Promises (Temporarily on Hiatus)

Warning: There will be sex...

I never thought it would come to this. Lucius dressed to the nines in modern dress robes, grinning in delight as he watched his plan ultimately succeed. Judging by the almost ecstatic state the children were in, I supposed they would readily become devotees to the cause if Lucius asked them to. Personally, I found the entire display to be obscene. The music, though tasteful at first, changed quickly from a string quartet to some hideous band that sounded like Trelawney when she had one of her fits.

The way the adolescents moved and ground against each other made me want to shake them, take House points, and send them to detention. But unfortunately, I was instructed not to interfere.

“Let them have some fun,” Faire tried to soothe me. I nearly bit his head off, but a giggly sixth year pulled him away before I could. Professor Jonathan Faire had a full dance card that evening.

The Great Hall was decorated in forest green and icy silver, paying homage, however subtly, to Malfoy’s House. It was much like the Yule Ball that we had celebrated under Dumbledore’s tenure, I thought, though I was hardly an expert on matters such as party décor. The only few differences I could discern was the attire and code of conduct. It seemed as though the Board of Governors wasn’t concerned in the least about the vulgarity of the music and attire of the revellers, but I was. They were all foolish, ignorant children that would get themselves in trouble if someone didn’t intervene. I didn’t doubt that most of the girls would be in tears by the end of the night over some boy or another, and I, as Head of House, would be required to deal with the matter. It was difficult not to be accusatory when listening to their stories. Empathy was not my strong suit, and I had a hard time refraining from telling them that it was partly their fault. They chose to engage in such acts, and, though it was usually the girl that ended up in tears, personal responsibility was essential, in my opinion.

My eyes scanned the dance floor quickly, and though I was loath to admit it, I was looking for someone. Despite her conspicuous height, Evelyn Harper could be quite elusive when she wanted to be. It was dark, and I had trouble discerning identities in the low light.

Perhaps she decided not to come.

My gaze wandered towards the large entryway. She wasn’t stunning... or perhaps she was. Not in the customary manner anyway. She was very pale and statuesque and her lips pouted in a somewhat charming gesture. She had erased those pesky freckles, at least temporarily, and I found myself wishing that she hadn’t. They gave her character, I felt. I like the way she carried herself, which was slow, easy, and without any urgency or purpose in her gait. Her head turned in my direction, and I considered averting my gaze but refrained from doing so; she would undoubtedly look away.

I knew that I had made a fatal error with that venomous slip of the tongue. I had let Malfoy convince me that I had done something wrong with her that night (or dangerous at least, as “right” and “wrong” are hardly applicable when you have a student bent over your desk). I had fought against blood prejudice my entire life and I had the audacity to punish Harper for it. After she stormed from the room, I practically kicked myself for the stupidity of that move. Trust was essential in the relationship that I had just initiated, and I annihilated it in a single moment with a careless slip of the tongue. I did try to apologise, but she would have none of it. She wouldn’t look me in the eye, speak to me, laugh at my mordant comments, or partake in any class discussion. She tried her best to stay out of my scope, but the farther she fled the more keen my fixation became.

But this time she did not look away. Her eyebrows rose infinitesimally and the corners of her mouth curled upward slightly. I didn’t know how to respond to this acknowledgement, this sudden familiarity, and turned away from her. It wasn’t long before I felt an impertinent tap on my shoulder.

“Good evening, Professor,” she hummed in a low tone. “Are you enjoying yourself?”

Unsure if this was some sort of game or trick, I responded with a terse, “yes.”

“Relax, sir. I—I’m not angry any longer.”

“You’re not?” Frankly, I was suspicious of this sudden change of heart.

“No. Well, I was. I was furious, enraged. I had every right to be.” Harper gave me a long look.

“Yes, you did,” I conceded. “And I’m....”

“What?” She inquired innocently, a small sliver of a smirk threatening to break through the naive exterior.

“Miss Harper, your games... I have missed them. I am sorry, Harper. I had no right—”

“I know, I know,” she breathed softly. “Forget it. I have good news.”

“Oh?”

“I’m back on for Oxford.” She smiled at me, but it wasn’t a real smile. The gesture was hollow and appeared to be disingenuous.

“That is good. Any reason for the sudden change?” I asked cautiously. Now that I was back in her favour, I wouldn’t lose it again. I had plans, ones that would undoubtedly be difficult to put into action if she was still upset.

“Oh, erm, yes.” Her smooth façade wavered, but she recovered quickly. “But first, let’s go for a walk.”

“Miss Harper, I will not go on a ‘walk.’ I am chaperoning a dance and if left unattended, this entire display could turn ugly.”

