Disclaimer: All characters belong to JK Rowlings. No money is being made from this story.
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Chapter 3 ~ Hermione Opens Up
“My definition of ‘erotic’ is…is…sexually arousing,” Hermione whispered.
“What? Speak up, Miss Granger. I couldn’t hear you,” Snape said, his dark eyes focused on her intently.
Gods, she had to say it again?
“I said my definition of ‘erotic’ is sexually arousing,” she said louder.
The Potions Master was silent for several moments. To Hermione, his silence was worse than anything he could have said. He was going to laugh at her. She knew it.
But he didn’t laugh. He stood up and stepped back against the desk, folding his arms.
“Miss Granger,” he said softly, “I am not going to humiliate you by asking you what you mean by that statement. Your meaning is very clear in that you think I evoke sexual desire in you. I know what that means.”
Hermione wished she could turn invisible as she listened to the Potions Master imply that he knew she wanted him to fuck her. Or she thought she did. He had purposely inserted that seed of doubt, planning on watering it later on with reason and making it grow. He continued.
“But I will ask you how I arouse you. What is it about me that causes this imagined reaction in you?” he asked her.
Hermione felt a little flash of anger at his implication that her reaction to him was imagined. She felt the urge. She knew it was very real, as inappropriate as it was. Hell, sometimes it kept her awake at night. Damn, she hadn’t asked for this.
“I don’t know, Professor,” she said weakly.
His black eyes searched her face.
“You know,” he replied, thinking it might be time to take a look in her mind. Hermione saw his eyes shift to her forehead.
“Your voice,” she said quickly.
“What about my voice?” he responded.
The Potions Master was well aware of how women loved the silky richness of his voice. But he was still interested in hearing what Hermione found so erotic about it.
“It sounds like…like what a man would sound like when he’s…he’s” she started.
“When he’s what, Miss Granger?” the Potions Master pressed.
“Talking to a woman while having sex,” she concluded, coloring.
“And how would you know what that sounds like, Miss Granger? I think I am safe in assuming you have not yet heard a man’s voice in that way,” he said.
“No I haven’t,” she replied, “It’s just how I imagine a man would sound. Soft, silky, persuasive. A voice that could make you do anything for him.”
“All right. My voice. Is there anything else?” Snape asked her, his eyes watching her for any type of hesitance that would give him the right to invade her mind.
“Your eyes,” she said, looking into those dark, knowing pools and feeling a small burst of heat. The Professor noticed her slight pulse of desire because of the momentary heat reflected in her eyes. She was definitely infatuated.
“Your eyes look as if they could see right inside a wom…a person and see every secret. Lay them bare. Worse, they make you want to give up your secrets…give up everyth..” here Hermione stopped, feeling her heart rising in her throat
“My eyes,” the Professor said. His throat felt a little constricted. “Is there more?”
He could see the witch was having a hard time with this, but he wanted to know everything about him that she thought moved her to be attracted to him.
“Your focus,” Hermione said, her voice cracking a little as she swallowed mid-speech. “Whenever you are focused on something, it is like nothing else exists but that one thing you are occupied with. And it makes me wonder what you are like when focused on a woman, and I imagine it…and…and…the idea of it…of you…does things to me.”
Snape went silent for a few more moments.
“Is there more? Tell me everything,” he said to the witch.
“Your command. The way you dominate situations. How controlling you are. How you demand to be obeyed. All those things make me feel weak inside…like I want to be dominated…controlled…makes me want to do whatever you tell me to do,” Hermione said in a low voice, looking him directly in his eyes now. She looked dazed, as if hypnotized or caught up in a dream.
Before Snape knew he was doing, he had breathed the spell.
“Legilimens,” he whispered, and his consciousness was drawn into Hermione’s mind. There was first an image of him kissing Hermione violently against the wall of the potions classroom, crushing her body tight to the stones, then flashes of his pale hands sliding across her bare skin, his lips at her throat, her body arching upward, perspiration dripping off a surging pale back, black eyes blazing down, pale fingers tracing a thigh, then the full profile image of the Professor raised up on his arms, staring down at Hermione while fucking her brutally in a bed, her body jerking wildly, her head tilted back, her mouth open, gasping…
Snape pulled back out of Hermione’s mind, his black eyes wide at the sheer carnality of her dreams and fantasies. He felt disoriented, his stomach tightened and he fought to retain his composure. He looked at the witch as if seeing her for the first time in his life.
Hermione hadn’t felt him invade her mind. She still had the dazed look on her face, and the Professor realized she had probably slipped into one of her fantasies about him and was daydreaming.
“Miss Granger,” he said, willing his voice to stay even. The erotic images in the young witch’s mind had shaken him. “Miss Granger,” he said again, and Hermione’s eyes focused on him, and she blushed deep crimson.
After what he witnessed in Hermione’s mind, the Potions Master wasted no time in trying to dissuade her from her infatuation, and make her realize her attraction for him was not a true one.
“Miss Granger. You must realize that what you are feeling are not true feelings for me. They are a result of your burgeoning sexuality, and common in all young women. You are not focused on me but a caricature of me, a false projection.”
The Professor drew closer to the witch, leaning down over the desk and looking into her eyes almost desperately as he tried to defuse her.
“My voice is nothing special, I just speak in low, quiet tones for the most part. My eyes see no more than any other person’s and certainly do not divine secrets of any type. My focus is something I’ve developed over time because of the painstaking nature of potions making. It is a by-product of my dedication to my art and nothing more. My command is just my use of the authority granted me as a teacher in this school. My control and domination of my classes is employed simply to keep tight reins on my pupils, so I can at least attempt to teach them. You are reading things into me that aren’t true, Miss Granger and creating an image of me that does not exist.”
The Professor searched the witch’s face to see if she were absorbing any part of what he was saying. He continued.
“I am not the man you are pining over, Miss Granger. Think about this. If I were that fantasy man I would be surrounded by women, don’t you think? Just the absence of them should tell you that what you are imagining is just that, imagination. A hormonal construct. You have focused on me because I am beyond your reach, inaccessible. As reprehensible as you find me at times, you know my conscience and sense of duty would never allow me to break a student/teacher trust. In other words, subconsciously you know I am safe to fantasize about because it could never happen. This is not true desire, Miss Granger, it is simple projection announcing your arrival into adulthood. You need to remember that when you begin to sink into your belief that it is something more. That I am something more.”
He leaned back, away from the desk, his eyes locked to hers, trying to push her images out of his mind.
“You are dismissed, Miss Granger. Return to your house,” he said, “Now”
Hermione looked relieved as she quickly rose from the desk, sidled between the rows and exited the Potions classroom without a look back.
The Potions Master stood leaning against his desk, and wiped a pale hand across his face. Merlin’s balls. He never suspected the mind of Hermione Granger to create anything as erotic and arousing about him as what he witnessed. He thought he would see strolls by the lake, or hand holding…something chaste and innocent, despite her use of the word erotic. How could a virgin imagine such carnal, lustful acts?
The Professor stood by his desk for a moment, shaking his head, before warding the classroom and making a beeline for his study. And his liquor cabinet.
He needed a drink.
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A/N: Wow. Some talk. Snape couldn’t resist taking a peek. Now what, oh conscientious Potions Master? Please review.
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The Burning Pen
The List
by Ruth Solomon
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