Hermione sat stiff and red faced at her kitchen table across from her dour potions professor the next morning. The silence was so absolute that her quiet breaths seemed too loud. She felt Snape's eyes on her, but she kept her own eyes firmly on her hands. She clutched an empty tea mug and fumbled with it, twisting it this way and that.

The image of Professor Snape in her house was strange. All of the rooms had her mother's touch: Quaint and cosy, decorated in floral patterns and old, hand-me-down fabrics. The mismatched knick-knacks were a testament to her mother's scatterbrained and lighthearted personality, and every bit reminded Hermione of her childhood.

Watching Snape, the essence of darkness and gloom, lean back into an old, stained chair with smiling frogs knitted into the fabric almost made her want to close her eyes. He was rubbing a scuffed spot on the wooden arm of the chair absently with his finger, the spot where Hermione had fallen and chipped her tooth in elementary school.

This whole thing, leaving Hogwarts and having Snape track her down to drag her back, may've embarrassed her had she not exceeded the limit of embarrassing behavior. She'd gotten drunk and acted ridiculously with strangers while her professor watched.

If he'd followed her, he must've seen her dance, which would've been the most embarrassing thing she could think of if she hadn't later wet herself right next to him.

And the most embarrassing thing, the thing she couldn't even think about and still stay seated with the man, was the fact that she was wet now, slick with arousal that she didn't understand.

She replayed the memory over and over in her head, reliving the moment she'd dropped to a crouch and released all of her piss into her knickers with Snape standing only a few feet away. The relief had been glorious, good enough to ignore the audience, but she hadn't missed the shift of his eyes as he tried not to stare. He could've walked away or at least turned away, but he hadn't.

Because he'd wanted to watch her. The visibly raised area of Snape's trousers left no doubt about where his mind had been. From the peek she'd gotten, she couldn't help but notice the size of the 'bump' and wonder if he was as well-endowed as he looked.

Hermione's cheeks burned.

Her inner voice scolded her and sounded eerily like Ron.

What the hell are you thinking about that for? You're a pervert, Hermione Granger, a sick, twisted pervert!

She was so absorbed in her thoughts that the sound of the kettle whistling didn't stir her. It was only when she looked up and saw Snape's swatting hand gesture that she realized she needed to get it, and by then, he was rolling his eyes and on his feet to retrieve it. He reached for her cup, and she handed it to him, watching him prepare their tea with entirely too much interest.

"We have some things to discuss." He broke the silence, pausing to mix her drink, taking the time to think over his words. "Your behavior last night was... inappropriate, to say the least. Completely unacceptable."

My behavior!

She was willing to admit when she was in the wrong, but the hypocrisy was a little too blatant to ignore. Was he counting on a lapse in her memory to save him from scrutiny.

He slid her cup across the table, and Hermione reached for it, her fingers brushing Snape's. The soft, warm feel of his skin surprised her. Because he was thin and bony and his skin looked dry, she thought he would be cold and rough to touch. Her finger twitched and brushed his skin again.

He allowed her hand to linger on his a moment too long before hastily withdrawing it. He blinked and folded his hands in front of him on the table. Something about the move, a clear attempt to reassemble his thoughts, intrigued Hermione. Had she flustered him with a simple touch?

"I doubt you've given thought to the impact your actions have had, so allow me to enlighten you." Snape's eyes raked over her white button-down blouse and returned to her face.

"The fragile climate at Hogwarts has been tipped. Anytime you gather a group of young, impressionable and emotional people together, especially during a period of political strife, maintaining order is the number one priority. Your little stunt has disrupted that delicate order. You've undermined authority to the detriment of the school AND the students." He said.

"I don't understand how i've done that." Hermione was only half-listening. She wasn't interested in being berated.

"Of course you don't, because all of your thoughts are centered on yourself. Take a moment and try to imagine how your actions may've affected some of the other students. You're not oblivious to the fact that many of your peers look to you and your ilk for guidance. They hold you in high esteem, and regardless of your intention, you've set an example, and some are bound to follow it. They're restless because of you."

"I don't know if that's fair." She whispered under her breath.

Snape either didn't hear her or chose to ignored her comment.

"Before we continue, I'll put an end to your suspense. You are returning to Hogwarts with me this afternoon, whether you like it or not. I will hear whatever arguments or grievances you may have, but the outcome is nonnegotiable." He paused and took a long sip from his cup, apparently expecting Hermione to cut in and argue.

She felt no need to interject, and in fact, she was quite content to just sit and watch him.

