A/N: *bounces in, grinning*

*meant for this to be a short chapter*

*wrote 9k words instead*

*facepalm*

*cackles as she runs away*

xx-Kitten.

That Damn Purple Vial

By Kittenshift17

Two

For weeks, she couldn't bear to even make eye contact with him. Throughout meals, and even in classes, she didn't dare meet his dark gaze; not even when she felt its heavy weight upon her as she moved through her life. She couldn't face him after the kiss they'd shared. She'd had dreams about him every other night since then, and even devolved to childish fantasies of a happily ever after and a white picket fence and a collection of children with her silly hair and his sharp-eyed gaze.

She'd never even considered motherhood before, and now here she was doodling the names of non-existent children she might have with the man in the margins of her notebooks when she was supposed to be paying attention. Hermione had heard that Cormac hadn't gotten away unscathed from his supposed attempts to woo her as he'd done – and she was fairly certain it had been him because he'd popped up beside her the very next night when she'd been cleaning out her school bag, idly asking her questions and suggesting they go on a date, while his hawk eyes searched her belongings and watched with confusion as she upended the bag to empty it of anything and everything that might've fallen in.

She herself had flatly turned him down and told him in no uncertain terms that she wasn't interested in dating him. She'd even told him she no longer wished to attend Professor Slughorn's Christmas do with him. It hadn't gone over well, though she'd made sure to do so in earshot of several of her fellow students at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall. She had tried not to dwell too heavily on the fact that when he'd grown indignant and reached for her, insisting that they could have something great, Professor Snape had loomed over her from behind.

The man had decimated the boy beyond belief, dressing him down for everything from his uncombed hair and untucked shirt all the way through to his poor performance on the Quidditch pitch during the most recent Gryffindor versus Slytherin match. He'd accused him of laziness, pathetic-ness, misogyny, buffoonery, and everything in between. He'd given Cormac a detention when he'd argued back in the Great Hall, and Hermione had heard that Snape had gone on to provoke the boy in class, picking on him for every duel demonstration and making a fool of him and then punishing him when he messed up, or spoke back, or most interestingly, fought back.

Cormac had detention four nights a week – argued down from the full seven by Professor McGonagall when she'd heard about it. Of course, even her protests had fallen by the wayside after a time and Hermione could only assume that Snape had told McGonagall that Cormac had been harassing her and that he was simply attempting to protect her female students from being preyed upon by lechers.

"Miss Granger, see me after class," Professor McGonagall's voice intruded on her psyche and Hermione looked up from where she'd been doodling in the margins of her notebook – drawing the house and picket fence that had filled up her dreams the previous evening.

"I… yes, Professor," Hermione said, her cheeks turning pink before she quickly snapped her notebook to a new page when Harry leaned over to investigate her distraction.

For the remainder of the lesson, she meticulously took notes even though she was already far advanced beyond the curriculum and had already mastered the day's transfiguration spell. Harry shot her curious glances, but Hermione didn't engage him. The last thing she needed was to draw even more attention to her situation.

"I'll wait for you outside," Harry muttered to her as the bell rang and they all began packing up.

"Don't worry about it," Hermione shook her head. "I'll see you in Herbology. Save me a pair of secateurs."

Harry looked worried, but he nodded before trudging out of the classroom. Hermione didn't move from her desk while the rest of her peers dragged their feet on leaving, evidently curious to see what their resident star-pupil was in trouble for that she needed to remain behind. Professor McGonagall waited as well, glaring over the top of her spectacles at Pansy Parkinson and Daphne Greengrass when both girls took as long as possible to pack away their things and vacate the room. Nosy gossips, Hermione thought uncharitably as finally their heeled school-shoes clicked on the stone floor all the way out the door.

Professor McGonagall used magic to close the heavy wooden thing behind them with a resounding thud. Hermione waited quietly, wondering if all this fuss was really necessary over a bit of mindless doodling.

"Miss Granger," she beckoned when they were alone. "I think we'll take this discussion in my office if you don't mind? Bring your books."

Hermione was surprised when the deputy headmistress swept to the back of the room and into the office beyond. Surely a little doodling in her notebook didn't warrant and in-office discussion… Nonetheless, Hermione rose to her feet and collected her things quickly before following the Professor into her office.

"Close the door behind you, Hermione," Professor McGonagall said when she entered, and Hermione raised her eyebrows before doing as she was bid.

When she turned back, Professor McGonagall had produced a teapot and some cups from somewhere, which she filled and quickly boiled before pouring them each a cup.

"I'm sorry I wasn't paying attention during the lesson, Professor," Hermione offered when McGonagall remained quiet while she fixed them tea and fished a box of biscuits from one of the drawers in her desk, setting one on each saucer.

"You've been very distracted these past few weeks, I've noticed?" the Professor offered when, finally, she handed over the cup of tea and had sipped her own.

"I'm sorry," Hermione said weakly.

"May I?" Professor McGonagall asked, holding out her hand.

Hermione tried to return to teacup, but the professor clicked her tongue.

"Your notebook," she clarified when Hermione frowned in confusion.

"Oh," Hermione said, her cheeks turning pink.

She fished the book from her bag and handed it over to the teacher, fidgeting with her cup some more and nibbling nervously on her biscuit while Professor McGonagall opened it and began flipping through the pages.

"Several weeks, I see," McGonagall commented idly. "You draw this house and fence quite often, don't you?"

"I… yes, Professor," Hermione offered lamely. "Sorry, ma'am."

