Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I play with them as I like, but alas, they are not mine. Neither these charcaters, or this world in general belongs to me, or anyone not named J.K. Rowling. No copyright infringement is intended.

"Could you pass the jam?"

"Hmm?"

"Are you with me, Hermione? I asked if you could pass the jam. And for the record, the look in your eye scares the beejezus out of me," Harry commented, while waving toast in front of the contemplative Hermione. Harry had become the new Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor at the start of the fall term last month. Consequently, that meant he was also the flavor of the month for every student in the school (the boys too, although hopefully for different reasons).

"Oh, right, the jam. Here you are, Harry. Sorry." Hermione absentmindedly passed him the jam, nearly knocking over his pumpkin juice in the process. Harry deftly caught the jar before the collision, sideglancing his companion before reaching for the knife.

"So, are you gonna tell me what's on your mind, or should I get Snape to use Legilimency on you?" Harry laughed while saying this, but nearly choked on his toast when Hermione turned big, scared eyes on him.

"Merlin, Hermione, it was joke. I wouldn't do that to you," he tried to comfort her, but secretly wondered if it should really come to that.

"I'm just gonna get out of your way, Harry," she said, while rising out of her chair. "I'm not really that hungry. I need to go to the library anyway."

As she walked away, Harry thought it odd that she could be distracted by something other than a book. Although, knowing her, she probably had them all memorized and was reading them in her head as she walked away.

"Miss Granger! Are you going to insist on being late for the day?" Snape snapped at her, startling her from her book.

"Oh, Professor, I didn't see you there. For your information I was doing research for my current potion." Hermione bit her lip in anticipation, knowing he didn't tolerate disrespect now anymore than when she was a student.

He gave her a calculating look, before exhaling a single sigh. "I apologize Miss Granger, but I really need you to be on time. If my own apprentice can't be on time, why should my students?"

'An apology? From Snape? Oh crap, what's he up to? I'm not grading anymore first years' papers if that's what he's thinking, I had to take three doses of headache potion the last time. Alright, civility it is.' "I apologize as well, Professor Snape. The time got away from me for a while, and thank you for retrieving me, I know that's not your job."

'He's putty in my hands.'

'She's putty in my hands.'

Two classes, fifty points from Gryffindor, thirty from Hufflepuff, and twenty-five from Ravenclaw (none from Slytherin, of course; the war may be over, but he was still a biased bastard) later, and lunch was served in the Great Hall.

Why she always chose to sit with Potter, Snape would never know, but as he looked one more time to make sure she wasn't coming over to him, he caught the knowing (annoying is more like it) look from Minerva.

"How is the apprentice working out now that the new term has begun?" Minerva quipped.

Severus scowled, but replied none the less, "Miss Granger is adequate, as always. Well, at least she hasn't blown anything up yet, but that's a firm yet."

"Severus Snape! You know as well as I do that Hermione has never blown up a single cauldron in her life," Minerva nearly spat at him. He loved to rile her up. "And furthermore, she's the best apprentice you've ever had! It wouldn't kill you to compliment her every once in a while, but seeing as it's never happened, I'm not entirely sure it wouldn't kill you."

"Minerva, you know as well as I do that Miss Granger is the only apprentice I've ever had, so of course she's the best." Minerva was nearly purple by the time he finished. It was the best sparring he'd had all day.

She sat there thinking over what he said before finally adding, "She is the best student you've ever had, the best apprentice you'll ever have, and the best person for you to be around."

As lunch went by, neither had anything else to add, but as Snape got up to leave, Minerva touched his arm.

"Just think about what I said."

'Do all Headmasters/Headmistresses have damned twinkles?'

Knock! Knock!

"Enter," he barked, the same way he did every time someone knocked on his door, invited or not.

"Professor, could I have a word with you?" She sat there shivering slightly under his gaze, playing the scared apprentice to the tee.

"Fine, Miss Granger, out with it. I have first years' essays to grade, seeing as you refuse to do it." He sneered; he'd had a headache since dinner, and it was well past nine. Minerva kept looking over at him, probably to see if he was looking at Hermione.

"Um, well, sir..." She was interupted by a large eagle owl that flew in. After dropping a large object on Snape's desk, however, it flew off, not even waiting for acknowledgement, let alone a treat. Snape scowled, all mail should have been received at breakfast.

"Well, I'll just leave you to your package, sir." And before he could comment she scurried away, looking like a scared rodent, slaming the door in her hurry.

Snape (being Snape) flung every possible detection charm on the object before delicately tearing the paper away to be confronted with a book. A book? He didn't remember ordering any new books. The browsing at the bookshop was the best part of buying books. He never ordered books. But there it was anyway, staring back, taunting him to open it. But as he picked it up to do just that, a note slid out, and in the script of a Quick Quotes Quill said,

'Severus,

Concerned for your sex life.'

"Well, 'Concerned for my sex life,' what the hell are you talking about?" Snape was more than a little worried, but as he read the prologue, a crooked smiled lit up his Slytherin face.

Hermione was worried. Snape had now complimented her on her potions and her clothes (this was a particular shock). 'Exactly what could he be up to?' she wondered, walking to dinner two days later. She thought her present was enough to get him going, but perhaps he'd found another bouncing beauty.

"Perhaps you could join me in my office after dinner?" Snape was the last person she thought she'd hear say that.

