In The Potion\'s Classroom by happyjade
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In The Potion’s Classroom




Disclaimer: No owning allowed










The first time had been accidental really.

He had reluctantly allowed her access to his private lab to prepare for her newts. Maybe reluctance is not the right word - McGonagall was rather insistent the Head Girl obtain some practice time in the midst of her head duties. So while in the midst of preparing a complex nerve deadening elixir under his ever watchful and meticulous eyes “ Hermione spilled rabbit’s blood down her arm and onto her Potion Professor’s hands. It was not painful, only messy. He passed her a cloth to wipe herself and berated her clumsiness and wastefulness. He had been rather calm considering he knew, just as well as she did, what happens when pure rabbit’s blood made contact with human flesh.

It was one of the simplest, most inexpensive aphrodisiacs in the known world. Fast acting, long lasting, endurance rebuilding “ with no antidote except time.

She confirmed it first, fisting her hands into his hair and snatching his lips ruefully with her own. He thrust her up against a wall, burrowing between their bodies to find her slick heat invite him in. He stroked and stretched her to accommodate his throbbing erection, freeing himself and plunging into heaven.

Her skirt bunched around her waist, her knickers shredded and being forcefully fucked against the potions classroom wall “ Hermione’s mind was wary while her body screamed in pure bliss. “How…how long…ugh…will it last?” She gasped between thrusts.

“Depends on the amount…. spilled…” Snape groaned, feeling her vaginal walls tighten around him and his seed explode within her body.

Panting, sweating, basking in the afterglow of the fastest, hardest orgasm she had ever felt in her life, she felt him slide out of her body, their combined juices running down her legs. Her body was sated for now, her mind anxious. She just fucked her professor. Not just any professor, but the dreaded greasy-haired git feared by all. She had fucked Severus Snape and wanted to do it again, and soon.



So that was how it started.

He figured out by the quantity missing in the rabbit’s blood vial that they would be affected up to two weeks. He had laid the rules down flatly while he studied the depths of her cunt, lapping each of the rules into her clit so she screamed them back.

“Tell no one.” He retorted, gliding his fingers into her silky folds “Unless you wish to be expelled.”

“Yes…you could…be fired…” She purred, arched into his mouth.

“Discretion always…no one can see you come here. If anyone does “ this is extra NEWT time.”

“Yes…” She moaned. “Extra…time…” She came as he drew her engorged clit between his teeth. He lapped her juices up as quickly as they flowed.

“To study,” He rose from between her thighs, meeting her in a brutal bruising kiss. She tasted herself on his lips.

Two weeks and it would over with. No erotic dreams. No uncontrollable bouts of masturbation. No numerous panty changings. No sneaking into Snape’s private labs for a shag. No barricading herself in the potions classroom with said classroom professor for a quickie. It was going to be rough. Becoming sexually addicted to Snape was quickly becoming a way of life.

At first glance, he did appear to be a horrible greasy git who tormented students for personal pleasure. But appearances were often deceiving.

His hair was actually quite soft and silky, at an almost romantic/roguish length, and when pulled back from his face revealed beautifully carved cheekbones and an aristocratic nose. His eyes appeared black but reminded her of a cup of steaming coffee “ rich and soothing. And beneath the dark robes, his body “ Oh, his body! “ was lean, sculpted muscle and his skin was like alabaster. Unclothed his body was like a marble statue but with so much more passion, so much more heat. Her insides screamed for his heat to envelope her, command her attention and capture her. At times he could be so sensitive, gentle, generous “ and as often he would be wild, merciless, ravenous. She knew who was her master when he took her, when he claimed and branded her as his own.

“Granger! Ten points from Gryffindor for not paying attention!” He barked across the classroom, snapping her back to reality.

How long had she been staring? The Slytherin girls in the back were giggling uncontrollably. Long enough.

“Psst, Hermione. You can borrow my notes later.” Dean Thomas whispered, nodding to her.

She felt embarrassed to have him offer. “It’s okay, Dean,” She assured him. “I’ve already read the chapter and made notes for it.”

“Now you insist of talking out of term, Ms. Granger? See me after class.” Snape retorted again, approaching her desk. His long, elegant fingers slid the textbook from her hands and flipped it to the correct page. “Does anyone but Ms. Granger know the properties of mastodon’s tooth?”

Hermione’s arms crossed under her breasts. He was picking on her “ all apart of his ploy. Mind you, she hadn’t been paying attention, and hadn’t been on the right page, so had it been any other professor, she probably would have deserved it. But not with Professor Snape. Not her.

