Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all his friends (and enemies) are the brain-child of J.K. Rowling. I'm just borrowing them. Exclusive ownership belongs to JKR, Arthur A. Levine Books and Scholastic Inc. Jane Sinclair and all additional characters belong to me. You belong to yourself.


I ain't gonna take none of your

Putting me down

I put a spell on you

I Put a Spell on You, Creedence Clearwater Revival

Chapter 4 – I Put a Spell on You

where Jane and Severus create sparks, in more than one way...

--- Flashback ---

Ollivander watched the two witches leave his store. He wiped his hand tiredly over his face and walked to the door. His hand shook slightly as he touched the sign hanging in the window so it read Closed.

He turned and let his gaze sweep over his beloved store. He beheld the chaos Miss Sinclair had caused and sighed. A quick flick of his wand restored order.

"It is done," he said to the empty room.

Ollivander waved his wand once more and he and his store dissolved into nothingness.

--- End Flashback ---

"Let's try it again, Miss Sinclair."

Jane sighed and lifted her wand once more. For the past two hours, she'd been casting spell after spell without making much headway. Even more frustrating than her lack of progress, however, was the forbidding demeanor of Severus Snape, who kept watching her every move with unrestrained disdain.

The Order had installed them in the Shrieking Shack, since Snape could not remain at Grimmauld Place. Jane couldn't remember being given a concrete reason. She only recalled it having something to do with the continuing animosity between The-Boy-Who-Lived, Harry Potter, and the former Potions teacher. Of course, Hogwarts was off limits, also. The likelihood of being discovered by students and faculty was high, and the myriad of gossip-loving pictures and portraits would not keep his presence secret for long. The Shrieking Shack had been an acceptable compromise. Besides having a secret passage connect it with the school grounds, its reputation ensured that Snape's discovery would be highly unlikely.

Remus had escorted her this first time, showing her how to inactivate the Whomping Willow. Snape had been living in the Shrieking Shack for some time, Jane realized as she stepped inside. Although far from cozy and welcoming, the shack's interior had a positively lived-in appearance. A couple of shabby overstuffed comfortable armchairs had been placed in front of the fireplace. There was an old leather sofa pushed carelessly into a corner. Someone had bewitched the interior of the house, because none of the moans or swaying motions were noticeable indoors. Snape had also set up a make-shift potions workshop, which was a pitiful substitute for his first-rate laboratory at Hogwarts. He had greeted them dourly and dismissed Remus almost immediately.

Jane had noticed the expression of worry and regret on Lupin's face before he left and chanced a desolate glance towards Snape. He'd always been a forbidding teacher, but now, the prospect of being alone with him was absolutely frightening. She didn't exactly know why, though. It wasn't that she feared for her life. He had nothing to gain from killing her. And, yet, his presence disturbed her. Especially now, with his austere form hovering by her side, she found it rather difficult to concentrate.

With a sigh, she focused once more on the plate before her and spoke, enunciating clearly. "Vera verto!"

The plate began to spin slowly and Jane involuntarily moved backwards. To her great surprise, however, the plate began to pick up speed while simultaneously shifting its shape. This was new, she thought. It quickly turned into a rapidly spinning blur before her eyes. She took another step back. Suddenly, there was a small pop and the plate had turned into a silver serving tray. Jane quickly glanced at Snape for approval.

"Well," he finally said. "This could be considered an improvement over your last attempt, Miss Sinclair…" His slow drawl turned viciously sarcastic. "…had you not been charged with transfiguring the plate into a vase."

"But at least it changed form this time," Jane spoke up, inexplicably hurt by his disapproval.

"Yes," he countered callously, "and the Dark Lord's minions will be duly impressed when you'll be able to throw an entire tea service at them."

"And a vase is going to scare them more?" If there was one thing that Jane had learned in her thirteen years among Muggles, it was never to show weakness.

Severus clenched his teeth and a muscle in his jaw twitched violently. His eyes narrowed slightly. "Let's get one thing straight, Miss Sinclair," he informed her succinctly "I'm not here for my own amusement. I'm here because the Order wishes me to. I have been asked to teach you to the best of my abilities, and I shall do so. However, I cannot do the work for you."

"Don't you think I know that, Professor?" Jane retaliated. "Since my return, I have spent every free minute studying. Don't you think it frustrates me that I have to relearn subjects and spells I once excelled in? You may not be impressed by this…" Jane pointed at the tray lying innocently on the table in front of her, "but I am proud of it. I haven't done magic in thirteen years. This gives me hope that I haven't lost my abilities. Can't you understand that?"