"What are these names?" the Professor asked. "Atticus. Morgana. Nikolai. Sulis. These are not the names of any students here at Hogwarts, I don't believe?"

"They're not," Hermione agreed, her cheeks growing hot. She'd forgotten that she'd scribbled down some of the names she liked for the little boys and girls she dreamed of having with her Potions Professor.

"They have some meaning to you?" Professor McGonagall asked.

"Just nice names that I liked," Hermione hedged, shrugging her shoulders. "Professor, I really should be getting to Herobology…."

"I'm sure Pomona can spare you for the afternoon," Professor McGonagall disagreed. "I want to discuss something with you."

"About my doodling?" Hermione asked.

"About Cormac McClaggen, Ronald Weasley, and Professor Snape," Professor McGonagall corrected her before closing Hermione's notebook and sipping some more of her tea.

"Erm… what about them, Professor?" Hermione asked, her cheeks growing impossibly hotter.

Sweet Merlin, she hadn't been muttering Mrs Hermione Snape while she doodled, had she?

"Recently, Mr McClaggen has found himself in a spot of trouble with Severus," Professor McGonagall said. "Indeed, the man seems to despise the boy. Do you know anything about that?"

"Should I, Professor?" Hermione asked, certain that the very last thing Professor Snape wanted or needed was her telling McGonagall about the vial of purple potion and their resultant snog to get themselves unglued from one another.

"Severus suggested that you might know something about why he has sought to so severely punish Mr McClaggen for seemingly mild instances of misbehaviour."

"Erm…" Hermione said.

"In fact, Severus heavily suggested that Mr McClaggen has been harassing you, Miss Granger, and that he is performing a public service as both a man and a teacher to safeguard girls of this school against the vileness of Mr McClaggen."

"Is that what he said?" Hermione asked, frowning.

"Not in as many words," Professor McGonagall replied. "However, he implied that Cormac has been harassing you, Miss Granger. Is this true?"

"I…" Hermione bit her lip before she sighed, her shoulders sagging a little. "Technically, I suppose."

"Technically, you suppose?" Professor McGonagall repeated. "Miss Granger, I have been facing down Severus on Mr McClaggen's behalf believing his punishments to have been the unfair result of Severus baiting to idiot boy, as he often does with Harry. Why is Severus under the impression that Mr McClaggen is harassing you, and why is he punishing him in this manner? None of the incident reports suggest that you were involved in any of the indictments excluding the first."

"In the Great Hall, a few weeks ago?" Hermione guessed.

"That is the only report making mention of you by name," Professor McGonagall said.

Hermione sighed. She really didn't want to discuss this silly matter, and least of all when she would need to tiptoe around the purple vial issue and the kiss that she'd shared with Professor Snape.

"Several months ago, I asked Cormac to be my date to Professor Slughorn's Christmas do for his Slug Club," Hermione offered, shrugging. "Since then, Cormac has attempted to convince me to date him, whether it be by carrying my books, holding my hand, accompanying me to Hogsmeade or asking me to fawn stupidly while he attends Quidditch training. As I'd no real romantic interest in him, and no wish to offend him lest I find myself dateless for the Christmas do for a second time, I had been gently rebuffing his attempts to woo me. He hasn't taken them particularly well."

"Meaning?"

Hermione shrugged. "He ignored my rebuffs and misconstrued them for me simply playing hard-to-get."

"I see," Professor McGonagall frowned fiercely. "And how is it that Severus is involved?"

Thinking quickly, Hermione sighed.

"A few weeks ago, Cormac ignored my protests about not wanting to be alone with him, scooped me up over his shoulder, and attempted to carry me off to the nearest broom cupboard," Hermione said. "Harry intervened at the time, thank goodness. The following day at lunch in the Great Hall, I made it clear to Cormac that I didn't appreciate his attentions, am not interested in him romantically, and no longer wished to attend the Slug Club function as his date. He didn't take it particularly well, and while we were arguing about it, Professor Snape intervened."

"Did you report Mr McClaggen's behaviour to Severus at the time?" Minerva asked.

"I suppose," Hermione shrugged her shoulders, though technically it was a lie. "It was he who pointed out that Cormac's behaviour was more dangerous than I previously considered and he who suggested that it might be in my best interests to take steps to avoid being alone with Cormac, henceforth."

"I see," Professor McGonagall nodded again. "Has Mr McClaggen made attempts to make amends with you since?"

"Whenever he has a free moment outside of detention," Hermione nodded. "He tried to take my school bag on the way to your lesson today, in fact, claiming he would carry it like a gentleman. He is… particularly persistent."

"So it would seem," McGonagall nodded. "Do you know why?"

"Because I turned him down, I expect," Hermione shrugged her shoulders. "Cormac is almost entirely ego, and he can't fathom that a bookish little prude like me would ever turn down a handsome quidditch star like him. It's a classic case of the jock trying to woo the school nerd because he thinks I should be just so flattered by his attentions that I ought to fling myself at him and let him into my knickers so that he can go and tell the whole school about it and I can be left betrayed and broken-hearted. Instead, I've turned him down and in doing so, stirred up his Neanderthal brain to remind me of my womanly place as his to bash over the head and drag into a cave before leaving me high and dry."

"And how is Mr Weasley involved?" Minerva wanted to know.

Hermione sighed again.

"I originally asked Ron to attend the Christmas party, since he's not in the Slug Club, and since I fancied him for a bit. He agreed, but then when he did such a fine job in his first quidditch match of the season, Lavender swooped in a snogged him and now they're dating. I might have asked Cormac to be my date because I knew it would annoy Ron, but if I'd known what a world of trouble it would stir up, I think I'd have simply elected to go stag."