“Really? I think you should go for a walk with me. Now.”

“I do not like your tone, Miss Harper,” I hissed.

“Well, I just saw two Gryffindors practically shagging in the rosebushes. Don't you think that someone should be patrolling outside?”

“Fine,” I muttered darkly, storming off towards the large set of doors. I assumed that Harper was following behind me. She was, and once outside pointed towards a large section of rustling shrubbery. As we neared, I could make out two forms entwined in the dirt, grabbing and poking at each other with such fervour, I couldn’t tell if they were kissing or attempting to kill each other. I noted the expression of disgust that marked Harper’s features: wrinkled nose and eyes narrowed in contempt. I too found the animalistic surge of hormone-induced petting to be repulsive and would break it up in a few minutes time, but I couldn’t resist making a quick little dig at the witch’s aversion to teenage lust.

“You’ll have to start worrying about those things soon enough, Miss Harper. I assure you that University is filled such lewd scenes. I’m sure you’ll find some… morbid, emaciated artist and you’ll do the same thing.”

“I’ll be dead soon enough.” I looked at her, quite confused with her apocalyptic prophesy. “Married,” she clarified.

“You equate death with marriage?”

“It’s the ultimate death; especially for a Pureblood witch with my pedigree.”

“Pedigree,” I echoed stupidly, my voice containing the same emptiness that hers did.

“Oh yes, pedigree. We’re bitches to be studded, every last one of us.” The acridity that permeated her voice was saddening, in a way. I had always thought her to be a cynic, but never this jaded.

“And you’ve resigned yourself to that fact?” The terseness of my voice was undeniable. The fact that I cared was somewhat startling. I saw this same situation occur every year: my Slytherin girls graduated and, no matter how bright, were wedded to some inbred knob or another. I never felt as though it was anything to be concerned about, but Evelyn Harper was different than those other girls in a way I couldn’t yet define. I blamed it on the cognac I had downed prior to leaving my rooms.

“Why do you think they finally relented, Professor? Oxford is a wedding gift from my intended. Don’t look so shocked; I’ve been promised to someone since puberty. The man wants to remain anonymous, that usually means he’s hideous and old—not your sort of old, sir, think along the lines of seventy—and I’m not to find out until he chooses to reveal himself.”

“I’m sorry, Miss Harper.” I was uncomfortable and wanted to somehow escape this sordid reality.

“I’m not. What good does ‘sorry’ do? But what makes this all so much worse it the fact that it wasn’t always like this. My parent left the Delaneys; changing their name to Harper and moving to London were the first means of separating ourselves from them.” She uttered the last syllable with much more venom than I thought possible. The word seemed to repulse her, and I saw Harper flinch slightly at its utterance. “In an attempt to reconcile themselves with the clan, they’ve reverted back to the old ways: arranged marriages and cold, mechanical interactions

“But why are they going back? Their values didn’t suddenly change, of course.”

“No, but the romantic notions of their youth have morphed into unforgiving realism. It’s a money and security issue, I suppose. My grandparents thought it was rather amusing in the beginning, them eloping and running away together. But now that they’ve grown up, it’s not quite as cute. Cahal and Maeve won’t have their grandchildren raised to be free-spirits.”

I winced, and she forced out a laugh. “Grandchildren?” I asked slowly.

“You had no idea how close I was to the nexus, did you Professor? My life is not going to be happy, fancy-free, or filled with academia and joy. Accepting that fact dulls the pain.”

“Miss Harper—”

“I’m sorry to burden you with all this. Probably ruined your night.”

"Not at all. My night was ruined long before you showed up."

She smiled begrudgingly. "All right, Professor, go take care of business."

Grinning menacingly, I pulled my sleeves up just past my wrists and crunched through the snow.

"You two, up."

I spent the next few minutes viciously chastising the mortified pair, stripping numerous points from their House and berating them for their foolish actions. I could hear Evelyn snickering quietly in the shadows and raised my voice to drown out her giggles. Eventually, I sent the two off; they had their heads bowed and I swear the girl was so embarrassed, she was close to tears.

Once they had rounded the corner, Evelyn stepped out from her hiding spot and placed her hand on my forearm.

"You look very... elegant tonight, professor."

I immediately tensed. "What are you doing, Miss Harper?"

"No, I mean it. You look so smart tonight. Very sharp."

"Harper—stop it this instant." Her hand had moved from my arm to my chest.

"I know you don't cope with flattery well, sir. But try to relax. Really, we could enjoy this."

"Enjoy what, you little tart?" I pushed her hand off my chest and backed away from her.