Snape looked at her with his usual inscrutable expression. His dark eyes bored into hers, but she refused to back down. In the end, it was he who looked away.

"I do not coddle my students, Miss Sinclair," he finally said.

"And I don't want to be coddled, Professor. Nor do I expect leniency. All I want is for you to be patient with me, at least for the next few sessions. Pushing me won't make me learn any faster."

Severus drew himself upright. "Very well, Miss Sinclair. I will give you one week to master the spells we have practiced today. If, by then, you are unable to perform even one of them to my satisfaction, you will do as I say without questioning me or my teaching methods ever again. Do I make myself clear?"

Jane nodded. "Perfectly. Shall we shake on it?"

Snape looked at her outstretched hand with a mixture of horror and disgust. "That," he said with forced composure, "is not necessary."

She pulled back her proffered hand, a faint blush coloring her cheeks. Whatever had possessed her to do it? "I'm sorry," she mumbled.

"No matter." Snape lifted his wand and turned the tray back into a plate. "Now," he said, clearly enjoying her discomfort, "try again, Miss Sinclair."

--- Interlude ---

Severus Snape was the most insufferable man she'd ever met in her life, Jane fumed after returning from her third lesson with him. It was close to midnight when she stormed into her quarters muttering oath after oath. The man was a sadist who took perverse pleasure in making her suffer. For four hours he had mercilessly lectured her on how to differentiate between English and Scottish deadly nightshade. Four hours, she harrumphed, tearing off her clothes and grabbing her terrycloth bathrobe. Four hours to point out five – five! – subtle differences that merely affected the taste of the potion deadly nightshade was used in, nothing more.

Jane stomped into the adjoining bath chamber to draw a bath. She sat on the rim of the large marble tub and watched the water pool slowly at the bottom. She added some of the magic bath salts Tonks had urged her to buy during their shopping escapade in Diagon Alley. Purple foam began to bubble. Soon the soothing scent of lavender and rosemary filled her nose, driving all unpleasant thoughts from her mind. She slipped out of her robe and into the welcoming warm water with a happy sigh. Almost instantaneously she relaxed, and all thoughts of Severus Snape dissolved into a hazy fog of forgetfulness.

---

Jane Sinclair was the most insufferable woman he'd ever met in his life, Severus fumed after she left. He had taught some annoying students in his time, the most recent having been a certain Hermione Granger, but this one was definitely in a league of her own. She had dared to contradict him more than once tonight, especially after he had taken great pains in pointing out the importance of choosing the proper potion ingredients. The origin of each ingredient was just as important as the amount or the way it was prepared. He still couldn't believe that she questioned him.

True, she had prepared the potions he'd assigned her with extraordinary skill and to perfection. She had always been an excellent student in potions, he grudgingly admitted. But she had contradicted him! After he had explicitly told her that he would not tolerate any backtalk. Severus paced in front of the fireplace, heedless of how close his billowing robes came to the flames. The woman was infuriating, he grumbled. Absolutely infuriating. He looked wildly about the room, in desperate need of something to smash. His gaze fell upon the bottle of Ogden's finest sitting innocently nearby. He moved swiftly over to the end table and stared long and hard at the bottle. He longed to smash it into a million pieces, but the waste of such fine firewhiskey was almost unconscionable. In the end, he decided in favor of the firewhiskey and filled a large glass almost to the rim. Severus collapsed into one of the armchairs and raised the glass to his lips. He drank a large mouthful, and swished the velvety amber liquid twice around the mouth before swallowing it. He welcomed the trail of heat it burned down his throat and into his stomach. He closed his eyes when he felt the warmth spread into his veins and slowly suffuse his body. A delicious numbness crept into his limbs.

By the time he emptied the glass, the annoying Miss Sinclair was nothing but a distant memory.

--- End Interlude ---

"So, how are your lessons proceeding, Jane?" Remus asked her casually during breakfast one Saturday morning.

"Which ones?" she retorted.

"Your training with Severus. Are you… is he treating you alright?"

Jane wrinkled her nose in disgust. "He's as unpleasant and insulting as he's always been."

"I see he hasn't lost his touch."

Jane gave an unladylike snort. That was an understatement. "He's a slave driver," she informed him.

"But you are learning?" Remus prodded gently.

Jane shrugged. "As well as can be expected, I guess. I just don't know whether it is because of him or because I study a lot. It's been a month now, but for every new fact I learn, I seem to remember several I've forgotten."

"It sounds like you're making progress," Remus encouraged her.

"Well, I like to think so…" Jane pouted. "…but that odious man doesn't think I'm learning fast enough."

