A Harry Potter Fanfiction
You sucked in a deep breath, only to cough it back up slightly as your eyes watered painfully. The air was filled with the nauseating smell of fumes and smoke, reminding you of poison more than anything else. Potions was never the most enjoyable lessons for you, but you still dealt with it because of your interest in Muggles’ chemistry, which was somewhat similar to using a certain formula to create a mixture of certain items and properties... that is, except that the Muggles’ version of this, chemistry, did not so often involve unicorn hair… or dragon scales…
You feverishly stirred the potion as you went through the steps in your mind, knowing that he would use any chance he could to snap out at you and take a point or two from Gryffindor. Add 6 snake fangs to the mortar.
Yes, yes, you’d done that! What next, what next? You glanced up at the board, then to your notes on your parchment beside you, splattered and stained in black ink.
Crush into a fine powder using the pestle. Add 4 measures of the crushed fangs to your cauldron. Your eyes went down the list, following each step and double checking that you’d used all the ingredients that you were supposed to… Heat the mixture to 250 for 10 seconds. Wave your wand. Leave to brew and return in 45 minutes.
Just a half a minute to go… And you’d done up to that step now. “Add 4 horned slugs to your cauldron…” you muttered as you searched your table with your hands before finding the horned slugs. Snatching them up, you dropped each of them in, one by one, too afraid of what might happen if you spilt some on yourself. “Take the cauldron off the fire before adding the next ingredient.”
Carefully, your fingers gripped the edges of the small cauldron and lifted it off the fire and, after making sure that the bottom was no longer hot, placed it onto the wooden surface of the desk.
Add 2 porcupine quills to your cauldron.
“S-stir…” It felt as if your lungs had stopped functioning properly now, seeing as you couldn’t breathe as well as you could a few minutes ago. Perhaps it had to do with the fumes in the dungeons? “Stir… 5 times, clock—"
1. Wave your wand to complete the potion.
You had done that as well, and so you proceeded to step 2 after waving your wand--then you glanced up, inhaling a very nasty odor that you were sure wasn't coming from your pewter cauldron.
Someone in the room had ruined their potion badly—you were sure of it because of the smell of what seemed to be burning toast. No doubt it was Neville Longbottom, who, despite being in your House (Gryffindor), seemed to be a complete idiot... Not that you disliked him… it was simply that he was overly clumsy, and that caused to get in trouble with—
“Well, well. What do we have here.” The cold and drawling voice of Professor Severus Snape, not quite unlike Draco Malfoy’s similar drawl, was as cool and calm as usual, although something in his tone made you shiver slightly. “I knew you were a dimwit, Longbottom, but I never thought you’d be able to fumble something so abysmally simple as a Boil Cure…”
Neville whimpered softly but audibly—all the class knew that he feared Snape the most out of all his professors, and the sounds of the Slytherins snickering cruelly at him could be heard.
Snape gave no objection to this (in fact, you suspected that he enjoyed having the Gryffindors taunted and bullied), but instead pulled his wand from within his dark robes and said: “Evanesco!” and the contents of Neville’s cauldron had vanished. “You will be receiving a zero for this class, Longbottom. See to it that you write an essay to me on the subject of Boil Cures, the correct way to brew the potion, and its uses, to be turned in by tomorrow.”
At this, Malfoy let out a hearty chuckle, and you’d had just about, almost, enough of him. However, you turned back down to face your cauldron, blinking at the potion as you stirred five times. “One…”
Hermione Granger was now assuring Neville, who sat next to her, that she would help him as much as she could on the essay without her doing the entire paper for him. Neville, who hardly seemed reassured by this information, screwed his eyes tightly and muttered a quiet “thanks” to her. Hermione, now quite satisfied, turned back to her potion.
It’s hard to believe she’s a first year, like the rest of us… the way she can do her homework so well… she must have excellent grades…
“Two…” The potion should have nearly turned blue by now—but instead of switching from its bluish-green to a darker, more solid blue, it was now turning… what was this? Purple?
“Three…” The potion should be clearing to a blue any moment, but it wasn’t, and it was puzzling to you; you stared up at the board, not knowing quite what you’d done wrong, and all the while you were stirring the potion.
“Four…” No. Something had certainly gone wrong, which was why the Boil Cure had taken on a most ugly pink colour—
“Stop! Stop stirring, you foolish girl!”
You blinked—and turned your face upwards to face a most displeased Snape. Your heart practically dropped to the bottom of your stomach—it was pounding and pounding, there was no way Snape could take points from Gryffindor, you hadn’t done anything wrong—
“Did I not specify,” Snape sneered at you, jabbing his wand’s point towards the board, “That you are to turn five times?”
“Y-Yes, sir…” Your voice trembled, and your hands suddenly felt numb. For some reason, you found yourself unable to take your eyes of the leering face of your Potions teacher... he was so... so inevitably attractive, in some way... so dark...
You dropped the spoon that you were holding, feeling instantly lost and confused--both by the potion's reaction to your stirring and also to the emotions that had registered in your mind upon gazing at Snape. What… what did I do wrong?
“Read the last set of directions clearly," said Snape, as if he had read your mind. "Out loud,” he added, a smirk curling his lips as you squinted at the board, trying to make out what it said.
There... there's no way he's deliberately... no... he's making me say all this out loud, to humiliate me in front of the Slytherins! Damn him!
But no matter what you thought of the man, you knew that your feelings for him... so sudden... would not subside. Shaking your head, you turned your attention instead to the board, not wanting to dwell on the subject of the tantalising sight of the man before you.
“S-Stir… five times… clockwise.” Your heart sank completely to the stony depths of your stomach.
