Author's note: Please note that, when we wrote this, we were intending to thread in some Hermione/Snape. It didn't go quite as planned, and we were too lazy to try and edit it all out. This story really does need some severe editing by someone who doesn't like it as much as we do...
Disclaimer: Yes, I am JK Rowling. Honestly! I'm sitting here writing fanfiction for the story I made far too much money from, putting these out for free instead of making yet more money. Right. That makes sense, doesn't it?
--Tamara

I was on time for the next extra class. Professor Snape hadn't said anything last time, but I knew that being late again would not be tolerated. I wasn't first, but only Granger was there before me. She didn't look at me, completely absorbed in the ingredients on Professor Snape's desk. I glanced at them, saw nothing that I couldn't identify, and sighed slightly. The class had sounded interesting on paper, but if we weren't going to be using anything that I wasn't familiar with, there would be no point in continuing to take it. I supposed that it was only the second class, though. If we were going to use advanced ingredients, we'd probably start a little later on. I hoped we got there soon. Granger looked around, having finished looking at the ingredients, and her eyes met mine. I glared, and she looked away.

The rest of the class filed in soon after. The Ravenclaw Patil sat next to Granger again, and the two began to talk quietly. Once again, I was the only one with no desk mate, but I supposed that it didn't matter. I wouldn't have consented to sit with anyone other than a Slytherin anyway, so the fact that there were an odd number of students didn't matter. I knew that I would be the odd one out when it came to pairings, as well. I am very skilled at ignoring the little voice in my head that tells me that I'm secretly jealous of the others for having more friends. I do have friends, after all.

Professor Snape stalked into the classroom moments later, and everyone shut up. He was scowling horribly, and I felt sorry for whomever it was who'd gotten the lowest score on the assessment. It never even occurred to me that I would be that person. Without preamble, he sent the tests flying back to their owners. I caught mine, and looked at it. I'd finished, and I thought that I'd done fairly well. By his standards, at least. I flipped to the last page, noting the answers that he'd circled, and looked at my grade. E. Not bad at all, but not as well as I'd hoped. I told myself that I shouldn't have expected an O from Professor Snape, but I was still disappointed. I wondered what Granger had gotten, and hoped that it wasn't an O. That would be just too much. After giving everyone thirty seconds to absorb their scores, Professor Snape said, "I was quite disappointed with the scores. I had expected much more from this class. All of you will do better next time, or you will be removed from my class. Do I make myself clear?"

Everyone nodded, and he scowled even more. "As I stated last class, you will be paired up. The pairings are on the board." He waved his wand, and the chalk lifted and began to write quickly in his practically illegible scrawl. "You will move to sit with your partners without making any undo noise."

I strained to read what the board said, though I didn't expect anything to apply to me. The chalk got to my name… and kept writing after it! I frowned, and wondered if I was imagining the name I saw appearing next to my own. A quick glance across the classroom showed me that I wasn't. With a scowl, Granger scooped up her books and dropped them next to me. She turned her back, and looked across the rest of the room. Patil gave her a pained look, and Granger returned it. Patil herself was paired with Bones. Smith ended up next to Brocklehurst, and Boot was the one left partnerless. This didn't appear to disturb him, and he spread his books out across the entire desk area. Professor Snape gave us two more seconds, then said, "These assignments are final. There will be no changing, and if you do not agree with my choice, you will leave this classroom immediately." No one moved, not even Granger.

"I expect all of you to know what is on my desk. Smith, what is this?" He pointed to what I recognized as being a Diricawl egg.

Smith looked at it carefully, then looked down. "I don't know, sir," he said quietly.

Professor Snape sniffed. "Malfoy?"

I grinned at Smith nastily. "It's a Diricawl egg, Professor."

He turned on Boot. "Uses?"

Boot quietly recited the uses of the egg, sounding exactly like Granger would have if she'd been asked and, oddly enough, the book with the description inside. I'd read that book too.

He continued to quiz the students randomly, until all of us had answered several questions. Smith knew the rest of the answers, but we all knew that he would be writing at least one essay to be handed in for the next class.

