This was written for Battleships. I apologize in advance.

Disclaimer: Everything belongs to JK Rowling, though she may not like it.

Prompt: When there is a shortage of a certain ingredient, Snape makes a substitution to a potion based on some very advanced calculations. Luckily he is a genius and the potion still has the desired effect. Unluckily it has the unintended side effect of acting as either A) A love potion or B ) An inability to filter your thoughts before saying them aloud.

"Aye, Hermione." Ron whispered beside her ear, the warmth of his breath blowing across her skin. She felt the sharp jab of his elbow in her side, causing her head to flip. The bushy strands of her hair shifted about her shoulders as she glared him, her gaze turned away from her bag and the book she had been pulling from it. "Look." He finished, his own eyes darting towards the chalk board at the front of the classroom.

Across the dusty black "Baruffio's Brain Elixir" was written in the spidery writing she had grown accustomed to in their six years in this classroom. A sickness rooted in suspicion began brewing in her stomach at the three words, bringing her back to her friends. She looked past Ron and towards Harry who had the same impish grin stretched across his lips.

"No, you aren't, you aren't." She reiterated with a shake of her head. "What if you get it wrong?" She hissed beneath the sound of the other students filing in. "It isn't worth it."

Ron shrugged, turning away from her, his words only just audible. "Suit yourself." His sentence was punctuated with the final slam of the door, the signal that each of them were there. A hush fell over the classroom, the attention of each of them turned towards their Professor who hovered in the shadows like the bat he so closely resembled.

"For those of you that cared to open your textbook, you may notice some rather telling differences in the recipe." He stepped towards the chalkboard, the eyes of everyone in the class trained on him. Soft, unintelligible whispers escaped the Slytherin table in the otherwise silent room, drawing no attention from Professor Snape. Instead, he carried on, facing the table that held Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Neville.

His eyes sparked with a burning hatred that had been years in the making, the flames of coals igniting in their usually hardened place. "It seems my supply of runespoor eggs has been prematurely depleted, perhaps for use in another unauthorized potion." His eyebrows dropped, the glare in his eyes intensifying. The accusation hung the in stale dungeon air, the attention of the classroom drawn towards Harry. "Nevertheless." He began again, pacing once more across the stone floor. "A substitution has been made necessary. Can anyone tell me why ashwinder eggs can be used in their place?"

The class shifted uncomfortably in their seats, the only arm that was raised that of Hermione's. She stretched it above her, waggling her fingers in an attempt to be seen despite the fact it wasn't necessary. It earned her a trained roll of the eyes and a lazy palm lifted to the ceiling. "What recitation do you for us today, Granger?"

Her arm dropped, her lips spreading into a proud smile. "Ashwinder eggs have a long list of useful properties, Sir. Due to the affect they have on the brain, they are used in Amortentia and Felix Felicis. They are also used as a cure–."

"That is quite enough." He snatched his attention back, his head turning away from hers and producing the common feeling of disappointment inside her. Hermione had attended this class twice a week for the past six years and yet she had never earned any semblance of gratitude.

She had studied harder than anyone since before she got here and had received nothing put snark in return. Her other professors had been impressed, yes, but still she craved validation from him. She thought if anyone would understand the value of knowledge, it would be Professor Snape.

Disappointed yet again, she was broken from her grudge by the scrapping of stools across the stone floor beneath them, the footsteps of her fellow students as they fetched their ingredients, the hushed voices of Harry and Ron complaining about some transgression, likely the assumption that Snape had made only minutes before.

She followed behind the crowd, kept her distance from the clamoring of students before her, each vying for the best ingredients, ignoring the fact that few of them had the ability for that to matter. She glanced towards Professor Snape as she waited, finding that he had taken a seat behind his desk, pinching the lump at the bridge of his nose. The exasperation on his face apparent. She found herself questioning – perhaps for the millionth time – his life outside these walls, what had brought him here.

