Disclaimer: All recognizable characters belong to JKR. All situations are mine. No $$$ is being made from this fanfic.
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Chapter 26 ~ Return to the Potions Class
Hermione awoke the next morning in a bad temper. Her attempt at luring the Professor to her bed had failed miserably. When she returned the night before, she quickly removed all the sheets from her furniture and dusted as best she could without magic, trying to neaten up the place in case he came. She put fresh sheets and covers on her bed, showered and slid between the sheets, waiting. Finally she fell asleep.
Frowning, she rolled out of bed, used the loo, brushed her teeth and washed her face. She stalked back into her bedroom and hastily dressed. She wanted to be in the Great Hall when Albus announced Severus’ return. She returned to the bathroom and quickly brushed her hair, then exited her rooms. As she stepped out into the dungeon hallway she found the Professor leaning against the opposite wall, looking at her. Instead of speaking to him, she started up the corridor.
Snape smirked. He knew she was furious at him for not coming to her rooms last night. He quickly caught up to the witch.
“Good morning, Hermione. Sleep well?” he asked her silkily.
Hermione felt like taking a swing at him.
Snape caught her shoulder and stopped her, spinning her to face him.
“I have something of yours,” he said, reaching into his robes pocket and pulling out a wand.
Hermione’s eyes widened. “My wand!” she cried taking it from him and letting out a shower of sparks. “Where did you get it?” she asked.
“I retrieved it after I sent you back to Hogwarts,” he said, “It was in my pocket when I killed Voldemort. I imagined it reformed with my body. I realized I had it last night when I undressed for bed.”
“Thank you so much, Professor,” she said, kissing him on the cheek.
He looked at her.
“So, am I forgiven?” he asked her as she looked at her wand happily.
“Hermione looked up at him.
“Forgiven for what?” she asked, still joyful about getting her wand back. Using the school wands had been hell.
“For not coming to your rooms last night,” he said in a low voice.
Hermione looked at him.
“I waited for you,” she said, her amber eyes darkening a bit, “when you didn’t show, I feel asleep. No dreams to comfort me.”
The Professor drew closer, his face inches from hers, his black eyes intense.
“You won’t have to wait for dreams much longer Hermione. It was very hard to keep from coming to you in the middle of the night. Extremely hard,” he said softly. “It took all my strength and discipline.”
He gave her a soft, lingering kiss.
“I only hope, Hermione, that when you do come to me, I can maintain some control,” he whispered against her ear, his warm breath like a caress.
Hermione’s knickers went instantly wet. The Professor was so damn sexy. She wanted him to lose control, because she was certain she would.
“Professor,” she breathed as he moved back from her. Suddenly both heard a collective gasp, and turned around. A group of Slytherin students stood staring at the Professor with disbelieving eyes and open mouths. None of them said a word. They simply gaped at him. He scowled.
“What are you all staring at?” he snarled, “Go to breakfast, now! Before I take points.”
The students all jumped and jetted past them, looking back in awe as they hurried toward breakfast. Hermione looked at him with a frown.
“Professor, that was terrible. They were just shocked to see you…alive,” she said to him, putting her hands on her hips as the Professor smirked after the students.
“I have to restore the balance, Hermione. They haven’t seen me in a while. I need to re-establish my authority,” he said as they began walking. Now more students were passing, their eyes wide. None dared stop however. The Professor was glaring at each and every pupil that dared to look him in the eye.
“You really enjoy keeping them quivering, don’t you Professor?” Hermione asked him.
“Definitely,” he replied before shifting his eyes toward her with a wicked gleam, “But my students aren’t the only ones I want quivering, Hermione.”
Hermione felt such a powerful burst of warmth in her belly, she gasped.
“Professor, you have to stop talking about this. I can’t take it,” Hermione breathed, “I bet anyone who looks at me can tell I’m turned on.”
Snape’s black eyes swept over her appraisingly. Her amber eyes were glistening and heated, her lips were moist and parted, her skin had a light flush and she was perspiring slightly. Yes, she definitely looked randy.
