Snape looked up as two students, a boy and a girl, entered his classroom…late. They appeared to be arguing.

“You did what?” Her voice was low and dangerous.

The imbecilic boy at her side mumbled something.

Anger made every word sharp. “I beg your pardon? I didn’t quite catch that.”

Idiotic juvenile quarrels. “If you two are quite finished, I…”

She held up a hand, cutting him off. “One moment, Professor.”

The classroom, which had been filled with the low sounds of chatter, went silent. Even Snape was taken aback. The reactions of her peers were ignored by the girl as she turned back to her conversation.

“Surely I didn’t hear that you set my untranslated, five hundred year old copy of ‘The Grimoire of Pope Honorius III’ on fire, tried to put it out, and ended up obliterating it instead.”

“I’m sorry, Hermione! What else do you want? You know Charms isn’t one of my best subjects!”

“NOT ONE OF YOUR BEST SUBJECTS?” she screeched, her cold fury finally morphing into full-blown rage. “I saved every Knut for four years to acquire that book! Ronald Bilius Weasley, you suck at everything! You always have and you always will! You even preemptively suck at things that haven’t been invented yet!”

As Ron tried to stammer further inadequate apologies, Hermione’s ability to form coherent sentences disintegrated. So she did what any woman of good breeding would do…she started swearing. Even Snape found himself impressed with her vocabulary; unless he was mistaken, he’d heard at least four languages so far, and she seemed nowhere near the end of her tirade. Alas.

“Miss Granger!” he snapped. “Ten points from Gryffindor! You will control your tongue this instant and take your seat. Weasley, you will partner Mister Zabini. Now SIT!”

It took a clearly visible effort before Hermione was able to control her emotions. Even then, her face remained flushed, and her eyes promised the violence that would come later. He almost wanted to permit it.

ooOOOoo

Though she was clearly still furious, Hermione was still the first one done and the only student to produce something that even remotely resembled the objective goal.

“Miss Granger, please remain after class.”

Ron actually shot Snape a grateful look as he scurried out of the classroom. Hermione glared daggers at his retreating form as she packed her satchel and walked up to his desk.

“Yes, Professor?”

“To begin, kindly explain the derogatory ‘suck’, which from your tone I assume to be some sort of slang.”

“It is, Sir.” She thought for a moment. “To ‘suck’ at something essentially means that your performance is several steps below a dunderhead. Saying ‘you suck’ to a person directly implies that the person themself is several steps below a dunderhead.”

“I see,” he said, finding her earlier outburst all the more entertaining. “Am I to understand from your relatively spirited discussion that a book in your possession was recently…annihilated?”

She nodded.

“This book was, in fact, a rare copy of ‘The Grimoire of Pope Honorius III’? Untranslated?

“It was,” she said tightly.

“And have you worked out the details of Mister Weasley’s impending demise?”

Hermione was taken aback by the question until she saw the faintest glimmer of amusement from her normally dour professor. Well, if he wanted to engage on that level, she was perfectly able to play his game.

“I’m afraid I haven’t yet had the time to come up with something suitable,” she said contritely. “You have my sincerest assurance, however, that it will be both ingeniously undetectable and excruciatingly painful.”

‘How completely unexpected,’ Severus thought. He’d been prepared for her bristling and completely hypocritical defense of the idiot boy, but here she was sparring with him, and in a language far from the typical brashness he was used to seeing in Gryffindors. In fact, she sounded almost…Slytherin. He thought for a minute, then smirked as he stood up and walked around his desk.

“Come with me, Miss Granger,” he instructed.

When he came to the door of the potions storeroom, he passed his wand in a particular sequence over nine of the knots in the wood. The door glowed momentarily, and opened to a room that was most assuredly not the potions storeroom.

ooOOOoo

The room sported a large mahogany desk and chair off to one side. She took note of the rather formidable inkwell filled with red ink and smiled slightly. Another part of the room appeared to be dedicated to potions work, as there was a bench with several cauldrons and other equipment nearby. One entire wall was dominated by bookshelves.

“This is my private office, where I conduct most of my personal research. As you have no doubt determined, much of my grading is done here as well.” He gestured to the bookshelves. “I believe you will find a copy of the book, quite similar to the one you lost, on the second shelf, fifth from the right.”

Hermione looked at him, obviously startled.

“That door,” he said as he pointed to a second one on the far wall, “is hidden behind the portrait of Zosimus.”

Her brow furrowed. “Zosimus…the Greek alchemist? I didn’t know there were any portraits of him in existence. Where is it hanging?”

“You can find it hidden within the Room of Requirement…I am sure you are well-versed in the usage of the room. The password is Abu Musa Jabir Ibn Hayyan. I trust you can remember it?”

“Brilliant,” she breathed. “He picked up where Zosimus left off, didn’t he? And he was the one who popularized the idea of the Philosopher's Stone in the middle of the eighth century. Using his real name, instead of the name he’s commonly known by…particularly since normal people rarely bother to pronounce the Arabic correctly…” Hermione met his eyes, her own filled with approval. “Absolutely brilliant.”

He shrugged. “I am typically here brewing or grading papers each night from eight until eleven. If you are inclined to brave the serpent’s lair for the book, you may. In exchange, you will prepare ingredients as needed and grade the first-year essays, the latter of which may make you consider your decision very carefully.”

She nodded; then her eyes narrowed, and her face took on a calculating expression. It was a look that usually made Harry and Ron nervous.

“Why?”

“I’m afraid you’ll have to expound on that question if you desire an answer.”

“Why me? Why bring me here…show me this? Why let me in?”

Why indeed. He watched her carefully, considering the best way to answer. She had been particularly adept at discerning the nuances in their conversation thus far. Perhaps…

“Not everything is always as it appears at first glance, Hermione,” he said quietly, willing her to see what was underneath his words.

She seemed to digest his statement for a moment; he could practically hear the wheels in her head turning it over, trying to figure out exactly what he’d meant by it. He knew when she did; she looked up and studied him as though she were seeing him for the first time.

Finally, a shy smile spread across her face. “I understand completely…Severus. And I agree.”

They shared a minute that was thick with tension and possibilities. Neither knew what this would become, but both wanted to find out. Finally Hermione broke the silence.

“I have to get back to Gryffindor tower,” she said with a sigh. “They’ll think you’ve quietly killed me and chopped me up for potions ingredients or something.” Feeling hugely daring, she reached out and placed a hand on his arm.

“Thank you.”

He tentatively covered her small hand with his own. “You are quite welcome.”

Reluctantly, they pulled away and he escorted her back through the storeroom.

“Would tomorrow evening be alright?” she asked. He agreed, and she was very nearly to the door when his voice stopped her.

“Oh, and Miss Granger?”

“Yes, Professor?”

“Twenty points to Gryffindor, for the demonstration of your rather impressive vocabulary.”

**********************************************************

A/N: I know, I’m supposed to be updating Out Damn Spot, but this bunny bit me and wouldn’t leave me alone until I wrote it out. At least it didn’t end up being obscenely long and multi-chaptered like most of my plot bunnies. rolls eyes The bit about Ron sucking…that was modified from a late-night stand-up comedian. I thought it was hilarious, myself. And ‘The Grimoire of Pope Honorius III’ is an actual book; according to what I’ve read, it was almost an instruction manual for priests on how to conjure demons. Big debate as to whether he actually wrote it or not, but I’m still tempted to buy it and read it. One book review called him the ‘famous papal sorcerer of the Middle Ages’…I thought that was very cool. Hehehe.