(This is the edited version of what I had up before. It's the same story with minor differences. I like this one better. I think it explains a lot more.
As always, I don't own anything!)
As fast as her feet would go, Hermione Granger stormed from the dungeons with her robes billowing. The corners of her eyes stung with the presence of tears formed by sheer frustration. How she hated him. How she loathed him. Nothing made sense about him in her mind. How could he be so unfair? What made him hate everything that existed, other than those of Slytherin House? Nothing in her logical mind could comprehend a thing about the man. Even after spending countless classes with him, he gave nothing away about himself, short of his intolerable nature. She hated him without a doubt.
He watched her go, thinking about how easily she became upset. For one so intelligent, she really didn't possess much emotional capacity. He treated her no different than he treated the other students. Why was it that she took it worse than the rest of them? Furthermore, why did he care? The others' feelings meant nothing to him. He would remove points from each of them in turn and yet, when he did the same to her, the smallest amount of guilt would creep into his brain. In the chilly dungeon air, he sighed, dipped his quill in ink, and began to write out the next week's lesson plan.
No matter what she tried, it seemed that she couldn't stay under his radar. Perhaps it wasn't in her cards to be low-key in the dungeons; maybe she was meant to shine in the classroom. In any case, it was apparent that she was not apt at keeping her mouth shut and Snape was well aware of that. He used this to his liking, asking questions that she was bound to answer and reprimanding her when she left an important fact out. The students of Slytherin House cheered while those of Griffindor would mutter under their breath in annoyance. After the fifth or sixth question answered incorrectly, ten more points were taken from Griffindor and Hermione refused to answer another question of his.
Of course, Snape wasn't likely to leave her alone. He criticized the consistency of her potion, advising her to follow the instructions next time instead of adding her own "flair". She was close to tears after this single class period and she kept her lips tightly closed. She longed to lash out at him. He was so arrogant and demanding and completely unfair. Out of any other student in the class, she knew that she worked the hardest for the best results. She watched in frustration as he walked around the cauldrons of the other students without saying a word, though their potions bubbled in rainbow colors and gave off the scent of rotting eggs. She blinked back tears and turned into her book.
He knew inside that what he did was wrong but he couldn't help but to push her buttons. She was so easily discouraged and he knew well that she would be tougher one day for it. The other students didn't recognize what he was doing. They didn't know that he picked on her because she was far more brilliant than the rest of them. They just thought that she was a know-it-all and were simply relieved that his hostility wasn't upon one of them. He knew well that he was feared among most students; he wanted it no other way. Fear could be a valuable teaching tool. He also knew that most of them thought of him as a greasy-haired git. Fleetingly, the thought crossed his mind of how Hermione Granger thought of him. He knew well that he wasn't thought of highly by her. It disturbed him that he cared, even the tiniest bit. "Granger!" His voice barked across the dungeon, making several students start in surprise. Her head snapped up, eyes rimmed with red even under the dim light of the candles. "Your performance is terrible. Detention tonight at eight." He turned on his heel and retreated to his office. "Class is dismissed!"
Once he reached the door of his office, he turned to watch her gather her books and bottle her potion hurriedly, like she couldn't wait to be free of the dungeons and Snape's merciless glare. It concerned him that he didn't get even the tiniest amount of satisfaction from upsetting her but he wasn't quite sure how to express that. He pushed it from him mind.
Hermione didn't have much time between dinner and detention so she left the Main Hall early so that she wasn't late. During the walk to the dungeons, her mind was working frantically. First, she wasn't aware what she had done to deserve this. Her potion was near perfect and nowhere as terrible as some of the others'. Second, she wasn't sure why she was being singled out. Third, she never had detention before and especially not in the dungeons. Would it be cold after dark? How long would it take? As she descended the stone stairs, those question and others assaulted her mind. The first was answered as her breathe began to form in the air in front of her. She quickly wondered if she should double back for her cloak but the prospect of being late kept her moving forward.
She reached the Potions classroom and headed towards Snape's office. The door was ajar but she knocked before peeking inside. "Enter." Snape's voice was as it always was; harsh and uncaring. She shivered before she opened the door and stepped inside.
Students at Hogwarts rarely saw the inside of Snape's office and lived. This was a well known fact. However, Hermione was surprised to find that the fire was lit and roaring happily inside of the grate. Involuntarily, her shoulders relaxed just a little bit. It was very well that the fire was glad to see her because the look on Snape's face certainly said otherwise. "You look relieved to see the fire, Ms. Granger."
"I-I am, Sir." She was upset to hear how small her voice sounded. Why did he make her feel so tiny? "I expected the dungeon to be very cold."
"If you expected it to be cold then why didn't you bring a cloak?" His dark eyes seemed to bury themselves into hers, seeking out the answer.
