Doomspark posted The Page 394 Challenge (seen at his LiveJournal account). In essence, the rules were: "Take the five thickest books nearest to you, and turn to page 394 (The five HP books may NOT be used). Take the second sentence on that page from each book, and weave them into a short story."


Merriam Webster Dictionary: "A meeting at which a writer obtains information from a person."


Foundation and Earth (Isaac Asimov): "I crave pardon, respected sir."


The Big Law (Chuck Logan): "It's still suspicious, could be a setup."


Health and Wellness (MeeksHeit): "All females should perform a breast self-examination."


Honors Programs and Colleges (Dr. Joan Digby): "However, successful completion of the program is not noted on the student's official transcript and diploma."

Disclaimer- I own Harry Potter…and the Prisoner of Azkaban video game for PS2. Please don't throw the book at me, unless it's HBP.

Hermione Granger walked to the dungeons happily. Her potions project was coming along brilliantly, and tonight would be the final step to completing it. If her theories were correct, and her potion worked, it would be essential in the fight against Voldemort. It would particularly help one Severus Snape. The potion was designed to lessen the affects of Cruciatus while it was being inflicted, and to help one recover more quickly after it was cast. Hermione suspected that his personal benefit was the only reason he allowed her to apprentice with him.

She had to work in his private lab, because her project had to be carried out it the utmost secrecy. Not even many Order members were aware of it, though of course they would be told if she were successful. He had been very resentful of her intruding his personal space at first, and had been very snarky. Hermione had decided that word was perhaps the most perfect description of him that could be condensed into one word. It was very hard to fit such a dynamic and enigmatic man into one word. But after working with him for several months, Hermione felt she knew him about as well as anyone, save Dumbledore.

The better she knew him, the better she liked him. Hermione had found herself finding excuses to talk to him when she worked. Though lately Hermione had been nursing thoughts that featured him as more than just a friend. This was rather disturbing to her, when she'd woken up several times because of him, thighs damp and heart racing, to remember a dream that featured her Potions Master. More frightening, however, were the idle daydreams she had, of children with brown hair and black eyes that ran to her and called her "Mummy." But it wouldn't do to be dwelling those thoughts at the moment, so Hermione steeled her mind to focus on her potion and walked more briskly down the corridor.

When she arrived, he was gone. With a mental sigh, Hermione commenced working on her potion. It took up her hours, but she managed to stabilize it. As she was cleaning up her potions supplies, she heard him arrive.

"Professor?" she called, wondering why he was so late in arriving.

"What?" he snarled, apparently in a foul mood.

A bit put off by his attitude, she was more hesitant in asking, "Where were you? I was getting rather worried."

"I was at an interview," he replied shortly.

"An interview?" Hermione echoed, perplexed.

"Yes. An interview. A meeting at which a writer obtains information from a person. Generally annoying. I often end up killing people during or immediately after such a session."

Hermione snorted in a rather unladylike manner. "I crave pardon, respected sir. Had I known you had come from such a torturous meeting, I would have taken care not to pepper you with impertinent questions."

He gave the barest hint of a smirk, "Hermione, you have a decided failing in the subtle art of sarcasm."

"So teach me," she retorted impishly, scrunching up her nose at him.

Severus assumed a lecturing voice as he pontificated, "You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of sarcasm. As there is little foolish book memorization here, you may not believe this is useful. I don't expect you will understand the beauty of a perfectly phrased comment, the delicate intonations that can creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses… I can teach you how to induce anger, cause shame, and even control the actions of others."

'Wow,' thought Hermione giddily. 'Who knew words could be so… so enticing?'

He was still going, "This course is one of the most challenging and stimulating that may be taken, however, successful completion of the program is not noted on the student's official transcript and diploma."

'Stimulating… don't I wish…' Hermione had not yet returned from her happy place, the one with several naked Severus Snapes, doing lovely things with that voice and those hands. Snapping back into the present, she grinned at him. "Sounds lovely, however, it could still be a setup. What do you want in return, Slytherin?"

His answering glare let Hermione know quite clearly that he had been tested to the limit of his patience this night, and he wouldn't be tolerating any sort of mischief from her. Perhaps the potion fumes had addled her wits, though, because instead of backing off Hermione sidled over to him and put her hand on his neck.

She wasn't quite sure what she had thought would come of such an action, but she was relatively sure it hadn't involved him reacting as though she'd branded him with a hot poker. As soon as her hand made contact, he reacted, whipping his body under her arm to tackle her to the floor, his wand miraculously moving from his pocket to his hand to her throat. His face was dangerously calm, but his eyes were terrifying. For a moment, Hermione was sure he was going to kill her.
"What did you do?" Snape, apparently, did not take to being startled very well.

