Rom To My Private Dungeon

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When the meal was over, the plates were cleared and everyone dispersed without fanfare. Snape and Maracuja left the Great Hall together. He offered to keep his promise and give her a tour of the castle, but Maracuja thought it best to wait until the next day.

\"I know, Professor, that you have a potion to prepare.\" She explained. \"Professor Dumbledore told me about the party tonight. I know we don\'t officially begin until tomorrow, but perhaps you can show me what you are making?\"

\"A fine suggestion.\" Snape returned. Though he did not show it, he was actually somewhat relieved.

The two set off for the kitchens, where they picked out the remaining ingredients. Snape introduced Maracuja to a few of the house elves and advised them she would be stopping in now and again for supplies. They then made their way down to the dungeon.

Stealing the occasional glance in her direction as they continued, Snape noticed that Maracuja seemed entranced by the flicker of the lamps in the dark hallways. The further they descended, the more her skin took on an ethereal glow. So well suited she seemed for this environment. Her gait was graceful. She seemed to glide down the stone steps, which urged Snape into a growing sense of nervousness. When they neared his office, Snape swooped ahead to remove the protective wards and opened the door. His robes billowed behind him and swung around as he stopped to hold the door open. He gestured for Maracuja to enter holding the door as though she was a Lady of high standing.

As she descended the last 3 stairs, her footsteps echoed against the stone. It was so very quiet. Maracuja paused at the archway, tfixefixed. Snape\'s office seemed to pulsate with his energy. It was dark and cavernous. Foreboding. Intense. She took a small step inside, then turned to face him, a little closer than was customary. \"I like\" she purred. Her eyes lit into his.

Snape could feel her breath on his face, warm and moist. He suddenly realised how very alone they were in his domain. Raising an eyebrow, he oozed. \"Just wait until you see what I can do with what\'s inside.\" Something in him stirred.

Turning back, Maracuja swooped into his office and started to inspect everything on view, Snape felt terribly conflicted. He was finding himself uncontrollably drawn to this woman. Did he imagine she was flirting with him? Interesting, intelligent, beautiful young women never flirted with him. Only the sad drunken women at the 3 Broomsticks, and the odd lonely Diagon Alley shop keeper ever paid any mind to mean, greasy, horrible Professor Snape. \"Control yourself.\" he thought to himself for the third time that day. \"This is supposed to be a professional relationship.\"

He watched as Maracuja walked to a bookshelf and ran a finger along the spines. She spun around and perused the glass jars, her lips slightly parted in a smile. Her eyes were like saucers as she continued to explore the room. It seemed as though she wanted to take in everything at once.

\"I trust my collection is to your liking.\" he stated more than asked. \"My lab is through this door. You may stay here and keep looking if you like.\"

Snape did not wait for a reply. Instead, he turned and walked through the door towards the cauldrons, which he had readied earlier. The items from his storeroom were lined up on one side of the table. The kitchen ingredients, which the house elves had brought down according to his instructions, sat in a bowl on the other.

Snape pulled out his wand and deftly set knives to chopping some fruits and skinning others. He then picked up another knife and, with his hands, delicately began scraping Ashwinder eggshell into a tiny mortar. The concentration it required to make sure he did not pierce through to the membrane helped to clear his mind. Soon Snape had entered deeply into that other realm, the mesmerising music of the softly shimmering cauldron, the clip clip of a chopping knife, the soft granular friction of the mortar and pestle. Potions making was like a moving meditation for him.

After several minutes, Maracuja silently walked toward the lab. She was taken by the sight of him, and chose to stop and watch him at work. Leaning against the door frame, she folded her arms and considered him attentively. His long, thin fingers seemed so delicate as he wielded the knife. He was bent over the table, his hair falling in his face like two black silk sheets. Maracuja smiled affectionately to herself, watching, as his nose poked out between the part in his hair. Snape seemed completely unaware of her presence.

Maracuja was fascinated, watching the depth of skill those fingers commanded. She was mesmerised. The potions maker in her wanted to watch forever, to pick up techniques, to learn all she could. But she also found herself becoming aroused, imagining what those hands could do to her. A dull warmth began to grow between her legs and spread up to her navel. A delicate chill moved down her spine causing her nipples to harden slightly. Unlike Snape, Maracuja was not conflicted about her feelings. She was not concerned about any professional risk she might incur by initiating something with this man. But she knew by reputation that Snape was a labile man. And yet, behind his ironically sharp and protective fa?ade, she sensed some sadness, some loneliness, and the peace he felt in the potions lab.