"Don't tell me you're letting him bully you around?"

Remus' mock indignation brought a grin to her face. "Don't worry," Jane assured him. "I can handle Professor Snape. If you want to worry about someone, worry about him, not me."

"Hm…" Remus rubbed his chin. "I believe you."

Jane checked her watch and jumped. "Oh no," she cried in alarm. "I'm late."

She stuffed the last piece of toast into her mouth, mumbled a quick to good-by to Lupin and rushed unceremoniously out of the Great Hall. She hurried to her chambers and threw open the trunk sitting at the end of her bed. Grabbing the Invisibility cloak Tonks had given her, she quickly flung it over her head and left.

"You are late," Snape greeted her disagreeably from behind his desk, when she arrived at the Shrieking Shack twenty minutes later.

"That couldn't be helped." Jane shrugged noncommittally. She didn't owe him an explanation, and she'd only waste more time explaining how she'd had to avoid a handful of particularly adventurous students trying to conquer the Whomping Willow. Fortunately for her, soon one of them got slapped hard enough by a wayward branch to warrant a trip to the infirmary.

"Miss Sinclair…" Snape fixed her with his piercing gaze as he rose to his feet. "When I agreed to teach you, I informed you of a few rules that I expect to be obeyed at all times."

He stretched out his arms in a jerky motion that straightened his sleeves, before grasping the front parts of his billowing robe and wrapping them about him.

"The rules were simple enough – or so I thought. Apparently, I have to refresh your memory."

Snape moved quickly to stand in front of her. Jane's head jerked up to meet his stare.

"I assure you that won't be necessary," she told him quietly.

His upper lip curled into a cruel sneer. "I had three rules, Miss Sinclair…" He ignored her feeble protest. "Just three. Let me remind you. One..." He began counting off on his long fingers. "I will not tolerate asinine questions, snide backtalk or childish reminiscing about the past. Two…" A second finger came up. "I expect absolute obedience without second-guessing my methods of instruction. Three…" He thrust a third finger in her face. "I demand punctuality. My time is precious and I am loath to waste it. Is that understood?"

Jane stared at him mutinously. She had the perfect snappy answer ready for him, but he was in a particularly nasty temper today and edging him on would make things highly unpleasant for her. So, she simply nodded her head and clamped her mouth shut.

Severus looked down at the woman in front of him. Her meek demeanor didn't fool him one bit. Even now, after his cold dress-down, she continued to hold his gaze, refusing to back down. He'd seen the mutinous spark in her eyes, noticed how much she struggled to hold her tongue. He had to admit, though, that she was more composed than most witches he'd had the misfortune of teaching over the years. Jane Sinclair knew how to keep her emotions under control – well, most of the time, at least. But she had a determination in her that bordered on tenacity. He had to admire that. Her progress had been more than satisfactory so far, but he wasn't going to tell her that, of course. He didn't want her to slack off. She still had much to learn.

In the end, it was the untouchable Severus Snape who looked away.

"Very well," he said, slightly disconcerted. "Let's hope that you won't forget this time."

---

"Miss Sinclair, does anything above your neck work?" Snape spat viciously, after her Disillusionment Charm went wrong – again. With an angry flick of his wand he restored her back to normal.

Jane stared at him in disbelief, her eyes quickly filling with tears. The man was a monster! She may not have disillusioned herself successfully this last time, but at least she'd managed to turn her head and half of her body invisible. They'd been practicing this particularly difficult spell for several hours now and she was drained, both physically and mentally. Snape, on the other hand, looked as immaculate and unperturbed as ever. He simply stood, looking at her without pity, without emotion, and it drove her over the edge.

"Professor, you are an impossible man to please," Jane exploded. "I am well aware that I will never be able to live up to your standards, but I believe that I would disappoint you less if you stopped testing me on things we haven't covered, yet. I need some structure, and I must master one thing before going on to the next. Surely, you can appreciate that?"

She looked at him for a reaction, but he just kept watching her. "You may have noticed," she continued, having come too far to stop now, "that all those surprises you've been springing on me recently haven't been very conducive to my learning. And it's not because I don't study or practice enough. I can't just prepare for any eventuality. It's no wonder I've been failing half the tests you've subjected me to so far. You're setting me up to fail."

Snape looked at her for a disconcertingly long time. "Are you done?" he finally asked her coldly.

"Yes, I believe I am." Jane stood and collected her things.

"What are you doing?" Was it her imagination or had there been a small catch in his voice?

"What does it look like I'm doing? I'm leaving."

