Survivors

CHAPTER 7

Detention

"Oh, Hermione, how are your plans for the play coming on?" Professor McGonagall asked as she passed her in the corridor one day in November.

Hermione stopped, maintaining control of the stack of books she was levitating before her. "It's getting more involved than I thought," she admitted.

Minerva nodded. "I had heard. Filius said that he and the sixth-years were going to be helping out with the special effects, and I thought John said something about doing the sound and lights with the first-years," she added, referring to Professor Smith, the Muggle Studies teacher.

"Yes," Hermione agreed, "and Angelina's going to do the costumes with the second-years. And I'm afraid Hagrid insists on contributing some of his 'critters'. I talked him down from the giant spiders. I think we've settled on a pair of Hinkypunks. I'll have to rewrite one of the scenes to take place in a swamp, but..." She trailed off at the look on the Headmistress's face.

"Is that so?" Minerva queried with raised eyebrows.

For a moment, Hermione thought she might have gone too far and gotten carried away. Who was she to get the whole school involved in a project like this? In all fairness, however, in its initial incarnation, it had been more of an academic exercise with the intention of presenting the story and encouraging exploration of the issues in a creative way. The students had gotten so enthusiastic about it, however, that the scale of the project had expanded seemingly of its own accord. Hermione was about to launch into a defense when Minerva continued, "Well, in that case I shall guide the third-years in building the set."

"You will?" Hermione could hardly believe her ears.

"Yes, it will be a good exercise for them to practice their Transfiguration skills," she said briskly.

"Wow, thanks!"

"You're welcome." Minerva smiled, and continued on her way.

That covered just about everything then, Hermione thought happily, nudging her pile of books into motion again. Tonight was their first full run-through of the text, and, although she was nervous, she was also looking forward to it. She had nearly gotten to her office when Ophelia Dabb, one of the fourth-year actresses, came running up to her, practically in tears.

"Ophelia, what is it?" Hermione asked with alarm. Something in Ophelia's manner told her that there was something seriously wrong.

"Oh, Professor, we can't do the rehearsal tonight!" she cried.

"Why not? What's happened?"

"It's Professor Snape. He's given us all detention!"

"What? What do you mean, all of you?"

"All of the fourth-year Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors." Ophelia's lower lip quavered with the force of her breathing.

"He can't do that!"

"Can't he?" Ophelia asked with a glimmer of hope.

"Well, no, I suppose it's within his power to do so," Hermione admitted.

"Oh." Ophelia cast her eyes down, looking crestfallen.

"But I won't let him!" the Professor determined.

Ophelia looked up hopefully. "You won't?"

"Not if I can help it," she said grimly.

xOxOxOx

Hermione made her way back down to the dungeons for the third time in this school year. What in the world was the man playing at? He must know that they had a rehearsal tonight, and that the fourth-years were absolutely essential to it. On the other hand, perhaps not; she certainly hadn't spoken to him about it, and if past experience was any indicator, none of the other staff would have, either.

Hermione had acquiesced to Remus's advice and left Snape alone since Halloween. She had decided that he was right: it would be kinder at the moment not to pester him. That didn't mean that she had abandoned her 'Snape Project', however. She had taken to greeting Snape faithfully at meals, as Remus did, and thereafter avoided speaking to him. If he made a comment, no matter how biting, she would simply give him a friendly nod in acknowledgement. She wasn't sure, but she had the feeling that he appreciated both her reticence and her recognition of his presence. At least he hadn't directed any particularly nasty invectives her way in a couple of weeks.

But now he had forced a confrontation. Hermione could never remember an entire Double Potions class having received detention before, and she had the sneaking feeling that he was doing it specifically to annoy her. Banking on him being in his classroom, grading papers, she rapped smartly on the door.

"Enter," called out the familiar voice.

Hermione didn't hesitate to follow the directive, swinging the door inward on its hinges. She was immediately thrown back to her student days. A sour, burnt smell hung in the air, along with a touch of...pig? In any case, it was quite unpleasant. In looking around the room, she saw that almost everything looked exactly as she remembered it. The only immediate difference which she noted was that there were no cauldrons hanging from the hooks on the ceiling. Perhaps he had taken them down for cleaning.

