A/N: I don't own anything you recognize, otherwise I wouldn't be posting it here. I'd be making money.
This isn't my usual pairing, but I thought I'd try something new. It's a little cliche, but there's definitely some originality buried in there.
Enjoy.
He wasn't feeling his best. He was off, woozy, a feeling similar to being inebriated. He knew that couldn't give pause to the remainder of his day. He had a student coming to detention, and she would be punctual. She always was.
Snape quickly tidied up his desk as much as was possible with his head swimming and the knowledge that she'd be knocking on his door any minute. He'd given her detention again. Not because she necessarily deserved it, but she got under his skin like no other had ever done. She was so swotty and it was one of his greatest pleasures to shut down one of her informed tirades. This time it has been about an alteration of the Wolfsbane potion from what was written in the shoddy book chosen by the ministry. She was right, and the books were being redone after this year, but he wasn't going to tell her that.
Snape sat down in the chair behind his desk, attempting to gather himself before Hermione got there. It wouldn't do for her to see him in such a state, a state that he had yet to figure out. There was no reason for him to be feeling the way he was. Unless someone slipped him a potion. He did drink two glasses of butterbeer with dinner. He dismissed the idea. He was a master of potions and something like that wouldn't have gotten past him, especially because he'd been on his guard lately. It simply couldn't have been a potion. But the feeling was getting worse, and he feared that his self-control was slipping.
Hermione knocked on the door as the clock struck nine. She was to serve an hour of detention for "back talking" a professor. If he hadn't been feeling so off he might have enjoyed a small, private chuckle, but as it were he barely restrained a full-force laugh. Something was definitely off.
"Enter," he spoke, attempting to sound as normal as possible. He barely managed.
She waltzed in seemingly without a care, but eyeing him critically.
"You'll be assisting me in sorting potions tonight, Miss Granger."
"Very well. Where do we start?" She asked obediently.
"You'll start on the north side, while I will start on the south. Arrange the potions alphabetically within each shelf, but do not change the shelf the potion is already resting on," Snape instructed, seeming to have regained some of his control. She nodded in reply and began working. A few minutes passed in silence before she spoke again.
"Sir?"
"Yes, Miss Granger?"
"I believe this potion is on the wrong shelf," she stated cautiously.
"What is it?" I asked, allowing for the chance that the potion truly was on the wrong shelf, but doubting it all of the same.
"It's a student-made lust potion, but it's on the shelf with truth potions."
"Very well. That should go in the same section you're in, just three shelves up," Snape spoke without malice. She again nodded, glad at his tone of tolerance.
He happened to glance over at her just in time to see her slipping off of the step-stool she'd been using to reach the shelf for the lust potion. He rushed over to her, making it in the nick of time, and saving her from severely injuring herself. Unfortunately for him, some of the potion that was still in her hand had spilled down the side of his neck from where it had come uncapped sometime during her fall.
She started apologizing profusely, but his hearing was becoming slightly distorted. You had to ingest most lust potions for them to take effect, but she'd apparently been holding the only one he knew of that could be absorbed through the skin. In his hazy, lust filled mind he thought it curious that she'd found that potion, considering he'd never brewed it and the students had never brewed it for class. The thought quickly fluttered away as he felt her moving against him still. He couldn't think. He just knew he had to do something about the problem forming between their bodies. A problem all his own and the fault of the lust potion that had been poured down his neck. Or at least mostly the fault of the potion. He couldn't claim that he'd never considered Miss Granger an acceptable and desirable specimen of the female population.
Lost in his thoughts, he suddenly heard a moan. Looking down, he realized he had turned her around and pinned her to the shelf she'd been organizing. He was rubbing against her deliciously, especially with the amount of squirming she was doing. Again, the tiny voice in the back of his jumbled up mind was suspicious. He had literally no control over his actions, but she didn't seem to be offering any real resistance to his advances. If anything she seemed to enjoy them.
She moaned again and he returned the sentiment. He felt her push against him and barely stopped himself from ripping her clothes off right then and there. Flipping her back around, he attempted to regain some measure of control. Sadly for him, her face was flushed, her chest was heaving, and her eyes were glistening with lust. He slammed his lips onto hers, and she willingly returned his burning kisses. Neither knew how much time had passed before she began to push him away from her. He was beyond comprehension, thinking only of fulfillment, a release she seemed more than willing to provide him with only seconds earlier.
She smiled at his own pink cheeks and heavy breathing. Knitting her hands through his hair, she spoke softly into his ear.
"I confess. I planned this from the beginning. I knew what I did to you, and I knew that I was attracted to you as well. I also knew that you'd never act on it of your own accord. Why would you? You'd be risking your job, your reputation, and possibly even your friendship with Professor Dumbledore. I just thought I'd offer you some encouragement," Hermione explained. He seemed to form some sort of understanding through the confusion.