"Indeed," Professor McGonagall said. "Well, I can certainly see why it's in your best interests to ensure Cormac has as little access to the Gryffindor common room in the evenings as possible. Though I must say, I'm surprised at Severus's initiative. Typically such a thing would be something for him to jeer at me about before toting the moral compasses of his pureblood-etiquette brainwashed Slytherin students who would never dare lay a finger on each other before marriage, because Merlin forbid anyone be tricked into a betrothal over a bit of fun."

"There's an etiquette for that?" Hermione asked, her eyes wide.

"Hmm?" Professor McGonagall frowned. "Oh, yes. Of course there is. It used to be that large portions of the wizarding world, just as within the muggle society, considered it quite the scandal to even hold hands with someone of the opposite sex. I probably have a book on it somewhere. Let me see."

Minerva rose from her chair and walked across to her extensive bookshelf under one window within the office, scanning the titles quickly.

"Ah, here it is. The drivel of pureblood practicality and all their customs and traditions. It would seem Mr McClaggen has never read it."

Hermione took the book from Professor McGonagall, eying the cover distastefully.

"You may borrow it if you wish to read it," Minerva offered, settling herself back at her desk and nibbling on her own biscuit while regarding Hermione across her desk. "Hermione, may I ask you something?"

Hermione looked up at her, raising her eyebrows. "Of course, Professor," she invited.

"Why did you bring this matter to Severus and not to me?" Minerva asked.

"I didn't intend to, Professor," Hermione shrugged her shoulders. "In truth, I hadn't thought too much about it, other than to find Cormac's persistence first flattering, and then bothersome. It never occurred to me until the evening he attempted to cart me into a broom cupboard that he might ignore my autonomy and force himself on me. Had Harry not been there, who knows what might've happened? I can certainly outduel him, but it was recently made obvious to me how easy it is to be disarmed by a skilled pickpocket while distracted, and I imagine Cormac would likely have managed to rob me of my wand while attempting to snog me, had he been so inclined."

"Made obvious to you by whom?" Minerva wanted to know.

Hermine bit her lip.

"Professor Snape," she admitted. "He spoke with me about the disturbance caused in the Great Hall thanks to Cormac's outburst and while I was attempting to make light of the situation, he illustrated how easy it was to steal my wand from my pocket without my knowledge. He pointed out that as an egotistical teenage boy with wounded pride, Cormac might very well have grown unkind or even violent in the face of my continued rebuffs. He suggested that it would be in my best interests to ensure I'm not alone with Cormac, and that I not lead boys on, lest my appeal as a desirable young woman lure them into the realms of predatory behaviour."

"Severus Snape said that?" McGonagall asked, scandalised. "To a student? A female student, at that?"

"He didn't mean to imply that he considered me such, Professor. He made sure to point out his horror at even acknowledging my gender," Hermione said, reminded that her silly dreams about him and her romantic notions would be met with the same scornful dismissal. "He merely meant that if Cormac's actions were anything to judge by, and I imagine if the likes of the men he associates with during his other work for Professor Dumbledore, it would behove me to be a bit more careful about being alone with anyone I didn't absolutely trust."

"I…" Minerva's brow furrowed. "Ah. Yes. Of course. I forgot that his… tasks for the Headmaster… of course he would be well aware of the risks to young women, in particular, in the face of such behaviour."

Hermione nodded, sipping some more of her tea and trying to think about anything other than the fact that she'd kissed the very wizard they spoke of and hadn't been able to forget the feel of his tongue moving with hers ever since.

"Well, I do hope that in future you will be more proactive in your own protection, Miss Granger. And I would hope very much that should such things be occurring, you would feel comfortable enough to bring them to me. I am your head of house, after all, and a fellow woman. And I'm very fond of you."

Hermione smiled gently at the elder witch. She was very fond of her too, truth be told. She might be a harsh teacher and a very stern woman, but she was inspiring and brave and Hermione respected her and liked her very much.

"I promise I will, Professor. It was never my intention to involve Professor Snape, or to seem to exclude you in such a manner. In truth, it hadn't occurred to me how dire the situation might actually be until Professor Snape intervened. I believe he might've pointed out that arrogance on my part over my own supposed brightness would not save me should some determined dark wizard wish to make a meal of me."

"Not in those exact words, I hope?" Minerva asked, looking pained.

"I believe he was less diplomatic," Hermione offered.

"Oh, that man!" Minerva huffed. "Honestly!"

Hermione laughed at her head of house's annoyance

"Well, in any case Miss Granger, he's right about one thing. I don't believe it would be wise for you to find yourself alone with Cormac McClaggen for some time. Severus has him in detentions almost for the remainder of the year. I had to appeal to Albus just to allow the boy at least a modicum of a chance to study for his NEWTs outside of detention hours and still only whittled them both down to four days a week. Severus seems highly perturbed with him, if I'm being honest."

"Perhaps, given what he interrupted and what I conveyed, he sees it as his duty to remind idiotic young men why acting like fools and committing crimes is not a wise life choice?" Hermione offered, unwilling to admit to Professor McGonagall that Snape's annoyance had little to do with her situation and everything to do with that damned purple vial Cormac had slipped into her bag that had so stuck them together and forced him to violate his oath as a teacher by snogging her for his freedom.

Hermione didn't imagine the stern and serious Professor McGonagall would take kindly to such things. In fact, she imagined the woman might murder the potions master for daring to kiss a student, even if it had been the only way to buy their freedom.

