Chapter Forty: True Suffering

'What was hard to suffer is sweet to remember.' –Seneca

I threw her to the bed, watching her small, perfect feet scramble across the floor to keep her from falling to the floor. When she landed upon the bed on her back, her hands bound behind her, I moaned softly.

I was upon her in a moment, tearing the front of her pretty dress down the front. Her cropped hair was a riot of brown tendrils and red ribbons, her mouth open to gasp for air, to beg something of me that I wanted for myself.

Granger was laid bare below me, her breasts heaving, her back arching. She did not speak; she had no need for useless words. In her eyes, I could tell that she understood what I was about to do to her body and eventually her mind.

Crouching over her, knees on either side of her thighs, I leaned down to inhale the scent of her skin, starting at her throat. The tip of my nose brushed along her skin, following an invisible path down her body. Her throat smelled faintly of perfume, flowery and cheap. The valley between her breasts smelled sweet with perspiration, like the bread pudding I had tasted in her mouth at Halloween. Her navel smelled of lavender soap, fresh and clean. The dark thatch of curls smelled faintly of blood, but more of her intrinsic essence, female, aroused, angry.

I moved, my body feeling taut and lithe though I was certain that I did not move as gracefully as I felt. I parted her legs, long, toned, smooth. I spread her open as if I were opening a thick rind fruit, searching for the sweet pulp inside. The scent of her cunt overpowered my senses, a fragrance that made me salivate, licking my lips impatiently.

The dark pink flesh between her thighs was wet, juicy, and I indulged myself by draping the backs of her knees over my shoulders, lifting her hips upward as I sat on the bed grasping the globes of her bottom. She whimpered softly, trying to remove some of her weight from her bound hands under her. I did not care, my mouth opening, my tongue lashing out to taste Granger's wet pussy.

I could taste a slight trace of blood, just as I smelled it. She was about to begin her menses, and the thought made my cock twitch and my sac tighten. I let my tongue slip between the walls of her hole, probing, tasting.

I was either more drunk that I originally thought, or Granger's cunt really did taste good even with the coppery flavour of blood. Wriggling her hips against my mouth, she whispered something indistinct. I paid no mind, slipping my tongue from her, to nip at the swollen bundle of nerves I had kept nudging with my nose.

She finally grunted, her eyes slamming shut, her head thrown back into the bed.

I was doing this to her, I alone. I was the one sucking on her swollen clit, I was the one that was making her pussy clench and unclench against my stubbly chin. I had the power to decide what I wanted from the woman.

Granger wailed her climax aloud, the sound thrilling me. She tried in vain to pull herself away from me, to end the brutal suction I had on her clit. I would not release her. I had her where I wanted her, vulnerable, just as I had felt far too many times in her presence.

My jaw ached, and my cock ached. I finally let her legs slip from my shoulders, her hips resting on the velvet duvet. I licked at my face, tasting, relishing. And I wanted more.

"What would your friends say, Miss Granger," I purred as I grasped her shoulders, leaning over her body, my cock brushing her belly. She opened her eyes slowly, the golden orbs glazed and distant. "What would Mr. Potter say to me eating you out? What about Mr. Weasley who was oh-so-fond of you? Would they scorn you? Shun you? All because a greasy git like me made you come with his mouth?"

Granger said nothing, still trying to get a measure of control over her pounding heart, her fast breathing, and her blown mind.

"Did you even think of those two when you came back to Hogwarts? Did you consider them when you came into this room to 'deal' with me?"

Again, nothing. I suspected that she did not care about Potter or Weasley as much as most believed.

I stared into her eyes for a long moment, my hands on either side of her face. She blinked slowly, dazed.

For a moment, I felt a type of tenderness for the woman below me. It was fleeting, however, as she moved, shifting her shoulders to move her weight of her bound hands again. I smirked, and with a hiss, grasped her shoulders. Granger made a strange sound as I turned her onto her face, eyeing her bound hands. The small, feminine fingers were not blue, the belt not too tight about her wrists. In fact, she had laced her fingers together, clasping her palms together tightly.

I admired the smooth expanse of her back for a few moments as she turned her head to the side to breathe properly. I let my eyes trace down her spine to the crack of her bum, to the swell of her hips. Much like her eyes, her skin was golden, glowing. I wanted to lick a path from the sweaty nape of her neck down to her pucker.

The possibilities forced me to bite my tongue. I grasped my cock instead, stroking it slowly while Granger tried to look at me again. When I did move, it was to take the belt in my hands and pull. She cried out again, the strain on her arms forcing her to push her upper body up with her forehead against the duvet.

