Fancy me, Fancy you

A/N: Concepts and characters are still JKR's, much as I wish it were otherwise. ;)

Chapter 5 – Fancy me, Fancy you

Hermione was in the Potions laboratory one afternoon in late August, where she and Snape were putting the finishing touches on her experimental potion. He said, “I believe that's it, Miss Granger, until it ages the two months your calculations indicated.”

“Yes, I suppose it is,” she agreed. They began bottling the potion. It would age in a dark cupboard, sealed in single-dose bottles. They worked in silence for a few minutes.

It was disconcerting for Hermione to find that she was reluctant to leave, knowing she had no reason to come back until well after classes had begun. Of course, she would be taking NEWT level Potions, but she suspected that the easy working relationship they had developed over the summer might disappear in the presence of other students. It would have to, really, if Snape was to maintain his cover.

Another thought occurred to her suddenly. “Sir,” she ventured, “how will we test the potion, once it has aged sufficiently?”

He glanced at her. “How do you suggest?”

“Well, I don't know,” she said reluctantly, half expecting him to make a sarcastic comment about something the know-it-all didn't know. “I suppose we'll need permission from the Ministry …”

“Yes,” Snape said, once again forgoing the easy opportunity to insult her. “Although, as Hogwarts already has permission to use Cruciatus for demonstration purposes in Defense class, perhaps we should just vaguely mention that we are experimenting with possible defenses without specifically mentioning this potion.”

“All right,” Hermione said thoughtfully. “If you'd rather the Ministry didn't know …”

“The Dark Lord has spies in the Ministry. I'd prefer that they not find out for as long as we can avoid it – having a defensive potion that they don't know about could be a major advantage when the Final Battle commences.”

“Point taken,” Hermione said, and smiled at him. He stared at her for what seemed ages, and as had been happening frequently in recent weeks, she found she couldn't look away from his black eyes. Her heart seemed to skip a beat, then resume in a rapid tattoo that she was certain he must be able to hear. After an eternity, he cleared his throat and looked away.

“We'll most likely need to borrow one of Hagrid's creatures to test the potion on,” he said abruptly.

“Do you think he'll let us?” Hermione asked.

“If it's put to him properly, he probably will,” Snape replied. “I'll see if the Headmaster will discuss it with him.”

“All right.”

Hermione watched him as he began clearing up their work area. After a moment, she asked, “Are there any more potions to be brewed for the infirmary?”

“A few,” Snape said. “You needn't concern yourself with them. You have completed your independent study, and you may as well enjoy what's left of the summer.”

“That's all right, I don't mind helping,” Hermione said hastily. When he looked at her skeptically, she shrugged, “I'll get bored if I don't have anything to keep me occupied.”

“Don't you usually read ahead the entire year's worth of textbooks each summer?” he asked dryly. “You must feel dreadfully behind.”

She stared at him, shocked. Was he teasing her? She daren't ask, as he would probably only deny it anyway. “Oh, I'm nearly finished with that already,” she admitted, feeling a flush creep into her cheeks. “I owl-ordered the books weeks ago, and I've been reading them in the mornings ever since I finished the Arithmancy portion of the project last month."

Snape rolled his eyes. “Of course you have. Silly me.”

Hermione barely restrained the question on the tip of her tongue. Sir, are you flirting with me? Instead, she asked, “So, shall I assist you with the remaining potions?”

“If you must,” Snape replied, but his tone was rather more pleased than not. She smiled at him as he added, “Come by after breakfast. We'll have an early start and you can finish off the year's syllabi in the afternoon.”

After Miss Granger left the laboratory, Snape let out a relieved breath and headed into his office. He was definitely getting too comfortable with the girl.

Well, comfortable wasn't really the right word, exactly, he thought, shifting uneasily in his chair. Informal, perhaps, would be a better word for it. The problem was, he was having trouble remembering that she was a student – his student. She simply wasn't annoying him the way she once had, or the way most students still did.

In fact, he was increasingly finding her company pleasant. Her conversation was intelligent, her mind stimulating, her thought processes fascinating. Not that he would ever admit that out loud. He was barely willing to admit it silently, to himself.

And he certainly couldn't acknowledge that he was finding it increasingly difficult to ignore the fact that she was an attractive, adult female …

That, of course, was dangerous – for both of them. He couldn't afford to slip and be pleasant, or even neutral, to her in front of any of the other students, once they returned, unless he wanted to undermine years of work and decades of sacrifice by blowing his position in the Dark Lord's Inner Circle.

He glanced at the magical window, which was charmed to show the fields and greenhouses that were on this side of the building just one floor up. It was still only mid-afternoon, so he could work for a few hours on his plan for the lessons Dumbledore had asked him to teach Potter this year. Sighing, he pulled it out, not wanting to think about how unpleasant that chore would be.

Hours later, he glanced up again at the magical window, setting the lesson plan aside. Sunlight had crept halfway across the room while he had been working on it, and he could now hear distant sounds of movement from the dormitories above. He was confused for a moment, before he realized that it must be dinnertime; the house-elves likely had assumed he had gone to the Great Hall and were taking the opportunity to begin getting the Slytherin dormitories sorted for the upcoming term. They did so each year around this time, and after all these years, they knew better than to do anything so close to his office during his usual working hours.

Pushing the lesson plans aside, he headed to the Great Hall. He ruthlessly suppressed the anticipation that tried to surge up at the thought that he might see Miss Granger, and she might smile at him. He could not afford to think of that now. Going soft would certainly get him killed.

Quote from OP: "Sunlight had crept halfway across the room while he had been working on it, and he could now hear distant sounds of movement from the dormitories above."