Hermione stood outside the potions lab, her back pressed firmly against the cold stone wall of the dungeon as she tried to collect herself. Her return to finish her schooling was supposed to be a liberating time, as it was the first time since she was eleven that she did not fear for her life within the walls of Hogwarts. One where she enjoyed not only her learning, but also her social life. But instead she found herself plagued with thoughts of him.
The very man who'd given her nightmares as an eleven year old girl in this very castle still haunted her dreams. Except now instead of telling her she'd failed her exams, or giving her a year's worth of detention for speaking out of turn, he'd speak softly into her ear as he slipped his hand between her thighs, stroking her through her knickers with those long delicate fingers as he whispered praises into her ear. How she was such a good girl for him. How proud he was of her. How he longed to see her orgasm by just his fingers alone, and only then would he give her what she truly desired.
Her hand rose and she pressed her palm against her forehead as she snapped her eyes shut, trying to rid herself of the erotic dreams that found her every time she drifted off to sleep. This was absurd. It was beyond absurd! This was Snape. Severus fucking Snape. The same wizard who wore thick frock coats with a million tiny buttons in the middle of the summer because merlin forbid he appear anything less than rigid. The same man who still sneered at her from across the Great Hall despite the fact she'd saved his life! Why her body suddenly decided to develop some shameful lust for him was beyond her, but she was growing tired of having to change her knickers after every potions class.
With a deep breath, Hermione collected herself, using the slow release of her lungs as a feeble attempt to steady her rapid heartbeat. The dreams did not start until she was back at Hogwarts, and while in the beginning she just thought them a strange burst of hormones, she had begun to suspect there was something else causing them. Each time she was in close proximity to him they would grow more vivid. Tuesday and Thursday nights being the worst, as she spent double periods in his laboratory fighting off wicked daydreams that played in her mind like a film reel. One after another, they made it near impossible to focus on the simple brews he had been assigning her class.
She'd been preparing herself for this confrontation for weeks now. Prepping the speech she would give. It would be clinical. Purely scientific. She would explain—as professionally as possible—about the type of dreams she had been having and see if he was experiencing any of the same symptoms. If he was, then clearly there was some further investigating that needed to be done so they could end this onslaught of unwanted desire. If he wasn't? Then she might just go visit Hagrid and offer to clean the Blast-Ended Skrewt breeding pen just so she could sustain injuries that would prevent her from having to face the broody Professor for the next several weeks.
Pushing off the wall, Hermione adjusted her black school robes before moving to his door and lifting her hand. She delivered three sharp knocks, teeth sinking into her bottom lip.
"Enter," came the slow baritone drawl from her Professor. Her eyes fluttered shut, and instantly her mouth ran dry. Merlin, this was going to be harder than she thought. Gulping down the frog in her throat, she reached out and pulled open the heavy wooden door, giving her just enough room to slip inside the dimly lit potions laboratory before it shut behind her with a heavy thud.
Across the room, Snape sat at his desk, along black raven feather quill swishing through the air as he marked up what she could only assume were the assignments they'd turned in earlier than day. His gaze lifted only temporarily from his desk, his dark brown eyes looked as if they saw right through her—as if he knew her intent for daring to brave his office hours on a Friday night. Instantly, her pep talk induced courage withered to dust inside her.
Hermione stood frozen, her hands curling around the hemline of her gray skirt beneath her robes, clenching the wool fabric as a means to wick the sweat from her palms. Merlin, why did she think this was a good idea? This was absurd–no, moronic. Asking her professor is he was having… peculiar dreams about her was likely more imprudent than the time she'd set his robes on first during first year. This was Severus bloody Snape. He would likely chew her head off before admitting to any lewd dreams he might be having.
"Miss Granger, do you intend to linger in my doorway all evening?" His slow baritone drawl pulled her back to the moment, her mind whirling back to reality with a snap.
A slow blush tinted her cheeks pink as she cleared her throat. "Sorry Professor," she managed as she began across the room towards his desk. Her leather loafers squeaked softly on the magically cleaned tile of his laboratory floor.
Severus didn't bother looking up at her, but he could make out her frame as she approached and paused just before his desk, her hands hidden beneath the baggy set of robes he had never been more thankful for in his life.
