Damn him. *Damn* Frank Longbottom. This was *all* his fault. If he hadn't transfigured Snape's books into mice -- which, of course, caused Severus to retaliate with a flock of nasty little sparrows -- he wouldn't be stuck in the library writing such an insanely long essay on the origins of Transfiguration and its applications.

At the moment, it didn't matter that Frank hadn't done it on purpose. Then again, that wouldn't have mattered at all. The fact that Longbottom had been poked in the back of the head with a wand during his incantation, causing him to start and *adjust* his aim, was virtually nonexistent in Snape's thoughts. All that mattered was the hour it'd taken him to round up his textbooks, and the 20 points that had been taken from his House. It was uncalled for.

While Snape sat, writing furiously and brooding, Frank Longbottom -- unlikely Gryffindor on most days -- tried not to stare. How could a person be so intense about everything? He was as intense in his anger about the situation as he was about writing the essay. The Slytherin had wasted no time in getting started, his quill meeting the parchment almost as soon as he'd sat down with his books. Library books. Books that Frank himself would need to use.

"Is there any particular reason why you feel the need to stare at me like that, Longbottom?" Severus glanced up briefly from his writing, more to turn the page than to look at the other boy. When he got no immediate response, save for the slight blush on Frank's cheeks at being caught, he merely snorted and went back to his work.

It was eerie, the way that boy seemed to know things without looking about or hearing them. "I, uh, I was just wondering..." Frank scolded himself for sounding so nervous. Snape wasn't going to bite his head off, was he? What an absurd notion. He frowned a little and schooled himself for his next bout of speaking. "If you aren't using that one there on the bottom --" He pointed almost timidly to the pile beside Snape. "-- would you mind terribly if I did?"

There was a pause, where even the quill Snape had been using stopped its precise movements, and Severus lifted his head slowly to glare across the table. He felt a little stab of satisfaction when Frank flinched back, even if it wasn't all that noticeable. "After the disaster you got me into, you expect me to be *charitable*?" One regal eyebrow arched as he waited for an answer.

Frank sighed, averting his eyes away from Severus' gaze. "It...isn't as if I meant for all this to happen, you know." Even though he tried not to, he started to almost whine. "It really wasn't my fault, Severus. Honest. And I am sorry, re--"

"I could *really* not care less," Severus interrupted tersely. He yanked the book from the bottom of the pile and thrust it across the table. "Anything to shut you up," he growled softly. He didn't fancy spending the next few hours listening to Longbottom whine. He wanted to get his assignment done as quickly as possible so that he could leave. His thoughts were momentarily interrupted by Frank's soft "thank you," which he duly ignored.

Minutes ticked by, blissfully silent, both students scribbling away at their essays, silently fighting over books. It was too good to last. About one-third of the way through his assignment, Frank was ready to give up. He could have sworn he'd said everything there was to say, but it just wasn't enough, and he couldn't find anything he hadn't already mentioned. A glance at Snape made him all the more distressed, when he found the Slytherin boy still writing away, a little more than halfway done. How could that be possible when they were both using the same sources?

He looked back down at the parchment in front of him and re-read it. He just couldn't think of anything else to say. Idly, he tapped his quill on the table. It was just one of those things a person did when they were thinking. Unfortunately, it also effectively kept other people from doing just that. The tapping suddenly stopped, and Frank shifted his gaze to stare at Severus' hand on top of his own. "...Severus?"

Snape was staring at their hands as well. Why had he done that? He could just as well have snapped at the git. What in Merlin's name prompted him to actually...touch? He pulled his hand back abruptly and glared across the table. "Stop that. Can't you be still for more than a few minutes?" He scowled at his own pathetic retort before returning to his work.

"You could have just asked, you know. I-I would have. You don't have to be so nasty all the time. No wonder no one likes you very much." He frowned a little and put down his quill, bringing his hand down into his lap and stroking it as if it had been hit. He was a little disappointed to realize that he couldn't reproduce the little tingling sensation he'd felt when Severus touched him. At that revelation, he was a little disturbed.

