Whoo! Another oneshot! I sincerely enjoyed writing this, and sincerely hope you all like it. And if you don't, that's okay. But if you don't review, then Imma cry D:

Since people seem to like my end notes, I'll put another in here xD Enjoy!

"I hope you know this is all your fault, Granger."

Hermione whipped around and glared malignantly at the spoiled brat whom she detested with all of her heart. "My fault?" She said in a dangerously calm voice. "How so?"

Draco Malfoy sneered at her—not really a shocking gesture anymore. "If you hadn't cast that spell make my tie start strangling me, we wouldn't be here, organizing freaking potions bottles in a cold closet in the middle of the night!"

She took three deep breaths, trying to resist the urge to take a bottle of wart serum and smash it over his head, splintering that pale blonde with shards of sharp glass. It at least offered a pretty picture and she was able to civilly reply, "Well maybe I wouldn't' have done that if you had not attempted to transfigure my hair into little writhing snakes."

Of course the arrogant bastard had to blame her for it. Her fault, his fault, whoever's fault, he would of course hold her responsible before admitting mistake.

"Well I wasn't the one caught in the act."

"And that justifies it?"


Hermione outright glared at him. "Just shut up and get to organizing."

"You can't tell me what to do, Granger."

"Oh, Malfoy, I did not assign the punishment! It is hardly my responsibility if you ended up in detention for harassment."

"Harassment, is it? That's not very accurate."

"Oh, really?"


"Care to elaborate?"


"You are infuriating!" She threw her hands up in exasperation.

"And you love it," he winked shamelessly at her.

"Oh, Malfoy, stop being a prick."

"Stop being a prude."

"I see no prude here."

"I see no prick here—wait, that is most definitely a lie. I am a prick, aren't I?" He smirked.

"It doesn't bother you?"

He thought it over. "Not really."

"So you take pride in being the horrid bastard you are?"

"Yeah, basically."

Hermione considered him momentarily, before turning away.

"Something wrong, Granger?"

She continued to organize different bottles. "Not really, I suppose."

"Explain that to me."

"You're deplorable Malfoy. I really pity you." She did not remove her gaze from her work. "It's really sad, actually."

"Most refer to me as gorgeous, not pitiful." He wiggled his eyebrows.

She sighed. "Only those who are blind, deaf, and are unable to feel the cold wafting off of your soul. I would say heart, but I doubt you have one."

He seemed to regard this momentarily but shrugged it off. "You're probably right."

"Is that an insult to yourself, Malfoy?"

He snorted. "Of course not."

Hermione paused. "I think we can stop talking now."

"Why, Granger? Can't resist the urge to snog me every time I open my mouth?"

"Don't be repulsive."

"Well you know what I think—"

"Honestly, Malfoy, I really don't care—"

"Granger, can't you just—"

A sudden, and very loud click interrupted them. Hermione cast her eyes suspiciously toward Malfoy, but he was staring at the door with a look of dreading anticipation. Stalking over to the door, he turned the silvery handle. Nothing.

"Don't even say it," Hermione said as he turned back around to her and opened his mouth. "Just don't even say the words."

He smirked. "How lucky you are, bookworm. You get to be stuck with me—"

He cut off as Hermione lowered her head and banged it once, none too gently, on a nearby shelf. "You know what?" she said, voice muffled by mass amounts of hair. "I wouldn't mind, not at all, if I were stuck in here by myself for a week with nothing to do but read potions labels. But being stuck here with you? You of all people? That, right there, is a living hell. Kill me now."

"I would gladly," Malfoy began cheerfully. "Only—" he was immediately cut off again, but by a very, very, very bad noise.

It sounded like a muggle firework when it goes off, making a small, but explosive, popping noise. Just then, the torches that lit the room went out, plunging the room into darkness. Hermione fumbled for her wand, only to realize that Snape had collected them when he assigned them their punishment.

"Well crap," she said to the darkness, not really talking to anyone in particular. She suddenly felt Malfoy's elbow in her ribs. "Ow!" she exclaimed, swatting his arm away.

"What?" Malfoy said arrogantly.

"You elbowed me!"

"Well you shouldn't have been standing there," he grumbled darkly.

"You—you—" she spluttered.

"That's rather unattractive you know."

