Hermione sighed as he passed her lab table. Her cauldron simmering and glowing with the desired clear blue. The smoke rising in thin tendrils clockwise before dissipating into the classroom. How much did she want to throw a handful of lacewings into the simmering mix to make the pot boil and spill a black vile slug? Too much.
Her hand visibly shook to control her desire. Desire to call attention to herself. To have him hovering over her thin frame. To have his lips desperately close to her ear. His hands over hers as he let a dozen verbal threats tumble from his mouth. To have all his attention on her. A small and cruel smile graced her lips.
Her tongue snaked out before she could think to retrieve it. Her lips wet and ready for what she only wished was hers. She exhaled pondering what Professor's Snapes' lips would feel like against her own young flesh. Rough with age and experience? Or soft with careful preservation and want? Either would surely excite every nerve ending she wished he would lavish with his expert talents.
Hermione ignored the desperate whispers from her male friends. They only wanted her cerebral knowledge. They often looked past her when considering female companionship. Harry with his crush of the week and Ron sorting through the all-to-willing leftovers. Hermione found herself sitting on the sidelines with some sod who could not hold his end of a decent conversation. When would fate grace her with her own match?
Snape's cassock billowed as he stalked down the aisle. Hermione bit her tongue to keep from garbing his elbow and pulling his body close to hers. How desperately did she want to tease his lips with hers? Too much.
Snape's manly build crouched and ready for attack over another inattentive student. "How much crushed dragon scales does the potion call for?" he bellowed. The berated child cowered under scrutiny. "Two scales, sir?"
Wrong. Hermione thought. 'Four pinches' she whispered in unison as his voice reverberated against the cold stone walls. Snape stalked from the terrified student. "Ten points from Hufflepuff," he shouted in afterthought.
Hermione sucked in the fleshy bit of her cheek between her teeth to keep from smiling. His demeanor, with no explanation or reason, make her wet. Cutting the imprint of her molars into her cheek flesh kept her from smiling at his antics. She saw through him. And wanted only more.