She sighed. "Professor," Evelyn whined. "If you hadn't mucked things up, we could be past this point."

"What point, Miss Harper?" I wouldn't be cowed by this pathetic girl... but I had to admit she wasn't a girl. I had never seen her that way. From the very moment I was introduced to Evelyn Harper, I thought her to be an affected, precocious creature. And now that she was older, and of age, I could not deny that her mental and physical maturity set her apart from other young women. She wasn't a child, and I wouldn't feel guilty about making her mine, if only for a while.

But I didn't appreciate this flirtation. It was bold and not at all to my liking. She was never a coquette and never acted so wantonly as this, and while these things were swimming through my mind, she kissed me. At least, I think it was a kiss or some similar osculation. She pressed her mouth against mine fleetingly, Evelyn's soft lips just brushing the surface. Perhaps she drew back before it became a tangible gesture or maybe she was frightened and didn't dare do anything more than tease; whatever the case, I was not pleased.

"What did you just do, Miss Harper?"

"I—I just thought—”

"Oh it is very clear that you did not think, Miss Harper. Because if you had even paused to consider how I may react, you would never have done that.”

"It was just a little kiss, professor. Everyone can use one of those every once in a while, right?" She was nervous, eyes lowered and hands wringing.

"Wrong. This is a serious infraction, and you will pay for it dearly."

"But I—Sir!" I had grabbed her by the waist and gripped her narrow hip tightly.

"You will wait for me in my office—"

"But the dance!"

"Until I have finished my duties here. I expect you to be there, alert, awake, and ready to receive whatever punishment it is I wish to give. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir," Evelyn snapped saucily, leaning her hip and thigh into my palm. She wetted her lips with a delicate swipe of her tongue (a gesture that I thought to be most vulgar) and sauntered off in the direction of the Great Hall, her hips swaying fluidly. I shook my head to clear my clouded mind. Evelyn Harper had the same effect as a good cordial: sweet and one was pleased for a while after, but eventually the drinker ended up with a muddled mind and dry mouth.

I straightened my robes and strode towards the Great Hall, checking to see if there were any other ne'er-do-wells rolling in the rosebushes with their paramours. Satisfied with my cursory examination, I turned to enter the castle and soon encountered Lucius Malfoy. I was surveying the dance floor when he sidled up alongside me.

"Good evening, Severus," he said quietly. I nodded curtly. "I will be leaving tomorrow morning and would like to try to change your mind about… my bid for Headmaster."

Keeping calm, I raised my eyebrows slightly. "Do you really think this the proper forum, Lucius?"

"No, I was hoping we could go to your office."

I began to get nervous (though I didn't let on); I had no idea what sort of mischief Evelyn was making in there, and Lucius was already suspicious of the other night. I could be caught in a very compromising position if we strolled in unannounced. I decided that I would have to play my cards exactly right in order to prevent any sort of catastrophe from occurring.

"Lucius, I—I think that my mind could be changed."

"You do?" He asked dubiously.

"Yes, of course. We have known each other for ages. We shall see. I’m still undecided."

"Oh well, I would like—"

"Anyway, Lucius. I hardly think that this is the time or place to be discussing such matters. Now, I suppose, you can rest easy over the holidays."

"Yes, yes, Severus. I am quite relieved. Narcissa, Draco, Astoria, and I are all headed to the villa in San Tropez. I hear the weather has been magnificent as of late."

I stared blankly at him and, taking the hint, Lucius wished me a happy Christmas before taking his leave. The Great Hall had cleared out, only a few stragglers left behind. Most were Gryffindors, dancing stupidly and slowly with one another. Sensing that it was safe to leave them to their own devices, I headed back to my office. It would be a lie to say that I was not... eager to deal with Harper. And, to the close observer, I think there was a briskness to my step that hadn't been there previously.

--

The wood of the chair was smooth in my clenched palm, my fingers curving around the armrest in a talon-like manner. I breathed deeply, the must and dank mildew of his office combined to create a piquant air, its sharpness tangy in my nostrils.

I wondered what was taking him so long, if he was doing this to torment me, to make me squirm in my seat (a luxury that I knew I may not have in an hour's time). There was an old clock on the wall, wedged between two shelves, whose pendulum swung heavily back and forth. It was hypnotic, the rhythmic movement, and caused my eyes to glaze and some of my anxiety to dissolve.

A half an hour had passed before he finally arrived. Snape did not say anything at first, and it was not until he settled himself behind the varnished desk and rested comfortably in his chair that he finally decided to address me.

"Well, Miss Harper..."

"Well, Professor..."

We stared at each other for a few still moments, a pregnant pause swelling in the silence.