"Why you insufferable—" she started forward, only to trip on a stray bottle she had yet to organize properly. Her shoulder bumped into his, and his immediate reaction was to push her off. This resulted in a slip in her footing, and she reached out blindly to hold on to something—anything—to stop her from falling. She ended with a fistful of Malfoy's robe.

He spluttered angrily before accidentally bumping into one of the shelves, causing a small avalanche of potion bottles to come tumbling down on them. Most survived the impact and skittered off to some random corner, but one unlucky bottle managed to break, spilling its contents onto an already livid Hermione.

"What the HELL was that?" She shrieked, struggling against the grip Malfoy had on her elbows to prevent her from taking him down.

"What was what?" Malfoy growled, but it seemed less intense than before.

"That—potion. It's all over me!" And it was sticky too.

"I don't bloody know, Granger," he said slowly, as if fighting through a fog in his brain.

"Malfoy," Hermione said suspiciously, taking a tentative step back toward the other shelf, suddenly feeling like something was very wrong. "Are you feeling okay?"

"I don't…know," he breathed.

She remembered the potion that shattered on her head. She quickly swiped some of the liquid running down her neck off and sniffed it, hoping to identify the substance. Strangely enough, it didn't have an odor. If that wasn't odd enough as it was, her skin was slowly absorbing the liquid, drying her clothes and hair within moments.

"All right, now I am totally and utterly freaked out," she declared aloud. When Malfoy said nothing, she hesitantly asked, "Malfoy?"

"Granger," Malfoy murmured huskily, his body suddenly much closer to hers than it had been. She could feel the heat of him too close for her comfort. "What potion was that?"

Hermione stammered a quick, "I have no idea."

"Well you smell bloody fantastic," he muttered, twirling a lock of her hair around his finger and sniffing it. Hermione gulped, trying to pull away.

"The potion doesn't have a smell, Malfoy," she said, attempting to get out of his reach. It didn't work, as he just latched onto a handful of her hair, literally burying his nose in it. "Er," she stuttered, "can you please get away from me?"

"Gods no, you smell far too amazing."

"I'm serious, stop!" Hermione managed to yank herself out of his grasp, only to fall flat on her bum. Fearing this strange new side of Malfoy, she stumbled to her feet, backing as far away as she could from him, groping the wall in the dark.

The distance between them seemed to clear his head somewhat. "Gods, Granger, are you wearing some kind of bewitched perfume?"

"Bewitched perfume?"

"What bloody substance are you wearing?"

"I'm not wearing anything but that blasted potion!"

He paused, before muttering viciously to himself. Hermione caught little snippets every now and then. "Snape…just like him…keeping a potion like that…bloody delicious…."

"Are you done muttering to yourself? We need to find a way to light this room."

"How do you propose we do that?" She could literally hear the sneer in his voice.

"There's got to be a potion in here that lights stuff on fire! If we could just find one then we can light the torches, and boom! Brightness!"

"And how are we supposed to find the freaking potion when we can't even see it!"

Hermione paused, trying to remember something she read once in the library. After a moment, she snapped her fingers. "It literally gives off warmth. And it kind of smells like ash. But most potions smell anyway, so we're going to have to go with the warmth thing."

He sighed. "Fine. I'll take the shelf you nearly knocked over, you take the other."

Hermione nodded, before realizing he couldn't even see her. "All right. But Malfoy?" she said sternly. "Don't come near me. I don't need you drooling in my hair again."

He groaned audibly. "Do try to forget that, please." He started moving bottles around.

She smirked, and started moving bottles too, searching for one with a heated exterior. "Why, though? It's perfect blackmail." She swore she could hear him scowling. They began working in silence, each on their respective sides of the small room.

It took a fairly good half hour before Malfoy gave a whoop of delight. "Found it!" he cheered.

Hermione sighed gratefully. "Here," she said blindly moving her hand out to take the potion. He stepped toward her, about to put the vial in her hand, but froze.

"Granger," he said in a strained voice, "move back."

"What?" she asked, fingers pulling at the bottle, which he didn't release. "Malfoy let go!"

"Step back," he said again. The bottle shook in his hand.

Hermione realized very quickly what he meant, and all but leaped back to the other side of the room again. She could hear his ragged breathing as he tried to control the urge to smell her.

