Author's Note: Okay, let's get things straight, first off, This fic will be a lot more compliant with the films -Albeit rather loosely- simply because it fits in a lot better with the plot, second is a disclaimer, as usual I own nothing. The whole potterverse belongs to J.K Rowling and I get no profit whatsoever from this fic, other than self satisfaction. And thirdly, everything written in this fic is absolutely fictional, and I will not tolerate any flames or hate on this account, sorry, but If you don't like my story or my ships then I will kindly ask you to leave and read another story more suited to your tastes. Thank you.
Chapter one – Erised and Amortentia
It had all started the day Ronald Weasley kissed Lavender Brown in the Gryffindor common room. Hermione felt like her entire world had just been swept up from under her feet, it made her stomach lurch and her vision to become blurry. Of course she knew she had no right to feel jealous of Ronald and the blonde twat he was currently snogging, but it made it no less painful. She had cried that evening in the arms of her best friend, Harry Potter. There he comforted her in silence; knowing exactly when to remain just so and simply listen.
Hermione had never truly realized just how much her ginger headed friend has taken over her heart, until she found herself wandering the dark corridors of Hogwarts that very same night, in nothing more than her sleepwear and a pair of worn fur slippers, her gaze lost, as if walking through a thick mist. There were no more tears left to cry, but still, her chest ached for the boy who so unwittingly and irrevocably broke her heart. Hermione did not know –neither did she care- where her feet had taken her, perhaps it was somewhere deep into the dungeons, or maybe high up in a secluded tower, it mattered not for her thoughts were still stuck with Ron.
It appeared before her like a beacon of light. Her salvation through her endless wanderings in the dark. The heavy oak doors materialized before her eyes, the wooden panels carved with beautiful runes, both powerful and ancient in their design. The room of requirement was large and cavernous, its walls and ceilings were tall but not at all imposing. Hermione knew not what she required at the moment, but still, she found solace in the familiar room, now empty and unoccupied unlike how it was last year when she, along with her fellow students, would often gather here as Dumbledor's army.
Hermione closed her eyes, letting herself be rid of all her sorrow and burdens within the privacy of the large chamber. She could almost hear their merry laughter as she tried to recall each memory tied to this room in vivid detail. She could see Harry's Patronus; a beautiful silver stag prancing about, with its dignified antlers high up on its head. She could feel the sweet sting of raw magic dancing across her skin as she remembered the many times she had cast a powerful charm or a spell. And for a moment, Hermione forgot all about Ronald Weasley and Lavender Brown. It was simply divine.
When she finally opened her eyes, Hermione smiled to herself. She spun in a slow circle as if dancing to an unheard tune, examining her surroundings once more. That was when she saw it. Standing in the very centre of the large chamber was a gilded mirror; dusty and cracked, it called to her. Hermione could feel its hum echoing in her bones, luring her in, telling her to step closer and get a better view. And she did. She examined it, her eyes tracing the beautiful carvings, and written on its mantle were the words: Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi.
'I show not your face but your heart's desire'
The mirror of Erised. Hermione knew exactly what it was, especially after what Harry told her about it after their first year. She had read about it as well many, many nights ago, during one of her late visits to the restricted area in the Hogwarts library.
'The mirror of desire' Hermione recalled what the book had said. 'The mirror reveals only the truest and the most desperate desire of a person's heart. Imbedded into its very core is a very dark and powerful magic, many wizards and witches, regardless of how powerful have succumbed to the mirror's temptation, trapped within its enchanting fantasies, wasting away, unable to tell what is real and what is illusion'
And true enough, Hermione felt tempted to look just a little closer into her reflection. For a moment nothing seemed out of place, she looked like herself, plain and simple Hermione Granger. Then her reflection started to blur before coming back into focus. This time she was no longer alone, no, reflected on the faded glass was herself, still unchanged, only now Ron stood beside her in the mirror, his hand resting on top of hers. She looked to her side where Ronald should be, but there was no one there. Only in the mirror did he exist. A mere fantasy. Her heart's truest and most desperate desire.
Hermione could not look away from this smiling version of Ron, the boy who broke her heart. He seemed so real, and she could almost feel the soft caress of his calloused hand against her knuckles. Hermione smiled, forgetting for a brief moment that none of this was real, that she is in fact completely alone. She did not know how long she stayed there, staring at the reflected image or herself and Ron, only that it was for a very long time. When she did manage to tear her eyes away from the joyful image, Hermione found herself slowly coming back down to reality, and now the weight of her sorrows felt heavier than ever on her shoulders. It was only until the moon had finally sunk deep over the horizon did Hermione found her way back to her dormitory, sleep finally catching up to her.