Snape was sitting at his desk, as Hermione had predicted, with a ream of parchments before him. He looked up when she entered, and as he watched her through narrowed black eyes, Hermione very nearly had the feeling that it was she turning up for detention. Throwing off this unpleasant impression, she threw back her shoulders and marched over to his desk.

"Severus, I'm afraid I have a bone to pick with you," she stated as neutrally as she could.

Snape put his quill down and leaned back in his chair. "Oh yes?" he asked, just as neutrally, but Hermione could swear that his eyebrow had twitched, the right one, the one he habitually raised when he was, she thought, amused.

She tried to ignore the sneaking suspicion that he was just toying with her and plowed on. "Yes. It has come to my attention that you have given the fourth-year Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs detention tonight. All of them."

Snape inclined his head slightly. "That is correct."

"Well, you can't do that," Hermione objected.

"I already have," Snape countered.

Hermione exhaled through her nostrils. This wasn't going to get her anywhere; Snape was much better than she at these verbal sparring matches; they had already established that much.

"I don't suppose it will do any good to point out that I had planned a rehearsal for our play tonight...and that the fourth-years are essential, seeing as they are filling all of the roles?"

"No," Snape stated coolly.

Hermione was momentarily distracted by a scratching, scrabbling noise coming from the ingredients pantry. She looked at Snape to determine whether he had heard anything, but he was still glaring at her. "No," she muttered, "I thought not. Well, perhaps you could tell me exactly why you have put all of my actors into detention on the very night when I need them most?"

"Not that it is any of your concern," he said lazily, "but it was one of those amusing little incidents you recalled so fondly from your own days as a student. It seems that some student or, more likely, students, took it upon themselves to Transfigure my entire stock of cauldrons into potbellied pigs." He stared steadfastly at Hermione, as if daring her to laugh..

She did, a bark that would have done Sirius proud. Then immediately clapped her hand over her mouth. "I'm sorry," she mumbled through her hand, not trusting herself to control her mirth.

"And," Snape continued, as if the outburst had not occurred, "as no one would own up to having done the deed, I was forced to place the entire class under detention."

"But..." Hermione blurted out, fighting to contain a snigger, "all the cauldrons? That must have been quite a feat."

"Quite. I am certain it was a group effort, particularly given the rather uneven quality of the transformations."

A high-pitched squeal from the pantry left Hermione in no doubt as to where the cauldrons-slash-pot-bellied pigs were currently being held. She considered; Snape was obviously not going to let the class off the hook. She couldn't even say that she blamed him. This was one instance where detention was not only necessary as a punishment, but in order to repair the damage; she was sure that Snape wouldn't be the one Transfiguring those pigs back into cauldrons. But that would take the fourth-years all night, which meant they really couldn't have their rehearsal tonight. Suddenly, she had a brainstorm. She would make Snape an offer he couldn't refuse.

"How about a deal."

"A deal?"

"I will do detention with the students. In return, you let them go as soon as all the cauldrons are back to normal and don't make them do extra work like cleaning or lines."

Interesting. Very impressive. A Slytherin deal if I ever heard one. The chance to have her serve detention is truly too good to pass up. Of course it won't turn out as she intends, but she doesn't need to know that yet.

The ghost of a smile passed over Snape's pale lips. "Very well. I agree. You may come at eight o'clock with the others."

"Oh, couldn't we make it seven?" Hermione asked, suddenly realizing that if they started that late, even if they could get the cauldrons fixed quickly, it wouldn't leave them much time to practice.

Snape picked up his quill again, leaned forward, and started reading the next parchment on his pile. "Eight o'clock." His tone of voice brooked no argument.

Clearly, the interview was over. Hermione nodded mutely and left, once again having the feeling that she had come out with the short end of the deal.

Oh, yes. This will be good.

xOxOxOx

"All right, everyone," Hermione called out, clapping her hands, "Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors line up! The rest of you, keep practising your text, or you can get out other homework to work on until we're back." She didn't have any illusions that the Slytherin students would actually follow those orders, but she felt it was a Professor-ish thing to have said.

