Beneath the Surface

Their chagrin begins, but, alas, it is only the beginning>}:

Beneath the Surface

Chapter the thirde: Impossible to Ignore


Upon subsequent reflection, Hermione thought that it would have been much more intelligent for herself, Harry and Ron to have sneaked into the classroom quietly so as not to draw undue attention to themselves, rather than barging in breathlessly without a thought, as they had done.

They would have been found out either way--Professor Snape never misses the smallest transgression in his classroom--but the former method might have saved them in some small measure from the severe scolding they had received, as well as the twenty points deducted from Gryffindor (for each of them) and the detentions they\'d been assigned for that night. Separate ones, at that; Ron had been given a detention with Professor Mcgonagall, Harry with Argus Filch, the caretaker, and Hermione with Professor Snape himself.

And all this in front of the entire class, no less. Now most of the Gryffindors were annoyed with them, and the Slytherins had one more reason to ridicule and humiliate them. Gods, but Professor Snape could be a merciless bastard!

But even after that distinctly cruel tongue-lashing he\'d given her, Hermione still respected him greatly. She was not of the belief that fear inspired respect in a person, and though it seemed---to one who had ever witnessed the way he ran his classroom---that he most definitely was, she admired him all the same.

She had researched the backgrounds of all her professors during the first week of school (so entranced was she with this new, magical world and all that these esteemed people had to offer her), and had found their Potions Master to be singularly intelligent. He had received the highest marks on all of his O.W.L.\'s and N.E.W.T\'s than anyone in centuries (his score in Potions was actually among the highest ever recorded), as well as earning, throughout his academic career, among the highest marks ever inscribed in the annals of Hogwarts history. Certain essays and articles on various subjects that he had written during his youth had been published in esteemed magazines and quarterlies, and he had been lauded by witches and wizards far older than himself for his gift with the written word as well as the fierce intelligence with which he expressed himself.

But for some unknown reason, he had not done anything of note after graduating from Hogwarts, and his biography had abruptly ended upon his leaving unceremoniously, as if even the author hadn\'t expected it. Although this severely baffled Hermione, she respected anyone with a thirst for learning, and her Potions Professor was indeed among the most academically intelligent people she knew.

Thus, she thirsted for his respect, as a plant would thirst for water. She would probably have chosen a long evening stroll in the Forbidden Forest to being on the receiving end of his legendary wrath, but simply being allowed to sit in his classroom and listen to him share a part of his tremendous knowledge with them, or be able to witness the unerring skill with which he performed every potion was one of the greatest gifts she had ever received; so she was willing to overlook his gloomy demeanor and bitingly acidic comments.

Although she tried very hard to be a model student in his class, more often than not her stubborn nature, Gryffindor morals and tempestuous temper got the better of her, and she ended up talking back or protesting his merciless teaching methods. Genius or not, the man was definitely a tyrant.

‘But I\'d much rather have detention with him than with someone like Filch. Some people are still complaining about the cleaning he made them do\', Hermione thought, shuddering as she recalled the horror stories she\'d heard about bathroom duty. ‘Poor Harry. ...Wait! This might not be so bad. Maybe Professor Snape will let me help him with an experiment or something. Now that would be quite an opportunity to get inside his head, as well as possibly on his good side. No, this might not be so bad at all!\'

Hermione smiled to herself and then returned her full attention to Snape\'s lesson.

.....

\"...Now, can anyone tell me what happens if too much belladonna is ingested?\" He surveyed the room, noticing with irritation–yet not surprise–that only one all-too-familiar hand had risen. He scowled and gave a long-suffering sigh. \"Oh, come now, *children*, this is an unusually simple question. You should all have known the answer to it long before you entered this school.\"

The students continued to stare at him (never turn your back on a dangerous person, is how they saw it), now with more apprehension, but only that same, solitary hand was rising higher and with more fervor, unaccompanied by any other. He lowered his head in defeat, ping thg the bridge of his nose in an attempt to soothe his headache, which had begun in exhaustion and escalated in frustration.