Hermione was rather preoccupied by the way he was straddling her, and did not answer for a moment, though when she did, it was remarkably articulate. "I-err-um. That is to say that I was just, I was just…"

Snape, convinced that she was not planning him harm, relaxed minutely as he considered her. She had a funny sort of look on her face, something between lost and hopeful. "Are you hurt, Ms. Granger?" he asked, wincing at the thought. 'Oh, yes, I injured the Head Girl by tackling her to the dungeon floor when she tapped my shoulder.' That would sound just wonderful when explaining her injury to Dumbledore.

"Nooo…" Hermione drew the word out slowly, almost as if she were unsure. In truth, she was merely preoccupied with the lovely feeling she was getting from having him sprawled half on top of her. It was somewhat akin to swallowing hot oatmeal, she thought fuzzily, warmth oozed through her, she could feel it permeating her skin, traversing her stomach, and lodging in her breasts and between her thighs.

It suddenly occurred to Snape what sort of a position they were in, and naturally, he scrambled to get out of it. Severus Snape did not normally scramble, for he thought himself too dignified for such a thing, but this was an exception. Scrambling, however, led to a certain amount of friction between them, which caused the rather aroused Hermione to gasp, albeit minutely.

Snape, who had managed to extricate himself by this time, was perhaps harsher than necessary in light of his embarrassment. "What's the matter with you, foolish girl? Do you need a forgetfulness potion; was it that traumatizing to be in contact with my person for a matter of seconds?"

This, at least, managed to get through the fog of pheromones clouding Hermione's normally astute brain. She reached up, and, mindful of the way he reacted before, made sure he saw her touching his face. She had no real idea what she was doing, but surely this was right. It had to be, for nothing could feel like this, and still be wrong.

Snape grabbed her hand, and hissed, "What do you think you're doing, girl? How dare you touch me?"

Hermione, undaunted, sat up and pressed her lips to his. She hadn't the slightest idea where her courage had come from, but it was not without its benefits. The feeling of his lips against hers, for instance. That was sublime, it was like- cold. It was cold, because he'd pushed her away. She reflected, absently, that it oughtn't to feel so devastating.

"What on earth were you doing, Miss Granger?" Snape's anger was palpable.

"I'm sorry Professor," Hermione muttered, her head still in a daze, "I'm really sorry…" and she burst into tears, right there on the floor.

Severus was really quite put out. He generally made Gryffindors cry on a near daily basis, and usually it resulted in a satisfied "aren't I such a nasty Freudian bastard" sort of feeling. At the moment, however, he was feeling rather distressed, and had the most uncomfortable urge to try and make her feel better. If he were Ron, he'd have told her to "stop her blubbering," if he were Harry he'd have given her a hug, and if he were Dumbledore he would have said something very wise and comforting. However, he was none of these people, merely a snarky potions master. Thus, he reached to pat her rather awkwardly on the shoulder, and said, albeit abruptly, "Stop crying, girl! You're not going to be expelled, much less die from having kissed me for a moment. It was an… accident, I realize that."

If he had expected this to calm her, he was to be disappointed. It did mark a polar shift in her emotional state, though. She seemed to go from crying uncontrollably to laughing hysterically, and Snape felt rather affronted. He'd been comforting, how dare she laugh! "Miss Granger, I advise you tell me what is so bloody amusing this instant, lest I change my mind, and use deadly force in order to calm you down!"

Hermione, who was, incidentally, the cleverest girl to come through Hogwarts in the century, realized he was rapidly reaching the point where he would hex her. So, amidst giggles, she stammered, "You… Ron … me… when I said…expelled… worse than death!" Around this point she became unintelligible again, but felt that she had managed to convey her point sufficiently enough that he wouldn't be upset any longer.

At this point, Severus, who had been rather entranced by the way her breasts moved when she laughed, snapped. He reached over to her, grabbed her by the shoulders, and forced her to look at him. His eyes bore into hers as she stilled no longer laughing. Time slowed, as they stared at each other.

Hermione, mused, absently, that sex must be Slytherin in nature. Arousal was coiling at the bottom of her stomach, a snake, waiting to lash out. Looking into his eyes, she could see something dangerous and powerful there, she bit her bottom lip, nervously.

This turned out to be the breaking point for Severus. The sight of her (now perfect) teeth biting into that wonderfully delicate lip that he wanted to taste caused him to lose the last of his vaunted self-control, and he launched forward to capture her lips with his own.

This was wonderful. It was amazing, indescribable. And this time, he was kissing her back, which increased the wonder of it all exponentially. Frantically, he pulled her towards him, and for a while they remained enraptured by the kisses they shared; deep, hot, searching, searing kisses that seemed to melt her, mold her, recast her into whatever he chose. They stayed like this for an eternity, eliciting and giving pleasure.

He pulled away first, though he waited far too long to claim it was because of any sense of propriety about the ethics of snogging a student. "Miss Granger- Hermione, what are we doing?" Snape wondered aloud, praying she'd say something that would allow him to continue kissing her.

