50 Points From Gryffindor

Chapter Three

The Great Hall was buzzing with gossip at the evening meal. Everyone was talking about the newest Professor Snape in residence. Hermione was utterly fed up with hearing about him, as he had been the topic of every conversation since the class the Seventh Years had with him.

Hermione had spent most of the meal reading from an Advanced Transfiguration book dealing with Animagus transformations. She was debating whether she wanted to work with Professor McGonagall this year to become an Animagus, but she needed to weigh the pros and cons of it.

As she was reading and eating, she would occasionally glance at the Head Table where Professor Sheldon seemed to be keeping everyone entertained; everyone except for the Potions Master. When Professor Snape was spoken to directly, it looked as if he would mumble a one-word answer, and then try to ignore his brother once again. It was obvious he was not pleased, as the features on his face were more clearly defined when he was angry. He did not look to be a very pleasant man. After one particular comment that had the whole table laughing and looking at him, he slammed his fork down on his plate, shot up from the table and stalked through the teachers’ exit as fast as he could.

Hermione sighed, knowing that the high jinks at the Head Table and the anger Professor Snape had shown would not bode well for her in her first night of detention. She was already nervous as she had never experience a detention during her entire time at school. Now, with his anger boiling over like potion in Neville’s cauldron, she was even more nervous.

As soon as the meal ended, she knew she had to hurry down to Professor Snape’s classroom to serve her detention. She could have waited for Draco to walk her down, but she decided she didn’t want to be late and she truly wanted to get this over with as soon as possible. After hearing tales from Neville, Harry and Ron about what Professor Snape would have her do, she was grateful she had chosen to wear her Muggle jeans and jumper instead of her school uniform. If she had to clean the floor under the desks, she was not going to be kneeling on the floor wearing a skirt, bruising her knees.

Arriving in front of the classroom door, Hermione took a deep breath. She tried not to think about the fact that this would be the first time she was alone with Professor Snape since the night in Professor Dumbledore’s office when he had told her of Voldemort’s attack on her parents. Remembering that night, having her body pressed to his as he had been forced to try and console her, didn’t make her feel any better. It caused a sort of queasiness in her stomach. Trying to compose herself, Hermione lifted her hand and knocked on the solid oak door.

“Enter,” she heard him say, his voice still holding the harshness of the anger that had driven him from the hall at dinner.

She cautiously opened the door and eased inside, startling herself a bit as it slammed shut right behind her. She stood nervously right inside the door, looking around as if seeing the room for the first time. She couldn’t bring herself to look at her professor.

“We haven’t got all night, Miss Granger. Please come in and take your normal seat,” Professor Snape ordered, not even looking up from the parchments he was grading.

Hermione walked over to her normal desk area at the front of the classroom and took her seat, staring at Professor Snape’s head. She was waiting for direction in what to do when Professor Snape grasped his wand, muttered a spell, and parchment and a quill appeared in front of her.

“Your task this evening, Miss Granger, will be to write an essay on why one should not use frozen Ashwinder eggs in the Wolfsbane Potion. Should you need any resources to complete your essay, my personal research books may be used.” With another flick of his wand, the blackboard behind him rose and a bookshelf appeared.

Hermione’s eyes nearly bulged out of her head at the amount of books Professor Snape had on Potions. She longed to look at his collection of texts, knowing he was bound to have rare editions, but she didn’t want to appear stupid, as if she needed to dig through a book to find the answer to write the essay. She already knew why you wouldn’t use frozen Ashwinder eggs, due to an article she had read in a Potions Paradise magazine last year.

Severus didn’t have to look up to know that a debate was going on in Hermione’s head. Her quill wasn’t moving, so she wasn’t writing her essay, even though he knew she knew the answer. He had seen her in class with the magazine that his article had been featured in, of course not under his own name. He knew that she didn’t need any help in writing the essay, but he had decided to extend a courtesy to a student who he knew would appreciate it.

This wasn’t a typical detention like he normally held, but then again the typical detention student was never Hermione Granger. As scared as Hermione had been when she entered the room, he knew that they had to come to a level of understanding as to why she was here. She was in a detention to break her habit of helping others, even when they were more than capable of helping themselves when they put their mind to it.

She needed to understand that Longbottom’s problem wasn’t his potion making skills; it was his confidence in his abilities. His lack of confidence had been something Severus had focused in on in Longbottom’s first potions class. He wasn’t hard on him because he hated him, he was hard on him to try and strengthen him.

Severus finally looked up from grading the third-year essays in front of him to watch Hermione. He didn’t expect her to be looking at him, and he was surprised to find she was staring at him while biting her lip, debating things in her head. When she realized he had caught her staring, she quickly looked down at the parchment in front of her, blushing.

“Feel free to indulge yourself, Miss Granger. I would not offer this to just anyone.”

Hermione unexpectedly felt a shock of gratefulness rush through her. He was actually trying to be polite to her and he was giving her another compliment in his offhanded sort of way. She decided to take him up on his offer, not sure it would even be extended again.

As Hermione approached the bookshelf, she tried to walk casually, trying not to let on that she was as nervous as hell at being so close to him. She walked between the bookshelves and Professor Snape’s chair, immediately noticing the spicy scent that enveloped the Potions Master. All summer she had been able to smell it, after spending time at the end of last year blubbering in his arms.

“I rather think you would enjoy the fourth book from the left on the second shelf,” Severus found himself saying, hoping she would grab it and head back to her desk so she wouldn’t have to be so bloody close to him.

