WARNING: This story is rated R (just to be safe) for language and sexual content.

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Harry Potter or any of the other Potterverse characters. They are owned by JK Rowling.

DeAndry Harris, along with the story, though, are mine. Read but do not hurt.

Timeline: During POA

I've been waiting to post this chapter for a long time. I love this chapter. You'll see why. I hope you guys enjoy it as well. Now I had originally written the small parts spoken by Snape in French ... in, well, French, but despite the fact that it's a beautiful language, and it just kinda loses something in the translation, I decided to keep it in English and put around it. I know you guys are probably smart enough to have figured that out ... but yeah.

You all can thank Annie for this quick update. Ask and you shall receive. But that means I expect another review, girl! Hehehe.

And here's a ploy to get you to read my other HP story. It's called "First Time for Everything" It's about Snape ... so what more could you want? And it's fairly short ... and *gasp* finished. Bet you never thought you would see that word associated with one of my stories. Hehehehe. Anyway, go check it out.

Yeah, enough of that mumbo jumbo crap, I hope you like! And please review!!!

* * *

The punishment, whether or not that's what Dumbledore called it, was to begin the first day of winter break. Some vacation that would be, stuck doing grunt work for Professor Snape. But it wasn't as if there would be much more to do anyway. Almost all of the students' parents had insisted their children return home for the holiday, because of the recent events with Sirius Black.

DeAndry tried as hard as she could to enjoy her few weeks of freedom before the break. But even the twins had decided to tone it down. So, she found herself concentrating on homework. Unfortunately, being good seemed to have its speed bumps as well.

DeAndry's head hit the library desk hard, her hair falling across the table. After a few moments of silent contemplation on whether or not it would help to hit her head again, she felt a hand rest on her shoulder.

"I give up. I can't do it," she told whoever was trying to console her.

"Can't do what?" said the last voice she was expecting to hear.

She lifted her head; hair mangled around her face, and looked up at Professor Snape, whose hand was still on her shoulder. DeAndry ran her fingers through her hair, pulling it out of her eyes and she looked down at the book she was reading.

"It's for Defense Against the Dark Arts."

Snape slid his hand from DeAndry's shoulder and sat down next to her, suddenly intrigued.

DeAndry continued. "It's supposed to create a barrier that, you know, won't let magic through."

"Le Bouclier D'Empêchement," Snape said moving the book in front of him so he could read it. "Where are you having the problem?"

"Well." DeAndry sighed. "The way Lupin explained it." her sentence dropped off, not finishing her thought.

An evil grin spread across Snape's face. "Was confusing?"

"To say the least. And it's not like I can ask him, he's still sick. And everyone will be leaving tomorrow for Christmas break. It's due the day we come back, how am I supposed to finish it?"

"I could help you," Snape said without taking his gaze off the book.

There was a long moment of silence and DeAndry just stared at him. "Really?" she finally said.

Snape nodded. "What about this evening? Right after dinner? My room?" he asked looking up at DeAndry.

She smiled. "Okay."

*****

That night DeAndry got something to eat from the kitchen and then headed back up to the Gryffindor common room to finish her meal. She was nervous about meeting with Snape. She lied, telling herself she didn't know why. Probably before she needed to, she headed down into the dungeon. It was unusually cold, dark, and quiet. There was a dim light of a single candle burning on Snape's desk, but he wasn't in sight.

"Professor?" she called into the room, but there was no reply. "Professor?" When there was no response this time she made her way to his office, across the hall. The door looked almost carelessly left open. "Professor?" she asked again, sticking her head into the room.

"Miss Harris." DeAndry jumped. The voice came, not from inside his office, but right behind her. She turned around to face him, a little embarrassed that she was startled. "You're early."

"Oh," DeAndry said fidgeting her hands nervously. "If you want me to wait- "

"The sooner we get started, the sooner you can leave me in peace." DeAndry was a little surprised by his remark, but comfortable with it. It was a typical comment from him. He turned back to his classroom. "Shall we?"

She shut the door to his office, which only merited a simple nod from Snape, and followed her professor into his classroom.

"Le Bouclier D'Empêchement," DeAndry said out loud as she took a seat in the front of the room. "That's not Latin."

"No, it's French," Snape stated simply, taking a seat next to her.

"Ah, what does it mean?"

"It means prevention shield."

"Do you speak French?"

"Oui," he spoke, and a strange smirk formed across his face. Then he continued, the words dripping off his lips. I have spoken French since I was your age, maybe even younger. It's the language of love, but I've never had the need to speak it, until now. I seem to have found someone lovely enough to speak it to.

"It's beautiful-the language," she clarified, as if there was something else she could be speaking of. "I wish I could speak French." There was a long moment of silence, and DeAndry wished Professor Snape would teach her, but the offer never came.

"Why don't you go home for the holidays?" Snape asked, and DeAndry was honestly surprised by the question. "You've stayed every Christmas since you started here."

"This is my home," she answered simply.

"What about your foster parents? Don't you ever go to see them?"

DeAndry laughed aloud.

"What?"

"I thought you said there wasn't anything you didn't know about your students."

"I said there is very little that I didn't know."

"This must be one of those 'little' things," she said smiling. "Dumbledore is my legal guardian."

Snape looked genuinely surprised. "Why him? Why not some other wizarding family?"

"Do you remember those 'unspeakable powers'?"

"Like your telepathy?"

DeAndry stopped for a moment. So it was true, he did in fact know. "That and some other things ... I guess the Ministry felt it best for me to stay with one of the most powerful wizards in the world. They didn't want me to fall into the wrong hands." DeAndry's eyes suddenly flicked to the desk where Snap's hands were crossed neatly in front of him.