"You need to be reprimanded, Miss Harper. Hogwarts has a zero tolerance policy about such lewd behaviour.”

“Do they?” I inquired snidely, thinking of the evening he had pushed me over his desk and whipped me mercilessly.

His eyes narrowed, clearly not pleased with my less than reverent tone. “Miss Harper, I suggest you watch your mouth.”

“Yes, Professor,” an undercurrent of impertinence swimming through the syllables.

Snape stalked over to me, grasped my upper arm, and pulled me up from the seat.

“Do not be smart with me, Miss Harper. What you did out there was reckless and idiotic. If someone had seen us, you would have been expelled and I would have met a much worse fate.”

“It didn’t... I hadn’t thought—”

“I think it is clear to both of us that you weren’t thinking.”

“Yes, sir.” I bowed my head, embarrassed. It wasn’t like me to do things like that. Normally, I had a very strong sense of propriety and it wouldn’t cross my mind to do something like that. I may have been bold in my speech but I was positively pusillanimous when it came to action. Now I had gotten myself into a very serious predicament.

Snape, pleased that I didn’t follow with a snide afterthought, nodded sharply before dragging me to a blank expanse of wall, rapped on it, and pushed me through the hidden door.

The room was cold, austere, and unwelcoming, an impeccable reflection of the man to whom the space belonged. Stiff leather chairs, a sooty fireplace, a low table. They suited him entirely. But there was a certain elegance amidst the uninviting furniture. An intricate Chippendale chest of drawers and a watered silk chaise lounge that lurked in the shadows all lent a certain elegance to the chamber. But what transfixed me were the books. An entire wall was covered with shelves
and on those shelves were thick, leather tomes. Gilt script marked their names and glimmered in the low light. I glided unconsciously in their superscription, but Snape pulled me back.

"I think not, Miss Harper. Now sit." I did as he bade. "I have bestowed upon you the greatest honour of being allowed to enter my private chambers; I expect you to behave yourself and respect my property. Is that clear?

"Oh, very clear."

He grinned maliciously and took a seat in a rather ominous looking wingback chair. “Miss Harper, your self-importance and vainglorious swagger has led you to believe that you can get away with certain things. It is my belief that you must be humbled."

“Yes, Professor,” I replied, as meekly as I could manage.

Snape observed me for a moment, his eyebrows arched slightly and mouth tight. "I think," he began lightly, "that the dress will have to go."

"Oh, I... Really?" My face flushed. Though I had presented my bottom to him before, this would be the most exposed I had ever been.

His face darkened. "Yes, really. Wouldn't want to ruin that undeniably expensive garment. Are you going to comply? If not, you may go. You can serve a detention with Filch tomorrow."

"Oh, fine." I scowled and slipped the straps off my shoulders. The dress pooled at my feet, leaving me exposed— or almost exposed. I was wearing a soft, lace set of lingerie; silver, simple, and sleek.

"I approve, Harper. You have exquisite taste in unmentionables. Perhaps... Ah, a matter for another day. Come here."

I frowned slightly and moved towards him, shivering as my feet padded across the cold stone floor. Goosebumps rose on my arms and legs and my nipples stiffened in the chill.

He held up a hand for me to stop and pressed the pad of a finger against his chin. "Hmmmmm... What shall I do with you? Spin."

"What?"

"Spin for me, Miss Harper. Slowly. That's it."

I turned around, mortified and uncomfortable. He was probably picking out every flaw, every blemish, however small; the brown freckles that splashed across my shoulder blades, a small scar on my upper thigh where our family dog had scratched me, an unsightly bruise on my hip from bumping into a desk. He reached out and traced the scar with his finger, and I shivered at the touch.

"What happened here? Were you abused as a child?"

I turned quickly to face Snape crossed my arms over my chest, and slouched down. "No," I snapped, experiencing a mixture of embarrassment and defensiveness. "Our dog Eileen accidentally nicked me last summer! It's— I— you're horrible."

"Just a question... Now, how shall we go about doing this? As much as I appreciate your exquisite gams, they do pose a problem. I don't know how we're going to manage you over my knees."

"Well, I— you're the one who's supposed to know these things."

"Don't be fresh, Harper. I'm in no mood."

I huffed and bit my lip. "Well, if you were to move to the sofa or perhaps the lounge..."

He entertained the notion for a few moments. "Yes, I suppose that would work. I don't recall ever having to make such a concession... I suppose you're worth it." Snape stood up and settled into the longer seat.

"I will take that as a compliment, sir."