On her knees, face into the bed, I had my wish. I kept stroking myself with one hand as I released the belt to pull apart her buttocks.

"Gods!" she exclaimed into the duvet when I pushed two fingers inside.

I smirked, scissoring my fingers, eliciting a sharp whimper.

I licked my fingers slowly, properly. I made her wait, knowing that she was anticipating me. I took in the sight of her skin, the position of her body. In dreams, I had bent her over classroom desks, fucking her brutally before a room full of First Years. In dreams, I had taken her against the wall of the Entry Hall, pushing her face into the stone.

I sank into her body slowly, grasping the belt about her wrists to keep control of the angle and speed. Tight, constricting, I ran out of words after two to describe how her pussy felt. Besides 'wet' and 'hot,' 'tight' was the only other mundane word I could come up with, and I figured it would have to be good enough.

As much as I wanted to simply ram my cock into her, I tortured myself and her. I did not have some monstrous erect sexual organ, but it was thick, and I supposed little over average in length. The girth was more important, as was the subtle arc of the shaft upward. I could see the pink flesh around her pussy stretch to take me, as I held her buttocks apart to engrain the sight into my memory.

We hissed in unison, I deep inside, she feeling the rending of her muscles at my penetration.

"You wanted this," I whispered, my hooded eyes moving to her face and the wide golden eye peering back at me from the duvet.

I fucked her. I did not hold back, I did not spare her. I jerked my hips forward, the flesh of her buttocks slapping into the fronts of my thighs. The slapping sound was loud, wonderful, as was her throaty whimpers. She tried to stop the sound issuing from her mouth by forcing her lips shut, but it only made the sound louder, an erotic hum.

I ground my teeth together roughly. The compulsion to curse aloud, let loose a stream of foul profanities was almost unbearable. I wanted to curse the woman as well as give an impromptu ode to her tight, small body. Instead, I grunted, in animalistic, feral exhales between my teeth.

Hermione Granger was the rock on which my soul broke.

I pounded into her body, lifting a knee from the bed to place my foot on the duvet near her breasts. I had to be deeper; I had to squeeze myself inside, disappear in her cunt, and drive her as insane as I felt.

I wanted so much to hurt her somehow, wound her as she had wounded me.

I wanted so much to feel the pain of the obsession I felt for her. My obsession called for the taste of her blood, her sweat, and her tears…

"Severus…"

I faltered mid stroke at the sound of my name, uttered so softly and so wrought with something I could not identify. I jerked on the belt that clasped her wrists, and with a trembling hand, I shifted my body.

She knelt over my cock, and began to move as I wound my left arm about her body, pressing her breasts in the lingering scar of the Dark Mark. I sat on the bed, biting into her shoulder, the back of her neck. Her hair tickled my nose as she moved up and down at a slower pace than what I had established.

My right arm wrapped over her hip, fingers pulling on her pubic hair, slipping to her clit to pinch the slippery button. She grunted, and began to move faster. It was not enough. My fingers slipped further down and I felt the shaft of my soaked cock moving past her inner labia. I curled my forefinger upward as she lifted her hips. When she came down again, I stretched her further with my finger.

A profanity drifted from her lips, a sugar coated curse that made my eyes roll up into my skull for a moment. With my palm crushing into her clit, I slid another finger inside pressed against my cock. I could feel her body clenching around me, her hips jerking violently. With a quick motion, I pulled my hand away.

My fingers were sticky with pink essence. Every prod of the head of my cock against her womb brought a small amount of blood. I licked and sucked on my own fingers, slurping loudly as the tip of my tongue traced every minute wrinkle, sucking at the essence under my manicured nails.

Ambrosia, nectar, it was the flavour of her soul, and I wanted to taste it forever.

As it was, I wanted more than her flavour. I wanted all of her.

I shoved her back down to the bed again, hearing a soft grunt as her cheek rasped against the velvet of the damp duvet. With a twist of my wrist, the belt was Vanished and Granger's shoulders popped audibly as she drew her hands before her.

"No…" I heard myself whisper as she began to curl in on herself.

I moved, more like pounced, grabbing her up into my arms, twisting her onto her back, drawing her weak legs apart again. I sank into her again, causing her whimper pathetically.

I kissed her, finally.

She tasted like wine and blood, a new divine flavour. I did not spare her sore body, thrusting harder, deeper and faster than before. I was growing desperate. I was suffering terribly. I had to come; I had to end this torture.

