Severus Snape startled and looked up from his cauldron as the door to his private research lab slammed open. It took him a moment of blank staring to realise that the formidable woman standing purposefully before him used to be a little, very irritating girl named Hermione Granger once upon quite a long time ago.

"Alright, I'm ready."

Impenetrable black eyes blinked."Ready for what?" he snapped, shock and bewilderment having clearly left him bereft of all but the most basic communication skills, which apparently excluded the ability to interrogate her on how the hell she had got onto his warded property.

"I turned 33 today. That means I'm finally half your age plus seven."

She started unbuttoning her robes, seemingly oblivious to the expression dawning on his face.

"Where do you want me? Bent over the workbench? Perched and leaning back on a stool? Hands and knees on the floor? Why aren't you undressing? I've waited over 15 years for this, Professor—get to it!"

She stood there, turned diagonally away from him, in matching green lacy undergarments complete with black suspender seamed tights and platform 7 inch heels, as she rummaged through something that was just out of his line of sight. "Will this work for you? I also have a tightened, shortened version of my Hogwarts uniform, if you prefer. Or we can mix it up—I've got my Gryffindor tie here—you can use it like a leash."

If Severus had been drinking at that point, he surely would have sprayed the liquid all over his cauldron. As it was, he nearly choked. Little did he know that this was only the beginning...

"Oh, and let me know if you want my hair like this or back to bushy. There's your choice of quills, muggle pencils, or various ornate silver and emerald hairclips to hold it up, so that you can enjoy the image and sensation of removing them and watching my hair tumble down."

erm... Severus was beginning to wonder if she hadn't simply confunded him just before she entered. Then again, even a confundus would be incapable of creating confused impressions which revolved around formerly buck-toothed know-it-alls calmly and pedantically rattling off a memorised list of teenaged sexual cliches.

"I've also got various props. Do you want to pound me while I try to read Hogwarts a History out loud? Maybe Moste Potente Potions? There are a few spare wands and cauldron stirrers for spanking or insertion, and I've got some illicit potions if you want one or both of us to be drugged first. Plus the general public school disciplinary tools—a paddle, a switch, a ruler, a riding crop—you know."

Had she been paying attention, she might have seen Severus' eyebrows creeping higher and higher during her list, but instead she continued to stand there in her skivvies, back slightly turned as she conducted some sort of inventory on... well, Merlin only knew, really.

"That reminds me... I've also practiced some illusions, so that I can make it look like we're back in your Potions class with it full of Gryffindors & Slytherins, or just us doing detention in the classroom or in your office. I never saw your quarters, so you'd have to do that one, I'm afraid. But I have practiced illusions of individual people as well, if you want a select audience. I can do them singly or in small groups. So far, I've got down Harry, Ron, Neville, Ginny, Colin, Draco, Lucius, Narcissa, Remus, Sirius, and Minerva, but if you have any other special requests, just let me know, and I can work on them. The one caveat is that I can do the ones I've mentioned only at the ages I've known them, so if you want your contemporaries back when they were teenagers, you'll have to do them yourself for a while until I can copy you."

Minerva? Oh, for the love of...

"And if you want something a bit spicier, I've got two sets of death eater robes and masks and an optional dark mark fake tattoo for myself. I'm prepared to do "mudblood follower", "a victim", or "fellow spy". I've also got some accompanying leather kit if you're in the mood for a revel scene. I practiced Voldemort and Bellatrix illusions for those, just in case."

Severus was fairly certain that this was the moment where his obviously already impaired cognitive ability simply gave up and shut down.

"Oh, and there's polyjuice here. I managed to procure hairs for both of us when we were teenagers, as well as one of you in your 30s in case you want to do some age play. I even have an old Slytherin uniform for you here that I lifted from the Hogwarts house elves. Their archives really put the library to shame."


"So are we good to go? Have you decided yet? Fortunately, my muggle side is now officially at my sexual peak, so I should be fine to fulfil as many scenarios as you wish. I see you're still dressed, so I guess that's where you'd like me to start?"

