Heating up Hogwarts

Thanks to everyone who read the last chapters, and especially for all of those who reviewed. It makes me unreasonably happy to hear back from everyone. ----------------------------

Professor Severus Snape stalked into his private store rooms, swinging the door shut behind him. If there was ever a time he wished to slam it, now was that time. He refused himself the simple pleasure such an act would have brought, refused himself even the comfort of raging. Instead he stood, hands on hips. And did his best to breathe. As each new wave of fury came on, he took a deep breath, his lips pinched thin. The implications of this new little test were pouring in. It had been quite bad enough to realize the predicament the girl had gotten herself in. The blood had truly tipped him off, and her little mewling noises, of course.



Things had gone from bad to worse as he realized the anti-potion required fresh ingredients that wouldn't be ready until spring. Now, as if his life wasn't quite challenging enough, the damn chit had chosen him as her, Merlin take her, mate! Chose was, of course, not the precise word, but what could he possibly have that attracted the girl, consciously or not?



She couldn't have done them all a favor and been drawn to Potter or Weasley? Hell, any one of her peers would have happily shagged her brains out after two days of the pheromones she exuded.



This was unacceptable. If it got out, it'd be hard to tell what would get him killed faster, snogging a mudblood or showing any restraint toward one offering herself. After everything he had submitted to, his death would be attributed to a sexually frustrated fool of a thief. Everyone knows not to mix animal fur in a Polyjuice Potion, everyone!



"You don't use cat hair in a Polyjuice Potion." He came flying out of his store rooms, barely keeping his voice to the usual sneer. "You do your share of truly stupid things, but this one is ground breaking, even for you."



"It was an accident!" She rose from her desk and scowled, drawing her height around her. "It could have happened to anyone!"



"No." He punctuated the word with one sharp jab of a finger. "The potion was off limits, the ingredients had to be stolen from my private supplies, and there is no reason you lot should always be investigating things instead of reporting them to your professors!" His voice finally broke into a controlled yell, making her eyes widen further.



"Maybe if I had more trust that my professors weren't trying to kill us, I would." Her chest heaved as she struggled for enough air. Her head was fuzzy, energy gushing over her.



"In short, only a know it all who proclaims herself to be smarter than she is would have dared," he sneered, truly angry and nearly shaking with pent up energy. "And then you chose me! Why?"



"I did not choose you! I chose Neville!" she screamed. One hand reached out and poked him in the chest.



"Indeed?" he growled, eyes narrowing dangerously.



"Professor....please. I didn't choose you, I didn't." She took a step back, not even her reckless energy allowing her to ignore the glitter in his eyes.



Before she could take another hurried step away, one long hand wrapped around her neck, pulling her forward angrily. Snape tipped her head back, exposing the pale line of her throat to his hungry gaze. She was panting now, her lips parted in excitement. A heavy flush was spread over her face and what little he could see of her chest. Unfortunately he could see, quite clearly in fact, her prominent little nipples. They jutted out eagerly, begging for his touch. Above it all, he could smell her. The husky scent of her aroused body mixed with a subtle scent that made an answering desire rise in him. He was drawn to her even now, completely drowning in her fear. She had chosen him. Damn her.



"Your body chose me," he growled, looking utterly disgusted.



"No, I, it didn't." She caught her breath as he tightened his grip on her delicate throat. His thumb caressed lightly and she moaned, arching into him.



"This is dangerous enough," he spat, "don't stand there, half way to orgasm and tell me you don't want me."



"Fine!" She lashed out and shoved him back. "I might want you but I did not choose you."



"It's not a conscious decision, you little twit." He swung around and took a step away, presenting his back.



"Well then, choice is hardly the precise word, is it?" she demanded and rushed on when he only snorted in reply. "What exactly does this mean, Professor?"



"Why, you mean you don't know? Is Hermione Granger unsure of something? Funny, you seem amazingly knowledgeable on the subject." He didn't turn around, just rubbed one temple absently.



"I researched it at the library—" she began.



"Shocking," he commented dryly.



"—after Madam Pomfrey told me what was wrong," she finished, glaring at his back.



"That woman is useless," he muttered without much real heat.



"Professor." An instinctual reprimand against disrespecting an authority figure came out.



"Doesn't that seem like something I should have been made aware of?" He turned smoothly, radiating cold calmness.



"Actually, I did wonder at that," she admitted with a tiny backward step.



"I'm sure." He nodded mockingly.



"What will happen now?" she managed to squeak out.



