Chapter Two
At seven-fifty on Friday night, Hermione walked briskly down the stairs to the dungeons. No use dreading it and trudging along, she thought. Don't want to be late. I can just see it now… "Miss Granger! Fifty points from Gryffindor! No, a hundred! A thousand!" She chuckled, thinking that if Snape could take off that many points, he would.
She heard scuffling sounds from around the corner as she reached the bottom of the stairs. Oh great, she thought, grasping her wand inside her robe pocket. Just what I need: to run into a pack of Slytherins. She braced herself and turned the corner to see it was a pair, and not, thankfully, a pack. Unfortunately, the pair was Draco Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson. Pansy was pushed up against the wall with Malfoy shoved close to her. His hand was in a very inappropriate place beneath her robes, but Pansy didn't seem to mind. She giggled and kissed him, using a lot more tongue than Hermione thought necessary.
She cleared her throat and the two looked her way, obviously startled. "Ten points apiece from Slytherin for inappropriate P.D.A."
Malfoy drew back from Pansy and regarded Hermione with his iciest glare. "I'll display my affection as publicly as I want, mudblood!" he spat.
"Not in front of the Head Girl, you won't, ferret," she replied calmly. She was pleased to notice that even after more than three years that muscle in his jaw still twitched at the use of his nickname. Malfoy grabbed Pansy's hand and pulled her down the hallway past Hermione, who let a small smile creep across her face. "Oh, Miss Parkinson, you may want to adjust your robes," she said sweetly, staring at the girl's backside. Pansy turned her head as far as it would go and gasped as she yanked the tail of her robe—and skirt—out of the back of her underwear.
"You wait, Granger," Malfoy snarled at her down the hall, a very red-faced Pansy by his side. "You're going to get it!"
"Really?" she asked amusedly. "Who's going to give 'it' to me?"
"You-Know-Who," the boy replied darkly.
"What, you can't even say his name? Maybe you're not as good a little Death Eater as you think you are." Malfoy fumed, bright pink spots standing out on his pale cheeks. "Can I see your little Dark Mark? Or… do you not have one?" Hermione continued innocently. "Maybe your father—" she ducked as a red streak of light shot towards her from Malfoy's wand.
"Don't you dare talk about my father!" Malfoy shouted, the spots on his cheeks turning a brighter shade of red.
Standing calmly and smoothing her robes, she said, "Ten more points from Slytherin for trying to hex a student in the halls. Goodnight, ferret." With more confidence than she felt, Hermione turned on her heel and strode down the corridor towards the Potions classroom, keeping alert for any threatening sounds. Once she turned another corner, she sighed with relief, checked over her shoulder once more, and continued towards her detention, wondering how that bratty little weasel had ever made her cry.
At seven-fifty-nine on Friday night, Severus leaned back in the chair behind his desk in the Potions classroom. Granger has forty-nine seconds to arrive on time, or else she'll have weekly detentions until her graduation! he thought to himself as he surveyed the bottles and jars he had set out on the student desk nearest his own. The cauldron was ready, and a sharp knife was set out next to the cutting board. Fifteen seconds, he thought.
Just then three sharp raps sounded at the classroom door. Without waiting for an answer, Miss Granger strode in, her cheeks faintly flushed and a small smile playing about her lips. Catching the death-glare Severus was giving her, she exclaimed wide-eyed, "I'm not late, am I?" Her cheeks turned pinker and her smile disappeared. For an answer, the clock on the wall above Severus' desk began its eight chimes announcing the hour. "Oh, good." She sighed with relief and walked toward him.
Severus sniffed and remained seated. "You will prepare a double batch of sleeping draught tonight, Miss Granger," he said gesturing at the items on the desk. "Madam Pomfrey has requested some. While you are brewing the potion, I will finish grading exams so I will, for once, be free from even the thought of students over the holiday. Begin." Without another word, he removed a sheaf of parchments from the bottom drawer of his desk, took a raven-feather quill from a pot of red ink and began making violent-looking check marks down the side of the top page. Granger left a small pile of galleons on his desk in payment for the shattered bezoar stones, then stepped over to the desk and lit a fire under the cauldron.
