Warning: Unbeta'd. Read at your own risk.

Disclaimer: Harry Potter does not belong to me.

A/N: I've been dying to write an SS/HG forever. Unfortunately, my writing skills are not great. I always end up botching Snape. This is the first semi-decent SS/HG fic that I've been able to produce. It's going to be a two or three part fic, hopefuly lighthearted. Please leave your comments. Thanks!

PART I

Hermione sat in the front row, pen and notebook ready, waiting eagerly for the lecture to begin. This was almost like being back at Hogwarts, she thought excitedly. She couldn't wait to see the billowing robes arrive at the podium, couldn't wait to hear him speak. It was so terribly exciting.

She mustn't draw attention to herself, she reminded herself, trying to cap a lid on her bubbling excitement, lest he embarrassed her in front of the Wizarding World's intelligentsia. Professor Snape surely hadn't changed in the preceding years since he had terrorized the children of Hogwarts. She smoothed over her pretty blue robes, made sure her hair was as tidy as could be in her bun and sat straight in her chair, the picture of restraint and decorum.

Her resolve was shattered as soon as Professor Snape walked to the stage and took charge of the podium. She had attended the symposium on Magical Maladies at St. Mungo's because it fed her hunger for knowledge. However, the cherry on top of this particular event was that Severus Snape would be lecturing. It had seemed like good fun at the time, to relive Hogwarts once again, even if it was with the most intimidating professor she'd had.

It wasn't like that at all. At all.

Professor Snape looked pretty much as she remembered. The reaction to his appearance, that hit her right in the gut, she didn't remember at all. It was crazy, this appeal he had, dark and, well, sexy. He looked the same and yet he didn't. She was staring at him, rudely so, and he caught her. His dark eyes locked on hers for a millisecond before dismissing her. Regardless, Hermione kept on staring; studying him, trying to decipher just what about him had made her salivate on sight.

His voice was like dark chocolate, smooth and rich, and flitted through Hermione in spurs and bursts only, too intent on his physical form to give adequate attention to his knowledge. She already knew he was brilliant from her years at Hogwarts and more recently by devouring all the research papers he had published.

Already knowing about his intelligence, Hermione chose to focus instead on his physical attributes. Tall and slim, not gaunt, just slim, just perfect. Long hair gathered at the back, nice, very nice, clean shaven, no longer so pale, a nicer darker complexion. Fit, very fit, with a runner's body. Same awful nose, same crooked teeth, but appealing, in predatory way…

What was she on about? Crooked teeth? She was going bonkers for sure. To think she'd wanted to reminisce about Hogwarts and ended up with an out of control libido. She closed her eyes, because really, it was just too much.

That voice, that chocolaty voice, filled the room, filled her head, her insides, it felt delicious, sensual. She snapped her eyes open again because she was on the verge of letting out a frustrated moan. To her everlasting bad luck she opened them just in time to see him demonstrating on some potion or another.

His hands, Merlin, were intoxicating to observe; the strength in them, the confidence of his grip on the stirring rod, the large hand, the protruding knuckles, the deftness in them, and the power held there.

Sensory overload.

Hermione would have to excuse herself if this went on for much longer. There was no oxygen coming into her lungs, or her brain, all she knew was that Severus Snape was making her hot.

The young woman was making Snape uncomfortable. She looked at him as if he was a meal she was intent of devouring. There wasn't even a pretense of taking notes with her, she just stared. She looked slightly familiar, but he couldn't quite place her.

Ignoring her didn't work, as he cold feel her eyes burning his skin, so he delved into himself, his magic, to block the reaction to the witch's gaze. Only in that way, was he able to finish his presentation. Really, he must be going soft to let the simple gaze of a young woman unnerve him.

The woman in blue remained in the periphery of his mind throughout his lecture, it was with some relief that he watched her exit hastily when the question and answer portion of his presentation began. He breathed a little easier once she left, but to his utter consternation she came back only after a few minutes.

Who was this woman? It irked him to no end that she had unsettled him so.

