Hermione stamped her feet in the snow and blew into her frozen hands. Between warming breaths she muttered to herself, about 'bloody Scotland' and 'useless quidditch', as she started to lose all feeling in her denim clad legs.
With a halfhearted huff she reached down for her wand and viciously spat out yet another warming charm. She completely missed Ron's daring quafflle save, but was knocked out of her day dream (of warm libraries and burning fires) by half the school jumping to their feet and cheering above her.
She had decided to retreat to the castle, but had only made it to the bottom of the stands, between two sets of Gryffindor adorned towers of seats. Those little voices in her head, which sounded awfully like Harry and Ron after she had ducked out of their last game, had finally played on her guilt. She stayed to watch, but refused to climb back to her spot amongst the riled up hooligans in red and gold.
She glared at her wand, blaming it for the weak burst of warmth that was quickly fading from her body as the wind whipped her wild hair, snapping it around her head.
The cheers of the crowd had lessened. Despite this, she never heard the footsteps of her silent and looming Potions Professor as he appeared beside her. Her gasp of surprise brought more cold air into her body, burning her throat. Her eyes watered as she glanced curiously at the enigma to her side, trying to tuck her hair into her scarf, so as to better study the man.
When he said nothing she returned her gaze to the pitch, glowering about his seeming comfort in the weather that was slowly driving her to a breaking point. Severus Snape clasped his hands behind his back and kept his gaze on the game above as he spoke.
"Miss Granger." He greeted neutrally.
"Professor Snape." she answered back. He didn't seem to want to deduct house points, but that could change quickly with him.
"Could you...that is...would you tell me of the warmest place you have ever been?" His eyes were still on the players, but a small smile twitched at the corner of his mouth as her jaw dropped.
Oh good, she thought, I've become Snape's weekend target practice. She rubbed her hands together, trying to get feeling back as she cobbled together an answer to his unexpected question. She found her mood darkening as she thought of beaches in summer, lazy Sundays in the garden at home, hot camel rides through the desert.
"Probably Egypt, sir" she said through gritted teeth. She longed for the family vacation when, as the sweat dripped down her back and she desperately fanned herself, she had made the foolish proclamation that she would never complain about highland winters again.
'Hmm' was his meager response.
'Yours, sir?' she dared to ask, utterly bewildered by her current situation.
"That will do. I want you to remember how hot you were. The craving to shed your own skin. Longing for a bit of shade and an ice cold drink..." he paused, "I think, Ms. Granger, that if you harness that memory well enough, and long for it hard enough..." His voice was warmth enough to thaw her out in all sorts of unexpected, yet not entirely unwelcome places. She found herself leaning towards him, a rapt audience, watching his mouth closely as he spoke. "And only then cast your warming charm, you will find the whole experience far more...enjoyable."
At her extended silence he turned to her, and as her gaze jumped up to his eyes, he raised one eyebrow.
She quickly raised her wand at this wordless prompt, and thought back. To a blazing sun and dry desert. She closed her eyes, blocking out sound around her, except her own breath, and slowly gathered those memories around her. Her eyes snapped open to meet his, and she cast the charm.
And then she groaned, reveling in the sudden infusion of heat. Her face turned a brighter red, and she hoped he would see it only as the effects of the temperature, and not her embarrassement at the decidedly wanton utterance.
His smirk told her she had no such luck, and she let out a self-conscious smile sneak across her lips.
"Thank you, Professor Snape" she said, imbuing her words with as much sincerity as she felt, hoping he wouldn't brush off her gratitude.
He seemed to be searching her face, and then shook his head softly, as if to clear it of some half forgotten thought. He bowed his head slightly, the only response she would get, as he turned, and headed back to the castle.
Hermione wriggled her toasty toes, smiling to herself.
She couldn't wait to find out what his warmest memory was.