Madam Pomfrey did request some sleeping draught, Severus thought to himself, rubbing his bloodshot eyes. But I'm sure she won't mind if I keep a bottle or two for myself. Somehow he knew his nightmares would not improve any time soon They'd been getting steadily worse as the week had worn on.
Although she was serving her first detention in all her years at Hogwarts with her least favorite professor, in the dungeons, on a night when she should be celebrating the end of exams with her friends, Hermione was in a rather good mood. She'd insulted Draco Malfoy without being hexed to within an inch of her life (being Head Girl definitely had perks), she was doing something she enjoyed for her detention, and Christmas was just around the corner.
The diluted unicorn tears had reached the desired temperature (indicated by the pale lavender color they turned), and Hermione added the dried chamomile and hibiscus flowers into the cauldron. Next she measured out root of asphodel into a stone bowl and began to grind it into a fine powder with a matching stone pestle. She was very careful not to inhale any of the dust she produced; alone it was very toxic. Only when used in a potion was the powder safe to ingest.
Finishing the grinding, she set the bowl to the side and began chopping the wormwood into inch-long pieces. She tied the bitter twigs into a bundle with thread spun from kneazle whiskers and dropped it into the mixture in the cauldron, then took note of the time. The wormwood needed to steep exactly seven minutes before being removed and discarded.
Hermione noticed that the room had become unusually silent. The sound of Snape's quill scratching on parchment was absent. He was simply looking over the papers in front of him, barely making a mark on any of them. Hermione thought he must have come to the Slytherins' exams. His precious pets, she thought with disgust. More like pests. Won't ever take off a single house point from them, can't allow them to get less than the highest grades in his class… It made her so angry.
She realized she'd been glaring at the top of Snape's head as he was bent over examining the papers. Not anxious to be caught staring at him, she busied herself with preparing the shaved dragon's liver that would change the potion from a thin violet liquid into a syrupy purple concoction. By that time the wormwood needed to be removed and the powdered asphodel root could be added.
Twenty minutes later the potion was done simmering. Hermione performed an extinguishing spell on the flames beneath the cauldron and announced, "The potion's finished, Professor Snape."
He looked up from the dwindling stack of exams on the desk in front of him and regarded her with an unreadable expression on his face. "Very good, Miss Granger. You'll find empty bottles on the lowest shelf over there." He pointed to the rear cabinet. "Fill and label them all. And do try not to drop any." He smirked. Hermione ignored the biting comment and went to retrieve the bottles. Snape continued to grade papers.
Several minutes later, only a few more bottles-full of potion remained in the cauldron. Snape looked up and told her, "That's enough, Miss Granger. I'll finish the rest later." He stood and walked to the potions cabinet to the left of his desk. "Bring the full bottles to Madam Pomfrey, along with this." He withdrew a jar of bright orange paste from the shelf and handed it to her. She recognized her handwriting on the label.
"This is the burn-healing paste I made Monday for the exam," she said, bewildered.
"How very observant of you. Congratulations on recognizing your own handwriting." The professor sneered down his large nose at her. "The class's finished projects were tested for effectiveness on those abominable Blast-Ended Skrewts that were unfortunate enough to be too near one of their comrades during an… explosion." Snape's lip curled in revulsion. "Yours was one of the very few fit for real use." He turned on his heel and strode back to his desk, robes swishing behind him. Hermione stood dumbly with the jar in her hand. Was that really an unadulterated compliment from Snape? she asked herself in shock. Maybe the asphodel dust did get to me.
"Miss Granger?" Snape barked sharply from his seat behind the desk. "You may go."
"Right," she said, breaking out of her paralysis. "Um… have you finished grading my written exam?" she asked as she placed the bottles of sleeping draught in her bag.