"Perhaps," Professor McGonagall allowed. "He has been highly out of sorts for weeks. I imagine he's taking some of his anger at his dark master out upon to student body should they be teetering on the edge of crimes that his previous fellows would've gleefully engaged."

Hermione nodded, waiting to see if there was anything else.

"Well, my dear, if your woes in the romance department aren't cause for any further alarm, I think it would be best if you avoid Mr McClaggen, forget Mr Weasley and his fickleness, and find someone worthy of your devotion," Minerva offered. "I don't suppose your doodling of domestic life and potential children's names is indication of a secret romance brewing?"

Hermione's cheeks flushed crimson and the elder witch smiled knowingly.

"None that will ever come to fruition, Professor," Hermione offered in a strangled tone. "It is… a silly crush. Best forgotten. I'm certain my… erm… affections… are not returned."

"Oh, now, I'm sure that's not true," Minerva soothed. "You are a fine young woman with an incredibly sharp mind. Any man would be lucky to have you."

"Perhaps, but not every man is interested in silly things like romance, and particularly not with bookish, frizzy haired teenage girls."

"Someone already graduated, then?" Minerva fished.

"Yes, ma'am," Hermione admitted.

"Well, then perhaps a little more time to consider the idea might be in order. You are only young once, my dear, but rest assured there is plenty of time for romance once you've completed your studies. I do hope I won't find you daydreaming quite so often in my lessons, in future. I might begin to take it personally."

"I'm sorry, Professor," Hermione apologised sincerely. "I'm afraid I've dedicated a little too much of my study time to reading ahead and practicing the coursework long before we reach each point within the curriculum. If my mind wanders, it tends to be when I've already mastered the spells we're learning."

"You've already polished off the year?" Minerva asked, surprised.

"Not entirely," Hermione said. "But the recent lesson, yes. Studying in the common room and hiding out in the library have been good ways to avoid Cormac and Ron – until Cormac's detentions began, in any case. Both wizards are quite fearful of my wrath should they interrupt me while I study, and so I have overindulged a little to keep them at bay."

"They have caused you quite a lot of trouble, haven't they?" Minerva asked, frowning at her.

"Nothing I can't handle, Professor. Ron was my own doing. I believe he agreed to be my date to the dance because he fancied me and evidently, I was wrong to think so. And unfortunately, I brought the mess with Cormac upon myself, as well. I did ask him to the dance, after all, and I have technically led him on since then by allowing him enough attention to think I'm interested for the sake of keeping him as my date to the dance. I should never have asked him. He'd made me slightly uncomfortable before then, but I thought he was trying to rile Ron, rather than genuinely interested."

"Yes, well, it sounds like he needs a reminder on how to conduct himself with a young lady," Professor McGonagall told her. "I'll be having words with the senior boys of my house, I think, and reminding them about the proper etiquette for courting a young lady. I think a reminder to the young ladies, too, that myself and Poppy are here to assist all of you with any issues you're facing might also be in order. I shudder to think of any of your fellow students going to someone like Severus with their concerns, don't you?"

"It's true that he's hardly a sympathetic ear," Hermione allowed with a small smile, trying not to let on that she was positively infatuated with the man.

"Indeed," Minerva chuckled. "Well, my dear, then might I suggest taking that book with you to peruse – I believe there a few handy hexes in their that young pureblood girls learn to keep a potential suitor at bay until it's cleared with both of their families that might help you. And if Cormac gives you any more trouble, you report him directly to me, you understand? I won't tolerate predatory behaviour from any student."

"I understand, Professor. Thank you."

"Well, I suppose you'll need a note for Pomona, since I've kept you so long… or… perhaps not,' Minerva smiled when the final bell for the end of class sounded, indicating their studies for the afternoon were over.

"I think I'll head to the library," Hermione smiled. "Thank you for the tea, Professor. And I apologise again, for my inattention during class."

Minerva waved her apology away. "I'll examine the curriculum and see if we can move you onto something more advanced."

Hermine smiled widely at the thought and she left with a polite goodbye, taking the book the teacher had given her as she went. She turned right outside the classroom and headed for the secret passage up to the next floor that would lead her out directly behind the statue by the side-entrance to the library without a thought. Once inside the passageway, she lit the tip of her wand and ascended the steps quickly.

"Not another step," a low voice came out of the darkness and Hermine froze, the hair on the back of her neck standing on end.

"Who's there?" she asked, lifting her wand high to light the way.

Professor Snape was sitting on the stairway above her, his elbows resting on his knees and a look of intense irritation on his face.

"Miss Granger," he practically sneered, speaking to her directly for the first time in weeks.

"Professor Snape?" she asked, surprised to find him in the passageway at all. Surely, he should've been teaching an afternoon class? What was more, he was seated upon the dusty stone steps and looking particularly annoyed. "Whatever are you doing, sir? Are you hurt?"

She hurried closer.

"Stop!" he hissed, throwing one hand out in her direction as he rose fluidly to his feet and Hermione obeyed on pure instinct when she saw the look on his face.

"What is it, sir? If you're injured, I can help you to the Hospital Wing? Or do you need me to fetch Professor Dumbledore? What the devil are you doing sitting on the floor in a forgotten passageway?"

"Miss Granger, cease your infernal prattle immediately," he growled, and by the look on his face, no arguments would be brooked on the matter.

Silently, Hermione nodded, though she continued to frown at him.

"Go away, Miss Granger. You're the last thing I need to add to this conundrum."

