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"If you don't remove your hand from there immediately, it will get bitten," a voice said calmly.
"What?" Hermione looked up from preparing her potion, her hand still reaching into a jar of puckerworms. "Ow!" She yanked her hand out, pulling the worms off of her fingers.
"Ten points from Gryffindor for improper handling of potions ingredients," Snape intoned, a smug smirk on his lips.
"I wasn't—"
He raised a challenging eyebrow at her.
She watched him walk over to the Slytherin side of the room, scowling at her own carelessness but directing it at him.
"Git," she muttered.
"If you don't remove your hand from there immediately, it will get bitten."
"Is that a threat, Miss Ganger," Snape purred, "or a promise?"
Hermione shrugged, trying to ignore the creeping, tingling heat on her thigh. "Just some friendly advice."
He opened his mouth to utter some undoubtedly witty innuendo, but all that emerged was a sharp yelp. His hand was off her leg in an instant, and he scowled, inspecting the damage.
A warning yowl issued from the direction of her lap and she reached under the table to stroke Crookshanks.
"He's very possessive," she said with a smile.