Hermione's eyes rose up from her parchment to find Snape sneering at her, again.
"Really?" she thought, "after all we've been through?"
It hurt to see he carried so much disdain for her. After she learned of his role in the war, she had thought his abusive ways, and his particular hate for her, were all an act. And even if they hadn't been, couldn't he appreciate what she had done, what they had all done? He had made tremendous sacrifices. But so, she thought, had she and Ron and Harry, and countless others. Trauma was no excuse to be an ass, and she hadn't the slightest clue what his problem with her was.
She flushed crimson with indignation, trying in vain to pour herself back into her work, failing miserably. She stewed in her anger until she heard his drawling, "class dismissed."
She waited until the last of the other students had left before she lifted her eyes from her parchment.
He had moved from the corner of the room to hover over the front of her desk, resting his hands on the corner of it and leaning over her threateningly.
"Miss Granger," he seemed to slither, "I don't know what's rolling around in that bushy-haired head of yours, but don't think I haven't noticed the marked decline in your performance lately. You don't expect to get an "O" just for being a war hero, do you?"
She slowly turned her head up towards him, eyes locking with his. She seethed with rage. She mustn't punch him, no matter how badly he deserved it.
"Well?" he challenged, "what do you have to say for yourself?"
She snapped, looking up at him defiantly, "I'd say it would be easier to focus if my professor were more interested in teaching me than staring at me."
She got up and stormed out of his classroom, saving him the obligation of finding a way to respond to that.
"Oh, fuck" he thought, "she noticed," as he rubbed his hands on his forehead.
It seemed rather cruel, having female students wear those short skirts under their robes. It really wasn't fair. She was a brilliant witch, truly, but he still found himself lingering too long on the hem of her skirt, her slender but womanly build, her shapely legs…and to say he felt guilty would be an understatement. His combination of lust and self-hatred was probably written all over his face everytime he looked at the young witch. He tried to cover his emotions with more appropriate – and less humiliating – emotional fronts.
He sighed, and took 50 points from Gryffindor. This situation was his fault, but he couldn't set the dangerous precedent of letting students tell him off with no punishment. But, perhaps…perhaps he could make better use of this opportunity. To deal with his feelings for the prodigious, hot-headed witch, and to get her back at the top of her class.
He returned the house points, and penned a curt letter to Miss Granger:
As you know, your outburst cannot be tolerated. You will serve detention with me for four hours each week until I deem your attitude rectified.
-Severus Snape
He smiled to himself, imagining how angry the little witch would be when she first received news of her punishment. Despite his guilt, he still had a sense of humor. He rolled up the letter and sent it off.