He met her eyes with a slow nod and continued. "Under the circumstances, I've been charged with fulfilling the role of 'counselor" for you during this 'oh so difficult' time in your young life-"

"Why you?" Hermione asked with sharp, curious eyes. Therapy of sorts with the meanest teacher at Hogwarts sounded horrid... so why had she perked up at the idea?

Snape scoffed. "Your guess is as good as mine." He shook his head and straightened. "Nevertheless, the Headmaster deemed it necessary, and so it will be. You will meet with me three times a week after classes until you resolve what plagues you. Is that clear?"

Hermione held his eyes, studying the flecks of warm brown in them highlighted by the morning sun. When it became clear he wouldn't continue until she acknowledged him, she said, "I understand."

"Good." He gestured for her to take over the conversation. "Now, say your piece."

Silence stretched between them. Hermione might've taken the time to think through why she'd felt the need to run away and maybe even voice it while she had the chance.

But that wasn't what interested her now. she was distracted, looking at the stern man before her. His clothes were wrinkled and looked slept in. So he'd actually stayed the night in her home?

His hair was shinier than usual and pulled back, exposing an especially long and pale neck. The first button of his shirt was open, and the beginnings of two jutting collar bones were showing. His shirt clung to his torso, and she could see a bit of definition where his chest muscles were. She wondered if he had chest hair, if it was coarse or soft.

Her eyes drifted down his thin frame, mostly hidden by his robes. What she really wanted to look at was hidden under the table, and maybe that was a good thing. He was watching her like a hawk, and he wasn't stupid. He would know what she was doing.

She really shouldn't be ogling her professor like this. She really shouldn't. Somewhere within her she knew it was weird and wrong, but she didn't care. She'd never considered him attractive before now, and she still wasn't sure if he was good-looking. She couldn't deny that she was seeing something in him now, something that made her feel uncomfortably warm.

"Well?" Snape's loud voice startled her. "Anything to say?"

"I-" She cleared her throat. "I don't think I have anything to say. Sir." She said, slightly embarrassed when she met his eyes.

"Really? Nothing about what brought all of this about?" He asked. Hermione just shook her head.

"Hm." He breathed, drumming his fingers on the table. "I have something to say about it. I tend to believe it was an ill-planned cry for attention." He said.

Hermione frowned. She wasn't putting up a fight. She wished he'd get off of her case and move on to getting her back to Hogwarts.

But this was the part he enjoyed about having to look after students. The angry, eager look on his face said it all. He waited with bated breath for someone to step out of line, so he could swoop in and let out his pent-up aggression.

Now he was doing it to her.

"Having the entirety of the student populace watching you and praising you wasn't enough. You needed to make headlines." He flashed the newspaper up to reveal the front page. 'Hogwarts Runaway' was all she saw before he dropped it.

"And even that wasn't what you truly wanted. What you wanted was someone to come after you and prove your worth to you. You aren't satisfied unless everyone affirms how brilliant you are, how appealing you are, how important you are. Otherwise, you're afraid you're not actually worth coming after." An ugly, smug smile lit his features. "But please, do correct me if i'm mistaken."

The way his eyes glinted with mean-spirited mirth had Hermione bristling. His words held no truth, and she need not correct him. She was quite confident in who she was, but even so, she wanted to smack that ruthless facial expression right off of him. She balled her fist under the table and rubbed it against her thigh.

But naughty thoughts were lingering in the background. She knew exactly how to wipe that look off his face.

"You're very observant, Sir." She said with a mischievous twist of her mouth. The words she definitely should not say were gathering, and she could not contain them. He'd pissed her off, and she wanted to return the favor.

"Do you always watch me that closely? Perhaps as closely as you were watching me last night?"

Snape's eyes narrowed slightly, and he drew himself up to his full height, possibly to intimidate her. "I'm certain I don't know what you're talking about."

"Hmm" She mocked his earlier tone. It was Hermione's turn to be smug. "Tell me, professor, do you like to watch girls pee? Or is it just something about me doing it that excites you?" She tilted her head and smiled. She wasn't sure where her bravado came from, but it refused to be stifled. And it worked.

Snape's mood shift was instantaneous. His smirk melted into what looked like incredulity before settling into a scowl "You'd better watch yourself, Granger." His tone was low and dangerous, his eyes shifting around suspiciously.

She couldn't truthfully say that he didn't scare her, but she could pretend he didn't.

"You're not denying it-"

"I won't tolerate anymore disrespect from you." He cut her off, clenching and unclenching his fists.

Hermione hesitated, wondering just how far she could push him before he snapped. She decided to try her luck.

