Chapter Thirty: The Sorting Hat Always Knows Best

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Chapter Thirty: The Sorting Hat Always Knows Best

Snape leaned back in his chair and watched his students chop and shred and stir. All eyes were on their cauldrons as they waited for just the right moment to add their ingredients in the complex Blood-Replenishing Potion. Hermione and Blaise Zabini were, as expected, well ahead in the brewing process. Potter and Weasley, having been ditched by their frustrated Ravenclaw partners weeks earlier, had already made two errors as far as he could tell; their potion was boiling rather than simmering and about to turn into an unpleasant smelling brown sludge.

Four... three... two... and there it is. Another fail for Potter and his sidekick. Look at them, completely bewildered by their result. Reading the instructions properly would have helped.

Longbottom and Malfoy seem to have managed a half-decent brew so far. But why is Malfoy allowing his partner to add the ingredients? That's asking for disaster. I'd better get over there before the inevitable happens.

Snape left his desk and glided over to where Draco was stirring while watching Neville slice echinacea roots.

"Careful, Nev, keep them even."

"There, I think they'll do."

"Now, add them slowly a few at a time while I continue stirring."

Neville did as instructed, concentration wrinkling his brow as he dropped three or four pieces of root into the cauldron at steady intervals, stopping at the precise moment the brew changed from a dull brown to rich russet.

"Well done, Mr Longbottom." Snape nodded and continued past their bench to that of their still-puzzled housemates.

"Did he just...?" Neville stared after his professor, mouth agape.

"He did." Draco grinned. "I have no idea what you've done to change his opinion of you lately, but whatever it is, keep it up, will you?"

Neville nodded, words still out of his grasp, then turned back to his ingredients.

Snape advanced on the next workstation, aware his lover was watching his progress. Tempting as it was to knock the witless wonders' heads together, he stayed his hand.

"I see you two have managed to create yet another new potion. What shall we call this one, Potter?"

"Pot o' Shite?" Ron's murmur would have escaped all but the keen hearing of the Potions master.

"Indeed, Weasley. An apt name. Now, clear it up, and then you can spend the rest of the lesson on an essay detailing exactly what you did wrong."

Turning on his heel, Snape continued along the line of benches, making an occasional comment as he passed.

"Is he sick?" Ron's expression mirrored that of Neville's a few minutes earlier.

"Dunno. But at least we didn't lose points or get detention." Harry Vanished the contents of their cauldron and lugged it over to the cleaning sinks.

Still shaking his head, Ron gathered up the leftover ingredients, muttering to himself. "He must be ill. It's the only explanation."

When Snape finally reached Hermione and Blaise, they were in the final, delicate stages of their brewing. Standing a few feet away, Snape allowed himself a moment to study Hermione's hands. The same hands he had painted so many months earlier in such detail, along with various other more intimate parts of her body. The pressure in his trousers alerted him too late to the folly of such a train of thought. Snape was painfully aroused in a classroom full of students, any of whom could notice his condition with a glance in the wrong direction. Approaching Hermione from behind as she made the final stir and turned down the heat under the cauldron, he threw caution aside as his body's clamour for attention overrode his native caution. Leaning over her shoulder, he inspected the potion while ensuring she felt every rock-hard inch of his desire against her soft curves.

"Very good, Miss Granger, Mr Zabini."

Her subtle pressure back against his groin rendered him unable to speak. With a curt nod, Snape found the sanctuary of his desk, parting his legs a little to relieve the pressure on his heavy, unsatisfied erection and aching balls. Teaching Hermione's class had become both heaven and hell.

As the class prepared to leave, Snape noticed Hermione frantically scribbling on a piece of parchment. Without so much as a glance in his direction, she stood, heaved her bag onto her shoulder, and followed the last of her classmates from the room. Curious, he walked over to the desk to pick up the parchment so vital a moment earlier yet discarded as she left.

It's been two weeks. I know how you are feeling. Frustrated. Restless. Hard as hell.

Go to your office after your last class.

He read the sentence again. Why did he need to go to his office at the end of the day? Trying to read on, he found the words blurred and unreadable.

Clever girl. No clues until I comply. Very well, I shall be patient.

Checking the classroom a final time for any spills or remaining ingredients after his final class had left, he locked the supply cupboard and entered his office. It was empty. A niggle of something forgotten dissolved as he read the suddenly legible next sentence on the parchment he withdrew from his pocket.

Remove your trousers and pants but leave your robes on. Sit down.

