For the Potions Master\'s Amusement

For the Potions Master’s Amusement

Chapter 14: Remarkable


Today, you will wear no knickers beneath your skirt. In Potions, you will sit at the table nearest the stone basin. When I approach, you will lift your skirt and show me your cunt. If you also touch yourself in my classroom while my eyes are upon you, then you may come today.

Hermione stared at the spiky writing in her green leather journal—writing which had not been present when she had gone to sleep the night before—with her mouth agape. He wanted her to go about all day with no knickers? And to pull up her skirt in class? And to touch herself?

Was he insane?

No, he’s a Dominant, and he’s pushing your boundaries, the voice of reason informed her.

Well, it wouldn’t kill her to go without knickers for a day, even if it was bloody draughty in the castle—and if she was working at a table alone, it wouldn’t be too hard to flash her professor—and touching herself in class would be …

Forcing her mind away from that titillating prospect, she locked her journal away and hurried to dress for breakfast. Thinking about it would just make her want to come, and he had not permitted her to do so since Sunday. Nearly three days without an orgasm, when lately, she had been masturbating every single day, sometimes more than once. It had been very difficult for her.

It did, indeed, feel as if every random draught of air in the castle found its way up her skirt during the day, but by the time she arrived in the dungeons for Potions class, she was far too excited to notice the cold. She followed the boys to their usual table and began to unpack her things, then just before her professor called the class to order, she snatched up her bag and whipped down the row to the very last table, muttering something to the boys before she left about needing to rinse her cauldron in the gargoyle basin.

Professor Snape waved his hand to place the instructions for the brewing of the Skele-Gro Potion on the chalkboard, then returned to his desk without glancing Hermione’s way. She methodically set out her ingredients and began to prepare them. When she had everything set up the way she preferred, she began to combine the ingredients in her cauldron, setting a low fire beneath it and slowing increasing the heat as she brewed. She had been at work for nearly thirty minutes, completely involved in her project, when she saw the sweep of her professor’s black cloak from the corner of her eye.

Shit! She had been concentrating so hard on doing the potion properly, she had forgotten her other class-time project!

Leaving the glass stirring rod to sit in the thickening liquid, she snatched her skirt up, feeling the icy air of the dungeon pebbling the flesh on her thighs and hips with gooseflesh. He was behind her now; he could not possibly see her bare cunt. Nevertheless she tucked the hem of her skirt in her waistband and began to stir her potion again, loath to ruin the entire batch over a bit of play with her professor.

She was aware of him when he stopped at her side, ostensibly to view the contents of her cauldron, and she darted a glance first at him, then at the rest of the class. His gaze was upon her uncovered nether regions; the attention of her classmates was focussed upon their own cauldrons—no one was aware of Hermione and her professor.

Abandoning the potion a second time, she moved both hands below the edge of the table, spreading the top of her labia with the fingers of her left hand while seeking out her clitoris with her right index finger. Tilting her face slightly towards him, she dared to meet Professor Snape’s eyes as she touched herself for the first time in three days. Her mouth gaped slightly as she breathed out unsteadily, stifling the whimper which rose in her throat. She saw his black eyes dart from her quim to her face and back again. Now she plucked at her clitoris, wrenching a gasp from herself; she saw his eyes widen slightly. Her tongue slid from her mouth, moistening her parted lips, and something in him seemed to break.

Lunging past her, he grabbed the container of black beetle eyes from her Potions kit and dashed it to the floor; the ceramic shattered and beetle eyes flew in every direction. Heads turned in alarm, and Hermione dropped her skirt, staring at her professor in amazement.

‘This sort of carelessness will not be tolerated in my classroom!’ he informed her icily. With a wave of his wand, he cleared her congealing potion from her cauldron. ‘You may spend the rest of the class period restocking the supply cupboard!’

Hermione did not answer him; she was too confused about what had just happened. With her head high, she swept past him to the storeroom and went in, leaving the door ajar. She stood in the enclosed space, staring at the open crate of salamander scales and wondering if she should begin to fill the large, empty glass jar on the shelf above it.

Then he was through the door, casting an Imperturbable Charm upon it before snapping it closed behind him, plunging them into darkness. Hermione was completely disoriented, but her professor seemed to know exactly where he was, backing her up against the shelving, enveloping her in his odours of aftershave and coffee.

His hands found their way surely up her skirt, and before either of them spoke, he had two long fingers inside of her, pumping in and out, even as his knowing thumb danced lightly over her clitoris.

‘Do you have any idea,’ he hissed into her ear, sounding oddly breathless, as if he’d been running a long distance, ‘what happens to a little slut who flashes her cunt at me in my classroom?’

‘N-no,’ she gasped, bunching her fists in his robes and grinding against his hand.

‘She gets her quim fingered in the dark,’ he whispered, suiting action to words as he pumped his fingers in and out of her. ‘She gets the teacher’s hand up her skirt, and he touches her and says filthy things to her until she comes all over his fingers—because he knows what a nasty, needy little slut she is, and how she needs his fingers in her cunt all the time—don’t you, Hermione?’

She writhed on his hand, the dark and the outrageous nature of the encounter ridding her of all inhibition. His lips were at her ear, and she wanted so desperately to have his lips on hers, to have his tongue fuck her mouth the way his fingers fucked her cunt—but he knocked the notion right out of her mind by commanding, in a perfectly normal tone of voice, ‘Come now, Hermione,’ and closing his teeth upon the lobe of her ear.

The little jolt of pleasurable pain sent her careening over the edge, the pent-up need shuddering violently through her as she climaxed, gasping and keening. Then she sagged against him, and he wrapped her up in his arms.

In the unknowing dark, Hermione dared to run one hand lightly down the buttons of his coat and more lightly still down the stabbing length of his rock-hard erection. He growled but did not object as she dared to grasp it through his trousers, and he thrust against her hand with a groan before prying her fingers loose and clasping her hand against his chest. She found their joined hands by nuzzling across his chest, and her lips pressed to the hand which still smelled of her slick quim.

It was the first time she had ever dared to kiss him.

‘I’m very pleased,’ he said, pulling her a bit away from the shelf and running a hand soothingly down her back. ‘You followed directions and even accepted the challenge of touching yourself in class.’ He squeezed the hand he held. ‘Any Dominant would be proud of you—you’re a remarkable woman, Hermione.’

The oil lamp overhead flared to life as he released her, stepping away. Wishing desperately to remain in his arms, Hermione turned away from him, suddenly embarrassed to be in the light with him after what they had just done. ‘I’m not remarkable,’ she objected, turning away from him to straighten her skirt and blouse. ‘I’m not even pretty.’

He did not respond to her words, but he moved away from her, and she heard the door handle turn. ‘What am I supposed to do?’ she cried, turning to him.

He sneered at her, but the tone of his voice told her that he was teasing. ‘You will take the rest of the class period to restock the shelves, Miss Granger,’ he said, before disappearing through the door in a swirl of black robes.

---

You have my permission to relive our time in the storage room as you use one of your toys to bring yourself off, the journal told her after dinner. Then you will write one thousand words in your journal regarding the definition of the word “remarkable.”

Hermione smirked to herself as she scrambled to retrieve Number Fourteen from its place of honour in her box of toys. Only Professor Snape could give delight by permitting her to relive their classroom encounter while fucking herself with her favourite toy, then take it away by giving her extra homework.

Still and all, she was not complaining.