Hermione was still wound up about the erroneous suggestions from her meddlesome friends when she arrived at work on Monday. Snape, naturally, was little help: he was wearing a very dark navy blue jumper instead of his usual black and the effect on Hermione was instantaneous.

"Good morning," he intoned.

Which, for reasons, got Hermione's hackles up. "Don't tell me what to do!" she said, cringing at how shrilly it came out. Not to mention, she sounded exactly like the Severus Snape from several weeks ago. "I'm going to get coffee," she mumbled.

"You're holding a cup already," Snape pointed out.

"Fine. I'm going to get more coffee."

"I'll join you." Snape stood and fell into step with her as she stormed down the hallway. Why, oh why, couldn't he have been his usual silent self today? Why was he wearing an actual color? Why was his voice affecting her nerves in such a pleasant way? Why was she still thinking about shagging?

She could feel his eyes on her as they entered the cafeteria. She finished what was left in her cup with a large, ungraceful gulp; she took her time refilling it and adding the appropriate amount of sugar. All the while, she sensed that Snape was watching her, and she didn't know how she knew but she suspected he was amused.

He kept his own counsel until they were seated at their table once more. Hermione knew she needed to slow down on the caffeine intake, but since they weren't talking, she didn't have anything else to do besides drink her beverage rather quickly. And, Salazar be damned, there were no visitors in sight to help pass the time or distract them. She drummed her fingers on the table and wracked her brain for some neutral topic of conversation.

Snape beat her to it. "What's got your knickers in a twist this morning?"

Hermione's face heated. "We are not talking about my knickers!"

Snape turned in his chair to face her fully. "It's merely a saying."

"Yes, well, it's highly inappropriate. Um, in our place of work."

He snorted, then gestured around. "Yes. Because there are ever so many witnesses here." Hermione rolled her eyes but didn't respond. Snape leaned forward and stared hard at her. "Tell me what's bothering you."

"No!" She could never.

"Then tell me how you manipulated wand magic."

"No."

"Very well. Tell me what other spells you can do without a wand."

"Argh!"

"You may remember that we are here for at least another eight hours today. Plus four more days after that, and then roughly...two and a half years beyond that. I can keep asking or you can simply assuage my curiosity."

The thought of assuaging his anything just made Hermione blush again. This was intolerable—she was going to have to figure out how to get their interactions back on track. She was supposed to be the one aggravating him, not the other way around.

"Why aren't you wearing black today?" she asked.

Both his eyebrows shot up. "Because I don't always wear black. Why won't you maintain eye contact?"

"You do always wear black. Or you have, for the past several weeks. Actually, for the entirety of our acquaintance."

He smirked. "Minerva sent me this. Why are you changing the subject?"

"I'm not—" He chuckled and Hermione huffed out a breath. "Why are you being so aggravating?"

"Shall we see who can keep asking questions the longest?"

Hermione bit the inside of her cheek and tried not to be entertained by their exchange. "Do you really want to compete against the Insufferable Know-It-All in a game of questions?"

"Hmm. You make a compelling argument. Very well, a change of subject then. How was the remainder of the gathering on Saturday?"

"Awkward," Hermione answered before she had a chance to think about it. "Er, that is, some of my friends were being, ah...irritating."

"One of the many reasons I prefer not to have friends," he agreed amiably.

Hermione laughed. "I thought we were friends!"

"I suppose that's why you're finding me so irritating today," he retorted.

"No, you...well, yes, a bit," she admitted. She gave him a sheepish smile and decided to confess a little of what had gone on. "They all seem to think I'm in need of a good—um, in need of a boyfriend. It was brought up several times and I suppose I'm just a bit agitated about it still."

"Some Weasley said you needed a snog," he stated, so sure of it that Hermione couldn't help but laugh.

"More than one Weasley, actually," she told him. Then she shook her head. "But what do they know?"

"Indeed," Snape answered. He gave her a long look and then glanced away. "So, what other magic are you capable of?"

Hermione smacked his arm, glad that the awkward tension of the morning seemed to have released her from its grip. "You're incorrigible!"

"You are impertinent."

"Do you know, impertinent is ever so much better than insufferable."

"I'm not so certain..."

They squabbled about vocabulary for the next hour, and then visitors began to trickle in so conversation was limited. By the time the end of their day rolled around, Hermione had very nearly regained her equilibrium.

