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Chapter 12

It took a good few hours working on the Forgetfulness potion for Severus to shake off the anger that his conversation with Andrea Masters had provoked. Not wanting to cause any devastation in his precious laboratory, he had been forced to calm down, having stalked here through the corridors at a brutal pace, breathing hard, both angry and offended.

In the space of a few minutes, Masters had accused him of both impotency and fucking the students, and Severus doubted if the bloody woman even realised that she'd contradicted herself. Perhaps she didn't even care, so keen was she for him to accept her offer.

She was a very attractive witch, that was not in doubt, and had obviously presumed that Severus would be snapping at her heels like an eager dog, to accept her. His refusal must have taken her by surprise, and offended her, for it seemed she was not a witch who was used to being declined or disappointed. For a Death Eater's wife, this was wholly unsurprising.

Severus was under no illusion that Andrea Rookwood, for that was who she truly was, had any feeling or particular fancy for him. Her husband, whom she was now divorced from, was currently rotting away in a lifetime cell within the walls of Azkaban prison. Andrea had proposed a marriage of convenience that could lift her from the low social status that she now found herself in, as the wife of a proven Death Eater. There was a tinge of desperation in her scrabble to restore herself to a better position.

Severus exhaled hard, frustrated and cross at being considered such an easy target. It was almost offensive.

His first, and most succinct thought, was that Andrea resented the fact that he'd walked free, despite being branded with the Dark Mark, whilst her Augustus had been imprisoned for daring to walk with Voldemort.

Even if Severus took leave of his senses and accepted her offer of marriage, he'd have to sleep with one eye open, for he wouldn't trust the witch not to suffocate him during the night, in a callous attempt to avenge her former husband. Andrea Rookwood had no feeling for him, no fancy or desire, her only thoughts were for herself and her future life, which he supposed was understandable, but there was no way she would be involving him in her grand plan for self-reinvention.

Besides all of that, the only witch on his mind that he desired was the tempting and oh-so-forbidden Miss Granger, who fulfilled every sexual need he could possibly have imagined, and some more that he hadn't. The girl was a revelation, in every sense of the word. He considered any moment not spent with her, well, apart from when he was teaching, to be a moment wasted. How quickly she had insinuated herself under his skin, tormenting his every synapse in the most delicious and pleasant of ways.

Thoughts of his undeserved luck and sheer good fortune brought the tiniest upturn of his lips as he briskly collected together his brewing ingredients, the conversation with his colleague quickly falling to the back of his mind as he mentally calculated when he could next see the girl, when he could next be alone with her.

-xxx-

The week seemed to be moving in slow-motion, Hermione felt, as she left the Potions classroom for the third and last time that week. She had not spoken to Professor Snape on her own since he'd left her bedchamber, he'd made no move to contact her, and she had not questioned it. Perhaps she should.

The inequality in their respective positions meant that any contact was arranged by him, but why did it have to be so? Had she not approached him by knocking on the door of his private laboratory the night they'd first kissed?

She'd had two Potions lessons this week, before today, and had not hung back after either of them. It would look rather suspicious, not to mention highly unusual, if she were seen to be doing that on a regular basis. Once the bell had rung at the end of this lesson, she had started to pack her bag slowly, and when glancing up had met Snape's eye,but he'd given a barely perceptible shake of his head, warning her away. It was the tiniest movement, but she knew what it meant. Go. Don't stay.

It was hard not to see it as rejection, and she had to force the logical part of her mind to the fore, so as not to feel mightily pissed off.

Hermione meandered down the corridors towards the Ancient Runes classroom on the other side of the castle, with four flights of stairs above, and at least nine corridors to traverse the journey gave her plenty of thinking time.

She had owled her reply to Ron's letter straight away, as once the idea was in her head of telling him she wanted to end their relationship, not that it officially had ever been one, Hermione knew she had to do it as soon as possible. Whether or not they had declared themselves as a fully-fledged courting couple, Ron thought they were, and therefore she was technically cheating on him, which did not make her feel particularly good about herself. She had no wish to hurt her friend.

