A/N: I don't own Harry Potter or any related characters
This is for the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
Assignment # 6 Mixology Task 1: Passionfruit Martini: Passion fruit syrup, vodka and lime juice. Prompt: Write about someone feeling passionate about something.
Word count: 802
Severus stirred the cauldron, holding his breath slightly as he watched the potion inside turned the perfect shade of ice blue. He released the breath he'd been holding as he studied the potion in the cauldron. It shimmered slightly with silver as he stirred, his clear crystal rod clinking against the side of the pewter cauldron. The steam coming from said cauldron turned from white to a silvery grey and Severus smiled. Every calculation had made this moment possible. Every little mistake, every cauldron he'd accidentally melted in the process, it was worth it if this worked how he expected it to. This was the thirteenth time he'd brewed correctly, if it worked this time, he knew it would be correct.
Hermione leaned over from where she was sitting on the heavy wooden desk where Severus scribbled his notes during that part of the potion's creation. He liked having a desk in his lab, even if it did make the lab resemble his old classroom slightly. He'd never tell Hermione, but the desk was the exact one that had graced his classroom at Hogwarts. She'd probably find that funny and make some crack about it.
"That looks right," she stated, looking down at the notepad in her lap. Severus nodded. Of course it did!
"It does. What's the next step?" he asked, as if he didn't already know. He'd created the potion, several versions of the potion, over and over until now.
"Let simmer for twenty-four hours," Hermione read from the notepad.
"Correct," Severus stated, casting a charm to keep the flames beneath the potion low. He stepped away from the table, from the cauldron. Hermione slid from the desk, her feet making a soft sound as they touched the grey stone floor.
"Why did you even ask me if you knew the answer?" she asked.
"Because, one day, eventually, you'll be brewing this potion, my Hermione."
"Because you'll be dead," she muttered, rolling her honey colored eyes. "We've talked about this over and over, Severus. You're not planning on dying soon, I'm not planning on taking over your brewing."
"No, not because I'll be dead, but because if this works as planned, as we expect, it's going to be added to the latest edition of the fifth year potions textbook, you'll be brewing it in front of your classes, over and over again," Severus said with a soft chuckle. "Dead, and you say I'm the morbid one."
Hermione glared at him, snorting.
"You're the one who keeps talking about surviving the war being a curse," she pointed out, watching as silvery steam rising from the cauldron.
"And I thought it was, until everything changed. I no longer have to teach those dunderheads, I am no longer alone in this world."
"You never had to be," Hermione pointed out, giving him a soft kiss on the lips. He wrapped an arm around around waist.
"I did, but for the sake of not arguing with you over this again, I concede the point, my love. Do you wish to continue to watch my brilliance simmer for twenty-four hours, or would you rather get something to eat?" he asked.
"Watching your potions simmer is only slightly better than watching paint dry," Hermione stated.
"Why you took over my position at Hogwarts when you lack my passion is beyond me," Severus muttered, shaking his head.
"It was the most challenging position available and someone has to teach those dunderheads, as you call them, how to not blow things up. Besides, it was your recommendation that got me the job," Hermione laughed. "Also, I don't call sitting watching something simmer for twenty-four hours passion, I call it boring and over kill since we both know it is highly unlikely anything will cause it stop simmering, blow up, or do anything other than exactly what it's doing now."
"There's always a chance," Severus muttered, sitting in the leather chair behind the desk and leaning forward, watching as silvery smoke started to fill the room slightly.
"You can watch it then. Padma recommended a new chippy and I want to try it out, should I bring you something, or do you want to put a shield charm on the room in cause it blows up?" she asked, nodding to the potion.
"Fish and chips sounds lovely, I will be right here, I need to make sure to note how the smoke moves."
"It moves the same as it did the last twelve times you brewed it perfectly," Hermione said, giving him a smile. "I'll be back soon with dinner," she added, giving him another quick kiss before slipping from the room, a smile on her face. She knew he'd gotten it right, gotten it perfect, now he just needed to accept that thirteen times of perfection was enough.