With a smirk, Snape complied, his hand finding his groin as soon as he had made himself comfortable.

I didn't say you were allowed to touch! Put your hands on your desk.

"Bossy wench." Still, he complied.

That's better. Now, start some marking.

"Marking? What in Merlin's name..." Snape checked the parchment again and turned it over. Nothing more was written. She's up to something, but what? Very well, if I must. Ignoring the cool draught around his lower half, Snape picked up his quill and an essay. Suddenly, the draught became warm. His hand stilled, and his thighs parted as gentle hands pushed at his knees. Shifting forward in his chair, Snape's lips curled into a rare smile as he began reading the essay before him. Beneath the desk, he felt his balls cupped and caressed, then warm heat enveloped his arousal.

"Fuck, that had better be you or I'm..." A firm squeeze silenced his protest. "Marking it is then."

Snape managed to grade only one essay before his concentration surrendered to the activities of tongue, lips, and fingers under his desk. Leaning back into his chair, he looked down at the unruly curls bobbing under his desk. "Gods, woman, you'll be the death of me!" Closing his eyes, he gripped the edge of his desk as she increased her tempo.

His balls tightening and lifting at his impending climax, Snape's eyes flew open as a peremptory knock preceded Minerva McGonagall's voice.

"Severus! Are you in there?"

"Shite! Stop, Hermione!" he hissed. Sitting up in his chair and picking up his quill, he managed a strangled, "Yes, Minerva." A muffled giggle arose from between his knees as his cock was reclaimed and gently caressed by a hot tongue.

The headmistress appeared not to notice her Potion master's flushed cheeks and unsteady breathing as she dropped a large number of files onto his desk.

"What exactly are those?" If his usual bite was absent, it went unremarked.

"Files, Severus. Next year's new students. As you did not appear for the meeting we had arranged to discuss them, I decided to bring them to you."

Fuck. I knew there was something I had to do. "My apologies, Minerva. I became caught up in a little marking, as you can see." He shifted forward once more in his seat at the insistent pressure on his thighs. "I... ah..." A wet finger had wormed its way behind his sac to find hitherto unexplored areas. Oh, gods.

"Are you all right?" Minerva frowned.

"Yes. Quite." He forced his lips to remain closed in a tight smile. "Shall we?" Opening the top file, he flipped over the pages of parchment detailing the child's family background, previous education, and magical potential.

Years as a double agent at risk of death with the slightest slip of the tongue or mind had not prepared Snape for the next thirty minutes of exquisite torture as he and Minerva checked each file for any indicators the child had any specific needs or strengths. Brought to the brink of release several times by Hermione's enthusiastic mouth and probing finger, each time checked by a firm squeeze of his shaft – where did she learn that? – he was only capable of nodding and murmuring assent where appropriate.

"You're unusually agreeable today." Minerva studied his face. "And you look peaky. I think that's enough for one session. We can continue this tomorrow." Rising, she gathered the files, taking care to mark the last one they had seen. "Perhaps an early night might not go amiss. But don't forget dinner. It wouldn't do to go to bed on an empty stomach, Severus." She turned to leave. "By the way, I trust you have the problem with Miss Granger well in hand. There's a Board of Governors meeting tomorrow." The implicit threat hung in the air between them.

"Yes, Minerva. I believe we will reach a satisfactory conclusion soon." A lot sooner if you'd bloody leave.

"Make sure of it. I do not want to lose my Potions master after all we've gone through in the last few years."

As she opened the door, the slow, seductive rhythm of Hermione's attentions rapidly escalated, accompanied by the finger finally slipping into him and finding just the right spot. Clutching at the edge of the desk as the door closed behind Minerva in slow motion, Snape felt his long-delayed orgasm pulsing out of control through his entire body, bringing bright spots to his eyes and tearing a cry of inarticulate joy from his lips. Long moments passed before his breathing slowed enough to allow speech.

"Holy mother of Merlin, you are insane, woman!"

Crawling out from beneath the desk and planting herself on his naked and sticky lap, Hermione grinned. "Good?"

"Outstanding, Miss Granger. But still insane. Do you know how close we were to discovery?" He paled as he noticed the parchment she had written still sitting on the desk only half covered by the essays he had been attempting to mark.

"Well, I hadn't planned on Professor McGonagall arriving, but I improvised."

"Improvisation? Is that what you call it? Torture would be more appropriate."

"Semantics, Severus. I suppose I'd better leave now. It will be dinner time soon." She dropped a kiss on his forehead and stood, straightening her skirt.

