Hello again everyone. Apologies as I know it has been well over a week now since my last chapter – Christmas and all that you know. I hope everyone is having a good festive season!

Happy reading!

Chapter 5: Me? Detention? Never!

The next morning Esmerelda found upon arrival into the Great Hall that the Gryffindor table was more subdued than normal. Whether this was a direct result of the Quidditch match, or the fact that there were quite a few Butterbeer-inflicted sore heads out there after last night, she wasn't entirely sure. She figured it was most likely a combination of the two. When she sat down and tried to initiate a conversation with her cousin, her assumption was confirmed.

"You don't know of any potions or spells that can cure a hangover by any chance, do you?" Harry enquired.

"Not that I'm aware of," she replied. "Although, that seems like a massive oversight on my part that promptly needs correcting. Hermione may know of one. We can ask her when she materialises. Where is she anyway?"

Ron answered her question. "She was up and headed to the library at 6 this morning according to Ginny." He rolled his eyes.

"Well at least one of us is feeling alright this morning," George muttered, his head drooping so low over the table that it was in danger of falling into his eggs.

"I'm not sure I can face double potions this morning while feeling this dreadful," Esmerelda stated glumly.

"Oh Merlin, I forgot about that," Ron said. "Snape's unbearable at the best of times let alone when I'm this hungover."

"I suppose we should probably head over there now. Don't want to give Snape any reason to start yelling. I'm feeling very sensitive to loud noises right now," Harry said.

"At least we'll be in the dungeon," Ron replied. "No chance of bright lights triggering a headache."

Esmerelda moaned as she stood up. "I suppose that's one way of looking at it."

…

Unlike her friends, Esmerelda didn't really hate potions all that much. In fact, she actually kind of enjoyed it. Admittedly, Snape was intense, which seemed to rile up her fellow Gryffindors, and he clearly had his favourites, but she loved the creativity involved in potion-making. Today, however, she was not quite feeling one hundred percent. Admittedly, it was all entirely self-inflicted, as it was her idea to bring out the Butterbeer, but she could still feel sorry for herself nonetheless.

By forty-five minutes into the lesson, Esmerelda was flagging. She turned and saw that next to her, Harry was looking very green, and very much like he may be sick at any moment. To her left, Ron wasn't looking much better. The late night and overemotional day yesterday, coupled with the effect of the Butterbeer, had left her feeling exhausted. There's no harm in shutting my eyes for just a second, she thought to herself. Just while Snape's droning on about the multiple uses for bubotuber pus.

As she dozed, half asleep, she could feel Ron and Harry both elbowing her as, unknown to her, Snape strutted over to where the three were sitting. As he approached the table, he dropped a large and heavy copy of Moste Potente Potions onto Esmerelda's desk, jolting her awake.

"Miss Evans, am I boring you?"

"Professor," she stuttered. "I'm so sorry. I had a late night and I just shut my eyes for a second and…"

"Most unfortunate, Miss Evans," he interrupted, "but that does not give you the right to fall asleep during my lesson. As you clearly don't seem to respect my time, I will be taking some of yours. Detention this evening in my office. 7 o clock." And with that, Snape continued his lesson. Next to her, while still looking thoroughly ill, Ron and Harry shot her sympathetic smiles.

…..

After dinner, Esmerelda split off from the others, who all wished her luck, and headed down towards the dungeons to see what Snape had in store for her. She followed the corridors lower and lower into the castle until she reached Snape's office. She raised her hand to knock, then lowered it as she heard muffled conversation coming from within the office. From where she stood, Esmerelda could hear two voices, one assumedly Snape's, but the other was unidentifiable.

Quickly looking round to ensure no one was nearby, she pressed her ear closer to Snape's office door.

"So you are unable to explain to me how you came to be trusted with the position of Potions Master here at Hogwarts when it is widely known within the ministry that you were once associated with He Who Must Not Be Named and his supporters," Esmerelda heard a shrill voice ask, in an exasperated manner. It seems that this conversation had been going on for some time.

