Disclaimer: I am not JKR. I don't own anything, unfortunately.

A/N: I thought a little post for Valentine's Day would be nice, and I knew I couldn't turn out a chapter for my WIPs in time. Thus, this little piece of plot came to mind. And, hey, I just barely made it before the day ended (in my time zone at least!)

Happy Valentine's Day!

~ A Bit Obvious ~

"Adams! Reynolds!" Severus Snape shouted, startling two half-dressed students out of a darkened corner. With a few swift flicks of his wand, their clothes immediately righted themselves, causing them both to yelp in surprise. "Fifteen points from Ravenclaw, Miss Adams. Twenty-five points from Gryffindor, Mister Reynolds. Now, back to your common rooms."

The girl immediately set off in the direction of Ravenclaw tower, but the boy remained, gaping at him in ill-advised anger.

"Why did I lose ten more points than she did? That's not fair!"

"Why?" Snape snarled. "Because I tack on five more points each time I have to yank another one of your Housemates from their corridor liaisons. You can thank Mister Tibald and Miss Langer for the extra points."

"But—"

"I would advise getting out of my sight before I feel compelled to take another five."

Severus snorted under his breath as the student fled as quickly as possible. Rubbing tension out of his forehead, he continued on toward his office and hoped that he did not encounter any further hormone-riddled, sugar-fueled rendezvous. He had already prevented half a dozen possible teen pregnancies, which was decent enough, considering Minerva had been lovely enough to not assign him rounds that night.

He really hated Valentine's Day. He always had. Before the War, it had only served to remind him of how empty his life was. He and Lily had been each other's Valentine when they were young enough that it did not mean anything, but after that there had been no one.

Following the War and his subsequent acquittal of all charges, that had become a very different story. Now, instead of receiving nothing, he received a steady deluge of letters, packages, sweets, flowers, and… unmentionable items. After the first year of his return to teaching had resulted in half of the Head Table being buried in all of the perfume-soaked pink and red parcels addressed to him, he had needed to re-route his post to a spare room off of his quarters just to maintain any sense of authority with his students, let alone the other members of staff.

That being said, Minerva probably gave him the night off just to sort through his bloody post. It was doubtful that anything of importance had come through that day, but on the off chance it had, he would have to spend several hours sifting through it. Thankfully, his quarters were no longer in the dungeons, and as such, he could open the window and disperse enough of the stench so that his rooms would not have to smell like a French whorehouse until Easter.

Having reached the door to his office, he paused momentarily with his hand on the doorknob. Every so often he would question why he returned to teach when he could have gone into research, or run the laboratory at St. Mungo's, or even opened his own private venture. Then again, there were days like today when he was immeasurably grateful for the protection that the formidable walls, wards, and Headmistress of Hogwarts provided him.

He might have to sleep with a Bubblehead charm on to avoid suffocating on fumes, but at least he could be certain that he would not walk into his office to find some sex-starved witch lurking there in some deranged attempt at seducing the elusive Order spy.

Severus shuddered at the thought and then slipped into his office, shutting the door and latching it behind him. With a deep sigh, he loosened his cravat as he turned to face the room… and then froze mid-step.

Dangling off the edge of his desk was a pair of smooth legs crossed at the knees with shapely calves accentuated by classy, black heels. Above the knees was draped a skirt of deep red, which was tied like a sash about a smooth waist that led to a low-cut neckline, which displayed a relatively scrumptious looking set of breasts. A delicate neck led upwards to a strong jawline, a pair of full lips crooked into a smug smile, and –

"Shit, Granger," he gasped, wiping his face as he stared at the young Transfiguration professor. "What the hell are you doing in here?"

Hermione laughed softly as she leaned back on her hands, causing her back to arch and propping up her breasts for better viewing. "What do you think?"

"Erm… we don't have rounds tonight…"

"You know," she purred, bouncing her foot in amusement. "For a supposed master of subtlety, you are incredibly obtuse."

Forcing himself to pull his eyes away from her chest to focus on her face, Snape shook his head in confusion. "What?"

Hermione smirked as she uncrossed her legs and then gracefully slipped off of his desk. "I like you, Severus. I've liked you for a while, and I've tried very, very hard to make you see that without resorting to my… typical Gryffindor bluntness, as you call it. I thought you would appreciate it."

"This is your idea of subtlety?" he scoffed.