It was the realisation that the scantily clad nightmare in front of him was actually reaching for his buttons- apparently quite confident in his acceptance of her... for lack of a better term... advances, which finally allowed him to snap out of the horrified stupor into which he'd fallen during the she-demon's monologue.

"Miss Granger..." he growled threateningly as her hands approached his neck. She shuddered in what was unfortunately not revulsion, and continued undeterred. His control snapped.

"Miss Granger!" he bellowed, "Get the hell out of my laboratories right now, and if you so much as think of approaching my ward lines again, I will gladly submit to Azkaban in payment for the ability to WREAK MY VENGEANCE UPON YOU!" His bellow had grown to a full-blown roar of rage. "NOW, GO!"

The woman shrieked, grabbed her robes and the infamous tattered beaded bag, and fled. Bringing a shaking hand up to the bridge of his prominent nose, Severus sighed. Miss Granger was the oldest of her year mates, and this was no doubt tidings of more dire things to come within the next twelve months. He shuddered at the selection of Hogwarts graduates that would no doubt approach him in the near future. Hopefully, Bulstrode wouldn't be quite so... creative.

It was the same every year, ever since he had made that damnable flippant excuse within hearing of the detestable beetle. Within days the ensuing article had spawned what was now a lamentable tradition amongst a unfathomable (and sometimes horrifying) collection of his former students. The Gryffindors were by far the worst. He shuddered at the memory of Johnson, who had appeared roughly three years ago around this time with a platter full of suggestive food. He hadn't touched oysters... or most fruit... since.

It wasn't all a loss, though. The memory of a nubile young Parkinson some ten years back brought a smirk. Unlike her year mate Miss Granger, Pansy Parkinson certainly knew that some things were simply not meant to follow the rules, and she had grabbed the opportunity without waiting for some hair-brained minimum age formula to kick in. Parkinson possessed other valuable knowledge, as well, including the importance of bringing an equally nubile friend. Thinking back on that particular rendezvous, as well as others over the years, he reflected that the occasional unexpected incident like the one he'd just suffered through couldn't quite eclipse the various benefits he'd received from the far more welcome visitors to his lab.

He could have killed Potter when he first recovered from the snake only to find himself in the middle of a sentimental maelstrom released in the wake of revelations over his newly established hero status, not the mention the public outing of his non-relationship with Lily. Eventually though, Severus had grown to quite appreciate bearing the reputation of a romantic Bronte-esque dark antihero. The article released not two years later regarding his supposed "age limits" seemed to shatter whatever barriers had remained and managed to be interpreted as some sort of tacit approval for sexual solicitations. Indeed, the past 15 years had been quite an education.

Severus smirked again and stretched before returning to his cauldron.

It's good to be the Potions Master.



AN: Okay, so I was re-reading nonjon's A Black Comedy for the hundredth time, and when I got to the part where Remus is razzed for supposedly breaking the age rule in hooking up with Tonks, it got me wondering about what fanon HG/SS Hermione would do if she encountered such a rule, especially if there was some reason why the object of her desire expected the rule to be followed.

Without really thinking it through, I started this story, and quickly realised that a 15-year wait is a heck of a lot of prep-time to allow Hermione, and I could just imagine on how thoroughly she would research this, wanting everything to go perfectly and to be as prepared as possible. Then I realised that, confronted with Snape for the first time in a decade and a half, she would probably do that thing that many adults do, which is revert to the age she was the last time she saw him (it never fails—two days in the parents' house, and suddenly you're 18 again). And no matter how much Hermione had matured in all of those intervening years, it was quite easy to imagine her going into default 'quickly and clinically list everything I know' mode.

It was then that I realised that despite a fondness for HG/SS stories, there was no way that Snape would be enticed by this scenario at all. Everything else fell into place from there, including Rita's role in the debacle, and the slight twist that even though he rejected Hermione's advances, doesn't necessarily mean that he'd reject everyone's.

Of course, the last line is a reference to Mel Brooks' History of the World Part I. And being a parody, this story borrows heavily from... well, most of fanon. Respectfully and affectionately, of course. ;-) Please Review!