Standard Disclaimer- If I made money off these works it'd be a grand delusion. As it is no, these are not my characters. Obviously. This is applicable to all chapters and I will modify where need be.
"If you would stop fingering that paltry trinket, Miss Granger, you'll find that the class is in need of your know-it-all abilities yet again," the Potions Professor drawled.
He frowned when this elicited no verbal response. Snape looked up from his notebook and found to his surprise that the person in question was asleep. Her bowed head and quiet demeanor had given the mistaken impression of one furiously scribbling notes while absently twirling a necklace. His eyes glittered dangerously.
Her friends Potter and Weasley had just noticed the fact and were now vigorously shaking her. This did nothing however, and Snape gave in to a certain savage joy. Crossing the room took a matter of minutes and he surveyed her relaxed face with an air of impending doom. The boys who had ceased trying were now wavering on just what emotion to present their thunderous professor with. They quickly settled for defiance.
He ignored the two lack wits and with great deliberance shoved the trio's books to the floor. The ensuing clatter made a noise fit to wake the dead. Snape watched in satisfaction as her head jerked to attention, the crack her neck made furthering his amusement.
Hermione was rudely awakened by a sound that would rival a cannon's. She sat bolt upright in her seat, her hand swiping at her mouth. "Y-yes?"
"Were you not previously indulging in stupidity, Miss Granger, you would have been granted the rare privilege of my asking for your opinion. As it is, I think seventy points from Gryffindor will suffice as payment. It was a memorable occasion after all."
That voice had the effect of a cold bucket of water followed by six cups of black coffee. In short, Hermione came to the realization that she was not still dreaming and in fact had taken a nap during Professor Snape's class. Of all the stupid, idiotic, brainless things she had done, this topped the list. Falling asleep in potions was akin to revealing all your shameful secrets to an archenemy. You were just asking to be taken advantage of.
Her fuzzy brain caught up with what he had said and it took a considerable amount of willpower for her to hold her tongue. Seventy? Her house was gonna kill her, not to mention she'd never been the sole reason for the loss of so many points. Hermione sat in a state of shock, eyes wide with trepidation.
She noted with a detached air that Ron and Harry looked mutinous and ready for a fight. It seemed however, that her Professor was not nearly done. He had strode back to his desk before remarking, "Ah yes, there is also the matter of your arrogance. I find it laughable that you would deem yourself good enough to disregard my teachings, therefore three weeks of detention ought to curb that thought."
Fortunately, the bell rang, signalling the end of class. She exhaled sharply, grateful for the sudden sound that broke her trancelike state. Turning almost automatically she realized her friends were still staring rebelliously, appearing on the brink of giving voice to some thoughts.
Before the two could so much as utter a word, Hermione grabbed her friends and forcibly reminded them of their belongings, now scattered on the floor. Ron grudgingly went to work, and Harry followed his example while interspersing acidic glares at Snape.
The remainder of the day passed a little too quickly for her peace of mind. Hermione felt less prepared for the detention with Professor Snape then she did for her O.W.L.'s. And that was saying something. Mentally steeling herself, she knocked on the door and waited.
It was some time before she was bidden entry and she soon found the reason why. Neville Longbottom, looking rather petrified, was currently nearing the state of succumbing to a nervous breakdown. Snape wasn't helping the matter, having just instructed the third-year to 'for the love of god do us all a favour and refrain from touching anything remotely associated with potions.'
Deciding that this wasn't quite the time for diverting his anger to a new source but considering she was already here anyway and could probably take the criticism much better then Neville, she tentatively queried, "Professor?"
Predictably, Snape swung his attention to this new development and, eyes alight with malice, started in on her. "Ah yes, the delightful Miss Granger who is so knowledgable and held in such high esteem that she disdains to take notes."
Hermione winced. So, the evening was going to be nightmarish, then. Not to mention, her Potions Professor had slipped into That Tone. The one that he used exclusively for her. She had noticed over the years that Snape had a certain way of addressing people, and it was vastly different from how he treated her. Hermione didn't know why he singled her out or what made her so special but she would gladly give it away because he was far pithier and more unfeeling in his dealings with her.
He effectively interrupted her thoughts by smoothly asking, "Pray tell what new information or invention you are willing to impart on us mere mortals today?"
"Professor, I-I don't presume to tell anyone-"
"I'd hope not, you silly girl. Now, help that useless waste of space before he accidentally lands himself in my good graces and grants mercy to the world."
Hermione was noting the slight disappointment in his voice, because really what would he have to be let down about?, before the meaning of his words sank in. She quickly turned towards the cauldron, eyeing it apprehensively. It surely wasn't going to blow up was it?
Cautiously she began with, "What was this supposed to be?"
Neville for his part wasted no time in replying, for which she was grateful. It was a rather simplistic potion that would give you what you needed, naturally, with some restrictions. She was tempted to test it out someday but for the moment she was more concerned about it not exploding in their faces.
"So basically it's context sensitive?"
"Precisely."
Startled by the almost gentle response from Snape she wasted precious moments searching his face for something to indicate why, for something that would make her understand the blasted man better. He remained impassive and she shook her head to clear it. Honestly, the man was a closed book when it came to expressing emotions, much less his thoughts...She groaned. It was a bad analogy to use, there was nothing that excited her more than a mystery and throwing that book remark was doing her no good.
Hermione turned back and concentrated on the task at hand. She dipped a ladle into the potion and wafted the fumes. The stench that hit made her aware of a gag reflex previously unknown. She held onto her lunch but it was a near thing.
Putting the ladle down she washed out her mouth and got to work.
"Book."
At her demand, Neville practically threw it at her. She quelled him with a stare and he whispered an apology, managing to look worried and grateful at the same time. Hermione then smiled in what she hoped was a reassuring manner before perusing the instructions.
Five counter clockwise turns, an addition of fireflower essence, cor brittle, thyme, (most of which was largely for nullifying the tangle Neville had made of the potion) brig rope, cinnamon and garlic cloves as well as two temperature changes later Hermione had the mixture down to a less enthusiastic boil and a healthier looking silvery grey.
Just as she was about to relax and congratulate herself on a disaster averted an all too familiar voice observed, "You left the potion a few minutes longer than needed in the 2nd step. Also, it's supposed to be giving off hints of fir tress. The crown of the strawberry should have been added at this point." She whirled around to find that he was already walking away. It unnerved her, his ability to be where she least expected it. Nevertheless she did as he instructed.
The potion slowed to a simmer after the crowns were pulled in. Relieved Hermione was reaching for a nearby vial when Fate stepped in. Or rather, an ominous cracking echoed throughout the room. Neville, who had been putting away unused ingredients, turned, as did Snape, who had been at his desk. Neither reached her in time.