I'm sorry for the slow updates the last couple of chapters. Real life has been spanking my arse, and not in a good way! Your support and encouragement means the world, honestly, especially at a difficult time. Pouf x

Chapter 11

Snape was lying to one side, his eyes closed and still breathing heavily, but quietly. She was facing him, and he'd pushed one sleeve of her thin robe from her shoulder and down her arm, slipping it off her hand and encircling her body with one strong arm, stroking her now-naked back with a firm and possessive caress. He ran his palm from the nape of her neck to the crease of her buttocks, and everywhere in between, as if delighting in the feel of her hot skin under his touch. Hermione writhed slowly under his hand, luxuriating in the sensation of being petted like a pampered cat.

"You are exquisite," he said, softly, pressing his lips to her forehead. "May the gods forgive me for what I am doing to you."

"You are not doing anything that I have not asked for and consented to," Hermione replied, extending a hand and sweeping a lock of black hair from his face, causing him to open his eyes, which looked dark and tired.

"Not a girl, but not yet a woman," he mused, continuing his attentions to her spine, which was keening under his gentle touch.

"I will be nineteen in less than three weeks. That's two years past the official age of wizarding majority, and three years past the legal age of sexual consent under British law."

He chuckled, and exhaled deeply, she hoped in relief.

"I cannot argue with your figures. We both know that this is unequal, due to our relative positions within the school, but yet …"

"Let's just enjoy what time we have, Severus," she interrupted, using the name he had given her permission to use, whilst they had been making love.

"No student in this school would dare to interrupt me, Hermione," he chided, fixing her with a stern look that she suspected he did not truly mean.

"Well then, that must show you think of me as more than a student."

"The fact that I dip my cock inside you has not already proved that?"

There was a glimmer of amusement in his black eyes that she liked very much, and Hermione suspected this was what counted as a joke, in his view. She could not help but lean towards him and kiss his unsmiling mouth, slipping a small hand up to cup his cheek, and he opened his lips with a moan of resignation, but also she heard approval, and sheer want.

There was no more talking for a little while, as the kiss became more heated, and she felt his hand press against the small of her back, pushing her hips forward so that his penis was pressing on the front of her mound. It felt soft, and rather sticky, but Hermione found she didn't care. The feel of his sharp tongue snaking around her own, flickering against the inside of her mouth, and the sounds of pleasure he was making, were all she could concentrate on.

"You must not address me by my given name at any time, around the school, unless we are in a situation like this, when we are alone together. Of course, I shall do likewise, and only refer to you as Miss Granger."

"Did you stop kissing me just to tell me something I already know?"

His lips curled into a lascivious snarl, that was in no way threatening, and rather arousing.

"You bloody cheeky little witch."

She smiled, and drew his face close again, continuing to stroke his jaw as he kissed her, feeling it move with his efforts, before pushing her hand into his long hair and lightly scratching his scalp.

"What am I to do with you?" he sighed, gathering her into his arms and pulling her body to lie on top of his own, sliding off the other sleeve of her floral robe as he did so, and discarding it to the bedchamber floor.

"What do you want to do with me?"

"Anything that you will let me," he answered, seriously, and his eyes blazed with desire.

Hermione gave her hips an experimental wiggle, for her naked pussy was now seated directly on top of his knob, and she could feel it warm and sticky against her, although she suspected the cause of the stickiness was mostly her, since they had not cleaned up after the sex.

"Merlin, Hermione," he groaned, laying back on the pillow and closing his eyes, briefly. "You will need to give a wizard longer than that to recover his composure, especially an old and decrepit one such as myself."

"You are neither old, nor decrepit. You are the same age as Sirius and Remus would have been, making you thirty-eight, or thirty-nine, if you have a particularly early September birthday."

"Nothing much phases you, does it, girl? You are correct, I am thirty-eight, and my birthday is in January, when I shall turn thirty-nine. I shall warn you that birthdays are not a cause for celebration and therefore I shall not be telling you the exact date, for risk you will take it upon yourself to bestow some greetings upon me, or worse, a gift."

"That is not very cheery, Severus."

"I am not a very cheery person, as you know."

"Oh, I don't know. I think there may be some happiness somewhere, lurking beneath the surface."

He scoffed in derision; but seemed to have no further verbal retort to make.

"It's my birthday soon," she added.

"So you keep saying. I hope you are not expecting felicitations from me."

"Of course I am!"

A filthy smirk spread across his face, as she looked at him expectantly.

"Will you settle for my cock?"

