Chapter: 10 (Revised)

Severus sat hunched over his desk, over a pile of parchment with quill in hand and his eyes glued to his hourglass. He found it difficult to concentrate on his work while someone other than himself was utilizing his private laboratory. Not just anybody, but the very being that exhausted his thoughts of late. Claira. What in Merlin's name possessed him to agree to Madam Pomfrey's request?

After another ten minutes of inhibition, Severus threw his quill down and pounded his fist on the desk. How was he supposed to read fifty bloody essays with his mind wandering about? He looked down at the parchment in front of him and snorted. He had read that first damn line three times already! Rubbing his temples, he stood up and began to pace his office.

He decided it was time he paid a little visit to his laboratory. But he needed an excuse, so as not to appear obtrusive.

He paused to think of an item he might have left in there the previous night, such as a quill, or a book perhaps? No, he was too meticulous. How about a potion, or a spare cauldron? No, that was too obvious.

He strolled over to the fireplace and stared into the flames. Then an idea struck him... it was his bloody quarters! He did not require some silly excuse to enter it. In fact, it was his prerogative to make certain his belongings were being handled in an appropriate manner.

Satisfied with his rationalization, Severus snatched up his cloak and whooshed out of his study in a cascade of dark, fluttering robes.

When he neared the door, he heard the muffled sound of music radiating from within. He narrowed his eyes and snaked his fingers around the handle, careful not to make his presence known as he tugged it open, and peered inside.

What he saw made his brow rise in a surprised, yet delighted arch.

Claira's hips were swaying in a provocative fashion as she stirred her cauldron. Her enthusiasm increased with the tempo, causing her body to move with the song's suggestive theme. He caught a few of the lyrics as he leered at her from the doorway.

Damn, I wish I was your lover.
I'd rock you till the daylight comes,
Make sure you are smiling and warm.
I am everything.
Tonight I'll be your mother.
I'll do such things to ease your pain,
Free your mind and you won't feel ashamed.

Severus smirked and folded his arms across his chest. He watched her dance, his black eyes roaming her curves and voluptuous backside with an aroused interest. Claira continued on with her seductive routine, unaware of her captivated audience; it was a convenience of which he had no intention of disturbing at the moment. Who would have thought that, beneath her modest exterior, lay an erotic temptress? He was more than pleased with his findings.

His grin widened as she grabbed a handful of dried seaweed, spun around with her arms raised above her head, then tossed it into the cauldron with a zealous splash. It was quite humorous. That is, until she wrapped her soft, slender thigh around the center stone pillar and performed an exotic twirl, in which her body arched like a bow and her knees grazed the floor. The sight of it made Severus's blood boil and flood to his lower regions. The urge to pounce and take her right then and there overwhelmed him. He might have done it, if she hadn't whirled around at that very moment and met his gaze with wide eyes.

Claira nearly fainted at the sight of the Professor standing beneath the archway. How long had he been there? The color drained from her face. How much had he seen? She waved her wand and banished the music, while her eyes darted around the chamber for a hole to crawl in.

"My apologies, Miss Bell," he avowed in a deep baritone. "Was this a private party?"

Claira blushed. "No, of course not - that is, I didn't expect you to come - I mean, you weren't supposed to be here - but this is your laboratory, so naturally you should be here - it's just I didn't know you were…"

Her babbling trailed off as the Professor swooped inside the room and approached her with a powerful stride. His unique aroma filled her nostrils as he neared; the strong scent of musk and spices stirred her senses, causing her body to tingle with a strange anticipation of what might happen if he moved any closer. There was a raw surge of excitement at the realization that they were alone, in the deep recesses of the castle with nigh a soul about to interfere if he were to impose his darkest desires on her. Now towering over her petite form, he caressed her cheek with his warm breath, bringing reality to her odd little fantasy. Then, he leaned forward.

Claira closed her eyes and parted her lips, ensnared by the outlandish moment of romance.

"It's burning," He purred in her ear.

A few uneventful seconds passed, before Claira opened her eyes to see the Professor wearing a most peculiar expression in his face. "I'm sorry… what?"

"Your cauldron, Miss Bell. It's burning." He peered inside it and swirled the liquid with a ladle. "And I believe it is now ruined. You will have to begin again."

Claira could feel the heat rise in her cheeks. Had she been paying closer attention, she would have noticed his hand reaching down beside her to lower the flame on the burner. She was very foolish to assume he was putting the moves on her, a female colleague with whom he had just recently become acquainted. And why was she so eager and willing to let him? What was she thinking?

Turning her face to hide her embarrassment, Claira levitated the disaster pot to the sink for a thorough rinse. She watched Professor Snape from the corner of her eye as he retrieved a second cauldron and set it to boil. He then ran his finger down her list of potions, while scrutinizing the ones she had already brewed. In the next instant, he was dipping a ladle in each of them to test her competence. Of all the nerve!

Just as she was about to protest, Madam Pomfrey whisked inside the laboratory. Her eyes paused on Severus, who was in the process of adding a pinch of ginger root to one of the cold draughts. She cast him a private glare that said, 'Just couldn't mind your own business, could you?'

Poppy then turned to Claira. "I'm afraid the potions will have to wait. Hagrid is housing a couple of injured Aurors that are requesting our immediate assistance. It's nothing serious, only a few minor scraps and bruises."

Severus snapped his head up. "What happened?"

"Well, from what I gathered, they received bogus information on a Death Eater attack in Hogsmeade; it turned out to be nothing more than a petty brawl between a few sloshed wizards. Somehow they managed to get themselves roughed up during the altercation and want to save face." She rolled her eyes and shook her head. "Come along, Claira. We had better go and tend to them before word gets out."

"What should I do about the potions?" Claira asked, thinking it rude to burden the Professor with her unfinished work.

"Oh, I doubt Severus will mind brewing the rest for you, seeing as he is already here parading his talents."

Severus stiffened his back and scowled. His gaze traveled from Madam Pomfrey to Claira, brow furrowing as he took in her soft features. She looked fatigued. He had a mind to decline but something in the girl's sapphire eyes persuaded him otherwise. "Just be sure to collect them first thing in the morning. I don't want them cluttering up my work area."

Claira flashed him an appreciative smile, before following Madam Pomfrey out of the dungeons.

Once alone, Severus rubbed his temples and groaned. It was obvious that the girl had an uncanny ability to manipulate the male species. If he had any hope for survival, he would have to keep as far away from her as possible. His primordial urges were already driving him towards the brink of insanity, forcing him to do things that stretched beyond his tolerance.

He would have to find a means of repelling her charms. But, for now and, since he had already obligated himself to the task, he would brew the rest of those cold and flu draughts for her….