Wow, she truly thought she'd never have to think those words in her whole life.

"Is that stuff amortentia or something?"

"I doubt it. Not just because Snape would never even possess a love potion, but because the effects of amortentia are instantaneous, and you wouldn't be able to resist."

"Thanks for the lesson, Granger."

"Shut up, Malfoy." She paused. "What do you smell, exactly?"

"I don't even know. I just know that it smells utterly amazing, and I practically want to lick it off of you."


"Um…just roll the vial to me, and we can get some damn light in this room." She was sure both their faces would be thoroughly flushed from that last remark, though.

His response was the sound of a bottle being rolled over the stone floor, before bumping into Hermione's shoe. She picked it up and uncorked it, dripping a few drops onto the nearest torch. Instantly, light flared up. Sighing, she lit a few other torches in the room, being careful to avoid Malfoy, lest…something unexpected happened.

Satisfied, she put the cork back on the bottle, setting it down on the floor. It was then she noticed the messy state the room was in, and how disheveled Malfoy looked.

"This place is a shit hole," he said conversationally, avoiding looked straight at her, preferring to fix his gaze on the many bottles littered around the room.

"We should probably clean this up."

"Yeah…" he trailed off. "Just… you know."

"Don't get too close, in case you feel the insane urge to smell me?" She almost smirked at him.

"Don't give me that look, Granger, just start picking up bottles." He turned his back on her.

Hermione suppressed a laugh. She never seen a Slytherin, much less Draco Malfoy, look so flustered in her whole life. Smiling to herself, she started reorganizing the bottles, placing them from their spot on the floor to the shelves where they belonged. About ten minutes later, she heard a crash from the other side of the room.

Whirling around, she saw Malfoy standing there, one hand holding the shelf behind him as if he were about to fall over, and the other covering his nose. A smashed bottle of what looked like polyjuice potion lay at his feet. His eyes looked almost black.

"It's getting stronger, Granger," he said in a low voice. "Move away, quickly."

Hermione shook her head, her voice panicked. "There's nowhere that's farther away, and I am not backing into a corner when you're looking at me that…" hungrily, came the unfinished word. "Try breathing through your mouth."

"Doesn't work," he said helplessly, seeming to grip the shelf behind him for dear life.

"Gods, I don't know what to do!" She almost wailed. Hermione Granger was not used to not knowing what to do. "Fight it, Malfoy! Come on!"

"Is it that bad to have me smell you, Granger?" He grit out, still managing to be a git whilst trying to resist a very strong potion, by the looks of it.

"I'm afraid of what else you'll do," she said, trying to shrink back into the wall, anything to get farther away from him and his potion-hazed obsession.

"I won't—" he started, but abruptly cut off, his black eyes widening.

The next moment happened fast. One minute they were both trying to sink into opposite walls, and the next he was right in front of her, pinning her helplessly against the potions shelf, hands buried in her hair and face buried in her neck. She struggled, trying to push him off of her, but he was like a solid wall of rock, and only pressed himself closer.

"Malfoy," she gasped. "Stop smelling me and get off!" Really, was there anything not wrong about her saying that?

"I can't," he groaned into her neck, inhaling repeatedly. "You smell so bloody incredible."

"Come on, can't you resist it? It's just a potion!"

He seemingly ignored her. "Gods, what is that smell? It's driving me crazy; I can't get enough!"

Hermione struggled against him, pushing against his chest, but he wouldn't budge. She tried hitting his shoulder, his stomach, his arms, but to no avail. His breathing was ragged and hot against her skin, and she tried twisting out of his grip. Which, incidentally, exposed more of her throat, and that seemed to drive him crazy. He gripped her tighter, pushing her body hard into the shelf, eliciting a small gasp of pain from the frightened witch.

"Malfoy, stop, you're hurting me."

"I can't stop, I can't!" He moaned. "You smell so good—it's sinful! I swear I want to lick it straight off of you."

Unfortunately, he decided to act on that idea. She felt something warm and wet on her throat. He was licking her, by gods, actually licking her. "Mal—foy," she stuttered. Either he didn't hear her or he didn't care in his inebriated state. His lips and tongue were all over her neck and shoulders, tasting the potion that was surely covering every inch of her skin.

