AU Snape X OC

Authors note - This is my 1st story but I do have a fictionpress account that I write regular fiction on with my best friend. Username KiraXlittleDove (also Wattpad if you wanna follow us!)

This story is rated M for future sexual content and themes, and language.

Let me know what you think! Thank you for reading!

...

My alarm didn't go off.

There was no hot water left in the old as shit dorm bathroom, so my quick shower was cold.

Got halfway across campus...had to go back for the paper that's due today.

It's raining as my feet pound the pavement on my way to class and I didn't grab an umbrella. I step in a deep puddle, soaking my brand new pink Sperry's with muddy water. I shout at the sky, shaking my fist as it pours it's soaking, cold hate down on me-and it is truly cold because of course...it's October in London. I hate the cold, I hate the rain and I certainly hate running late. Today has started off great, just great…

And of course, it has to be a day that I'm running late for his class.

My stomach clenches tightly just thinking about him. Impossibly tall, lean and handsome...he's also a total, coldhearted ass.

And what an ass he has...

I swiftly swipe my feet on the rug inside the door of the science building and dash down the hallway and up three flights of stairs to room 394, my shoes squeaking obnoxiously on the 100 year old, oak herringbone flooring all the way. The freshman chemistry lab looms in front of me and I try to sneak up to it, ducking under the observation window and all but army crawling to the alcove for the door. I peek up to chance a glance into the classroom through a window in the big black industrial double-doors.

My pulse slams into overdrive as I see him striding from the back of the class in my direction-and not just from the knowledge that, once again, he knows I'm out here. No, it's because for three months, Professor Snape has starred in my most intimate fantasies. I'm not sure if I hate him or not, but I'm definitely sure he's going to reprimand me again...and I'm sure I'm going to love it.

And I know he knows I will.

It's secret, but I like to think our antagonizing game is a sort of twisted foreplay. I love it.

My lips press into a smirk as the door flies open, but I quickly retreat them into a part of shock. "I-I'm sorry professor, just running a bit late."

"A bit?" His deep, gravelly voice sends shivers down my spine. His brown eyes are so dark they must be black, glaring down at me in a cold stare with one brow imperceptibly cocked. "Miss Howell, you are an hour late."

I stand from my crouch, letting my eyes travel up his body. Black loafers, black slacks, white button down under a black vest and shiny black tie...deliciously tailored to his powerfully lean body and wide chest. I have to blink away because the professional attire is paired with a white lab coat I've often fantasized about stealing and wearing...with nothing underneath as I stroll into his office and right into his lap.

"I'm sorry, I haven't had the best morning."

"Hm." I glance back up, craning my neck to see his dark eyes flash, clearly enjoying the ten inch height difference between us-although his face retains its resting arrogance framed by inky black hair that reaches his shoulders. "I haven't either. Do you know what happens when a student is late to my class, Miss Howell?"

I plaster on innocence. "No, sir."

He looks behind himself and then steps into the empty, quiet hallway and I follow behind. I love the lab coat, but I wish it wasn't there so I could stare at his ass. I don't know what it is about him that draws me in. Some sick lack of proper, structured, adult male influence, maybe? My father was never around. Some apple-from-the-tree crap? My mother always had men around and some of them noticed me. Maybe I liked the way they greedily watched me, but never dared to touch Theresa Howell's underage teenage daughter, but enjoying the view I teased them with all the same. Or maybe it's because he's mature, and not like the stupid, fumbling boys I fooled around with in high school. I'm 18 now, I need a man to teach me a thing or two about behaviour.

Professor Snape teaches chemistry...sometimes I wish he'd teach it on a deeper level.

Extra credit, perhaps? I snicker.

"Something funny, Miss Howell?" Professor Snape whirls around and I step back against the wall in reaction. He can be scary sometimes, if you push too many buttons.

"No, sir." I shake my head. "Must be catching a cold."

His dark eyes rake in my soaking appearance, and I swear I can feel his gaze, palpable, as it glides over my cheeks, my long, wet blonde hair, coming to rest with intensity on my hazel eyes. Still stoic, his face flickers with concern that makes my stomach do a little flip. "Where is your umbrella?"

In brief moments like these, I see behind his glacial visade to the deeply caring man that must reside inside him. Not a bad boy that needs saving, he's more like a statue that could use a coat of paint. People just don't become cold hearted right off the bat, something must have happened to him to make him this way...

Enough of that poetic nonsense.

"I forgot it." I grip the strap on my satchel, feeling embarrassed. "I'm sorry."

His lips purse, the concern gone in a blink. "What else did you forget? Besides an umbrella for the rain and your watch?"

My cheeks turn red and I furrow my brow. "Nothing."

"Really?" He reaches out, pausing only briefly as he lifts the flap on my satchel. "Are you certain?"

He steps so close to me, his scent floods my nose. My eyes flutter and I try not to bury my face in his chest. Most of the students think he's a bit unclean, but he always smells brilliant to me-like sandalwood and sage. His hair isn't always neat and orderly, like it is today, it's usually slept-in and a bit oily. He keeps long hours in the lab. So his sharp and angular face is written with dark circles under his eyes and stress lines gotten too young. He's only 34, but he seems more like 40 sometimes. All the same, he's handsome and I know he's actually clean...if a bit neglected.

"What are you-"

"No lab coat. No safety goggles." He slaps the flap back down and looks at me sternly. "You may go wait in my office, Miss Howell. Turn in your paper on my desk and you will receive a zero for the lab today."

"What?" I gasp. "But last time-"

"Silence."

I flinch at the sharpness of his whisper. Opening my eyes, I catch a glimpse of smugness in his black irises, his face mere inches from mine. I defiantely think he gets off on doing this. This is one of those moments where I'm not sure if I want to scream at him and throw a tantrum, or grab his tie and yank him to my lips. If I chose to do one or the other...I wonder what would happen?

I keep my silence.

"Last time I was lenient, and look where it got you? You took advantage of it. I'll not let that happen again." He steps back and I exhale a breath I didn't know I was holding. "I do not tolerate tardiness. You have to start on time to finish on time. There are no shortcuts in the art of chemistry. It takes care and time for perfection." He turns with a flick of his lab coat and strides back to the door. "I hope your paper isn't as lackluster as your punctuality."

I stare at the floor, worrying my lip. As much as I like my punishments for breaking his rules, I don't like disappointing him. "Don't worry, it isn't."

I hear the door pause and he steps back into my view. I can't read the expression on his face, but the heat in his eyes stirs a pool of warmth between my thighs. "I hope you're right about that, Miss Howell."

"I am." I clear my throat and give him another innocent pout, but by the way his eyes darken, I know he knows there isn't an innocent bone in my body. "I'm absolutely right about it, Professor."

"Such confidence." It isn't a compliment, no, it's more like a challenge.

My face slacks into seriousness as I walk by him. "Oh, you have no idea...Sir."

I keep walking, not daring to look back because I can still feel the scorch from his gaze as it bores into the back of my head, and I'd like to imagine...down over my hips to the swell of my perky ass in these tight skinny jeans.

I hope I'm not imagining all of this. It would suck to be wrong. I don't like being wrong.