I have been a long-time fanfiction reader but up until relatively recently I had never tried my hand at writing. This story was just an idea that I had one day that I figured I would attempt to put to pen & paper. I have not completely planned out or completed this story yet so no promises in terms of updates. Who knows, maybe after the couple of stories I have started thus far I will decide to skulk back to the shadows and simply consume other's amazing fanfictions. We shall see.
Similarly, to all others here, all characters & story elements you recognize from the wonderful world of Harry Potter are the creation of JK Rowling and I am just an enthusiastic muggle with a love for stories and all things magic.
Lessons on Cauldrons & Companionship
The sharp and herbaceous smell of green lemon hit first followed soon by the soothingly smoking scent of cedar. The botanical notes evolved into an increasingly heavy metallic top note that abruptly shifted to the acrid scent of burning rubber.
"Shit!" Hermione exclaimed as she quickly dissipated the now slightly charred lumpy contents of her cauldron. Rather than be embarrassed or frightened as most students were when creating such an abomination of a potion to deem immediate removal, she was furious with herself. Not only had her inattention lead to ruining her potion but if she had not been simply in the process of making a rather mundane healing salve it could have resulted in serious harm to those in the dungeon classroom.
While she berated herself beneath her breath & began prepping her ingredients for the frustratingly necessary second attempt, she missed the graceful yet predatory path that Professor Snape had taken toward her isolated bench in the back of the classroom. This was not the case for her fellow students. As the first years looked on with various expressions of intrigue, terror, anticipation and curiosity she continued to busy herself at her work bench while chastising herself.
"For Merlin's sake Hermione this is a potion that you had memorized second year. What on earth was even so distracting?" she mumbled to herself.
She was quickly startled by a sharply condescending baritone immediately behind her.
"Addressing yourself in the 3rd person, are we? Only individuals deeply infatuated with their own deluded self-worth use such referrals. A trait that was quite favored by one Professor Lockhart if I do recall. Like the blonde narcissist, you also seem to struggle with the most basic tasks. In the future when you are faced with a simplistic potion that you are incompetent of completing make sure to give me notice. It would give me great pleasure to send a first year to guide you."
Once she ascertained that he was in fact done with his insult she slowly turned to face her displeased professor. She looked defiantly into the dark eyes that seemed to grow increasingly impatient with her lack of response.
With a saccharine smile that did not reach her eyes responded, "My sincerest apologies Professor, it will not happen again."
His pale face twisted into a slight scowl that seemed to show that he felt a cavity forming from the false sweetness of her response.
"Ensure that it does not Ms. Granger. Five points from Gryffindor for your astonishing ineptitude. Attempt to brew it correctly this next time or there will be both point deductions and detentions to follow."
The depth of his gaze grew in intensity as he studiously looked at her face for any sign of rebellion or emotion. He lost patience at her carefully blank face and spun on his heel in a billow of black toward the front of the classroom.
Once he was weaving through the benches observing the first years, she morosely continued her mise en plase of the potion ingredients. She typically liked the schedule she had been granted when returning to Hogwarts but at times it could be grating. As there was a unique presence of 8th year students, there were certain tasks around the castle that were assigned to be completed in addition to typical coursework. Assisting in brewing potions for the hospital wing was just one of the tasks that Hermione had in her schedule. That task is what found her now meticulously chopping dandelion roots at her personal station at the back of the dungeon classroom. Intent on no further incidents she used such concentration that she had a splitting headache once her perfectly concocted salve was complete.
She gave the pale periwinkle potion cooling in the cauldron a satisfied smile as she went to the store room to collect the medicinal jars to be filled for the hospital wing. Once carefully portioned and bottled, she noted the exact variations she had made to the potion in her small violet journal.
She had decided to add a small amount of preserved lemon rind and cedar wood oil to the salve. This was done for two reasons. First, the additions were added to reduce the bitter metallic smell present when applied. It also remained on the user's skin providing dermal benefits of the botanical additions including antioxidants, anti-inflammatory, and antimicrobial properties. Setting one jar to the side for personal use, each jar was carefully stacked within the crate to be taken to Madam Pomfrey.
With her task complete she quickly packed her things in her bag and promptly walked to the massive double doors leading to the dungeon corridor and to her freedom from the short-tempered potions master. With her hand on the handle she turned to look at her professor. He was by a rather flustered pair of students struggling with their hiccoughing potion but facing the door with a stern look. Regardless of his austere expression, Hermione gave a slight nod and half smile before sliding through the large doorway.