AN: I promised myself I wouldn't publish anything without it being finished after the time it took for me to finish 'What I Desire', but this one has gotten away from me and I don't want to leave it until it becomes difficult to proofread.

As always, I don't have a beta reader so my mistakes are my own.

All characters are the property of JKR and I thank her for allowing us to play with them.

HG

Hermione was sitting at her desk thinking about him yet again, when she looked back far enough it was difficult to discern when it began.

It may have been at the Ministry's third annual Victory Ball, when she'd danced with him almost by accident. She'd been thrust in his direction by Minerva and had been unsure as to whether he would have preferred her to refuse. She reflected that he must be too much the gentleman to have turned her away; he'd held her stiffly as he moved them across the dance floor for just a few minutes, until Ronald Weasley had interfered and taken her hand.

She should have hexed Ron for his interruption.

"You're welcome!" Ron had smiled brightly. "I don't know why McGonagall thought it was a good idea to push you into dancing with the Dungeon Bat."

"You shouldn't be so disrespectful, he's a war hero," she had whispered, afraid that he might over hear their conversation.

Ron responded with a shrug as they made their second turn around the floor. "More like an accidental hero. It isn't like he actually gave a shit about anyone other than Harry's mum."

What could she say to that? He was probably right; everything Severus Snape had ever done to defeat Tom Riddle had been done with Lily Potter on his mind. That simple fact, however, did nothing to detract from his bravery in her eyes; no matter his motivation, he had still placed himself in mortal danger for years and very nearly paid the price with his very life.

Even after they had left the dance floor and Ron gone to the bar to get them both a drink, she could still smell the echo of Severus Snape's sandalwood shaving balm. Never mind the fact that she'd spent the whole of their brief liaison staring at the black buttons of his dress robes in complete silence.

But it couldn't have been then, could it? She had barely given him a moment's thought after that evening; in fact, she hadn't seen him until several months later when they'd attended the same drinks reception at St Mungo's and she had taken the last sausage roll from the lunch buffet.

"One might think they'd provide more than a few soggy sandwiches and a handful of sausage rolls at a lunch meeting of more than twenty people," he had complained. He probably hadn't been talking to her, rather voicing his irritation aloud to himself. Truthfully, she hadn't realised who had been standing next to her until she had heard him speak and his rather angry words flowed silkily past his thin lips.

"Sorry," she'd replied. "You can have some of mine if you like?"

Of course, he'd looked down his nose at her disdainfully, one eyebrow raised as if he were questioning her very sanity. "Why, in Merlin's name, would you think I would wish to remove food from your plate, Miss Granger? Allow me to assure you that nothing on offer here would induce me in to such behaviour."

"Sorry." She looked down at the cheese and tomato sandwiches, the devilled egg, a few crisps and the three miniature sausage rolls heaped upon her plate and found she had lost her appetite.

"You need not be sorry, it isn't of your making now, is it?"

"I was empathising rather than sympathising." Hermione replied matter-of-factly before she plucked a crisp from her plate and popped it in to her mouth.

"How very like you." He drew himself up and stalked away.

What did he mean by that? She stared after him.

The next time they crossed paths was in the Ministry's atrium as she made her way to the Floo Hall on her way home. She had spent all day at a tediously boring personal development seminar and had thought she's caught sight of Charlie Weasley amongst the crowd. If she were honest she probably had jostled a few other people in her haste to ascertain whether the stranger really had been Charlie.

"Do you mind, madam!" he had snapped.

Hermione bent down to retrieve her folder from the floor, where it landed, having fallen from her hand after her was progress impeded by a rather solid object. Even after he had reprimanded her, she still had not registered said object was a rather angry Severus Snape.

Lifting the folder and pushing the parchments back into place securely, she allowed herself to glance up and found her gaze slowly travel along the black-clad pillar and in to the eyes of her former professor.

"I believe common etiquette dictates that one usually apologises in such circumstances," he hissed down at her as their eyes met. "Or am I mistaken?"

She briefly wondered whether he meant it as a rhetorical question, or if he expected an answer. His unrelenting stare seemed to pierce and suggested the latter.

"Sorry."

She watched as he sighed deeply, lifted his glare away from her and scanned the crowd. "See that you pay more attention to your surroundings in future, Miss Granger."

He glanced back down and appeared to take one last scathing look at her before striding away and disappearing in to the crowd.

No, it certainly couldn't have been then.

Perhaps it was last spring in Madam Malkin's? Hermione had popped in for a new set of day robes and had found him about to purchase a beautiful plum coloured travelling cloak.