He prided himself on being a wizard with a high moral compass—at least in relation to his teaching position. In his entire tenure at Hogwarts he had never once lusted after the teenage girls who graced his classroom. Even the ones who had been ushered into adulthood during their final year at this institution. No. He was better than that. He could put up blinders, and ignore the gray skirts, and glimpses of milky thighs in the hallways. He could disregard the straining of buttons on their oxfords, and the aromatic scent of overly applied floral perfume in the springtime when the weather would warm. But since the beginning of term, his desires had strayed to the very student who stood a near two feet in front of him more often than he would like to admit.
And now she was here. Alone. Swaddled in the thick layers of school robes that he desperately wished to banish to the next plain of existence so he could catch sight of way her uniform fit just a little too snug now that she'd returned for her final year.
When the fantasies started, he told himself it as a biological reaction. The girl had saved his life, it only made sense he was drawn to her. It happened with even the more disciplined of wizards and witches, especially after trauma. But after weeks of his daydreams turning progressively more depraved, he was beginning to question his own sanity. She was his student! Yes, she was an adult—nearly four years over the legal wizarding age. But she still donned that damn skirt and tie every morning. She still drank pumpkin juice at the Gryffindor table, for Merlin's sake. He was supposed to be more disciplined than that.
With a final slash across the parchment, Severus potted his quill with a distinct tink of metal hitting glass and he looked up at the witch who stood before him as silent as the grave, staring at him with those impossible large brown eyes that had plagued his dreams for weeks. "My hours expire in precisely five minutes, Miss Granger. While there is not a queue of your peers vying for my attention, I must ask that you hurry up with the reason for your visit. I do not intend to stay over my posted hours."
Hermione gulped. Her visit. Right. She had a reason for coming to the dungeons. A particularly good one, at that! But as she stared the endless depths of his nearly black eyes, all she could do was wonder what he would look like if his cock was in her hand. Would his lips thin as they did now? Or would his eyes roll to the back of his head in bliss?
Her eyes closed and she took a quick deep breath, forcing her runaway thoughts into the back of her mind. With a hasty clearing of her throat, she began. "I've come to ask you some questions Professor."
Severus lifted a brow, planting his elbows on the hardwood desk on either side of the drying essay and he steepled his fingers at his chin. "Of course you do, Miss Granger."
"I was… uh… I was curious if you have… I mean you don't have to answer explicitly if you're uncomfortable. It's just, well—" Hermione stammered, her cheeks turning from pink to molten red as she stood paralyzed under his gaze."Since the beginning of term I've had a series of rather… vivid dreams."
"Let me stop you there, Miss Granger," Severus interrupted, lifting his hand to silence the young witch. "You are clearly misguided on which faculty member you need to divulge your sleeping habits to. You might find Madam Pomfrey or perhaps even Professor Trelawney more capable of helping you in this department."
"Asking for their assistance might be a tad bit awkward considering my dreams are about you, Professor," Hermione blurted out before she bither bottom lip, watching as the normally apathetic face of her Potions professor flashed briefly with an air of curiosity.
"About… me?" Severus questioned, his head cocked to the side ever so slightly. This was an interesting turn in what was panning out to be a rather boring conversation. "What about me, Miss Granger?"
Oh Circe, that was the bloody question of the century wasn't it? Hermione reached up, her fingers pressing into the center of her forehead as she closed her eyes. Perhaps it wouldn't feel so embarrassing if she wasn't looking at him as she spoke? Avoid eye contact. Yes. Great plan. "Since the beginning of term my dreams tend to involve you and myself in rather... um… well, for lack of a better term, erotic situations."
It was Severus' turn to gulp. She would never know how those simple words ignited a fire low in his belly. The same one he'd been fighting into submission for weeks. His hands dropped to the table, pressing firmly against his desk as he ran his tongue along the inside of his teeth in internal debate. He should tell her this was inappropriate, that he did not play games with school girls and to leave his laboratory at once. But the little devil that whispered in his ear from his shoulder told him otherwise. And at the moment, that little devil's promise of what could come from exploring this conversation with Miss Granger was more enticing than asking her to leave.
Hermione waited for him to say something–anything! But when no response was given and all she could hear was the sound of his chair creaking, she slowly cracked open one eye to peek at her professor.
