Lesson Four

Lesson Four

Hermione walked blindly back to the Gryffindor dormitories. Never before had she felt this wound up, this dissatisfied. He did say that improper timing could lead to a very dissatisfactory result. He was wrong! This was dissatisfactory.

Still, she knew in a way...way back in the deep recesses of her brain...that he was right. Instinctively, she knew that if they were to go farther at this point, she would know nothing of the man himself other than the feel of his skin under her fingers. The gods only knew where it would have gone from there. It would have been disappointing...or rather, she would have been disappointed in herself.

How was she supposed to get to know the man beneath the robes? That was the dilemma. If he were one of her classmates, things would have been simpler. She could ask him to accompany her to Hogsmeade, study with him, eat lunch with him, go up to the Astronomy Tower with him...but she couldn't do that with Professor Snape. She needed to speak with him. He always seemed to have the right answers.

"Candied Gillyweed," she said at the empty portrait.

The Fat Lady had found a boyfriend and set the password on automatic on Friday and Saturday nights. Hermione shook her head, still incredulous that an oil painting could have a boyfriend. She had never thought of it before, but there was a good chance one could find the occupants of a painting in a compromising position. It was a scary thought.

Going up to her room, Hermione had an idea. Taking up her bottle of green ink, a quill, and a neat, blank piece of parchment, she began to write:

Dear Sir,

Your Pupil

Satisfied that the letter was personal enough, but not so personal as to give away either of their identities should it be intercepted, she walked over to the fireplace, threw in a touch of Floo powder, and sent it the note flying directly into Professor Snape's office.

~~~o o~~~

Professor Snape collapsed into the chair behind his desk with a sigh. The last student had left detention, and now, all he had to occupy his mind were thoughts about his increasing interest in one Hermione Granger. He had the burden of being the adult in this burgeoning relationship...if it could be titled as such...which meant that it was his responsibility to make sure what happened was not inappropriate in any way.

Suddenly, the Floo sprang to life, and a neatly folded piece of parchment came flying through, landing in front of him. Picking it up, he read it. Then, he read through it again. Perhaps just a touch inappropriate would be okay, as long as things didn't get too out of hand.

Taking quill in hand, he poised it above a fresh piece of parchment.

My Most Eager Pupil,

Your Beloved Tutor

It was daring, but it was how he felt. She wanted to learn more about the man, and she was going to learn more about him by learning more about herself first. With a faint smirk, he folded up the parchment, Summoned a house-elf, and asked...under extreme secrecy...that it be placed on top of her pillow.

~~~o o~~~

Hermione sat at her desk a few minutes longer until all hope of receiving a reply drained away. Perhaps it was a little too much to hope for. Perhaps he hadn't been in his office, or perhaps her note had gotten lost amidst the piles of parchment that usually graced his desk.

With a deep sigh, she pulled out her hairclips and wandered over to her bed while undressing. Her mind wandered ... remembered his fingers briefly in her hair, his body briefly against hers. She nearly growled in frustration as she finished unbuttoning her blouse and fell backwards upon the bed. What was she going to do?

It was then that the edge of the parchment lying upon the pillow caught her eye. Her head turned sharply, knowing it had not been there before. Snatching it up, heart pounding in her throat, she unfolded it and began to read.

Her fingers traced the path his lips longed to travel, and her breath hitched as he yearned to breathe in her scent. It felt as though an odd form of magic resided in this note, making her feel every word he had written. Unconsciously, her fingers followed his mouth as it tore the bra from her breasts, and she could swear she could feel the suction of his lips against her nipple....

With great difficulty, she tore her hands away and sat up. The mirror that stood next to her bed portrayed a girl with flushed cheeks, disheveled hair, and a wild, wanton look in her eyes. Her nipples were painfully hard, her hips tipped forward as if to ... invite further attentions from her beloved tutor.

Suddenly conscious of the lesson she was about to learn, she fished for the spare quill and parchment she kept at her bedside.

My Beloved Tutor,

Your Eager Pupil

The fire that her professor had kindled with his passionate reply to her quickly-penned note burned even hotter with this response. She had no idea something so simple, so detached, could be so intimate. After a brief struggle with her conscience, and after refastening her blouse, she Summoned the same house-elf that had left this note for her. When it appeared at her side, the house-elf assured her that the secrecy of their correspondence had been requested by Professor Snape, and she need only to Summon him if she wished to send anything else.

Blushing, she handed the note to the house-elf and watched him disappear.

~~~o o~~~

"Professor Snape, sir," the tiny voice squeaked from the doorway.

The professor looked up and inverted the book he had been reading while waiting for Hermione's response. "Thank you," he said as he took the note from the house-elf. "I may need you later. I'll call when I do."

"As you wish." The house-elf bowed and disappeared with a pop.

He stared at the note for a moment, wondering how she might have taken this attempt at seduction. She had wanted to get to know him, and he thought how better to do so than to share a bit of his literary prowess. Sitting on the sofa in his sitting room, he took a deep breath and unfolded the note.

He groaned as he read the last line. Miss Hermione Granger really was a fast learner. The heat in his loins had been raised to nearly the boiling point. He covered his firmness with his free hand and closed his eyes, caressing himself slowly through the fabric.

Would he stop her if she took the liberty of disrobing him? Would he stop her eager mouth as it engulfed his length, consuming him? It was all too apparent that she was indeed as eager to consume him as he was to devour her. No, he wouldn't stop her at all.

Reaching for the quill and parchment he had placed on the side table just moments before the house-elf had reappeared, he began to etch out his response.

My Most Eager Pupil,

Your Beloved Tutor

He composed himself enough to Summon the house-elf and send off the note...a much shorter note than he had originally planned. Unable to resist any longer, he leaned back and stroked himself through his trousers to await her response.

~~~o o~~~

When the house-elf delivered the next installment of their correspondence, Hermione could scarcely breathe. Never before had she imagined a man wishing to devour her...there. Her hand slipped down her stomach to rest on that which he promised to touch, to kiss, to devour. Her skirts only got in the way momentarily as she reached beneath her knickers to feel the dampness that his latest note had elicited.

She moaned. How she wanted to be displayed before him, to allow his eyes to roam over her naked body. How she wanted his mouth upon her breasts, her belly, her aching center.... Still, she needed to quickly write a response before she succumbed to this fantasy and let it take her over the edge.

My Beloved Tutor,

Your Eager Pupil

Without hesitation, she Summoned the house-elf so it would quickly remove the note from her possession before she decided to change a thing. And then, she finished what had been begun with quill and ink, with fingers as heated and lust-driven as he claimed he was....

~~~o o~~~

He had been holding back until the house-elf delivered her answer ... holding back from opening his trousers and releasing the ache in his loins. He dismissed the house-elf as quickly as it appeared and nearly tore the parchment as he opened it to read her reply.

Less than a minute later, his fingers were fumbling at the fastenings to his trousers, desperate to free himself, desperate to relieve the pressure that threatened to numb his mind. A few strokes, a few thrusts of his hips, and a few shuddering breaths later, he found his release, moaning her name ... wishing that he were moaning it into her heated skin instead of the cool air.

It took some time for him to be able to pen the final note of the evening, but he wouldn't have her thinking he had abandoned her.

My Eager Pupil,

Your Beloved Tutor

~ End Lesson Four ~