\"Very well,\" he muttered in grudging submission, not bothering to raise his head. \"Miss Granger, what is it?\"

Hermione straightened up in her seat in elation, even though she knew that he was always loathe to call on her. She just loved to be the giver of answers, the solver of problems. She stood up confidently and cleared her throat before enunciating the answer clearly in her high, bell-toned voice.

\"If one consumes a dangerous amount of the belladonna plant, they will first go into a hallucinogenic stupor, and ultimately perish. But if a measured amount is used, the plant can be a very effective reliever of pain. It originated as a witch\'s--\"

\"Miss Granger, forgive me, but I must stop you before you go on one of your lengthy and obscure diatribes, for, informative as they may be, they are hardly necessary to the topic of discussion at hand\", Professor Snape snapped in mocking politeness, putting up a hand in his need to silence her.

Hermione\'s shoulders slumped dejectedly, knowing that nothing she said would do her any good. She had originally thought that Professor Snape would be impressed with her knowledge, like all of her other teachers, but instead it seemed he resented her for it. Upon lengthy reflection, she\'d decided that, since he was the Slytherin Head of House and had once been a Slytherin student himself, the reason for his animosity towards her was not that he resented her intelligence, but that he found fault with her very Gryffindor ways of expressing it.

She had failed in pleasing him this time, but she promised herself that the next time he called on her, she would do her very best to behave in a reserved and obedient manner, and give only the answer to the question he asked her and nothing more. It was all a matter of being attentive.

\"Miss Granger!\"

Hermione started violently, her eyes going wide as she realized that she had already broken the promise she\'d just made to herself. She cringed inwardly as her eyes shot questioningly to Professor Snape.

\"You may take your seat now,\" he pronounced bitingly. She immediately sank into her chair, her cheeks growing crimson with embarrassment. The Slytherins erupted into muffled giggles, as they usually did when their Head of House taunted a Gryffindor. Professor Snape made no move to silence them, instead fixing the entire class with a sharp glare before turning on his heel to stalk over to his cluttered desk and sit down behind it.

The students collectively straightened and quieted as he sat, for he only did so when he was about to assign that night\'s homework. They also knew that it was now ten minutes to the end of class, and, almost more eager to be rid of his students than they were to be rid of him, Professor Snape was all the more willing to give out detentions to anyone who disturbed the class and therefore lengthened the time it took for everyone to finish up and get out of there.

\"Now,\" he intoned ominously. \"Your assignment for tonight will be...\", he slanted his eyes and inclined his head ever so slightly upwards as he pondered on that night\'s punishment.

‘That little know-it-all, Granger. I should serve her five feet alone! But that would be overtly unfair, and I can\'t take any more dissension among the ranks....Those superior prats of mine did snigger some awful things about her, things that were undeserved, no matter how annoying she can get. That offense should get them at least three feet....But those damned Gryffindors are irritating just being in existence! So, there we have it. The entire class has troubled me. Very well.\'

The children were all watching him with raised eyebrows and bated breath, awaiting their sentence for the day\'s behavior and hoping that he would be lenient. Alas, it was not to be.

\"I want three feet on the properties, purposes, and both the historical and current uses of belladonna on my desk by Thursday. Class dismissed.\"

The student body let out a painful groan and some gasped in outrage. They continued to stare at him in shock and disbelief, hoping that he would retract his pronouncement and show them mercy. Seeing that they hadn\'t moved, he fixed the class with a withering sneer.

\"I said GET OUT!\"

The children all started visibly, and began gathering their things together as reality sunk in. The Professor ignored them as they shuffled past his desk, grumbling just loudly enough so that he could make out certain choice words such as ‘unfair\', ‘tyrant\', and ‘git\'.

He took a cracked leather binder from atop a pile on the left corner of his desk and flipped it open to a chart near the end, dipped his quill in its inkwell, and with a flourish he bent to begin recording notes. Before the raven-feather quill touched the parchment, however, he was disturbed by a tiny coughing noise that came from just in front of his desk. He pressed his eyelids together as he remembered that he had asked Granger to see him after class to schedule her detention.

Still bent over his notebook, he lifted his head to stare into her eyes sardonically. He knew how it unnerved the poor child. Her eyelids flickered in surprise, but they did not leave his as she waited patiently for him to acknowledge her formally.

