A/N: So, I'm in the midst of writing the Draco sequel to Disguised Affections, but this little plot bunny wouldn't let me go! So, here's the first chapter in a little smutty short that I felt compelled to write about our favorite member of the Golden Trio and the snarky Potions master. I hope you enjoy it!

This is a work of fanfiction and, as such, I make no money on it. Anything you recognize belongs to the lovely JK Rowling.

Thanks to WriterMerrin for her super-fast beta job!

I asked him to dance. What else could I do? The poor man needed someone to rescue him. He was staring at Professor Trelawney with barely-masked horror, her tentacular arms tangled around his spare frame as if she was trying to drag him down into the murky depths of her idiocy.

"Dear Professor Snape, I have foreseen this. My inner eye speaks truth!" Her voice quavered, frothy with portent. "It is already coming to pass. Our wishes are immaterial in this matter!"

"Madame, I must ask you once again to remove your hands from my person. Your attentions are unseemly." His thin lips were pulled into a snarl as he attempted to remove her fisted hands from his frock coat without her tenacious grip ripping the damn thing off him.

"But Professor – no, I must be courageous! Severus, you must know that we are destined for one another. I have seen our milky limbs entangled. It is as plain to me as the nose on your very face." Her eyes bulged earnestly as she pressed her less-than-ample bosom into his arm. I covered a smile with my palm.

"Severus, how good of you to wait for me!" I blundered into the situation with as much grace as an adolescent buck in rutting season. The smile I flashed at Professor Trelawney was the human equivalent of locking horns. Crossing my arms under my breasts, I simpered, secure in the knowledge that my horns were much bigger.

…Not that I was interested in getting into a confrontation over the snarky Potions professor, but I considered myself to be quite the humanitarian - looking out for my fellows and all that.

"I'm ready for my dance now. I do hope that I haven't kept you waiting too long?"

His mouth opened and then closed with a snap when my eyes rolled significantly towards the Divination professor. "Ms. Granger, I have been waiting for a solid ten minutes. One would think that you would have learned to read a clock before being allowed to graduate, but I see that I was mistaken. Now kindly shut up so that I can actually enjoy my dance without your incessant chatter."

Well. For Severus Snape that was practically a marriage proposal.

He stepped forward and held out a pale hand. Taking it, I allowed him to curve the other around my waist, just above where my hip flared.

I hadn't expected his skin to be so warm.

Or for his hand on my side to feel so intimate on the green silk of my gown.

Honestly, it should be clear by now that I hadn't exactly thought any of this through. Although I was sincere in my desire to save the man from the grasping machinations of Sybil Trelawney, I hadn't gotten to the part where I pictured what it would feel like to dance with him. Severus Snape was a man that holds the world at arms' length in both a literal and metaphorical way.

Suddenly, after knowing the git for twelve years, I was standing closer to him than I had ever been before, and he smelled heavenly… like mint and juniper.

I swallowed.

We waited several beats to hear the rhythm of the waltz and then we were moving, navigating through students in tight dresses and ill-fitting formal robes. Biting the inside of my cheek to prevent a smile from escaping, I mused that I felt like I was dancing with a shark surrounded by a school of guppies. A shark in perfectly-tailored dress robes. I cleared my throat as my left hand curled around his shoulder. A nicely-muscled shark in perfectly-tailored dress robes. And scary, yellowed teeth.

"Ms. Granger, I am not sure what you think you are about, but I assure you I am not a person with whom you should trifle." He stared fixedly, coldly over my shoulder, but his hands were so damn hot that his words felt like a balm to my overexcited nerves.

"It's Professor as you very well know, and I'm sorry. I didn't understand that you really wanted to dance with our wooly-headed Divinations idiot and listen to her wax poetic on your naked, entwined limbs." I was proud that my voice sounded amused and tolerant instead of breathy.

His eyebrows rose a scant millimeter. "You are hardly one to describe another person as 'wooly-headed.'" The Potions master nodded significantly towards my half-hearted attempt to restrain my mass of Whomping Willow-inspired coiffure.

I sniffed. "Of course I meant it figuratively; all of that mystical eye nonsense is enough to give me heartburn."

His hand flexed on my waist, and I jumped. "Perhaps it was the copious amounts of crab dip which you consumed rather than any fault of Sybil's." His voice was soft but seemed to have a touch of humor.

I found it remarkably difficult to look him in the eye when all I could think about were his hands. It's with no small bit of remorse that I admit I'm a terrible Occlumens. "Rubbish." I stared fixedly at the silver buttons on his frock coat, noticing for the first time that they were emblazoned with his initials; matching S's proudly formed by two copulating snakes. My eyes jerked to his in shock.

His lips tipped up in what, on anyone else, I would have called a grin. "You shouldn't eat rubbish, Ms. Granger."

"It's Professor," I whispered unconvincingly. He tugged me a bit closer, and my belly flip-flopped.

We fell into silence as he led me around the Great Hall. Severus Snape was not a great dancer, but he was decent enough. I didn't get my feet trampled, but neither did I succumb to any corny clichés. There was no dancing on clouds nor would I say our dance was a life-changing experience. However, my perception of the Hogwarts Potions master did change.