Telling him that the Hogsmeade exeat was the weekend after next; and suggesting that he meet her in the Three Broomsticks just after lunch, Hermione had then given him a few banal details about school, and asked some polite questions after his health, family and work. Ronald wouldn't read it anyway, once he had the details of the meeting, he was never a great correspondent at the best of times.

Passing the entrance to Gryffindor Tower on the way to Ancient Runes, she couldn't resist nipping inside to have a look around, to have a nose at the noticeboard and just breathe in the sheer familiarity of the comfortable scarlet common room. The Fat Lady admitted her with a wink, giving her ten minutes to be in and out, for though she was still a Gryffindor, Hermione and the other returning students were not officially resident in their House accommodations anymore. Even the Fat Lady admitted she wasn't quite sure of the rules.

As she perused the notices, smiling at sign-up sheets for Wizard Chess Club, a poster imploring for the return of a lost cat, and a battered list of house rules, there was a small sheet of parchment giving some rather important details indeed. Noting down the specific dates in a notebook that she kept in her bookbag, Hermione felt the excitement of a plan forming; the thrill of the forbidden and her new interest in pulse-raising activities piquing her interest and pushing her forwards, yet again.

-xxx-

Severus was seated moodily in the staff room, sitting in his usual armchair with a strong coffee on the small table next to him. Dinner was long since passed, and the night had drawn in, signalling that the students' evening activities would soon come to an end.

He had sighed as Granger left his classroom earlier, after her Potions lesson, for the girl had clearly been lingering behind, perhaps hoping to spend some time with him? He'd hoped so, but the very idea had still seemed so preposterous. It wouldn't do, however, for her to stay back again, once the class had finished, particularly as the last time she had done so, he'd ended up fucking her as she lay on his desk. His cock had given a small pulse at the rather erotic memory, and he'd thanked Merlin that he was securely seated behind his desk as the final students left the room.

Severus had shaken his head at her, hopefully unnoticed, to indicate that she should leave, and that now was not the time. It hadn't been what he wanted to do at all. Severus would have been more than happy to bolt the door of the dungeon classroom and effect a repeat performance across his desk, however, the fourth year Ravenclaw Hufflepuff class were arriving in ten minutes, and Severus wasn't sure even he, with all his newly-discovered enthusiasm for sexual intercourse, could go from start to finish in that small window of opportunity, and he'd therefore dissuaded her.

As the yellow and blue-tipped student robes of the two houses begun to troop into the room, the thought of the evening that yawned ahead of him suddenly seemed like a gaping chasm, for he was on night patrol, meaning that Severus could not just disappear to his quarters after supper, he would be forced to endure the staff room until half-an-hour before curfew, when he could start treading the stone floors of the corridors, taking housepoints from any coloured tie he could. Even the Slytherins had learned very quickly not to take the piss when Professor Snape was on night patrol.

He was jolted from his silent misery by Andrea Masters pulling up a chair next to him, using her wand to do so, for the staff room armchairs were heavy and cumbersome, and putting her own coffee cup alongside his on the table, as if she had been invited.

"Good evening, Severus," she began, smiling. "Have you had a pleasant day?"

Not even bothering to think of a withering retort, Severus simply shot her his best death stare, the one he usually reserved for Minerva or the inane Sybill Trelawney.

"Now, now, Severus!"

That was the voice of the Scottish harridan herself, ringing across the staff room and approaching at a rate that he was unprepared for.

"There is no need for that scowl on your face, Severus," chided Minerva, as she reached where the two of them were sitting. "Andrea was simply being pleasant. Perhaps word has not yet reached her ear that attempting to form a friendship with you is like trying to cuddle a hedgehog."

She wants a lot more than friendship, he thought, the stinging retort on the tip of his tongue.

"It's fine, Minerva," simpered Andrea. "Teaching is a stressful job at the best of times. It's fine if Severus does not feel like conversing. I shall leave him be."

She made to get up from her chair but was stopped by the interfering Headmistress.

"Nonetheless, Andrea, you have made an offer of friendship that Severus has rudely rejected. Times have moved on, Severus, there is no need for this silent treatment any longer. You have your life and your freedom, and you should enjoy it, my boy!"

"And how do you suggest I do that, Minerva?" he asked, regretting his words as soon as he closed his mouth, for her gimlet eyes sparked with what must be an insanely bad idea.

