Frowning, Severus sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. He was getting a headache... They had been poring over arcane manuscripts in the library for hours, looking for any clue, and in the fading light it wasn't getting any easier.

Sabine must have heard his sigh, because she looked up at him questioningly.

Severus studied her. "I'm telling you now, don't laugh." He warned, before reaching into his robes and withdrawing a pair of glasses. The lenses were vaguely rectangular, with thin, black metal rims. He glanced around, ensuring that the area was free of students before slipping them on - they lent him a distinctly scholarly appearance. Returning to the manuscript, he emitted a soft sigh of relief and resignation as the ornate script grew clearer.

"I am, apparently," he grumbled, "Getting too old for this."

Why was he sighing? Sabine gave him a questioning look, all right, but with the annoyance building beneath the calm façade the question there was most likely to be along the lines of, Do you need to be hit?

Nevertheless, she nodded compliantly at the warning, albeit a bit quickly- she hadn't quite expected to see Severus bespectacle himself. It was admittedly as charming as it was amusing- thus making the situation more amusing in its irony. Having a deep appreciation for knowledge herself, Sabine was drawn to anything that associated her comrade with the trait on a level that was more subconscious than conscious.

"They're very... becoming."

Sabine propped an elbow on the table and mashed those knuckles to her lips before shifting her eyes back to the tome she was scanning.

Severus glanced at her before returning his attention to the book. He really wished she would not distract him so... The irritation that he had been harboring against the library and the written word in general began to spread insidiously into a different part of his mind... the part that had stubbornly declared itself permanently occupied by Sabine. It was like having someone else's house built on his grounds, and while Severus wished to insist that he did not like it one bit, the other half of his mind replied (rather obstinately, in his opinion) that he did.

He glanced at the stack of books beside Sabine's elbow on her side of the table, and noted that hers was two or three volumes shorter than his. Ordinarily this would not have bothered him in the slightest, but as he was currently battling the distraction caused by a lock of her black hair pulling loose from its bonds (Am not!), the barest of scowls passed over his features.

Be fair! His inner voice warned him. You've been running her ragged, she's not used to this. In any case, she reads things more thoroughly than you do, and you know it.

She asked for it.

No, the voice corrected. You did.

Severus narrowed his eyes. The fact that an actual part of himself was arguing against him was the final stroke.

"Perhaps," he said silkily, interrupting Sabine's reading, "The lady has had quite enough for tonight, and wishes to retire to her comfortable chambers to rest her tired eyes."

The polite half of his mind that cared about this woman's feelings groaned at the sarcasm in his voice and retreated into a dark corner, hiding from the wrath that was almost certain to be forthcoming.

Both black brows twitched involuntarily, and Sabine raised her eyes once more from her books to regard Severus unimpassionedly for a long moment, as if deciding how to respond.

On one hand, she was disgruntled- she had done nothing to merit that remark, and damned if she hadn't been helping him all day. Otherwise, there was a part of her that wished to keep the peace without being run flat- in the end, as per usual, passion won over practicality when the two were evenly matched.

"My chambers are indeed comfortable," she agreed in a fairly pleasant, and equally level tone. Then, the temperature of her words dropped several degrees as she finished in a spectacularly icy way, "I find that they are constantly a source of refreshment to tired ears and sore eyes."

That was a little harsh, dear, her conscience chided her gently. She disregarded it.

"Then, by all means," Severus hissed, the book open before him holding absolutely no interest. "Perhaps you should retire early. I understand that in America the workload is quite a bit lighter than it is here, so understandably you must be exhausted, never mind social graces."

His body had tensed as if he was about to rise to his feet, and at the still even level of their tones, Madam Pince looked over in irritated concern.

Sabine closed her book slowly, with a definitive air, and placed her hands on top of it. Her original intention had been to display her lack of concern for the situation, but she found her fingers curling involuntarily and temperamentally over the spine as she spoke.

"Indeed. Of course, in that light, you are the embodiment of social grace, Professor. The very picture of a British gentleman in all of his glory, I suppose? I know exactly how amiable you are in the worst of times."
Severus, as opposed to leaning forward in aggression, leaned back in his chair, folding his arms in a gesture of false nonchalance, and stared at her. "I don't know, I thought I held it together fairly well under the onslaught of your guard dogs." He snapped. "But then again, I have never heard of this rare breed known as the 'American lady,' perhaps you could enlighten me."

He stood abruptly, shelving the books at random onto a library cart, his hands oddly gentle with the tomes, despite his apparently unprovoked anger. Old habits die hard. Still, at the jumbled state and complete lack of organization, Madam Pince began her deliberate but entirely unnoticed journey toward the rescue of her abused volumes.

On the other hand, Sabine left her books exactly where they were, and bit her tongue in anger as she listened to the point that Severus brought to the table. When he stood, she promptly followed, missing the match of his height as usual by only four or five inches. She seemed to be losing some of her composure, her face pulled into a ferocious frown as she gripped the edge of the table firmly.

