AN: I wasn't gonna have an AN, and this was gonna be a one-shot... buuut the last paragraph just kinda hit me, and I thought making it a two-shot would be nice. Leave it a cliffie for a week or two(; Enjoy!...oh, and I MAY add more to this. May. First smutty FF, by the way. Review, comment, flame... whatever floats your boat(; Blessed Be & Happy Reading (VERY... happy;)!~

Severus looked over at the inquisitive little Seventh Year and had to suppress a growl of aggravation. Well, maybe not so little anymore. Ginevra had grown to an average 5'3", which for her was tall enough. Still though, Severus nearly towered over her at 6'1. Currently, the flame-headed girl was attempting to make Wolfsbane. She carelessly knocked over a vial of wormswart, and this time the growl would not be contained.

She looked over at him sheepishly. "Sorry, Professor, I wasn't being careful." He fought the urge to roll his eyes.

"Obviously." He drawled, earning himself a scathing look from the Weaslette. He gestured to it, and she righted the vial.

Currently, the two were standing in the basement of Grimmauld Place, newly remodeled as a Potions lab. They were the only two in the house, for various reasons. He was attempting to teach the little chit how to brew a proper Wolfsbane potion so he could quit making it for Lupin every month. Luckily, they were still on the first trial batch. Severus had thought they would be on at least the seventh by now; she was never that great of a potioneer. She crumbled two hawthorne leaves and dropped it in the potion. A green smoke came up from the cauldron and curled into an 's' shape.

"It's done, for now. Now we let it sit a week, exactly." He tapped his watch. "I will summon you an hour before you have to be here." He finished curtly. She nodded, tossing her red hair behind her left shoulder.

"Right. Sooo," She rocked on her heels, "Can I go now?"

He scoffed. "Yes, you can go make me dinner now."

"Rightio." Ginevra turned and thundered up the steps into the kitchen. Though he didn't show it, Severus was surprised that she hadn't come back with a sarcastic remark like usual. Quickly, suspicion replaced surprise. The chit was sure to poison him. Make him sick, if not kill him.


Ginny sat at the kitchen table after she washed the rest of the dishes. It was spring break and she had nothing better to do than sit at Grimmauld Place and make Snape dinner. If cookies qualified as dinner, that is. She smirked. Musta picked it up from Snape, she thought when she realized what she was doing. She reached across the table and grabbed a few peanuts from the bowl before popping them in her mouth. She nearly bit down when she realized how strange it was that some one had left peanuts out. She quickly spat them out into the garbage. Besides, she was allergic to peanuts.

She turned her head when she heard the basement door open. Snape entered the kitchen with a scowl etched deeply on his face, and slammed the door. He sidled over to the table and sat across from her, watching her as if trying to figure something out. She fidgeted a while, uncomfortable. Finally, she broke.

"What? Why are you staring at me? It's kinda creep-" Her eyes widened slightly at his severe glare, "-eeegottacheckthecookies!" She jumped up and opened the oven. The smell of baking cookies wafted out and hit Snape like a tidal wave.

"Cookies, Ginevra?" He asked coolly.

"Obviously," She said in an imitation of him. He renewed his glare. She shut the door and flounced back to the table.

"For dinner?"

Once again she replied, "Obviously." He sighed, scrunching his face.

"Are those cookies done yet, girl?" Ginny glared across the table at him. He offered a half-smile. Her heart fluttered and she felt a tug in between her legs. Embarrassed, she gazed at the table, lightly tracing each and every dent, every swirl of the wood grain. She could feel her face heating, and she hoped he didn't-

"Well, well, are you blushing, Miss Weasley?"

Drat it all. "No."

"Oh, obviously not. Your face just happens to be red. Nearly as red as your hair, actually. The horrible stuff," He sniffed. She glared. He looked back with a self-satisfied smirk.

"You're a prat," She said brashly before she could censor herself.

"Is that so?" He asked dangerously. She nodded defiantly. He slowly rose from the table, black teachers robes swirling around his feet like a pool of black cloth. He came to her, and she slowly turned to face him in her chair. He put his hands on the table, trapping her within. Ginny leaned as far back as she could to avoid their faces connecting. Even so, his face was immensely close to hers. She felt that familiar pull, and wished she could phone Dean to have him come over for a quick shag. "You shouldn't disrespect your elders like that, Ginevra."

"You should earn my respect then, Professor." Ginny retorted boldly, staring back into his eyes fiercely. His eyes flicked to her pink, heart-shaped mouth, lingering especially on that slightly, perfectly plump and kissable bottom lip. Oh, how he wanted to take that lip in between his teeth and bite into the tender flesh, making her call out. And if she thought that hurt... there was a fine line in between pain and pleasure, nobody knew better than he, and he knew how to blur that line. His eyes flicked back up to hers, which were watching him with such an intensity it made the blood rush to his groin.