Credits:
Nothing belongs to me. It all belongs to JKR.
_____________________________________________
Tonight You're Mine Completely Part II
Chapter 2 Amortenia

"Oh, no!" moaned Hermione, as she scrutinized the puffy, reddened area around her black eye in the hand mirror Molly had reluctantly handed to her. A worried look settled in her eyes, and a perplexed frown deepened on her brow while conflicting emotions of anger, frustration, fear, and anxiety warred deep within her. "I can't possibly go to Diagon Alley looking like this!" she groaned, putting the mirror down less than gently, tears welling up in her chocolate brown eyes. On the verge of crying, feeling bewildered, helpless, and furious with herself for acting impulsively, she buried her face in her hands and wailed, "Why was I so stupid?"

Feeling the hot, prickly tears burning her eyes, Hermione vainly attempted reining in her feelings but to no avail. She couldn't control her own emotions, let alone be expected to help Malfoy adjust to his father being in Azkaban. 'How does Professor Snape do it?' she wondered, but this line of reasoning only made her wail louder, until a little voice in her head interrupted her negative thoughts.

'He's had more years to practice his art, and besides he only gives the appearance of controlling his emotions. There is one emotion he displays, as you are well aware, anger - fits of rage. Remember, he told you that anger only begets anger, but he has not channelled his wrath into a positive, instead he has allowed the negativity to eat away at his very soul and deprive him of feeling that most basic of elements - love. You have more insight into Snape's emotional state of mind than you may realize. Ask any of your fellow classmates, and they will agree, in no uncertain terms, that he is a right heartless bastard, but you know differently. Behind the snarling façade of dispassionate Potions master lies a complex man that few people are privileged to know.'

Brushing loose strands of hair away from her face, Hermione felt her breathing slow and her system calm down as the realisation slowly dawned on her that Professor Snape's stoic façade was purely a self-defence mechanism to prevent anyone getting close to him, close enough to care about, to hurt him.

"There, there, dear child, I may not be a mediwitch, but I didn't raise six boys without learning how to deal with a few scrapes and bruises. I'll find a way to remove the discoloration," responded Molly, trying to remain calm as she leafed through her copy of The Healer's Helpmate. Under her breath she muttered something about 'getting her hands on Fred and George.' "When we go to Diagon Alley, I'll check with the apothecary," she said, giving Hermione a reassuring pat on the shoulder in hopes of easing her anxiety.

Ron, who had been feeling guilty over Hermione's accident, heard the commotion and cautiously popped his head in the kitchen to check his mother's progress on removing the bruise; he got a glare from her for his efforts.

"Ronald Weasley, if you had moved Fred and George's experiments to the attic like I told you to then this wouldn't have happened!" she lectured, hands on her hips, eyes furious.

"Sorry, Mione," he answered sheepishly, staring wide-eyed at Hermione's swollen, blackened eye.

"Ron, you could have prevented this and you...you...oh...." Her frustration with Ron prevented her from forming a coherent sentence, and she snapped. "Go! Just go away, Ronald! Now!" she screamed irritably, her eyes sparking with anger.

Ron winced visibly, a wary look in his eye, and ducked out the door immediately, vowing not to return until she had calmed down.

Molly cast an eye on her youngest son's retreating backside and sighed heavily. She didn't know what to make of their relationship. She loved Hermione like her own daughter and would have loved for Ron and Hermione to become a couple, to have a loving, respectful relationship, but they were so unalike that she doubted it would ever come to fruition.

She had noticed the increased tension that had surfaced recently in their behaviour towards each other and had told Arthur to talk with the boy, but he had brushed her off saying Ron's older brothers had no doubt taken care of that part of the boy's education. It was obvious to her that someone needed to take the young man aside and explain the proper behaviour a young witch expects.

Molly resigned herself to comforting the distraught girl, cradling her to her ample bosom, an arm around her shoulders, rocking her gently, and assuring her a remedy would be found. "You're at that age, dear, when you are going through a tremendous growth spurt; dramatic physical and psychological changes are taking place. You are experiencing an in-between time of your life - no longer a totally dependent child - but not yet an independent adult. It is a period of struggling to discover who you are and taking your rightful place in this world. Merlin knows I've had my share of frustrations. It's normal. You are normal; there is nothing wrong with you that hasn't been wrong with every other young witch learning to establish her independence and develop loving relationships. Emotions and hormones are working overtime, and it's natural to feel angry or hurt without knowing why you feel that way."