"What did you do to me?" he hissed as he fought to resist grinding his erection into her still-clothed form.
"I spiked your drink at dinner."
"Not with a potion."
"You're correct. Muggle Vodka. Loosen you up, screw with your judgment."
"And the lust potion?"
"Made it myself, though I did dilute it so this didn't end badly," she said as she snaked her hand down his torso. He shuddered and buried his face in her neck.
"End badly?"
"I don't mean what you're probably thinking. Don't worry…I want you. I'm not japed up with lust potion either. I've wanted you since my sixth year," she clarified hesitatingly.
"Then how would it end badly," he panted hotly into her neck, barely restraining himself at her scent.
"You do the math. You would hate me when you found out what I'd done if I'd allow you to do what you are currently resisting in the state you're in," she said cryptically while running her fingernails down his robed back. He hissed in pleasure.
"You're right," he moaned without thinking.
"I know. I usually am, you snarky bastard," she grumbled as she felt his lips traveling the length of her neck. She knew she had to stop this before she herself was unable or unwilling to stop what was happening. She knew the path that this would take were she to let it continue. She gently pushed him away, and she could tell his was trying to resist pulling her back, despite the intimacy his body was demanding.
She stroked his cheek softly. "I know you have reservations about this, but know that I don't. I'm prepared to give you all of myself should you want it. You should also know that I only did this with Dumbledore's permission. I wouldn't let you risk everything for me…that is if you even return my sentiments," she spoke softly before meeting his eyes. "If you're still interested when you're sober, you know how to find me," she said with tears in her eyes as she departed.
He sped to his personal chambers as quickly as possible, jumping in the shower and taking care of his problem himself. While it wasn't his preferred method, she'd had him so wound up it took almost no time at all to find completion by his own hand. He went to bed that night thinking of how her eyes looked when she left his office. She was right. He had been noticing her more often than not. He did want her on more than a physical level. She was also right on the front of him not planning to ever act on his feelings of his own accord. He'd learned his lesson from the first time and Lily hadn't even been his student. Hermione was his student, even though she was a returning eighth year, and well past the age of legal consent. She'd even spoke to Dumbledore. She had to have been sincere.
His last thought before slipping into a temporary oblivion was "I want her, and this time, the girl I love wants me just as much."
With his pre-sleep conviction still held tightly in his mind, he proceeded to go through his classes normally the next day. He even gave her a detention during her class, which he'd been doing more often than not these days. She caught his sly smile as he stalked past her. Neither could wait until that night. Snape couldn't wait because he was going to do what he'd wanted to do the night before. Clever witch knew how to play the game. She should have, without a doubt, been in Slytherin. Hermione couldn't wait because she wanted to know what his response would be without the booze and potion in his system. Did she imagine his attraction in the first place? Did he actually find her repulsive? She was quite confident that she had been right, but there was always the off chance that she wasn't, and that's what terrified her.
That night at nine, she was at his door again, but this time she didn't bother knocking. It wasted time that she wasn't willing to waste. The suspense was killing her.
"No knock, Miss Granger?" He spoke as suave as ever. She barely stopped herself from biting her lip.
"Just tell me. Put me out of my misery before I do it myself," she said without thinking.
"Out of your misery? And here I was assuming this was what you wanted."
"What I wanted? You mean…?"
"Absolutely," he growled as she shoved her willing form to his previously cleared desk. He nestled his body in between her stocking-clad thighs and pressed against her. He captured her moan with his lips.
They finally calmed by the early hours of dawn, thankful that it was Saturday and neither of them were expected for several hours yet.
"So, explain to me how you got Dumbledore to accept this," Snape requested as he played with a strand of her chocolate hair.
"Well, I charmed myself into your trousers, didn't I?" She answered coyly. He looked at her, aghast at her implication. "I'm kidding! I just explained the situation to him. He was more than happy that you would have a shot at happiness. He just made me promise to be discrete when it came to public displays, meaning that until I graduate, this must be kept quiet," she explained.
"You horrified me for a moment there," he said with a shudder. "I don't like to share, and as of last night, you are mine," he said as he started kissing his way back down her neck.
"Yours? Fair enough. But know that you are mine, and I not only do not like to share, but I refuse to," she said breathily. He chuckled.
"Also, we're going to have to find another way to meet outside of class. I can't be getting all of these detentions for no reason, and you know it," she moaned.
"Even if I promise to do this every time?" he questioned as he ran his hand up her naked thigh. She moaned again.
"I guess detention is good. Whatever you say," she cried as his fingers reached their destination. Their eyes met in the dim morning light and they both knew they were lost as their lips connected and their bodies moved in tandem.
A/N: Thanks for reading. Please leave a review before you go.
