I do not own one single solitary character or setting portrayed in this fic. I have no claim upon any part of the wonderful works of fiction created and owned solely by J.K. Rowling.

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Having made her plans, Hermione quickly showered and used a muggle blow dryer to straighten her hair. She wasn't completely unfamiliar with the technique. After all, it was what she used at home during the summer. She felt both anxious and excited at the prospect of seeing Severus. Her feelings of horror over what might have happened the night before had mellowed as soon as the first drops of water splashed across her face in the shower. The excitement she felt the evening before began once again to infiltrate her entire body. While she still felt a sense of dread at seeing him again, it was exceeded by an anticipation that she couldn't ignore.

"I still can't believe I'm alone with my Potions Master," she whispered to her mirrored reflection. "Of all my witching adventures, so far this is the best one. And to think, I thought the holidays would be dreadful without mum and dad."

She dressed quickly in one of the outfits she had purchased the day before. "We're going to need to do some more shopping," she thought excitedly. An image of him trying on black leather pants floated through her mind. "Mmmmm........" Taking a deep breath, she opened the door into the hallway and went in search of Severus. She willed her feet to slow down, but they wouldn't listen to her. Instead, they sped up as if they had their own "must find Severus" agenda. As a result, she rushed breathlessly into the kitchen at the exact moment that he stepped into the hallway.

The impact took them both to the floor in a tangle of arms and legs. From her clumsily assumed position on top of her professor, Hermione stared as if mesmerized into the hypnotic depths of his equally intense black-eyed gaze. She could not tear her eyes away.

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Severus Snape had finally given into an exhausted slumber in the wee hours of the morning only to be awakened by a commotion coming from the window directly above his head. It had taken him several annoying minutes to figure out that the noise was what muggles referred to as rush hour traffic. He remembered learning about this aspect of London life in a muggle studies class long ago. "I can't believe I pulled that memory out of my arse after all these years," he'd thought wryly as he sat up to look outside. He needn't have bothered, because the only view from the room was of the taller buildings across the street. They were not in the least impressive to him.

A cold breeze had wafted through a slight opening where the window had been left ajar. He'd breathed in the impure air without noticing its frigidity. He was so used to the cold dungeons of Hogwarts that the little breeze slicing through the slim opening hadn't affected him in the least. It was the noise that blew in with it that was going to get on his nerves.

"How can they stand to live in these claustrophobic megalopolis,'" he'd griped to himself. He was sure that most muggles would find the dungeons of Hogwarts a bit too drafty for their tastes. "No, they would much prefer to pay their two bits, tour the castle, and leave five minutes after closing, Of course, Hermione is a muggle of sorts. I wonder if she becomes cold easily."

Unbidden, a mental picture of a very cold Hermione, hard nipples clearly visible in a tank top, had inserted itself into his thoughts. "Yes, she most definitely responds to the cold," he'd thought erroneously.

"Dammit! She's sleeping in her own bed tonight!" he'd thought in exasperation. The simple utterance of the words "she" and "bed" had also served to push his guilty conscience back into its reigning place of prominence in his thoughts. What had kept him up most of the night had cocked itself and was ready to shoot his day to pieces. He'd sluggishly moved to sit at the edge of the bed and run his hands through hair. He'd made up a childish and nasty list in his head, and he'd childishly used his fingers to emphasize each fact as it came to him. He thought:

"I hate muggles.

I hate muggle life.

I hate Albus Dumbledore for forcing me into this situation.

I hate Harry Potter for befriending Hermione Granger.

I hate Hermione Granger for involving herself in things she's never had the right to be involved in.

I hate her even more because if she had just stuck to her bothersome, book- wormy ways; her tiresome hand raising; and her obsessive-compulsive libraryness; then I would never have been saddled with her in this God- forsaken muggle city. Furthermore, I would never have noticed that she was a C cup.....Or, possibly a D cup......"

