AN: Many thanks to MiaMadwyn for beta-ing this at such short notice!!

This drabble was inspired by a lovely picture prompt put together by Liagiba84 .


'Professor Granger,' Severus hissed when his newest colleague sat beside him for breakfast one Saturday morning, 'Whom exactly are you trying to impress with that travesty you call a dress? I assure you, if it is the Seventh year boys you are after, their taste is entirely undiscriminating. You needn't go to such efforts to flaunt your wares to the entire school!'

Hermione refused to be baited, which only further fuelled Severus' burning irritation when he was forced to watch her calmly butter her toast and take a dainty sip of tea.

'How many times must I ask you to call me 'Hermione', Severus?' she asked casually, pretending not to notice how flustered the man beside her was becoming as she nonchalantly reached for the sugar bowl, taking care to deliberately brush his arm just a little as she did so.

The dress is not that scandalous, she thought. So what if the neckline is just a little low, and the skirt a tad short? Even though the whole ensemble would be the tiniest bit more comfortable if it was not quite so close-fitted, it is nothing other than appropriate for Gryffindor's new Head of House to wear scarlet on the day of the year's first Quidditch match.

By this time, Severus was contemplating an undignified bolt for the doors to escape the wench's persistent attentions. Ever since term had started a month ago, Hermione Granger had made it increasingly clear to him that she would not take no for an answer.

Though he had initially assumed it was all some sort of dastardly plot to make a fool of him that would soon be forgotten, Hermione's attempts had only grown incrementally more brazen as time went on. They had now reached the point where she had chosen to treat the entire staff and student body to a not-so-subtle preview of what she would look like in a clingy, silk negligee or even less…

Sweet Nimue, why exactly was he still saying no?

Severus' decision was made when Hermione raised the stakes even further by very deliberately placing a small, warm hand on his thigh for no reason at all. He immediately shot out of his chair as if hit by a strong Stinging Hex.

'Floo to my quarters after the match,' he managed to bite out, in a low voice for her ears alone. 'For Merlin's sake, woman! Put a robe over that thing in the meantime!'

Hermione only smiled smugly in reply.

The first Gryffindor victory this year belonged to her alone.