Like my last little story, this one came to me quickly and was written quickly - those are always the most fun ones! I've neglected Severus for a while; he was becoming most recalcitrant. Hopefully, this makes a few amends. It's only a one shot, I'm afraid. I am focusing on original work but still like to dip back into these characters. Ahem. Like my facebook page (Laurielove) if you wish where you can keep up with news and comment - we have a lot of fun.

Enjoy. LL. xxx

The scene was all too familiar: the arches bowing over her head with almost sinister intent, candles illuminating crepuscular spaces with flittering shadows, the intense yet alluring aroma of cloves and willow smoke drifting around her.

She was back in the Potions classroom. The war had ended, Hogwarts had been rebuilt through magic, devotion and toil, and she had returned to finish what she had started eight years before. Completing her education was a formality – a few weeks refreshing and some exams – but she still had lessons to attend, and a private tutorial on Superior Potions was one of them.

The room and its trappings were not the only thing familiar to Hermione that afternoon. Her teacher had left her largely to her own devices and was now standing behind her out of her line of sight, but she could sense him; his inexorable presence was potent and tangible, even now.

On that terrible day all those months ago, she believed she had witnessed his death, and it had moved her beyond words or reason. And when he was coaxed back to life against the odds she rejoiced far more than she had expected. But now, back in his classroom, the years fell away; he still dropped his caustic comments and rebuffs, still belittled her efforts, and now she tensed at the approach of his determined footsteps. Hermione kept her head down and concentrated on her cauldron. She knew better than to rile Severus Snape.

The footsteps stopped directly behind her; she could smell the heady spices which hung about his black robes. She stared fixedly at her potion which started to bubble rather more than it was supposed to. That voice, deep and sonorous, spoke over her shoulder, closer than she expected, resonating in the air between them.

'Go carefully, Miss Granger, your mixture is looking rather lively. We wouldn't want any … premature explosions, would we?'

'No, sir.' She stirred slowly, willing the mixture to settle.

'That's better. You have a steady but assured hand. It's always better to build things up gradually but firmly.'

'I quite agree, sir.'

Hermione stared concertedly into her cauldron, trying to subdue the tick at the corner of her mouth. This was a curiously different approach, but not one to which she objected. Was his innuendo deliberate? In the silence of the Potions classroom, with only the two of them for conversation, she started to enjoy it. His robes brushed her arm as he moved to stand beside her. He stared down, arms behind his back, surveying the ingredients she had set out.

'Are you adding the snake scales already?

'No, sir, I've just put them there ready. I'm ensuring everything else is in place first. I know the importance of adequate preparation before the final insertion.'

There was a silence. She flicked her eyes to his. Did she detect a glint within the deep black? She cleared her throat to cover the moment but held her nerve and her stare.

'Do you, Miss Granger?'

'Yes, sir.'

'And what should be done to ensure things go … smoothly?'

'Well, as with any potion, you first need the right combination of ingredients. You can't put things together which are going to react badly to each other. The ingredients must be well-matched.'

His eyebrow rose up high. She liked it when he did that, she realised. He spoke again, his voice a rich honey pouring its way down to her. 'But sometimes ingredients can ignite when initially combined but then settle down compatibly after conjoining.'

'That's true. Some would say that those are the most effective blends.'

'Indeed. Most effective.' She was sure she detected the slightest smirk. 'What else is needed?'

'Before brewing, the fire must already be burning with a steady flame.'

'A flame that has been present for a while?'

'That would be best.'

'Does the fire need stoking?'

'Oh yes. Prodding and poking, definitely, to maintain the burn.' Had she just licked her lips? She hadn't meant to. Had he noticed?

His eyes moved rapidly over her face before returning to look into her. He spoke again, soft now, imparting his words secretly between them.

'Tell me about the best wands to assist in potion brewing.'

Her heart was beating ridiculously fast but gave her a thrill and bravado. She spoke deliberately, relishing the pulse between them.

'It is said that long wands are the best … but they must also have a wide diameter.' Her chest heaved to draw in air but she couldn't stop the conversation. The words tripped off her tongue with a flirtatious tease before she could stop them. Snape seemed only too happy to humour her.

'And what of their pliability?'

'Oh … they should be stiff and rigid. The type that doesn't give when you grasp it in your hand.'

'A thick, long, stiff wand, Miss Granger? Is that the kind you prefer?'

He was ridiculously close. She could sense the warmth of his body. 'I do, sir.'

'The kind you find most … effective?'

'Yes, sir. Most effective.'

'And do you have access to this kind of wand?'

Her belly flipped as he held her in his eyes. She swallowed hard but answered straight. 'Not as often as I'd like, sir.'

'And what should be done with this wand when you acquire it?'

Hermione dared take a step into him. Her right thigh was touching his leg. 'It should be used very carefully at first, gently. It should coax the potion, tease it even. You should run it over the surface lightly, paying special attention to how it reacts.'

'And should the wand be put directly into the mixture?'

'After everything is prepared it is often necessary, but, again, it should be done gently at first, with careful observation of how the potion reacts, testing it out.'

'Some recipes require a bolder approach, surely?'

'Of course. Sometimes it's necessary to plunge the wand in quite vigorously.'


'Yes, sir.'

'Do you like vigorous plunging, Miss Granger?'

'On occasion, sir.'

He was ever closer, his head lowering towards her.

'Would this be such an occasion, Miss Granger?'

'I think, Professor Snape, that it might.'

