Promises (Temporarily on Hiatus)

For the first time in many years, I slept soundly through the night. Perhaps it was the presence of another body beside me or the fact that I was so spent from the previous evening. Whatever the case, I would have to bed Harper more often if she could promise me this sort of respite from my night terrors. I leaned up on my elbow for a moment and watched her as she slept. Her hair was bent at odd angles, sweeping upward over her graceful forehead. The sheets had slipped down over her chest past her navel to reveal a few dark curls. She shivered slightly and her flesh was spotted with goose bumps. I would pull the sheets over her soon enough but wanted to stare at her breasts a while longer. They were very nice, possibly one of her best physical features; perky, very well formed, with round, pink areola. The globes were quite charming and rose gently every time she took a breath. I had a sudden urge to encase a protruding nipple in my mouth and bite it savagely but restrained myself. I needed a cigarette.

I stumbled slowly from the bed over to my writing desk, which covered in inks of various colours and scattered parchment. The last cigarette in my last carton sat there as a reminder to buy some more; it also reminded me how much I was dependent on these things. But the calm, the sedative effect that came with the first drag was too tempting for me to resist.

After I climbed back into the bed and lit the tip with my wand, I noticed that Evelyn was awake. She was resting on one elbow that was propped up under her head; her water green eyes were glazed with youthful vivacity and the sheen of a just-fucked woman.

Without acknowledging her, I took a puff and blew smoke up at the ceiling.

"Good morning," she mumbled, rolling onto her back and stretching her arms towards the ceiling. "What time is it?"

I gestured vaguely in the general direction of my wall clock.

"Seven thirty? Oh fuck that." Evelyn pulled the covers up past her shoulders and shielded her eyes with her forearm. The coarseness of that statement made me bristle and feel a vague sense of disdain for the girl, whose vocabulary didn’t usually include such vulgarities.

"Sorry," she mumbled after a few moments of silence. "I'm not a morning person, I suppose. She righted herself, letting the sheets fall off of her, exposing her breasts and sloping abdomen. Evelyn leaned towards me and parted her lips expectantly.

"I don't... kiss on demand, Harper," I snipped at her. Normally, the student I was with would be showered, dressed, and on her way by this time; but Evelyn was always the exception to the rule. Because it was the first day of the winter holiday, the entirety of Slytherin House was gone and her absence wouldn't arouse any suspicion.

She rolled her eyes, grabbed my wrist, and placed my last, slowly shortening cigarette in her mouth. Evelyn took a quick drag, making sure not to steal too much, and blew the tiny puff of smoke between her pink lips. Seeing her mouth forming an "O" shape made me think of last night. She really was a natural at sucking cock; for not having done it before, she exceeded all my expectations. Perhaps, over the course of the next few weeks, I could teach her to refine that skill.

“You smoke?” I inquired shortly. I was agitated at the gesture; it was my last cigarette, for Merlin’s sake.

“Spent a lot of time in the city, sir; everyone smokes.”

Things had proceeded a bit quicker than I would have liked. My usual affairs would typically go from castigations, to oral sex, perhaps some fingering, and then, once I had established some level of trust, I would screw her. However, Evelyn was always an accelerated student, and I supposed it was in her nature to be on the fast track.

I have always found that post coital interactions are the most defining in a relationship, specifically in the sense that they set the tone for everything proceeding. I tended to be a bit more... casual so as to put the girl at ease and ensure her return whenever I demanded it. Usually, I found it to be obscenely agitating and a tedious task that I had to perform. But with Evelyn, it almost seemed to come naturally. I wanted her to call me Severus, as I liked the way she seemed to think it a privilege; I wanted her to be unreserved in her speech and physical exposure, to submit entirely to my will. It had been sometime since I had had a young woman of her calibre and the after-sex ritual I used to despise and think against my true animalistic tendencies, now came easily to me. I was disconcerted.

“May I take a shower, professor?” she inquired politely. Her voice was soft and cool, but a tiny smile played on her lips and eyes were bright.

“You may,” I replied crisply. She laughed quietly and got out of the bed. The formality seemed strange for the situation in which we found ourselves, but it suited us. I appreciated her civility and lack of presumptuousness. Evelyn knew that this was my space and didn’t presuppose that she had any right to be here, which I found refreshing. Eventually, girls would just “make themselves at home” and that was when I knew our relationship was drawing to a close.

“The bathroom is just through there.” I pointed to a narrow doorframe in the corner of the room. I began making a mental list of items that I would need to pick up in Diagon Alley that day: cigarettes, of course, various potions ingredients, perhaps something at Flourish and Blott’s.

I was restless, agitated. I got out of bed and paced around the room for a few moments before allowing myself to acknowledge exactly what it is I wanted: a shower.

And why shouldn’t I have one? It’s my room.

Upon opening the door, a wave of steam rolled over me.

Apparently, Miss Harper likes her showers hot.

I could barely see through the thick, damp fog that permeated the room and had to pick my way carefully around various obstacles that posed a threat to my safety.

Eventually I reached the cubicle and slid open the glass door. Harper was a rosy pink, hair plastered to her cheeks, and lips parted. And she was fucking herself with her fingers. I gawked openly at the sight of the young woman; her back pressed against the wall, hand massaging a breast, balancing on the balls of her feet. I contemplated letting her continue until she reached completion, but decided against it. I needed to get clean sooner or later and wouldn't be barred from my own bath by some randy little chit.