She was forced backward suddenly, the bumping of her shoulder causing the movement. She jerked towards who had done it, finding the flaming red hair of Ron passing her, a pout having formed on his face. "Watching your boyfriend?" He hissed with a jealousy that brought guilt up her throat instantaneously. She opened her mouth to speak, to protest, but in her second hesitation, he had stepped too far away for the conversation to now just remain between them. Instead, she clenched her teeth, taking her own turn at the ingredients cabinet.

Hermione ignored Ron as she returned, she ignored him as she sliced her leaping toadstools, as she minced her ashwinder eggs, as she added her ingredients to the cauldron, and all the while, Ron did the same.

As she worked, her ears were pricked for the familiar sound of nearly silent footsteps that meant Snape was approaching, that he would peer into her cauldron and sneer despite the potion's perfection. With her wand aimed at the potion that resembled a brown mush more than anything, she gave it another counter turn.

"Did you assume three frog brains would increase the effectiveness of the elixir, Longbottom?"

She heard his caustic voice beside her and felt a blush rising into her cheeks. She heard the sputtering of Neville as he tried to form any explanation for why he had done what he'd done, and finally, she heard the huff of irritation that meant Snape didn't want to hear any of it. Hermione concentrated instead on the potion in front of her, giving it another counter turn.

Gradually, the lumps inside the potion subsided, the magic taking hold. As it morphed into a liquid state, the color became teal. Hermione froze. Teal, not green. Teal. It was then that she heard Professor Snape pause beside her, gazing into her cauldron.

"You've added something that wasn't listed on the board."

She stared up at him and he hitched an eyebrow toward the ceiling. "N-no." She stuttered in her alarm. "I did it exactly as I was meant to, Sir."

He lifted a hand, gesturing toward the black cauldron. "If that was the case, we would be staring at an insufferable shade of green."

"No." She shook her head, adamant that she had obeyed him when a thought occurred to her. "What about the ashwinder eggs, Sir? It only makes sense that the appearance of the elixir would be altered."

Snape said nothing, instead, his wand appeared seemingly from nowhere, suddenly pressed into the palm of his hand. She froze beside him for the slightest length of time, afraid for some inexplicable reason that he was going to use it on her. The black tip of his wand was pointed toward the potion, hovering just above the turquoise liquid that swam inside, begging to be drunk. His lips remained pressed together, yet a single spark escaped his wand, falling and fizzling inside the concoction. "You would be correct." He muttered, spite and disappointment hinted along the edges of his words. "It's perfect."

Her insides ignited, the fluttering of her stomach beating just a little bit harder. She felt her brain turn into gormless slush at his agreement, his belief in her. Her ears seemed incapable of working – either that, or it was another side effect of the state of her mind – for she couldn't make out the words he was speaking. The announcement – she assumed – he was making regarding the potion.

The ringing of her ears dissipated as Snape stepped away from her, her attention drawn – yet again – by Ron. She turned towards him, watching as he took a generous gulp of the potion he had brewed. The teal liquid inside the vial sliding down his throat. She watched helplessly as beside him, Harry did the same thing.

Hermione drew her lip in between her teeth, half tempted to tattle on what they had done. They had taken it for the next class, she knew it. Neither of them excelled at Transfiguration and now, they had been provided with an opportunity to change that. An increase in brain power. A glazed look formed in Ron's eyes, the river blue color forming an icy shield. He faced her, his fingers stretching towards hers, brushing against the skin of her knuckles. "'Mione…" His voice drifted into the silence of the room, unspoken words hanging heavily in the air between them.

She knew what he wanted to say, knew how he felt. She had known for some time, had dreaded the day his words came spilling out of his mouth. She never thought, however, it would be under the influence of some peculiar, seemingly accidental, love potion.

"Hey, Potter!" A shout across the room shattered the tension, the tentativeness spreading around Hermione like broken glass. She couldn't move, couldn't say a word without getting hurt. She could only watch in horror as the madness broke out around her. "Nice ass!" They were the last words she was able to make out as the room erupted into utter chaos. Proclamations of love coming from those that had drunk the potion.

