Hermione smiled in satisfaction when she was able to answer the seventh question asked of her by a classmate in a row. She was having a brilliant year – all considering. Even though she was nearly run ragged with studying for her OWLs, she still had time to help others. Especially in class – such as now. They were in potions and the class was assigned to work on an Invigoration Draught.
Since they were more or less expected to work on their own – but not in silence – while making the potion, following the directions on the board, students often muttered things like: “Am I supposed to add this now or after I stir thirteen times?” And Hermione would look over, assess the situation, and answer: “Now, and then stir thirteen times.
She looked back to her potion and squeaked in mild alarm when she noticed Professor Snape glaring at her from the other side of her cauldron. “You will remain after class, Miss Granger.”
“Yes sir,” she murmured obediently, wondering what was wrong.
She was unusually quiet for the rest of class. When everyone was handing in vials of the finished potion, she cleaned up in a state of distraction. As a result, she ended up vanishing Harry's potion just as his sample was shattered, which meant that he got a zero for his – rather surprisingly good – efforts. She felt extremely guilty!
When the rest of the class was gone, Snape gave Hermione a long and appraising look. She cleared her throat timidly. “Sir?”
“I find myself wondering why in Merlin's rotting brain you must always give out the answer to any question you hear, whether it's the right thing for you to do or not,” Snape sneered at her rather unpleasantly.
“Sir...?” Hermione half whispered in dismay and confusion.
“Did it never occur to you that some students learn best when they must figure out the answer for themselves?” Snape ground out softly, his voice implying a threat even though his words didn't contain one.
“I don't think that's necessarily true,” Hermione stated confidently. “And besides, I'm a year older than almost everyone in my class, so it's easier for me to understand things. It's only fair that I use my knowledge to help others when they need it.”
Snape was momentarily distracted. “And why are you a year older?”
“Because it took an entire year to talk my parents into letting me come to Hogwarts. It wasn't until I had a rather nasty incident of accidental magic that my parents admitted that I really was a talented witch and needed formal training.”
“Ah,” Snape said, and then shrugged. “No matter, the problem remains that you cannot keep your mouth shut when you should.”
“There's no rule against helping other students!” Hermione protested.
“Indeed,” Snape reluctantly agreed with a sneer. “But what you do is not helping. It's doing their work for them. Sit on my desk for a moment.”
“Sir?” Hermione questioned, more than a little baffled.
Snape sat in his surprisingly comfortable chair and gestured to his desk. “Taking house points will only make you feel as if I was being irrational, and giving you detention will make you feel that I was being unfair to your noble Gryffindor ideals, so I will do neither. Take a seat on my desk, Miss Granger.”
Now thinking that her Professor was a little deranged, Hermione did as she was told. She was careful to slide her rear onto the uncluttered area. The last thing she needed was to be punished for knocking something off his desk!
With a tiny nod to indicate that he was satisfied by her reluctant obedience, Snape opened the drawer next to her left thigh. His long and thin fingers hovered over various bottles for a moment each before he selected one. Holding the bottle up to his eye, he studied it for a few seconds before deciding that it was acceptable.
“This is a special ink that cannot be removed by anyone other than me,” he informed her. The ink contained a drop of his blood so that only his magical signature could erase the ink, but there was no need to tell her that. It could be fun to see what things she tried while attempting to clean it off.
“Er...” Hermione droned for a moment, tilting her head to the side.
Rather than say anything, Snape simply selected a calligraphy brush – one with a medium size head. Opening the bottle, he dipped the brush in to coat it evenly before setting the bottle on his desk with an anti spill spell on it. Narrowing his eyes in concentration, he selected the optimal spot...
Hermione inhaled in disbelief when Snape wrote something across her neck using the brush.
“Hold still!” He snarled when she fidgeted, then dipped the brush again. It took him at least two whole minutes and a good half-dozen dips of the brush, but finally, he sat back to observe his handiwork.
