Six

Despite the sudden and extraordinary nature of their coupling, Hermione spent the next few days replaying the moment between them endlessly: his hands gripping her, forcing her back on the desk, plunging into her, his face as he came so desperately. No matter where she was in the castle, she was unable to shake the image from her mind, not that she wanted to, and found herself in the common room, in the library, at a Quidditch match, pretending to be busy, but with her breath growing ragged and her belly clenching with familiar agonised lust.

She had wondered what she should now do. At times she found herself perilously close to going to the dungeons, knocking on his door, even entering his classroom and searching ever more into his private world. But she resisted. His taking of her had sated a deep need and longing at that moment, a need that Hermione was only too happy to give in to. It was a chink, a crack in the cage he had built for himself. For him to allow himself to be truly free would take much more from both of them. Hermione knew this, but was reassured by her firm belief that their journey was only just beginning; they both still burned for each other. She revelled in the tension, knowing that when they did see each other again, the anticipated pleasure would be heightened.

As Hermione lay in bed each night, her body drifting into semi-conscious fantasies of her teacher, she contemplated his mystery, his complexity. She must provide no less. Although she had no intention of shying away from him, or denying him her body, she believed he would benefit from some resistance.

Hermione deliberately avoided looking at him at meal times, although it was agony for her to do so. She could feel his eyes burning down onto her from high table, knew he was willing her to look at him, as she had done to him so often before. But she resisted, a small smirk playing around her mouth. She wondered how he was enjoying a taste of his own medicine. She knew his torment would simply serve to fuel his desire and she delighted in her power.

At last Monday came, and with it another Potions class. Hermione waited in her room. The start of the lesson came and went. Still she waited. Half an hour late, she started to walk slowly down to the dungeons.

Without knocking, she opened the door to his room suddenly and stepped in. Snape was lecturing the class. He tensed momentarily, but without looking at her continued his discourse. Hermione noticed a slight catch in his voice. She saw that Ginny had saved a seat next to her near the front and walked purposefully toward it. At any other time, Snape would already have let loose with a tirade of criticism and denigration. Today, he had not even glanced in her direction.

But Hermione could tell he was struggling to contain himself. His cheekbones had acquired a faint flush, and his words were increasingly hesitant and distracted. Still, he carried on as best he could.

"If one should find oneself in the unfortunate position of having been hexed simultaneously by two Dark Wizards or Witches, the results can be far worse than a mere summation of the two curses. As such, it is prudent to have at hand this particular potion which I have been trying to illuminate your feeble minds on today. The ingredients ... are rare and ... often found only in ... Miss Granger, can you explain why you find yourself forty minutes late for my lesson?!"

She knew he would not be able to last long. But still, his sudden outburst startled her, and she darted her head up to his. Their eyes locked. His were more immeasurable than ever, but Hermione could see his desire clearly in them. She knew it was mirrored in her own. As they stared at each other, her belly twisted its need and she felt her inner thighs dampening.

Trying to focus, she stuttered out, "I ... was in the library ... I must have lost track of time ..."

"And ...?" He spat the word towards her.

She knew what he needed to hear. She considered denying him, but looking into his burning eyes, she saw not only lust, but pain. She had clearly tormented him with her deliberate tardiness.

As clearly and meaningfully as she could, she spoke. "I am sorry ... Professor Snape."

He was silent for a moment, simply looking at her. But after a while his features softened, and she noticed his body visibly relax.

The other students started mumbling, glancing round at Hermione.

"Silence!" The voice had returned to its deep dictatorial throb. Hermione smiled to herself, but glanced at the clock. She had only forty five minutes until the end of the lesson. She rubbed her legs together, her eyes closing in anticipation.

Snape hardly seemed to look at her once for the rest of the lesson, and she tried her hardest to keep her eyes on her work. However, she knew that when she wasn't glancing across at him, his eyes were boring into her body, and vice versa. The energy flowing between them was undeniable. Hermione wondered even if it would manifest itself as inadvertent magic.

