She wasn't nearly as frightened doing this as she had been this time last year.

Did that mean that she was more comfortable or just a fool? She wasn't sure. Either way, she rather liked surprising her potions professor last year. She'd watched him this year, discreetly of course. She didn't want to risk angering him and getting detention by getting caught. The other professors seemed to ignore him overall. She hadn't figured out why. He was clearly competent in his knowledge. In two years, she hadn't left his classes feeling as if she was not being taught well about his subject.

There were things she would like to know more about, but - frustratingly - he never let her ask her questions! She hoped maybe with time he would. She was learning that potions versus the other subjects taught at Hogwarts, reading about it just wasn't entirely the same.

Would she have noticed it was a cat hair not a human hair with more experience? She'd never know, but liked to think so. The element of being under pressure likely hadn't helped. She certainly knew if she ever had to brew it again that she'd not just double but triple check the hairs used.

The headmaster, though, clearly trusted him. It didn't seem to matter what anyone else thought either. From what she had seen so far, Professor Dumbledore was no fool. She wasn't sure why it was so easy to believe what Harry thought about Snape this year and last. Caught up in the moment? Maybe. The only professor of theirs who didn't favour her? She could admit that was probably in there, too. She didn't like it, so it was easy to think the problem was with him not her.

Other than being a bit of a git and head of Slytherin house, she really couldn't find he'd done anything wrong.

She wagered no one ever said thank you to him. None of the students who were petrified did she was pretty sure (including herself). He had to have been included in their care so he could try to come up with an antidote. Not to mention Harry and the Skele-Gro he'd needed because of Gilderoy Lockhart.

She closed her eyes, embarrassed at how … easily she'd been taken in by him. She always thought she was above those types of things. Crushes. Being swayed by a pretty face. Evidently not.

What was more, Professor Snape seemed to expect the lack of gratitude. As if it was more normal for no one to acknowledge his contribution than otherwise.

So, that led to her feeling the need to do exactly that.

Still, though, the dungeons were dark and empty. Sounds, like her footsteps, echoed deceivingly, making her think someone else was there. No one knew she was coming here so wouldn't think to look for her. If they bothered to look for her at all since everyone else was packing. It would be easy for a Slytherin to come upon her and do … well, anything. Draco Malfoy wouldn't be at all concerned tonight because there was no risk of losing points. Expulsion could be possible, so he likely wouldn't do anything too horrid not wanting that. Goyle and Crabbe didn't concern her too much. They didn't seem to do anything without his lead.

Add to that, it would be incredibly embarrassing if a ghost saw her and reported to someone she was down here without telling anyone. Not that she was doing anything wrong. She absolutely wasn't, but students didn't seek out Professor Snape. So, people would think … Well, she didn't want to know what they'd think.

She was not trying to be a suck up!

With that in mind, she picked up the pace after ensuring her cargo was safe in her backpack. She paused for a moment, certain she'd heard … something. Back against the wall, she looked up and down the hallway, even up at the ceiling. Last, down to the ground.

Nothing. No ghosts. No rats scurrying.

Just her overactive imagination hearing things that weren't there because she was stupid enough to come to the dungeons alone just before curfew.

She was lucky her parents were willing to help her with this. She had sort of fudged over the facts of what led to her asking for the favour. They'd never know. A polyjuice potion mishap turning her into a cat and then being petrified just weren't things they needed to hear about.

Ever.

At least she hoped they never found out. She'd given them broad strokes, a muggle's eye view on what happened her first year. She hadn't told them, for instance, about the three-headed dog that bit the leg of a professor. Or their live-action wizarding chess game where Ron could have died. Or how many times Harry came close to getting seriously injured. Or worse. She'd glossed over the history of Voldemort, not making it seem as if anyone was concerned someone they thought to be dead might return.

She hadn't really thought after last year to research too thoroughly on how that was possible. Well, and she'd been focused on the stone until it was time to go home more or less. Now, though, well, she was going to make it a priority to find out what he could have done to make it possible. Dead should be dead, magical or not. And it didn't sound as if anyone suspected necromancy. Quirrell had been more of a host from what Hermione could ascertain.