"I beg your pardon, sir?" Hermione asked, frowning.

He glared like he might murder her and Hermione shrank back a little, surprised to find herself fearful in the face of such a hateful expression. When she didn't obey the order to leave – unwilling to do so when he must surely be injured given that he was hiding out in a secret passageway and trying to send her off somewhere else, he scowled darkly.

His wand tip glowed white after a moment and he traced it through the air, illuminating the blotch of darkness above his head, showing her the cause of his immovability.

"Oh," Hermione said, her stomach flipping as she followed his glowing wand tip.

Mistletoe hung in a large sprig above his head, evidently having continued to sprout and expand the longer he remained beneath it, unable to escape. Enchanted mistletoe, then. The magical kind they sold at Zonko's and that Fred and George stocked at Wheezers with abandon around this time of year. Christmas was right around the corner and evidently the weekend's most recent Hogsmeade weekend had yielded such hilarious fruit to inconvenience a classmate or two.

"Go away, Miss Granger," he repeated.

"Professor…" Hermione frowned. "You know, I'm certain, that there's only one way out from under that wretched little pranking plant. How long have you been stuck here?"

"Too long," he muttered. "That was the final bell for the day, I believe?"

"It was," Hermione nodded.

"Then I have missed the entirety of my afternoon lessons."

"Oh dear," Hermione offered lamely. "Professor Dumbledore will have covered for you, sir. He probably assumes you've been summoned or something."

"Would that it were so," Snape muttered darkly. "Be on your way, Miss Granger."

"But, sir… how are you going to get free?" Hermione asked. "I've experimented with the charms on those things. If it's from Wheezers, it will only get bigger and bigger the longer you're stuck under it. The idea is that if you're stuck so long as to be crushed by the plant, eventually someone will take pity on the poor, trapped souls. But even then, the only way free is to snog someone."

He emitted a low hiss that reminded her entirely too much of the hissing sound of the Basilisk right before it had petrified her in her second year and Hermione shuddered involuntarily.

"Why does this keep happening when you're around?" he demanded, evidently furious and having found the scapegoat for his temper.

"Sheer, dumb luck, I'm sure," Hermione offered sardonically. "Shall I join you under there and free you, sir? Or do you really wish for me to be on my way? Perhaps Professor Dumbledore knows more about undoing the charms on those things."

"Burning them is supposed to work," he said.

"No!" Hermione cried, stepping toward him involuntarily. "Don't burn it, whatever you do!"

"Why not?" he asked, frowning at her suspiciously.

"Fred and George have a habit of asking me to test their products before they release them. They like that I find the less obvious choices to get out of the effects of their myriad joke items. We discovered that when it's set on fire, this particular species of mistletoe has a rather aggressive reaction."

"Oh?" Snape queried, his eyebrows lifting.

"It scattered leaves and berries all over the place and emits a high pitched shrieking in the tune of myriad Christmas carols. Great for attracting attention so that someone might kiss the victim and free them, not so great for the fact that in doing so it lures any number of witnesses to partake in the joviality. Unless you wish to have Madam Pince stomping down here shushing you, don't set it on fire, sir."

"I already tried killing the infernal plant, but it emitted some kind of powder that made me drowsy," he informed her.

"What do you mean you tried killing it?" Hermione asked, frowning at him.

"The Killing Curse, Miss Granger," he informed her dryly.

"That was your first reaction to being trapped under mistletoe?" Hermione asked, shocked that he would so casually attempt such an illegal spell.

"I have places to be," he answered icily. "I don't suppose that throughout your tests for your pranking pals, you found a way to be free of the wretched thing?"

"One," Hermione answered. "Snogging."

He hissed again and turned away from her, fixed his eyes on the plant above him once more. Hermione looked on as he silently performed a number of spells – many of which she suspected were highly illegal. He tried a severing charm, but the plant simply grew back more aggressively. He tried a poisoning charm for weeds, but it scattered pollen all over him until he sneezed loudly.

"Nothing will work, sir," Hermione told him quietly. "The twins went to pains with their brand to ensure only a good holiday snog would free the victim. I imagine Zonko's imitated the charm."

"Who would even have put this here?" Snape snarled angrily, turning back to glare at her. "You're the only student that has come by all afternoon. Did you leave this here?"

"Why would I leave a prank plant in a little used secret passageway where I might forget hanging it and accidentally trap myself?" Hermione asked him mildly.

"Who else knows about this corridor?" he demanded.

"Harry and Ron know about it. And they know I use it, sometimes. I suppose Ron might've thought it funny… Harry's been too concerned with stalking Malfoy to bother with silly pranks."

"Who else?" he demanded.

"I don't know. I don't talk to anyone else," Hermione shrugged. "Anyone could've followed me whenever I've used it if they saw me. For all I know, it might've been McClaggen again."

"He's still harassing you?" Snape asked, his eyes narrowing angrily.

"He has far less time to do so," Hermione offered. "Actually, I've a bone to pick with you about that, sir?"

"I beg your pardon?" he demanded, scowling.

"I missed last period after Professor McGonagall held me back to chat with me about Cormac, and Ron and you. What did you tell her?" Hermione asked, crossing her arms over her chest and staring him down.

"Nothing," he answered, and he seemed genuinely surprised by the question. "Only that McClaggen was being punished for causing a disturbance in the Great Hall, and that she ought to do a better job of monitoring the students of her house to prevent such things like his harassment of you. I didn't name you."