My mind raced with all the other things I wanted to do to her. There were so many ways to break Granger, so many ways to show her that I was not afraid of her and so many ways to prove that I was no romantic Byronic hero, but a villain through and through. I would take her in every position, in every situation; I would violate her body in ways that would make her wish she had not saved my life.

Her arms were too weak to hold me, but I could feel her hands grasping my pectoral muscles, tugging at the dark hair on my chest. I could feel her trying to kiss me in return. It angered me.

I grasped her throat, pulling back slightly, my hips beating against her hips, sure to leave bruises. The slick squelch of my cock pressing into her pussy was the only sound beyond my gasps and her rasps for air. Her eyes burned into mine for only a few moments before they rolled up into her head, her mouth opening in a silent scream.

I was grunting with every thrust, loud, bestial grunts, trying my best to keep my cock inside her resistant body as she came. Hot juices literally poured from her body, wetting my own pubic hair, soaking my sac in fragrant female perfume.

I emptied myself inside her with a soul jarring roar, my hand slipping away from her throat to grasp my own throat as my head fell back and my eyes closed. My cock had seemed to swell inside her before releasing an orgasmic pressure of ejaculate. I was dying a death I should have had years before, bliss and warm darkness.

I fell away to land on the bed, my cock popping from her pussy. My whole body hummed, everything that touched my body kept my balls tight into my pelvis, my cock twitching and leaking. Everything felt wonderful, everything felt like heaven.

Masturbation would never be enough after this…

Silence fell all around me. I suppose I either passed out or fell into a contented, yet short sleep, for when I opened my eyes it was to see Granger sitting on the opposite side of the bed, wand in hand repairing the remnants of her pretty red dress.

I reached toward her and hesitated. I dropped my hand to the bed and stared at her bareback. There were red scratches on her skin, and the ribbon that had held her hair was hanging limply, just like my limp cock on the black velvet of the bed. The come was drying in the nap of the velvet, and in one place near my knee, I could tell where Granger had been kneeling from the drips of feminine arousal on the velvet.

It took a great effort to sit up on the bed, one foot on the bed, knee bent, the other tucked under me. Granger turned slowly at the sound of my movement and for the first time she studied my body. I could not discern her thoughts, but her eyes lingered on the scar upon my throat and then to the scar of my Dark Mark.

We stared at each other for a long while. I did not know what to say, all capacity to create a witty retort gone along with my energy. She said nothing as she turned her back to me and rose on shaky legs. I watched her put the dress back on and with a whispered Charm to her hair; the ribbons slither through the caramel tresses like tiny red snakes. As she turned back to face me, sitting on the edge of the bed again, even the smudged lipstick was gone from her face. She almost looked as pristine and pretty as she had when I laid eyes upon her in Horace's rooms. The only exception was the finger marks on her throat and the bruises about her wrists.

"No romantic notions," she said, her eyelids heavy, her golden eyes hooded. "I had no real romantic notions about you, Severus."

I rested my left arm on my kneecap and blinked at her, a sour expression on my face.

"You are what you want everyone to believe you are. You have perfectly constructed yourself as an unlovable git."

For a split-second, I nearly told her that she was wrong. She was not, of course. I was an unlovable git, amongst other things.

"I wanted you, I got you. Now I leave it up to you."

Again, I blinked. "Leave what up to me?" I asked with a scratchy and sore throat.

Granger sighed softly, her eyes moving over me again. I had half a mind to hide myself, but it was too late, she knew what I looked like—long limbed, pale, a little hairy, scarred, a man with a little bit of muscle tone, and an unattractive, uncircumcised flaccid cock.

"Whether or not you are going to treat me with something other than disrespect and derision. You should also think about sorting out your own feelings, Severus. Perhaps, if you did, you might realise you do not hate me so much as you would like to claim. You hate yourself, not me…"

I gritted my teeth. I said nothing in retort as Granger rose from the bed, walking around the foot to stop to grab her shoes. I watched her move slowly; obvious that she was walking carefully, sore. She paused again at the door, and turned slightly.

"Oh… Next time, make it last longer," she said with a slight twist of her mouth.

It was not until she had gone and my brain processed her words that I realised she had insulted me.

I slept through Boxing Day. I stayed to my rooms the day after that. By New Year's Eve, I felt well enough to leave my rooms to run around the loch.

I was sore, bruised, and not just because I had used my body in a manner that it was not accustomed. My ego was bruised as well.

