The Wage of Sin

Disclaimer: still not mine.

A/N Thanks for the kind reviews: Beltane, I had her down as Virginia Weasley too, but apparently (LnLS info, and they’re sticklers for canon) JKR has gone public with Ginny’s full name as Ginevra. Bit of a disappointment: I had some great puns on Virginia being a right goer! This he lhe last instalment.


COLLUSION

Mmmm. Lovely feeling, all rose-tinged and woozy. ethiething’s rubbing my face, something slick and hairy. Are those arms around me?

Yes, and what solid, sexy arms they are, too. There’s something soft inside me. A warm, heavy sensation in my belly.

Could get used to having the Potions Master this way.

Scrap that: could get used to having said Potions Master any way he fancies. That’s it, snuggle up. Party? What party would that be?

The solid structure beneath me rumbles; kissing my crown, he lets me unwind every fibre before striking: I fo, th, this man’s a Duelling Master. “So: what were you stealing from my stores?”

Shit! Ouch!

Jolting up not recommended; my crown makes cracking contact with his jaw. I rub the former while he strokes the latter. His lips are puckering.

The Horror of Hogwarts is lying in his bath pouting at me.

Weird.

I’m a goner, he’s doing the eyebrow trick. Bite my lip - somewhat puffy from ferocity of tonsil-tennis session - and stare into the few remaining bubbles. “Unicorns’ tears.”

“Why?”

“Ron wanted a potion from me.”

“I’m glad the unthinking oaf had the wit not to attempt an unsupervised brewing of his own! What potion?”

He’s being funny. Not screaming threats.

No, wait. Ex-student. Can’t be given detention. Bollocks!

Please, Professor, I’ve been such a bad girl. How about a week in the dungeons? I’ll let you use the cane, if you want.

“Inhibition relaxant.”

Oops, image of Weasley minus few existing restraint mechanisms unpleasing. Severus gives a theatrical shudder, or was that a ruse to cop a feel of my bits? “It’s not for him, if you follow. It’s…”

“To be slipped into the goblet of an unsuspecting witch.”

A Death Eater (ex) dares disapprove of a time-honoured schoolboy deception? Defend yourself, Hermione, the tongue flaps readily enough most of the time. Why won’t it function now?

“He wanted the Draught of Desire, but I refuse to betray the sisterhood.”

“I’m glad to hear it. Where did you get the rest…”

“Apothecaries will sell most ingredients to the unlicensed, and I have got a Gringotts’ card.” I’m flirting! Bookworms don’t do that.

“Of course.” Unicorns are a finite resource. You need the proper certification to get hold of their assorted bits. “You had better hurry, then.”

What? Is he chucking me out?

How was I to guess Snape would have the sexiest naughty-boy grin this side of Eternity? “Ten minutes, Hermione.”

Oh, I see. Finish the potion, play the loyal friend, then return for lots more lovely shagging with my Slytherin Sex-machine. I can live with that.

Oi! Where did he learn that spell? Out of the tub and dumped on the sodden bathmat, shivering. Bugger. The floor’s awash; place looks like the senior boys’ showers after last years’ Gryffindor-Slytherin water fight turned nasty.

Handy with the drying and dressing charms, Severus (Snape? Blowed if I’m going back to Sir). Gown’s on and hanging right, uncreased. Hair’s up, a few stray tendrils kissing my cheeks. Prim Head Girl Granger faces dignified Faculty Head Snape.

Across a drowned wreck of a bathroom.

Where’s Creevey with his camera when you really need him?

I gasp. He grins.

Wish he wouldn’t do that: raises an incredible temptation to fling him back against the wall and take him. Thought the scowl was knee-watering until I saw the smile.

“You had best complete your assignment, Miss Granger.” Really is rather seductive, the way he purrs that. “Before the beneficiary of your skills kicks down my classroom door, demanding to know where the Evil Professor has imprisoned the Virtuous Maiden.”

Sniggering’s most unladylike. I know Mother’s right.

Tough sodding Titty.

