"Happy birthday!"

"How's it feel to be legal?"

"What's the first bit of magic you're gonna perform outside of Hogwarts?"

Hermione Granger giggled at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall. "Thank you, Ginny. I don't feel any different, Harry. And I don't know, Ron. I never really thought about it."

It was the day all witches and wizards dreamed of: they day they became legally able to perform magic outside of Hogwarts. It was the year they could be considered adults, even if they were still students, like sixth-year Hermione.

She was excited for her birthday, of course, but while she was a student she didn't feel any different. She supposed she would feel better about being legally able to perform magic once the war really began and she needed to defend herself. She was the first of her year to hit seventeen, and it was a big deal to all of them.

There wouldn't be much celebrating that night, however, because she had detention she had received the day before in Defence Against The Dark Arts. She supposed she had spoken out of turn, but she couldn't help it. Watching Harry (or anyone who didn't bother to open a book) struggle through an answer she already knew was maddening. So she had blurted out the answer to Professor Snape's question, and therefore had gotten five points taken from Gryffindor and had to spend her birthday evening grading first years' papers.

It could have been worse, she supposed. She had had this sort of detention before, and last year she had been surprised to find that grading papers across from Snape in his slightly chilly office wasn't so bad. Snape was quiet and bookish like she was, not pressuring her to talk, and he never ridiculed her grading, either. It was almost preferable to spend an evening there, away from the chaos of the Gryffindor common room.

Before detention, there was Potions class with Slughorn. Hermione didn't know why, but she didn't really like him or his classes. It wasn't just that Harry was doing better than she was, but she didn't like the way Slughorn taught.

It wasn't until Snape was gone from the Potions class that Hermione appreciated what a great teacher he had been. Yes, he had been mean and cruel, yes he had punished her for the smallest infractions that Slughorn let slide, but he had demanded excellence, and anything less was met with contempt. In that way, he and Hermione were alike: second best was unacceptable, and not performing up to your personal best and beyond was akin to a sin. Slughorn was a slacker compared with Snape, and Hermione found it hard to believe the man had ever been a Slytherin.

This class they were learning about Amortentia, the love potion that, when you smelt it, it presented you the things that attracted you.

When Hermione smelt it, she had gotten hints of parchment, grass, and what she had thought was Ron's spearmint toothpaste, but as she was smelling again, she realised it was not spearmint, it was clean peppermint with a bit of musk under that parchment. Where had she smelt that before?

No time to think on it, She barely had time to do her homework before she had to go down to Snape's dungeon office for detention. Detentions were easier when you were older and a bit brighter. No scrubbing cauldrons or writing lines. And, as she had thought about, Snape was a quiet man, so detention wasn't as bad for her as it would be for Harry or Ron.

Snape was already at his desk, sorting parchment into piles for Hermione. He had discarded his cloak and unbuttoned the top two buttons of his frock coat at his throat and he looked as though he was exhausted.

"Granger," he greeted. To most, that would have been quite rude, but to get any sort of greeting from Snape was a shock.

"Good evening, Professor," she said, removing her school robe and placing it on the back of her chair. "I...um, I wanted to apologise for speaking out of turn, sir."

To her surprise, she saw Snape's dour face brighten just a bit, and a wry smirk appeared on his face. "Oh, Miss Granger, if you wanted to start apologising for every time you spoke out of turn in my classroom, I'd best clear up my schedule for a month or two."

Was Severus Snape making a joke? Hermione never thought she'd live to see the day! His black eyes had a spark in them she rarely saw and she felt her heart start to speed up just looking at him. Snape was not a classically handsome man, but the look on his face made him seem more than handsome: he looked like a mischievous schoolboy. Hermione was reminded that Snape was not that much older than she was, he was only thirty-six.

"Well, sir, we'd be spending quite a lot of time together, wouldn't we?" Hermione said, and immediately wished she could cover her mouth. Why did I say that?

Snape's scowl was back in place. "And wouldn't that be terrible for you." He handed her a sheaf of parchment.

"You know, sir, I never mind your detentions," she spoke up. "Except for today, you're mostly silent and it's very restful. I suppose I shouldn't say that, you're not supposed to enjoy detention, are you?"

"No, Miss Granger, but you never were a normal girl, were you?" he said, more as if he were speaking to himself.

They began to grade the reports, and Hermione was once again struck by how positively stupid some first years were. After five reports, she was ready to go into her own common room and strangle a few first years. She put the papers down in a huff.

"Professor?"

"Hm?"

"Is it legal for me to hex some of these kids now that I'm seventeen?"

