The usual disclaimers apply: I own nothing except the story… Any characters or plots that you recognize belong to J. K. Thanks for reading! P.S. The Snape in my story is not played by Alan Rickman. I know it's hard to imagine a face other than his when Snape is mentioned, but just think of how J.K. explains him in the book, perhaps as Benedict Cumberbatch.

Hermione quickly walked through the corridors, keeping her head low as she sped from the great hall. She let out a sigh of relief as she crossed the threshold of the huge double doors at the front of the castle, slipping through just before curfew. She glared at the ground, her amber eyes brimming with tears as the events of the evening played back in her head. After a particularly hard quiz in charms, she had made her way to the last class of the day, potions with Slytherin. Her face had brightened when she saw Harry and Ron had saved her a seat next to them, but she winced as she saw their faces. They had obviously been fighting about something, as they both wore death glares and refused to look at each other. As she plopped down in the chair between them, she asked, "What's the matter with you guys? You're not excited for potions with Slytherin?" Her eyes had twinkled, but Harry growled under his breath.

"Ron thinks it's my fault he wasn't chosen for the quiddich team this year."

Hermione seemed surprised, and turned to Ron, who scowled at Harry and clenched his hands into fists.

"Like bloody hell it wasn't!" screamed Ron, "You're on the tryout committee! You're just jealous that I'm a better player than you!" Ron turned away from Harry and Hermione, positively fuming.

"What happened at tryouts, Harry?" Hermione asked softly.

Harry scowled. "Everything was going alright until Ron fell off his broom…twice."

"You just can't tell natural talent when you see it." Ron huffed.

Hermione groaned, and was just about to say something when the door to the classroom burst open, and Professor Snape strode into the room. His black robes billowed impressively as he spun neatly on his heel, scowling at the class. Neville, seated in the row directly ahead of them, positively cowered, emitting a small squeak as the professor started barking orders.

"Page three hundred and twenty-seven! You will start immediately!"

As the students scurried to find the page, Hermione whispered, "I wonder what's got him in such a bad mood…"

Ron leaned over to reply, but was stopped almost immediately by a quiet growl from behind them.

"That, Miss Granger, is none of your business." the Potions Master snarled, "Ten points from Gryffindor for distracting your fellow students during class." Snape's face contorted into his trademark smirk as he stalked to the other side of the classroom. Hermione grimaced at her own stupidity. She should have waited until she knew Snape was distracted, she thought, adding ingredients to her already bubbling cauldron. She glanced down at the potion instructions, realizing that the last ingredient did not come in her potions kit. Damn. She would have to go to the shelves on the other side of the classroom to look for it in Snape's stores.

"I'll be right back," she whispered to her friends, silently standing, and walking over to the shelves. She bit her lip, scanning the tall dusty rows of vials, packages and bottles. Her sharp eyes finally found the small vial of angel's trumpet, but she sighed in frustration because it was on the very top shelf. She didn't even try to reach it, knowing that it might even be a stretch for Snape, who towered at well over six feet. Glancing around for the professor, she quickly transfigured a small, empty urn into a sturdy looking stepladder. She placed the ladder under the small vial, and swiftly climbed it, pocketing the ingredient before gracefully hopping down. She transfigured the stepladder back into the dusty urn, and returned it to its corner with a gentle flick of her wand. Letting out a breath she didn't realize she had been holding, she turned back to the table where her friends were. A sharp squeal escaped her lips when she nearly ran into the potions master. She looked up at him nervously, trying to think of something to say when he spoke in deep rumble, causing her to step back.

"What were you doing in my private stores, Miss Granger?"

Her cheeks reddened, and she realized the whole class was staring at them.

"I…I was fetching the final ingredient for the potion you wanted, Professor…"

Snape scowled, "If I specified the potion, Miss Granger, do you honestly believe me to be so daft as to not provide the ingredients needed?" He stepped slightly to the left, allowing her a clear view of his desk, which bore a small pile of vials of angel's trumpet. Hermione gawked at his desk, not believing that she hadn't seen the ingredient there before.

Snape smirked at her extremely embarrassed expression, saying, "If, you had simply asked me, instead of behaving like you own my classroom, you wouldn't be receiving detention right now. Return to your seat immediately."

Hermione nearly ran back to her seat, and Harry and Ron looked at her with concern.

Ron spoke first, "Wow, Hermione, are you okay? You sure got on Snape's bad side today."

Hermione said nothing, wiping her sweaty palms on her Gryffindor robes. Harry spoke next.

"I'm sorry Hermione, seems like you got punished for Snape's bad mood."

Hermione shrugged, fighting back anger. When she spoke, her voice cracked. "I've never gotten detention with Professor Snape before… What do you think he'll make me do?" Both Harry and Ron grimaced as they recalled all of their detentions at the hands of the merciless potions master.

