I dont own any of the Harry Potter characters
It had been a very long time since Professor Severus Snape, Potions Master and Head of Slytherin House, could honestly say that he had enjoyed teaching a class, in fact, as far as he could recall, no such time had ever occured in the past. When assigned to the post fresh from his Death Eater days, he had not only found the frustratingly ridiculous students incapable of creating a simple potion, but had also found no sense of love for the subject itself. Of course, after years at school craning over his cauldron, loving how easily he could create these potions and how simple it was to advance through the steps within the book, he had eventually found himself enjoying the post, yet not whilst teaching. The capability to brew healing potions in his own private rooms was an escape from the classrooms pathetic attempts to brew rubber in a pot. What with the pathetic dunderheads who could not so much as cut a simple ingredient with their knives, and the rare but highly pompous and insufferable know-it-alls that seemed to take great pleasure in interrupting lectures to teach the class themselves, he had never quite understood why it was that so many of his colleagues were so intoxicated with the job. He had never once glanced at a child and thought about having one himself, and his lack of desire to do so would, he hoped remain strong until he had long since been buried in the ground, and was rendered incapable of reproduction. Yet recently, he had begun to enjoy a single N.E.W.T lesson, with a certain Muggleborn. She being the only student who had wished to continue to take Potions, Snape had instantly appealed to the headmaster, practically begging to be free of the insufferable clever-clogs he had long since become disgusted by. Yet Dumbledore, as usual, had overruled him, stating only that as long as a single wished to be taught, Snape must teach. And so it was that Snape found himself marking fifth year papers on a late september afternoon, with the only student in seventh year capable of N.E.W.T standard potion making, and the only student in seventh year brave enough to take it. Yet despite his previous misgivings about the lesson, these one-on-one hours tucked away in his dungeons did seem to have their compensations. Of course, there had been the inevitable annoying ability of hers to complete every single sentence for him, and that equally annoying habit of getting every single potion concocted to perfection on her first attempt. However, the Potions Master found himself quite willing to cope with these traits, as the Muggleborn in question had in fact filled out rather well over the summer, and seemed to have a certain knack for attracting his eye as she walked over to the ingredients cupboard, swaying her hips slightly, or as she stretched first thing in the first lesson of the day. These compensations greatly outdid her sins, he felt, as it enabled him to not only enjoy the long hours they spent alone in the cold dungeon, but also to enjoy his lonely nights in his private rooms. However, he would never so much as permit himself to admit that he found her in any way attractive, physically or otherwise. She was, after all a student, who had made teaching twice as unbearable as it had previously been before her arrival at the school. He insisted to himself that the only attraction he held for her was during those long lonesome hours, with no clan of Slytherins to amuse by deducting points, and that it was merely a helpful way of distracting his mind as he sat continually at his desk, awaiting the moment when she would pop up to his desk with her vial for testing and say in an extremely self-satisfied way "I'm finished Professor," at which point he would give her perfectly concocted potion a snarling look, and claim it merely passable, for although the Slytherins were no longer there to hear the taunts, it pleased him to continue carrying them out in their absence.
So it was that on a late september afternoon, he sat at his desk and, under the pretence of marking a fifth years latest paper on the uses of Moonstone in potion making, he looked at the curve of her breasts under her pleasingly tight robes. He gave a small smirk as she tugged her hair, biting her lip and letting out a frustrated groan as the attempted to stir her Felix Felicis potion in precisely the correct way. Knowing full well that she would later produce a perfect sample and completely unable to resist the temptation to tease her, he lifted his head obviously from his paper.
"Miss Granger, please desist from throwing childish tantrums in my dungeon and continue to follow the instructions for the set potion on page seventy nine." He lowered his nose and continued to read.
Hermione looked at him with utter dislike and anger on her face, but instantly let go of her hair and took in a deep breath, attempting to comprehend how a single groan could possibly be mistaken as a childish tantrum.
