There was no word in the Latin archives strong enough to describe what Severus had done. That is, unless Latin did had a phrase meaning "to break one's writing desk by expelling magic through a quill."
Severus gazed at the scene before him and dropped his quill into the puddle of ink on the floor. The white feather rippled the ebony ink, revealing the sagging and dried face of the wizard in old wool robes. His hair, a sloppy mess of tangled and greasy strands of black hair shook with his heaving breath.
There had been a time when this handsome face was the Headmaster of Hogwarts.
He could have died a hero and left a legacy as the final Headmaster, double spy, and unsung hero during the Second Wizarding War. He could have been the poster child of scapegoats; the one good soul that sacrificed himself for all students. His death by snakebite, legendary.
But alas, Nagini was clearly out of practice.
And the previous Headmaster was king of contract loopholes.
So Severus Snape was demoted Potions Professor once more.
He had patiently waited for his replacement, but the new Headmistress could not find anyone big enough to fill the professor's shoes.
All in all, admin was shite and nothing else was new.
With naught else to do, Severus went to his stores and poured himself a generous glass of Firewhiskey, downing it in a single gulp. He grabbed the bottle to bring along with him. He turned up the fire in his pit and kicked up his feet on a dusty green ottoman.
A restless spirit stirred deep within him. Merlin, he was ravenous for a witch.
If he wasn't going to get one soon, that writing desk would not be his last victim.
He was not going to fix that old piece of wood, nor clean up those ink-damaged essays from the bunch of dunderheads he had to teach. All of them were returning eight years who were all too happy to gloat at their pathetic ex-headmaster. Student and staff morale had fallen to all time lows since the end of the war and Severus could give fuck-all about making Potions fun and vibrant in hopes of raising spirits. If he had to pass them all and close Comptoir, he'd do so in a heartbeat.
But back to the witch. A trip to Knockturn Alley would have solved that issue. But nowadays, it was best to steer clear of the public eye. Nobody wanted anything to do with a pathetic ex-Headmaster.
Suddenly, a knock resounded at the door. Severus must have been dizzy with excitement, it nearly knocked him off his seat. Indeed! A shy, female voice called to him.
"Professor Snape?"
Ah! The voice of reason from the student body: the Head Girl, Miss Granger. She was a wanton thing that one, with lovely brown hair and big lips to match. And it was no secret she had been dancing the Devil's Tango with the Gryffindor Head Boy. Why she should do such a thing, Circe knows.
While Severus preferred a redhead, he did love a clever, little Know-It-All
Severus groaned, then flicked his fingers, releasing the wards. Why the fuck not?
-x-x-x-
Hermione Granger nearly tripped over the broken boards. She'd never been in thispart of the Potions classroom.
Even with advanced magic and a Time Turner in year three, she had yet to crack Professor Snape's wards. And now that she was in...oh boy! She'd have been lying if she wasn't dying to see what the wizard's chambers looked like.
Professor Snape was known for his dreary decor: the vials of slimy critters lining. his shelves and bubbling cauldrons with wizard's brew bubbling in the distance
She had half-expected a bucket of slugs to drip over her head as she entered or for the floor boards to crack open revealing a hidden trap door with Devil's Snare beneath. But no such thing happened.
If her boyfriend knew where she was right now, he'd lose his marbles. Ron hated the Potions Professor with every inch of his being. He'd have rather failed Potions than made a spectacle of showing up at his doorstep to plead for mercy. But Hermione was rather desperate to graduate with honors and so, here she was!
There were a lot of things said about the wizard whom was Severus Snape: that he was a drunkard and a sadist and had an entire sex dungeon in the bowels of the castle. That was all to be discovered.
Slowly, Hermione walked into a dusty and dark room lit up only by the blazing fire at its heart. There were shelves with books and jars and rare potion ingredients. Some critters trapped in cages and vials brayed and barked and tapped for her to approach. Hermione shuddered but steered very clear. The carpet was covered in a thick layer of dust. On the right sat two parts of a writing table broken in half. A puddle of ink lay below with a quill gasping for air. There were essays scattered all over, their latest work on properties of spider venoms, never to be interpreted again judging by the heavy stains.
She swallowed hard, picking up one. It had Ron's name on it and tons of markings.
"Closer," boomed a voice by the fire.
