Snape stared at Hermione in disbelief. That tramp! She had led him on and now she was batting her eyelashes at Neville like a little schoolgirl!
“She is a schoolgirl,” Snape thought, “and I am her professor...”
Snape hated himself for being such a fool. How could anyone love him, especially someone as kind and beautiful as that? Ah, how beautiful she had become...no longer an awkward little girl. But he could tell by her shyness and insecurity - the way she held herself - that she did not find herself at all attractive. That was not all that Snape found intriguing, though. No, there was much more than that to her. Her mind, sharp as a double-bladed knife and quick as one, too. Her eyes, you could tell, calculated every movement, every expression, ever searching for truth. “She should be an Auror,” Snape thought. But what he loved most of all was her defiance. She always had to fight for what’s right, never seeking to benefit herself.
“Her life is but a trace of wisdom...” Snape whispered, gazing at her, “...others will never see. Her eyes have seen misery and pain, she knows what it is to dream...Ah, Hermione, I was a fool.”
At that moment, Hermione glanced up at him and Snape saw a flash of confusion grace her amber eyes. But a flicker was all it was, for, when Neville suddenly yelped, “Oops!” Hermione turned and began scolding him lovingly.
“Oh, Neville,” she giggled, “You’re supposed to add the roots after the powder. Look, this is what you do...”
Snape stared at the scene in utter misery. Typically, he would have glared at Neville ‘til he shook and told him what a stupid twit he is, but his energy seemed to have left him.
“Wow,” he thought, “I’m even too old to scold students.”
Or, perhaps, it was more than old age. Was it- no, it couldn’t be...could it? Snape’s breath caught as realization flooded over him. His heart beat with the rapidity of a hummingbird’s wings. He loved her! Hermione, the most insufferable, know-it-all, Gryffindor girl! Nay, woman, and he loved her since the moment he saw her on that fateful night, when she tucked him into bed. That act of kindness had no parallel...He loved her more than-well, he had never loved anything or anyone-but he knew this strange sensation was love and, though alien to him, he suddenly felt as though he had found his home...his Eden.
But as he gazed at her and Neville, he felt his Eden - his heaven - slowly melt away to reveal his hell. He felt a pain, worse than any Voldemort ever inflicted, strike through his heart. “My death has finally come,” he thought, for, surely, no one could live through pain such as this. But as he waited there, Death showed no sign of gracing him with its presence. He had to get out.
Harry looked up as Snape stormed out of the classroom.
“That’s odd,” Ron said, “Class doesn't end for another half hour.”
Harry, feeling the misery of guilt, turned to watch Hermione and Neville. She was whispering things in Neville’s ear that made him turn impossibly red.
Ron leaned over, “She keeps talking about how cute and smart he is. Quite annoying, really.”
“Funny,” Harry grunted, “he still seems ugly and stupid to me.”
Ron looked at Harry for a moment, frowning. “I thought you were over her Harry. You still like her, don’t you?”
Harry sighed. “Sometimes...”
Ron lowered his eyes, “Me too...”
Snape breathed in the fresh air. He was standing at the highest point of the castle. The astronomy tower. The wind caressed his hair, blowing back his billowing, black robes, giving him a sense of power. He could smell the scent of lavender in the air. The scent of Hermione. Snape sighed mournfully. I thought she loved me... but she did. He knew she did. He raked his fingers through his hair, trying to clear his mind.
“Oh Snape!” a grief-stricken voice suddenly cried, making him jump back in surprise, “I knew that today would be the day you chose to end your life!”
He spun around, his heart racing. “Trelawney!” he cried, “you scared the - never mind, what are you doing up here?”
Trelawney rushed over to him, “Death is not the answer, Snape! If you die, the world will fall to the clutches of evil! A reign of terror will sweep the land leaving only -”
“What are you talking about?” Snape interrupted, “I’m not committing suicide, I came up here to think.” He grabbed his chest. His heart was still racing. God, he thought he was going to have a heart attack!
She blinked at him through her thick glasses. “You mean... you didn’t come up here to kill yourself?” Trelawney said, confused, “But I had a dream, I - you were under a spell and you jumped. Off this roof-top, here,” she said, indicating the balcony they were standing on.
Snape sighed, “Well, I am under no spell. Honestly, you need to control yourself; people already think you’re crazy. Under a spell...what a ridiculous -” he stopped as realization embraced him once more. How could he have been so stupid? Of course!
“That’s it!” Snape laughed and embraced Trelawney, then ran down the stone steps yelling, “Thank you, Sybille!”
Trelawney stared after him, her glasses magnifying her eyes, giving her the appearance of a dragonfly. “He must be insane,” she hummed to herself, before heading back to her class, which she too had, ironically, left behind.
Snape burst back into the classroom with only ten more minutes left to go. “Potter! Weasley! Outside now!”
Harry and Ron jumped out of there chairs and followed Professor Snape out of the classroom, Ron almost in tears, and Harry shaking with nervousness. Did Snape know about the potion?
Once outside, Snape spun around, his robes billowing menacingly. “Tell me now; is Hermione under a love spell?”
Harry and Ron immediately began denying it, but Snape interrupted.
“As far as I’m concerned, I have no proof that you two did it, as long as you tell me which spell it is.”
Harry stood there confused. Was Snape letting them off? Then, as he witnessed the desperation behind his eyes, noticed the intensity of his tone, he suddenly understood.
“It’s a love potion. It’s called ‘Love at First Sip’, or something like that.” Harry said.
Snape nodded, relief washing over him, and squeezed their shoulders in “thanks,” before re-entering the classroom.
“Has everyone gone mad?” Ron squeaked, “We just...bonded with Sniveling Snape!”
Harry stared in the direction Snape had gone, his respect for him intensified tenfold. “You and I like Hermione, Ron; but Snape…I dunno….Snape loves her.” In that moment, Harry was no longer a boy, but a man.
Ron stood, utterly confused, as Harry had before.
“Apparently, you’ve gone mad too, Harry,” Ron said, before pretending to gag. “Snape and Hermione, you say?” He chuckled before bursting into heavy laughter.
Snape, filled with newfound hope, searched his books for an antidote. When he finally found it, he dismissed the class, hoping that the silence would help him concentrate. He read it allowed. “...Allow potion to brew for three days-What? Three days! - When the drinker has consumed the last drop, a kiss from their true love is required.” Snape snorted, “How cliché.”
He pulled out a cauldron and began mixing the ingredients. It was a simple spell, really, just time-consuming. For three days and two nights he worked relentlessly, perfecting it, and all the while watching Hermione. “Don’t worry, my love,” he would whisper, “they say ignorance is bliss, but they are wrong. I will save you... I promise.”
Each time he whispered her name, she would look up at him with that same confused expression in her eyes. As though she knew something were wrong, and only he could clear the fog that clouded her mind. When the potion was finally done, Snape allowed himself to sleep. Tomorrow morning his dreams would come true...
Hermione could think of nothing but Neville. He was in her mind in the day, her dreams in the night. Though she felt as if there were something amiss, her lust overpowered her mind. Except, for some odd reason, when she looked at Snape. She would glance at him and swear she heard him calling her name. She would look in his eyes, smell him as he walked by, and things would clear until...oh, Neville. He had been sweeter than usual. Always asking if she was all right. If she was feeling well. Hermione sighed as she stepped into her potions class. She would get to sit with Neville for a whole hour!