Chapter Two
For three whole days Hermione contemplated on insisting that Professor Snape fulfill his end of their bet, something beyond admitting that "Miss Granger is the least likely to kill me." Initially she rejected the idea. She was, after all, the better person here. She could see that his pride had been delivered quite a blow by even his forced admission, and besides she had gained the right to ask any question she wanted in class.
"I was wondering about the properties of nightshade. How can it be a main ingredient in both a potion like the Pepper-up potion, meant to be used as a stimulant, and in this one we're brewing meant to induce sleep?"
He turned and glared at her. She could sense the barely suppressed frustration and anger behind his eyes, but he didn't frighten her—he hadn't since the end of her fourth year, and besides Potions fascinated her, surly professor or not. For a moment it looked as if he might answer but then he paused.
"I don't know, Miss Granger," he said through gritted teeth, and she briefly wondered how much willpower it had taken for him to say those three words. "But maybe you would like to research the subject. I expect two feet on the topic by tomorrow."
Hermione hadn't minded the extra work, she had found the information readily enough in the library and the subject proved to be thoroughly interesting. However, after the fourth essay she had changed her mind.
"Sir, NEWTs are in two weeks. I don't have time to write another essay this week," she protested after class.
"Perhaps you will keep that in mind before you raise your hand and ask another irritating question," he snarled at her.
"That's unfair! You aren't keeping your end of the bargain!"
"Of course I am. I agreed to call on you when your hand was raised and I have. Your arm must be feeling better, although with all that extra writing, I think perhaps not," he said mockingly, a smug look of satisfaction on his face.
So he thought he had won? Well he had never crossed Hermione Granger. She would make sure that he regretted the day he made that silly bet with her. Although first, she needed leverage. She would need to do some research, but luckily, that was something at which she excelled. She wasn't sure what she was looking for but she open to any ideas. What she really needed was something embarrassing but she couldn't think of a tactful way to pose such a question, short of, "Please, Professor McGonagall, has Professor Snape ever gotten pissed, taken off his robes, and danced through the greenhouses singing Italian arias to the mandrakes. And if he has, do you have any hard evidence, say a video recording of this?" So she tried the next best thing.
"Professor McGonagall, I wanted to talk to you about Professor Snape," she said, catching the older woman as she came out of her classroom on the way to lunch in the Great Hall. She looked at Hermione sternly.
"Why, what has he done this time?" McGonagall asked.
"Oh, nothing out of the ordinary," Hermione lied. She didn't tell her about their bet, she didn't want to be a tattle-tell, and she got the distinct impression that the Transfiguration professor wouldn't approve and most likely put a stop to her plan.
"I'm just worried that he never smiles or seems to have any fun."
"You are quite taken with him recently, aren't you?" McGonagall tutted. "First with nominating him Teacher of the Month and now this; I assure you, Miss Granger, that Professor Snape is perfectly fine, if not a little cranky. He's always like that, though how you've failed to notice is beyond me."
Hermione could see that the older woman still held bitter feeling about being passed over for Teacher Appreciation Day. She would have to make it up to her somehow, maybe a present at the Leaving Feast, with a little note telling her who her favorite professor really was.
"So he's never happy?" she asked dejectedly.
"The only time he ever approaches pleasant human interaction is when he's had too much Ogden's, and that's mainly because he's too drunk to come up with clever and mean things to say. He speaks a different language, my dear, but once you learn it you can recognize when he thinks highly of something or someone. But you had better just stay out of his way."
"Yes, ma'am," she said, nodding her head as if in agreement, but she had no such plans. So Snape spoke a different language? Well, she sincerely hoped he understood blackmail.
Standing outside his door the next day, Hermione took a deep breath and counted to ten. It had taken her hours and every ounce of courage in her to convince herself to carry out her plan. She only hoped her gamble paid off and that her suspicions that Snape occasionally drank himself into such a stupor that he didn't remember what he did the next morning proved correct.
'I can do this, I can do this,' she chanted to herself. She would not back down. Finally feeling ready, she entered his office without knocking, strode to his desk, and slammed a large manila envelope down.
"What is the meaning of this, Miss Granger," Professor Snape hissed.
"I have something you might be interested in, sir," she said icily. One hand remained on the envelope while she dug her fingernails into the palm of her other. Where was that Gryffindor courage when she needed it? If she could handle Lucius Malfoy or Bellatrix Lestrange then surely she could handle Snape, couldn't she?
