Disclaimer: "Don't spear me!" I do not own either Harry Potter or Ice Age.

A/N: I'm sorry guys, I'm really busy right now. I'm babysitting daily, have school, and am also trying to practice for the ACT test. Plus my last month has been booked with Drama performances. I'll try to do better.

Jemma Blackwell: Yeah, she is rather gutsy, isn't she? Don't worry, I plan on letting Hermione have a few underhanded schemes of her own.

Charmed88: I love the idea Kala, but a love potion itself would be to obvious since Snape's Potions Master, but I think I can come up with a spin off of it…

Le Masque: I'm glad you like it, just remember it's the insane people like us who truly rule the world *wink*

Crystal56: Once again, my muse! I love the idea with the chandelier, and I know I keep saying this, but water is coming soon. It's all going to start with Snape giving Mione a detention…but I'm not saying anything else *wicked smile*

Thank you, all for your revs. I still need ideas for Snape to pull on Hermy. R&R! Love and Cheers!

Chapter 7

Date: Thursday, November 23.

Allies: Hermione Anne Granger with H. Potter and R. Weasley for emergency backup.

Mission: Operation Secret Admirer

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As the owl post swooped in after breakfast, three pairs of eyes watched for one particular bird. A small, sweet, fuzzy, little black owl with golden eyes and a cute little 'hoot' of acknowledgement. It arrived almost last; winging it's way towards its unsuspecting victim with a single red rose and a note in its claws. It landed delicately next to the tall dark man, the original six eyes and then some now watching with curiosity. Politely taking the bacon piece that the unpleasant looking man offered, the owl rose and flew away.

Severus Snape stared at the note and rose sitting before his plate. Staff and students alike were craning their necks around trying to see his reaction to the gift. This would be better done privately, but as he had a feeling that it was from the Granger chit he would open it here and possibly have the opportunity to send a message. Thus decided, he unfolded the note.

Good Morning Severus, no doubt you can guess who I am, but they can't, can they? I'm taking this opportunity to secure you in advance for my valentine, I hope that will not be disagreeable to you. I do hope you'll attend the feast. Be prepared for many surprises. Oh, one more thing.

I just wanted to console you about the DADA job again this year, a great pity, wasn't it?

With love from,

Your Secret Admirer

He snorted indelicately, 'Secret admirer indeed. More like a secret demon from hell. How in the world the chit found the gall to call me by my first name is beyond me.' He resisted looking at the Gryffindor table and instead, ignoring the eyes around the Hall watching him, set the paper on fire and calmly finished his breakfast. Let her send her roses and her notes. He would be able to quash any speculation on the subject by being his nasty self, and it would save him the trip to the Hogsmeade apothecary when he needed dried rose petals.

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Roses of all colors were sent through the next week, although no more notes accompanied them. Blue, yellow, purple, pink, orange, red, and black – no poor hybrid escaped. On the second week, the candy started. This was fine with him. Honeydukes chocolates in addition to simpler, but tasty in a different way, muggle ones. He had a soft spot for chocolate, although he didn't plan on letting Miss Granger find that out, no doubt she start sending something like cockroach clusters or something equally repulsive.

During the third week however, the novelty had completely worn off. The whispers among the staff and students about how 'Snape had finally got some' disgusted him; but none of the students, even those in his own house, were stupid enough to ask or congratulate him about it. If only the faculty were as cowed in his presence. Minerva, Poppy and Ermengarde smirked and tittered when they talked about him, ('They actually think I wouldn't notice that they keep glancing at me and giggling? Any hint of romance seems to turn normally sensible witches silly.')

But that was nothing to the more…forward…approach of the Madams Tralawney and Hooch. Hooch, who never had the proper decorum even when not armed with a juicy piece of gossip, gave him a hearty wink every time he came into the staff room and would ask him, in not-so-subtle language, if 'his lady' was good to him. To which he would always reply the negative; saying he had no idea who was sending the bloody things or even if it was a woman at all. Tralawney was worse, going out of her way to intercept him – especially in front of other staff – and going into 'trances' and predicting all manner of tripe. One of the more absurd was that he would be married within the next five years after saving his sweetheart's life, would have seven children and that the first would be a boy whom he would name Albus. He was almost positive Dumbledore had paid her off.

It was almost fun while it lasted, but it was now way past time for him to begin his personal retribution. Besides, she had stopped sending chocolate and was now sending pink daisies. To him! The idea would have been revolting enough even if he hadn't been allergic. It was definitely time to repay a few debts.

The babbling potion had been fun, but it would take something a little…subtler this time. She had been very carefully checking all her food and drink since the incident, and anyhow it wouldn't do to continue with complicated potions that could be limited to the ability of only two people in the school. He could think of a few ways though. Detention to start with, then, hmm…perhaps if she were required to test a concoction? Make her crow like a rooster? No, no to first year – he needed something that would really get to her…something to make her cringe. Well, when in doubt, think like a Slytherin. What motivated her? Where did she spend her time? What things did she hold sacred? What amused her? What terrified her? He must find all this out. Then he would be able to strike close to heart and she would never presume to try to outwit him again.

Severus Snape strode out of the dungeon toward the staff room for the end of month meeting, no doubt to be snickered and glanced at. Where he would drink oodles of tea and hide in his comfortable armchair in the dark little corner by the fire as he glared at any fellow colleagues who dared try to converse with him. Many might find such a thing depressing; it said rather sad things about his life really that he'd been doing this since he was twenty-one. But really – he had a war to plan with a worthy adversary, while not at all being actually life-threatening, and he had a chance to take out his temper in more ways than taking points and giving detentions to sniveling brats who didn't deserve the attention. In all honestly he hadn't felt better in years. To his horror he realized he was smiling, obviously scaring a passing Hufflepuff. Stupid little blighter. He quickly rearranged his face back into his perpetual scowl as he swept into the staff room.

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