Based on a piece of very naughty commissioned art by Dena Gray. It was removed from DeviantArt for being too graphic. Hopefully you can find it here: azalea-nymph dot livejournal dot com. It is shared on the SSHG Facebook Page - Snape and Hermione Shippers Forever! It's a secret group so if you'd like to join, find me at facebook dot com /rashyra
While most professors would have to holler or rap a baton against the desk to gain an unruly class's attention, Severus Snape merely had to clear his throat. Instantly, the chatter ceased and the students were once again under his thumb.
He frowned at the motley collection of post-war seventh years. The handful of swots who were determined to finish their education. But as dedicated as they were, even they were not immune to the spring fever that hit the entire school as the year wound to a close. It hit these students especially hard being as this was technically their eighth year. They were more than ready to leave.
So, to combat the scatterbrained affects of the warm spring air, Severus decided to pull a potion out of his repertoire that would both interest and challenge them.
"You have, of course, heard of and brewed Amortenia. Most of you with Professor Slughorn."
The students nodded in agreement, the love potion already piquing their interest.
"That scent will remind you of one that you love. The affects are to induce a euphoria in the drinker, hopefully towards the brewer. But what..." he gave a lengthy pause," of fantasies?" His seductive voice curled through the room; a feather dropped against the cobblestone could be heard. He thought perhaps they didn't even breathe, the room was so silent. Even Granger was poised on the edge of her seat – more than normal.
"I propose that today we deviate from the standard curriculum. Most of you have the capabilities to coast out the rest of the year without challenge. I believe that from me you expect difficulty, and I fully intend to deliver. This potion will require much more time and dedication than the typical swill on your NEWTs. But the benefits..." Here again he paused with a leer. "May be most worth it. What do you say?"
The excited gleam in their eyes was all the response he needed and the formula appeared on the short order, cauldrons and vials littered the work tables as the sounds of chopping, shredding, and stirring were heard. Snape sat at his desk with his feet propped up. This was a much better class period than if he had stuck to the Hair Lengthening Potion. Granger may have chased them all from the room lest they be captured in her bushy mess, and Draco would be glued to the mirror just like his father. Definitely not a good idea.
There being only about ten or so students gave them a little more leeway in the curriculum of the class, something Severus found he enjoyed. In this setting, teaching was almost preferable to one's own brewing. Almost. Now if he could pull a certain sassy Gryffindor into the back to lab to brew with him...
He shook his head against the rising heat in the class. He hated what these fumes did to him. And speaking of, who knows how they were affected his students. Time to take a stalk around and make sure all was in order.
The class agreed to stay late in order to finish their potions in once session, egged on by the promise that they could keep their samples after he was done grading them. They were his last class of the day, and he was going to grade papers anyhow. He would cut them a bit of favour and allow them to continue their work.
Each of the students, even those not typically fixated on Potions as whole, almost bounced as they turned in each perfectly hued blue sample after sample.
The room was suddenly blissfully quiet. This was the type of silence not achieved by humans merely not talking; the silence that accompanies a comfortable solitude amongst one's own things. This was his classroom. His lair. This was more home to him than his quarters had ever been.
He pulled out the testing equipment to see if he had viable solutions while asking an elf if they would mind bringing him a spot of supper. It would be better to get these finished and out of the way in order to have the rest of the evening for his own pursuits. This way, the students were guaranteed to get them back tomorrow, a Friday, and thus would be in their own rooms...enjoying themselves for the rest of the weekend.
He smirked again, half tempted to dose the rest of the seventh years as well. And maybe the sixth years and the staff as well. What a blissfully quiet weekend that would be...
His grin continued as he put a dropper into the first vial, placing one careful drop on the mandrake. The plant's contented sigh and dreamy expression coupled with the cerulean clarity gave Mister Finnegan a surprised E for the day. E's and O's followed for both Patils, Mister Boot and, unsurprisingly, Mister Malfoy.
He pulled Granger's potion to him and indulged himself in a lengthy eye roll. Her potion was so perfect it was even giving off the twinkle that designated an advanced brewer. Of course. He grabbed a fresh mandrake and prepared to take a sample.
The dropper slowly entered the bottle, drawing a long pipette of potion. As he went to douse the mandrake, there was a sudden clang in the room.
"Teddy!" Snape shouted, dropping the pipette and grabbing the dinner tray tipping off the end of his desk. His quick reflexes saved the sandwich, apple, and bowl of soup but his glass of wine was lost to the stone floor below. "You know to be careful when delivering to my room!"
"Sorry, sir! Teddy is sorry! Teddy will go iron her ears and chain herself to the kitchen wall!"
