Author's Note:

The standard, boring and morally pacifying disclaimers apply. None of this is mine, not even the idea. The specific order of the words is somehow loosely tied to me, though, and I am fond of certain specific turns of phrase.

Special thanks go to Barrie (FriendlyQuark) who sets the writing bar unreachably high. Thanks for being an inspiration, a beta and a friend who gives me gifts like Sheep Harold.

This is in response to WIKTT's Teacher challenge.

The challenge:

Professor Severus Snape is used to being the boss - giving orders, making demands, being right. And now, Dumbledore is about to bring Snape's worst nightmare to life. Required to learn some Muggle skill by the Headmaster, for either personal or professional reasons, Snape is going to be submitting to lessons from none other than the Gryffindor Know-It-All herself.

Payback is a bitch.

In honour of the 29th of February (known to some as Sadie Hawkins Day), the day when women can traditionally propose (and the men can't decline!). Now, it's time to turn the tables, and put the pants on one Miss Hermione Granger.

The requirements:

1. Snape is required to learn a Muggle skill. This can be anything from how to drive a car, how to take the Tube, general Muggle relations (perhaps Snape has been made the Muggle student faculty contact?), how to use a computer, the possibilities are almost endless.

2. Dumbledore must be the impetus behind the lessons. We all know that meddling and mischief equals the Headmaster!

3. Hermione plays teacher. Her teaching style (Snape-ish, or more forgiving) and the format of the lessons are up to you.

4. Hermione's age is optional, though she should be of majority if you're going to have any naughty smutty goings-on.

5. Have fun - imagine the chance to have the most fearsome teacher from your schooling at your mercy, completely unknowledgeable about the subject, and having to take direction from someone they've traditionally looked down on.

So here we go with our story, "Teacher, Teacher"

Chapter 1 - Sugar Decays More Than Enamel

Damn, damn, damn.

It had become his mantra over the past four weeks. All right, to be honest, it had been his mantra ever since he agreed to play nursemaid to the apparently never-ending stream of dunderheads that showed up at Hogwarts' School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Why, in the name of all that was sacred and sentient, weren't there laws against this? He'd never bought into the eugenic rhetoric of Voldemort, but surely there were candidates for forced sterilization. James Potter was, of course, the first case to jump to his mind.

Severus Snape was shocked to realize that he actually felt a twinge of guilt for that thought. Potter's only son, Harry, had been the saving grace of the wizarding world not once but twice. Unfortunately, the second time had been fatal for both Voldemort and the young Potter. In the very deepest recesses of his heart (and yes, such an organ did indeed exist, contrary to popular opinion), the wizarding world's pre-eminent Potions Master had grieved the loss of the boy who had been his life debt, his curse, and ultimately, his savior.

The first time the boy had defeated Tom Riddle, it had been his mother's love (and her knowledge of certain Dark Arts) that had saved the wizarding world; the second time had been Harry - just Harry. The boy had sacrificed himself by inflicting the Avada Kedavra curse upon himself as he wrapped his young body around the Dark Lord. The blood they shared, combined with the physical contact, were apparently all that was needed for the curse to destroy them both; simple, brute magical force. In the end, none of Albus' mysterious insightfulness found a loophole, none of Miss Granger's dizzying intellect solved the puzzle, none of Snape's potions stoppered his death.

'Gah!' thought Snape, 'when did I become so maudlin?' The past was past, the boy had fulfilled his prophesied destiny, and the wizarding world was at long last settling into a cautious, relaxed peace. Surely, there were more pressing concerns for the living? While it may not be "pressing," there was one concern foremost in the Potions Master's mind.

One Albus Dumbledore, meddler extraordinaire, who had informed him a month ago - twinkling madly away - that, due to some faction of insane Death Eaters (Snape paused, wondering if the phrase "insane Death Eater" was redundant), Snape's life was still in danger and he thus needed to "go to ground," as the daft old fool said. Apparently, the Headmaster had been able to procure an alarming number of Muggle theatrical works in some format and had become enamored of the confusing jargon used therein.

None of that was particularly odd - Albus had "twinkled" for as long as Snape had known him, even before he became Headmaster. Frankly, Severus was convinced that said twinkling was a direct result of the candy the old man ingested. No one could possibly consume that much sugar and remain rational.

The infatuation with Muggle items wasn't normal either. The only other wizard Snape had ever encountered with a passion for Muggle technology comparable to Albus' had been Arthur Weasley, and let's face it, Arthur had every reason to be unbalanced. Married to the ├╝ber-housewitch Molly, father to the psychotically ambitious likes of Percy, the disruptively rambunctious Fred and George, and the crowning glory of ignorance, Ron - any one of those offspring on their own could send a lucid man 'round the bend. It was unfortunate that Ginny had come along too late to save her father's sanity. Of course, she'd had her own issues with normality after that little visit to Tom Riddle's Chamber of Horrors.

Snape shook himself, trying to focus on the words being spoken by his only allegedly (and apparently, mistakenly) trusted friend, the completely barmy Headmaster.

". so you'll have to go undercover, Severus." The object of the sentence sighed audibly; more Muggle-speak.

"Sorry, Albus - 'undercover?' Could you define that for those of us who haven't seen the latest James Pond . thing?" Snape growled.

"The 'thing' is a DVD, Severus, and it's Bond. James Bond."

Honestly, Snape thought, the man should be committed. Dumbledore was virtually rigid with excitement over being able to say that phrase. And yes, he did mean that kind of 'rigid.' The visual accompanying that statement caused a shudder to pass through Hogwarts' resident greasy git.

"I mean, Severus, that you need to leave Hogwarts and hide. You need to become invisible to those rogue Death Eaters. You need to learn to become a Muggle someplace where you won't be found. At least until the Aurors can round the most dangerous of them up so that they'll be no threat to you." Dumbledore was, for lack of a better phrase, in a tizzy.

Snape tiredly ran his hands over his face; "Exactly what did you have in mind, Albus?" Snape prayed it wouldn't be as badly conceived an idea as when the Headmaster forced him to conduct Occlumency lessons with Harry Bloody Potter. Relying on Aurors to solve anything other than "Button, Button, Who's Got the Button" was a risk Severus was unwilling to take. He prayed that his future was not going to be consigned to such an ignominious fate.

No, it was worse.

"I've already arranged."

Oh, God. That was never a good start, Snape thought.

".for you and your instructor to inhabit appropriate housing."

It was all the Potions Master could do to keep from throttling the old man behind the overly polished walnut desk. Severus Snape was painfully aware of the fact that the more obtuse Albus Dumbledore became in describing a situation, the more distasteful it would be to its participants. Given the description so far, Snape could only assume that he'd be bearing Voldemort's children - or something equally repulsive.

As it turns out, the reality was worse than he'd feared.