Room of Requirement

“I certainly don’t need any of these... things, Miss Granger... here, just put this on and I will escort you back to Gryffindor Tower.” He reluctantly handed her his cloak, looking away for fear he would snatch it back and grab her. It took every ounce of resolve he had to give her the cloak, and his face flushed again at the knowledge that she probably knew he urgently wanted her.

“And how do you propose we do that?” She did not reach for the cloak- instead, she smiled at him in a naughty way- she definately knew what she was doing to him.

“What do you mean, Miss Granger?” He snapped. “Just please take the cloak and cover yourself so we can leave,” he was begging now, willing himself not to look, fighting his desire to kiss her, taste her sweet, full lips...

“Do you see a door, sir?” He looked around. There were no doors in the room, not so much as a broom closet. The door he’d come through was gone, not a trace of it in the wall where it was.

“With all due respect, sir, this room must really think you’re desperate.” She put her hips, all attempts at modesty thrown unceremoniously aside.

“Well, Ms. Granger, I am familiar with this form of magic, and it would not have summoned you here had you not been somewhat... willing.” It was pure conjecture, but he seemed to have hit a chord, as she blushed furiously and crossed her arms over her breasts. Maybe he wasn’t imagining it, but she didn’t call his bluff.

The ensuing search for a door was brief. After a few minutes of tapping and searching, they sat down on the bed, perplexed. Hermione looked up. Reflected in the mirror, to her horror, she saw Professor Snape, naked, lying atop her and thrusting. She gasped.

Her surprise caused to to jump and look up as well. He smirked, laughed, and said, “The Mirror of Erised. I haven’t seen that in a while.”

“What do you see, Professor?” Hermione blurted the question out, before she realized that he might ask her the same thing.

“Now that would be telling,” he whispered softly, but he didn’t meet her gaze. He walked over to the refrigerator in the corner and opened it. “Would you like a drink, Hermione?” Hermione. He’d never used her given name before, and it sounded lovely and harmonious coming from his mouth. He returned to the bed with two glasses of Coca-Cola, complete with ice and straws.

Hermione sipped her soda deeply. A hot sensation washed over her, head to toe. She felt dizzy and confused and lay back on the bed, the back of her hand on her forehead. Severus grabbed the glass from her hand and placed it on the bedside table along with her own.

“Don’t drink it anymore. Do you feel alright?” He asked, concern mixed with something else on his face that she couldn’t read, his black eyes flashing irresistably.

“Why? What’s wrong?” She gazed up at him, her stomach tingling and the heat all over becoming much stronger.

“It’s heavily infused with a lust potion.”

“How do you know?”

“I’m a Potions Master. Besides, I drank over half my glass before I realized, and I am feeling the effects rather strongly.” Hermione sat up and her eyes drifted immediately to the stiffening something near his right pocket. She blushed.

s. Honestly, professor, haven’t you ever read ‘Hogwarts, A History’?”

“Five points from Gryffindor, Miss Granger, for being an insufferable know-it-all in a state of near nudity. And be glad it’s not more!” He stopped, a flush creeping over his sallow cheeks. In honesty, she deserved about a hundred points for unmitigated sex appeal. He’d never seen anything so sexy in his entire life, and he’d been invited to many Dark Revels based solely on the subject. But Hermione, spilling out of her Gryffindor lingerie- embarrassed, angry, and... was that lust? Probably just anger and embarrassment, he sighed inwardly.

“I didn’t put this on! I was wearing flannel pajamas!” Sookeooked down, avoiding his eyes.

“Well, have you ever been in this room before?” He drawled, gesturing to the brothel-like surroundings.

“Er... it’s the Room of Requirement, Professor. It shows itself and provides something for you if you ever have a real need for it.” It was like the realization dawned simultaneously- he looked at the large, gilt-framed mirror, her at the myriad candles glowing softly on every surface, her breasts spilling from her red and gold slip, Jeff Buckley playing faintly into the air from nowhere. The heady scent, the intoxicating melody, the soft lighting.

The room seemed to be implying, in a rather blatant way, that its occupants desperately needed to get laid.


“I certainly don’t need any of these... things, Miss Granger... here, just put this on and I will escort you back to Gryffindor Tower.” He reluctantly handed her his cloak, looking away for fear he would snatch it back and her her. It took every ounce of resolve he had to give her the cloak, and his face flushed again at the knowledge that she probably knew he urgently wanted her.

“And how do you propose we do that?” She did not reach for the cloak- instead, she smiled at him in a naughty way- she definitely knew what she was doing to him.

“What do you mean, Miss Granger?” He snapped. “Just please take the cloak and cover yourself so we can leave,” he was begging now, willing himself not to , fi, fighting his desire to kiss her, taste her sweet, full lips...