"Yes."
The silence stretched for a moment before Hermione asked very politely, "May I see it please?"
"No. You must wait like all the other students until after the holiday."
"But… you said you're finished with it."
"Yes, but just because you can brew a simple burn-healing paste better than the rest of your pathetic peers does not entitle you to privileges they do not have!" He stood and glared down at her from his considerable height, towering over her short frame. His black eyes blazed with annoyance. Hermione nearly felt her skin smolder from his glare.
Well, Professor Snape, burn-healing paste is hardly "simple," Hermione thought furiously. It is an extremely complex potion to make, especially without the aid of any instructions and within the time limit of forty-five minutes! And of course I don't think that because of my success in brewing it I am superior to the other students! How dare you think so!
Of course she didn't say that. She merely replied, "Yes, sir," cheeks flaming, eyes flashing, and strode angrily out of the Potions classroom, slamming the door behind her.
Severus sat back down, grinding his teeth at hormonal, outburst-prone adolescents in general, and Hermione Granger in particular. She was a brilliant young woman and would be one of his favorite students… if only she was a pureblooded Slytherin instead of a Muggle-born Gryffindor. And if she wasn't so damned moody. And if her hair wasn't so frizzy. Get a grip, Severus! Why are you thinking about her hair? He asked himself. I'm not, he replied. I would never think of a student… at all! He growled under his breath at himself. Especially not a Gryffindor! How had a silly little girl gotten him so upset?
He'd watched her as she was brewing the potion, watched how carefully she shaved the dragon's liver, how meticulously she had ground the root of asphodel, making sure every particle was crushed into identical-sized grains. She showed the same love of and passion for potions he had at her age. If she stuck with it, she could become as great a Potions Master as he was someday! But she'd probably end up being killed in some mad adventure with Potter and Weasley. She could be so much more if she would just drop those two juveniles. And they would be so much less without her. She was always the one to come up with a reasonable plan. She was the level-headed thinker of the trio. Severus was sure she'd saved their necks dozens of times, and what thanks did she get? Slander in the Daily Prophet and The Quibbler, next to no recognition by Potter, Weasley, even Dumbledore, and… Severus sighed. And the weekly wrath of a cranky Potions professor, he admitted to himself glumly.
He knew she had been staring at him as the wormwood steeped, had felt her eyes on the top of his head. No doubt she was filled with disgust at the sight of his greasy hair and over-large nose (though of course Severus cared not at all what a student thought of his appearance) not to mention the fact that he was hardly making a mark on all of the Slytherin students' exams. But he had to do it. In favoring the children that would most likely grow up to be Death Eaters, he was making them soft for when they entered the real world. And by acting harshly and cruelly to the students that would probably grow up to defeat the Dark Lord, he was making them strong. So he couldn't suddenly begin being nice to Miss Granger. It would be completely out-of-character and others would become suspicious. But maybe he could… not be as cruel to her. The poor girl could use all the kindness she could get. She deserved it.
Hermione had reached the portrait of the Fat Lady before she remembered, in her anger, that she still had to deliver the bottles of potion to Madam Pomfrey. "Going in, dear?" the Fat Lady asked.
"Not yet," Hermione growled. The Fat Lady huffed indignantly as Hermione stormed back down the corridor. Why am I so upset, anyway? she asked herself as she climbed the stairs. All he did was refuse to show me my exam grade. Oh yes, and insult me all evening, bully my friends and classmates, humiliate me in front of my Advanced Potions class, try and get Harry expelled every chance he gets… I remember now why I hate him so much! She stomped around a corner. But then… why did he praise my work on the burn-healing paste? Why did he let me brew a potion for detention instead of making me scrub out filthy old cauldrons or de-brain frogs?
Shaking these bewildering thoughts from her head, she entered the hospital wing. Madam Pomfrey was attending to a second-year with a Fanged Frisbee clamped onto his forearm and told Hermione to just leave the bottles on her desk. The girl did so and left the infirmary quietly.