"You may continue."
"I was just wanting to know… if perhaps you had experienced any dreams of a similar nature," Hermione whispered, her voice quivering as she spoke.
"You came to my office to ask if I have any erotic dreams about you?" Severus bit the inside of his lip to prevent himself from smirking as he watched her blush creep down her neck and disappear beneath her thick black robes. "I hardly think your question is appropriate considering the nature of our relationship."
"I'm sorry, Professor!" Hermione blurted out at once. "I meant no offense. I was… I was just curious because I think it might have to do with the magic I used to heal your wounds—" Her hand parted her robes, pushing them over her shoulders as she gestured to her neck to indicate which wound she spoke of—as if he might have forgotten. "If you are experiencing similar ailments then we could narrow down the cause and determine a solution to make them stop."
"And if I have not?" Severus questioned crisply.
Hermione let her eyes drop to her hands, watching as she nervously twisted them hemline of her skirt, her nails picking at the fabric. "Then... you can ignore my question and I pray that you have the compassion to pretend like this conversation never happened."
Severus let out a quick breath, the corner of his lips tipping up in a sly smirk. "Compassion? Have you ever known me to show compassion, Miss Granger?"
Hermione could taste the twinge of blood that spilled from the inside of her bottom lip as her teeth sunk into the tender flesh. Fuck. She really managed to fuck this up, didn't she? "I'm sorry, Professor," she whispered, beginning to back away from his desk. She was foolish to think this plan to work. He was right. She had known him for nearly nine years now, and never once had he divulged any personal insights into his life outside of the classroom. Why she thought he might admit to something as personal as having erotic dreams was ridiculous, but she was desperate.
Severus' spine straightened as he watched her walk backwards away from him and in one sweeping motion he rose from his desk, the rigid wooden chair he'd been sitting in scraping loudly across the stone floor. "You are not dismissed," he said quickly, dark eyes flashing with an urgency to stop her departure.
Hermione's head snapped up, wide eyes watching as he crossed the room towards her. His hand was reaching within his robes, and for half a moment she was mesmerized by the sight of his approach. His billowing robes. His long legged gait. The way his hair swept back across his shoulders. Merlin, how she could have ignored the masculine draw of his prior to this year was beyond her. Even the sharp hook of his nose seemed erotic now.
She froze, her feet coming to a quick stop as she watched him, her mouth running dry. Just when she thought he was going reach her, he sidestepped around her and withdrew his wand.
"Muffliato!" The tip of his wand directed the spell around his classroom, leaving a trail of iridescent smoke glittering in the soft lighting before he turned his attention to his door. With a quick flick of his wrist and an intricate series of wand motions, the heavy oak door sealed itself shut, warding itself from even the most gifted of magic practitioners within the castle walls.
"Professor?" Hermione let the question linger between them, turning to watch as he moved to the closest workstation. He levitated the burners and pewter cauldrons off its surface, leaving only two glass beakers, which he transfigured into glass tumblers with a simple incantation.
Severus looked over his shoulder to the girl—no, she was no girl–the woman standing in the middle of the classroom. "If we are going to have this conversation, I will be needing some libation." He moved toward the cupboard that lined the back of his classroom. He tapped his wand against the cabinet farthest to the right, an audible pop sounded as it opened. Reaching inside, he withdrew a half empty bottle of Ogden's Finest.
"Firewhiskey?" Hermione questioned with a small cock of her brow as she moved to the workstation. Reaching up, she unclasped her robes at her neck, and gently laid them on the tabletop next to her before she took a seat. Her hands wrapped around the empty glass, repositioning the tumbler closer to herself.
"You try teaching Longbottom for six years," he explained as he sat beside her, nimble fingers uncorking the spirit. He poured himself nearly four fingers full before offering her the bottle.
Hermione smirked. Despite Neville being one of her dearest friends, the boy was an absolute mess in potions. It had little to do with his fear of the surly professor, and more with his lack of ability to follow the complex directions. Herbology, Magical Creatures, hell, even Divination he shined, but Potions? That was absolutely not his strong suit.
