A week later
Neville Longbottom found himself kneeling on the floor of Greenhouse #1, holding his left hand to his chest and struggling to keep in the shout of pain he desperately wanted to let out.
He had never been hurt by the Venomous Tentacula before – not even during his student years – but Sophie's presence in the greenhouse had escalated from mildly distracting to completely disturbing his focus.
As he had foreseen, she had made it her mission to mess with his head, forgoing the muggle jeans in favour of skirts; every time she worked with him in the Greenhouses that week, she had worn a skirt. And that Saturday was no different – she'd chosen a knee-length skirt that didn't show anything improper but filled his mind with ideas of easy access.
"Fuck," Neville groaned in a low voice as his hand throbbed.
Because of his inattention, due to her new choices of attire, the Venomous Tentacula had got angry and taken advantage of his predicament, attacking him in a fit of jealous rage.
"Fucking hell," he whisper-growled, gritting his teeth.
"Prof. Longbottom?" he heard Sophie's sweet voice come from the other side of the long greenhouse.
"It's fine. I'm fine!" he quickly replied, but even he could tell his voice was a clear giveaway that he was anything but fine.
"What's wrong?" Sophie asked, quickly approaching him with a concerned frown, "Why–"
Then she saw the blood and how he held his maimed left hand close to his chest and inhaled sharply, "Professor!" running to his side, quickly understanding what had happened: "The Venomous attacked you?" she touched his shoulders and down his arm.
"Yes," Neville said between gritted teeth, "I just need you to call Pomfrey here– she'll help me."
But Sophie didn't seem to be listening to him, she helped him up, obviously using magic to lift him from the floor, and conjured a chair, pushing him to sit on it before he could ask her what she thought she was doing.
He didn't fight her though, sitting on the chair, blinking slowly, realising that he couldn't see right, probably due to the pain and blood loss.
"Miss Snape–"
"Shh," she promptly shushed him, and he felt something warm run down his left arm, making his fingertips tingly.
"What–"
"I'm stopping the bleeding, professor, now just breathe and stop moving," her voice authoritative, the voice of someone who expected to be obeyed.
As if all he needed was another reason to find her more attractive – imagining her bossing him around and he making her submit wasn't going to help his situation in any way.
"Just call Pomfrey–"
She snapped at him: "If I don't stop you from bleeding out, I might as well call the morgue instead of a mediwitch."
Neville gulped, for the first time since he'd met her, he could see her father in her, in the angry gaze and sarcastic tone. And part of him – the wicked part responsible for the darkest desires he carried inside – wanted to show her who was the boss.
He had to fight the consuming need to grab her by the ponytail and kiss her sensuous mouth into submission.
"There, it's stopping," Sophie said softly, clearly proud of herself.
Neville's vision was no longer blurry, and he could see all of her once more; being that close but having her focus on his arm and hand, allowed him to take notice of every detail of her face. Her emerald-green eyes, her high cheekbones, the dark-pink lips that she pulled between her teeth as she focused on healing him, her slender neck, the curve where her neck met her shoulder.
He squirmed on the chair, feeling all the blood he still had move south.
"Stop moving, professor," Sophie ordered again, sounding annoyed, "I'm nearly done closing your wounds, you'll need some skele-gro though, the Venomous ate half your pinkie."
"Let me go to Pomfrey–"
"Soon."
He wiggled in the chair again, the heat of her healing charms uncomfortably hot on his skin.
"Professor, if you don't stay still, I'll have to sit on you," she threatened.
Neville shivered at the thought, his blue eyes widening, "Miss Snape, you have to sto–"
He froze midsentence, for she did what she'd said she would: she sat on his lap.
His body went rigid, barely a puff of air going in and out of his nose; he was terribly aware that at any moment she was going to feel his hardening cock under her, and she might try to take things further and he wasn't sure he'd be able to stop her.
"Now, that's better," Sophie praised his silence and stillness, her hand holding his wrist as a spell kept the maimed fingers up as she healed them with precision.
Neville closed his eyes briefly; feeling his skin stretching and knitting itself back together was certainly painful, but having her arse on his lap was torturous.
"Miss Snape, this is highly inappropriate," he tried hissing, but it sounded almost like he was telling her a secret instead of protesting.
Sophie ignored him again, finishing working her healing magic on his fingers.
"There," she said, letting out a relieved sigh, "You'll survive," she smiled at him, holding his blood-stained hand against her chest.
He relaxed his shoulders, trying to gain control of that situation.
"Miss Snape," he started in the sternest voice he could force out, "Remove yourse–," he stopped midsentence, seeing she had tears in her green eyes, her bottom lip trembling delicately as she held his hand with both of hers, "You were worried," he exhaled.
