Eighteen

Hermione spent the rest of Sunday doing what she had initially only lied about to Severus – working. She did not need to, but found her insides aching with all that had passed between them. She was desperate to blot out the pain: books and words were normally the only way she could.

Her mind replayed their conversation endlessly. Had she been unfair, denying him her presence after he had been so open with her? He had revealed so much in such a short time; she had simply needed some space. Surely that was not too much for him to understand? His tender concern for Laszlo was deeply moving, but struck hard with the paradox that he could so suddenly and clinically take from the dead boy for purely personal reasons. This was not a shock to Hermione, and she was not judging him for his actions, but he presented himself as such a complex man and she was suddenly aware of what her unease was.

She felt young. She felt inadequate.

If logic had won over emotion, it would have told her that it was Severus' reaction which had been immature, that he was the one behaving with inexperienced stubbornness, but still her insecurities dominated.

At that moment, in her mind, she was the one who had run out, left him, due to her own shortcomings.

Shame swept through her, and she pictured him standing alone and desolate in his room as she had left.

Hermione stood suddenly, grabbed her books, and practically ran to the dungeons, not caring who she saw on the way. She reached his classroom and burst through the door. The room was empty. She rushed into his living area, only just remembering to knock first. He was not there.

Her heart sank. He could be anywhere. It would be hopeless to try to find him now. He may have left the castle for the day. Hermione was slightly heartened by the fact that he wasn't moping in his rooms, but desolate that she could not apologise.

Severus was not at lunch. She found herself wondering around the castle hoping to bump into him. She didn't.

The afternoon dragged on. Again, he was not at dinner. But just as she was about to leave, not able to tolerate sitting there without his presence, he came in, not looking up, and sat dejectedly at high-table. A surge of delight swept through her but was soon tempered by his expression. It did nothing to give her much hope. He looked thoroughly morose and miserable, not once looking in her direction.

At last his petulance struck her and reason forced its way back into her thoughts; they should have both handled the situation better.

She stayed a little longer, waiting until he left. When he got up, she too rose and rushed out of the hall, round to the corridor where she hoped he would emerge. She turned a corner and saw him. He was talking to Professor Armitage. Severus glanced over his colleague's shoulders and saw her. His features froze, but she could detect in his eyes the merest glimmer. She was emboldened and could not stop herself from going up to him immediately.

"Excuse me, Professor Armitage ... Professor Snape."

"Ahh, Miss Granger. What may we do for you?"Armitage inquired politely.

"I just ... it's just that, um, Professor Snape requested me to do ... an ... uhh ...essay for him, and I could not finish it when he had wanted me to, and I know that he was most displeased about this, as I had promised him I would do it and ... I just wanted to say, Professor Snape ..." She fixed him with her eyes. "I am sorry."

He held her gaze, and she saw the glow in his eyes intensifying. An equal glow flamed in her belly. His voice then came, deeper and more silky than ever.

"The matter is done with now, Miss Granger. Let us speak no more about it."

They stared at each other. The throb inside Hermione threatened to overwhelm her. Had he accepted her apology? It was not clear, but she found herself hardly caring. He had hardly apologised himself, as she was perhaps expecting, but faced with him now, his robes swaying slightly in the breeze of the corridor, his low tones still vibrating in her ear, all she wanted was him.

Professor Armitage was looking with bewilderment from one to the other. He spoke suddenly and squeakily. "Jolly good! Jolly good! Well, that seems to be resolved. Was there anything else, Miss Granger?"

Apart from locking you in the nearest cupboard and shagging your colleague senseless against the wall behind you?

She turned to him and smiled sweetly. "No, Professor Armitage. That was all."

"Well, there we have it then. Now we must both be off as we have a staff night training session tonight. Happens occasionally, Miss Granger. Staff training can sometimes only be done at night; particular magical circumstances and all that, you know. So Professor Snape and I must dash now; the Headmistress is waiting near the Forest. I think the session tonight is on how to act if a werewolf or vampire infiltrates the school. Am I correct, Severus?"

"Regrettably," drawled the taller man. He looked utterly disgruntled by the whole thing.

The bubble which had been swelling in Hermione since seeing him suddenly burst with a sharp sting. Her face drained of colour. "Oh ... I see ... right, so ... there we are ..." She had been sure she could go to him and spend a night compensating for the tension of the day.

Severus looked at her. She thought she could detect regret in his face, but he was clearly bound by his duties as a teacher.

Armitage giggled slightly. "Goodness, Miss Granger, I'm the last for putting ideas in your head, but just think ... no staff around school ... no sneaking off to boys' bedrooms now!" He fixed her with a beady eye and winked.

