Has anybody noticed how many things ff.net has outlawed? No "10 reasons...", no "Ask", no MST's (which included stories that were PERMISSIBLE to be used), etc. And now no bloopers! Those are a form of fanfiction! Yes, this is a fanfiction site that I don't own or run, but still...

In the writing of my fanfiction, I normally would research the topic I am writing about. I sincerely apologize to my readers and admit I did no research on the subject of paralysis or physical therapy (I will research that before I get to it). I know I have gotten many facts wrong, as some people were kind enough to point out. Even though this is only an Internet story and not a published work, I still have a code to uphold, even if I can only squeeze in ten minutes of writing a day. If you see anything suspicious (I just read over Chapter 1 and I can't believe I haven't been flamed more than I have), let's just say that yes, Madam Pomfrey was able to heal Snape's bones in his back and the nerve damage itself, but the effects of the nerve damage are still there (only the paralysis). Ah, the old blame it on magic. Again, please forgive me and thank you for your tolerance.

You want a disclaimer? Coming right up! Harry Potter Inc. is affiliated with Jo Rowling, Warner Brothers and Scholastic.

"What else would be in a birdcage besides a bird?" "A... a hamster." -TV's Funniest Game Shows, aired on FOX September 10, 2002.

Rutabaga Chapter 2

~*~ (If you normally skip my Author Note, please read the second paragraph.)

"I am sixteen going on seventeen..."

Snape grit his teeth. All he wanted was some peace and quiet so he could finish making instructions for the substitute Potions professor.

"Fellas I meet may tell me I'm sweet..."

Hermione was washing dishes, flicking her wand here and there, leaving everything spotless and sparkling. The singing was a habit she had. Since the first time she'd scrubbed a plate (before she knew about magic, of course) she would always sing whatever tune came into her head. The Sound of Music was one of her favorite movies. She always watched movies when she came home for the summer- she loved them.

She knew perfectly well that this was annoying Snape, so she just sang louder. She grinned as she heard a frustrated groan come from the other room.

Snape rolled his eyes as Hermione came back into the room. Looking at his numerous bookshelves, she asked, "May I read one of your books?"

For a moment, Snape considered sneering and throwing out an insult about her bookish know-it-all-ism (his silent treatment was obviously not having the desired result), but she had filled the pitcher next to him with ice water this morning. He cast a fearful glance at the water pitcher, then waved his hand as if to give his royal approval.

A few minutes later, Hermione put down the book she was reading and glanced at the clock. She walked to the other side of the room, rolling a wheelchair in front of her. Snape eyed it warily, reminiscent of a rabbit eyeing a possible trap.

"It's bathtime, my dear Professor," Hermione said, enjoying the look of sheer horror that come over his normally expressionless face.

"Well, you have to take a bath sometime, otherwise the smell would knock out the house-elves worse than asphodel mixed with an infusion of wormwood and then where would Hogwarts be?" Snape frowned at this, but pulled himself over to the side of the bed. He used his arms to hoist himself up over the side of the wheelchair, then managed to slide his limp legs into it.

"Go on ahead to the bathroom and I'll get some clean clothes for you," Hermione told him. After gathering some clothes, she walked into the bathroom. Snape had already drawn the bath and was waiting for her to help him into the tub. Hermione set the clothes down on the countertop, then helped him pull his shirt over his shoulders. He was about to unbutton his pants, then hesitated.

"Oh please," Hermione said in exasperation. "I told you before, it's nothing I haven't seen. Don't be such a baby."

After helping him into the tub, Hermione went to the sink. She transfigured a small object from her bag to its normal size. Snape, trying not to look interested, glanced over at her. She was using some sort of Muggle contraption to straighten her hair.

Hermione absent-mindedly pulled a lock of hair through the straightener. She used it once a week, preferring the Muggle method to the magic one- it seemed to work better. She had only needed to figure out a way to change it a little so that it ran on magic and not electricity, and voila, no more bushy hair.

Hermione let out a yelp and realized the straightener had fallen on the inside of her forearm. She pulled it away quickly and noted ruefully that her skin was bubbling and burning. She set the straightener down on the countertop and performed a quick numbing spell. She couldn't do anything about the wound until she could get the burn salve from her room.

Snape watched as she left the room calmly. He was impressed with her stoicism. He knew many- even Death Eaters- who would scream or writhe in pain just to make a big show out of it. Hermione had just set the device down and walked to her room. Even though her back was turned to him when she burned herself, he was able to see her arm clearly- and the skin burning. It was nasty burn, one that was sure to leave a scar unless treated quickly.

Hermione was careful to keep her arm elevated above her heart to reduce swelling. With her other hand, she opened one of her chest drawers and found the burn salve. She took it back to the bathroom with her so she could keep an eye on Snape.

Snape waited patiently for her to come back. He had already washed himself, but he couldn't wash his hair as he couldn't lean backwards or forward in order to immerse his head in the water. The water level was too low and, sitting down, he couldn't bend over that far. Hermione came back into the room, holding her burned arm above her shoulder to prevent swelling and carrying a jar of burn salve. She stood at the counter and maneuvered the jar so that she could open it with one hand.