"I think that would be acceptable," she replied, smiling, before leaning down to drop a kiss to his lips, and felt the aforementioned cock twitch obligingly beneath her.

"Don't get excited," he warned. "That was entirely involuntary. I have absolutely nothing left in me tonight."

"We should do it like this, though," Hermione suggested. "I have no idea how it works with me on top, but I'm sure we can work it out together."

"I like your suggestion," he agreed, smirking on one side of his mouth. "I am more than open to the potential for experimentation."

He tumbled her backwards onto the mattress; and kissed her firmly on the lips.

"I really should be going. It is not wise to be here too long, plus it is a school night, you have lessons tomorrow and I have to teach."

"Will you stay at the weekend, then?" she asked.

"I would suggest that if we are spending the night together, that we do so in my own chambers, rather than in a student's bedroom."

"I want to," Hermione confirmed, immediately.

"You really do, don't you?"

"Yes."

"How odd. But yet, how pleasant. I am unaccustomed to such feelings."

Snape rolled to the side of the bed and stood up, searching on the floor for his trousers, pulling them on and fastening the belt. Slipping his hand into the pocket, he drew out a small phial, containing a liquid of which she couldn't see the colour, since the room was so dark, and he placed the bottle on Hermione's bedside cabinet.

"Is that the contraceptive potion?"

"It is, indeed. Take it in the morning, then make a note to take your next dose exactly four weeks hence. Allow me to cast a charm to cover us this evening, although the potion will be effective after intercourse it is best to take all possible precautions."

He drew his wand from the back pocket of his trousers, and Hermione felt the warm fizz of the contraceptive charm over her abdomen. He then pulled the bedcovers over her, and she felt rather like a small child being put to bed. That was not a thought she wanted to have, in their current situation.

"Goodnight, Hermione."

She looked up at him; and pulled her arms out of the covers, reaching up to him.

"Please kiss me once more, before you leave?"

"Astonishing," he mumbled, but nonetheless leaned forwards and tenderly kissed her lips, stroking her arm, not leaving her with a cursory peck.

"I had an amazing time," she told him, honestly, as he began to draw back.

"As did I … Hermione," he replied, in a stilted fashion, as if the sound of her name was still somewhat unfamiliar on his tongue.

She laid back, satisfied, and watched her professor as he crossed the room, took up a handful of Floo powder and tossed it into the flames. She watched him as he walked into the fire, now glowing green in the dark room, and didn't look away until the last bit of him had spun through the Floo, and there was nothing more to be seen but the orange and yellow flames of a very normal fireplace.

-xxx-

Breakfast the following morning brought an unwelcome surprise in the shape of a messily-written letter from Ron, delivered by Errol, the Weasleys' old post owl, that Hermione was frankly amazed was still alive, let alone up to delivering letters between Devon and Scotland.

Hermione!

I'm sorry I haven't written before now. George is keeping me really busy in the shop, but I'm enjoying it, especially as it's only young kids in here, since everyone over eleven is at school, with you. They love watching me demonstrate the jokes and tricks, but I don't think they understand most of them.

What's it like being back at school? You must be the oldest person ever to be a student there. Say hi to Neville for me, and that I'll write to him soon. Ask him if he's got a girlfriend yet! (Not you, obviously!)

Don't say hi to Ginny. She took my racing broom to Hogwarts without asking me first and I'm pretty pissed off about that, actually. I doubt I'll see it again until Christmas.

When is your first Hogsmeade weekend? I thought I could come and meet you in the Three Broomsticks? I miss you being around, and, I do love you, Hermione. I can't wait until you're finished with school and we can be together all the time.

Let me know about Hogsmeade, yes?

Love, Ron

Hermione's eyebrows raised the further she read down the letter. It was probably the longest one he'd ever written. Even when they were all in Gryffindor Tower together, Ron's letters to his parents had been notoriously short, always interfering with his lazing-around time.

She had become bored of his letter as soon he'd accused her of being the 'oldest student in Hogwarts.' Ron had not understood her decision to return and take her NEWTs, nor how important it was to her. Clearly, he still didn't understand. She had a good mind to tell him that she was Neville's new girlfriend; but didn't want to affect Neville's fledgling relationship with Hannah.

"Have you got Ron's broomstick, Ginny?" she asked her friend, who was two seats away from her.

"Of course," the youngest Weasley grinned. "I wasn't going to bring my one, that's even more of a heap of shit than Ron's Cleansweep. He's noticed?"