I had gotten what I wanted from Granger, and when the physical soreness went away, I wanted more. I supposed I had played right into her hands, but I did not care. I had made my decision, I had acted upon it, and now I had to live with my decision.

Refusing to be afraid any longer, I showed up for the staff party in the Great Hall one hour before New Year's. I did not drink, as it had proved a near fatal mistake before, and I actually talked to Longbottom while we waited for midnight. However, I had yet to lay eyes on Granger. I did not ask after her as the minutes ticked by to a new year.

Ten minutes before midnight, I had to empty my bladder, and slipped from the Great Hall to a little known small lavatory off the Entrance Hall. I was quick; having swiped off some confetti from the shoulders of my robes and made sure my fly was closed. In the darkness of the Entrance Hall, I moved to the doors of the Great Hall and the sound of voices.

"Severus?"

It was Granger's voice, and it took me a moment to locate the source. I found her standing near the front door in a snow-covered cloak, only her face visible in the darkness. I stood still as she seemed to glide to me, her face very pale.

Standing on the tips of her toes, her gloved hands grasped my face, pulling me down to meet her lips. I did not close my eyes, but I did, eventually. Her cold arms wound about my neck, and I found myself holding her by the waist. The kiss was gentle, though her lips were icy. It was almost an innocent kiss until her tongue traced the roof of my mouth.

I let a moan slip past, and as quickly as the kiss began, it was over.

"Happy New Year…" she whispered.

I was stunned, and for some stupid reason muttered: "…kiss me again."

We stared at each other, her face expressing puzzlement, mine most likely expressing a mixture of embarrassment and confusion.

She kissed me again, on the cheek, and whirled away toward the Great Hall.

I ended up sitting on the steps leading up to the Portrait Hall while the staff in the Great Hall began counting down. I knew Granger was among them. When they started sing 'Auld Lang Syne,' I began my journey back to my rooms.

The new term started, and once again, I was preoccupied with my classes. I marked my birthday by allowing Winky to sing to me in my classroom that morning, the only living creature that seemed to remember the cursed day. I kept to my routines, adding in some time to tend to my little pot of valerian on my writing desk. I started writing more on my memoir, detailing my formative years in greater detail than Rita Skeeter could only wish to do.

I had little opportunity to see Granger. I was not avoiding her, but I was not actively seeking her out either.

January melted into February then into March. I had to satisfy myself with wanks in the shower. By May, my hand could no longer do anything than frustrate me and cause me to be even more irritable than my students thought possible.

The Leaving Feast was the first time since New Years that I could get a proper look at Granger. Again, Flitwick acted as unsuitable buffer between us, and I realised that I was not feeling her eyes upon me. I was the one staring. In fact, Minerva confronted my stare at least three times before I forced myself to study Filius' unused salad fork.

The students were gone less than two hours before I could not take it any longer, and stalked to the Transfigurations classroom. Enough was enough. I had convinced myself that I truly had shattered Granger's perspective of me. It turned out to be a disappointment.

I found her Charming the desks of the classroom, erasing any graffiti the students had carved into the wood, mostly disparaging remarks about her teaching ability, I imagined. She was Vanishing chewing gum from under the seats when I stepped fully into the room, hands on my hips, eyes boring into the back of her head.

Again, she was wearing her hair up in ribbons, grey ribbons that matched her hideous smock dress. Faintly, I could hear her muttering about chewing gum, dunderheads, and the inadequacies of a 'tough love' approach to teaching 'mentally deficient toe rags.' I almost smiled. My first year teaching had embittered me, and every year after, it seemed the students were progressively getting stupider. There was no better way to put it.

Then again, there were few who shined out from the dung heap, one of which was slowly feeling my eyes upon the back of her head.

Granger turned, a cobweb on her nose, and scowled. She wiped the cobweb away with a distasteful expression and slipped her wand into the front pocket of her smock dress. Standing half way between the door and the lectern at the front of the room, she seemed out of place in the room.

"Is there something I can help you with, Professor?"

She sounded annoyed, and the tone of her voice put me off for a moment, though I had been trying to expect it. It took me a few seconds to remember why I had come to her classroom, and what I had wanted to say.

"You've been avoiding me."

No, that was not what I had wanted to say, but it came out anyway.

Her golden eyes narrowed. "I do not know what you mean, Professor."