"Well, it definitely won't be easy. One time he made me scour all the first year's cauldrons from their first attempt at a dreamless sleep potion." Harry groaned, "It took forever!"

Ron recalled one of his first detentions with Snape. "Once, he made me re-categorize his entire store of potions! It took hours because he didn't like the way I did it, making me start over twice!"

Hermione shuddered as she stirred her now bright purple potion. "Well," she sighed, "I suppose I won't find out until I get there." She took her potion off the heat and added the last ingredient.

….

Hermione's head whirled through the rest of potions class, which was quite uneventful. Then, she thought about dinner that evening. She had walked into the great hall flanked by Harry and Ron, but then she had excused herself to the bathroom. When she had returned, the great hall was nearly full and everyone was eating. As she made her way down the Gryffindor table, she glanced up at where the teachers were seated. Her eyes flitted over Dumbledore, McGonagall, Hagrid, and finally came to rest on Snape. She quickly stared down at her feet, because the professor's icy gaze was resting on her. She shivered, thinking that he might be dreaming up wretched tasks for her to completer in detention. As she neared her seat, she immediately noticed that Harry and Ron were fighting again. Ron banged his greasy turkey leg on the table.

"I KNOW you're just jealous of me, Harry!" he growled, spewing bits of spittle and chewed turkey all over Harry. "I've got natural skill for quidditch!"

Harry wiped his face with his hands half-heartedly as he came up with a worthy comeback. "Ron, I swear I was outvoted by the rest of the committee! It wasn't my fault!"

"Yeah, right. You're saying that now…" Ron started babbling distractedly as he piled more food on his plates. Hermione finally reached them and gently prodded them apart, sitting between the quarreling wizards.

"Ron," she said softly, "tryouts are over, is it really worth it to keep fighting with your best friend when there's no way to change what happened? Even if Harry did vote you off the team, you can't change that now."

Ron growled, his face reddening. "My best friend? My best friend wouldn't have voted me off the team in the first place! And what do you know about quidditch, Hermione? You've never tried out! It's something you need natural talent for." At the last statement he glared over Hermione's shoulder at Harry. "You can't use your silly books and perfect grades to be the best at what really matters!" he said, lashing out at her again. Ron turned away, fuming, and stuffed three treacle tarts in his mouth.

Harry glared at Hermione. "He's right you know. You don't know anything about it! You can't just walk over here and pretend that this is a silly schoolboy fight!"

…..

Hermione shuddered as she recalled her best friends ganging up on her. When Harry had finished talking, she had run from the great hall, trembling with hurt and anger at her friends. She walked over the moonlit grounds blindly, deep in thought. She sat down next to the lake, suddenly feeling lonely, but not wanting to return just yet. She buried her face in her hands, thinking. She pulled her wand from her robes, the feeling of the soft vine wood comforting her. "Avis" she whispered to the familiar length, conjuring a small flock of tiny white birds. They hovered around her, one landing on her knee as she watched them sadly.

Her back ached from sitting on the hard earth, and her fingers were sticky from when she had crushed a bit of treacle tart in anger under the table. She stood and silently walked to the edge of the black water, bending low to dip her fingers in it. She gasped, surprised at how warm the was before realizing that teachers had probably charmed the surface to be warmer, in case any first years fell in on their boat ride several nights ago. She almost laughed, thinking about how Neville had fallen in the lake so many years ago, claiming to have been thrown back in the boat by the giant squid.

She dipped her hands further into the lake, relishing the sensation of the warm water against her chilled skin. She pulled her hands out, instantly feeling cold again. She decided to put her feet in the water, and taking off her shoes and socks, Hermione dipped her toes in, nearly gasping in pleasure as the warm water lapped at her ankles. Her body longed to enter the water instead of shivering on its edge, and her logical mind began mulling over any possible dangers. She knew that Grindylows lurked beneath the surface, not to mention the giant squid. But Grindylows stayed in the depths, didn't they? And if Neville's story was right, the squid would mean no harm to a witch.

She glanced back at the castle, making sure no one could see her here. She quickly muttered a disillusionment charm, before slipping out of her robes and outer clothes. She entered the water and quickly paddled out deeper, sighing in comfort. Hermione dove beneath the surface for a moment, letting the black water swirl through her tangled curls. She felt something soft brush her leg, almost comfortingly as she swam deeper into the lake. She was startled at first, but then remembered how much seaweed grew in the lake. She swam back to the surface, floating lazily as she admired her birds flitting in the moonlight over the black water. Another tendril of seaweed gently brushed her back, getting tangled around her legs for a moment before she absent mindedly brushed it away. Her sigh of contentment was interrupted when the pesky weed caught around her wrist, and she could look at it properly above the water. Gasping in shock, she frantically tried to yank the suckered tentacle off her skin. As Hermione kicked and squirmed in the water, another tentacle latched around her ankles, leaving her largely immobile as the evil tendrils pulled her down. She only thought to scream as the black water closed over her head.