A/N: Hello again, and thanks for reading the next chapter! Like before, this is minimally beta read by me and a few friends, so if there are any mistakes please don't hesitate to tell me! I am also not British, so if that part sounds weird I'd love to know.

If anyone is interested, I read on the HP Wiki that the Quidditch match that Ron and Lavender got together after was in the first/second weekend of November, so this chapter goes through about the 2nd/3rd week of Nov. up to the beginning of December.

Day 12 of the Plan- Progress Update

Have finally laid down all the groundwork for my epic infatuation. I can't believe it took so long! My homework buffer has suffered as a consequence; I believe I'm only two weeks ahead in my reviewing of future coursework instead of the usual three. It has paid off though, because I now have (with judicious use of the Marauder's Map) been able to make a schedule tracking Snape's movements.

I do believe I am now the only non-Slytherin in the history of his teaching career to know when his office hours are.

I have also managed to switch Prefect rounds with some Hufflepuffs so that I now stalk the corridors at the same times as he does. I'm not sure if I'll even be able to see him during, but it definitely feels like I'm making some headway (I noticed as well that he seems to do patrols more than any other faculty member besides Filch. I wonder if that is Headmaster Dumbledore's doing, or does he just love catching miscreants that much? Might wish to investigate further).

Other additions to the journal have been copies of Witch Weekly articles that I have deemed relevant, a list of his likes and dislikes (So far it pretty much consists of dislikes: dunderheads, Gryffindors, Harry, likes: Potions, Dark Arts/DADA, and point-taking. I hope I am able to glean more), and an attempted outline of traits I like about him but which, I'm sad to say, spiraled into a rant about how such an intelligent and honourable man can be such a mean-spirited git. This may or may not have been caused by him taking points off my essay again for going over the assigned amount.

Sadly I have not been able to think of a plan to sneak his medical file away from Madam Pomfrey in order to learn his birth date and…other significant details it may hold.

So far so good, all in all. Time to move onto the next part in the plan- Daily Observations. I shall watch him as closely as possible during meals, classes, and any chance interactions to develop my affection for the man, and write it all down for a review on the feeling later at my leisure.

We are both in the Great Hall at the moment, eating breakfast. He looks…rather grouchy, actually, noticeably moreso than usual somehow. Possibly not a morning person? Oh, Madam Hooch has sat next to him for some reason, usually Professor McGonagall sits there but she is over by the headmaster today. Her and Professor Snape seem to be rather good friends, House rivalries aside. He doesn't seem to be enjoying Hooch's presence at all, she's blathering on and it looks like he is making a concerted effort to not roll his eyes out of his skull and is failing miserably. Probably going on about Quidditch, bloody fanatics.

Ah, one mystery solved: Snape is a coffee drinker. And judging by the state of his teeth, it is probably black enough to strip paint. He is eating what look to be beans, tomatoes, eggs, and toast-Oh Merlin is he dipping his toast in the coffee?!

Honestly, that is just disgusti-

"Hermione! Hello, Earth to Hermione?"

I startle back from the table, almost falling off the bench but my descent is immediately stopped by Harry and Ginny grabbing me by the arm on either side. I guess Quidditch reflexes can be useful at times.

"Oh!" I let all my breath out in a big whoosh, feeling rattled. "Good morning, you two. No practice today?"

"Nah, Mr. Captain here is too lazy for early morning practice on Saturday, "says Ginny. "Speaking of, what are you so busy at work on? You do realize that studying can't be a 24/7 deal, yeah?"

"Take a look for yourself." I push the notebook towards her with only the slightest trepidation. Time to see if the couple of days I spent on the concealing enchantments will pay off. If not, well…I am pretty proficient with a voiceless Confundus.

"What the…" I hear her mutter, and I immediately move to snatch it back, but then Harry leans across me with a "Lemme see" and proceeds to almost push his body into my lap to get his head as close to Ginny's as possible.