My lips twitched as my hands slipped from my hips to dangle at my sides. I turned, grasping the door, and pushing it to shut behind me. There was no need for the entire castle to be privy to what I was about to say or do. I had learned my lesson at Christmas. For the month following, Longbottom, when I saw him, could only glare. As for Minerva, she only spoke to me when it was important. And Horace…he tried to pretend I had not ruined his Christmas party by hedging around the subject of Hermione Granger for months.

I was a man whose sanity was questioned.

"If you intend to keep your post here, as I will remain here to my dying day, it is silly to pretend I do not exist, Miss Granger," I drawled, feeling my fingers curl into fists.

Ah, the anger, it was coming back. I was not afraid of her, or my wanton need to ruin her. I knew I was obsessing, much as I had over another certain headstrong girl years ago. Although that particular person was a blur of memory, I had retained certain feelings. Lily Evans was dead, I was not, I had a new woman to resent, and all my old feelings were stale after giving Potter my memories.

Besides, Granger was much more brilliant, much more dangerous, and much more mature than Lily Evans had ever been, or at least from my memory of her.

"I concede, you exist," she muttered, disinterested, turning away from me to walk up to her lectern desk and the piles of parchment and books on top. I watched her begin sorting the materials, Vanishing parchments, Levitating books to go back to Irma in the Library.

This was not going as I had planned.

I planned to confront Granger, force her to look at me and then start cowering. I planned to bend her over the desks and take her in the empty classroom, still warm from the many student bodies that had been inside only hours before. Instead, I was standing in front of the closed door like a hideous statue symbolising the piteousness of self-loathing.

"You kill me."

I had whispered it, tumbling down into one of my famous depressions. I still could not understand how a silly little girl could reduce me either to a slightly psychopathic rage or into a self-deprecating mass of old sinew and bone. She made me question everything about myself, things I had known to be true even before she was born.

"It is like giving a little boy the best toy at Christmas and then jerking it away and Blasting it into a million pieces…"

She did not look at me, but continued to clean off her desk.

"Look at me, damn you!"

I had moved, strode to stand just before her desk as some scolded First Year. She was in the position of power, while I… I was pathetic.

Her eyes flicked up to my face, narrowed, aggravated. Letting one last book drop to the top of the stack, she crossed her arms before her breasts, shifting her weight to one hip.

"You never told me," I started. "You never told me if I had changed your mind."

Granger blinked. "About what?"

I sighed, a rose my hand to wipe at my mouth. Our eyes were locked in a battle of dominance, I pushed, and she pushed back. She was the rock on which my soul broke.

"I wanted you, I had you. There were no romantic expectations, Severus. There was no desire to drive you mad. You proved to me everything I assumed of you…"

I could not breathe, her words like shards of glass ripping my lungs to tatters.

"You are a terrible person, but not so evil as you might think. I let you stew in your own juices, waiting for you to come to me, to demand answers that you already know but won't admit."

Air, oxygen, filled my lungs and it still hurt.

"I don't love you, although I still care. I will not take back what I said to you at Christmas. You made your decision. I am about to make mine."

I did not understand her; it was if she were speaking Mermish or Gobbledegook. What decision? What conclusion?

"I am considering taking a post at Durmstrang," she said. "To be close to Viktor…"

I think my mouth dropped open.

Krum… Merlin, the gossip column I read at St. Mungo's—was there really something more to their relationship?

No. I could see it in her eyes, in the way she held herself. She was baiting me. She wanted me to be jealous. And by the gods, I was.

Then I understood…everything.

Jealousy, a symptom of insanity, I had been so jealous for so long. From the first time I met Lily Evans to the day I believed I was going to die—I had been so jealous of everything and everybody.

Granger made me jealous of what I did not have in my own life. She had love, she had friends, and she had everything I had ever wanted. She had saved my life, and I, once again, was bound by a life debt.

It was not just my perverse sense of attraction, it was old magic, powerful magic that needed me to obsess and possess her. The debt was different from that I had owed James Potter. Granger had willingly used magic to save me, had willingly taken me to where I could be healed. She had wound me about her little finger, and I wondered if she realised how much power she did have.

I hated her, and I needed her.

"I told you that I wanted you. For an hour, a day, a week…a lifetime. I've changed my mind."

There was bile and vitriol in her voice. All my defiance was draining.

"How could I want something that only delights in trying to destroy me?"

I tore my eyes away to gaze at the stack of books on the desk.

"What do you want, Severus? What do you really want from me?"

So many replies came to mind. I wanted her suffering, I wanted her apology, I wanted her humiliation, I wanted her adoration, I wanted her obedience, I wanted her body and soul, and I wanted her love.

