Chapter 9
The little black flower had been the only thing that had seen Hermione through the long day ahead. She'd been bereft, the night before, when Snape had not appeared, much to her own disgust, and had finally accepted he must have had somewhere else he was obliged to be shortly before midnight, and had changed for bed, falling into deep sleep through a combination of annoyance and tiredness.
She'd awoken again in the small hours, disorientated and thirsty, and had seen the bloom on her bedside table when she'd returned to bed from the bathroom, where she'd drawn a glass of water from her tap. Casting a small Lumos, Hermione had delicately picked up the black flower, the colour so unusual, recognising it immediately as one from the vase that had been placed on her desk, all the guest rooms had fresh flowers weekly, apparently.
Had Professor Snape been in here? He must have. Who else would come into her room at night, conjure one of her flowers black and place it next to her bed, for her to find? She found the thought somewhat comforting, although wished that he'd woken her. There would have been enough room here, in her bed, for them both.
He must have become involved in another task, for he was working as a live-in professor, after all. She'd lose count if she tried to number the times that McGonagall had been summoned to Gryffindor Tower in the middle of night for some emergency or another, usually involving Harry. As Head of House for Slytherin, it was highly likely, certain even, that Snape would have the same responsibilities for his own house.
Settling back down to sleep, she pulled the covers up and comforted herself with thoughts of the dark wizard that she was now finding so very interesting and attractive, standing over her bed, watching her slumber. Her dreams took her further into her erotic and creative reverie, if the state of her pyjama shorts were anything to go by, when she awoke the following morning.
The new day, thus far, had been interminable.
Walking into the Great Hall for breakfast to see the subject of her filthy dreams sitting as he always did at the staff table, with a sour look on his face and apparently completely oblivious to her presence, had started things off badly; the school toast had never tasted so much like cardboard as it had that day, for she could barely swallow.
Berating herself for being so pathetic, Hermione had resolved to concentrate fully on her morning lessons, ignoring the double Potions that was shining like a beacon on her timetable for the final class of the day. Then, she had mucked up two translations in Ancient Runes, prompting Professor Babbling to ask her prized student if she needed to visit Madam Pomfrey in the hospital wing, such was the strangeness of such an occurrence.
The Charms lesson had actually been fun, and she'd partnered with Neville for the practical, whose spellwork was so much better than it used to be. His grandmother had bought him a new, cherry wood, wand two years ago, after he'd broken his father's during the battle they'd fought at the Department of Mysteries, and since he was now using a wand that had chosen him, he was much more skilled, and confident in his abilities. Neville was truly blossoming, and told Hermione whilst they were practising, that Professor Sprout had offered him an apprenticeship under her, in Herbology, to run concurrent to his NEWT courses, since he was only taking three. Hermione had been genuinely delighted for him.
Malfoy arrived early at Transfiguration class; and had swept into the seat next to her before she could protest.
"Ginny normally sits there," Hermione objected.
"Looks like Weasley will have to find a new friend, today, Granger. I've got something to show you. Watch him. Watch how he greets the students as they enter, watch his ratty little eyes follow their arses as they sit down," Draco whispered, indicating that Hermione should keep her eye on Professor Briner.
Despite not wanting to collude with Malfoy, she couldn't deny that she was at least horribly intrigued, and together they surreptitiously observed the new professor, Draco keeping up a commentary that was worthy of a spot behind the Quidditch loudspeaker at the next game.
"Not sitting with the Gryffindors, Miss Granger?" Professor Briner had asked her, as he'd spotted Draco talking quietly to her, his blond head leaned in towards hers.
"Not today, Sir. I think it's good to extend one's friendships beyond one's own house," she'd replied, smiling sweetly, prompting a limp simper of agreement from the new teacher, in return.
"Sleazy cunt," Draco had hissed. "That's you off his list, I reckon. He won't chance tussling with a snake. I've just saved your arse, Granger."
"Such confidence, Malfoy."
Briner accosted Ginny Weasley when she entered, making a big issue out of the fact that Hermione and Draco were sitting together, guiding Ginny unnecessarily to an empty seat near the front. The redhead had looked at the professor as if he were a slightly annoying Flobberworm that had stuck itself to her shoe, indicating that she was quite capable of finding her own seat, and wasn't bothered about who she sat next to, taking a chair next to her old boyfriend, Ravenclaw Michael Corner, pointedly.
