Tension in the Laboratory

I may not be able to post as often after this chapter because of schedule changes, so I’m going to give this installment my all. Hope it melts your screen. Reviews are most welcome.

Thanks, sheherazade, for your note on shepherd's pie.

*


At Mrs. Weasley’s call, everyone returned to the kitchen for supper. By some sadistic twist of fate, Snape ended up sitting across from Harry. Scowling, Harry addressed himself to his plate. In that moment, when the green in his eyes wasn’t showing, he bore such a striking resemblance to his father that the old reflexive antagonism rose in Snape. No, no. He must swallow those thoughts, or there would be another scene with Hermione, and he didn’t favor another go-round with the slugs. What’s more, he wanted a grateful Hermione, a willing Hermione, a gaspy, pulsing, little—-enough. Time to earn it.

He looked down at his own plate. Shepherd’s pie, and enough of it to feed half the Seventh Years. He took a bite.

“How is it, Severus?” Mrs. Weasley asked anxiously.

Snape riffled through a mental index of possible replies: “It’s lovely, Molly”—-no, he’d choke himself before he’d say that; “Best I ever tasted”—-where was the sick basin?--“Passable, but just”—-only if he wanted the Order looking for rope and a lamppost. No, best to stick to specifics.

“Molly, I might be mistaken, but did you mash all these potatoes by hand?”

Mrs. Weasley pinkened. “You’re the first to ever notice! I did! I just think doing it by hand adds something special to the food that the magical methods don’t.”

“And,” Snape continued after another bite, “is that, that can’t be, but I think I taste just a hint of—-curry?”

Mrs. Weasley grew excited. “A pinch! I added just a pinch to the lamb! Why, Severus, you’re amazing!”

And she twittered away over his head for several more minutes while Snape applied himself to his meal. He could feel Hermione cross and recross her legs under the table. Glancing to his right, he saw her shoot him a look, her pupils dilated. His cock twitched. None of that, he reminded himself. Not yet.


Hermione, for her part, was trying hard to let nothing show on her face. She had winced inwardly when Mrs. Weasley asked Snape’s opinion of the food. Not that, Hermione pleaded silently, oh, please, not that. He hates most food. I see him leaving half his dinner untouched every day in the Great Hall. But to her surprise, he had been charming, and she realized with sudden clarity that he was doing it expressly to please her. As soon as the realization hit her, the crotch of her jeans abruptly felt unbearably tight and a rush of wetness made everything sticky there. Surreptitiously, she crossed and recrossed her legs under the table. Ah, Merlin, that wasn’t helping at all! Snape’s eyes slid her way, then back to his plate, but his expression never changed. Merlin, I hope he didn’t notice anything, Hermione thought. She drank half her butterbeer in a long, unbroken swallow.

“How is your scar, Harry?” Kingsley was saying.

Everyone turned to look at Harry.

“Er—the same.”

Hermione knew he hated all references to his scar, and that he lied easily and often when asked about it.

“Have you—-seen anything with regard to the Dark Lord?” Kingsley said.

“I might have seen less if I were a better Occlumens, but I haven’t seen much,” Harry replied.

Hermione felt the bottom drop out of her stomach. Digging her nails into her thighs, she doggedly kept her expression neutral. Don’t bait him, Harry, she thought. You know it’s like taunting an Acromantula.

But Harry, apparently, was nursing some grudges. “Those lessons you gave me certainly did the trick, Professor,” Harry continued, boring in on Snape. “Any more of them and I might as well have handed Voldemort directions here and presented us all on a platter.”

Hermione heard her heart hammering in her ears. The table was silent, all eyes on Snape. For once, Snape was not looking smug. He looked at Harry’s furious face and seemed to remember something in the snapping green stare. Then he tilted his head up and examined the plaster design in the ceiling of a snake attacking a young couple. At last, he said, without lowering his gaze, “Neither teacher nor pupil was shown to best advantage during those lessons.” He glanced around the table at each dumbfounded face, then picked up his fork and took another mouthful.

Hermione blinked. Harry, she noted, seemed stunned. Everyone else began eating with forced cheer, and the tension in the room abated. The crotch of Hermione’s jeans got tighter and more uncomfortable, and more sticky wetness filled it. Hermione tightened her muscles there and struggled to keep her face blank.