There was general confusion as the students tried to follow Hermione's instructions, and it was several minutes before the Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs were ready to follow her down to the dungeons. She had assembled the students immediately following dinner and been able to get in a good forty-five minutes of practice before they had to go to the Potions classroom for detention. She hoped that, with her help, they would be able to Transfigure the cauldrons back quickly and get back in time for some further practice before curfew.

They didn't have far to go, but it still tried Hermione's patience to see how some of the Hufflepuff girls were dawdling, giggling over a teen magazine as they walked. It was all she could do not to rip the paper out of their hands and tell them to get a move on. In the end, they arrived right on the button. Hermione knocked briefly, then led the students in.

Snape was still sitting at his desk, grading papers. Had he even gone to dinner? Hermione wondered. She had been too busy notifying all the students of the change in plans for the evening to notice.

"Ah, there you are," he said, looking up. "I was beginning to wonder whether you would hold up your end of the bargain, Professor Granger."

"As you can see, I have, Professor Snape. Now, if you'll let us get started on the cauldrons--"

Snape stood up and came out from behind his desk in one fluid motion, sweeping his robe after him. "I shall get the students started in a moment. First, however, let me introduce you to your task for the evening."

"My task? But I'm helping them with the cauldrons." Hermione frowned.

Snape stopped in front of Hermione. "No. We agreed that you would serve detention with this class, and that they would be occupied with reversing the considerable damage which they did to school property; not that you would help them."

Hermione gaped. "You have to be kidding. That's not fair!"

"It wouldn't be fair for you to repair their mistake, however much I know you enjoy doing others' work for them." He gave her a hard look that told her he was referring to her days as a student, when she had often done Ron and Harry's homework for them.

"But they'll never be able to Transfigure all those cauldrons back tonight! Especially if they couldn't manage to Transfigure them properly in the first place!"

"You are undoubtedly correct in your assessment," Snape acquiesced. "That is why they have been assigned detention for this entire week."

"The whole week?" Hermione screeched. "You didn't tell me that!" She rounded on the students, who had been eagerly attending to the discussion, and accused them as well, "You didn't tell me that!"

"Please, Professor," one of the Gryffindor boys said, "the way you explained it, we thought we'd be done tonight for sure."

"So did I," Hermione muttered, fuming.

"Well. I can see we are all eager to be getting to our tasks. Students, you will wait exactly where you are and not touch anything," Snape snarled, practically baring his teeth at them. He then turned to Hermione-- "Professor,"-- and led her to a sink.

Next to the sink was a basket full of black socks. "There you are," he said, nodding at it.

"There I am what? What am I supposed to do?" she asked crossly, still trying to figure a way of getting the cauldrons fixed in a timely fashion.

"You are to wash the socks," Snape said. "Without magic."

Hermione goggled at him. Was he insane? "Now you really are kidding. Whose are these-- These aren't your socks, are they?" she asked in horror.

The corners of Snape's mouth curled in what might pass on another planet for a smile.

Hermione only now began to fathom the depths of Snape's fiendishness. "Well, I'm not going to wash them. I refuse." She crossed her arms over her chest.

"You are serving detention, Professor," Snape reminded her. "It is not up to you to determine what form that detention takes."

"You cannot make me wash your socks," she flatly stated.

"Am I to assume, then, that you wish to back out of our agreement?"

"It's not much of an agreement anymore, is it? You know full well I only suggested that I come along so that we could fix your cauldrons quickly and get on with our own work."

Snape sighed in a disgusted manner. "I see that I was not mistaken in my initial assessment of you. You are self-serving, disrespectful in the extreme, and, still, immature, despite the slight improvement in your manners over the past few weeks. In other words, still a Gryffindor through and through, in the Potter tradition."