"He'll stay away from her now, too. Doesn't want one that's too feisty, or one that talks back."
"Are you really that suspicious about him?"
"Definitely. Remember, you're talking to the son of Lucius Malfoy. What my father didn't know about sleaze, isn't worth knowing."
A slightly pained expression passed over his thin face as he tried to pass off his comment as amusing.
"I'm sorry, Draco. Really."
Hermione lightly touched his arm, and gave it a squeeze of support and reassurance, and the small smile he gave her was something approaching gratitude.
"Now, now," chided Professor Briner. "Miss Granger and Mr Malfoy, if you cannot be trusted to sit together without touching, I shall have to separate the pair of you! Relationships are conducted outside of my classroom, please."
Everyone swivelled round to look at them, which had clearly been Briner's intention, to embarrass them.
"Outside the classroom, Sir?" Draco replied, belligerently. "I'll remember that. Granger, keep your hands to yourself, in future."
There were some snorts of laughter, and even though it was quite funny, Hermione still blushed, folding her arms tightly on her side of the desk.
Briner called the class to order, asking Susan Bones and Hannah Abbott to give out the birdcages they were going to be using that lesson, as they continued their work on animal transfigurations, specifically, the bird-conjuring charm. If they were successful, they were going to need the cages.
Draco nudged her as Professor Briner handed the cages to the two girls to distribute, giving overly-effusive thanks and watching them as they turned away from him and moved down the aisles between the desks.
"There you go," Draco murmured, trying not to move his lips. "Hufflepuffs. Soft and amenable, unlikely to answer back, not clever enough to see beyond his favouritism, and likely to be flattered by his attention."
"Don't be disgusting."
"I reckon he'll go for Abbott. She is looking fucking hot as hell, these days."
"You are ridiculous," she shot back, before looking up to see Briner looking angrily in their direction.
"Five points each from Slytherin and Gryffindor. This is your last warning, Malfoy, and Miss Granger. I will have silence in my classroom whilst I am teaching."
Not wanting to lose any more points, Hermione jabbed Draco in the thigh with the sharp point of her quill, and resolutely faced the front for the duration of the lesson, paying so much attention that even she could see how much Briner's gaze fell to Susan and Hannah.
Could Malfoy's unscientific presumptions possibly be right?
-xxx-
"It appears we have a little inter-house romance blossoming, that is rather a surprise."
Severus was only half-listening to the dreary lunchtime babble in the staff room, taking his plate by the window as he always did, a tall mug of hot, black coffee stirring itself as he ate a rather nice thick ham and mustard sandwich.
"Do tell," came the eager voice of Sybill Trelawney. "I wonder if it is a match that I have foretold?"
"This one seems unlikely," teased Richard Briner, "for it is between a Slytherin and a Gryffindor. Did you not tell me that those two houses were the most sworn of enemies?"
"Generally, yes, Richard, but I would wager that things are different between them, after the war," cut in Minerva, taking a snifter of scotch from a tiny flask that she always had secreted beneath her robes. "Do you agree, Severus?"
Don't drag me into this, he thought. Fuck off and leave me to my sandwich.
"I have no opinion, Minerva. We reside in a hothouse of teenage hormones. I doubt it matters to the randy little shits which house colours their partner wears."
"You are so pleasant as always, Severus," the Headmistress grimaced, pursing her lips and shaking her head at him. "So, tell us, Richard, whom should we be looking out for on our night patrols, between the Slytherin dungeons and Gryffindor tower?"
"Well, that is the snag, Minerva, for these two are a lot closer than we would wish; and are resident on the same corridor. Two of the returning eighth-years, Malfoy and Granger."
"Hermione Granger? With a Malfoy? Och, you must be mistaken, Richard. Those two would never be a match. There is too much bad blood between them."
Interest piqued at the mention of his young lover's name, Severus looked up through a curtain of black hair, untrusting eyes fixed on the new professor, who appeared to have commanded the attention of the entire staff room with his pronouncement.
What had Granger been doing to make a teacher suspect that she was having a torrid affair with that little shit, Draco Malfoy, of all people?
Briner smirked, a slow, unpleasant sneer that spread across his face, as though he were a circling cat, about to devour a particularly tasty mouse.
"It didn't seem that way to me, Headmistress. They were given a warning for pawing one another at the start of my Transfiguration lesson, and I was eventually forced to take points when they did not desist."
