Hermione snuck her third look at the man in the passengers seat. Snape still had his stoic expression fixed on his face, but his body was squirming slightly and his cheeks were flushed. That, and the fact that he was wearing huge headphones that more closely resembled earmuffs than anything else, was enough of a reason for her to be curious.

The two had arrived in Boston, Massachussetts early that morning with luggage in tow (Snape had, in fact, managed to restrict himself to one trunk and one smaller bag, although both looked like they were ready burst open at any given moment). Dumbledore had proudly presented them with a green fuzzy stick, some kind of head attached to one end, and answered the questioning looks of his researchers with a gleeful explanation of "The Glow Worm!". Hermione looked warily at the thing in the Headmaster's hand. After a moment of mildly awkward silence, he squeezed the object.

"It glows!" An exclamation of awe.

More silence.

Dumbledore's shoulders slumped in a mock pout. "You two are no fun."

Hermione looked at Snape to see his reaction and was surprised to see him rolling his eyes. Mildly stunned, she came to the realization that she would be seeing more sides of Snape on this trip than she would have ever imagined. She shook her head with an amused smile over the antics of her beloved, slightly odd Headmaster and her once-intimidating professor.

Snape took in the sight of Hermione and her smile, wondering why she found Dumbledore's childish fascination with such a useless object had some sense of humor, but then again, he hadn't spent much time with her outside of his classes so long ago. He realized that they would both have a lot of surprises for each other in the upcoming weeks.

Dumbledore's voices took both away from their introspective thoughts. "This is your portkey. It will take you to Boston, Massechussetts and is charmed to only work one way for now. When you have decided what date you will be ready to return, I will charm it to bring you back here from your starting point in Boston."

Snape hastily interrupted him. "Two weeks. You know now when we are returning, so make a normal portkey, please." The last word came out in a hiss. Snape did not like Dumbledore trapping him in America with a woman he hardly knew. Nor did he like that glint that came to the old bastard's as he condescendingly explained that time had to be allowed for things to go wrong, or take longer than planned, or for other things to "happen". Nor did he like the end of that explanation and what it implied.

"How will we contact you?" Hermione questioned. Dumbledore just gave her a smug, I-know-something-you-don't look and said, "Do not worry, we will be in touch."

If Snape was the type to publicly shudder, he would have shuddered. Big time.

The rest of the details had been equally vague. Dumbledore had shoved a wad of Muggle currency in Hermione's hand (proclaiming her "treasurer" for the trip, thoroughly pissing Snape off) then, took one look at his pocketwatch and with a gleeful "grab your trunks!" thrust the Glow Worm in one of Snape's hands and Hermione's elbow in the other. Within a second they were sucked into thin air. Snape thought he saw the old man jumping up and down, grinning like an idiot and...squealing? No...

The pair landed abruptly in the middle of a not-so-busy street in what they could only assume was Boston. Hermione glanced up at Snape, one eyebrow raised. "Did he really say 'weeee!'?"

Snape nodded irately. "I swear, if the old bastard can jump up and down like a giddy child, he is capable of taking this bloody trip himself. Too old my ass..." By this point he had started to stalk toward a busier street, muttering vehemently with trunk in tow. Hermione was trying like a saint to hide her giggles, as she attempted to catch up to the taller man's longer strides. She finally did after one block, but by this point her eyes were watering from the effort expended to internalize her laughter. Snape stopped his muttering and looked down and sideways (AN: she's freaking short!) at the girl now at his side. She could feel the quizzical stare, characteristic eyebrow arched, but refused to look at him, knowing she wouldn't be able to contain herself any longer if she did. A long moment passed.

"Don't laugh at me."

Hermione couldn't do it anymore. A decidly unladylike guffaw burst from her lips making Snape jump in shock. She had to stop walking, doubling over in laughter. When the episode, bewildering as it was to the Potions master, was over, she stood up, wiping tears from her eyes and allowing the last weak whimpers of laughter to escape. Finally she looked over to Snape, who was now a good five feet away wearing a very severe expression, waiting for an explanation.

She shook her head, still laughing lightly. "I...It's just...I just never thought I would ever see you like this. It's so informal."

