Of Detentions and Worktables...

Disclaimer: I don’t own any of this intellectual ertyerty and I’m not making any money off of this or any other venture in my life right now. :) Also, Hermione is of age in this story. She just likes to work the schoolgirl look while she still can.

While the students around her scribbled furiously, trying to keep pace with the words rapidly appearing on the chalkboard, Hermione twirled a long, curly strand of hair around her finger and stared, lost in thought. Double Potions was just beginning, and she had been waiting for tclasclass all week long. She glanced over at Professor Snape, whose head was bent over the desk. He appeared lost in whatever he was perusing.

“Why aren’t you writing this down, Miss Granger? Ten points from Gryffindor due to your inattention. I’m warning you, Miss Granger, I am not in the mood for your foolishness today,” he intoned, not looking up from his reading. His brow furrowed, as if the words on the page displeased him.

She charmed her quill to copy notes and continued her reverie. The quill caught up straight away, and she was again adrift in her thoughts. Professor Snape had, lately, become a frequent fixation of hers. She developed a crush on him at the end of her fourth year, when he angrily confronted Cornelius Fudge with his Dark Mark. When she found out he was a spy, her heart began to flutter wildly. She imagined him running with Death Eaters, putting himself in harm’s way for the good of the Order, and her heart seized. It was so bloody sexy.

During that summer, she lived for the times he would drop in to Twelve Grimmauld Place, checking her hair in the insulting mirrors and eyeing him from the top of the staircase. She began to develop a real distaste for Sirius, what with the way he treated Severus. Snivellus, indeed. Easy for him to say, sitting in the house all day, ridding the place of puffskeins while Severus risked his life. She was lucky Ron wasn’t that quick on the uptake. Of course, Ginny copped immediately.

That was two years ago, and she’d still not recovered. Her desire for him had deepened, and she’d become completely enamored. Her level of arousal was almost directly proportionate to his level of acrimony. On days where he was particularly vicious, she’d have to excuse herself to the lavatory, cast a silencing charm, and... relieve herself. This was looking to be one of those days.

As the class around her began to shuffle together their ingredients, she continued to twirl her hair, chewing on the end of it. A silky, smooth voice appeared in her ear, his breath hot and pleasing on the base of her neck.

“What is wrong with you, today, Miss Granger? If you weren’t so... devastatingly attractive, why, I’d think you were Longbottom...” he swept away, and was soon across the room, snidely correcting Lavender and Parvati. Hermione’s hands shook- even though she was quite sure he was being sarcastice ste still could not stop the words from ringing in her ears. Devastatingly attractive... Miss Granger... there was a loud, shattering noise at her feet and Hermione reddened as she looked down. She’d knocked over her water beaker, splashing it down her front, and the glass had shattered at her feet.

“I’ve warned you twice, Miss Granger. As I don’t think that has been sufficient, I believe a detention is in order for this evening. Perhaps you’ll be more careful in the future. See to yourself,” he eyed her, taking in the sight of her , wh, white button down blouse sheerly clinging to her. She wasn’t wearing a bra, he noticed, as headed to the girls lavatory, with a vague notion of drying herself after she’d taken care of other pressing matters.

As the door closed noiselessly behind her, Professor Snape walked to his desk. “I am going to my office to retrieve some... ingredients... we will require later on in this lesson. Malfoy, please keep a close watch on this class. Report any... misbehaviour... to me. I shall be no longer than ten minutes.” and with that, he glided out. He entered his office, and unzipping his pants, cast a locking and silencing charm on the door. Since when did Granger develop such an amazing rack? He quietly mulled this thought over as he began to stroke himself vigorously, wanting to return before Longbottom reduced the place to mere cinders.