"Hogsmeade duty, next weekend, Severus! Yourself and Andrea. A few hours shopping, a long lunch in the Three Broomsticks, with some cursory supervision of the students, should see you both very well."

"I do not do Hogsmeade duty, as you very know, Minerva."

"You did not do Hogsmeade duty, past tense. Albus banned you from it since you were so vile to the students and quite ruined their day. I think its high time for another go. Next Saturday, both of you, no arguments."

And with that, she nodded firmly, and left him alone with the dreaded wife-of-Rookwood.

"I'm sorry, Severus," Andrea whispered, taking hold of his hand in what she must have hoped was a conciliatory gesture, but he snatched it away as if she'd hexed him.

"For what, exactly?" he hissed, quietly, a sneer creeping to his lips. "Sorry for landing me with my first Hogsmeade duty for fifteen years? Or perhaps you are apologetic for having the audacity to propose marriage to a man you know nothing about?"

"It makes sense," she replied, curtly, not at all abashed by his attitude. "We can discuss it properly, and more civilly, over lunch next weekend."

He stood, leaving his coffee undrunk, but needing to leave her company, immediately, lest he pour it over her head.

"Madam, we shall be discussing nothing other than the whereabouts of the students that we will be supervising, and if you are very lucky, the weather."

She smiled, beatifically. Andrea Masters actually had the fucking gall to smile at him.

He stalked across the room, throwing open the immense, heavy door and setting off down the corridor at a great pace, lest he find himself sacked for hexing a colleague. It was enough that he was fucking a student, without adding assault on a staff member to his litany of misdeeds.

Severus Snape, a shining example of an educator, he thought, grimly, as he started his night patrol early.

-xxx-

Hermione left the library late, well after curfew. Madam Pince had left her in there, reading a wizarding novel purely for her own enjoyment, not schoolwork. Hermione carefully closed the door behind her, securing the room, as Pince would not have allowed any other student to remain in her precious library after she'd left for the day. She trusted Hermione implicitly.

She began to wander the dark, echoing corridors, knowing exactly what, or rather, whom, she was seeking. Her heart began to pump loudly in the cold silence, and Hermione could feel her blood pushing faster through her veins as she enjoyed the thrill of being out after curfew.

It was ridiculous, really. She was going to turn nineteen next week; and was still finding it funny to defy the teaching staff and run around the school after hours.

But.

Firstly, she wasn't running. And secondly, she had every intention of getting caught.

"Miss Granger."

The low, familiar drawl from behind her made Hermione smile in relief, and caused a lurch of excitement to tug at the very pit of her gut. She turned around, unsmiling.

"Yes, Sir?"

He walked towards her, his face expressionless, although as he reached her, Hermione could see that his eyes were alight, interested, and trained fully on her own.

"I am unsure, Miss Granger, whether you complied with my instruction of familiarising yourself with the school rules. Particularly those pertaining to curfew and its requirements thereof."

"I did not, Sir."

He arched one elegant black eyebrow, and the combination of his stern teacher's demeanour mixed with the fire in his eyes, sent her insides skittering once again. Snape drew his wand from his sleeve, and cast, in one smooth movement, at the large wall tapestry beside them, murmuring an incantation that Hermione had never heard before. He then looked at her again, as if giving her a chance to change her answer. She remained silent.

Without warning, he swept her bodily towards the tapestry, ignoring her squeak of surprise as they pushed straight through it, as if there was no heavily-embroidered material there at all. They were in a small alcove, which Hermione suspected that Snape had just conjured, for she had no knowledge of such a concealed space. Then again, there was so much about Hogwarts castle she still didn't know, and probably never would.

They stood terribly close together, since the space was so small. His greater height was looming over her and his full teaching robes made him look rather intimidating, although she was not afraid. Oh no. She was aroused, excited, and breathless.

"Did you know that it was my night patrol, Granger?" he asked, looking down his long nose at her.

"I did," she confirmed. "I was in Gryffindor Tower earlier, and I saw the schedule on the noticeboard."

"Very well. And should I dare to hope that the reason you are out after curfew is because you wished to see me?"