Snape's eyes, as well as his thoughts followed DeAndry's.

"I think perhaps I already have."

With the smoothest and most natural movements DeAndry had ever seen, Snape picked his hands off of the table to his chin. Studying her, he rested his head gently on his intertwined fingers. Not for the first time, DeAndry wished she could read his mind.

"How long have you known? That I'm telepathic, I mean."

"For a while. I think it was sometime during your fifth year."

"You don't think ... you know exactly when it was."

His lips turned upwards into a smirk. "Yes, I supposed I do." He lifted his head. "It was during your potions final."

"Oh yeah, I remember that. You scared me. Everything was so quiet in the room, and then you thought something really loud." She laughed. "The only think I could think of at the time was, 'Please try to think quieter, we're attempting to take a test here.'"

Snape didn't laugh like DeAndry was hoping, but he did smile, slightly.

"What I said a couple weeks ago, um, about you not being a good teacher, and that you could never be a better man than Lupin, I-I didn't mean it." She gently placed her hand over his. "Oh, your hands are freezing." DeAndry took Snape's hands in hers trying desperately to warm them.

"I ." Snape started but his words were lost in her touch.

"How can you stand it down here? Without any heat?"

Snape just shook his head as DeAndry's attempt at warming his hands found its way slowly migrating further up his arm. She grazed her nails gently down his arm to his wrist. Taking his hand, holding it up, she rested her cheek against the cool of his palm.

Snape took a deep breath through his nose and his eyes rolled back in his head. "You smell of hazelnut."

She smiled, and pulled away from him. "It's my lotion," she said wringing her hands.

Snape stood and DeAndry watched him as he rounded her, and stopped directly behind her. "I like it," he whispered into her ear. He closed his eyes and began speaking in French once again. He pulled away from her ear and slowing shifted his attention to her other side. He was so close to her that with every word, his breath danced along her ear.

I want you, need you in ways that I never should. You alone are an incessant reminder that I am still a man. His eyes darted down at the collar of her robes. His thumb slid underneath the fabric to find the oversensitive skin of her neckline.

After the sharp intake of air, DeAndry's tongue shot out of her mouth to wet her suddenly dry lips. Balled up in her stomach were tension, anticipation, and a longing that she had never felt before.

"Teach me," DeAndry said in a voice lower than a whisper.

Snape stood up straight. "French?"

DeAndry laughed. "No. Le Bouclier D'Empêchement."

"Ah." He made his way around DeAndry and sat across from her. "I have a better idea." DeAndry raised her eyebrow in question. "You show me how to do it, and I'll tell you where you are wrong. You teach me."

"All right." DeAndry leaned forward. "Close your eyes."

There was a moment of hesitation, but he nodded and closed his eyes. Snape was suddenly very aware of his surroundings-of every smell, every sound ... every touch. DeAndry's hands were on his knees. He physically and mentally tensed.

"Relax."

Her tone, in any normal circumstance, would have made him tenser than he already was, but for some reason, it did relax him.

"Now, there is nothing around you, nothing at all." Her hands moved up his leg and rested on his thighs. She shifted forward on the edge of her chair so her knees were touching his. "You're alone."

Snape was having trouble clearing his mind. He couldn't concentrate with her this close, but there was no power on earth that could make him tell her to withdraw her hands. He was vaguely aware of her fingers migrating further up his legs on account of the circles her thumbs were making on the inside of his thighs. If this was punishment, he was willing to pay the penance.

DeAndry had long forgotten the remainder of the spell; she was now concentrating on the reactions of her touch on her professor's face. Her hands continued to migrate up his leg, and the tension shone through very clearly on his face. She was almost at his groin, when his eyes shot open and he gasped.

"You're not concentrating, Professor."

Regaining his composure, or at least his outward composure, he took DeAndry's hand in his own and brought it up to his mouth. Pressing his lips to the inside of her wrist, he could feel the blood pumping through her veins. He smiled against her skin, happy that she was just as worked up as he.

DeAndry stood quickly and pushed the chair aside so she could face Snape.

"I need this," said DeAndry, her voice shaking.

That was all it took. He grabbed her by the waist and pressed his lips against hers. He pushed her back into his desk, hard. Glass vials fell from his desk and shattered on the floor at their feet but neither cared.

This time she kissed him back. Needing to be close to him, she pressed her body against his. He forced his tongue inside her mouth. His frustration and desire was only matched by her passion and need. He wanted so badly to move his hands up her body so he could feel her curves that were always hidden by her robes, but he stopped himself.

Realizing that he couldn't be doing what he was doing, he pulled away, far away. He stood about ten feet from her and just watched, her chest heaving with each breath.

"We can't-I can't," Snape said hating the words coming out of his mouth.

DeAndry touched her mouth, almost able to still feel his lips there. She took a deep breath, and, to Snape's confusion, looked like she was trying to suppress a smile. This wasn't the reaction he had expected.

"Then I should go," she said in a tone that was much calmer than it should have been.

Snape was suddenly in need of some support. He stumbled backward to his desk and placed his hand on the wood, shifting his weight there.

"I should go," she repeated. And after a moment of just standing, memorizing the outline of Snape's form, she shook her head. She gathered her book bag in her arms. "I should go."

"You've said that twice already." His voice was a dark silk, and DeAndry suddenly wanted to kiss him again.

"Then, perhaps I should." DeAndry squeezed her bag tightly to her chest. She nodded, ignored her heart and the sudden warmth between her legs, and made her exit hastily.

With the sound of his classroom door shutting, his chest collapsed and he sighed heavily. Rubbing his eyes, he rested against the edge of his desk. "She will be the death of me."