He green eyes hardened slightly, "How would you feel if you found me clutching a bloodied hand in clear agony on the floor?"
Neville clenched his jaw, nodding slowly: "I'd be terrified and furious. After taking you to Pomfrey, I'd probably come back here and burn the Venomous for attacking you."
She looked surprised, "Burn her? James would be furious. You can't do that; we need her for potions and–"
"If she had attacked you, I'd kill her."
Sophie shivered under the intensity of his gaze; he wasn't joking, he'd do that for her.
She could see right then the warrior hidden under layers of kindness and politeness; she could see the young man who had defended his friends during the Dark Regime, the one who had fought death eaters and wielded a sword against Nagini.
And he made her burn even hotter for him.
She let go of his hand, touching his face and, without waiting another second, lowered her face to his and kissed his lips.
Neville froze up again for a couple of seconds, his brain screaming at him to get her off his lap and away from him while his body and heart shouted at him to hold her closer instead.
When he finally forced his hands to move, sending a command for them to pick her up and set her away, her tongue caressed his lips and he lost all control; he grabbed her hips and pulled her closer, feeling her rub herself against his hardness.
Lust clouded his judgement and Neville send a mental 'Fuck it' to any and all reasons he shouldn't be touching Sophie Snape and stood up with her in his arms, setting her on the long worktable, standing between her legs and deepening the kiss.
Sophie felt like shouting in elation, she was finally in his arms – and it wasn't a dream! She held him close, keeping her lips on his and running her legs up and down his sides, making both of them crazy with desire.
Her skirt rode up and Neville lowered his right hand to caress her left thigh.
She was tugging on his shirt, untucking it from his trousers and caressing his navel, moving down and pressing a hand against his hard cock.
"Fuck," they both moaned.
"You're so hard," she added breathlessly.
But her voice brought him back to reality, a mix of shock and shame turning his blood cold.
"We shouldn't be doing this," he shook his head fast, grabbing her wrists and pulling her hands away from him before raising his hands away from her and stepping back four feet, looking at her with a mix of need and regret, "Fuck," he repeated, his eyes fixed on her sitting on the table, her thighs parted, her skirt barely hiding her knickers.
"Neville–"
"No," he interrupted her, closing his eyes briefly to block the sight of her lips, swollen by his kisses, and her hair, mussed by his hands, "I'm sorry, Miss Snape."
She startled, "Sorry? Neville–"
"No, no!" his tone getting harder and louder, "This was wrong! Unacceptable!" he ran his hand through his hair, getting agitated as he realised what he had done: he had snogged a student – he had nearly fucked Snape's daughter in the greenhouses!
"Wrong?" Sophie whispered, looking a bit hurt.
Neville kept speaking: "I have no excuses for my behaviour."
"Oh, please," Sophie said with a roll of her eyes, "I started this, I sat on your lap–"
"It doesn't matter!" he nearly shouted, "I'm the adult, I should've stopped you– I'm your professor, for bloody sake!" then he uttered words that nearly destroyed her: "That's it, I can't have you as my assistant anymore."
"What?" she whimpered, feeling her heart break.
"Leave, Miss Snape," Neville looked at her, his eyes hard, his hands clenched, not a sign of the heat and passion of minutes ago, "And if you wish to tell on me to the Headmaster, I will understand and accept my sacking and any other punishment."
Sophie hopped off the table, looking at him with incredulity, "Is that what you're worried about?" she huffed a laugh and fixed her skirt, "I will not tell my father that I kissed you! He'd kill you and lock me home for twenty years!"
"With reason," added Neville, "You can't kiss a man who's twice your age! It's very inappropriate!"
"With reason?" she echoed his words with anger, resting both hands on her hips, getting ready to lecture him, as if she weren't fifteen years younger and more than a head shorter than him, "I do not make it a habit to go around kissing my professors, Longbottom! I kissed you because I..." she took a deep breath before admitting: "I like you. I can't stop thinking of you, since the first day I saw you."
He schooled his features to not let her know how happy it made his heart to learn that, "You shouldn't!" he said in exasperation, "I'm too old for you. Not to mention I'm your teacher – this could easily be understood as me taking advantage of your youth and inexperience."
"No one needs to know, Neville," Sophie said in a seductive tone, trying to get close to him again, wanting to feel his hard body against hers once more.
"No, this is wrong," he shook his head, willing his body to take heed of his own words, his hands shaking in need to touch her again, "I cannot reciprocate your feelings– this was a mistake."
Sophie stopped, his words hurting her but also feeding the anger inside her, "You can deny all you want, but I felt it," she lowered her eyes to his crotch, the bulge there still very obvious.