I can feel my eyebrows climbing to untold heights. So Harry finally got a clue, huh? I would be much more proud of him if he wasn't treating me as part of the bench at the moment. I shall let it slide for now, but he is definitely getting a piece of my mind later, and then maybe some advice.

Ginny looks up from the notebook to see my occupant's face is practically buried in her hair, and nudges him off me and back into his seat with a laugh, with him blushing all the way. My heroine! She then pushes the journal back in front of me and sighs, "Okay, I'm afraid this looks to be completely beyond me. What is it I'm staring at? I can recognize a couple of the runes, and I know some of it must be arithmancy, but otherwise…"

Harry pipes up with a "Hey, I know that one, E = mc2, and some of the mathematics. This looks insane, Hermione!"

I feel an odd mix of accomplishment, relief and lingering worry. The time and effort it took to find the spells and copy down all the miscellaneous formulas I could remember or look up has paid off, but now I have to convincingly run with it, and I am complete pants at lying.

"Uhh…" Great start Hermione, really. "It's just a little side-project I'm working on, you know, trying to combine Muggle science with magic…nothing really major. Just a fun, err, way to pass the time."

Well, I'll never win any awards, but it seems to be working this time. They both have turned to me with looks of awe on their faces. It makes me squirm.

"To pass the- but that's amazing!" Harry exclaims.

"Yeah," chimes in Ginny, "I don't believe anyone has ever really tried to do this before. I think you should definitely pursue this project of yours."

Harry ruffles my hair and says, "Remus was right when he called you the smartest witch of your age. You're going to go places, Hermione."

I try to hide my madly blushing face behind my hair, feeling the weight of their undeserved praise pressing down on me. And to think, right when they surprised me I had been speculating if chewing with your mouth open was more revolting than dunking your toast in coffee.

As the conversation around me predictably turns to planning for the next Quidditch match, I sneak a look down the table. Ron is, just as predictably, wildly waving a fork with a half-eaten sausage on the end around while talking with his mouth full of the other half. Lavender seems blissfully unaware of how close she was to being pronged in the ear while buttering her toast, but Parvati is unluckily sitting across from them and is recoiling in horror from the barrage of sausage-spittle.

I then just as sneakily return to looking at the staff table, where Professor Snape is now dicing his tomatoes with the skill and grace befitting a Potions Master and calmly eating them like a civilized human being.

Well, I guess the toast thing can't be as disgusting as I thought, although it is incredibly odd. At least I have something to add to his 'Likes' list now.

:

Day 23- Progress Update

I find it a bit silly to call this a 'progress' update when no actual progress has been made. I have come to the realization that, despite all my hard work and careful planning, I have hit the proverbial wall.

The plan looks to have failed.

I've tried everything I can think of. I have written daily observations for every meal we have shared, after every class, and if I happened to catch sight of Snape on my patrols, or the library, etc. I now know he is a coffee addict, and if the elves ever 'forget' to serve a pot (I suspect interference from the headmaster) he will take tea, but with a sneer on his face the whole time. He is also a big fan of tomatoes with a special love for tomato soup, and prefers his eggs as an omelet with the aforementioned fruit and spinach. The only discernible difference I can make between his daily wear is the button colour: he usually wears black buttoned clothing, but I have seen dark green and pearly white before. The only people he appears to have willing conversations with are Professors McGonagall and Flitwick, and everyone else he merely tolerates except for Trelawney (whom just seeing merits a lip curl).

What is the point of all this? I'm not studying to be his wife, so I can really give a pig's arse about how he likes his omelet. I'm supposed to be dreaming about doing lewd, rude things to his body and I can't bloody do it!

I've tried, I most certainly have. For the last six days I have forced myself to read over and over the sex scenes from the few romance novels I managed to get my hands on, while imagining my teacher in the lead roles before going to sleep, and not even a whisper of a wet dream. I got points taken off for inattentiveness in DADA class for the first time in my life because I was trying to undress him with my eyes, and that didn't work either.