Nodding in approval, he nearly smiled!
Try as she might, Hermione could not see what he had written. When it was obvious that he wasn't going to add anything, she conjured up a mirror and held it up to read...
lla ti wonk elbareffusnI – written in an elegant and flowy script. It took her a moment to realize that it was backwards because of the mirror, but then her mind translated it automatically.
Insufferable know it all – the first word was higher on her neck and the last three were under it. If she didn't know that it was words, she'd almost think it was one of those romantic temporary necklaces that some muggle girls wore. Or some sort of Hindu Mehndi. The color temporarily distracted her from her natural outrage.
“Blue?” And not just any blue, but a vivid shade that almost seemed to glow a little. If she'd been told what he was going to do and had to guess, she would have assumed he'd use Slytherin green, or maybe even Gryffindor red in an attempt to make the punishment more bearable for her.
“It's one of my favorite colors,” he informed her with a shrug. “Now go.”
Biting back a sigh of frustration, Hermione slid off his desk and did her best not to be self-conscious. After all, knowing a lot was something to be proud of! Not many students actually noticed the writing on her neck since they were generally absorbed in their own conversations and homework drama. Of those that did, a few sniggered, but most seemed confused, as if they couldn't decide whether she was advertising a well-known fact, or had simply lost a bet or a dare.
When she got back to Gryffindor tower, Ron and Harry took one look at her and exchanged questioning glances. Ron opened his mouth, but she cut him off with: “Don't ask!” Ron closed his mouth and pressed his lips together.
Harry was slightly braver. “Umbridge?” He held up his hand to remind her that he had a more or less permanent scar from his many detentions with her.
“No,” Hermione stated, and then changed the subject by asking what homework they needed her to look over.
The next time she was in potions, Hermione had actually forgotten about the writing on her neck. As such, she did what she normally did, answering questions as they arose. After only the third one, Snape sent her a dark look across the dungeon, pointed the the floor next to his desk and mouthed: After class.
She nodded even as she sighed in frustration.
When the rest of the students were gone, Snape inspected her neck. He had no idea why, but seeing his handwriting on her skin was pleasing. Suppressing a sigh of disappointment, he cast the spell to erase it. Then he gestured to his desk.
“Stand here and face my desk,” he paused for her to do as asked, which meant that she had her back to him. “Now place your hands on my desk.”
When Hermione complied with that, he took the time to select a different bottle of ink. This time, he chose a shade of red that nearly screamed: Look at me! Standing behind her, he used a slightly thinner calligraphy brush to write on her left hand: I must learn to; and on her right hand, he wrote: keep my mouth shut!
As Hermione studied the writing on her hands, she was once again struck by how elegant it was. It was quite possibly the most beautifully written words she'd ever seen. She cleared her throat and gathered her courage.
“Do you draw?”
“What?” Snape asked, somewhat flustered by her question.
“It's just that you seem rather talented. I was just wondering if you liked to draw as a hobby. Or perhaps paint – though I suppose they could go hand in hand.”
“Er... What does it matter?” Snape snapped with a light glare.
Hermione cast a nonverbal summoning spell on a particular piece of paper in her bag. A moment later, she held it out to him. He looked at it with a purposely blank expression.
“Magically speaking, the Japanese Golden Ray Lily is useful in potions to aid concentration and focus. Such potions are – of course – frowned upon for academic usage,” Hermione explained, knowing that he already knew all of that. “However, carrying the actual flower or the image of the flower is a harmless way to invoke those properties. I was wondering if you could draw this, er... on me...” she muttered that last bit softly, looking away with a light blush.
Snape was momentarily more intrigued than he really should be. “Where?”
Hermione pinched her chin and looked to the ceiling as she thought this over. “Well... obviously somewhere that won't be seen, but... not...” She blushed again, this time a full rosy color. Then cleared her throat. “How about on my foot?”