When it had come time for them to demonstrate their potions, he had merely indicated her brusquely with his hand and she had obliged, with predictably perfect results. Snape had sniffed in, before moving onto the next student. She smirked at his reaction. Some things would never change. Still, she noticed that now it merely fuelled her increasingly desperate need.

At last the end of the lesson came. Again, going against her needs, she decided to tantalize him and, picking up her books, headed for the door. She had nearly reached it and feared he may actually let her go, when he spoke.

"Miss Granger." His voice was cold and insistent, but merely reinforced her desire for him.

"I'll see you later," she whispered to Ginny.

"Good luck," mouthed her friend, leaving her alone with her Potions Master.

Hermione shut the door and started the long, slow walk back towards him. He was standing in front of his board, having just erased the words scrawled across it, and had turned to face her.

"Yes ... sir?"

"Why did you not feel the need to come to my lesson on time today?"

She could hear that she had offended him by her extreme tardiness. The time for games was over. She spoke truthfully.

"Because I do not feel I belong here anymore."

His features froze. He looked increasingly hurt. "Explain yourself."

She continued her slow walk towards him. "I mean, Professor, that I no longer feel I have anything to learn ... I am tired of being a schoolgirl ... tired of being treated like one ... You cannot be a pupil when ..."

He looked across at her, his eyes aflame. "Go on."

She paused, then spoke, plain and clear. "You cannot be a pupil when you find your teachers have more to learn from you, than you from them."

She had stopped in front of him. He held her gaze impassively, but his chest rose and fell rapidly. Hermione's belly clenched uncontrollably with yearning, but she forced herself to hold back.

They stood a few feet apart for the longest while, simply staring at each other. Then he took a step towards her and she saw in his eyes a glow of undiluted need. His voice came to her, thick with lust, but still as smooth and silky as ever.

"Teach me."

It was her undoing.

Not removing her eyes from his, Hermione lifted her hands to her tie, undoing it and letting it fall to the ground. Her fingers rose again to the buttons of her shirt, and she undid each one, slowly, deliberately. Snape's eyes watched her every move, but he did not move forward an inch. She reached the last button and pulled her shirt from her shoulders. It too fluttered to the stone floor. Standing before him in her bra, she at last allowed her hands to reach behind and undo the clasp. Slowly, she pulled the satin material off her breasts, revealing them full and ripe in the cool air. He could not take his eyes from her body.

They both stood, his gaze fixed on her heaving chest as it rose and fell rapidly before him. He was waiting for her.

Hermione took a step forward so that their bodies nearly touched. She gradually brought her hands up to cup his face and, searing his eyes with hers, gently pulled his head down to her. Their lips touched: warm, gentle, exquisite. It was so tender compared to the last time that Hermione could not prevent releasing a soft moan into his mouth. He responded by moving his lips against hers, opening her mouth. She immediately let her tongue flit out and tentatively quest into him. He tasted even more of honey than she remembered.

She felt for his tongue and licked, flickered around it. His lips were moving more urgently now, but still the kiss was gentle. Hermione gripped her fingers in his hair, pulling him deeper into her. They remained fused in this way, time passing them by, entirely focused on the pleasure their mouths, lips and tongues were drawing from each other. But at last her need grew too much, and with a vast effort she moved back, her lips breaking from his. His eyes looked confused for a moment, but she merely smiled gently. Her hands were still clasped to his head, and she pulled, bringing it down. Tenderly, but surely, she brought it to rest at her breast.

With a brief look of agonised bliss at the sight before him, his mouth opened and he latched onto the nipple. A dart of pleasure shot through Hermione. Snape's lips closed around the taut bud and he sucked hungrily. His tongue flicked over the very tip as his mouth continued to pull it hard within. A soft gasp of delicious pleasure escaped Hermione into the cool silent air of the dungeon as her head fell back uselessly.

