Disclaimer: If I owned Harry Potter, Severus wouldn't have died; Voldemort would have been thoroughly eradicated; and the last book would have been better-written and longer. As none of the above are true, it is safe to assume that I, Crystal Shores; do not own Harry Potter
A/N: After sitting in a moldy notebook for over a year, this story finally sees the light of day...
Okay, as many times as I've groaned over the way some fics have Hermione randomly falling head-over-heels for Sevvie, I will confess that this is exactly what happens in this fic. For this to work, you'll have to assume that Hermione just has a super-major crush on her dear Potions Master and take it from there.
This fic is dedicated to all of those who believed.
Even after Severus had left the building.
A/N #2: Okay, six and seven never happened. They don't exist; this is all different. Why? BECAUSE I SAID SO!!!!
Now--read!
To Speak In French
It was all Fleur's fault, really. After Fleur had been chattering away to Gabrielle in French for the first week of the summer at the Burrow, Hermione finally broke down and asked to be taught the language. After a mere six weeks, Hermione could speak French as well as any Frenchman; perhaps even better.
The obvious "cool-ness" of her skill gave Ginny the great desire to be able to speak it. When the girls returned to Hogwart's for the year, they were both able to communicate quite well without anyone having any idea as to what they were saying.
Of course, this made every other 7th year girl want to speak it. Consequently, Hermione very soon found herself spending every jot of her spare time teaching girls from every house how to speak French.
Ginny couldn't be bothered to help, as she claimed she was too busy. Hermione had no problems with this particular arrangement, as the only topic Ginny seemed interested in of late was whether Draco Malfoy had noticed the new way she did her hair or makeup. Hermione had grown very weary of this sort of talk, and also took a secret sort of satisfaction at being as respected as any normal teacher when she taught.
And so the Hogwart's 7th year girls were very soon quite confident in their ability to walk about the school saying whatever they wished about any one (or any thing, for that matter) that struck their fancy.
Little did Hermione know how very much trouble this would give her later. If she had known, she would have been sure to reply to Ginny's "brilliant idea" with a resounding "no!" on that cold, February day.
But, as it was; she had no idea of the troubles soon to plague her. And so, on that fateful Saturday, she was quite open to the idea Ginny presented…
"All right, everyone." Ginny announced in the hall that day (in French, of course). "I've come up with something. Since no-one knows what we mean anyway, why not have a good game of Truth-or-Dare?" The assembled girls, consisting of Hermione, Luna Lovegood, and Parvati Patil; were very much open to the idea, and insisted that they begin at once.
"I'll go first," Ginny said proudly. "as I'm the one who suggested it. So, Luna; do you choose truth or dare?"
"Dare." Luna replied in her usual detached way. Ginny glanced around, as though seeking inspiration; when she spotted Draco Malfoy walking down the hall. As if seized by a sudden (and violent) epiphany, Ginny hissed in French:
"I dare you to tell Draco Malfoy that you think he's the most adorable thing you've ever seen!" Parvati and Hermione nearly doubled over with laughter, causing the still-approaching Malfoy to slow down a bit. He appeared to be contemplating whether there might be another way to his destination; preferably one that was not blocked by lunatics.
Luna, uncharacteristically unnerved when it came to boys; hastily muttered a French "Pass. Ginny can do it."
"Luna," began Parvati, smiling. "there's no passes in this game." But Ginny had already rushed up to Malfoy. The girls watched in half-horror, half-excitement as Ginny walked up to Malfoy and declared in a loud voice:
"Draco Malfoy, you are the most adorable boy on the planet. And if you don't get your head out of that stupid Quidditch pitch long enough to notice that I like you; I'll hex your brains out of your toes." After looking astonished for a moment, Draco smirked and returned her declaration with a very Malfoy-esque one:
"You as well, Weasly. So, no need to hex me; right? Catch you later." He winked at the shocked Ginny and walked away. As soon as he was out of sight, the girls surrounded Ginny squealing. She held up her hand to indicate silence.
"Luna," she squeaked. "it's Hermione's turn." Luna (the only one apparently unphased by the proceedings) turned to Hermione.
"Do you choose truth or dare?" she asked calmly. Hermione smiled.
"As I am in no mood to tell the next random boy you see that I'm in love with him, I choose truth." Luna nodded, and then proceeded to calmly ask (in French, as all the proceedings had been):
"Do you like professor Snape?" For some odd reason, Hermione appeared to have turned the color of a ripe beet.
"W-well," she stammered. "he's a brilliant professor, so I suppose I like him as a professor." Luna smiled deviously-a strange thing for her to do.
"That is not what I meant, Hermione." She said calmly.
"It's Parvati's turn!" Hermione said quickly. Ginny laughed.
