Author's Note: A huge thanks to all my reviewers thus far – I never dreamed that my story would get 15 reviews total, let alone on the first two chapters! I'm glad you are enjoying this. I apologize for the slow update, but I warn you that I am quite bad about updating, so please have patience and bear with me. I have only a rudimentary outline for this story, and all the details in between I write as I go, so it may take me some time to figure out where I want to go next. Once again, thanks for your feedback, and I do hope to finish this sometime in the next month or so.
Hermione stood behind her desk, absent-mindedly perusing her lesson plans. Second year Transfiguration was still quite basic, but she had to bear in mind that most students were not able to master the subtleties of turning beetles into buttons as well as she did in her second year. Of course, I missed a good portion of second year, what with being petrified and all, she thought vaguely. The bell rang, signaling the beginning of her class period.
She looked up from her lesson plans at the gaggle of young Slytherins and Ravenclaws seated around the room. This was a fairly competent class – she always enjoyed teaching Ravenclaws, as they usually caught on much more quickly than the students of other houses did. The only downside was putting up with the often surly and foul-tempered Slytherins. But, she thought, if any of them so much as raises an eyebrow out of turn, Slytherin will be down ten points faster than you can say 'Irish Spring'.
Irish Spring? Where had that come from?
"All right, class, today we're going to resume transfiguring a mouse into a clock. Raise your hands if you were able to successfully complete the assignment on Monday." She surveyed the room, writing down the students (mostly Ravenclaws) who had already completed their transfiguration. Just then, two Slytherin boys slunk surreptitiously into seats at the back of the room, obviously hoping to evade Hermione's notice. It didn't work. Hermione had to bite her lip to stifle an evil, triumphant grin. Well, well, Severus, it looks like your students are going to make this easy on me, she thought deviously, neglecting to notice that she had thought of Snape as 'Severus.'
"Perhaps Misters McGregor and Teague can explain to me why they do not feel it necessary to arrive in class on time," she said pointedly, glaring at the two Slytherin boys who were presently attempting to become invisible by disappearing into their seats.
"Well, uh-"
"It's just that-"
"We were, uh-"
Hermione rolled her eyes at the boys' inarticulate ramblings, and tried to ignore the disturbing resemblance between the two Slytherins and her own best friends, Harry and Ron, who had been hardly more eloquent when caught breaking rules.
"Well, thank you for that lucid enlightenment, boys. You really ought to consider a career in rhetoric," she snapped icily. She noticed that the Ravenclaws were biting back sniggers of amusement at her sarcasm, while the Slytherins wore alternating expressions of displeasure and bewilderment. Her two victims were among the latter, neither one of them apparently cognizant of the meaning of most of the words she had just thrown at them.
"However, your future plans aside, you should be well aware by now that I do not tolerate tardiness. Twenty points each from Slytherin, and it'll be fifty if you decide to swagger in so much as a nanosecond after the bell in the future." Her stone cold countenance left no room for discussion, and she began moving about the classroom, checking on her pupils' progress.
McGregor and Teague were horrified. Twenty points each? Professor Granger had never been so harsh! That was forty points from Slytherin, just because they had walked in fifteen seconds late! It occurred to neither one of them that Professor Snape habitually did the same thing to Gryffindor, nor would they have cared. But they had not seen the worst of it.
Hermione scoured the room like a hawk, searching for any sign of misbehavior. She paced through the aisles, glaring at random Slytherins, almost daring them to glare back. Most of them, being only twelve years old, withered under her steely gaze and pretended to be absorbed in their wand waving. A few, however, summoned enough courage to scowl back when they thought she wasn't looking. One boy leaned over to his partner, whispering something in a conspiratorial manner, his eyes darting rather obviously across the room to his professor.
James Bond you are not, she thought with a smirk. "Mister Crawford, I do not recall making this a team project. Ten points from Slytherin," she snapped. The boy's face went dark with anger, but he turned his attention back to his assignment.
By the end of the period, Slytherin had lost sixty-five points: forty for tardiness, ten for impertinent whisperings, ten for a dropped schoolbag (which startled other students, causing them to botch their transfigurations – or so Hermione claimed), and five for inattention. When the bell rang, the Slytherins, furious and sullen, bolted as one from her classroom, leaving the Ravenclaws, uneasy but relieved that Professor Granger had apparently not taken her bad day out on them, to file out of the class afterwards.
Hermione grinned wickedly to herself after the last of the students had exited the room. A part of her felt slightly unethical for her admittedly unfair strictness - after all, was she now no better than Snape himself? He used any rule in the book – and, beyond that, made up his own – to take points from Gryffindor. His disgustingly unabashed favoritism for his own students – spoiled brats all, Hermione thought uncharitably – deserved a little retribution. Besides, it was rather entertaining to watch the slimy little serpents wriggling in discomfort, much as she and her friends (and countless other Gryffindors) had done in Snape's class.
Payback is such a bitch, Severus, she thought, and allowed herself a diabolical snicker as her next class, fifth year Gryffindors, started to filter in.