When he'd finished testing us, Professor Snape instructed us to open our books. We did so, and found the recipe for Veritaserum. All at once, I realized that the class would be worthwhile after all. My father couldn't even make that! I scanned the recipe, and noted the rare ingredients. Not something that one could make at home, then. And it needed two people to make properly. I sighed. "Get the ingredients, Granger," I snapped. She looked like she was about to argue, but glanced over at Professor Snape and shut her mouth. She rose and walked over to the supply cupboard, while I lit the fire and set my cauldron on the stand above it. She returned with the needed items, and pushed half of them over to me. In silence, we prepared what we needed, and began to place them in the cauldron. It was already half full of boiling water, and Granger dropped the sliced Diricawl eggs in one at a time, allowing each piece to disintegrate before putting the next in.

It got trickier when we got to the two person parts, though. I could see that she thought that she'd have to demand that I stir, and I grinned mentally. I do so love surprising people. I picked up the stick and placed it in the light yellow liquid without being asked. Her eyebrows lifted, but she didn't comment, sprinkling the powdered moonstone into the potion as I stirred. She took over the stirring, matching my cadence perfectly as I raised the temperature of the fire. She continued to stir, not missing or faltering for the next three minutes. I continued for the next three, and so on, until we'd reached the proscribed fifteen. I was amazed at the ease with which we worked together, though neither of us uttered a word. We seemed to know exactly what the other needed, and we did it without waiting to be told. It was an odd sensation, almost like with a twin… or a lover. I quickly banished that thought.

By the end of the class, our potion was the most advanced. Professor Snape looked at it briefly, then nodded. He didn't assign any points to me, but he didn't take any away from Granger either, so I supposed that it was a decent potion. I gathered up my books and closed my copy of Advanced Magic for the Overachieving Wizard and left the class. I didn't wait for Granger, but I realized that she might actually be a tolerable partner after all. I supposed that Professor Snape had known that when he assigned the pairings.

Blaise was waiting for me at the entrance of the common room. We spoke the password, and stepped through the resulting door together. "Where's Pansy?" I asked as the wall reformed behind us.

"She's studying," Blaise said, grimacing.

I raised an eyebrow. "Studying? Has she been corrupted?"

He shrugged. "No idea. She swears that she's going to beat Granger in the next Transfiguration exam."

I rolled my eyes. "She's going to cheat?"

He shook his head. "I doubt it."

"Then she doesn't stand a chance."

"And why ever not?"

"Because Granger is frighteningly brilliant, Pansy," I replied, without turning to look at her. "And if you try to beat her, you'll give up your social life completely."

"You're defending her?" she asked, mockingly. "Who would have thought?"

"I'm not defending her," I said. "I'm stating a fact. I think that the Patil twins are pretty, too. Doesn't mean that I like them."

She pouted. "Prettier than me?" she asked, looking up at me with a sickeningly over romantic look.

"Very much so," I said, grimacing. "Are you going to let us in?"

"Say you didn't mean it," she retorted. "Or just go to your own room."

I sighed. "I swear on any deity that you choose to swear on that I did not mean whatever it was that I said that insulted you. There, does that work?"

She rolled her eyes. "I won't get anything better out of you, will I?" she asked.

I shook my head, and she stood aside to let the two of us in. I dropped into one of the chairs. Blaise took the other, and Pansy lounged on her bed.

"So how did the class go?" Blaise asked.

I made a face. "They partnered me with the wonder mudblood."

Pansy snorted. "And? This when you realized that she was brilliant?"

I shook my head. "This was when I discovered that, unlike most people, she knows how to read directions." This comment was directed straight at Pansy, who'd spent two days in the Hospital Wing for failing to read the instructions on her latest tube of trial cosmetics.

She knew it, too, and shot me a dirty look. I saw her fingers creep towards her wand, and shook my head warningly. "Don't," I advised. "I'm faster than you are."

"Stop it," Blaise said. "Professor Snape won't appreciate knowing that his two sixth year prefects got into a duel."

Both of us sighed, but we removed our hands from our wands anyway.

"What are you doing over Christmas?" Pansy asked Blaise, reaching over and snagging a hairbrush from her bedside table.

Blaise shrugged. "Not much," he admitted. "I think I'll stay here and get caught up on schoolwork."

