A/N: Hello dear readers, and welcome back for the second chapter of this story! There's a couple of things I wish to tell you before we proceed.

First of all, the last chapter was completely from Hermione's point of view. This one is going to be wholly written from Severus's perspective. In the upcoming chapters I will usually be switching between their POVs from time to time, signified by horizontal lines, though there may come more chapters from a single perspective only.

Secondly, I have the first six chapters of this story written down, which are now around 25k words. I will publish one every Monday, as announced in the Author's Note of the last chapter. I have, however, exams coming up soon and will be going on holiday shortly after that. I don't see that becoming a problem yet and will definitely tell you if I will need to skip a week. I hope it won't come to that, but be warned of the possibilty of that happening.

Last but not least, I wish to extend a heartfelt tere tulemas to the lone reader from Estonia, a country that still holds a large part of my heart!

And now, I don't wish to keep you from reading chapter two any longer. Enjoy and feel free to criticize! :)

Monday, September 2nd – Monday, September 9th, 1995

The girl's behaviour had changed.

Severus was naturally suspicious of change, especially if it came as unexpected and seemingly inexplicable as this. Even more suspiciously, the change seemed to appear only in the girl's behaviour towards him. Severus didn't trust this. Severus didn't trust her. And most of all, Severus almost didn't trust his own judgement anymore.

Maybe she had simply decided to grow up? Merlin knew her intellect by far surpassed that of the dunderheads around her, as did her maturity. Not only had she matured in the way other females her age would, no – she had an air about her that betrayed the sorrows she had gone through within the few short years her life spanned so far, the hardships she had faced, the dangers she had experienced. Severus ignored the niggling voice at the back of his mind that tried to convince him that her life very much resembled his own at that age. The thought was a disconcerting one that he was eager to dismiss. He did not want to ponder on the similarities between the two of them.

And what similarities would those be, anyway? Yes, she had few friends. Yes, she had a familial background that did not allow her to easily melt into the masses of students. Yes, she was studious, and powerful, and arrogant. Yes, people made fun of her hair.

But these similarities were too few and too far-fetched to hint at an actual similarity between him, Severus Snape, Potions Master and Slytherin through and through, and her, Hermione Granger, swotty know-it-all and Gryffindor golden girl.

No, Severus surmised, she wasn't like him at all. And even if she was – which she decidedly wasn't – it was of no matter to him. He did not care for the foolishness of pubescent students, even those from his own House, nor was he interested in the whims of those insufferable teenagers.

Unless…

Unless, of course, those whims affected him. And her change in behaviour did affect him, only he did not know in what way – yet. He was very much set to get to the ground of this – whatever this was –, and soon.

So far, he had been unable to detect any ill intent, but that did not mean there was none. She had been overly polite towards him during the few times he had the ill fortune to stumble upon her at Grimmauld Place (not that Severus Snape ever did anything even remotely resembling a stumble, it was a mere matter of speech), and during the first week of the new schoolyear, she had taken care to always greet him with a smile while doing her best to please him academically during the lessons.

Of course, Hermione Granger striving to surpass all of her yearmates was nothing new in and of itself. The way she had done so, however, was disconcerting to say the least. It seemed to him that she was not trying to impress Professor Snape, Master of Potions, but rather Severus Snape, the man. It had been a passing thought at first, but one that crossed his mind more often than he cared to admit, and even though he did the best he could to dismiss the notion, it had planted itself into his brain and would not budge, however hard he tried to rid himself of it.

As absorbed as he was in these thoughts, trying to puzzle out her behaviour, the week and following weekend passed quicker than he expected, and before he knew where the time had gone, it was Monday again. Or, more to the point, he had a double lesson of 5th year Potions with Slytherin and Gryffindor.

He greeted them with a few terse words of caution and warnings of impending doom towards all who would defy his instructions, and set them a Strengthening Solution to brew during the remainder of the lesson. When the students hastened to follow his orders, he took his place at the desk in front of the class and watched. His eyes settled on the girl. She showed less haste in her pace than her classmates, but rather acted with efficiency. As it was, she was quicker on her way to the storeroom and back than the surrounding dunderheads. She had all the ingredients set out and her cauldron preheating on a small flame as instructed before Longbottom had even taken out his silver knife from his book bag.

Inwardly shaking his head at the incompetence of the boy, Severus conceded to his inner voice that it was unfair to compare the girl to a complete dunderhead as Longbottom. He had almost articulated an apology – again, inwardly, of course – when he realized that the girl had started to dice her Asphodel roots with less than the absolute perfection he had come to expect from her.

