Appassionata

“Tell me this isn’t what I think it is.” Snape was taken aback at the desperation in Hermione’s voice as she thrust a dark glass vial in his direction.

He quirked an eyebrow, unable to resist baiting her. “What do you think it is?” he asked.

“Appassionata.” Her voice almost broke on the word, and the smirk vanished from Severus’s face, replaced by raised eyebrows and a tightening of his lips.

He turned away from her, cast a hooding spell, and decanted the potion into a larger, clear flask, turning it in the light and watching the vapors as they rose to fill the container. The potion’s colors swirled and mingled intoxicatingly, and Snape was drawn in by its dark beauty until he heard Hermione’s strangled sob behind him.

“I was right, wasn’t I? No other potion looks like that.” She sat down inelegantly in one of the student desks and stared at the flask, her expression desperate.

Pulled from his reverie, Snape snapped, “where did you get this?”

“Ron,” Hermione nearly wailed. “He put it in my wine at dinner. He didn’t stir it very well and I didn’t notice until I got an extra-bitter taste near the end of the glass.” The sob in her voice was more pronounced now, and Severus started as the information sank in.

“Mr. Weasley actually dosed you with this potion?” He swallowed hard. Well, that explained why she was so frantic.

“He gave me half the vial!” She clenched her teeth and bit her lip. Understanding now what was happening, he thought it admirable how well she was resrtraining the hysteria.

“Miss Granger,” he murmured as soothingly as he could manage, “you realize there is nothing I can give you to relieve the potion’s effect. You need to return home and…”

He was spared the embarrasment of suggesting she go shag her boyfriend senseless as quickly as possible by Hermione’s jumping up and advancing on him, eyes flashing. “At this very moment, Professor,” she growled, “I’d rather have sex with a hippogriff than even be in the same room with Ronald Weasley.”

“I’m not sure that would suffice to alleviate the intoxication, Miss Granger,” Snape murmurred drolly.

Hermione gaped at him. “NOW you make a joke? Seven years in your potions classes and four years of working with you for the Order and you pick NOW to develop a sense of humour? Are you really so much of a bastard that you actually find this amusing?!”

“Of course not, Miss Granger,” he scowled at her. “But all things considered at least there is a fairly simple way to get the potion out of your system.”

“I am not having sex with that red-haired weasel EVER again,” Hermione stated flatly, stamping her foot slightly for good measure. “I had no intention of ever sharing his bed again long before he pulled this abominable stunt, and I don’t intend to give him his way on this.”

‘Well,’ Severus thought, ‘that was news.’ He raised an eyebrow at her. “Miss Granger, it’s not a terribly dangerous potion at this point, but if you allow it to course through your system for much longer your blood pressure will rise enough that your heart may be damaged. Not to mention the things…”

“Is there no other way to stop it from acting?” The hysterical break was back in her voice, and Severus was again reminded of how much self-control she was exhibiting.

“I have heard from certain dark wizards that killing someone has as much of an effect as fucking them, but I imagine that may have more to do with the sexual proclivities of said wizards than with the actual properties of the potion.” The droll note was back in his voice, and Hermione gaped at him again.

“You really do find the most warped things amusing, don’t you?” She let out a faint half-sob as she shook her head, clearly fighting the potion. “However, considering that not only I do not find bloodsport in the least bit erotic but also imagine myself incapable of killing anything in cold blood, that brings us back to my sudden need to get laid fast.”

Snape snorted indelicately, then spoke firmly. “I suggest you select from your coterie of admirers on the basis of proximity, as the potion’s effects will increase exponentially the longer it stays in your system.”

Hermione pinned him with an intense gaze. “Not that you’re one of my admirers, but you, sir, are the most proximate male at the moment.” She couldn’t hold back a burst of harsh laughter at the shocked look on his face.

“Miss Granger,” he choked out, “that is clearly the potion affecting your judgment. You would, as they say, hate me in the morning.”

“I already hate you,” Hermione murmurred, mimicking his droll tone from earlier and he snorted at the dry humour.

“Fine,” he smirked in response, “then you would hate yourself. I can’t imagine that sex with your greasy git of a former potions professor has ever made it onto your To Do list, and you would undoubtedly regret it.”

He saw the sarcasm on her face even before she spoke. “Oh, and I’m certainly not likely to regret wandering the streets of Hogsmeade in search of the first man I can find willing to take me to his bed.” He could hear a shudder in her voice, but was uncertain whether it was the potion itself or the thought of sex with a stranger picked up in a bar. “At least I know you.”

“I’m beginning to think that you’re serious, Miss Granger.” He levelled his most intense gaze at her.

“I am serious, Professor.” She met his eyes unflinchingly, and he was impressed in spite of himself. “There are several advantages to you. You’re here, which addresses the time factor. You aren’t a stranger, but you also aren’t someone with whom I have the sort of friendship that could be damaged by having sex with you.” Severus felt a strange pang at that reminder of his isolation from even the people he encountered most regularly.

“And most importantly,” she continued in a hard voice, “Ron absolutely despises you, which makes the whole thing smack of a wonderful revenge play.” Her face contorted in a sadistically stiff smirk which appeared foreign on her usually warm and animated features. “Just imagine how he’ll feel when he realizes that his little drama sent his former lover right into the arms of a man he can’t stand.”

Severus raised an eyebrow at her. “Revenge, Miss Granger? From a Gryffindor?”

“You’re not exactly his biggest fan either, Professor.” She crossed her arms and took a step closer to him. “Don’t you want to help me get the better of my arrogant, self-serving weasel of a now completely and utterly ex-boyfriend?

Snape felt his resistance fading. The look in her eyes was one he hadn’t seen in quite a while. “Surely there must be someone else who can help you out of this predicament, Miss Granger,” he protested half-heartedly.

“There’s no-one else as close, and you’re the one I want to help me,” she stated, her voice breathy from the effert she was exerting, and his breath caught slightly at the embedded words. ‘You’re the one I want…’ No-one had said that to him in so long…

Snape realized Hermione had continued speaking and tried to catch the thread again.“So just tell me now if you’re protesting because you find me so unattractive that you aren’t a viable candidate. I don’t have time to waste on you if you can’t perform…”

But she didn’t finish her thought. Sufficiently turned on and challenged by the slight insult, he cut her off by capturing her mouth, lifting her in his arms and stalking purposefully toward the door to his chambers. She really didn’t have much time to waste.