AN: Thank you for all the support! It is very deeply appreciated!
How would one go about seducing a snarky potions master?
Hermione rapped her fingers along the armrest of the silver chair, considering her next move. Her first instinct was to order every issue of Witch Weekly she could get her hands on and follow every flirting tip they could offer. Something told her Severus would be immune to their charms. He didn't seem like the kind of man who would be impressed with an overly made-up woman who batted her eyelashes after every sentence. Granted, she wasn't sure what kind of woman he would ever consider dating, but she doubted it was one which he considered to be a vapid dunderhead. No, there had to be another way of attracting his attention, but how?
Thinking back on the witches who had always intrigued Ronald, they all exuded confidence. They knew they could land a man, and didn't need to prove it to anyone. Such confidence had always proven elusive to Hermione, but if she could pretend she possessed it then it would get her further than the bundle of nerves she was now.
Step one may be to have a makeover. She would never look like the witches who graced the covers of the tabloids, but she could improve her appearance in subtler ways. There were some wonderful potions which could cleanse one's skin. If she was lucky, there may also be one which could tame her hair, or at least not make her want to scream when she woke every morning.
With that plan in mind, she made her way to the place where she'd always done her best research, a book on beauty potions in her hands. It was best not to check it out, lest someone discover her ruse. Besides, the more time spent here, the more time she could spend procrastinating on putting her tchotchkes on the shelf.
"Why are you in my chair?"
Of course the object of her seduction would appear before she had a concrete plan.
"I thought I made it clear that I consider that chair to be my own." Severus' perpetual scowl was etched upon his face.
Hermione began to stand, only to stop herself. She stared at him, piecing together all her options. If she wanted to exude confidence, now was her chance. This plan would either inch her closer to Severus, or it would blow any chance she had with him.
"Ms. Granger, are you hard of hearing?" Severus snapped. "I would like you to remove yourself from my chair."
"I'm sorry, but I can't find your name tag." Hermione sat and investigated the chair. "You will need to make it clearer that this chair is yours before I remove myself from this quite comfortable piece of furniture."
"I have no time for you and your attitude," Severus raised the brown book which had been in his hand. "My research is urgent."
"Is it so urgent that you cannot go to your rooms and do it yourself?"
"I would if I could check the book out."
"Oh really."
"Yes, and my research is much more important than your," He leaned over her, getting a good glance of her book, "Hair straightening potions."
She put the book behind her back.
"Have you finally realized how untamable your hair is and are seeking to find a solution to the problem?"
"Have you finally realized how greasy your hair is but have vowed to do nothing to remedy the problem?"
"Touche," Severus muttered.
Hermione smirked.
"Now, if you wouldn't mind finding a new place to sit…."
"Let's make an exchange."
"You leave and never return to my chair?"
"No, one book for another. You saw mine, now," She took the book from Severus' hands and examined it. "One Hundred Dark Uses for Basilisk Fangs."
He snatched it from her.
"What sort of project are you engaged in now?" Now she was intrigued.
"That is for me to know, and for you to read about once I publish the results." He grabbed it back from her.
"Why can I not hear about it now?" She asked.
"Because I do not wish for you to know about my project."
"That much is obvious, but that doesn't explain why I cannot hear anything about it."
"I do not need to give you a reason other than, 'my research does not involve bushy haired know-it-alls.'"
"Well I was just thinking that since we're colleagues, we could help each other out," she emphasized the last word. "Severus."
He furrowed his eyebrows. "What did I say about calling me that?"
"I know you have an aversion to your first name, but I think it rolls off the tongue nicely," she purred the next word, "Severus."
"I prefer Professor Snape."
"And I prefer Severus," she argued. "Since I am the one addressing you, I'll use your first name."
There was a tint of red on his face.
"And in the interest of fairness, you may call me Hermione."
"I think not," he spat out the next words. "Ms. Granger."
"That's another thing," she noted. "I am Professor Granger now."
"A fact I rue every day."
"Perhaps you rue my presence now, but I'm sure after a few months you will grow to enjoy, dare I say even, love it."
"The day I value your presence is the day I am declared fit for the Janus Thickey ward." He said.
"I'll book you a room then."
He rolled his eyes.
"All that being said." She shifted her position again. "I've been thinking about my class lately."
"You've managed to find time to do that amongst cleaning up your clutter?"
"Somehow, yes," she replied.
"I would say I'm impressed, but you should have been considering your class the moment you applied for this job."
"I thought I had a good idea of what to do, until I saw the textbooks."
"They're informative, aren't they?" There was a tinge of sympathy in his voice.
"I've never read such ridiculous garbage in my life," Hermione shook her head
"The curriculum in Muggle Studies has always been," he paused. "Lacking."
"It is absolutely horrid," she continued. "I mean, they spent an entire unit on a toaster oven."
"As if that has any value to any wizard."
"As if it has any value to a muggle. Merlin knows I never grew up with one."
"Neither did I."
"Exactly," she replied. "Which is why I need you."
He raised an eyebrow.
"You're one of the few people I routinely interact with who grew up as a muggle. You could help me determine what is and is not important to teach."
"You can't figure as much out on your own?"
"Of course I could," she said. "But if I only talk about things which interest me, then we'll spend half a semester discussing a card catalogue in a muggle library."
"I would say that's still more intriguing than the unit on hard boiled eggs I endured."
"You did a unit on hard boiled eggs?"
"Sadly, yes," he answered. "And it lasted two bloody weeks."
"I would love nothing more than to prevent that from occurring," she sat up straighter. "I'll need your help to do so though."
"Do you know what I think?"
She said nothing.
"I think," he leaned in closer and whispered in her face. "You need to do your job or resign so someone who can perform the proper duties will do so."
"In other words, you refuse to help me at the moment," she kept her voice from wavering.
"I refuse to help you at all." He backed away.
"You mean you'd rather watch students become dunderheads than help me?"
"If they become dunderheads it is because you were woefully unprepared and got your job based on your celebrity status, not because I refused to help you."
"If you change your mind…"
"Which I won't."
"You know where to find me."
"So long as you are not in my chair I couldn't care less where you choose to be."
"Perhaps you do not care where I am at the moment." She stood. "But one day, you will care very much where I am."
He glared at her.
"In the meantime." She patted the chair. "I would put a name tag on this chair where it's easily visible. Otherwise, I shall make my own and claim it."
Severus glared at her before sitting in the chair.
After giving him one last look, she began to stroll away, a new plan formulating in her mind.
Her situation may not be so hopeless after all.