A/N: The following are going to be a series of one-shots. I fully reserve the right to pull from these to enhance my ongoing stories. I find I get really bored writing long tales because I just want to get to the good part…so here's the good part. Hope you enjoy! Reviews are welcome!!!

Disclaimer: The characters portrayed here-in are patented property of J.K. Rowling (all glory to her name!), I merely play with her brain-babies.

A BURN

Back Story: Hermione and Snape are on good grounds, but Snape, prickly as ever, keeps Hermione guessing. They are shown here working in a potions lab together.

Hermione gazed into nothingness contemplating the ramifications of a rotwood infusion and, it must be said, wholly ignoring the potion happily bubbling in front of her. Just as she considered transcribing her thoughts, she noticed that the solution was a dark purple indicating it was seconds away from boiling over and rendering her work unusable. She snatched the cauldron away from the flame with a yelp of pain, placing it onto the wooden surface in front of her. The wooden desk was expendable; the month spent on the now blue potion was not.

Severus was immediately on his feet. Even after a relatively quiet two years, his reflexes were razor sharp. Hermione looked up from her blistering hand. It was a mark how far he had come in his respect for her that he did not automatically demand an explanation for this sudden outburst. She answered anyways. "I burnt my hand."

"That much is apparent," his voice was soft as he rose from the bench. He grabbed a container of salve off one of the higher shelves and seated himself opposite her. "May I?"

She extended her hand and Severus winced in sympathy. Gently, he began to apply the ointment. "He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named once set me on fire. My information was inaccurate," he whispered, not taking his eyes off Hermione's outstretched hand.

She was, for a second, taken aback. It was so rare that he volunteered information about the war. "I'm so sorry."

He didn't acknowledge her comment.

The silence stretched as he finished applying the ointment across her skin. His attentions were so complete, and the moment somehow became an almost tender one.

"You have the hands of a pianist." Hermione did not even realize she voiced the thought aloud. His eyes met hers for a second as he stood. She turned back to her work, firmly telling her hormones that he was simply being polite.

"Is that a good thing?" Severus sounded so unsure. It wasn't until Hermione looked up to find him studying his long joints that she understood what he was on about.

"Umm…well, a piano is a Muggle instrument." She offered as an explanation.

"I know that. I played one once." His eyes were still trained on his pale hands.

"Did you?" Hermione's shock was evident in her voice. Most wizards ignored Muggle music.

"Yes. Brahm's Piano Sonata No. 2 in C major," was his offhand reply. In response to Hermione's quirked eyebrow, he continued. "Some potions require musical catalysts. I've never fancied myself to have much of a voice."

Are you kidding? Hermione thought. You could charm wood with that voice!

Noticing that his eyes had finally stopped their perusal of his hands and were now focused on her, she struggled to formulate an answer. "Well, yes. Pianists…that is…some people think pianists have…well…beautiful hands."

Noticing her discomfort and guessing the reason why, he turned his back and replaced the jar to hide his smile. When he turned back, his face was once more schooled to impassion.

"In the future, Miss Granger, please kindly refrain from touching searing cauldrons with your bare hands. Even Longbottom managed to grasp that concept sometime around third year."

"Oh, Honestly!" she humphed, returning once more to her work.

Bent over her page, scribbling furiously in an attempt to ignore him, Snape couldn't help but realize how nicely the flame made her skin glow.

Finis!