The mysterious woman sat quietly during the session, with her hands on her lap, occasionally gazing up when he answered questions, but never once raising her hand to ask a question. Obviously, the woman was a dunderhead. A very attractive dunderhead from what he could see. A very familiar looking one as well, although he was too focused on his presentation to fully dig into his memory for the identity of the witch.

The small reception took place right after he had spoken, in which the public and speakers could interact freely. Usually Snape would have skipped it altogether, but he had to admit that he was somewhat intrigued by the young witch. He kept her eyes trained on him, and kept getting closer and closer to where he was standing, as if she was circling a prey and getting ready to pounce.

Prey, that's what he felt like. It was not an altogether unpleasant feeling; on the contrary, it was quite a novelty to see a witch with such forwardness, delightfully refreshing. Still something about her made him ill at ease.

"Professor Snape," she greeted, finally pouncing. "It's a great pleasure to hear you speak." She smiled becomingly.

Snape blinked, Professor? Merlin, but it was the Granger girl. It was Granger in grown up clothes, Granger with a semi tamed mane of hair, Granger in stockings and sexy heeled boots. It was Granger's face, alright, with the pert nose, and the big brown inquisitive eyes, but the stamp of childhood was now gone.

She had been what, seventeen, when he had last seen her? Hair everywhere, gawkiness personified and a tendency to run her mouth off and show off at every opportunity. She had certainly come into her own, Snape thought, running her eyes over her discretely.

"Thank you, Ms. Granger."

She had a look in her eye, the same one that had her practically jumping out of her seat back at Hogwarts to ask or answer a question. He sighed, at the injustice of it, "What is it, Ms. Granger? Out with it."

She was probably dying to ask something about the new properties of the Wolfsbane potion he had developed. Mayhap ask about a point he had made in one of his previous articles. Only Granger would looked turned on at the chance to gain knowledge.

She smiled a smile that made him feel like prey again. Scary. She was a bit scary. "I would like to ask you out for dinner, sir." She noted the denial on his lips before he spoke and quickly added, "That is, I'm very interested in the point you made in Potions Today, and would like to discuss it further with you."

Her smile wasn't quite guileless, nor was the predatory look on her eye, or the way she spoke the last statement that sounded decidedly dirty to Snape's ears. He leaned in closer to her, which was a mistake because now he could smell her perfume.

"What point is that?"

"Ah, the statement you made about witch hazel acting as a catalysts for the babbling potion."

"Witch hazel, crushed into a powder, and slowly stirred in will bind with the rose hips to activate the reaction. Any further questions?"

"No, sir"

"Then I see no reason for dinner."

She moved even closer to him, toe to toe with him and looked up at him with intense eyes. "Sir, go out with me."

"Absolutely not."

"May I call on you then? Write you?"

"Ms. Granger you are being completely-"

"Insuferable, I know. I can't help it."

"You're wasting your time."

"I doubt it, sir. I think I will enjoy courting you very much."

Courting me? Could she really be this forward? By the look of her eye though, he should substitute courting for hunting. Merlin, he was in trouble.

"I've no interest in you, Granger," he sneered at her and left, feeling as if his words would hardly be a deterrent for his former student.

Dear Sir,

I'll make this short and sweet. I admit I was a bit overzealous. However, do not think I have rushed into this without thinking. I have admired your intellect since I first met you and since last week, seeing you as a grown woman, have instantly developed a strong attraction for you.

I think you and I would make extremely good match. We're both intellectuals, voracious readers, that share some history. That is a good foundation to start a new relationship. I ask only for a chance, to see if we are as compatible as I think we are.

Sincerely,

HJG

Enclosed: A token of my affection.

She was a wily one, writing to the hospital in which he worked. Little witch, trying to appeal to him with logic. They had an interest in intellectual pursuits. So bloody what? "Insufferable bushy-haired, buckteeth, know-it-all," he cursed through clenched teeth. His familiar looked up at him questioningly, and Snape patted her on the head to ease her down.

