I walk down to the dungeon, apprehensive about this make up lesson. Professor Snape is infamous for his cruelty, which I have never been the subject of, but have certainly seen numerous times in class. I am afraid that because I will be alone, he'll purposefully and constantly make the famed nasty digs in my direction. Any nervousness will only make this more likely because it might make me make an embarrassing mistake that destroys my potion.

I wish I didn't go on that choir filed trip. Being in Gryfindor only increases my chances of humiliation. I tap on the door at precisely seven thirty and it glides open. To my joy my best guy friend, Neville, is in there. Unfortunately for him this means he's gotten in trouble.

"Hey, Neville," I exclaim before I spot the professor lurking at his desk. Neville opens his mouth to respond but Professor Snape curtly orders,

"No talking, keep working," without glancing up before he has the opportunity to. He checks a grandfather clock against the back wall. "Right on time, Miss Sheen," I'm going to assume that's praise, "set up at the desk behind Mr. Longbottom," he directs me. I quickly follow his instructions and flip to the pages in the textbook without his order.

"You have forty-five minutes, begin." His selective wording is preferable to insults but it still sets me on edge, I can't help but feel his is mad at me. Thrity-five minutes in, I believe I have finished. Neville is still here recopying faded potion labels. I clear my throat, breaking the slow silence.

"Professor? I've finished." He slithers over, sneering at my cauldron.

"Due to the overly runny texture of your potion you over-stirred. Five points from Gryfindor. At this, Neville abruptly stands from his chair, accidently pushing it into the professor's lower back and legs. This causes him to lose his balance and catapult towards me. Instinctively, I raise my hands to stop him and close my eyes, wincing in preparation.

I feel pressure on my hip and shoulder. And mouth. I open my shocked eyes to find Professor Snape's mouth pressed to mine and my hands against his surprisingly firm chest. The force with which our lips met (more like crashed) suggests his forward momentum was too much to stop and happened to bring him in this position. A question forming in my stunned brain is why he is still in it. His eyes are remain close, but in actually only a few seconds have passed, time has simply appeared to slow.

I shove him back and gasp. Neville's eyes look so big they could explode out of his skull. We make eye contact that conveys our surprise and uncertainty at the current events.

"Go, both of you. You are dismissed," he hissed. We are both so shocked by the last few seconds neither of us reacts. "LEAVE," he bellows and this time we jump into action, nearly sprinting out, leaving most of our belongings and supplies behind. Halfway down the long corridor Neville starts having a panic attack.

"Oh my god, oh my god, he kissed you. Professor Snape KISSED you, on the lips, too! I'm freaking out, are you freaking out? Wait, you're not, how are you not freaking out?" he questions me, barely pausing his torrent of words for breath.

"Oh, I am, but on the inside, unlike you," I tease him. He continues his rant.

"He's sooo getting fired for this, wait 'til Ron, Harry, and Hermione hear about this, they'll die," he squeals excitedly with the reality of his worst teacher and bully no longer being part of his life. I hate to be a wet blanket but here it goes.

"No, Neville," I say seriously, stopping to face him fully, "listen to me, we're not going to tell anyone about what happened, okay?"

"What? Why not?"

"Because! It's humiliating," I say loudly before remembering our proximity to the classroom and lowering my voice and beginning to speed walk. "Imagine what people would say, especially the Slytherines," I spit out with disgust. "I'd never live down being known as the girl who kissed her teacher. No one would bother to understand it was an accidental. Please, Neville, keep this secret," I beg, knowing his strong desire to see Snape fired. He sighs.

"Fine, but we're talking about this more later." I nod to agree. We continue going to the common room without talking for a comfortable pause. "So what was it like?" he queries softly.

"N.O.Y.B.," I tell him, trying to sound indignant but laughing too hard.

"So does that mean a 'nice'?"

"Oh, shut up," I playfully request and lightly shove his shoulder.

As they turn the corner Snape undoes his invisibility charm and walks back to his classroom.

This is just a short thing I wrote for the heck of it, but I might continue. If you think I could(n't)/should(n't), please review with your opinion.

Thanks!