"Spoken like a true Slytherin," Hermione shot back with narrowed eyes. "Thank you for reminding me of my House loyalties, Professor. You've made me realize it would be quite Slytherin of me to back out of an agreement just because it turns out not to be to my advantage...although it was a deal only a Slytherin could have made, dishonorable and sneaky. I was counting on the integrity of your character to uphold the spirit of the agreement, which you understood full well." Hermione took a breath and added, more gently, "I do believe that you are a basically honorable and principled man, you know." She then picked up the basket, dumped the socks into the sink, and turned on the water.

Ye gods, she's actually going to do it.

Snape was, frankly, stunned. Certainly by the fact that Hermione Granger willingly (well, all right, under duress) agreed to wash his socks, but more so by her having said that she believed him to be honorable. He was the farthest thing from honorable in the world. He was angry at her now for having said that, angry that she was touching his dirty laundry with her fair, nimble fingers, and what irritated him the most was the way her hair would not stay put in that infernal braid she insisted on wearing. Why could she not adopt a more sensible hairstyle, something like Minerva wore?

He rounded on the students, most of whom could barely believe the argument they had just witnessed. Several mouths snapped shut when he fixed them with his baleful glare. He swooped past them, muttering, "Follow me," through clenched teeth, and went over to the pantry. None of the students budged. "What are you waiting for? An engraved invitation?" he barked. "Over here, now!" He pointed at a point on the floor just in front of the pantry, and the students moved en masse to obey, not a word being uttered. "Wands out!" he snapped. "Perkins, Jessup, ready for Immobulus, the rest of you, stand back! On my mark! One, two, three!" He whipped the door open, and two black shapes the size of...well, the size of number two cauldrons...darted out and into the crowd of students. And the chase was on.

Hermione watched the fracas with half an eye. Most of the cauldrons really had not been Transfigured very well, being little more than hairy pots with legs, or even just a tail, and as such were pretty easy to catch hold of. One, however, was quite frisky and evaded even Perkins, a Gryffindor whom Hermione knew to be an ace pupil. The creature blundered among the chairs, knocking over a few, and trotted over toward the corner where Hermione was standing. Normally, she would have made quick work of the errant swine, but she had agreed (sort of) not to help with the pigs, and she meant to stick to it, so she satisfied herself with simply observing where the animal went and pointing it out to Perkins.

"Sorry we got you involved, Professor," he mumbled sheepishly, the now-immobilized pig-cauldron in tow.

"I got myself involved," Hermione said with a wry smile, flicking soap suds from her fingers.

"He's a right git, making you do his laundry," the boy sympathized, obviously allowing the fact that Hermione had earlier stated her fond feelings for their common House to create a certain camaraderie between them. "We all hate him." He clearly hoped that this sentiment would entrench him in Hermione's good graces.

How wrong he was. "Mr. Perkins," Hermione said with a dark look that was not entirely unlike the one which habitually graced Snape's face, "that's one of your Professors you're talking about. Not only that, but Professor Snape--" she emphasized the title, "--is a man you and in fact the entire wizarding world owe a great deal to. I never want to hear--no, I forbid you, ever, to talk about Professor Snape in any other manner than with respect and deference. I know that he and I had...well, I was unhappy about having made a deal that wasn't to my advantage," she admitted. Realizing that many of the students had stopped wrestling the pigs into positions where they could Transfigure them back and were listening to her, Hermione turned a little so that they could hear her better. "And maybe I shouldn't have said some of the things I said, but that's between him and me, and I am fulfilling my part of the bargain. And it's true that you all shouldn't have messed with those cauldrons, and now you see what a pain it is to have to fix. Did you think that Professor Snape would do it for you?" She saw the cross and disappointed expressions on several faces, but that didn't faze her. She was not one of their peers, she was their teacher, and one of the things they should learn from her was how to deal with unpleasant situations without resorting to name-calling or unethical wand use. And another thing they would learn from her, was that Severus Snape was not a 'right git' deserving of insults.

Hermione returned to the basin full of socks, and the students returned, grumpy yet resigned, to their task, shooting Snape furtive looks. The Potions master was sitting at his desk, bent over student essays, quill scratching away, apparently oblivious to the exchange that had just taken place. But he had heard it. Every last word. And each one had killed him a little more.