He ducked the pillow that she threw at him. "What about me?" she demanded.

"If you'll let me," he replied, tossing the pillow back onto the bed.

I could sense romance coming on, and I grimaced. "If you two are going to go all soppy," I informed them, "I will leave. Just tell me when."

Pansy fluttered her eyelashes. "You mean you don't want to watch?"

"Most certainly not!" I said emphatically. I stood, straightening my robes. "I'll be in my study if either of you have any urgent need of me." I swept out of her room and crossed the common room. The whispers hadn't died down about me yet, but I was finding them easier and easier to ignore. I muttered my password under my breath, and closed the door to my study behind me.

The house elf had been there, and I found that my pictures had been moved. Muttering obscenities, I rearranged them into order of importance, not chorological order, like the House Elf wanted so badly. I deliberately ignored the blank space where my father had been in the family pictures. He'd walked out of the frames years ago, and I didn't miss him.

As I sat down in the green chair, I wondered for the first time just what I would do over Christmas. If the scene I'd just witnessed was any judge, both Pansy and Blaise would leave, probably for his house. Blaise's parents were rarely home and, unlike Pansy's paranoid family, they didn't really care what their son did. I wondered if it bothered him that they cared so little, but there was no way I was going to ask. If Blaise wanted to give me details on his personal and family life, he would do so.

But, whether they left or not, I would not be invited. I didn't even want to be invited. Sugary romance sickens me, and, though I refuse to admit it except at times like this, it makes me just the slightest bit jealous. I don't think I'd mind if Harry said the things Pansy says to Blaise to me! But, as I am so very well aware, that is not likely to ever happen. Harry is obsessed with the Weasley girl, and then there was Chang last year. It's quite obvious where his tastes lie, and they're not in the same direction as mine. At least he consents to speak to me now.

As usual, I buried all thoughts of what I wanted with Harry under layers of self-denial and sarcasm. I know how to control my emotions, and I fight very hard to do so.

Hermione was determined not to let Malfoy ruin the experience for her. She'd taken the course because she was interested in learning more than what was usually taught in classes, and she wanted to keep it that way. Granted, it wasn't under ideal circumstances, but she would survive. He'd even been reasonably helpful when they were making the Veritaserum and he was capable of reading the instructions without her help and he knew what he needed to do. She could have done worse. Or at least, that was what she told herself.

It wasn't until the fourth class that Professor Snape announced the projects. As was usual, he chose the very end of the class to announce that all of them were expected to have come up with a topic for their end-of-year projects by the next time they met. That meant, of course, that she and Malfoy would have to get together before then. A glance in his direction made it obvious that he was looking forward to it about as much as she was.

"Write down any ideas," he snapped. "Pass them on to Potter and I'll get them."

She nodded. "Do the same," she ordered. "Though you do realize that we will have to talk eventually."

He shrugged. "Eventually. Pass the ideas on tomorrow." He gathered up his things and stormed out of the classroom.

Hermione did the same, though she walked far more slowly than he had, and Padma slowed to keep up with her. "What do you think of Snape's big plan?"

Hermione grimaced. "It would have been nice if he'd told us at the beginning of class! As it is…" she allowed the sentence to trail off, trusting Padma to catch her meaning.

Padma grimaced back, showing that she understood perfectly. "So how much will you actually have to communicate?"

Hermione sighed. "Hopefully not at all. Harry's agreed, as far as I can tell, to act as a go-between, and, if all goes well, then he will do all of the talking."

Padma looked skeptical. "Can you really do a project without talking?"

"No. I can always hope, though."

Padma laughed. "You can," she agreed. "So do you have any ideas yet?"

Hermione shrugged. "No," she admitted. "I suppose I will before tomorrow, though. At the moment, all I want to do is have a very long bath in water as hot as I can stand."

"Hard day?"

