This is my response to the 1000 word "We Whip Them" challenge on the Muffliato facebook group. As tempting as it was to write about whips, shackles and all manner of shameless acts - I thought I would surprise myself and those who knew me by going for a completely different angle.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything in the HP universe. If I owned Snape, I would not be writing fanfiction, now would I? I am also my own beta reader - so please be kind if there are any lingering spelling errors.

In Pursuit of Raspberry Tea

It was the pursuit of raspberry leaf tea that led to Esther's rather unprecedented discovery of Professor Snape's little secret. The journey from Ravenclaw Tower to the kitchens had been risky enough. Though skilled at disillusionment charms, Esther knew the limitations of the spell. A well trained eye could easily see through the illusion, but with her NEWTs looming, the paramount need for raspberry tea well outweighed her fear of being caught.

Standing before the gaudy painting of a bowl of fruit, Esther could almost smell the delicate aroma of her favourite tea. A smile curled her lips as she tickled the giggling pear. Her moment of uncharacteristic recklessness had paid of. The door slipped open silently, her ears assaulted by the squeaky exclamations of house elves going about their nightly business. Her mouth started to water at the heady aromas of freshly baked bread and roasting oats, brewed coffee and freshly juiced pumpkins. Still masked by her spell, Esther contemplated grabbing the attention of an elf, but this thought was swept from her mind at the sound of an all too familiar baritone.

"Why is the door open?"

Esther felt her lungs deflate, her throat contract and her heart beat a erratic tattoo in her chest. Of all the people she could encounter, did it have to be him? Eyes wide as dinner plates, the Ravenclaw located the Potions Master at the far end of the room, surrounded by an eager gaggle of house elves. It almost took every ounce of self control not to gasp; never before had she seen him so… relaxed. His onyx locks were tied rather unsuccessfully at the back of his head, a clump of unruly tendrils sweeping over his face, curtaining his features almost to his aquiline nose. His obsidian orbs peered from beneath his hair, trying to ascertain the reason for the open door.

Please don't let him see me! Please don't let him see me!

Esther's mental screams pounded in her skull. Surely, it was better to relax, sit it out? How much longer could Snape remain in the kitchens? A tiny little house elf scampered toward the door, sending Esther a curious glance. Naturally, the house elves could see her. This was not the first time she had ventured to the kitchen in search of tea. Dismissing how suspicious this would appear, Esther remained thankful that the elf had not divulged her presence. Snape seemed appeased by this small action, and turned back to what he was doing. Curiosity overtaking fear, Esther crept silently closer, noting the large metal bowl and assortment of ingredients placed before the Potions Master. Flour, butter, sugar, cocoa, eggs; all the ingredients for a…

"Chocolate soufflé," purred Snape, his voice laced with passion, "requires patience, attention. Like with potions, a wrong ingredient or careless flick of the spoon can result in failure. It is a delicate procedure, one that can not be rushed. Every ingredient must be prepared with care, every stroke of the whisk must be absolutely… perfect."

The house elves were enthralled, and Esther found herself equally as enticed. It probably did not help that Snape had dispersed of his usual frock coat, his crisp white undershirt open just enough to offer a tantalising glimpse of his surprisingly toned chest. Every now and again, he would provide a commentary for his actions, his velvet voice reflecting the rich indulgence of the dessert he was creating. Esther felt a tingling in her stomach that had nothing to do with fear or nerves, her breath, now returned, coming in sharp little gasps.

Placing aside the bowl with the triple sifted flour, Snape scooped an egg into fingers, running a thumb softly against its smooth brown surface. With utmost care, he cracked the egg, separating the white into the bowl. He did the same to its brothers. "Dinky, the whisk please." He stretched his fingers toward the tiny elf that had previously closed the door. Dinky hurried to obey.

"Professor Snape, sir? What is we doing with the eggs, sir?"

A smirk curled Snape's lips, his dark eyes flashing. Esther could have sworn he was looking straight at her. "We whip them," he muttered, his voice laced with sadistic humour. "Hard."

All thoughts of tea were swept from her mind. He knew she was there… of course he did! He was Severus Snape, one of the most talented wizards at Hogwarts. How could she possibly think a disillusionment charm would fool him? Worse yet, Snape was playing with her, using every skill at his disposal to crack her Ravenclaw composure, just like he had those smooth brown egg shells.

Snape gently cradled the bowl in his arms, turning the whisk rapidly until the egg whites started to form fluffy little clouds. His expertise in the kitchen were as mesmerising as his skill as a Potions Master, and Esther found herself wondering if those fingers would be as proficient at another sort of manipulation. Her cheeks flushed crimson, the tingling in her stomach now spreading to every part of her body. As the thought was forcefully banished from her mind, Snape glanced once again up from his bowl of perfectly whipped eggs, a thin black eyebrow cocked.

Esther groaned. Merlin's Pants! He's reading my thoughts.

The Potions Master finished his soufflé, providing the eager house elves with instructions for its future care. Esther was almost faint with nerves as he scooped up his jacket, taking an exhaustingly long time to do up the buttons. Shooting a curt goodbye toward his adoring fans, Snape halted at Esther's location. "Fifty points from Ravenclaw for spying, Miss Lempriere." Beetle black eyes glimmered. "And an additional twenty for being out of bed." His voice dropped to a whisper. "If I hear that you have been telling your little friends about what has happened here, I will make sure you are in detention until the end of your academic career, do I make myself clear?"

"Yes sir," she breathed, unable to move.