"Oh, no, Professor." Her eyes sparkled in the firelight as she sauntered toward him. "You see, I started off with coy glances and shy smiles in the staff room. You ignored them. I made sure to unexpectedly stumble upon you in the library and the corridors, and you responded with little more than polite conversation. I started subscribing to the same journals in the hopes that you might notice me reading them and strike up a conversation. You never did."

Severus swallowed uncertainly as she came to a stop an inch in front of him. He could smell the pleasant combination of chamomile, lavender, and mint that he had come to associate with her.

"I accidentally brushed against you whenever I thought I could get away with it – reaching for the tea during staff meetings, in the stands during Quidditch matches, passing behind you at the Head Table," she continued, lazily trailing her hand down the center of his chest. "You never seemed to notice. I quite inexplicably forgot how to brew the sleeping draught I've brewed for seven years, just so I could seek out your assistance and then hint at my dislike of having to sleep alone every night. You simply gave a few words of sympathy and promised to have the house-elves deliver it every month. Do you remember?"

He did remember, just as he remembered struggling to tamp down the images her supposed hint had elicited in his mind. Afraid to speak, for he knew what would come out would likely be some garbled mess of apology, disbelief, and arousal that would not sound the least bit attractive. Instead, he settled for a nod and uncertainly flicking his eyes between her hands and her face.

Hermione toyed with one of his buttons. "Well, that was the first year. I then spent the summer months going over every detail of our encounters, wondering if perhaps your lack of response was to be taken as a dismissal. But then I knew it couldn't be because you wouldn't be subtle about something like that, especially not when dealing with a brash Gryffindor like myself. I've seen you shut down hopeful witches in public. You don't leave any possible room for doubt."

He grunted in agreement.

"So, I decided to step up my game a bit for the second year. I bribed Minerva with a bottle of scotch to get her to pair me with you for rounds. She assured me it would be my funeral, but I relished the opportunity. I kept my inane babbling to a minimum, walked as close to you as I dared, and smiled at your… witticisms. I giggled at them one night, and you asked me if I was intoxicated."

"You said you were," Severus mumbled, recalling the night in question. He remembered her tripping – though for what he knew now, she likely did so on purpose – and grabbing hold of his arm for support. It had taken him an entire week to forget how warm her body felt against him.

"I believe I said perhaps," she argued, poking his chest. "I didn't say what it was with which I was intoxicated, because the only answer was you."

"Granger, I –"

"Ah, ah, ah." Hermione pressed her finger to his lips. "I'm not finished with my story. I didn't just send you Christmas and birthday gifts, but I hand-delivered them… to your rooms… alone… after curfew. I almost kicked myself for being too obvious, but apparently not. Which leads us to today, and my providing Minerva another bottle of Scotch to keep us off tonight's roster."

His eyes snapped to her hands as they suddenly left his person and moved to her own waist, where her dress was tied.

"I've never really been a fan of Valentine's Day myself, but I must say, after watching you showered with attention from all of those vapid, little fame-mongers out there, I decided it would be foolish to waste any more time. Either you'd be interested, or you wouldn't. And if you do choose to throw me out, I have plenty of chocolates for dulling the pain." She paused briefly before slowly pulling apart the knot holding her robes together. "Since you haven't yet, I'm going to take that as a signal to keep going."

Severus felt his heart pounding louder and heavier in his chest as he watched her fingers work. His mouth fell open and all coherent thought left his head when she pulled apart the sides of her scarlet robes to reveal creamy, delicious curves covered only by a matched set of lacy, black bra and knickers.

"So, then, Professor…" She tilted her head and raised a hand to his jaw. "You have a decision to make. Will I spend my night consuming chocolates? Or will I spend it… consuming you?"

Struggling to find words, the man captured her hand and stared at her in absolute shock for several seconds. Giving her what he hoped was a pleasant smile, he pulled her forward and hungrily captured her lips. Her mouth opened almost immediately, and he eagerly chased the taste of her.

Upon his releasing her several long seconds later, Hermione giggled breathlessly. "Does that mean you want me?"

As Severus gently nipped her bottom lip with his teeth, he forcefully pulled her hand down to his pelvis and pressed it against the unmistakable bulge in his trousers. "Obviously."

The witch laughed and rubbed her nose against his as she gently massaged him. "It is a bit obvious, isn't it?"

"Oh, it's more than a bit, Miss Granger," he growled, wrapping his arms about her and lifting her off of her feet. "Of that, I assure you."