Reaching out, she took the bottle from him, her fingers grazing his in the process and the blush that had begun to fade flared back to life. Averting her gaze to her tumbler, Hermione poured herself a small glass of the amber liquid before setting the bottle between them. "Does this mean… you have?"
Severus rolled the liquid in his tumbler, letting the spirit breath for a moment before he put the glass to his lips and he took a slow drink. "Been having suggestive dreams involving you?" he said slowly, his tongue running across his lips to wick away the droplets of whiskey that remained. "Yes… I have."
Hermione gulped, not daring to bring her eyes back to him. Instead she lifted her own glass and took a large mouthful of her drink. Her eyes sprung tears as the burning sensation from the whiskey instantly charred her throat, and she began to cough as a means to subside the sudden pain. She lifted the back of her hand to her lips to cover her cough as she pushed her glass away from her with her other hand.
Severus glanced over to her, and with a uncharacteristic laugh, his head tipped back. "Not a fan?" he questioned dryly before he took another sip.
Hermione shook her head, wincing as the burn seem to radiate down to her stomach. Wiping away the forming tears, she took several slow deep breaths. "I've only tried it once before," she explained. "I do not remember Sirius' bottle having quiet so much… bite."
Setting his glass back on the table, Severus gave her a small shrug. "That's because Black's tongue was not as refined as mine," He explained, his finger running around the rim of his glass.
Hermione felt the low embers of desire flick to life low in her belly at the mention of his refined tongue. As if on queue, her mind instantly took her back to a dream she'd had last week, where he'd spread her legs apart on a desk very much like the one they were sitting at, his mouth between her thighs, his tongue delivering wicked pets to the most sensitive part of her body. Her eyes fluttered shut as the memory took hold, and she curled her fingers against the tabletop as she fought for control over her mind. "I… uh… back to my question," she stammered as she quickly blinked the fantasy away.
"Yes. Let us get along with this inquisition," he relented.
"I was just curious if you'd been having them… because I think it might have to do with the magic I used to heal you."
"That is plausible. While my specialty does not lie in healing spells, it would make sense to have some sort of connection to those whom you heal. However, I don't recall Poppy ever referring to lusting after the pupils she's healed," he said as he turned to face her, his right side pressing into the workstation as he propped up his elbow on its worn surface.
"I don't believe Madam Pomfrey would utilize the same type of spell…" Hermione said slowly, carefully choosing her words as she turned to face her professor.
"And what type of spell did you use, Miss Granger?" Severus questioned, his mind already going through the volumes of knowledge cataloged in his mind. He was familiar with an assortment of complex charm work, what with his interest in spell crafting in his youth, but in his studies he had only come across a handful of spells that might cause slightly similar side effects as to what he and the witch were both experiencing now. Ones that would just draw thoughts to another person, not fantasies about shagging them breathless multiple times a day.
Hermione chewed on her bottom lip nervously as she picked at the worn edge of the table. "I didn't know what type of spell it was at the time… I mean I knew it was healing, but I didn't realise until after the dreams started that it was used for—"
"I am not interested in a long explanation, Miss Granger. Get to the point." Severus interrupted crisply.
"Compulsion Healing," Hermione said quickly.
Severus' brow furrowed at her explanation. "Come again?"
"Compulsion Healing," Hermione repeated. When she saw no further recognition register, she continued. "It was used primarily during the 1500s. A wizard or witch would arrange for the object of their affection to be injured. They would conveniently be present during the accident and would heal them with the Compulsion Healing spell. It was powerful magic, capable of pulling them back from the brink of death, but woven in the spell was hidden magic. Magic that would cause the caster and the receiver of the charm to… crave one another."
Severus face went blank, careful apathy washing over his features as he watched her explain. She had used this charm on him? How had she not known? Better yet, why in the bloody hell did she use a spell she had not properly researched before?! Picking up his glass, he drained the remaining Firewhiskey before slamming it down on the table. "You used this Compulsion spell on me?"
"I didn't know! I was just—I knew a normal spell wouldn't have worked. You were so close to death. I just—I remembered reading this spell in a book that I got from Grimmauld Place. I… I didn't think."
"Obviously," Severus replied with a thick drawl that he had perfected over the years. "Am I to assume that the compulsion part of this spell acts the same as others?"