Snape glanced up with a smirk. "Oh, Granger, how many times I want to do that myself." He paused over his grading and then mumbled, "Happy birthday."

Had Severus Snape just wished her a happy birthday? "T-Thank you, sir."

The rest of the evening was silent, until Hermione went to leave.

"Sir? Can I clear something up?" she asked.

"Proceed. My time is limited, Granger," he said.

Hermione sighed. "I often speak out of turn in class, and that is why I have always gotten in trouble with you."

He nodded. "Trust me, I know."

"Well, I just wanted you to know that I don't really think when I do it. When you pester the others-especially Harry or Neville-and I watch them struggle for the right answer, it is almost like a physical pain. Watching them strain their brains is torture and I just blurt out the right answers to end it. Not to be a know-it-all, or get your attention," she revealed. "I shouldn't have to suffer because they don't bother to study or are afraid of you, sir."

Snape chuckled low in his throat as he walked around his desk, towering over Hermione. "And you're not afraid of me, Miss Granger?"

Hermione's breath caught in her throat. In 99% of cases, most students would be running out of there in fear. Her betraying body wanted nothing more than to press herself against his body and see if he felt as firm as she had imagined.

"No, sir," she replied.

His smirk widened and he inclined his head towards her, making a lock of raven hair fall over his brow. "You should be."

Hermione shivered as he walked past her, his body just brushing against hers as he opened the dungeon door. She caught a whiff of parchment and...peppermint, with musk. Oh, Merlin's saggy bollocks, what am I thinking? she wondered as she rushed past him to go back to the common room. Her heart was racing a million miles an hour, and she felt dizzy.

Severus Snape. Since when was she attracted to Severus Snape?

Harry and Ron had gotten a detention with McGonagall and had to miss a Hogsmeade weekend trip, so Hermione was on her own for the first time since third year. It wasn't as much fun shopping without them, but it was worse sitting all alone in The Three Broomsticks, when everyone around her was talking and laughing with their own group. Ginny was off with Dean Thomas, and Luna was nowhere in sight, nor was Neville. She fervently hoped that Cormac would not come around, as she had been trying very hard to avoid him at all costs.

She sighed into her nearly empty mug of butterbeer, at a loss to find some stimulating company when she heard a throat being cleared near her.

Glancing up, she saw Professor Snape standing before her, a mug of butterbeer in each hand. "Miss Granger. I thought I would take the liberty to bring you another mug as you look as lonesome as I assume I usually do. May I?"

He gestured to the chair across from her and she nodded dumbly, shocked at his solicitous nature all of a sudden.

He slid languidly into the chair and pushed the mug towards her.

"Thank you, Professor. What brings you here? I usually never see you on the Hogsmeade weekends," Hermione said.

"Because I usually do not care to be seen," he replied. "Tell me, where is the Dunderhead Duo this afternoon?"

Another joke, coming from her austere professor? The world must surely be ending.

"Detention, sir, with McGonagall. We had Hagrid take us here since she needed to stay," Hermione explained. She took a few pulls at her drink, her heart beating wildly, contrasting the mantra in her head of, He's your professor. He's mean. He's cruel, He's nineteen years older than you. He is your damn professor!

"Miss Granger, is there something on my face which displeases you? If not, I highly suggest you stop staring," he said.

Hermione blushed a deep shade of crimson. "I apologise, sir. I didn't realise I was staring. I assure you, your face doesn't displease me." If it was possible, her blush deepened.

Snape smirked at her blunder and took a sip of his own drink and grimaced. "Ugh. Ghastly sweet. Why do I drink it?"

Hermione hid a smile. She had no idea where this more genial version of Snape had come from, but she liked it. "Because it's better in the daytime than firewhiskey?" she suggested, starting on her second drink.

Snape was silent, but it was not the tense kind of silence she was used to. This was comfortable. Hermione felt her heart beating faster as she watched his lips (lips she had thought of as thin and dry which now she realised had perfect colour and looked perfect for kissing) wrap around the mug's rim, and he unconsciously licked the foam from them.

She averted her eyes, fearing being caught staring a second time. Snape was always intellectually pleasing: there was never any denying he was brilliant. However, finding him pleasing in other ways drove Hermione crazy.

She asked him a benign question about Dark Arts, and he started to talk about one of the lessons he had recently given. She wanted to pay attention, she really did, but somehow she had forgotten what that voice did to her. She was torn between listening to his words-quite enthralling in and of themselves-and listening to his deep, nearly lyrical voice.