Snape took a moment to think this through, rummaging through his desk drawer to see if he even had the right colors. As it turned out, he did – more or less. Without a word, he gestured impatiently toward his desk. Hermione quickly took her shoes and stockings off, and then sat on his desk so that he had clear access to her feet. She pointed to the tops, just in case he thought she meant the sides or even her ankles.
Biting his lip in thought, Snape began with a very fine calligraphy brush to outline the flower. He firmly ignore the part of him that not so helpfully nagged at him that he would have refused if she'd picked anything other than a lily...
The base color of the Japanese Golden Ray Lily was usually white, but since he was using inks that he brewed from magical ingredients (not to mention his own blood), he didn't have anything so simple as white. What he used instead was a shimmering opalescent shade, painted with a thicker brush. Over that, he he used a medium-thin brush and layered ink that was made using actual gold so that the rays down the center of each petal were a softly golden shade that complimented the base color nicely. To finish it off, he used a thin brush and a glittering shade of ruby for the spots. He preferred them the be subtle additions rather than what could almost be called freckles on some of the flowers. When he was done, he stared at his handiwork in an alarming amount of fascination, and...
He firmly shoved that out of his mind.
“Thank you, Professor,” Hermione murmured softly. She was more than a little enamored with her new semi permanent tattoo. Not actually a tattoo, obviously, but if muggles could call those sticker-like things temporary tattoos, then she could call this drawing that would remain until he specifically removed it a tattoo as well.
Rather than say anything at all – and he was finding it strangely hard to speak at the moment – Snape merely shrugged. Then he waved his hand as if impatiently dismissing her. Gathering up her belongings, Hermione slipped her stockings and shoes on again, and then left.
For the next potions class, Hermione purposely answered as many questions as she could – while trying to sound as if she was doing it out of habit while she focused on her own potion. As expected, she was asked to stay after class once more. When they were alone, Snape sighed as a way to imply that he was disappointed in her.
He tapped his fingers together repeatedly as he thought about what to write next and where. As it was, her neck, face, and hands were really the only exposed places on her body. The rest was covered by various parts of her uniform. It was tricky to be sure. Finally, he decided.
“Remove your shoes and stockings and sit on my desk,” he ordered.
“Yes sir,” Hermione murmured as she obeyed.
Using a shade of Slytherin green that actually did gleam and glow, he wrote: I am an insufferable know it all and – on her right leg, starting just below her knee and ending at her ankle. On her left leg, he wrote: I need to learn to keep my mouth shut.
When he was done, some mischievous imp hit him over the head with an idiot stick, making him not only smirk in amusement, but actually do something he would never do when he was thinking straight.
“Turn around, lean over my desk, and lift the back of your shirt up about six inches.”
Hermione had been studying her new writing, but now looked up at him in surprise. “Sir?”
He gave her an imperious look that dared her to disobey. With a nervous sigh, she did as told. Using a variety of brushes and different colored inks, Snape drew a picture of an otter playing in a stream on the exposed portion of her lower back. Of course, she couldn't see it, no matter how hard she tried. When he was done, he had her stand up and face him, then he spelled the words off the back of her hands.
“You may put your shoes on, but not your stockings. I'll write you a note excusing you if any other Professors object to you being in less than full uniform. Remember, this is a punishment and thus it's supposed to be humiliating.”
“Yes Professor,” Hermione mumbled as she put her shoes back on. Her stockings were tossed in her bag, which she slung over her shoulder just as he handed her the note he promised – which she slipped in her breast pocket so that it was on hand.
Surprisingly, none of the students or other Professors said a word about her lack of stockings or the words on her legs. By this point, they all figured that she was obviously being punished and – aside from a few amused snickers, especially from Slytherins – no one wanted to risk offending her in case she stopped using said know it all ness to help them when they needed it.
