Lesson Two

Lesson Two

"Oi, Hermione! Wait up!"

Hermione winced at the annoying high-pitched whinge of Colin Creevey's voice and started walking a little faster. Besides the fact that she really didn't want to talk to Colin right now...he hadn't really taken the news well that she would no longer tutor Dennis in Potions...she was late for a meeting with a second-year who had asked to be tutored in Charms. The flip-flap of Colin's trainers slowed as he reached her side and met her pace.

"At least slow down a little. I need to talk to you," Colin wheezed, red-faced.

Looking at the boy sideways, Hermione guiltily relented. "What do you want, Colin? I'm late for a tutoring session."

"What a coincidence! That's exactly what I wanted to talk to you about," Colin replied a little too exuberantly for Hermione's taste and temper.

She stopped in her tracks, making Colin stumble. "Oh, really? I suppose you're going to give me a sob story about how Dennis is about to fail Potions, and only I can help him?"

"Well, I..."

"Please." She put her hand up to stop any excuse the boy could possibly come up with. "I happen to know that Dennis is in no danger whatsoever of failing Potions. In fact, he aced the last examination. So, as much as I am going to miss the extra money, he doesn't need my services any longer, and that is my final say on the matter."

Hermione turned to walk away, but Colin stopped her with a hand on her arm. "Wait, Hermione. I wasn't going to mention Potions."

"You weren't?" she asked skeptically, hesitating slightly.

"No, I wasn't. Transfiguration is your best subject, isn't it?" Colin nodded. It was a rhetorical question, really.

"Well, yes, it is, but..."

"Dennis has to learn how to transfigure a frog into a tea bag by Friday's class. He got reprimanded yesterday by McGonagall when his tea bag burst open, ran under one of the closets and wouldn't come out. I don't think she's found it yet."

"Humph." She really had nothing to say to that. Frogs were expensive, and Professor McGonagall was loath to purchase too many extras, figuring that mistakes were generally reversible.

"You can ask McGonagall, if you don't believe me."

"No, I don't need to. Half of my class never got that transfiguration down right. It's a difficult one, especially for that year," she conceded.

"Anyway, if he doesn't learn, she is going to give him detention on Saturday, and Saturday is a Hogsmeade weekend. We were planning to buy a Christmas present for our Mum on Saturday. I'll pay you double if you can tutor him again, say tonight after dinner?" Colin's eyebrows shot up and his bangs flopped up and down, seeming to agree in Hermione's stead.

"Tonight? Well, I was going to study for an Arithmancy midterm, and Professor Binns asked for a foot on how Hengist of Woodcroft helped defeat the rebels..." She looked at Colin's slowly falling face. "Oh, all right, Colin. If it will make you stop looking like someone plucked all the feathers off your owl, I'll do it."

"Brilliant! I mean, thank you! I mean, Dennis thanks you!" He pumped her hand vigorously. "I better go and tell Dennis!"