Snape looked aghast. Armitage cleared his throat and leaned into Hermione slightly. "Oh dear, I think I've offended Professor Snape here. I'm sure he could never countenance such a thing amongst the students. Come come, Severus, you know what young people are like these days. Not that I could ever imagine Miss Granger here so blatantly flouting the rules."

Hermione had flushed puce. Severus' apparent indignation was a handy distraction as far as Professor Armitage was concerned. Little did he know the true thoughts of his colleague at that time.

There was an awkward silence for a while before Armitage gave Hermione a curious look, clearly unsure why she was still standing there. It jolted her to life. "Right ...I'd better let you go then. Good evening, Professor Armitage ... Professor Snape – I'll see you in class tomorrow, I suppose." She smiled at the one and stared deep into the eyes of the other. She was immediately met by deep black orbs searing her soul. The ache which had been agonising her belly while standing there surged and she knew her knickers had dampened.

Please, oh please, why did it have to be tonight?

Armitage turned and waited for Snape to follow. With one last look at Hermione, her lover turned and walked swiftly ahead of his colleague until they disappeared from view. Hermione staggered against the wall and let her head fall back against it. It would be a long, lonely night.

It was. Hermione tossed and turned. She had grown used to his presence beside her, inside her. She could not remember the last time she had felt so alone, despite normally enjoying solitude.

At last the morning came and, after the early lessons, it was time for Potions. Hermione tried not to hurry to the dungeons too hastily.

He was there, writing fluidly on the board. Her mouth immediately dried up. She longed for his touch and wondered how she would be able to survive the lesson just looking at him. He spun smoothly around when all the students were gathered and launched silkily into his lecture. Hermione pressed her legs together. Fuck, it was too much. His voice travelled straight to her clit. She thought she may come just from listening to him. She hardly took a word in.

"I cannot stress enough the importance of adding the precise amount of the correct ingredient at the right time. Failure to do so could have dire consequences. Assemble your ingredients, you may begin."

Hermione was jerked back to reality by the scraping of chairs around her as her fellow students got up. She blearily roused herself and tried to think back to what he had said. She realised with slight shame that she had taken little on board. For once, it was a potion she knew little about, one which she had never attempted before. She copied Ginny and hoped for the best.

Instinctively, Hermione mixed her potion. She followed her gut reactions to produce something she thought looked and felt vaguely correct. She hardly knew what she was making. Her eyes followed him everywhere he went, and when he approached or swept past her, her insides curled despairingly and she could barely prevent herself reaching out and grabbing his robes. He did not look at her once and it niggled. She thought they had made their peace the day before, and had been confident that the events of that morning were in the past. She was no longer certain.

The potions were finished. Snape moved smoothly to the front of the class and swept around.

"It is time to test your miserable efforts. As I said, attention to detail was of paramount importance in this instance in particular. I trust, in all likelihood with no means of justification, that you have acted upon my advice. If this potion works, the person who imbibes it should acquire the ability to see through solid objects such as wood or metal. As I'm sure you realise ... the advantages of this are manifold. If the potion goes awry ... the effects can be ... disadvantageous. And, despite the Ministry's - in my opinion foolish - decision to allow it to be taught to final year students, I stress that beyond these walls this potion can only be brewed with a licence and under strict supervision." His eyes and voice were hard and cold. It did nothing to stir Hermione out of her lustful reverie. But what he said next did.

"Miss Weasley. You will test Miss Granger's potion. Please take a spoonful and swallow it."

Hermione darted her eyes up. She had hardly been paying attention. She was sure she had not produced the potion correctly. "Uhh ... Professor Snape ... perhaps it would be advisable to try someone else's potion."

He spun round to look at her intensely. He was clearly confused. "And why is that, Miss Granger?"

"I ... I'm not sure I have done my best work today, sir."

He stared at her a while, and she saw his face curl up into the slightest sneer. Her insides twisted, and this time she was not sure if it was with desire or anger. He had made her feel like a second year again.

Snape turned away to write something on the board and drawled to them with his back turned.

"Miss Granger, kindly give your potion to Miss Weasley to test."

Hermione swallowed hard and turned to Ginny. Her friend did not seem remotely worried. As far as Ginny was concerned, if she had to test a potion, she was thrilled it was Hermione's. Hermione frowned slightly, but before she could stop her, Ginny had reached a spoon over and dipped it in her cauldron.

Hermione watched in fearful trepidation as Ginny brought the spoon up to her mouth and drank the potion down without a moment's concern.

The whole class had turned to watch Ginny. Snape was standing at the front, arms folded. He looked briefly at Hermione, who knew she had an expression of clear anxiety on her face. He did not flinch, but merely moved his eyes to Ginny.

