Christmas Eve continued

This is a story by the great Marisol, a German FF writer whose stories can be found at http://www.harrypotter-xperts.de/fanfiction?author=17037

Translated from German into English by Muggline

Disclaimer: Neither Marisol nor Muggline are making any money out of this. Everything you recognise belongs to J.K.Rowling.

A/C: Considering the weather here in Germany, I'd like to offer some iced coffee with vanilla ice cream (it's called an "Ice Coffee" here) to ladyinthecloak, our tireless beta.

5. Chapter 5

Snape took some seconds before he continued.

"'Impressed' is not quite the correct term, I am afraid. Miss Granger undoubtedly did her homework, but I cannot exactly say that I had noticed her as particularly outstanding in Potions. Or that she even impressed me."

Hermione managed a false smile while she tried to appear calm. "Would you please be so courteous as to enlighten me, Professor Snape, what I ought to have done to 'impress' you? And why I did not, in the end?"

His lips formed an arrogant smile as he said, "It seems to matter a lot to you, so I will: Nature has awarded you with promising prerequisites, Miss Granger. You have a good memory and fast perceptive faculties. You like reading, you read much, and you value knowledge for knowledge's sake. However, there is something you lack. You could probably recite every recipe for any potion that is mentioned in the books by heart, as well as their effects and possible side effects. You would manage to brew most potions from memory without major problems if I would ask you to do so here and now. But, Miss Granger, you do not have any personal attachment to the subject."

"Personal attachment?" Hermione echoed with some acidic quality in her voice.

Harry and Ginny eagerly followed the discussion without joining in. Probably a clever decision, considering the fact that Hermione seemed to steer dangerously close towards impatience – and the lack of politeness that came with it.

"Yes, personal attachment," Snape answered coolly. "Let me give you an ex..."

"Well, you never made it easy for anyone to like your classes and, as you say, develop some 'personal attachment," she interrupted him rather sourly. However, she did not drop the charming smile.

"Well, that was not the question, Miss Granger. You wanted to know why you did not impress me. Whether you liked my classes or not is irrelevant. Getting back to my example – with your kind permission, of course..." he added mockingly. "Everybody would probably be capable of learning some notes and plonk away on a piano without major mistakes. But only a select few manage to play and create music. You did not manage to play the music, Miss Granger. You certainly understood every tiny detail and the exact order in which certain potions are brewed. You were able to add the precise amount of ingredients, let the brew simmer at the perfect temperature, stir it correctly and do everything right on the basis of the books in which you so like to stick your nose. You did everything mechanically, but your endeavours were not a result of your wish to feel the beauty of the potion and its creation. You wanted to be the best student in the class. No more and no less." He lifted his glass and toasted her.

This overbearing gesture made her drop all restraint. "Wasn't it you who said that brewing potions is an exact art?" she burst out. "I think that I indeed mastered them well enough to get an 'Exceeds Expectations' at least once!" Her cheeks blushed with anger while all the injustices that she had ever experienced from Snape kept passing through her mind like a movie.

"But you did not exceed my expectations, Miss Granger," he replied dryly. "I expected you to brew all the potions according to the manuals – and you did. You would have exceeded my expectations if you, for once, had answered a question by not simply repeating the book, but telling me your own thoughts, in your own words. Or if you had brewed a potion which included your own reflections and ideas, to try to expand the shelf life or to improve the taste, for example. You wanted praise for something you would have managed anyway thanks to your exceptional intellect. Unlike most of your classmates," his gaze quickly darted over Harry, "you had no difficulties whatsoever to read instructions correctly and implement them. So why should this merit any praise from my side? In other words: you would never praise a Frenchman for speaking French, would you? Books and hard work are not everything, Miss Granger."

Hermione bit her lower lip to prevent herself from spitting at him. However, she did not even know why the fact that he was not willing to acclaim her performance after all these years afflicted her so. Every other teacher at Hogwarts had been deeply impressed by her enormous knowledge and her characteristic way of never accepting simple solutions. She knew for sure that no other student had spent nearly as much time studying as she had. The only thing she wanted him to do was to admit that she had accumulated more specialist knowledge than all the other students in her year combined. But he seemed determined to deny her any appreciation.