"You should."

Hermione heard nothing but a gruff mutter of 'fucking Merlin,' and Snape was upon her, his strong arms clamped around her back and his mouth seeking hers, nudging her lips upwards and beginning a kiss of such urgency that she thought she might fall over, had he not been holding her so tightly.

Her arms automatically moved upwards and wound themselves around his neck, pulling him down, and eliciting a groan of approval from her professor as she did so, at which point he pushed his tongue into her mouth, rolling it around hers, kissing her thoroughly and completely. She hummed her approval into the kiss, grasping at his neck, keeping him close, wanting exactly this, exactly how it was happening, right now.

His hands were beginning to move up and down her back, clutching handfuls of her uniform and then releasing, stroking, exploring. At length, they travelled down to her bum, and he used his long fingers to gradually creep down and edge up her skirt, and Hermione smiled as he kissed her, knowing what he would find, knowing what secret she had planned for him.

As his palm made contact with a handful of bare bottom, he jolted out of the kiss, pulling back and looking at her incredulously.

"Where is your underwear, Granger?" he asked, his voice ragged from their excessive snogging.

"I seem to remember that you prefer my knickers in my drawer, rather than on my body," she replied, smiling up at him.

The expression of pure but pained desire upon his face was a sight to behold.

"Are you trying to fucking kill me?"

Snape backed her against her wall, only a short step behind her, before grabbing her right hand and drawing it to his crotch, muttering a spell to unfasten the lower buttons of his long coat so that her palm was held against his clearly defined erection, and he rubbed her hand roughly against it.

"Do you feel how hard that is, girl? Do you realise what you are fucking doing to me?"

Hermione squeezed him through his trousers as he held her hand tightly against him, and he growled, loudly. Snape drew her other hand forwards.

"Get my cock out. Release me … now. I want you. And since you are walking about Hogwarts bare-arsed, I presume you want the same."

He didn't have to ask twice. She began to fumble with his belt, managing to unfasten the solid metal and release the buckle. As she began on the trouser button, Hermione heard him groan, and looked up to see Snape running his hands roughly through his long black hair. She moved faster, unhooking the waistband and sliding the zip down, allowing the tailored trousers to fall to the floor, pooling around his ankles.

"And the rest," he enunciated, quietly, returning her hands to his groin, where only the material of his undershorts was between his penis and her touch.

Trailing a finger down the hard length of his erection, Hermione was gratified to hear Snape's sharp intake of breath.

"I said … and the rest," he warned, and the commanding tone of his voice was as erotic as hell.

She took hold of the waistband of the shorts, black, of course, and slid them down over his bum cheeks, pulling the front out a bit so that she could hook it over his penis, which was standing tall and proud. Her eyes must have widened, or she must have made some noise of concern at the sight of it, for Hermione heard him chuckling, softly.

"It's already been inside you, Granger. It fits."

Dropping the undershorts so that they slipped down his legs to join the trousers, she looked up at him.

"Hermione," she reminded him, placing a tentative hand on him, and stroking gently, surprised at how velvety-soft the skin of his knob was, and how bloody solid it felt underneath.

She watched his eyes darken, visible even in the dim light of the alcove, which was lit only by a miniscule window that allowed the moonlight to shine in.

"Hermione," he repeated, leaning forwards and dropping his mouth to her neck, beginning a sucking, wet kiss, that he paused to continue speaking. "Fucking hell, Hermione. Open your legs, girl. Let me inside that hot cunt that you have left uncovered for me."

Somehow, his crude choice of words only served to heighten her arousal. He did not use these words in any other discourse, only with her, only to her. Snape lifted her up, pressing her spine against the wall, and she opened her legs, as she had been bidden. With a bit of fumbling, he managed to get the end of his penis inside her, and she wriggled down onto it, allowing his hardness to fill her up, and wrapped her legs tightly around his waist, over his coat but under his cloak.

His long, drawn-out moan of pleasure told Hermione that she had seated herself in the correct place. He was very deeply inside her, and she began to undulate her hips, feeling the tip of his knob brushing deliciously against a very sweet spot as she moved.

"You are fucking me, little witch," he whispered, hoarsely, beginning to push back against her, with jolting thrusts that pressed her harder into the wall with each stroke.