"Of course, Professor." It was a little breathy on the way out, but the spark in those onyx eyes let her know he appreciated it. Well, perhaps she was a little bouncy today after all.

His plans were working perfectly. By tomorrow morning he'd have her right were he wanted her. Now all he needed to do was contact Dobby to order breakfast in bed for two.

Sitting next to Harry a few minutes later earned her an odd look from Minerva, but she couldn't fathom why.

"How's life treating my favorite Defence teacher?" she asked Harry, noticing the very tempting beef stew on the table for the first time.

"You mean aside from the annoying, blushing, love note-leaving fan girls I have trotting through my classroom every hour or so?" At her look of amusement he continued, "Well, honestly, life's good, or at least the day was. Ron's note this morning said that he would be by tomorrow for dinner. I thought we might all eat in your quarters. How does that sound?"

"Should I assume the use of my quarters suggests the use of your rooms could be detrimental to our health?"

Lightly blushing, he countered, "At least my quarters offer a slow death, unlike the quick death an avalanche of books offers. Know where a book avalanche may occur?"

With a mouth full of beef stew, she could only respond with a fear-inducing look.

"Ah, come on. You're entirely too neat to let an avalanche actually occur." Harry received an eye-roll in response.

Dinner moved slowly after that. Friendly banter was good for passing time, but could only last for so long. Besides, the anticipation was killing her. Was Snape really asking her to be the bouncing beauty for his story, or was he simply going to ask for some apprentice duty?

Snape paced his office like a caged panther. What was taking her so long? He had already placed the thick volume in what he deemed the perfect location, right at her eye level. Now all he had to do was get her near it. He knew she couldn't resist asking him what he was doing with a book like that on his shelves. For once, he was looking forward to her constant curiosity.

He had tried everything he knew to find out who had sent that package, even going to Hogsmeade to question the owl post service. He was repeatedly told that it wasn't their job to find out who the package was from. He didn't think they bought his story about being so impressed with the present that he wanted to return the favor. With the exception of the postmaster and maybe one or two more, they had all been his students and were therefore aware of what he was probably wanting to return to the sender. So he had given up, continuing to plot on what he deemed 'the Granger problem.'

And all that plotting would pay off soon, if the damn girl would get her very nice derriere down here. Soon, 'the Granger problem' would be no more, and he could enjoy that derriere all he liked.

'Where the hell is she?' He had to stop himself from stamping his foot like a petulant child.

Pacing outside Snape's door, Hermione was attempting to talk herself out of being disappointed if he was indeed only seeking apprentice help tonight.

'But why ask me down here after dinner in that entirely too sexy voice of his? He could have asked at any point today if it wasn't anything personal. Okay, Granger, you're second-guessing yourself. This is what you wanted. You know what you're here for, even if he doesn't. You don't need him to bring up the book. If you need to, admit you sent it, then convince him to join you inside.'

Deciding that would work, she lifted her hand to knock. 'Besides, I know entirely too many hexes to let him get away with refusing. He's going in with me tonight, willing or not.'

Smirk firmly in place, she knocked.

'Finally.'

Snape threw open the door to a determined Hermione Granger. That was new. 'Is she smirking? Can Gryffindors smirk?'

"Do come in, Miss Granger. I'd hate to have you catch cold in the dungeon corridor. What would Minerva say?" Snape smirked right back at her, wondering if he would have to be anymore pleasant than he was now. He wasn't sure he could do it.

"She'd probably march right down here in her tartan bathrobe, inform you I had the next week off, and warn you strongly against apprentice slavery," Hermione countered.

As she sauntered in his office, Snape found himself impressed. She had shown up late, smirked, been a smart-arse, and sauntered into his office. She was definitely a worthy opponent.

"Well have a seat girl, you've already relaxed your mouth as it is." Wait, maybe that wasn't the way to phrase that.

Quirking a single eyebrow at him, she waited. Anything she had to say about that comment couldn't make him anymore flustered that he had already made himself, and he would get to why he wanted her here soon enough. She wouldn't rush this rare, akward moment.

"Well, that is to say, how was your dinner?" Snape had no idea why he asked that question. It seemed a good idea at the time; then again, so had the previous comment.

"My dinner? It was fine, the same as yours I suppose, being that we sit at the same table." She wouldn't make this easy for him. He should accept that now.

Looking around, desperately trying to relieve the tension-filled silence, he caught sight of the book, the reason she was here, his savior to 'the Granger problem.'

"So... have you read any good books lately?" Severus asked, wishing he had planned this manipulation/seduction a little better.

Her eyes brightened. He knew that look. She was excited, probably about getting to tell him all about some obscure text she was currently perusing. "As a matter of fact, I'm currently rereading an old classic, one of my favorites: Dracula."

This was good. Perhaps he didn't notice that gleam in her eye, but this was too good to pass up. He had played directly into her hand.

"I noticed, sir, that you seem to have a copy of it as well," she said, while pointing to his copy on the shelves.

Moving towards it, she noticed he was barely breathing. Was this not what he wanted? Too late now, she was plunging in. "But, sir, this says Dracula: Volume One. Is this an unabridged version?"

She was opening it now. His breathing was getting more and more shallow. Why wasn't he saying anything, stopping her, something?

By now she had flipped to Chapter One. All it would take was one word, but would he follow?

"Dracula..."