"He has indeed," Hermione confirmed, waving Ron's letter vaguely in the air.

"Oh well, boo hoo," Ginny retorted, tossing her hair in a nonchalant manner, and returning to her breakfast. "There's nothing he can do about it now."

Siblings, honestly. Hermione was rather pleased she was an only child, sometimes.

Ron's Hogsmeade question was another matter. Her initial thought had been, no way, but in truth it made sense. They could meet in the Three Broomsticks, and Hermione could tell him that they were no longer in the relationship that they had never actually confirmed they had started. It would be awkward, Ron would probably be upset, but at least she would have an excuse to get away, back to the castle, putting as much distance between them as possible.

There wasn't time now, as it would shortly be time for her first lesson, but she would write to him later. Her head was filled only with thoughts of her dark Potions professor, there was no space or time for infantile redheads. Hermione felt mean as she thought it, but that didn't make it any less true.

-xxx-

Severus drank his morning coffee and surprised himself by eating a full breakfast, perhaps last night's activities had worked up an appetite. Good. He could do with putting on some more weight, but nutrition hadn't exactly been a priority for the last few years. It would certainly take some time to restore his abused body to full health, not that it ever really had been particularly healthy.

Professor Masters took the seat next to him, ordering tea and a fruit salad.

"I came to see you last night, Severus," she began, without preamble, and he turned slightly towards the new Defence teacher.

"Oh, yes?" he replied, ensuring that he remained non-committal.

"Yes. I knocked for quite a while at the door of your private office."

Severus knew that he had not left for Granger's room until well after curfew, so it must have been rather late that the woman had called upon him.

"I was probably sleeping, Andrea. I retire early on nights when I am teaching the following morning."

"But surely you would hear someone knocking on your door, even if you were in bed."

"Indeed, I would not. I always cast a silencing charm upon retiring, so that I am not disturbed. If the matter is urgent, Minerva would contact me via a Floo call."

The elegant witch seemed rather put out. Perhaps she was used to her demands being met. He wondered if she was married, to a weak little wizard who indulged his wife's every whim. She narrowed her eyes at him.

"Very well. However, I do need to speak with you. I note that neither of us are on night patrol tonight, so are you amenable to meeting in my office at nine o'clock?"

"Can we not converse in the staff room?"

"This will not be a conversation that you would wish to be overhead, Severus."

The skin on the back of his neck prickled. That was a threat, and a thinly-veiled one at that. One did not spend twenty years bearing Voldemort's mark and not recognise the same darkness in another. Had Masters been a Death Eater? He was certain she had not. He did not recognise her name; and had never seen her before the start of term, when she had been introduced alongside the two other new professors.

"I will attend your office at nine. However, be aware, Andrea, that I am unaccustomed to being ordered about the castle by my colleagues."

She pretended not to notice his warning.

"Excellent. I shall see you then, Severus. I'll order tea; and look forward to spending time with you."

Without another word, and with a pleasant smile not befitting the conversation in the slightest, Professor Masters left the table, leaving her tea to go cold, and her fruit untouched.

What the bloody hell had that all been about?

He suddenly had a horrible thought, and hoped to Merlin that it hadn't been her who had been spying upon his antics in the corridor last night. That could be very fucking awkward indeed.

-xxx-

Hermione made her way back to the guest corridor after the final lesson of the day ended, intending to reply to Ron's letter straight away, so that she did not start overthinking what her actions should be. It would be grossly unfair to keep stringing Ron along, allowing him to think that she was his girlfriend, when that was no longer the case, if indeed it ever had been.

Not that she had any intention of making Professor Snape her boyfriend, for that idea was both ludicrous and laughable, but her heart was definitely not with Ronald Weasley. She loved him dearly, of course she did, but in the same way as she loved Harry, as a very dear friend, nothing more. After their kiss on the night of the final battle, she should never have allowed anything to progress further, but in the aftermath of the war, when nobody knew who they were anymore, she and Ron had found comfort in one another. He could excuse her that … couldn't he?

They were both more secure now, Ron in his work and she in her studies, and life was beginning again. It had taken the attentions of a scary Potions professor and ex-Death Eater spy to awaken that life, but when he had, it had taken him mere seconds to achieve what Ron had spent the whole summer attempting. To find her again, to set her heart beating and remind her that she was alive, albeit floating in a sea of grief and loss.

No, there was no way she would play with Ron's feelings. She would be honest, but firm, when she freed him of any obligation to her. Hogsmeade was set for two weekends hence, and she would be ready for him.