Jane moved around him and headed for the door, but Snape, quick as lightning, grabbed hold of her hand and held her back. "We aren't done, yet," he informed her sharply.

Surprised at his agility, she looked first at his hand holding hers, then at him. There was a dangerous glint in his dark eyes, warning her to tread carefully. She didn't care.

"Oh, we're done, all right. I'm exhausted and my head hurts. I'm going home."

Jane tried to pull away, but he kept his iron grip on her.

"Let me go," she insisted, trying to shake him off. "You should be happy. I'm ridding you of my loathsome company early."

"Don't be ridiculous," he said and led her to his work table. He pushed her unceremoniously onto a stool. "Sit!"

Snape turned to one of the shelves holding various colored bottles and glass jars.

"But I…" Jane tried to protest.

"Oh, do be quiet, Miss Sinclair," he drawled as he surveyed his stock. He let his hand glide along the shelf, his long fingers gently touching the various containers along the way. The gesture was almost loving, Jane reflected with a start. No, she shook her head. Where had that come from? Clearly, Severus Snape was incapable of love or compassion.

He finally found what he was looking for and returned with a small jar. He unscrewed the top and dipped one long finger into it. He retrieved a small dab of salve and transferred some of it to the fingertips of his other hand. Jane made a feeble attempt to get up when he suddenly moved to stand behind her, but his physical presence held her in place.

"Sit down, Miss Sinclair," he instructed her.

Without warning, he touched his fingers to her temples and began to massage the salve into her skin. She felt almost immediate relief, the sharp stabbing pain of her migraine quickly receding to a dull throbbing sensation.

"This feels good," she told him as her eyes fluttered shut.

"Be quiet, Miss Sinclair," Snape chided her softly. Strangely enough, his voice was devoid any sarcasm or cold disdain. He sounded almost – tender.

She felt her entire body relax and leaned backwards for support. His body was solid, but his touch was gentle. She sighed contently. His fingers moved in small circles, massaging away the tension, driving away the pain. Jane had always liked Snape's hands with their long and graceful, yet strong and manly fingers – they were the hands of an artist. The very first Potions lesson she ever had, he had told her and her classmates that Potions was a subtle science and exact art. And Snape truly was a master of Potions, an artist in his own way. I can teach you how to bewitch the mind and ensnare the senses, he had told them so many years ago. And he was certainly doing it now. His fingers were working their magic, putting a spell on her. Her headache was quickly becoming a thing of the past. She surrendered to his touch, leaning fully against him now. A moan of pleasure escaped her lips.

Snape stiffened and pulled away.

"Please don't stop," Jane pleaded. To her disappointment, however, he swiftly moved out of reach.

"I trust your head feels better now?" he asked her quietly.

Jane quickly recovered. What had come over her? This was Severus Snape – always disdainful, always criticizing. And she had practically begged him to keep his hands on her. The blood rushed to her face when she recalled how, only moments ago, she had shamelessly pressed herself against him. Surely, she had shocked him. Merlin's beard! She'd shocked herself. Thoroughly embarrassed, she grabbed her things and jumped to her feet.

"Yes, Professor," she said meekly, unable to look at him. "Thank you."

"Please practice the spell until our next meeting, Miss Sinclair," Snape told her dispassionately. "And finish reading the chapters on reflecting hexes and jinxes. We'll be practicing those next time. Meanwhile, I shall… revise… your study schedule."

Jane didn't believe her ears. Something had happened in the last ten minutes and she wasn't sure what it was. She looked at him for an answer, but he did not meet her gaze. He didn't even look directly at her. His eyes were fixed on something behind her, just over her left shoulder. It was, Jane thought, as though he was afraid to look at her. She must have really shocked him. He probably thought that she was no better than a hormone-driven teenager. She figured she better leave before she embarrassed herself even further.

"I would really appreciate that," she finally said when he remained silent and moved to leave. "Good night, Professor."

"Call me Severus," he suddenly offered.

Jane stopped mid-step and turned around. "Excuse me?"

"My colleagues and the members of the Order call me Severus." He paused awkwardly. "You might as well do so also."

There was something endearing about the way he looked – almost pleading, yet struggling to appear indifferent – waiting for her response. She wondered how much it had cost him to say it, and she didn't even want to think about his motivation.

Jane gave a slight nod. "Alright. Good night… Severus."

---

He was watching her from across the room. Jane could feel his brooding stare, even before she saw him. It caused the fine hairs on the back of her neck stand up on end and made her skin tingle. Donning an inviting smile, she turned to face him, but what she saw caught her by surprise. Gone was the aloof and untouchable Severus Snape. In his stead was a passionate man whose dark eyes burned into hers with such desire that it sent jolts of icy heat through her body. His eyes raked over her with unconcealed hunger. He extended his hand to her in silent invitation and she came to him.