Hermione looked up at Mrs. Weasley, grateful for someone who finally understood what she had been going through, and gave her a watery smile. "I used to think that if I followed the rules, did my schoolwork, and tried my very best that the rest of my life would fall into place, but it hasn't. I find myself making mistakes and stupid decisions and regretting them later, or worse yet, causing someone else problems because of my thoughtlessness."

"Sometimes young people can get caught up in the heat of the moment and do not consider the consequences." With a faraway look in her eye, Molly continued, "Arthur and I got married as soon as we graduated Hogwarts. I was young - too young. The idea of a career in medicine intrigued me, but I thought I had plenty of time to study later, except later never came. The war began, and the babies started coming. I just never found an opportunity to pursue it." She smiled ruefully at Hermione.

"Promise me you will see Madam Pomfrey when you return to Hogwarts," she said softly, looking into Hermione' s eyes as she brushed the fluffy curls away from her face. "She conducts informal training for sixth and seventh years girls, who are of age, to discuss health issues, contraception, and answer questions." She continued, her shy, soft smile turning into a look of concern, "Don't let go of your dreams, Hermione. Your generation stands on the brink that has the opportunity to determine the future of the wizarding world."

'Gods,' thought Hermione dismally, 'she thinks Ron and I are a couple!' Hermione merely nodded dumbly.

She wished she had that jar of bruise-healing paste Professor Snape had given to her, but she hadn't seen it since the night she returned from London. She didn't remember having used it, but she must have, because the next morning the purplish bruise was completely gone. Except for brewing the Wolfsbane base with the professor and sipping wine with Elf, her memory of that evening was somewhat fuzzy. No more elf wine for her, she decided. With a deep sigh, she resigned herself to going out in public looking like a panda.

_____________________________________________

Icy fear gripped his heart as he opened the envelope bearing Dumbledore's seal and removed the parchment. Slowly unfolding the paper, he began to read:

Severus,

I must speak with you today concerning two matters of the utmost urgency. I will be waiting for you in my office this morning.

Albus

Fearing that Albus' condition had worsened, he put the finishing touches on the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom and stood back to admire his handiwork. The pictures adorning the walls lent the proper air of gloom and doom that he needed conveyed - 'Abandon all hope, ye who enter here.' At long last Hogwarts had a proper Dark Arts professor, one who would instil discipline, respect, and the proper motivation for studying the Dark Arts. Pleased with his efforts to transform the mood of the room into one of dark gloom and deep despair, he stepped into the corridor to make his way to the gargoyle-guarded entrance of the Headmaster's office.

It was difficult for him to admit, even to himself, that he harboured fond feelings for Dumbledore, and he would never admit this to anyone else. Emotions were a sign of weakness. He had learned early in his childhood to stifle them, and it had served him well as a spy.

Since the Headmaster's unfortunate encounter, Severus had maintained a detached, clinical approach when treating his patient, but it was becoming increasingly difficult for him to uphold. He worried that the treatment he had outlined for combating the poison seeping through Albus' system was inadequate, and he would fail, yet again, to save someone he loved from the Dark Lord. If he did not find the answer soon, he feared Albus would not see the end of the school year which was only just beginning - today. It was this fear that gnawed on him as he marched through the castle corridors.

The Unbreakable Vow with Narcissa seemed of little consequence compared with the current situation. After all, it was only unbreakable if one was unwilling to accept the consequences, and despite the old man's irritating, meddlesome ways and that damned twinkling whenever he was up to mischief, Severus couldn't imagine life without his old mentor, oft times tormentor.

He arrived at the Headmaster's office and stood for several moments trying to collect himself before raising his wand and softly tapping on Albus' door. The worried look darkening his features and the concern clouding his eyes slowly dissipated as he brought himself under control.

"Come in, Severus," responded the Headmaster heartily.

Swallowing hard, Severus closed his eyes and composed his features. "Dear, Merlin, give me strength," he said, under his breath.

