Flawed Chemistry

Flawed Chemistry

Pairing: Hermione Granger/Severus Snape

Category: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, drama, future-fiction, first-time

Rating: PG-13,with future R-rated chapters.

Warnings: None thus far. Unbeta\'d.

Summary: Hermione Granger has finally done what everyone else
has said was impossible to do but was it worth the cost?

Story Notes: This is set post-Hogwarts, after the trio has finally
graduated. There will be little to no mention of the events in any of the books
but I do try to stay as close to canon as possible. Also, for every "real"
chapter there will be a connecting half-chapter that will either be an a. diary
entry, b. journal entry, or c. letter. Sometimes they will tie into the chapter,
other times they will be entirely independent  of it. It\'s up to you to
distinguish which is which.

Author\'s Note: This is, officially, my first attempt at writing a
Hermione-centric fan fiction much less a Hermione/Snape one so be warned. I
won\'t deny that, in all likelihood, the main characters will be out-of-character
or, at the very least, different from what you\'d expect but I did try (who could
ask for more?). Most of the beginning chapters are shorter than that of later
ones so please, try not to throw too many flames my way about chapter length.
Also, any grammatical mistakes are my own and I\'d more than appreciate them to
be pointed out to me, just...be gentle. It\'s my first time ;)

The potion had been done for over an hour. It’s ruby red gelatinous mixture
mute testimony to the amount of time and effort spent into its preparation and
bottling. Said bottle sat quiet and innocuously on top of the jutting stone
laboratory table that had been erected some centuries ago.

Hermione Granger tried to slow the hammering of her ever rapidly beating
heart; she could feel it pounding through her veins; taste it in her mouth till
she was nauseous and cold. She flexed her fingers. God, she couldn’t believe
this.

After all this time, after all her work -- She’d done it. She’d actually done
what she’d set out to do. It was here, now, in the laboratory sitting on the
stone table she’d spent practically ever single moment of her life these last
few months.

I did it. She thought, curling her fingers into her palm. They were raw,
chapped from months of exhausting work. The tips were tinted black from over
exposure to volatile herbs and other noxious mixtures that would have sent any
other less dedicated worker packing. I did it. No one else but me. Hermione
Granger. I did what no one else could.

But at what cost?

That was a question that floated around her subconscious for some time now.
At what cost had she spent the last 18 months of her life, locked away in a
dungeon with nothing but an occasional house-elf to keep her company?

I don’t know. I don’t know.

The blonde hung her head, feeling the prickle of tears sting her blood shot
eyes as she closed them. She lifted her hands, pressing her deadened fingers
clumsily against her face as the tears began to fall. Her lashes had long since
been singed off, her hair hung in greasy clumps from where the fumes had done
the gradual task of stripping the vitamins and minerals from deep within their
roots and her lips were cracked and chapped, blistered beyond repair.

Even her senses were waning; smells were now a stifled kaleidoscope, colors
too much for her damaged retinas to bare, touches were muted echoes and
tastes…she had none.

But I did it.

Yes, she’d done it. But, at what cost?