Fucking with Snape

Fucking with Snape
Chapter Eight
The Valentines Ball
Part Deux


I understand that there is much speculation on whether or not I charm my cape to billow in a certain manner. Well, I’m not telling. I will, however say that my cape is billowing rather nicely this evening as I make my way back to the Great Hall with a dusty vial tucked safely away in a pocket.

Yes, yes I know that what I am about to do is a bit juvenile, but I simply cannot resist. I must win this little war betwixt myself and Hermione-I mean Miss Granger even if it means playing dirty. I am a Slytherin and I don’t like losing.

Besides, I will be killing two birds with one stone, so to speak as I will be exacting a bit of revenge on Albus at the same time. He deserves it for this evening alone if not for anything else.

So at last I am back in the horribly pink Great Hall, thanking the Gods yet again that this day comes but once a year and that her damn charm seems to have expired as now there are students instead of Severus clones ‘moshing’ to the music of that damn Lestat.

And, ah. Miss Granger is approaching me. No doubt in the attempt to get me to live up to my promise of a dance. Of course I shall oblige the lady. It’s necessary to my plan its true, but I just have to add that the red velvet strapless number she is wearing holds a certain appeal. When did she get breasts? More to the point when did she get that body? Those curves? When did she discover hair products? Lips like hers’ ought to be against the law.

Yes, I know it’s improper for a Professor to have a raging erection over a student but then again I was a Death Eater and I am a man and she looks so absolutely edible. I have actually begun to rethink my plan for tonight.

“Well Professor. You see that the charm has worn off and I think that perhaps now would be the time to get the promised dance over and done with? That is if you will deign to be seen dancing with a mere chit of a girl?”

Why, oh why did she have to take such a pert tone? Does she have no idea how much sarcasm turns me on? The battle between horny Severus and bastard Severus is now going full tilt as I lead her to the dance floor. At least the damn vampire band (and I use that term loosely) has decided to slow things down a bit. Hermione-I mean Miss Granger is so soft against my hands and I am swiftly losing my ability to think in a rational manner so in an effort to keep my thoughts to some level of civility I say to her,

“Albus is watching Miss Granger. Please smile and at least pretend that we are getting along.”

“I will only smile if you do, Professor.”

Nicely done Miss Granger, I am thinking, but you won’t tempt me into something that I never do outside of my quarters.

“What, and cause at least half of the student body to faint? Poppy would have my head.”

This must stop. Miss Granger is laughing at my joke and people are looking at us. This in its self is bothersome, not to mention the fact that I actually made a joke. Damn all pheromones and women in red velvet. Damn Miss Granger for pointing the fact that I made a joke out to me. Her voicing her amazement to me with that surprised expression on her face is rather pissing me off.

“Miss Granger,” I respond. “I am capable of a certain degree of lightheartedness. Don’t act so shocked.”

And there is that thoughtful look she gets when she is about to display her intelligence. I hate that look. It usually means that I am going to hear something extremely intelligent and honest. Fucking Gryffindors.

“If I look shocked, professor it is because I am shocked. I would have never thought that you had a sense of humor nor anything even closely resembling lightheartedness. You have shown nothing even resembling those traits these seven years at least.”

I have to answer her challenge. I also need to smell her skin, her hair. That scent she is wearing is subtly dulling my senses and bringing about the return of my heretofore mentioned erection. So I bend my head closer to hers and whisper in her ear,

“I am, even though this will shock you to hear it Miss Granger, a human.” We are bumped into by a pair of dancers and Miss Granger is knocked against me. This is very bad for I had kept her at a careful distance for a reason.

I cannot meet her shocked eyes as she feels my physiological reaction to her mere presence. I suddenly feel like a sick pervert. I am sure that she is looking at me as if I were. I am currently praying that she says nothing to me at this moment. I would rather finish this dance in embarrassed silence then retreat to my rooms and hide for the rest of term.

“P-professor Snape?”

“Say nothing more, Miss Granger. I beg of you.”