"Good to see you, my boy! Please, sit," he said, waving Severus into a chair and offering him a lemon drop.

Waving away the lemon drop, Severus nodded an acknowledgement, seated himself, and presented an impassive face to the Headmaster, not allowing the slightest facial movement to betray the feelings he had tamped down.

"I know you have preparations to make before the students begin arriving, so I'll come straight to the point and not detain you any longer than necessary.

"As we discussed earlier, I share your concern over Draco's state of mind. It's bound to be hard on the boy with his father in Azkaban, which brings me to my first request. Horace is fond of holding a potion contest during the first lesson with his sixth and seventh years, giving a tiny phial of Felix Felicis to the winner. You remember," he said, smiling mischievously, "I believe you were the recipient in sixth year."

Severus squirmed uncomfortably at the reference to his school years but remained silent, caught up in his memories. The beginning of sixth year had been the highlight of his student days; he would remember the two most perfect days of his life forever, and they both involved Lily.

He had taken two tablespoonfuls with breakfast followed immediately by his favourite class - Potions. The memory of moving effortlessly to stand behind her, his arms encircling her waist, demonstrating how to cut her daisy root, surfaced to the forefront of his mind. He had manoeuvred with ease and without a hint of the usual nervous clumsiness he displayed around witches. His faith in the Felix Felicis had begun to waver when Sirius caused him to cut his finger, but even that had worked to his advantage. Lily had grabbed his hand and immediately brought it to her sweet lips, delicately flicking the cut with her tongue. When she had taken the entire length of his finger into her mouth and lightly sucked it, running her tongue around it as she slowly slid it out of her mouth, he felt a tingling sensation and searing heat all the way to the core of his being.

The second and final time he had taken the potion was the day he interviewed with Dumbledore, and Lily had been interviewing for the position, as well. He could still hear her soft, melodic voice asking him, "Severus, can't you feel the magic in this Slytherin-Gryffindor bonding?"

Dumbledore observed Severus and smiled at him indulgently. "I see you remember your old professor's class," he said.

Severus, his eyes full of emotion, pretended his attention had been captured by one of the portraits and looked away from Dumbledore.

Dumbledore continued as if nothing had happened, "In light of what you have related regarding Draco's assignment, we must ensure that he does not win. Miss Granger is the only student in the class who has the skill to best him, but I need a foolproof way to ensure the Felix Felicis is won by the student who would use its powers in a positive manner," he said, smiling beseechingly.

Severus' mask of composure failed, and he turned to stare at the Headmaster. "Surely, you can't be serious? You want me to fix the contest?"

"Fix is a bit of a strong word; I prefer to think of it as assisting the recipient to live up to his or her true potential."

Severus snorted. "Why don't you simply tell Horace you forbid the contest?" answered Severus dryly.

Dumbledore smiled; his eyes twinkled. "There is certain information that I need to learn from Horace, and in my opinion, only Harry has the ghost of a chance at getting him to open up. Though I suppose it is unfair of me to use Harry, since Lily was by far Slughorn's favourite student. You were aware, Severus, that Horace took her death nearly as hard as you did."

Of course he had been aware; he'd seen the accusing looks Slughorn had given him while he'd been recuperating under Poppy's care. "You want me to help Potter win the contest?" he responded, a look of disgust on his face.

Albus looked over the top of his half-moon glasses and smiled knowingly. "Severus, we both know there is no wizard alive who equals your skill when it comes to brewing the Draught of Living Death," replied Albus placatingly. "I'm sure you can arrange to impart your secret knowledge to Harry," he said smiling.

Severus stared hard at Albus, collecting his thoughts, before answering, "There might be a way for Potter to win if he were to - say - be privy to my personal notes," he drawled, a slight sneer forming on his lips. "Potter will not have purchased materials for Potions, because he didn't earn an 'Outstanding' in his O.W.L. Horace will, of course, allow him to continue Potions with an 'Exceeds Expectations.' When Potter arrives to class without a book, Horace will loan him a book from the cupboard - where I will have placed the charmed copy Potter is to receive."

"Severus, there will need to be two copies of the book, because Weasley also received an 'Exceeds Expectations,' and he will want to take the class with Harry.

