You want me.

Gods, yes. And you want me.

I will have you. Tonight.

Hermione didn't know how he was doing it. She understood that it was Legilimency that had first allowed him into her mind. It had happened during a Double Potions class when he had caught her staring at him.

If you're going to be so rude, Miss Granger, as to daydream in my class, at least grant me the privilege of seeing what it is that has you so otherwise occupied.

She jumped at the sound of his voice in her head, but wasn't able to turn her gaze away. Before she could react, he was rummaging about in her mind, and - oh, bloody hell! - watching her most recent daydream. She felt all the blood drain from her face.

Reaching out, she tried to steady herself against the tree trunk. Gods, what he was doing to her! One hand was at her throat, caressing her hotly as his mouth devoured the soft skin at the juncture of her neck and shoulder. His other hand was wrapped around her, his fingers rubbing steady circles on the outside of her knickers, his middle finger pressing just a bit more insistently toward her heat than the others. Reaching back, she pulled him tighter against her, feeling the hard length of his cock pressing against her bottom. Oh, how she wanted to raise herself up so that she could feel the head of it slide along her hot, wet lips! She moaned loudly, and he chuckled in her ear, his breath hot and his voice husky.

"Shhh, love… you wouldn't want anyone to see us, would you?"

The tree they were hiding behind was no more than 100 feet from the Quidditch pitch, and the stands were full as Hufflepuff took on Ravenclaw. Hermione could see the backs of Harry and Ron's heads from where she stood, and this only excited her more. All they had to do was turn around, and they would see her pressed against the tree, being dry-humped from behind by their Potions Master.

His hands moved roughly to the front of her thighs, and he sank his fingers into her flesh, yanking her back even more tightly against him, grinding against her as his tongue licked the rim of her ear.

"Tell me what you want," he whispered.

Her knees weakened more at the sound of his dark voice in her ear. She whimpered as his fingers traveled inward and began to lazily trace their way just underneath the elastic of her panties. Her struggles to move her hips and allow him to touch her were thwarted by the strength of his arms.

"No," he hissed, "TELL me!"

Her mouth moved silently as she struggled for the breath to voice her desire. His ragged breathing on her neck and in her ear, the thrust of his hips, and the tease of his fingers dragging through the outer edges of her pubic hair were driving her crazy. She struggled to hold on to her last bit of lucidity and beg him for what she needed.

"Touch me," she gasped. "Please, gods, please, touch me!"

She felt, more than heard, the growl that erupted from his chest as his composure broke. He grabbed both of her wrists and pinned them above her head against the tree, then shoved one hand into her knickers and began to rub her clit frantically. His muffled groans caressed her neck as he rocked his hips manically against her arse.

"Oh! Oh, yes… oh, Severus, yes, please, don't stop!" she moaned under her breath.

As his fingers continued rubbing rapid circles on her swollen clit, she again found Ron and Harry in the crowds before her. 'Don't look, boys,' she thought as she felt her first spasms growing, low in her belly. 'Don't turn around, or you're going to see your best friend come all over Professor Snape's hand!'

Panting, she felt the first waves of her orgasm starting to break. "Oh, oh gods! Oh, Severus, now! Don't stop! Oh! OH! Oooohhhhhhh…"

….hhhh shit!

He saw it all.

He heard it all.

Oh, bloody hell, she was going to get kicked out of school!

His eyes had widened as he watched her fantasy play out before him, and the tell-tale movement of his Adam's apple told her that he had swallowed - hard - a couple of times. Not yet being able to tear her eyes away from him, she slowly came to notice that the rise and fall of his chest had increased… Merlin's mother, he was breathing heavily!

She felt him slip from her mind as easily as he had entered, and she immediately turned her eyes to the floor, her face flushing a dull red. 'Here comes the explosion,' she warned herself, cowering unconsciously. 'What have I done? What have I done? Oh, he's going to destroy me!'

"Hermione? You okay?" Harry was looking at her over his cauldron, the steam from his potion starting to fog his glasses.

"Yes, I'm fine," she choked out, on the verge of tears.

"You don't sound fine. What's wrong?"

"Harry, please!"

"Tell me what's wrong!" he hissed.

Oh, sure. Okay, Harry… I just shared a particularly raunchy sex fantasy about Snape WITH Snape, and now, he's going to go completely nutters on me, and I'll probably be expelled. Do you suppose you could help, Super Boy?