That night, when Hermione finally had a chance to use the Prefects' bathroom, she positioned the mirrors so that she could see the picture that Snape had drawn on her back. She was so captivated by it that she rushed through her bath and stared at the picture in the mirror for nearly a half an hour before forcing herself to get dressed. However, as she was pulling her pajamas on, she bit her lip in thought.
The picture was – by necessity – rather small. She was certain that it would look so much better if it was bigger. Shoving her dirty clothes in her bag, she slung it over her shoulder and marched all the way down to the dungeons so that she could half pound on Professor Snape's door. He answered it looking as if he had been in the middle of marking papers and frowned at her.
“To what do I owe this dubious pleasure, Miss Granger?” He growled softly with one brow raised.
“I want you to make this picture bigger,” Hermione blurted out, pointing toward her back.
Snape unconsciously looked around to see if there was anyone in the corridor, but there wasn't – that he could see. With a sigh, he invited her into his quarters. Mentally, he was berating himself because he knew better. Even if nothing more sinister happened than her lifting her shirt a little higher on her back, just having her in his quarters at night without some sort of chaperone could get him in serious trouble.
That said, she was of age to consent, and while it wasn't acceptable for a Professor to touch a student inappropriately, if he drew on her back at her request, he wouldn't be breaking any laws. After finishing up that little mental argument, he silently admitted that he liked drawing on her and wanted to do so as much as possible.
With a frown, he wondered how would be best to do this. Her laying on his couch? No, that wouldn't be easy or comfortable for him. Her laying on his table? That might work but it might not be comfortable for her. On his bed would probably be comfortable for both of them, but he mentally slapped himself as that provoked scandalous images that instantly proved exactly why that was a very bad idea.
Focusing as much as possible on the shelf that held the majority of his hand made inks, he asked: “What did you have in mind?”
“Well, I should probably lay on your table,” Hermione murmured as she looked around his home with unrestrained curiosity. “Although I might need to temporarily change its shape and cast a cushioning charm on it.”
Snape chuckled silently since it appeared that her thoughts were mirroring his own. “I meant what did you want me to do to the picture – other than make it bigger? Or is that all you want, it exactly the same only bigger?”
“Oh! Yes, er, well actually... Would it be too much for you to draw an entire picture?” She wondered. “Not just the stream and the otter, but a tree or two to represent a forest and... I don't know, plants and flowers. Maybe an animal drinking from the stream?”
Snape looked at her incredulously. “And just how is this all supposed to fit on you back?”
Hermione blushed and looked to the floor. “I was hoping that there'd be enough room if you used the nape of my neck all the way down to...” she trailed off when she realized that she was going to say the heels of her feet. That might sound... bad...
“Hmm...” Snape hummed lightly as he thought this over. Actually, if he had her entire back to work with, he could probably make a darn good effort at fulfilling her request. “Alright...”
He gestured to his coffee table, which was uncluttered – unlike his actual table, which was buried under mounds of paperwork and books. “Transfigure that as needed.”
Hermione nodded and quickly changed the table so that it was long and narrow so that he didn't have to bend over to reach anything as he worked. She also assumed that he would want to sit in a chair, and so made the table the right height. Lastly, she cast cushioning charms for her comfort and added little areas for her arms to rest so that they weren't in the way – but also didn't hang off the table awkwardly.
“Er, Professor? Could you promise not to look over here for a moment?” Hermione asked timidly.
“Certainly, Miss Granger,” Snape stated since he was still absorbed with mentally planning out the scene and choosing colors.
Soft rustling made him wonder what she was doing, but he kept his promise. It took until after the room was completely silent again for it to occur to him that if he was going to be drawing on her entire back, then she had probably just stripped her pajama top off. That thought allowed him to mentally brace himself for that exact situation.
Even so, a soft gasp escaped him when he finally turned to carry an assortment of inks and an array of brushes to her. He nearly dropped everything! Rather than be topless, she was completely naked!