"I am sure the lady will be very pleased with your purchase." Madam Malkin had commented as Snape had opened his coin purse and counted out the correct number of Galleons.

Hermione hadn't given the encounter much thought until the following Monday when she had opened her copy of the Prophet and seen Felicity Lockwood, from the Minister's office, wearing that same plum coloured cloak elegantly across her shoulder. Never one to jump to conclusions, she would have considered it nothing more than an odd coincidence had the scene not played out and concluded with one, Severus Snape, placing his hand on the small of Felicity's back and moving to shield her from the camera.

It wasn't a secret that Snape was often out with pretty witches, but Hermione had never considered that he thought enough of any of them to be buying them expensive gifts. What was the point when he appeared so unlikely to commit. At the time she briefly wondered if this one would be different; perhaps he had developed a deeper relationship with Felicity Lockwood? Hermione had run her finger absently along handle of her tea mug and wondered why it seemed to matter.

Severus Snape had a well-deserved reputation for being aloof and cold, yet it didn't seem to affect his ability to attract members of the opposite sex. She frowned as she thought upon the man of her youth; the spy; the teacher; the bully. It was hard to imagine that man in this situation. Felicity Lockwood was reasonably well known for being seen on the arm of quidditch stars, which made her appearance with Snape all the stranger.

Severus Snape was intelligent, gifted, even. He worked for St Mungo's, developing potions and unguents for all manner of ailments. Rumour had it that he was close to revealing that he had discovered an absolute cure for Spattergroit.

It must have been then, she reflected; from then on, she developed a habit of checking the newspaper for further news of Severus Snape and his exploits or discoveries. Unsurprisingly, she rarely found news of any consequence, save for the fact that he was rarely seen with the same witch more than three or four times. Even the beautiful Miss Lockwood had disappeared after no more than a few months and had seemingly been replaced.

Despite his more objectionable traits there was something fascinating about this man. Had anyone thought to ask, she would have struggled to articulate why she felt so drawn to him. He was many things she found interesting: he was academic, he was articulate, he didn't waste his time on unimportant follies… and yet, he was also many things she found distasteful. As a child she had found him petty, spiteful and much too eager to revel in the humiliation of others.

Try as she might, Hermione hadn't really succeeded getting him to notice her at all. They had attended a few of the same Ministry functions, but his consideration always seemed to be directed elsewhere. The other problem of course was that he probably considered her as nothing more than an insufferable former student and probably wanted as little to do with her as humanly possible. It seemed as if all their interactions of late resulted in his scorn.

Several weeks ago, she had been representing, Fitzgerald Diggins, the Head of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures at a meeting when Severus Snape and his gravitas had entered the room. It was almost amusing to see senior members of the Ministry falling over themselves to appease him as he complained of the bureaucracy of the Ministry, the lack of funding for his research, and the chronic shortage of dragon hearts.

"Miss Granger," he had turned to address her, "perhaps if your department could see to it to deregulate the importation of dragon-based products, I might actually be able to achieve my aims."

Never one to shy away, she put on her best professional overcoat, raised her chin, and refused to be intimidated. "The shortage isn't due to import regulations Mr Snape, as I am sure you are already aware, it is due to the lack of dragons being farmed for medicinal purposes. Raising dragons is no easy task."

He had glared at her pointedly which had the opposite affect from the one he was probably intending; she made a point of maintaining eye contact and refused to be cowed.

"If you wish I can contact some of my colleagues in Poland, Hungry and Romania, to see if they have any suppliers they can recommend," she had offered. "How many hearts are you looking to procure."

"At least a dozen."

The room erupted, first in a collective gasp, and then loud chatter as they asked each other why he would need so many.

"I am sure I could reach out and see what is available."

Snape raised an enquiring eyebrow; it appeared she had been challenged, and she had been ecstatic about it. At last! If there was something she knew how to do, it was to rise to a challenge.

Sadly, Hermione had heard nothing from him even after fourteen dragon hearts had been delivered to his laboratory, not even a 'thank you.' He did nod at her in acknowledgement last week when he'd taken the same lift together, but that wasn't exactly the kind of foundation upon which to build any kind of association.

"Hermione, I have the Walpole file, let me know if you need it." Her afternoon of musing was abruptly broken by Quentin Nettleton, her colleague. He was a tall and thin with short brown hair, parted exactly down the middle. His tortoiseshell framed spectacles were overly large, and Hermione often thought they gave him the appearance of an oversized mole.

"Thanks, I think I am probably finished with it." She placed her quill back in the inkwell.

"Oh, I meant to say to you, an owl dropped a letter off for you when you were at lunch, it's on top of the filing cabinet."