"I have wanted to do this since you left my bed, earlier this week," she told him, honestly, her breaths short and shallow.

"I watch you in class, Hermione. I watch you … and I try to … teach you, but all I think about is … fucking you."

His speech was fragmented, disjointed - fitted around the efforts of his thrusting.

"Then it's a good job that I am an excellent student."

She smiled, and was certain that he had shown at least a tentative smile in return, but he gave a dark laugh and returned his attentions to her neck, his shoulders hunched over as he sucked and licked the sensitive skin there, his long cloak enveloping their coupling bodies entirely. Hermione tightened her legs around his waist, pressing her feet against his bum, making him thrust faster, and harder, and his movements became heavier, and less controlled.

"Damn you, witch," he hissed, as he bared his teeth and pumped hard into her, his fingers clenching her bum cheeks so hard that Hermione had no doubt she would be bruised in the morning.

He moved her against him, slamming into her a final few times before gasping out his orgasm, and his hips were frenzied as he emptied his load inside her, gulping for air and holding her bottom tightly in his hands. Beginning to shake a little, he drew his penis out and lowered her the short distance to the floor, where Hermione found that her legs were as shaky as her professor's, and sank to the cool stone, uncaring of the fluid that was dripping from her.

Snape remained standing, looming above her, darkly, his trousers down and dick still exposed, red from the sex, and wet.

"Show me," he demanded.

She looked up at him, confused, and he knelt down in front of her, taking hold of her knees and pushing them apart. Hermione was too floppy to resist, not that she wanted to. He pushed up her skirt, so that he could see her genitals splayed open, and she jumped with a fizz of pleasure as he ran his fingers down her exposed pussy.

"That is what I wanted to see," he told her, his voice thick with desire. "My essence spilling from your sweet hole. Allow me?"

Hermione nodded, not quite sure what she was allowing, but whatever it was, she definitely wanted it. He tickled his fingers around her open pussy, dabbling in the wetness, spreading her juices around her labia, trailing over her clitoris.

"Do you want to come?" he asked, beginning to stroke his thumb firmly across it, and she could only gasp in reply, as being made love to so deeply had sent her almost to the edge already, and it felt like her whole pussy was twitching as he played with her.

"I see that you do. It will be my pleasure. Close your eyes."

Hermione ignored the last part of the instruction, as the sight of the dark professor kneeling before her, his long black hair hanging either side of his face as he bent forwards to focus entirely on his task, was incredibly arousing. Snape's hand was so large that it covered her fully, allowing him to touch all her most sensitive parts, teasing her closer and closer to her own orgasm. He must be one of those rare wizards who never left his witch unsatisfied.

She wanted to know more about him. She wanted to talk to him, to drink tea together, to be the friend that she suspected he'd been missing thus far in his life. But it was so difficult to focus when his surprisingly skilled fingers were persistently exciting her clitoris.

"You are close. I can feel you."

He wasn't wrong, and he played her body expertly. Either he was an incredibly quick study, or he hadn't been entirely honest about his previous experience. However, at this precise moment in time, Hermione didn't much care. With a deep circling of his thumb around her clit, she felt herself climb to her peak, tense, and then that blissful release that had her writhing her hips against his still-masturbating fingers, sighing gently and making the most unlikely noises.

"Good?"

"Oh yes," she confirmed, looking at him with what must be embarrassingly lust-glazed eyes. "Thank you, Sir."

"Severus," he reminded her, drawing his wand and trailing a cleansing charm over her nether regions that felt rather like bubbles.

"Can I clean you, Severus?" she asked, sitting up and crossing her legs.

Snape stood up, and Hermione heard the crack of either his spine or one of his joints as he did so. He hadn't answered her, but since he was standing there with his dick hanging out, she presumed it would be acceptable to do so.

She knelt up, and was face to face with his penis, albeit mostly flaccid, for the first time. Having been about to draw her wand and apply a gentle Tergeo, Hermione suddenly had a much better idea. Leaning forwards, and before Snape could say anything to stop her, she lifted him into her mouth, running her lips slowly down the soft shaft and licking the surface with her tongue as she did so.