Love. It was a silly emotion that was closer to insanity than jealousy. Love made people do stupid things, risk their lives, and throw everything good and right away. Love was weakness…

No, that was what the Dark Lord thought and he, as far as I knew, was stoking the fires of Hades. Even I, as much as the thought of 'love' made me want to gag, was not so daft to try to dismiss its power.

I knew my perception of what 'love' consisted of was skewed. I automatically thought of sunny days lying on a picnic blanket sucking a chocolate covered strawberry from Granger's fingers. I thought of running across a flowery field, laughing as the sun lit my face handsomely.

Fluff. I had had the chance to glance over the shoulders of Hufflepuff girls reading romance novels. I knew what most women thought 'love' should be. I would not have it, at least, not that version of it.

My love was something dark and terrible. It was rough and brutal, all consuming, madness, and I wanted it from the woman across the desk.

"I want you out of my head."

She snickered. "I would say the same to you, sir. As it is, there is magic at work, not to mention that I am not like you—denying my feelings even to myself."

Granger was deriding me.

"What else?" she sighed, shifting her weight to lean forward against the edge of the desk.

I licked my lips, as the smock was pulled tighter over her breasts. She did know about the life debt, after all. Then again, she was no fool.

"I want…"

She moved slowly, a hand tracing over the edge of the lectern desk, walking to the side, edging closer to me.

"I want to be free of this suffering. I… I am no submissive…"

She was standing just before me, wedging her body between the desk and me.

"I am sorry, Severus," she whispered, staring up into my face, warm sunlight catching her eyes from the high windows of the classroom. "Only you can end this suffering you feel. You might think I am the cause, but I am only one woman."

That she was. One woman that was staring into my eyes with a molten heat, desire, pain, need, and dreams floating in the back of her mind. Granger did not idealise me; there was nothing about Severus Snape that could be romanticised. She had seen me at my most vulnerable and my most powerful moments. She had seen every scar, every hair and vein in my body, yet she stared at me with an intensity that told me many things.

First, I had been very wrong to hate her. Second, if I had ever had an ally, she was it. And lastly, she had never had any illusions as to who I was or could be.

I was still puzzled by the woman. Who, in their right mind, would want to deal with someone like me? I was difficult, I was damaged, and I had the ability to be very volatile and even lethal. Yet, there was nothing but daring in her eyes. She dared me to hurt her somehow, to tear her apart piece by piece. It was what she had wanted.

Granger did not want sunlit, romantic interludes. She did not want flowers and fuzzy warm moments. She did not want sugary words of praise.

'I want you to brand your name onto my soul…'

She had not said it aloud; she had said it into my mind.

I grasped her shoulders, bending my neck to kiss her, our teeth clashing, our lips not quite meeting. It was awkward, passionate, and soon all that mattered was that I inhaled her every exhale.

If she wanted a master, I would gladly take the role. If she wanted pain, I would give her agony. If she wanted pleasure, she would have to beg me for it. If she wanted some semblance of love, she would have to fight me for it.

I was still angry, I was still bitter, and when I pulled away from her mouth, I vented all the darkness onto her body.

I ripped at the ugly smock dress while I pressed her into the front of the desk, her hands searching to hold onto the wood. I ripped her tights from her hips, jerked the boots from her petite feet. Her wand fell the floor when I jerked her white knickers from her hips, the fabric burning into her skin.

I could smell her.

The sight of her, the smell of her, it was a sin.

I stepped back from her, turning to kick aside the nearest desk so that it flew away from me to clatter violently to the stone floor. I was snarling, catching one of her wrists and flinging her body about me. And when I sat on the bench left from where I had kicked the desk, I had her body draped over my lap.

"I want this," I rasped through my teeth, my libido making my lips loose and my entire body hum with need. "Punishment…"

The first strike elicited a shout. I held her wrists in my left hand, my fingers curling about the delicate bones and soft skin. My right hand had slapped a perfect red handprint into her smooth right buttock.

"Retribution…"

My hand stung at the next slap on the unmarked cheek.

"Humiliation…"

I slapped the visible juicy lips of her pussy. She struggled at the first slap and by the third, she was fighting me, her audible curses a fuel to my internal fire. Bucking her hips against my thigh, I grinned malevolently.

"Degradation…"

I raised my hand to slap again, her wide eyes stung with half formed tears. Her sobs were like music to my ears. However, I did not slap her round bottom; I instead slipped my fingers between her slick flesh, burrowing the digits deep inside. Her back arched and a cry was ripped from her throat. Two fingers, then three, my hand was wet with clear juices as I worked her hole.