Secretly, she was a little irritated; Quentin had a habit of accepting her owls and leaving the notes laying around the office. "Thanks," was her diplomatic reply.

The missive was from Ron; Harry and Ginny were meeting Neville at The Iron Duke, a pub which was located just around the corner from the Ministry, tomorrow evening and would she like to join them. It had been a while since they had all gone out together, so she very was pleased to accept an invitation and avoid being alone on a Friday night.

HG

The two witches walked together, arms linked, with Harry and Ron following a step behind. "I wish you two would slow down, it isn't a race." Harry grumbled.

"I'm fed up with this stupid rain," Ginny commented, "Be a love and cast a waterproof charm, will you?"

They rounded the corner and soon arrived at their destination. "I'll get a table if you two get the drinks," Ginny suggested, eyeing a table at the back of the room.

Neville arrived ten minutes late, as usual; but having to travel all the way from Hogwarts did tend to make being on time somewhat more challenging. "So, how is everyone?" he asked before taking a sip of his pint.

"Much the same, I'm afraid," Hermione laughed. "Not much changes in my world unless you are prepared to complete twenty reams of parchment."

"That's the Ministry for you." Harry added.

"I might get a start next week," Ron said proudly. "Matt's wife is due any day now and he's bound to take some paternity leave."

Ron was backup keeper for the Puddlemere United and Matthew Worthington was their star player, which meant that Ron rarely, if ever, got to play.

"You'll do fantastically," Hermione encouraged. "Let me know if you're going to get a game, I'll come over and see you.

"Yeah," Ginny and Harry replied in unison. "We can make it a group outing!"

Ron grinned enthusiastically. "Thanks, guys!"

"Don't tell anyone," whispered Neville, "but I think I might have cultivated a formatogoria. It's still tiny, but I am hopeful this one will make it."

"Oh, my goodness!" exclaimed Hermione loudly before suddenly covering her mouth and looking over her shoulder, hoping she hadn't drawn attention to their table.

"I know," said Neville as he and Hermione shared a look.

"I haven't a clue what you're talking about." Ron lifted his pint glass and took a long swig.

"Probably for the best," said Hermione, eager to keep Neville's secret.

"It must be an 'in' thing for these two brainy types." Ginny laughed, prompting Neville to blush.

It was so nice to spend time with her friends, or it would have been, if she hadn't been totally and utterly distracted when Severus Snape walked into the establishment. He was accompanied by a rather handsome wizard with a neatly trimmed beard and a kind, smiling, face. Hermione almost laughed as she considered this man to be the antithesis of his taller, considerably darker, friend.

"What are you…" Harry began to ask before turning on his stool and following Hermione's gaze. "Oh, it's just Snape."

The pub was almost full, and it seemed as if everyone had paused their conversation to turn and stare at Snape as he approached the bar. Once it became clear he was going to do nothing more interesting than order a couple of pints, the pub chatter continued.

"I wonder who that is with him," asked Ginny.

"Yeah, I bet," Hermione teased. "Hands off, you're married."

"I am here you know!" said Harry, pointing to himself as if to emphasise the point.

"Well, I'm very single, if I want to ogle, I will," sighed Hermione, before eyeing the pair at the bar over the top of her wine glass. Ogle had probably been too strong a word, she reflected as she turned her attention back to her glass, rocking the crimson liquid in a circular motion.

"I don't see what the big deal is," commented Ron as he looked over his shoulder at Snape's back, "it's just that Greasy Git and some bloke."

"Shh, he'll hear you," said Neville, nervously.

"Who cares," grumbled Ron.

"I think I've seen him before, he looks familiar," said Harry, staring at the mystery wizard's back, but didn't expand on the thought.

Try as she might Hermione couldn't help but allow her eyes to follow Snape as he moved from the bar to a table which, thankfully, was within her line of sight. Unfortunately, it wasn't long before he had invited two witches to sit at his table and she had the misfortune of watching them flirt outrageously with him. They may as well have held up a huge neon sign which read: "Take me to bed."

"I'll be back in moment," said Hermione, desperate to visit the loo, pull herself together and collect her thoughts.

"Me too," added Ginny, following her to the back to the room looking for the sign which read, 'Witches'.

"What are you doing, Hermione?" asked Ginny as they washed their hands at the long trough-like sink.

"What do you mean?"

Ginny looked at the row of cubicles, checking to see if they were empty. "I mean the way you are staring at Snape's table.

Hermione felt heat travel up her body as she felt herself blush furiously. "I, um, I don't know what you're talking about."

Ginny laughed. "Okay, whatever you say."