“You’re colluding in theft?”

“If only to prevent a blundering Weasel from setting off the Inquisition. Where is the base serum?”

“My bathroom.”

“Lead the way.”

Blink. Pinch yourself, Hermione. Where’s the bastard gone?

The chuckle’s unmistakable evidence he’s still here, emerging as it does from the ether. “No, not an infantile cloak,” he drawls, from the door which seems to be opening itself. “You don’t mind my checking your work before completion?”

He’s asking? That’s a bleedin’ first!

Not my teacher now. Get it into your head, Hermione, not his student any more. Toss the head and march through his rooms, nice and level stride, that’s it. Rather creepy, being trailed by an invisible Snape.

At least when he prowls the classroom during practicals, you can see him coming.

“Stop that, you sneaky sod!”

Oh, being impolite to a professor now, graduation has changed Miss Goody-Two-Shoes! Lift a hand, swat casually at the hidden face I know frames the lips tormenting my neck. It’s not easy, maintaining a carefree air with an unseen sexual partner moving up to nibble at your ear.

Up the stairs, talk nicely to them under my breath. Know you have a nasty sense of humour, but please, play straight with me. Oh, look, here comes trouble.

Red-haired, screw-faced trouble. “Hi, Ron.”

“’Mione, what the fuck’s keeping you?”

“Sorry.” High-pitched squeak on account of insatiable wizard nipping at nape. “Snape showed up - had to hide.”

“Shit, didn’t catch you, did he? I owe you big-time, ‘Mione, can you get it done?”

I’m being done: like a kipper, as Dad would say. Lock my knees, tilt the head, hope I appear imperious rather than desperate. “Ten minutes, tops.”

Severus is fighting off laughter, I can feel the way his mirth huffs against my neck. Bump back, oooh, there you are, my darling, Hermione can feel, if not see, that lovely lunchbox of yours. Dash away from Ron, you’re keeping up, Lover, aren’t you? “No, ‘salright, I’ll slip it to you in the Hall.”

“You’re a star, ‘Mione! Remember, I owe you for it!”

Have I mentioned, hate being called ‘Mione?

He has to propel me the last part of the way, until we’re before The Fat Lady. “Password!”

Bog off, cow! “Fluffy bunnies.”

Both through the portrait hole before Severus’ snort gives his presence away, through the common room and onward to my cosy single dorm. A backward snatch succeeds in securing his hand, and we’re in.

Before he’s unravelled the charm, I’m on him, squirming to his cock, my tongue forcing its way into his hot, coffee-flavoured mouth. Hands tear at his hair as I force myself closer. Have I turned into a raving nympho?

Not my fault. Man can’t half kiss! Would compliment him on his technique, but articulacy not easy with his tongue shoved down my throat.

That blackness at the edge of my vision probably suggests oxygen depletion. Bugger.

No gillyweed when a girl really needs it. “The potion!” he gasps, wild-eyed. Rather like uncontrolled Snape, all wicked and wanton.

Might abandon university education to become the kept woman of the Hogwarts dungeon.

Turn around, there’s the cauldron, contents simmering gently under their stasis charm. Use his erection to maintain my vertical position (yes’s r’s really that strong!). “Ron’s waiting. Got to finish it.”

“Carry on.” Smirking’s another uniquely Slytherin art form.

Like that Gods-I’m-so-superior drawl, a definite sensual plus. Hands are shaking so badly it’s all I can do to drop the last crucial ingredient properly into the heart of the mixture.

Severus is the consummate professional. He slides back into Potions Master mode while I’m quivering, emitting a small grunt as he sniffs and swirls my concoction. I bite my wai waiting for his verdict. He can’t bawl me out for shoddy work any more, but blimey, I still crave his approval.

“Very good; a pity I cannot contribute to Gryffindor’s House Cup chances any more.” There goes the brow again; the bugger’s doing it on purpose. Yes, have your game, Mr Funny-Funny, I’ll pay you back later. In the dungeon. With you starkers.

Like that, won’t we?