Or so he assumed as the small towel she had draped over her bum revealed the bare skin of her hips. She lifted her head slightly off the table to look at him. He sincerely hoped that she didn't see the momentary panic and something else in his eyes.
“You can draw anything you like and in any place – although the bottom of my feet might be too ticklish. You may remove the towel if necessary, I just didn't want my bum to be distracting if you decide that you'd rather stick to my back.”
Snape swallowed to wet his suddenly dry throat. “Alright... that certainly gives me plenty of room to work.”
Summoning a chair that could roll about and a smaller task table to hold his tools, Snape got comfortable and took a few moments to simply examine her back. He muttered softly aloud without even realizing it.
“The stream could go here and the otter, yes.. Trees... grass... hmm...”
Selecting a bigger brush – an actual paint brush – to begin with, Snape mapped out the major landmarks. Then he used a fine brush to outline the various elements – such as the otter. Despite using ink and drawing techniques, the various colors allowed him to used a few painting techniques as well. Such as covering any mistakes rather than try to erase them. Not that he was so unskilled as to make mistakes in the first place. At least, nothing more than the occasional brush stroke in the wrong place.
In any case, since he wasn't going for the masterpiece of a lifetime, it took relatively little time to finish his work. Between two and two and a half hours later, there was a scene that looked like a painting on Hermione's back and – yes – even a little more than half of her bum. He looked it over critically to see if he had missed anything.
Starting at the nape of her neck, there was a small blue bird sitting in a nest of eggs. That meant that there was part of a tree framing the right side of her back all the way down. The stream took up the entire lower portion of her back, and the otter was playfully looking up at a young adult doe drinking water.
On the other side of her back was branches and leaves that implied an entire forest – one branch had a squirrel looking down at the otter. The opposite shore of the stream from the doe was a small strip of a sandy bank, and then a few Japanese Golden Ray Lilies arranged in a way that implied a meadow. There was even a small bunny nibbling at one of the flowers.
Hermione moaned in disappointment when she realized that he was done. She had no idea why, but she was highly aroused. The best she could figure was that the light strokes of the brush as he applied the ink had stimulated her until she was... She bit her lip and thanked every God she'd ever read about that she was still laying on the table with her head in a hole she'd created in the table so that she could breathe and not have her neck craned to either side.
Snape conjured a full length mirror so that she'd be able to look at her back. Then he realized that she'd actually need a second mirror to see it properly. He conjured that and then turned to leave the room when he realized that she'd actually need him to hold the second mirror and adjust the angle. That seemed too much like tempting fate!
“Would you prefer me to leave the room so you can figure out how to look at your back with these mirrors? Or would you prefer me to hold one for you?” He asked, deciding just to leave it up to her.
Hermione looked up and around to see the mirrors that he was referring to. While she probably could arrange the mirrors herself with levitation charms, she didn't really want to. She smirked rather impishly.
“If you would hold one, please, I think it would be easiest.”
Snape gulped in some air and nodded in assent. He was doing his absolute best to regard her as nothing more than a student who had temporarily been a canvas for him to create art on. Disconcerting blood flow patterns suggested that he was failing miserably.
Hermione sat up, took a deep breath, and then slid off the table so that she was facing the mirror that Snape wasn't holding. He angled the one he was holding so that she could see the picture on her back in the mirror she was looking at. However, this also meant that he got a full view of her reflection and had to force himself to look away.
Hermione broke out into a wide grin. “It's gorgeous! I love it!” Before she even had a chance to think about it, she turned and threw her arms around his neck to hug him – which made him drop the mirror he was holding. He was far too startled to do anything for a long moment, but then managed to return her hug before she could decide to pull away – although she didn't.
Encouraged, she rested her head on his shoulder. “How long will this last? I mean if you never spell it away, will it last forever?”
He smirked wryly. “I haven't been around quite long enough to know about forever, but yes. Theoretically, it should last until I specifically spell it off you – even if that is years from now.”
