Only two days have passed since my extremely embarrassing encounter with my potions teacher, and I still find myself unable to look in his eyes. As I'm seated in the last spot at my house table, eating breakfast, my dear owl flies in with momentum, and drops a red envelope in my face. This move stands out so much between the silently eating people in the hall, that the louder thud on the table attracts almost all eyes to me, teachers included. A howler. Great.
Some of my tablemates look at me confused, and murmurs crawl in my ear, saying 'What do you suppose she did?', 'She never received a howler', and 'Someone's in trouble' from almost all directions. As I look over to the teacher's table, I see my professors eyeing me with slight confusion, but of course, Snape has an infinitely smug and pleased expression all over his face. He looks deep in my eyes and raises one eyebrow softly, like he's saying 'well deserved' with his deep onyx orbs. With my face red as a tomato, I quickly place the letter in my robe pocket, and continue eating, covering my face as best as I can from the humiliating moments, and naturally, I'm the first to leave the hall as soon as I finished forcing the last few bites down my throat.
My form is hidden behind the bed curtains again, as I cautiously place Muffliato around me before opening the berating text. I don't want anyone to eavesdrop on my scolding, I'm more than sure this came from my dad, and heaven forbid he mentions the problem at hand, because then, anyone entering the bedroom will know my secret. I'm not taking risks here. Fortunately, they're still at breakfast, so I don't have to worry too much, but one can never be careful enough.
I slowly lift the envelope's top, expecting my dad's outraged voice, but the biggest surprise hits me when the paper starts speaking softly, almost in a whispering manner, making the greatest paradox ever take form before my eyes. Howlers are usually screaming pieces of paper, but this one whispers. Pigs must be flying outside.
"My dearest gem,
I received your letter and funny enough, the professor's arrived only five minutes after. I ran over to your mom's best friend immediately so she can help me send a howler, since I don't have magical powers. I had to make it look like you truly received a big scolding from me, because professor Snape was very— very outraged on paper. You can imagine how taken aback I was when a pitch-black owl flew in with a red envelope and when I opened it, I heard your professor's upset voice listing your 'shameless sins' with his use of words. Look, darling, I'm not mad at you in any way, you're a grown adult in my eyes, and I know how it is when the hormones start working in you. You're the most talented painter I've ever known, and I'm not going to scold you for following your heart and passion. I only ask that you be more careful in the future; if you want to live your fantasies out on paper, I have nothing against it, but you see how severe your teacher is, so be very cautious. At least until you graduate. This is your last year in Hogwarts, think of your future. I want to see my daughter successfully accommodated among wizards in a nice workplace, not doing some lowly muggle job, like your father. Don't let your powers go to waste, dear.
I love you with everything I have."
And with that, the paper tears itself up to tiny pieces. Well, that went better than expected. I'm wiping two stray tears out of the corner of my eyes, my dad's touching words hit me right in the heart, and I'm endlessly grateful that I'm blessed with an understanding soul like him. He's right. I have to get myself together. I only have this last year here, NEWTs are on my back, and I shouldn't disappoint the one person I respect and love the most. I can't let my desire take the best of me.
~*~
The next two weeks pass in agony, as I'm trying to put all my focus in my studies and giving the best performance in class, especially in NEWT potions. Even though I'm still not able to look my professor in the eye, I manage to knock my grades up a level; I know I'll never be a match for a few geniuses in this group, but I make sure to try my absolute best.
Snape seemed to settle a bit, after seeing my struggle and providing great results for him, so I didn't have to worry about his eagle-eyes constantly watching my every move and driving me insane with longing meanwhile. That's right, no matter how determined I was to become a student with model-behavior, the fire between my legs just kept burning, and to make matters worse, the more I wanted to suppress it, the bigger the flames got. I found myself helplessly locking the door of the supply closet on the first floor more and more often, so that I can relieve my roaring desire, and I got to a point where I had to disappear for a few minutes after every single potion class. I felt frustrated and pathetic, but my self-pleasuring sessions didn't give me the satisfaction my mind yearned for, it felt like only my body was relieved, and that too, only for a short period. My last NEWT potions lesson almost ended in disaster when I zoned out, and my quill was twitching above my paper, about to start drawing those delicious lines in my notebook. Fortunately, I managed to stop before I blew myself up again. I needed a long walk outside that day. I was nearing my limit.