"Miss Granger, I do believe I am boring you," he said suddenly, shaking her from her fantasies.

"No, sir, you're not. I just…" She had no explanation. She'd die before she told him the truth, and any lie she could tell would insult him.

"Tell me, Miss Granger, did Potter inform you that I am a Legilimens?" he asked.

"Yes, sir. You can penetrate the mind, but it's not like Muggle movies," she replied. "I read up on it and Occlumency last year. Fascinating spells, and you must be very skilled to have mastered both."

He nodded at the compliment. "I am also skilled in nonverbal spells. Which means that I can easily see into your mind. For a smart woman, you leave your mind wide open, Granger."

Hermione's entire body froze in fear. What was she going to say now? Could he expel her for her thoughts? Was it possible? She never thought that Cormac McLaggen would be a pleasant sight, but when she saw him coming up to their table, she almost sighed in relief.

"Hermione," he said jovially. "Why don't you come join us?" He was already quite pissed, and she was no longer relieved to see him.

Snape's dark eyes darkened even more. "I do believe she is already in conversation with me, McLaggen, someone on her own intellectual level. Might I suggest you sober up and go back and study? Your last test scores made 'Troll' seem a bit too acceptable for a grade."

Hermione put her hand over her mouth to stifle a laugh as Cormac slunk away, defeated and a little angry.

"Miss Granger, tell me you were not ever considering that great imbecile to...associate with you," Snape said.

"No, sir."

"Really? Even when you took him to Slughorn's Christmas Party?" Snape asked.

I only did it to take my mind off of you, Hermione thought, and then blanched when Snape's eyes sparkled even more. Legilimency was a brilliant talent to have, and right then Hermione wanted to sink into the ground and be swallowed whole to avoid this conversation.

"Well, not to talk myself up, but I do believe that he would be quite the poor substitute," Snape drawled.

"He was." No use denying it now. He knew, and she was about to be forced to face the music. "Sir, please, can't you let me leave here with at least some of my dignity intact? Can't we pretend this afternoon never happened?"

Snape grimaced, eyes clouding. "No, Miss Granger, I cannot pretend. You are a student, albeit an adult, who admitted to...very lewd thoughts about your professor and superior. That is not something I can simply put behind me. It must be dealt with, and the sooner the better."

Hermione wanted to cry. "You're not going to expel me, are you? As you said, I am an adult."

Snape nodded. "You are, and for that reason I cannot expel you. Come. This needs to be discussed much more...privately." He stood up and pointed. "Madam Rosemerta has a small room she uses for private conferences. Follow me."

Hermione stood and followed her professor to the small room where Harry had spied on McGonagall and Fudge in their third year, after Sirius Black had escaped from Azkaban. Once she was inside Snape shut the door firmly behind them, the look in his dark eyes pinning her to the spot before the small table.

"Sir, really, I do apologise for my thoughts. I promise to never reveal a thing about how I feel to anyone and-"

"For the love of Merlin, Hermione, be quiet," Snape growled, stalking up to her, his body pressing the small of her back against the table.

Her heartbeat quickened as she felt his heat through his clothes, and smelt that sweet, musky scent that was so uniquely him. She was dizzy with shame and arousal, torn between wanting to bolt and wanting to reach out and touch him. Vaguely, her mind registered that he had used her given name for the first time.

"Professor-"

"Silence," he said, his own voice barely above a whisper as she felt his hand come up to cup the back of her head through her unruly hair and his lips crashed down on hers. They were hot and firm, pressing against her with heated certainty that their intrusion would be accepted, and he was right: this was all she had wanted since the year had begun. His other hand came to rest upon her waist, holding her tightly as his tongue proceeded to part her lips, licking and exploring her mouth.

She gasped into the kiss, arching her body into his and he groaned pulling away to start kissing her neck, nipping at the delicate flesh. She tossed her head back and gave him better access. His hand left her head and suddenly she was lifted to sit on the tabletop, his hands tight on her hips and his mouth making its way lower, to the edge of her blouse.

She started to unbutton it, and his hot mouth followed her fingers. When his hands joined hers in pushing her blouse from her shoulders and he reached down, inside her bra, and took a peaked nipple between his fingers and she let out a mewl.

"Sir, someone will hear!" she gasped as his lips went to her other nipple, her bra having suddenly disappeared from her entirely.

He looked down at her, his eyes sparkling and his expression that of a hungry wolf and said, "Then make sure they do not hear. You're a witch, you know what to do."

And so Hermione found her wand and pointed it at the door, casting her first legal spell, "Muffliato."