"You have no idea," Hermione said dryly. They parted company then, each going to her own common room. Hermione stayed in her dormitory only long enough to drop her books off, then did as she'd dreamed of doing and walked towards the prefect's bath. After passing through the hidden door, she dropped her clothes on the floor. They flew up by themselves, folding neatly and dropping into a pile next to the as yet empty bath. Hermione shivered as the cool air hit her newly naked body, and hurriedly turned on the water. As the bath filled, she slowly began to stretch the cramps out of her neck and arms. She groaned, half in pain and half in bliss as the pain began to crawl up her limbs. She dropped into the water, sighing in ecstasy as the water eased the residual cramps from her muscles. The water shut off automatically, and she abandoned herself to the bliss of allowing herself to mutate into a human raisin.

She didn't know how long she soaked in the bath. The water didn't appear to be cooling off any, and she could as easily have stayed there anywhere from three to six hours. Finally, though, she realized that it was way past curfew. Reluctantly, she let out the water and dried herself off with the towels that were placed around the pool. She looked at her dirty clothes with distaste. She had no desire to put on the soiled garments, but she couldn't go around naked. With a sigh, she pulled her uniform on, then her robes, vowing to drop all of them into the laundry as soon as she got back to the dormitory. Longingly, she thought of the days at her own home in the summer when she could slip completely unclothed between the clean sheets.

She shook her head, dismissing the idea. There was no way that she could do that here, what with sharing a room with two other girls. She wished yet again that she had a private study like the Slytherins. Why did they get all the good stuff?

Rather predictably, she bumped straight into Professor Snape the moment she stepped out of the bathroom. He snarled at her, and she suddenly remembered her musings of a moment ago. The thought of herself and Professor Snape en dishabille came to her unbidden, and she blushed a deep scarlet. Snape's expression didn't change.

"Need I point out that it is after curfew, Miss Granger?" he asked icily.

"No, Professor."

"Then what are you doing in the hallway?"

"Returning to Gryffindor Tower, sir."

He looked at her for a very long moment, as though trying to see the lie in her posture. She blushed harder under the scrutiny, and wondered if he could see in the dim light. The way his lips curled into a disdainful sneer said that he probably could. He didn't comment on it, though, only telling her, "Fifteen points from Gryffindor."

Hermione nodded, biting her lip in hope. Was that all he was going to do to her? No detention? It was too good to be true.

"Have you and Mr. Malfoy decided on a topic for your project?" he asked suddenly.

Hermione blinked. She hadn't been expecting that, and it took a moment for her mind to realize what he was talking about. "No," she managed finally. "No, we're going to discuss it tomorrow."

He raised his eyebrows mockingly. "And tomorrow, I suppose that you will come up with some excuse to speak the day after. And so on."

Hermione couldn't deny it.

"Miss Granger, are you quite stupid?" he burst out suddenly.

She blinked, taken aback. Then, she processed what he'd actually said, and felt herself getting angry. "What do you mean, Sir?" she asked, grinding out the last word more out of habit than actual respect.

"You are taking a gift and throwing it away with your petty house squabbles," he seethed.

She waited for him to continue, biting her tongue nearly in two to stop herself from retaliating with something equally cutting. That would only result in yet more house points lost and probably a detention as well.

"Mr. Malfoy is a highly capable wizard, and he would be an exceptional partner, if you would allow him to," Snape told her, in a highly patronizing voice, that managed to slip in rather a lot of venom.

"It's not my fault," Hermione burst out, unable to stop herself. The moment the words were out of her lips, she realized that she sounded just like the petulant child that he'd implied with his tone. She ground her teeth together in frustration. None of the other teachers did this to her! Why did Snape make her lose her wits completely?

"Is it not?" he demanded. "I do not see you attempting to breach the gap."

"He's made it quite plain that he wants nothing to do with me," Hermione said stiffly, wondering just how many house points she was losing. She supposed that, given Professor McGonagall's earlier point-taking spree, she was just finishing the job of making sure that Gryffindor wasn't even in the running for the House Cup.

Snape's face had gone tight with highly controlled fury. His deep, expressionless black eyes bored into her frightened brown ones, and she felt the full power of his anger. She shrank back, wishing that she could just fall through the floor.

"Mr. Malfoy has grown up believing that he must emulate his father in every way," Snape said icily. "Unless he is taught differently, he will indeed become precisely like that man. Unless you wish for an extremely powerful opponent, one who knows you and your little friends well enough to be able to identify each and every weakness, you will make it to his advantage not to turn into his father."