A few professors exclaimed their surprise; and noted that they had not noticed any such behaviour between Granger and Malfoy in their own classes.
"Miss Granger is generally with Mr Longbottom," Filius Flitwick piped up. "If I were to suspect a relationship, it would be between the two of them, not with Mr Malfoy."
"I agree," added Pomona Sprout. "Neville Longbottom is quite taken with the girl, and who wouldn't be? Highly intelligent, growing into a rather beautiful young woman, and a war hero on top of that."
Severus pulled at his collar, loosening his cravat, which was starting to feel too tight around the irritated scar tissue on his neck. If this wet-behind-the-ears professor kept spouting such utter fucking rubbish, he'd be forced to hex his bollocks off, and Severus suspected that might be frowned upon, in the staff room.
"I suggest," he drawled, and as he rarely spoke, everyone turned to listen to him, "that we stop speculating on the romantic affairs of teenagers. If their relationship presents a problem as regards their accommodation, then that is the responsibility of the staff member on night patrol."
Briner looked as if he was sucking on a particularly bitter piece of lemon, his lips pursed in a formidable impression of Mrs Norris' puckered arsehole.
"Furthermore, let us also remember that the so-called 'eighth-year' students are all at least a year past majority, some nearly two years. They are all adults."
Not waiting for a response, Severus picked up his newspaper and shook it meaningfully, disappearing behind it with his mug of coffee, ignoring the mutters of agreement he had elicited. Let's hope they all remembered his words if he and Granger ever got caught.
-xxx-
Ginny and Hermione walked down to Potions together, for they'd spent the lunch break outside in the fine September sunshine, and Ginny had warned Hermione that she wasn't going to allow Malfoy another chance to pinch the seat next to her. Neville didn't take Potions, much to his relief, for Snape still terrified him, so it was nice to have Ginny to sit with. Hannah and Susan were lovely, but they stayed together as if a sticking charm had been cast between them, and Hermione had no wish to be the third wheel in a friendship. It might have worked for Harry, Ron and herself, but they were … special, she thought, smiling at the thought of her best friends and how much fun they'd had together at school, despite the ever-present danger.
Ernie MacMillan was aligning himself nicely with the returning Ravenclaws, so much so that Hermione suspected that his portentous manner indicated that Ernie fancied that he should have been sorted blue, not yellow.
Ginny was her only real link with the actual seventh-years, apart from Luna, who was not in any of her classes. They entered the dungeon classroom, and Hermione's stomach lurched as she saw Professor Snape at his desk, writing on a parchment and paying no attention to the entering students as they filed in and took their seats.
Choosing a double workbench about half way down the classroom, by the side wall, Ginny pulled Hermione on to the stool next to her.
"Easy, Weasley. She's all yours for this lesson. Relax."
"Oh, do shut up, Malfoy," Ginny retorted.
"I mean it. I still have a hole in my leg from Granger's vicious quill."
"Settle down."
Snape's voice carried across the Potions classroom not with volume, but with impact.
"Find a seat, Mr Malfoy," he ordered, coldly.
Draco did not reply; but slunk across the room and plonked himself down next to Pansy Parkinson, who looked rather more pleased than he did to be sitting together.
"Now then," Snape began, rising from his desk, and as he did so, their eyes met for the first time since she'd left his chambers on Sunday morning.
It was only a split-second, as his piercing black eyes were sweeping the room to ensure he held every student's attention, but it was enough to jolt Hermione awake, and she felt her synapses springing alert and a deliciously cold shiver begin to run down her spine. There was no point in trying to deny her desire for him, not that she was, for her body would likely betray her every time. The challenge now, would be to complete the double Potions lesson without straddling him in his chair. Fuck.
"Since you are now all deemed competent brewers, today we shall be starting the Wiggenweld potion," he advised them, his voice quiet and distinct. "This is an important brew to have in your skill set, since it can cure minor curse damage, and awaken a person from a magically-induced sleep, such as a person under the effects of a Draught of Living Death."
Hermione remembered that one, only too well. The first potion upon which Harry had taken instruction from Snape's schoolboy copy of Advanced Potion Making, and won himself a vial of Felix Felicis, and the undying adoration of Professor Slughorn.