Five minutes to simmer. That’s me, not the potion. Severus keeps me nicely at the right temperature, with those wandering hands of his.

Wonderful, wandering hands. Just as deft on the female form as on a delicate serum.

Not sure I’m not doing him a disservice, mind. The hands are something, but that mouth! The tongue!

And I thought its chief proficiency was lashing Longbottoms. He knows a much better use for it.

Would love to ask what else it can do, but unfortunately incapable, due to delightfully obscene actions being performed inside my h. h.

Must find out if it’s as good lower down.

Bet it will be. Melting at the mere thought.

Damn, why’s he stopped? “The potion is complete, my dear.”

Bugger and spit.

OK, can do this. Ladle some of the sticky pink stuff into a vial, toss the cauldron into the washbasin for attention later. Deep breaths. Why is he frowning like that?

“I shall await you in the corridor, if…”

Of course I’m coming back with you, idiot! That bed looked remarkably comfy, and then there’s the hearthrug, not to mention my fantasy of being taken over my own workbench. Scuttling to the door, I don’t need to check what he’s up to. I know he’s spell-cloaked himself again; can feel his damp breath against my ear.

We march down to the Great Hall at the double: thank you, Severus, your whispered word of encouragement’s appreciated as you step away. The sudden drop in air temperature makes me shiver. Won’t be long now.

Ron’s been watching for me. Discreetly.

Not.

Try not to make it obvious I’ve got something for you, fool! That means, don’t bounce, wave or yell “have you got - oh!” into the brief hiatus between songs from the floating band.

Harry rolls his eyes. Can’t help but laugh.

Sauntering over, I slide the vial into his meaty palm. “Have fun, Ron. Keep him out of trouble, Harry, I’m calling it a night.”

“Awww, don’t you want to watch me make my move on Tonks?”

I tut like McGonagall. “I have a hangover potion to complete; you two’ll need one if you keep glugging like this!”

They both chortle as I let them embrace me. They’re sweaty. Damp. “Have fun.”

I certainly intend to. Joy of joys, here’s Headmaster on an intercept course.

“My dear girl.” He kisses my brow, his whiskers rasping my nose. “My congratulations: no, hurry, he is waiting for you. I trust Minerva and myself will see you often, when you visit him?”

Oh. Dear. Can the floor please open and swallow me? The old buffoon knows I’ve been shagging his potions teacher; that I’m off to do it again.

Get rid of this new swagger, Granger; you’re a Gryffindor walking like a Slytherin, that’s bound to cause a stir. Out into the dimly-lit hallway, where is - oh, over there, revealed by a flash of white against the shadows.

Always knew those yellow teeth weren’t for real.

Arms wrap around my waist; his mouth settles on the side of my neck. Is there somuth uth in the vampire rumours after all? He’s rather partial to a soft, tender neck. Merlin that’s good, he’s sucking the strength right out of me! “My rooms?”

“Hmmm.” A masterpiece of wit and articulacy. Hey, but the stairs are…

Oh. He touches his wand (the boring, ebony one) to the wall, and as the stones dissolve, I’m drawn into a kind of Magical lift shaft. He speaks his name, and we’re dropping, to be deposited in the castle’s bowels. The reformed wall dissolves again, and we step out opposite the Slytherin common room.

Bet the little bastards don’t know he can do that.

Not one for idle chatter, Snape. He grabs my hand, gives a tug, and we’re off, trotting round the corner. Is that really his private password? Gryffs rock?

Unlikely to be guessed by adolescents. Or anyone else.

Would giggle if I could, but my mouth seems to be superglued to his. He’s not complaining; at least, I don’t interpret Mmmwphhh! Mmmmm! as protests .

Why did I spend so long terrified of him? Aaaah, getting desperate, Sexbomb? Oi! How did I get naked so fast?

Ah, spell. Yes, good plan, bed’s a long way off, isn’t it? Agreed, up against the wall, hard and dirty like a breathless whore. I could get used to these cold old dungeons after all!

THE END