I wanted to violate her, find something to bind her wrists to keep her from fighting me while I could manipulate her body into depraved acts of passion and sexual degradation. I supposed my innate magical ability responded to my wish, for from my hand cords were Conjured like tiny snakes, binding her wrists firmly.

She whimpered at the rasp of cord against skin, and glared over her shoulder as I added another finger, pumping, creating an obscene sound that filled the classroom.

"Pleasure, pain…" I murmured as my now free left hand moved her across my lap so that her head dipped to toward the floor. Her bound hands slapped against the stone to keep her from toppling into her head. I grinned, eyes narrowing as I had better access to her weakest, most unprotected point.

"No!" she gasped as I spread her buttocks to run the tip of my finger around the puckered edges of her arse, teasingly.

"Please…"

Her words were full of fear and need, and I wondered if she knew which she wanted.

"Clean, wholesome, loving…it is not…"

I did not know why I said these things, but it thrilled me to feel her reaction to my voice, her pussy clamping down on my fingers, her pucker tightening.

Magic, purely lust induced magic made my hands tingle, and as I slipped the tip of my finger into her pucker, she sighed a whinge. I jerked my fingers from her hole, causing her to grunt, but it turned immediately into a throat-tearing cry as I slapped my wet hand against her red cheeks.

"Debasement…"

I slathered her juices around her pucker, along the fingers of my left hand. Whatever magic that had passed lubricated and cleansed her body, preparations for what my stiffening cock wanted and sought to do in order to release the pressure in my sac. I wanted to fuck her in the one place that would make her face flush an eternal shade of pretty pink.

"Severus, please…"

I grunted, sliding a second finger into her ass, scissoring my fingers slowly, stretching, preparing. It was not enough. It was not enough that her hipbone moved against my crotch, it was not enough to slap her bottom with unforgiving blows. I wanted more.

I pulled my fingers away, and with both hands, grasped her waist, lifting her upward. Her bare feet found purchase on the floor, but before she could begin to move on her own volition, I stood stiffly, my trousers far too tight.

I half tossed, half guided her to a student's desk, draping her body over the angled surface, her breasts pressed into the wood, the tips of her toes barely touching the floor.

"Do not move," I hissed as she tried to glance back at me.

There were more tears in her eyes, but not wrought of fear or hate. It had been from the pain and the pleasure. She obeyed as I drew my wand from my robes, casting a locking, and Imperturbable Charm on the classroom door. I set my wand on the desk in the row behind me, and doffed my robes onto the bench behind my knees. My shirt came next, unbuttoning the doublet over top then the shirt. The high collar fell away when I dropped the clothing to the floor.

Her eyes were glowing gold, like orbs full of Felix Felicis. The tiny, constricted pupils scanned my chest, the hair running over my chest down in a thin line to my navel. Those eyes caressed the scarred and pale skin stretched over muscle and bone, even kissing the purplish scar on my throat. The tenderness of her eyes did not deter me, however, as I opened my trousers, letting the warm air in the classroom hit my stiff cock. I did not push my trousers down; it would wait, as would the ache in my balls.

I sat down on the bench, Granger's swollen bottom just before my face. Oh, it was a dream, surely, one that I had had often. Even when my hands parted her buttocks, I was still thinking that a dream sock puppet would suddenly appear from behind a desk, speaking to me in a faux voice of one of the other staff.

It did not happen, I was not dreaming. The taste of her cunt was real.

I licked her from one clean smelling hole to the other. She did not taste the same as before, no traces of blood of impending menses, no heady scent, no slight coppery flavour. If anything, she tasted better than I dared imagine. Slightly bitter, slightly sweet, it was the taste of fertile woman.

Tracing the wrinkled ring of muscle, Granger swore in torrents. The breadth of her knowledge of swears was truly impressive. I ate and tasted, sniffed and prodded with the tip of my ugly beak for a nose. I was going to have her, and I was going to have her hard.

She tried to relax, gritting her teeth as the fingers of my left hand probed and moved into her arse, intermittently laving more saliva into the hole. I was not so cruel to take her without a bit of preparation. I was not so cruel to make her pain last so long.

With my right hand, I cupped my palm under her, finding her clit and rubbing circles around the nubbin with my thumb. My other sticky fingers caressed the slick lips inside, teasing a route to her contracting hole.