Snape continued to smirk to himself as he watched her put in the next ingredient and turn the potion a glinting gold colour. He sighed as he watched her bottle a sample and place it on his desk. "Very well Miss Granger. I will expect at least a 12inch essay on the precautionary advice given to avoid complete reliance on Felix Felicis. You are dismissed." He didn't so much as lift his head as he marked a spiky black T on the paper in front of him.
Hermione merely nodded and left the room promptly. Snape looked up from his marking just in time to see her swaying hips before the dungeon door closed behind her.
As the weeks wore on and October faded into November, Hermione was fully aware of her growing attraction to her formidable and snarky potions professor. Yet despite her best efforts to keep at bay thoughts of his smooth voice cutting through the air in the dungeon like silk, she could not help but wake up at night with a very large smile on her face as she recalled certain dreams of her teacher in positions and places that should have made her blush uncontrollably.
Yet somehow she felt that she was not the only one who was harbouring a private attraction. As the weeks passed by, she felt certain that her older professor kept sneaking highly inappropriate -yet not at all unwelcome- glances at parts of her body which she might otherwise have been unaware of. In fact, she was so certain of these glances that she found herself picking her undergarments extremely carefully, choosing those that offered a greater amount of support to her full breasts rather than those which offered the most comfort. And she was quite sure that her attempts had not gone unnoticed.
On a day in early November, Hermione walked to her professors desk at the start of their double period, waiting timidly to see if he noticed. He did, yet he felt no inclination to show her this, given that her current position gave him a perfect view of the curvature of her hips, and he was silently enjoying watching her fingers tap just above her nether-regions. Eventually she cleared her throat and spoke quietly.
"Professor?" She voiced, biting her lip.
"Miss Granger..." he hardly even showed recognition of her attention as he scrawled an A on a sixth year essay.
"I was wondering... well... might it be alright... if I took off my robe?" At this, Snape gulped, his throat becoming slightly dry, but he continued to listen to her. "It's just... I'm ever so warm and I can't seem to work properly. I feel dizzy and keep thinking I'll pass out."
"Perhaps then," Snape suggested softly, "you should escort yourself to the hospital wing, Miss Granger. However, if your insufferable know-it-all brain believes that taking off your outer robes will ease your dizziness, then by all means do so."
He saw her bob slightly, almost as a curtsey, then hurry back over to her cauldron. The Potions Master waited several moments before risking a glance at her. It was perfectly timed. She was just lifting the black school robe over her head, revealing a black kneelength skirt and a tight dark green blouse. It was strange, seeing her in Slytherin colours, yet not completely out of character. He watched, intrigued, as she flicked her hair over her shoulders and sat herself back in her chair, crossing her legs and tapping one foot as she worked. He looked down hurriedly and swore at himself for drooling over a student, and a Mudblood no less! Yet he could not resist. Looking up again he saw the supported full breasts, the flat stomach, the toned legs... for a few moments he wondered why Honeydukes did not supply eye candy like that. Then he shook his head and stabbed the quill down so ferociously in an attempt to grade the paper in front of him that he put a round hole through the parchment. He swore to himself, and noticed his student looking up.
"Is everything alright Professor?" She asked sweetly, yet almost nervously.
He nodded to himself. "Quite fine, Miss Granger." He took out his wand and repaired the slight rip in the parchment without another word.
Hermione smiled to herself. Unless she was very much mistaken, her choice of clothing had just gone down a treat. Surprised by the almost Snape-worthy smirk touching her lips, she looked back at the potion she was attempting to make. Amortentia. Visions of a certain professor currently seated several metres away tore into her mind. Imagining him highly intoxicated made her giggle, but she soon realized that he would require a lust potion to make him THAT intoxicated. A love potion, even this strongest one, would merely make him believe that he wanted to shower her with gifts and treat her very tenderly... and she couldn't help but think she would not enjoy it... Blushing to herself, she risked a quick glance at the professor, before flicking through the book in an attempt to find a lust potion.
"Miss Granger, if you would mind returning to the designated page..." his voice cut through the air and her book flipping instantly back to the right place. She sighed and continued with the potion, waiting until her professor had looked back down at his work before undoing an extra button on her blouse.
