The Diary

A/N: Finally, some smut!

*****

After classes, Hermione headed straight for the library. The day had been good – no Potions today, and the talk with Professor McGonagall had given her new energy to think about her future. She didn’t have to apprentice with Snape. Professor Dumbledore might be able to introduce her to someone else to apprentice with. Now, she just had to find that someone else.

She headed straight for the periodicals section, and picked up the latest editions of Ars Alchemia, and Modern Alchemist, as well as Popular Alchemy, and headed to the nearest table, not noticing that she had just snatched up some of the very journals that Snape was eyeing.

“Interesting,” he mused as he watched her sit down. “Preparing for another bout in class, no doubt… “

Ignoring the rest of the patrons of the library, Hermione quickly became immersed in the journals, making notes about some of the authors, and their specific areas of interest. When she finished with Modern Alchemist, she tossed it on the table, and was starting to ready Popular Alchemy, when a silky-steel voice interrupted her.

“I don’t recall assigning anything from these journals. Am I to assume a new-found interest in Potions, Miss Granger?”

Startled, she looked across the table and into the face of Professor Snape. Inexplicably, her face flushed; for some reason, she felt embarrassed that he now knew that she was doing additional reading in the field; after all it wasn’t like she could lie and say it was for a class assignment. “Uh, no Professor. I, uh, had some, uh, free time, and thought that I’d do a little extra reading.” She paused, and then added, with a touch of defiance in her voice, “Besides, the Arithmancy Annual Review is one that I’ve already read.”

Snape nodded briefly, glancing over the parchment where she had been taking notes. “Since I doubt that even you can read all three journals at once, may I take the liberty of reading one of them?”

Hermione nodded. “Here, I’m done with this one, and I haven’t even looked at that one yet,” as she pushed two journals toward him. He picked them up, and sat down on the other side of the table, a few chairs down from Hermione, without another word.

Hermione turned back to the journal, but felt a little uneasy with Snape sitting so close. Luckily, she quickly became captivated with an article entitled: ‘Ancient sources for modern potions – an overview.’ Making a note of the author, she dove right in, becoming almost ecstatic at the suggestions for future research that the author had made.

Snape sat down with the two journals, but looked over at Hermione from behind the pages of the journal, rather than actually reading it. She was so engrossed in whatever she was reading, that he could observe her without feeling worried. Watching her as she made notes, he was amazed how her unquenchable thirst for knowledge drove her far beyond a simple desire to achieve good marks in school. She really had a need to know. Yes, maybe she really would make a good apprentice.

****

“Professor McGonagall – do you know if Professor Dumbledore has any contacts with a Potions Master named Ole Seerstram? I’ve been reading some of his research, and he does a lot of the things that I would be interested in – he’s combined a knowledge of ancient texts with modern potions, and he is really doing some fantastic research in adapting ancient potions to modern problems. It would be fantastic, because I would be able to keep up my Ancient Runes work, while studying under a first class Potions Master!”

Minerva McGonagall smiled. Hermione had the potential to be a fantastic researcher. The fact that Master Seerstram was in Scandinavia, with their long dark winters, didn’t seem to be a deterrent at all. “I will check with Professor Dumbledore, and see if it might be possible to set up an interview of some sort. I’ll talk to him about possible scholarships that you could apply for, too.”

****

The next several weeks passed quickly, with Quidditch practice for Ron and Harry, longer assignments, more difficult questions from Snape, and the inevitable loss of points for minor infractions in Potions.

Hermione, however, had had a few personal issues arise that she hadn’t anticipated. She’d had a series of, well, erotic, for lack of a better word, dreams. That in and of itself was okay – she’d accepted her hormonal swings, and was usually able to work out her sexual energy in private; the one thing Viktor had been good for was learning what she liked, and that had helped her learn how she could bring herself pleasure. But these recent dreams were disturbing.

What is the deal? This is the third dream I have had this week about Severus Snape. Snape?!? Merlin forbid. At least if I am going to have sexual dreams, why the hell does it have to be that black-hearted bastard Snape?!? Last night’s was the worst. For some reason, I was in his private lab working on something, when he came up behind me. He put his hands on my shoulders, and began rubbing my shoulders with his thumbs. I could feel my muscles relaxing as he continued to knead my shoulders.

Then, he pulled my hair off my neck, and began breathing lightly on my neck. Without a word, he began to kiss the side of my neck. He moved his hands from my shoulders, and wrapped them around me, just under my breasts, as he pulled me close to him. I put my hands over his, and gently moved them up to my breasts as he continued to kiss my neck. I couldn’t stand it any more, and I turned around and kissed him full on, clasping his robes, and feeling his shirt under his robes.