The swear words that tumbled from his mouth were both colourful and creative, and he was lucky she didn't laugh around his dick. She dragged her mouth and tongue back up, and off the end. He tasted … like nothing she'd ever tasted before; and supposed it must be a mixture of his come, and of her own juices. Hermione stood up, faced him, and that damn eyebrow was raised, again.

"I had expected a Tergeo."

"Well, you got that, instead."

"That … was entirely more pleasant."

"I'm glad to hear it … Severus."

He reached down and pulled up his trousers and undershorts in one swift movement, tucking himself away and fastening everything back up again.

"Perhaps, Hermione, I could entreat you to do that again, on another occasion? Perhaps at a time when my cock is more appreciative of the attention your mouth is paying to it?"

She didn't answer, for she didn't need to. He was already dipping his head towards her, catching her mouth in that inimitable way he did, his kisses assertive and demanding, and Hermione loved it, allowing him to take control for them both. His tongue pressed against hers, goading it, swirling around it, and it wasn't long before his hands slipped back to her bum, lifting her skirt and reminding himself of what lay bared beneath.

"Oh, Hermione," he muttered, breaking the kiss and drawing her towards him, his large hands massaging her naked arse. "You teasing bloody witch. You know not what you do to me."

"I think I have a vague idea," she replied, cheekily, snuggling into his embrace.

"You know too much, girl. Perhaps I should deduct some Gryffindor housepoints for your breaking of the school curfew."

"Not funny."

"It isn't meant to be funny, Miss Granger. You have flouted several school rules tonight. Including, I should add, your incomplete uniform, which I find most delightful."

Hermione leaned back so that she could see his face, so different from the expressionless mask that he wore in the classroom and about the school.

"I'll settle for being escorted back to the guest corridor in disgrace at my behaviour."

"Are you attempting strike a bargain with me, witch?"

"Is it working?"

"I am unaccustomed to playfulness, Hermione."

"I know. But I'll teach you. If you'll let me, of course."

He fell silent, and removed his hands from up the back of her school uniform skirt, allowing it to drop back into place. Snape regarded her, seriously.

"Tomorrow is Friday," he announced, after a long pause.

"It is."

"Will you come to my chambers tomorrow evening? After curfew."

"I'd love to. But, Severus, I'd also like to talk to you."

His face fell.

"You do not wish to be intimate with me?"

Hermione took hold of his hands. For all his austere demeanour, he was insecure and inexperienced in human emotion, it seemed.

"Of course I want to be intimate with you. Merlin, the things we do together make my head spin. But I don't want our intimacy to be just sexual."

"I do not understand."

"I want to talk, Severus. I want to get to know you, to be comfortable with you."

"I am not one for small talk, Hermione Granger."

She leant up on tiptoes; and placed a chaste but lingering kiss on his lips.

"Neither am I. I tend to just talk at people. If we get stuck for conversation, perhaps I'll help myself from your wonderful bookcase and we can just curl up on your sofa and read together."

Hermione could have sworn that he breathed a sigh of relief, and even smiled a little.

"Very well then. Now, allow me to escort the miscreant back to the guest corridor."

"With no loss of points?"

"I think on this occasion we can forego point deduction."

She grinned at him, and he guided them both back through the enchanted tapestry and into the corridor. It was unlikely they would run into anyone, but just to be safe, Hermione walked a couple of paces behind him, her face schooled into an unhappy grimace at being supposedly caught out after curfew. It was a shame she couldn't see the shape of his arse under the billow of his voluminous cloak.

Tomorrow night could not come soon enough, and as they approached the guest corridor where all the eighth-years' rooms were situated, Hermione silently wondered just how fucking long the school day was going to seem, before curfew came around again.

He turned around; and indicated with a terse wave of his hand that she should proceed to her room, since they were now at the end of her corridor. Hermione couldn't help but linger, and, against what seemed to be his better judgement, he lowered his head and planted the lightest kiss on her lips.

"Go," he hissed, turning on his heel and stalking away, and within seconds he was out of sight.

Hermione walked down the corridor and into her bedchamber, locking the door behind her.

Neither of them had seen the cloaked figure, hidden in the shadows.