He noticed almost immediately. He could easily see her cleavage and instantly found himself staring. What on earth did she think she was doing? He had to put a stop to it. A student should not be permitted to act so very... seductive... in his lesson.
"Miss Granger, perhaps you should put your robe back on..." he said sternly.
"But, professor.. I'm still all hot and bothered..." she waved her hand in front of her face to emphasize this and he clenched his jaw.
"Miss Granger, expect a detention with Mr Filch tomorrow evening and do not cheek your teachers again! I'm sure he will find you a perfectly nasty corner of the castle to get down on your hands and knees and scrub!"
He was shocked to see her blushing. Who in their right mind would blush at being on hands and knees in front of Filch, a man who, not being the most handsome man in the bunch, seemed to have a certain lust for young girls in short skirts... He smirked to himself wickedly. He would be sure to remind Filch of that skirt... although he was not sure the caretaker would be able to live through it. He might suffer a coronary... Perhaps he shouldn't warn Filch after all...
After marking all of his papers, Snape had nothing left to do, and with half an hour of the lesson left, he decided to put it to use by following the routine he used in every class, and stalking between the desks. Of course, having only one student in the class, he merely strode over and stood at a comfortable distance to the witch. If he had felt so inclined, he could have leant over to whisper in her ear. He assured himself that he was not so inclined, and instead watched Hermione fumble the next ingredient. He smirked. What an interesting effect. He had never known Granger to make a mistake.
"Now, now Miss Granger, you've forgotten the powdered eye of newt. Which makes this mess," he indicated it with his wand before vanishing it, "utterly useless!"
Hermione looked at him with an odd expression. It was not one he had seen on her face before. It was slightly angered, as was only to be expected, but there was something else in the gaze... almost lust like... he smirked at her. "I think an essay on the correct brewing of this potion for tomorrow morning should be sufficient to allow you to remember next time." Standing, he waved his wand at his robes, which instantly vanished.
"You're right Miss Granger, it is very warm in here isn't it.." He sat down beside her in what appeared to be black jeans, and a black shirt which was unbuttoned to reveal slight curls of chest hair. The sleeves were rolled up, much to Hermiones shock, revealing the Dark Mark, etched red into his arm. He saw her looking at it curiously and smirked once more.
"Surely, Miss Granger, you're not intrigued to see my Dark Mark. It must hardly come as a surprise to you. You who has possibly the best theoretical knowledge on magic in the school?"
Hermione shook her head. "I've never seen one before..." Hearing this as it must have come out, Hermione blushed. "I mean, the Mark..."
Snapes lips twitched in what was almost a smile. "I know what you meant Miss Granger."
Hermione's fingers twitched slightly. "What would happen if I touched it?" She whispered softly, still blushing.
Snape smirked. In his head, this conversation was not at all this innocent. "It will do nothing. With the Dark Lords death we are no longer connected as Death Eaters and so it is almost to be considered a tattoo, repulsive and undesirable as it may be." He offered his arm. "Touch it if you so wish, though don't expect to be fascinated by any amazing magical quality it might possess..." he stopped as her index finger traced the lines of the mark softly. Surprisingly soothed, Snape closed his eyes and put his head back slightly. She stopped and his eyes instantly flew open. Looking at her, he saw her eyes gazing at the red mark.
"Professor?" She said softly.
"Did it hurt? When he called?"
Snape sat up in his seat better and looked at her. Nobody had ever asked him that before. Albus's prying questions had always been about the actions of the Dark Lord. He could not remember the last time someone had questioned his own feelings. "I suppose in a way..." he said, shrugging. "But in comparison to... other things... the Dark Lord inflicted, it was just a sting."
Hermione nodded and dropped his arm. They sat in silence for several minutes, before Snape looked at her properly. She was biting her lip, and he was shocked to see tears in her bright eyes. "Miss Granger, amazing as my life of pain and suffering may be, I do not need you to cry over it."
His usual cold voice had returned. The usual cynicism. Hermione wondered what had been so different when she had asked whether it had hurt.
"I'm sorry Professor..." she muttered.
