The next morning Hermione awoke, rubbed her eyes, and began to roll out of bed when memory hit. Falling back flat, shaky hands reached to cover her burning face as she repressed a low moan. "Oh God. Oh-God-oh-God-oh-God."

Images flitted across her mind at rapid speed, causing her breath to catch. She'd never thought of him like this before. Never sexually. Well … nothing specific. Those dark eyes and velvet voice had always increased her heart-rate, but she'd assumed her reaction was due primarily to fear. How could she see him again? Sit through his class. Continue tutoring. Impossible.

Pushing herself to the edge of the bed, she sat forward to hang her head between her knees, waiting for panic to pass. After the blood rushed to her head, clearing her thoughts, she stood and walked over to an oval mirror, raising a hand to her blush. Maybe he would surprise her by acting like a gentleman and ignoring the whole thing. Maybe she could avoid looking at him. Stop asking questions in class. Blend in with the other students who tried desperately – although usually in vain – to seem invisible.

Maybe she could just stay in bed and pretend to be sick.

But tomorrow would come and what then? Always the pragmatic one, Hermione began to dress for school. Two more months, she told herself. Just two more months. I'll have graduated then, and will never have to be in his snide presence again. Thoughts of his arms encircling her trembling body intruded. She'd never look at his mouth again without remembering the electric shock of feeling them on her neck. Ruefully, she thought she'd never watch his hands in quite the same way either. Recalling the sting, she winced. Where did he find the nerve? She must be the only student in the history of Hogwarts to have been turned over the knee of a professor. Witches rarely got physical with each other, outside of their respective bedrooms, of course.

Gathering what courage she could find, she left her dormitory and headed to the cafeteria.

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Drinking strong coffee in his bedroom, Severus ran a hand over his unshaven face and let out a long sigh. What had he been thinking? The little know-it-all had finally snapped, giving him a reason to do something he'd long wanted to. That alone could lose him his position. But her reaction. Now that was a surprise. As was his own. Looking into the mirror, he stared hard into his face. A face only a mother could love, he thought. With the exception of mine.

Why had she trembled in his arms? And climaxed the moment his lips touched her. That had shocked him to his core. Spanking her had hardly been intended as foreplay.

There was a connection here, however tenuous. They had always respected each other's minds. Now, they'd become aware of each other physically. But, she was a child! Almost eighteen, a voice inside his head whispered. Almost legal.

Almost.

And there it was. No tempting smiles, no artless invitations, or dares would move him. When she was no longer a student, perhaps he'd explore this. Now was not the time.

Determined, he turned from the vile mirror and began his day.

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As the morning crawled inevitably towards her third class, Hermione battled a curious combination of dread mingled with excitement. Would he stare knowingly into her eyes? Call on her if she refused to participate in activities? Humiliate her by telling someone?

She would die, absolutely die, if anyone knew. Of course, knowledge is a two-way street. If anyone knew of his involvement, he could lose his job. She'd just be humiliated to the end of her days.

The low mumble of students' voices fell to silence as the classroom door banged shut and the dreaded professor deftly, with swirling robes, entered the room.

Swiveling to face the class, he leaned against his desk, crossed his arms and ran his fierce gaze slowly over the students, pausing momentarily at the top of Hermione's head with her nose pressed into a book.

He repressed a snort at her cowardice. The little twerp won't even look at me. In a voice far warmer than his words, he spoke.

"Today's lesson will help prepare you for your upcoming final exams. Failure to successfully master this skill translates to failure in Potions, and that, to some of you will mean summer school, or … a minor degree that while allowing you to purchase supplies for the rudimentary potions, will prevent you from getting a job in any field requiring Potions' expertise."

Frowning at Longbottom hunching down in his chair in the front row, he added in a sepulcher voice, "I cannot impress upon you the importance of paying attention today."

Looking quickly up to Hermione, he strode to her desk and snatched the book from below her nose. Looking deeply into her widened eyes, Snape leaned forward and spoke softly, "You, of all people, should know the importance of paying attention."

At her telltale blush, he slammed the book back on her desk and moved to the front of the room, calling over his shoulder, "Detention. Tonight, Miss Granger."

