Disclaimer: Me: I'm back with another one of my lovey dovey Hermione and Snape fanfictions. Snape: Merlin, not this again! Aren't you busy with college or that infernal boyfriend of yours? Me: Winter hols and he's out of the country, so it's time to torment you again. Let's see, should I make you fall desperately in love with Hermione or should I…who am I kidding, there is no second option! Snape: I wonder if I can perform the killing curse on myself… Me: Well if you could, then it would be the suicide curse! Anyway, since I'm not a billionaire (damn) I guess that means I am not J.K. Rowling. Oh well…enjoy!!!
Misery Loves Its Company
"Ms. Granger, I thought I told you that if Mr. Longbottom wants to go about blowing himself up, you are not to prevent it in any way. Merlin knows I'd lose a fair amount less cauldrons if he did so, now if he wants to add the asphodel roots before the stinging nettles, then you bloody well let him!"
Hermione glared at Snape and barely held back the scathing remark that was on the tip of her tongue. She'd had just about enough of his complaining. "Well, sir, I merely thought it was a good idea to stop him from blowing your entire potions lab to bits, but if you'd like to explain to the headmaster why the entirety of the Slytherin and Gryffindor seventh year potion class is lying in 100 pieces all throughout the dungeons, next time I won't do a thing to prevent it!"
Snape stared at her; she actually saw traces of shock flash across his face before his eyes narrowed and his nostrils flared making his already large nose grow even larger. He clenched the desk in front of him, the very desk at which Hermione sat.
"Detention, Ms. Granger. One week's worth. I'd suggest next time you address your superiors, you do so in a much more respectful manner." His knuckles had turned white and his arms were slightly shaking, as though he were putting all of his strength into digging his fingers into the desk so he wouldn't wrap his hands around a certain know-it-all's neck. He glanced about the room to see every eye staring up. "Well what are you all waiting for? The potion isn't going to brew itself! Get on it." He spun on his heel and stalked back to his desk. Hermione snorted in an unladylike fashion and turned her attention back to carefully slicing the asphodel roots into perfect even portions. Draco Malfoy, who had been assigned as her lab partner out of some sick sense of spite that Professor Snape had, moved closer to Hermione.
Without taking his eyes off of the potion's books and barely moving his lips Draco whispered to Hermione. "Don't be too hard on him Hermione, he's going through a rough time right now."
Hermione continued slicing the roots and copying his secretive actions she hissed, "Since when have I been Hermione, Malfoy? And why should I concern myself with Professor Snape's personal life?"
Draco shrugged almost imperceptibly. "The way I figure it, I can go about calling you Granger and being rude for the rest of the year, but there's really no need to keep up appearances now that the Dark Lord is gone. You don't have to concern yourself with Professor Snape's personal life, but you see just as well as anyone else, provided that bush you call your hair doesn't get in the way. The man gets cursed, angry letters on a daily basis. He can't leave these walls for fear of being attacked. It doesn't seem to matter to the wizarding world that he was on the "right" side, the way they see it is that he once served the Dark Lord, and they'll never let him forget it. It's the same thing with my family and me. It's hard. I'm sure as the "Golden Girl of Gryffindor" as the papers are calling you, you wouldn't know what it's like to be shunned from wizarding society, but I can assure you, it's day in the Quidditch Pitch."
"Right, so just because someone is going through a hard time we should all be lenient and understanding when he's acting like a complete moron because it's the "right thing to do"?"
"You don't have to, but as someone overly concerned with the plight of house elves, I mistakenly assumed that crimes against your fellow man would deserve at least some lenience on your side."
"I've never had a house elf make every lesson with them an example of why I should be a quiet, timid little thing!" Hermione whispered this much louder and much, much more angrily.
"Ms. Granger! Do I have to add another week onto your detentions to make you understand that when I give you an assignment I expect it to be completed in a timely and quite fashion?"
"No sir."
"Good, then get back to it!"