She suspected as willing as her parents were to allow her to go to Hogwarts that if they found out how dangerous things were for her as a muggleborn in particular right now they'd pull her. She was only thirteen, they weren't going to take her preferences into account.

And so, she elected to tell them little beyond her actual studies. Her grades were good enough that she could get away with that. She certainly wasn't going to tell them she wanted what she'd asked them for because she'd turned herself into a cat and wanted to thank her professor for helping change her back.

She cleared her throat softly as she knocked on the door to his classroom. She took … hope that he hadn't kicked her out on her ear last year that he wouldn't this year. She didn't make use of his office hours, so it wasn't as if she saw him outside of class regularly. So, twice in two years had to be all right.

"Enter," she heard through the door.

She was pretty sure he'd said the same thing last year. Did he ever say anything else? Or was that just his normal response to anyone knocking.

"Good evening, Professor."

"Miss Granger. To what do I owe this intrusion perilously close to curfew," he said, returning to writing whatever he was working on.

She watched him for a moment. His handwriting was so … masculine while still being rather graceful. An odd thing to think, but she was used to her father's scrawl that was barely legible. So it was interesting, even if she wished she'd get an essay or test back from him with no comments written on it. He looked far more comfortable holding the quill than she was.

No surprise.

She realized she had been quiet for too long. If she took up too much of his time he'd get upset. She didn't want that.

"It's the night before we leave, Sir," she said with regard to curfew. Yes, it was still enforced but what were they going to do to her for being a few minutes late? "I just wanted to thank you. Again."

He stopped writing on the piece of parchment on his desk and regarded her. She wished she understood him. There were times he seemed to loathe Harry and then there were times he seemed concerned for him. Not to say he couldn't both loathe and be concerned about him, but it was just hard to know where he stood. Did he hate him because he was famous? Anyone who took the time to get to know Harry realized within about ten minutes that he didn't really want fame. Yes, it went to his head sometimes, but that was because he'd gotten absolutely nothing but negative attention until coming here. So, of course he relished in it. Who wouldn't? He didn't go out of his way to obtain it, though. Not really.

"For what this time?" he asked.

She laughed softly at that, but his scowl and stern gaze cut the laugh short.

"That was not meant to be a joke."

"Of course not, Sir."

It was still kind of funny, especially coming from him. She reached into the front pocket of her backpack then.

"Well, first and foremost for assisting me earlier when I … Well," she said, still embarrassed at what happened. Who would have thought months into the school year there'd be cat hair on someone's robes? She supposed it shouldn't be completely surprising if someone had a cat here at Hogwarts with them, but she just hadn't stopped to think there might be anything but human hair on Millicent's robe.

"Stole supplies from me, brewed an advanced potion in a bathroom, and then didn't have the wherewithal to make sure you chose a human hair?"

She blushed deeply then. How embarrassing to have him lay it out so precisely for her, even if she had been the only one to transform into a cat.

"Yes, well, just the same," she said, pulling the box out of her backpack and setting it on his desk. "My parents went to Greece a few weeks ago."

"Surely you did not come see me to discuss your parents' vacation?"

She smirked a bit at that. Would any of his students, even his Slytherins, talk to him about their parents' vacation? "I asked them to pick this up for me," she said, setting the box on the corner of his desk.

He did not reach for it. He did not even seem … interested in what the box might contain. She'd be curious. She needed him to know that it was something useful. So much for leaving it and running from the room. He'd probably never look in the box just out of spite.

"It's high tide water from the Mediterranean Sea during the full moon earlier this month, Sir."

His eyes widened a smidge. Barely noticeable, but she was watching him so saw it. His scowl hadn't changed, though. In fact, it deepened and he almost looked … offended.

"Are you bribing me, Miss Granger?"

She gasped, affronted at the very idea. She would never! Did he really think that she would?

"No! No, Sir. Honestly, it was just a thank you. For assisting while I was in the infirmary. Both times. As well as not giving me detention or taking points for my brewing the potion to begin with."

Silence. She almost dropped her gaze, but she didn't because she didn't want him to think that she was trying to do anything wrong.

Finally, he reached for the box, opening it. Her heart stopped for a moment as his eyes noticeably widened once he saw the contents. She'd researched apothecaries near where her parents were going and sent them a letter prior to the trip. With the letter was a note to the Thyme's Essence apothecary indicating what she wanted.