Hermione was left speechless. Snape glared more at her, then added, "Ten points from Gryffindor." He turned and strode away. Without turning back, he added, "No one has yet succeeded in reproducing Nicholas Flamel's more obscure work."

Hermione watched him go, thunderstruck. What kind of man was he, to deliver such a crushing insult in one breath, and then give her suggestions with the next. Did he…? Then she shook herself. Hard. He was worried about Malfoy. He wanted Malfoy to get a good grade. She was only a necessary irritation. But he had talked to her, and, though he'd been nasty and cruel about it, he'd given her a perfect research topic.

She walked slowly back to the Gryffindor common room, sill in a daze. She spoke the password without realizing it, and passed through the portrait hole. She climbed the stairs to the dormitory, undressed, pulled on her nightgown, and fell into bed. She dreamed of deep black eyes and billowing robes. The next morning, she disappeared into the library to research Nicholas Flamel.

Harry slipped me a note at the beginning of Transfiguration. I spread it out inside my textbook, hiding it as well as I could. I suspect that one of the girls, Brown, perhaps, could have done a much better job than me, but I don't have years of practice of hiding notes in class; I did what I could. As I listened to McGonagall lecture with half an ear, I unfolded Granger's note and began to read. As I got farther and farther into the note, I felt my eyebrows rising up steadily higher until they vanished behind my hairline. This was certainly unexpected. I wondered just who she'd been talking to.

Granger's ideas were about poisons. She mentioned Nicholas Flamel, but I had had no idea that Flamel had done anything but work on the Philosopher's Stone. Apparently I had been wrong. The project that she'd outlined in her small, meticulous handwriting detailed all of the known muggle chemical poisonous compounds, as well as the wizarding ones. What she suggested was to combine them and come up with something both deadly and unnoticeable. I wondered where she'd gotten the guts to suggest it. If she was willing to do it, though, I was more than willing to go through with it. It sounded quite fascinating, actually.

Granger waited with Harry as the rest of the class filed out. McGonagall gave her a sharp look, but Granger murmured a few words, and the Transfiguration teacher swept out without saying a word. Finally, it was just the three of us. The atmosphere was rather tense, and I wondered just how long Granger would intrude. I wanted time to talk with Harry, and I knew perfectly well that neither one of us would allow ourselves to relax while Granger was here.

"I take it you got the note," she said finally, probably more to break the silence than anything else. She knew perfectly well that I'd gotten and read it.

"Yes."

She waited, obviously expecting me to continue. When I didn't say anything, she prompted. "And?"

"If you have the courage to go through with it, Granger, then I will be available to assist you."

"That's not good enough," she snapped. "If we're going to do this, then you have to be willing to do your part. All of your part."

I sighed. "As I said, if you are brave enough to go all the way, then I will do what is required of me."

"And just what do you mean, 'all the way'?" she demanded.

I raised an ironic eyebrow. "Do you not intend to try it out?"

She turned pale. "Certainly not!"

"Then what is the point of even attempting?"

"Scholarly curiosity," she said, but her voice sounded a little weak. I wondered just how much she'd thought through this.

I shrugged. "If you discover your mixture, Granger, then someone else will use it. That is the way of the world."

"I don't have to accept that," she whispered fiercely.

I looked at her witheringly. "Do you think that you will have a choice in the matter? If you discover it, then people will learn, and the mixture will be used. If you aren't willing to face the consequences, then I suggest that you find a different topic."

Her face took on a determined aspect. "I'm not going to give up," she said, and her voice had regained some strength. "You can help me or not, that's up to you. But I intend to learn about this."

I shrugged. "Then I will do what is required. Will you leave now?"

She scowled fiercely. "Are you going to make me do all the work or not?" she snapped. "Because I won't!"

"Working with Weasley all these years, you would think that you were used to doing someone else's work," I pointed out.

"I don't do Ron's homework for him, and I certainly won't do yours!" she seethed. I thought that she would supplement that with an obscure threat, but she was smart enough to realize how little effect it would have.