Snape glowered. Regardless of their circumstances, the fact remained that he was her superior and as such, he deserved respect. He was about to tell her what to do with her informality when an exasperated sigh interrupted his brooding. Hermione walked around Snape to face him and looked him squarely in the eye.

"If we are going to survive the next two weeks, we cannot keep on like this. I don't care ifyou can. I can't."

Snape looked down crossly at the small finger rudely poking him in the chest. Then, his face split into a smile far too bright. Hermione withdrew quickly the offending digit, scared beyond reason. This Snape was far too out of character. He gestured wildly with his arms, forcing her to back up in order to avoid being hit by the flailing limbs.

"Is this what you want? A fucking boyscout!"

Hermione turned away quickly, shielding her eyes with one hand. "No, no! That's not what I'm saying. I just want—Put your face back!"

Snape dropped the scary stalker-guy grin immediately. Hermione sighed, shoulders drooping slightly. Snape picked up a handle of his trunk and started forward again. "I'm a creature of habit, Professor. I don't change easily."

Hermione caught up with him. "See? That's what I'm talking about. Don't call me that." Snape looked at her in exasperation. "Last night you told me to call you by your professional title. Now you are berating me for following your wishes. Which would you like, Prof—Miss Gra--" his eyes widened in further frustration. "Typical woman," he muttered.

Snape pretended not to notice Hermione stopping in her tracks, as well as the offended little noise she made. He could not, however, ignore the sudden weight on the back of his trunk that threw him off balance, causing him to pitch forward. He managed to catch his fall with his left arm but not before dragging one of his feet through a puddle. Abruptly he snapped upright, whirling around with every intent to land his deadliest glare on the woman who had unnecessarily soggied his socks. When his eyes landed on the petulant figure sitting cross-legged on top of his trunk, however, he could only muster a blank stare.

Pouting slightly, Hermione stood, or rather sat, her ground. "It wasn't the title I wanted from you. It was your respect. Something you are still obviously adverse to showing me."

Snape finally smirked. "Miss Granger, as long as you continue to act as a child I will have no choice but to treat you as one."

"Treat a child as you expect them to behave."

"So you admit that you are a child?"

Hermione shot daggers at the older man. Of course he was right. Why, of all times, did she have to choose this moment to not think before speaking? Gods. Removing herself from his trunk she irritably resumed her march down the cobbled street. Passing Snape, who had yet to remove that aggravatingly smug smirk from his face, she raised her chin and refused to look at him.

Snape saw the woman walking past him. He saw the controlled defiance in her eyes, the muted angry flush that can only be gained from age. He saw the matured hourglass figure, those curves that can only be earned with the passage of time. He saw that she had, in fact, grown up. But he also saw the jutting chin and the clenched fist at her side that refused to swing in tandem with her stride and he realized anew that some traits just never become tamed through adulthood.

Sigh.

The odd-looking pair ended up in front of the car rental company forty-five minutes after their arrival in Boston, still refusing to speak to each other. It had really only taken them ten to get there from the mouth of the alleyway; needless bickering, flailing arms, sitting on trunks and tripping through puddles had accounted for the other thirty-five.

They had reached the busy street and Snape had pulled out a map (where he had gotten it was Hermione's guess). He looked at it...and looked at it...and looked at it, his brow furrowing a little more with every passing second. Suddenly the map was ripped out of his hands. Multiple...so many papercuts... A quick swing of his head to the right found Hermione flipping the map over, and then over again. Snape was not angry. Angry is when you find out your girlfriend cheated on you with your best friend. No, Snape wasn't angry. He was pissed. Pissed that he had been blackmailed into such a stupid situation. Pissed that he had no control over anything. Well, not anything...

The map vaporized in front of Hermione, who stood there with her arms extended to the sides and looking through them at the cabs whizzing by. Snape glared at her, flipping the map once again, and fixated his eyes on the map. Sure enough, within seconds a small hand was reaching for the bottom of the map, but Snape had been expecting her to fight back. He deftly lifted the map over his head, out of reach of the flailing girl. By the time the stranger had caught their attention, Hermione was jumping up and down on her trunk vainly snatching at thin air as Snape held the map just barely out of reach.