Snape stood and flicked his wand. His robes fell back on his form easily. "I'll expect that paper on my desk for tomorrows lesson. No excuses." He said as the bell rang. He skulked over to his chair and collapsed into it as she pulled the robes back onto her body. He watched for the sake of watching, then tapped his long fingers on the desk as she left the room. He was not sure what had caused him to be so cold about her obvious hurting over his pain, but seeing somebody attempting to share in what had happened to him was no more welcome in his life than a troop of babies all bearing his surname. Sighing to himself, he stood and readied himself for the next class.
Their next lesson passed in silence after he had given her her task. Hermione did not question his silence. For once she did not question anything. Not even the correct stage at which the potion should turn shocking pink. She was glad that the lesson was only a single period, but was determined that she would return later for her detention with Filch, although she was quite sure the Professor himself had forgotten about it.
He was relaxing in his room, which in itself was a sign that something must be wrong, when there was a strong knock on the door of his office, which was connected to his private quarters by a hidden door in the wall. Hitting the correct brick, Snape walked through his office to answer the door. He stopped at the sight of Hermione.
"Miss Granger." He attempted his signature smirk. "I do not believe I asked for your company tonight. To what do I owe this unfortunate displeasure?"
"Well Professor," Hermione said, ignoring his harsh words, "I have just been to Mr Filch to report for detention, yet he tells me that my name is not down. And so, I have come here to ask how I could possibly serve a detention which I am not reported for."
Snapes smirk faded. He had completely forgotten. And now she was here, practically begging him to give her detention. He risked giving her a once over before shrugging. She was wearing a different skirt - it reached just halfway down to her knee, and he was quite sure that if he were to ask her to scrub the floor he would be able to see only too plainly what lay underneath it. Her top was sleeveless and v-necked, revealing what others might consider to be an inappropriate amount of cleavage. Combined with the skirt, Professor Snape felt it was a perfect oufit for a night at the Three Broomsticks, not at all suitable for detention. "Very well Miss Granger, as you once again prove yourself to be completely insufferable and feel that it is your duty to correct a teacher who has just let you off a detention, take a seat in my classroom and I will set you lines." Hermione nodded and stalked away. Snape snuck a very perverted glance at her rear before breathing in deeply and following at a distance. What to have her write?
Sat at his desk in his shirt and trousers, he watched with a loud smirk as she bent over her parchment, revealing a very admirable view of the valley between her breasts. Resisting the urge to stare at her bosom for the remainder of the evening, he walked behind her to watch as she wrote the same crude poem repeatedly on the paper. It was much to his amusement that he watched her bite her lip to hide her embarrassment. He knew all too well that if Dumbledore found out he would most certainly face a talking down, but he was also quite sure that Miss Granger would not wish to repeat this to anyone, as it was, after all, most embarrassing for her.
Mary Had A Little Skirt With Splits Right Up The Sides, And Everytime That Mary Walked The Boys Could See Her Thighs, Mary Had Another Skirt, With Splits Right Up The Front, And Everytime That Mary Walked The Boys Could See Her
Mary Had A Little Skirt With Splits Right Up The Si...
Smiling to himself at his own ingenious choice of Muggle nursery rhymes made rude, Snape sat behind her for several minutes. He wondered how long it would take her to realize that a teacher who was angered by such a skirt would not have set lines with such a very sexual subject. He was counting on her intelligence to work out that in fact it was a subtle hint to return to his class in a much shorter and sexier skirt, although he was quite sure that she would keep her shirts long for the next few days at least. Smirking to himself, he went back to his desk, reciting the poem aloud.
"Mary had a little skirt, with splits right up the sides..." he tapped his desk in amusement. "Now Miss Granger, would you consider her skirt to be of appropriate length and style?"
Hermione did not look up, but shook her head slowly.
He smirked. "And what of your own skirt Miss Granger? Is that of suitable length and style?"
"Well nobody else has ever had a problem with it!" Hermione hissed.
