I do not own Severus Snape or any other characters you might recognise here, they all belong to the amazing JK Rowling. I only own my fantasy self.

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"Miss Aylward," he hissed, "I believe I have told you at least once every week for over five years not to swing on your stool?"

I scrambled to my feet - very dignified, Serena - and brushed a stray spider from my robes.

"I suppose it's too much," he continued, "to hope you might actually learn from your mistakes". One carefully raised eyebrow perfectly complemented a tone of voice positively dripping with sarcasm.

Oops.

If it wasn't for the fact I am fortunate enough to be a proud member of Slytherin House, I expect I would have been forced to chop Malfoy's slugs, clean the entire dungeons and write a 6 foot essay on "Why Swinging on One's Stool is Dangerous and How I Intend to Stop" by now. And have 30 points docked from my House, of course.

I mumbled an apology and resumed my place taking notes as Professor Severus Snape, Potions Master at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, continued to scowl at me with an expression of contempt usually reserved for Gryffindors alone.

Ah yes, the Gryffindors. The only one left taking Potions on for the N.E.W.T.s was Hermione Granger, naturally. She was taking as many subjects as possible, whereas Harry and Ron at least had the sense to drop a subject taught by a teacher who loathed them. Actually, despite what Baby-Boy Malfoy and his childminders might think, Hermione's not too bad, for a Gryffindor. Works too hard though!

Mercifully, it wasn't too long before the bell shattered the silence of Snape's class, and I could escape.

How embarrassing! I made an idiot of myself in front of Snape again! Mind you, at least it meant he spoke to me. I'm not good enough at Potions to warrant praise, but not so badly behaved that I get singled out either. Well, not usually. Were it not for my unfortunate inability to sit still, I would never hear him address me, never hear that silky-soft, quietly menacing voice which send shivers up and down my spine ... a-hem. Where was I?

Actually, where am I? I may be a Sixth Year, but I don't know every single part of the school, and this looks suspiciously close to Gryffindor territory. It's sunny, for a start. I'd better find my way back to the dungeons.

***

Unfortunately, that seems to be easier said than done. I've been wandering around for half an hour, and I've still no idea where I am!

Oh no ... as if I hadn't already been humiliated enough today ... here comes Snape, sneering at me. Does my hair look all right, I wonder?

"As far as I am aware, Miss Aylward" - cue shivers again! - "You neither study Divination nor belong to Gryffindor House. Which leads me to question your motives for loitering here."

"Er ... I'm lost."

"Lost?" A brief look of incredulity, then the sneer returned. "A Sixth Year, one of my own students nonetheless, cannot even find her way from my classroom to the Slytherin Common Room? Why, pray, should I believe that? What can have fascinated you to the extent that you could end up at the other end of the school, three floors up from your intended destination, which was just around the corner?"

What could I say?

Oh please, Professor Snape, I was thinking about how awful it was to fall off my stool in front of you when I really fancy you and I love your seductively smooth voice and the way your black robes billow and then it suddenly occurred to me to wonder what you wore underneath said robes.

Hmmm. Perhaps not. So I avoided the question.

"Could you show me the right way back to the Common Room, sir?"

He looked at me, almost as if he was about to say something, but then thought the better of it, and turned instead.

"This way. And keep up, Miss Aylward, I wouldn't like to be forced to take points away from my own House."

***

I don't believe it. I really cannot do this Potions essay. And considering how much of a bunch of dunderheads the other Slytherin Potions students are, and the fact that I won't see Hermione until the lesson this essay's due in, I really have no other option. I'll have to go and see Snape about it. As if he wasn't sick of the sight of me already! Oh dear. He won't be pleased to see me - he's never pleased to see any students anyway - but I suppose it's better than being given 2/10 when I hand it in.

And it will give me ample opportunity to study him at close quarters ... no! I must pay attention!!!

I stumbled nervously along the candlelit corridors clutching my textbooks, parchment, ink, and favourite quill. Slytherin green, of course. All too quickly I was there, trembling - calm! calm! - as I knocked.

"Yes?" he asked, irritably. I assumed this was an invitation to poke my carefully-preened head around the door.

He was staring intently into a simmering cauldron, right arm poised with a bright blue vial ready to pour. The cauldron gave they only light in the room, shining brilliant white onto his scowling face. I could have watched him for hours ...

He looked round at me, breaking the spell - to coin a Muggle phrase. "Yes, Miss Aylward?" he sighed, exasperated.

"I ... er, um ... can't work out where to go with this Advanced Sleeping Potions essay. I've been working on it for hours, but..." I trailed off, feeling stupid.

"Show me your essay." I already knew my pitiful efforts amounted to only 2 feet, and watched as Snape's expression moved between disgust, horror and cruel amusement.

Oh come on, it's not that bad, is it? But eventually, he looked back round at me. Evidently it was.

"Sit down, and pay attention. I would suggest you take notes."

I picked up my quill and a spare piece of parchment, ready to give him my undivided attention. As usual.

* * *

Half an hour later, my arm was tired, my brain was hurting, but my ears when still ringing with the deep, strangely melodious sound of his voice. Mmm!

"Is that clear, Miss Aylward?"

"I think so, Professor."

"You think so?" he said, in a slightly mocking tone.

"Erm ... yes." I cursed my stupid brain. Idiot! "Thank you, Professor."

I hastily gathered my things, trying to keep my best Slytherin-flirt-on-the-prowl smile in place, and turned slowly towards the door. I opened it, looked over my shoulder, and glided out of the room.

Falling flat on my face as I tripped over my shoelace.

Damn!

That just about sums up my day - making an idiot of myself in front of the most attractive man in the world over and over again! I'd best retreat to my room and write this essay before I do anything else stupid.

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Do you like it? My first attempt at fanfic, so please read and review!