Your last night in the cottage, Severus pours you both glasses of elf wine and you talk about your favorite parts of your trip and his plans for his little garden, and your plan for your work brewing and discovering new potions. He leans forward across the table from you, his hand finding your cheek, "Such a pretty face..." your breath hitches at his compliment, remembering the first time he said that to you. Your mind begins conjuring up all the image from that night...Snape's brows arch, watching you intently. "Now...what have I told you about leaving those doors open?" he asks sternly.
"I...I'm sorry, Professor I didn't realize it would be open." "You must be on your guard around me when you start feeling...arousal." You swallow hard, "But...that will be every time I'm around you..." you say in a small voice. He smirks at you, seeming amused and pleased. "Perhaps you have something you need to...get out of your system..." His flirting makes your center grow warm, your fingers clutching your chair. Somehow it still makes you nervous to think about sleeping with him. "Besides," he was saying, "You do have other methods you may employ to...satiate...your desires. I've witnessed them myself," your cheeks flushing at the memory of being seen on the Observation Tower by him. "Perhaps that's something else we ought to practice," he confidently suggests. "Wh...what do you mean, Professor?" "I mean..." he stands and walks over to you, looming tall above your seated form, "I ought to teach you how to...pleasure...yourself. The way I would pleasure you..." You cling to your chair, nervous at the prospect but also quite aroused and intrigued.
He offers you his hand and you take it, rising to your feet and following him to the bedroom for the last time. He lies you down on the bed, slowly and gently removing your clothing, one article at a time. His eyes take you in admiringly, soaking up every second he has with you. Once you're bare before him, his hands roam over your body and feel your goosebumps rising in response. You absorb every moment.
The morning you return to Hogwarts, you take one last look at the cabin, knowing you'll miss the homey feel of it. Severus had opened his home up to you and it had been the best time you could have ever imagined. "You may always come back," he drawls in your ear behind you. You turn around and into him, wrapping your arms around him. "I don't know how I will manage these next five months," you say weakly into his chest. His large hand strokes the back of your head and holds you close to him. You both seem aware of the unspoken reality that these are your last intimate moments together before the end of term.
He holds your hands in his and looks into your eyes with a soft gaze. I love you. "And I love you. It won't be so very long."
From now on you must keep him out of your head, locking the doors inside so he does not constantly hear or see your thoughts. He apparates you back to the edge of the Hogwarts grounds, just past the magic barrier preventing such transport.
He looks deeply into your eyes one more time and kisses your hand. "I'll see you soon," he says softly. He steps back from you and apparates away. You walk back to the castle alone, the winter wind icy against your cheeks.
The other students arrive by train that evening, making their way back to their dorms and sharing stories and showing each other Christmas gifts they received on their break. You instinctively clutch the amulet around your neck, hidden beneath your blouse. Your heart already hurts at the separation, and you scold yourself knowing it's only been a couple of hours.
The feast that night in the Great Hall is noisy again, buzzing with conversation. You sit quietly at your plate as Amy, Georgia, and Angel talk about their holiday. Your eyes find Peter's in the hall, one table over. You nod at him and he returns it with a smile. Rupert sits next to him with a glow on his face. They must've had a good time. It makes you smile while you watch them talking together. "Already eager to be with him again?" Angel asks teasingly, noticing your gaze. It's a wonder she's never caught you staring at Severus.
You absentmindedly reply, "More than anything..." clutching your amulet. You realize she meant Peter and you sit up straight, clearing your throat. You see the girls' faces, their eyes wide with surprise and glee, leaning in to hear more. You think back to your break, your heart stinging at the thought of not feeling that for another five months. "Well? Tell us more! What was it like? Did you sleep together every day? Did you make him breakfast? What gifts did you get each other?" They ask all at once, bombarding you with questions. "Um...we did," you blush, telling the truth. "I didn't...he made me breakfast, actually," you say with a small smile. Their eyes widen, "Y/N! You have to marry him." Your cheeks burn red, wanting to change the subject but also relishing the reaction from the girls, realizing what a wonderful man Severus is and how lucky you are to have his love.
You ask them about each of their holidays, your mind wandering back to your time with Severus...the flex of his arms when he swung the axe. The breakfast he made you...the pleasure he gave you. You twirl your hair inattentively and you suddenly hear, "What a naughty little girl...thinking of such lewdness at school?" Your head snaps up to the teacher's table and you see Severus has taken his seat, watching you with a sexy smirk. Your heart thuds at his eye contact, amazed how he can make you feel like it's only the two of you in a sea of people. I...can't help it, Professor...