He could have deducted all of Gryffindor's points if he'd wanted to for her stealing from him. He hadn't. She knew everyone who wasn't named Harry, Ron, and Hermione appreciated him not doing it. Even if none of them knew she stole from him.

Well, now she wondered. Was she trying to bribe him? She didn't like that thought. That wasn't her intention when requesting her parents get the water. She just thought a gift for returning her to her Hermione form was warranted. She was sure her parents would agree if she told them what happened.

"Well, anyway, Sir, again thank you, and I apologize that I doubted you once again."

She turned then, figuring it was best to leave before he decided to take points next year for really thinking she was trying to bribe him.

"Miss Granger," he asked once she'd gotten to the door.

She turned, surprised he'd spoken. His eyes were on her, assessing and she tried not to fidget. She was not bribing him. To even think of doing that would be to suggest he was bribable. There was no doubt in Hermione's mind that of all their professors, he was the least bribable.

"Very little these days gives me reason to laugh. I did not assign you detention or deduct points for stealing from me because I took the amusement of your predicament as payment in full."

"Yes, Sir," she said. How humiliating! He'd laughed at her. She couldn't blame him, she supposed, but shouldn't she get a bit of recognition for brewing it to begin with!

"Perhaps going forward you could not steal from me or try to harm my person and you wouldn't feel the need to assuage your guilt."

"Yes, right, of course, Sir. Thank you. Have a good summer," she said, turning again to open the door.

"Did it work?"

She spun around. "I'm sorry?"

"What you were trying to do with the polyjuice potion. I assume you weren't the only one to take it, and there was only one of you under Madam Pomfrey's care. So I can only presume that the other two were transformed successfully…"

He deduced Harry and Ron took it, too. He wanted to know if she'd succeeded. What did that mean? Why did he care?

"Oh, well, we didn't get the information we were hoping for. We got some, though, so yes it worked. Ron and Harry…"

"I do not want or need to know more than that," he said, cutting her off.

"Of course." It would have been nice to talk about it, though. Ron and Harry wouldn't talk about it with her. She'd asked questions. What did it feel like to transform? They'd mentioned they still had their own voices. What had they done? What did the Slytherin common room look like?

They just didn't understand her curiosity, so gave broad answers: It felt weird. They just talked differently. They didn't really look at the common room, they were too worried about getting caught and hexed by Malfoy.

She knew how she felt, but she wasn't sure given the hair she used if what she felt was usual. It would be interesting to discuss it. To find out what she could have done differently as far as the taste and texture. Was it supposed to be so foul looking and tasting?

She saw him out of the corner of her eye remove the bottle from the packaging it had been in. He eyed it with appreciation. She'd known when her parents told her of their trip that it would be a good thing to get. The Mediterranean Sea's properties were supposedly coveted over other, local, bodies of water.

Normally, she wouldn't have told him about Harry and Ron's time as Crabbe and Goyle, but as their point was to learn who the heir of Slytherin might be and that had been figured out. Well, there wasn't much point in being coy. It had worked. Was it bad that she was proud of that fact? And proud that he knew it had?

"It certainly will be interesting to see what wrongdoing towards me on your part next school year brings. Setting fire to my robes. Stealing from me. I shudder to think what it will be next."

"I hope nothing, Sir."

"Somehow I doubt that will be the case. He won't stop trying."

She grew somber then. Ginny and Harry almost died this year. Ginny was just an innocent bystander in all of this. She and Ron were, too, she supposed, but they'd chosen to go along with and help Harry last year and this year.

"Try to enjoy your summer, Sir," she said finally before leaving the classroom.

He wasn't going to stop trying. The professor seemed very certain of that. That scared her because he wasn't the type to say things that he didn't mean.

The sorcerer's stone. The chamber of secrets. Thank God she had time over the summer to try to figure out if these two things had anything in common. Or if there was anything with one or the other they missed. She wasn't sure what was coming next year, but if Professor Snape believed Voldemort was going to keep trying she would do her damnedest to be ready to help Harry.

~The End~

Story ©Susan Falk/APCKRFAN/PhantomRoses.com