He grumbled while rubbing the creases in his forehead, staring at the tiny elf who was wringing her hands. "You know that isn't necessary. Please clean up this mess and return with a fresh glass – from your stock this time."
The elf nodded and popped away. Severus bent down to retrieve his napkin, when suddenly the world began to spin. He grabbed the edge of his desk as his mind began to blur. Visions swept before him – curly, bushy hair, unruly as it wound around him. Granger was working at her station, just as she was today. Her hair was loose and wild around her shoulders and tumbled down her back as she slowly prepared her ingredients. The day was a warm one and Hermione's – Hermione's? – gray, standard issue skirt began to ride up her hips until her rear was clearly visible. No knickers were in sight. She was either bare or in an impossibly tiny thong. Dear Merlin, he couldn't breathe. He attempted to cover his eyes, body betraying him in stealing a sly peek at the woman.
He fully covered his eyes now and shook his head. What was wrong with him? It was after hours and his room was unoccupied besides himself and the blasted Mandrake.
With a gasp, he looked at the Mandrake and the pipette laying smashed beside it. Looking at his own hands, he could just see the last of the fantasy potion being absorbed into his skin.
And it was Granger's potion, so it would no doubt be perfect and last the full twelve bloody hours.
With a snarl, he grabbed his robe and his sandwich. If things progressed as he anticipated, he would need that later, and then he swept from the room.
He barely made it to his own quarters before the potion struck him again. This time, she was leaving his room, bending to pick up what he was sure was an impossibly heavy leather satchel magicked? with a Featherlight Charm in order for her to scoop it off the floor. That skirt, that damnable, wonderful, gray woollen skirt, was flipped up over her rump this time, the hem resting on the small of her back. She was apparently oblivious? her little white thong – there was a thong – was on display for him. He watched as she stretched down, down, down to the floor, her long legs keeping her ass high in the air. Right at the perfect height for him just to step up and take her. He could run his hand right up the back of her thigh, pulling the no doubt sodden strip of flimsy material out of the way and he undid his own zipper.
She would be tight, and ready for him after watching his heated glances in class. He would take her, rough, right against her work station. She would fall apart screaming under his ministrations.
Severus's vision cleared. He found himself seated on his sofa with a raging erection like he had never experienced. He could practically feel the heat rising from his bulging trousers and there was no question where all of his blood went. He doubted he could even stand.
After a few moments, his strength regained and he was able to shamble into his room. If this was how the rest of his night would be, he was going to make himself comfortable. The heavy woollen robes and trousers were the first to go, followed quickly by his white dress shirt and undershirt. He even removed his socks, leaving only his pants on. A glass of red wine appeared on the bed stand. He tapped the glass with his want and stated, "Keep it coming." The elf would keep the libations filled.
As he tossed his socks into the pile of dirty laundry, he felt the tug he understood to be an incoming fantasy. Just whose fantasies where these? His brain was fumbling with an answer but was swept under once again.
Severus lay back on the pillow as the vision formed. Granger, again. Of course. Hermione. Always Hermione.
She was standing in his classroom. Damnable sexy gray skirt perfectly in place. But her shirt? Gods.
Hermione stood before him as he leaned against his desk. Her white button down was completely undone and falling off her shoulder and a delicious purple silk bra shown through. The glowing globes of her breasts were in her hands as she fingered the silk and her nipples beneath. She bit her lip and beckoned him forth with a wiggle of her finger.
"Come here, Severus," she whispered in a husky breath. "I think these need more than just me."
His hand began to touch himself beneath his tight trousers and he reached forward with the other and gently caressed her soft, smooth flesh. Hermione tipped her head back, bared more of herself to him and he couldn't resist the curve of her neck, bringing his lips to feel her pulse above her collarbone as his hips came to grind against her thigh, one breast still firmly in his hand.
The vision faded again, caused Severus to release a frustrated growl. Just when things were starting to get interesting, he lost the image.
When he regained focus on himself, he released that he wasn't just touching himself in his dream. Here on his bed, his hand was firmly grasped around his warm shaft, the other firmly gripping the sack below.
It had been a while since he had a good wank. Clearly, he was overdue.
And they were often about Gra-Hermione anyway.
As he teased himself, slowly pumping along his length, enough thought resurfaced that he remembered his previous question.
Whose fantasies were these?
This was Hermione's potion. She was the brewer. Though he may have wandered down a similar path himself, these were most definitely her fantasies.
His cock gave a twitch as that realization ran through him. This was what she was thinking as she created the potion. As she went to sleep at night. As she fingered herself, shivers running through her as she crested to completion.
