Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter; I just play in this sandbox J.K. Rowling has so thoughtfully provided.

Severus Snape, Hogwarts most feared professor since Salazar Slytherin himself, stood at the front of the mostly silent Potions classroom. The only noises were those coming from the potions brewing at each desk. As he scanned the students his roving eye fell on the bushy brown head of his only intelligent Gryffindor student, Miss Hermione Know-It-All Granger. Her head was, as usual, bent over a piece of parchment, though her quill flew less swiftly then usual. The furtive glances she kept tossing his way made him curious.

"No, not curious" he corrected himself mentally, "suspicious. I am not curious about anything that girl does. I am suspicious that she is breaking yet another school rule, or planning to at any rate with those two idiot boys."

Before he could do anything about his curious suspicion the bell sounded the end of class. He watched as Miss Granger crammed the parchment into the top of her overstuffed bag before bottling some of her simmering potion and vanishing the rest. As she pushed her way out of the room he saw the crumpled parchment get jarred loose and fall to the floor. Once the room was empty he swept over and picked it up, eager to dock points from Gryffindor. What he found, however, caused his jaw to drop. On the parchment were two poems and one sketch. Of him.

As he studied the sketch closely he admitted to himself that it was rather well done. She had caught him mid-pace, his robes billowing behind him and pulled rather attractively across his chest. The expression on his face was intense, the look of a hunter searching for prey, or in his case of a teacher looking for trouble. He noted that she had paid quite a bit of attention to his hands and to his mouth. They were obviously complete while the rest of the sketch was not yet quite complete. After perusing the sketch he turned his attention to the poems that accompanied it.

Hands

Hands are such an amazing thing,
So expressive when they move,
And emphasizing the most important words.
Yours are more extraordinary then most,
Long, strong, rough, tender, handsome, manly.
Ready to wipe away my tears
To hold me close and comfort me.
Able to wield a knife, mortar, or ladle
With the most amazing of precision.
But will I ever to get to feel
Those gentle hands supporting me in my fear.
Or will I ever get to see
Those strong, rough hands defending me.
Or those long manly hands performing
Some wonderfully intricate task.
Maybe someday I will be able
To hold and touch those wonderful hands
And be able to enjoy those hands holding me
Someday, hopefully one day
Your beautiful hands will belong to me
Along with your heart as mine is yours.

Voice

His voice flows like melted butter
But infinitely darker and more deep.
IT sounds at times dangerous,
And can make a student weep.
But it is also soft, and intriguing
And makes me desire to hear it more.
It wouldn't matter what he said
In that voice there is no way it could bore.
Silky soft when one is in trouble
A tense tenor when one is in danger.
And that voice flows from thin lips
Like honey it shapes my name: Granger.

As he finished the second poem he smirked. Miss Granger, it seemed, had a crush, on him the most feared teacher at Hogwarts. "Slytherin probably never had this problem."

A.N. Okay so I wrote that during lab class while everyone else was blathering about lines being made of points or something, so it isn't so great. But I wanted to get it out there and see what people thought. Does it seem like it could continue?

Both poems are mine, I wrote one my freshmen year, hands, and the other specifically for this story. Hands was originally written for another fic, but I never finished that one.