"You should." He stared expectantly at me and I knew I had stalled long enough. Steadying my breath, I was just about to assume what I thought to be the proper position, when he tugged my knickers down. I fell across his lap, startled by the motion, and Snape skilfully slipped the garment off.

"Oh, that was very clever—ouch!" His hand fell across my bum quite unexpectedly and I attempted to wiggle off him. The position I was in prevented any sort of escape, however, his hand held me down across his knees. On this occasion, I felt infinitely more vulnerable. My bottom, aligned with his groin, was elevated and sex exposed. My face was against the cushion of the other side, hands pressed firmly beneath my stomach. It was far more intimate this way and the entire act was made even more personal by his palm against my bare flesh.

Snape didn’t make me count this time; the blows came so rapidly that I hardly had time to breathe, let alone number each one. I had not thought, the first time I was reprimanded, that my knickers had done much to soften the blow, but I was soon proven wrong. These smacks cracked through the air, the pain flashing across the flesh, snaking up my spine, and throbbed at the site of contact. I moaned, whimpered, pleaded, cursed, and squirmed against him to make it stop. Because I did want him to stop. But I didn’t. I needed this— this agony, ecstasy, this reassurance that someone cared enough to try to correct me; someone cared enough to make me a better person. No matter how unconventional or painful the method. There was a mutual satisfaction in the act that I doubted I could experience anywhere else. His erection pressed into my lower abdomen, insistent, nudging. Hard but not uncomfortable. Promising me something beyond just a couple smacks on my bottom. Suddenly, the blows stopped. I was panting, as was he, and I slid slowly off of his lap onto the floor. My breasts rested on his knees and cheek pressed against his upper thigh, just centimetres away from the swelling in his trousers. My derrière throbbed mercilessly, as did my nether regions, and the former only intensified the sensation of the latter. My tongue swept across my bottom lip and I tentatively reached my hand up to his erection. I expected Snape to stop me, to dismiss me and let me wallow in sexual frustration. After all, he had berated my own lasciviousness moments earlier. But he didn't protest. I righted myself, straightening my spine and gaining a steadier purchase on my knees, and undid the first button of his fly. My eyes darted up to the professor and I saw that his expectant gaze also contained some amusement.

"Have you ever done this before, Miss Harper?" he rasped darkly.

"Oh yes, loads of times," I lied, flicking another button out of its hole.

"Really?" Another brass fastener undone. Two to go.

"No," I confessed. "But I've read all about it."

"That—" He hissed as I struggled to unfix the second to last button, my fingers putting pressure on his growing appendage. Eventually it slipped out and, thinking I had gone far enough, my hand darted out to delve into the depths of his trousers. But before I could make it any further, Snape grasped my wrist.

"I will say this only once: if you do decide to... engage in such a relationship with me, you will do as I say."

"Sorry?"

"I will not tolerate any smart comments or hesitation in this matter. This is a subject that I undoubtedly know more about than you and I expect you to listen to me and obey me implicitly. Do you understand?"

I opened my mouth slightly, unsure of what to say. I had submitted to his will previously because it was something that I knew I would enjoy. What if he asked me to do something I didn't want to do? Did I trust him enough to do right by me?

"Yes," I said simply. Needing no more assurance that that, he settled back in the seat.

"Remove your top," he instructed. I nimbly reached behind me and unhooked the clasp. The silvery fabric slipped off my shoulders and fell to the ground, and I pushed the undergarment out of my way.

"Hmmmmm... Just what I expected."

"What?" I asked defensively. I was quite self-conscious at the time and didn't want to disappoint.

"Nothing. Continue, Harper."

Torn between pestering him further and continuing with my licentious task, I chose the latter. I was seeking revenge on my parents and future husband. I wouldn't be some inexperienced virgin, a chaste little twit that a man could exploit and use. I would love to see the look on my parent's faces if they only knew that my wedding night wouldn't be a bloody mess.

My hand crept into his pants and, with wavering breath and a vague sense of trepidation, I removed It. It wasn't exactly what I had expected. I mean, I had looked at drawings of It in anatomy textbooks, heard It described in various erotic novels, and l had seen pictures of It at a boutique porno in Paris. But I had never encountered one in person. It was long, lean, smooth, with some veins. The head bloomed magnificently at the tip and was darker than the surrounding flesh. There was a large veldt of black hair at the base, as was revealed when I pulled back the triangles of his fly, that trailed up towards his navel. I had never thought the male genitalia to be particularly attractive, especially thick or venous members, and I wouldn't say that Snape's was any more comely or graceful, but there was a certain charm to It: the rigidity, the velvety skin, the length of It. Being curious, I couldn't resist pressing my nose to It, gripping It, measuring the girth, the flexibility. I pressed my mouth to It, my lips parting to make circles on the shaft. All of these acts were met with vocalised approval from Snape, who hissed and entwined his fingers in my hair. I noticed the precum that drizzled from the thin slit, and sensing that this was the appropriate time, I opened my mouth and wrapped my pursed lips around the head. This motion evinced the strongest reaction yet; Snape's hips jerking upward and palm pressing my head further downward. I sucked harder, gagging as It slid down my throat and the spittle ran down my chin. It was messy business, this oral sex.

