Hermione held the cauldron up to the light, examining it carefully. She'd worked quickly, methodically, through the aisles of Dervish and Banges, not wanting to irritate Snape any further, hoping for a return of his earlier good humor.

It had not occurred.

He was, theoretically, examining a shelf of Remembralls, but she felt his eyes upon her; suddenly, her choice of cauldron seemed critically important, here under the eyes of the man who would be her Potions master.

Why do I care so much what he thinks?

She'd courted his respect as a student, certainly; she was, after all, Hermione Granger. And he, of course, had never given it; he was, after all, Severus Snape.

But now -- having seen the flashes of his quirky sense of humor, having finally felt the warmth of his approval, however fleeting -- it was addictive. She needed to make him grin again, desperately wanted to see mischief twinkle in his eyes, longed to...

Dammit, Granger, stop that.

She ran her hands down the cauldron, feeling for imperfections.

"Krum."

When had he snuck up behind her? When had his voice started causing her knees to go a little weak?

"Yes?"

"Do you require assistance?"

"I'm sorry, Snape," she replied in the same cold tone she'd affected all afternoon. "I'm picky about my cauldrons -- I have to be."

"And why, pray tell, is that?"

His breath, hot on the back of her neck. The warmth of him, like a field of energy behind her.

"I'm afraid that where I come from -- my Potions master is a real asshole."

The warmth fled; she heard him take a step backwards. "A Muggle curse, Krum? You must really hate him."

"Oh, yes," she purred, setting the cauldron down and lifting another. "Everyone does, really. He's cold, condescending, and cruel. He belittles the students, making them nervous, and then punishes them unfairly for mistakes he goaded them into making. Oh... that's not quite true. The toady suckups from his own House, the ones that pander to him and stroke his limp little ego... they can do no wrong."

"Where you come from," Snape repeated, his voice unsteady.

"Where I come from," Hermione agreed, plucking a cauldron at random and tucking it under his arm. "On the other hand -- why should I care what he thinks? Some pathetic, sad, ugly, dried-up, greasy little man?"

"T-that cauldron has a weak spot on the underside," Snape stuttered.

"So what?"

Snape snatched the cauldron from her hands, banging it down on the shelf. "So they should not be allowed to sell substandard merchandise, and I won't have your ignorance funding their duplicity."

He whirled, selecting another. "This one, however, is excellent."

"And Krum..." Snape slammed the cauldron into her chest, leaning over it to whisper in her ear. "Hogwarts is the only school of magic with Houses. I suggest you concoct a better backstory."

Hermione blinked, clutching the cauldron to her chest.

"Although, I must admit, the fictional Potions master was a lovely touch. Potter and Black might object to your plagiarism, however... perhaps you three can discuss it when I tell the Headmaster I want nothing more to do with you."

"Severus..."

"The next time you incorporate me into your fictions, Krum, kindly appoint me as instructing Defense Against The Dark Arts. I think you'll find I know the material better."

"I wasn't... I wasn't talking about you..."

Snape whirled, fixing her with a cold stare. "Pathetic? Sad? Ugly? Dried up? Greasy? I'll own those adjectives, Krum. But I must insist that I am not, and never have been, quite that stupid."

Hermione's stomach dropped to the floor. "But you're not..."

"Oh, I think you'll find that I very much am, Krum. I'm just impressed you picked up on it so quickly. And if I read my inferior handwriting correctly, that cauldron was the last item you required. I suggest you pay for it so that you may be freed from my pathetic, sad, ugly, company."

"Severus, I..."

"We've covered my faults in a bit of detail, Krum. Kindly conclude your business before I feel compelled to enlighten you as to yours. I'll wait for you outside."

Hermione watched him go, cold creeping around the edges of her mind. Why, why, why had she said those things? Now she'd never be able to repair the damage...

Well, why is he so damned touchy? I never said I was talking about him, and I certainly didn't do anything to deserve the silent treatment he's been giving me!

She seethed as her supplies were tallied and bagged, watching him through the window. A light rain had begun to fall, and Snape leaned against the railing, all broody in his black robes.

Oh, I bet you think you look so tragic, Snape. Well, you don't. You look like a big whinging baby, that's what you look like, a sulky, pouty, touchy, immature...

"Miss?"

"Oh. Thank you." Hermione took the sack the woman had been holding out to her. "Have a nice day."

"You too, dearie. Hard to accomplish, with that one..."

Hermione banged out the door, glaring in Snape's direction. "You wanted to go so damned badly, let's go."

"Language, Krum," Snape hissed, pushing himself off the post in one elegant movement. "It displays a want of breeding... Impervious..."

Of course, the slimy bastard had made sure the spell only covered his own head. With her wand in her pocket and her hands full, Hermione could merely blink as the rain coated her...

And then drenched her, as the skies opened up and the drizzle became a downpour.

"That's it," Hermione snapped. "This is ridiculous. If you won't be the tiniest bit of a gentleman, I'm taking cover."

She turned on her heel, heading for The Shrieking Shack.

"Krum, you amazing idiot. Don't go in there."

"Why not?" She kicked the gate open, continuing up the path.

"It's the Shrieking Shack. It's... it's haunted. No one goes in there. No one with a brain..."

Hermione peered up through the downpour. The moon was a sliver in the sky.

"Oh, it's perfectly fine. I'm going in."

Snape stopped in his tracks, staring at her.

"You can come in or not. I don't care."

"Oh, Krum," Snape growled under his breath, "I'm definitely coming in..."

Hermione's eyes widened at the change in tone, but she sailed through the door Snape wrenched open regardless, dropping her pile on a chair.

She jumped when Snape slammed the door behind them, cursing herself for showing weakness.

"Krum," Snape purred, his voice low and deadly, "I believe you and I need to have a chat."

"I don't believe I wish to chat with you on any topic."

"I believe you wish to chat with me on this one." Snape grabbed her by the shoulder, spinning her to face him. "And I believe you will."

"Get off me," Hermione snapped, squirming under his hold.

"I shall get off you," Snape growled, "The moment you explain to me why you looked at the moon before deciding to come in here."

The blood drained from Hermione's face.

"Go ahead, Krum."

"I didn't... I didn't look at the moon."

"Oh... I very much believe that you did."

"I looked... I looked up. To see how hard it was raining."

The pressure on her shoulder intensified. "Krum, you were practically drowning. You knew how hard it was raining."

"You're hurting my shoulder."

"I think you'd like to share with me just how much you know about Mr. Moony."

"I don't know anything about Lupin, I..."

Snape's eyes glittered in triumph, and Hermione realized her mistake too late.