You follow him out of the storeroom, trembling with either fear or arousal–you aren't sure anymore. Your mind spins as he leads you into his office, the cold dungeon air bristling the exposed skin of your legs and face. The lock clicks behind you as he wheels around, walking past you to his workbench. "Professor...?"
He unrolls a leather wrapping of medieval-looking tools––scalpels, knives, picks and vials. Perhaps for pulverizing and mincing ingredients, you guess. You hope. "You've got a dirty little mind, Y/n." His hands hover over the tools in an almost sensual movement as you hold your breath, afraid you'll gasp aloud if you try to breathe. He picks up a dark yew wand, his graceful fingers caressing it.
"We ought to fix that."
The timbre of his voice makes you tremble, and you struggle to compose yourself. He slinkily approaches you, wand in hand. His long strides slowly close the space between you. He extends the wand to your face, lightly tracing your jaw with its fine tip, resting it just below your lips. "Such a pretty face," he says softly.
Your mind is void of anything but him. He lowers his arm, pointing the wand downward.
"Kneel."
You immediately drop to your knees, the cold, rough floor scratching against them. The cool tip of his wand gently slides from your chin to your neck, moving slowly downward until he stops at the center of your beating chest. "Your heart is pounding...I can feel it through my wand." You swallow hard, struggling to meet his intense gaze. "Are you quite alright, Miss Y/n?" "I...I'm nervous, sir," you barely manage to rasp out.
Snape's gaze somehow both darkens and softens as he replies, "Do as I say and there will be nothing to be nervous about."
You melt under his stature looming over you. "Be a good girl for me, won't you?"
His robes sway behind him as he begins circling you. "Now," his voice echoing in the cold dungeon. He pulls your journal out from his cloak. Your face drops to the cold stone floor beneath you. "Let's read some more, shall we?" Your head jerks up in alarm, "Oh, no please Professor!" He responds with an irate flick of his wand and suddenly a velvet necktie appears, covering your mouth, tying itself snugly behind your head. Giving you a satisfied look he continues, "As I was saying...
While I was serving detention, Professor Snape gave me a low grade in potions class and gave me the most disapproving look. When he hissed at me, 'This is lazy work. Do. Not. Disappoint me...again.' it made my whole body shudder." He pauses, then his eyes flick up to yours, "I hope he didn't notice." His eyes hood, maintaining contact with yours until you break it, looking back down at the floor.
Returning to your confessions, "I intentionally handed in shoddy work just to hear him scold me..." He stops behind you and you feel his warm breath tickling your neck, his dark tresses brushing your own as his mouth nears your ear. "Is that what you want?" he asks in a low, husky tone, "To be scolded?"
Your heart leaps in your throat and the silence is deafening against the question hanging in the air. You reluctantly nod, still unable to lie. He stands to his full height and circles around in front of you, towering over your kneeling figure. Extending his wand, he touches it to your chin and delicately lifts your face, forcing your averted eyes to meet his gaze.
He looks down his nose at you, "Deliberately sabotaging your schoolwork for a little attention?" His head tilts down, revealing the depths of his stare. "Oh, Y/n...you've been bad." Your thighs squeeze together in response. "We shall have to think of a proper punishment for you."