Not really looking where she was going, Hermione collided with Susan Bones in the corridor that housed all their rooms, for it seemed that Susan was paying very little attention, too.

"Oh! I'm sorry, Hermione," Susan stuttered, checking the floor, presumably to see if she had dropped anything.

"I'm sorry too, I wasn't looking … oh, Susan, are you alright? Have you been crying?"

Her friend's eyes were red, her face was a little puffy, and her whole demeanour looked sad and defeated, and she continued to look at the floor.

"It's nothing, really. I just had a bit of an argument with Hannah."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Susan shook her head, although she did finally raise her eyes to meet Hermione's.

"I'm sure Hannah will be fine. She's helping our favourite professor with a very special job. Only enough need for one helper, apparently," Susan replied, with a somewhat haughty sniff.

"What do you mean?"

"Briner. He asked Hannah to go and help him after her final lesson today, you know, when he called us back at the end of Transfiguration this morning?"

Hermione nodded, to encourage the girl to continue; but did not say anything.

"He told her to come back this afternoon, and that's where she is now. I offered to help as well, and he looked at me like I was shit on his shoe before telling me he only needed one of us."

"But, why would that upset you, Susan?"

There was a long pause. A very long, awkward silence.

"Because I fancy him, okay? Professor Briner. And Hannah knows that!"

Oh, wow.

"And you wanted to have time alone with him?" Hermione asked, not really sure what to say, her brain whirring frantically to think of some good advice.

Susan nodded, wiping her eyes with the cuff of her jumper.

"Oh, Susan. Even if Professor Briner had chosen you over Hannah, nothing could happen, you know that, don't you? The school code prohibits relationships between teachers and students."

As soon as the words were out of her mouth, Hermione was hit with a tsunami of guilt, and felt as if she were the worst kind of hypocrite, which of course, she was. Somehow, she had managed to convince herself that what she and Snape were doing was somehow outside the rules of the school, that because it wasn't hurting anyone, it must be alright.

"I'm of age, Hermione. As we all are."

"But Briner is still your teacher. That makes things unequal, even though you're of age. Plus, Susan, he's an awful lot older than you."

"He's only just thirty! I'm eighteen, so that isn't a huge age difference."

A lot less than the one I'm currently embroiled in, Hermione thought to herself, and sighed.

"Has Professor Briner given you any indication that he may be interested in you, in … that way?" she asked.

"Well, not exactly," Susan admitted, "but he's always asking Hannah and I to do extra jobs, especially in the classroom, and he talks to us a lot, before the lesson starts."

Yes, Hermione had noticed that, particularly the day that Malfoy had sat next to her and pointed out the sleazy way in which Briner had approached the two girls. He'd also predicted that the professor would go for Hannah Abbott first. Could Draco possibly have been exactly right? He'd certainly seemed very sure of himself, cocky, even.

"I'm sure that Hannah would never do anything to intentionally hurt you, Susan. It's more likely that she's simply doing what she's been asked, by a teacher. I'm presuming she hasn't said that she likes him … you know, in that way too?"

"No, she doesn't at all. In fact, she laughed at me when I admitted it. Hannah really likes Neville, actually."

Hermione smiled.

"That makes me happy to hear, since I know for a fact that Neville fancies Hannah."

"He does?"

"Oh, yes."

Now Susan was smiling too.

"We need to get those two together."

"We certainly do. And Susan, please promise me that you won't go after Professor Briner? Not while you're a student, anyway. Afterwards, well I suppose that's up to you, but I think once you're out of Hogwarts you'll find far more suitable men."

"Admire him from afar, you mean?" Susan asked, rolling her eyes.

"In a manner of speaking."

"You don't see the attraction, do you, Hermione?"

"I'm afraid I certainly do not, but, each to their own. Now, why not go and wash your face, relax in your room for a while, and be ready to make peace with Hannah when she gets back from whatever she's had to do. This isn't her fault."

Susan nodded, and headed along the guest corridor to the chambers that she shared with her friend. Hermione entered her own bedchamber, pushing the door shut behind her and locking it, throwing her bag down on the desk chair.

She had intended to start work on her letter straight away, but instead she flopped onto the bed, neatly made by house-elves, and stared at the scarlet canopy strung across the four bedposts above, feeling more hypocritical than she'd ever done in her life.

They, she and … Severus, were different. Weren't they?