But I liked the way it felt in my throat, the grind and the taste of it, briny, like sweat. I liked knowing how much I pleased him, his praise that made my cheeks glow and enthusiasm for the task increase. And what I lacked in technique or experience, I certainly made up for in unadulterated avidity. I swirled my tongue, bobbed up and down, and did whatever I thought would stimulate the sensitive length. Just after I decided to explore his testicles, my fingers weighing them while my tongue danced across Snape's shaft, he tugged my head back. I pouted for a moment, as I had hoped to bring him to completion; it had always been a fantasy of mine to swallow.

"You look like a slut, Miss Harper," Snape drawled, standing up. "A wanton tart." He towered over me, my face tilted upward so as to meet his gaze. And I could see why he would say that I resembled a harlot. I was naked, at his feet, eye makeup thick, hair dishevelled, spit and precum drizzling down my chin. I loved it. I loved feeling like his dirty, lascivious pet. Snape's cock bobbed at my chin each time he moved, and I watched, quite in awe, as he strolled
over to the cabinet and pulled out a glass bottle.

"You don't need to get me drunk to bed me, Professor. I'll go willingly." I sank back against the lounge, one leg crooked the other extended. My nipples were aching, stiffened in arousal and against the cold. And although my bottom was still aflame, I tucked my hands between my thighs and tried to stop my teeth from chattering.

"Oh I'm sure," he conceded, but thrust the bottle at me nevertheless. I took it and stumbled slightly as Snape pulled me from my seat on the cold, stone ground.

He led me into his bedroom, the holy of holies. It was done in dark wood and sable, though I was too distracted to notice it much. Snape pushed me gently onto the bed and I rolled onto my stomach, bending my knees and swinging my legs carelessly. Snape used his wand to uncork the deep green carafe (I had left mine in the sitting room) and I sniffed the liquid delicately.

"Oh it's very sweet," I commented before taking a small sip. It was a sweet, saccharine spirit that almost instantly made my head fuzzy.

"It's port," Snape commented as he worked on the buttons of his frock coat, already having removed his "billowing robes." I snickered at the cliché, my favourite mantra. Sitting up, so as to gain a better view, I leaned back against the pile of silken cushions and took a large gulp of the sweet liquor. He removed the heavy, woollen coat and draped it over a nearby chair. Next came his doublet, which also had buttons beyond measure. Snape made quick work of the crisp, white Oxford shirt and soon that lay with his robes and coat. Shoes were kicked off, socks discarded. And then he dropped his trousers.

I sunk down into the bed, feeling very vulnerable. I was naked, with a professor, in his chambers. And I had never been so painfully aroused and willing to do anything he asked of me. Snape's length was still semi-erect, half-swinging, half-bouncing, as he strolled towards the bed. He was a very attractive man, though not conventionally so, with good thighs, pale skin, and a paunchy stomach. I liked the heavy curtains of hair that hung to the middle of his neck. Though dark and, I will confess, greasy, I longed to have it brush my cheek as he lay over me.

To build my courage, I took another gulp and passed the bottle to my professor who had joined me in the bed. He lay next to me, observing, fingers occasionally playing with my hair. He grabbed a fistful and guided my head down to his almost flaccid appendage. Now that I had an idea of what I was supposed to do, I set about to accomplish this task with all haste. It wasn't long before he stiffened fully in my mouth and I couldn't take more than a third of him without choking. I let his erection slide from my mouth and looked at him expectantly.

"Are you drunk?" I inquired.

He scowled. "I have had two sips, Miss Harper. I'm no lightweight."

"Well, must you? No girl likes to think a man has to be drunk to screw her."

"I like you better when your mouth is otherwise occupied," he snapped, setting the bottle on the bedside table.

"Then occupy it." The drink had made me giddy and my mind and tongue loose.