She dreamed about teasing him in his class. She dreamed about baring herself to him and having him take her. She dreamed about...
His vision clouded again.
When it cleared, he found himself once again leaning against his desk. Hermione was laying back on a pillow on the floor, resting on her elbows. Severus leaned down to join her, but found himself restrained.
He tugged, first on the left arm, then on the right and found wrists securely tied down. Wandless magic would sever the satin sashes – purple, just like her bra – but he found he didn't want to. Restraints would typically leave him in a panic, but the predatory gleam in her oddly soothed him.
She wanted him. Of that there was no question. And the way she wanted him would bring both only pleasure.
"Hermione..." he growled, his gravel voice deep as he longed to join her on the floor.
She merely snickered and lifted a long, slender leg into the air, bringing her toes to where his erect member jutted from his open trousers. Her big toe slowly traced the underside of his shaft, the soft tickle incredibly arousing and erotic. And perhaps just a bit kinky. He had never before admired a woman's feet.
She continued to tease him until his body thrummed with pleasure and the desire to return the favour. He could tell by her own moistened curls she felt the same.
"Release me," he whispered, and the straps fell away as the vision cleared.
Severus was unabashed this time as he returned to himself. He felt no shame as he tugged hard on his cock, the tightness in his abs and sack warning him he would be cumming soon, and hard.
His left hand reached over to brush his pectorals. His fingers found and firmly tweaked and pinched his nipple, his other hand never slowly on his cock.
The images of Hermione were swirling in his mind. His razor sharp mind. He accurately recalled each detail of the fantasies she had about him and they mingled with his about her.
When he finally reached one of his favourites – delving deep into her dripping cunt as she bent over his desk, grabbing her freshly spanked and pink tinted arse – Severus came like a freight train. He roared in his otherwise silent bed chambers, hot liquid splashing along his stomach and thighs, wetting the sparse black hair.
He collapsed against his pillows, utterly spent and wondering how much time had passed. A quick Tempus charm told him only four hours since the onset of the potion. Eight to go. With a groan, he ate the sandwich he had the forethought to bring, downed the wine and covered up in order to ask for more food to be brought to his room.
It was going to be a long night.
The following afternoon, students were lined up outside the door waiting for the sixth years to leave. As soon as the room was clear, the ten students rushed into the room and quickly took their seats, waiting with bated breath for the professor to arrive.
He had already gone by the time the previous students left and by the time he came back, the bell was about to ring. They almost wondered if he would be late. An unheard of occurrence.
It was clear to the class that Snape had had a very rough day. His clothes seemed slightly askew, hair reverted back to it's unwashed state, crease in his forehead prominent. They, of course, didn't know why he was up the majority of night, only catching a few hours of sleep at dawn. Only that they had better be on their best behaviour.
"As it is a Friday, and so close to the year's end, I highly doubt you will sit through another lengthy lesson. As I don't care to listen to you as you wiggle in your seats, waiting to test your potions, I will merely tell you that each was marked accordingly and they are sitting on the shelf. Miss Granger, yours was unexpectedly...interesting. You seemed to exhibit great care in it's creation. If you wish, you may stay after and we can go over some of it's more...unique attributes."
Hermione sat rigid in her chair and went a little pale. She didn't survive the war on the run without learning how to read the signs. He clearly knew at least the subject matter of her potion. She gulped. Well, he hadn't called her out immediately. Perhaps he wasn't going to Avada her on the spot.
"Of course, sir," she answered. "You know I aim to please."
That came out a little more flirty than she had attended but dammit, she only had two weeks left in this school. She was going to take her chance.
The door swung shut with a solid thunk, bringing home the reality of the situation.
She was alone with Professor Snape, and he was well aware of her feelings towards him.
"Well, Miss Granger. What have you to say for yourself?"
"I was up until almost four in the morning last night reviewing your potion after a spill. A potion you brewed at a Master's level, I might add."
Hermione started to shuffle on her feet but stopped herself. She wasn't a Hufflepuff. She was a Gryffindor.
"You know I have my talents. Sir. And I found that this year, I'm not afraid to hold back. It's about time I take what I want."
His breath hissed between his teeth as he stepped toward her, cape following with a slight billow. "And just what is it you want?"
Her fingers rested against the black cloth tight over his chest. "You know what I want."
"Is this just a game for you?"
She matched his steely glare. "When have I ever played games?"
With incredible speed and grace, his lips found hers, crushing down on her and she met him halfway. One of his hands grasped at her chestnut curls as one of hers found his lank obsidian locks.
"I've seen your fantasies, Hermione. It's time I show you mine."