Conversation flowed desultorily to this and that and at last, Snape said, “Thank you, Molly, for allowing me a spot at your table on such short notice. I must get back to Hogwarts now.” He rose, and Hermione knew instinctively not to look at him and not to react. She could feel Ginny, Harry, Ron, and Luna watching her as Snape took his leave. When finally he was through the door, and Dumbledore had followed, Ginny wiped her forehead with a melodramatic hand. “Whew! He’s finally gone!”

“Ginevra!” her mother scolded.

“I didn’t think he was so bad,” Hermione said. “You really shouldn’t have jerked his chain, Harry.”

“Yeah, well, I expected him to be a lot nastier about it. I was looking forward to a fight. Kind of took the wind out of my sails.”

“Great comeback, mate,” Ron said. “'Neither teacher nor student was shown to best advantage’ and...silence.”

“Ron!” Luna admonished. “Hey,” she said, addressing herself to Hermione, “we’re going to the Quidditch game next weekend. Do you want to join us?”

“Sure!”

Hermione chatted with them for almost a half hour until she felt she could safely take her leave. Ginny was tugging Harry’s sleeve, and Ron looked ready to go.

“Thanks for a lovely supper, Mrs. Weasley,” Hermione said. “I have to get back to Hogwarts to teach tomorrow.”

“Are you taking a broom again, Hermione? I think you’d be better Apparating,” Mrs. Weasley said.

“I’ll take the broom and Apparate,” Hermione replied. “Thanks. I’ll be careful.” She took the broom, said good night to everyone, and went out the door.

As soon as the bolt clicked home, Snape’s voice said, “My rooms. Now.”

He took her arm and before she could protest, Apparated them to the gates of Hogwarts. The chains around the gates snaked back like vines at Snape’s command. He took her arm and authoritatively pulled her through.

“What if someone sees us?” she whispered.

“They won’t. Chameleo, right?”

They trudged through the fallen leaves to the castle and made their way inside.

Snape pulled her toward the dungeons, but Hermione pulled toward Gryffindor Tower. “I need some things. And, erm—"

“I’ll go with you.”

“Er, maybe you’d rather not. I-I really h-have to—" Shower, she thought. Get a change of clothes. Check how I look.

“Let me guess. Hm. What could be so embarrassing you don’t want to tell me? It can’t be contraception. You don’t know the spells or you would have said them in front of me. It can’t be clothes. You need those, but you’d have told me without the stammer. So...it must be a shower. There’s one of those in my rooms. Get your clothes.”

She could argue with him like a teenager, or she could get what needed to be got. Hermione turned and headed toward her little suite, Snape right behind her. At the entrance to Gryffindor Tower, she gave the password: “Muffliato. Succulent.”

“Yes,” said the Fat Lady meaningfully.

They passed through. “I could have blocked that spell,” Snape said in her ear. She nearly jumped.

“I won’t give you the password, Severus. I don’t trust you with it.”

“You’ll trust me before tonight’s out,” he said, still low in her ear and just behind her. “I promise you.”

A shiver went through her body and came to rest in that spot deep inside her. She turned blindly and made her way to her flat. A few minutes later she had her clothes and toiletries packed inside a purse no bigger than her hand and stuffed in her sock. She looked at him with wide eyes, and he pulled her out the door and back out of the tower, then down toward the dungeons.

“Afraid?” he said, casting a glance over his shoulder as they descended.

“No.” She wasn’t, though the green light was eerie and the stones and uneven steps reminded her of nothing so much as a torture chamber.

He nodded.

Soon, he was pushing open the wrought-iron and oak door to his rooms.

“Lumos. Appareo.” Then he added something so quietly she couldn't hear him.

Using his wand for temporarily light, he stoked the fire in the grate until it began to blaze.

“Fire whiskey?” he offered. “I have a large selection. The Slytherins tend to have discriminating tastes.”

“Like Slughorn.”

“Yes.”

“And you.”

“Yes.”

“I’ll—er, have some, er—“ she squinted at one of the bottles, which contained a rosy gold liquid.

“That’s Constanta 1995. Not many select that.”

“Is it bad?”

“No. It’s excellent.” He poured her a shot glass full, then one for himself. “Cheers.” He tossed it back in one swallow, so Hermione followed suit. At once, she felt some of her nervousness ebb away. She clenched the muscles between her thighs again and closed her eyes.

“Like it?” he said.

“Yes.”

“The shower is at your disposal. There’s just one condition.”

“Always a condition?” she dared him.

“When I please,” he said and began unbuttoning his robes.