Severus pondered the situation while resting one elbow on the other arm, tapping a finger to his chin. "Two books. When Potter's new book arrives, he returns my book, and no one will be the wiser." He forced a smile on his thin lips.

"Anything else I can do you for you, Albus?" he asked, cocking an eyebrow, a satisfied smirk on his face.

"Yes, Severus, but the next matter isn't as easily dealt with - the subject of my mortality," replied Albus, watching Severus visibly wince and grow paler. "I won't live forever, and since you are going to be chosen as my successor, you need to understand a fundamental principle of Hogwarts to prepare yourself for taking over the reins."

Severus started to open his mouth to say something, but the Headmaster waved his hand and shook his head.

"No, don't say anything. Hear me out, please. Yes, Minerva will become Headmistress in the interim, but the school wants you to succeed me as Headmaster, and there are certain things you must be aware of, concerning the guidance of Hogwarts, that have been handed down since its inception."

Severus was shocked at the announcement and could do nothing more than stare dumbly at Dumbledore in amazement. No sneering. No smirking.

"Severus, there is someone I would like you to meet. Nim?" he called.

"Hello, Albus. So, this is the young man Hogwarts has chosen?" inquired a woman's soft, pleasant voice.

Startled, Severus turned around to face the direction where he heard the voice come from and found himself face-to-face with the Sorting Hat. A puzzled look on his face, he returned his gaze to Albus and questioned, "Nim?"

"Yes, she is residing in the Sorting Hat for the time being," responded Dumbledore matter-of-factly.

"The Sorting Hat?" asked Severus incredulously, in a sceptical tone of voice.

"Albus, you said he had above average intelligence and could think quickly on his feet. All he does is repeat what you say!" she chided humorously.

"Now, Nim, be fair. He's only just learned of your existence," responded Dumbledore, with a tone of chastisement.

"Learn-" Snape broke off with an irritated look, careful not to repeat the Headmaster again.

"I haven't learned anything yet, Albus, except that you are conversing with a hat," he said, with a sneer. Severus thought the old man had gone barmy from the poison eating at his system. "It feels ridiculous to chit-chat with a hat as if it were a living, breathing being," he said emphatically, sitting up straight in his chair, shoulders thrown back as if to say, 'I am in charge of myself.'

"Albus, I refuse to be humiliated in this fashion. I am a magician in my own right; I embody the heart and soul of the founders of Hogwarts. And furthermore, I do not chit-chat!" she added vehemently.

"Nim, please, give Professor Snape time to become accustomed to your presence," he instructed soothingly. Feeling in a particularly feisty mood, he chided Nim's humble beginnings. "Besides, you were not always disposed towards pursuing an altruistic course."

"I am not impressed, Albus," she answered petulantly.

"Nim, perhaps you could show Severus a memory from last school year."

"Very well - doubter," she hissed contemptuously.

Shortly a hologram appeared depicting the potions classroom, and Snape watched himself as he hurled the Levicorpus jinx at Granger, who deftly blocked the curse and then righted the bottle that it hit.

"So, she is a Legilimens. I am not impressed," said Severus haughtily.

"Albus!" cried Nim, her voice full of exasperation.

"Severus, Nim's powers are not limited to showing you memories; she can reveal future events and possibilities, as well. I have come to rely on her heavily as I can't be everywhere at once."

"Show me!" Quite suddenly, Severus felt a tingling on his ear. The warm, tingling, stinging sensation gradually turned into a throbbing pain, which Severus immediately recognised as identical to the feeling he had experienced when he thought Granger had put a hex on him. Despite his admiration for her brewing skills, he was going to enjoy instilling Granger with a respect for the Dark Arts.

"It was you!" he barked angrily, as images of the succession of events stemming from the hex incident played through his mind.

"Not really, Severus, you have a guide spirit. I merely observed your guide and the girl child as your destinies unfolded. It is my business to know everything that happens within the castle. Everything, Severus," she said knowingly. "Can you imagine the benefits to the Headmaster of knowing what his staff is up to when he is not around?" she asked. There was a familiar hint of mischievousness in her voice.

"So you have been behind all the horrible events that befell me last year?" he growled.

"I helped the girl child direct her attention, but I did not actively - not exactly..."

