Author's Note: JKR owns all.
"Unacceptable."
"You're joking."
"Do I ever joke, Miss Granger?"
"It's exactly what you assigned, Professor! It's thoughtful, inquisitional, well-rounded…not to mention precisely four feet! Down to the very letter!"
"That is my point, Miss Granger. When involving oneself in research, it is sometimes necessary to break the rules. Clearly, your know-it-all ways and perfectionist mentality do not allow you to accomplish such a reasonable feat."
Snape enjoyed watching her face redden with anger and blatant disbelief.
"You….you!" She whispered dangerously.
"Me, Miss Granger? And I would mind your tone if I were you. You are my apprentice, and as such I have every right to dismiss you on the spot if I see fit." He was baiting her ruthlessly.
"But, Sir, please…the last time I turned in a Potions research essay you told me I had not followed your prescribed guidelines close enough! You lectured me for half an hour about how my future employers would laugh in my face if they were told of my incompetence!"
"It seems, Miss Granger, that you continually misunderstand my very lucid instructions. I expect much better on your next assignment or I will seriously reevaluate taking you on. You are dismissed."
As she stood her ground, glaring at him, her face showed a myriad of expressions: anger, frustration, incredulity, and not a small bit of worry at his threat.
"Are you hard of hearing, as well as comprehension? I said you are dismissed, Miss Granger."
"Well, aren't you going to hand me back my essay, Professor? So that I may see your corrections, and amend them." Her tone revealed how hard she was trying to restrain her fury.
"Of course not. If you cannot recognize fully your own mistakes without seeing them outlined in front of you, you will never succeed as a Potions Mistress. Dismissed."
She huffed in response, but seeing that she would not win this particular skirmish, she turned on her heel and stormed out of his office. His door slammed loudly in her wake.
Snape enjoyed riling her up immensely. The way her face would flush, and how her long fingers would curl tightly around the wand in her pocket in a death grip were incredibly humorous to him.
He smirked to himself and took her essay into his hands once more. It really was perfect. Her work was every bit of thoughtful, inquisitional, and well-rounded. Any future employer would be delighted to take her on, he knew.
And it wasn't as if he was going to let her complete her apprenticeship and go off into the world without a very flattering letter of recommendation from himself. Snape just didn't want her to get an inflated head, like that Potter miscreant.
Right?
He tried to believe that was why he didn't inform her of her excellence as everyone else did. Why he didn't fawn over her brilliance. But he knew, deep down, it was because he was afraid. Afraid that if she did not see him as a challenge to overcome, which he knew she loved, that she would leave. Move on to greener pastures. For some reason, he knew he could not let that happen. Not just yet.
Snape's eyes raked over the written display of her cleverness. Her script was immaculate, each letter formed with love and care. She covered every obstacle one could throw at her in her writing. Every hurdle he could throw.
He took out a clean parchment and a new well of ink, as was his custom when she turned in work to him. He redevoured every idea and theory she had proposed, and scribbled hastily on the parchment concepts he would like to elaborate on in his own work. This was why he never gave her back her essays, though she always asked. That and, he never had any valid corrections for her to see.
He was so lost in one of her more complex hypotheses that he did not mind the time, or notice the undoing of his wards. This was saying something to her intellect; if a double-agent spy of twenty years was so enthralled and absorbed in her work to not notice the disarming of his own locking charms, then it must truly be outstanding.
Snape did not see Hermione walked silently up to his desk. Something told her it would be in her best interest to not disturb him, though it was time to begin her afternoon training. She had contemplated skipping today as a sign of her displeasure, but her instinct against disobedience would not stand for it.
She creeped ever closer to the ancient desk at which her Master sat, studying a parchment intensely and jotting down notes a rapid pace. His face showed how much of his vast brain capacity he was using, and when she looked hard enough she saw a bit of awe in his dark eyes. Hermione turned her head up slightly to try and catch a glimpse of what he was reading with such vigor and interest. That was when she noticed with astonishment that it was her own research essay!