"As you are well aware, Dolores," Snape's drawling voice replied, "Dumbledore has publicly declared his faith in my loyalties and has supported and backed me despite criticism on a number of occasions."

"Hmm, yes," Umbridge replied, unconvinced. She clearly did not hold much faith in Dumbledore's opinion of Snape. "I still find it difficult to understand how Dumbledore could hire somebody who so many believed to be associated with the Death Eaters, and despite the Ministry's insistence…"

"Well luckily for myself, the Ministry has no say over the staffing at Hogwarts," Snape replied. Esmerelda could tell that Snape was becoming increasingly infuriated, as the tone of his voice became more hostile.

"For now," Umbridge added, indicating that this was the end of their conversation.

Esmerelda could hear the sound of clicking heels approaching the other side of the door. Instantly, she took a step back and raised her hand as if intending to knock on the office door in front of her. A second later, the door swung open, and Umbridge shrieked as she unexpectedly came face to face with Esmerelda.

"Good evening, Professor," Esmerelda said with a smirk.

"What are you doing here?" Umbridge barked back. She eyed her up and down. "It's Miss Evans, isn't it?"

"I think you'll find that she's here to see me," Snape added sharply, approaching the doorframe.

He beckoned Esmerelda into his office, and she stepped past Umbridge and into the room.

Snape turned back to Umbridge, a sneer appearing on his face. "If that is all, I think you had best be away Dolores. Evans has a busy evening of cauldron cleaning ahead of her."

Umbridge didn't have time to think of a response, as a second later, Snape had slammed the door shut, leaving the grumbling woman staring wide-eyed in his wake.

"I hope you don't mind me saying, but that was amazing Sir," Esmerelda stated, taking a seat at the table nearest Snape's desk.

She thought she glimpsed a slight hint of a smile as the corner of Snape's mouth curved upwards for the briefest of moments. He quickly realised himself, however, and it was soon replaced by the usual scowl that took residence there.

"Yes, yes, alright. We haven't got all night, Evans. The cauldrons are in front of you. They all need to be spotlessly clean...and you can put your wand away," Esmerelda had grabbed her wand from the inside pocket of her robes, "as you'll be cleaning the old-fashioned muggle way," he finished.

Esmerelda frowned. It wasn't that she was unused to cleaning without magic, she had grown up in the muggle world after all, it was just that she absolutely hated scrubbing. As a child, she would always try to get out any scrubbing-related cleaning. It was just so terribly boring. And it always resulted in sore hands. Give her a hoover any day.

Snape ensured that she was on task before sitting down at his desk to carry on with what looked to Esmerelda to be marking.

Almost an hour later, she was thoroughly bored, and her hands were beginning to ache. She was also unaccustomed to working in complete silence. Apart from the scrubbing of bristles against copper and the intermittent scratching of Snape's quill on parchment, the room was quiet. And it was unsettling.

"Sir," she started inquisitively.

Snape only grunted. Esmerelda took this as a sign to continue.

"What are you marking?"

Snape looked up and eyed her curiously. "Miss Evans, if you are trying to distract me in an attempt to shirk your cleaning responsibilities, it is not going to work."

"That's not what I'm trying to do," she said honestly, with a small smile. "I'm just curious."

Snape squinted, as if analysing her.

"Look," she continued as she motioned to the cauldron in front of her, "I can talk and clean at the same time."

The smallest of smiles graced Snape's face for the second time that evening.

He didn't respond, so Esmerelda took that as a sign to carry on with her cleaning in silence. A few minutes passed, in which she had spent trying to scrub a particularly stubborn bit of a dried purple potion off of her cauldron, when she was jolted out of her thoughts.

"I'm marking fifth-year essays," Snape said suddenly. "On the advantages and disadvantages of Everlasting Elixirs."