Hermione pulled her eyes from his and she looked down at the barely touched glass of whiskey that sat in front of her, just out of reach, and she gave a shrug. "I didn't get that far into my research. I only just found out what it caused and figured I should discuss it with you."
Severus ran his tongue across the inside of his teeth as he watched her, his temper simmering. "Discuss it? Is that all? Are you sure your motives were so innocent, Miss Granger? Or did you come to request I do something to alleviate the compulsion you've placed upon us?"
Hermione's head snapped back to her professor, her eyebrows lifting in surprise. "W-What?" Hermione stammered, her eyes wide. "P-Professor. I would—that was not my intention!"
"Stop acting so coy, Miss Granger," Severus barked, his head shaking. "You are not a stupid witch, so please stop acting like it. You know precisely how compulsion spells work. You know the risk of not acting upon the spell's enchantment, and while the idea of fornicating with one of my students is rather repulsive, I do not wish to lose control of my magic because you were stupid enough to cast a spell without proper research into its effects."
"I… but—Professor. We… You–" She stammered, her mind spinning in circles, backfiring on every new thought that floated to the forefront of her mind. There was no way he was sitting there saying they needed to shag, was he?! He was her professor! And while, yes, she was an adult, he was still her instructor! Clearly there was some boundary that was being crossed by even discussing this.
Severus reached out and pushed the tumbler into her hands before he refilled his own glass of Firewhiskey. "Drink up, Miss Granger. It might help you with what we're about to do," he instructed before tipping back his freshly poured glass.
Hermione watched in silence as he polished off his tumbler before she followed suit. Her hand trembled, causing the liquid to ripple in the tumbler as she drank it in two large gulps. The Firewhiskey pooled low in her belly, radiating a false sense of warmth throughout her body.
Just as she turned to face him again, prepared to ask him how they were going to proceed with their compulsion-influenced relations, his hands were on her. One went to her waist, his long fingers curling around her hip bone; he placed the other on the side of her head, his long fingers curling in her hair. He guided her off of the stool and between his parted thighs as his mouth dropped to her ear. "You're not a virgin, are you Miss Granger?" he practically purred into her ear.
One moment she was trying to figure out a way to convince him out of this, and the next she was thinking of the quickest was way she could open the row of buttons on his frock coat. Goosebumps ran across her arms, and the tiny hairs on the back of her neck stood on end as a shiver ran down her spine. "N-No," she replied in a soft whisper.
"Good." The hand in her hair tightened its hold on her curls and he twisted her head back, exposing her neck to him. His mouth dropped and he took a mouthful of the tender flesh between his teeth.
Hermione gasped, her hands raising to rest against his chest as she melted under his ministrations. The feelings she had been fighting for weeks reared their ugly heads, and all apprehension she held seemed to disappear. She wanted this. No, she needed this!
His mouth worked across her neck, nibbling, biting, sucking his way towards her collarbone where he lapped at the scar that ran across her shoulders. His hand at her waist slowly began to bunch up the pleated gray skirt, working it up her body until he could tuck the bottom hem into the band. With the offending material out of the way, his hand dropped to the front of her knickers where he swept two fingers across her labia, pressing gently into her softness.
"My my," he purred against her skin. "Is this all for me?"
Hermione keened, her hips rocking against his fingers as if they had a mind of her own. She should be embarrassed. She should blush and push herself away from his touch, but instead, she only replied. "Yes, sir."
Severus chuckled, pressing his fingertips against her cunt, pushing the sodden fabric until he could feel her clit through her knickers, and he rubbed slow circles on top of the bundle of nerves. His cock pulsed in his trousers, straining the crisp material. He was a man of high morals, but he was far from impervious to the wiles of women. Especially one as sensual as the one who stood between his legs.
Hermione's hands worked at the buttons on his frock, fumbling the further down his chest she got as her body quaked with need the more he rubbed at her pussy. Pausing when the feeling became too much, Hermione leaned forward, pressing her forehead against his shoulder as she ground into his fingers, soft moans filling the void between them. "P-Please, Professor," she gasped, feeling that familiar tension pull at her navel. "I need…" her voice trailed off as she lost her words.