And he did. Snape, quite suddenly, was on top of me; his tongue insistently playing on my lips. I parted them and the muscle began to explore my mouth. I tentatively used mine to sweep up against his, fondling the probing intruder. His mouth soon left mine, however, and feasted voraciously on my neck. I feared the welts that would form there, but those thoughts were dismissed by his adamant fingers against my lower lips. My experience with penetration was limited. I didn't like to do it myself because the tightness and friction weren't worth the end. But this was different. Snape's hungry mouth on my arching neck, his digits thrusting in me, and the fingers of his other hand playing at my breast, all combined to make some tidal flow of ecstasy course through me. The sensation was overwhelming and I soon came around my professor's fingers, writhing beneath him. The onslaught subsided and I regained some control over myself.

"Do you trust me?" Snape asked.

"Yes." I meant it too. Implicitly. I trusted him, though I had no real reason other than the pleasure he had just given me.

"Good. Open your mouth."

I obeyed and he slipped a slick digit into my mouth and I sucked my juices off of his proffered sample. I had tasted myself before and found that it wasn't horrible, sweet and light.

"Now it is my turn," he pronounced.

I stared at him perplexed as he manoeuvred farther down and, upon realising what he wanted to do, clamped my legs shut.

"No," I whined. "Please, sir, it will be too humiliating." The thought of him having his mouth down there caused me to flush furiously.

"What did you just say, Miss Harper? Because I thought I heard you say 'no' and I am never mistaken."

"I... Fine."

I scrunched my eyes shut and spread my legs very slowly, my thighs, tacky from my own juices, peeling apart. Snape, agitated by my snail pace, grabbed my knees and exposed my glimmering sex even further. Never had I been revealed quite like this before and it took all my willpower not to slam my legs shut.

His hot breath on my sex caused me to tremble, my hands gripping the sheets. His textured tongue slid between my lips, and I arched upward, grinding myself against him. The embarrassment, the stimulation, the pain of my still throbbing arse; all combined to create another dizzying tide of agonising delight. Being young and aroused as I was, it didn't take me long to swim over the edge. In my defence, while his tongue darted in and out of me, his hooked proboscis ground into my clit and fingers never ceased their ardent exploration of my nethers.

This was the moment of truth now. I found release twice that night and my professor had yet to get one.

"Before we proceed, Miss Harper, there is something I must ask: will your parents come after me for deflowering their daughter—or a discontented fiancée even?"

"Of course not," I panted. "If you haven't noticed, Slytherins aren't the chastest of folk."

Snape seemed satisfied with the answer and arranged himself in the proper form. He hovered over me, supported by two braced arms and a bent knee. He rubbed his erection against my sore sex, coating himself thoroughly in my free flowing juices before aligning himself and pushing forward.

I stifled a whimper as he slid in, stretching me beyond any width I could have imagined.

"You are impossibly tight, Miss Harper," he commented through gritted teeth. I cried out after a particularly forceful advance as I felt myself tear a bit. Virgin no longer, my spirit felt free, even if my body did not under his oppressive weight and invasion.

He would pause for a few moments, allowing me to adjust before driving onward.

"Is it in yet?" I asked tearfully.

"More or less," Snape replied before pressing his mouth against mine. It was a welcome distraction as he began to move inside of me, and I whimpered into his commanding orifice. My hands braced themselves against his shoulders as a means of protest against the advancement, but he seemed quite unconcerned with that and only pushed onward. He seemed to appreciate the long awaited stimulation, as he grunted and hissed over me. Eventually, the sting and burn subsided enough to let me experience some tingling of arousal. The discomfort was still there, stretching my walls and my cervix undoubtedly took a couple of blows, and so I was surprised when my strongest climax of the night tore through me. It was mind numbing, really, the level that it brought me to. I felt myself clench violently around him. Sensing vaguely that some goal had been accomplished, Professor Snape quickened his pace and, with a great shudder and guttural vocalisation, he came inside of me. I could feel his hot spurts slide against my abraded walls and winced as he withdrew. For a moment, he lay on top of me, which I didn't mind. His weight made me feel secure and desired in some way, but eventually he rolled off me to the empty space to my right. I heard him searching for something in a drawer and was quite grateful for what he handed me. I downed the Contraceptive Philtre in one gulp.

"Hopefully that wasn't Abel Redding's brew," I commented dryly. "She did a horrible number on that potion."

"No that was yours."

"Ah..."

There was a lull, filled by Professor Snape mindlessly tugging at a stray thread of the sheet and flicking some perspiration off his brow. I had been so distracted by the pain earlier, I don't recall if his hair had brushed my face like I had hoped. Cum drizzled lazily down my thigh.

“I didn’t expect to…” I had a tough time finishing the sentence. I could feel my warm cheeks grow even hotter. The sweetness, the silence, the scent of after-sex and sweat was soon souring. I rolled on my side, turning away from him, and tucked my legs up towards my chest. The entire experience was so overwhelming and the throbbing between my legs hurt more than any smack or slap I had received earlier that evening.