Severus was across the room in the blink of an eye. Looming over her desk, he fixed the girl with a stare that would make a small dragon cower in fear. She, however, looked up at him with an expression of polite interest.

"Sir?" she asked expectantly.

The Potions Master strove to reign in his temper. How dare she act as if she didn't know what was wrong?

"Just what is it, Miss Granger," Severus questioned, his voice a deadly almost-whisper, so low that the dunderheads left and right of the girl had to visibly strain to listen in on his words, "that you think you are doing?"

Without missing a beat, the girl answered, "Dicing my Asphodel roots, sir."

Hot anger bubbled inside him, struggling to be let out to wreak its usual havoc.

"Miss Granger," he continued in the same low voice as before, "dicing Asphodel roots is something I expect my students to do correctly by Hallowe'en in their first year at Hogwarts. What you are doing here, stupid girl, is mauling precious ingredients to the point of impossible recognition. So tell me, Miss Granger," Severus leaned in to her even more deeply, until his face was only inches away from hers, "have you stuffed your brain so completely with unnecessary knowledge that some more basic abilities went lost in the process, or has this particular Asphodel root insulted your familiar?"

Finally he could see that his words invoked the desired reaction from the girl. Her eyes became glassy with unshed tears at his harsh words, and her bottom lip set into a quiver. She visibly struggled to control her emotions. What surprised him, however, was that she actually managed to do so.

Her eyes closed for a second and her bottom lip disappeared between her now normal sized front teeth to be chewed on. When she released it again, it had taken a darker red, almost cherry, delicious enough for him to desire to bite into it himself.

His breath almost stopped at the thought – where had that come from? – and he had to struggle to compose himself in the split-second it took her to open her eyes once more. When she did, determination showed in them as she met his cold stare with a warmth inappropriate in regards to the harsh words he had bestowed on her only seconds earlier.

"I apologize, Professor, for my lack of proficiency," the girl said, her voice and stance confident. "Please, sir, if you would be so kind as to demonstrate one last time how to correctly dice these roots?"

Not showing his surprise that she would not only back down and accept his criticism, but asked for his help – her, Little Miss Perfect, asking for a teacher's help -, Severus shooed her away from the table and showed her how to hold the knife and how to angle it in order to produce the desired result. (Retrospectively, he was quite taken aback that he so willingly followed her request, rather than scold her some more for her inability, and throwing in another few scathing remarks.) He then stood to the side and watched her try to do the same. When she was unable to mirror his demonstration to the letter, he stepped up until he was towering right behind her and corrected her grip on the hilt as well as the angle of her knife. He led her hand a couple of times until he was certain she would not mess up again.

In the short time necessary to insure her proficiency with the preparation of Asphodel roots, Severus became utterly confused. Standing behind the girl, he could not help breathing in the ensnaring scent of her furious mane. It smelled of slightly burned caramel and of a hazel tree in bloom. The scent reminded him of his few happy summers with Lily, and brought to the surface memories of days spent lounging in the grass in the park just around the corner.

Trying to shove the memories back to the small compartment in his mind where he stored all memories of his youth that brought him nothing but pain now, he concentrated on guiding her hand instead. Even though it admittedly helped to forget her achingly pleasant scent, it did nothing to reign in the lurch he felt at the realization that her hands were diminutive compared to his, her fingers no less agile, but her skin so much softer than his calloused hands would ever be.

It confused him to notice these things. It was nothing he would not expect from young females; soft hands and pleasant smells were, after all, just two of the many details of outer appearances that teenage girls fixated on. What entranced him was the fact that it appeared so natural on her. She did not appear to cream her hands and wash her hair in order to appeal to the dunderheads that were the males her age, but rather for practicality. Her mane was probably more easily tameable when wet, if one could call hair of her calibre tameable, and smooth hands were not only desirable in the handling of delicate potions ingredients, but could produce more effective wandwork as well.

Speaking of wandwork…

Severus groaned inwardly and stepped away from the girl as quickly as he could without raising suspicion. He did not care to count the years that had passed since he had been near a woman who could evoke such a reaction from him without even trying. It had obviously been too long, otherwise he would not be so glad of his billowing robes that hid the exact outline of his body as he was now.

Electing to escape her presence, he bellowed, "Ten points from Gryffindor, for inadequacy in the basic abilities of the preparation of ingredients", and strode to his desk again. He tried to ignore the surge of guilt he felt as she heard her whispered 'thank you, sir' as he left. After all, why would she thank him for deducting points from her House?

From his vantage point at the front of the dungeons, he scanned the work desks of the other students. The Potions Master sighed inwardly at what he saw there, and began to make his rounds along the tables to prevent and, if too late for that, punish any fooleries his students would commit.