"You do that." Hermione laughed and shook her head as Colin sprinted down the corridor in search of his brother. Then, she turned toward the library and sighed. Why did she agree to this? Why was Colin so exasperatingly convincing? She should have said no. Still, the money she'd earn would give her enough to finish her own Christmas shopping on Saturday. At least that was something.

~~~o o~~~

Hermione squealed and tucked her legs beneath her as a slimy tea bag on legs jumped around her ankles, littering the floor with tea leaves.

"I'm so sorry, Hermione!" Dennis apologized as he chased after the abomination and brushed up the leaves before Madam Pince would notice. "I just don't know what I'm doing wrong. I listen in class. I'm following Professor McGonagall's instructions to the wand flick. I can't afford to miss this Hogsmeade weekend!" he whinged.

"Calm down, Dennis." She uncurled her legs and straightened her robes. "How about you show me...slowly and without the frog...the wand motions, and we'll start from there."

Dennis took out his wand, carefully pointed it away from her, and mimicked the motions he'd learned: a half-arc followed by an upstroke, a spiral with a stop halfway through, a stroke backwards half an arc, and then a follow-through.

"What exactly was that? Professor McGonagall couldn't have possibly told you to do that," Hermione said.

"What do you mean? It's exactly what she showed us." Dennis looked confused.

"You hesitated and flicked backwards before the follow-through."

"That's not supposed to happen?" he asked.

"No."

"Darn. Maybe I should have watched her do it the second time. She sort of, well, sneezed the first time. I just began practicing, and I guess I got too caught up and didn't pay attention. How could I be so stupid? Now I'm going to miss going to Hogsmeade and..."

"Dennis? Dennis, stop!" Hermione raised her voice only slightly so as not to irritate Madam Pince. "Just calm down, and I think we can manage to fix this together."

An hour and twenty tries later, Hermione sat watching Dennis' tea bag bounce across the table and split open.

"At least it doesn't have legs?" he said hopefully.

"Yeah, there's that," Hermione answered halfheartedly while stretching and rubbing her neck.

"Here, let me get that," Dennis said as he came around the table.

"Get wha..." Suddenly, hands were on her shoulders. "Oh!" she exclaimed in surprise. "Dennis, what are you doing?"

"I'm loosening the crick in your neck. It's the least I can do for showing me what I was doing wrong." His hot, clammy hands gripped the loose skin between her shoulders and neck and kneaded it like dough.

"Ow! Dennis, you don't have to do this. I'm okay." She tried to move away, but he was very insistent and wouldn't let her go.

"No, you're not okay. You are really tense. See? The muscles are cracking like twigs." He ground the muscle roughly to prove his point. "Just relax, Hermione. It'll feel better in no time."

Hermione sat in absolute discomfort, both physically and emotionally. She almost felt nauseous at the feel of his hands upon her neck. It just seemed a little too close, too intimate for what she perceived their relationship to be. Professor Snape's words from a few nights earlier echoed in her head: Did it ever occur to you that the boy may be fond of you?

Trying to hide her nausea with a smile she could only hope was kind, Hermione lied, "Thank you, Dennis. I feel much better. You really do have a talent giving neck massages."

"You really think so?" he asked eagerly.

Suddenly, she worried that maybe she had laid it on too thick; he sounded almost encouraged, and she didn't want that. Quickly, she tried to put a damper on it.

"Yes, Dennis, I do. Now, I think our lesson is over. You need to practice some more on your own, and I need to study for my Arithmancy midterm. I'll see you around the common room later, perhaps." She spoke matter-of-factly, hoping that Dennis would get the hint and leave without asking her to walk back with him.

"All right, Hermione. Thanks. Maybe if you get back early, I could show you how my practice session went?" Dennis bounced up and down much like his brother. She almost laughed, but she didn't want to encourage him any further.

"If I get back early, why not?" she replied. "Now, go before Madam Pince scolds us for talking."

"Right! Okay, Hermione! See you later, then... Bye!"

She watched Dennis leave. Only when she was sure that he was out the door and most definitely not coming back did she let her head fall on top of her folded arms in combined exhaustion, exasperation and... pain.

"Ow," she whinged to no one but herself.

"Unless my mind is playing tricks on me, I believe I warned you about that boy," a voice admonished from above.

Hermione sat up in surprise and instantly regretted it. Her hand flew to the damaged muscles in her neck, and she grimaced in pain. "You most certainly did, sir."

"I must say, from your expression, you weren't enjoying Mr. Creevey's advances, which leaves me confused as to why you would lead him on by tutoring him again." Although Professor Snape looked down his nose at her, there was something less severe in his manner, something less formal.

"Advances?" Hermione asked incredulously. "You must be joking. All he was doing was massaging my sore neck, and rather badly at that."

"Anyone who witnessed Mr. Creevey massaging your sore neck would have to say that you looked extremely uncomfortable... and I doubt it was entirely from the pain. But, what is completely baffling is that you told him...what was it again...that he had talent giving neck massages."

"Well, I didn't want to hurt his feelings...."

"Do you think I would have much success keeping control of my classroom if I worried about the students' feelings?" he asked.

"No, sir, probably not."

"The boy was flirting with you...something you obviously didn't welcome nor reciprocate...and you decided not to hurt his feelings. I am wondering, what do you think that accomplished?"

While she was enjoying the professor's guidance on the matter, she was beginning to feel a little ridiculous. "He was not flirting with me. All he did was..."

"Massage your neck. I know," he finished for her.

"Well, yes. Aside from him touching me, I do not see how that was flirting, necessarily. It certainly was not enjoyable." Logically, she realized that he probably knew what he was talking about. Still, it seemed a little illogical that a clumsy neck rub...especially one that made her feel worse...was a come on of any kind.

Sighing, Professor Snape walked around the table and stood behind Hermione's chair. "When a man...or boy as the case may be...gives a girl a massage, he most certainly is flirting, whether it feels good to the girl or not. Might I add, a boy is generally too inexperienced to know what feels good to the girl."