"She knows all about it," Hermione said. "Not about… um… the purple vial. But about McClaggen and the broom cupboard and the Great Hall. I told her that I spoke with you about Cormac's behaviour – said it was following his outburst at that lunch. But she's concerned. Evidently your actions are out of character."

"What are you implying, Miss Granger," he asked her dangerously, his dark eyes narrowed to slits and Hermione sensed they had already strayed into dangerous territory.

"That while I appreciate you keeping Cormac busy enough that I can get a moment's piece and he can suffer routinely, if someone like Professor McGonagall is asking questions, you'd better tone it down a bit, sir," Hermione replied evenly. "The incident with the vial wasn't technically proven to be Cormac's doing."

He remained silent, staring at her in that dangerous way of his that made her shift from foot to foot, just waiting for him to lose his temper.

"Professor McGonagall said she means to have words with the senior Gryffindor students to remind them of propriety and the need for respecting each other and conducting ourselves appropriately. She even gave me this."

Hermione fished the Pureblood Etiquette for Girls book from her bag and showed him the cover. He curled his lip back from his teeth in distaste at the sight of it.

"Is Mr McClaggen still hassling you, Miss Granger?" he asked seriously, some of his anger draining away after a long moment of silence.

"He sat next to me in the Common Room the other night while I was reading by the fire and slung his arm around the back of my seat," Hermione offered. "And he tried to carry my books to Transfiguration this afternoon."

"Has he touched you?" Snape asked.

"Only in passing. Brushing hands and such," Hermione admitted.

"He's given no indication about the potion?" Snape asked quietly.

"He conveniently popped up to ask me something when I was cleaning out my bag after the incident with the vial," Hermione offered carefully. "It might've been my imagination, but he seemed very curious about the contents of my schoolbag as I emptied it while we spoke."

"He brewed it, then," Snape surmised. "And having been unsuccessful in administering it to you, might try again, or try something more drastic."

"I've been on guard around him," Hermione offered and Snape nodded before looking back up at the mistletoe above him and beginning to hex the plant all over again, trying a new collection of spells that might kill it.

"Incendio," he hissed when nothing else worked.

"Oh, no," Hermione gasped, covering her mouth.

As predicted, the plant began dropping berries and leaves all over him, regrowing them rapidly to drop persistently onto him. the high pitched shrieking of Deck the Halls began emitting from the leaves, too and Hermione cringed.

"Silencio," he spat between gritted teeth.

"It won't work," Hermione called. "Until someone joins you under there…. Oh, for the love of…. This is ridiculous."

The sound was so loud that it was a wonder people hadn't come running and before it could get out of hand, Hermione hurried up the steps toward him. Snape balked, trying to step back from her before flinging one hand out to fend her off, but Hermione sidestepped his arm until she stood a singular step below him ad under the range of the mistletoe along with him. Fortunately, in doing so, the plant stopped shrieking and spitting leaves and berries all over the place.

"You shouldn't have done that," he told her coldly, trying to step back from her and failing thanks to the magic of the plant.

"I told you not to try setting it on fire, sir," Hermione said. "Did you want everyone in the vicinity invading this passage and finding you like this?"

"Better that then finding this," he said, indicating to the two of them standing as close as they did, securely trapped until they snogged, now.

"You could've just asked me to free you, sir," Hermione told him, sighing and putting her hands on her hips.

"I cannot in good conscience as an educator demand such a thing of a student under my tutelage," he replied stiffly.

"I offered to help," Hermione reminded him. "And it's not like it would be the first time…"

"That was born of necessity, lest we both face worse consequences," he said crisply. "This was something I could've endured alone."

"Shouldn't have set it on fire then, should you?" Hermione asked, raising her eyebrows.

"I didn't imagine you would move toward so heinous a sound, Miss Granger," he replied dryly. "Sane and rational people move away from unpleasant noises."

"Yes, sir," Hermione said rather than disagreeing.

Her stomach was twisted into knots and her heart was fluttering in her chest at the prospect of kissing him again. He glared at her and Hermione could tell he didn't like this situation. She couldn't blame him. He was still her teacher and once breaking his oath should've been enough, but here he was, having to do it again.

"You should've left when you had the chance," he informed her coldly, looking as cantankerous as ever.

"Mmm," Hermione hummed. "We're going to have to swap steps if I'm to reach without you straining your back, sir."

He raised that infernal, singular left eyebrow at her before narrowing his eyes on her and stepping one step lower. Hermione stepped onto the step he'd moved off until she was almost level with his superior height.

"Do I need to threaten you about silence?" he inquired.

"Did you need to last time?" Hermione challenged.

"What did you tell Minerva?" he asked, frowning at her.

"Would you like to see?" Hermione asked, raising her eyebrows at him.

"I… that would hardly be… appropriate," he said slowly, his brow furrowing when Hermione leaned toward him a little, her eyes widen to invite him to look into her mind if he wished.

She called upon the memory, flinching a little when he whispered, "Legilimens."

He slipped into her mind like cold draught under the crack in a doorway, ghosting across her senses like smoke, and she allowed the memory of her meeting with Professor McGonagall to play within her memory while he spectated. It was a most peculiar feeling. Hermione remembered Harry had told her that being under Legilimency had caused his a vicious headache and even made him black out more than once and she startled when Professor Snape drew her out of her musing with once cold finger tracing across her cheek. Blinking, Hermione realised he'd slipped back out of her mind.

"Mr Potter experienced headaches and black-outs during his training because he resisted the effects of the spell and because he was furious at me the entire time I practiced it upon him," he offered quietly. "His mind is naturally resistant to invasion, in addition to his yearning to keep me out. You experience none of those things because you invited me in and did not attempt to reject my invasion in the slightest."