"So, it was you - you were there the night the Floo Network closed. You did it - you set me up!" Severus felt the anger welling within him at the thought he had been manipulated for the past year, culminating in the night he and Granger brewed the Wolfsbane base. The feelings that had developed for Granger had been orchestrated by a - what - a ghost - a spirit? He snorted loudly and moved to the edge of his chair. Giving Albus a look of revulsion, he made to rise. He was being made to play a part against his will, in which he had no say. He was only expected to show up, mouth his lines, and perform flawlessly as directed.

"Don't get so upset, young man. Your destinies are intertwined; you merely needed a little shove in the right direction to recognize the possibilities."

Severus felt a sudden, sharp shove on his chest, and he was thrown back into his chair.

"Listen to me. I am here as a benevolent helper, but if you push me, you'll see what I am capable of doing. I can be your best friend, Severus," she purred seductively, "or I can be your worst nightmare," she growled. "It's your choice," she said softly.

Snape gulped and swallowed hard; with real fear showing in his eyes, he sat mulling over Nim's words.

"I have no say in my future?" he croaked hoarsely.

"Of course you do. I'm merely helping with a little nudge to get you moving - to see what is right in front of your eyes, but refuse to recognize. I can't make you do anything you don't want to. You let the perfect girl for you get away because your stubborn, Slytherin pride got in the way, and you forced her to make an alternate choice. Lily never wavered in her love for you, Severus," she added. "She pledged her love to you forever, and in her heart Lily never broke that promise. You had a choice then, and you still have a choice. You do not have to accept anything you do not want."

Severus, forced into reliving the details of his painful past with Lily, glared at the Sorting Hat, which up until now had remained silent. He had spent enough time forcing Lily's memories into the deep, dark recesses of his mind. If she had stayed with him, the Dark Lord would have coerced her into bowing to his will, and Severus would never have allowed that to happen. His thoughts were interrupted when the rip near the brim opened, and the Sorting Hat began to sing:

Since days of old
The founders four
Have had their story told
For each new head
Has reckoned with
Your self-same dread and doubting
Rescued by Salazar
Brought to Hogwarts dyin'
Cursed by his descendant
For refusing to play his game
Nim sealed her fate
On that dreadful day
Within the castle walls
She's forced to remain
No longer may she freely roam
The castle grounds and environs
Confined to live her life inside
These four walls her prison

Severus stared perplexedly at Albus; he had never heard the Sorting Hat burst forth in song at any time other than during the Sorting.

Albus sensed the tension radiating from Severus and steered the conversation back on track. "Hogwarts has had the benefit, since its inception, of Nim's powers, insight and guidance. Along with the portraits, she has helped guide the school through good times and bad." Several of the portraits smiled and nodded at the comment.

"Yes, Albus, I know about the portraits, but I was unaware that the Sorting Hat's functions included providing direction for the school."

"Nim is merely residing in the hat at the moment. She embodies the spirit - the very essence - of the founders, and she will be available at your fingertips for advice, guidance, and aid. Now, let's see if we can't start over again on better footing."

Albus waved his wand in the direction of the Sorting Hat. "Nim, Professor Severus Snape, my successor."

"Professor Snape, I'm pleased to make your acquaintance," she replied, as she had done on countless occasions over the years. "I am the Headmaster's eyes and ears. I know everything that happens within these walls," she said softly. "I was rescued from a torturous existence and given sanctuary here at Hogwarts, but due to a miscalculation of character I am a mere shadow of my former self. I was taken in by an evil wizard, and when I refused to comply with his wishes I lost much of my powers."

"Albus, I don't' know what game you are trying to play with me, but I am not..."

"Severus Snape," she snapped irritably, "that comment was uncalled for. Tell me, Severus," she purred, "how did the little Gryffindor girl child come to spend the night in your quarters?"

Albus interrupted, "Nim, that was my doing, and I spent the entire night there, as well."

"No, Albus, huh-uh. I am not referring to the evening of the Leaving Feast. This was a few weeks ago when the girl child returned from London. She and the professor brewed a Wolfsbane potion, and then she stayed the night in his quarters."

If Severus could have seen the woman, he knew she would be smirking. He turned to Albus and said, "I can explain, Albus."