For God’s sake, don’t cry. It was lovely shag, that’s all. You can handle that.

I didn’t notice the minute shifts in his position until it was too late. I found myself facing him, his leg wedged between mine, alleviating the pressure at the apex of my sex. One hand gripped my waist tightly, the other curling a strand of hair around his lengthy digit.

“You weren’t trying to hide from me, Miss Harper, were you?”

“No sir,” I said slowly, refusing to meet his gaze.

He leaned in and pressed his lips against my ear, “I suppose, under the circumstances, you may call me by my Christian name.” He punctuated the word Christian with a playful pinch on my smouldering arse. I had a feeling that there would be many more religious jokes at my expense to come.

“Severus.” The name sounded foreign and sharp on my tongue. “Severus.” I had a difficult time believing that he had actually given me permission to call him that, but I wouldn’t argue.

There was a slight pause and he proceeded to pinch the still tender flesh of my bottom.

“Mine.” The word was whispered harshly, his voice dark and resolute. It was not a question, not a demand. Merely a simple utterance of possession and to my surprise my mind did not revolt. There was no self-righteous indignation, only a tacit acquiescence to his pronouncement.

Snape—Sir—Severus—kneaded ruthlessly. I yelped and pressed closer to him, genuinely content with my decision to engage in such an illicit act for the first time that night.

“You didn’t expect to what… Evelyn?”

“Oh never mind.”

“Miss Harper,” he said gravely, and his hold on me tightened.

“You know.”

“No, I assure you I don’t.”

“I can’t—”

“I hardly knew that your priggish Catholic values would affect your language and yet leave your licentious behaviour unaffected.”

Severus two, Catholics zero.

“Come,” I whispered abashedly.

“Sorry? Couldn’t hear you.”

“I didn’t expect to come, sir.”

“How eloquent. I trust you were pleasantly surprised?”

“Oh yes, quite.” I yawned loudly and threw the silk sheets off.

“Are you going somewhere?”

I rubbed my eyes and stretched my arms above my head. The thought that I was totally nude crossed my mind and I hurriedly adopted the pose of the Venus de Milo, who (had she arms) would have undoubtedly covered herself for modesty’s sake. “It’s late, sir, I should really be heading back.”

“Miss Harper, I wouldn’t be averse to the idea of you staying. I’m not totally heartless, and I imagine you’re quite sore…” He smirked unabashedly.

“Oh don’t look so smug,” I snipped, falling heavily back onto the downy pillows. Feeling a surge of boldness, I leaned over the possessor of my maidenhood and placed a tentative kiss on his neck. I had no fear this time, however, and knew that this wouldn’t earn me any further reprimand.

Not liking his vulnerable position, Severus soon had me on my back, hands weighing my breasts decisively.

“I’m sorry they’re so small,” I murmured, looking past his shoulder at the ceiling.

“I swear if you offer me one more milksop apology you won’t be able to sit down for weeks.”

The threat was all too real, the throbbing of my cheeks reminding me that he was entirely serious, so I allowed myself to enjoy his ministrations. I certainly didn’t want to have his massive appendage inside me at that moment, but if I could just get my hand down to it...

I felt his cock twitch in my palm and giggled saucily, the sound soon stifled by his prodding mouth and tongue. The kiss deepened, and I trailed my fingers up the length of his shaft, tracing the vein that ran up the underside. He thrust into my hand and groaned into my mouth. The kiss was soon broken, much to my dismay. He got off of me and lay on his back, breathing heavily; I braced myself for a dismissal, stating that this was a one-time deal and that any more intimacy would make the severance more difficult.

“What did I do wrong?” I sighed, agitation masking my disappointment.

“What?” he asked sharply.

“I obviously did something wrong. Tell me what it is so I can fix it.”

“Harper, what you were doing with your hands was good, too good. So good that I had a difficult time stopping you. That’s the problem. I will not lose my self-control for some randy little chit like you. Perhaps later we can indulge ourselves a bit more, but for now you should rest.”

Next time?

I bit my tongue, so as to refrain from making a cheeky comment about how good he was at “indulging.”

“Good night, sir. Severus…” I breathed, giddy with exhaustion and arousal. A leg wrapped possessively around me and it wasn’t long before we were both asleep.

--

Well that was a monolith of a chapter: seven thousand five hundred words. I cut it down by a thousand, so you can imagine how long it was before. Rest assured, Snape isn’t going to suddenly be kind and sensitive; he’ll be back to his snarky-bastard self by the morning. No more spooniness, to be sure. A review would be lovely...