“I see your point,” he said, not making her feel any less conspicuous. “A change of subject then. I would like you to be an observer during my testing of the sixth year Potions students today,” he said as they turned into the main hall and headed to breakfast. They didn’t take the normal route that led through the staff member entrance. Snape wanted to make an entrance. Not so much for the students and faculty, but for the Potions Mistress. He wanted to put her off balance.
“I’ll be glad to observe,” Hermione replied.
“Thank you,” he said as he pushed open the doors to the Great Hall and let her enter first. They walked side-by-side up the center aisle as gasp, after gasp and even a couple of shrieks rang out from the student body. As they mounted the stairs, Snape heard several groans and grinned wickedly. He was home all right, and the misery of the students upon his return was music to his ears. Now all he needed was to get his class back. The entire staff descended on him, patting his back and welcoming him as if he were a long lost child. Finally he couldn’t take any more.
“As you can see I am back in one piece, a piece that will most certainly be damaged if you all continue to pound on me,” he snarled, “Now kindly let me eat my breakfast.”
The staff all returned to their seats, scowling a bit. Obviously the Professor’s brush with death did nothing to sweeten his personality. Professor Flintlock was sitting in his chair. She was the only staff member who did not greet him, and the red-haired, green-eyed witch looked at him rather sourly as he eyed her before he turned a fork into a chair, which he placed by Hermione and sat in stiffly. That had been his spot for years. He didn’t appreciate the witch occupying his seat, his classroom or his private rooms. During the meal, Professor Flintlock cut glances toward the dark, pale wizard who was the former Potions Master. He probably wanted his job back. No way. She was making out good here at Hogwarts, and she wasn’t about to resign.
The witch knew Albus couldn’t remove her without a good reason, so she felt relatively secure. The wizard would just have to find work elsewhere.
There was a sudden tinging sound that echoed through the hall. All eyes turned toward Dumbledore, who was standing and knocking a fork against a glass. This was his signal that he had something of importance to share. Everyone fell silent.
“Good morning, students and faculty. I would like to share some wonderful news with you. Our Spells Mistress, Miss Hermione Granger has returned from her journey…and brought back our Potions Master Severus Snape, whom we mistakenly thought dead. This is indeed a most joyous occasion. Let the Professor know how happy we are to see him, healthy and fit,” the Headmaster said.
Scattered applause sounded throughout the hall, as Snape stood and scowled at each table of students maliciously. The applause was extremely short-lived. Snape sat back down and ignored Hermione’s glare, smirking slightly He was back in his element.
Professor Flintlock noticed immediately how unpopular the wizard was with the students, and took this to be a good sign. They all liked her very much. It would be no contest. Plus her grading system gave the appearance that her teaching methods were superior to Professor Snape’s. The Headmaster had to be impressed. She finished her breakfast in good spirits, and exited the Great Hall. She had a class soon.
Snape watched the witch go, his eyes hooded. He’d soon see just how thorough Professor Flintlock’s teaching methods were.
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Professor Flintlock had just finished taking the roll for her sixth year class, when the door to her classroom opened and in walked the Headmaster, followed by the Spells Mistress and Professor Snape. Her eyes narrowed for a moment as she eyed the former Potions Master, then widened in greeting.
“Why Headmaster, always a pleasure,” she said, smiling as the Headmaster walked to the head of the class. The Professor followed as Hermione hung back a bit. This wasn’t going to be pretty.
“Good afternoon, Professor,” Albus said pleasantly, “This is Professor Snape, the former Potions Master here at Hogwarts.” He gestured toward Snape.
“Professor,” the witch said. There was a bit of coldness in her voice. Snape caught it. He nodded at the witch.
“Professor Flintlock, I was very impressed with the marks this class has been getting in the past few months since you joined us,” the Headmaster said. “So impressed that I’d like a demonstration of their skills.”
The Professor stiffened.
“A…a…demonstration?” she asked. This wasn’t good.
“Yes,” Albus replied, “I’ve talked Professor Snape into giving them a few random brewing assignments. Nothing too difficult, just creating a few everyday potions.”