She was much too young for him. Granger stilled addressed him as 'sir', or "Professor" for Merlin's sake. She was young still. Different stages, different goals. It would not do at all except for an empty dalliance. And he was much too old for that.

The token turned out to be a bookmark. It was made of wood, simple and elegant with a date etched on. The date when he had lectured at St. Mungo's.

Dissuading the woman would not be an easy task. She was tenacious and goal oriented and she had set her sights on him. Snape was positive that the woman had achieved everything she had set her mind to. Still, perhaps it would be fun to repel her attentions, it should not be so hard, after all he had spent the majority of his life until recently actively repelling people.

"Here, Clover," he said to his familiar, handing her the bookmark, "A new chew toy."

He set quill to parchment and did his worst.

"…. the pathetic attempts of a desperate divorcee…."

"Ouch," Neville said, wincing for Hermione's behalf.

"…. foolish woman…. no interest in a witch such as yourself with no redeeming qualities except for your brain, which in truth is a liability as well…" and on in went, disparaging her character.

"I think he likes me."

The tree other occupants at the table, Luna, Padme and Neville, at a small pub in Hogsmeade looked at each other as if deciding weather to have Hermione committed.

"No, really. He was looking at me at the symposium, before he recognized me, which definitely spoke of interest. If I wasn't me he'd concede to at least one date."

"But you are you, Hermione," Padma told her.

"He'll just have to get over that fact," Hermione said stubbornly.

Luna who at that point had remained silent spoke, "The only thing worst than what you are doing is doing nothing at all."

"Yes, I'm being proactive," Hermione smiled at Luna.

"What you're doing is scaring him off, ever try being demure?" Padma asked.

"Doubt demureness would evoke a response from the professor," Neville surmised. "Like Luna said, she's taking a risk, which is better than doing nothing and eliciting absolutely no response from the professor."

"What you all seem to forget," Padma said, trying to reason with the group, "Is that we don't know the professor at all. We didn't know him at Hogwarts and we don't know him now. These notions that fly around about him could be wrong. Who knows what he's really like or what he wants?"

"I know he's brilliant, attractive, and powerful… the rest I would find out if he agreed to go on a bloody date with me."

Padma wanted to roll her eyes; Hermione as smart as she was didn't have the purely logical mind of a Ravenclaw and would sometimes let her emotions lead her instead of her intellect. Padma could foresee no good end to this.

"Stage one is completed. I wrote, he responded. Now it's time for stage two."

Padma and Neville were truly afraid of what Stage two would entail. Luna just smiled at her as she drank her butterbeer.

"Guys, I know that my actions may seem a little unbalanced. I've thought this through and I really believe the Professor could be 'the one' for me. He's everything I've been looking for and I'm not going to give it up because he's intellectually opposed to me. I have to give this at least a chance."

Padma shook her head at Hermione's single mindedness but respected and sometimes even envied her courage.

Hermione sat in the front row again, this time at a Wizarding University in Marseilles France, trying not squirm in her seat as she raised her hand as far as it could go to ask a question.

The professor had given her one death glare when he had seen her, and hadn't looked at her since. Stage two would be a failure if the Professor didn't call on her. She was somewhat relived as well, as she felt her courage might fail her if he did grant her a question.

"Aw, Mr. Snape, I cede my query to that young lady sitting up front who's been waving for your attention with no avail," said a man in the back row said with a heavy Italian accent that the Professor had called upon.

Hermione blushed from head to toe, regardless of what she was about to do. She waved a little thank you to the older wizard at the back. He winked at her.

"Very well, what will it be?" the professor said in his smooth voice, the sound of his words resonating throughout her body, making Hermione feel as if she were melting. It didn't help that his eyes were boring down on her, it didn't help that she had glimpse of his crooked teeth as he sneered at her, or that his large hands gripped the sides of the podium so hard his veins protruded slightly.

"I would like to ask you to go out on a date with me. Just one. Sir."

"No. Next question," he said automatically.