"Perhaps you should," he said sternly.

"As Miss Granger was preparing to leave, the Floo Network experienced an emergency shutdown, and I was summoned. There was no one in the castle except Madam Pomfrey, so I left Granger in the care of Elf. The next morning she left to join her friends."

"I knew there was a logical explanation, but you must be careful of appearances, Severus, especially with Nim around." The corners of his mouth crinkled up in a smile.

"Albus, if there is nothing more you need of me, I have duties to attend to before the students start arriving."

"You may go, Severus. I didn't want you to be taken by surprise; I didn't think you would handle it well if Nim just popped in on you after my demise."

"I suppose I should be grateful for your concern," he replied sarcastically, rising to leave.

Albus, shaking his head in amusement, chuckled and twinkled merrily in the assurance that Hogwarts would continue to thrive under the prospective leadership.

_____________________________________________
Worried, Hermione searched the Great Hall for signs of Harry, as she had not seen him since before they disembarked the train. Turning to Ron, an alarmed look on her face, she whispered, "Ron, when was the last time you saw Harry?"

"I dunno. On the train I guess," answered Ron, tucking into his newly refilled dinner plate with gusto.

Amid the brightly decorated Great Hall with the clink and tinkle of china and silverware and sounds of laughter, Hermione could only sample her food. She was worried. Then she spied Harry coming in the door with Snape; Harry didn't look quite right. As he neared the Gryffindor table, she saw why. He was covered in blood. Quickly retrieving her wand, she ordered Harry over to her.

With a sharp flick and a hastily uttered "Tergeo!", Harry was as good as new. Hermione smiled with satisfaction at her first patient. Maybe she should pack an emergency first aid kit to keep with her, starting with the bruise-healing paste. She had misplaced the jar Snape had given her, but upon closer examination, the jar Fred had given her looked very similar to the one Snape had handed her.

Now that she had gotten over the embarrassment of seeing Professor Snape after her hysterical outburst maybe everything would go smoothly. All she remembered of that night was brewing the Wolfsbane, being reminded of her disobedient behaviour, which she apologized for, Snape being summoned, spending the night with Elf, and then waking up in the Gryffindor room in Snape's quarters.

After a quick breakfast, Elf had brought her the Floo powder, walked her over to the fireplace, and said good-bye. Hermione hadn't seen the professor since that night, until now, when he walked in with Harry.

The rest of the evening went by in a blur. She played right along with the announcement Dumbledore made when he introduced the new teacher Professor Slughorn, even going so far as to chide Harry for misleading them as to what class Professor Slughorn would be teaching. As the buzz over Snape's appointment as the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher died down, Hermione scrutinized Slughorn. Was it possible? He had been younger when she saw him - but yes, it was the same wizard she had seen in Dumbledore' office in Snape's memories.

After shepherding the first-years, Hermione trotted off to bed. This was going to be a good year. She felt she had a purpose; she felt powerful - and she would be celebrating her seventeenth birthday in a few days.

_____________________________________________
As Hermione took her seat in the Defence Against the Dark Arts class, she looked around the room and noted the changes since Umbridge had left. Professor Snape had a flair for decorating with a gothic theme. She shivered. She could almost hear the tortured occupants of the pictures screaming in agony.

She watched Professor Snape as he moved about the room, speaking in a low, caressing tone of voice, as he spoke about the Dark Arts. She was the only student who caught the sarcastic look he bestowed on members of the DA when he said he was surprised so many had managed to scrape an O.W.L. in his subject.

When they paired off to practice the nonverbal spells, Hermione was pleased with her performance. She had been intrigued when Viktor had performed a nonverbal and pestered him until he practiced with her. Now, she sought the approval from the one person it meant so much to her to have. Professor Snape. Her eyes followed him as he moved about the room in hopes of catching his attention, but he steered clear of making visual contact.

Ten minutes into the session she had the nonverbal spell down pat, but Snape did not seem particularly impressed. The class was dismissed without Hermione receiving any discernible recognition from the professor. Potions was the next class; Professor Slughorn would undoubtedly be as enamoured with her abilities as the rest of her professors.