Gently, the professor tilted her head to lie back upon her arms, gathered the mass of hair that hung down her back and swept it to the side. Resting his hands on either shoulder, he rubbed small circles with his thumb over the exposed flesh. "How good it feels usually depends upon the level of experience. Boys," he said the word with a hint of distaste, "usually are clumsy at best in their inexperience. If you are lucky, you will occasionally be blessed with a fast learner."

His hands were cool upon her inflamed muscle and, though hardly moving, seemed to work magic. His fingers miraculously found each aching tendon as they worked around the base of her neck and up the sore nodules of her spine. It felt so good that she nearly forgot to reply. When she did, she almost wished she had kept her mouth shut.

"Were you a fast learner as a boy, sir?"

Something that sounded suspiciously like a chuckle...though she knew better...came from his vicinity. Afraid that she had offended him, her shoulders tensed up again. Suddenly, his breath was hot upon her ear, making her blood pump quicker. "Learning is a never-ending process, Miss Granger, something that probably appeals to your sensibilities. But, to answer your question, yes, I sort of prided myself on being a fast learner... as a boy."

She was glad her face was still buried in her arms. The blood seemed to be pumping straight to her face, causing her cheeks to heat. His skilful hands not only melted the knots in her neck, but seemed to burn her skin at the same time. Although, it happened to be extraordinarily pleasant, almost like his touch held a certain awareness...or perhaps it caused a certain awareness in her.

And then, he was guiding her back to a sitting position and adjusting her hair to hang down her back once again. She looked up at him and smiled. "That felt brilliant." She laughed lightly. "Sorry. That sounds so... childish."

His eyes crinkled as his mouth creased into an almost indiscernible smile. "No, not childish, Miss Granger. You are not a child. Inexperienced, yes, but not a child."

That simple statement made her glow from within, especially coming from him. "I just...I feel so naïve, so... so stupid because I don't see things the way others see them. I don't want to lead Dennis on, but I guess...well, if I could read minds, everything would be much simpler, wouldn't it?"

This time, she actually witnessed him chuckle and saw how it softened the sharp angles of his face for a brief second. Hermione felt as though she were seeing the person within, behind the mask. That made her blush once again, and she looked down to prevent him from noticing.

Professor Snape grasped her chin gently and tilted her face upward to look her straight in the eyes. "Never be embarrassed of your inexperience," he said softly. His thumb burned a path across her jawline. "Your only fault is that you don't think you are worthy of the attentions of a boy...or a man. If you truly believed it, you would know instantly when a man is flirting with you."

Hermione felt her eyes beginning to glaze over at the intensity of his gaze. There was something there, not his usual classroom harshness but something she couldn't quite discern. "I suppose you're right. I just don't understand why anyone would be interested beyond a little help to get a passing grade."

For a second, she didn't realize what was happening. In the blink of an eye, he let go of her chin and knelt before her, the hush of his robes forming a pool at her feet. She refocused on him, but her attention was taken by the coolness of the air upon her skin where his fingers had just been.

"And never think that is all anyone would be interested in," he whispered, though his voice sounded loud to her ears as the declaration branded itself upon her brain.

The kiss they had shared only a few days ago had never left her. She found herself daydreaming about it as she sat through classes...especially his. Now all she could think about was his hands on her skin, soothing her, healing her... touching her. She felt an almost irrational desire to feel his touch again. Could this be what he meant by flirting? That something as simple as a massage could feel good, experience notwithstanding, if the advance was welcomed?

"Hermione?" He reached out to move a curl that had fallen across her cheek.

"Yes?" she whispered, uncertain she could speak with her heart in her throat.

They were so close, she could see the veins in the irises of his eyes. The pulse at the base of her neck throbbed, and she knew it was probably very obvious to him as well. Her mind swam with the sudden intense desire to feel his lips once again upon hers. Her heart was clamoring for it. She felt lightheaded at the possibility of it happening again.

Without thinking...for all thought had abandoned her...she closed the short distance that remained between them and pressed her lips against his, hoping beyond hope that he wouldn't be offended, that he would return the kiss, that he would need it as much as she did. The sharp intake of breath he took through his nose as their lips met almost discouraged her, but then he sighed and relaxed into her touch, his lips softening. The kiss was sweet, as though she were biting into a perfectly ripe fruit, and his lips parted to share it with her.

He pulled back slowly, almost reluctantly, though still gazing at her with the same intensity as before. She fell into the pools of his eyes and knew, without him having to say a word, that he felt the need as powerfully as she had. He wasn't offended in the least.

"You are aware, Miss Granger," she never knew her formal name could sound so sensual coming from anyone's lips, not to mention his, "that this is not the appropriate place for such behavior?" The words admonished, but the voice did not. It was merely a suggestion.

"No, you're right, sir. It is not the appropriate place. Perhaps..." She hesitated, unsure of whether she should be the one suggesting anything. "Perhaps you know of a more suitable place?"

"Normally, I would give a detention for such a suggestion." His lips tightened into a half-smile, and his tone betrayed his amusement.

"Well, then, perhaps you should give me a detention," she said shyly, but with a fair attempt at being playful. Professor Snape's eyes sharpened, and she realized that she had just flirted with her professor.

He smiled fully. "Yes, I think you are right. Perhaps a detention is in order... Let's say, oh, Friday night at seven o'clock?"

As she nodded her assent wordlessly...feeling quite odd at actually consenting to a detention...Professor Snape stood and silently strode out of the library. She watched as he walked out the door and fervently wished that he would turn around and come back. Giving up, she sighed and let her head drop back onto her folded arms, dreaming about what Friday night would bring.

~ End Lesson Two ~