Disclaimer: If I owned any of the things you recognise I would not be stressing about the statistical analysis of my forth year psychology project. Which incidentally I am…

Summary: Written over the summer in response to a challenge from my friend (Rachel….) which went something like this – 'One fine day in the middle of the night.' Write a story about SS that fits this title. Must include another teacher, a student and a conversation about muggle literature.

"One fine day, in the middle of the night." The Familiar drawl echoed through the dungeon corridor. "Two young boys got up to fight." The two students who had previously been sneaking down the hallway stopped dead in their tracks. "Back to back they faced each other." The haunting baritone continued from the shadows. "Drew their swords and shot each other." The vehemence with which the verse was completed served to further the tension already filling the air. After a further moments silence, the two students dared to glance at each other. "Well? Why are you young gentlemen up and out of bounds after curfew?" They held each other's eyes but neither first-year spoke. "Fine." The voice cut in far earlier than perhaps it usually would have, wavering equally uncharacteristically. "Then I shall assume the worst." It continued through gritted teeth. "Fifty points from each of your houses and a weeks worth of detentions with Mr Filch." The eleven year olds' intakes of breath in surprise were audible. "Now GO! Before I make it a round hundred." And with that they fled into the night.

Severus Snape lent up against the cool stone wall, wrapping his arms about himself as another wave of agony, a mere aftershock of the cruciatus, rippled through his body; relieved to hear the sound of the quickly retreating steps of the two students reverberating through his underground domain.

"That was unnaturally harsh – even for you." Came the predictable reproach from his companion as she returned to her human form. "But given the circumstances…" she added, softening her tone of her own accord and wrapping an arm beneath his shoulders in order to take his weight

"Well if they will be stupid enough to hang around the corridor where my quarters are located in the middle of the night…" He pointed out as they began to make slow progress down said corridor.

"What's the betting that they'd been dared to find the entrance to Slytherin?" she asked with an amused tone.

"Fairly low as I'm certain at least one of them was mine." He replied with equal amusement as they finally approached the entrance to his inner sanctum.

"Really? Oh well. I'm still struggling to identify my new first years never mind anyone elses."

"They've been here a week already." He pointed out as he watched in quiet relief as she dealt with door's wards.

"Yes, and this will be my 47th set of first years. Believe me, after that long it all starts to get a mite confusing."

"Are you admitting to old age?" He asked turning to look at her and raising and eyebrow in scepticism. She seemed intent not to look him in the eye but there was no denying the flush of colour that swept along her cheek.

"I am doing nothing of the sort, I am merely acknowledging that I happen to have accumulated a greater number of years teaching experience than you and that not all the consequences of that are positive." And with that she lowered him onto the sofa. "Potions, bath and bed or bath, potions then bed?" She asked straightening up, removing her teaching robe and rolling up her sleeves.

"Bed." He replied laying his head back and shutting his eyes.

"Bath or potions first?" She asked again ignoring, to all intents and purposes, his last response.

"Bath. That way I can at least see to getting myself in without any assistance." He replied realising that he was never going to win otherwise.

Having made a comment about managing under his own steam it should have been predictable that he would have to rely on Minerva's assistance to stand up again never mind deal with some of the more demanding tasks of getting into the bath she readied for him. As he lay back against the porcelain rim his thoughts returned to familiar patterns. He was perpetually struck by the oddity of his relationship with the Gryffindor; had anyone else waited for his return, sought to see him safely bathed and medicated before carefully tucking him into bed he would have been openly hostile towards them, and yet he was grudgingly accepting of the Deputy Headmistress' help. It was a longstanding arrangement, he supposed, as she had been the one to find him sprawled on the edge of the Forbidden Forest on that night of his epiphany so many years previously.

"You miss-quoted that rhyme by the way." Minerva called through the open door over the rustle of bedclothes. "It's One fine day in the middle of the night, two DEAD boys came out to fight." She continued.

"I bow to your superior knowledge of arcane muggle poetry." He replied lazily which resulted in a snort of laughter.

"This from a man with a complete set of the works of William Topaz McGonagall hidden at the top of his bookshelves."

"Obviously not hidden well enough." He pointed out as he shifted and suppressed a groan.

"Did I hear that someone wrote a book with that as a title?"

"You're making about as much sense as you usually do."

"I thought someone had written a book with 'One Fine Day in the Middle of the Night'."

"Oh. I think I might have bought that one."

"That would hardly be surprising now would it Severus?" She chided gently. "One day I will actually sort out the piles of books that are steadily encroaching on your bed." It was his turn to laugh this time.

"You're one to talk. I do believe you had to talk rather nicely to the Headmaster in order to get him to talk the castle into adding another room to your quarters to act as your own personal library."

"Yes well, as you seem so keen to point out tonight, I've had far longer to collect them." He snorted at this admission. "Come on." She began again, suddenly seeming to have appeared beside the bath holding a large fluffy white towel. "Time to get out."

With a little effort he managed to get out, reserving a modicum of dignity thanks to the relaxing effects of the warm water and shuffled through to his bedroom.

"What are we going to need tonight? I got out a selection of the usual suspects." She asked turning to the row of potion vials she had laid out on top of the chest of drawers. Reeling off the selection he judged would most effective he was somewhat surprised to receive a scowl in return.

"That was the blue one… the clear one and…." She began obviously uncertain.

"For one of the brightest living witches you're not doing a very good job of living up to it tonight are you?"

"Just because we're not all potion masters, besides I've spent all evening sorting out Albus' none existing filing system. I have no idea what it is that he does over the holidays or what it is he intends to achieve by banning me from his office over the summer but I swear I do this every year." He was mildly amused at his colleague's obvious irritation with the Headmaster but was sensible enough not to let it show as he leant forward and picked up the potions himself. Their effect, once taken was almost immediate and so soporific that Minerva must have been responsible for getting him settled beneath the covers. Suddenly he was overwhelmed with an urge to thank her for her care, something he would no doubt later blame on the recently imbibed potions, but as he struggled to form the words, he was silenced with a gentle shush as the Head of House, brushed his hair back and placed a chaste kiss upon his forehead.

"Feel free to rake for the book…" He murmured as his eyelids drooped.

"I'll admit to having one or two in my own room I probably ought to finish first." She conceded softly, stroking his hair gently. "Now hurry up and go to sleep – I want to get the records up to 'T' sorted and away before I give up for tonight." He would have protested that it surely must be time for even she, Hogwarts resident night owl (and early bird for that matter), to go to bed, but his body was too far-gone to form the words out loud. Before any other thought had time to formulate in his conscious mind, he slipped into dreams of dead boys shooting each other with swords under the light of the moon.

A/N: Hope you enjoyed this – do let me know.

xLx