"Ye gods man!" he'd groaned in frustration at his inability to keep his thoughts on something other than Hermione's physical appearance. "This, this.....This unfortunate attraction has got to stop. Today!" he'd stuttered to the room at large.

"It's all her fault. What the hell am I going to do? I have to master this. I cannot let Albus down. I have to reestablish our professor/student relationship no matter how difficult it will be to do."

Once again he'd felt like cursing Albus Dumbledore. Despite his distaste for all things muggle, the trip really could have been quite relaxing. He could have used a little break from the Hogwarts Christmas experience. Had he been alone in New York, he would have had complete control over his time for a change. Ms. Granger would have been back at Hogwarts annoying her friends. Instead he was saddled with her in an environment that rendered him vulnerable to her.

"Severus Snape is not vulnerable to any man," he'd muttered to himself vehemently before remembering that (wo) man was an entirely different animal. "No! Scratch that. Hermione was a different animal. Women I can handle!" Involuntarily, a mental image of their new neighbor appeared in his mind's eye. "What did she say her name was? Rosanna? Roxanne?" He couldn't remember her name, but he did remember her body. "That's the answer!" he'd realized suddenly.

"She'll be vapid," he'd said beginning to plan out loud, "But she's better than becoming involved with a student. She was obviously interested last night. I'll use her to get over this thing for Hermione. It should only take a couple of days. I can bear two days with anyone if it keeps me from continuing in these terrible lapses in judgement."

The plan was a good one, but it had left him feeling moody. The thought of spending time with the actress should have been more exciting than it was, but he'd had to be honest with himself. The prospect was not enticing in the least. Normally, relationships based on sex were the ones he most enjoyed. No attachments and no intimacy worked well for him. However, as much as he'd loathed admitting it to himself, he felt disappointed with the fact that he wouldn't be able to get to know Hermione better.

Although annoying, she was the most intelligent student he'd ever seen pass through the venerable doors of Hogwarts. This time together should have been an opportunity for him to tutor her. He was interested in tapping into her views on potions from a student's perspective. It would probably be a millenium before another student worthy enough to ask would attend the school. "Look on the bright side Severus," he'd consoled himself, "At least you'll get laid while you're here, so drop the maudlin act and get going."

Hesitant to spend another moment in such unworthy reflection, he'd hurried to the bathroom. He'd wanted to be awake and fully prepared to face the enemy the moment she emerged from her room. Less than forty minutes later, he'd washed and dressed, and now he was standing hungrily in the middle of the kitchen. He felt clueless. "Damn! I've got to get a grip quick. I can't depend on Hermione for everything." For the moment, however, there was nothing for him to do but wait for her.

Thirty minutes later he heard the pulse of a shower. His heart rate began to accelerate. Ten minutes after that he could hear the faint whir of some type of machine. It was a strange whirring noise, and he had no idea what it was. His lack of knowledge made him feel ignorant. It caused his heart rate to decrease. He became cranky. Ten more minutes went by and he heard a doorknob turn. His pulse became wild again. His adrenaline ejected him out of his chair landing him in the middle of the kitchen like an idiot. "Good God man! Imagine if your colleagues were to see you like this. It would be too humiliating"

He could hear the sound of Hermione's brisk movements coming his way. "Is she running?" he thought while stepping out into the hallway to see for himself. He had his answer within two seconds as she collided into him full force taking both of them to the ground. He lay there counting to ten to give him time to regain his temper. But when he looked up, his anger dissipated completely.

Hermione, disheveled and clearly stunned by what she had done, was looking at him in the most intense manner. Her golden brown hair surrounded them both like a silken tent. Perhaps it was her close proximity, but he was startled once again into the realization that the girl was absolutely beautiful. "Why have never noticed the perfection of her face before?" he asked himself yet again. He was bemused, bewitched, bothered, and bewildered. And tearing his eyes from her face was the least of his priorities for the moment.