"Don't you find it odd that Professor Snape has turned out to be such a rake?" Hermione asked abruptly, cutting through the awkward silence as she moved to dry her hands.

"I suppose," Ginny nodded, "but I guess after spending twenty years risking his life and then being at death's door… the poor guy deserves to let off a bit of steam. Then of course there is all that business with Harry's mum."

"I guess." Ginny's observations did make some sense, even if she wasn't sure if she agreed.

Ginny looked at her curiously. "Does his behaviour bother you?"

Interesting question, Hermione thought; true, she wasn't particularly overjoyed with the idea that he appeared to be working his way through the most beautiful witches in London, but whether that was because she felt his behaviour was immoral, or whether it was because she was… jealous, she couldn't be certain. "He was always so buttoned up, I suppose it just seems strange to me that he would…" she struggled for the right word.

"Unbutton?" offered Ginny.

They look at each other and laughed. "I'm going to get another drink; would you like another glass of wine?" asked Hermione as she opened the door back towards the bar.

"Yes, please," replied Ginny, before heading back to their table.

Hermione approached the bar and did her best to catch the eye of the busy barman as he levitated pint glasses and activated the various beer pumps. She made a deliberate show of placing her gallons on the bar, hoping it would expedite the service.

"Well, well, Miss Granger," came a sardonic drawl from just behind her left shoulder. She couldn't help but be affected by the way he seemed to caress her last name, it was out of character and disconcerting. Momentarily she wondered if he was drunk. "I am most surprised to see to you frequenting such an establishment."

Hermione felt rather put out by his statement and tone. Was he suggesting that she thought herself above a visit to a pub? She straightened and turn to face him, ready to defend herself.

Apparently, she was very easy to read because his reaction was a knowing laugh, which he didn't even attempt to disguise.

"Might I ask what you find so amusing?" she asked, irritably.

"You, Miss Granger. Just you."

The inflection on the last few syllables of his statement may just as well have been formed of fiendfyre for all the ire they stirred up within her chest. He chuckled again and dismissively said. "Climb down from upon your high horse, Miss Granger," and gestured to the barman that he would like to order another round of drinks. "And whatever the lady here is having."

"I don't need to you buy my drink, thank you." Hermione responded, crisply. "I am quite capable of purchasing my own."

Two pints of beer and three glasses of wine came floating towards them, one breaking away from the group and situating itself in front of Hermione. "I wouldn't dream of assuming otherwise, Miss Granger." Snape promptly paid the barman, nodded to Hermione and made for his party, drinks in hand.

"Bloody arse," she whispered under her breath and headed back to her friends and sipping at her glass of wine which felt surprisingly tainted.

"You got my wine then," Ginny laughed while Hermione sent a scathing glace over to Snape's table. "Never mind, I can see you've other things on your mind."

"If he said anything horrible to you, I'll go and sort him out," Ron announced.

Hermione couldn't help but roll her eyes. "You can put away the false bravado, Ron, I don't need protecting, thank you."

"As if you'd even stand a chance in a duel with Snape," Ginny laughed at her brother.

"I could take him," replied Ron, indignantly, sitting up a little straighter.

"Listen to your sister, mate." Harry advised with a smile. "When was the last time you raised your wand to duel?"

Ron set his pint down angrily. "I can handle myself!"

"Settle down, people are staring," Ginny cautioned.

Hermione glanced across to Snape's table and found herself making eye contact with the man in question almost immediately. Unsure what else she should do she made an apologetic shrug to which he replied with a questioning eyebrow.

"The good news is that Gryffindor are on track to win the house cup this year," Neville offered, presumably hoping to change the subject to one they could all agree.

"Any decent seventh year players on any of the teams this year?" asked Ron.

Hermione glanced over at Harry who smiled as they shared a knowing look. Ron was always so easy to distract with quidditch. Whether Neville had intentionally changed the subject, she didn't know, but she did know she wasn't comfortable openly discussing Snape when he was in such close proximity.

HG

She could hear the echo of her moderate heels tapping on the tiled floor of the atrium as she headed for the Ministry's Floo Hall and thereafter her home. After four large glasses of wine she didn't trust herself to Apparate home all in one piece, despite not feeling particularly affected by the alcohol – it was best to be cautious when the alternative was leaving a limb behind.

It was as she was reaching for the Floo powder that she heard him speak.

"Good evening, Miss Granger."

Hermione turned abruptly in surprise, spilling a small amount of powder on the floor in the process, creating a little cloud of green dust at her feet.

"Mr Snape," she acknowledged. "If I didn't know better I would think you were following me." Although she teased she briefly indulged the thought that perhaps he had sought her attention.