There was a green leather armchair and two black boots on an ottoman before it. There sat he, the Potions Master of Hogwarts.
His legs - long and lanky and his fingers, remarkably flexed over the arms of the chair like fine carvings on an iron sculpture. He turned his head, his hooked nose looming into view and gazed her up and down in a lazy fashion. "Miss Granger, is it?"
"Yes," she repeated stupidly. She pattered about until the back on her knees hit something soft and stable and she shakily lowered onto anouther chaise. "I hope I didn't interrupt anything-" She gazed quickly at the Firewhiskey glass. "Important."
A curious look graced his face. "Good company is just as important as a good whiskey."
Hermione looked at the glass once more and criss-crossed her legs.
The Professor hummed. "You can test the theory if you're not half a dimwit as my usual companions."
A second glass hovered over to her side and a bottle of red, cherry-scented liquid poured into the crystal. Hermione was beginning to think her boyfriend was right about the Professor's malintentions. She shook her head. "I don't drink with my professors."
Professor Snape's lip quivered and the alcohol floated back to its rightful place in the cupboard. "Pity." He leaned forth on one elbow and drank her in.
Hermione was a big witch. She had rehearsed her speech a little in the bathroom mirror before coming and she straightened in her seat before delivering it. "My Potions grade. It's - it's -"
Hermione tugged at the shirt collar of her uniform. It could have been the fire or the remarkable depth of the wizard's black eyes or the sharp curve of his lip. It could have been the sudden musky smell coming off his robes that was not at all herbal or heinous. It could have been the unbelievably comfortable chaise her bum was sinking into. A drop of sweat dripped down her brow.
"Precisely the problem," he said for the both of them.
Hermione sighed. "I haven't been myself lately. With my studies, that is."
"Clearly."
She'd have to take a different route. She had rehearsed two speeches before coming: the factual and the pity based. And since Professor Snape clearly didn't seem the pitying type-
"You've been my Potions Professor since Year One. I am capable of producing quality work, it's just that this year I haven't been pulling my weight. I thought we could come to some agreement where I can prove that I do deserve an Outstanding Grade."
He nodded. His Firewhiskey cup refilled. "Do you have ample supply of Unicorn blood in time for the holidays?"
She shook her head.
"Pity. I'd retrieve some myself had I been allowed to exit the castle and slaughter a few of the unfortunate beasts."
"I can clean your stores. Help set up for your classes. Do your grading. I can be very helpful."
"Miss Granger, you have survived countless accidents during your student years, the latest being a wizarding war, and yet now you cannot focus on your studies despite everything being in your favor," Snape said. "What exactly is missing?"
"Not exactly missing," Hermione said. "It's more like something has...rather someone...is taking up my attention." There was not much to say now, but the truth. "It is Ron."
"Congratulations-"
"Thank y-"
"-For making such an ill-advised decision. Surely with your intelligence, you could have found better ways to pass the time."
"Like you had?"
"Pardon?"
The Professor's expression froze on her and she began to sweat even harder. She summoned back the glass and the ratafia and poured herself a quick drink, instantly downing it and pouring anouther. "I'm sorry," she stuttered out finally. "That was rude."
But Professor Snape didn't scowl or frown or deduct any House Points. He laughed, short and sharp and poured himself anouther glass of amber. "I was wondering where the Gryffindor boldness had gone. No, no, don't leave now Miss Granger-" He grabbed her arm swiftly and pinned her back into the seat. "I believe we can come to an arrangement after all. If it is a bit of male entertainment you seek, I can offer you a far better time."
-x-x-x-
The Gryffindor witch blushed ever so prettily now that she was pinned back into the soft chair. Her chocolate curls spread about the green velvet and her brown eyes glistened under the lazy fire.
"Y-you mean to entertain me?"
"As I said."
"Are you not-"
"-quiet." He ran his fingers down the side of her face, turning her face from side to side. It was a smooth and fair face with a set of full lips hiding some remarkably straight teeth. Indeed, she was lovely, and moreso when she was not yapping about. "Do you wish to get your grade or not?"
"I do."
"And I wish to be pleased on my end of the bargain."
She blinked. "Am I not a little young for you?"
"You are eighteen."
She nodded. Good.
"Have you engaged in relations?"