"Why do you think it is that animal fur is not used in Polyjuice Potions?" he asked, his lecture voice coming back to mock her mistake yet again.



"I thought it was just one of those things." She glared and smirked right back at him. "Don't run with scissors, don't put fur in Polyjuice Potion, et cetera."



"Do you make it a habit to run with scissors, Miss Granger?" His eyes sparkled down at her in warning. His voice seemed to change slightly.



"I like a challenge, Professor, you know that." Her stomach lurched at nothing more than his sultry tone yet she refused to back down any further than she already had.



"Congratulations," he growled, "your body wants you pregnant, and it wants mine to help. Two days from now I'll have as little self control as you do, and the same blood lust. Try to survive, it'll be a challenge."



"You're trying to scare me." Hermione leveled her best look of scorn on him, not bothering to curb herself.



"Have you ever seen a cat in heat, Miss Granger?" He met her eyes directly but she couldn't withstand the contact. Something about the question disturbed her, made her flush oddly.



"No," she admitted hesitantly, still averting her eyes.



"The miserable creatures cry night and day, rubbing against anything that offers relief. Their only thought is to escape outdoors where they might find a mate. There are instances of felines leaping from third floor windows, and more instances still of the creatures being mangled by an aggressive tom cat," he explained slowly.



"That's great." She squinted at him in annoyance. "Why don't you just start on whatever it is that'll fix this and I'll gladly skip your class for the next few days."



"The potion can't be brewed until spring." He delivered the words like a blow and stood in silence, waiting for her reaction.



"That's not good." She let out a biting laugh, desperately thankful that she felt more numb than anything else.



"Hardly."



"If there's nothing more, may I be excused?" She took another step toward the door, needing nothing so much as to escape his presence.



"No, you may not." He stalked forward slowly, his mouth twitching into a smirk as she visibly restrained herself from retreating further back. He came to a halt directly before her, his energy spilling into her body. "Let me speak plainly, Miss Granger. A Death Eater would either kill you outright or keep you locked away in a closet like a pet. Before you share this latest adventure with the idiot twins decide which you would prefer, because I won't die because of this."



"Finally, I get to make a decision." She rose up on tiptoes to growl into his ear. "I choose death."



A small chill went through her body as she met his eyes again. Panting for breath she settled back on to her heels, all the while keeping the devastating eye contact. The tension that always seemed to flow through him had spread to the air around them, making it combustible. Nothing on his face displayed any emotion. Yet what kind of a spy would have done otherwise? His eyes though, his eyes sparkled with a hundred emotions. She could place none of them but knew instinctually that he was dangerous. Facing off against him, whether it was his anger or desire that she saw, was both frightening and arousing. She knew herself to be a liar, and worse, realized he knew it as well. If he would just incline his head even the smallest bit she would take him. What would those lips feel like against her own? Would he smirk even as he took her? The image flashed through her mind and made her breath catch. He jerked away at the noise and took a hasty step backward.



"Get out," he spoke softly. "Your lust is your problem. Take care of it yourself, and stay away from me."







Hermione stalked the halls for hours after that. At first, anger spurred her on. The bastard was unbearable! He wanted bloodlust, he had bloodlust. The next time she saw the insufferable fiend she'd go for his throat. There's some blood for you! If it weren't for the fact that she'd goaded him completely beyond the point of safety and then chosen death over his touch, she might have held the grudge just a little while longer. As it was, anger eventually faded into an uneasy queasy feeling, and that faded into keen embarrassment. The way she behaved.... how would she ever look him in the eye again?



And as if her behavior itself wasn't bad enough, it was all compounded by the fact that he was Professor Snape. He was the Professor Snape. The man that sent first years scurrying in the opposite direction. And most seventh years as well! The man was a spy for the Order. He had convinced the most evil of men that he was their peer for years. That falsehood could not have been maintained without some sacrifice. She could hardly imagine the things he'd seen, the things he'd done. He went up against sadistic murderers every day and not four hours ago he had gone up against a sexually frustrated, eighteen-year-old Gryffindor. That must have been thrilling for him.



Oh, dear lord! She turned and went for her room. It was late enough that none of the others would still be up. Despite her caustic return, she had indeed heard his warning against telling the others. Not that she would have in any event, of course. Still, she couldn't very well snipe at them too much longer before even Harry lost his temper and demanded to know what the hell was going on. She silently thanked whoever was listening for her own room yet again. Someone would have been bound to notice her absence otherwise. As it was, she wondered how she had managed to avoid the halls' keepers all this time. Perhaps Snape had warned Filch to avoid her and both men were playing least in sight. The thought made her giggle slightly. She could just see the fearsome Professor Snape listening for her footfall and turning on his heels to scurry away when he heard it. That would be the day!



