Severus Snape considered himself the master of potions making. In
particular, he considered himself the master of making aphrodisiacs. He had
taken a long hard look at himself in the mirror at age 17 and decided that
he needed all the help that nature and a large collection of potions books
could offer him.
He could raise a fire in the blood of the most frigid ice queen, a fire that only he would be able to quench. The only problem was that the potion worked only the once, and only for one night; after that, the woman's feelings would return to normal. There was many a woman with fond memories of a night of passion with the Potions Master but, oddly enough, no desire to repeat the experience, no matter how wonderful they remembered it to be.
So here he was at the New Year's Eve party, surrounded by alumni and his colleagues and contemplating precisely who his target should be this year.
He quickly dismissed Hermione Granger; he could afford to be picky and he had the horrible feeling that even under the influence of the potion she would continue to ask questions. It would be enough to put a bloke off his stroke.
The new Dada professor was a possibility.
He could see that her glass was empty, and decided to strike while he had a chance. He carefully filled a glass with punch, added a little flavouring of his own, and then strode over to her.
Unfortunately, in the meantime Hermione had introduced herself to Professor Starke and was busily chatting away about a mutual interest in vampires. There was nothing else to do but insinuate himself into the conversation and offer her a drink regardless. He hoped she was good in bed, because he hated to think that he would have to endure ten minutes of Hermione Granger for anything less than multiple, mind-blowing orgasms.
Miss Granger did not appear to be in need of any further alcohol. He therefore did not expect Professor Starke to thank him for his thoughtfulness, pass the drink on to Hermione, and then depart rapidly to the other side of the hall in search of someone she hadn't seen in simply ages. He watched her go with dismay, then turned back to Hermione.
She looked at him with horror, but it was as nothing to the horror he felt looking at her and the glass in her hand.
He was in trouble and he knew it. He either faced the prospect of coming clean with all the attendant embarrassment or a night of passion with frankly the most irritating student it had ever been his displeasure to teach.
It was a hard decision.
He took a long hard look at Hermione. Her hair was still bushy, but her figure was curvy in all the right places. If she could only be persuaded to keep her mouth shut it might not be too bad he supposed, and he was sure he could think of ways of keeping her mouth occupied. In fact, the more he thought about it, the more attractive the idea became.
She was still looking at him with horror. She decided to bolster her courage with alcohol, and Severus watched in resignation as his fate was sealed. She seemed amenable when he suggested that she might like to go back to his quarters and look at some potions manuals. Once there she decided to make the first move and pinned him up against the wall.
Severus was pleasantly surprised to find that Hermione was so frisky, and very relieved to find that whilst she was concentrating on seducing him she was indeed mercifully silent. He was amazed to find that she was the most enthusiastic, passionate and downright inventive lover he had ever had.
So much so that he made the fatal mistake of falling asleep in a state of exhaustion at some point closer to early morning than late night, rather than kicking Hermione out into the cold of the dungeons before the effects of the potion wore off.
So it was he found himself blearily opening his eyes to find Hermione looking at him with a very odd expression on her face. He braced himself for recrimination but she was silent; he began to wonder if this was a side effect of the potion. Perhaps this meant the potion was still having an effect, and he had several minutes grace in which to remove her before the shit really hit the fan.
His attempt at conversation was forestalled by Hermione's kiss, and it was a good five minutes before, his attention focussed entirely elsewhere, he blurted out, "But the potion should have worn off by now!"
"What potion?" she asked, although she seemed more interested in nibbling his ear than finding out the answer.
And Severus, despite being a cunning Slytherin - not that you had to be that bright to realise that the truth was the last thing that was called for in the circumstances - continued down the path of truth and honesty with all the tact of a Gryffindor. "Cantharides potion."
Fortunately for Severus, Hermione continued to have other things on her mind, and took the news rather well. Her lips were now moving against his neck, and she had to repeat her next question four times before it registered. "Where did you put it?"
"The punch."
"The punch?" She stopped what she was doing. "But I didn't drink the punch?"
"You didn't?"
"No, I put it down on the table next to me and picked up my glass of firewhiskey."
"Good god." That meant that she actually liked him, found him attractive, wanted him. "You're sure?"
"Yes, I'm sure," she said impatiently. "Now I'm sure you can think of something better to do with that mouth than just talk!"
Hermione seemed to think that was the end of the discussion and returned to grazing her teeth against his neck. Severus found himself unaccountably nervous. Whilst he considered himself to be quite talented as a lover, he had rarely had a chance to practice those skills on someone who wasn't under the influence of at least one potion. Not knowingly anyway, although it seemed that last night's marathon shagathon had been wholly unaided.
Fortunately she seemed quite happy to take the lead, and he decided to surrender to the inevitable and the inexorable Miss Granger. Thirty hectic minutes later a tired and dazed Severus was clasped firmly in the arms of a sleeping Hermione, running through variants of stamina potions in his head.
