Chapter two
The next morning, Severus Snape spent more time contemplating the curly-haired student twitching nervously at the Gryffindor table than he spent eating his breakfast. Not that it was unusual for him to pick at his food, but the stare was noticeable to his colleagues – many of whom were beside themselves with concern for the mismatched pair.
Hermione, feeling his eyes upon her, finally gave in to the urge to turn and face him. She quirked him a smile and went back to her eggs and toast. The faculty, who were wild-eyed with wonder and trying very hard to be nonchalant about observing Severus and Hermione, were mildly reassured when he simply nodded in response.
As for Snape, he couldn't decide whether the smile made him feel better or not. Before he could resume gazing at the young woman, however, an owl landed in front of his plate. The small, brown owl hopped around excitedly before Snape could untie the letter and small package from its legs. Tossing a crust of bread to the bird, he turned his attention first to the note:
Dear Professor Snape,
Severus.
Just a short note to say have a good birthday. I am sorry that it will not be a happy one. I spent most of last night thinking about our situation and I have made a decision, for myself at least. I have decided to just approach it as another assignment.
Go ahead, say it -- I can hear the "insufferable know-it-all" phrase reverberating through your head from my seat at the Gryffindor table. Say it. See? Now, don't you feel better?
(Snape narrowly resisted the urge to smirk, covering the near-miss with a sip of his coffee.)
To that end, I have enclosed the "homework" I completed last night. It was a simple, self-assigned research project. I am sure you will recognize the text and I have marked the passages I would most like to discuss during our tutoring session this evening.
Happy birthday, professor.
Hermione Granger
Confused, and a bit scared, if he were to own the truth – Snape opened the small package to reveal a reduced volume. Closer inspection revealed the book to be the Kama Sutra. His eyes darted to Hermione, who was watching him through lowered lashes, blushing. Matching her blush, he hid the volume in his palms and thumbed through it, growing redder with each marked page. Several pages depicting oral sex were marked, he noted. 'Probably because most young men wouldn't know a clitoris if one walked up and slapped them,' he thought to himself. Two other positions, which appeared perfect to play out upon his classroom desk, also had bookmarks. The second required a very flexible woman and quite a bit of strength by the man. Of course a charm could render her weightless, he mused. His eyebrow launched to the ceiling and he leaned closer to examine the text explaining the description and its picture.
"Vixen," he whispered.
"What was that, Severus?" said Albus, knowingly. "Did you get a birthday present?"
Snape's head jerked up from the moving picture he had been staring at, and he looked to his employer guiltily. Dumbledore chuckled, thinking: 'deer in the headlights look, that one. Hmm, I wonder what exactly headlights are, I must ask Arthur.'
Both men left their musings off to glance out at the Gryffindor table, where Hermione had gathered her things and was leaving in the direction of the library. Snape could see she was blushing to the roots of her hair however; she did turn at the door to throw him a nervous wink.
"It would seem," said Dumbledore, "that our lovely Miss Granger has come to terms with our little problem."
"er – yes, Headmaster, she has," stammered Snape, unable to reclaim his normally smooth, silky delivery. "I believe she has decided to see it as a challenge or a particularly difficult assignment."
The older man leaned over his shoulder and glanced at the moving picture that had entranced Snape only moments earlier. He chuckled and clapped Snape on the shoulder.
"Well, perhaps your birthday won't be so bad after all," he said. "Although, I think that particular assignment may be more of a challenge for a man of your age than an 18-year-old woman."
"I'm not old!" barked Snape, slamming the book shut and blushing yet again. Damn, he was going to have to find a potion for that before the end of the day.
"Severus," said Dumbledore, suddenly serious. "Be good to her."
"I will."
Silence reigned for a few moments while both men sipped their morning drinks.
"Headmaster?"
"mmmmmmmmmm?"
"Do you know anything about the seventh years and their—erm—"
"Oh, their little spanking fantasy?"
"You know."
"Severus, everyone knows."
"Joy."
Classes and lunch blew by swiftly, but to Snape, the hour that was dinner dragged and dragged. He had sent a note to Hermione asking her to meet and discuss her "research project" at 7 o'clock that evening. He hoped that five hours would give them enough time to fulfill their end of the prophecy – he figured at least four hours of that time would include alcohol, stalling and a lot of agony.
