THAT DAMNABLE WOMAN; the real reason why Serverus Snape goes to such lengths to antagonise Gryffindors.

Disclaimer: All characters mentioned in this work are not mine but belong to JK Rowling.

Serverus Snape hated Gryffindors. He hated everything about them; their superior air, their ability to break rules and be let off because it was 'just their adventurous spirit' and he hated the pro-Gryffindor prejudice that flooded the castle.

And She was the very embodiment of Gryffindor. She was their head of house so that was only to be expected, just as it was to be expected that Professor Sprout would be an overemotional 'academics isn't everything' kind of a woman. But if he were honest he really would do nothing to make his dislike for them known if it wasn't for Her. The way she would rise to defend her darling little lion cubs was... well it was… well if he was honest it was damn sexy.

He knew that by terrorising Longbottom or giving Potter, Weasley and Granger hours worth of detentions, he would guarantee for her to be waiting for him in the staff room or even, he managed to manipulate her correctly in his office, at the end of the day to dress him down and hand out another lecture on equality.

He was mesmerised by the way her cheeks would flush and her eyes sparkle as she gestured emphatically with her delicate hands. It was all he could do sometimes not to grab hold of one of them and bring it to his lips.

He had on more than one occasion been glad of what his flowing robes could hide from sight as they had spent entire evenings in vigorous debate over the best way of teaching the pupils a lesson or what was just punishment for the Weasley twins latest escapade was.

He had watched her debate with the others and he had seen her dressing down pupils, often from her own house but it was never quite the same. That professional mask stayed firmly in place. It was as if no one else could get under his skin like he could. What was worst about it though was that he could never let anyone know. Never let Her know.

He couldn't give in to the urge to push her up against the wall and clamp his lips firmly on hers when they were alone in the staff room. Never lean over and lick the chocolate ice cream from the corner of her mouth before Dumbledore chuckled at her and never be able to get her so wound up that they would eventually end up having sex on one of the tables in his dungeon classroom.

He had pondered many a time on this and there was really no other way for it to be. He would be the ridicule of the entire staff, never mind the student body if he tried something like that only to find himself slapped in the face, which is exactly what she would do.

So instead he would do what he had been doing for the last fifteen years. He would do everything he could to antagonise, victimise and generally irritate her precious Gryffindor pupils so that they in turn would go to her and… well thinking about that wasn't going to help him get the second year's summer-holiday assignments marked.

"Ah, Dennis Creevey." He thought aloud before dipping his quill in the red ink sitting next to him and writing: F-. A pathetic piece of work. I would expect better from a slug than this horrific Gryffindor excuse for an essay. That was sure to wind her up nicely to start the term.

A/N: So this is a very weird fic. I was in a weird mood when I wrote it. What else can I say?