When he walked along the line of desks in front of hers, he could not help but flick his eyes towards her. She was busy ignoring the numerous requests for help from her friends, and seemed unaware of the blush that had crept from her cheekbones downwards until it vanished underneath the collar of her high-necked, buttoned up blouse.

Severus was surprised at the lack of pleasure he felt at the fact that she was still bothered by his comments several long minutes afterwards. Usually it put him into a joyous mood to see the aftermath of the destructive effect he had on many of his students. To see her discomfiture at his harsh words, however, did nothing to elate him in the usual way. The only pleasure he now took from her sight was the knowledge that he had been the one to cause a rupture in her usually pristine appearance (excluding her wild mane). He wondered what she would look like if he was to install the same passion in her that her furious hair hinted at.

Struggling to get his thoughts back into line, Severus spent the rest of the lesson on auto pilot, mechanically going through the motions of stalking his class and deducting points where possible. All the while he tried to sort his mind into the compartments he usually kept it in, orderly and sorted, and nowhere near any of the physical attributes of the Granger girl and the responses he might elicit from her depending on how he handled her. No, he would not go down that path that led to the certain crossing from the safe setting of a student-teacher-authority into the anarchic chaos of impropriety.

He appeared unable, however, to shake off the thought that he still had to get to the ground of her change in behaviour. He made a decision that he elected to categorize as quick-thinking and cunning worthy of a Slytherin, rather than brash and blunt as only a Gryffindor could be. To his usual dismissal of the class, almost as an afterthought, he added, "Miss Granger, a word."

He watched her shoo the two pestering dunderheads that circled around her like only lazy parasites around an overly generous host with too large a brain could, as she stuffed the last of her belongings into her book back and made her way towards him. There she stood, only a few feet away from him, her back straight and her eyes looking straight into his.

"Sir?" she questioned, curious.

The Potions Master fixed her with one of his infamous stares, willing her to spill the secret of her behaviour. He purposely stretched the silence between them and took no little pleasure from her increasing fidgeting under his intense gaze. He had schooled his features into a mask devoid of expression but knew from experience that she would be feeling as if she had done something wrong, as all students did sooner or later if they had the dubious fortune of becoming the centre of his attention.

When she had nervously worried and subsequently straightened out the hem of her school skirt (statutory length, unlike the shortened skirts of most of the other girls her age, he noticed), Severus chose to break the silence.

"What is it you want from me, Miss Granger?"

The temperature dropped, both in his voice and his eyes, causing the room to appear even colder than it usually was. He noticed the shiver running through the girl's body, the skin of her legs breaking out in goose bumps, starting at her ankles and climbing up her smooth calves, transitioning into a tremor barely visible in what he assumed to be a flat stomach behind a straight-tailored blouse that revealed less than the males around her – not him, never him – might have been interested in, resulting in a short trembling of her bottom lip until even her normally furious hair appeared a little subdued. What he had not considered the cold atmosphere to cause was the considerable tightening of her nipples, visible through the thin fabrics of her bra and blouse.

Severus swallowed. The motion seemed thicker to him than it had any reason to be, but he felt secure in the knowledge it would not show outwardly. Certainly the girl would not notice anything as she was far too worried by his words.

"Sir?" she asked again, now hesitant and cautious. "I – I don't believe I understand –"

"Do you take me for a fool, Miss Granger?" Snape thundered. "Do you honestly believe I would not notice?"

Her voice barely a whisper, her expression now one of confusion, the haunted look of a mouse in the paws of a lion – Severus sneered at the metaphor relating to him as a lion –, she said, "I would never believe you to be a fool, Professor, but I'm afraid I don't know what you are referring to."

Severus grew deadly silent. The girl's eyes darted around the room, looking anywhere but at him, unable to meet his penetrating stare. He took it as a sign of admission of her guilt, but would not be content until he heard her confession. He needed to get to the ground of this.

"Miss Granger," he articulated, every letter falling from his lips with well-measured malice, "do not lie to me."

Seeing her on the brink of interrupting him, he cut her off.

"You will listen to me now, and then you will answer. Do you understand?"

She nodded, her expression one of dread, and he continued.

"Do not believe I did not notice everything. I grant you, you were almost subtle which is quite a feat in a Gryffindor and defies the brutish bluntness I usually get from members of your House. A greeting here, a smile there, a 'thank you' when I deducted points; never too forward, but doubt not, Miss Granger –" here he leaned forward, until his eyes were at the same level as hers, now transfixed in his gaze, "– that I noticed it all. What you will tell me now is to what end you chose to change your behaviour."