By the time he answered though, the room had burst into well meaning laughter and gasps of surprise as well as some request for Snape to accept the offer. The professor left the stage when it was obvious the crowd held no more interest in magical theory and continued to heckle his refusal of Hermione.

Her spirits were somewhat lifted at the response form the audience, yet the public rejection, which she ultimately knew would happen, still stung. Hermione knew he would reject her; the object hadn't been for him to say yes, but for him to know she was serious and would not give up. Now hopefully she hadn't embarrassed him beyond repair…

"Snape, you prat, let me through," called an elderly wizard from his floo. The very same Wizard who helped Granger make a mockery of him in front of his peers. "Fine. My old bones will just have to make due in such an uncomfortable position."

"Serves you right."

"Don't be ass, Snape."

Snape took a book from his library, sat down on his comfortable sofa, put on his glasses and proceeded to read while his familiar napped at his feet.

"She's a charming young lady with a tight firm bum that makes me wish I were younger. She's brilliant it seems, which is a must for you, although I myself always preferred witless beauties. What could possibly be wrong with her?"

"She's young, Moretti, a former student."

"Only you would see youth as a disadvantage. Why in my day…"

Lecherous old man, Snape thought.

"I'm an your friend, Severus, and believe it or not, I would like for you to be happy," Moretti said in a kind voice. "I don't see why you are refusing this young and like minded woman who is going to great lengths to show you her interest in you."

"She's merely infatuated. It will pass. And I'm perfectly happy now, without her."

Moretti sighed loudly. "You're not happy, hardly. You are content, satisfied, but not truly happy. You're missing out on an opportunity here."

"Mind your own bloody business."

Knowing that Snape was in one of his moods, Moretti stepped off the floo and let his friend be. How can someone so intelligent be so stupid? He'd admired the younger man's keen mind every since he met him, and was more than happy to leave the position of Head Researcher at San Rafaelle Hospital in Snape's capable hands. The matter of Snape's personal life was something he had despaired over for just as long.

What to do? What to do?

Hermione had never been to this part of Italy, usually her travels took her to museums, ancient ruins, or metropolitan areas. Currently she was residing in a quaint little inn in the small village of Antonella. It was picturesque, complete with cobbled roads and a delicious trattoria.

As much charm as it had, Hermione's feet were aching from having walked the whole village more times than she could count. People were starting to look at her funny anyway, thus a trip to the nearby beach would suit her just fine.

Maybe the letter had been a joke, she thought dejectedly, maybe someone was laughing at her from far away. Maybe the professor was in on it. It made too much sense though, a rural village in Italy, close by where the professor worked…

She sat down on the sand, wistfully staring at the horizon, carefully strategizing stage three. It would be her last attempt; you could lead a horse to water but you can't make him drink.

The next thing she knew she had a lap full of dog who was dying to slobber her face. It was a big heavy dog, but strangely exuded no threat or aggression. It was in fact a happy and friendly looking dog.

"Clover, you mongrel, come back here!"

The voice made Hermione's stomach flop. She gave silent thanks to the anonymous person who had sent the letter.

"Mi dispiace-"

"Hello, sir, fancy meeting you here."

Wow, he was really angry. And hot. Black pants, tennis shoes, a dark blue sweater. Muggle Snape. Very nice. Oh, but he was walking away…

"Sir. Sir!"

"You are a crazy woman. Absolutely nutters! I have never met such pig headed obtuse woman in my life," he said turning around, practically shooting fire out of his mouth.

The dog barked excitedly around them oblivious to his master's mood. "One date, one single date, and afterwards I do not want to ever see you again. Understood?"

"Yes, sir."

"Giovanni's tonight. Eight o'clock. Do not be late."

Hermione nodded vigorously, feeling as she had just been sentenced to detention instead of finally getting her date. She watched him walk away, the dog at his heels, his hair loose, and told herself he was worth the trouble.