I know I am attracted to him, I feel that thrill when I look at him sometimes. I just can't seem to take the attraction any further than that visceral reaction. I have a feeling that it's my own respect for authority that is holding me back.

I remember it being much easier to imagine kissing Lockhart when I had that foolish schoolgirl crush on him then it is to even picture touching Snape's hand. Maybe it was the air of affability that the blond fop had that made it easier?

I hope not, if this plan hinges on Professor Snape suddenly becoming a nice chap then it is most certainly doomed. There must be another way.

Speaking of lewd and rude, I just witnessed Ron groping Lavender's breast, in the Common Room in front of everybody! They are obviously having sex, that prick, I just want to scream-

I close the journal and sigh. I don't need to reread my vitriolic two page rant from last night; I can remember every sharply written word as if it were emblazoned on the back of my eyelids.

I look up to the staff table; Snape has skipped lunch again. Not that I really need another entry on his eating habits or another tally on how many times he can sneer before the meal ends.

This really wasn't going the way I expected at all. I thought by now I'd be happily leaving thoughts of Ron in the dust for more mature pastures. Instead I seem to be getting angrier as time passes, but at least not to an 'attack birds' level. It has been a month since Won-Won and Lav-Lav got together, and this jealousy needs to stop.

If I can't come up with some way to salvage this scheme by the end of the day, I'm going to scrap it.

:

I stand with everyone else outside of the Defence class, feeling almost as nervous as Neville always looks. This was the last period of the day, and my last real chance to turn this thing around.

The familiar 'Enter!' booms out from beyond the closed door. I hang back, intent on being one of the last to enter instead of my usual first. My brain is kicking into overdrive as we all start to file in, trying to think of anything, any way to-

Whoa…

I come to a halt in the doorway, my eyes glued to the front of the room where Professor Snape stands with his back to the class. He looks so different. His hair has been pulled into a tight ponytail at the nape of his neck, and his billowy robes are gone for the first time that I've ever seen, and I can trace the lines of his broad shoulders down to his slim waist and oh my goodness, I can actually see the shape of his arse!

I'm standing so transfixed that I barely notice that Neville is pulling on my hand and leading me to a seat, rambling on about not getting in trouble or something. As my bum hits the chair I snap out of it, hastily looking around to see if anyone else has noticed my odd behaviour, but no, everybody is too busy whispering about whatever could be in the big chest that Snape is fiddling with. Even Neville is distracted by it, leaning towards me to whisper, "You don't think that's another boggart, do you? He'll kill me if it's him wearing my gram's dress again…"

Any reply I could make is stopped by Snape turning to face the class with a "Silence! Wands away and robes off." Neville and others immediately hop to the strange requests, but my mind is too busy blaring 'robes off' on repeat to even think of complying. My brain comes back online when a wave of snickers rises up from my fellow housemates over how some of the Slytherins didn't bother to wear trousers under their robes today. I shrug off my robes and hastily try to encourage my hair into letting me pull it back from my face into a plait.

Snape takes 20 points from Gryffindor and then begins the lesson with, "I have noticed a disturbing trend in recent lessons, and that is if any of you were actually in a real duel, it would be take much more than magic and," here he shoots a poisonous look at Harry, "miracles to save you. Although, knowing your past professors in the subject, I wonder why I bothered to be surprised.

"Today we will be learning the one true basic of Defence that has somehow managed to escape you these past five years: Dodging." His dark eyes narrow to slits as the class makes disbelieving sounds. I inwardly groan. This was going to be a lesson based on physical aptitude? Damn it.

"Let me remind you all that the only true way to deal with the Unforgivables is to get out of their way. A protego will not save you from the Killing Curse." He turns around and opens the box. Immediately six balls that look like bludgers with a green hole painted on fly out to circle around him.

"These are training devices designed by Professor Flitwick and myself to help you react to oncoming spells instead of simply staring like startled calves. They will each shoot a jet of green light at their target, if you are hit you will sport a green mark for the next few days, so try to at least get hit on an area covered by your clothing. You will drop down a grade for each time you are hit. Come, gather around me."