She nodded again, hesitantly.
He sighed. The world wasn't perfect. "I will be able to tutor you in my spare evenings at a fair price." He observed her shape. "Don't worry, I will be gentle enough."
"Do we start tonight?" Miss Granger said after a while.
They both gazed at the long-forgotten puddle of ink and the stained and drowning essays. Now was as good a time as any.
Severus took the witch by the hand and led her to face the fire. He approached her, slowly rubbing his hands along her neck, her shoulders and down her arms. The witch shivered and stiffened in his embrace.
"May I kiss you?" he asked, and when she nodded, gathered her hair into a fist and planted a gentle kiss behind her ear. She smelled of sweet orange and vanilla and tasted of salt and musk. He moaned softly, in attempt to relax his counterpart who was all but paralyzed with fear.
"Is this how you treat your young lover, Miss Granger?"
"I, err...we usually get straight to it."
He chuckled under his breath. "There will be none of that with me. I will make sure to use our time wisely."
Slowly he kissed her neck and back, working his way around her back and to her shoulders. He caressed her, pulling her hair ever so gently by the root and running his nose through the tresses.
She swayed with his kisses and then, moaned hesitantly, blushing and covering her lips.
"I enjoy listening to you," he encouraged her. "Don't hide your enjoyment from me."
He teased her breasts through her shirt, taking them into his hands and massaging them. When he worked her up enough, he unbuttoned and took them bare: nipple and all. "How good you feel," he said pressing her against him. "Are you comfortable?"
She managed a few satisfied mumbles before he took off her entire uniform. It was time.
"Winky!" he called for the House Elf. "Fetch me the uniform."
"What uniform-" she must have squeaked in protest had he not guided her hands to the fireplace and spread her legs.
He ran his fingers up the supple skin of her thighs and around her sex, her body shuddering from the cold of the room and the heat of the fire on her palms. She was so young and fresh, and he had almost forgotten how good a real witch felt. He longed to dip his fingers between her folds, seeing how wet she was, but exercised control.
Winky appeared just in time. Severus laid out the clothing on the chair and asked her to turn.
"Put them on," he ordered as he propped himself against the armchair to watch, grinning like a werewolf.
-x-x-x-
There were only two items on the chair: a burlap washcloth and a little Elf-sized mop. Hermione gazed back and forth between the two and then back at the Professor.
"I don't think I understand," she said, hesitant to pick either option up in fears of being ridiculed. She was usually good at exams and tests, but she wasn't quite catching on.
In a short course of glaring (on his end) and biting one word answers to questions (on her end), Hermione picked up the burlap washcloth and pressed it against her body.
"But this is hardly enough to cover anything!" she said.
The wizard looked at her smugly.
Hermione wondered if she wanted the grade bad enough. She also wondered how exciting and novel this all was compared to her extended and usually unfulfilling romps with Ron. She thought for a moment and tied the burlap around her waist and picked up the mop.
The fabric was barely enough to cover her parts. It offered little shield to the cold of the dungeon: her nipples tightened and the tiny hairs on her arms rose. She muttered quick warming charm over her skin and straightened.
"Right. I'm sure you'd like me to clean up around here," she said, eying the black ink pool on the floor.
"Quite right," said he.
Hermione walked over to the pile of essays. She turned her back to the Professor and slowly knelt down to the ground. The mop was also House Elf sized and she was certain he'd want a spectacle of her housekeeping business. The sooner she'd cave, the quicker it would all be over.
She ran the little mop through the black ink, and when the fibers were black and dripping, slowly rose to squeeze it out into a nearby empty bucket...also brought over by Winky.
Professor Snape groaned. "Not quite finished yet, are we."
"Not quite," she repeated.
The professor's eyes crept over her body. Her own heartbeat thumped against her ears. She'd never been regardedas such before. She took a long and hard stare into those black eyes of his, finding them little but disinterested in her appearance. And unlike Ron, he wasn't in a rush to offer compliments or grab her by the tush and have his way with her nipples. He was silent-watching. It was unnerving, really. He could offer some sort of feedback after placing her in this rather embarrassing situation.
"Am I doing well?" she said with a huff and put one arm on her hip, sticking it out enough to spread her arse cheeks before him.
"Very well," he said, his voice rolling out of his throat, a bit hoarse.