He replied with a dismissive, albeit subtle, roll of his eyes. "If that was an attempt to bait me, you should know you perform poorly."

He was maddening. Nothing she said seemed to discomfort him in the slightest; it was if he was prepared for every rebuke and remark. Perhaps twenty years of teaching teenagers had honed such a skill she thought before she noticed that he was alone. "Where are your companions?" It had been her assumption that he wouldn't be returning home on his own tonight.

He took a few steps towards her which immediately made her feel self-conscious though she wasn't sure exactly why.

"I expect they are returning home, as most people are at this time of night." As if to emphasise his point, he produced his pocket-watch and appeared to check the time.

"And you are too... going home?" Hermione caught sight of his ruby red waistcoat and almost laughed at the absurdity of this man in such a bold colour – her teenage self would never have believed him capable.

"Naturally." He looked at her oddly, perhaps it was disbelief at was, even by her own admission, a rather inane question.

Ever the gentleman he gestured at the Floo. "After you."

Hermione couldn't help but cast a suspicious glance in his direction before moving to take a fresh handful of power and stepping into the Floo.

"Before you depart, Miss Granger, I have been remiss, I must thank you for the delivery of dragon hearts," he paused for a moment as if considering his next words. "Additionally, I also thank you for the two extra specimens - ever the overachiever, aren't you?" Then he smirked; he smirked right at her, the very cheek of this man.

Before she knew herself, Hermione had stepped back out of the Floo and taken the few steps to stand in front of him. "Have I wronged you in some way, Mr Snape?" she asked in a ferocious whisper. "I have found, all too frequently in the past, that you do not care for my opinions. Yet, tonight it seems you are at great pains to gain my attention by making snide remarks and laughing in my face. I can only conclude I have offended you in some way."

Seemingly unaffected by her words and for the second time that night he had the temerity to laugh at her. "Not at all, Miss Granger." Snape shook his head. "It wasn't my intention to cause offence, I assure you."

"Well I guess there is a first time for everything then." Hermione eyed him suspiciously. "What is your intention then?"

"Do I need one?" He replied.

His reticence was madding, she decided to attack the hippogriff head-on. "Why are you here, irritating me, and not taking home one, or both, of your drinking companions?"

"I don't see why Barnaby would wish to accompany me home. We are no more than colleagues, I assure you."

There he was again, twisting her words. "That isn't what I meant," she snapped.

"I assumed as much; I have no doubt you were referring to our female companions this evening?"

Hermione refused to answer and instead fixed him with a glare of impatience, urging him to answer without having to be prompted.

He sighed. "I don't take home women just because we have shared an evening of conversation. I confess to being rather offended that you would assume such a thing as well as being mildly surprised, although not completely, that you would ask such a question. Is there no end to your lack of self-control or tact?"

"Oh, you're surprised, are you? You mean it isn't you on the front page of the newspaper every other week with some new trophy hanging off your arm? Have you run out of influential women? Are you having to settle for women you pick up in pubs?"

"Your grow very bold, Miss Granger," he hissed.

Oddly she felt elated at his reaction; finally, the façade was beginning to crack. There was something distinctly satisfying about verbal confrontation with this man.

"You of all people should know that not everything printed in that rag of newspaper should be taken at face-value."

"Perhaps not, but you can hardly deny it, can you?" Hermione took a step towards him and began counting on her fingers. "Felicity Lockwood, Melanie Stubbs, Claire Heatherington, Eloise van der Laan, Julia Smyth, Anna-"

"If you are quite finished!" Snape interrupted. "You know nothing of my association with any of those women and yet you consider yourself very well informed. One would almost think you were…" his expression turned to one of triumph before he finished, "jealous, Miss Granger." He unleashed an almost feral smile.

And there it was, his riposte.

Had she not spent the best part of the evening considering the very same thing, she might have been able to hide her momentary shock and the subsequent, and decidedly unwelcome, blush which followed. Hermione wished she were able to shrink into the Floo unnoticed as he gazed down at her without mercy.

"I am right, aren't?" Snape asked, his tone softening.

Before she was able gather her thoughts, she heard the rapid beat of footsteps against the tiled floor, not unlike the echo made by her own sensible heels. Hermione glanced over Snape's shoulder to see none other than Rita Skeeter headed in their direction, followed by a portly wizard clutching a camera.

"Urgh, bloody woman!" cried Hermione as she grabbed a handful of Floo powder for the third time that evening. "Follow me!" she whispered to Snape, in a moment of panic.

He must have heard her as she called out her destination as he appeared next to her only a matter of moments later. "That stupid cow will not leave me alone!"