"Oh," she said. She remembered the afternoon spent in the library with Hermione writing these particular essays. She had been surprised by how much she had enjoyed researching the intriguing potions.

"Unfortunately, the vast majority are rather uninspiring and appear to have been copied almost directly from a textbook," he frowned.

Esmerelda saw him scratching out large sections of the essay in front of him and scribbling notes at the top. She grimaced. I hope that's not my essay.

As if reading her mind, Snape said, "Don't worry, Miss Evans, this spectacularly dreadful piece of writing is not your own." Esmerelda relaxed slightly. "Although, I think perhaps you may want to tell Mr. Weasley that if he wants to pass his OWLS he may want to stay thinking about putting some effort into his school work."

Esmerelda frowned. Although Snape wasn't wrong, she felt for Ron. She wasn't much better than he or Harry when it came to schoolwork, it just so happened that Potions was a subject she had quite a bit of interest in, unlike her two friends.

"Dare I ask how mine is looking, Professor?" she enquired. She turned her attention back to her cauldron in case Snape thought she was becoming too distracted. Glancing up, she saw that Snape was rifling through his pile of essays.

"I am unable to tell you what mark I have given you for this Evans, as that would be unfair to your classmates, so you will have to wait until the next lesson like the others."

Esmerelda nodded. She'd figured as much.

"However," he continued, "I will say that you obviously have a proclivity for Potions that I hope you continue to pursue."

Esmerelda smiled. "I hope to, if I get an Outstanding in my OWLs, that it," she said. "That's what you require, isn't it? To continue at NEWT level?"

Snape nodded. "It is. However, if you continue to put in the effort, I see no reason why you shouldn't achieve what you need."

"Thank you, sir," she replied.

"Yes, well carry on with your cauldron now, we don't want to be here all night," he said, turning his attention back to his marking.

Esmerelda grinned to herself, grabbing the scrubber and setting back to work on her cauldron.

…..

Almost three hours later, she slumped down in an armchair in front of the fire and soon after felt someone perch on the arm of her chair. She glanced over and saw Harry sitting next to her.

"You're late back."

"Snape had me scrubbing cauldrons," she said. She rested her head against the back of the armchair. She could have fallen asleep there if Harry hadn't been talking to her.

"Sound awfully exciting," Harry replied sarcastically.

"Yeah, best night ever," she added. She looked at her hands, which were red and swollen. "Ow, my hands." She pouted dramatically, and Harry lifted one of her hands in his.

"I think you'll survive," he said jokingly.

Esmerelda laughed.

"Snape wasn't too horrible?" Harry enquired.

"No, he was alright," Esmerelda replied.

"Really?" Harry asked, surprised. "That's good then. Sounds like it could have been a lot worse. At least it wasn't detention with Umbridge." Harry shuddered at the thought.

Suddenly, Esmerelda felt bad for even complaining at all. Of course her detention hadn't been nearly as bad as the ones Harry had had to endure with Umbridge this year.

"How is your hand, Harry? Let me have a look at it." Harry's most recent detention with Umbridge had meant that the spot where he had first been forced to carve into his hand had been reopened. Just the thought of it made Esmerelda tear up and hate for Umbridge filled her with rage. She preoccupied herself by examining Harry's hand. The redness had improved, especially once Hermione had found some salve to put on it that helped with the healing process. The scars were deep, however, and Esmerelda reckoned they'd be there for a while still.

"I'll be alright," he said valiantly. "I just think about how every time the DA meets, we'll be fighting back, a bit at a time."

"Absolutely," Esmerelda said. Harry's bravery amazed her sometimes. She wished she was that strong. Sometimes she thought that maybe she wasn't a very good Gryffindor after all.

"Ooh I forgot to tell you," she said, changing the subject. "As I arrived at detention, I overheard a conversation between Snape and Umbridge. She was questioning him about his past and his associations with the Death Eaters and Voldemort. It sounded as if she was digging for information about him or about Dumbledore…I'm not entirely sure as I'd clearly missed part of the conversation, but she was definitely interested in the circumstances surrounding Dumbledore's decision to hire him."