When she finally settled down in her bed it was with a restless toss. The rest of the night followed suit. She managed to throw herself back and forth for hours on end, not gaining a single second of sleep. Her body started out sore and achy. It only managed to become more uncomfortable with time. Her knees began to throb from sheer exhaustion. Her head kept up the ache, and soon the entirety of her body caught up the beat. Another sleepless night was spent seeking peace and some form of respite. The morning came an eternity later and yet too early. Her head wouldn't desist its steady ache, and so as she stumbled out of bed, she swore with more color than it had ever occurred to her to use before.



She dressed quickly and ducked out of her room into the hall rather than go through the common room. The idea of speaking to anyone was beyond consideration. As she followed routine and made her way to breakfast, she realized that neither was she hungry nor looking forward to the chore of sitting through the meal. Instead, once again, the Forbidden Forest called. Without a second thought, she stepped outside. The Fall air was chilly, immediately cooling her inflamed flesh. The sky was overcast, allowing darkness to remain and threatening rain. In the distance she could see the forest beckoning. It pulled at her, almost as Professor Snape did. Over the last several days she had received a crash course in the power of energy. She seemed to be able to sense it everywhere. Now, in wave after wave, it rolled through her body from the ancient forest. Some of it was pleasant, some sinister, and some was simply pure. The creatures within the forest tainted the pureness of the forest itself. The trees, earth, vegetation, even the wind against her cheek seemed to bring more than it should. Shifting directions just slightly, she encouraged the breeze to wash over her skin. Long, brown hair was brushed off her shoulders to play in the wind.



Hermione looked upward to find the trees looming before her. Inside was darkness. For a moment she paused at the entrance, hesitating between what she knew and what she craved. Then the moment passed and she stepped inside. A sense of stillness took her, and yet life seemed to bloom all around. A peaceful balance found her chest, keeping her poised taut as a string to take another step. The breath she had been holding slipped out slowly. She kept moving, surprised to find the breeze strong even within the forest. More surprising still was that her eyes had adjusted to the blackness. Her world was made of grays and blacks, but beyond the lack of color everything was clearly visible.



Time lost meaning as she wandered within the quiet peacefulness of the world. Every so often some sound would distract her. Then it too would fade away and leave her with nothing. She continued to walk. The ground beneath her was slightly damp, and a thrilling urge to feel it ripped through her. Not stopping to think about the consequences, truly not caring about anything but the present, she stripped off her shoes and socks and left them. Continuing on, the feel of the damp earth on her feet was intoxicating. She kept moving. The throbbing inside had turned to a pleasant pulse. Her head and her knees took note from the rest of her body and stopped complaining. Deep within her belly the pulsing continued but it had turned softer. Even that was more pleasant.



Energy traveled over her. So much, in fact, that she wondered that she had never felt it before. Something elemental surrounded the brown haired woman, allowing her to blend into her surroundings as if she had always been there. Thoughts drifted off, leaving her feeling powerful and alone. The breeze leapt more insistently against her skin, its energy seeping through. On impulse she sank to her knees. When the pleasure increased, she lowered the rest of her body. Lying head to toe against the soft vegetation of moss and grasses, she sighed. Nothing intruded upon her mind. Not thought or direct feeling. Just the soft swarm of energy and nature. Power, wonderfully pleasant but so obviously violent just below the surface, swam within her blood. Easing back into the earth further still, the girl drifted to sleep for the first time in days.



If she drifted into sleep, she snapped out of it. Instantly, she was awake and functioning. Without thought or the knowledge of purpose, she rolled to the left and sprang to her feet. If her agility startled her, she let no indication of it slip. Her eyes were wide and searching in the blackness, completely without emotion as she scanned the clearing. Again she moved before her mind could issue the command. This time it was a bare moment before a large creature dropped from the trees above to land in the spot she had recently abdicated. Taking another step backward she took in the beast in a mere blink of an eye. It was cat-like, but huge, its shape more jaguar than lion. Yet what stood before her was dirty brown, devoid of any hair, and stained with black, tattoo-like markings over its body.



