The Gryffindor/Slytherin Cooperation Initiative

Hermione shifted in her seat, her bare thighs sticking uncomfortably to the smooth wooden surface.

It was an almost impossibly hot Friday afternoon, perfect for lazily reposing by the lake or enjoying a Butterbeer at the Three Broomsticks. Unfortunately for Hermione, and her fellow seventh year Gryffindors, this glorious Friday was instead spent studying Potions in Snape’s stifling hot dungeon.

During the winter, the dungeon was so cold that students voluntarily wore their ugly and notoriously itchy dragon hide gloves for fear of frostbite. A biting draft whipped under the dungeon door and many potions lay forgotten in an attempt to generate as much warmth as possible from the small fires underneath the cauldrons.

At the beginning of the Easter break, however, the sun began to shine with a new intensity. By the time the students returned to their lessons, the stone dungeon had absorbed the early heat of the burgeoning spring and by June, it was almost unbearably hot. The lack of windows combined with the fires used to light the room and brew the potions only exacerbated the situation.

Hermione had undressed as much as was possible without Professor McGonagall giving her another stern warning about “slipping standards”, which were “unacceptable” considering that she was “Head Girl, and therefore an ambassador for the rest of the students”. She had bitten her tongue during this diatribe but was inwardly resentful; just because she was Head Girl didn’t mean that she was without sweat glands. Being Head Girl also meant that Hermione should not technically fall asleep in the middle of a class, but it was just so hot and she was so tired. She had been unable to sleep until the early hours of the morning, tossing and turning due to the heat and, despite three cups of coffee at breakfast, felt her head irresistibly lower onto her desk.

“Just a few seconds,” she thought. “No one will notice”.

Her tiredness, of course, had irrevocably damaged her judgment; the one teacher that would definitely notice a quick mid-lesson power nap was Snape.

“Boring you, am I?”

Hermione’s eyes snapped open and immediately met those of the Potions teacher, so black that she could barely differentiate between his pupils and irises. She was shocked at how close his face was to hers. It was a technique regularly employed by Snape to intimidate his pupils and she had seen Harry receive the same treatment more times than she could count. Still, this was the closest she had ever been to him and she was intrigued by what she saw. Thick set eyebrows, the infamous Roman nose… but also a certain air of tiredness she had never seen him exhibit before. Hermione noted light stubble dusting Snape’s jaw and cheekbones and was suddenly, inexplicably, compelled to touch him.

Snape suddenly straightened up, looking somewhat flustered. He assumed (usually correctly) that a student considered being in such close proximity to the most feared teacher at Hogwarts was punishment enough for whatever sin had been committed. The concept that a student would voluntarily extend this contact was bewildering and somewhat disarming.

It didn’t take him long to regain his usual composure, although the insult that he hurled at Hermione was delivered in tones considerably less controlled than his usual silken sarcasm.

“What do you think would happen, Miss Granger, if your fellow students fell asleep every time they were bored by your inane whinging?”
He waited long enough for her to struggle for an answer to break the silence. The very second she uttered the first syllable of her reply;
“We would have a school full of NARCOLEPTICS!” he sneered, placing extra emphasis on the last word, forgetting that it was probably only Hermione that knew what it meant.

The Slytherins chuckled nervously, understanding that (if nothing else) their beloved Head of Year had just delivered an insult to the bushy-haired know-it-all that they so detested. Conversely, the Gryffindors would remember this as one of Snape’s least effective ripostes, although their interest would not extend to wondering why his usually sharp tongue had suddenly become tied.

Hermione, blushing furiously, focused her attention on the potion in front of her. The spiky handwriting on the blackboard informed her that the contents of her cauldron should now be pale lilac in colour. Instead, the potion was a deep royal blue. She let out a small cry of frustration that caused Snape to spin back around to face her, his voluminous frock coat following with a whipping sound that would be almost comical in different circumstances.

A moment of intense tension followed in which the entire class waited for Snape to react to Hermione’s second disruption to his lesson. When the Potions master, looking more confused than ever, strode off to the other side of the classroom and began examining the Slytherins’ potions, Harry and Ron’s jaws dropped simultaneously. Ron craned his neck round his cauldron to try to catch Hermione’s eye to no avail. She seemed to be flicking through her notes too frantically to notice his attempt at communication

Flustered, Hermione simultaneously tried to process the unprecedented events that had just occurred whilst pretending to work on her potion. It was a lost cause; the liquid in her cauldron was turning black and the fire under her cauldron had long gone out. Not completing a potion, however, would have be very un-Hermione-like indeed and she didn’t wish to draw any more attention to herself.

She began filling a vial with potion and wondered what had caused Snape to act so strangely. She recalled the moment that their eyes had locked and the inexplicable desire she’d had to stroke his stubbled jaw. Her hand had moved, perhaps imperceptibly, but he had recoiled from her as quickly as she had stopped herself from touching him.

Hermione looked up at Snape, pacing around in his frock coat, imagining how hot he must be in the thick garment. Yet he was not flushed, or even sweating. In winter, he never shivered or inched closer to the warm flames in the fireplace near his desk. The extremes of temperature went unnoticed, but Hermione’s one moment of interest – or was it pity? – threw him completely.
“How on earth,” thought Hermione, “Could a hand twitch cause Snape to forget how to humiliate a Gryffindor?”

The bustle of students packing away their things shook her from her reverie and signaled the end of the lesson. Glancing at her now charcoal-coloured potion, she decided to focus on the most important matter at hand; her grade. She took a deep breath, picked up her useless sample and approached Snape’s desk. He glared up immediately as though he could hardly believe her nerve, with such a severe look that she half stammered her request;

“S-sir… My potion d-didn’t go quite as I’d p-p-planned… I know exactly wh-what I did wrong. I was w-wondering- ”

Hermione hadn’t believed it would be possible for Snape’s eyes to grow colder, yet the look which he gave her was nothing short of pure hatred.

“No, Miss Granger,” he uttered, icily, effortlessly attracting the attention of the entire class. “You may not have another attempt at making this potion. If you were enough of an imbecile to fail on your first try, I see no reason why your second endeavor would be any more successful”.

Without breaking eye contact, Snape rose from his seat. Hermione noticed for the first time how much taller he was compared to her and shivered involuntarily.

“And,” he said, as an incredibly nasty smile began to edge onto his face “I’ve just decided that the marks you gain from this potion will constitute fifty percent of your final NEWT grade. It appears that the vast majority of you will be receiving ‘D’s”.

The entire class roared in protest. All of the NEWT level Potions students had continued with a subject that was both difficult and, for most of them, unpleasant because their prospective employers demanded it of them. A low mark in this unexpected assessment would seriously jeopardize the seventh years’ chances of getting a good overall grade.

Hermione was livid. She watched as Snape wrote a larger-than-necessary zero next to her name in the register, fighting back angry tears. In horror, she realised that if Snape was true to his word, even if she achieved full marks in the difficult NEWT level examination, she would not pass overall. With a strangled gulp, she ran from the room without even picking up her bag.

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A/N - This is my first ever Snape/Hermione fic and indeed, my first fanfic period! I originally wanted to start with something unambitious (a hot sex scene!) and was going to have Snape give Hermione a detention in which to redo her potion and.. well, we all know the rest! Which is why I wanted to do something a little different and string out the UST for a bit. This is all unBETAed, so any mistakes are mine!