Snape nodded curtly. "Ten points from Gryffindor for once more cheeking a teacher. Another ten for inappropriate uniform. And another ten for..." looking so god damned sexy in that t-shirt, no, that was not right, "being in Gryffindor!" He finished.
"That's biased and unfair!" Hermione hissed.
"Of course it is Miss Granger, but since when has Slytherin house been known for its honesty and fairplay? Another weeks detention I think."
The detentions continued to be lines, although the Professor seemed to have spent a great deal of time finding steadily more embarrassing lines for her to copy out repeatedly for hours at a time.
I stick my sweaty arm up the vagina of a cow ...
... I think of your moist, warm lips ... and wish you were here now.
"Professor! These aren't lines these are..."
"Punishment, Miss Granger, for your insolent cheek and rudeness. Perhaps from this week on you will learn to hold your tongue to avoid further embarrassment such as this!"
once was a girl from Whick
Who said to her Mum "What's a dick?"
She said "My dear Annie,
It goes up your fanny
And jumps up and down till it's sick".
By the time her detentions had finished, Snape had quite thoroughly amused himself for the first time in several years. In fact, he was quite sure that his pathetic lusting after her highly delectable body was now one hundred and ten percent gone. Yet Hermione seemed to feel differently.
With the embarrassment of her previous weeks detentions still weighing on her mind, Hermione entered Snapes dungeon on monday morning wearing her usual robes, however, as soon as she had settled down and was sure Snape had noted her appearance, she flicked her wand and vanished her robes. Underneath, she was wearing a very revealing skirt, much alike to Marys second skirt, and a top which was slit right across her breast to reveal the black bra underneath the white top. Snape did not immediately notice, but she had very soon walked over to his desk and was looking at him with barely contained lust. Letting his eyes trail slowly from the tops of her smooth legs, up to her breasts and at last to her face, he could not help feeling slightly aroused. Of course, it was inappropriate to the last degree, and would instantly earn her "another weeks detention Miss Granger," but she did not seem to care in the slightest. Most uncharacteristically for the bookworm, she had a glint of mischief in her eyes as she leant forwards across his desk to stroke his chin, smirking.
"I was very much hoping you would say that Professor..." she whispered. She waved her wand and the parchments littering his desk disappeared. She slid over it and smirked at her somewhat paralysed Professor, placing her feet on either side of his hips. She was very much aware that he could now see directly up her skirt. By the look in his eyes, so was he.
"Miss Granger, I do believe that you have quite mislaid your sense of logic and common sense, and I demand that you go to the hospital wing this instant."
Hermione shook her head, smiling at him and placing her hands on his shoulders. "Mary had another skirt with splits right up the front, and everytime that Mary walked the boys could see her..." she smirked as he mouthed the last word. "You're a very naughty Professor, Severus." She whispered. "If it weren't for the fact that I very much enjoy your perverted eyes watching me from across the classroom, I would have long since reported you to Dumbledore for sexual harrassment... but... as it stands... I will quite happily avoid that scenario, if you'll show just how naughty a professor you really can be..."
He was quite sure he was dreaming. He could see quite clearly all the way up between her thighs, to the damp pink knickers that she wore. Although, he reasoned, if this is a dream, then you have the complete right to shag her senseless on the desk and think nothing of it tomorrow morning... He gulped and shook his head. "Miss Granger, I insist that you see Madam Pomfrey for something for your besieged know-it-all brain!"
"But Professor..." she murmured. "I'm a know-it-all. And I know all about what I want. And I think, judging by the bulge in your trousers, it's safe to say what you want..."
He was most definitely dreaming. Where the hell had she learnt to talk about it so openly? Why the hell was she not sticking her head in a book and not surfacing for three years? And why, oh why, had he been stupid enough to stick her in a detention with limericks and nursery rhymes?