-xxx-

Severus rapped on Professor Masters' door at exactly nine o'clock sharp, not one minute early, nor late. Whatever she wanted from him, he desired to get it over with as soon as possible. He did not socialise with colleagues, other than those occasions where he was obliged to.

He felt the shudder of her security ward falling, and the door swung open. He entered, and she was seated behind her desk. He noted with satisfaction that several of his more gruesome DADA pictures, that he had hung the year that he had been incumbent in this office, were still in-situ. Either she, or more probably, Amycus Carrow, had taken a liking to them.

Seating himself without being invited, he raised an expectant eyebrow in her direction. She really was a very attractive witch. Presuming her to be a similar age to himself, possibly a little older, had he not been engaged in an intense sexual awakening with a student, no doubt he would have wanked himself into a frenzy of frustration over this woman.

"Should we make small talk about our respective classes, or shall I get straight to the point?" she asked, curtly.

"Straight to the point, Madam. I have many demands on my time."

"Is that so?"

He did not answer her. He would not be goaded by a new teacher, however visually appealing she might be. He was her superior in every respect.

"What do you do here, Snape? Locked away all these months, no one even remotely your age in the castle?"

"I have no idea what you are asking. Continue," he replied, with a dismissive wave of his hand.

"Do you perhaps have a little witch tucked away in Hogsmeade? Or possibly there is a discreet brothel there, catering for the poor, lonely teachers?"

"Are you asking whether you can seek sexual services in Hogsmeade, Andrea?"

She laughed, an insincere tinkle that sounded wrong, too girlish, to be coming from her.

"Oh Severus. You really are rather funny. I mean, where do you seek yours?"

What the fuck?

"I fail to see what business my sex life is of yours, Madam."

"Perhaps you prefer your witches a little younger?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"Do you find the older students are enough to keep you satisfied, Severus?"

Fuck. It had been her that had seen him manhandling Miss Granger in the hallway adjacent to the trophy corridor, and now she was toying with him, just waiting to reveal what she knew. He had no idea how to talk his way out of this one.

"That is a disgusting aspersion, Andrea, and I will thank you not to repeat it. Careless talk leads to rumours, which in turn lead to accusation."

She said nothing; but sat back in the large leather desk chair that used to belong to him, strumming her manicured fingernails on the wooden surface of the desk in an infuriatingly casual manner.

"No doubt you have taken to lurking around dark corridors, Professor Masters, poking your nose where it does not belong."

Looking surprised, she sat up straight.

"I most certainly have not, Snape. Of what do you speak?"

He declined to answer her. He might have just hung himself by premature accusation.

"It is of no matter," she continued, seemingly unconcerned. "Fuck every student in this castle, for all I care, although I have a more … socially acceptable solution for you."

"Go on."

"I need your name."

"What?"

What the fuck was she talking about? His name?

"Your name has been exonerated. It gives you protection. I want that same protection."

"Why do you need protection?"

They stared at one another for a long time, and she seemed to be breathing rather heavily. Was she …? No, she couldn't be, could she? He would have recognised her. Nonetheless, he would check. He roughly unfastened the buttons on his left cuff, forcing up the black sleeve of his coat and the white cotton of his shirt to expose what was left of the Dark Mark, still fading at a rapid rate since the demise of Voldemort.

The rule was, if one Death Eater revealed the Dark Mark, then the other must also reveal theirs. If Andrea Masters had been a Death Eater, she would know this.

A slow, rather unpleasant smile spread across her face. She lifted her left arm; and slid her loose robe up to uncover her forearm. Severus held his breath. Was she?

Her skin was smooth, white, and unblemished. She bore no Dark Mark, faded or otherwise.

"I was never marked, Severus," she explained, "but I bear the connection."

The connection?

"Your name is not Andrea Masters."

It was not a question.

"Of course it isn't. My real name is Andrea Rookwood."

"The wife of Augustus?"

"Yes."

Severus remembered Augustus Rookwood only too clearly. A tall, vicious Death Eater, with badly pockmarked skin and black hair streaked with grey. A bloodthirsty, arrogant, although magically-powerful wizard, Rookwood had worked inside the Ministry to bring it under the control of Voldemort at the height of the war; and had been arrested by Aurors after the battle of Hogwarts, and permanently incarcerated in Azkaban.

"I was granted a divorce after Augustus' imprisonment, as were many partners of Death Eaters who will die in on that godforsaken rock in the North Sea. But I am not trusted, I am reviled, and have no hope of a new life now that I am forever tarred as a Death Eater's wife."

"So, you assumed a false name, and hid yourself away in the most remote castle in wizarding Britain?"