We all move towards the front, where with a wave of Snape's wand we are all given a twig. My belly gives a squirm as he lightly smirks at our looks of confusion. "These will be your wands for the lesson. If you manage to break it, you will automatically fail and owe me a paper due by next class on proper wand protection techniques."

Out of the corner of my eye I see Ron gulp. Second year must be coming back to him.

Snape suddenly turns and strides away from us, looking rather strange without his robes dancing around him. The non-bludgers obediently follow. Once he reaches the middle of the open space where we usually practice spell-casting, he turns back to face us while stowing his wand up a sleeve.

"I shall give a demonstration. Incipio."

Immediately the balls that were floating around the professor spring to life, moving back to surround him on all sides with their small green dots now shining with an eerie light. Snape goes into a slightly crouching position, calculating gaze waiting for any sign of movement.

Suddenly the one on his immediate left shoots a stream of light that Snape easily sidesteps, and then it begins in earnest. The devices pull no punches, they fire at his back, at his feet, straight at his eyes to blind him, or gang up and fire all at once. And not a single one hits him.

I knew in a vague sort of way that Professor Snape was a good duelist, but now it is increasingly obvious that he is a master at this branch of magic as well. He ducks and dodges and spins with a feline sort of grace, keeping light on his toes despite the thick boots he always wears. When the lights shoot from all directions at once, he immediately drops to the floor, rolling and popping back up with ease as they take aim for his prone form.

I feel like I've fallen under thrall as I watch this man turn a lesson on staying alive into a beautiful dance. My hands are in front of my mouth to hold back the gasps that are clamoring to escape, my heart is pounding and twisting warmth is pooling in my lower stomach. I cannot look away.

After about twenty light bursts the demonstration comes to an end. Snape straightens from his defensive position, adjusting his frock coat and running a hand through his hair to pull out the band holding it back, my eager eyes alighting on a distinct widow's peak and closely cropped, short sideburns as he does so. As he turns to address the class, only the lack of robes and a light sheen of sweat give a sign to what just transpired. I have to fight the urge to applaud like a starstruck fool.

"As you saw, the training spheres will attack from all sides and will not take mercy on a target when it is down, just like enemies in a real combat situation. You will go in alphabetical order. Miss Abbott, you are first."

I barely pay attention as my year mates begin to collect lurid green spots, only tuning in to see how Lavender immediately gets hit in the cheek by the device, painting half her lower face. My sights are almost exclusively on Snape, trying to soak up every little detail I could. There is going to be one hell of a journal entry later.

I don't notice when the 'G' names come, and only know my time has come by the sudden focus on me by the object of my intense focus. I rush over into the group of spheres before I can be berated, the grip on my twig quickly becoming sweaty. I only have a second to prepare myself for what is sure to be a lesson thick with humiliation before the first bolt comes at me.

It is surprisingly easy to sidestep; obviously it has been put on a lower setting. The next two come faster, but are also rather simple to dodge.

Then two lights shoot off at once. For some reason I decide to call on my few years of youthful ballet lessons instead of hitting the floor like a normal person, and do an odd sideways pirouette to avoid them. I right away feel when one hits the end of my plait; my heavy hair gets even heavier and whips me off balance.

My vision is immediately taken over by an overwhelming blaze of green. The laughter and worried yells of 'Hermione!' take second fiddle to my own whimpering as I bring my hands to my eyes, feeling the paint staining the area. It has managed to get in my eyes, and it burns like fire.

I hear, "Do not rub at them, you silly girl" as strong, warm hands grab my own and pull them away from my face, then drag me off somewhere to the left. Only as I hear the same voice call out, "Miss Greengrass, it is your turn" do I clue in to the fact that Professor Snape is holding my hands. A wave of giddiness washes through me despite my agony.