"You think she is following you?" Snape asked.

"You don't think that?"

"Had you not just asked me about my many appearances of the front cover of her blasted newspaper? Has it not occurred to you that she could have been following me?"

"Yes, I suppose," she replied, dusting herself down. "Well, if I am to be named as your next conquest, you may as well come in for a cup of tea."

She thought it best not to wait for his reply; instead she stepped out of the Floo, walked confidently out the door of the public lavatory and up the steps to the pavement level. In the light rain, she began walking the fifty or so metres to her flat. If he followed her, perhaps she would have the opportunity to apologise, if not… well, it wasn't as if she would be losing a friend.

HG

"Milk, no sugar," Hermione handed him a mug of tea as he sat at the far end of her sofa. "I hope it's strong enough, I used two teabags." Unsure whether she should join him or sit in the solitary chair she opted for perching opposite him on the edge of her coffee table. He had removed his outer cloak, displaying his red waistcoat in all its glory.

"It looks fine, thank you," he replied, inspecting the liquid surface considerately.

"Look, I… ah, I want to apologise for making assumptions about you. It isn't my place and I'm sure you've had quite enough of people judging you and sticking their noses in where they don't belong. Believe me, I know I could do without it." Hermione looked down at her tea before taking a loud, slurping, sip and testing the temperature.

Snape gently shook his head, seemingly unfazed. "I am used to it, I find I can scarcely remember a time when I wasn't scrutinised. You would do well to learn to ignore it all." He was so calm.

"Yes, well, I might have to learn rather quickly I am sure we'll both be on the front page in the morning," she grimaced. "You'd think there would be more going on in the world than the sexual exploits of the couple of Ministry workers."

"Is that what we are?" he smirked, "Just a couple of Ministry workers?"

Hermione chuckled, "Yes, I think so."

Snape tilted his head. "Poor girl, you actually believe that people will look at you that way one day."

Hermione couldn't ascertain whether he was being entirely serious, something she found was becoming increasingly commonplace. Was this his way of injecting humour into a situation, or was he simply trying to keep her off balance.

"Why wouldn't they?" she replied at length. "My life is certainly nothing to write home about. I spend most of my day at my desk completing forms and enforcing what are, in my opinion, pointless bureaucratic and outdated rules."

He seemed to consider her, but she was unfazed by his scrutiny; instead she took the opportunity to take him in, to drink him in. Suddenly she was shocked at the direction her thoughts were taking her – she wondered if this was something that had been bubbling for some time, or whether it was new. She had been thinking of him a lot and would have been lying to herself if she hadn't admitted to finding him a subject worthy of study, but interest, that was… well, it must be the wine.

"I doubt you will be there forever, you are still young," he commented. "Life is seldom predictable." He took a large sip of his tea. "This is acceptable, thank you."

"I would have given anything for an 'exceeds expectations' from you when I was at school and now I am all grown up, I can't even get one for a cup of tea."

They both chuckled and she found she was grateful that he saw humour in her gentle teasing.

"You are starving for praise if you are looking for a certificate from me for your tea making skills."

"Yes well, perhaps I am." After the words left her mouth she momentarily felt surprise at her honesty. Any words of praise from him would have been welcome, she longed to hear them.

"I think it would be wise for you to move on and find some new life goals, Miss Granger." Snape frowned and took another large gulp of his tea.

Hermione brushed at a few stray cat hairs which had attached themselves to her jeans. "I am nothing if not ambitious." She set her tea down and leant over to grab the packet of Jaffa Cakes she's left on the chair the previous evening. "Can I interest you in a Jaffa Cake, Mr Snape?"

"Mr Snape is it?" He quirked an eyebrow, a gesture she was beginning to associate with humour. "You'll have to tidy up this establishment if you are putting on heirs and graces." Snape glanced around the room at the piles of books stacked on the coffee table and next to the lounge chair.

"Well, I wasn't expecting company now, was I?"

"No?" He plucked one of the Jaffa Cakes from the offered packet and popped it in his mouth, whole.

Hermione flushed at what she felt was a decidedly suggestive reply. "No." Hermione repeated, retrieved her mug. "We don't all prepare to entertain on a Friday night."

Snape rolled his eyes. "We're back to that are we?"

"So, you mean to tell me that all of those women were just friends then?" In for a penny, in for a pound, she thought. For some reason she just wanted to hear him admit to it, to say that he was… what exactly she realised, she didn't know.

"Does it matter that much to you what I do in my own time?" He raised his elbow to rest on the arm of the sofa and ran his hand over the stubble on his cheek.

"I just… it feels so out of character for you."