The dream was so vivid, and it kept going. I could feel his muscles under his shirt, and I could feel his cock pressing against me. I stepped back from him for a moment, and took off my own robes. He watched me as I unbuttoned my shirt, and then he took off his own robes. He pulled me back to him, and continued to kiss me, his tongue mimicking what his cock wanted to do. I was unbuttoning his shirt, and eventually, I was able to pull it off him.

I lowered my head to his chest, and teased his nipple with my tongue, tasting the tang of his sweat. I slipped off my skirt and my panties, and guided his hand between my legs. I was so wet, and his touch drove me nuts – he was teasing me, then sliding his fingers into me, rubbing my clit as my hands worked to free his cock. I couldn’t handle it any longer, and I came as his hands worked me over so well.

I woke up when I came. I couldn’t believe it – I don’t think I’ve ever had an orgasm in my sleep before. Truthfully, the dream felt so real, when I woke up, I wondered for half a second if there had been someone in my room. Of course there wasn’t but, damn – I was so wet when I woke up…

But why Snape? I mean, I guess he probably isn’t badly built (although it’s hard to tell under all those robes), and he’s smart, but the guy is so damn bad-tempered. I would have never thought of him like this. Well, except now, the dream sort of has me wondering. Maybe he does have some ‘hidden talents’!! Heehee!

Almost as an after thought, she added on more line:

Of course, he’d probably take about 150 points from Gryffindor if I ever tried to find out! So yet another reason to see about the apprenticeship with Seerstram.

****
Snape had given up trying to work for the evening. It had been a long, stressful week. One of the second year Hufflepuffs had mis-read the instructions, and not only did the potion explode without warning, but it had left daises on every surface it had come in contact with. He was still trying to remove all the daises from his classroom. The seventh years were getting edgy, as they were slowly realizing that they would have to Face the Real World in slightly more than 7 months, and the first years hadn’t quite figured out what was expected of them. Gods. At least when the imminent threat of Voldemort still loomed, it had been possible to threaten the students with the fate of the world. Now, he instead had to rely on surliness and intimidation.

Sighing, he left his study and went into his living quarters. He got out a bottle of scotch, and looked for some light reading. His eye caught on the small blue cloth-bound book that he had received in the mail at the beginning of the term. He had meant to go back to it, to see if he could figure out the sender’s identity, or at least the reason for sending it, but he hadn’t had the time.

Idly, he picked up it, and carried it, and his glass of scotch back to his chair. He open it again, and was immediately struck by the fact that there was more writing in the book than when he had first received it. When he had opened it before, there was just that silly passage about the beginning of the term. Now, there were about 20 pages of writing.

Now curious, he picked up his scotch, and began to read.

There was nothing special about the writing – mostly observations about school and friends, as well as some fear about the future – nothing that he would have actively read. Yet, the handwriting looked familiar. Then, when he read the entry on receiving detention and having to collect three vials of Flobberworm mucus, it dawned on him whose journal this was – it was Miss Granger’s diary. Somehow, he had gotten a copy of it. But he had received it at the beginning of the term – this diary was updated through – well, though this morning. As he flipped through the diary, the last page of writing caught his attention. It was dated this morning. One of the lines leapt off the page at him: At least if I am going to have sexual dreams, why the hell does it have to be that black-hearted bastard Snape?!?

He choked on his scotch as he read that line.

His eyes watering, he tried counseling himself. “Don’t read this, Severus. This is not what you want to read. This is not what you need to read. For whatever reason, you’ve gotten a copy of her diary. It would be a major violation to read this.” His resolve held out until he glanced back at the page, and his eye caught the phrase: and I could feel his cock pressing against me.

Oh gods. Please let this be about anyone but me.

Unable to stop himself, he read the last entry. The image of Miss Granger standing in front of him, unbuttoning her shirt stuck firmly in his mind. He could envision it, her hair down, a smile on her face, her fingers working the buttons, revealing a lacy bra and creamy flesh….

He tossed the book on the table next to him, and stood up. But what was that last bit again? He fumbled for thok, ok, trying hard not to read anything but her comment on the apprenticeship.
Apprenticeship?!? She really wanted to do one? How amazing. But why travel all the way to Scandinavia, to study with Ole, when she could just stay here?

“Because she’s referred to you as a ‘black-hearted bastard’ at least 15 times,” the voice in his head replied. “You torment her and her friends in class, just to watch them squirm, and you’re – what was it she said? ‘Pasty and greasy’. Good work. The one mind that you might not have minded training, and you’ve driven her off to Scandinavia.”

Hmph. Maybe it was worth having a little talk with Miss Granger. Although… He shook his head. Maybe if she really was wondering what he looked like under his robes, she’d take it as the wrong sort of encouragement. Maybe, instead, he’d talk to Albus about this; other faculty had had to deal with misguided teenage hormones in the past, but this was a first for him.

****