I didn't answer her. Her face started to turn slightly red with anger, and I wondered if she was going to punch me again. It had hurt! "You will do your half of the work," she said lividly, "or I will personally see to it that you receive the worst grade in the class, Slytherin or not."

I raised an eyebrow. "And just how do you intend to do that?" I asked lazily.

She glared at me, and her right hand flew towards her wand. "There are ways," she informed me. "So, will you do it, or will I have to get you kicked out of the class?"

I sighed melodramatically. "I'll work."

"Good." Her hand moved back to her stack of books.

"So will you leave us alone now?" I demanded.

She nodded, whirled, and walked stiffly out of the classroom. Both Harry and I watched her go. When she'd slammed the door shut, Harry asked me, "So what was that all about?"

I shrugged. "You heard it as well as I did," I pointed out.

"Yes, but what was the point of all the stubbornness? You could just have told her you'd do the work."

"I did," I reminded him. "She just refused to listen."

He sighed. "Go easy on her, will you?"

"Why?" I demanded. "No one else will."

"Because she's not used to people like you."

"And you are?"

He shrugged. "Having grown up around my cousin, I'd have to say that I can take more than a bit of sarcasm."

"Everyone needs to learn to take it eventually," I pointed out.

"Eventually," he agreed. "But it's easier to be introduced into it gently."

I sighed, but didn't argue. I would do it, for his sake. I thought that he was doing her a disservice, as well as underestimating her capacity for taking abuse, but I chose not to mention that. Instead, I shrugged my acquiescence and turned to my Literature essay. I wrote for a while, then looked up to find him staring out the window into seemingly empty space. I was suddenly, unstoppably reminded of that detention so long ago. The one where he'd completely gone insane and started screaming his head off. I'd wondered about that for a while now, and I was gripped with an irresistible desire to know the truth. I took a deep breath.

"Harry?" I asked hesitantly, wondering for a moment just why I thought that I was brave enough to ask this question.

"Yes?"

"What were you so mad about? You know, before?"

He frowned, then seemed to realize what I was talking about. His face stilled, and I wished that I could bite back the question. I didn't want to see him hurt, and I knew that answering this was going to hurt him pretty badly.

"There was a letter," he said shortly.

I didn't want to, but my mouth seemed to move without my having ordered it. "From who?"

"Lupin."

"Professor Lupin?" I demanded, shocked. Why in hell's name would Harry be communicating with someone like that?!

Harry seemed to catch something in my voice, because he glared fiercely at me. "Lupin is one of my best friends, and I will thank you not to insult him," he said coldly. "He wrote to me about a private matter, and it does not concern you."

That hurt. That hurt pretty damn badly. I took refuge, as I suspect that he'd done, in anger. "Fine. I merely wanted to know just what it was that had made you hate me so much. If you choose not to tell me, then that's your own damn problem."

"It is," he shot back. I turned my back on him, and I heard him reach into his bag for something. I couldn't do homework, couldn't concentrate on anything but the profound unfairness of what had just happened. It wasn't my fault! What right did he have to say things like that to me? I buried myself so deeply in anger that I almost forgot the bone-numbing pain that was still coursing through me. I strode over to the window, that same damn window that his owl had come through, the window that he'd just been contemplating, and curled up on the window seat. I didn't want him to come to me, yet it was the thing I wanted most in the world. I hugged my knees to my chest, trapping my pain in the small space that I couldn't help but create. It pulsed strongly, threatening to overwhelm me as it had before. But I was stronger now. I could master the pain; could stop it from taking over completely. But it was hard.

I don't know how long it took before I uncurled from the seat. Harry had gone, and a glance at my watch told me that lunch was more than half over. I'd just missed all of Herbology, and I didn't care. McGonagall might have come in, but I hadn't noticed. I didn't even know if she'd had a class. Probably. I wondered just what the younger students had thought of me, curled up as tightly as was possible, completely oblivious to any attempts to rouse me from my contemplation of the view that I couldn't even see. Who knows? Maybe they thought that I was off my rocker. And maybe I was. But I didn't care. I just knew that the damage that had just been done might very well be unfixable. I hoped to hell that it wasn't, but it might just be. Both Harry and I are proud people, and words like that hurt more coming from friends than they do coming from enemies.