Days have passed since that night and still Hermione kept coming back, if only to behold this little piece of sunshine she discovered during such bleak and unhappy times. It became her reprieve, her most coveted treasure. She knew she shouldn't be here, but it eased the pain and the loneliness even for just a few hours. Sometimes she wonders if it is really Ron her heart truly desires, or just the companionship she hoped to have had with him. Someone to hold her hand and tell her every now and then that it's okay to be afraid, even if she is the brains of the so called golden trio, brightest witch of her age.
Hermione sat quietly in front of the gilded mirror, her eyes locked on the words etched on the very top. "My heart's greatest desire," she sighed wistfully. "Yet I still wonder if it is truly what I really want." Hermione did not notice the dark figure looming behind her until she heard him speak, his dark eyes reflected in the mirror, bored into hers.
"And what, do you think you are doing here at such an ungodly hour Miss Granger?" Professor Snape stood tall and dark, his immaculate robes a sharp contrast against the dank walls of the room of requirement. "Lurking about after curfew is a serious offence, I'm sure you of all people know that, Granger!"
Hermione rose as quickly as her numb limbs would allow her after sitting still for god knows how long. She gracelessly managed to pull herself up, her mind and heart racing uncontrollably. Of all the people to catch her off guard, why did it have to be Professor Snape?
"I- I'm sorry, Professor, I couldn't sleep so I-" she was cut off mid speech.
"So you decide you would prance around the castle in the middle of the night, clad in nothing more than your flimsy underthings," Snape sneered at her, his lip curling in disgust. "How very Gryffindor of you Miss Granger, Thinking the rules doesn't apply to you and your little friends."
Hermione felt her ears burn, and rage started to simmer deep in her gut. Not only did he insult her choice of clothes, but also treated her like some child who didn't know how to respect and follow the rules! "Sir, I would hardly call my choice of sleeping attire as 'flimsy underthings' and as I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted," she looked up at him pointedly. "I couldn't sleep and decided to go for a walk and see if madam Pomfrey could provide me with a sleeping draught, but the moving stairs lead me up here rather than the hospital wing where I had intended to go." Hermione didn't know where the excuses came from but still, she was grateful for her smooth recovery. They weren't complete lies, though, she had hoped to stop by the hospital wing for the sleeping potion.
Snape raised one arched brow. He looked as if he was contemplating whether he should let her little lie slip. It was silent for a brief moment, Snape narrowed his eyes while looking at her. If Hermione didn't know any better she'd say he was trying to read her mind, but as uncouth and irksome she thought Professor Snape to be, she knew for a fact that he would never stoop to that level of cruelty. He was a good man, and Dumbledore undoubtedly trusts him.
"Nevertheless, I will not overlook your infractions without proper compensation. Detention, starting tomorrow evening, Miss Granger. You will be scrubbing cauldrons for the rest of the week. I expect you to be in my classroom at exactly eight pm sharp." Snape stared down his great beak of a nose and at the young woman defiantly glaring at him. Her face resembled a ripe tomato, and her delicate hands formed into little fists at her sides. Truly, he admired Granger's courage no matter how foolhardy, she and her little friends may be. It is very little wonder to him how she had garnered the title of 'the brightest witch of her age' therefore, Snape knew that a little discipline and a few house points taken away because of her reckless actions is not likely to break the Gryffindor princess' spirits. Nothing really could, as a matter of fact. "And fifty points from Gryffindor, for breaking curfew and… Inappropriate attire. Heed this as your first and only warning Miss Granger, do not let me catch you after hours again," he leaned down until they were on eye level, his dark, liquid gaze burning itself into Hermione's memory. "Am I understood?"
"Yes, sir." Hermione swallowed thickly as Snape drew away from her, his tall frame looming over her like a dark shadow. He dismissed her with nothing more than a flick of his hand and a scowl on his face. Hermione scrambled to gather her wits and her slippers before exiting the room of requirement with her head hung low and a scrap of her dignity still intact.
"Detention, with Snape," Harry cringed at the thought of the older man. "What'd you do to get the overgrown bat so riled up?" Hermione frowned slightly at the amused look on her friend's face at his little jab towards their recently appointed DADA professor.
