Secrets

Snape had given Hermione hell her first couple of weeks. Sometimes brewing potions was a dirty job, and he intended to find out if she was prepared to do it. he had her cleaning up the most foul things he could think of, and brewing quite dangerous potions which often ended up smelling like skunks, rotten eggs, dragon dung, or worse.
"I'm done, Professor," Hermione said with a mixture of exasperation and tiredness. She had just finished a huge cauldron of polyjuice potion, and Hermione wondered what he needed it for. He looked over at her distractedly. "Fine. You may go," he said and turned back to grading an assignment.

Used to being dismissed like this, she started to bottle the potion and clean up her tools.
"Um, sir?" she ventured. He looked up at her, yet he said nothing. She decided that it was alright for her to continue. "When will we begin my formal training?" she asked, waiting for him to tell her to keep her silly questions to herself, but instead he looked blackly at her and said, "What do you think we've been doing, Miss Granger?" Instantly realizing her mistake in word choice, she quickly said, "No, I didn't mean- it's just that- I mean"
-"My, we're eloquent today" Snape cut her off, his eyes flashing dangerously. Not one to be intimidated, though, Hermione said calmly, "Sir, I know what we've been doing is important, I was simply wondering when you would teach me to brew- you know, different techniques, new potions, shortcuts, substitutions..." she trailed off, wishing she'd kept her mouth shut.
"I had planned to start on Monday, if that is quite fine with you, Miss Granger, or are you such an insufferable know-it-all that you feel you would be more adept at teaching yourself?"
She answered quickly, "No sir, I wasn't questioning your teaching, I was merely wondering when that part of my training would commence...sir." She was blushing profusely now, embarrassed and slightly stung by his words.
"I'm sure." he said shortly. She left as quickly as possible.

Hermione sat in her room, legs tucked underneath her while she silently drank her evening tea. She stared into the fire, thinking. She missed her parents. She made a mental note to go and visit them tomorrow. She wiped away a tear and went to lie down. Her thoughts drifted to Professor Snape. She was both excited and apprehensive about starting her real potions work. She knew Snape had simply been testing her- seeing if he could scare her away. But Hermione had found in her later years that Potions was her true calling, and nothing Snape could do would scare her off. Hermione still loved (and excelled) at both Charms and Arithmancy, but was somehow drawn to the logic behind potions. It closely resembled chemistry, a Muggle subject she has studied for fun one summer. There wasn't actually much true magic behind brewing potions- one simply had to have the right ingredients and the directions. Hell, a Muggle could brew a potion if they really tried. This also appealed to her. She loved magic, but would always feel a connection to her Muggle roots.

She drifted off into a dreamless sleep.