They'd known about Snape's past, as Harry had uncovered information in Dumbledore's pensieve last year. He'd asked them to keep it to themselves, as although many of the older generation may have had their suspicions about Snape, most of the students were unaware.

"That's interesting," replied Harry. "I wonder why she cares so much. I mean Snape's trial was more than a decade ago, why is she bringing all of this up again now?"

"I don't know," Esmerelda said. "However, when Snape stated that Dumbledore's decisions on staffing were none of her concern as the Ministry don't have any influence at Hogwarts, she replied with 'for now'."

Harry frowned.

"Do you think the Ministry are trying to take Hogwarts under their control? I mean Hermione did think they would try and exert some influence through Umbridge but…"

"It's definitely possible," Harry said. "It certainly sounds like it. We'll just have to keep our ears to the ground…"

"Or to Snape's door," Esmerelda interrupted.

Harry smiled. "Or to Snape's door, to see what else we can find out."

Esmerelda nodded and then yawned.

"Harry, I think I'm going to have to head off to bed now else I think I'll end up falling asleep right here."

Harry stood up from the armchair too. "No problem, I'll see you at breakfast. I'm just finishing off a bit of homework and then I'll be going up too. Goodnight Esmerelda."

"Goodnight, Harry."

As she was walking up the stairs to her dormitory, she was replaying the night's events in her head. Overhearing Umbridge and Snape's conversation and what the Ministry might be plotting; her upcoming OWLS and her chat with Snape about Potions and her future; the discussion she'd just had with Harry and their plans for the next DA session. Esmerelda was preoccupied with these thoughts when she collided with someone who was coming down the stairs.

"Sorry!" she yelped. She looked up to see who it was that she had bumped into, and her eyes locked with the warm, brown ones of Fred Weasley.

"Hello there," Fred said jokingly. "Funny running into you."

"Funnier that we only seem to meet each other like this when it's very late at night," Esmerelda replied.

"True," Fred replied. "More romantic though, don't you think?" He wiggled his eyebrows. She could see that Fred was joking with her, but that didn't stop her stomach from fluttering when he said it.

Esmerelda rolled her eyes but smiled. "How ever do you resist me?"

Fred changed the subject. "You were out late," he stated.

Esmerelda looked curiously at him.

"You weren't in the common room tonight," he elaborated.

"Ah. You noticed?"

Even in the darkness of the stairwell, she could see him redden. He continued, "Well, you are quite loud, so I'm bound to notice when you're not there. It was lovely and quiet tonight actually. I managed to get some work done. Maybe you should go out more often."

She shoved him playfully. Fred stumbled slightly and placed one hand on the wall to steady himself. The other grabbed around her waist. Esmerelda noticed the position that they were now in, and felt her own cheeks redden. She stared at his lips, which were at least a good six inches higher up than her own. Half of her hoped that he would lean down and plant his lips on hers. The other half wanted to run up to her dormitory, climb into bed, and never show her face again. She felt Fred's grip on her waist tighten and his body move closer to her own. She closed her eyes, anticipating the feeling of his body pressed against hers.

Suddenly, she heard a noise coming from the bottom of the staircase. She could hear Harry whistling as he was making his way up to bed. Shit. Harry had made the decision for her. She pulled away from Fred, hastily bid him goodnight, and ran up to her room. As she opened the door and made her way in, she turned and saw that Fred was still standing where she had left him. He was leaning against the wall, running his hands through his hair, looking thoroughly confused. She felt much the same.

….

(A/N)

So, what do we think of the characterisation of Snape here? I wanted to show a bit of a softer side of him in this story, as he is a complex character (definitely not a big fan of Snape's behaviour in the books).

Also….a bit of romance is in the air! – with Fred that is (not Snape haha).