A/N: In celebration of an exam completed and no more work due for another five days, here is a mini-instalment. Hopefully there will be another one at some point on the weekend. Enjoy.

DISCLAIMER: See ch. 1

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After the excitement of the morning, Hermione had retreated to the library to prepare herself against the onslaught that was sure to occur when the Weasley family descended. With Molly present it meant she couldn't skip public meals, but as long as she avoided any extra socialising it should be ok. Maybe. Hopefully. And she could always get her fill of human contact for the summer with Ginny. They always ended up sharing a room, so she might as well work it to her advantage. Yes... Someone to talk to, with the added benefit of to make excuses for her 'not feeling well'. It might just work after all...

Despite her general Gryffindor sense of subtlety (which is to say, none at all) there was a very good reason why Hermione thought she would be able to pull this off. At Hermione's old school - before she was selected for Hogwarts - there had been a big proud slightly-faded banner proclaiming the 'WONDERS OF LEARNI-G'. The 'N' had fallen off an unnamed age ago, and it had taken some time for the message of the poster to sink in and the library habits of a lifetime to take hold, but at the time it had been a lifeline. Literally: she had been so badly teased that she had regularly faked illness just to stay home and away from her tormentors. That was until she had translated the 'WONDERS OF LEARNI-G' into the 'WONDERS OF LUNCHTIME IN THE LIBRARY' which was far more entertaining, less threatening, and generally much better spelt. But those pre-literary days had taught her something after all, and she had no problem with applying some childhood-honed bogus symptoms if it meant she could tackle her problem unaided: and perhaps most importantly, undiscovered. A summer of sorry-must-go-to-bed-lingering-headaches was preferable to any of the other possibilities her overexcited body was throwing at her. It was just a matter of staying out of everyone's way.

Of course, the first stop on this line of insanity was Professor Snape, re: getting fired. She was due to start work in the next ten minutes… well not 'due' per se, but she generally turned up half an hour after breakfast. It would probably do her good to be late though, as much as it chafed on her punctual soul. Besides, it would give her more time to plan her approach.

Whether it was from a childhood of undeveloped social skills or her inherently bookish nature, Hermione Granger had a distressing habit of scripting out future conversations in her head. Of course, given how many times this approach would fail when tested with actual interaction (the other party would invariably wander off the topic she had assigned them) her logical brain couldn't understand why she would continue with such a pointless exercise. Yet when dealing with Severus Snape it was generally a good idea to have something in mind. He had an off-putting way of disrupting even the most common of conversations.

So, curled in a comfortable chair in the corner and entirely not reading the dusty book propped in her lap, Hermione's thoughts wandered to the next brewing session she had planned with Snape.

PROFESSOR SNAPE: The roots need to be chopped into forty-seven pieces. Not forty-six or forty-eight, but forty-seven. If it's not too lowly a job for your soaring intellect that is. (Not even Hermione at her most deluded would dare to deprive Snape of being snarky).

HERMIONE GRANGER: Yes sir.

PROFESSOR SNAPE (softly): Yes sir? It is too lowly a job?

HERMIONE GRANGER: No sir. (Begins work, and roots are duly chopped into a mangled mess. Time passes).

PROFESSOR SNAPE (shouts): Miss Granger! (On second thought Hermione decided, there was to be no more shouting. He generally preferred to intimidate through insults rather than volume). Miss Granger, you have obviously been somehow cheating all these years if you can't complete a simple second-year task. If potions were intrigue, you would be a Hufflepuff.

HERMIONE GRANGER (near tears): I'm sorry sir… I'm sorry!

PROFESSOR SNAPE: Do you work for You-Know-Who Miss Granger? I haven't seen you at any of the dark revels, but such sheer incompetence from the Gryffindor know-it-all astounds me. You must be a sleeper agent charged with disturbing the Order. (Here would be a good point for some looming, Hermione decided. Looming and appropriate cowering).

HERMIONE 'OSCAR-WINNING' GRANGER (appropriate cowering): No sir! Please! I'm only trying to help!

PROFESSOR SNAPE: No you're right, I can't possibly let you leave yet.

HERMIONE 'KINDA CONFUSED' GRANGER: Sir?

PROFESSOR SEVERUS 'SLYTHERIN SEX GOD' SNAPE (smirk): I haven't punished you yet. You need a good spanking. (Oh, and not just a smirk. That line had to be delivered in the lowest of tones. And arms crossed over the chest, and--)

She snapped back to reality, flushed and breathing heavily.

It was a good thing Snape would never think of her that way.

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Thanks to all that left reviews. If you have any specific questions or suggestions I'm more that happy to answer them here in this space! Your name in lights! (Well, your name in a size 12 arial font in any case).