The Tenth Rule

Each girl lay in their beds, wide-eyed, sleep eluding them as they re-played over and over again the evening\'s devastating events. They did not talk much; too upset and frightened, lost in their own thoughts as they hurried back to their own dormitories, but had made arrangements to meet the following day and discuss the terrible situation they were in.



Alice turned onto hede. de. She hoped with all her heart Snape would just take on the task himself to punish them, and if that meant spending her remaining time at Hogwarts scrubbing out all the cauldrons, emptying bed pans, and other unsavoury tasks every single day, then she would do it willingly if it spared the disgrace of being expelled. She had never felt so frightened before in her life, she felt almost nauseous with the worry, and though her bed was warm and comfortable, she shivered, reasoning that it was with shock. Every time she tried to close her eyes she saw Snape, tall and forbidding, his face hard and cold, framed by that black hair, those eyes, black as pitch, terrifying her with their infinite intensity staring down at her from his lofty height.



Her stomach was held with the tight, skeletal hand of panic, and every now and then it clenched furiously. Her body spasmed for fear of being sick, preparing for the bolt to the toilets. Alice quivered miserably; her fingers lacing tightly over her belly, knees drawn up to her chest in what was a vague imitation of a foetal position.



What on earth was going to happen to them?



Bethany was having similar thoughts. Of all the people that could have caught them it had to be Professor Snape, the one and only person in Hogwarts, with the exception of Filch perhaps, who positively hated the students, loathed them with such a passion she often wondered why Snape actually taught them! The only thing they could hope for was the fact Alice was a Slytherin, and Snape would not want to bring disgrace onto his own house. She more than suspected Snape knew whom the provider of alcohol was as well, or at least had very strong suspicions, and again it was a Slytherin. It could be those two factors that might just save them. She cuddled her pillow tightly to herself for comfort, and suddenly, once again, thoughts came to her mind and body that she could not understand. In simple terms, having been discovered by Snape, and his manner towards them had made her feel inexplicably aroused. She felt mortified at this realisation. Professor Snape? Turned on by Professor Snape? It was disgusting! He was old, sour, cruel, spiteful, and yet for the first time, she had noticed his almost aristocratic bearing, that large hooked nose was quite noble, his dark eyes were full of depths that were chillingly exciting, his mouth if not either curled in contemptuous sneers or pressed tight in anger were attractively shaped. His voice, when not scolding or condemning, was strangely provoking. But even when his voice was raised, it still emanated culture, intelligence, authority. He exuded a dominant masculinity, a strict discipline that was highly exciting.



Bethany exhaled, not knowing that she had been holding her breath. In the silence of the room, her shallow gasps sounded louder than usual, embarrassingly so. She swallowed loudly, moutmouth uncomfortably dry. Her pulse pumped insistently in her ears, and her fingers trembled. Running her tongue matter-of-factly over her lips, Bethany took a deep breath and allowed her hands to travel down her body, the same trembling fingers gently prising the waistband of her pyjamas from her stomach, slithering beneath her underwear with the speed of someone resigning to the fact that this had to be over and done with.



With as little finesse as possible, and holding her breath for an excruciating amount of time to muffle any sound she may make, Bethany squeezed her eyes shut and brought herself to a quick, jolting, shuddering climax. Whether it was the heightened emotions, the fear, the edge of it all, Bethany reasoned that the stress had frightened her, consequently her adrenaline was flowing through her with a searing heat. Her breath came thickly from her throat, her hands gingerly coming to rest upon her stomach. Her head throbbed from holding her breath, the pulsation of her pleasure ironically coinciding with the rhythm of pain in her skull, her lower lip stinging where her teeth had bitten down on it.



Bethany turned over, angry with herself. The man, who was seeking their downfall, looking for them to be expelled, had ultimately triggered her to act in such a way.



What on earth was the matter with her?