“But, sir I-“
“Nothing Miss Granger means precisely that. Nothing. Let us merely finish this dance and part ways for the rest of the evening.”

I am suddenly very very angry at Albus and Hermione and all of the damn school. I am a private man for a number of reasons. All of them good, too. But suffice it to say dear reader that the very best reason of them all is this, I am a Slytherin and my family was never very demonstrative. I never saw my mother and father embrace each other, yet I know that they loved one another keenly. Contrary to popular belief, I was loved by my parents even though my father was a tyrant and my mother his whipping post. His brutality never extended to me physically. Mentally I cannot answer, it should be fairly obvious to you by now.

Suffice it to say that the little episodes that occurred between me, Lily Evans and those so called Marauders merely drove home the fact that tender emotions are better left to the privacy of one’s immediate family.

Now here I stand with a very nubile young lady in my arms. Nubile and frighteningly intelligent. And all at the contrivance of Albus Bloody Dumbledore and Hermione Granger and her bloody charm which is a direct result of this war between us. Which she started with that fucking le wle wrap all because I had the temerity to actually grade her work in a fair manner. The bitch. I want to fuck her senseless and I want to show her just precisely who she is goading. If I get Albus back for all of his years of twinkling at me so much the better.

The heretofore nearly forgotten vial of a very powerful love potion in my pocket is no longer not an option. All I have to do now is conduct Miss Granger to the refreshment table, as any courteous man would after his dance partner has felt his erection. She looks quite pale and on the verge of hyperventilation. I must at least resemble a gentleman in my actions.

“Miss Granger, perhaps a glass of punch would be in order? Then I will leave your presence for the rest of the evening.” I ask her as I ladle a generous amount of pumpkin juice into an awaiting goblet. She is nodding at me, still pale and wan looking except for the two spots of pink on her cheeks. I turn to the table again, missing the speculative look she had just flashed me and slip my hand into my pocket so that I can uncap the vial.

Albus Bloody Dumbledore, master of perfect timing is actually making this easier on me by providing the distraction I need to doctor her cup unnoticed. Things couldn’t be working out in a better manner than if I had orchestrated them to.

I hand Miss Granger her goblet as I mutter inane responses to Albus’ inane twinkling little questions, trying to be a casual as possible. She must drink that potion. He must be the first person she lays eyes on after drinking that potion.

“Are you quite alright, Miss Granger?” he is asking her. “You look a bit flushed.”

“Well I have been dancing all evening, Professor Dumbledore.”

Bless her nubile little heart, she is covering for me. But before I have a chance to put my two pence in our attention is caught by two Hufflepuff boys throwing punches at each other.

“I’ll handle this Albus, you entertain Miss Granger.”

She must at all costs drink that potion in front of him. Besides I enjoy breaking up a good fight taking away points is so pleasurable. The fight, which is the direct result of the hormones of two adolescent Hufflepuff boys over the budding form of a Hufflepuff girl, appears to be getting out of hand and is spreading to others of the student body. This is horrible, as I can now see Albus amongst the melee as well as Miss Granger performing her duties as Head Girl.

After a few agonizing minutes (for the students involved), the removal of house points and the assignment of detentions to the instigators, the dance resumes but as it is near midnight with a bit less enthusiasm as before. I cannot tell of she has drunk the potion and I cannot tell which goblet is hers amongst the number of them on the table. Fuck. That was the last vial of the stuff.

“Severus, I think that this shall be the last song of the evening. Perhaps you could inform the band?” Albus is asking me as Miss Granger walks up to his side. She looks normal, though a bit more flushed than before through her efforts during the melee. This is very bad. I am not pleased.

I am about to go and inform the band that they are to make the last call to dance, when we are joined by Filch, who is holding a goblet and looking rather contemplatively at Miss Granger.

“Miss Granger” he says to her in what, I imagine, is his silky voice. “Would you dance this last with me?”

I cannot describe the look of horror that has overcome the face of Miss Granger. I can tell you that I am starting to feel optimistic about this evening’s outcome.