Before his thoughts were properly sorted, he saw her cross one leg over the other and opened his mouth to protest his disagreement, before stopping himself in time. Had he almost told her to keep her legs like that? She had seen. The stupid little know-it-all really knew it all. Within seconds his mouth had been beseiged by hers and his hands had somehow buried themselves in her hair as she slid into his lap, wrapping her legs firmly around the back of his chair as she came into contact with his groin. He groaned into her mouth, moving his hands from her hair to slide down to other unexplored areas of her body, all coherent thought forgotten. He removed the pathetic excuse for a skirt with a single rip, uncaring as to what remained of it. Her shirt followed soon enough, torn off and discarded from her, leaving her in her oddly matched underwear. He took his mouth away for merely a moment to look at her, then grunted and moved to bite her neck. Reassured that she was perfectly fine by the responsive moans she emitted, he continued to bite, moving to her neck and chest, curving his back as he reached for her. Her bra was discarded within a matter of seconds, and he had moved to take her right nipple in his mouth when she pulled his head up for a long, deep, fierce kiss. He bulged in his trousers underneath his robes, and reached blindly for his wand. His robes vanished and his trousers were undone to free his aching member. She lost no time in moving to accomodate it, ripping off her knickers in a second, and within an instant she was moving up and down on him, expertly. He had no doubt in his mind that she was no virgin, and felt a slight ripple of anger towards the man who had taken it. He hoped for her own sake it had not been Weasley, although it did not seem unlikely. He groaned as she moved on him. He would show her a real man, as soon as she finished torturing him. He reached down to her warm folds and found her clit with ease, rubbing it as he pulled his mouth away to kiss her neck and shoulders. She shook in his arms as she orgasmed and he joined her with a loud grunt of pleasure. Hermione collapsed forward onto him, her chest coming into level with his face. He smirked and took the right nipple in his mouth at last. She moaned on top of him. He kneaded the other softly, then swapped both around. He felt her shaking one last time and grunted again. As their heavy breathing subsided, Snape was sure he heard the end of lesson bell. Within moments they were both fully dressed, though with thoroughly dishevelled hair and a still heavy breathing rate.
"Miss Granger," he muttered. "You have detention for the rest of this year. And... ten points from Gryffindor... for shagging and taking advantage of your professor."
She smirked. "I'll be back later."
He waited for her without so much as a care that she was a student. All thoughts had evaporated. She was of age, at least he could say that much. And she was of sane mind, which was quite unbelievable in itself to have wanted to shag her Potions Professor senseless in his desk chair. He looked at the desk and smirked. She would of course experience something much better than a quick fumble in a chair now. She would be screaming his name and begging for more. He smirked and looked at the dungeon door as it opened. She walked in innocently enough, as though he had not shoved himself up into her not even six hours earlier.
"Will I be doing lines again tonight Professor?" She asked quietly.
"Oh no," Snape smirked. "I have something much more interesting for you tonight. Something I know you'll enjoy, even if it does hurt a little..."
"Severus!!" she gasped. He pushed into her again, his chest pressed to her back, his hand massaging her breast, while the other played with her clitoris. "Oh...god... stop! Right now! Stop! Thats too good!"
"This is detentione Miss Granger," he said, smirking as he bit her shoulder. "I will tell you when we are going to stop."
She cried out and shook. He joined her almost instantly, pulling her head back and forcing his mouth on hers to slide his tongue into her mouth. He drowned her cries with his mouth, and when their orgasms had subsided, he withdrew from her. The desk, which she had so helpfully cleared that morning, was now strewn with parchment, quills, and various items of clothing.
"I think..." he murmured. "That Marys skirt should grace us with its presence more often..." he kissed her fiercely. "And that Annie should by now know where a dick goes and just what it does..." he smirked.
Hermione smiled. "Perhaps she just wanted to get into someones pants."
"And on their desk."
They exchanged a burning look before smirking simultaneously. "I think the Gryffindor lion will have to make it up to the Slytherin Snake... enticing him out of his pants like that is highly impolite. Perhaps if the lioness began to eat the snake, he might feel better about himself."
A glinting in Snapes eyes told Hermione that he was by no means joking. "As long as the Snake doesn't mind a bush later on."
"Filthy minded Gryffindor..." Snape whispered. "Twenty points from your sorry little house."
OOC I know, but still, very fun writing.
Mage of the Heart