“Do you see a door, sir?” He looked around. There were no doors in the room, not so much as a broom closet. The door he’d come through was gone, not a trace of it in the wall where it was.

“With all due respect, sir, this room must really think you’re desperate.” She put her hips, all attempts at modesty thrown unceremoniously aside.

“Well, Ms. Granger, I am familiar with this form of magic, and it would not have summoned you here had you not been somewhat... willing.” It was pure conjecture, but he seemed to have hit a chord, as she blushed furiously and crossed her arms over her breasts. Maybe he wasn’t imagining it, but she didn’t call his bluff.

The ensuing search for a door was brief. After a few minutes of tapping and searching, they sat down on the bed, perplexed. Hermione looked up. Reflected in the mirror, to her horror, she saw Professor Snape, naked, lying atop her and thrusting. She gasped.

Her surprise caused him to jump and look up as well. He smirked, laughed, and said, “The Mirror of Erised. I haven’t seen that in a while.”

“What do you see, Professor?” Hermione blurted the question out, before she realized that he might ask her the same thing.

“Now that would be telling,” he whispered softly, but he didn’t meet her gaze. He walked over to the refrigerator in the corner and opened it. “Would you like a drink, Hermione?” Hermione. He’d never used her given name before, and it sounded lovely and harmonious coming from his mouth. He returned to the bed with two glasses of Coca-Cola, complete with ice and straws.

Hermione sipped her soda deeply. A hot sensation washed over her, head to toe. She felt dizzy and confused and lay back on the bed, the back of her hand on her forehead. Severus grabbed the glass from her hand and placed it on the bedside table along with her own.

“Don’t drink it anymore. Do you feel alright?” He asked, concern mixed with something else on his face that she couldn’t read, his black eyes flashing irresistibly.

“Why? What’s wrong?” She gazed up at him, her stomach tingling and the heat all over becoming much stronger.

“It’s heavily infused with a lust potion.”

“How do you know?”

“I’m a Potions Master. Besides, I drank over half my glass before I realized, and I am feeling the effects rather strongly.” Hermione sat up and her eyes drifted immediately to the stiffening something near his right pocket. She blushed.


Hermione stood up and quickly walked over to the vanity. She peered into the mirror. Her reflection stared back- her long, wavy hair in a seductive tangle, her lips fuller and redder than usual, her breasts swollen and heaving from her tight negligee. She turned to walk away, anywhere but near him- she didn’t trust herself. She walked about one half stride and froze, half in horror, half in sheer delight.

She was woefully inexperienced for a girl her age. Lavender and Parvati had experimented with many of the boys in her year, often with Hermione in the room. But Hermione had never gone past kissing, never felt anything even remotely like this. “Oh...” she sighed, almost inaudibly as her thighs brushed together.

Across the room, Severus was riveted. From what he’d seen of love potions, Hermione was experiencing a rather common symptom- extremely heightened sensitivity. Free of her school robes, her body was exquisite. She was very curvy, with full breasts, wide hips, a narrow waist, and a generous derriere. Having been raised in a proper old wizarding family, Severus developed a taste for curvy, pre-Raphaelite type women. He bit his lips and eased into sitting on his hands to keep from abstaining from his own “heightened sensitivity.”

Seconds passed like hours, until Hermione shyly crossed the room again, emitting nearly soundless “ooohs” and “mmmms” as pre-orgasmic shocks passed over her. She crawled onto the enormous bed, and tilted her head back as another wave of pleasure shot through her. She crawled slowly on her hands and knees towards Severus, who was reclining to avoid her touch. Finally, she was above him, her thighs brushing his hips. He moaned. She could feel the evidence of his arousal, rock hard below her hips. He maintained as much of a distance as possible, knowing that if she came any closer, he would lose all semblance of control and shag her silly.

“Hermione...” he gasped, gutturally, as she began to rub against him, the rock hard length of him causing her to pant heavily. “You don’t know what you’re doing to me... you’re my student...”

“And I’ve read the rulebook, cover to cover, and there is absolutely nothing about student-teacher relations. I know for a fact that it’s happened. Honestly, Professor, haven’t-“

“Yes, I’ve read ‘Hogwarts, A History’- and I have wanted this- wanted you- for a very long time, but I don’t want a potion to be responsible for it.”

“Well, Professor-“

“Severus.”

“Severus.” He moaned softly at this. “I’ve wanted this for a long time, too. Very badly. Please, please make love to me.” His will finally broken, he grabbed a handful of her thick hair and covered her lips with his. She parted his lips and gently flicked at his tongue with hers. She tenderly licked his teeth, the inside of his lips, and pulled away, breathily gazing into his intense black eyes.