Summary: The conspiratorial pair of Severus Snape and Hermione Granger plan their first enjoyable Valentines Day. SS/HG

Disclaimer: J.K.Rowling owns everything, I don't. No copyright infringement is intended.

Authors Note: In response to the Valentine's Day, BAH-HUM-BUG! challenge by nesscafe. Ok, I saw the word sabotage in this challenge and immediately fell in love with it!! Hope you all enjoy!!

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Chapter 1

"Damn!!"

Hermione Granger angrily threw down the letter and slumped further into her favorite library chair. How dare they deny her application to the Magical Ethics Symposium? She knew that as she was a student it was unlikely that they would accept her submission -- but she really wanted to go. Truthfully, she had little interest in the subject matter of Magical Ethics; the real draw was the date of the symposium. February 14th -- the most hated day of her life -- Valentine's Day. Now there would be no getting out of it, and yet again, she would have to endure the Headmaster's bloody ball. Life was not fair.

"Miss Granger, would you kindly lower your voice? Others are trying to use this library to research, not chit-chat."

Professor Severus Snape was in no mood to listen to the inane babbling of his most annoying student. He had other things on his mind. Every year he tried to get out of the Headmaster's horrid Valentines Day Ball, and every year he was denied that one small request. In an effort to save the wizarding world, he had endured hours of torture at the hands of self-absorbed demons and dangerous predators hell bent on causing catastrophes and mayhem wherever they went. But aside from those despised teaching duties he had also spied on Voldemort -- almost forgot about that. And what did he get in return? A one-way ticket to a heart shaped hell. Life was not fair.

"Professor Snape, do you see anyone else around me? Maybe you have the ability to chit-chat with yourself, but I prefer company for my conversations--"

As soon as the words left her mouth she was horrified -- she had just talked back to her Professor. For some reason she had been born with the ability to open her mouth and speak, all without any assistance from the rest of her body -- or her mind. Her 'condition' appeared to worsen when she got angry, (which she was,) but this was too horrible for words. Her eyes opened wide in shock. It was like watching a train wreck -- You want to look away, but you just can't. Her hand finally found her mouth and slapped down hard to create a verbal dam. Too late -- way too late -- the damage had already been done.

"Miss Granger," the Professor began, his anger bubbling at the surface. "Is there some reason as to why you are trying my patience? There was a time when people would have been considered guilty of harboring a death wish for speaking back to me in such a way."

Momentarily relieved that he had said the words rather than the associated unforgivable, she decided to misunderstand his largely rhetorical question and instead answered it candidly. "No, not a death wish, but perhaps an extended visit to the infirmary?"

"Pardon me?" His look of incredulity caused her to stifle an inappropriate giggle. She hadn't giggled in years -- if ever. (That thing with Gilderoy Lockhart didn't count.)

"Well sir, as per my calculations, if I could manage a week long trip to the infirmary that would enable me to miss the Valentine's Day Ball." She said the words in a rush, not sure if she hoped he would hex her for insubordination (trip to the infirmary here I come) or, think she was crazy (longer trip to St. Mungo's -- oops.)

To her surprise he did neither. He laughed. Not some polite chuckle or a maniacal smirk either, but a pretty decent laugh. One might even call it a guffaw -- if one were so inclined.

After calming down long enough to catch his breath, he regarded the female leg of the Golden Trio and said, "No date either?"

"Owww, you wouldn't understand," she growled. That wasn't it -- well, not all of it at least. She was about to begin her tirade on equal rights and how women shouldn't be subjected to saccharine induced holidays just to bolster a man's ego (her standard line -- suitable for authoritative figures and small children) when she took a good look at the man seated nearby. Actually, if anyone at this school would understand, it would be the feared greasy git. Ruefully, she admitted he was right -- she had no date and it was killing her.

Wait a minute -- "Either? Professor, you mean you don't have a date?"

Noting the sweep of his elegant eyebrow, she realized it was a rather silly thing to pick up on.

"Not at all Miss Granger," he said with mock seriousness. "I have a bevy of ladies lined up at my door. I'll never understand what they all see in the 'greasy git' -- but I do believe they've started a fan club."

She wanted to laugh, but a quick comparison with him had her rejection meter in the red. They were both hopeless. Ok, so maybe she wasn't quite as horrible looking as Professor Snape. She did at least keep herself clean, but when was the last time she ran a charm through her ratty hair? There was no denying that she could do a lot more.

"I just wish they would call the whole thing off," she said dejectedly. "It's no fun being the fifth wheel with Harry, Ron and their dates du jour." Ever since the fall of Voldemort Harry and his sidekick were the toasts of the wizarding world. They were never at a loss for dates. Hermione however, fell victim to the 'strong woman' reputation that frightened most men.

"Well, I do believe we have finally found something to agree on." A tinge of ruefulness edged into his voice, but he quickly shook it off. "What I wouldn't give to pop all those blasted heart shaped balloons."

"Yes," she laughed. "And what about those dreadful talking valentines? Imagine if they all started spouting depressing sonnets instead? Oh, and what if the music at the ball was replaced with funeral dirges?"

Awwww, he smiled at that. Hermione first thought that being gifted with the sight of his smile was rather sweet, but upon careful inspection, she realized it was actually kind of scary. She was just glad that it was directed somewhere other than herself.

Then inspiration struck -- like a bolt of lightning -- or rather a flaming cupid's arrow. "Hehehe," she chuckled menacingly and caught the Potions Master's raised eyebrow. "I have an idea," she said.

And that is how, the Gryffindor know-it-all, and the most feared professor at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, formed their conspiratorial partnership. They talked in hushed tones, so as to not be overheard, and planned their first covert assignment together -- Operation BAH-HUM-BUG!