Her friend smiled happily and turned to stare into the desk, wondering if she could see through it.

"Oh yes ... look ... the wood seems to be ... thinning out ... it's as if ..." Relief swept through Hermione. But then her friend stopped talking.

Ginny had suddenly gone deathly quiet and deathly pale. Her face turned from white to blue in the next instant. Her hands came up and she clutched her throat, clearly unable to breathe. Ginny was gasping, one hand still clenched to her throat, the other grabbing the air, desperate for relief. Hermione screamed, "Professor! Quick! Do something."

Snape was already there. His strong hands swiftly laid Ginny down on the floor, and he loosened her tie and top button. Without a word he waved his wand and a vial of liquid materialised in his hand. In one fluid motion, he had uncorked it and, raising Ginny's head remarkably gently, poured a little of the concoction into her mouth. He raised her further up to allow it to trickle down her throat and supported her against him.

Hermione stood back, tears running desperately down her cheeks. But almost instantly, Ginny took a deep, gasping breath and her colour quickly returned to normal. She breathed in deeply, the welcome air flowing back to her lungs.

The whole class also breathed in a collective gasp of relief.

Waiting until he was sure she had recovered, Snape stayed holding Ginny for a while, then beckoned to a girl to come over. "You – take Miss Weasley up to the hospital wing now. Explain to Madam Pomfrey what has happened. She is fully recovered, but would benefit from some restorative care. The rest of you – dismissed. Miss Granger, you will stay."

He helped Ginny to her feet. She stood remarkably easily and managed a smile at Hermione, who was looking at her in abject apology. "It's alright. You weren't to know. I'm fine now. Honestly. It's OK. Thank you, Professor Snape."

With that she turned and was led out. The classroom emptied. Hermione stood waiting for Snape to berate her.

He did not look at her, merely turned and sat down at his desk. Then slowly his eyes rose to hers. He did not speak. Despite what had just happened, somewhere at the back of her mind Hermione knew that Ginny was well, and could feel only that familiar tingle deep inside her once again.

But still Snape made not a sound, merely sat appraising her. Her breathing deepened. Her belly twisted, but she could detect nothing in his visage to suggest he was assessing her in any way other than as a disappointing student. At last his low words broke the silence between them.

"I expect better from you, Miss Granger. How can we ensure that such errors do not occur again?"

"I will leave that up to you, Professor Snape." She spoke respectfully, but was aware of the meaning behind her words. Sensing a lessening of the tension between them, she could not stop herself from taking a step forward, but before she could put her foot down, his voice stopped her.

"Don't move. I have not finished addressing you."

Hermione stared at him in surprise, confused. His hand waved and the door shut and locked behind her.

She found herself doing exactly as he had asked. She did not move. Her skin started to prickle in familiar anticipation and the dull throb in her belly intensified. She waited, standing looking straight ahead. He remained sitting at his desk.

"For the first time that I can ever remember, you made a serious error in your preparation which, if I had not been on hand to remedy the situation, would have had very serious consequences. What explanation do you have for this?"

He spoke clinically and coldly. She could detect nothing beyond the literal meaning of the words in his voice. Hermione was startled.

"I'm sorry, sir," she said the words instinctively and meant them, almost forgetting what the two of them had shared for the last few weeks. "I have been distracted recently. I must have got things muddled. Perhaps I confused one ingredient for another. I may have misread the labels."

"Are you implying the ingredients in my storeroom are not clearly labelled?"

"No ... no, far from it, sir." Again, she had called him sir without even realising it.

"You are to write an essay on the differences between the ingredients due next Wednesday. That should dispel any lingering confusion on the issue."

Hermione could not believe what she was hearing. She should feel indignation, but despite the absence of any obvious sexual insinuations, the burning within her was stronger than ever. Her breathing grew more rapid. It became abundantly clear what he was doing, despite her apology of earlier. He was punishing her for her behaviour of yesterday. And despite knowing that she should turn and go, equally, she knew she would not, could not.

There was silence between them. Snape continued to sit dead still in his chair, staring coolly at the woman standing in front of his desk. Hermione waited. Then after what seemed like several minutes, his voice was poured low and slow towards her.

"Lift up your skirt."

Her breathing hitched. Then she focused on what he had told her. She had not been expecting it, but had longed for it, and now did not hesitate in complying. She looked down and fumbled to draw her skirt up over her knees, pausing before revealing herself to him.

"Higher," he dictated.

She did so, tucking the skirt in over itself a little, while gathering the rest of the material in her hand.

