A/N: Thank you to everyone that has read, reviewed, and favorited this story. You guys have just put me over the moon with joy! I'm sorry that this part is short, but Sev is a naughty boy here, so I hope that'll make up for the lack of length (though I'm sure Sev won't...ahem...)

Hope I don't get in trouble for the smutty details. Oh well...

Anyway, here's part two! Hope you all like it:

Severus took his seat at the high table with the rest of his colleagues, staying silent as usual. It was only eight-thirty and he was already horny - however, it wasn't the first time he was ready for a few rounds that early in the morning. He scanned the Great Hall, looking for Ms. Granger and her bubble-headed friends. Finally, he found her sitting at the Gryffindor table with Potter, who seemed to be telling her some sort of story that Hermione didn't seemed amused or the least bit interested in hearing. He raised a brow as he watched her rest her head against her hand, keeping her eyes fixed on Potter, yet it seemed as though her mind were wandering elsewhere.

"...then Voldemort reached out and touched my scar, but it didn't burn! Instead, somehow, I saw Ginny laying on the floor of her bedroom at the Burrow and she was begging for mercy. Bellatrix was standing over her, using the Cruciatus curse... It was horrible, 'Mione," Harry said quietly as he went on about one of his many night terrors.

Hermione slowly nodded her head as she stared at him with glazed eyes. Having heard the same nightmare at least ten times in the past five months, she could have recited it with him.

"It was only a night terror, Harry. He's gone and nothing can harm either of you guys again," Hermione said in a slightly dull voice.

"There're still Death Eaters roaming about! I just know it!" Ron said as he took a seat next to Hermione.

Hermione gave them a bored look as they began conversing about Harry's nightmare and Ron's paranoid theories about the whereabouts of any Death Eaters that remained on the loose since the fall of You-Know-Who. Her gaze slowly shifted to the High Table, scanning along the mostly empty seats. Her eyes stopped on Professor Snape, who was staring right back at her. Her stomach fluttered at the acknowledgment before it churned with fear - had she done something wrong? Why was he staring?

The look he was giving her was smoldering. She felt a fire ignite in her stomach and spread straight to her core, burning with such an intense heat she had to squeeze her legs together to prevent her juices from leaking through her knickers. She bit her bottom lip and felt herself flush as the heat raised to her cheeks.

Why's he giving me that look? Oh Merlin, who knew he could look so - dare I say it - sexy?

She crossed her legs as she continued to hold his gaze, watching as his eyes lowered themselves over her frame before going back up to meet her whiskey orbs. Her breath hitched the moment his tongue slowly glided across his lower lip, giving her a plethora of filthy thoughts.

Oh, to feel that tongue...

"Alright there, 'Mione? What're you looking at?" Ron asked as he nudged her.

She immediately broke eye contact with Professor Snape and looked at Ron, feeling anxious with the knowledge of him catching her staring.

"Oh... I-I was just thinking. Didn't realize what I was looking at," she said quickly, holding her breath in hopes of him believing her fib.

Ron didn't say anything. Instead, he turned back to Harry and started talking about Quidditch.

Hermione let out a relaxed breath before shifting her gaze back up to the staff table. Professor Snape stood up from his seat and made his way down an aisle of tables, one of them being the Gryffindor table. He was walking right toward her.

Oh no, she thought. I'm in trouble. Oh god. What did I do? Did he not like me staring?

Her stomach felt as though it had dropped right down to her knees as he elegantly walked her way, light on his feet with beautiful posture. Harry and Ron were too engaged in their conversation to notice the approaching professor.

Hermione's skin tingled when Professor Snape walked past her very closely, brushing his black teaching robes against her back as he moved in near silence. Her eyes followed his every movement, confused by their exchange. Perhaps her dream really did mean something - maybe he wanted so badly to reach out to someone, and maybe it had been possible that he had noticed a change in her since the war and felt that she could be the one to save him from his darkness? She was more than willing to be his angel of light. Her core tingled at the thoughts of something intimate being initiated between them; flashes of them in mid-coitus, his jaw slightly opened with his eyes closed as he was on top of her, moaning through the passion of each deep, pleasurable thrust that sent wave after wave of pure euphoria through her body and sent her over the edge into the most powerful orgasm that she could ever experience.

A small, barely audible whimper escaped Hermione's throat at the fantasy. Harry stopped in the middle of his sentence about snitches or whatever it was that he was on about to look at her.

