A/N: I know it's after Christmas but just look on it as a way to prolong the season or perhaps lift you from that post-holiday gloom you undoubtedly fell into upon returning to work. And don't forget to review! It would be a nice post-Christmas gift to me. As always J.K. Rowling owns Harry Potter.

Chapter Seven—The Lecture

Hermione had looked forward to brewing the Wolfsbane with Professor Snape. It was a difficult potion and she was anxious to prove her skill in Potions to him. She might not have been so excited if she had known that she was going to be snapped at every ten seconds until he finally decided that she was good for nothing but cutting ingredients, and even then he had berated her on the thickness of several things. Really, the man was impossible. She couldn't read his handwriting, and how was she supposed to learn when he wouldn't teach her? He just expected that she should know everything. She was not, as he said, a know-it-all, although she did have an insatiable curiosity.

After having spent more time with the man than absolutely necessary in the last two days, she was not looking forward to dinner on Wednesday. She could only hope that the lecture would prove worth the trouble. At least after tomorrow night she wouldn't be obliged to see him outside of her apprenticeship; it was a comfort, albeit small.

Against all logic however, the next night found her carefully preparing for her date.

'Why am I so nervous?' she wondered for the umpteenth time. This was, after all, just dinner with Snape. She didn't have to worry about wondering if he liked her or not; she knew he didn't. Or if he was going to ask her out again; she was saying no even if he did.

So why did she care how she looked? For that matter, why did she care what he thought? Upon reflection she realized that she did care, quite a lot actually, about what he thought of her. She always had, and not even the events earlier in the week would change that. If seven years of mistreatment hadn't convinced her to avoid the man it seemed nothing would.

With this new kernel of information she put on some lavender robes and applied some makeup. Although after ten minutes of fighting with her hair, she gave up and just let it hang loose around her shoulders. With one last quick look in the mirror, she grabbed her cloak and headed downstairs to meet Snape.

She found him like before waiting for her in the entryway, looking nervous.

"Ready to go then?" she asked, smiling. He looked at her in disbelief. Apparently he thought that because they had fought the night before that she either wouldn't come or would be sulky the entire time. Well just because he was an ill-tempered man who held grudges until the end of eternity, (his hatred of Harry because of what James had done to him sprung to mind,) did not mean she was the same. She would not stoop to his level. If anything it could be fun to throw him balance by being overly nice. Yes, she thought, that's what I will do—kill him with kindness.

She smiled at him and tucked her hand in the crook of his arm.

&&&&

Severus did not like the look Miss Granger. Well, that wasn't entirely true, the lavender robes she was wearing were quite lovely and he liked the way her unruly curls cascaded over her shoulders. Normally she wore it pulled back when she was in class and he could easily imagine what it might be like to tangle his hands in her hair, a little too easily actually.

No, it was the smile that disturbed him. He had seen her smile before, but this had a mischievous look to it and he worried about what she had planned for this night. Perhaps he shouldn't have been so harsh with her the night before when brewing the Wolfsbane. She was a powerful witch after all, her excellent school record as well as the string of cursed and hexed death eaters during the war attested to that. He felt in his robes for his wand just to be safe, as she took his arm and led him down the path to the gates.

The lecture itself proved to be quite uninteresting in his view. The speaker had nothing new to offer and only repeated what Severus had been reading in the Potions journals for the last several years. He said as much to Hermione, leaning over and whispering quietly in her ear, "It appears he spent more time in choosing his dress robes tonight than he did researching this topic."

She smiled slightly at him but turned her attention back to the speaker. He was a tall man with blond wavy hair and Severus was reminded of Gilderoy Lockhart. Hermione seemed enraptured by his inane speech and Severus felt an unwanted stab of jealousy. She was on a date with him; she should not be mooning over other men. Unconsciously, he decided to battle for her attention and approval. Leaning over once more he whispered, "You know more about Potions than this peacock!"

There, an insult and a compliment combined, surely she would more impressed with him than with the lecturer. And if nothing else the smell of her hair and the view of her neck had been worth the effort. In response she leaned over and took his hand, digging her fingernails painfully into his flesh.

"You're disturbing those of us who are trying to listen," she hissed.

He tried not to yelp in pain nor did he show his surprise when she didn't let go of his hand but held onto it. He looked over at her, trying to discern her motives. He wished she was facing him, so he could use legilimency. But then maybe it was better that she wasn't. She had been cordial the entire night, downright nice and agreeable actually, well, except for the fingernails. But either way, he didn't want to ruin it by invading her mind, something he was sure that she wouldn't look kindly on. As if sensing that he was looking at her, she turned and smiled before turning her attention once more back to the speaker.

He wanted to spend the evening with this Hermione, not the fiery and irritating Hermione of the previous night. This Hermione smiled at him as if she enjoyed his company. She did not make him want to reach for his wand every ten minutes, testing his self-control. He sat back and relaxed, no longer listening to the speaker but simply enjoying the feel of Hermione's hand in his and the look of intense concentration on her face.

"Do you mind if I go and try and get an autograph?" she asked at the end, her eyes sparkling a little too much at the prospect.

"I'd rather you not," he said brusquely.

A look of anger flashed across her face, but it was quickly masked.

"Of course, you're hungry. We should leave. I can get an autograph some other time," she said.

He could see the disappointment behind her schooled features. Years of spying had taught him to read people and Miss Granger had never been good at hiding her emotions.

'So,' he thought, 'she is trying to throw me off balance by being overly nice. Two can play that game.' But not now, he was not the kind of man to not take advantage of such an opportunity. His stomach growling, he took her hand and led her from the room. He was hungry and he didn't want her anywhere near that peacock of a Potions master if he could help it.