The other students gave her looks of consolation as they filed quickly from the potions classroom, leaving her alone with the potions master. Hermione didn’t move from her seat, she simply stared ahead defiantly.

“Do you know why I asked you to stay after class?” He asked in a voice so silky she could have slid on it.

They both knew why he made her stay. Why the door was locked and a silencing charm had been cast over the room. It was the end of the school day. Aside from studying and marking essays “ what else did either of them want to do on a Friday night but fuck their brains out?

Hermione rose from her seat slowly, her robes already hanging on her chair. She stepped up to meet him eye to eye, standing mere millimeters away but still being to far. She lifted her hands up to his chest and slid them onto his shoulders. She lifted her heels up to bringing his face closer to her own. “Because I was being a bad student?” She asked, her mouth inches from his own.

“I expect better. Even from an insufferable know-it-all such as yourself.” He replied, his voice low and deadly sexy. She could feel the moisture build between her thighs.

“Then what can I do to raise your expectations, Professor?” She asked breathlessly, letting her fingers glide down his chest and stomach to his growing erection. Snape was not blessed in length but width and performance. She wrapped her fingers around it, gently squeezing before sliding her fingers up and then back to the head. “How can I improve on such a horrible performance?”

He grabbed her by the wrist, spinning her around until her back pressed against his chest and his stiff cock was jutting into her ass. “I want to fuck you over your desk, Granger.” He hissed in her ear, his hands over hers, feeling her body, cupping her breasts, pulling her skirt up. “I want to see you with that schoolgirl skirt around your waist while I take you from behind.”

“Oh Merlin…” She moaned as he guided her fingers under her skirt to her wetness.

“Whatever happened your underwear, Ms. Granger?” He asked, letting her massage her clitoris while he plunged two fingers into her wet channel, pumping smoothly.

“I didn’t…” Her voice was failing. The man just had to touch her and she was a disaster. She was grinding into him now, pushing into his hard member as he thrust his fingers into her.

“Lean on the desk. Lift your skirt and spread your legs.” He instructed, ignoring her protests as he drew his fingers from her body.

She did as she was told with mind reluctance. Drawing her skirt up, she leaned over onto the desk, pulling her knees apart. She grabbed hold of the edge. “I’m ready, Severus,” She used his given name only in the most initiate of circumstances. “Take me now,” She was almost whimpering “ her knees were shaking.

“Patience.” He hushed her, admiring the picturesque view of her backside. His fingers snaked over her rear, squeezing the cheeks before gently slapping them. His index finger slid from the small of her back, down the side of her right hip across the expanse of skin to her left cheek and down to her thigh. She shivered.

“Please, Severus,” She whispered.

He pulled her hair back and kissed her, his lips sucking at hers, bruising them. She truthfully loved his kisses. They confirmed what was left unsaid “ that she belonged to him.

When he thrust into her, she cried out. Not in pain or shock, but pure bliss. It was as if the emptiness within her had been filled with unadulterated pleasure. She felt deliciously filled and completed - and he hadn’t even moved.

His fingers dug into her hips, grinding them into his pelvis and he fucked her, slow, but hard. She said nothing as she was drawn back then jerked forward again, merely let the waved of pleasure beat through the insides of her being. She grabbed the ledge of her desk for leverage, attempting to meet him. The one thing she had learned what that Snape didn’t like him women to be entirely submissive in the bedroom “ the passion of a lover fuelled his own.

He rode her hard, the way they both liked, finding a rhythm that suited both of them well. He fisted one of his hands into her hair, pulling her head up so he could make love to the side of her neck and jaw.

She moaned, feeling her orgasm take control of her body. “Severus,” She sighed.

“I know, Hermione.” He rarely ever used her name except when lost in the froes of passion. Maybe because it was when he was at his most vulnerable to her. “Almost.”

He thrust forward once more and she cried his name as she came. Her honey slid down her legs and between their bodies, her orgasm milking his own until his seed shot into her slippery crevice. He pumped a few more times, milking the feeling before releasing her hair. She fell to the desk, on her palms. He stayed locked within her, not moving, not speaking “ barely breathing. Everything was quiet and peaceful and perfect.

It was three months later.

The rabbit’s blood had worn off weeks before.

Maybe he used it to justify sleeping with a student.

Hermione didn’t care. She hadn’t spilt the awful-smelling stuff for nothing.