He still saw something in Hermione that most people didn’t. She wasn’t beautiful by any means, but she was pretty. She also had another desirable quality that most women he knew didn’t have. She had intelligence, which for Severus said it all.

He had to stop himself from groaning when he heard Hermione’s squeal at finding the rare first edition of Moste Potente Potions. The obvious joy she showed at being able to hold the book was more than his emotions could bear.

“I’ve wanted the chance to go over this book again ever since…” Hermione trailed off, finally realizing what she was saying.

Severus couldn’t help the raised eyebrow or the fact that he turned in his chair to face her. “Since when, Miss Granger?”

Hermione opened her mouth to answer, but was stuck when she couldn’t come up with a lie fast enough to answer. Instead she just shut her mouth and had the sense to look ashamed.

“If you would like, you may borrow that book, Miss Granger. I do realize that you would treat it with the care and respect it deserves.”

“Really?” Hermione couldn’t help the enthusiasm in her voice, nor the glowing smile that came over her face.

Severus forced himself to look away from the one hundred watt smile, and looked back down at his parchments. “Indeed, Miss Granger. However, I think you should get back to your essay right now so it is accomplished before your detention ends.”

“Yes, sir,” Hermione said happily as she skipped back to her desk, clutching the first edition book to her chest tightly.

As she reverently placed it next to her on the desk, she picked up her quill and uncapped the ink to begin her essay. It didn’t take long before the only sound in the room was the scratching of quills on parchments.

As Hermione debated whether to add her own theories on what could make the Wolfsbane potion more effective, she realized that her detention was certainly not what she expected it to be. She had expected Professor Snape to be a complete git, especially after the way he left the Great Hall during dinner. Instead, he was actually being, god forbid, nice to her. He was letting her borrow a book from his own collection, he had given her compliments in the only way he had known how, and he wasn’t even making her scrub the floors or cauldrons. Instead, he was challenging her intellectually and stimulating her mind, something she loved to do herself.

Ron and Harry would never believe her when she told them what had occurred during her detention. She and her friends had certainly assumed the worst when she got her first detention from Professor Snape after seven years of putting up with her. They had assumed it would be the worst detention any of them had ever received, and instead it was turning into a rather enjoyable experience.

“I had always assumed it was you,” Professor Snape divulged, startling Hermione.

“Sir?” she asked, not having any idea what he was talking about.

“Second year. Exploding cauldron. Boomslang skin,” he finished, watching as Hermione had the grace to look away in defeat. “I had wanted to believe Potter was behind it, but the more I thought about it, I knew he wasn’t intelligent enough to pull it off, so I had to look elsewhere. I deduced that someone must have planned it for Potter, and knew that you were the only one with enough brains to get it done. Your reaction to the book was my final confirmation. Well done, Miss Granger.”

Hermione wasn’t sure whether he was being sarcastic or not, so she decided to keep quiet as she picked up her quill to work on her essay again.

Severus however, wanted details of how she had pulled it off. “I do know that you did not pilfer my copy of the book, which leads me to believe that somehow you were able to acquire the one in the Restricted Section of the library. Do you mind if I ask how you managed to pull that off?”

Hermione quirked her lips in a slight smile as she looked back at the Professor. “Actually it was quite easy, Sir. I asked Professor Lockhart for his autograph. He signed my permission slip having no idea what he was actually signing.”

Severus had to stop himself from barking out a laugh by changing it into a discreet cough. Leave it to Hermione to do something as devious as playing into the hands of the former Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor. “Intriguing,” he simply replied.

When Hermione knew he was finished with the conversation, she quickly set back to work on her essay, deciding to add her theories after all. Forty-five minutes later, Hermione triumphantly laid her quill down on the desk and gave her essay a quick once-over.

Severus noticed as she finished that she technically still had another fifteen minutes left of the two hour detention she had been assigned. She didn’t seem to be in a hurry to leave as she hadn’t glanced at the clock once, and Severus was surprised to realize that it pleased him.

He stood up from his desk and walked around the front, leaning against it, watching Hermione. She had ink stains on the tips of her fingers and it looked as if she had tried to brush her hair out of her face with those fingers, as she had a small streak of ink on the right side of her face. He needed to stop staring at her or she would realize he had unresolved feelings for her. He had already gone out of his way to try and be pleasant to her tonight.

“You do realize why you are here, don’t you, Miss Granger?”

“Yes, sir,” Hermione nodded. “I should really let Neville do his own work.”

“That is correct,” he answered as he began pacing the room, as he did often while teaching. “Mr. Longbottom is quite capable of brewing his potions without your help. He has just not realized that yet. What he needs to learn this year is how to help himself. I am pleased that you have chosen to work with Mr. Malfoy this year, and let your friends learn on their own. When you correct Mr. Longbottom, or tell him how to do something, you are not teaching him anything. He needs to learn on his own. I need you to understand that you are being detrimental to his learning when you try to help. Do you understand, Miss Granger?”

“I understand, Professor. I shall no longer attempt to help him,” she vowed as she stood up and walked to him, handing over her essay.

Severus quickly nodded his head, taking the parchment from her and turning away to head back to his desk. “You may go, Miss Granger. I shall you see back here tomorrow evening to continue your detention.”

Hermione knew she was dismissed so she picked up the book Professor Snape had lent to her and headed to the door. With her hand on the doorknob, Hermione quickly decided that Professor Snape had practically treated her as an equal tonight. She knew that his mood would not always be like this, so she decided to be a little daring as she turned back to him and blurted out the question that had been plaguing her for a few years. “Professor, why did you become a Death Eater?”