"Professor Snape, Harry!" She corrected, her tone reprimanding. "He caught me Wandering about last night, honestly though, I was lucky to have gotten only a week's worth of detention, I thought he might actually curse me on the spot. Or worse got me expelled!" Hermione sighed almost fearfully. Harry shook his head at his friend's fears, not at all bothered by Hermione's mixed up sense of priorities.
Hermione and harry walked silently down the hall towards the Gryffindor common room. Hermione pretended not to notice Ronald Weasley and Lavender Brown snog each others face off in front of the fire on her way to the girl's dormitory and Harry tries to act as if the whole situation is not at all awkward on his part while his two best friends continued to ignore one another.
Honestly, the man was insufferable! During the short duration of time since Hermione arrived at the dungeon's classroom for her detention, Snape had managed to Insult her friends, call her a bookworm, a know-it-all and not to mention take away copious amounts of house points for simply being 'a hand-waving-annoying-little-swot' during his lectures.
Hermione glared at her DADA professor whilst her hands busied themselves with scrubbing suspiciously charred cauldrons brought in from that day's potions class, now taught by professor Slughorn. Whether he noticed or not the death glare Hermione was giving him, he did not show it, diligently marking essay after essay with his trademark red ink and black quill.
Soon enough Hermione gave up on any attempt of unnerving her professor and focused instead on trying to get the tar off of the large pewter cauldron she was currently scrubbing as if her life depended on it. "If you scrub any harder, Miss Granger, I fear you may wear a hole in that one." Snape drawled in his rich baritone voice, sounding rather bemused.
"This task is absolutely impossible!" Hermione sighed, shooting another glare towards Snape. "Honestly, whatever did you do to these cauldrons, throw them in a bonfire before presenting them to me?"
"Already loosing that Gryffindor courage and determination you're so highly praised for, Miss Granger?" She wanted to wipe that arrogant smirk from his face, throw a nasty hex or two. But before Hermione could lose control over her anger, her logical side was already taking over. She steeled her nerves and met Professor Snape's eyes with unyielding determination as she finished scrubbing the last cauldron. Well, she wasn't sorted into Gryffindor for nothing.
"No, of course not, sir," Hemione said confidently, no, she would not give him the satisfaction of seeing her feathers ruffled. If it's a game of wits he is looking for, then she'll give him just that! "I was merely surprised by the conspicuous amount of effort you put into torturing your students, professor." Hermione smirked inwardly at her own boldness, the angered look on Snape's face confirming his ire.
Snape took a moment to compose himself, before slipping back into his well practiced mask of indifference. The audacity of this child! "Are you really so self important, Miss Granger, to think that I would waste my precious time plotting and scheming on ways to better torture you?" he sneered as he slowly rose from his desk. "How typical, brightest witch of her age indeed!" he mocked, his eyes grew dark with rage. "You're just a child, desperately seeking approval."
"I am not a child!" Hermione huffed, barely suppressing the urge to stomp her feet in annoyance. She watched with nervous anticipation as professor Snape stalked closer towards her, stopping just an arms length away from her. He was so tall, Hermione noticed as she craned her neck up to match his gaze with an unfaltering glare of her own. He was so close, his scent enveloping her senses, and for a moment Hermione forgot where she was as she immediately recalled one particular potion from professor Slughorn's class. Amortentia. Freshly mown grass, new parchment, mint… and the last thing she didn't dare mention, at first she thought it was the scent of Ron's hair, but no, it was Sandalwood.
"Sandalwood," So lost in thought Hermione didn't even realize she had said it out loud. Only when he sneered at her did she come back to her senses. Hermione blinked once, twice. Shite.
"What the bloody hell are you blabbering on about, witch?"
"Oh, I- erm, nothing sir, sorry." Hermione scrambled in her mind to find an excuse to get away from this man, this man –professor bloody Snape- who suddenly became the very definition of her Amortentia. "If there is nothing more you require of me, sir, I would like to be dismissed now."
Snape looked at her quietly for a brief moment, before nodding his consent. "Fine, you may leave." He said, his voice now calm and any trace of anger he may have shown earlier was gone. He watched her shoulders slump in relief as she quickly ran for the door. Obviously his presence made the young Gryffindor very anxious, as does most of his students. Snape turned back to the small stack of newly scrubbed and polished cauldrons on Granger's workbench, he had to give her credit for the fact that she doesn't slack off, always immaculate, anything less than perfect simply wouldn't do for the little Gryffindor know-it-all.
Snape sighed, sitting back down at his desk to resume his marking. And before long he had banished all thoughts regarding Miss Granger and all her Gryffindor sensibilities.