Severus' hand froze, his fingers pinching lightly at her clit through her knickers before he pulled his hand up to settle at her waist. He bit his bottom lip. Merlin, she was going to be the death of him. The soft little moans, the gyrating of her hips, and gods help him, the way she purred his title. "What do you need?" He knew the answer, of course, but he needed to hear her say it. To beg for it.
"Y-You," she panted against his shoulder, thankful he could not see her face as she was sure her cheeks were several shades of crimson now.
"Try again, Miss Granger," he instructed.
"I need… to orgasm," she whispered.
Severus hummed, his fingers flexing against her hip bones. "I believe I was going to achieve that goal until you interrupted."
"No. Not on your fingers." Hermione lifted her head to look at him, brown eyes nearly black with desire. "I want your…"
"My…"
"Cock."
Severus smirked, the tip of his tongue pressing into his canine tooth. "Of course. All you have to do is ask." In one motion he lifted her up, turning them towards the workstation as he set her down before him, perched on the edge of the desk. His hands moved down her thigh to the back of her knees where he lifted her legs and planted her feet against the lip of the desk, spreading her thighs wide for him.
Hermione leaned back on her elbows, her chest heaving with each breath as she watched him magically unbutton the remaining clasps on his frock and slip it from his shoulders to the floor. Her eyes dropped to his waist, watching as he unfastened his belt and pulled open his trousers. Oh sweet merciful Merlin, She'd dreamt of this moment for weeks now, but the fantasies she'd had paled in comparison to what was in front of her.
He was big. Much larger than both of the wizards she been with—not that she was comparing. The weeping head of his cock jutted proudly from his boxers, its head already slick with evidence of his desire for her. When his thumb hooked into the band of his briefs and pulled them down, exposing his full length, her jaw literally dropped.
Severus adjusted his trousers and briefs lower on his thighs before his hand rose, his fingers curling around the thick shaft of his cock. He languidly stroked himself as he moved further between her spread thighs. Black eyes flashed up to her face, checking she was still ready for what was about to occur, and he almost came at what he saw. Her eyes were hungry, watching him stroke his cock with a tale-tell glaze of lust.
Reaching out with his free hand, his fingers curled under the elastic seam of her knickers and he pulled them aside, exposing her glistening folds. He let out a soft groan as he ran his fingers through her folds, feeling the velvet softness of her sodden curls. Had he more time, he'd sample the flavor of her essence before taking her, but tonight wasn't about exploration with the young witch. No, they would have plenty of time for that later. Tonight, he planned on fucking her into oblivion. Giving her all the more reason to delay fixing this mess she'd created, and allowing him more time to fill her compulsion-fueled desire for him.
Hermione's hips trembled, her toes curling in her loafers under his touch, her head tipped back, thick curls pooling on the table as a throaty moan filled the classroom. She could hear the seams in her knickers popping as he pulled her knickers over more, exposing her entire cunt to him. All modesty seemed to have escaped her, for instead of closing her legs, she spread her thighs more, letting them hang open loosely as she scooted down until her arse perched right over the edge of the table.
She felt him move closer, his bare hips brushing against her inner thighs. When the head of his cock replaced his fingers exploration in her dripping folds, she let out a low whimper.
Severus bit the inside of his cheek, his eyes flashing between her cunt and her face as he prepared himself to take her. Positioning the head of his cock at her core, his hands rested against the junction between her hips and thighs, the thumb on his right hand still holding the fabric of her knickers open and he slowly pressed his length inside her.
Full was not the proper term. She felt absolutely bursting by the time he was fully sheathed inside her. It was as if he was in her bloody stomach! Her pussy stretched to that delicious point of pained pleasure to accommodate him. This was typically the point where her previous lovers would ask if she was okay, as if she were some china doll that were seconds away from breaking. However, Severus Snape was clearly not like the others she'd been with.
Instead of asking permission, he began slow exploratory strokes in and out of her, letting her body warm up to his size with a leisurely pace that did little to quench the thirst of her compulsion. Her hips accepted the lazy thrusts, arching into one as if to help him along. And just when she was about to vocalize her requests for his pace to quicken, it was as if he were attuned to her desires, for his hands dug into the soft skin of her hips and he began to increase his pace.
The sound of their bodies joining soon overtook the Potions lab. His skin snapping against hers, the sound of her pussy encasing his cock as he moved to a brutal pace. The tension that he'd built earlier with his fingers returned, winding into a tight coil low in her belly.
