Secrets, Desire, and The Potions Master

As I entered the dungeon classroom, I was aware of every eye in the room following me to my seat near the back of the room. I had worn my hair tied back into a braid that was at least a bit less hastily created than the one I'd tried to plait the other day. I heard someone snicker and thought I heard the words; "Wardrobe Girl" issue from someone near where I had plopped myself down. I placed my bookbag next to my feet, proud of myself for actually remembering it this time.

"Ah, I see you have decided to join us on time for once," Professor Snape said, as he turned around from the front of the class, an old, dirty-looking tome held open and floating in mid-air. I saw the pages fluttering, turning, and finally pausing near the middle of the book.

"Take our your textbooks and turn to page 467...You will all be required to learn this mixture...it is relatively simple..." he glanced up again, sneered and added, looking over my shoulder at a small, sandy-haired boy who sat behind me, "...for most of us.

You have until the end of class to produce the desired results..." It turned out to actually be not that hard to make. I had no idea what it was suppose to do, but after I'd added the last pinch of something or other to the mix, and stirred it with all the little flourishes it discribed within the textbook laid open upon the table next to me and the mess I was making, it began to turn bright orange and to glow. I gazed down into the small, cast-iron caldron set upon my desk and watched dark blue polka-dots appear; floating on the surface of the bubbling stuff and rise into the air. Flopping around, blue bubbles had orangeish colour smeared all over them.

I was sure I had messed up somehow, but somehow, I didn't care. The mixture smelled so nice...and the funny bubbles...such clashing colours....but they were just so fun to watch...I had to keep watching them. My eyes flew to the ceiling, where most of the bubbles were meeting up with each other. I looked down into the pot, realizing the stufff was about to froth over the sides of the black container.

Suddenly, I found myself on the floor. My right cheek was throbbing and my teeth felt jarred. As if someone had belted me across the face. But, who would do that? And why? I looked around, groaning as I tried to gain my bearings. It took a moment to realze every face was turned towards me. I didn't need to look to read their stunned expressions.

"Can you hear me now?" I looked up to see Professor Snape crouching down to my level, as I was still on the floor, "Answer me...please." He added the last word in a condescending manner. I nodded, coughed and then tried to speak; "Y-yes, S-sir... Why's my face sore all of a sudden?"

It was difficult to talk as my cheek was beginning to swell. "What did you put in that potion?" Professor Snape snapped at me, "Did you perhaps mistake....this..." he held up a tuft of something that looked vaguely familar, "For this?" I narrowed my eyes, trying to see what he was trying to show me, and the rest of the class. I heard a soft snort of a giggle coming from somewhere to my left. Professor Snape chose to ignore it.

"I thought...we were suppse to..." I faltered, pushing myself to my feet and facing Professor Snape. "So, who hit me? You?"

"Of course, you silly girl," he said, and I narrowed my eyes slightly. He didn't have to sound so...elated...about it! "I had to. The only way to jar someone from the effects of such a potion, as the one you accidently created, is to strike them, hard, just once across the face. If the potion is extremely potent, something I don't think we'll ever have to worry about from you, often one has to be beaten for the effects to vanish. Infirmary. Now."

"Miss Granger," Professor Snape said, before I could turn towards the door, "Please assist our budding chemist to the hospital wing, if you don't mind."

"Y-yes, sir," she said, and I felt her take my arm and guide me towards the doorway. Once outside the room, I shook her off, "It's all right," I tried, even though my face was smarting. I was still feeling a little light-headed, "Truly, Hermione. I can take care of myself..." She gave me the same look my mother does whenever I try to do something she considers foolish.

"No, you can't," she said, holding her backpack filled with books over one narrow shoulder, "You're worse than anyone I've ever known in Potions! Other than Neville, of course. Weren't you paying attention to what Professor Snape..." As she spoke his name, I felt my insides cringe with a mixture of anger, fear and...longing. I tried to hide my face in shadow before she could perhaps notice anything amiss. She was, after all, too clever for her own good! "Well, I'm to take you to the infirmary anyway," she said, and I knew I'd been successful at hiding my feelings from her, "Once you're there, I don't care if you stay or go. But, I won't get into trouble for your sake!"