"I sincerely doubt that, unless you have the essay I assigned yesterday done. Ten feet on the uses of unicorn hair in experimental potions?" he said reaching for the envelope. She pulled it away from his grasp.
"I'm not doing that essay," she retorted. He lifted an eyebrow at her and scowled.
"Aren't you?" he said in what was clearly a threat.
"No, I'm not. You know perfectly well that there isn't enough material to write three feet on that subject let alone ten!" The scowl disappeared, replaced by a small and malevolent smile.
"Then what, pray tell me, do you want, Miss Granger?" She took a breath and looked him squarely in the eye.
"I want you to fulfill your end of the bet."
"I believe we already discussed this. I have called on you in class like we agreed."
"Not that. Your little announcement at dinner the other night wasn't per our agreement. You were supposed to announce that I was the best student you have ever had, not the 'least likely to kill you with a disastrous potion,'" she argued. The scowl returned and she dug her fingernails deeper into the palm of her hand to keep from trembling.
"That is the highest compliment I have ever paid a student," he argued.
"I believe you, but it's not enough. I am prepared, however, to make a concession."
"What would that be?" he asked.
"You don't have to make the announcement in the Great Hall, just in the seventh year NEWT class. Just as long as Malfoy hears." That should wipe the smirk off his arrogant face, she thought.
"And if I refuse?"
"I thought you were honorable, Snape."
"That's Professor Snape to you, and wherever did you get that idea?"
"I'm not certain now, but that's not the point," she said.
"I'm quickly tiring of this, Miss Granger, so the sooner you arrive at your point the better," he sneered.
"I have some mementos here of the staff Christmas party last year," she said hoping he would get the idea without her spelling everything out.
"So?"
"So, they show a very merry Professor Snape singing 'The 12 Days of Christmas.'"
"What?" His pale face whitened until Hermione thought she could see the individual veins. "I have no idea what you're talking about."
"You really should cut back on the Firewhiskey, if I may say so, sir. Especially if it causes you to do things you don't remember."
"Where did you get those?" He asked, motioning at the envelope.
"It doesn't matter. What matters is that I have them. Your reputation as a strict disciplinarian will be quite undercut with students humming Christmas carols under their breath, I imagine."
"Fifty points from Gryffindor for blackmailing a teacher, Miss Granger. You surprise me," he said and she knew that he was trying to regain control of the situation. She couldn't balk now, she must remain strong.
"I'm sure my housemates will understand the loss of points when they see these," she said, pulling the envelope off the table and turning towards the door. She hadn't made it five steps before he called her back.
"Wait." She stopped. "You're right, it's only fair."
"Tomorrow then," she said, turning back to him. He nodded curtly.
"Get out of my sight, Miss Granger." She happily obliged, nearly skipping through the halls.
"What are you so cheerful about?" The portrait of George the Gruesome asked with a grimace as she climbed the stairs back to Gryffindor Tower.
"I've just won a bet," she answered with a smile.
She could hardly wait for Potions the next morning and she arrived earlier than anyone else did, in her seat ten minutes before the other students sauntered in. Professor Snape stormed in as he usually did, and the directions for the day's potion appeared on the blackboard with the slightest flick of his wrist.
"Today we are brewing the Mentira Potion," he said smoothly. "Can anyone tell me the properties of this particular potion?" Hermione's face fell. He had beaten her again.
"Mr. Finnegan?" Snape asked.
"It causes the drinker to tell lies, sir," Seamus answered.
"Correct. And why, Miss Granger, would someone want such a potion?" he asked, a smirk on his face. She clenched her fists underneath her desk.
"They would take it if they wanted to avoid telling the truth, for example, if the truth was too painful to admit," she said, narrowing her eyes.
"That's one reason. Any others?" A stony silence fell over the room while the students tried to remember if there had been something in the reading or if this was one of those questions they were supposed to "think" about and come up with the answer. When no one answered after a few moments, Snape began deducting points.
"Five points from Gryffindor. Can you think of no other reason, Mr. Potter?"
"If someone were a spy they might take it to avoid being caught," Harry said pointedly.
"You've been reading too many poorly written novels, Mr. Potter, and not enough of your textbook. Five more points from Gryffindor," Snape said, glaring back at him. "Does anyone else have an intelligent response? No one? Five feet on the subject due next class with appropriate examples. Now get started," he barked.