Falling back on the workstation, her right hand moved to her hair, fingers curling against her scalp as her left snaked down her body towards where they were connected. Her fingers brushed past his that held her knickers open, and she let them drop to feel his shaft enter her body, gathering moisture.
"That's it," Severus growled, his eyes dropping to watch her fingers as she felt him fuck her. "Rub yourself. Come on my cock," he instructed, punctuating the end of his sentence with snaps of his hips.
Hermione shivered, arching off the table when her fingers complied with his command and she began to rub circles over her clitoris, driving herself ever closer to release. When her name left his lips–her given name–it was finally enough to send her over. Her toes curled, her legs shook, and a bright white light burst behind her eyes as she came with the force of a tidal wave. It was as if she was transcendent, Aaware of what was happening, but unable to prevent it. Her throat felt raw as her moans grew louder.
Severus fucked her through her orgasm, his own only seconds away as he felt her pussy spasm around his cock, milking him until he could hold off no further. With a snarl of completion, he pounded his cock into her with one sharp thrust, his fingers gripping her soft skin bruisingly tight as he pulled her into him and his seed emptied inside her.
As she came back down from her high, she was vaguely aware of his own release. It wasn't until he withdrew from her and his cum dribbled across her thighs that her mind snapped back to reality and a pink blush blossomed across her cheeks and chest.
Severus pulled her knickers back into place before he patted directly on the crotch of her them, pressing the cotton into her cunt to absorb what trickled from her. Despite his impassive nature, a knowing smile pulled at the corner of his lips. He could have been a gentleman and magicked up the mess, but he was no saint. No, he wanted her to walk back to her dormitory with a reminder of what just occurred. He wanted her to think about his cock when she peeled off her soaking knickers, and blush as she hid them in the depths of her laundry.
Pulling her skirt from her waistband, he let it fall against her thighs before he pulled up his briefs and trousers, nimble fingers making quick work of refastening his belt. He took two steps back from the desk before holding out his hand to her, dark eyes watching her expectantly.
Hermione reached out, her fingers sliding across his, and she took his help getting down from the workstation. Her legs felt like jelly, but she managed to find her footing without falling. Taking her hand from his, she straightened her Oxford and skirt, attempting to brush the wrinkles from her outfit as if smoothing out her outfit would hide the evidence of their romp.
"…I will work on finding a way to release us from this, Professor," she said after several moments of silence, glancing up to find him making his way across the room to his desk, already draped in his frock coat.
"As you should, Miss Granger," Severus replied coolly, pulling up his shields of apathy once more. Settling back behind his desk, Severus withdrew his wand from his robes and he waved it towards the burner and cauldrons he'd removed from the workstation earlier. They began to float back into place.
Hermione moved quickly out of the way, ducking to avoid a double burner as it moved back to its home. Grabbing her robes from the table, she laid them over her arm. She glanced at him expectantly, waiting for him to say something—anything–about what had just occurred. When he gave no indication he would, she turned on her heels, beginning toward the classroom door. She wasn't sure what she was expecting. They just shagged. It was not romantic. Hell, it wasn't even really wanted, was it? It was to protect their magic. To make sure that the spell didn't destroy their ability to cast spells. He wouldn't have desired her, nor she him without the compulsion…right?
Just as she reached the door, her hand curling around the cold brass handle, he called out to her. She paused, her head turning over her shoulder to look at him.
"I shall expect your company tomorrow evening, as well as every other evening, until you've taken care of this mess you've put us both in," he said nonchalantly, his dark eyes simmering with the lingering effects of lust.
Hermione bit her bottom lip, a thrum of compulsion running through her, warming her core. "Yes, sir," she replied, fighting a smile as she turned back around and pushed the classroom door open to take her leave. She would work to find an end to this magic… but she would make sure to take her time. She wouldn't want to risk messing up for a second time—now would she?
Author's Note:
This little break in my normal shipping was written for my dear friend Disenchantedglow for her birthday! I hope all of your wildest dreams come true for you this year. xx
Thank you fragilereality & ladykenz347 for the feedback. Thank you tofadeaway for beta'ing this last minute!