It was not a question, and they both knew it. He saw her swallow thickly, her eyes still displaying fear but at the same time more than hinting at the rapid workings of her brain as she struggled to compose herself and articulate an answer to his not-a-question.

"I apologize," she finally began, "for any discomfort my actions may have brought you, Professor."

Snape snorted at that and she jumped at the derisive sound, but continued with the same stupid bravery he hated, yet in this instance counted on.

"I merely wish to extend to you the courtesy and respect you are due, not only in your position as an esteemed teacher at one of the greatest schools in wizardom and established academic, but also in the light of you being" – she hesitated – "somebody who earned Albus Dumbledore's complete trust."

He inwardly grimaced at her less than subtle hint at his Order membership, knowing full well that she was unaware of the extent to which that membership went, including his position of a double agent between the two most powerful magical madmen of their time. His intense observation of her did not waver and prompted her into speaking once more.

"I admire not only your vast intellect, but the magnitude of your power as well. I wish to learn from you, sir. I admit to be at fault for not realizing earlier how much respect we owe you, both for saving our lives multiple times throughout the last few years and for impressing your knowledge upon us. I apologize for that, as well, sir. I believe to have come to a better understanding of how great a wizard you are. I know that I am unable to make amends for the years that we met you with less than respect, but I truly wish to better myself and treat you with all the esteem you are due."

The girl fell silent once more. Severus fought to contain the rage – mostly at her continued use of 'we', as if Potter and Weasley suddenly decided to show him some respect as well – that had bubbled almost to the surface, threatening to spill over and turn the room into a torrid hell. He calmed his voice not to betray the scathing fury boiling inside him. In fact, he calmed it down to such a low tone that the girl had to strain her ears to hear his words.

"I thought you said you did not take me for a fool, Miss Granger," he hissed.

Before she could open her mouth to spill any more of her preposterous declarations, Severus continued.

"Did you really think I would fall for any of your lies? Believe any of that nonsense you just concocted? No," he whispered scathingly, seeing her choke on the protestations she had been about to raise, "enough. Not only have you failed to answer my question honestly, but you had the gall to bring up the fact that your little friends owe me their lives over and over again, and that you three being here has forced me into the displeasure of teaching you."

The girl kept her mouth firmly closed, Severus noted with satisfaction. His admonishments not to interrupt and contradict him seemed to have taken root in the girl's mind, enabling her to control her tongue and hold her mouth. Nonetheless, he could still see her mentally opening and closing her mouth, miming a stranded fish gasping for air, much as she was caught in her lies and grasping for more convincing arguments.

Severus knew all her stated reasons for her change in behaviour to be wrong. Too often had he seen her give in to her friends complaining about his lessons. Too often had he caught her scowl at the fact that she knew nothing of why Dumbledore trusted him. Too often had she taken the easy way into believing him to be some kind of villain.

It was true; she was the one of the thrice-damned trio to at least try and uphold some modicum of respect towards him, or at least the appearance of such, but he could not believe her to be serious about that. No. The Granger girl was simply too rule-abiding to publicly disrespect him. That did not make her words anymore true, though.

"Detention, Miss Granger. Five days."

The girl gasped. He knew she never got detention for her own trespasses. Although, Severus was of the opinion that receiving detention for trying to keep the other dunderheads from getting into even more trouble than they would if left to their own devices was singularly stupid of her and for that alone she deserved any detention she was assigned. The Potions Master knew, of course, that she had never gotten this amount of detention before. To say that it pleased him to no end to be the one to punish her to this extent would be an understatement.

"One week, sir?" she asked, incredulous.

"While I commend your grasp of the simpler aspects of the calculation of times, Miss Granger," Severus sneered, "you will not receive one week of attention. This is supposed to be a punishment for you, not me, and being forced into your presence for five subsequent evenings is something I do not wish to impose upon myself. While it is true that I could simply hand you over to Mr Filch, I have no desire to do so, either.

"No," and at this he chuckled darkly, watching the dread return to her eyes with a force, "you will repent for your lies. You will come to my classroom every Monday after dinner for the rest of the month, starting tonight, and additionally this Thursday after dinner. Five evenings of detention will hopefully cure you of the urge to outrageously lie to my face at every opportunity."

Watching her struggle for both an answer and some much needed air brought no little pleasure to Severus. He would be able to put her into place over the time of her duration; he would see to that.

"Go," he whispered.

She took only the split of a second to compose herself, failing at that, and fled the dungeon. Seeing her leave, Severus sighed.

Damn the girl and her magnificent behind.

Coming up: Chapter three, wherein a decision is found and a request is made.