I was amazed, my cheeks hot, my cock bobbing against my belly. I had two fingers in her cunt, and three in her arse. It was so profane, and so beautiful. I wanted to put my entire hand inside her, but that would be a desire left unfulfilled for the moment. I had to put something more sensitised in first.

I rose, jerked my right hand from her oozing orifice, grasping my cock instead. At the sensation of my own hand, I audibly grunted, causing Granger to moan. With a few twists of my hips, unable to remove my fingers from her arse or my hand from cock, my trousers slipped from my hips to mid-thigh.

I leaned into the backs of her legs, the purple head of my cock edging toward her arse. And when I pulled my fingers back to press inside, Granger squealed and grunted. I ground my teeth together, knowing I was wearing away the sharper cusps of my molars. It did not matter; however, as I pressed forward, muscle resisting, muscle yielding.

"Fuck…"

It was ground out between my teeth in a high hiss, a reaction to the near pinching sensation of her muscles around my cock. So tight, expectedly so, but I could have never anticipated how wonderful it felt.

I was only over half way inside her, leaning forward so my nose was perhaps only an inch from her shoulder blades. I arched my lower back, pulling out only a bit, Granger panting out hot breaths toward the front of the classroom. I pushed back in again, slowly, just a bit more until the root of my cock was all I could see when I looked between our bodies.

I was forced to stay still, trying not to whimper, but gasping. My hands moved to grasp her shoulders, so I could lower my forehead against the back of my damp neck. At such a closeness, I could feel her sobs, feel her trembling.

I was satisfied.

With a firm stroke, the desk under her rocked. I made no noise, establishing a slow slide and rhythm in and out of her tight bottom. The only sound was her sobs and the crack of wooden desk legs against stone floor.

Heaven is a place of warm light, and in appearance, the Transfigurations classroom with Granger sprawled over a student's desk in the front row, my cock in her arse. It was the smell of dust and magic, sweat and feminine juices. It was the sound of her begging sobs, pleading with me to move faster or to stop. Heaven was Granger bucking against me, her head arching back to let a tremulous cry fill my ears with erotic melody.

Heaven should last forever, but like everything in my life, it was fleeting.

I came too quickly. Weeks and months of wanking had upped my stamina, but nothing could compare to the real thing…

I said something in the form of a sigh, something that would have only been ripped from my soul under duress or perfect bliss. It was something foreign on my tongue, something that made my lips fumble.

"Love you."

Falling over her body, pressing my cheek to her left shoulder, I was wholly undone. Orgasm, the little death, it would be closest to a real after life I would experience for a while yet.

When I pulled away, my cock spent and shrinking, I stumbled but did not fall back on the bench behind me. Instead, by the sheer will of my mind, I grasped my wand and cast cleaning Charms over my skin. Then, with another Charm, my clothes wrapped about my body as the implication of my words sank in.

Granger lay limply over the desk, her shoulders rising and falling trying to breathe. Her limp neck did not allow me to see her face as she hanged over the edge of the desk. I was struck however by the trickle of semen from her body, dripping down her thighs to puddle in the floor.

I did not want to see her eyes, and I did not want to touch her on the off chance that she might do or say something that would shatter what bit of ego I had left. I knew she had heard my words…

The only thing I did do was dispel the cords about her wrists. I allowed her to stretch her arms back to grasp the desk and push herself upward, the peeling sound of perspiration against the desk's surface interrupt the wheeze of her breath through her mouth. I moved away, toward the door, as she stood upright on the flats of her bare feet.

Her hair was loose about her face, the ends obscuring her eyes, the damp tendrils sticking to her cheeks. I could see the tracks of tears on her jaw and the flush of her skin. As she stood in the late afternoon sunlight, her shoulder moving back, her spine straightening, Granger was a goddess. No matter how many red handprints she had on her bottom or how more thick ejaculate dripped from her body, she was beautiful.

I could not look at her long; else, I would do or say, something I knew I would regret more than what I had already said. I turned away and strode with the best of my ability to the closed door. I needed to sit down, stop my head from spinning, maybe lie down because my lower back ached from the rough thrusting and twisting of my hips against her.

With a quick snap of my wand, the Charms I placed on the door fell, and I grasped the knob with a trembling hand. I glanced back one last time. Granger's head was turned as if to peer over her shoulder, but her hair was still in her face.

I tugged on the door and it opened. I sighed softly as I passed through.

"Love you too…"

The door thudded shut behind me, and I only took two steps before stopping in the corridor. I had heard her voice, but the words…

I slipped my wand back into my rooms and began walking again, in a daze.

I could not hate her so much anymore.