He chuckles, "Yes, you can...do as I taught you. Close the doors..." You walk through the halls of your mind, struggling to close the doors. You want nothing more than to leave them open to him...but he's watching and waiting and you want to obey him. You reluctantly close them all, clutching the key and dropping it in your pocket. Your eyes find his again and he gives you a gentle smile and a little nod. Your throat tightens.
You try to stay present in your friends' conversation, focusing hard on Amy's story of sledding down a sandy bank during her family's beachside holiday. Sandcastles shaped like igloos. Sandmen...hands shaping the sand. Large, strong hands...the hands of a man stooping down into the sand, guiding and shaping the sand and molding it into the shape he wants...gentle but firm. A tall, dark-haired man...your heart races as your eyes flit up to his, watching you sternly again, and you quickly run to lock the doors once more.
This is going to be more difficult than you thought.
The following weeks, your classes seem to drag on endlessly. Just last week you nearly lit a student on fire in DADA class, so distracted and numb that you were careless with your spells. Then Transfiguration class yesterday was a near giveaway. When instructed to transfigure a stone into your favorite dessert, you transfigured it into a tiny stone statue of Professor Snape. Professor McGonagall quickly reversed the transfiguration before too much attention was drawn to it, a shrewd look in her eye.
You see him in the halls, at dinner, in class...and he does not hold your gaze for much more than a couple of seconds. He quickly looks away when your eyes linger too long, and it sucks. You ache to feel his affections again, but neither of you can trust yourselves to even have a conversation without giving yourselves away, so you keep it to polite nods and "good afternoons." Even those feel significant to you.
The past few days when you pass him, you force yourself not to look, because you know watching his eyes look coldly away from you will only hurt more. You avoid his eyes and keep your head down when he passes. The doors in your hallway are bolted shut. You spend more nights crying than you wish to admit. He had told you it wouldn't be like you were separating...but it feels like a breakup to you. All you can think of is your conversations by the fireplace, his kisses on your face, his gentle touch...the way he says your name.
You tried the methods he taught you to satisfy yourself when you're alone...the ways he would, but it doesn't work without him. Trying only makes you want him more. You've stared into your amulet every chance you can get, your body and heart aching to experience those moments again. It's like a drop of water on your tongue in the scorching desert heat.
Your dreams are of him; you run to catch him but he's always just beyond your reach.
It's a slow, tiring Wednesday afternoon, and you finally make it to the last class of the day...the one you both dread and look forward to the most. You enter and Snape sits at his desk, shuffling through stacks of parchment. You see the quill you gifted him for Christmas sitting in an ink bottle on of his desk. Your heart warms and you take your seat, wondering why he put it out today. Did he want you to notice? His dark eyes dart up to yours and you hold your breath, his sharp gaze piercing right through you.
He stands and addresses the class, beginning an introductory lesson to a new potion you've heard of many times but will finally have the chance to brew yourselves. "Felix Felicis––liquid luck. When one consumes this particular potion, they find that whatever they attempt...they will succeed," his deep voice echos in the classroom. You think of all the naughty things that deep voice has said to you over the last few weeks...
"It is an incredibly useful and powerful potion...and therefore extremely dangerous. When someone attempts something evil or dangerous, this potion will aid them in achieving their goals. Even when used with good intentions, liquid luck has been known to cause extreme addiction, as well as many...undesirable side effects."
He paces around the room. "Who can give me examples of how this potion can be misused?"
A boy's hand shoots up, "Perhaps if one were to take it before a quidditch match?" Snape nods, "Indeed. It has been outlawed in sports." Another hand raises, "I suppose it would be a misuse if someone were trying to, erm...get lucky with a girl and they used the potion to get what they wanted," another boy says. Professor Snape's eyes dart to yours then away, so quickly you almost missed the movement. "Yes, that would also be a misuse of the potion," he agrees, seemingly annoyed.
He begins instructing the class on brewing the potion and everyone gathers their cauldrons. Ben chops ingredients while you fill the cauldron with water. Before long, the whole class is foggy with steam and heat, the potions nearly complete. Professor Snape stalks between desks, watching the students' careful movements. He walks behind your seat and you feel his robe swish against your chair. He lingers a moment longer than would perhaps be normal, and you notice every little detail. Your heart pounds when you smell him, your stomach fluttering at his nearness. He begins to walk away.