After applying the salve, she wrapped her arm in bandages to keep the salve from coming off. She turned to look at Snape. He was holding a shampoo bottle and he shook it a little, a hurry-up-and-get-over-here smile on his face. She groaned dramatically but walked over to him. She poured out a handful of shampoo and then slapped her hand on his head, splattering the shampoo all over his black hair.

"There, all done!" She exclaimed a little too cheerily. He narrowed his eyes at her as a bit of shampoo dripped down and fell with a plop into the water below. "Come on," she said, "you can lather it yourself! Your arms still work. Don't give me that look! I'm here to take care of you, not cater to your every lazy whim."

When she finished saying this, she heard the chamber door open.

"Hello?" Professor Dumbledore's voice called out.

"We're in here!" Hermione said, still glaring at Snape. Professor Dumbledore walked in the bathroom, assessed the situation, and beamed.

"I see you two are getting along just fine," he said, his eyes twinkling. "And how do you like Hermione, Severus?"

Snape grinned sarcastically and said, "Albus, she is wonderful. In fact, she was just about to wash my hair for me- she is quite obedient and helps me do everything."

So NOW he talks, Hermione thought.

Dumbledore smiled. "I was just checking up on you. By all means, don't let me interrupt you." He motioned towards Snape's non-lathered hair.

Hermione smiled, looking happy, but the twitch in her left eye was a giveaway to the inner rage she was feeling. She went over to Snape and began running her fingers through his hair, making a nice foamy lather. Dumbledore nodded his head and left, that damned twinkle in his eye again. As soon as he was gone, Hermione's once-gentle massaging turned into sharp jerks and pulls. Snape grimaced and waited until she was done.

Sitting up in his bed, a now-dry Snape tried not to stare as Hermione did a few exercises in the room.

Hermione pulled her leg up to be parallel with her and smiled inwardly, a not-so-innocent smile. She had to get Snape back for that episode with Dumbledore, and had thought of the perfect thing. She knew that although Snape would never harbor any emotional attraction towards her, he was a male, and males... well, they had a physical reaction no matter who the girl was. She tried to ignore the little twang in her heart when she thought about the fact that Snape would never care for her emotionally, and went on with her plan.

She had gone into her room after getting him settled into his bed. She changed into a Muggle sports bra and some exercise shorts. She went into Snape's room, where there was much more open space. She started out with some stretches, then began a few ballet routines. She had taken dance classes for many years before she came to Hogwarts, including ballet, tap, swing, and her favorite, the tango. She still practiced them, but she wished there were someone here that knew how to dance the tango with her. premonition?

Snape had been afraid at first, when finding out that he was paralyzed, that he was also handicapped somewhere else. But seeing Hermione bend down wearing a revealing piece of clothing answered his question. He shifted uncomfortably, grateful for the blankets that were always covering his bottom half. How could this damned girl do this to him? He had been to countless Dark Revels where there had been naked women galore- all trying to seduce him while they were under the Imperious curse or under the effects of some potion; he hadn't experienced so much as a quickened heartbeat around them.

So why was she having such an effect on him? Sure, she had a nice body, but Voldemort always had to have the best at his Dark Revels. As he pondered over this, his mind purposely neglected the possibility that it could be anything remotely close to physical attraction. After all, this was Hermione Granger.



Hermione stood in front of Snape. He had a look of terrified horror in his eyes, and he was backing away from her in terror. She advanced on him, holding out a spoon. A dark purple liquid quivered a little as it tried to enter Snape's mouth. Snape squeezed his lips together tightly, refusing to take it.

"Come on, Snape. You have to take this medicine! You're susceptible to infection right now, with all this inactivity. It doesn't taste bad, it's grape-flavored, it's not the icky cherry."

Snape turned his head. Hermione waved the spoon back and forth.

"Open up for the airplane! Here it comes! Vbrooo-..." She stopped, more than a little embarrassed. She was used to using childish maneuvers to give medicine to the kids at her house, and he was acting like a child. Snape gave her a funny look, but still kept his mouth squeezed tightly shut. Hermione knew she had to do something to make him take it. She thought for a few moments.

"Snape, doesn't a Coniferous Potion require 3 lacewings and a few cups of chopped boomslang skin?"

Snape opened his mouth to correct her on this atrocious misinformation. As soon as his lips parted, Hermione shoved the spoon in his mouth. She tipped the potion in and withdrew the spoon. Snape glared at her.

"Well, aren't you going to swal-" The thick purple medicine slid down the front of Hermione's robes, mixed in with a little of that special Snape saliva. She looked down at herself and smiled.

"I must say that this is quite the fashion statement. I mean, purple, who doesn't love it? I just look simply lovely in my new purple robes." Hermione stopped her spout of sarcasm as Snape put his hand to her cheek. He moved one of his fingers to her lips to shush her. Hermione's heart beat wildly. Snape leaned his head forward and brushed his lips against hers- not a true kiss, but a whisper of one. Hermione felt something move inside her, like a boulder being pushed off a cliff.

Snape was just pressing his lips a little harder against hers when there was a knock at the door.

Damn.I bet it's Sirius Black

~*~ Cliffhangers are SO fun, aren't they?

Please, I need help with ideas! What are some fun tricks and things they can do to each other? The water pitcher thing is an example, if you don't know what I'm talking about.