The Speed of Thought

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A/N: I felt it important to note here that, unless I specifically mention otherwise, all sexually-involved characters are of legal age. Now, ON WITH THE SMUT! (*.*)/ WOOOO!

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Hermione sat, frozen to the spot from shock for a few moments, before calling out cautiously, “P-Professor?” She stood up and hesitantly walked over to the wall he’d just disappeared through. “Professor Snape?” she called a little more loudly.

…No response…

“Um, Sir, I---“ she hesitated, pausing to steel her resolve. “I think we ought to talk about this…”

...silence…

She began to grow a bit frustrated with him, “Sir…I’m not just going to…disappear if you run and hide…”

…more silence…

Her face flushed into a blotchy pink. “You can’t just STORM out of a room, robes billowing behind you, because you’re uncomfortable, you great Bat!” She balled her hands into little fists at her sides. How ridiculous!!

 Halting for a moment in her frustration, she forcefully cooled her head and quickly added a respectful, if somewhat reluctant, ”…Sir.”

…Still no answer…

Hermione gave an exasperated little snort through her nostrils, glaring at the wall with her mouth set into a firm line. Without thinking, she called up a house elf, and whispered a very polite request into one of the elf’s ears. When she stood back up, the elf gave her a slightly disconcerted look, but nodded her head in acquiescence before poofing back out of the room. A moment later, the little elf returned and handed Hermione the requested item. With a small ‘pop,’ she disappeared once more.

Once she was gone, Hermione set the item on the Potions Master’s desk. She sharply flicked her wand over the item a few times, uttered the name of said Potions Master, and then stowed her wand back under her robes. She then gathered her books and potions ingredients, stuffing them into her bag angrily before spinning on her heel. She made sure to slam the door on her way out of the classroom. _____________________________________________________________________________________

In the meantime, Severus Snape had been listening. He’d listened the entire time, silently, from the safety of his armchair in his personal quarters, via the aid of an amplifying charm he’d set into the walls of the classroom many years ago. His heart was still racing, cock still standing at attention, as he listened. He’d frowned at the “Great Bat” comment, and raised a singular eyebrow at the hastily-added “Sir,” smirking bitterly.

He breathed a sigh of relief as he heard her leave the room….and slam the door, of course. Typical female.

He ran a hand down over his face and let out another sigh, shaking his head. He waved a hand in the direction of his carved walnut liquor cabinet, and said simply “port.” The cabinet opened of its own accord, and a bottle of port levitated out of it, poured itself into a glass, and went back into the cabinet. The cabinet closed, and the glass floated over to Snape’s waiting hand. He swirled the glass once, twice, smelled it, and then began to drink the thick liquid. It warmed his throat on the way down.

Allowing himself a small sigh of contentment at the taste of the drink, Severus waved a hand towards his fireplace and set it alight. Sinking back into the walnut armchair’s plush cushions, covered with smooth deep green and silver embroidered upholstery, he closed his eyes and mulled over the events of the past week. He wasn’t sure how to approach the matter…

It was true, the girl was of age, and could legally make such decisions of sexuality for herself…but he hadn’t been intimate with anyone for a long, long time…Yes, he had interacted sexually, one could say, whilst playing his part as Voldemort’s right-hand man..He’d had sex – both consensual and, unfortunately, non-consensual – plenty of times, at the behest of The Dark Lord. There was no question as to the quality of his sexual performance…

He continued to sip the thick drink, deep in thought. The last time that he had become intimately involved with anyone, James, and then Voldemort, had taken her from him…

Lilly…

The thought, though painful, finally subdued his member.

He shook his head, stuffing the painful thoughts back into their little box, and setting them hiiiiigh high up on a shelf in the closet of his mind. He thought, instead, of the pro’s and con’s of the different ways he could choose to approach the matter of Hermione Granger. Sure, he respected the girl --- which he showed by being especially hard on her; he wanted her to show that she knew more than the answers the rest of the wizarding world had already come up with; he wanted her to surprise him…also, she was annoying, but admittedly always right in her objective answers --- and yes, she had become quite attractive…But she was one of the Golden Trio, which meant the very-likely possibility of a huge heaping pile of trouble if anything intimate were to develop…He grimaced, and took another sip of port.

Furthermore, he thought with a small start, wasn’t she dating the Weasley boy? He frowned. That could most certainly make things messy...In conclusion, he finished, any and all possible outcomes of interacting with Granger would be…complicated…regardless of how pleasant they might be at the same time…

Alright, well then what harm could possibly come from ignoring the situation entirely, or turning her down harshly? He briefly mulled that over, and grimaced visibly. No, no…that would absolutely not do…She was extremely stubborn, he knew, and she would absolutely not give up, especially if he outright denied any claims of sexual attraction, or claimed that he did not genuinely want to engage in said activities with her…and he most certainly knew that he wanted to…

He thought back to the scenes he’d witnessed in her mind, and he grew hard again. He looked down at the tent in his pants and groaned, placing the now-empty glass of port onto a stone coaster on the walnut sidetable next to his chair. Looking down, he watched himself twitch once, twice, then unzipped his pants to release his trapped cock. It bobbed softly, fully erect.

He ran a hand down over his face once more, sighing, and shook his head. It looked like he was going to have to sit down and talk to Miss Granger about the situation…let her down lightly, perhaps…She would understand why they couldn’t partake in one another---at least, not yet…..Perhaps once the war was over…just perhaps…He thought back to the image of her bent over his knee, and altered it slightly to have her bent over the armrest of his chair, mouth over his cock while he spanked her.

He reached down and began to stroke himself.

Merlin’s Beard…this is a mess….

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About two hours later, after relieving himself and bathing, Severus left his chambers to head for the Great Hall for dinner. He opened the pathway through the wall of his classroom, and strode into the room. Before the wall had even resealed behind him, though, the little red fruit that Hermione had left sitting on his desk was SAILING through the air, flapping on little magical batwings (with little screechy noises accompanying the flight), headed straight for his face. The mushy tomato collided with his face, its contents splurting out everywhere upon contact.

Taken entirely by surprise, the man stood there in shock for a few moments, just blinking. Tomato dripped from his face down onto his shoes, robes, and the floor of the classroom.. Snapping out of the initial shock, Snape scolded himself for letting his guard down, then whipped out his wand angrily. He waved his wand over his person and growled out spells. He ‘scourgified’ himself, then gestured over the rest of the mess on the floor with a grumbled, “Evanesco.” With that, the tomato and all of its juices were entirely gone from the scene.

Clearly, there was no true harm done, and it was cleaned up easily enough, but it was an utterly impertinent and distasteful gesture, not to mention completely immature, and he fully intended to teach the perpetrator a lesson on respect. Completely dismissing his previous notions of being gentle with her, Snape growled angrily and stormed out of the room, robes billowing behind him as he headed for the Great Hall with a certain bushy-haired witch in mind.