"Professor?" you say, unsure of what you want to ask...you just didn't want him to go. "I...um. Is the potion supposed to be this color?" he leans over the cauldron to inspect it, his body brushing against yours. You shiver and want to touch him with all your being. He takes his time looking, seeming to notice your excitement and to enjoy the way it makes you squirm. He turns to you, still a bit closer than would be natural for a teacher, his deep eyes holding yours. "Yes...this looks correct." His low voice mutters quietly to you, "Good girl..." You bite your lip and he continues his rounds in the classroom. You try to breathe and turn back to your work, bottling the potion, along with your urges.
Your head spins, your breath quickening. That one little interaction jolts your heart awake, filling you with a wave of euphoria. Does he intend to torment me? An idea crosses your mind. Perhaps...I shall do the same.
You pass him in the halls the next day, his gaze soft when it finds yours, but quickly hardening and continuing on. It's dreadful and painful. Between classes, you rush up to your dorm and slip on your bustier under your shirt. Perhaps...I can make him look twice. It seems desperate, but you feel desperate. You walk into potions and find your seat in the back. Underneath your skirt, your tights are lacy at the top, fastened to your knickers.
Snape begins the next lesson, going on about the positive uses of a Draught of Peace. You slowly, discreetly unbutton the top of your blouse. Walking between the center row of desks while he teaches, his eyes dart up to you at the movement, your hand working the next button, revealing just enough to make him want to see more. He pauses, his lips parting before he looks away quickly and clears his throat. "It...is. Is often used for the relief of anxiety and insomnia." He turns and walks back to the front of the room and sits behind his desk, instructing the students to write a roll of parchment for further uses they can think of. You see him adjust himself behind his desk and you smirk.
He seems to be trying very hard to focus on the parchment in front of him. After a minute or two, his dark eyes look up to yours and watch you sternly, angrily. Your hand wanders to your breast, your finger gently grazing the surface. You pull back the fabric of your blouse slightly. He swallows hard and you see his adam's apple. Your hand journeys down from your breasts to the top of your thigh...moving further to touch the hem of your skirt. You slide it up slowly, intently watching his gaze on you. You see him breathing a bit harder, his chest rising and falling. He looks angry, but you feel so powerful. You lift your skirt slowly, higher and higher, exposing the top of your stockings. He swallows again and his eyes glaze over with desire. You smile smugly, feeling quite proud of yourself.
Your hand moves slowly between your thighs as you open them just enough for his gaze...your finger stroking up along the inside of them. You find the edge of your panties, tugging on them gently, watching his intense focus on you. You move your panties to the side, just barely...almost...almost...then you stop and lay your skirt back down, leaning forward to write your parchment.
His eyes look angrier now, dark and hungry. He dismisses class ten minutes early and you lock eyes with him for another moment, gathering your books and falling to the back of the line of students handing in their parchment at his desk. You set yours before him and lean down and whisper, "Good boy..."
And you walk away, swaying your hips a bit more than you need to, feeling his eyes on your ass.
You head back to through the corridors, the rest of the students in their common rooms hanging out before dinner. You suddenly feel a strong grip on your arm, pulling you into a small closet and slamming the door shut. "What have I told you about teasing me?" His deep voice whispers threateningly in your ear, his body pressed against yours in the tiny space. "I...I don't know what you're talking about, Professor," you look up at him innocently with big eyes, your blouse revealing the soft swells of your breasts. You see his eyes flick down to them by the small amount of light coming from under the door. His hand rises as if to touch them and hesitates, his tongue wetting his lip. "What is it, Professor? Do you want to...touch me?" You lean in suggestively, his hand inches from you. His eyes go dark, "Do. Not. Test me..." He hisses in your ear. Your middle clenches and aches at his threatening demeanor.
"Yes, Professor...I'm sorry, sir..." you say, your eyes looking down his body, biting your lip. His hand rises slightly, his knuckles brushing your cheek, gently stroking it. Your breasts rise and fall with your rapid breaths. "We must show...restraint," he says weakly, his eyes landing on your breasts, your neck, your soft skin. "I...understand, Professor..." You swallow hard. You can't help but watch his mouth, his lips full and so near. "I...think we..." you feel his breath on your neck as he speaks, your heart pounding in your chest, "...we shouldn't be...alone like this..." Your middle pools with excitement at the intoxicating effect he has on you...and that you seem to have on him.
His finger and thumb lift your chin up to look at him and he leans closer, his mouth inches from yours. You feel a strong, magnetic pull between you, almost impossible to break away from. "You're...probably right..." you breathe heavily, your voice hoarse and low, your breathing erratic.