He smirked. "And you would know so much about that now, wouldn't you?" He gulped at his tea once more. "Is it because I was once your teacher, or do you find me so repulsive that you cannot imagine any of the female sex being interested in me, physically?"

Hermione just about choked on her tea.

"I do have mutually satisfying and consensual relationships with women from time to time, is that what you wanted to know?" he continued.

"Well…" Hermione cleared her throat. "Yes, I think that just about covers it." Such was the direct line of his questioning she was momentarily unsure where to look, though she was painfully aware that he had no such trouble scrutinising her. Now she was embarrassed that she'd asked, and what had started as light-hearted teasing in her mind suddenly felt like a much more serious topic of conversation. "I don't find you repulsive and I wouldn't want you to think that," she offered.

To her surprise he laughed. "Well, that is a weight off my mind."

Hermione glanced at him and realised he'd been baiting her again. "You're incorrigible, you know that?" Their conversation had ventured in to perilous territory and yet he seemed to have taken it with reasonable grace. Now that he was sitting in front of her, so openly, she couldn't help but to inspect him further. Really, he hadn't changed so much in the last few years; perhaps, a few more grey hairs… but wasn't that to be expected? He was always immaculately dressed, and this evening was no different; certainly, his ruby waistcoat was a surprise, but the remaining black ensemble was as expected. Earlier she had spoken the truth, she didn't find him repulsive in the least and perhaps, as she continued to analyse her thoughts on the matter, she felt exactly the opposite. It was a disconcerting realisation, one she was sure would pass the next time he took it upon himself to throw an insult in her direction.

Snape leant forward and placed his now empty mug on the coffee table next to where she sat. "I am painfully aware of that fact. So much so that I think you should offer me another one of those Jaffa Cakes by way of an apology."

"Should I now?"

"Indeed, you should."

Ever the hostess Hermione handed him the packet. "Help yourself, I'll make another cup of tea, if you like."

Snape seemed to consider her for a moment as she stood; it didn't make her feel uncomfortable, but she felt his eyes wander over her and wondered what was going through his mind. "Thank you, yes." He answered at length.

Hermione removed her jumper as she entered her small kitchen and threw it over one of the chairs in corner of the room, next to the little table upon which sat an empty vase her grandmother had given her. It was strange, she reflected, that she found herself making a cup of tea for Severus Snape on a Friday night as he sat on her sofa eating Jaffa Cakes. The thought made her laugh softly to herself, it was absurd, really. Harry and Ron would be horrified, and she expected Ginny would make some sort of suggestive comment.

The kettle started to boil as she threw tea bags in to their respective mugs and collected the milk from the fridge. The noise from the kettle must have, on reflection, drowned out the sound of his shoes as he had moved across the laminate floor; the first she knew of him standing behind her was the subtle movement of her hair to one side and the shockingly sensuous feeling of his lips as they made contact with the sensitive skin on the back of her neck.

Hermione froze, a litany of questions suddenly flew into the forefront of her mind. What was he doing? Was he drunk? What did this mean? Did she want him to stop? Her racing thoughts were brought to an abrupt halt as his tongue moved lightly along the ridge of her ear causing her to gasp and grip the edge of the counter-top.

"What are you doing," she croaked.

He stilled, the silence between them heavy before he replied. "Are my advances unwelcome, Hermione?"

Was this just part of his routine? She couldn't deny how he made her feel, but equally, sensible Hermione Granger wasn't one to engage in this sort of thing, either.

She turned to face him and was met with a look of honest lust – no one had ever looked at her that was before, it was both arousing and terrifying and she found she wanted to embrace those feelings and throw caution to the wind for once.

"Hermione?"

She responded by threading her fingers through his hair to the nape of his neck and pulling him closer until their lips met. His were soft, warm, inviting; he tasted of the orange and chocolate Jaffa Cakes. He wasted no time in taking the lead, grasping her at the waist with both hands and pulling her towards him until their bodies met. His hands then descended as he cupped both of her bottom cheeks, latching them together, closer still. She couldn't help but let a whimper escape, which only seemed to drive him on as he proceeded to explore her clothed body with his hands.

When his hand came in to contact with her breast for the first time, she flinched, causing him to stop and look at her cautiously. It wasn't that she didn't want him to touch her there; Merlin, she felt exactly the opposite, it was more that touching her somewhere so intimate caused the reality of what was happening to come crashing down.

"Yes?" He asked.

"Sorry, yes!" she smiled shyly. "It was just a little unexpected."

He tilted his head. "If you'd rather not, we don't have to, it's important to me you know that."