"I can't allow you to leave yet, Hermione. There is the small matter of your pleasure to attend to." Severus raised an eyebrow and reached for her waist.

She skipped out of reach. "Trust me, there's no need."

"But..."

"I have two hands, Severus." She slipped a finger into his mouth.

Tasting the evidence of her words, Snape shook his head. "Insane and multitalented."

"About time you realised that."

"And what of your research on handfasting?"

"Nearly done. I've found out a lot."

"Such as?"

"Patience, my dear Professor. I need to sort it all out before I tell you."

"Patience isn't my strong suit."

"But it can be taught." She smirked, reaching down to cup his still exposed genitals. "You're a fast learner."

"Indeed. Now, off with you before I fail my lesson."

Snape gathered his trousers and pants from under the desk, thankful Hermione had pulled them out of sight when Minerva had arrived. It took a little effort to apply his usual scowl, but soon he was presentable enough to face dinner.

***

Blaise moved over to make room for Hermione when she arrived for dinner. "Sit here, Granger. Luna and I were just talking about Valentine's Day."

Hermione's broad smile faltered. "Valentine's Day?"

"Yes, you know the one. Cupids and pink hearts and soppy cards. You hate it from all accounts. It's on Sunday. We're all going to Hogsmeade, but what are your plans?" He jerked his head at the staff table where Snape had just arrived, then frowned. "What have you been up to? He looks like the cat that got the cream."

Hermione tried to look innocent and failed miserably. "Let's just say I was the cat."

Ginny's fork clattered onto the table, drawing the attention of her brother, sitting a few places further down.

"Hey, Gin, stop throwing the cutlery around. You're making Harry nervous." Grinning at his own wit, Ron clapped Harry on the shoulder and winked. "She was probably overcome by the sight of your broad, manly chest, Harry. You really should buy yourself some bigger shirts."

Thankful for the distraction, Hermione focussed on her plate until Blaise's elbow found her ribs.

"Really, Granger?" He had finally caught on.

"Slow, Zabini. You're losing your touch."

Watching the Potions master actually smile as he passed the salt to Pomona Sprout, Blaise shook his head. "Lucky, lucky chap."

Hermione smirked. "You're just jealous."

"Too right I am. If it can make Snape smile, imagine what it could do for a charming fellow like me. I don't suppose..."

He deserved the thump on his arm. "Ask Luna. She might oblige."

Blaise blushed, an event not often seen, and glanced at Luna on his other side, happily chatting with Neville. "She... I... we're not..."

"Yet?"

"Yet." He recovered his equanimity. "So, I'll just have to live vicariously through you for a while. I take it things are better between you two?"

Hermione couldn't hide her smile. "Oh, gods, yes. I'm doing some research at the moment into something which may solve a few problems. No, don't ask. I'll tell you when I have something definite."

"Fair enough." Blaise nodded towards Ginny across the table. "Do you think you can put the redhead out of her misery before she expires from curiosity?"

Grinning, Hermione beckoned to Ginny and leaned over the table towards her. "Whatever you are thinking, it's probably true," she whispered. Leaving Ginny to her own lurid imaginings, Hermione tackled her meal with a better appetite than she'd had for weeks.

The topic of Valentine's Day had been completely forgotten.

***

An hour later, bereft of the rush of adrenaline her earlier activities had created, Hermione lay on her bed hugging her pillow.

What was I thinking? No, there was no thinking involved. It was hormones. Must have been. Since when have I done something so colossally stupid? Boring, bookish Hermione Granger kneeling under her professor's desk performing fellatio was bad enough, but to keep teasing him while Professor McGonagall was there was madness! Insane, he called me. With good reason. Then I went and boasted about it to Blaise and Ginny. What must they think of me?

Well, there was the setting fire to his robes incident in first year. And Polyjuicing myself into a cat in second year. And stunning him in third year. And smacking Draco. And the Department of Mysteries and camping and that bloody snake and Apparating midair and the bank and, oh, hell, I am a Gryffindor.

And what am I going to do about bloody Valentine's Day?

***

A/N: This was written for shalimar1981 for the TPP Every Flavour Auction. Many thanks to quaffswinegaily and LivingTheDream for their input and Karelia for her beta skills.

I'm away on holiday in ten days, nearly four weeks in USA, so the next chapter may be delayed, depending on how much time I get for writing while travelling around. Hugs to all you lovely readers and reviewers! :)