“What’s the condition?” she said warily. She did not want him knowing about the wetness again. Her knickers were practically sticking to her.

“That I join you.”

Just as she feared. “No.”

He allowed a small laugh and went into the bathroom. Once she had followed, he took off his robes completely. “After you.”

Hermione gulped. How could he be so casual? She took in his body in small glimpses: wiry arms, surprisingly muscled chest, black hair arrowing down, ah—-skip that part for now—-sinewy legs—-all right, back up a little—-all right, there it is—-

She heard him stifle a laugh again and before she knew it, he was kneeling at her feet. “Let’s start with shoes, shall we?”

Off came her trainers, her socks. Still kneeling in front of her, he undid the button and zip on her jeans and pulled them down. Now his mouth was on level with her knickers. She could see the muscles in his shoulders bunching and view the length of his thick cock pointing up toward her. Her breath caught in her throat and she was torn between lust and shame. “Step out of them,” he commanded. She obeyed, trembling.

He moved closer, putting his face right in front of her crotch and hooking his thumbs in the elastic. Then he pulled her forward and inhaled. Her vulva swelled even more and another rush of wetness flooded her crotch. Hugely embarrassed, she jerked and tried to pull away, but his long fingers were holding her by the buttocks, and she couldn’t move. She pushed ineffectually at his long, lank hair.

“Mmm,” he said, burying his face in her crotch and letting the vibration run along her sensitive labia. “You smell so good.”

Her labia became even more congested, and her breath caught in her throat. She felt his thumb pull her knickers to one side, revealing her hair. She lowered her hands, trying to cover some of it, but then something wet and warm touched her just where her labia met and she clutched his head instead.

“That’s right,” he muttered, raising his head. He pulled her knickers further aside and used both thumbs to open her sex. For a long moment, he just looked, while her heart pounded and her pussy throbbed. Then he lowered his head again and set his tongue just under her swollen clitoris. She gave a thready gasp. His tongue pressed under the engorged bud, then pushed up and into her. Again, she couldn’t prevent a catch of her breath.

“Stop,” she said.

He raised his head.

“I,” she cleared her throat, “I liked what you said to Mrs. Weasley. And Harry.”

She couldn’t tear her eyes from his unblinking gaze. “How grateful are you?”

“V-very grateful.” She tried to pull back from him, but he pulled her knickers down to her ankles as she stepped back. She found herself stepping out of them. Snape came to his feet. Now he loomed over her.

“Take off the jersey.”

She pulled it over her head, revealing the blouse beneath.

“Take off that, too.”

She unbuttoned it with fumbling fingers and let it slide to the floor. Now she had on just her bra. Before he could order her to, she unhooked it and let it fall.

Then, though she felt weak and her heart was hammering, she slowly sank to her knees in front of him. Now their positions were reversed. A small smile of pleasure played over Snape’s face. He leaned back against the black tile wall.

After a moment, Hermione reached out and ran a tentative hand along the shaft of his cock. It bobbed up to meet her. She put her hand under his heavy balls. His cock twitched again and seemed to take on a rosier hue. She steeled herself. It looked thick. Would it even fit in her mouth? The tip was shiny with a thin ring of foreskin behind it. She started to lean forward, hesitated, then formed her lips in an O and lowered them around just the tip. A strangled noise came from somewhere over her head. She crammed a bit more of his cock into her mouth.

“Mind the teeth,” he said quietly. She chanced a peek upward and saw his eyes were still closed, a most unusual sight, and the severe features were softer.

She opened her jaws a bit wider and lowered the entire bulbous head into her mouth. The flavor was good, seeming to match the usual flavor of the inside of her own mouth. She held onto the shaft with one lightly held fist while her other hand fondled his balls.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’ve done this before.”

Infuriating man. She pulled his cock out of her mouth and flicked her tongue under the head, wringing another small noise from him. “You don’t want to insult me when you’re in this position, Severus,” she reminded him, rubbing his balls lightly for emphasis.

She heard his reluctant chuckle. “You’ve made your position—-quite clear. Continue. Please.”

Hermione again opened her mouth and lowered it over his cock head. She wasn’t sure how to proceed now. She silently berated herself for not taking advantage of her access to the Hogwarts library restricted stacks. She lightly ran her fingers up and down the shaft and sucked gently with her cheeks around the head.

“Take more of it,” Snape ground out.

She took as much inside her mouth as she could, then using her hand to put his cock back out. Keeping her jaws wide, she repeated the move several times. Then she began running her tongue over his cock head.

