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A Matter of Honor Book 1: The Honors Project Chapter 9: Complications One Wednesday afternoon, as the snow was falling softly outside and the Hogwarts ghosts were beginning to practice Christmas carols as they roamed the hallways, Hermione stopped in the library before her late afternoon Potions class to look for a book Snape had recommended on the Imperius curse. Her work on Cruciatus was going so well that they had decided it was time for her to expand her reading a bit in preparation for the next term. She had seen his name in a list of upcoming articles in the most recent number of Ars Alchemica; he hadn't pointed it out to her when he loaned her the scroll, and, when she asked, he had said that he'd submitted it over a year before and had only recently learned it was to be published. (Apparently the wizarding world's academic press didn't care for Snape any more than his students.) She suspected that he didn't want to scare her off, since she'd begun to think about the next curse she would turn to, but he hadn't said anything further. She had asked him a question about his article, and an hour later they had agreed that she could work on Imperius without feeling as though she was mimicking his own work. The project could not, because of time restraints and other considerations (she did have other classes, after all), aim to finalize the potion for Cruciatus she was developing; her goal was to provide enough evidence that the path she was on would likely lead towards the desired end. She hoped to continue her work as a university student at Mywoods. She hoped that, somehow, she could continue to work with Professor Snape. "Perhaps when I return to Hogwarts as a teacher," she smiled to herself, choosing the volume she needed and moving to Madam Pince's desk to check it out. She didn't see that somebody had entered the stacks behind her, and plowed into Ralph, who was kneeling down to retrieve something from the bottom shelf. "Oof!" he said, but smiling. "Watch where you're going, Hermione--or were you trying to sabotage Ravenclaw for our next match? Of course, it is against Slytherin, so I suppose you're not. Unless Snape has put you up to it?" He grinned. Hermione had regrouped, and smiled back. "Let's just say he wouldn't object, hmm?" Ralph laughed. Hermione thought he had a nice laugh. She asked, "But seriously, you do promise to win, don't you?" He looked surprised but pleased. She continued, "Because it would certainly help Gryffindor out if you'd knock Slytherin down a peg or two." She couldn't care less about Quidditch, for the most part, but Harry had convinced her that the Quidditch season could have some serious bearing on the house points this year, at least with the way things currently stood, and even Hermione was thrilled at the notion of a Gryffindor victory each and every year she was at Hogwarts. They talked for a bit as they left the library, and Ralph finally said, "You'd better run; you'll be late. And that wouldn't do for the Head Girl, eh?" Hermione gasped, "Oh no! And I've got Potions!" She took off running, while Ralph smiled, watching her until she'd turned the corner.
"Where's Hermione?" whispered Ron, as Snape entered the classroom and began to check the roll. "She's late!" "This isn't good," Harry whispered back. Just then, Hermione burst through the door. Trying to catch her breath, she muttered, "Sorry, Professor," and hurried to her seat. Professor Snape hadn't taken his eyes off her since she'd entered. Once she was seated, he watched as she took out parchment and quill, waiting for her to raise her eyes and look at him. The rest of the class was silent, and Draco Malfoy looked as though it was Christmas, Boxing Day, and New Year's all at the same time. After another moment, Hermione glanced up to see Snape scowling down at her, one eyebrow raised to the ceiling. Her eyes widened a little, and she wondered whether she should apologize again, when Snape drawled, so quietly that she could barely hear him, "Miss Granger, the fact that you are my honors student does not entitle you to arrive in my class any time you please." She looked down at her desk. Another pause. "Was there some emergency that required your attendance as Head Girl?" She shook her head. "No, Sir." He tilted his head and crossed his arms across his chest, his lip turning up ever so slightly at the end. "I thought not. Ten points from Gryffindor." When he had turned to write the list of ingredients on the blackboard, Ron muttered, "Ten points?!" But Hermione hissed, "Shut up, Ron," and stared fixedly at her parchment.