As I was strolling near the Black Lake, desperately trying to keep my focus on breathing and emptying my mind, I suddenly noticed a larger black spot in the distance. I squinted to see better, while approaching the weird form, and I gasped internally, recognizing my potions teacher sitting below a tree, with his legs stretched out, hidden from curious eyes. He was reading a quite thick book, basking in the dim Sunlight, taking advantage of the last few days of autumn with somewhat warm weather.
There would have been nothing wrong with this picture if I hadn't noticed my black leather notebook with pink flowers on it, laying right next to him. What in the...? Led by curiosity, I hid behind a tree, keeping slight distance from my teacher, my mind squealing the question 'Why does he have my notebook with him outside!?'. But soon enough I got my answer, as the bat slowly closed the voluminous encyclopedia, set it down in the grass, and after a hefty sigh, he reached for the notebook. His hand grazed its surface, Snape touched it, like it was some kind of a fragile object that could crumble away any minute, and after much hesitation, he picked it up and opened it only a rift. I watched in fascination as my professor turned the pages excruciatingly slow, having an inexplainable facial expression, a mix of admiration and guilt, scowling and an invisible smirk. But the halcyon moment flew away as quickly as it came, when the potioneer stood up with haste, and with an upset emotion painted over his features, he disappeared back into the castle. Holy Moly, that was quite the sight to see. Why was he looking at my paintings outside, in private? I thought he found them disgraceful and repulsive, but based on what I witnessed, it seemed he enjoyed viewing them... Dear Merlin, what am I going to do now...
~*~
I've reached my absolute limit. It's Friday morning, and I couldn't sleep all night yesterday, because my relentless lust is torturing me with renewed strength. After seeing my dearest teacher basking in my art of him, my very, very explicit art of him, the greatest urge to tackle him every opportunity I can get washes over me each time I step over the potions classroom threshold. I can't take this anymore. I have to paint. I must. Somehow I'll survive today's NEWT potions, and then I'm grabbing my brush again. I've had enough.
The minutes go by wretchedly slow, and the fact that today we're doing the finishing touches for Amortentia is not helping my situation either! I almost faint from lust as the bat stops right before my table, I'm instructed to take a whiff of my concoction and describe what I smell, the potion immediately planting the image of a fully naked Snape pressed up against me in bed, the musky smell of him, and our arousal making me stagger back into the wall behind me. I clasp my hands over my mouth and nose with hazy eyes, holding the professor's eyes hostage, but of course I can't utter a word to Snape, so he lets me off with an Acceptable.
After the bell rings, I grab my brush, and a larger parchment, making my way to the hidden spot near the lake. Snape showed me a great place to hide away from curious eyes, and do whatever your heart desires without being caught. The afternoon Sun gives me ample light to create, so I sit down with my knees pulled up, and dip my brush in the black ink. I know. I'm breaking my promise of not creating anything of the sort, but I can't control my lush imagination anymore. I plan on burning this piece after I finish, but I simply must put the image on paper.
I fade out of reality, as my hand traces the first line with the brush, my surroundings dissolve around me as I'm slowly working on each inch of muscle, each piece of hair, each sweltering hot part of his whole being. The curve of his neck, the hairs on his chest, his milky thighs and that pure, mind-blowingly sensual patch of skin below his navel, which I would kiss and sink my teeth into right now If I could. Let's not forget that a nude is not fully complete in my book without a half-erection, so even though I've only seen male genitalia in medical books and on statues, I try my best to picture my dear teacher with the prettiest, most perfect penis in all the land. My form lays right behind him, left hand caressing his shaft as I'm placing an open-mouthed kiss on his neck, and I'm covered in goosebumps as I imagine how would this scenario play out in real life. All sense of guilt left my brain as I'm sunk so deep in my own ocean of lust, I don't even notice when my other hand slowly slides down between my thighs, my body seeks relief on her own, slowly starting to rub circles over the textile, hidden by my robe. I'm panting slightly while the brush drifts across the parchment, and slowly, but surely, tension starts to pool in my lower abdomen...