Hermione had to restrain herself from growling. She glanced across the room to Ron who mouthed "What the bloody hell are you doing?" in the most obvious way possible. Out of the corner of her eye, Hermione saw Snape glare at Ron, yet say nothing. Hermione was fuming. Why was it that Snape said nothing to Ron and reprimanded her for the slightest things, like trying to assist a classmate?
Her knife cut the roots sharply and she was applying more pressure than was needed. She was the last person to be disrespectful of a teacher, but for the last month Snape had been becoming more and more focussed upon finding whatever faults he could in her actions, her potions and her essays. He had become intolerable and she'd just about had enough of it. Other teachers, having a vast knowledge of what he was doing, were more giving in their grades and manner to her. Even crazy Professor Trelawney had taken to smiling at Hermione and awarding her points for things as trivial as greeting her and any other student in the hallways. When someone questioned her about it, the someone of course being Professor Snape, she merely responded in her airy way that good manners were appreciated by even the most reclusive.
Hermione was really on her very last nerve. She knew that if she silently put up with too much more, she was going to lose it and very likely destroy half of the classroom with rapid and randomly fired spells. She was in enough trouble for that day though, and returned her full concentration once again to slicing the roots, but not before having to toss out several poorly sliced roots that had been massacred in her bid to cut the plants, not Professor Snape's jugular. It was because of this focus that she missed the long stare Professor Snape gave her, and the knowing exchange of looks between her partner and the older man before he shook his head, ran his hand through his hair and returned his gaze to the pile of essays that had been laid upon his desk at the start of the class.
Professor Snape was growing more and more angry with himself as time passed. What was he doing? Why was he pestering Ms. Granger in such a way? It wasn't as though he didn't like her. Quite the opposite, he rather hoped that after she graduated they could form some tenuous friendship. She was incredibly smart and, if the way she had fought in the final battle was any indication, one of the most powerful witches he's ever had the pleasure of meeting. Had he grown so used to belittling the intelligent witch while the Dark Lord was alive that there was no way he could pull out of that mindset? That couldn't have been it; he was much less harsh when it came to Messrs. Potter and Weasley, whom he liked much less than Ms. Granger. In the back of his mind a voice spoke to him. You're afraid of what will happen if you're not cruel to her. You're deathly afraid that you'll develop feelings for this witch who is so much like Lily. It's rational; it's merely self-preservation. You have to do it. If you couldn't win the love of a beautiful, intelligent witch when you were not such an old man, then there's no way you'll win it now. She'll never feel for you what you feel for her and her rejection will kill you.
Snape quieted the small voice and pulled out his pocket watch to note with some shock that class was over. He stood and dismissed everyone, requiring only that Ms. Granger stay after for her detention information. He assigned no homework, shockingly enough, but only because he didn't really feel like grading it.
"You're detentions will start tonight at 8 p.m. Be prompt and don't bring your wand. You won't need it."
"Fine." Hermione turned away from him and he had to resist the temptation to reach a hand out and run his fingers down the single curly lock of hair that had rebelliously broken free from her conservative plait.
"Ms. Granger!" He called out to her before she reached the door. She reluctantly turned around. He had nothing to say to her and he stared at her for a few moments, aghast at his own lack of self control before blurting out the first thing that he could think of. "Your essay on the properties of Dittany in the confundous potion was well written." He saw her eyes light up at the praise that he knew in the back of his mind she had been waiting for since she was 11 years old, but before he could stop himself and just let the statement that had caused her so much joy just be he added "for a second-year. I expect much better out of a student in their last year of study. I'd suggest that the next time you sit at a table to write an essay you actually read a book, that's that thing with lots of pages and words. There is this little room called the library with hundreds of the before mentioned instruments of learning. I trust you've heard of it at least once in your seven years of learning here?"
He watched her face color and she spat "Yes, I've heard of such a thing sir. I'll take your advice into consideration next time. Good day." He winced when she slammed the door and he swore that he heard her scream just a little bit before stomping away from the door.
He lowered his head to his desk and let out a shaky breath. Just what the bloody hell was wrong with him?