"I didn't mean to share that," Hermione offered quietly.

"No one ever does during such encounters," he answered. "You did well to organise your thoughts long enough to allow me to view the memory. Most people reject the invasion so violently that their minds are in chaos from the start. Have you practiced Legilimency or Occlumency before?"

"Only what I could glean from a few books on mind magic and healing that I found in the library. The tomes pertaining most usefully to such magics were mysteriously absent from the reading list of available books," she said, holding his gaze pointedly, aware that it was his name marked against the register as having borrowed them.

"Mr Potter needs to learn the craft on his own, not through your rudimentary teachings and second-hand knowledge. His mind works nothing like yours, and so Professor Dumbledore and I believed it would be better if you did not further open his mind to the connection with the Dark Lord by mistake, rather than having Potter learn to close it."

"But I usually have varied success at teaching Harry."

"Teaching him spellwork, and potions, and basic memorization of facts for tests and homework," Snape nodded. "Not mind magics surrounding the complex nature of the brain and it's relation to magic. Not the art of diving into another person's mind and attempting to make sense of why lies within. It is a useful tool and a terrible burden to see into someone else's mind, Miss Granger. Some witches and wizard, like Professor Dumbledore, are so honed at the art that they need only be in the vicinity of a person to hear their innermost thoughts. Others require eye-contact, as with most spells. But it takes immense mental control and psychological fortitude to endure the barrage of nonsense going on in someone else's mind. It is not a book, to be read, but a dreamscape where the laws of physics and magical do not rule. A barrage of sounds and images, memories and thoughts and biological whirring that make little sense to the untrained scryer."

"You imagined me incapable?" Hermione asked.

"Professor Dumbledore and I felt it would be safer for Potter and for yourself if you did not invade his mind. Potter's connection to the Dark Lord is strange and dangerous, and while he remained unaware of it for a long time – and doesn't dare enter Potter's mind again now after possessing him at the Department of Mysteries – it would not do to expose you to that connection. The detriment to Potter's mind might be extensive given your ineptitude in your untrained state, and what's more, the Dark Lord might receive echoes of your presence. You are already target enough by your association to Potter and your blood status. It would not do to expose you further to the Dark Lord, lest he grow intrigued and seek to convert you to his side – as he covets those with power and cleverness even above those of good breeding."

"He would try to recruit me?" Hermione asked, shocked. "I'm a muggleborn. Surely, he would only seek to kill me."

"His followers certainly would," Snape replied. "But the Dark Lord has always been willing to make excuses for the truly gifted."

"Are you paying me a compliment by mistake, sir?" Hermione asked, teasing a little.

"It was Professor Dumbledore's assessment, not mine," he replied coolly.

"I'll have to remember to thank him for his kindness, then," Hermione answered, trying not to grin, sensing he didn't approve of her assessment of their decision as being complimentary. Merlin forbid he ever admit she was smart.

He just lifted his left eyebrow at her again and didn't comment. Hermione's stomach flipped at the expression and she realised that she really needed to get a grip on herself about fancying him as she did just because of one stupid kiss. Maybe this kiss to free them from the mistletoe would cure her. Maybe she would be able to prove to herself that it was simply nerves and excitement over her first kiss that had made her so enamoured with what they'd done, rather than any real chemistry.

"Erm… you don't happen to have the same skill as Professor Dumbledore of hearing people thoughts simply by being in their vicinity, do you, sir?" Hemione asked nervously when she realised where her mind had wandered to.

"Do you truly imagine I would share that information with you if I did, Miss Granger?" he asked, smirking a little.

"Well, you haven't killed me, so I suppose there is some hope for the sanctity of my own mind," she frowned.

"Something to hide, Miss Granger?"

"A good many things that you needn't concern yourself with, sir," Hermione said, nodding sensibly as though the matter was closed.

"Yes, I imagine the manner of perversions within your mind are better left unknown to me," he replied quietly, his dark eyes dancing over her face for a moment as though he was considering slipping into her mind again.

"They are myriad, sir," Hermione agreed softly, nodding again and darting a glance down at her feet. "Should we each get on with our evenings? I wanted to squeeze in a shower before dinner, and I have a missed herbology lesson to make up for."

"Miss Granger, this may come as a shock to you, but I would prefer not to think about your bathing habits moments before being expected to kiss you," he drawled.

"You must be the only one," Hermione answered airily.

"Yes, I suppose the the Weasley twins would be far more interested in such things whenever they snog you," he replied.

Hermione frowned. "I've never snogged Fred or George," she told him.

"How, then, did you conduct an assessment of the mistletoe for their joke-shop without being held prisoner beneath it?" he asked.

"They built in a fail-safe when they were testing it together that meant that whoever placed the mistletoe could remove it without it's victims being forced to snog," Hermione shrugged her shoulders.

"There's no chance you hung that?" he asked, pointing to the plant above their heads which was steadily extending from the ceiling toward them and threatening to brush his hair, it'd grown so long.

"None," Hermione answered, shrugging her shoulders.

"What infernal moron would hang mistletoe in an abandoned corridor like this? Had a student been stuck instead of myself, the staff would've been forced to mount a full-scale search party to locate whoever had been stuck here. Likely you, since you were the next person to come along. And given your proximity to Potter, the notion of you missing would not have gone over well with the staff or the Order, Miss Granger," he told her.

