The castle's corridors were empty, save for perhaps Filch's cat, Mrs. Norris, who enjoyed after-hours walks; there were no students to make meowing noises at her then. Mrs. Norris strode briskly toward Filch's office and walked into it, the door having been left wide open for her. The cat struck out with its back leg and the door creaked shut. Clever cat.
Hermione peeped round the edge of the wall, thankful for Mrs. Norris's departure. If the cat had seen her, it would have meant a detention. Hermione clutched her purse closer to her chest and exhaled in obvious relief, only to inhale deeply again for her nose to detect a strong whiff of -
"It's an astringent, Ms. Granger,"
Hermione spun around to the familiar face of her potions master of five years. Her eyes went wide and her lower lip shook. This was worse than Filch and Mrs. Norris, much worse...
"Professor! No, no I wasn't -" she stammered.
"Your meaning is immaterial, Ms. Granger. It's after hours, way after hours. What's a third of the golden trio doing out of bed at this hour?"
Realizing she still clutched her purse to her chest, Hermione relaxed her rigidly held arm and dropped the purse into the back pocket of her robes, in what she hoped was a discreet enough manner.
Snape's black eyes flickered toward her hand and then back up at her petrified face.
"Turn out your pockets, Granger, now." He hissed, his voice dripping with menace.
Hermione wiped her palms across her robes, blinked rapidly and looked elsewhere. She didn't know what she was doing. Was she trying to buy herself more time, or was she hoping for somebody, anybody else, to happen to be walking by, at this time of the night, and save her? She longed for Ron, or Harry. If only Professor Lupin still taught at Hogwar -
Her muddled thoughts were interrupted by an insistent arm reaching around her waist into the pocket at back of her robes. She did nothing to hinder it.
Snape yanked the purse out, swiftly withdrawing his arm, said item in his grasp. The corner of his mouth twitched up for that split second, in what appeared to be a simper of sorts; he seemed to revel in this most recent victory. Snape raised the purse to eye level and scrutinized it. A glint of recognition shone in his eyes and he lowered it down. When Snape spoke again, his voice was calm, but, unless Hermione was imagining it, seemed to quiver with stifled emotion.
"When and where did you get this?"
"Professor, I -"
Snape's fist closed tightly around the purse, his knuckles white with strain. "Answer me, Ms. Granger, or you'll be serving a term's detention, and suspended, from every single major examination under the subject I teach throughout the course of this year."
If she'd learned anything from her six years of magical schooling, it was that Severus Snape kept the threats he made, and anybody with even an ounce of brain matter had better act in accordance with his wishes or suffer the harsh punishments that would certainly befall the defiant.
"The Gryffindor common room, sir, third year!" she yelped, flustered.
Something stirred in those black orbs of his, if only for a split second.
Hermione held her breath, certain that there was another tongue-lashing coming her way, or a threat, to deduct more points from Gryffindor... Either way, she thought. But Snape simply acknowledged her response with a curt nod and then carried on to undo the knot that sealed the purse with a familiarity that stunned her. Hermione watched him with a transparent display of curiosity and surprise. How did he know the precise steps to untie it? Her stomach gave a terrified lurch at the same time; as soon as he undid that last loop, he would discover that she'd –
"Fifty points from Gryffindor, and be at my office six o'clock sharp. Friday. You'll be serving a detention for skulking about the corridors after hours." Snape said, as he cast a non-verbal spell that caused the contents of the now-open purse to tumble out at Hermione's feet.
Both lowered their gazes to the mess at their feet.
"Granger," Snape's drawled, "I see you've taken the liberty to rob my personal stores of my very limited supply of bezoars… and," he raised an brow, "My time turner. Are these for Potter? Going on a little excursion soon, are we, hmm? Exciting? Dangerous?"
Hermione scrambled for a response to the onslaught of questions. "Pro – professor, I –"
"Oh my, the Insufferable Know-it-all – at a lost for words?" Snape said. He stared right at her, into her.
He was delving into her mind. Block him. Block him! Hermione thought desperately. Discipline your mind, she repeated in her head like a mantra. Why hadn't she sought to learn Occlumency from Harry before? She could actually feel the barriers of her mind being torn apart, somebody in her head, that was now soft like jelly-o – flipping through memories of conversions between her, Ron and Harry – every single one.
Snape should be pulling out now, he should be! Hermione thought, frantically. He's seen it all; he should be content now – She almost heaved a sigh of relief when all of a sudden, the memory of herself snogging Ron flashed across her line of vision. He's seeing this – Snape's seeing this! She panicked and clenched her fists tight, wanting desperately to shut Snape out, but helpless against his ability.
Then, Snape pulled out. Hermione risked a glance up at his face. It was plastered with an expression of what could only be described as smugness, a sense of victory.
"Well, Ms. Granger, seeing as there is nothing more to discuss," he flicked his wrist as if a sign of dismissal, eyes still on Hermione. "Friday, six o'clock. Your detention." He added, before turning from her and walking off.
She watched him until he disappeared from her line of sight, round a corner. Then, she bent to retrieve the gillyweed from the floor, and, noting that the time turner was no longer there – Snape must've taken it back – set off to her dorm.