“I see,” Flintlock replied, eyeing Snape, who looked at her with an arched eyebrow. “What kind of potions will you have them brew?”
“I will assign each student a different potion, more or less. Standard, of course, though those with the higher marks will have something challenging. Given their grades, I imagine the brewing will be simple enough for them,” he purred at her.
“Certainly,” she replied, “Of course I will be allowed to observe?”
“Ah…no,” Albus said, “It would be best to have an unbiased observer, my dear. The Spell Mistress will oversee the results. She has a degree in Potions as well.”
Flintlock’s face clouded over. This really wasn’t good.
“Headmaster, wouldn’t it be more fair to wait a few days and let them prepare for such an examination?” she suggested.
“Why, Professor? Given their marks they should already be prepared,” Albus said, “Do you have any reason to doubt their abilities?”
“Such as you’ve bumped up their marks?” Snape thought as he looked at the witch, who had gone pale.
“Ah…no sir. It’s just that some students might not perform well under pressure,” she replied. “I always give them a few days to prepare for tests.”
“If you have taught them well, Professor, then they should be able to properly brew a potion regardless of it being a test or not,” Snape said, eyeing her. “A good brewer can create a potion under stress. And with these marks, I presume they are all good brewers.”
Black eyes met green eyes, and the witch knew immediately that Professor Snape suspected she was giving high marks for mediocre or even poor work. She nodded weakly.
“Well then, I’ll get right to it,” Snape said, walking up to the blackboard and picking up the chalk. He wrote the name of ten potions on the board, then picked up a parchment and quill. He called up the first student and gave him his potion to brew. There was no list of ingredients. The potions were simple however. The students should all know the ingredients and measurements of each. He sent the boy to the storeroom to collect his supplies. When he returned and began to set up his cauldron, Snape sent the next.
Professor Flintlock looked at the list of Potions on the board and blanched. There was no way this class was going to pull this off. Someone might get hurt, or even killed. She had an internal struggle with herself, trying to decide whether or not to admit what she had been doing. She watched as the first student heated up his cauldron, added the base and looked at his ingredients with a puzzled face. He faltered over one, then another…not knowing which to start with. He picked up a handful of lacewings and was about to add it to the base when the witch shouted.
“Don’t add that! It’s wrong…you’ll cause an explosion. You can’t add lacewing to that particular base, Fredrick,” she said, defeat in her voice. “Anyway, lacewing is not even an ingredient in the potion you’ve been assigned. Put away your cauldron. All of you…put the cauldrons back,” she said. She turned to Albus.
“Headmaster, I’m sorry. They aren’t ready for this. I bumped up the marks to try to impress you,” she said.
Albus frowned at her. “Professor, I’m afraid I am going to have to relieve you of your position immediately. You’ve put the students’ lives at risk as well as been dishonest,” he said firmly. “I am also afraid I cannot give you a letter of recommendation for employment in another teaching position.”
The witch hung her head.
“Yes, Headmaster. I understand,” she said in a small voice.
Snape breathed a small sigh of relief. He had been watching Fredrick and was prepared to stop the explosion. The witch was a cheat, but at least she had enough conscience not to allow a student to be hurt because of her cheating. That’s what he had been hoping for all along. That she would confess rather than have the pupil’s put in danger.
“How soon do you think you can have Professor Snape’s office and rooms cleared out?” Albus asked her.
“I should be able to have everything cleared away by tomorrow evening,” she replied.
“What about my creatures you removed from my office? It took me a long time to collect them. Did you destroy them?” Snape asked, his eyes glittering at her.
“No, they are in storage below the castle. I will retrieve them and replace them for you,” the witch replied. The sparkle was gone in her green eyes.
Hermione watched in silence. It was terrible to see someone get fired, but the witch deserved it. Professor Snape was hard with marks, but the students worked for them. He never gave them a break. It was too dangerous to do so. They had to know what they were doing when dealing with Potions. One mistake and they could lose their lives. Today was a perfect example as to why he was so hard on his students. He wanted to make sure they could brew under pressure and wouldn’t make mistakes that could kill them.
