Nine

There was no Potions class the next day. Hermione had not had a good night; in fact it was so bad that she had overslept and missed breakfast.

The hours spent away from him already felt like days, and she wracked her brains to think how they could spend some discreet time together. She sensed he would not wish her to do anything that contained the slightest risk of exposing their relationship. Again, she had considered going to his room late at night; the throb in her core nearly demanded it, but she knew the halls were patrolled fastidiously by Filch. He had a nasty habit of popping up in the place you least wanted or expected him. Never had she wished for Harry's invisibility cloak so much.

Even if she had gone to his classroom during the day, it would have been noted and queried by her fellow students.

Hermione looked forward to lunch, the one time she knew she could be guaranteed a sight of him. Sure enough he was there. Immediately, her heart leapt and her belly surged. She sat down triumphantly in full view of him. Again, he seemed relaxed and rewarded her with surreptitious glances, the lust in his eyes clear even across the distance separating them. Her stomach refused to be still, leaping and dancing with the expected reward of his touch. She wondered if she would come right there and then.

Ginny came in late, rather out of breath. "Have you heard?" She sounded flustered. "There's been a really bad accident during Quidditch practice. Lawrence Filmore has broken tons of bones apparently, and has several internal injuries. Madam Pomfrey's doing her nut. She's run out of ideas on how to heal him. I reckon she'll have to ask Snape. You know she hates having to grovel to him for help, but this time I think she's going to have to!"

An excited chatter broke out around the table. Lawrence Filmore was a popular boy, and although there was concern for his welfare, they knew that between them Snape and Pomfrey would heal him. Hermione glanced up at high-table. Just as she had been settling down to enjoy lots of significant, knicker-wetting eye-contact, her pleasure was threatened with curtailment. Sure enough, only a moment later, the side-door opened and Madam Pomfrey bustled in. She looked perturbed and awkward but went straight to Snape and tapped him reluctantly on the shoulder. The Potions Master, whose eyes had been fixed on Hermione's, turned frustratedly away and glanced with annoyance up to the witch beside him. Pomfrey whispered urgently in his ear and Hermione saw Snape's eyes roll. But he rose swiftly, throwing his napkin down, and without another look, hurried out after her.

"Shit." Hermione swore quietly under her breath.

She spent the rest of the meal in bored disinterest. Her friends continued to talk excitedly about Lawrence Filmore; he was considered one of the hottest boys in the seventh year. The conversation then moved on to good-looking Quidditch players in general. Hermione did not listen to a word. Her body ached with longing and the sudden withdrawal of Snape's presence.

After lunch break, which Hermione had spent walking in the grounds, desperate to take her mind off her lover, she got ready for her afternoon lesson. It didn't start until three o'clock and the prolonged wait did not ease the throbbing desire which threatening to overwhelm her senses. The Arithmancy lesson was in a classroom near the hospital wing. Hermione walked heavily towards it, her feelings of empty longing no less assuaged. Turning a corner, she raised her eyes to survey the corridor before her.

A dark figure in voluminous black robes was standing outside the door to the sanatorium talking to Professor McGonagall. Hermione's heart leapt into her mouth. It was Snape.

Hermione wondered if her legs would continue to propel her towards him; they suddenly seemed to have melted.

But managing to put one foot after another in front of her, she found herself walking closer and closer to the two eminent professors. When about ten feet away, Snape's eyes wandered from McGonagall and he saw her. Hermione watched as his adam's apple bobbed and he forced his gaze back to refocus on the Headmistress.

Hermione was perilously close to them now. She could feel her cheeks burning and knew she must be bright red. She was level with them. His back was turned, but as she passed, his head twisted slightly in her direction. She inhaled, smelling his rich aroma. Her insides twisted, protesting their urgent need. She started to hurry; she would pass out otherwise, surely. But just when she thought she had succeeded in getting past him without fainting she heard a commanding female voice call her back.

"Hermione!"

She stopped and reluctantly turned. McGonagall was smiling broadly at her. Snape stood, eyes lowered.

"Come here, my dear. It has been a long time since we had a chat. How good to bump into you."

Hermione started the agonising walk back to the two of them, managing a watery smile in the direction of her Headmistress.

She stopped about as far from him as she thought she could manage.

"My dear, it has been too long. You must pop into my study, you know." McGonagall's hand touched her arm, drawing her in closer to them both. Hermione sensed her Potions Master tensing. She could feel his heat emanating towards her.

The Headmistress continued. "How are your studies going? I don't suppose they are taxing you too much, but it's important you've ticked all the boxes, so to speak, before your NEWTs. Are you feeling happy about everything?"

Hermione nodded, trying to focus. "Yes, Professor, everything's going ... very well, thank you."

"Good. Professor Snape and I have just been trying to provide some assistance to Madam Pomfrey. Poor Lawrence Filmore ... you've heard, I suppose ... came a cropper off his broom. Still, you know what these Quidditch boys are like. I'm sure you do ... they all worship you after all ... can't keep their eyes off her, can they, Severus?"

Snape looked as if he had swallowed a dung beetle.

"And Potions ... how is that going? Is our good Professor here managing to keep you interested?" She glanced up at Snape before fixing her eyes back on Hermione.

Hermione felt her cheeks blushing puce. She stammered out amidst a nervous laugh, "Oh, yes ... naturally ... Professor Snape is as ... skilled ... as ever." She dared not look at him. She thought she heard a strange strangulated noise emerge from his throat.