She stammered, trying to get out a coherent answer but her nerves got the better of her. With a wave of his wand, the fire was extinguished. "If you continue to second guess yourself then you'll never get anywhere, no matter how hard you study." Her dismay must have shown on her face. "Never mind that. You are to clean out my supply closet. Get to it." His attention went to his desk.
As she had expected, the closet was freezing. She supposed that the temperature was better for the many foul-smelling potions that he kept in there, though it wasn't good for her. Slowly, she began to alphabetize the various jars, her fingers freezing and going numb. She quietly blew on them, trying to get them to respond but the little bit of warmth barely affected them. However cold she was, she worked gingerly for she knew that if she were to drop one of the vials, Snape would never let her go to freedom.
The supply closet was quiet but Snape listened intently all the same. Occasionally, the sounds of her breathing on her hands would reach his ears. The sound made his shoulders slowly relax and he shrugged his cloak off and stood up.
Hermione didn't hear him enter the closet; she was too focused on what she was doing. However, when a sudden warmth was draped across her shoulders, she couldn't help but fall into it without thinking. Quickly, she came to her senses and turned to make eye contact with Snape. His eyes were hooded and she couldn't read them at all. Did he just… He blinked and turned away, returning to his desk.
Her frozen hands clutched the cloak around her body. It was still warm. Her fingers felt for the cold silver clasp before she fastened the dark green material around her. The cloak was far too large for her but she was frozen and welcomed the warmth eagerly.
It took a few minutes for her to realize that she was actually wearing Snape's cloak. He had given it to her, placed it over her shoulders… Almost like he knew that she was cold and cared. No. She shook her head to dislodge her thoughts. Impossible. He cares about no one. Hermione was very unsure of what to make of this and she tried to focus on the shelves in front of her but the cloak made it difficult. It was filled with his scent and she was surprised to find that it didn't smell bad. It was actually pleasant to her. For someone who spent his life in a dungeon, Hermione was shocked to find that he smelled like a person, rather than the parts of disemboweled frogs. She shook her head yet again to clear those thoughts away as well.
Now, with her hands contently warm and her mind clear, she moved back to the shelf, intending to finish her assignment and push the confusion from her mind.
Snape continued to sit at his desk. His quill was poised over the parchment intending to write, but there was a lack of movement on that part. His ears were wide open. He knew that if the girl had frozen under his time, he would be blamed. He didn't want that. It was too much paperwork. In any case, he was confused at his sudden act of caring. But should he call it that? In his mind, his thoughts were running wild. I was merely protecting myself in giving her that cloak. Yes, those were safe thoughts. As long as he thought of himself, everything was okay.
Then, he looked up from the parchment and saw the spare cloaks hanging on the closet door. He wondered why he didn't just give her one of those. The chill, dungeon air hung on his skin but he was immune to it by now after spending so much time there so what did it matter if he tried to keep warm or not?
But his thoughts were interrupted when he heard Hermione come out through the door way.
She looked much better when she was warm. Her cheeks were pink and rosy and her skin had taken on a healthy glow. She also looked very nice in his cloak. The colors of Slytherin suited her well. It was a long on her but the dark green color did wonders to her skin. He was suddenly afraid that he was staring and he narrowed his eyes in his typical manner. Right away, the glow on her skin seemed to die away a little bit. "Have you finished yet?"
"Yes, Professor. It's been done. Would you like to take a look?"
"No." His speech was quick and snappish. She looked taken aback by the sudden harshness, though she wasn't surprised. "You can go back to the dormitories now. And be careful not to be caught by Mr. Filch or that excuse for a cat. I will not vouch for your whereabouts this late at night."
Her fingers fumbled with the clasp on the cloak as she pulled it off. Snape was watching her, regarding her with a curious expression on his face. His eyes weren't as hard as they normally were and his mouth seemed more relaxed. She noted to herself that he held a quill above a blank piece of parchment. It looked like he had been intending to write but hadn't gotten to it yet. She wondered why.
The moment that the cloak left her shoulders, the cold sank into her skin. She put the cloak over the back of a chair and diverted her eyes from him. Blushing, she said "I know. I won't be caught. And… thank you for letting me borrow the cloak. It was… welcome." She could feel her heart pounding in her chest and her own heartbeat in her ears from the rushing blood. What is this? Fear? No… it doesn't feel the same…
Snape noted the color rise in her cheeks with half interest. She still looked mousy but the blushing was attractive on her. Attractive? No. Not attractive. He decided that it would be best to look back towards the parchment. "Get out. And do not attempt to show off your 'intelligence' while in my class again. Let this be a lesson to you. Know-it-alls are not appreciated in my classes."
Hermione stood there for a second longer than she meant to, his words working themselves into her brain. Her feet wanted to take her automatically to the door but something tugged at her to remain. He looked up and she thought that she saw the corner of his lips pull up into the smallest of smiles. It was faint and brief because, a second later, he raised his voice for her to move and she ran out, closing the door behind her.