"Severus, if you stop now I will never forgive you," she replied somewhat breathlessly, prompting him to smile and lean in to kiss her neck and send shivers down her spine.

It was Hermione who, sensing his reluctance to push her further, took his hand and led him to her bedroom, kicking off her shoes as she went. As they reach the doorway he unbuttoned his waistcoat and stood watching her as she unbuttoned her jeans on the far side of the room. She was next to the window where the curtains remained open, allowing the moonlight to cast her shadow across the bed.

After having thrown her jeans on the floor next to her wardrobe she unbuttoned her shirt and watched Snape… no, Severus, as he removed the cuff-links from his own crisp white shirt and put them in his pocket.

"Don't," he whispered as she moved to pull the shirt from her shoulders. "Allow me."

Hermione watched with anticipation as he made his way over to her by the window, still almost fully dressed save for his waistcoat and cravat, both of which he'd hung over her bedroom door handle. His eyes were hungry as he drank her in and it was hard for her to believe that it was she who had awoken such a reaction from this man.

Severus reached out and grabbed the collar of her shirt, urging her towards him to close the gap between their bodies. He slid his hands under the cotton, finally making contact with her skin, his fingers slowly trailed from her stomach to her waist, where he clutched her more firmly before lowering his head to kiss her.

"You are exquisite," He peppered a trial of light kisses along her neck as he moved hands to push her shirt from her shoulders, allowing it to fall to the floor.

"Merlin." It was all she found she could say, this man had held her captive with his attentions. Every touch burned and yet was not enough, but she yearned to see what he would do next. She knew she should feel self-conscious, being almost naked in front of him, but she couldn't, she felt too much anticipation.

Their lips met once more, and Hermione took the opportunity to divest him of his shirt before moving to his trousers. She almost laughed at her own boldness, but she couldn't allow him to remain clothed much longer. He palmed her lace-covered breast and this time there was no shock at the contact, only the expectation of what was to follow.

Soon, they had divested each other of their remaining garments; Hermione revelled in the feeling of his warm, soft skin, as they explored each other – the contact was unbelievably arousing.

"Bed?" He asked, his warm breath against her ear, his hair tickling her cheek.

"Yes," she cried wantonly.

HG

"Wow," Ginny set her coffee mug down on the table with a thud.

"I know." Hermione agreed.

Her night with Severus had been delicious; he'd drawn out her pleasure, reducing her to a puddle of wanting, leaving not an inch of her skin untouched. Even now, as she explained to Ginny what had happened, she shivered at the memory of his skin against hers, his breath against her ear and his raw need. He'd kept her awake most of the night, even when they hadn't been engaged in sex, he held her, running his hand over her body, seemingly revelling in the feel of her. They didn't speak much; it seemed profound, even as Hermione thought it over now, but really, there had been no words.

As the sun had risen, so had he; he sat on the chair in the corner of her bedroom putting on his shoes, leaving her feeling suddenly bereft. She wanted to ask him to stay, but she couldn't, it was obvious to her that he wanted to leave, and she wouldn't stand in his way.

"Try and get some sleep," was all he said as he kissed her tenderly on the forehead before he left.

"Are you seeing him again?"

This was, of course, the crux of the matter - she had absolutely no idea.

"I don't know." Hermione stirred her coffee and set the teaspoon down the table. "He didn't mention anything, and I didn't ask him."

"Do you want to see him again?"

"I do, and I don't." Hermione grimaced. "I won't be one of his toys to pick up and put down on a whim, but on the other hand, Gin, the way he made me feel was incredible. I think I am spoiled, I just can't imagine feeling that way with someone else." She sipped her coffee to stop herself from gushing.

Ginny stared. "Hermione, this sounds all a bit much, you barely know him."

"We've talked," Even to herself her reply sounded feeble.

"You mean you've bickered." Ginny laughed softly, that's all you two seem to do when you see each other. You don't even know if he is single or where he lives." Then Ginny's tone changed. "Don't let him use you, you're better than that. For all you know this is his routine, invite himself over-"

"I asked him in, actually." Hermione interrupted.

"Invite himself over," Ginny asserted, "and use all of the very little charm he possesses to have his way."

Hermione could have laughed at the absurdity of the notion that Severus had a routine in which to bed women, but then Ginny was right, she didn't know him well enough to know if he was capable of such a thing. He was certainly capable of manipulation, a thought which deflated her considerably.

"It didn't seem that way last night."

Ginny shook her head. "It rarely does; just be careful."

Hermione nodded. "Come on, let's get to the bookshop before it closes." She stood and grabbed her umbrella, glancing out the window. "Perhaps it'll stop raining."

HG