"You're under the influence of a potion," she gasped, trying to break through his haze. "You're currently sucking on the skin of mudblood Hermione Granger, a girl you absolutely hate—" She broke off, as he tasted the sensitive skin of her ear.

"You're not a mudblood," he ground out, his lips moving on to her cheek. "And I don't hate you," he said, continuing over her nose. "I just—" he broke off, kissing her right on the lips for a full minute, while she stood frozen, not reciprocating the attempts. "—find you annoying, and very fun to torment," he finished, moving to her other cheek.

"Malfoy, I don't know if you realize, but you just kissed me." Hermione exclaimed.

"Yes, I do realize that," he said, his mouth returning to sucking on her neck once more. "And it was bloody delicious, if you ask me."

Hermione sighed. "Today you kissed me. And by tomorrow—tonight even—you'll be back to hating me once again."

"What makes you say that?" He asked, burying his face in her hair and inhaling for a long moment.

"Well, why would things change now? You're basically intoxicated right now—there is no better word for it. By tomorrow you'll be cured, and this will be a joke."

He kissed along her collarbone for a moment, before responding. "You know, Granger, if you think about it, we're sort of perfect for each other."

"How so," she asked, puzzled.

"We're both smart and witty, so there would never be a dull moment. We're both pretty attractive—"

"You find me attractive?" She asked, even more confused.

"Well duh. We may be Slytherin and Gryffindor, but opposites attract, don't they? Like fire and ice, day and night. Not to mention with your feistiness, there's never be a dull moment. The passion would be endless." He had stopped ravenously attacking her body by now, and was slowly and surely making his way up her jaw.

"That's a lot to take in, Malfoy. I didn't know you felt this way." Something dawned on her. "In fact, I bet you still don't feel that way. It's the effects of the potion, isn't it?"

"I don't think so," he hummed. "I think it wore off just when I was telling you we'd be perfect for each other. Because we would be."

"I don't think—"

"Well you know what I do think? I think I am about to kiss you again." And he did just that.

It was a very thorough snog she had to admit. His lips were soft but demanding, moving over hers with vigor. Eventually she managed to separate her brain from her body and kissed him back with equal fervor, fisting his shirt tightly in her hands as to separate the recently developed space in between them. One of his hands untangled from her hair to press hard between her shoulder blades, and she gasped softly against his mouth.

His lips disconnected from hers at some point, and he continued to press them over every inch of her face: on her eyelids and on her brow, running across her cheekbones, touching her temples, trailing down her nose.

He managed to detach his mouth from her face, panting. "I don't think," he said, "that I have ever kissed so much of a girl's skin in such a short amount of time in my life."

Hermione pressed her fingers to her throat. "I don't think I've ever had this many bruises at one time in my entire life."

He laughed quietly, and was about to kiss her again, when the door to the room burst open, revealing a smirking Severus Snape. He raised an eyebrow at the two students desperately trying to straighten their clothes, before saying, "Detention again tomorrow, same time. And get the job done before you start snogging."

Hermione gaped at him, and was about to deny it when Malfoy wrapped an arm around her waist. "I'm sure we can manage that," he said with a genuine smile.

Snape nodded curtly. "Now get out." The students obliged quickly, scurrying out of the classroom at fast as they could. Malfoy gave Hermione one last, lingering kiss, before taking a whiff of her hair.

"You still smell irresistible," he murmured, before going off in the direction of the dungeons.

Once they had left, Snape chuckled to himself. "I remember my first encounter with the provocation potion. Poor McGonagall had hickey's for weeks."

Snape: hehehe... I made out with McGonagall :3

Me: ...You do know this is AU, right?

Snape: What's AU?

Hermione: Alternate Universe. It's when a writer uses a scenario that was never actually canon and uses it for her own purposes! (Speaking of not canon, you forgot the disclaimer)


Snape: Who's J.K. Rowling?

Hermione: Author of the Harry Potter series.

Draco: You really do know everything, don't you?

Hermione: Yes. That's how I am able to make you squirm.

Snape: Ew. You know I'm still here right?

Draco/Hermione: *too busy snogging*

Me: Awww :3 IT'S SO CUTE!

Snape/Draco/Hermione: *backing away slowly*