Hermione didn't seem to be as miserable as he was, he mused. She was digging into her dinner with gusto, a Muggle shirt and jeans peeking out from under her robes. Laughing with Potter and Weasley, she spat pumpkin juice on her plate and clothing, and had to brandish her wand to clean up – while glaring at the Boy Wonder for whatever he had said to make the juice come out her nose. Most unattractive, that, he thought. Although the jeans are a nice touch for the evening. He always did like Muggle jeans. Armor, he recognized suddenly, with shock. Her Muggle clothing was armor.
Somehow, that made him feel better. She wasn't as confident as her little erotic gift and her demeanor would indicate. He covertly watched the Golden Trio as he finished his meal and tapped his plate for his dessert. Hermione and the others had moved onto their desserts too, he noticed, just as Weasley swabbed a glob of frosting from his cake and launched it at Hermione.
McGonagall tutted under her breath and began to rise from the table, intent on quelling the impending food fight between her cubs. He stopped her with a hand on her arm.
"Allow me, Minerva."
Quietly, he rose and moved to stand behind the frosting smeared trio and their equally messy friends. Ginny Weasley saw him first and froze in horror. Hermione winced at her expression and slowly turned to see her would-be lover hovering behind her place at the table.
"I would think that as seventh years," he snapped, "a sophomoric food fight would be beneath you."
"Yes, sir," the group said in unison.
"But, you are Gryffindors, so I suppose exceptions must be made," he finished.
The group sat silently, awaiting punishment. It came.
"Miss Granger, detention, my classroom in one hour," he said, leaning over her shoulder and sending chills up her spine as he hissed in her ear. "Don't expect to see your friends the rest of the evening."
She turned to him, unsure whether to be aroused or annoyed. He quirked an eyebrow at her.
"And please find that Gryffindor has lost 15 points," he snapped, turning on his heel and striding from the Great Hall.
Hermione's eyes flashed.
"That bastard!" she exclaimed, jumping up and following him from the room.
Just as he had planned.
He grabbed her arm, dragging her into a alcove behind a tapestry, and wrestling with her briefly as she attempted to escape him. Or slap him. He didn't really care which.
"You bastard," she spat. "I don't care if you initiate a little detention scenario for tonight, in fact – I like it. But you didn't have to take away points!"
"We have more important things to worry about tonight than house points, Miss Granger," he said silkily, releasing her arms to caress her shoulders and finger her curls. She locked her gaze with his and sighed, defeated.
"You're right," she said. "And you solved my dilemma of trying to explain where I would be all night. I apologize."
"You should," he said, moving his ministrations from her shoulders to her sides and hips. He smiled as he noticed her breathing quicken. "You should apologize more, however, for that book you sent me this morning."
He leaned in to whisper into her ear. She tensed.
"I've been literally on fire all day," he said. "You, my dear, are a vixen."
She giggled and stood on tiptoe to whisper back: "I think Professor Trelawney is full of shit, Snape. I don't expect to get pregnant tonight – I checked my fertility this afternoon and I haven't ovulated yet this month. She's a fraud. So, I plan to just have fun tonight, and I want you to at least enjoy the ride."
"I plan to," he whispered, sliding his lips down her throat. "Why do you think I assigned you detention?"
"Latent detention fantasies, Professor?" she said.
"No, I just think you are sexy when you are angry."
"Bastard –" she began, before he took her parted lips under his own and finally, finally, kissed her. She shuddered as the tentative kiss turned fiery very quickly.
Just as quickly, he released her and stepped away. She looked a bit dazed and he was rather pleased – perhaps she was right, he mused. Tonight might not be so bad.
"You aren't fertile?" She shook her head in response.
"So, we meet tonight, enjoy a highly unethical and probably illegal evening of sex that will leave my old bones aching for at least a week," he said, smirking at her. "And, then we are through with the silly prophecy."
"Looks like it."
"Well, then, my dear, I will see you to complete our duty in – 45 minutes," he said, heading for the tapestry covered exit. "Good bye, Miss Granger."
"Good bye, Professor Snape."