Neville gulped and took a couple of steps back, farther away from her, "You're a beautiful young woman, Miss Snape, this is just a reaction."
"You want me," she smiled smugly, taking another step closer to him.
"Like I said: You're beautiful–"
"You enjoy my company," she continued, still walking slowly towards him.
"Y-yes," he stammered, "Otherwise you wouldn't be my assistant."
She was right in front of him, "You... like me," she ran a hand down his chest, stopping once she reached his hard-on.
"Yes," he said as firmly as he could, taking her hands off him again, "You are a good student, hardworking assistant, an intelligent girl."
Sophie wrinkled her nose at the word 'girl'.
"I'm of age, I'm not a girl," she spat indignantly.
"To me you are," he said softly, ignoring the need to push her on that table again and ravish her, his heart breaking for he knew his next words would hurt her: "I see you as a brilliant student, and that's all you are to me."
She inhaled sharply, refusing to believe him, "No, you want me, I know you do."
Neville cleared his throat, "Regarding my... erm... reaction – I apologise, Miss Snape; and I repeat, if you wish to tell your parents about my inexcusable behaviour, I will pack my bags and leave the school grounds by morning."
Sophie slowly shook her head, feeling the tears flooding her eyes, "You're really dismissing me as your assistant?"
"Yes. You've misinterpreted my friendliness; I can't have you around."
"You kissed me back," she said.
"Like I said: a reaction."
Her bottom lip trembled, and she decided she had had enough of that humiliation; without thinking too much, Sophie disapparated from the greenhouse.
Neville leaned over the long worktable, his hands against the hard wood, feeling his whole body shake in pent up need, anger and frustration; he had done the right thing, sending her away had been the right thing.
"Fuck," he growled, punching the tabletop with his right hand.
He knew he shouldn't want her; he knew he couldn't have her – but now he had tasted her, he had felt her body against his, and he knew he would never trust himself alone with her ever again.
Snapes' family home
The next morning, firm knocks on the door took Sophie away from her dreams, she turned on her bed and recognised her room.
"Oh, fuck," she whispered as she suddenly remembered everything that had happened the day before and realised she hadn't told her parents she was going home.
She groaned against her pillow, "Shit," her parents would certainly be mad at her.
"Sophie, love?" she heard Florence's voice from the other side of the door.
"Come in, mum," Sophie said, not that she had any other choice.
She sat up on the bed, resting her back against the padded headboard, and watched her mother walk into her room.
Florence was beautifully dressed in one of her professional-looking dresses, long-sleeved, dark purple, her long hair in a French braid, light make up on her face. Her mother was gorgeous, and Sophie used to be proud whenever people compared the two of them – but all that beauty had proved to be useless the evening before.
"Hey, love," Florence said, sitting on her bed, waiting for her to speak.
"Mum, look, I know I should've let you know that I'd come home–"
"Yes," Florence interrupted, not looking angry in the least, "You should've. But Tiffany let me know you were home the moment you walked through the door. So, it's fine. What I'm worried about is your reason for that... what happened to have you apparating home without letting us know?"
Sophie averted her eyes and put up her occlumency barriers, choosing a half-truth: "Prof. Longbottom has removed me from my Herbology assistant duties. I got upset and didn't want to go cry in the Common Room where others would see me..."
Florence nodded slowly, her green eyes – the same shade and shape Sophie saw every day in the mirror in her own face – stared at her with knowledge that that wasn't the full story.
"Sophie, I know you're occluding," Florence said softly, "And I'll respect your choice to hide from me the real reason you're upset."
"Thank you, mum," Sophie exhaled, and Florence pulled her into a hug.
"Just promise me you'll open up if you're ever in danger or hurt."
"I promise, mum."
"Thank you, love," she touched Sophie's face lovingly, the thought of telling her the truth about her connection to Neville Longbottom crossed her mind briefly and was dismissed.
Sophie still has another year at the school, Florence thought to herself, She already has to endure a lot for being the daughter of the headmaster... being the girlfriend of the teacher won't make her last year any easier.
"I know how much you love working at the greenhouses," Florence continued, "Do you want me to talk to Longbottom? I'm sure your dad can make him reconsider your position with just one look."
Sophie gave her a weak chuckle but shook her head, "No. It's ok. I made a mistake and I accept that it cost me my position."
"Really? Alright, let me know if you change your mind," Florence nodded, patting her hand, "Now, I haven't had breakfast yet, join me downstairs?"
"Sure, mum. Give me ten and I'll be there."
Florence kissed her head and left the room.
Sophie sighed, she was still upset regarding Neville, but being home and having her mum's love and support sure helped her feel a little better.
