Just a Kiss

by wolf0307

A/N: This is a little ficlet that came to mind after I watched Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire. A short ficlet, but one I felt I should post. Nothing too lemony in here, just a heated kiss between our favorite pair. Also inspired by a story my boyfriend is writing, thank you Justin, you truly know how to inspire me.

P.S. A row of ampersands indicates a change in POV. (for some reason isn't letting me put in breaks properly) We start out with Hermione's, then switch back and forth from there. You'll also notice a paragraph that is nearly identical to the one in Chapter 4 of Old Magick; I started this story ages ago and simply decided to copy the paragraph into OM because it fit so well. I do apologize for the repitition.

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"I'll have you know," I huffed angrily, "Someone's already asked me!" I ran up to Severus and held out my notebook. He remained impassive, as I expected. He can not show his emotions towards me, nor can I show mine towards him. Especially in class. "and I said YES!" Running out of the classroom, I thought. "Yeah, only to go with a man who has less IQ than a pumpkin."

"Maybe NEXT TIME, you'll ask me, and NOT AS A LAST RESORT!" I yelled. Such gits, I cannot believe they are my age!

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I cannot touch her. I cannot speak to her, I cannot show even a small hint of recognition. In all my years of spying, this has been my hardest task. I cannot. I cannot. This has become my mantra. I cannot. I must...resist.

It pains me to watch her with such hormonal asinine boys. They are only interested in fumbling touches, seeking only to satisfy their own lust, not caring for her comfort or arousal at all. Disgusting. I learned many years ago, there is much more pleasure to be found for a man if your woman wants and welcomes your attentions.

I have only kissed her, and even that was not truly intentional. It's not my fault my grading ink was in my pocket. She forgot to step over the trick stair and grabbed my cloak. As a result, we both fell down the stairs, the glass breaking inside my pocket and staining her skirt and underwear. After bringing her to my classroom to clean it off, I turned the door into a one-way mirror. This doesn't pain my concience, I am, after all a man, and this sexy young woman was undressing in my quarters. Being a clumsy chit she spilled the potion and called for me. Unfortunately my now quite painful arousal was apparent at the time. I was sure she felt it, so I attempted to ward her off, yell at her so she would forget about it. She's not stupid. She returned that afternoon and I had to use all shreds of self-control to not dismiss the class and take her as she was. The little minx had the audacity to try and lure me to her! She had her blouse unbuttoned more than was appropriate, and that alone earned her the looks of several of those...morons. But my greatest shock came when I went to check on her potion. You see, my sense of smell has become over-developed because of my work; I could smell her. I strode over to examine the progress of Longbottom's potion, making sure that he was not about to blow my classroom up, and I could smell her. Her scent, her arousal.

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He knows. My stupid little plan has worked, oh great. What was I thinking of? What's wrong with me! He's going to kill me...I can see it now, after class he's going to take fifty points, detention for a month, and I won't be able to show my face around him ever again. I drop my head on the desk and groan. Gods take me now. I can see his nostrils flare as he smells my obvious arousal and I shiver. Help me.

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I've kept my face straight for thirty years and yet I could not help letting my eyes widen. She smells good, sweet. Gods, to taste such ambrosia. I can feel the blood rushing to my groin and try desperately to think of something else. Voldemort. Death. Potions. Lily. Gods, my mind is not this weak! I will NOT be brought down by a child!

Not a child, a demented voice in my mind whispers, a woman. A young, untouched woman.

I sometimes would swear that I have a relative with a werewolf gene, loath as I am to admit possibly having something in common with Lupin. I sometimes find myself craving blood, and the prospect of a virgin woman, begging to be taken, arouses me more than most men would be. Fine. Let me see how this unfolds.

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"Severus." I gasp, as his strong hands lift my chin and he seeks out my lips for a kiss. Oh I know he will admonish me for using his first name later, but right now I don't care. His mouth meets mine softly, but only for a moment, as the kiss soon turns demanding and hot. I would have expected nothing less from Severus Snape, he has always taken what he wants. Oh I'm not complaining, I am just as ambitious. I return the kiss just as fiercely, tongue dueling with his for control. Passion exuded from both of us, making the kiss unbelievably intense but neither would give up control. Finally, the need for air became too great and we broke apart, panting. My eyes met his, searching, questioning, our pupils moving minutely as one tried to read the other's emotions. I decided to make the move. "Perhaps..." I said hesitantly, "This would be better continued in your office Professor." He stopped, and though he tried to hide it, the clenching of his fists gave away the internal battle he was fighting. I fixed him with a gaze that conveyed the words I dare not say. "Take me, I am yours. Do not worry about me, I want this as much as you do."

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I, Severus Xavier Snape, have suffered many hardships in my miserable lifetime. I've suffered from thousands of Cruciatus curses, and even more hexes; I've been forced to witness some of the most horrible crimes known to wizard kind, and worse still, participate in some of them. Oh they call me a "cold fish" at the revels. Little do they know that I am as sexually active as any other man, I just choose not to waste my time and energy with the whores they pass around. But nothing, none of the atrocities could have prepared me for the mental battle being waged in my head right now. I want her, this much was true. It is clear from her reactions that she wants me as well. But she is a student, I should not touch her. I can not touch her.

"Leave." I said softly.

"Sev-" she began but I cut her off with a glare.

"It's Professor Snape to you." I growled, "Now LEAVE." It pains me to do this, more than I can ever let her know. I hate this life I've chosen. Every chance of happiness that comes into my life I reject, out of habit and consideration for the safety of our cause. I can not have emotions. I can not be vulnerable. Perhaps, in the next lifetime we will meet again, and I can proclaim my affections openly. Until then, I must suffer through the pain of watching her slip through my fingers.

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