The cogs of realization turned quickly in her sharp mind, and she could not resist having a little fun. She tip-toed around the table to stand behind him, shocked and flattered that he had yet to notice her presence, so enraptured was he. She counted to three, gently placed her hands on his shoulders, and began rubbing in the knots there.
Snape tensed immediately on contact, but to her surprise did not jump of his seat to begin throwing hexes.
Before he could speak, she leaned down to his ear and whispered, "Whatever are you reading that has you so…enchanted, Professor?" This would teach him!
"Miss Granger," he identified, "Unhand me now!"
She ignored him "It appears that you are taking notes from my very own essay, Professor. And I thought you said it was unacceptable!" She continued massaging his shoulders softly.
Snape tried to ignore her tantalizing ministrations and spoke in a low, deadly hiss, "What is unacceptable, Miss Granger, is that you have not yet removed your hands from my person!"
Surprising herself, Hermione moved to run her fingers adoringly through his silky hair. She did not know why she was suddenly behaving so candidly, but she was quite loathe to cease.
Snape resisted the urge to moan.
Hermione purred, "So. It seems you have been hiding something from me, Severus." She had never dared to speak Snape's given name in his presence, though the urge to appeared often. Had she known any better, she would have though someone was using the Imperius curse on her. But Hermione knew this was all her. Why was Snape not hexing her into next week, like she always assumed he would in this situation?
"Miss Granger…I suggest…you unhand me…now…" He was beginning to lose his resolve, if ever he had any. He began to forget the situation. What was the girl even referring to, again?
"I do believe you owe me an apology for your deliberate misjudgment of my work, Professor." Hermione said shakily as she removed her hands from their pattern in his hair. She would speak her peace before he kicked her out of his office forever.
Oh yes, that. Snape thought. Knowing he was caught, now, and still being fuzzy enough from her attentions, he gave up.
"I am sorry, Miss Granger. You are a brilliant student, and always have been."
Hermione was shocked. He had actually admitted it! And he hadn't hexed her, either!
Snape turned to look at her. When she saw the honest admiration in his eyes, her knees became a little shakier than they had previously been.
His head was somewhat more clear now, and he was able to assess the odd circumstances much better. But had Hermione really just been massaging his scalp lovingly a few moments ago?
"Please forgive me. I…your work…has always been excellent. I shall write your letter of recommendation promptly so you may be discharged immediately."
"What?" She asked, deciding to play dumb, "Why ever would I leave my apprenticeship prematurely?"
Does she really not think me such a terrible burden? Snape thought, surprised.
"Professor," Hermione began, "You are mean, petty, cruel, demanding, and insensitive."
Here it was. Now she was going to speak her last words of hatred and storm out forever. He would allow her this much.
"But," She continued, deciding it was now or never, "You have also taught me so much these last few months. If it is acceptable, I will stay on for the remainder of my set time."
He was flabbergasted. But it did not end there.
Hermione looked down at her feet, and rubbed together nervously the hands that had just been running through his hair. Snape stared at them in wonder, before looking up at her imploringly.
"And…if it is also acceptable, I would like to stay here…for the foreseeable future after that."
Had she really just said that out loud? After all the effort she had put in for the past three months, she had let the stable brick wall of protection she had built come crumbling down in the past ten minutes.
Snape's face looked confused for a moment, before his features showed his comprehension. To Hermione's great amazement, rather than cursing her into oblivion, he reached up and placed his hands on either side of her face. Neither knew how long he stared into her eyes, wonder etched into his form.
The moment that Snape realized his true reasoning for wanting to keep her back from the world, for himself, he leaned down and crushed her lips with his. She responded immediately and deepened the embrace, closing any distance they had.
He pulled her up off the ground, and turned around, all the while never breaking contact. Snape placed Hermione gently on his desk, like porcelain, and she straddled his hips.
When they came up for air, he leaned his head against hers and spoke softly, lovingly,
"Yes, I think that would be acceptable."
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