On her walk home that evening, Hermione reviewed the facts at hand. One, Snape hadn't disagreed today when she'd said they were friends. Two, he'd chatted with her nearly all day, despite her initial surly attitude. And three, he looked good in navy blue.

Shite!

Hermione shook herself. This—this interest, or whatever it was, had to be a byproduct of...something. Perhaps it was the boredom with her job. Or her general lack of a stimulating social life. It simply couldn't be that she was actually, truly attracted to Severus Snape, could it? She thought back to what Ginny had said that morning in the kitchen. About how she needed someone who was her equal, someone to challenge her... Sure, Snape fit the bill, but could they both get past their history? She had been his student, not to mention one of the last people he'd gazed upon before nearly bleeding out in the Shrieking Shack. If their roles had been reversed, she wasn't sure she'd have wanted to see him again. But Snape didn't seem to hold it against her, now that she thought about it.

She sighed. Maybe it was just that they were both unconsciously trying to make the hours pass faster at the Ministry. Just because he wasn't sullen and silent hardly meant he ever wanted to socialize with her outside of work. The party at Grimmauld Place had been an exception; he merely sat with her while they both ate, and then he'd practically bolted. If he was interested, surely he would have stayed.

And, what? Basked in your presence? Such hubris, Granger.

The fact that her inner voice was sounding more and more like him was not a good sign.

Tuesday morning dawned gray and rainy, and Hermione splurged on a cab to the office. Even still, she was drenched during her sprint from the cab to the door. Her shoes squished when she walked, and she knew her hair was going to be unmanageable for the rest of the day. Once she entered the Atrium, she saw Snape standing by their table, staring at the widening puddle at his feet with dismay. He looked up hopefully as she approached.

"Please tell me you can wandlessly Tergeo?" he asked.

"Sssshh!" Hermione scanned the Atrium nervously, but no one else was present. "Come on, then," she whispered, grabbing his sleeve and dragging him to a small alcove behind the lift. Muttering to herself the whole time about arrogant wizards, she siphoned off as much water as she could from his clothing, then went to work on herself. For his part, Snape remained silent, but he watched with rabid attention. Once they were both vaguely dry, Hermione put a hand on her hip, expecting more interrogation. "Well?"

"Thank you," he said.

Hermione smiled, her nerves settling. "You're welcome. But I assume you want to know how, and why..."

Snape shook his head slowly. "I believe I'll settle for simply being impressed."

"Oh. Um. Thank you?" Flustered, she checked again for observers, but everything was still clear. "Let's just hope that was far enough away that Melvin doesn't get any whiffs of magic."

They returned to their table and settled in for the day. She found herself out of sorts now that Snape seemed to have dropped his line of questioning. She probably owed him an apology for her bizarre behavior.

"Um, I'm sorry for being a bit of a shrew yesterday."

Snape glanced over at her, then one corner of his mouth lifted in a tiny smile. "I apologize for badgering you."

"That's alright. I'd be curious too, if it were the other way around."

"Hmm. You know, I did hear something about you and a certain curiosity. The Grimmauld Place rumor mill is very much alive and well." Snape tried to hide his smirk but he couldn't quite keep the glee from shining through.

"Oh, for Godric's sake—if you read about Luna Lovegood's murder in the papers this week, you'll know who did it!" Hermione buried her head in her hands and mumbled through her fingers, "So embarrassing."

"Is that what had your knickers in a twist yesterday? Perhaps an unrequited love?" he asked, clearly enjoying this.

Hermione growled and lifted her face. "You cannot possibly want to talk about my knickers anymore!"

He lifted a brow at her. "On the contrary, I always want to talk about knickers."

"Oh, my god. I can't believe we're having this conversation."

"And yet you believe in house elf autonomy."

"That's different."

"If you say so."

"Listen, there's nothing remotely sexy about my knickers—in fact right now they're still rather wet."

As soon as the words were out, Hermione gasped. She clapped a hand over her mouth and her gaze flew to his, only to see him quickly raising his eyes from the vicinity of her lap. She flushed, the heat suffusing her whole body.

Snape stood suddenly. "I need to...go...somewhere." He strode off without a backward glance, and Hermione moaned as she dropped her head to the table for a few good thunks.