It leapt forward. Its agile body coming for her. Hermione darted to the left again, her nostrils flaring in satisfaction when it missed her and sailed forward from its own momentum. The creature squared itself and took a step forward. Drool dripped from one side when it bared its fangs for her to see. It was easily to her waist, and seemed even more daunting when her eyes rolled over its brawny muscles and build. Still, she stood her ground. Her eyes were focused into pinpoints of attention and it was all directed at the predator before her. It leapt upward once again, strong jaws going for her neck.



Hands came up automatically, not cowering but with purpose. As it closed the distance, she felt the power around her narrow to the same pinpoint as her attention and then boom outward. Without wand or spell, green streaks of power left her palms angrily. The giant cat faltered and fell, the scent of blood heavy on the air. With the release of the newly discovered energy, something within her cracked and the imperative for escape hit suddenly. Her eyes darted left and right, but she had no idea where the castle was. Behind her the cat made a noise. It sounded angry, and much more unapologetic than she currently felt. Making a decision at random, she began to run.



The bushes caught at her robes as she fled. Tree bark scrapped against her sensitive shoulder, ripping through the cloth and finding skin. Her forearms burned and tingled as blood was let. And through it all, the beast was on her trail. It moved as quickly as she, and had the benefit of following a prey forging the way.



Her back arched as claws sank into muscle. An instant later she was on the ground, the creature above her. It pinned her, snarling. Hermione allowed her weight to go limp and dropped to the ground. Inside the cat's wide frame she rolled on to her back, anger surging to the forefront. A drop of saliva hit her neck, hot and putrid. Its breath followed as large fangs started forward. She surged upward, instinct taking over. Her hands caught at the creature's neck, raking it over again and again. Intense pleasure flashed as hot blood scorched her arms, face, and chest. Wiggling free she jumped to her feet. Standing over the creature as it convulsed on the forest floor, she slowly glanced at her hands. Long, angry claws had grown from her own puny nail beds. As she watched and the forest once again grew quiet, they receded back to their normal length.



The scent of water caught her nose and she sought it out. The cat was left to rot where it lay. As she stalked the water, power again engulfed her. She felt strong. Dangerous. When she came upon the lake, she shed her clothes quickly and dove in. The bitting cold of the lake was shocking in its intensity. She came to the surface, a little cold and entirely displeased. Blood was dripping into her eyes. She rubbed it away distractedly, catching some on her tongue and reveling in the taste.



Blood.



She was covered in blood. As the reality of that fact worked its way into her consciousness she began to gag. Crawling from the water on hands and knees, she retched into the high grass. The stinging acidic flavor in her throat brought tears to her eyes. Wiping the back of her hand over her lips, she stood, too numb to think. Yet think she did. Slowly, little by little, her mind interrupted her peace.



Tears began to fall in earnest and she surveyed her surroundings. It was dark now, even out in the open. The moon was high. How long had she slept? God, where was she? She turned in quick circles, not seeing anything familiar in any direction. Panic rose quickly. She began to hyperventilate, tasting tears mix with the blood. The intense desire to run hit her again, but she refused herself the comfort and sat. As soon as she had gotten control of herself again she stood and, unsure of herself in the highest, sniffed. There … to the west. That was the way to her home.



Hours passed, and when she finally spotted the tall walls of the castle, relief swamped her. Bare feet had long since began to bleed, but that inconvenience was minimal compared to the pain radiating from her back. Blood had worked its way between her shoulder blades and down her back. She could feel it trickle down her legs. The slick wetness that had come from the cat had dried. She itched unbearably.



Pausing momentarily to wipe her feet off, she darted into the castle. For a moment she considered going to her own room but gave the thought up almost immediately. She needed something to take care of the wounds on her back and perhaps the others on her shoulder and arms. Had anyone noticed she was gone? How had they not? Going to Madam Pomfrey would probably bring the Headmaster and her friends upon her within minutes. Instead she kept going downward, making her way to the dungeons. Of course, she had no idea where Professor Snape's rooms were, but even now she could smell him.



Moving through the halls stealthily, she finally found him. He was on the other side of the wall. He was so close. Embarrassment made her halt momentarily as she considered seeking out her room once more. No. He might not enjoy her company but he could hardly ignore a battered and bleeding girl … women, standing in his doorway.



"Well, do come in." He stood wide and motioned her forward, ignoring her muffled squeak of surprise. "You've certainly had an adventure, haven't you? Got every person in the damn castle looking for you."



"I'm sorry, Professor." After so long in her own head the words came out rusty and harsh. Her eyes were wide as she looked up at him, honestly thrilled to see the familiarity of his slight smirk.



