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Gripping her by the forearm, he drags her into an empty classroom, smirking at the knowledge that it’ll leave bruises despite the wool sweater she is wearing. That’s fine, watching her explain away marks she didn’t realize he’d left was one of his favorite hobbies. Let the school think it was that Thomas fuck or some other lanky bloke. She huffs at the audacity of his assault, her breath ghosting his neck. These trysts stopped being a surprise months ago.
He relishes the give of her bottom lip as he sinks his teeth into it. This kiss will bruise, leaving her blushing at the fervor of it hours later. The split in his lip still hasn’t healed since the last time, when they knocked heads in their heat. He was simply returning the favor.
Her hands fly to his collar, shell pink fingernails clawing at the Eldridge knot. Before she can get it undone, his hands grapple her wrists, bracketing them to her sides.
“No. Don’t fucking touch me,” he growls.
Her eyes go wide. She’s used to aggression from him but this reeks of something darker. She might have pushed him too far this time.
Flipping her around by the hips, he pushes her chest against the uncut stone. She can feel the roughness on her nipples through the thin padding of her brassiere. The stone bites into her cheek at the same time his fingers thread up through her curls. She can just brush the metal on his belt with her finger tips from where he has them pinned in the small of her back.
“Do you have any idea how fucking hard it is to give a presentation on the benefits of lacewing flies in front of Severus fucking Snape when your cunt is on full display?”
Kicking apart her feet, he settles his thigh up against the back of her apex, heat blossoming on his flexed quad. He didn’t offer her the opportunity to reply. Removing his fingers from her ringlets, he wraps his arm across the front of her neck. A whine escapes her throat as he shoves two fingers in her mouth, commanding her to suck.
“Now you’re going to walk with me over to that desk right there and I’m going to let you ride me as punishment for distracting me during my presentation. Is that understood?”
Unwinding his arm from her neck, he rethreads his fingers in her hair. Using his grip to maneuver her back to facing him, he gives her bare cunt a quick slap under her skirt. Knowing better than to speak, she only jolts with a sharp inhale.
“This? This is mine. You’re lucky nobody caught you or I’d have let them have it.”
With a rough hand on the back of her neck, he marches her over to the desk. Leaning against the surface, he pulls her thighs to either side of his outstretched legs, giving her swollen clit a tweak with his nail in the process. Before settling her astride his lap, he conjures two mirrors into the empty classroom — one ahead of her and one behind her.
“Granger, as much as I love the look of your hand around my cock, I prefer the feel of your cunt more.” She wasn’t going to get away with teasing him like that so publicly. If she was going to make him watch her like that, fine, but he was going to pay her back two fold. This is the last time Hermione Granger is going to forgo knickers. Hovering her over him, he leans back flat against the desk in the empty classroom, sliding them up so they’re both fully supported.
“I saw what you did in potions, Granger. You might be Head Girl, but you’ll never be more than just a Mudblood slut to me.” Her eyes are glazed, a flush creeping up her neck at the slur he reserves just for her. Her breath is coming out in pants now.
Flipping her skirt up to her waist, he loops his fingers through her perfectly knotted necktie, pulling her down to his level. Not a thread out of place. He was going to change that. He can feel the weight of her leaning into him, the pull of those soft pink lips waiting to be accosted.
“I saw you glistening for me in class. When I’m done with you, you’ll be fucking dripping me down the halls,” he grunts as he lines her up over his tip. “So you’re going to hold your skirt up like an eager whore and watch as you take every inch of my Pureblood cock.” Each word is punctuated by the head of his glans sliding through her folds.
His thumbs dig into her hip bones like fish hooks as he brings her flush with his pelvis in one swift motion. Tilting forward with a gasp, she goes to bring her lips to his until a rough hand around her neck forces her back. “Sit up straight,” he growls. “This isn’t for you, it’s for me.”
Angling them just enough that she can see his cock penetrating her in the mirror, he brings her down again, grinding her engorged clit against the blond curls clustered at the base of his shaft. He won’t tell her, but she’s a good girl, sitting there with her skirt bunched up in those pretty fists. No, better to make her think she’s his personal slut. She looks like a rose, unfurling her petals to make him fit. The pressure from stretching her alone is otherworldly. His eyes threaten to roll back in his head as he stifles a groan. He won’t last long if she stays clamped down like that on him.
She’s watching him, breath held in anticipation. Her walls quiver ever so faintly as he rolls her hips, before lifting her up just an inch. His fingernails leave crescents in her skin as he stills her.
“And when I make you come? You’re going to thank me. Now eyes up.”