"What?" Hermione straightened up in shock. "Excuse me?"

"I believe you heard me," he stated blandly.

The unbelievable bastard! Trying desperately to quell the emotions threatening to overcome her, she forced herself to meet his gaze and focus on the lesson.

Hermione survived the long hour, with her mind occasionally jumping ahead to imagine the upcoming detention. She wasn't sure which emotion ruled; excitement or fear. Watching him move across the front of the room, she found herself admiring his broad shoulders, remembering their width and strength under her hands. He wouldn't be nearly as interesting looking without that hooked nose, she thought to herself. He moves with the grace of a cat. And those beautiful hands, so deftly skilled. Imagining what he could do to her with them, Hermione felt her body grow warm.

Catching her dreamlike expression, Snape stopped reciting steps mid-sentence and found himself locked in her gaze. Unbidden images intruded, causing an instant physical reaction his robes thankfully hid. Shaking his head briefly, he continued instructions, frowning at Hermione.

Suddenly aware of his angry glare, she jerked and snapped out of her daydream. Feeling her heart beating in her throat, she bowed her head and continued taking notes, aware of a large gap where she'd drifted off. She'd borrow notes from Harry. His were usually decent. Closing her eyes for a brief moment, she attempted to calm herself. She'd never been the type to get lost in her own fantasy world. She never understood the lure. Opening her eyes, she eyed her professor from head to foot, thinking to herself, until now.

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Detention ran from 8:00 – 12:00 depending on the teacher and the seriousness of the student's infraction. Walking down the long flight of stairs to the massive dungeons beneath Hogwarts, Hermione felt her courage draining quickly. Cautiously, she opened the large door and entered to room, shivering at the sudden drop in temperature.

Seated at a desk, scribbling furiously, Snape didn't bother raising his head. Pointing to a counter filled with filthy glass tubes and bottles, he said sharply, "Wash them."

Rolling her eyes, she sighed heavily and she reached for her wand.

"By hand. No magic is allowed during detention."

"What? That's absurd!"

Raising his head and leveling his dark eyes on her, he asked, "First time in detention, Miss Granger? I'm honored." Smiling unpleasantly, he continued, "It isn't suppose to be easy or quick or fun." Losing the smile, he snapped, " Now get to work."

Grinding her teeth, she stomped over to the counter and ran hot water into the sink, mumbling foul insults.

"Along with a very keen sense of smell, I have an overly developed sense of hearing. It would be wise to keep those thoughts to yourself." His voice poured over her, causing her to quiver. How he managed to sound sexy and annoying simultaneously was beyond her. She half considered refusing his request to see how he would react.

Focusing on her task, she began washing the fragile tubes, listening to his pen scratch on paper. Looking out of the corner of her eye, she tried to see if he was paying any attention to her. With his head bent and rapid pen, it would appear not.

Feeling her irritation level rise, she lifted a clean tube in the air and dangled it over the stone floor. Watching him, she casually let it drop.

At the sound of breaking glass, dark eyes flew up to meet and latch onto amber eyes. Immediately noting her lack of concern or remorse, he sat up straight in his chair and scowled at her. She's trying to goad me. Snatching up he wand, he flicked it once, twice, placing a broom in one of her hands and a dustpan in the other.

"Sweep that up." He commanded softly.

A battle of wills followed in the form of a 10 – 15 – 20 second staring contest, before Hermione dropped her eyes. Bending to clean up the glass she'd broken, she damned her lack of courage.

Watching for a moment, Snape suppressed a faint smile and returned to his task.

As Hermione finished each chore, Snape would demand another … always manual … always demeaning. At the last request, to sweep the floor, a good 10,000 feet of solid stone, her temper snapped.

"No, I won't!"

Raising his brows, he stood and walked around the desk to look down his nose at her.

"Pardon me?"

"I won't do another stupid chore. I'm tired. I've worked enough." Flicking her hand around the piles of cleaned, polished, organized material, "This is bit excessive, isn't it? Even for you." she added spitefully.

Glaring silently down at her, he watched her color rise in anger.