"Exactly."

"Do you even have teaching qualifications?"

"I do. I was a home educator for pureblood families."

"You are supremely qualified to teach the Dark Arts, then," he deadpanned.

"Defence Against the Dark Arts. I am passionate about the subject. I have no desire to repeat my former husband's mistakes."

"I hear that you are an effective teacher," he conceded.

"Thank you. I do try my best to engage the children's interest and produce good results."

"And what assistance are you seeking from me? I refer you to your reason for summoning me here."

"I was trying to ascertain whether you have a wife, a lady friend, or alternative … arrangements?"

"Not that it is your business, but no, I do not," he replied, mentally apologising to Hermione for denying her, although it was for her own safety.

"Then I would like to propose marriage."

"I beg your pardon?"

He felt his black eyes burn with cold fury. She dared to propose marriage? To him? What the actual fuck was going through this witch's mind?

"I cannot hide forever. I am never going to see Augustus again, and I am not sure I would wish to. Life the last few years have been incredibly hard."

Her life had been incredibly hard? She should have tried living his.

"Your name has been exonerated. You are respected, and you have your freedom. I need the protection that your name would give me, to be Madam Snape; your wife, a fellow teacher and a free witch, in every sense. I cannot live under the shadow of Augustus Rookwood for the rest of my life. We had no children. I can be a good wife to you, Severus, in return for the respectability that your name gives me."

"Why me?"

"Because no one else can understand a Death Eater's wife like a Death Eater. You know what I have been through."

"And do you, Madam," he asked, coldly, "know what I have been through?"

"Augustus has told me much of your bravery."

Severus scoffed.

"I can be certain that he did not phrase my contribution in those terms. If it were not for me, it is likely he would not be rotting in Azkaban. I believe that you are proposing this union in order to avenge him, that you mean me harm."

"Severus! That is a terrible thing to say! Of course I do not wish you harm."

"Then what would be in this supposed marriage, for me? I can see how you benefit, but I am quite content in my own life."

Masters stood up from her chair, and walked around to his side of the desk, perching on the edge, far too close to him. He tried to push backwards, to create more space between them, before realising just in time that his chair did not have wheels, thankfully avoiding crashing backwards to the floor.

"You have been a brave man, Severus Snape," she purred. "But yet, you do not have a wife, or anyone close to you. Augustus would tell me how you never participated in the Revels, he knew not why, but we presumed … impotence? If you agree to bond with me, I promise that I will devote time and care to curing your little problem. I will even bear you a child, should you so wish. I will be the exact wife that you need, that you deserve."

Severus was so angry at her presumption, at her gall in asking him to engage in such a union, without guilt or shame, that he stood up, pushing the chair away from him.

"I will leave now, Andrea, and we shall both pretend that you never made such an offer to me. We shall never speak of it again."

"Severus! Please, don't go. Can't we discuss it?"

She had leapt from the edge of the desk and was now standing before him, trying to take his hand, but he was re-fastening the cuff of his coat, that he had unbuttoned to reveal his Dark Mark to her.

"There is nothing to discuss. It is a preposterous suggestion."

"I will not be taking no for an answer," she shot back, and her tone had changed dramatically, from pleading, to threatening. "You will not ruin the plans I have set in motion."

He did not answer her, but instead turned towards the office door, having had more than enough of this ridiculous conversation.

"Perhaps I should start lurking in dark corridors, as you suggest," she said, in a cold, measured voice.

"What?"

"If you have a fancy piece around this school, a little girl that you take your pleasure from, I will find her, and I will destroy her, if she stands in the way of my future."

"I am leaving. Let us not speak of this again."

Professor Masters did not try to stop him, this time. Severus yanked open her heavy wooden office door and swept through it, allowing it to bang closed behind him. He stalked through the Defence classroom and out into the hallway, his robe billowing impressively behind him as he headed for his private lab, where a few hours of contemplative brewing would surely quiet his mind.

Andrea Masters had not seen him behaving inappropriately in the corridor with Miss Granger. If she had, she would have named her, certainly, and would not have threatened to 'find and destroy' her.

So, apart from the fact that the new Defence professor was almost certainly now his enemy, an enemy that had just proposed marriage to him, no less, and offered to birth him a child, he still did not know who had seen them in the corridor last night.

There was still someone in this castle that knew what they were doing, and Severus had no idea who it was. Student or staff? He would have to wait for that person to show their hand first; and find out what it would take to buy their silence.