“I was hoping you'd say that!” Hermione cheered as she pulled back to look him in the eye.
This was all it took to eradicate the last vestiges of his good sense. He kissed her rather possessively. She froze for one moment, but then – to his astonishment – not only returned his kiss, but opened her mouth and invited him to explore her with his tongue.
This went on for a gloriously long time, but eventually, Snape realized what he was doing and pulled back with a gasp. He gaped at her even as he wondered if he should hex himself or confess to the Headmaster and let Dumbledore murder him.
Hermione tilted her head curiously, and then made an accurate guess as to what the problem was. With a soft smile, she took a tiny step back, noticing that his arms still held her even though he looked like he was having a mental crisis. Using a finger, she drew a heart on her left breast.
“Would you draw a heart here? I think that the blue you used on my neck would be lovely.”
Snape had to swallow a couple of times before he could respond to that. “Er... I'm not sure that's... appropriate...”
Hermione laughed softly. “Would you prefer to draw deer tracks in a line across my leg right about here?” She used one of his hands to draw a line on the inner part of her thigh, about half an inch or so from where it connected to her body.
He stuttered for a moment before feeling a sense of something close to oh fuck it! Come over him. Before he could remember all the very important reasons why this was the worst idea he'd ever had, he scooped her into his arms. Kissing her with a surprising amount of passion, he managed to carry her all the way to his bed without dropping her or bashing her head against anything.
Considering that he lived in a school and had very little time for a lover – or a person willing to bed him on occasion with no strings attached – he was more than a little afraid that he'd end things before they even properly began. So, he decided to distract himself with a little dry humor.
“Where exactly do you think I should draw this blue heart?”
Hermione drew it with her right pointer finger. “Right here.”
He copied her action with his tongue, and then shook his head. “A blue heart – or actually a heart of any color – would look gaudy here.”
“Here maybe?” Hermione drew the heart around her nipple.
He nearly cursed himself for not realizing that she'd do that. Her action was making it very hard for him to control himself! Taking a deep breath, he copied her small drawing with his tongue – in essence licking her nipple and making her moan so erotically that he almost made a mess in his pants!
“Or here...” she suggested in a husky whisper as she drew a heart over her other nipple.
He obliged, and then shook his head. “Let's stop talking about hearts. They're tacky. Perhaps a snake slithering here.” He licked a path from her solar plexus, between her breasts, up to her neck.
“I think I could be persuaded,” she informed him breathlessly. “But what about the deer tracks?”
“Wouldn't you rather have a small spattering of stars right about here?” Snape asked, shifting so that he could lick the skin directly above her belly button. His tongue dipped inside for a moment when she gasped and arched her back. But then she relaxed and purred softly.
“No. I'm quite set on those tracks. If they're just not good, you could always erase them and draw something else,” she pointed out pragmatically.
“Where were they again? Here?” He asked, using his fingers to stroke a path across her inner thigh very near to her soft womanhood.
She bit her lip and moaned in longing even as she nodded quite eagerly. He firmly swiped his tongue across the suggested spot, praying that he used a pressure that wouldn't tickle. To his relief, she moaned and bucked her hips into him.
“I know you said hearts were tacky, but what about here?” Hermione asked, spreading her labia with two fingers from her left hand and pointing to her clitoris with her right index finger.
“Now that looks like the perfect place to draw a heart. I imagine that it would take a thousand or so strokes if I use the calligraphy brush that has only a single long bristle,” Snape informed her with a knowing smirk. “It would be a very delicate picture and could take hours to complete.”
Hermione felt her breath catch in her throat. “Oh? Sounds like you should probably start on that as soon as possible then.”
“Mmm...” Snape murmured noncommittally, but then pressed his face to her so that his tongue could practice drawing the heart until he had it just right.