"It's because of last night, isn't it? " Her voice broke. "You're angry at me … " Tilting her head, she aimed a sharp look at him. "Or …. you're angry at yourself. And you're taking it out on me."

Bingo, Snape thought as he shut his eyes for a second. Opening them, he ran them over her delicately flushed face and fought the newfound urges her close proximity caused. Considering his next words carefully, he spoke slowly, "Hermione. You are a child. I am your teacher. Two excellent reasons why this conversation can go no further."

Bristling, Hermione poked her finger forward into his chest. "I AM NOT A CHILD. I'll be 18 in two months. At which time you will also cease to be my teacher."

Grasping her wrist and pulling the offending finger from his chest, he spoke meticulously, "Then perhaps we can continue this discussion in two months. But not … before … then."

Laughing, Hermione asked incredulously. "And you're going to … what? … ignore me until June?"

He returned her gaze silently, wondering the same thing himself. Turning his nose up, he stated coldly, "I think I can quite easily manage."

Stung by his comment, she glared up at him and whispered, heatedly, "We'll see about that." Snatching her wrist free, she added, "I can always seduce you."

Amazed at her gall, he sent her a severe look. "I would suggest you control yourself."

Stepping closely up to him, she whispered suggestively, "And if I don't?"

Gripping her firmly by the shoulders and pushing her arms length away, he growled warningly, "Hermione."

Reaching to the top of her black robe, she began lowering the zipper, keeping her eyes locked onto his.

Eyes widening slightly, he reached for his wand and pointed it to her robe, furiously muttering.

Tugging at the zipper, Hermione could make it go neither up nor down. It was stuck. Stomping her foot, she spat out, "Damn-it."

At his satisfied smirk, she rushed forward and pressed herself against him, reaching and locking her hands around the back of his neck. Capturing his lips in hers, she used her scant knowledge of kissing to try to evoke a reaction from him.

Severus stood frozen and refused to return her advances, attempting with supreme effort to quell with raging urges that threatened to overcome him at the feel of her soft breasts pressed against him and her innocent kisses.

Pressed closely to his form, it took a moment for Hermione to realize he had frozen up like a statue. Dropping down, she stepped back, panting heavily. She refused to believe his lack of interest was sincere. Intending on trying one more time, she froze at his words, spoken in a tone dripping with sarcasm, "How charming. I sincerely hope I can contain myself."

Firmly gripping her arms, he turned her around to face the door. "Detention is over, child. Now, go to bed."

Wrenching free, she swiveled and sputtered in frustration, "I ought to slap you."

Eyes glittering dangerously, he said in low, soft voice, "Try it and see what happens."

Feeling what little of her courage remained plummet, she let out a small whimper and ran for the door. Turning, she softly called back in a high-pitched voice, "I hate you!" before escaping into the hall and up the stairs.

Closing his eyes and slowly counting to ten, Severus fought to get his emotions under control. Better she believe him a cold bastard than suspect the unthinkable attraction he now battled. She hated him. Snorting derisively, he thought to himself, who didn't?

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Climbing into her bed and burrowing under the covers, Hermione lay shaking with frustration. She didn't believe for one minute that he was immune to her. She relived the moment of feeling his lips on her neck and felt a corresponding physical thrill. That hadn't been the reaction of a cold, scholar.

Known for her tenaciousness, Hermione began imagining different scenarios and his possible reaction to each. One particular plan caused her to blush in the dark. Would she have the nerve? It would take something extreme to get past his defenses. Planning out her steps, she committed herself to the task.

Tomorrow night. We'll see how he 'contains' himself then, she thought. And, still blushing, snuggled down to sleep.

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The following day, both managed to ignore each other during Potions class. As the evening rolled around, Severus sighed in relief. Ah, the resilience of youth. Already over her little crush. Perhaps now he could drive the erotic images that had plagued his dreams from his head, and focus on more important matters.

Entering his chambers, he shut and locked his door. Unbuttoning his robes, he headed towards the fireplace mantle to uncork and pour a measure of brandy into a snifter. Tossing the heavy robe to a chair, he tilted the glass and let the liquid warm his throat.

"Good evening, Professor."