The Emotions of Potions Rein Elanor

Chapter Three: You Don't Bring Me Flowers Anymore

Disclaimer: I don't own them. Sometimes I think they own me. Especially when I find myself somewhere with chicken feathers all down my front....I think I'll go write in my diary.....

A/N: I really hate the idea of killing animals for their skin. So don't go out and get some crocodile skin on my account.

Chapter 3:

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Hermione Granger and Severus Snape both awoke at the same sound- the remainder of the roll of crocodile skin hitting the stone floor. It had been on the edge of the table for a long time, and had finally made its was over the side.

Apparently, the effects of the small dose of Veritaserum had worn off for Professor Snape. He had risen to his feet immediately and, with a single glance, had taken in the scene before him: a cauldron with an experimental potion dried up inside it, the paper of tortoise claws on the bench, and the stacks of parchment with Hermione Granger's neat handwriting recording the experiments. And Hermione herself: eyes red and seemingly teart, and blinking sleepily.

"What is the meaning of this, Granger?" Snape barked. It was not really a question, it was a demand for information.

Hermione bit her lip. Somehow, she didn't want to admit to having made a mistake and inadvertently forcing Snape to spill his very personal life story and to having seen the tears that came with it. Still, she didn't want to lie to a teacher. Any more than was absolutely necessary, anyway.

Snape raised his eyebrows and said sarcastically, "Well? Are you going to tell me, Miss Granger, or must I assume that your brain stops working at," he checked his watch, "a half- past eight?"

She took a deep breath.

"Well, sir," she began. "We made the Liver Restorative Draught, and you were telling me about the properties of crocodile skin and tortoise claws and . . . I don't know . . . I must have dozed off. I'm terribly sorry, Professor."

Hermione hoped to Merlin that Snape would believe her. He was scrutinizing her keenly and suspiciously.

"Miss Granger," he said in a soft, dangerous voice that gave Hermione the creeps. "I want you to clean this classroom and scrub the floor without magic for the remainder of our lesson. If, by half- past nine, you have not told me the truth, I will make you rue the day you came to Hogwarts."

"But Professor, that is the tru" Hermione began hotly.

Snape gave her such an evil look that she shut her mouth and set to work putting the ingredients back in their proper places in the cupboard, including the small vial of "unicorn tears".

While Hermione cleaned the dungeon room without magic for an hour, Severus Snape sat behind his desk thinking about the lesson. He had seen the vial of Veritaserum, and he knew that the stupid girl had put it in the Liver Restorative Draught. He also knew that he had answered an innocent question with far too much candor. He remembered telling her about his pathetic life, and he felt his lip curl in disgust.

This was not directed at Hermione Granger os much as it was himself. He had been both clumsy and stupid- to leave the Veritaserum in the cupboard was clumsy, and to not notice that Granger had taken it for unicorn tears was stupid.

Then there was his disgust in himself, for telling his story when asked. Not that he could have helped it, when under the influence of Veritaserum. If asked the right questions, he would have said anything.

He frowned, thinking. What really mattered was whether Hermione Granger had put the Veritaserum in the potion on purpose. If she had . . . well, he'd take care of that. If she thought potions was terrible before . . .

But somehow, Severus couldn't believe that Hermione had done it on purpose. She was too careful about her potions to render them useless deliberately. Not only that, but neither could Severus see Hermione being that malicious. Her little cohorts, maybe, the Potter boy or Weasley (if he had the with to think of it), but not she.

Not that he hadn't given her ample cause to hate him. He knew he was unnecessarily harsh and, on occasion, cruel to her (the teeth incident in her fourth year still gave him a guilty twinge whenever he thought of it). He knew he was harsh, but he couldn't seem to stop it (nor, he had to admit to himself, did he want to stop it). It was, as he had told her, his way of keeping people at arms' length. It also came in handy in his position as a spy to seem to hate everybody.

Severus got out a piece of parchment and began writing, glancing up every once in awhile to check that Hermione was still cleaning. He was working on a new theory, dealing with sleeping potions and the effect on their intensity. He believed that, with the proper application of pine bark and powdered maize roots, the inclusion of wormwood in sleeping droughts would not be necessary. Soon, he was so engrossed in his work, thinking all the reactions of the ingredients and their relative availability, that he completely forgot about Hermione Granger's presence in his dungeon.

This was what he really lived for- research. If it hadn't been for his early mistakes (joining the Death Eaters being the one that stood out the most), he would have done research exclusively his whole life. He envied Hermione the chance to pursue Experimental Potions as a career.

He was so engrossed in his work that he didn't notice that it was past 9:30, and that Hermione was standing behind him, reading his notes over his shoulder. What finally clued him in to her presence was a combination of the sound of her breathing and her long hair touching his head as he bent over the parchment.

Without thinking, he jumped out of his seat and grabbed her wrist, twisting it back so she couldn't move. Her cry of pain made him check the automatic self- defense maneuver that had been indoctrinated into him. He lowered his want, which had come out of nowhere to point at her throat, and released her wrist.

"Don't ever sneak up behind me again, Miss Granger," he growled. "Next time I may not be able to stop my reaction and your dead body would stand as a lasting tribute to those who insist on reading over the shoulders of their betters."

Hermione's face was red. She looked half- scared and half- embarrassed. She definitely had not been expecting a reaction like that from him. She hadn't been expecting any reaction, having been about to try to get his attention when she saw what it was he had been writing.

Hermione had always believed that Snape's only ambition was to torture any Gryffindor he came across. Now, however, she knew that his real passion was for research, and that he was quite brilliant at it. It made him more human, somehow.

"I'm sorry, Professor," she said. "I was just trying to get your attention and I happened to see what you were writing. It's quite brilliant, sir, if you don't mind"

Snape interrupted coldly. "What I was writing was no concern of yours. I only allow you here as a favor to Dumbledore. Otherwise, I would not tolerate seeing you for more than normal class time. Get out."

She just stood there, looking at him with her mouth slightly open. He moved closer and towered over her menacingly.

"Get out, Miss Granger. I will see you tomorrow night, unless by some fortunate calamity"

He was cut off by the clamming of the classroom/ dungeon door. Hermione had turned and run out of the room, leaving her motes on one of the tables in a neat pile. As she had turned away from him, he had seen tears spilling over her cheeks. He remembered the tears she had cried in sympathy for him, and her patting his shoulder comfortingly as he had spoken earlier, answering her question:

'Why are you always so mean to me, Professor?'

OOOOOOOOOOOO

A/N: Oh, do you think he's feeling guilty? Why does she care so much? Hmmm.....Aren't they so cute? Please review!

P.S. The title of this chapter was taken from the ahem lovely Neil Diamond/ Barbra Streisand song of the same name. There's not really a reason I named it that, I just have a rather odd sense of humor. Ha ha.