"You should go to Pomfrey." His eyes narrowed at the trickling of blood that was trailing behind her.



"I don't want to," she said sharply. She glanced over him quickly, taking him in. Part of her wanted to curl against him and hope he'd give comfort. Part of her realized the threat he was and sized up this new opponent. "Don't try to make me."



"Strip." He took a step away from her and leaned one shoulder against the wall casually. His arms were crossed over his chest. His face impatient, waiting.



"You can't mean for me to...." Her voice trailed off as his brow rose arrogantly.



"Why are you here, Miss Granger? To bleed all over my floors? Strip so I can help you, or go to Madam Pomfrey and get the hell out of my private chambers."



"Fine." Excitement danced in her chest as she stood a little straighter. The robe was undone slowly, falling in a puddle about her feet. She stepped over it, glancing up to meet his eye as her hand went back to work. Slowly, the buttons of her shirt came undone and she rolled her shoulders backward and let them go limp. When the material didn't automatically slip from her body, she pulled it off, grimacing as the dried blood ripped free. With one hand she unzipped her skirt and shimmied it over her hips. Then she stood in her bra and panties. His eyes were narrowed, his nostrils flared. Excitement rolled within her. Never mind that she was wounded, matted with blood and utterly exhausted again. She needed him, and somehow she thought he might need her as well.



"Turn around." His voice was a command, more rough than usual. Without reason, simply because it pleased her to do so, she reached behind herself and unclasped her bra. The object fell to the ground softly and was followed by a similar sound as her panties hit the floor beside it. "That wasn't necessary," he growled again.



"You said strip," she reminded with a slight smile, squirming with the knowledge that he was looking at her bare backside but she was unable to see so much as his face.



"Come on," his voice was, as always, gruff.



When his hand enclosed her wrist and began to lead her toward a shut door, she almost fainted in relief. Finally, she would get what she wanted. It was almost too much to bear. He threw the door open and shoved her gently into the room. Directly before her lay an oversized bathtub and next to it a shower. Disappointment hardly described the horrible falling in her chest.



"Professor?"



"You're not likely to bleed to death in the shower, but keep it quick. I need to see what I'm working with." He shut the door behind himself and left her staring at the room around her.



Forlorn, she did as he bid, smoothing a washcloth over her body again and again. Blood mixed with the water and fled down the drain. The smell was devastating to her for some reason, making her body almost shake with wanting. Just knowing that he was on the other side of the door set her senses reeling. Her palm tipped over a nipple routinely and then again as sensation shot over her. Holding her breath, she rinsed the soap out of her hair and stepped from the shower. The towel she used barely passed over her body. Her skin was still damp but not dripping as she exited.



"I had rather thought you might come out wearing a towel," he commented dryly.



"I had rather thought you might join me," she purred back.



"Turn around," his voice was bitingly harsh.



His hands, however, were anything but as they began to smooth a salve over her irritated skin. The calloused skin slid over her shoulder first, soothing away the hurt the tree bark had left. They then drifted down her arms, sliding effortlessly with the slick salve. Carefully, patiently, he worked it into the deep claw marks on her back. As his hands slid downward, they scooped around to rub away any scratches on her hips. One was black and blue already and he focused on it for a moment, his caress becoming deeper. One large hand slid over her belly smoothly. Fire leapt within her and she squirmed backward, looking for sensation. His other hand, still resting on her hip, held her away firmly. He went down on his knees, his breath teasing her most sensitive of skin. She gasped and shuddered, trying desperately to hold her body still. His attention started at her feet and worked their way upward. Slowly, his palm slid over her calves. Her knees got a deeper massage as they were already bruising. With light, sweeping motions his fingertips moved upward, dancing over her hips and coming back around to slip between her thighs. He must have been able to feel her skin tremble beneath his careful caress. Pausing, hands mere inches from where she wished them, he looked upward. Her nakedness was displayed for him to see. Her nipples were distended almost painfully and he knelt before her, hands still resting on her oversensitive skin. Their eyes met and he smirked.



"Why did you come here? Don't you know what I could do to you?" his voice was harsh and grating.



"I trust you," she squeaked out, not able to catch her breath. All at once he stood, dropping his hands from her.



"Then you truly are the fool I've named you." He glared downward, chest rising quickly.



"I want you," she amended, hearing a slight sob in her voice.



"I told you I wouldn't be held responsible for your lust. Take care of it yourself." He took another step away.



"I don't know what you mean! What can I do about it? I want you." She moved to followed but was held in place by his sneer of distaste.



