily and flicked her hand through the smokey image of the man on her desk. He disappeared quickly and his voice died away. Snape seemed to smirk a bit.
Just then, the door of the dungeon room opened, and Ginny Weasley poked her red head in. Snape spun towards the door and strode foward in his most forbidding manner.
"What is it, Miss Weasley?" he asked her curtly, blocking her entrance. "I have a class in progress here."
"Sorry, sir, but Professor McGonagall has asked to please see Hermione Granger immediately," Ginny said calmly.
Snape shot Hermione an acidic look but he consented to let her go with Ginny to McGonagall's study.
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
A/N: Hey everyone! I hope it hasn't made you puke too much. Yet. Tell me if it did! By the way, Hermione's Dream- Image character fellow wasn't Snape. He was her romantic ideal. You'll see the differences and similarities later. Maybe. I might forget about that part and have to make up an excuse for it at the end. One other thing: The potion let the students see the subject of their most frequent dream, or the thing that dwells in their minds most often. But depending on how well you made the potion, you image might or might not move or speak. That's why Ron's image was humming and not moving, and Harry and Draco's both moved without sound. And poor Neville. . .well, you know. At least he didn't get boils or anything.