Logically, he realized he was blowing this meeting with Miss Granger out of proportion. It truly was just an introductory meeting after all. It didn't mean she'd ace the interview and he would have to hire her. Wishful thinking, of course, he thought with a sigh, she'd be as predictably perfect as always - typical - and in all good conscience, he'd be forced to offer her the position.
However, he could emphasize the more odious aspects of the job and the realities of living as an adult at at Hogwarts. Yes, that line of reasoning had possibilities . She would be isolated from her friends, forced to conform to Ministry standards and rigorous oversight in this new iteration of the Muggle Studies professorship (the government was providing half of the salary, they could dictate as they liked). Her peers would be elderly in comparison to her and the students...well, they could be overwhelming in their quantity and volume. He needn't confide that the cacophony eventually subsided to a dull roar over time, somewhat like the sound of the ocean. Almost soothing, really. Nor did he need to expound on the profound satisfaction to be found in the teaching profession.
A young, vibrant person could 'wither on the vine' out here in the lonely wilds of Scotland. Be forgotten about entirely. For an ambitious overachiever such as Miss Granger, this seemed the perfect avenue to pursue. He mustn't seem as if he didn't want her to have the job lest her stubbornness kick in and she reacted by fighting for the job just to spite him. No, he would have to be subtle, but, as was often said, "Subtle, thy name is Slytherin." (Yes, he was aware of the other "forms" of this phrase, "Suck, thy name is Slytherin." "Snake, thy shame is Slytherin." Juvenile attempts at best and everyone knew puns were the lowest form of humor.)
He should probably be aloof as well. Easy enough, it was his default setting. Not completely horrible, thus bringing the wrath of Minerva upon him, but cool and remote with the right amount of condescension to remind her who she was dealing with. She had probably heard stories of a kindler, gentler Snape. Well, he'd make sure she was set right on that score.
He glanced down at the cover of this morning's Daily Prophet. There she was on the front page running into the arms of Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley upon her return from the continent. 'Golden Trio Together Again' blared the obnoxiously large headline and the cover photo showed her lithe but curvaceous body gliding into the arms of those two oafs. Her hair streaming like ribbons in the breeze behind her. Her delicate, heart-shaped face ever so earnest in her joy as a few delicate tears ran perfectly down her porcelain cheeks. He couldn't have THAT teaching here! Every witch and wizard in the school would be half crazed by lust or jealousy within a fortnight! It was a disaster waiting to happen. If he who was not perfection personified had to fend off regular amorous advances from students (and a few staff), how would she fare? No, he'd have to watch her like a hawk and he did have more important things to do, thank you very much. Yet he found he was still staring at the moving picture and thinking he might rather enjoy watching her constantly. Hexing any student or staff who harassed her in any way. Maybe she would be so distressed by these unwanted attentions she would be overcome with gratitude at his chivalrous protection and throw herself into his arms...
Where the bloody hell had that come from? He promptly incinerated the newspaper and made a mental note to meditate before retiring this evening. Clearly, he was overworked and overwrought. Who was he kidding? More like overcome with the electric revelation that she was a very desirable woman now and he was disturbingly intrigued by this updated image of her. The Miss Granger in his head had been a nineteen year old malnourished girl. Brilliant and formidable but someone he thought of only as a student under his care. Under his care...suddenly he was lost in a daydream.
His hands were touching those soft curls. Stroking them gently and then catching the end of one long tress and he began to curl it around his finger, slowly reeling her head back and back until her neck was bared to him. He dipped his nose to her carotid artery feeling the pulse and breathing in the intoxicating scent of her. She was panting now, gripping his forearms to keep herself upright, breasts heaving and grazing his chest on each inhale. He tugged a bit further on the curl while simultaneously raising his head above her face, locking eyes with her as he lowered his mouth to hers ever so slowly. He nuzzled his lips against hers - so soft and warm as little puffs of air escaped along with tiny whimpers. Using his lips to push hers apart, he gently bit down on her top lip while laving the sensitive underside with his tongue. Her whimpers turned to moans. She was now using her arms to push her body fully into his. The feel of that body against his set his nerves on fire. Her hands were now caught in his hair and her lips were plundering his. The prey had become the hunted and he could only give in to the sensual onslaught of taste, touch and sounds. Suddenly, he was lifting her up so that her legs wrapped firmly about his waist and finally her core was snugly against his need. He could feel the heat of her through both of their robes. He leaned her over his desk and began to rhythmically move onto her, mimicking that ancient, carnal dance. Mouths devouring one another until he felt his lungs about to burst. He propped up a hand to better position himself but it landed on a slip of paper and he lost his balance -
Severus came back to himself half crouched over his desk and found that his hand had indeed slid on a piece of paper but there was no warm witch beneath him moaning his name. He suddenly realized exactly where he was and swiftly looked around the room. Had he been making any noises? Had the portraits heard or seen him acting out this sinful little daydream?!?! He peered intently at each portrait but all seemed to be asleep or paying no attention. Thank the Gods! But, did some of them look a little too innocent? He glanced up again and made eye contact with Headmaster Black who stared at him completely emotionless for a moment, then winked at him and turned away with a smirk. Merlin's underpants, this was a disaster in the making.
