Daylight. Hermione’s eyes fluttered open, and she moaned softly. She definitely did NOT want to get up today, but unfortunately for her, it was Monday. She groaned. Double Potions first period.
Hermione dressed quickly in her school uniform and robes, donning an extra sweater because it was still a bit chilly out, and gathered up her book bag, overstuffed as usual. She tried, to no avail, to stuff a few extra books inside but ended up only worsening her poor bag’s condition as a few stitches in the seam split. A wave of her wand, and it was back to normal. Hermione sighed and slung the bag over her shoulder, gathering up the remaining books in her arms.
Heading down to the common room, Hermione noticed that there were very few people left. I must be running really late, she thought, and hastened down to the Great Hall for breakfast.
She sat down, greeting Harry, Ron, and Ginny with a cursory wave, and proceeded to drag out her Potions book and bury her nose in it, trying to squeeze in every last detail to prepare for the end-of-unit exam today. She groped absentmindedly for a piece of toast, but instead came up with Harry’s hand. Blushing as she realized what she’d grabbed, she dropped it and snagged the only piece of toast left that wasn’t on Ron’s plate.
Hermione jumped as the first-period bell rang, signaling the students to get to their classes. She hastily gathered up her things and rushed down to the dungeons after Ron and Harry, shouting goodbye to Ginny, who was headed for Charms.
Hermione skidded into potions just before the bell rang, and as she expected she heard a cold drawl from the other end of the room.
"Ten points from Gryffindor for being tardy, Granger."
Professor Snape was glaring maliciously down at her from the head of the room. Hermione could feel his gaze still on her as she went to her seat, and it left uncomfortable prickles trailing along her neck. Usually she would have taken her books out and tried to use the last few minutes remaining to her for studying, but she decided she didn’t want to push Snape over the edge, not when this exam was so important. She instead got out a quill and ink and sat patiently for the test to be handed out.
Half an hour later, Hermione was still struggling with the third question. Newt’s blood, newt’s blood . . . What did the bloody book say about newt’s blood? The answer came to her as quickly as it had gone, and she scribbled it down furiously, tongue between her teeth.
Meanwhile, Severus was watching Hermione take the test with much amusement. Oh, how he loved to see the little nuisance struggle. The mudblood had zeal, though; he’d give her that. He pulled out a spare scrap of parchment and wrote lazily:
The mudblood may not be so incompetent, after all.
It was a habit of his, writing down little thoughts that came to him here and there. He had done it for such a long time that it happened almost without thought. He looked over the other scribbles above this most recent one.
She could use a good hair potion . . . not that I’d make her one.
How she manages to infuriate me as she does is a mystery. Perhaps it’s that mudbloods generally aren’t that intelligent.
The size of her teeth absolutely astounds me. I should have a word with Poppy about the quality of her shrinking spells.
Severus furrowed his brow. All of his recent musings seemed to be about Granger . . . He shook himself. This was much too odd to be true, and yet, here they were . . . Fighting the impulse to burn the parchments, Snape twitched, and shoved them in his desk. Well, that just ruined my fun, Severus thought bitterly.
Finally, finally, Hermione emerged from the Potions classroom with Harry and Ron. Normally at this point she was wringing her hands with worry and expressing very loudly her concern that she had failed miserably. However, she was feeling a bit odd this morning . . . Perhaps even a tad under the weather. She had spent the last twenty minutes or so of class covertly studying the Potions master, for reasons unknown even to herself. She found that although at first glance his eyes were empty, devoid of any emotion, one could detect a small twinkle in his eye on occasion, and that there was a tiny streak of grey near the front of his hair that actually served to give him a sort of dignified look. Hermione mentally reviewed these points of interest in half-interest, half-disgust. In a fit of pique, mostly at herself, Hermione huffed out a loud breath and began to walk at twice the speed, causing Ron and Harry to exchange worried glances.
"Women," Hermione thought she heard Ron say, in a knowing voice.
The rest of the day passed without event; Hermione could have sworn she felt Snape’s gaze upon her all throughout lunch and dinner; however, whenever she chanced to glance up at the staff table, he was concentrating on either his food or something another teacher had to say. She shook it off and instead chatted lightly with Ginny on subjects of no import, such as how Arnold, Ginny‘s Pygmy Puff, was faring.
However, Hermione’s lighthearted facade ended once she went to bed. She tossed and turned, rumpling her bed sheets so badly that she had to get up and remake them, to a chorus of disgruntled moans from Lavender and Parvati. Once she was in bed again, Hermione began to pick apart her thoughts, carefully examining each one to see if it was the cause of her distress. She couldn’t figure out just what it was that was bothering her, but she was disturbed to find that more than one thought was centered on her Potions professor. Mentally chastising herself just for being so damn weird, Hermione rolled over and finally fell into an uneasy sleep.
Lolita by ChanellaBella
Chapter Notes: I like Snape and Hermione. Which is why I wrote this! Amazing how these things happen, innit?
All belongs to the magnificent Jo Rowling.