"I'm not trying to impress anyone." He glanced up again to raise another eyebrow at his 'companion.' "Since when were *you* such an expert on popularity, Longbottom? I would have never guessed it was something you excelled at, from the looks of you." His tone was mocking and it had the appropriate effect: withering. There was silence after that. For a time.

After another hour or so had passed -- which included two more fits of tapping -- Frank gave up. There was nothing more he could say, so he'd just have to write that down. That was something he could do in his room, away from Severus. He stood slowly, trying not to shake the table, and started to collect his things. Turning in less than what was assigned would probably get him into more trouble, but at this point he didn't care.

It happened so quickly that Frank wasn't sure what he'd done exactly. One minute he was holding his Transfiguration text in his hands, the next it was lying on top of Snape's open book, having sent his inkwell flying, all over Severus' essay, book, and person. He tried to apologize, but his mind was only thinking one thing: Shit, shit, shit!

Severus pushed away from the table and stood slowly, watching the ink drip onto the floor. Carefully, he lifted his essay by the only dry corner and held it up. More dripping. It was gone. Everything he'd written was washed away. He turned slightly, fixing the most deadly looking glare in Frank's direction. The stupid git had come around to the other side of the table in a vain attempt to help with the mess.

"S-Severus, I-I am SO sorry. It-it was an accident. I swear. I-I don't even know how it happened..." He stood, wide-eyed, staring at the small disaster and absently babbling on about how truly sorry he was. Was there anything he could do to help? How could he make it up to him? He barely noticed that Severus was starting to pack in his things. He even followed the ink-soaked boy as he returned the books to their places on the shelves.

On and on and on. Bloody hell, didn't he ever shut up?! Snape lifted his pack to his shoulder, half listening to Frank whine and plead. His head was throbbing from all the pointless chatter, and the ink was starting to dry on him, making his hands rather sticky. As he started toward the library door, he felt Frank following him. For once, the Gryffindor wasn't being put off by Snape's obvious lack of interest. Despite the fact that he wasn't well-liked -- even less liked now for losing points -- Severus refused to venture out into the hall while being followed by that clumsy git.

So he stopped and turned. Of course, Frank did not, and collided into him rather hard. The two stumbled backward, packs falling to the floor as they just barely managed to keep their balance -- at a cost, of course. Frank was now practically *wrapped* around Snape, their faces mere inches apart. Once again, he started up with the apologies: How he hadn't meant to run into him like that, how he was so sorry he'd made things worse.

On the fourth excuse, Snape decided that he'd had enough. Since his arms were otherwise occupied with keeping Longbottom from toppling over on him -- which meant he couldn't get at his wand -- he settled for the next best thing, even though it wasn't the most agreeable. He tilted his head forward slightly...and kissed the other boy. Kissed him rather hard, and having picked the right moment -- in the middle of a sentence -- he even managed to slip his tongue in. Silence. Sweet silence.

After the initial shock, Frank had rather...eagerly...kissed back. Shouldn't this repulse him? Severus Snape, a Slytherin, the same Slytherin who taunted him on a daily basis and harassed his friends, was kissing him -- rather well, actually. He shouldn't be enjoying it, should he? And when Snape backed away, looking just as flustered as Frank felt, he shouldn't have felt disappointed, right? But he did. He hadn't wanted it to end. He had to stop himself from letting out a little distraught cry when Severus turned to pick up his things and leave, as if nothing had even happened. He couldn't, however, stop himself from asking why.

Severus paused and turned slightly to look back at him. His expression was almost...fond? "Why?" He raised an eyebrow and snorted. "Anything for you, Longbottom. Anything...for you...to shut up." It was just barely sarcastic, as if, maybe, he really didn't mean it. But then he scowled, breaking the illusion, and left the library in a swirl of black robes...and ink.