"What's wrong, Hermione? Are you alright? You look odd..." Harry's expression grew more and more concerned by the second.

Hermione blocked out the filthy pictures in her mind and the feeling of her womanhood tightening, trying to return to her normal state.

"Sorry, I'm fine. I'm just feeling a bit nervous about being back," she said, which was partially true.

"Oh... You'll be fine. Don't worry, you're the smartest witch in the school. You'll be brilliant, 'Mione." Harry smiled at her reassuringly.

She returned his smile with a slight curve of the mouth, her mind wandering down to the dungeons where her Potions master was more than likely pacing.

Severus glanced down at his silver pocket watch after warding the doors of his private chambers. He had half an hour before any of the brainless wastes of space were going to come skipping through his door, looking as stupid as they always did with their very small brains being clouded by foolish things such as relationships and Quidditch. He grimaced at the thought of his ignorant students and pushed them far out of his mind - he had other business to attend to.

He took off his black teaching robe and laid it on a black couch that was several feet away from the old arm chair in front of his stone fireplace, right where he took a seat moments later. He fumbled with the silver buckle on his leather belt for several seconds before he let out a low, frustrated groan; he undid it with magic, not bothering to speak the spell out loud or use a wand, and quickly undid his trousers. He slumped back into his seat in the black armchair, releasing his throbbing erection that dripped some of his excitement from the tip. Long, thick, reddening and glistening with pre-ejaculation fluid, he gripped it firmly and stroked himself, furrowing his brow as he gently pinched at the loose skin near the head.

A small smirk formed on his usually sneering lips as he pictured what the innocent Hermione Granger's reaction would have been had she seen him like that, her darling professor that he knew she so admired, fucking himself with the thought of tying her down to his desk and making her take him into her mouth that was usually busy shouting out answers as quickly as she could form the words. Hell, while he was at it, he nearly felt like laughing at the reaction Headmistress McGonagall would have had if she knew that he was leering at the female member of the Golden Trio, one of his students, and her prized pupil.

He groaned quietly when he gave his sac a squeeze, feeling it growing heavier in his hand as he palmed the warm skin in his large hand, massaging it in rhythm with his erection. His hand twisted and glided from base to tip, squeezing and tugging gently before giving the head of it a few flicks to cause an erotic sting, making his belly burn. He scowled, wishing he had a witch nearby to help bring him to climax because he was working in a rather short time frame.

"Fuck," he hissed under his breath as he bucked himself into his hand, picking up his pace to drive him closer to his orgasm.

Another slur of curses were muttered as he grind himself into his hand furiously, his breathing becoming erratic and his eyes squeezing shut to heighten the sensation of his throbbing cock becoming more sensitive to touch. He felt himself dribbling onto his hand, knowing that he was coming closer to going over the edge.

An image flashed in his mind of Hermione spread over his knee, her bare buttocks exposed to him, her hip resting over his erection, as he spanked her with his bare hand. He could just hear her moans as she'd shift herself over his dick, her very center hot and slick for him. He saw himself unleashing his large member and putting it in her after giving her a few slaps on the ass, impaling her until the break of dawn.

He let out a small cry as his head leaned against the back of his chair, his hips raising to buck them wildly as his hand quickened its pace. His groin and stomach were burning from the flames of the erotic fire the Gryffindor student had been fueling for him inside his mind, about to lose himself to the world...

"Oh, fuck!" he exclaimed as he felt himself reach his climax, panting as hard as his cock that drained his seed in alarming amounts.

He felt as though electric currents were flowing from his chest straight down to his toes, only to return up to his groin. A loud moan escaped his lips, echoing around the room, from the intense pleasure of his release that was he stroking himself through. His head was spinning, his eyes twitching and rolling slightly, as he was slowly coming down from his orgasm.

"Oh...God..." he whispered as he panted, beads of sweat rolling down from his scalp and pooling onto his collarbone.

He wiped his face off on the sleeve of his frock coat, panting and closing his eyes as he tried to regain his strength and catch his breath in the afterglow of his masturbation. He slowly opened his lids, his black eyes fixing their sight on his penis that was deflating to its normal, flaccid state. He slowly shifted his aching legs, smirking slightly at the burning sensation of the tight muscles in his loins.

He performed a quick cleansing charm before he tucked his penis back into his trousers, careful not to stir anything that could leave him wanting another round of self-pleasure when he had a batch of ignorant brats that would soon be arriving for his class. He stood from his chair and fastened his trousers and belt again, then retrieved his teaching robe before exiting his chambers.