It looked like he was going to need them
He could raise a fire in the blood of the most frigid ice queen, a fire that only he would be able to quench. The only problem was that the potion worked only the once, and only for one night; after that, the woman's feelings would return to normal. There was many a woman with fond memories of a night of passion with the Potions Master but, oddly enough, no desire to repeat the experience, no matter how wonderful they remembered it to be.
So here he was at the New Year's Eve party, surrounded by alumni and his colleagues and contemplating precisely who his target should be this year.
He quickly dismissed Hermione Granger; he could afford to be picky and he had the horrible feeling that even under the influence of the potion she would continue to ask questions. It would be enough to put a bloke off his stroke.
The new Dada professor was a possibility.
He could see that her glass was empty, and decided to strike while he had a chance. He carefully filled a glass with punch, added a little flavouring of his own, and then strode over to her.
Unfortunately, in the meantime Hermione had introduced herself to Professor Starke and was busily chatting away about a mutual interest in vampires. There was nothing else to do but insinuate himself into the conversation and offer her a drink regardless. He hoped she was good in bed, because he hated to think that he would have to endure ten minutes of Hermione Granger for anything less than multiple, mind-blowing orgasms.
Miss Granger did not appear to be in need of any further alcohol. He therefore did not expect Professor Starke to thank him for his thoughtfulness, pass the drink on to Hermione, and then depart rapidly to the other side of the hall in search of someone she hadn't seen in simply ages. He watched her go with dismay, then turned back to Hermione.
She looked at him with horror, but it was as nothing to the horror he felt looking at her and the glass in her hand.
He was in trouble and he knew it. He either faced the prospect of coming clean with all the attendant embarrassment or a night of passion with frankly the most irritating student it had ever been his displeasure to teach.
It was a hard decision.
He took a long hard look at Hermione. Her hair was still bushy, but her figure was curvy in all the right places. If she could only be persuaded to keep her mouth shut it might not be too bad he supposed, and he was sure he could think of ways of keeping her mouth occupied. In fact, the more he thought about it, the more attractive the idea became.
She was still looking at him with horror. She decided to bolster her courage with alcohol, and Severus watched in resignation as his fate was sealed. She seemed amenable when he suggested that she might like to go back to his quarters and look at some potions manuals. Once there she decided to make the first move and pinned him up against the wall.
Severus was pleasantly surprised to find that Hermione was so frisky, and very relieved to find that whilst she was concentrating on seducing him she was indeed mercifully silent. He was amazed to find that she was the most enthusiastic, passionate and downright inventive lover he had ever had.
So much so that he made the fatal mistake of falling asleep in a state of exhaustion at some point closer to early morning than late night, rather than kicking Hermione out into the cold of the dungeons before the effects of the potion wore off.
So it was he found himself blearily opening his eyes to find Hermione looking at him with a very odd expression on her face. He braced himself for recrimination but she was silent; he began to wonder if this was a side effect of the potion. Perhaps this meant the potion was still having an effect, and he had several minutes grace in which to remove her before the shit really hit the fan.
His attempt at conversation was forestalled by Hermione's kiss, and it was a good five minutes before, his attention focussed entirely elsewhere, he blurted out, "But the potion should have worn off by now!"
"What potion?" she asked, although she seemed more interested in nibbling his ear than finding out the answer.
And Severus, despite being a cunning Slytherin - not that you had to be that bright to realise that the truth was the last thing that was called for in the circumstances - continued down the path of truth and honesty with all the tact of a Gryffindor. "Cantharides potion."
Fortunately for Severus, Hermione continued to have other things on her mind, and took the news rather well. Her lips were now moving against his neck, and she had to repeat her next question four times before it registered. "Where did you put it?"
"The punch."
"The punch?" She stopped what she was doing. "But I didn't drink the punch?"
"You didn't?"
"No, I put it down on the table next to me and picked up my glass of firewhiskey."
"Good god." That meant that she actually liked him, found him attractive, wanted him. "You're sure?"
"Yes, I'm sure," she said impatiently. "Now I'm sure you can think of something better to do with that mouth than just talk!"
Hermione seemed to think that was the end of the discussion and returned to grazing her teeth against his neck. Severus found himself unaccountably nervous. Whilst he considered himself to be quite talented as a lover, he had rarely had a chance to practice those skills on someone who wasn't under the influence of at least one potion. Not knowingly anyway, although it seemed that last night's marathon shagathon had been wholly unaided.
Fortunately she seemed quite happy to take the lead, and he decided to surrender to the inevitable and the inexorable Miss Granger. Thirty hectic minutes later a tired and dazed Severus was clasped firmly in the arms of a sleeping Hermione, running through variants of stamina potions in his head.
It looked like he was going to need them