Her professor's hands came up, one to each breast, and his agile fingers kneaded and plied the tender flesh while his tongue continued to draw the nipple in his mouth out to a peak of sublime sensation. Hermione dragged her gaze down to look at the smooth black head before her. He was entirely absorbed in his task, and she felt the tight pink bud pulsing with spark upon spark of pleasure. It was nearly impossible to maintain her silence, but the atmosphere of the room was charged with a potent headiness she had no wish to break. Occasionally, she could not prevent a small moan of ecstasy escaping her lips, joining the faint sound of his contented suckling, teasing the silence.

The neglected point of Hermione's other breast cried out, raw and taut for attention, and no sooner had she become aware of this than he abandoned the sated one to the cool air and moved his attention to the other. It had been so primed, so ready for his moist touch, that at the first contact of his tongue, Hermione jerked up into his mouth, a bolt of focused bliss shooting through her. Again, a suppressed groan floated up into the heavy air between them.

He remained fixed to her hardened peak for an age: twirling, laving, sucking it deep into his hot mouth. Only when he was sure he had given it as much attention as its twin, did he at last pull himself contentedly away, releasing the nipple from his mouth with a satisfied pop. He rested his head momentarily on her soft, heaving breast, her heartbeat resounding in his ear, her hands warm on his scalp.

Then his hands came up to grasp her hips, and with surprisingly strong arms he lifted her swiftly but smoothly the short distance onto his desk.

Hermione's mind was so clouded with lust that she could not anticipate what was to come but became aware of his mouth once more on her burning flesh, hot kisses planted firmly on her abdomen, moving down, ever down, to the place she craved him above all others. His left hand came up to her chest, and he pressed her down to lie back on his desk, her hips placed just near the edge. She felt his hands tugging down her skirt and underwear.

Snape's lips and tongue moved ever downwards towards her very centre: the swollen kernel of flesh in such need of his touch. Hermione pulled her hand up to her mouth and bit down hard on the plump join of her thumb to stifle the moan threatening to tear its way from her. He was nearly there. His fingers moved first over her, then she felt his breath tickling as it too passed over. Then at last, at last she felt something parting her sodden folds. Again, she jolted up to him, but he moved back, waiting for the wave of anticipated ecstasy to pass. She calmed and waited, her body heaving inwardly.

Then she felt it: firm, focused wetness, soft and gentle at first, then ever more urgent, tasting, probing, questing along her. His tongue darted, flicked, teased her womanhood, then suddenly his mouth pressed in hard to her, pulling, sucking, licking her essence out of her. She could take no more. The groan which had previously been stifled was finally rent from her, and her hand came down to his head, pushing him hard into her. He responded with renewed vigour. She felt a finger pushed up into her, stroking and exploring her velvet walls. Then another joined it, rubbing against that delicious spot inside.

Hermione's mewls and moans could no longer be contained and served only to increase his fervour. His tongue laved hard along her now, sucking in her continuous pleasure with each pass but never quite reaching the engorged bud at the top. Hermione could hear the blood pulsing furiously around her head. So close, so close. Her belly was filled with molten lead, churning and pulsing its agony out to her. A weight seemed to press down on her chest, preventing air from filling her lungs, but still her body waited, primed, ready for the final drop.

And then his tongue swept up, and his lips followed, enclosing around her ripe, expectant clit at last. Hermione froze, paralysed as every muscle in her body clenched. He sucked hard, and at that moment she fell, plummeting down into ecstasy. A cry of complete rapture was pulled from her depths and her limbs twitched and spasmed as wave upon wave of pleasure coursed through her.

Snape remained at her sex, drinking in her fulfilment until there was no more and the last shudder of delight had left her body. Hermione could do nothing but let her head fall back, her mind blurred in a hazy delirium, and breathe his name out in fulfilment. "Severus."

She lay atop his desk, the minutes ticking by, her body panting, at last able to draw in enough oxygen. When her senses had finally recovered enough to focus, she blearily opened her eyes and raised her head heavily to glance around her.

The room was empty. He had gone.

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Slowly, slowly ... this man was never going to be predictable. Hermione would have it no other way. Reviews greatly appreciated and pondered on. LL x