The man stood facing the odd couple, paying no heed to the pedestrians grumpily working their way around him as he obstructed their path. Ironically he was drawing more attention than the couple across the street; perhaps Boston was accustomed to random acts of childish fighting in its streets. The man internally sighed, although showing no outward signs of discomfiture. America and England could be so alike at times and yet so completely opposite.

Hermione was the first to notice. She stopped her jumping and gazed back at the man who seemed to have no qualms hiding his curiousity. Snape, still holding the map as high as he could, glanced sideways at his now still companion, then followed her gaze to the other side of the street.

Three people stared at each other for what felt like several minutes, one observing and the other two curious as to why they were worthy of observation. The encounter in actuality lasted no more than ten seconds. As quickly as the staring contest was initiated it was ended. The stranger abruptly cut off eye contact, turning on his heel and walking with the flow of the foot traffic that was surrounding him. Hermione watched him walk away, then looked confusedly at Snape, who looked back at her equally puzzled.

And then they were back. Hermione jumped up quickly and snatched the map out of a still-perplexed Snape's hands. Snape glowered and tried to snatch it back, but the infuriating girl was already headed down the street, map in hand. He had no choice but to follow. He sincerely hoped she actually knew where she was going.

The duo walked, or rather one walked and one pointedly stalked, into the lobby of the car rental company. A rather disheveled man looked up from his desk. His tie was loose, his dark glasses slightly crooked, and what was left of his hair was either standing on end or lying the wrong way. Hermione wrinkled her nose. Was that smell coming from him too?

Reaching the desk led her to discover that said smell was in fact not from him but from some styrafoam cup full of yellow liquid and weird kinky noodles. Snape eyed the cup with disdain. Hermione decided to be polite despite a strong urge to laugh at the expression on Snape's face.

"Hi, we're—"

"Hermione Granger and Severus Snape. I was told to expect you. Although you are about thirty minutes late," the unkempt man informed them. Snape bristled. "Forgive us, we were not given an itinary detailed to the minute," he snarked. The man blinked.

Hermione was quick to jump in. "Right, well, if you could just give us our car we'll be on our way. A sedan, preferably." Snape glanced at her when he heard the foreign word and was about to ask her what kind of crazy contraption she was trying to trap him in when the annoying bespectacled man in front of him interrupted with a snort of laughter.

"I'm sorry, miss, no sedan for you today. The gentlemen I spoke to has chosen a specific car for you two."

Snape could not contain his groan. "Erm, which vehicle did he chose?" Hermione ventured, doubt evident in her voice. The man pointed out the window to their left.

Hermione gasped. Snape groaned again. Neither seemed able to look away from the red and white 1962 Volkswagen van parked outside.

Snape spoke first. "No. No!"

The man half-smiled at them in sympathy. "Sorry, amigos, he specifically chose this one, and seeing as he is the one paying..."

"No. No!"

Hermione snaked an arm around a shocked Snape's elbow. "It's okay, we'll be fine. This..." not sure what to call it, she settled for pointing, "it's an automatic, right?"

"Oh, no, it's a stick." Now Hermione groaned. The two stood staring forlornly out the window, one trying to remember her father driving his stick-shift when she was a child and the other contemplating which way killing the old coot would derive the most pleasure. The increasingly annoying man cleared his throat, effectively interrupting their thoughts.

"The gentleman also gave me these to pass on to you." He brought out a few boxes from behind his desk: a digital camera, a video camera, a fanny pack (cue Snape groan), and a cellular phone. "He said you would know what to do with these."

Snape snorted. "Yes, thank you. I'll just go put these in the..." Struggling to come up with a proper name for the vehicle, he settled for a grunt. He bent down to grasp the handles of his and Hermione's trunks and whispered, "Let's just get the bloody hell out of here."

Hermione stifled her giggle. "Is there anything else you need from us sir?"

The man shuffled through a few papers. "Um, no, just your signature here and here, saying you received the vehicle and the packages. The gentleman already paid." Hermione signed quickly, grabbed the keys from the man's outstretched hand, and with a hurried "thanks" half-ran out the door. From the looks of it, Snape had already wrestled the trunk door closed with trunks inside. He gruffly took Hermione's backpack from her shoulders and placed it in the backseat with his bag.

