The Confectionary Chronicles || HP/SPN

Sweets and Studies- Ch12

CHAPTER TWELVE:

Hermione had been looking forward to Potions all week. Chemistry had been one of her four chosen A-Levels and she was eager to see how Potions compared. She'd already devoured her copies of 'Magical Drafts and Potions', 'One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi' and 'The Potioneers Guide to Preparation' as well as a good chunk of Sylvianne's healer's treatise, which included a number of potions.

Millie seemed amused by her enthusiasm but Hermione couldn't help it. She'd never stop being in love with magic. Everything she loved in her life had been brought to her because of magic; her god, living with her aunt and uncle, coming to Hogwarts, her friends at Hogwarts... how could she not love magic?

Hermione was well acquainted with the dungeons of Hogwarts and easily found the classroom. It was a bit eerie looking, with all the pickled animals floating around in glass jars, but Hermione thought they added a particular sort of ambiance. Ash did not appreciate the colder temperature of the room, winding her way tighter around Hermione and sticking her head under Hermione's armpit, which caused her to twitch slightly as it tickled.

The Gryffindors arrived a couple of minutes after the Slytherins and Hermione and Millie headed over to Neville, who smiled shyly at them. Dean and Harry also waved hello to her and Millie, while Seamus and Ron managed to put aside their Slytherin prejudice enough to nod in their direction.

Professor Snape swept into the classroom in a whirl of his dark robes and cloak. Utter silence followed in his wake as he made his way to the front of the classroom and Hermione stared, wide-eyed and eager, as he began by taking the roll.

It was after that that things started to turn ugly.

Professor Snape, it seemed, did not like poor Harry.

"Potter!" he snapped, causing half the class to jump. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

Hermione blinked. What sort of question was that? Obviously, the answer was the Draught of Living Death, though if the asphodel was harvested under a blue moon then it would be the Draught of Ever-Lasting sleep, which unlike the Draught of Living Death had no known cure to wake the drinker up. But she only knew that because she'd memorised both of their assigned text-books, as well as her Astronomy text-book, and she doubted most students had.

"I don't know, sir," poor Harry answered, looking quite anxious. She didn't blame him. Professor Snape seemed to be in a mood. Perhaps her stunt this morning hadn't been her brightest idea, and now Harry was the sacrificial lamb on her altar of chaos.

Professor Snape's lip curled into a sneer. "Tut, tut– fame clearly isn't everything," he said. "Let's try again. Potter, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"

Harry looked relieved this time– it seemed he'd followed her advice on the train to read at least the first chapter of each of his text-books before attending the class. A bezoar would have been covered in the first chapter of 'One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi'.

"In the stomach of a goat, sir," he stammered. Professor Snape's lips thinned and Hermione wondered if perhaps it would have been better for Harry if he hadn't known the answer after all.

"It seems you did manage to crack open a book before coming to my class," he said. "Let's see how far you managed to get. Tell me, Potter, what's the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

"I don't know," Harry said quietly. Professor Snape's lip curled.

"Clearly," he said.

Poor Harry, Hermione thought again. Rosier's earlier explanation that Slytherins could do no wrong while Gryffindors could do no right was making a lot of sense right now. Still, nobody could say she wasn't opportunistic enough to not take advantage of the situation – she wanted those eighty points total – and if it helped take the attention of Harry, well, that was just a convenient side-effect.