"I see giving your word has no deep meaning for you, Miss." comes the low tone from behind my back, and I'm caught so off-guard, that my body jerks away from the source of the voice, spilling my ink all over the painting, ruining it completely. I pull my hand away from my damp knickers, supporting my upper body as I almost fall over to my side in surprise.
"P-Professor! What are you doing here?" I ask him, pure shock on my features.
"I should be asking the same question. You're currently sitting in my relaxation spot, doing something you specifically swore not to do again. Are you simply unable to restrain yourself, or you just find amusement in tempting fate?" he asks with a deep frown and a berating voice. I can't do anything but sit leaned back on my arms, looking at his handsome features with shame visible in my eyes.
"My office. Now." the bat orders curtly, reaches down to tear the painting out of my hand, and turns around to march back in the castle. I need a solid ten seconds to snap back to reality, and with my heart ponding in my throat, I stand up with shaky legs. Placing the ink holder and the brush in my small purse, I run after the dungeon bat to receive what I assume the now inevitable expulsion notice.
Heavy wooden door flies open with a painful creak as I inch myself inside, and when I reach the middle of his office, said door slams with a loud thud behind me, making me wince. The bat stands with his back to me, looking out the singular window with thick glass. The teacher is perfectly motionless, like a mannequin, if I didn't hear his soft breathing I would say he's a stuffed doll. However, knowing that I crossed his line by not keeping my word makes this situation all the more terrifying and after long seconds of piercing silence, he spins around quickly with a perplexed face.
"What is your bloody obsession with painting us in compromising positions?"
At this point I'm so convinced that I'll be thrown out of Hogwarts, that I decide to come forward with every piece of the truth, while sadness and disappointment fills my chest, not believing that I just managed to destroy my whole future as a witch. There's no way I'll be accepted anywhere after they see my expulsion from the school. I take my heart between my teeth and look Snape dead in the eye. Feeling shy is meaningless from now on, because from tomorrow I won't ever see this man again.
"I-I have a deep crush on you, professor." I let the words spill out of my mouth, the fear making my limbs numb a little. Awe and a hint of outrage passes over his face as the bat keeps his onyx orbs on me, and I'm preparing myself for the greatest scolding, maybe he'll even curse me out. But he simply clasps his hands together behind his back, and asks, raising his head a little,
"Is that so?" he starts taking steps towards me, with my ruined painting in one hand, and his wand in the other, a few question marks are raised in my head upon hearing his reaction. Is he not mad? I'm unable to read him as the professor gets real close to me, halting just before his robe could touch my slightly hanging head.
"And do these images help you with your foolish attraction?" he beautifully vanishes the spill from the paper, leaving his naked form with mine in plain sight. "They're not even accurate."
His comment hits me like a hammer in the head. What is that supposed to mean?
"What do you mean professor?" I ask, almost whispering, confusion pulling my brows together slightly. The dungeon bat bows down to me a little, pushing the painting in my chest a little forcefully, and he speaks in a criticizing tone, a smirk hidden in the corner of his lips.
"The proportions are not accurate." he drawls in a tone that turns my knees into jelly, like he just handed me back an essay which didn't please him. I stand there for a good while as I try to process his words, and when the meaning finally dawns on me, I audibly gasp, slapping my hands on my mouth as redness spreads from my neck all the way up to the top of my head. How...How is he able to say such a thing? Furthermore, how is it possible that he is not sending me to every existing hell in the universe, instead he just made a teasing comment about his member not being portrayed accurately! Dear Merlin, what is happening here? I'm unable to choke out a word as I'm desperately trying to figure out what caused the most severe of my teachers to have such a reaction. Is he not going to drag me to the headmaster and demand my expulsion? Or is this an attempt of intimidation? I don't know anything anymore.