An hour later, Hermione had finished her potion. Turning down her flame, she gave the cloudy green liquid one last stir.
"Let's see how you did," Snape said, striding over to her workstation. He sniffed disdainfully and moved to bottle some of her potion. She almost didn't notice it, the slight of hand as he added something to it. And then the potion had turned a slightly darker green, almost undetectable, but she could tell.
"Everyone pay attention. Just a sip should cause the next few things I say to be lies. If I were to drink the whole vial then I would be unable to speak the truth for the next week." He sipped from the flask, while everyone waited in anticipation. He looked at Hermione.
"Miss Granger is the best student I've ever had," he said and then turned to Neville. "Mr. Longbottom excels in Potions and Mr. Potter is my favorite student." He paused and set the potion back on the table.
"It must have worked," Hermione heard Seamus whisper to Dean. "He certainly doesn't believe anything he just said."
"It appears that you brewed the potion correctly," Snape sneered. "Two points from Gryffindor, however, the color is slightly off. Class dismissed." The room broke out in cacophonous clatter as the seventh years hurried to collect their things and leave so they could properly discuss what they had just witnessed. Hermione hung back, waiting until everyone had left before she approached Snape, who moved to his desk.
"Very clever of you, sir," she said. He looked up at her.
"Thank you, Miss Granger."
"I only have one question."
"Only one? How unusual." She ignored the barb. She had grown quite accustomed to them over the years.
"Why did you slip something into my potion to ruin it? Were you afraid you wouldn't be able to admit that I was the best student you ever had?" she asked.
"I have no idea what you're rambling on about."
"It's just that if it wasn't a lie then you wouldn't be able to say it, that's how the Mentira Potion works. So you put something in mine to ruin it so you could make it seem like a lie."
"You're suggesting that I ruined a potion meant to make me lie so that I could lie? I think you have overtaxed your brain, Miss Granger. You're not making any sense. Besides when have your potions been anything other than perfect?"
"Was that a compliment?"
"No."
"Anyway, back to my point…"
"Which was?"
"That you really do think I'm the best student you've ever had, so you had to ruin my potion in order to say that. It only looked like a lie but, in truth, the potion didn't work so you were able to tell the truth. And the truth is that you think I'm the best student you've ever had."
"Must you be so tiresome? Is it really that important to you to know that you are the best student I have ever had? Does it also help to know that you are the most irritating, having recently beaten out Potter and Longbottom for that distinction? Or what about the most stubborn and pig-headed? Or exasperating? You never cease to drag us off topic with your questions, you write more than I assign as if reading about the same topic year after year thirty times will somehow be different and exciting in your purple prose, and to top it all off you correct me in front of the class because I hadn't gotten around to reading the latest Potions manual. Do you think I have time to read everything there is to read on the acquisition of bicorns?"
She stared at him in disbelief while he ranted and raved in front of her.
"So you really do think I'm the best student you've ever had?" she asked timidly. She thought she had said that but she couldn't be sure, there had been so much pent up frustration released afterwards. He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingers.
"Yes, Miss Granger, you are the best student I have ever had."
"Thank you, sir."
"You're not particularly welcome."
"I know but that makes it that much more special," she said smiling at him. He waved his hand, dismissing her.
"One more thing."
"What now?" he growled, scowling at her.
"I just wanted to give you this," she said, handing him a small plaque. He took it, a bewildered look crossing his face. "It says Hogwarts Teacher Appreciation Month, Professor Severus Snape, 'The best teacher Hogwarts has ever seen!'"
"I can read," he snapped. "Is this some sort of joke?"
"No. I just decided that it wasn't such a bad idea after all, although Professor McGonagall was rather put out that she wasn't chosen first. I've told the sixth years to keep up the tradition, maybe she'll win it next year," she explained. He looked up at her and the corners of his lips turned up in the tiniest of smiles.
"Maybe, maybe not."
"Would you like to bet on that, sir?" she asked with a mischievous smile.
"No, Miss Granger, I would not," he said sternly, but Hermione rather thought the normal sting was missing from his voice. She turned to leave, pausing at the door.
"Congratulations, sir," she said, before skipping out the door.
A/N: It's taken me awhile but I have finally finished this story. I hope you enjoyed Hermione's view of things, and please let me know what you think in a review.