Ron leaned closer to her, suddenly incapable of forming words. His lips parted, his hand coming to her shoulder as he meant to draw her in. She stood so forcefully that the stool beneath her clattered to the ground with a bang that was lost beneath the other sound filling the room.

Hermione scanned her surroundings, finding few people like her, few that had forgone the idea of a brain boost and therefore hadn't fallen susceptible to a love potion of their own creation. It didn't make sense. They were each drinking their potion, by all accounts, they should have been falling in love with themselves. Yet, she noticed now, that after her rejection, Ron had moved on. She found instead that he had moved onto Harry, that unlike her, Harry had reciprocated.

Around her, her classmates had paired up. Crabbe and Goyle were wrapped in each others arms, exchanging more than secrets with their mouths. Draco had found Pansy, his hands running up her sides, pressing against her back.

The crack of a spell rung through the air, followed by the harsh, increasingly loud voice of Professor Snape. "Separate yourselves this instant."

The hardness of his eyes that always concealed what was beneath gave way momentarily to panic. Slowly, the students around them pulled apart from one another, each head snapping towards him. The squeal of metal chairs pushing back, falling to the ground. They all stared at him like hungry wolves waiting to devour their prey.

Hermione fumbled, her hands searching the interior of her robes. Finally, she felt the cool wood of her wand beneath her hand and drew it out, aiming the tip toward the advancing crowd. "Stupefy!" She shouted, the stunner striking Millicent Bulstrode along the back, sending her cascading as a solid lump to the even harder ground.

The flicker of a blue orb caught her eyesight, the procurement of a protection charm. She heard a hesitant voice, soft and stuttering beside her, watched as a weak stunner flew from the tip of Neville's wand, fluttering across Dean's back, but having no effect. The feminine voice of Daphne followed, the room converging into a series of lights, spells meant to save their Professor from what could only be described as his greatest fear. One by one, bodies fell to the ground, the few of them that hadn't drunk the potion picking them off like flies.

Only one student remained, Harry. He had weaseled his way through the crowd, had somehow avoided every spell and even – Hermione suspected – snuck up on Snape as in that moment, his lips were pressed to Snape's cheek. Hermione, Neville, Daphne, Seamus, none of them were needed to land the final strike, to stun Harry Potter for a spell exploded from the tip of Professor Snape's wand.

Brilliant red light filled the room, knocking them all off their feet. Hermione fell to the ground with the impact, unaffected by the spell itself, but harmed by the forcefulness of it. With Harry laying rigid at his feet, Snape wiped a hand across the spittle that tainted his cheek, his face looking as though he may vomit.

"Conjure stretchers." Hermione commanded, taking charge of the situation. Her fellow students did as she said, conjuring canvas from thin air and loading someone on top of it. They'd need to go to the hospital wing. She watched as the other three filed from the door, a stretcher and a body trailing behind each of them. Her own floated before her, the limp body of Ron dangled across it, but she paused.

"Sir?" She stepped towards the Professor, her steps tentative, not sure she if she should interrupt him. "Professor, are you all right?"

He wiped a hand across his face again, trying to rid himself of spit that was no longer there. "I've never seen anything like it. I've never…" The collectiveness he usually held was gone, a vulnerability lay in his eyes that she'd never seen. "On any other day this is a class of simpletons. Why did so many of them successfully brew a potion that made them want to fuck me."

Before she was able to help herself, a snicker fell from her lips, the laugh growing in intensity by the second. He stared at her unabashedly a moment more before he too began to shake with laughter. She stepped closer towards him where he sat slumped on the floor. Hermione held her hand out to him. He gripped it tightly, pulling himself up from the floor as their laughter subsided.

"Sir." She felt the heat of blood crawling up her neck. "Not everyone needed the potion." Snape's lips flat lined, whatever hint of a smile he had had before gone. "I'm of age, Sir. It isn't as inappropriate as it may seem."

He said nothing, made no indication that he had heard her and she averted her eyes. Suddenly, she felt the warmth of his hand enveloping hers, squeezing it for only a moment. "I'm never substituting for Slughorn again."