"B-But I saw you-"

"Silencio!" He flicked his wand and her voice caught in her throat. He stood abruptly, sweeping his robes up in an angry flurry.

"We're going now. And when we return, If I hear any nonsensical, slanderous rumors going around..." He took a deep breath. "You will pay."

When she returned to the Gryffindor common room late Saturday afternoon, Hermione kept Snape's secret dutifully, even when her friends crowded her for details of what had happened. She'd gotten her revised schedule, with the addition of detentions and meetings with Snape, and then returned to her dorm room to think.

Despite how he'd reviled her and heaped an unfair amount of detentions onto her plate, Snape occupied all of her thoughts. Something about him watching her last night, playing spy while she played unaware, caught her interest.

And, of course, when she'd wet herself, knowing he was standing there watching her, getting hard from the encounter and only looking away when she'd caught him...

In the strangest way, it felt intimate. How could she fault him for a moment of weakness?

To the contrary, she felt a swelling pride that she was able to crack Professor Snape's carefully crafted shell and get a peek inside. It made her feel accomplished and powerful. And devilish and maybe even a little sexy.

She didn't care that he could be a mean, vindictive git. She was curious about him, curious to learn more and see if she could penetrate his defenses.

She couldn't wait for his class on Monday. She tried to focus on her homework in the meantime, but it was pointless. She'd been so focused on her thoughts that she hadn't realized she'd been doodling Snape's name over and over on her essay parchment.

Seated at her table in Potion's class, she was jittery and bounced in place. Snape entered the classroom with a loud slam of the door, silencing all chatter and rustling. Hermione turned to look at him, her eyes following his swift movement up to his desk. He did not look at her, but she hadn't really expected him to pay her special attention.

"Today, we're brewing a calming draught. Directions are on the board." He waved his hand and a spiky scrawl appeared.

Hermione sat up in her seat, trying to make herself visible. She wanted to look into those piercing black eyes and see if she could read out of them what she wanted. Was it really possible that Snape found her arousing? Is that why he was purposefully avoiding looking in her direction?

He sat in his isolated corner of the room and pulled out a large volume, flipping through the pages casually. Hermione bit the inside of her lip as she watched him, wondering how she could get his attention.

Everyone else was gathering their ingredients, so she decided to start on her potion while she thought. Midway through stirring the ingredients together, her eyes flickered over to Neville, who was anxiously chopping his herbs. His nerves and sloppy craftsmanship always managed to draw Snape's eye.

She eyed her own mint-green potion, bubbling beautifully, and frowned. It pained her to do it, but she subtly slipped an extra beetle into the mix. After simmering for a few minutes, the mixture soured into a brown sludge and released a sulfurous smell.

She looked up to the front, but Snape hadn't moved from his hunched position at his desk. Harry bumped her arm.

"What are you doing?" He pointed to her cauldron, holding his nose. She ignored him and focused on Snape.

"Excuse me, sir, I think something's gone wrong with my potion. Will you help me?" She asked hopefully. He didn't even look up from his book.

"Throw it out and start again. There's still plenty of time." He answered in a bored tone.

Her shoulders slumped. She wasn't sure what she'd expected to gain, but she'd hoped he'd at least look at her if not come over and help her sort it out.

But of course he wouldn't help her. He made a better prison warden than he did a teacher.

She was frustratedly cleaning out her cauldron when a naughty idea crept back to her mind. He'd become furious at the mere mention that he may be a little sexually deviant, even when it was just the two of them alone. It seemed to be a sore spot for him, especially for her, a student, to be mentioning it.

She knew just the button to push to get his attention.

She raised her hand a little cautiously.

As expected, he did not acknowledge her and kept his eyes down. She cleared her throat.

"Professor?" She asked, and Snape slowly, with great annoyance, drew his eyes up from his book to meet hers.

The black of his eyes was ice-cold. It made her heart leap, and she almost lost her nerve.

"Er... May I please be excused?" She squirmed in her seat. "I really need to use the bathroom." She said, pitching her voice low in an attempt to be flirtatious.

Dead silence.

Snape's anger seemed to fill the room with such intense presence that others around the room could feel it, and they stopped to watch.

His eyes blazed to life, his face hardened, and lines of anger etched his skin. The purple circles under his eyes almost seemed to darken, and he leaned forward ominously in his seat.

"Go." He growled and jabbed a finger at the door, and Hermione was on her feet hurrying from the room before he could throw something at her.

She was thrilled to have drawn such a response from the man. She counted it a little victory, though she wasn't entirely sure what her end goal was. Was his anger giving her some sort of sexual satisfaction?