Hermione inhaled a gasp and gripped his hair in her right hand. She inexplicably covered her mouth with her left hand, as if afraid that someone would hear her and come running to help her – or just plain stop her. Even so, her ragged breathing and soft squeals let him know that she was thoroughly enjoying what was happening. Fairly soon, her legs were shaking so much that it felt like something was vibrating the entire bed.
“Oh!” Hermione gasped out, then made a sound like she was choking for a second before a breathless: “Ohhhhh...” Which turned into a low squeal.
Snape was tempted to chuckle as she bucked and writhed under him. He held her hips firmly, curious to see what would happen if he kept going. To his delight, the noise she was making turned to a rather frantic sounding: “OhGodohGodohGod!”
He had to stop a moment later when she pushed on his head and tried to scoot away. With a chuckle, he sat up. Then he sighed.
“You should probably leave now, Miss Granger, before I –”
But Hermione cut him off by yanking him on top of her and demanding a hungry kiss. She then utterly impressed him by summoning her wand with a whispered Accio. Even though most witches and wizards eventually mastered a wandless summoning spell, it was almost unheard of in a witch her age. While he was still reeling over this information, she cast a spell to make his clothes intangible, and then banished them to the floor.
“Er...” He wanted to protest that her actions were highly inappropriate, but considering where his face had just been...
It took quite a bit of effort to not yank the cover over his body because – while he had had lovers in the past, they were rare, and he had never been confident in how his body looked. He was moderately afraid that she'd take one look at him and flee. To his relief, she simply kissed him as she urged him to move into place between her legs.
The moment his painfully erect shaft pressed into her slippery opening, he stopped before entering her as the one braincell that still possessed the ability to think rationally sounded an alarm. He then pressed his lips together so that he didn't berate himself for being stupid.
“Er... something wrong?” Hermione asked in concern.
“Just that I should really have you drink a contraceptive potion first.”
“Oh!” Hermione exhaled in relief. “Is that all? I actually take a potion each month that vanishes my egg, so I'm safe, but if you want to be absolutely certain, I could always cast a shield spell.”
Snape frowned at her. “Do you make the potion yourself?” Because as skilled as she was – when he was willing to admit it – she could brew the potion wrong and not know it until it was too late.
Hermione shook her head. “No, Madam Pomfrey gives it out to anyone who asks for it, without question.”
“Ah,” Snape felt much better since he knew that the Mediwitch either brewed the potions herself, or got them from someone highly qualified. Such as him. Although, he hadn't ever brewed that particular potion.
Before doing anything else, he kissed her until even his very last rational braincell was drunk from lust. With a groan of sheer bliss, he discovered that she was very tight. One of her hands carded through his hair as she kissed him, but her other wiggled between them so that she could stimulate herself.
He grunted as she got noticeably tighter. At this rate, he wasn't going to last more than a couple of thrusts! He pulled back and chose a very slow pace because he wanted to delay the ending as long as possible. To his astonishment, each thrust felt like heaven.
Her fingers soon had her shaking – her breathing highly erratic. She pulled free of their kiss and gasped in his ear, which sent a shiver of pleasure down his spine. “I'm told that this feels really good.”
With that little warning, Hermione inhaled a gasp and held her breath as she shook rather violently under him. True to her word, her inner muscles rippled all over his shaft in a way that felt simply magical. He didn't plan to admit it to her, but none of his previous lovers had done this. He'd ensured they had an orgasm during foreplay – like he had with her – and so they never had one while he was inside them.
With a soft and happy moan, he lost all control of his stamina and pumped her full. Since it had been a while, it felt like he flooded her with an entire ocean. For a brief but insane moment, his inner potions master wondered if she'd let him satisfy his curiosity and actually clean it all out of her in order to measure it, but then he pushed that thought aside with a soft and derisive snort.
Settling onto her rather comfortably, he fell asleep before his brain could sober up and remind him that she should definitely not spend the night in his bed. She also drifted off, purring happily. Which was how Snape had the best sleep he'd experienced in a long time.