His hands let go, and I barely have a moment to mourn their loss before I feel him grab my chin and lift it up to the light. My light gasp prompts a "Be still, and open your eyes." I immediately comply and wince at the increase in pain, which causes the hand to hold my face tighter.

I hear a murmured spell, and instantly the hand and the horrid paint on my face are gone. With my vision clear, I can see that I am now standing closer to this man than I ever have before. His eyes are so dark, so deep…

I snap back into focus as said eyes' brows come down in annoyance, stammering out a thank you as my face burns with a blush.

He scrutinizes my face for a second before lightly snorting through that prodigious nose of his. "Not up to your usual exacting standards today, are you Miss Granger? I do believe that performance will only earn an Acceptable, if even that."

I grimace at the thought; an Acceptable is too close to a failing grade for comfort. I nod and say, "Yes sir, I will try to do better next time."

I earn a nod in return; he replies "See that you do. This lesson will be more important in times to come than any number of books you can parrot back at me. Now, go join the rest." He immediately dismisses me, turning to look at the new student entering the ring.

I spend the rest of the class watching the others go, smarting from my low grade and trying to pick up tricks from them, but at all times aware of Snape standing off to the side, arms crossed over a lean but sturdy chest as he hurls abuse at the many unlucky ones.

Theodore Nott manages to trip on his robes and break his twig after the second hit; Snape resignedly assigns him the essay. Neville does as well as I do, which he is over the moon about, and Harry and Malfoy get perfect scores, which annoys me immensely because it shows me there may be a corollary between being a Seeker and being good at dodging, and I despise flying.

Ron is the last to go, and oh, what a treat it is. His dodging is more accurately described as flailing, and for some reason on the last go he sticks out his hand as if trying to smack the light, and gets a palm full of green paint for his trouble. All in all he got hit three times and gets a Poor for the period.

Malfoy calls out, "Looks like you are a natural Keeper, Weaselbee! Too bad those weren't Quaffles!"

Snape dismisses the class, and we leave in mostly high spirits despite how many of us will be sporting green body parts the next few days, me and my hair included.

Harry comes over, exclaiming, "Wow, I'm stunned to be saying this, but that was a great class! I can't believe we never thought to try something like that for the DA meetings…" he trails off then suddenly runs over to Ron, whom apparently had been trying to comfort Lavender but somehow had stuck his foot in his mouth judging by her half-green scowl.

"Yeah, too bad the DA isn't still going on, that would have been fun," Neville says to me as we start to head back to the Common Room.

"Mhm…" I distractedly reply, the entirety of the last hour or so finally catching up to me. I can feel the tips of my lips twitching like mad as I battle the huge grin threatening to overtake it.

"Erm, Hermione? Are you okay? You've been a bit off all day. You seemed pretty down at lunch, then really distracted in class…"

Damn damn damn! How did I manage to get stuck with the one teenage boy in Gryffindor who actually picks up on things? I turn and look into my friend's caring brown eyes and lie my arse off.

"I'm fine Neville, really. Just, you know… girly things, mood swings… monthly things going on…that kind of stuff." Will I never get better at this?

Neville looks scared and scarpers almost immediately, which probably means Harry and Ron have been telling their dorm mates horror stories about me on my period. Right now I couldn't really bring myself to care though, because I have found my dormant libido!

I let the smile break free as I start to plan the journal entry I'm going to make in my head. First thing I've got to write about are those eyes…no wait, those hands…or maybe I should skip straight to that arse...

:

I wake up with a gasp. I slowly become aware of the slight shake in my limbs, my racing heart, the heat and wetness between my thighs, and how utterly sticky with sweat I am. Overall, I feel a bit gross.

But none of that matters, because I just had my first real sex dream, with Professor Severus Snape as the star.

I can feel myself grinning madly as I reach for the journal.

Thanks for reading, please read and review, and constructive criticism is always welcomed! Next up is the Slughorn Xmas party :3
Also I read on the internet that incipio means 'begin' in Latin, if I used it completely wrong I'd love other suggestions.