_____________________________________________When Harry, Ron, and Hermione arrived in the dungeon for Potions, the only table left was one near a gold-coloured cauldron. Glancing into the cauldron, Hermione noted the mother-of-pearl sheen on the surface of the potion. Spirals of steam were rising from the potion, emitting the most enticing of aromas. As Hermione sat down at the table, she found herself breathing slowly and deeply, inhaling the fumes.

The mood in Potions was lighter, and Professor Slughorn opened the class in a friendly manner by getting to know the students.

Hermione watched Professor Slughorn as he circulated around the classroom and was convinced he was the same wizard she had seen in Professor Snape's memories.

'Professor Snape,' she thought, as a lazy smile broke out on her face. Her eyes half closed, she inhaled the seductive, tantalizing scent. There were exotic notes of patchouli, musk, and a familiar, natural odour that she couldn't quite describe, it was...

Hermione awakened from her musing when she heard Professor Slughorn relate Harry's comment praising her skills as a witch. She beamed at the professor's words. Turning to Harry, she smiled and asked breathily, "Did you really say I was the brightest?"

A few minutes later, Hermione's mood had changed from being pleased with herself to feeling embarrassment. 'Well that was close,' thought Hermione, slumping back in her chair, slightly breathless as she cast a nervous glance over at Harry and Ron.

Either she had not spoken the words aloud, or they were being polite and pretending not to have heard. Except that behaviour didn't fit with the way Ron normally reacted when he heard the name 'Snape' mentioned.

She had been so close to adding, 'Professor Snape's robes' when she answered Professor Slughorn's question on the characteristics of Amortentia. The aroma of the Amortentia teased her sense of smell to a state that she thought she may have actually whispered the words. Even now the memory of the earthy scent, musky like the Forbidden Forest, enveloping her as she clung to him sobbing in a fit of frustration awakened desires in her she couldn't describe. The mysterious, sultry aroma befuddled her mind as if she'd been Confunded. It was a scent she would recognize anywhere. Thankful Professor Snape was not there to witness her behaviour, Hermione calmed her breathing and tried to concentrate on Professor Slughorn words, but her mind was having trouble concentrating. Fortunately, she had her quill handy and was able to take notes that she could read over later when she wasn't under the influence of Amortentia.

_____________________________________________
That night as she was getting ready for bed, Hermione glanced over her Potions notes and thought about the responsibilities and worries the first day had brought with it. 'With so much going on, when will I find time to befriend Malfoy?' she asked herself. 'Even Harry is flirting with disaster using instructions scribbled in a book by some unknown witch or wizard.'

Her thoughts reminded her of how stupid she had been to accept the note that cost her the position brewing for Madam Pomfrey last year. You couldn't take anything at face value just because it was written on a parchment. 'Why didn't I just tell Snape the truth? But that may have been worse than having him think I was overworked. Better to think I'm overworked than having him know I accepted Malfoy's instructions without verifying the source. And, Malfoy - he goes from buttering me up and trying to get information about my project - to asking me if I know some witch I've never heard....

Her eye was drawn down the page of her notes where, under the influence of Amortentia, she had automatically written, 'Excellent Harry. Inherited mother's talents. Lily.'

'Lily,' she questioned. 'Harry's mother has the same name as the witch Malfoy asked me about, and the same name as the girl in Snape's memories. How odd? Could it be a coincidence, or maybe they are all the same person?'

A perplexed look on her face, she tried to decipher some sort of code she had scribbled along the side of the parchment:

F.F. ex. toxic, reckless. TODL

She didn't remember writing it; perhaps it was an idea for her potion project inspired by something Professor Slughorn had said. Which reminded her, she would have to arrange times with Professor Snape for using his laboratory. Perhaps she would be able to speak with him after their next Defence class. She had tried to speak with him today, but he had avoided making eye contact and rushed out of the room. Odd behaviour since he usually remained until the last student left.

Hermione sighed and climbed into bed. It was going to be an exhausting year.

---

Author’s Notes:
1. A huge thanks to my beta, Sheri. I am greatly appreciate of your time and talent. Thank you.
2. Mugglenet.com and hp-lexicon.org referenced for assistance in locating quotes from JK's books, and reference on story and characters.
3. Nim is the name I've given to the entity Dumbledore began conversely with in chapter three.