"I'll be sure to light up every corridor I enter until after the holidays and examine every doorway for the plant, then," she said. "Constant Vigilance!"

"Urgh," Snape grumbled. "Don't quote that idiotic bastard to me. He's a suspicious old fool."

"You just don't like him because he doesn't trust you," Hermione chided, grinning and she was surprised when one corner of Snape's mouth twitched at though he was a little bit amused at his own irritation.

He didn't rebut the assertion or try to admonish her for her familiarity and lack of proper respect. Instead, he reached up to cup her cheek gently despite how cold his hand was, and he tilted her head just so, before leaning in and closing the distance between the two of them. Hermione quivered at the brush of his lips against hers, trembling under his touch and reminding herself that she wasn't supposed to be so eager to kiss him. She wasn't supposed to melt against him like butter on a hot day. She was supposed to find this strange and unusual, and awkward because he was her teacher and he was older than her and he was really mean.

But it didn't feel weird. It felt nice. It felt good. It felt wonderful and all she wanted to do was to melt into his arms and kiss him until she forgot her own name. Carefully, Hermione kissed him back, noting that he seemed as tense as she did and that he took his time to be gentle and tentative as though waiting for her to come to her senses and pull away. She should, she supposed, but she really didn't want to. Instead, Hermione leaned into him, her hands lifting to rest on his shoulders for balance when she wobbled on that step, kissing him in the dark created by their inattention to their wands, cancelling the spells and plunging them into darkness.

She only noticed because the glow behind her eyelids disappeared. Her eyes were closed, and she was drinking in every moment of bliss she could wring from his kiss. Carefully she parted her lips again, kissing him a little more insistently, a little more deeply. He took the hint and parted his own before his tongue slipped out to reacquaint itself with hers and Hermione wondered if it was possible to die by butterfly riots within her stomach.

She brushed her tongue to his in return and starbursts of colour exploded behind her eyes. She wanted more. She never wanted it to end. She wanted to kiss him until her lips fell off. She wanted to kiss him until she knew his taste better than her own. She wanted to mould herself to him until she knew his every hard plane and could cradle it against her own harsh lines and soft curves. She wanted to run her fingers through his hair and press her luck until he couldn't take it anymore. She wanted every idiotic fantasy she'd had about him these past few weeks to come to fruition and she wanted to enjoy every moment of it.

Leaning into him a little more, Hermione kissed him hungrily, more firmly this time than they'd done last time, pressing closer, kissing deeper, craving harder. He returned the attention carefully, his hand on her cheek slipping into her curls and fisting there, holding her securely. His other hands came up to rest upon her hip before it slipped around her back, his wand pressing to her spine while his fingers clutched at the small of her back bowing her body into his until she was plastered against his chest.

When the magic of the mistletoe overhead broke, leaves, berries and twigs scattered atop them and they both flinched in surprise, having forgotten just where they were and why they were kissing. Snape pulled back from her with a little reluctance, his lips returning one, two, three times to smooch her own. Hermione clung to his shoulder tightly, not wanting to let him go. But he was stronger than her and eventually he pulled back, his nose rubbing against hers before only their breaths mingled.

In the dark, she couldn't see his face, and Hermione wanted to cry when his hands tightened reflexively before he withdrew them from where he'd gripped her. He leaned back slowly, letting her get her balance when she was no longer plastered to his chest before he twitched his shoulders minutely until she dropped her hands to her sides. Their harsh breathing seemed loud in the dark corridor, and Hermione would swear he must surely be able to hear her heart pounding in her chest.

She flinched when his cool fingers suddenly trailed over her forehead, tracing her right eyebrow before he captured a curl he'd knocked loose where he'd held her. He tucked it carefully behind her ear and it occurred to Hermione that he must be able to see, though she could not.

"Sir…" Hermione managed in a breathless whispered.

"Shhh," he offered just as quietly, and Hermione followed the stream of warm air he emitted to do so until her lips met his one more time.

He didn't flinch away, allowing her to smooch him gently again before he eased back. A soft sound, almost a whimper, escaped her throat before Hermione pressed her lips together, refusing to show such weakness. It wasn't his fault any more than it was hers that they'd kissed that first time, and again now. It wasn't his fault she'd gone and become infatuated with him. And it would be a grave mistake to let on just how she felt, she was certain. Severus Snape was not a nice man, and she doubted he had any interest in her, no matter how he'd kissed her.

"Thank you for your assistance, Miss Granger," he said quietly, and damn him to the deepest pits of hell, even now after a kiss like that, his voice was pure dangerous silk with no hint of huskiness.

Didn't kissing her affect him at all? Didn't kissing her turn him on? God, all she wanted to do was kiss him again; kiss him until he shoved her up against the wall. Maybe even kiss him until he had his wicked way with her.

"Only returning the favour, Professor," she managed, trying to make her voice as neutral as possible and failing miserably.

"Stay away from dangerous potions and out of secret passages filled with mistletoe," he instructed. "And don't be late for dinner."

With that, his cloak billowing as he turned away, stirring the dusty air around them before the whisper of sound that was his boot-soles kissing the stone steps filled her ears as he descended the staircase and slipped out through the portrait at the bottom. The light glowed very faintly for a moment before disappearing as he closed the door behind him and left her there alone.

Hermione gulped audibly against the lump in her throat, trying to resist the strange urge she had to cry. Sinking down on the step where she'd found him sitting in the first place, Hermione didn't know how long she stayed there, trying to fight her warring emotions and gather her wits enough to get up, get showered, and get to dinner like he'd commanded.