Snape turns away slowly and walks back to his desk, the usual stern look returning to his face as he takes a seat, pulling out my real NEWT potions notebook from the pile sitting on his desk.
"What do you suppose I should do with you now?" he asks seriously, turning the pages slowly, keeping his eyes on my essays written inside the leather-bound pages. "You just managed to struggle your grades up in potions..." he trails off, onyx eyes flickering to me for a split second, then back to my handwriting. I think his lenient approach comes from the fact that I belong in his NEWTs group, and knowing that he treats his NEWTs students with a bit more care and understanding calms my racing heart to some extent.
I'm so taken aback by this whole scenario developed between us, and my brain is so sure of me being kicked out tonight, that I decide to remove the filter between my thoughts and mouth, and let everything flow out, truly, honestly. Whatever happens, happens. It can't get any worse than this... right?
"Would you let me paint you?" the timid question comes out as only an exhale almost, and my curious eyes rise up to meet the bat's ones, who are visibly shocked by my bold words.
"Come again?" he's giving me the chance to rectify my leap of faith with a scandalous look, but the adrenaline coursing through my veins pushes me forward relentlessly. Like something telling me to have faith and keep moving. Fear is no longer keeping me hostage, only a numb-like tingle is present under my skin.
"I-I just... you said my pictures are not accurate. W-Would you let me paint you then? With you... as my model?" Godric Gryffindor could come and learn from me, as I'm displaying the most courage I mustered in my whole life, making the potions master stand up agonizingly slow, keeping his hands flat on his table.
"You must be out of your mind..." he breathes with furrowed brows, a hint of disgust, and also a face that reflects the sheer surprise my request left him with. "How dare you—...Do you quite comprehend the meaning of your request?" he rounds his table with a swift movement, almost teleporting in front of me in the blink of an eye. He's staring at me with wide-eyes and I can't help but lift my head up to him fully. Somehow, I'm not afraid of him anymore. Even if I'm expelled, I spoke my truth.
"Come on professor, it's my last year here in Hogwarts. You won't see me again after graduation anyways, I won't represent any kind of threat to you. Please..." I plead with him in the softest voice I can find, and to top my whole bravery-score, I gently slide my fingers onto his hand, slipping the tips under his cuffs. The bat jerks his hand away quickly, holding it close to his chest, his eyes are blocked open in outrage and unease. His move leaves a painful feeling in my chest, but I'm able to see that this move was uncalled for, too sudden. I keep my eyes locked with his, standing his questioning gaze, and when he sees no trace of fear or remorse in my eyes, he strolls over to the fireplace again, halting before the flames playing with each other in the hearth. He draws a breath to say something, but changes his mind midway, keeping the long and tense silence in the atmosphere. I start fidgeting with my fingers, trying to calm my racing mind. Now I've done it. I just asked my teacher if he would be willing to strip down naked in front of me so I can paint a picture of him. He was right, I truly must be out of my mind.
"Sit." comes the hiss from the bat, who still shows me only his back.
I make my way to one of his leather armchairs, and place my rear on the edge of the seating. I feel like I'm sitting down on a bunch of needles, I'm so nervous of what he will say now. Will he threaten me? Will he call for Dumbledore and humiliate me in front of him for asking such an indecent question? This is not even cheekiness anymore; this can be viewed as an all-out offense. He has all the right to berate me and throw me out of his office, of this school, heck, he could drop a curse on me and I still wouldn't have the right to say anything. I fear that I took a bite bigger than I could chew here, and I might choke on it this time.
"If I do this, you are not allowed to utter a word about it. Are we clear?" he says softly, facing me slowly, but his words still have sharp edges. Well, I'll be damned.