"The brewing instructions," he announced, tapping the board with his wand, "are here. There are a great many ingredients for this particular brew. Do not attempt to take everything from the storeroom at once. Collect a few items, and then return later in your brewing to collect more. I suggest that for this first brew, you work in pairs, so that you may assist one another. Begin."
He returned to his desk with a swirl of black robes, offering no other advice or assistance. Ginny immediately headed to the storeroom, indicating that she would collect the Horklump juice, Flobberworm mucus and Chizpurfle fangs, and that Hermione should set up their cauldron and equipment at their brewing station.
Taking out their glass stirring rods, flatboards and silver knives, Hermione suspected that Professor Snape was looking at her, through his long hair, which was falling forwards from his shoulders. An hour and a half to go. Ninety minutes of being in the same room with him and not being able to touch him, and Merlin, she wanted to, so desperately.
The classroom was noisier than a brewing session usually was, due to the number of students heading back and forth to the storeroom to collect ingredients from the long list. The sound of a loud scuffle breaking out in the store cupboard had Professor Snape stalking there from his desk, and she couldn't resist.
Offering to collect their next ingredients of the honeywater and lionfish spines, Hermione headed for the small room, which was located at the front of the classroom, leaving Ginny stirring their attempts at the Wiggenweld, which was gurgling ominously, but seemed to be behaving itself, thus far.
There was a mess of ingredients on the main bench as she entered the storeroom, and Snape was lecturing two students on the importance of not behaving like dunderheads in a place where volatile ingredients were stored. Hermione squeezed past all three of them; and began to count out ten lionfish spines onto her flatboard, on the back bench.
She heard Snape tell the two seventh-years to get out, and his wand began to swish as he tidied up the mess they had made. As she took her board and passed him, she felt a hand on her arse, clutching one of her bum cheeks with a desperate squeeze. Hermione spun around and faced him, and when she saw the fire in his eyes, that was burning a volcanic black, it made her want to slam the door shut and wrap herself around him, right then and there.
Not trusting herself to say a word, she left the storeroom immediately, only realising when she returned to Ginny, that she'd forgotten the honeywater. Shit. Ginny had rolled her eyes and offered to get it, thankfully. Hermione stirred the potion, trying to control her mad breathing, and quieten the roar of desire that seemed to be blocking her ears to all other sound.
Professor Snape left the store cupboard when Ginny entered it, and returned to his desk, only looking up when summoned by a student with a question, and questions were dealt with in his usual abrupt, obnoxious manner.
When the bell sounded, at the end of what had been the longest, most tense Potions class in history, Snape dismissed the class, ordering them to ensure that they had all their belongings with them, and left their workbenches clean and tidy. Her and Ginny's was immaculate, so Hermione had no reason to linger, but Merlin, she wanted to.
"Miss Granger."
She looked up.
"A word before you leave, please. And bring your notes from this lesson with you."
Hermione dug her Potions notebook from her bookbag and headed towards the front of the classroom, as the others were leaving.
"I'll wait for you outside, Hermione," Ginny said.
"That will not be necessary, Miss Weasley. Please return to your common room. Miss Granger's notes are liable to be the only ones of sufficient quality for my purposes."
Ginny's eyes widened in surprise at Snape's blatant praise of Hermione's work, but opted not to push the matter further, muttering that she would see Hermione at dinner, and Good Luck, under her breath.
They were alone.
Hermione stood next to Professor Snape's desk, her bag on the surface with her notebook on top, open at the page containing today's notes on the Wiggenweld potion. Remaining seated, he took his wand and aimed it at the door, slamming it shut and sending the heavy iron bolt across the wood, to secure it.
"Do you want to see my notes, Sir?"
His eyes met hers, still blazing black, as they'd done in the store cupboard.
"No."
"Is there anything else you wish to see?"
Snape hitched a deep breath, exhaling slowly through his wide nostrils.
"Come here, girl," he instructed, his voice low and quiet.
Hermione walked around to his side of the desk, and gasped as he immediately pulled her into his lap without warning, her legs to one side of his, guiding her head down to his shoulder and closing the gap with his own, seizing her mouth with his lips and beginning a desperate, devastating kiss, as he held her tightly around her back.
She kissed him back just as hard, sliding her arm around his neck to keep him close as he pushed his tongue between her lips, and onwards, deep into her mouth.
"I did not stay away last night of my own volition," he explained, as he took a break from their kiss, stroking the side of her face.