He leans closer in and you don't resist, aching for his touch. He gently pulls you closer, up to his mouth, his breathing heavy and desperate...his lips finally press to yours, kissing you softly...you let out the tiniest moan, and his arm wraps around your body and pulls you into him. You couldn't break free if you wanted to. He kisses you hard, his tongue exploring your mouth and his hand snaking up your body, behind your head and holding you into his kiss. Your heart pounds at the thrill of kissing him like this, hidden from everyone with only a door shielding you.
He pushes into you, taking up your already-tiny amount of space, his knee shoving between your legs as he presses you against the wall. His lips roam across your face and down your neck, his hands working their way up your sides and to your breasts, grasping them desperately. He moans at the contact, at the relinquishment of his self-control.
"Oh, Professor, I...I," you try to say, he interrupts with a passionate, unreserved kiss, as if it were the air he needed to live. His hands explore your body roughly, his knee between your thighs lifts you up, until you can barely reach the floor with your tiptoes. The pressure of his knee against your sex is euphoric and you begin grinding on him needily.
He moans when you start, his lips feasting on your skin, his teeth searching for your tender flesh to nibble. Your breath is unsteady and your hands cling to his chest for balance as you grind on his knee. Your vision gets blurry and your middle is so wet you can feel it seeping out of you. "Oh, Severus...!" Your moans become faster, louder, and his large hand clamps over your mouth, his black eyes piercing through you.
His rough voice growls, "Come for me, Pet..." and you tumble into the intensity of your orgasm, your quiet whimpers filling the tiny space, his breathing rapid and his own hard sex rubbing against you. Your body tightens and releases in wave after wave of pleasure. You try to calm your breathing, your heart pounding and sweat on your brow. He lowers you gently.
His serpentine eyes watch you hungrily. "Go. Now...before I do something I'll regret..." he looks down your body and you want nothing more than to stay, but he snaps aggressively, "Go!" and your feet carry you out of the small closet, looking around for any witnesses, running down the corridor when you see none.
You run back to your dorm and try to gather yourself, collecting your things and taking a shower so no one sees how frazzled you are. What have we done? I should feel bad about this...but I don't. I just want to do it again.
Severus makes his way back to his office, sinking down into his desk chair, bolting the door and pouring a strong drink to cool himself down. It was all he could do to hide his raging erection on the way back to his office. Luckily no one was really around. How had he lost control so suddenly? You both had done well for weeks.
And worst of all...it was his doing. He pulled you into the closet. He could've let you go but his instinct to punish your behavior...to pleasure you...overtook him. He drops his head in his hands, angry with himself and notices a wet spot on his knee from where you humped him. His eyes narrow on it and he feels his erection swelling again. He can smell your scent, your arousal...he feels his hardness pressing through his trousers and he tries distracting himself with papers to grade, but his eyes keep falling back to the little wet spot.
He unbuttons his pants slowly and his large hand grasps his length. Images of your taunting in class...your chest heaving when you came...his hands all over your body flooding his mind. He looks down at the wet spot on his knee and pumps slowly, his eyes closing in pleasure. All he can see is you, your body, the time you had together at the cottage, your naughty outfit. The way he tortured you and tied you up. Your moans and cries of satisfaction when he finally allowed you to come. The way you obey him so readily, so submissively...his pumps quicken and he feels himself getting closer, leaning back in his chair. The image of you on your knees before him. A few more pumps and it sends him over the edge, his mouth opening in arousal, his quiet gasps filling the air around him.
"What...is wrong with me? I'm acting like a teenager...but it is the first time in weeks that I have felt even the slightest bit of relief." He sighs heavily, still panting. "And yet, I still crave her..."
Later at dinner you see Severus in the Great Hall, his eyes finding you immediately. You look at him and think I'm sorry. "It was my fault, not yours." I shouldn't have tempted you. I was...so desperate for your touch. "I was desperate for yours too...you know, you left me a little surprise." Did I? He fills your mind with the image of your wetness on his pants and your cheeks flush, embarrassed.
I'm sorry, Professor..."Don't be. I...rather enjoyed it." You...enjoyed it? He hesitates then shows you what he did in his office...his cock in his hand, growing harder and harder as he thought of you, and the way your arousal on his knee had made him come. You glance up at him and his eyes are dark and penetrative. You...did that because of me? "Well, I certainly was getting nowhere without you. It's the first time I've...arrived since our last time at the cottage."
Mine too. Your faces soften in longing as you hold each other's gaze. You look away after staring too long, remembering you cannot be so obvious.
"Come to my office tonight at 11." But Professor, shouldn't we––"My...office."