As we walked to the hospital wing, I listened as Hermione continued to lecture me about the importance of studying for tests, completing one's homework in a timely fashion, and, very important in my case, arriving on time for class! "And for goodness sake, pay attention in class! That potion you accidently created could have caused considerable damage! What if someone were hurt?"

I tilted my head at her, just outside the door that would lead into the infirmary, "No one was hurt, Hermione," I said, a bit too acidly, and felt a little bad when something akin to hurt flashed across her features. "Well...Umm...well, I suppose I should be getting back...take care of yourself..." I nodded as she turned and began to stride away down the corridor before shaking my head at the closed door and taking off in the opposite direction. I felt fine. What did I need with the hospital wing? I decided rather rashly to take a walk outside since I had a free period today for the next hour. I found that the day was rather nice, a bit nippy but not too bad.

I walked near the lake and stood watching the water ripple in the breeze for a long moment. Actually, I really don't know how long I stood there, my arms wrapped about each other, hypnotized by the dark, brackish waters. Suddenly, a shadow fell across me and I shivered, hoping whoever it was would be considerate enough to step away a few paces so as to no longer block the sun from shining down through a few whispy clouds to warm my face. It would seem I was to be disappointed in that respect.

"I thought I told you to go to hospital wing?" I turned to see Professor Snape standing behind me. He looked extremely out of place outside in the sunlit world. The pastiness of his features were more dramatic against the sunny cheerfulness of the school grounds. He looked uncomfortable as well, as if he might dissolve or implode or something if he stayed out here too long. I found the idea humorous and couldn't stop myself from snorting out a slight giggle. "Apparently," he whispered, pausing for a moment to make sure I was paying attention. A lock of his oily hair fluttered across his forehead, which he ignored, "You find disobedience amusing."

"Of course I don't," I said, resisting the urge to glance around, to see if there were anyone nearby, "I wasn't laughing because of that..."

"Oh?" he said, in a tone that told me he wasn't the least bit interested in my explaination, "Well, perhaps you'll have time to tell me exactly what was so...funny...tomorrow night."

"Don't tell me," I said, unable to keep the sarcasm from my voice. I knew, in retrospect, that I would have done better not saying anything at all, "More detention?"

"Very good!" he mocked, with a slight smirk curling his lips upwards, showing just a glint of tooth, "There's hope for you yet! Saturday evening. After the evening meal. Come to my office...Now, take your insolent self to the hospital wing at once. And don't think I have forgotten about your upcoming detention with me this evening. Now, Madam Pomfrey is waiting for you."

"But, I don't need..." I began to protest.

"Do you want to make it detention every saturday night until the end of term?" he threatened in that silky-smooth voice of his, that voice that had always sent secret shivers up my spine. I didn't say anything and he nodded, satisfied, and turned back towards the castle. I sighed and, this time, actually did drag myself to the hospital wing.

~*~*~*~


I had mixed emotions about detention with Professor Snape that evening. Hardly able to push the food past my lips as I ate with the other students that night, I found myself tuning out the buzz and murmur of the other students as I tried to eat the dry-tasting meal. Normally the food was pretty good. My mind couldn't help imagining those cold chains wrapped about my wrists once more and I wondered what they'd been used for in the past. I arrived at Professor Snape's office, located near the dungeon classroom he'd been teaching within since before I had come here, I knew.

I hesitated near the doorway, my hand raised towards the brass knocker in the shape of a curling serpent. Before I could touch it, however, a soft voice called from within; "Enter," and the door unlatched and swung open on creaking hinges. Guttering candlelight danced upon the walls.

"Good evening," Professor Snape greeted, sounding almost...friendly, if that were possible, "Sit down, please, we have something to discuss." My heart leapt into my throat as his tone altered with his words. A chair was set in front of his desk. Various bottles of glowing substances were perched upon the surface. In fact, as my eyes glanced about the room, I realized that nearly every available space was taken up with some kind of strange pickled creature or gleaming, pulsating bottled liquid. Leaning forward a bit in his chair, Professor Snape seemed to scan my face for any hint of discomfort.