She stood there for a long time, allowing her mind to wander around these thoughts. Eventually, the time got later, and the room began to grow cooler. At some point, Snape closed his eyes and stood up straight. Breathing deeply through his nostrils, he licked his lips, extended his arms and leaned back, balling his fists and giving his muscles a stretch. A slight groan escaped his throat. Maracuja took this as her opportunity to enter.

\"Pardon me, Professor Snape.\" She whispered politely.

Snape flinched slightly, theenedened his eyes and looked her way. \"Ms. Feuer. Did you enjoy what you saw?\"

Maracuja stood frozen, unsure of what to say. His question was suitably vague enough for her to be uncertain if he meant his office, or himself. Considering that he had flinched, she chose to assume he meant the office, but responded vaguely anyway. \"Oh, yes. Fascinating. I can see much of interest.\"

She walked over to the cauldrons and peered inside. They were both bubbling. One smelled fruitier than the other.

\"Obviously, these are the elixirs I am preparing for tonight.\" He gestured. \"My own private recipe, in fact.\" A faintly smug expression on his face.

Interested, she encroached a little closer towards him. \"Tell me more.\" She beckoned.

Snape\'s stomach clenched, his breathing became slightly shallow and rapid. \"This potion is something like the ones I mentioned earlier.\" He explained. It is more than the sum of its parts. The ingredients will tell you a great deal, of course.\" He waved his wand and the ingredients appeared on a board he conjured up behind him.

She did not look up at it, but instead kept a steady gaze on Snape\'s lips as he spoke.

\"Once the ingredients have had time to simmer,\" he continued, a slight hitch in his voice, \"you must stir it evenly and smoothly. The chemical composition of the liquid will become receptive to movement and emotion.\"

Maracuja\'s eyes met with Snape\'s, and she nodded in understanding. \"Perhaps...you can show me the right stirring technique?\" she drawled, her eyelids blinking heavily. She reached over the table and wrapped her fingers around the shaft of a ladle, balanced the curve of the handle on her index finger, and extended her arm so that the utensil was close to his face. The ladle dangled and waved in front of him as Snape stood transfixed, his pulse quickening and his lips slightly parted.

\"Of course\" he responded, almost coming to his senses. Snape reached out to take the ladle, and as his fingers brushed against hers an electric shock went up his arm. It shot straight to his cock, which twitched in response and grew erect. Snape\'s face suddenly went expressionless as he fought to regain control. \"This won\'t do at all.\" he mentally reprimanded himself. \"I can\'t mix this bloody potion now, not in the \'state\' I\'m in.\"

\"It is not quite finished simmering\" he lied, and turned towards the blackboard, willing his prick to settle down. \"What do you notice about my recipe?\"

Maracuja was taken aback by this sudden change, but responded quickly. \"I notice one has more fruit than the other. This, I assume, is for the flavour, no?\"

\"Yes, well, mostly.\" He einedined. \"Both recipes call for seedless grapes. As I am sure you are well aware, the skin of this fruit contains yeast, for fermentation. But we do not want them both to be a wine-based alcohol per se. So one recipe calls for peeling the grapes first. I prefer a peppery Shiraz grape for the fermented mixture. It adds to the strongly alcoholic tang. And a Pinot Noir for the other. It has a simple fruity flavour. But that is, of course, just a matter of personal taste.\"

\"I see.\" She intoned interestedly, and smiled to herself. For, his refusal to turn back around caused her to suspect his delicate predicament.

After a pause, his member no longer at attention, Snape finally turned around and plucked a ladle for each hand from the table. \"I think, perhaps, it is time to stir after all.\" The cauldrons stood between them, he reassured himself, as he impercbly bly steadied his breathing to normal.

\"You will stir both at once?\" she asked, surprised.

\"Oh, yes, well,\" he paused, \"I am ambidextrous, so this presents no problem for me. Now, you must be sure that your hand is steady, or the results will be uneven. And, never ever submerge the ladle from one mixture into another. You may contaminate the ingredients and ruin the potion.\" He focused his gaze on the cauldrons, and began stirring in an anti-clockwise motion.

Maracuja nodded in understanding. She breathed in quickly, as though to ask a question. Snape looked up and saw her rapt attention. The steam from the cauldrons reflected in her eyes, as black as his. He was sucked in. He doubted he\'d ever seen anything so beautiful in his life as this impossible vision of beauty and science before him. His head felt light. His arms grew heavy. His knees grew weak. \"Resistance is futile\" a little voice whispered in his head as his erection returned with a vengeance, and the receptors in the potions took ample notice.

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