Even as she thought it, she felt the blood rushing down below her skirt, and she bit her lip. Snape obviously wasn't the only deviant here. If she was indeed a pervert like her teacher, she wasn't too bothered by it, and she even embraced it.

Her eagerness to get under Snape's skin increased as the week went on. She served her first detention with Snape in his classroom, scraping out the bottom of cauldrons. The only acknowledgement she'd received was a glare at her knock and grunted instructions.

She left him alone to read in his corner until the last five minutes of her detention.

She approached his desk holding a cauldron and wiping the sweat from her forehead. This move would be bold even for her, but she felt a tingle just thinking about it.

"Professor," Hermione moved closer to force him to look up at her. She drew his reluctant eye and pointed to the inside of the cauldron "This crud at the bottom here just won't come off no matter how much I scrub." She said.

He looked her up and down, apparently disgusted by her presence. But Hermione knew better.

"I was thinking while I was working, and I think I have a better solution to cleaning these cauldrons than scratching them all up." She said hardly taking a breath. She could see him about to shut her down, and she would not allow it.

"I'm not interested-"

"Just hear me out. See, you'll almost need something acidic to set in and soften the sediment. I was thinking-" She propped her leg up on the chair next to her, lifted her skirt the slightest bit, and placed the cauldron under it at her crotch. His eyes widened and his brow furrowed in disbelief. "Maybe I could pee into it and let it soak to see if it softens. I could try if you want. I have an awfully full bladder. I could probably fill a few of these-"

He stood from his desk and pointed at the door. "Get out!" He barked, and Hermione jumped in place, reverting to her normal standing position.

"I'm sorry!" She said without thinking. She most certainly was not.

After that, her detentions were with Filch, but that didn't stop her. Every time she saw Snape, she sashayed her hips, squirmed, rocked back and forth with need, and slid her hands between her thighs noticeably close to her womanhood.

She grew more and more desensitized to Snape's fury as he grew angrier and angrier. He barely scared her anymore. He could be furious and show his temper, but what could he really do to harm her? Give her more detentions?

Bring it on.

She showed up to her first scheduled "counseling session" right on time and knocked on the door to his office. No answer. She waited around for another thirty minutes, but it quickly became apparent that he was not coming.

She came to the second one two days later. Again, he did not show up.

So he was avoiding her. She understood why he'd want to stay away from her, but she couldn't help feeling harshly disappointed.

It was in the middle of the hallway on her way back to her dorm that she realized that part of her genuinely longed for Snape's acceptance, even if the rest of her was convinced that she was simply toying with him.

His refusal to see her, even under Dumbledore's orders, was a clear rejection. And it hurt.

After that night, she backed off and kept her head down. She went through the last potions class of the week without looking once in Snape's direction, and she minded her own business. She had another scheduled meeting with Snape that night, one she was seriously considering not showing up for. He probably wouldn't come anyway, so why should she bother?

She knew it was something unhealthy within her that compelled her to wait outside of Snape's office fifteen minutes before she was supposed to be there. She waited with nervous energy, bouncing on her toes. If he didn't show up this time, she wouldn't come again. She was firm in this decision.

So it was with a shaky hand that she knocked on his door promptly at eight in the evening.

"Enter." She heard Snape say quietly, and Hermione was still shaking as she obeyed the command, her heart leaping into her throat.

Snape was perched on top of his desk facing her as she emerged into the dimly lit room. His face was smooth and neutral. It was the first time in awhile that she hand't seen it contorted in anger.

"Sit." Snape said calmly and gestured at the chair in front of him. Hermione hesitated for a moment, noticing how close the seat was to him, but she obeyed. She sat cross-legged and stared up at him as innocently as she could. She wasn't willing to push him this time.

He didn't say anything for a long moment. He was watching her closely, scrutinizing her from head to toe. She was kicking her foot nervously, and when she realized he was watching her movement, she stopped and remained motionless.

Another few minutes passed with him simply staring at her, and she wondered what he was thinking about. Was this supposed to teach her some sort of lesson? Was she missing some point he was trying to make?

Finally he took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

"You're going to continue to be troublesome, aren't you?" He asked with a resigned look on his face. Hermione's heart thudded unevenly as his eyes searched hers. What answer was he looking for? His tone, his posture, and his expression was confusing her. How could she answer in a way that would please him?

There must've been something in her silence that confirmed something within him. He didn't leave her to wonder long.

"You've asked for it. You demanded my attention, and now-"

He was on his feet and reaching for something behind his desk. With a loud 'clink,' he placed a long, thin beaker on the desk in front of her face.

"You've got it."