The spiralling fumes rose up past his face, the little torrents of turbulence tickling his skin as they went. This was his last hope. Severus had noticed the way she looked at him the previous week - Potter had been soaking wet from both sweat and rain, but he held the Quidditch cup aloft like a gorgon's head, the butterbeer his lackeys had poured into it sloshing over the sides and wetting him even further.

In the present, his lips curved into a perfect facsimile of the sneer he had awarded the scene. He had turned back to Evans to finalize their study schedule for their Potions project, only to catch the faintest of smiles playing around the corners of her mouth.

He had then left, doubting she would notice or care about his absence.

The plan had slowly formed in his mind over the subsequent days. She needed to be saved from Potter... she needed something better... she needed him. But first... she needed to realize that.

He inhaled deeply of the vapours rising from the cauldron. Rain... cedar, like that clinging to a blanket after long storage... a delicate curl of magno-

"What are you up to?"

He jumped slightly. His eyes snapped open - he hadn't even realized he'd closed them. "Slughorn said I could practice," he blurted, a bit too quickly.

Evans leaned in over the steaming potion, her arm just brushing against his, the barest hint of magnolia teasing his senses at these close quarters.

"Mmm... that smells divine."

He couldn't help himself. "What do you smell?"

Her eyelids had drifted down, and fluttered faintly as she inhaled again, her lips parted slightly. "I smell... rain..." Severus' heart clenched, "and... leather..." he frowned, "and... and..."

"Yes?" he prompted.

She giggled, shaking her head. "And butterbeer of all things! How strange is that?"

"Evanesco," he muttered, banishing the shimmering potion. "This batch is all wrong."

----------

Phew... my entry for the Amortentia Showdown. This was a doozy to do! So tricky in fact, that I had to call in JimX's help once again. My endless gratitude, admiration and affection go out to that selfless man.

Lily Evans and Severus Snape are the intelectual property of J.K. Rowling, who seems set on making Severus' youth a truly miserable one. *grumps*

PS Any mention/criticism of shipping will be soundly ignored, because, honestly, I can't be arsed about fandom/shipping politics.