"I have female problems, Harry!" she finally snapped. That's putting it mildly!

"Oh. Oh, uh... okay, then…" He fumbled about on the table as if looking for some missing ingredient before leaning over and giving her a clumsy pat on the shoulder. "Right. Well, hope you feel better, then."

Moments passed as she waited for Snape's tirade to begin. Around her she heard the gentle chopping sounds and murmured hissing of cauldrons as her classmates prepared their mixtures. She was tensed, waiting for a sharp word, a heavy footfall, a foreboding shadow to fall over her.

Nothing.

Eventually her insatiable curiosity won out, and she glanced up toward his desk.

His position had not changed, but he had composed his facial expression to its customary dour appearance. His eyes were still trained on her, and she felt as though her skin was on fire under his scrutiny.

Finally, he cocked one eyebrow at her and looked away.

When class was over, she sped from the room without looking back.

At dinner that night she spent so much time staring at her plate that Harry and Ron finally questioned her actions. With a half-smile, she muttered a feeble excuse about not feeling well and went back to her room. It was not a complete lie; she had spent all afternoon waiting for Professor Dumbledore to come and serve her with an expulsion notice. Surely Professor Snape would have gone to him already?

But no one came to her door, and by the time she went to bed that night, her anxiety was somewhat abated.

At breakfast the next morning, she was careful to avert her eyes from the Head Table, but allowed herself to engage in normal conversation with her Housemates. It was during such a conversation that it happened.

She was listening to Ron and Harry argue about a call in one of the Chudley Cannon's most recent Quidditch match, when he spoke to her.

Miss Granger.

She turned in her seat as her blood ran cold, expecting to find him standing behind her. No one. Before she could stop herself, her eyes darted to the Head Table. There he was, sitting as stoically as always. She blushed and looked away.

I know you heard me, Miss Granger. Five points from Gryffindor for ignoring a professor.

Bloody hell, it's like he's in my head!

I am. I can hear your thoughts, Miss Granger. And, Gods, she could feel him smirking! I can see them as well.

Between the heat saturating her cheeks and the tears welling up behind her eyes, Hermione felt as though her face was melting.

I am so sorry, sir. I didn't… I mean, I wasn't… that is… she thought incoherently.

Stop babbling, for Merlin's sake!

Are you going to expel me, sir? The question came across before she even had time to realize what she was thinking, and when it did she found herself holding her breath, constrained by a horrible trepidation and awaiting his answer.

Expel you? What on earth for?

Unsure if he was taunting her yet again, Hermione snuck a glance toward him. He was looking down at the goblet in his hand, but he immediately looked up and met her eyes. A look of honest confusion was on his face.

For what… for what you… saw. For what you saw, Professor.

He chuckled then, and it was amazing. A low, dark joy spread throughout her, making her feel at once invincible and vulnerable. Oh, heavens… if he could make her feel like this just by laughing, how would her body react to his mouth - his hands - on her?

Well, I imagine you would writhe beneath me like a madwoman, as I brought you to the edge of orgasm over and over, yet not quite allowing you the sweet release you so long for.

Hermione's sharp intake of breath caused her tablemates to look at her with concern. Harry shook his head.

"'Mione, are you still having… those… problems?" he asked awkwardly.

"Just cramps. I'm fine," she muttered, feeling another of Snape's shadowy laughs bubbling in her mind.

Harry looked toward Ron and shrugged. Within seconds they had resumed their Quidditch discussion.

Feeling almost smothered by her bewilderment, Hermione pressed the heels of both hands above her eyes, as if soothing a particularly vicious headache.

Miss Granger, listen to me. I would no more expel you for having sexual fantasies about me - or anyone, for that matter - any more than I would expel you for having nightmares while you sleep. The subconscious is beyond our control… an intangible little demon that lives inside all of us. You may be an incredibly brilliant witch, but even you cannot master the subliminal.

Turning her eyes to meet his, she thought, So are you saying that you will not hold me responsible for the… scene… that you witnessed today?

The voice that answered her was impossibly low, indescribably smooth. No more so than you would for mine.

Instantaneously, Hermione was hurtled through a long tunnel, filled with images of people and places. Some seemed familiar to her, but most flashed by far too quickly for her to be sure. It's like Willy Wonka! she thought breathlessly, and no sooner was the thought formed in her mind than the sense of movement stopped.

