Voyeur

You make your way down to the potions classroom. Detention with Snape. Again. You seem to be getting them quite frequently lately and for no reason whatsoever. At least that’s what your friends think. Harry and Ron can be so oblivious at times. They don’t notice the looks that pass between you and the professor. They don’t notice your breath catch when he says your name, “Miss Granger”. The tone is so rich and silky that you just get lost within the folds of his voice. Thinking about the Potion’s Master’s voice is so gratifying that you almost believe that you’re actually hearing him speak.

“Miss Granger. Miss Granger. Hermione!\" You snap out of your reverie when his hands land on your shoulders. You realize that you had been hearing his voice all along. How did you not realize you had made it there? You look up at him. His eyes are cold but gentle. This is your fifth detention in two weeks. Which is impressive, considering you have only had potions three times so far. He’s sought you out to give you detention. You’ve gone out of your way to get detention. You’re not sure how much longer this can go on before people start getting suspicious.

You try to convince him to make you an apprentice or something. You just want some reason for the two of you to be together every night. He says that’s not possible. You’d never get any work done and that would only make the suspicions worse. A heated argument ensues and quickly turns into forceful kisses. He pushes you up against his desk, pushing things out of the way. Several papers float to the ground. You swear you hear a click, but you can’t see past Severus to see if anyone is there. Since Severus doesn’t react, you push the thought aside.

Severus, you’re not quite sure when he became Severus to you. When you became comfortable enough around him to call him by his given name and not Professor Snape. But it happened. And that’s how the detentions began. And every detention starts with a fight and leads to kissing. You almost wonder if he argues with you just to have an excuse to kiss you. An excuse in case you get caught. Really anyone could walk in at any moment, he never wards the door. Besides, there’s something more thrilling about the possibility of getting caught.

You feel him pull your hips close to his straining erection. A delicious shiver runs through your body. You’ve been kissing for what seems like ages before he finally pulls away. Breath. Air. You can breathe. You reach up, unclasping his robes, pushing them slowly off his shoulders. You want to know every inch of this man, even when he doesn’t want to allow it. His robes fall to the floor with a light thud. Soon your robes have been slid off your shoulders and now surround you on the desk. You slowly pull your hands back and begin to undo his shirt. It doesn’t take long for him to follow suit and you watch your tie fly across the classroom.

You take the same explorative time with his shirt as with his robe. He has such nice skin. Too bad it’s always covered with those heavy, concealing robes. He’s looking down at you, his eyes a glitter with hope, desire, dare you say it, love? Within moments his lips are back on your own. Teasing, licking, biting, passionately. It’s the best thing in the world. You reach your hands up and allow his hair to fall between your fingers as you hold him close. You never want to let go, but you know at some point you will have to.

His hands slide down your body and begin working on the buttons of your skirt. He tosses it in the same direction as the tie, and you’re sure you hear something shuffle. That quickly fades from your mind as you hear his pants pool around his feet. He kicks them aside before entering you. You bite back a moan, and it comes out as a whimper. He feels so good you can’t believe it. Soon he has a rhythm going. And it feels so nice.

His hands trace up and down your sides a few times before sweeping in and across your nipples. You swear that man could torture someone with pleasure. He probably has, but like so many thoughts concerning his past, you push it aside, lost in the moment. His fingers begin teasing your nipples and soon his mouth pulls apart from your own. He trails kisses across to your ears, gently nibbling the supple lobes. He continues down flicking his tongue along your neck. Sucking at your collarbone. Kiss. Flick. Kiss. Flick. Kiss, down your chest. His mouth pulls in one of your hard nipples. “Mmmm, Severus,” you moan.

You feel yourself reaching closer to orgasm as his thrusts increase in speed, his hand sliding between the two of you, stroking your clitoris. It isn’t long before you hear another click and then he’s screaming your name, “Hermione. Oh Hermione.” And you wonder if he heard the click also. You wonder who could have seen, and how much they saw. Was there someone here from the time you heard the first click?

When he pulls away you look up at him worriedly. He looks hurt at your expression and you have to tell him now or he’ll think you aren’t happy with him. He can be such a big baby. “I think someone was here,” you say. His face briefly shows shock before slipping into an expression of amusement. And you realize that you’re just being paranoid.