Alright, maybe I don't hate him, she told herself. I respect him as a professor; he has a great attention to detail, he loves his work, if not exactly the students he shares it with, he's a stickler for rules like I am… Ugh, what am I thinking, comparing Professor Snape to myself? Shuddering, she said the password, "ruby red," to the Fat Lady and entered the welcome distraction of the Gryffindor common room where the end-of-exams celebration was still going strong at nearly ten o'clock. Fillibuster's Fireworks and Fred and George Weasley's famous headless hats were just what she needed to keep her mind on celebrating and off the topic of her least favorite professor.
Author's Notes: WOW! I didn't expect so many reviews so quickly! I mean, seven for this chapter. That's not really a LOT a lot, but it was more than I thought I'd get, especially this soon. Thank you all so much, and I hope you keep reading!
Review Replies: (I really wish this site would let me reply to the reviews on the review page, but I can see how that would get out of hand. Oh well.)
MagickAlianne: Don't worry, things will start speeding up soon. Though yes, it does have to go slowly for a little while, at least. There will be much angst and woe (haha!), I promise.
Claire: I wuuuuuuv you! Heehee. Thanks for reading my stuff, even when I've subjected you to it on a nearly daily basis in other forums of um… writing…ness. Yeah.
ProfessorJaySnape: Your username intrigues me… Thank you thank you! The next chapter should be up this Friday, fairly late.
beckythorn13: Yay for ice cream! Thanks for the sweet review. Don't have the courage to write it yourself? Come on, just try it! It's waaaaaay fun, trust me.
fujutsu: Thank you!
pricey-blonde: Yay, more ice cream! Haha, I didn't expect this much of a reaction to my little bit of weirdness, but… oh well! It's fun anyway. Thanks muchly!
Caeria: Thank you. I'm looking forward to where the story is heading too! Heehee…
Okay, now I need to credit some people.
First of all, my betas, Alexia and Kat. I know there were others, but that was such a long time ago, and you two were (and are) the best! When I actually start writing NEW chapters (heehee) I hope I can count on you to continue in your wonderful critiques. Thanks so much!
Secondly, the Harry Potter Lexicon. Wow. I don't know what I would do without this. Anything and everything you ever wanted to know about the HP canon universe is right here, as well as essays, pictures, illustrations, news… EVERYTHING. It's wonderful.
Also, since I've read so many Severus/Hermione fanfics, I can't help but pick up on some of the little quirks and ideas within them. If anything is blatantly obvious as a rip-off or borrowing, please let me know and I'll figure out if I either forgot to credit someone, or if it was just a weird coincidence. (I have to catch up a bit since I forgot to do this after the Prologue and Chapter One.)
Prologue
"Mind the Gap" t-shirt: My own. I found it at the Salvation Army for cheap and had to have it. Now the hems at the bottom and sleeves are cut off, as well as all around the collar so it hangs off one shoulder, 80s-style. Hee. Whoever submits the first review with the correct answer as to what "Gap" the saying refers to will get a little something in their mailbox. I've been working on a slightly different kind of fanfic, and the "winner" can get a first peek at it. (Remember, Google is your friend.)
Chapter One
Severus' alarm clock: Inspired by Anna's Roman Holiday. This HP fic (main character is Hermione) is AWESOME, go read it! This is the second story in the series; sadly the third one remains unfinished. Go read them anyway!
Hermione's career choice: Also influenced by Roman Holiday.
Chapter Two
Severus' reasons for treating the Hogwarts houses as he does: Riley, in her fic Pawn to Queen, gives a similar explanation. Again, a fantastic fic, Severus/Hermione as well. Check it out!
All right, I think I've wasted enough of your time with frivolities. Chapter Three should be up next Friday night. Thanks again for the reviews; keep them coming if you continue reading (which I hope you will)! Your comments encourage me to keep writing.