"Your work continues to suffer in my class," he began, gazing at me through the curtain of his dark, dark hair, "Do you know...why that may be?"

"Uh, I'm just no good at Potions, Sna-Uh...Professor Snape..." I said, looking away before I was lost in those ebony eyes of his. Why did he have to look so intently at someone that they automatically felt they were about to drown? He frowned at my near slip of the tongue and went on, as if I hadn't even spoken, "I believe that I do know, exactly, why you are receiving such poor marks, even though I have given you plently of time to finish your projects..." he paused, as if waiting to gauge my reaction, and then he asked the question I knew was at the heart of this 'meeting'; "Do you still harbor...certain...urges...in regards to myself?"

I felt the red blotches heating up my face once more and wriggled lower in my chair. Ugh! How could be even ask such a question! Not that I could deny it...but...I was silent for a long time, unsure of what to say, what to do. At least, he cleared his throat and ended the stillness, "I could, you know, enter your mind and retrieve the answer there..." I gasped, jerking away instictively, still recalling the first time he'd done that. I had hated the sensation and never wished to repeat it. He smirked at the look upon my face, "But...Your silence speaks...volumes."

"What...Exactly, do you want me to say, Professor?" I asked, attempting to grab ahold of any bravery I might have had. I sat up straighter in the chair, the sleeves of my robes hiding my fingers as I gripped the chair's arms, "I'm am not the one who's entered someone's mind against their will. Nor tried to seduce them..." I seem to have taken him by surprise. Clearly, he hadn't thought of it in quite that manner.

It was my turn to smirk, "Not that I wasn't enjoying it...at least...until...the end..." I remembered with ire the way he'd left me wanting in the middle of what might have been the best sex I would never have. I was still rather put out about that, though I tried my best not to allow him to notice this. "Professor Snape," I asked, as innocently as I could, "I wonder, what is the punishment for teachers who have...certain...relationships...with students? Immediate dismissal, I would imagine. So, you're right, Professor, we do have something to discuss..."

"I will not have that insolent tone used with me, girl," he said, after waiting until I was finished with my mini-rant, "I have no fear of any threats, however weakly veiled, that may fall from your lips. I have faced things far more dangerous than a slip of a child..."

"You do not look at me as a child," I said, not understanding where these words were coming from, but that I couldn't help myself from saying them, "You did not look at me as a child the other night..."

I stood up, scraping the chair's legs against the floor. The only sound in the room, right then, was the mingled sounds of the both of us breathing. One; quickly, the other; soft and quietly. "I am not a child..." I said, slipping around to his side of the desk. He did not move, only watched me, as if curious as to what I was about to do. I slid between himself and the desk. His black-clad knees touched my thighs. I could feel the back of his desk against my rear. Without another word, I shifted my robes to the sides a bit a climbed onto his lap.

I felt him stiffen beneath me and for a moment I feared he would shove me to the floor. "I am...not...a...child..." I said, fiercely, as if trying to convince myself as well. I pressed my hips hard against his own and heard his sharp intake of breath. Drawing my hands upwards, I dragged my fingers though his hair, realizing how silky it actually was. Not many would know this unless they touched him and I don't think many would venture to try. Pausing for a moment, I heard his soft groan beneath me. It was a groan of longing and torment. I knew exactly how he felt.

"Wait," he managed, his voice low, barely a growl, near my robe-covered breasts. I pulled back a bit, still straddling him, and did as he asked. Even though my heart was pounding, my body was crying out to touch him and be touched by him, and my breath was quickening, I waited.

"What we...have nearly done," he began, and I could tell he was finding it difficult to speak. His hands lingered near the sides of his chair, "What we are about to do..." he reached up and turned my face towards his. I saw the roiling passion burning beneath the darkness of his eyes, like a flame in the midst of midnight, "Is all that I can ever offer you. If you are searching for...love...I would advise you...to look elsewhere."

