Don't own Harry Potter...It was stolen from me...J.K. Rowling thinks she is so great...look at her she stole my idea...okay now we both know that that is a big lie. I am far from cool enough to come up with this idea but thanks to J.K. I can write fanfiction based off her characters...course I don't get paid to write it...that sucks but it is still fun right?
I'm here to tell you the story of how I stole Christmas, traveled back in time, fell in love with Hogwarts most hated professor, and came to hate Hogwarts most lusted after professor. I suppose the real time to start my tale would be the middle of my seventh year, well not the middle, I suppose around Halloween, but I am getting ahead of myself as I usually am.
I am sure you have all guessed that my name is Hermione Granger, the once resident 'insufferable know-it-all' of Gryffindor tower.
"Ron, Harry, if we do not hurry we'll be late arriving in the dungeons for out N.E.W.T. level Potions class and Professor Snape will lock us out like last time. Now come on!" I insisted grabbing Ron's arm and tugging him.
"Hermione, Snape might lock us out anyway. In case you have spent the last six years in the dark, as I very much suspect at times, that smelly bastard hates us, and bugger to him! Who bloody cares?" Ron retorted but allowed me to tug him to the dungeons.
"Ron, Snape is not that bad you know," I told him reproachfully, "Maybe, just maybe, here's a suggestion, put the tiniest amount of effort into your class work rather than attempting to do it all at the last minute," I said as we descended to the lair of the Slytherins.
"Hermione is right. Snape is not that bad. He's worse! Slimy greasy prejudiced Slytherin bat!" Harry exclaimed grinning at me before winking.
"You for got git Harry," Ron dropped in.
I leered angrily at the both of them. They could be so immature at times it almost made me sick.
"Twenty points from Gryffindor for insulting a teacher Potter and Weasley and ten points for public display of affection Granger and Weasley," the silky smooth baritone of the potions master came from the shadows in front of us. "Now if you do not think Gryffindor has lost enough points then by all means stand out here gawking like idiots. If you think you've lost enough for one day, allow me to suggest you get in class rather then stand out here loitering in the hallway insulting teachers and blocking the way of students who actually care." He gave me a pointed look when he spoke the last part.
I visibly paled and shook Ron off me. Ron and Harry both glared daggers as Professor Snape brushed by us into the classroom.
Why had he done that? Looked at me when he veiled a compliment. I had noticed he had started making a practice of this type of behavior. I slipped away from the boys into the potions room. I wrapped my cloak tighter about myself to shut out the dank chill of the dungeons.
Ron and Harry followed me soon after and took their seats on either side of me. Many other students began to file in and took their seats.
I took a deep breath and let it out slowly to calm my nerves. He had almost shattered them before in the corridor.
Professor Snape stood at the front of the room and swished his wand at the board. His thin spidery but beautiful handwriting appeared outlining their instructions.
"Begin now. You have an hour and a half. Turn your potion in at the end of that time labeled correctly. No talking," Professor Snape said and he sat down in a dark leather chair behind his desk and began to mark what appeared to be first or second year essays. Judging from the amount of scratching and scribbling the Professor was doing they looked to be a great deal less than satisfactory.
I grabbed a quill and roll of parchment from my bag and began to neatly copy the instructions.
I began to weight and measure my ingredients carefully ignoring Ron and Harry's whispered pleas for help. If they were going to be aurors then they needed to be able to brew and recognize potions on their own. What would they do it they were in the field and needed to know what a potion was? Floo or apparate to my front door to ask. I had to grin at my own rhetorical answer, as that was probably what they would do.
I added the unicorn hairs to the cauldron and stirred it counterclockwise for five minutes then turned down the heat and sat down on the stool next to my potion. I glanced at my watch. I had ten minutes to kill before I had to add fluxweed so I sat down and began examining my notes. We were supposed to figure out for ourselves what the potion we were brewing was.
I wrote it at the top of my sheet. It was totally obvious what we were brewing, a temporary power strengthening potion. I already had the ingredients and steps memorized, of course, but Ron and Harry were flipping madly through their books desperately searching for what it could be. Honestly, I could not stop the roll of my eyes. If they had simply done the reading they were supposed to have done they would know.
Ron shot me another hopeful look that I pointedly ignored and I rolled my parchment up and placed it in my bag.
The only sounds heard in the classroom were the simmering of our potions, people flipping through their books, and the scratching of Professor Snape's quill.
I began to shoot discreet looks as I stirred potion again. This time clockwise while I added minced belladonna root.
I knew while I stared at my professor that way that it was wrong. I'd been thinking about him more and more lately. Not in an appropriate way either. Often, lately, when I would kiss Ron, I found myself wondering what it would be like if it was Professor Snape. I watch his long graceful fingers as they held the parchment with one hand and his quill in the other. His hand flew elegantly across the page leaving red stains where he crossed things out. His ebony colored hair shielded his face from my view. I began to observe his shoulders and chest. They were really quite nice when you took time to really look. His shoulders were broad, much nicer than Ron's was and his chest was this and just muscular enough. I looked up to see his face again as I added powdered rosemary to the potion.
Deep cold onyx eyes stared back, scrutinizing me harshly. I trembled at the coldness the emanated from those eyes.
I swiftly looked away berating myself. STUPID GIRL! FOOLISH GIRL! How could you let him catch you? How long had he known I was looking at him?
I very conscientiously avoided looking anywhere but at my potion for the rest of the period though occasionally I felt his eyes bore into me as if he could drill holes through my head.
I turned my potion in without a word to my irascible potions professor. As soon as the bell rang I fled the dungeons retreating to the warmth and relative safety of the upper levels paying no heed to the shouts of the boys to wait up.
I didn't stop my flight till I reached the headboy and headgirl suite and sank into a chair.
Please send a nice review.