"Erm…I just wanted to ask you about the homework for next week, sir," she stammered.

Snape's grin widened.

"Of course you did," he said smoothly, and left it at that.

Hermione blinked again. The urge to run away was getting stronger by the second. She cleared her throat nervously and glanced down at the sheets of parchment in her hand.

"You asked us to write 5 feet on the development of Veritaserum for Tuesday's class, but the topic is just so broad I don't know if I can keep my parchment that short, and I was wondering if…" Hermione looked up and trailed off.

Snape was alternately watching her in the same manner a cat watches a cornered mouse, and trying to get a clear look at the papers in her hand. The girl blinked a few times, and cleared her throat again.

Snape hadn't actually been listening to a word she said. It was quite clear to him what was going on. This impetuous child was trying to not-so-subtly seduce him. This homework business was obviously a ruse. A Gryffindor, attempting subterfuge? Snape snorted aloud.

Hermione watched with growing trepidation as the Potions' Master laughed for no reason at all. She wasn't sure which was worse – the fact that he was spontaneously reacting to stimuli invisible to her (and most likely, the rest of the universe), or that he actually laughed.

She decided now would be a good time to listen to her instincts.

"Erm…you seem preoccupied, Professor. I think I'll just leave you to your work, I'm sure I can compress my essay easily, no problem at all," she babbled, edging closer to the exit, carefully watching the seemingly-oblivious man. And she almost made it, too.

Moving faster than should have been possible, Snape was suddenly directly in front of her, one hand firmly against the door, and right beside her head. Hermione squeaked and flattened herself against the dark wood. The professor glowered down at her.

"Oh no, Miss Granger. I wouldn't want you running off so quickly. I believe we have some things to…discuss," he purred, a slightly insane glint in his dark eyes.

Hermione squeaked again and clutched her notes tighter against her chest.

"Do you really think I would be so easily seduced, Miss Granger?" he hissed. "You trot in here, pathetically attempting to feign innocence. You Gryffindors most certainly possess bravado, but in regards cunning and slyness?" He snorted again.

Hermione decided then that he had most certainly gone mad. Utterly nutters. And how the fuck did he know she, embarrassingly, found him kinda-sorta-maybe attractive. In a repulsed, masochistic way, of course.

Snape was ranting on about flowery perfume now, and Hermione merely watched, her eyes large as saucers, as her Potions professor grew more and more unhinged. Oddly enough, his office did smell a bit…odd. Like formaldehyde and dead lilacs.

Snape paused his diatribe to take a breath, and looked down at the girl. She seemed frozen, like a deer caught in the headlights. It was strangely arousing, the way her eyes seemed as though they were about to fall out of her head.

Already having given up this day for lost, Snape mentally shrugged and leaned in closer. Though Hermione lacked the ability to make herself smaller at will she was doing her damnedest to learn. Flattening herself against the door more than would be considered humanly possible, she winced and prepared for the worst, screwing her eyes shut in the vain hope that the old if-I-can't-see-you-you-can't-see-me theory would work.

She could tell Snape was alarmingly close to her by the soft puff of warm air on her cheek.

"Your charming little poem was horribly inappropriate, Miss Granger," he hissed, "and if you ever attempt anything like that again, I will see that you are punished…appropriately."

Hermione had never before heard a more innuendo-laden phrase. Her eyes snapped open, huge and terrified, but also a bit morbidly curious. Snape grinned, shark-like.

She squeaked again, then found her voice. "B-b-but Professor, I never sent you – "

"Don't even attempt to lie, girl," he snapped, "I can smell that atrocious perfume on you."

Something snapped inside of Hermione, and the utter ridiculousness of the situation became blaringly obvious.

"Sir, your entire office and everything in it smells of rotting roses and vinegar. After being here for a few seconds I started to smell like that as well, and probably will continue to smell this way for the rest of the week."

For a breathless, life-flashing-before-her-eyes second, Hermione stared up at Snape in horror, amazed at her daring, and watching his face go through a few remarkable colour changes.

"Get. Out." he whispered.

She ran.

~*~

Hermione fell through the portrait hole and into the Gryffindor common room in a daze. Her eyes had a disturbingly glassy sheen to them, and there was a tick working in her left cheek. Harry and Ron, who had been playing wizard chess in front of the fire, stared at her in shock.

She sat down heavily between them and dropped a roll of parchment on the board, scattering a few pieces, which got up angrily and made rude gestures at her. Neither boy moved, but Ron began to open his mouth. Hermione held up a hand, her eyes still unfocused and staring blankly off into the distance.

"Don't ask. Ever."

Ron shut his mouth, and gave Harry a nervous look. But Harry was still staring at Hermione, a bit suspiciously this time. She smelt odd. Like a rat decaying on a bed of violets. For some reason, it conjured up pleasant memories. Gears in his head began turning, and suddenly clicked into place.

Ron was now snapping his fingers in front of Hermione's face, with no perceptible results. Harry jumped out of his chair and ran up the stairs to his dormitory. He was relieved none of the other boys were there, and he dropped to his knees in front of his trunk, flipping the lid up and rooting around under his clothes.

When he pulled his hand out of the depths, it was clutching a sheaf of parchment, still bearing the faint scent of that wretched perfume, despite numerous cleansing and banishing charms, not to mention a slew of random spells that had been attempted in fits of desperation.

He pressed the papers to his face, inhaling deeply. True, he gagged for a moment afterwards, but the dreamy, loving sparkle in his eyes was only partially due to their involuntary watering at the staggeringly strong smell.

Harry ran a finger lovingly along the topmost sheet, and read the short verse written there;

Eyes green as seaweed,

Hair black as night

I'd like to give your

Tight arse a bite.

Harry swooned slightly, oblivious to the effect simply reading a poem this bad could have on the universe (for example; five aspiring poets suffered horrible nightmares, and gave up writing forever, two rival literary critics, each for prominent London newspapers, suffered fatal heart attacks and died within minutes of each other, and a Mr. Nigel Wellington of Banbury, in a rare demonstration of randomly occurring magic, was trampled to death in his own sitting room by a raging herd of Bad Similes).

After a moment of mindlessly blissful reflection, Harry sobered up, and a grimace of pain crossed his face.

It had been the same perfume. But Hermione? Especially when it seemed to clear that…

Harry looked mournfully at the scrawled signature at the bottom of the page, and sighed.

"Draco, how could you?" he whimpered.

~*~

Snape paced the width of his office like a caged animal, muttering to himself. The sadly-crumpled love note lay on his desk, smelling for all the world like a dead skunk dipped in cheap perfume. The envelope, still lying on the floor, looked as though it had been stepped on repeatedly. The little pink hearts were still moving, but now seemed to hobble across the parchment rather than dance.

Snape paused mid-stride beside the envelope and snarled viciously, bringing his heel down on it, attempting to grind it and its little pink hearts into dust. Most scampered out of the way, but one heart, not as fortunate as its brothers, was caught. It emitted a tinny wail from beneath Snape's boot.

He smirked in satisfaction for a brief moment, then flung himself into his chair, scowling at the letter.

The Laws of Plot Development kicked in again, and there was another knock on the door. Snape leapt out of his chair and snatched both the envelope and letter up. Looking frantically for a somewhere to conceal them, he panicked when there was another knock, louder this time.

Hiding his hands behind his back and trying to look inconspicuous, he called "Enter."

The door opened a crack and Draco Malfoy slipped through. Snape groaned inwardly.

'Merlin's balls, not the whinging, inbred half-wit. What have I done to deserve this?'