He stared at me for a few moments, waiting, I knew, for my response. I leaned forward, feather-touching my lips to his, my fingers still tangled within his hair, I gripped handfuls, and whispered against his mouth, "It's not your love that I want..." His mouth opened slightly as my tongue danced across his teeth, dipping into the warm crevice to wrap about and around his own. Please, make him respond to me, I thought, desperately, as I rocked against him, yanking hard at his hair to force his mouth closer, and harder, upon my own.

"You silly...silly girl..." he breathed, once our kiss had finally ended, my hands had found their way into the frock coat he wore, until my fingers touched flesh. I could feel his heart beating against the palm of my hand. Maddenly quick. "Do you have any idea what you are doing?" I reached between us and cupped the fabric of his pants, squeezing his arousal before I said, "I have a pretty good idea, Professor..."

The look on his face was reward enough as I silently lowered myself from his lap and looked up at him, braced against his knees. Dipping my head downwards, I ran my hands across his thighs, slowly...up and then down, relishing the feel of his hard muscles beneath the material. His sudden intake of breath was a beautiful thing to hear as I breathed, inches from his harding member, the only barrier between my eager mouth and his flesh a flimsy bit of cloth. On my knees now, not caring that the back of the desk was near my skull, that the floor was hard and cold, I drew my tongue leisurely across the bulging fabric, feeling his manhood twitch in response and an almost inaudible moan escaped from his lips above me.

I felt him twine his long, pale fingers though my hair, involuntarily guiding me towards what he desired most at this moment. I knew I should just stand up and end this. I should leave him as he left me; crying and so badly in need that every nerve-ending felt as if they were on fire. But, as I raised my eyes upwards and saw his slightly parted lips, his upturned face, the look of unexpected bliss awash across his features, one of his hands white-knuckling the arm of the chair, the other becoming swiftly tangled within my hair; I found that I could do no such thing. I wanted him and I would have him...if he would allow me.

It took little effort to remove the obstacle. He merely stood for a moment to draw his coat apart and undid the button holding his trousers closed. Without a word, and knowing that he was observing my every move now, I eased my fingers into the waistband of his pants and tugged them downwards. My face flushed a bit, as it would always do, I know I should be used to that reaction by now, as I beheld his fully erect arousal. It wasn't extremely large, for which I was secretly relieved, but it was about average from the books I've read and othe girls I have asked. I had only stopped to gaze upon him for a split second. My tongue was drawing circles about the tip of his member, slowly, wetting it with my saliva. I felt him jerk and growl. His hands in my hand tightened suddenly.

Using one hand, I gripped him at his base, swallowing his member, I wrapped my mouth tightly about him and drew myself upwards slowly, sliding the tip of my tongue in swirls about his pulsating flesh. It would be a lie to say that I've never done this. I have. Many times. I've just never...well, you know... His breathing above me was in short gasps puncuated by a soft moan as I contined to massage his hardness with my tongue.

Using my fee hand, I fondled his testicles, and recieved a shudder of pleasure from him as my prize. Engulfing his entire arousal into my mouth wasn't difficult and I squeezed him with my other hand, following my mouth upwards to suck hard upon the head of his shaft. Suddenly, he pulled me away from him and I found myself being lifted onto the desk.

A swipe of hand across the surface scattered everything to the floor. I was worried, slightly, about the broken potion bottles and their contents, but he took out his wand, uttered a short incantation and the mess righted itself before any damage was done. His hands were beneath my robes, the hem of my skirt hitched upwards about my thighs, as he caressed the warmth of my skin in an almost tender manner.

I whimpered a bit as his hands found their way around to my buttocks, slipping past the thin material of my undergarments. "Are you sure?" he stopped, before I could ease upwards a bit to remove any clothing that happened to be in the way, "Are you absolutely certain...that this...is what you want?" His body trembled, mere moments from sating itself within my core, and I saw how very difficult this was for him to remain immobile as I seemed to consider his question.