Deep inside her, a small voice spoke up, to her own surprise, and whispered, These were your own words, once. Do you remember, Hermione? When you crossed the giant chessboard in your first year, you told Harry there are more important things than books and cleverness.

She ignored the voice, and in her anger – although she half-heartedly tried to suppress it – she did something very stupid: "I managed to brew Polyjuice Potion in my second year. How many second years you know can say this for themselves, Professor?"

"Hermione!" Harry warned her in a whisper, but she did not care.

"Apart from myself, you mean?" he asked, amused. But before she could even try to answer, he said in a silky smooth voice that undoubtedly told her there was danger ahead, "You have just confirmed a suspicion I had for years, Miss Granger. But to answer your question: The fact that you managed to do this in your second year does indeed merit one hundred points for Gryffindor."

Hermione had been so sure that he would make a snide comment that she had already opened her mouth to defend herself. She closed it in surprise, only to hear him say, "One hundred points to be deduced, naturally," he said with a naughty smile. "Because apart from stealing from my private supplies, you probably lingered in the Restricted Section of the library and sneaked out of your dormitory after curfew to brew the potion in peace so the other students would not notice. You are very lucky that I am not a petty man, Miss Granger. If I were, I would make sure that the House Cup for that year was taken from Gryffindor and awarded to my own House."

Hermione gasped like a fish on dry land. She could not believe that he had really said these things. Stay calm, she forced herself, taking some deep, slow breaths.

"Well, Professor – it has been a long time since you were able to intimidate me by taking away House Points," she finally managed to say with a superior smile.

"Indeed?" he asked, lifting one eyebrow. "So, pray tell, Miss Granger, why are you still calling me 'Professor'?"

None of them seemed to notice that Harry and Ginny were still present, observing them in amazement.

"Because I have no clue how to address you otherwise. Mr. Snape? Or just 'Snape'? Monsieur Snape, maybe?"

One corner of his mouth twisted into the suggestion of a smile. However, she could not understand what had been so amusing about her question.

"May I ask you something personal?" he said.

His question astonished and angered her, but she did not have the time to voice her annoyance as he continued.

"Why did you pursue a career in Magical Law?"

Of all the questions he might have asked, this was the one she had least expected.

"Well, I am interested in law," she answered promptly.

"You are interested in many things," he wiped her answer off impatiently, "but why Magical Law? What is it that fascinates you so much that you decided to pursue it professionally?"

Hermione hesitated for a moment, and then she slowly started speaking. "Laws are like solid walls. They seem impermeable. The wording is clear, stating, without any doubt, what the law is all about. However, it is the art of my profession to find loopholes within these walls. To manage to overcome these walls somehow and interpret the words in a way that is favourable for the clients with whom I cooperate. You've got to have a feel for it. This is what tempts and fascinates me. Finding these tiny loopholes that allow me to achieve a certain goal.

"Just one example: The word 'less'. It often appears in laws, as in 'less serious cases' or 'lesser crime'. This seems quite simple. But what exactly is 'less'? You would not believe how many levels and possible interpretations this term offers."

Unconsciously, Hermione had revealed much more than she had intended to. It was true, her profession fascinated her, but now she was almost embarrassed that she had digressed so much. She met Snape's gaze, who favoured her with a peculiar expression.

When she thought she would start blushing under the intensity of his gaze, he slowly said: "See, Miss Granger, you can do it!"

"What are you talking about, sir?"

"You could not do it in Potions because you lacked personal attachment. You could not play the music. Remember? But in your profession – and I am very much prepared to admit it – you do. You are in it with a passion. Not only because you want to best your colleagues or have a superior pat you on the shoulder."

He toasted her again.

While she also lifted her glass, too bewildered to say something, hundreds of thoughts kept swirling in her mind. Starting with the question if he had indeed just expressed his appreciation – and if he had done so, why it mattered so much to her.