Hermione's chest felt tight, she had no idea what he wanted her to say. But she really wanted to kiss him again, because she'd never felt that good in her life, not when she'd gotten record OWLS, not when she'd gotten her Hogwarts letter, never. She whispered, nervously, "I don't know, Professor."

He started at her use of his title. It reminded him of his years as her professor, and the fact that even now, he was still her instructor. He really shouldn't be taking advantage of his position like this, but she was so lovely, and apparently willing. Well, he'd at least give her a chance to back out. "What do you want?"

"I don't know…" Hermione admitted, blushing. "I think- I know I want you to touch me again, but I don't know what then. I don't want things to be different between us later; I don't want to lose your friendship, because I consider you a friend… Severus."

That hit hard. Her quiet, lilting voice somehow softened the syllables of his name, made them sound sensual instead of harsh. He rather liked it. With a sudden nod, he picked himself up and offered her a hand. "Come with me then, and we can talk."

He led her to a discreet door, which he opened and drew her through, into his private chambers. He had really planned to talk to her, but the lighting in his chambers made her look even more beautiful, her hair falling down to hide her blushing face.

They entered his study, and Severus saw Hermione cast a longing glance at his bookshelves before sitting down on the couch. He had a moment of indecision before he went ahead and sat beside her, rather than in a separate armchair. He opened his mouth, and was about to speak, when she burst out, "Iloveyou."

His mouth remained open for several seconds, his brain attempting to process her words.

Nervously, Hermione fidgeted, and voiced, "Prof- Severus, I know you don't feel the same, it's alright, I just-"

"Silly girl," he rasped, "what know you of how I feel?"

Then he kissed her. It was apocalyptic, for both of them, and the intense feelings coursing through her made it so Hermione didn't even notice as he maneuvered them to the bedroom. But then she felt herself collapsing into the bed, and all rational thought fled her mind.

"Hermione… we need to stop…" he choked out, "or we won't be able to."

"So let's not stop, then."

Severus paused. Somehow, hearing her say the words brought certain lucidity to the situation, and he stared at her. "Are you sure? Hermione, I… care for you, I suppose, and I don't our working relationship to be strained because we lost control for a night."

Though her smile was shaky, her eyes were bright, and she responded as confidently as she could, "No, I want to do this. I care for you too."
There was an awkward pause, and Snape cast about desperately for something to say. Something that would put her at ease, something that would help them transition back into the lustful fervor they'd been experiencing earlier, "So, err, how do you like your sex?"

Hermione went bright red. "I've never had sex," she muttered.

That was a heady statement, in Severus' mind. To think that she was willing to offer her first time to him, was amazing. Snape was sure, however, that he must have a lovesick look on his face, but this was quickly replaced by a smirk as an evil thought occurred to him. "Well, then, Miss Granger, what feels the best to you when you touch yourself?"

Hermione gaped at him. What did he think she was? She might have had a couple dreams, but up until this year, she'd shared a dorm with other girls, and this year she'd been far too busy to explore her sexuality… much. "I don't know," she admitted, finally.

The evil smirk on Snape's face grew, and he informed her, in his best professor voice, "Why Miss Granger, all females should perform a breast self-examination. It's essential to maintaining one's health!"
Hermione only managed to stare at him in confusion, as he continued, "You must perform one immediately, and begin to make up for lost time."

'Was he serious? Apparently he was,' Hermione thought, and tentatively raised a hand to her breast, and rubbed a few small circles on it, through her jumper.

"Miss Granger, now, how do you expect to discover a possibly cancerous lump through all that fabric? Though if you'd feel more comfortable in a vertical position, you're welcome to use my bed, if that would help."

"Err, alright," she agreed, and followed him to his bedroom.

Snape's room was a dump. His bed was large, but unmade, there were books and papers scattered all over the room, and he even left his robes on the floor. Hermione thought that it really wasn't bad, the mahogany and blue coloring could be quite pretty, if it were cleaned up. The following thought, that he needed a chest of drawers in that corner, and a different set of sheets, was quickly censored. She had no business redesigning his chambers… yet. The last little word slipped in practically without her notice, but Hermione fixated on it, as she became aware of it. Was she planning on moving in here? Best not go there, at least not until later.

At that thought, though, Hermione became ashamed. 'Oh, yes, Severus, I love you, I dream about marrying you and having your children, but lets have sex, because if you don't get at least a B, the whole thing is off.'

Severus, though, had apparently decided to work towards an A, because he was currently standing behind her, kissing her ears and neck. A brief, irrational thought of vampirism flashed through Hermione's mind, before he turned her around, and began to kiss her jugular, and all she could concentrate on was his tongue.

He was talking again, pontificating pleasure with each syllable. Her last, fleeting, thought was that this was where she wanted to be, forever, and the future could just bloody well wait to come until she came.

A/N- Well, that's that. I was going to write an intimate love scene, but I chickened out. I don't know if I'd be very good at it, but I might try later. Thanks for reading, I love reviews, etc.