Forget the greasy hair, the crooked teeth, and beaky nose. The man was sex on two feet.

Surreptitiously, I leaned in closer to get another whiff of his scent.

"Professor Granger, I must warn you once again that I am not a man with whom you should trifle. While I am sure that you shall recount your dance with the Great Bat of the Dungeons in loving detail and with much sniggering to Ms. Weasley at a later date, I am fully aware of when I am being made the brunt of a joke." His hand squeezed mine a trifle too firmly. "And I do not appreciate it."

Despite his words, Professor Snape was not acting overtly hostile to me, and I guessed that his words were more a matter of form; a warning of sorts, or perhaps they were meant as protection from being hurt by unscrupulous females. I pulled back a bit and looked up at his face. "Would you like to get a drink with me sometime?"

"I do not drink, Ms. Granger." His voice was austere, and he reverted to looking back over my shoulder. "I did far too much of it during the war and have no desire to revisit the follies of my past."

My heart sank. "It's Professor, and I understand. Well, maybe another time…"

"Tomorrow I will be sorting my Potions storage room."

I bit my lip. "Oh? How meticulous." He didn't need to make it so obvious that he was disinterested. I would have been much happier receiving a polite brush-off, especially as we were currently ensconced in a sea of overly hormonal teenagers made giddy off of the Christmas punch (which I was at least seventy-five percent certain had been spiked by the Montrose boy).

"You've always had an orderly mind and good eye for Potions. Perhaps you'd care to help me?" My eyes jerked to meet his, and I suddenly felt myself drowning in a sea of black. All sorts of naughty scenarios flooded my brain at his velvet suggestion, and I had a sudden vivid desire to be taken roughly against a storage shelf, listening to the clink of ingredients as they jumped in time to the snap of his lean hips against mine.

I saw his mouth slowly curl into an intensely smug smile, and with horror, I realized that he'd caught a glimpse of my lust-drenched thoughts. My face burned hot, hotter even than his wicked hands, one of which had slid down to rest on my hip and was tracing small circles to my distraction. My eyes glued themselves to my feet.

"Ah well, Professor Snape, we shall have to see. I'm really awfully busy, and I'm unsure that I'll be free at any point tomorrow." What on earth was this drivel pouring out of my mouth? Here was this man to whom I was undoubtedly attracted inviting me into his private spaces, and I was ready to flee like a second year with her hand caught in the Boomslang skin. Snape didn't seem put off by my metaphorically loose knickers… and it's not like they are – my intention was to save the dunderhead not convince him to drop his trousers for my enjoyment. So, why was I running? I bit my lip, undecided.

"Well, if you decide to join me, I shall see you at four, after we've seen the students to King's Cross for their holidays." Snape released his grasp on my hip and ran his thumb over the corner of my mouth, pulling my lip from between my teeth. "Don't do that, Professor Granger. You're a woman of three and thirty, not a teenager."

I gasped, outraged. "I am twenty-seven!"

"It hardly matters." He flipped his hand negligently. "Once a woman hits twenty-five, it's all downhill from there."

"I beg your pardon!" The music ended, and I yanked my hands away from him in indignation. I tried to, anyway. He had a firm but gentle grip on my right hand, and try as I might, I couldn't free myself. "Cease your manhandling this instant, Professor Snape."

"Professor Granger, you are causing a bit of a scene." His voice was a rumble that sounded from deep in his chest, and his thumb dragged softly over the knuckles of my captured hand.

I froze, and my eyes darted to meet his. There was a softness to his eyes that I wouldn't have noticed on anyone else, but because his face was so perpetually hard and closed off, the subtle tenderness of his expression hit me like a blow to my solar plexus. Severus Snape was teasing me!

"Oh, you great, bloody arse!" I mumbled and buried my face in the palm of my free hand to hide my burning cheeks.

"What a charming woman you are; so delicate and refined. I'm no longer sure I want you to help me in the Potions store room. It's possible that a female of your delicate sensibilities would be unable to handle being in such close quarters with rat spleen and flobberworm guts. However, if you decide that you are up to the challenge," here he raised that damned eyebrow and looked down at me, "I shall look forward to seeing you at four pm." Snape bowed over my hand, his lips stopping mere millimeters from touching my skin. And then he left me there, staring after him.

In a daze, I walked towards the teacher's table, wondering what on earth just happened.

Xiomara Hooch grabbed my hand and squealed like a teenager. "I just knew that dress would get someone's attention. I don't think I've ever seen the Greasy Git dance with anyone before."

"Me neither," I said, feeling accosted by the Flying instructor.

"Well? How was it, girl?" The woman's face was eager, her yellow eyes glowing in the candlelight.

I turned to face the dance floor, watching the students move gracelessly against each other. There Snape stood, as solemn as a rook in a crowd of sparrows. Feeling my eyes upon him, he turned his head and smiled at me crookedly. I gasped at the beauty of it and said, "It was absolutely heavenly."

A/N: Like it, love it, hate it, review it!