"I hoped not," she answered. "And then I woke up in the night and saw the flower, and I knew that you had been there."
He made a gruff, throaty kind of noise, as if he was embarrassed to have been caught making such a gesture, so she tried to reassure him.
"I really liked it. I've put it back in the vase. It looks rather beautiful among the red ones."
"Oh, Merlin, girl," he breathed, pushing his hand to the back of her head and pulling her in again for more kissing.
Hermione gave herself over to his attentions, for every second without him had been like an hour. She needed his touch, and her soul needed him.
-xxx-
It was a novel experience to have a student on his lap with his tongue down her throat, as he sat in his own chair, behind his own desk in the dungeon classroom where he'd taught for so long. His cock pulsed beneath her with every sweep of his tongue, and Severus slid his hand down the girl's back, across her arse that he'd taken such a tempting handful of, in the store cupboard, down her leg and under her skirt before he could stop himself. Not that he would have.
Severus ran his hand up her thigh, easing her leg from his lap so that he could spread her, and his fingers could reach between her legs, for he was desperate to know if her knickers were damp. His dreams had been filled with thoughts of Hermione Granger's wet cunt, and he needed to touch it, to reassure himself that their encounter had been real.
Stroking one finger down the centre of her knickers, he rubbed against her vaginal opening, feeling the fluid that she was leaking seep through the thin material and dampen his fingertip.
Granger moaned into his mouth; and moved her hips against his touch. He deepened his kiss, swallowing her noises of pleasure and swiping his tongue roughly around her mouth as he burrowed under the seat of her underwear, palm upwards, pushing his finger into her wet hole and sinking it as deep as he could reach.
"Oh!" she exclaimed, as he crooked the tip of his finger inside her, touching her deeply.
"Let me make you come, girl," he begged, sliding his thumb through her folds to seek out her clitoris. "I want you to come, here in my classroom, on my lap."
She jumped as he found her sensitive bud, and Severus rolled her clit around, under his thumb, feeling her open her thighs wider to accommodate him.
"Yesss," she breathed, holding his face and kissing his cheek, trailing her tongue over his late afternoon stubble. "Yes, please."
Finding that they were now impeding his progress, Severus vanished her knickers, and she was bared to the invading touch of his hand. He added a second finger to the first; and felt the tight clamp of her vaginal walls pressing against them. He kept them pressed firmly inside her, flickering his thumb faster upon her clitoris, not allowing the jumpy nub to escape from any of his insistent movements.
Granger was beginning to writhe on his lap, steadying herself with one foot on the floor, so he stopped kissed her, and secured her head on his shoulder, placing his lips next to her ear so that he could goad her with his voice, and push her further.
"Were you thinking of this whilst you sat in my class?" he asked, stroking her clit firmly upwards. "Did you want my hands in your wet cunt, whilst you took instruction from me?"
"Oh fuck, yes … Yes, sir, I did, oh god …"
"I wanted to. I wanted to lay you out on your desk. I would have fucked you in front of everyone, little girl. I wanted everyone to see how much you desire me."
Severus could actually feel her increased arousal at his words. Her little hole was leaking its sweet-smelling, silky fluid and it was dripping down his invading fingers. Her breathing was hard and laboured, as if she kept holding her breath, then letting it go in an urgent pant.
"Every class you have with me, I will feel the same. I will be teaching you Potions, but in my head, I will have my fingers on your hungry little clit, which is trembling under my touch, right now, wanting to shiver to its climax."
"Gods, Sir!"
She arched her hips upwards, her cunt fully open to his hand, and he pulled his fingers out of her and took hold of her clitoris, urgently frigging hard against it, as she finally squeezed out her orgasm, letting out a loud scream of release as her hips thrust through the repeated pulses of her climax. He tickled on top of, and all around her clit with his fingertips as she came down from her peak, occasionally making her gasp if he caught an over-sensitive part.
"Fucking hell, Granger. You come like a damn fucking express train, witch. I hope you're going to let me inside that juicy cunt, now?"
"In the classroom?"
She looked up at him, her eyes questioning and innocent. He fucking loved it.
"Yes. Right here."