He brought a long finger to her cheek, tracing her delicate features, the curve of her jaw. With one step, she closed the distance left between them. Severus gently cupped her face and she leaned into his touch. Still he made no move to kiss her. He let his hand trail down to her throat with tantalizing slowness. His hand moved over the soft skin of her throat to her shoulder as he stepped behind her. His other hand slowly slid around her waist and settled over the gentle curve of her abdomen. Jane's head fell backwards against his shoulder as she surrendered to his touch. Her breath caught in her throat, when he suddenly pulled her tightly against him and buried his face against her neck.

Jane's heart began to race as he kissed the sensitive skin over her jugular. She could feel his hot breath against her neck and the gentle rasp of his tongue as he licked the spot he'd just kissed. Severus nipped gently at first, before fastening his mouth more determinedly. He alternated the pressure with which he sucked and nipped at her skin, sending jolt after jolt to the very core of her being. With a guttural moan, Jane melted into his embrace as he marked her, claiming her as his.

Slowly, he turned her in his arms until she faced him. He finally lowered his head but still did not kiss her. Instead, he hovered over her, his lips only a fraction of an inch from hers. Jane could feel his hot breath against the sensitive skin of her partially opened lip. A welcome wetness spread between her legs. They stood like this for what seemed an eternity, face to face, chest to chest, their breaths mingling. Her mouth went dry with desire and she flicked her tongue to moisten her lips. As though he'd been waiting for this, Severus finally claimed her mouth in a passionate kiss.

Jane couldn't remember how they got to the bed or out of their clothes. All she knew was that she was finding the most exquisite pleasure in the arms of Severus Snape. She loved his hands, always had. And now they were on her body, masterfully weaving a spell of desire and lust over her. Soon his lips followed his hands. He nipped at her. He licked her. He blew on the moist patches his kisses left, sending shivers of anticipation down her spine. Jane raked her nails over his back as she pulled him closer. She yearned to feel him inside her. He had lit a roaring fire within her and she ached for him to quench it. He kept roaming his hands over her body, searing every inch of her skin with his touch, driving her wild.

She wanted him. She needed him. Now. Jane bucked beneath him, thrusting her hips demandingly against his. In answer, Severus pushed her thighs apart with one knee and settled himself between her legs. Jane moaned with pleasure. She wanted to feel him fill and stretch her, to touch the very core of her. Again, she bucked urgently against him, but he made no move to claim her. She could already feel the sweet pain build up within her and she moaned again. Severus moved over her, leaning in to kiss her. She tightened her arms around him to pull him closer…

…only to find them empty. Severus was gone. Panting, Jane jolted upright, staring unseeingly into the darkness. She blinked in confusion until her vision cleared. She was alone, surrounded by cold, uncomforting darkness. Reality hit her without mercy. He'd never made love to her. He'd never even been here. She struggled to bring her breathing under control. Jane placed one hand over her pounding heart, only to realize that she was naked and her glistening body helplessly entangled in the sheets. Her hair was plastered against her head and her sex was throbbing painfully with unfulfilled desire. A frustrated sob escaped her lips and she buried her face in her hands. The dream had felt so real. Never in her twenty-nine years had she experienced anything remotely like it.

Merlin's beard! Her head jerked up. Jane sucked in a sharp breath and her heart began to pound again. She'd just had the most fantastic sensual dream of her life and it had been about Severus Snape! Mortification swept over her. She frantically clutched the sheet to her chest. She couldn't believe it. She'd fantasized about Severus Snape! Intimidating, untouchable, cold, dispassionate, disdainful, disapproving, insufferable Snape! Jane groaned. How could this have happened? Not bothering with light, she hopped out of bed and went in search of her nightgown. Her arousal was withering rapidly, being driven away by her growing embarrassment. Snape! She groaned again. Snape! Of all people! She couldn't find her nightgown and almost cried in frustration. She needed something, anything, to cover herself. She hurried towards her dresser and stubbed her toe on the trunk by the end of her bed. She suppressed an oath and one of the portraits on the wall sniggered maliciously. Jane froze. They couldn't have seen anything, she thought frantically. But what if they had heard something? She felt her way back to the bed and collapsed onto it, drained.

She lay awake for a long time, calling herself every kind of fool. Her last thought before she finally drifted back to sleep was whether pictures could be bribed.


Lost and Found © 2005-2006 by MMHG