Severus Snape gave his students one final sneer as they clogged the doorway of his classroom, eager to escape as soon as the bell had sounded. First year Hufflepuffs were not Snape's idea of a relaxing morning, and he found himself looking forward to some nice, steaming coffee at lunch. Tidying up his desk a bit, he swooped out of his classroom and up the stairs from the dungeon, making his way to the Great Hall.
As he emerged into the Entrance Hall, he noticed the four hourglasses displayed near the massive entrance doors that indicated House point totals. He smirked in satisfaction as he walked past the Gryffindor hourglass, noticing the spare amount of red beads contained therein. Doesn't look like the Lions will be winning the House Cup this year, he thought with a sneer. So very sorry to disappoint you, Professor Granger. He passed Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw's hourglasses, heading towards the one on the end topped with a bronze serpent. Slytherin had won the Cup the last two years, their longest streak since the insufferable Golden Trio of Gryffindor had polluted the halls of Hogwarts, claiming the Cup for their House nearly every year of their tenure. Make that three years in a row, Snape thought with satisfaction as he sauntered over to check his House's points total.
At first, Snape was sure there had been a mistake. Obviously the enchantment on the hourglass had gone haywire and was no longer responding properly to point additions and reductions. He stared in disbelief at Slytherin's hourglass, now minus eighty-five points since he had last checked it. That put Slytherin just above Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw in total points standing – and completely destroyed Slytherin's comfortable lead over the rest of the houses.
Snape opened and closed his jaw, looking for all the world like a fish out of water, his body shaking with rage. That complete, meddling bitch, he thought furiously as he stared at Slytherin's less than impressive points. That interfering, impertinent little tart! HOW DARE SHE!
"Hello, Severus. Lovely day, isn't it?" HER voice. She dared to speak to him! After this! He spun around, his jaw still twitching in fury.
"You! You… you - " In all his life, Severus Snape had never found himself at such a loss for words. No one had ever dared defy him so! He was Severus Snape, ex-Death Eater, overgrown bat and Evil Scary Potions Master! She should be cowering in fear before him, trembling in dread anticipation of his wrath! But there she was, standing as calm as could be, even daring to smile at him!
It was all Hermione could do not to burst out laughing at Snape's palpable rage. He was veritably quivering with anger, and she knew then that her plan was working perfectly – she had succeeded in getting under his skin as few others had. She found herself quite enjoying his reaction, partially because she found she enjoyed the power she now held over him, the power to press his emotional buttons and work him into such a whirlwind of fury. The perspicacious part of her brain noted that she was perhaps quite unique in her ability to crack Severus Snape's well-crafted control, and she filed away that observation for future use.
She looked into his eyes then – ye Gods almighty! They were burning with a fire she had never before seen, flames of anger and pride and something else that she couldn't quite put her finger on, dancing in the obsidian depths. His eyes had always been cold and detached, cruel and distant, sparking only when his face twisted into a sneer as his razor sharp tongue ripped through carefully crafted defenses, leaving his victim stricken and gutted. Now, however, they were positively alive, alive and glowing with something. She did not want to pry too deeply into what exactly that something might be, not until she sorted out for herself why that mysterious fire in his eyes was making her squirm with her own unidentified something.
She realized then that they had been staring at each other for some time, and that students were beginning to filter into the Entrance Hall, heading down to lunch. She broke the mounting tension with another syrupy smile.
"See you in the Great Hall, Professor," she called over her shoulder as she turned away from him to claim her seat at the High Table. He stared after her wordlessly, watching her smile and nod at her Gryffindors as she joined the queue filing into the Great Hall.
For the second time that day, Severus found himself utterly bewildered, intensely frustrated, and undeniably amazed by the force of nature that was Hermione Granger. He had rounded on her, prepared to verbally eviscerate her for her impudent behavior and demand that she cease this childish rivalry nonsense – hell, he was even prepared to declare something of a truce with her, as it was clear that Gryffindor no longer posed a threat for the House Cup. And she had stared right back at him, as cool as could be, even seeming to enjoy herself. Lesser mortals quaked in fear before the wrath of Severus Snape, but she, to all appearances, was amused by his display of seething anger. It had been a long time since he had felt such intense emotion – usually he regarded those he did not like (which was nearly everybody) with a sneer of disdain or an acerbic verbal barb. He rarely allowed himself to be provoked into such an unthinking fit of rage. And then – then, Gods, she had looked into his eyes, and he locked his gaze to hers, and saw her amusement, her playful challenge, and something else that he couldn't quite identify. Her eyes, the color of dark chocolate, captivated him, held him entranced, petrified him like a Gorgon, only she wasn't terrible and malicious but alluring. He couldn't remember the last time anyone had had that effect on him. The realization made him uneasy. He was used to having control, over himself and over his emotions – and here was a woman who could match his wits, who knew how to get under his skin, break down his defenses, and make him feel strange and anxious and excited and confused all at once. This was uncharted territory, terra incognito, and it frightened him. After all, he was no Gryffindor, and charging into the unknown was not a Slytherin's modus operandi.
Taking a deep breath to calm his jittery nerves, he shoved all thoughts of Hermione Granger and her strange effect on him to the back of his mind and strode towards the Great Hall, resolving to take a seat as far away from her as was possible.