She turned so he wouldn't catch her grin, bent down and kept wiping.
-x-x-x-
All at once consumed by the urge to rub one out like a randy schoolboy, Severus crossed his leg over just-so the little peak under his robes was concealed.
He didn't need the chit knowing the effect she was exerting-not quite yet.
But one more glimpse between those plump cheeks of hers and he was certain he'd have to do give into temptation.
He poured himself another glass of Firewhiskey, then...
"Miss Granger," he said after the starling crash of glass on the floor subsided, "there is a spot you missed."
"Oh." Miss Granger's lashes fluttered as she calculated the distance between the Firewhiskey puddle before his chair and his presence. "Right."
Slowly, she glided over and slowly...ever so slowly...bent down and gazed up at him through those same thick brown lashes. "This one?"
He nodded, regarding the curve of her breasts, now so close to him. They sat perky, hidden below her curls and when she noticed him staring, she brushed them over her shoulder to give him a good view.
"Yes," he said.
She took the little mop and ran the black fibers over the floor. He licked his lips as she blinked, and shifted his legs around once more, hiding his now very evident arousal.
"A bit more?" she said.
"Miss Granger," he said all too quickly, cradling her chin in the crook of his hand. "Have you ever held a wizard's member in your mouth?"
She shook her head, pupils wide.
He grinned. "Then I know exactly what I will do with you."
He cast a spell, moving his robes aside. He took the tiny black zipper separating his member from her, and tugged it down, shuffling himself out of his pants in the process. And up it went, swaying hazily from side to side.
-x-x-x-
Hermione hadseen a penis before. She'd had one inside of her. But to have one in her mouth? What was it with men and their fascination with oral stimulation?
She'd read all about the act in some Muggle books over the summer and had memorized some techniques, but never felt there was enough time in her lovemaking with Ron to engage in anything that involved him sitting still for a few minutes. Usually, it was a quick in and out...but not this time.
His 'member' was stiff enough, but swayed slightly, twitching the longer she made eye contact with it.
"I know you've read at least one book on the act. Go on," he said, spreading himself before her.
She swallowed, then stuck out the tip of her tongue, flicking the head of the wand. He shuddered.
She hooded her eyes, tucked her hair to the side and gave it a long lick, slowing near the head. She repeated it a few times and checked his reaction. Professor Snape's mouth was gaped open.
"Excellent. Go on," he whispered hoarsely.
It was encouraging enough. Hermione licked up and down and then gave a few gentle kisses along his testes and his inner thighs to which he responded with a moan.
And then, she cupped her mouth around him, taking him to her throat, and bobbing her head like she read about inSex for Idiots, a beginners guide.She even decorated the process with a few light moans of her own, allowing his member to slide in and out of her wet lips with a satisfied smack.
"Oh, very good," he repeated, running his own hands through her hair and guiding her to take him in and out of her mouth at a quick rhythm.
She grabbed his kneecaps and began to do anything she thought would be good with her mouth: suckling, suctioning and licking and circling the head of the member around in her mouth like Honeyduke's best Gobstopper.
He groaned, moving her head faster, then removed her off of him, taking his pleasure into his own hands. He ran his hand over his member, much to her protests, and grunted until a thick wad of white liquid squirted between his fingers.
He moaned a few incomprehensible words and fell back into the chair. Then summoned more whiskey, pouring them two new glasses.
After they had had their fill, he met her eyes.
"Last night's parchment was Outstanding," he said.
She perked up, quickly catching herself. "Thank you, professor."
"Winky-the clothes."
Not knowing if she should be continuing the show, Hermione rounded the corner with her proper uniform and dressed herself, handing the disgusted elf the burlap wrap and mop and watching her disappear into the shadows.
"Err- goodnight sir," she said hesitantly. She didn't exactly know how coitus should end in a civilized fashion.
When no response was heard, she peaked around the bookshelf to find the professor fast asleep in the chair-zipped and well drunk.
That would do for now.
Slowly, Hermione crept out of the room, both thrilled and in anticipation of their next meeting.
As for Professor Snape, he fell into an easy sleep and only woke up the next morning to a feeling something incredible had snapped back into place within him. He would have to do his own end of the bargain as well, but it wouldn't be hard. Miss Granger was his best student, in more ways than one.