"It's all right, Hermione. You can call Snape a greasy old bat, if you like. It isn't like there's anyone who could understand what you meant, anyway." Hermione glared daggers at her.
"Professor Snape is the most brilliant mind I have ever encountered." She seethed in flawless French. "He runs circles around Dumbledore and Merlin combined. But after everything he's done, everything he's had to sacrifice; people like you still tease him! None of you know what it's like to be picked on because you're smart." She spat the word at the girls who were beginning to be slightly frightened of her. "Do you want the truth?" she asked, still furious. "Then yes; yes I'm smart enough to know these things and believe them. Yes, I'm sick of you being so shallow. And yes, I like Professor Snape!!" Strangely, the girls did not seemed as shocked with her revelation as she had expected they would be. Rather, they seemed preoccupied with something behind her.
"Well, well; what have we here?" Hermione nearly died of fright. She slowly turned around to find herself face-to-face with Professor Snape! "Four students chattering away in some sort of secret code?" Hermione could have screamed in relief; he hadn't understood her! "It is past curfew." He said silkily. "How many points should I deduct for such a horridly broken rule? Ten? Twenty? A hundred? And from the Head Girl, as well." His eyes bored in to Hermione's. "Really, Miss Granger;" he said quietly. "I had expected better of you." Hermione instantly went on the defensive.
"But, professor;" she insisted. "the clock only just struck six-thirty-" she was abruptly cut off by Snape.
"Silence!" He said, glaring at her. "Breaking a rule and being impudent towards a teacher. Detention, Miss Granger." Hermione felt like crying.
"When?" she asked.
"Now." He replied in a tone not to be argued with. "You will spend the rest of the night in my office sorting poisonous mud leeches. The rest of you; go to your dormitories." He indicated for Hermione to follow him and stalked down to the castle dungeons.
The remaining girls quickly returned to their dormitories feeling incredibly guilty. Ginny, especially; felt it was her fault. She sat in front of the Common Room fire staring miserably at the flames. It was in this state that Harry found her.
"Trying to put it out by glaring at it?" he asked jokingly, gesturing to the fire. Ginny shook her head.
"Professor Snape has Hermione in detention because she missed the seven-thirty curfew," she explained. "and it's all my fault." Harry glared angrily.
"That git!" he exclaimed. "He had no reason to put her in detention!!" Ginny was shocked by the sudden outburst. It wasn't like they hadn't been in detention countless times before.
"What do you mean?" she asked. He pointed to the clock on the mantle.
"That." He said furiously.
The clock read 6:35 p.m.
With a feeling of terrible dread, Hermione entered Professor Snape's office. He sat behind his desk and gestured for her to sit down at the chair in front of the desk. He reached into a drawer and pulled out something that he then proceeded to throw at Hermione without warning. The object (which Hermione only barely caught) was a silver pocket-watch with the initials "SS" engraved onto it. She looked at him curiously.
"Professor…?"
"It is a watch." He replied curtly. Hermione knew very well what it was, and was more than a little irked with him for treating her as though she didn't; but she didn't say anything.
"Miss Granger," Professor Snape said after a moment's pause. "for what offence did I give you detention?"
"For being out past curfew, professor." She said quietly. He nodded.
"Miss Granger, could you please tell me the time?" Hermione opened the watch cautiously, ready for any sort of enchantment that it might posses. It had none, but something was wrong.
"Your watch is wrong, professor." She said at last. "It says that it's only 6:43." He smirked.
"Two points." He returned. "For the first point; that watch is now yours, not mine. For the second point," and here his eyes glittered in something very akin to amusement. "that watch never has and never will have the wrong time." Hermione stared at him in shock.
"Do you mean to say, professor;" she began tentatively. "that I shouldn't be here now?" he folded his hands and stared at her in a very strange manner.
"That is entirely up to you, Miss Granger. Have you done something that deserves a detention?" Hermione glanced at him nervously, and then managed to pluck up the courage to retort:
"No, sir. I don't think so." He smiled at her. An honest-to-goodness smile that completely unnerved her.
"Very well, then." He said, gesturing to the door. "You may leave." Hardly daring to believe her luck, Hermione picked up her new watch and rushed for the door before he decided to change his mind. She had the door open before he called out:
"Oh, and Miss Granger;" she turned to him, eyes wide. Still smiling, he continued. "If one wishes to discuss private affairs, it is best done in private."
Hermione stood completely still. The sentence wasn't particularly special; just a bit of good advice that has been given time and again. What stopped her was the fact that the sentence was spoken in French; perfect French.
A/N: Review?
I have a follow-up idea for this for a full-sized fic called "To Reply In French". Yes? No? I won't know until you review!!