Hermione had intended to speak to Professor Snape just after class about a question she'd had that morning, but when Goyle had exploded his potion all over the wall two minutes before the end of the period, she decided she could wait until their regular meeting that night. She stopped in the hallway outside the classroom to gather her thoughts. She had been hurt that Snape took off so many points, but had reminded herself that it was no more and no less than he took off for anyone who dared to be late to his class. Mostly, she was mad at herself for losing track of time while talking to Ralph. She opened the door and entered. Snape wasn't there yet, she noticed. She set down her things inside the workroom and came back out to gather some ingredients. Standard, base elements, she could find them all in the classroom. The door opened behind her and she didn't turn. "Ah, good evening Miss Granger. On time, I see," Snape quipped, but his tone wasn't harsh. She turned to face him; he was watching her, waiting to see what she would say, it seemed. She wanted to smart off, wanted to ask him why he'd humiliated her in class. Instead, she said, "On time, as requested," and turned back to the cabinet. After a moment she heard him working at his own cauldron, and asked, "Professor, I had a question I wanted to ask you--about the Smythe article we were discussing on Monday?" "Yes?" But she had to say something about class first, she decided. "Professor, before I ask…" She turned to find him looking at her. "I did want to apologize again for being late today. I…I was at the library, and I just lost track of time. I'm sorry." He raised an eyebrow, but this time it seemed he was…amused? Surely not. He returned to his work and said, "You know my thoughts on letting your work on this project get in the way of your other responsibilities. I don't believe we need to say any more on the subject." "Yes, Sir," she answered, glad he didn't know about Ralph. "And as for the points," he continued, "I didn't think that you would want me to show you any favoritism in front of Slytherin. Or ever, for that matter." He looked up for her response. "No, Sir." "Very well then." His tone changed from something that wasn't quite patronizing to the business-like manner that told her the subject was closed. Somehow, she didn't feel so badly about what happened, despite her humiliation when it had happened. She wondered if she was relived because he wasn't angry with her… "Miss Granger," his voice startled her, "you said you had a question?" She asked her question, not noticing the gleam in his eye.
"So, did you tell him off for yelling at you like that in class?" Ron asked with a grin when she returned to the common room. Harry added, "I'm sure Madam Pince could have sent a note with you to class: 'Dear Professor Snape, please excuse Miss Granger for being late to your class. Her library work is ever so much more important, as I'm sure you'll agree…'" He and Ron laughed, and Hermione couldn't help from smiling. "No, I explained what happened and he didn't seem to be angry about it anymore. I guess he had to come down on me so hard because it wouldn't do to not come down on me--Draco and the others would have had it out for me for sure then," she said. Ron didn't look convinced, but Harry nodded. She wasn't completely convinced, herself; it still bothered her a little that Snape had been so cruel to her, making that crack about her being Head Girl (Draco had actually laughed out loud). She realized that she had come to think of herself as different than everybody else where Snape was concerned, even in the classroom. So maybe she felt so humiliated because she realized she'd let herself presume too much. Ron said, "You make it sound like he did you a favor. I just don't get it." Hermione shook her head. It didn't matter, she told herself. "Never mind. Now what have you been up to?" Ron, forgetting all about Snape, launched into his latest scheme. "Fred and George wrote today; they've promised to send me some of their newest invention to try out at the Yule Ball." Hermione turned to Harry, rolling her eyes when she saw him grinning just as widely as Ron. ("Boys!" she thought.) Ron grew animated as he described the new Very Cherry Hairy Beary Treats, guaranteed to make you start sprouting fur five minutes after you swallowed the candies. "They're even the right color for Christmas," Ron added, proudly. Hermione smiled. She cared about Ron an awful lot, but she sometimes wondered how they had ever gotten together in the first place. He was just so…childish. Not in a bad way, necessarily, but…she thought of Ralph. He was the same age, but he was Head Boy, and captain of his house Quidditch team. He did well in school--was doing an honors project, like her. She stopped, mid-thought, wondering why she had thought of Ralph Innes. She liked Ralph, but had never really thought about…then she did. All the times he stopped to talk to her after their meetings with McGonagall, the way he always asked her if she'd be at that week's match, the way he smiled at her…. "Oy, Hermione!" Ron did his best impression of his older brothers. "Where'd you go?" "Sorry," Hermione said, "I just got distracted." Harry winked at her. "Thinking about work, or…Snape?" he asked, teasing. She frowned at him. "No. Actually, I was thinking about Ralph Innes," she said, getting out of her chair and leaving for her dorm room. She glanced back to see Ron's mouth hanging open.
A/N: In this chapter, I must note that I borrowed Mywoods from Lilith Morgana's No Angel, and the journal Ars Alchemica from Riley's Pawn to Queen.
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