"Really, Miss Granger? At this point pleasuring yourself sits second to being raped by a Death Eater? I thought you chose death?" he bit out.



"You mean.... masturbate?" The last word was whispered in shock and she blushed deeply.



"You've always been quick." He grunted.



"I can't, I don't do that. That's....I've never." Hermione realized she was sputtering, knew even that she must seem immature next to his casual mention of the idea. Even as she bulked at him, the image of the act he was suggesting flew to her and made her breath catch.



"May I suggest you start." Her squirming embarrassment brought only a little relief. Did the girl realize she was standing before him naked? That he could smell her? "Unless, that is, you've come to terms with the sex toy concept."



"I won't do that," she told him confidently and then looked away. "I don't know how."



"Fine." He caught her wrist again and dragged her bodily toward another door. Opening it savagely, he threw her down onto his bed and loomed over her, fairly shaking in his need to take her. "Lay back."



"Professor?" She looked around in confusion, biting her lip all the while.



"Do as I say!" He slammed the door shut again and leaned against it. "Lay back."



She did as he said, and then simply waited. Her own breath was loud in her ears and it was being mirrored by his sharp intakes of air. Unsure of what to do, she crossed her ankles and clenched her thighs together. Her eyes were already solidly closed, too embarrassed to look at him.



"I want you to lay your hand on your stomach," he commanded and waited until she had done so. "Feel the weight of it, what it does to your body. Do you feel it?"



"Yes." The word was barely audible but she felt it. The slight weight made her throb all the more.



"Slide your hand upward, cup your breast."



She obeyed. The drag of her fingers on her stomach made it hard to breathe. It worsened still as her fingertips ran over her breast. Though her eyes were shut, she could sense his glare. Professor Snape was watching this. He could see how her nipple strained upward, begging for stimulation. She moved to lightly touch it.



"Not yet," he growled, "I want you to keep that up. Now, lick your lips for me."



Her pink tongue darted out to explore her own skin.



"Bring the bottom lip into your mouth and bit down, softly." He let out a little puff of air as she followed his order. "Now you may squeeze your nipple."



She worried away at her lip, swirling her tongue around it purposefully, as her hand lightly touched her nipple. Needing more, she squeezed gently. Her hips rocked forward and she squeezed harder. She began to make a noise in her throat but cut it off.



"Moan for me," he growled and then groaned as she did. Her hips rocked forward again. "Unhook your ankles. Good, now spread your knees apart for me. That's a good girl, a little more. Rest your hand on your knee. Now tell me, what do you want?"



"You." She moaned again, loving the sound of it.



"You can't have me. What else do you want?" His voice became stern but the husky, vibrating quality of it made her shudder and quiver for him.



"Professor," she pleaded and tossed her head. Her fingers worked away at her nipple, her hips still rocking slightly. His voice was driving her insane.



"Run your hand over your thigh," he spoke softly, "now show me where you want me to touch you."



Slowly she let her hand sink downward, shuddering as her fingers slipped into the center of herself. Unsure, she trailed her fingers over herself lightly, holding herself back.



"Roll your nipple harder." He paused and waited until her hips began to tip again. At one particular point she went drastically still for a moment and then moaned. "Did that feel good?"



"Yes," she gasped.



"Do it again." He watched, as hard as he could ever remember being, as she teased her clit. Her hips arching upward drastically and her eyes were clenched shut. "Do you feel yourself tightening?" He took her inarticulate nod for an affirmative. "Squeeze tighter."



"Oh god." She gasped and did as he said. Sensations were rolling through her body that seemed to sap her control and give it to this man. She squeezed her nipple again at his command. His voice was husky and thick, making her ache to hear it against her ear.



"Tighter. Now moan for me. Again. Arch your hips upward, higher. Keep it up. Tighter."



She did as he said, moaning again even though he hadn't bid it. Her fingers worked, drawing herself tighter and tighter. She heard him moving and her eyes snapped open. He was above her, leaning over her, speaking in her ear.



"Now come for me, Hermione," he growled. His breath slithered over her ear. Her given name an endearment that made her go still and then she began to convulse. A tight wail erupted past her lips as again and again she experienced flashes of pleasure.



"Oh god," she ground out as she arched off his bed. The world began to clear slowly and she looked around in confusion. Professor Snape was nowhere to be seen. "Professor?"



"Always an adept pupil." He tossed her robes at her prone form and then stalked to the doorway. He turned at the last moment to glare down at her. "Now get out."