She realized that she was still in the Great Hall, but it was now empty. She turned to look around the room and gasped as she caught sight of the Head Table.

Two figures were naked and entwined on top of the table. The man, who was lying on his back, had black hair and a long, lean body checkered with scars. It was difficult to see much more of him, as he was covered by a woman, small of stature, with disheveled brown hair. She was straddling the man's face and had her own head thrust between his thighs.

Hermione's knees weakened. It's us, she realized.

Muffled groans filled the air as the couple devoured each other. Snape's strong hands were clenching her ass cheeks, his fingers digging into her soft skin as he buried his face in her wetness. His hips thrust upward as Hermione sucked his long shaft into her mouth, her hand working in tandem with her lips as she moved up and down the length of him. Her cries of ecstasy, vibrating around him, seemed to drive him crazy as he bucked beneath her.

Move closer, she heard him say. I want you to see what I'm doing to your beautiful pussy.

Without even realizing she was moving, she suddenly found herself closer to the table, near Severus' head. From this vantage point she could see so much more; the way his tongue would alternate between slow, lazy circles around her clit and long, deliberate laps from her engorged nub all the way back to her anus; how his nostrils would flare when he would suddenly cover her with his whole mouth as if he was trying to guzzle the juices that were coating his jaw; how that same jaw would work when he moved his lips to suckle her clit. When he did that she could see her own body jerking in reaction, her hips thrusting violently against his face as the moans coming from between his legs became louder.

Standing there and watching herself and her Potions master, Hermione was fighting a tremendous internal battle. Part of her knew she should turn away, that what she was looking at was wrong on numerous levels. She knew she should be embarrassed for both of them and put an end to it all right then and there.

But the other part of her was only paying homage to the throbbing ache between her legs, and the dampness that was threatening to drip down her thighs.

Don't look away, Severus whispered, and she would have sworn that she could feel his hot breath tickling her ear. Watch.

So she did.

She watched as their fury mounted, as their whimpers and grunts grew into shouts and howls. She watched as he finally pulled his face away from her and, with a strangled roar, tangled his hands in her hair and came in her mouth. "AAAAAHHHH GODS!" he cried as her thrust into her eager lips over and over again. She watched her own throat working to gulp his hot, salty liquid as she continued to bob her head up and down, her arms wrapped around his thighs to swallow him as deeply as she could.

And then, as his orgasm waned, she watched as he renewed his assault on her hot flesh, his tongue ramming into her wet hole as his fingers came up to stroke her swollen button. She saw her push herself upright so that she was sitting on his face, her own hands working her nipples as she moved erratically over him. Her head was thrown back and a keening noise was coming from her throat. Snape was shaking his head from side to side almost violently; the panting sounds coming from his open mouth made Hermione feel dizzy. She knew that if Snape - the REAL Snape - were to somehow touch her right now, she would come almost instantly.

Severus! Oh, Severus, I'm coming! Oh, now, yes, NOW! OOOOHHHHHHHH!

In absolute surrealism, Hermione watched herself ride Snape's tongue to climax, her own shouts mingling with his smothered cries as he lapped up the wetness that trickled from her slick lips with his own. The dream Hermione collapsed forward over his body, their mutual gasping the only sound in the room.

And suddenly, she was flying through the blurred tunnel again. This time, when she came to a halt in the Great Hall, she was still surrounded by students… and she was still staring into the black eyes of Professor Snape; eyes that now held a slightly glazed look that she had never seen before.

"I have to go," she announced suddenly, standing on legs that felt wholly incapable of carrying her anywhere.

"Hermione, I really think you should go see Madam Pomfrey if you're still not feeling well."

"No, Harry. I just… I just… I have to go," she finished weakly and made her way to the entrance doors.

Miss Granger?

Turning back, she saw him watching her with a look of measured dispassion. Without thinking, she flashed him a small smile; in return, he curled one corner of his mouth up and inclined his head almost imperceptibly.

And so it began.

Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns all thing Potter. And I've been a bad, bad girl with some of them.

A/N: Okay, my first try at PWP! Hope it's enjoyable…smut biscuits for all…bring your own tea!

I've very limited knowledge of all things British…I apologize for my flopping back and forth between "arse" and "ass". Please pick whichever one you like better and use it in your head when you read this. Thanks ever so!