Hermione took a seat opposite to him exactly five minutes before eight. Snape had to admit she looked quite fetching. Her hair was tied back in a messy bun again, this time with the added artistry of a side braid. Tight jeans, boots, a brown sweater was her ensemble and it made her look young and pretty and the smile that blossomed on her face at the sight of him made him feel old.

"Good evening, Professor," she said.

"Ms. Granger."

"Did you know," she continued, "That muggle researches have actually found that opposites don't attract? It turns out most couples are more similar than they are different."

The waiter interrupted Snape's response to such obvious drivel. Granger handled herself adequately in ordering her drink in Italian. Not perfect Italian, too much of accent and somewhat limited vocabulary but she made herself understood.

"Are you implying that we are similar? In what way, Granger? Were we sorted into the same house? Are we from the same generation? Do we work in similar fields? What do we have in common? Pray, don't say our hunger for knowledge."

Unfazed, she shrugged, "There goes that strategy." Their waiter arrived with the drinks and Granger used the time to re-organize her plans, he could practically hear the gears grinding. "Let's try this instead: Pretend you were never my professor and this is the first time we ever met."

She opened the menu and looked over the choices. "Severus," she started and by the way she said it, the way her lips formed his name, it was obvious it was unfamiliar and strange. "It's nice to finally meet you."

Snape rolled his eyes and signaled to waiter, having eaten enough times in the Ristorante to know his way around the menu.

Once they ordered, Hermione just sat there, a small smile on her face, enjoying the garlic bread. "I work in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. It's challenging work, especially working with the diehard old guard. I'm a muggle born you see, and they don't look too kindly upon me."

"Probably not the only reason," Snape said sarcastically.

Hermione made a face, and Snape mentally patted himself in the back for finally eliciting some frustration from her.

"Sir, this is a date… try to be less hostile, will you? I warn you, if you keep sabotaging this date I will not keep my end of the bargain and will keep bothering you until I get a proper date. Now, we're going to enjoy a nice dinner, a walk around town, and then you're going to walk me to my room and kiss me goodnight like a proper gentleman. Is that understood?"

Bossy little bitch. "I've no choice in the matter if I want to get rid of you."

The meal, as always, was scrumptious Hermione tucked into it with obvious gusto. All the while she talked about her job, her life, her interests and would routinely demand answers for her questions. Often times he lied, because he had read that book, and he was interested in the new standards of the ministry, and yes the Quibbler reported more accurately than the Daily Prophet, and yes damn it, potions was reaching an unprecedented high. It wouldn't do to encourage her.

After dinner they walked around town like Hermione had demanded, with her hand tucked into the crook of his elbow, with her warm little body pressed against his side. She smiled a lot, Snape noticed, especially at him. It was hard to keep a good defense against such tactics.

"You don't seem like the dog-type, sir." Once in a while she would slip up, call him sir or professor. The pretense wasn't a very good one. "I've been wondering how you acquired Clover."

"She acquired me," he said, self- deprecatingly. "She followed me home one day… and that's the end of it."

There was probably more to it than that, Hermione thought, but chose not inquire further. "She's very friendly."

"Yes, terrible guard dog."

"But tremendously good company, I imagine," she said a bit sadly.

"That she is," he admitted. It was nice, more than nice, to be in Clover's company. Clover was always excited to see him, to show affection, to give comfort. There were days when he thought happiness was reading a book with clover at his feet. "Do you have a familiar?"

"No. Crookshanks, my cat familiar, passed away several years ago. I haven't the emotional stamina to commit myself to another pet yet. I still miss him"

"I see," he said, empathizing, knowing that Clover was passed her prime already. "Here you are, Granger." He said, stopping outside the inn she was staying at.

"Thank you, Professor, for the lovely evening."

"Severus," he said. "I'm supposed to be just Severus."

"Oh, yes, I keep slipping up-"

Then he kissed her, on the lips, like she had asked him to. And it was sweet, and awkward, and perfect, and everything she had wanted it to be. She held him for a bit longer than necessary afterwards. "It could be like this all the time, I know it, Severus."

He disentangled himself from her, and shook his head, saying, "Goodbye, Granger."

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