\"Miss Granger,\" he pronounced softly. She was obviously trying to conceal her nerves at being so close to him, and it seemed out of that nervousness that she offered him a small, trembling smile in return to his terse greeting. It vanished as quickly as it had appeared, and, more out of surprise that she even offered it to him in the first place than actual revulsion, his lip lifted in a sneer, as if he were disgusted with her naivete. She flinched inwardly, the only outward appearance of her disappointment in herself the sudden darkness that came over her eyes.

Snape noticed her disquiet and unconsciously raised his eyebrow at her in confusion. She blinked and cast her eyes downwards. Snape cleared his throat, not knowing at all what to do in this rather awkward situation, or even why it was so awkward in the first place.

\"I see you\'re eager to schedule your detention. Let\'s take a look, then...,\" he said without enthusiasm, taking a small green notebook from a drawer in his desk. He leafed through it for a moment, his eyes quickly following his index finger as he ran it down the pages. Finally, he found an available slot in his busy schedule (almost laughably so, he\'d thought, for one so reluctant to enter this line of work) for Miss Granger\'s detention.

\"Well,\" he murmured, thenthen raised his eyes to meet Hermione\'s once more. \"It appears that the only reasonable time I have free for you this entire week is...tonight at six thirty. Will that do for you, Miss Granger?\" he asked her condescendingly.

\"Yes, sir,\" she replied softly. \"That should be fine.\"

\"See that it is,\" he cautioned sternly, and with a stiff in in her direction, he bowed his head and returned to his notes, his lank hair sweeping into his face as he did so. Still upset that she couldn\'t reach him, Hermione remained standing before him as she pondered his embittered attitude, unconsciously observing him as she thought.

He was frantically scratching something down in the notebook in his severely slanting, elegant script, which was nearly illegible in its antiquated style. But she was not concentrating on the words he was writing; she was studying his posture and expression as he wrote them.

He was bent over the parchment so closely that his hawkish nose nearly touched it, his elbows bracing his hunched body on the desk. He was so tense that Hermione could see his shoulder blades protruding from his heavy black robes. His brow was furrowed in intense concentration as the quill flicked from the inkwell to the parchment in swift, fluid strokes; his refined, black eyebrows hooded over the blackest eyes she\'d ever seen. Come to think of it...

‘I\'ve never seen anyone with black eyes before...\'

As if she had spoken this thought aloud, Snape\'s head suddenly shot up to meet her, his sharp eyes narrowing as he sought hers out once again. A thick strand of his jet hair remained hanging between his eyes, but he made no move to brush it away.

‘And I thought she\'d be the easiest of the three to deal with...\'

\"Miss Granger, may I inquire as to why you are *still here*?\" he demanded of her coldly, his commanding voice seeming to ring in the vastness of the dungeons, although the tone he used was soft. He had evidently assumed she\'d left at his unspoken dismissal, so engrossed had he been in his writing.

\"I...I--,\" she stuttered weakly, hg beg been quite startled by his sudden awareness of her presence; not to mention surprised at herself for remaining to simply study him after it was obvious he\'d dismissed her. It seemed she couldn\'t move, or that she\'d forgotten she even possessed the ability of locomotion. Professor Snape rolled his eyes and sighed tiredly.

\"Miss Granger, if that is quite all, I\'m afraid I must insist that you depart my classroom. You are dismissed,\" he commanded authoritatively. She knew that he would brook no arguments or apologies, so she nodded shakily and immediately turned to walk as quickly as she could out of the room.

Snape\'s shrewd eyes followed her as she left, his earlier confusion at her strange behavior returning to his features. He did not often allow a student\'s personal (or even academic) affairs to occupy his mind for any lengthy period of time, but he could not seem to ignore this Miss Granger\'s apparent distress. True, whether he cared or not (most often the latter applied) for a person, he was very finely tuned emotionally, and could sense the...auras, for lack of a better word, of others with ease. But this did not mean that he was moved to alleviate their suffering or anguish, or whatever the case may be; he merely recognized it within them. Gifted he was with such an unusual psychic sight, but blessed he was not with a great deal of empathy.

He was not exactly *moved* in this situation either, but he found that he simply could not *ignore* Miss Granger.