It was nearly four in the afternoon when Hermione arrived in the dungeons (with Harry trailing after her) for Potions class. It was their last class of the day and both were immensely relieved that all they had left to attend was dinner in the Great Hall. They went inside the dimly-lit classroom and took their seats in the middle row. Professor Snape was sitting at his desk with an opened book in his hand, appearing to be engrossed in whatever its contents were.

"With any luck, he'll just sit there like that the whole class," Harry whispered to Hermione with a small smile playing on his lips.

"Shh." Hermione shot him a brief glare before turning her attention back to the professor.

Professor Snape slowly looked up from his book and stared directly at Hermione. Those dark, piercing eyes always made her stop anything she was doing to look into them, and she was certain on different occasions that they could have had the power of a basilisk's stare if he wanted his victim dead. She bit her lip as she stared back at Professor Snape, whose gaze was lingering down her body.

Please stop looking at me like that... I may fling myself at you. Good lord, if only Harry and Ron knew what I'm thinking! They wouldn't even believe it if they'd seen it for themselves.

She watched him as he put down his book and clasped his hands together, elbows resting on his desk, as he pressed his chin to his knuckles. She saw the essence of a small smirk playing on his lips, which could only spell trouble. ...or a wet spot in Hermione's knickers. She shifted in her seat and felt anxiety - what if he had been inside her mind and knew that his smoldering gaze was arousing her? She hoped that nobody would be able to smell her arousal, even though she knew it would be rather pointless to worry about because the fragrances of the other ingredients in the classroom were much stronger.

"What, Ms. Granger, do you find so fascinating that you must stare blankly at me for minutes on end?"

Hermione, whose eyes were glazing from staring at him and getting lost in thoughts of him pinning her against the shelves in his storeroom, snapped out of her trance. She looked down at her desk and swallowed back a lump in her throat.

"Well, Ms. Granger?" Professor Snape stood up from his desk and slowly stepped around it. "Surely you don't wish to pass up the opportunity to express your knowledge to a teacher? Any other time a question is asked, whether or not it concerns you, that hand is always waving about in the air."

He had been walking down at the aisle toward her and Harry's desk as he spoke. He stopped in front of their desk and pressed his hands on the edge of it, leaning in slightly to stare into Hermione's eyes. A few Slytherin students that were seated behind them snickered quietly.

Hermione began to stutter, seeming to have lost all ability to form proper words.

"What's the matter, Ms. Granger? For once our resident know-it-all can't answer a simple question for her professor?" he asked in a very soft, silky voice that sent chills up Hermione's spine.

"I-I'm sorry, s-sir. I... I-I hadn't realized that I was staring," she said quietly, watching his nostrils flare as he leaned in closer to her.

Why do I want to just drag you away from here and make love to you, and just...tame you? "Tame" couldn't possibly be the proper word - he's a man, not a wolf!

"Perhaps it would be appropriate for you to sort out any distractions before you enter my class, Ms. Granger," he said in such a quiet voice that Hermione had to strain her ears to hear him.

He leaned in closer so the tip of his nose was nearly grazing her cheek; she could feel everyone staring at them. Her eyelids drooped as her mouth parted a bit. Her face burned from his hot breath on her skin.

"I can smell you," he whispered, making her eyes open wide.

Merlin, no! He can't...!

She shivered at his words, feeling mortified. She hoped that nobody else in the class had heard him. He pulled back and stared her in the eye, a malicious glint dancing through his black orbs.

"Five points from Gryffindor," he said before standing up straight.

Hermione saw Harry give Professor Snape a dirty look. Professor Snape glared at him before he went back up to his desk, giving his wand a quick wave. His handwriting appeared on the board next to his desk with instructions for the potion they were to brew.

"Bloody git," Harry whispered as he glared daggers into Professor Snape. "What I'd give to -"

"Harry!" Hermione whispered harshly, giving him a sharp swat on the arm. "Shh!"

"We should report him to Professor McGonagall," Harry whispered. "That was really weird."

"Be quiet!" Hermione begged. "He's probably having an off day."

"Hermione, that was uncalled for. What the hell did he whisper to you? People are going to think -"

"Silence!" Professor Snape snapped from his desk as he glared right at Harry. "Five more points from Gryffindor for disrupting my class."

Harry scowled as he sank into his seat, lowering his gaze into his cauldron. Hermione stared back and forth between the pair, feeling confused and humiliated.

Looks like I've got my work cut out for me...