Disclaimer: I don't own anything. I'm sitting here naked.
Rating: T
Genre: Romance
Clean Me
By: DeliciousNewYork
"Quiet!" A voice hissed as the door to the dungeons creaked open. Severus Snape stood up abruptly, shooting a look at who was intruding upon his private time. The spirit of Dumbledore stood in the doorway looking solemn. "Go away!" Snape yelled to the vision that he knew was just a figment of his imagination.
Snape had found his way back to the twisted corridors beneath the castle and used some spells to fix up the caved in ceiling and walls. He was back to leave a message. A message of explanation. He hadn't wanted things to end the way they had, but he was a professor, professors and students weren't supposed to interact the way that he had. It had been an accident anyways…. But there was no way to prove that. And once he had gotten involved, he just couldn't stop. Hermione Granger was like a temptress to him. Her shiny locks of dark hair falling seductively across her collar bone… he had swiped them away ordering her to leave his office. School was closed, no one would know if he murdered her right then and there! He had assumed she'd be with the other two and they'd come running in full of vengeance and then he'd have a real problem on his hands, but no, she was alone, and as his hand instinctively reached forward to touch that soft lock of hair she leaned into it and whispered,
"I know it was an accident." He didn't like to think about that. What did she know? The damn girl was so clever he often had a feeling she knew everything about him, like she was peering into his soul.
"Leave!" He insisted once again, but she had that look of stubborn determination.
"You're not a bad person," She whispered, ever so softly as she reached her hands up to cup his face. She was so small, tiny really, as she stood on tip toe arms extended and seemed to be teetering on a needle's point. He grasped his arms around her back fearing she'd fall into him. He could feel her body through her thin white shirt. The soft firm bumps of her ribs in her sides and as his hands slid lower the curves of her hips. It seemed like hours, and yet seconds in which his hands went from ribs down to hips and then from hips down to her thighs, her bare, trembling thighs. Her body seemed to tremble as he reversed the motion of his large strong hands bringing them upward this time, sliding them beneath the short plaid skirt that he had seen her in so many times before.
He paused disgusted with the fact that he felt this attraction.
"Please, you can't stop," She whispered, ever so politely, her soft breath warm on his neck.
"You're a disgusting, filthy, mudblooded girl," He said vilely staring harshly into her dark chocolatey eyes.
"Then clean me." She replied.