“Lick under the head,” he said in a gravelly voice she had never heard him use before. It almost sounded as if he were pleading.

She pressed her tongue under his cock head and licked back and forth. The tip was shinier than ever now, red, the black hairs below standing out in high contrast. Feeling daring, she laved him right over the hole at the tip before moving back to that pleasure point under the head. He made a strangled noise and pushed her away.

She looked up at him in hurt confusion. Hadn’t she done it right?

“Your turn,” he said, opening his eyes. He took her in with a glance as he pulled her to her feet. “In the bedroom. Now.” He propelled her forward. She lost her balance as they reached the black-swathed four-poster, and she tumbled over the rail of the footboard, her hips in the air, the balls of her feet barely touching the floor, her face in the counterpane.

He made a murmur of appreciation before she felt her vulva being opened from behind. She tried to raise herself up, somehow to get away from this exposed position. Then she felt his tongue on her again, but this time from behind, thrusting straight into her passage. She gave a small cry. He flickered his tongue inside her, pulled it out and stroked her clitoris firmly for several seconds, then thrust it back in. She gave a louder cry.

The stroking stopped, to be replaced by something much thicker spreading the walls of her pussy. A low moan tore out of her.

“Couldn’t let you touch my cock another second,” he said from behind her. “Want to come inside you.” And he pushed the entire, hugely engorged head inside her. She couldn’t stop herself from making an animalistic grunt that sounded almost like a noise of pain. At once, his cock was out of her.

“Hermione, did I hurt you?” he said in her ear. The note of real concern surprised her.

“No. No. Don’t stop. Don’t stop!”

“I live to serve,” he said, or at least, that’s what she thought he said. His thick cock was spreading her walls again and now he forced it up her tight passage with small pushes, touching sensitive spots she hadn’t known existed. She could hear herself grunting with each of his thrusts, taking that thick head further and further up her pussy until he bottomed out. He stayed there without moving for a second as she twisted helplessly, trying to move him in and out of her, clenching her muscles around his shaft.

“Like that,” he said. He spread one of her arse cheeks, leaving her entire sex exposed and throbbing. Then he reached under one of her hips, found her clitoris as he had done before, and began stroking upward into it as he began pumping his cock in small movements deep inside her. “Tell me what you want,” he said.

“More! More!”

“Like this?” He began to pull more of his thickening shaft out of her before cramming it back in.

Hermione couldn’t speak.

“Or like this?” He pulled it out at a different angle and screwed it into her, moving from side to side, pressing against screaming nerves all along her sheath, which clasped him frantically. “Oh, keep rippling on me with that tight cunt.”

She couldn’t take it another minute. Her hips surged forward. “Oh, no, you don’t.” He followed her, keeping his cock deeply embedded in her as grunt after grunt came from her lips and her pussy tightened rhythmically around the iron rod of his cock.

When her cries began to subside, he removed his fingers from her over-sensitized clitoris and began pumping his cock into her with single-minded purpose. She couldn’t prevent it. She crammed the counterpane into her mouth to stop him from hearing those mortifying noises, but he spread the lips of her pussy wider and said in dangerous tones, “Let me hear it or you’ll regret it.” The threat inflamed her. Her hips thrust forward again and she gave a small scream as she crashed into another orgasm. He buried his cock in to the hilt and she heard him make that same small sound, and then she felt his cock abruptly swell even thicker and warm stickiness spread inside her.

After a long moment, he pulled out and helped her over the rail, where they sprawled on the bed.

Hermione stroked his face. She could feel his fingers threading through her hair.

“I liked Molly’s dinner,” he said after long moments. “It reminded me of my mother’s cooking.”

Hermione’s hand stilled, then picked up again. She had never heard Snape refer to his family to anyone else before. She sensed that any word from her and he would stop, so she continued to gently trace his features and run her fingertips along his hairline.

“She wasn’t much of a cook. Most of the time I could barely choke down her food. But on nights my father wasn't home, she could make a decent shepherd’s pie. Not as good as Molly’s. But still...”

Hermione lightly touched the stubble along his cheek.

To her great surprise, he took her hand and brought it to his lips without opening his eyes.

“Dear Hermione.” She felt a rush of affection and protection toward him such as she had never had before. “Now. About our earlier business. What’s your answer?” And she suddenly found herself eye to eye with that familiar black-eyed challenging stare.