"I wouldn't refer to my friends as guard dogs, Severus, but I'm sure that I must forgive you for being inexperienced in the treatment of people who might actually like you. Obviously," she added in a haughty undertone. "You may leave them out of this, however. As for your observations on the American lady, I can only imagine what would happen to you if you were to express your views before one of them. You were fortunate enough to make the acquaintance of the pick of the litter, as it were," she seethed.

I must forgive you for being inexperienced in the treatment of people who might actually like you.

"This coming from the social butterfly?" He snapped. "One wonders why you ever left America."

You were fortunate enough to make the acquaintance of the pick of the litter, as it were...

Severus eyed her, allowing his gaze to wander up and down. It was a long journey - the woman was bloody tall. After a moment's consideration he scowled, decided that he had nothing to say in response to this and replied simply, in a tone dripping with sarcasm, "Indeed."

Sabine clenched her teeth, her lips quivering somewhat as she waited for Severus to finish with his assessment of her- God damn it, she felt like a piece of meat. What was worse, she allowed herself to feel that way even in the knowledge that it was probably Snape's intention.

Then, there was something about the way that he responded- the utter callousness of his manner, the critical mockery in his tone, the hint of a sneer pulling at his hawkish nose. It threatened to break her, and that bothered her.

"Yes," she hissed aggressively, looking to meet his gaze. If she couldn't permeate the barrier, she would stare him down.

Stare him down, would she? Severus could barely control the contemptuous sneer that threatened to become prominent upon his features; as it was, the expression was still present. He met her glare coldly, without real effort...

She obviously had not been at Hogwarts long enough, to challenge Severus Snape to a staring contest. Honestly.

That particular shade of hazel looks very intriguing when she's angry... He mused, and blinked. Damn it. Bloody woman. Damn it all to hell...

He snapped out a scathing remark in prerequisite response to whatever triumph would be forthcoming from his opponent. "When you've finished thinking about it, have you got something to say, or are we done here?" The last three words were ground out with great effort to keep his tone even, his dark eyes somewhat darker in anger. Somehow he'd let her get the better of him, and he was bewildered, having no idea how it had happened. You silly ass...

Although she hated to admit it, Sabine felt a joyless satisfaction at having succeeded in the face-off, although she didn't understand exactly how rare such an occurrence was.

She promptly reached up, violently tucking the tendril of hair that had fallen from its binds back into place and raising her eyebrows jerkily. In all fairness she wanted to walk away, but her heart was beating in her ears and drowning out any protests from the voice of reason.

The man was exasperating, and damned if he hadn't just implied that she had nothing to say. Well, if that was his chosen game, she would give him an earful and see how he responded to someone who truly knew what she was talking about.

"In fact, I would like to know what flared your infamous temper, sir. Good God, I can't imagine what could have inspired such harsh words. Did an insect fly up your nose? That's certainly nothing to snivel about; there's plenty of room. Or perhaps you simply tire of such a contemptible companion? Nothing keeps me from collecting these books and removing myself to my apartments, Professor, you need only say the word and spare me the trial of having to listen to your irrationalities."

Severus watched Sabine tuck the lock of hair back into its proper place with unnecessary violence, and remained still as a roused cobra while taking her retort, the only signs of his rage in the barest flush of his features, the dangerous narrowing of his eyes... His hand tightened very hard on the handle of the book cart as she used a choice verb that reminded him vividly of his school days... God, he wanted nothing more than to put her over his knee and beat her.

In fact, I would like to know what flared your infamous temper, sir.

Would you? his mind hissed angrily. Oh, I doubt it, very much... That angry flush you're wearing would be for quite a different reason, I am certain... Damn it all! The hiss turned to an angry growl, which was voiced aloud.

"You require a signal? Perhaps a written invitation?" He extended a hand, which was trembling slightly in fury, toward the door. His other was then clenched at his side, and he hissed 'the word' in a soft, lethal tone. "Go."

For a split second, Sabine wanted to sigh- she did not, however, for the shock that came with her dismissal.

Damned if he hadn't dismissed her!

So, then, in a flurry of scorned dignity and temper, Sabine gathered the book she had been reading, tucked it under her arm and gave Snape what she thought was her most impressive scowl (unsurprisingly unsatisfying) before turning on her heel and removing herself with all haste from the library, her beloved huff encircling her like the suffocating hug of an old friend.

Severus slumped slightly, his tense spine relaxing before abruptly straightening again. The sound of a heel clicked on the floor behind him and he spun, narrowing his eyes in a glare so lethal that even the infamously severe librarian quailed.

"If you please, Madam," he hissed viciously, "Your books are perfectly fine." With that he turned on his heel and stalked out of the library, his black robes rustling with the sudden violence of his movements.