Without saying anything, I stepped in, hissing as the scalding jet of water came into contact with my flesh. She slipped, startled at my sudden intrusion, and I pressed myself against her to prevent Harper from crashing onto the tile. At least that's what I told myself.

"Oh, I'm sorry," she spluttered, obviously embarrassed. "I—I didn't know you'd be joining me."

I leaned back slightly to get a better view of her comically contrite expression. "This is my shower," I pointed out.

"No. I mean, yes! I know. I..."

"Aren't you a little sore to be doing things like that?" I asked, trying to shift to a position that offered us each a little space to move about.

"Yes," she conceded. "But I've never.... I've never been able to do that before. I feel liberated."

I rolled my eyes at the dramatic pronouncement but allowed myself to appreciate the gratitude with which she said it. Apparently, she thought me a part of her new found sexual "freedom" and I must admit that my pride swelled considerably.

"May I?" Harper gestured vaguely in the direction of my flaccid penis.

"May you what?" I asked distractedly, as I admired her flushed cheeks, plump lips, and a rather neatly kept triangle of hair just above her sex; I hadn't gotten a chance to appreciate the downy curls the previous evening.

"Oh I don't know," she replied, causing me to abandon my ogling and meet her gaze. "Do something with it."

"Do what?"

She pursed her lips. "I don't know! Can I look at it?"

"You want to look at it?" I often found that some of the more inexperienced girls had difficulty articulating exactly what it is they wanted. Perhaps I thought Evelyn would be different, but her usually eloquent and precise language obviously didn't carry over to the coital realm.

Exasperated by my prompting, she slid down the length of my body and knelt in front of me, her mouth hovering inches from shaft.

"Use your hands," I instructed, eager to have her try something new. Showers were perfect setting for handjobs, I found. The hot water pouring down my back, the leverage of the wall, and the abundant supply of lubrication in the form of soap and shampoo.

"I don't know how," she conceded after a few moments hesitation. "I haven't read too much about this subject."

"Oh?" I asked, surprised. The omniscient Evelyn Harper didn't know how to give a proper handjob. "You take some soap and stroke, Harper. It's not—ahhh." She had guessed what I was going to say, apparently, and had already suds up her hand, grasped my prick, and flicked her thumb over the head.

"Like this?" she asked demurely, the little minx.

"Yes," I hissed as she continued to pump my stiffening staff.

My erection grew quite quickly despite Harper's missteps: squeezing too tightly, not putting enough pressure on certain areas, and other beginner mistakes. She stopped quite suddenly and my head dropped quickly to see why.

"It's quite big," she remarked. "I can't believe it fit. How long is it?"

"I don't know. I'm not one of those men that have a compulsive need to measure himself."

"That's probably good." The sharp slant of water distorted my vision of her, and I turned down the pressure.

“Do you want me to continue?” she asked

Stupid question.

“No, Miss Harper,” I sneered. “Obviously not.”

Taking the hint, she continued with her pumping. The act was good, not great, and it took me sometime before I finally came. I suppose that sight alone was worth the exertion. The ropes of semen were certainly attractive, but what was even more amusing was the rather disgusted look on her face. She let my penis drop from her hand and sprung up, allowing the jet of water to rinse off the viscous substance.

“I didn’t like that as much,” she commented frankly. “And I’m not nearly as good at it, I don’t think.”

“No, you weren’t, but we can work on it, if you like.” If she wouldn’t be my apprentice in Potions, perhaps I could make her my sexual neophyte.

The cubicle didn’t allow us much room to move about, and we had to be careful about where we placed our feet. She asked if she could borrow some soap and other toiletries, and I gave my permission. This wasn’t a common practice, as I preferred to wash alone; it wouldn’t happen again any time soon. She elbowed me in the nose. I stepped on her foot. She got soap in my eye. I ‘accidentally’ seized her breast to steady myself.

I turned the tap, stepped out of the shower, and retrieved some linen for us to dry ourselves with. I would have to leave soon if I wanted to beat the Christmas rush in Diagon Alley and made haste to the bedroom, where I hurriedly pulled on some clothing.

"I should go," Evelyn said slowly; she sounded disappointed.

"Yes, but come back after dinner with a revised copy of your application. The deadline must be fast approaching."

She perked up slightly at the prospect of returning so soon. "The application, with my CV, test scores, and assorted materials, is due... On my birthday."

"January fifteenth," I commented distractedly, pulling on my robes and tying a loose shoelace.

Her silence caused me to glance up, and I saw that the girl had a rather smug look on her face. "You remembered."

"Yes, of course." I wouldn't give her the satisfaction of appearing unnerved. What if I did remember? I had an impeccable memory.

"Erm, how exactly do I get out?" She had put on her rumpled black dress and held her heels in her hand. The door through my office was charmed to appear and disappear at my bidding, but I had another route for Harper to take.

"You may be surprised to know, Miss Harper, that I am not the first Head of House to abuse their power in such a manner. There is a passage that will take you directly to the Common Room."

Evelyn arched her eyebrows and mindlessly smoothed her now dry hair. “Oh? How clever.”

I walked over to a blank stretch of wall and pressed the tip of my wand against it. The stones melted away leaving a narrow opening that served as the entrance to the passage.

“It’s very simple, Harper. Upon reaching a dead end, you press it against the stones and say...” I paused for a moment to savour the next words, “‘I am Professor Snape’s personal prostitute.’”

“What?”

I ushered her into the hallway. “I didn’t make it up, Miss Harper. Though I don’t think I would change it, even if I could. Until six...”

The wall bricked itself up in front of her, the witch’s mouth slack and eyes narrowed in disdain.