In the morning, he woke up before her and nearly choked himself with an incredulous gasp. He immediately felt like the lowest bastard on Earth and spent several long minutes mentally beating himself up. He stared at her as she slept, wondering how to smuggle her out of his quarters without anyone seeing her. A Disillusionment Charm would probably work the best...
The sight of her naked body was having a not entirely unexpected effect on him. He well remembered how good it felt to be inside her. The longer she slept, the more he wanted to wake her up with a rather shameful act. The fact that he was sitting between her spread legs really wasn't helping matters in the slightest.
With a sigh and the feeling like he was giving into the inevitable, he shifted to lay fully atop her once more. One hand pulled her left leg over his hip, then his other hand guided his shaft inside her. She was still fairly slippery from last night, letting him slide in smoothly, which felt positively wonderful.
Hermione moaned as if agreeing with him. As she slowly woke up, her hands wandered across his back. Being fully rested and less than a dozen hours after an orgasm, he was able to pick a moderate and powerful pace, which had them both making continual sounds of delight. Fairly quickly, he discovered that if he angled himself just right, he brushed her clitoris with each thrust – which provoked a variety of interesting reactions from her.
A blissfully happy amount of time later, the two of them were grinding together almost frantically. Hermione was growing tighter with every thrust, and Snape was starting to feel like he was floating on the edge of a volcano filled with hot pleasure. When Hermione dug her nails into his back and cried out, he was overwhelmed to the point that he nearly blacked out for a moment. He collapsed onto her and panted until his mind came back from where it was drifting among the heavens.
“Mmm...” Hermione purred at some point. “I'm sort of getting hungry.”
“Me too,” Snape admitted. “But first...” He summoned a bottle of vivid blue ink and a medium calligraphy brush. Shifting around on the bed, he moved her legs so that he had access to the inner part of her right thigh. “Deer tracks really would be dreadful, but this should be interesting for a week or so...”
Hermione smiled at him with surprising fondness as he wrote on her thigh, which tickled so she had to hold her breath and not squirm. When he was done, she twisted her body until she had a good look at...
Snape gave her a rare grin as he cast the spell to erase the writing on her lower legs that would be covered by her stockings that day anyway. “Professor Severus Snape, Potions Master. I figure that if one of your dorm mates should happen to see it, they won't immediately know what it stands for. I'd be shocked if any of them managed to guess even if they thought about it for the rest of their lives.”
Hermione chuckled and gave him a kiss. “I like it!”
Just when it looked like they might try for another round soon after all, a house elf delivered a note that read: Severus, is there a reason you're not conducting your first class of the day? If you are ill, you should have reported it by now so that arrangements could be made. Please let me know as soon as possible. Minerva.
“Well that killed the mood,” Snape grumbled, and then sighed. “We should both get to our respective classes. And if this should happen again in the future, we should be careful to avoid falling asleep – or only do so on days when there's no class the next day.”
Hermione smirked. “Although, it could be interesting to see how long it takes for people to notice that we are both late for our morning classes on the same days.”
He rolled his eyes are her, knowing that she wasn't serious because she could potentially be expelled even as he was sacked. But then his breath caught in his throat when she gave him an utterly brilliant smile.
“I would like for this to happen again. All of this. Perhaps by the end of the year, you can have covered every inch of my body – aside from my hands, neck, and face – with beautiful pictures.”
Snape's mind went completely blank as he tried to picture exactly that. His blood swiftly traveled south – which surprised him. Before he could come up with a coherent response to the suggestion, Hermione kissed him again.
Once again, just as it seemed like they might go again, an elf arrived with a note. With a sigh of frustration, they both slipped out of bed and got dressed. Snape hastily wrote a note assuring the Deputy Headmistress that he was on his way. With a parting kiss, Snape Disillusioned her. After that, they left his quarters and went their separate ways – each making plans to meet up again as soon as possible.