He reached out a hand for his wand; and used it to clear his desk. You had to love magic, at a time like this. A second spell cast a contraceptive charm upon her abdomen, for he had not yet given her the potion he'd brewed, and he stood up whilst holding her, lifting her bodily onto the top of his desk. She sat there, and he tasted her lips, pulling her tongue out of her mouth with his gently sucking kiss, whilst opening the front of his trousers and dragging his solid hard erection out and into the palm of his hand, giving it a few preliminary tugs. It did not need any further encouragement.
"Lay down, girl. Let me show you what was on my mind during the lesson, this afternoon. And it certainly was not the fucking Wiggenweld potion."
As Granger lay down, Severus pushed her school skirt up around her thighs, leaving her shoes and socks on, leaving everything on, actually, since he'd vanished her knickers, there was nothing else that urgently needed removal. Fuck knows where they had gone.
Flipping the grey uniform skirt over and tucking it into its own waistband, so that he had a good view of her whole pussy, Severus lifted her legs and opened them wide, holding them on his hips and guiding his aching cock to her wet opening, thinking that he could quite easily spunk at the first touch of her.
Managing to control himself, he pushed his length inside her, his head spinning with her warmth and tightness, yet again. If he'd known how fucking amazing sex with a witch would feel, he doubted he'd have been satisfied with celibacy all these years.
"I've thought about you fucking me since yesterday morning, Sir," she told him, with absolute perfect timing. "I wanted you to do it last night, in my room. I wanted you to take my knickers from me in the storeroom, earlier."
Holy buggering shit.
Severus began to move his hips, hoping to edge slowly in and out of her, but the words that were falling from her mouth and the look on her innocent-but-debauched face were making that an impossibility. He was already pumping into her, wrapping her legs around his waist to draw the girl even closer.
"Believe me, Granger, next time I will," he bit out, holding her arse and thighs, pulling her against him with every thrust. "I'll take every fucking pair you have, so that I know you are always bare-arsed and ready for me whenever I want you."
-xxx-
Hermione's head fell back over the edge of Snape's desk, and she could see the ceiling and back wall of the familiar classroom, where she was now being taken roughly by the one professor she'd always feared. Filth was dripping from his mouth, yet she couldn't get enough of it, needing him to talk more and more, to tell her explicitly what he wanted to do to her. She'd waited all day yesterday and all day today for this, for her heart to beat faster, to feel alive again, in the only way she knew how.
Somehow, in the course of a weekend, this dark wizard had shown his ability to meet her every need. He felt so right, inside her. Still the guilt had not come. Shagging him in his own classroom was an erotic treat, yet Hermione doubted they'd get away with her staying behind after every lesson. So, for now, she would enjoy the moment.
She tightened her legs around his waist, folding her feet around the small of his back, as he fell forwards, slamming his hands down hard onto the surface of the desk and thundering into her, his cock hitting the top of her channel with every thrust, his breaths heavy and gasping, his eyes determined, his jaw clenched.
"Ye Gods, girl!" he shouted, as he gave a final hard thrust, his eyebrows creasing into his forehead as he came inside her, pumping out the aftershocks of his orgasm.
His head dropped forwards, hanging above her, and Hermione brought both her hands up and carded them through his hair, feeling the sweat from his brow and the heat leaving his body through his scalp. She lavished attention on his head and hair, enjoying her professor rolling his shoulders in obvious pleasure as she touched him.
At length he stood up, pulled his dick out of her, and cast cleansing charms upon them both, before offering his hand to help her to her feet.
"Thank you, Sir."
"Thank you, Miss Granger."
The dinner bell sounded.
"I'd better go. I need to drop my bag back to my room, before going to the Great Hall."
"Indeed you must," he agreed, an amused look on his face.
"May I have my knickers, please?"
"I have no idea where I banished them to, I'm afraid."
"Oh. Never mind, I'll grab another pair from my room when I take my bag," she replied, smoothing down her grey skirt and lifting her school bag over her shoulder.
Professor Snape grabbed her arm.
"Don't."
"Don't?"
"Do not grab another pair."
His dark eyes were alight with both sexual desire and playful mischief. It was an incendiary combination.
"You want me to go to dinner with no knickers on?"
"I do. And only I shall know your secret, Miss Granger. And you should know that is all I will think about, throughout the entire course of the meal, your bare cunt, uncovered and swollen from my touch, right there for the taking, under your prim little uniform."
He smirked wickedly at her, kissing her hand, wonderfully formally, as he cast his wand at the classroom door to unlock it.
Kinky bastard.
Merlin, she loved it.