His lips met hers. They were softer than she'd imagined, and fuller, and he used them well. She stopped analysing and started enjoying. Her hands were around his neck pulling him hard against her and they plundered each other's mouths.

He tore his lips from hers, leaving them bruised and plump, only to drag his mouth down her exposed neck, planting hard, hungry kisses over her needy skin. 'Of course,' he slurred between kisses, 'it is usually best to take things slowly, otherwise it is possible to spoil things.'

'Usually …' she moaned, 'but not always.'

'Not now?' he queried, his fingers already undoing the buttons of her shirt.

'Definitely not now,' she confirmed, pushing his robes from his shoulders and dropping her hands to his crotch. As he continued unbuttoning her shirt, she rubbed concertedly over the impressive bulge concealed within his trousers.

'Merlin be damned!' he hissed. 'You are too good, witch!'

'The thing is – sir –' she started, now undoing the buttons which concealed him from her. 'If you'd told me this morning we'd be doing – this – I would have passed out in shock.'

'Just don't pass out now.' He ripped off her shirt, unhooked her bra and dropped his mouth to her breasts with a groan of pleasure.

Severus took a nipple hard in his mouth and twirled it around his tongue before nipping and tugging it between his teeth. A delighted laugh rose from Hermione, distracting her momentarily from her mission to release him.

'Merlin, you're delicious,' he slurred, plying one nipple in his hand while returning to suckle on the other. Hermione, meanwhile had managed to achieve her aim and found the thickest, longest, most rigid specimen lurching out towards her.

'Just as discussed, sir,' she grinned. 'Perfect.' She began to move her hand hard on the shaft, lubricated by the constant leak of moisture from the thick, round head.

'We hadn't discussed – sweet Circe! –' he groaned, 'how to – fuck, woman! – handle the … err …'

'Wand, sir?'

'Yes! Yes!' He'd pulled back from her breasts and stood, eyes closed, mouth open, focused entirely on the wondrous sensations she was pulling, quite literally, from his magnificently engorged cock.

'Oh, I think I'm handling it quite well, sir.' She continued pumping with her hand, right down to the base, then swirling back up to squeeze and smooth over the head.

Snape swallowed hard and gripped her wrist, pulling her hand away. 'Enough!' he grabbed her by the hips, eliciting a thrilled yelp of anticipation, and placed her on the desk, vanishing the cauldron, implements and ingredients with a single wave of his hand.

Grabbing her skirt, he threw it up over her hips and pushed her legs apart, taking a moment to savour the lace of her underwear before pulling off her knickers with a single, smooth tug.

He leaned over her. Gods, he had fine cheekbones. She was suddenly in love with his cheekbones. Why hadn't she noticed before? But then a long finger swept along her soaking snatch and the cheekbones became slightly less important.

'Fuck!' she cried, her head back, her back arched as pleasure rippled through her. He'd touched her clit so perfectly with care, accuracy and rough gentleness.

'Now, Miss Granger,' he purred, continuing to graze and tease her throbbing flesh, precipitating a constant murmur of mewls and whines as she willed him on, 'What was it you were saying about coaxing and testing things gently to start with?'

She groaned, propelling herself towards him, but he nimbly evaded her and removed his finger. His hand moved to his erect cock which he pumped and primed, readying himself.

'Not now! Please – just – fuck me!'

'Vigorous plunging, Miss Granger?'

'The most vigorous fucking plunging ever, sir!'

'Very well.'

And so he plunged into her vigorously.

Hermione's eyes shot open as she was pushed up the desk with the force of his entry. He held her hips, pulled back, then instantly buried himself in her to the hilt again. And again. In and out, thrusting and fucking her with such insistence her climax was soon ready to break.

Each drive forward was accompanied by a low moan from her teacher, as deep and sonorous as his voice. It hurtled her orgasm forward as much as his pistoning cock.

'Is that – vigorous – enough?'

Another plunge. And she came.

'Yes!' Pleasure raged through her from top to toe, cascading with such force she lost all sense of place. But somehow in the middle of her delicious bewilderment she registered the look on Severus' face. His mouth opened, his eyes pressed shut and he roared. He was coming harder than ever, filling her with his seed which burst triumphantly from him, propelled by the strength of her orgasm.

'Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck,' she panted, recovering slowly, staring up at the ceiling, vaguely aware of where she was again, realising exactly what had just happened.

'Quite,' he stated, still inside her, leaning over her as he heaved in much-needed breaths.

Slowly, he pulled out, turned away and adjusted his clothing. Hermione pushed herself gingerly to a sitting position and reached for her shirt. There was silence.

'That was …' She wasn't quite sure what to say. Would he regret it? Would he never speak to her again?

Snape turned to her, his face fixed, his mouth stern. She quaked.

'Stupendous,' he said and walked over, took her head in his hands and kissed her.

She almost wept with relief and delight but instead resorted to a broad smile. 'I was hoping you'd say that.'

'I'm glad you agree,' he smiled. He looked so different when he smiled. 'After all, you were the one who said the most incendiary combinations often settle down after conjoining.'

'Is that what we've done … conjoined?'

'That's one word for it,' he smirked.

She pushed herself from the table and approached him, running her hands over the smooth black cloth of his tunic. 'In that case, I'd quite like to – conjoin – again. When would suit you?'

He cocked his eyebrows. She supposed he would make her wait a few days.

'I should think … immediately would be a very good time indeed.'

And, taking her by the hand, he pulled her rapidly through into his private rooms, and closed the door behind them.

Oh, good boy. We all like some vigorous plunging. ;-) x