"Let's go."

Hermione nodded her agreement and walked to the driver's side, only to meet Snape, who had circled around the back. Snape held out his hand expectantly.

"Professor, have you even driven a stick-shift before?"

Oh, if looks could kill...

"Sir, I think I should drive."

Snape threw down proffered arm angrily. He wanted to argue but knew she was probably right; he had absolutely no knowledge of automobiles, let alone their transmissions. Shoulders slumped, he sighed dejectedly.

"This sucks."

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "My, my, how very informal of you, Professor."

"Let's not do this, okay?"

The two crawled into their respective seats, Snape comically wrestling with the seatbelt and Hermione trying not to laugh at his obvious discomfort from being out of his element. She snapped hers into place, and he followed suit, frowning at the now offending piece of cloth.

She placed the key in the ignition and turned to him. "Let's just call each other by our first names." At the expected glare she retorted, "Really, this is ridiculous. I refuse to fight like children the entire trip." There was a stagnant pause, then an acquiescent nod from the passenger's seat. "Okay then."

She turned the key and struggled out of the parking lot, praying to any deity that might be listening to keep them alive until she figured this thing out.

And so they set out, driving on a lone interstate in the middle of the day, sitting in comfortable silence. Somewhere Snape had pulled out his music and started to listen. Hermione was trying to discreetly figure out where he had gotten such an ancient set of headphones. On her fourth peek, he caught her looking and ripped them off his head with an indignant "What! What are you staring at oh so intensely!"

"Nothing!" Glare. "It's just...where did you get those?"

Snape looked back at the obnoxiously huge things he was holding. "Minerva. She transfigured them for me. Why? What's wrong with them?"

Hermione looked back at the road in a last-ditch effort to maintain her look of innocence. "Nothing. They're just...very out of date. I used them when I was a kid, and only a little because they get so hot. It's hard to use them for very long." Reaching behind her seat, she groped through her bag and pulled out her MP3 player and gave it to Snape. "Here. Unplug those and use them." Snape did as she said, putting the little buds in his ears. Now these he could live with. The girl was right: those huge things were hot!

He was just about to unplug the earmuffs from the CD player when he caught Hermione's incredulous expression, her mouth hanging open and her eyes wide. Just then he realized in horror that he hadn't turned down the volume or paused the CD. Oh no.

Hermione swung her gaze to first the earmuffs, then to his face.

Oh no.

"Is that..."

At that choice moment, the earmuffs shrieked the end of the anthem:

"Hit me baby one more time!"

A very, very pregnant pause.

"Oh my god!"

Snape buried his head in his hands.

Oh no indeed.

I'm sorry. I'm a horrible person. That was way to long to have to wait for an update. And all for Britney Spears. It's part of the challenge, I swear! I have to have one person who likes it and one who hates it, and I'm sorry, it would have been far too cliché and easy to have Hermione be the one to listen to it. No worries, there is a plan, I promise.

Lot's of inside jokes in this one. Ten cool points if you can identify any references in here.

Next on the itinerary: Memphis! Home of Elvis! Yay!

Please review! Honestly, if you're an author you know how much a review can help. If you see anything that you think should be edited or revised, if you have any questions, or even if there is something you would like to see in later chapters, let me know in review or email.

Thanks to everyone who commented!

Softballchick dreaowa: Let's hope so::evil grin:

Siriuslyblack04: Thanks dear!

BeautifulMisconception: I'm sorry you misunderstood. I was just trying to show Dumbledore's eclectic interest in American muggle culture in the beginning of the story. Only the trip is focusing on the 80s. Thanks for keeping me honest! And, yeah, "thrusty hips" made me giggle, not gonna lie.

HRInuyashaFan16: Thanks! I hope it's funny. Sometimes I get nervous that I'm the only one laughing...

Texas Dragon: Thanks for sticking with me! And please don't kill me. The challenge required Britney Spears music and it just seemed too obvious to have Hermione as the one listening to it. It will all work out, you'll see.

Much thanks to my beta, Siriuslyblack04! Mwa!

All Harry Potter characters were used without permission. They are the copyright of J.R. Rowling and Warner Bros. They are used with consideration and with no intent to make money.

Peace and love y'all