A/N: I don't own Harry Potter

This is for the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

Assignment #10 Perfumery - Task #3 - Eucalyptus Essential Oil: Write about someone struggling with a bad cold.

Word Count: 579

The sound of Severus sneezing seemed to shake the whole lab. Hermione raised her head, a slot ink on her nose. She had been working on her studies in his lab, since it was quiet. After returning for her seventh year, Hermione was currently working on passing the exams that would grant her an apprenticeship with Professor Vector.

"You made me jostle my quill," she stated, pointing to the blob of black ink on her parchment.

"I can't control a sneeze, Miss Granger," he stated. She tilted her head looking at him.

"That is the third time you've sneezed in the past hour," she said.

"Allergies to that creature you call a cat."

"He is a cat, and he's not even here, sir. He's in my dorm room."

"If you say so. I'm sure he's shed all over your robes."

"You've also been sniffling, and I heard you coughing last night."

"If you'd stay out of my chambers, you would not have heard such a thing."

"You invited me to see your latest article in Potioneer Quarterly," she snapped back. He snorted.

"We both know that was merely a ruse."

"And it didn't work, since you're sick and pretending otherwise," she replied, sticking her book back into her bag.

"I am not sick. I do not get sick," Severus stated, leaning against his desk. Hermione raised an eyebrow.

"Then why exactly are you leaning against your desk as if the floor is about to swallow you up?" she asked. "Could it be that the cold you claim you don't have is making you dizzy?" she asked, standing. She slid her bag around her shoulder and walked over to the desk.

"I am fine, Miss Granger."

"Your face is flushed. I'm willing to bet you have a low grade fever. I can hear the congestion in your voice when you speak. Severus, you have a bloody cold and pretending otherwise will only make it worse."

"I am fine," he stated before dissolving into a coughing fit. Hermione waited for it to end.

"Shall we see what Madame Pomfrey says?"

"You are not taking me to the infirmary."

"Well, I don't see you taking yourself," she countered.

"If you escort me, then people would talk, they'd think."

"That we're both adults and I'm helping a future colleague?" Hermione suggested. Severus glared at her.

"You would have thought the same thing if your head wasn't full of mucus. Now, infirmary, let's go," she ordered. Severus scowled at her, but set aside what he'd been working on before sneezing loudly again. Hermione kept the comments about large noses to herself.

"You really are impossible, you know that, Miss Granger."

"I know, and you're being a miserable git because you can't admit to be sick. In the end, which one of us won?" she asked as they walked into the infirmary.

"Don't think I'll forget about this, Miss Granger," Severus muttered as Madame Pomfrey started fussing over him about letting his cold this bad.

"I know, I'm sure there'll be some sort of retribution, but at least you'll be healthy enough to pull it off. Now, I've got to get to class, teaching third years is chaos. I'll be by later to make sure you're taking your potions. Bye."

She felt him watching her leave, felt the intensity of his eyes on her backside. He could sulk all he wanted, but at least he wouldn't end up dying of complications of the common cold.