His eyes flickered down to the junction of her legs.

"Remove your underwear."

Hermione's breathing became increasingly laboured, but she reached down with her free hand to push at her knickers, wriggling them further down to her ankles before stepping out of them. Snape watched their progress as they descended to the ground.

"Open your legs more." His deep voice drawled his demands unstintingly.

She did as he asked, seeing his eyes flick to her sex once again, before darting back up to her eyes.

Silence.

Hermione stood tensely poised, exposed to him. She felt no shame, merely a desperate need for the unceasing clenching of her belly to find some respite. She tried not to make a sound, knowing it would merely delay her fulfilment yet further. At last he spoke again, so deep and slow it was barely human.

"Touch yourself. One finger."

She managed to focus enough to look at him. He met her eyes, but she could read nothing in them. She did not move initially, but then his eyes darted back to the apex of her thighs, reminding her of his demand.

She brought her right hand over using her middle finger and tentatively quested into her sodden folds. She herself was surprised at how wet she was. Her finger moved slowly along her sex, dragging its way up to the inflamed nub at the top. When it made contact she jerked towards it, still looking at the man before her. Hermione continued to move it idly up and down, slowly, trying to stem the relentless build of pleasured tension within. Her lust was so tightly poised she knew she could not last long.

"Do you feel yourself? Do you feel yourself soaking for me?"

She could not form words; he tormented her so.

"Speak!" It was shot through the air to her.

She inhaled to draw strength. "Yes." The word was barely audible.

"Reach inside you. Take out your desire, your pleasure. Do it."

She did so, pushing two fingers deep up into her soaking pussy, stroking along her burning walls as she went.

Her head fell back in a moan of delirium.

"Look ― at ― me." Again, there was only an icy demand in his voice.

Hermione pulled her head back over to meet Snape's eyes once more. At last she could see the flame deep within them. She maintained the strokes along her folds, coated ever more in her juices. Her breathing became increasingly ragged and her knees sagged as she felt her muscles preparing.

"You are not to come yet."

She groaned out with disappointment, pausing the movement of her hand. She was so close. The sudden cessation of her strokes made her clit throb agonisingly in protestation, an instant rush of blood flowing into it again.

"Wait." His voice was coldly insistent.

Her mouth opened in her effort to concentrate. Her hand no longer moved over her. She dared not allow it to.

"Do not stop touching yourself." Another low hiss.

"I ... can't ..." She ran her finger as lightly as she dared over her swollen sex. It was so ripe, so expectant, the merest touch would send her over the edge. "Please."

"What!?" he spat to her.

"Please ... please ... let me come." It was a desperate sob.

"Miss Granger. You will address me correctly when standing before me in my room." A low, smooth verbal caress.

She cursed him silently but her clit throbbed painfully as it heard his words. She was so finely poised, and she knew her response would merely add to the pleasure about to engulf her. She breathed the words out as forcefully as she could.

"Please ...let me come ... sir."

She forced her eyes open to once again lock with his. His were dancing, and a smirk now flitted across his mouth. She waited yet again, trying desperately to hold the flood at bay.

His words were fired like an arrow between them. "Come ― now."

Eyes wide with relief, Hermione immediately swept her fingers up firmly and smoothly to rub around her desperately expectant clit. Her focus went and she opened her mouth, her features forming into an expression of bewildered surprise. Her body tensed then dissolved. Radiating out from her core, the pleasure ripped its way through her body. She pulled in a gasping breath, twitching and jerking around her fingers, her eyes fused into his, despite her head being flung back in rapture.

He watched her every movement unblinkingly.

It took some time for her body to recover. She only just managed to remain upright and found her fingers still embedded in her dripping centre.

Snape stood and slowly walked round towards her. He came and stood in front of her and looked her up and down. Her mind was too bleary to wonder about his actions. Then not breaking eye-contact, he reached down to the wrist of the hand buried between her thighs and brought it up. He drew her hand, the fingers glistening with her pleasure, over towards his mouth. Hermione's brows furrowed in expectant astonishment. Parting his lips, he pulled the two fingers which had been thrust into her pussy over to him, and slowly closed his mouth around them. It was the most unexpected and erotic thing Hermione had ever seen.

He did not remove his eyes from hers. She felt his tongue swirling around her fingers, cleaning them, tasting them, possessing them. Then sucking hard, he pulled them slowly out of his mouth.

They stood staring at each other for a while longer, no longer touching or moving. Then she heard his voice, and knew she would obey him.

"Go now."

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Well, a few issues there, albeit rather enticing ones. They could both do with pulling themselves together a bit. Still, where would be the fun in that?!

Any thoughts very welcome. x