Clockwise. I’ve been stirring counterclockwise this entire time…
When you next glanced down at your potion, it too had been Vanished, and Snape was repeating to you the same directions he had given Neville. You nodded senselessly, not knowing exactly what he said and not quite caring either.
All you could hear now was that Malfoy… he was laughing to his loons, Crabbe and Goyle, saying in a superior tone: “Finally! Look at __________, her stupid face, she completely messed up the potion this time—she’s never done anything incorrectly before, so I haven’t been able to beat all the Gryffindors in Potions; although some of them,” he added in an undertone to Crabbe and Goyle, who were listening attentively, “are easy enough to override.” He stole a gleeful glance at Neville, who was nearly in tears, and continued to boast: “Why, I daresay that Father will be glad to hear that I’ve beat all those stupid Gryffindors now, I think I ought to—”
But he was cut off when his Boil Cure suddenly tipped over and splashed into his lap—Malfoy let out a high-pitched shriek as you lunged at him, knocking over his cauldron as you shouted: “D-don’t…”
He stared up, shocked, into your furious glare as you tightened your grip on his robes and began to strangle him with them. “DON’T—YOU—” An angered call of “Desist immediately!” hardly registered in your mind as you continued to throttle the white-blonde haired boy, screaming, “—DARE—INSULT—THE—HOUSE—”
“Ms. __________! Stop! Stop, I tell you!” You very distinctly heard Snape's voice not far off, but the sounds of it echoed off the insides of your skull as Malfoy's arms flailed and landed a few blows onto your head.
“—OF—GRYFFINDOR!! I will kill you, you git, I swear, I will—”
But suddenly you were knocked off of Malfoy as Snape roared, “Impedimenta!” And you found yourself trying, desperately, to yell at Malfoy and to strangle him further, but you were somehow suspended, moving slowly in midair—
“Ms. __________!” You were snatched and pulled off of the other child, who was gasping and panting as if he’d just run a marathon, and Snape turned you around roughly to face him. “I have given you your warning before—fifty points from Gryffindor and a detention tonight! In my office! I’ll send word to Professor McGonagall of this!”
But you weren’t listening. All you were focusing on was the fact that you had left two red marks where your hands had been on Malfoy’s neck.
Ah… the sweet taste of revenge.
It wasn’t until class was dismissed that you realized that you couldn’t arrange to see Professor McGonagall tonight to enlist her help with some of your homework and lessons, as the two of you had planned, because of your detention with Snape—and that essay on Animagi was due tomorrow, there was no way you could finish it in time to turn it in at Transfiguration tomorrow!
Doubling back from your little chat with Ronald Weasley and the Potter boy, both of who were roaring with laughter, pleased at the fact that you’d tried to strangle Malfoy in class, you turned to walk straight back into the dungeons to speak with Professor Snape.
Now this was something that you hadn’t seen done before and was sure that there was no way it could be done—walking into a classroom to talk to Snape? No, that was plain horrifying. How would you approach… this?
“Pr-Professor? Sir?” His eyes were on the various flasks of potion that had been sitting on his desk, and you cleared your throat as he turned slowly, his black eyes burning into you.
“Yes, Ms. _________?”
“Si-Sir… I have a… a problem,” you stuttered as you stared into those onyx eyes.
So enchanting… so deep… frightening… and yet… so stunning. Then you cleared your head, shaking it furiously as you thought, No. No way I am going to think that about Snape!
“U-Um…” It took you a few moments to realise that your voice was trembling, and you gulped, trying to speak—and then you ranted: “Professor, I have to attend this remedial lesson with Professor McGonagall, you see, a-and… well, I can’t go tonight because of your detention, and tomorrow I have an essay on Animagi to be turned in, and I can’t do it unl-unless I go see Professor McGonagall… so could you… could you change the detention to another night… p-please, sir?”
As he gazed straight at you with those black, merciless eyes, you already knew the answer, but it didn’t make you dread it any more than you did. “We-Well, I… I see, sir…” you mumbled in defeat. “I suppose…”
“… You have lessons with Professor McGonagall?”
“Y-Yes, sir.” You glanced up at him for a moment, still in deep shock, and then looked back down at the floor. He’d never let you off detention, and you already knew that… it was completely pointless to be here.
“On what subject?” inquired Snape, apparently showing some interest in the subject of your lessons.
“T-Transfiguration, sir… she’s teaching me ab-about Animagi, I missed the lessons last week because I was ill, sir.”
You waited for his answer of “no”. Surely it would come, any moment now…
“Fine then.” You gave a start and stared at Snape with an expression of astonishment. “We will move your detention to Saturday night, but show up precisely at 8 o’ clock, on time—”
“Oh, thank you, Professor! Thank you so much, thank you, thank you!”
And before Professor Snape could stop you, you had leapt towards him, wrapped your arms around him… you could smell the warmth of his robes… the fumes of the potion ingredients were still there…
And then you kissed him.
God, you were insane! You were kissing your potions master! No one in their right mind would fall for Snape… no one… Except you. And why not? With those deep, dark eyes… that pale, ivory skin that enhanced his handsomeness; that long, black hair… There was nothing that didn’t make Professor Snape attractive to you, now that you thought about it.
You quickly drew back, not wanting to upset your professor and uttered a quick: “Thanks, Professor Snape, sorry to rush, I’m late for Charms—see you!”
And you dashed out the door, completely indifferent to Snape’s shouts of “Inexcusable! Y-You’ll have detention with me for a week starting tomorrow night! Ms. __________!! Did you hear me?!”
Oh yes. Inexcusable indeed.
It certainly did not occur to you that McGonagall had immediately contacted Snape upon hearing of your suddenly appointed detention--nor did you regret the fact that you had to spend several hours each night in the Potions professor's office.
... It was needless to say that you, at least, enjoyed those detentions very much.