"Hmm ... that may be, but your knowledge is such that I should think you could teach him a thing or two now."

"Oh ... I ... I wouldn't presume ..." Hermione was burning up. The rest of her sentence was mumbled incoherently and trailed off into a silence which quickly threatened to become awkward. They did not look at each other, but the electric tension sparking between them was palpable. Hermione was sure McGonagall would sense it, but she was luckily suddenly distracted by the time.

"Goodness!" exclaimed the Headmistress. "I must go. Do pop up to see me as I said, my dear. Goodbye for now. I should think you both have classes to get to. Don't be late, either of you." With that she bustled off in her usual officious manner, leaving her Potions Master and star pupil alone together in the hall.

Hermione could hardly breathe, and she sensed Severus was going through a similar experience. They could hear people in the corridors around them and stood for a moment, the tension unbearable. But then responsibility weighed down on her, and his words about not being discovered resounded in her head.

She dropped her head, muttered, "I have to go," and hurried away from him. She had hardly gone five feet, when she heard rapid footsteps behind her. Snape caught her, grabbing her elbow with his hand and guiding her rapidly into a dark side-corridor, hidden from view, but not entirely secure.

She was immediately pressed hard against the wall. Hands came up, tearing at each other's clothes. Their mouths met desperately, open, hungry, trying to disappear into the other. He held her shirt in his hand and pulled it brutally, ripping the material to reveal the heaving breast beneath. Grabbing the flesh in his fingers, he withdrew it from her bra cup and instantly lowered his head to it, sucking and biting it desperately into his mouth.

Hermione cried out with the agonised pleasure which tore through her body. His hand came up and clamped hard down on her mouth to stifle her cries. She breathed heavily into it, her teeth grazing the flesh of his palm.

His hot, frantic mouth continued to assault her nipple, sending her lust skyward. She felt herself soaking for him and drew her leg up around him to pull his raging erection close into her. Her constant groans of need were muffled against his strong hand while his other reached down roughly and tugged her skirt up, then pulled her sodden knickers down. She kicked them off haphazardly and her own hands reached down to his belt and fastenings. His fingers were also there. He released himself, and she felt him dripping already onto her thighs. Her clit was throbbing incessantly, and her need for him inside her was almost painful.

He released his mouth from her breast long enough to glance down. She raised herself up on tiptoes, supporting herself as much against the wall as possible. At the same time, his free hand came under her backside to help hold her up. He locked eyes with her and paused a moment. Then he thrust, hard and insistently.

She could not make a sound, his hand was pressing so tightly on her mouth, but her eyes widened in sudden exquisite pleasure. The pressure of her body bearing down on him brought a feeling of fullness she had never thought possible. She continued to stare in open-eyed awe at him for some time, his features reflecting an expression of equal amazement. His brows were furrowed slightly and his mouth hung open, breathing deeply but silently.

Then he started to move, holding her against the wall, one hand still on her mouth. He stroked hard but sensuously in and out, stroking, flaming her delicious walls. Never had he known anything to be so hot or tight. Their eyes remained seared together. She forced her groans, captured against his palm, to subside, and as he sensed her stillness, he relaxed his hand on her, ever the while pumping regularly, sublimely, in and out.

But he did not remove his hand completely. The only sound she made was now a gentle gasp to accompany each thrust. He brought his palm down to rest on her chin, pushing it up and back so that her head fell against the wall. Curling his fingers over, he pushed his forefinger and middle finger hard into her mouth. She clamped around them, sucking them deep inside, twirling her tongue on their dextrous strength.

With his own slight groan, Snape adjusted his position slightly and started to move again. This time he rubbed against her clit with each thrust. Hermione's eyes widened as her pleasure quickly came to a head. She knew he too was nearly there and stared deep into him, his fingers still buried in her needy mouth.

With a final look of desperation, he pushed brutally and fully into her, catching her tender expectant clit at the same time.

Hermione dissolved; pleasure so intense heaved its way through her body she could not support herself and was held up against the wall only by his cock and hand. At that moment he withdrew his fingers to clamp his hand down hard on her mouth again, stifling the cry of ecstasy he knew was being torn from her depths.

It was too much for him, and as he felt her hot walls pulsing around him, he spasmed uncontrollably, coming in long hot bursts up into her. His face twisted in what looked like pain, and he could not stop his eyes squeezing shut as he focused on the rapture this woman had ripped from him. His pleasure was at length released in a long slow hiss from his lips, but no other sound came from him.

They could not stay like that for long. He had to pull out of her, and she glanced at his slick, still swollen cock; how had such a thing given her such extraordinary pleasure? Hermione slid her body down the wall, breathing heavily. Her shirt was ripped, her breast still exposed above the bra cup. Her skirt hung up over her hips, and she sat awkwardly in the aftershock of ecstasy, her legs splayed so that her dripping sex was clearly visible.

Snape did not sit, but stood, adjusting his clothing, looking down at her. When she had recovered a little, she returned his stare, still panting. "Thank you," she breathed amid an exhausted, sated smile.

He allowed a slight smirk to ghost his features. His voice was deep and genuine. "Thank you." Then he raised himself up and set his face straight. She noticed the change in expression immediately. He spoke again, now the familiar sardonic drawl. "Miss Granger, you appear to be late for your next lesson. Ten points from Gryffindor."

With that he turned from her and walked swiftly away.

Hermione felt a brief spark of anger, then stopped, and found herself smiling secretly instead.

If it was games he wanted, games he would get.

Let the games commence! Let me know what you think ... x