Professor Flintlock left the class with Albus. Professor Snape looked at the students imperiously. They all blanched.
“I hope you all enjoyed your ill-gotten marks,” he said silkily, “because as of now all of you are borderline failures, and your marks will reflect this.”
He turned to a parchment hanging on the wall. It had student names on it, with shimmering gold stars next to them. Snape ripped it off the wall, and tore it into little bits, letting the pieces fall on his desk. He then made a motion with his hand, and the pieces burst into flames that burned out, not even leaving ash.
He looked up at the pupils.
“As of now we are returning to the syllabus at the point where I departed six months ago. You will receive double assignments from now until the end of the year. I expect them to ALL be completed. I am determined to hammer some kind of knowledge into those wooden heads of yours before this course is over. Now take out your books, read chapter five and hand in a written summary at the end of class,” he said. “Incomplete summaries will receive a failing grades. There will be NO partial credits in my class,” he said, slamming his hand down on his desk for emphasis.
The classroom was filled with the sound of books being hurriedly opened. The Professor was back. Playtime was over.
Hermione watched as Snape reclaimed his classroom and his students, shaking her head slightly as he laid down the law. He was magnificent. His black eyes cut over to her, and he gave her a small smirk, before striding up and down the aisles, his robes billowing, looking over the shoulders of the students as he intimidated them with his closeness.
She gave him a wave and exited his classroom. His position at Hogwarts was again secure. Which meant he would soon have his rooms…, which meant he would soon have her.
Hermione felt a little pulse of desire in her belly as she thought of this. Gods she wanted him. She hoped Professor Flintlock was a fast packer.
She was.
The witch was entirely cleared out of the premises by the following afternoon. True to her word, she had restored all of Snape’s horrible pickled creatures to the shelving. The Professor entered his study, relieved to find it still in the same shape and color it had been when he occupied it. All his liquor was still in the cabinet as well. Obviously, the witch didn’t drink. He walked into the room most important. His bedroom. It wasn’t pastel pink, though he saw some studs left in the wall where the witch had hung pictures. He looked at his four-poster king-sized bed. It was sheetless. He cast a very thorough cleaning spell on it, then turned the huge mattress over and cleaned it again. He cleaned it several times until he was satisfied all trace of the witch was removed from it.
Snape opened his wardrobe to find all his clothes neatly cleaned and hung. The same with his dresser and lower drawer. Obviously the witch had restored his rooms back to the state they were before she occupied them. That was thoughtful. Maybe she wasn’t all bad. She had been rather young, and anxious to make a good impression. She just chose a dishonest way to do it. Hopefully she would learn from her experience and find work she was better suited for. Not everyone could teach.
The Professor walked into his bathroom. All of his items were restored there as well. Good, it didn’t leave him much work to do. He opened the linen closet and removed his bedding, which was also cleaned. He made the bed by hand, rather than using magic, letting the silk sheets slip deliciously over his hands as he neatly spread and tucked them securely under the mattress. He then put an anti-slip charm on them, so they wouldn’t pull loose and tangle around him and Hermione. He wanted nothing but skin on skin. He put pillowcases on the pillows, then covered the bed with a quilt of silver and green, of course. He had to fly the house colors for this night. He was deflowering a Gryffindor after all…and that was a bit of a coup. Snape was very house-oriented.
He sat down on the bed and bounced experimentally. His mattress was rather firm, he liked it that way. It was the perfect tautness for deflowerment. He grinned at the thought of Hermione under him. His cock throbbed. He looked down at his lap.
“It won’t be long now, old boy,” he said.
He exited the bedroom, walked to the liquor cabinet and poured himself some cognac. He sipped the amber liquid appreciatively. He hadn’t had a drink in over six months. It was delicious. He sat down in the armchair and stared into the fire idly.
Snape had wanted Hermione for five long years. He had treated her with respect the entire time, believing that one day he might have something more with her. But it was when he saved her life, and saw the gratitude in her eyes that he felt the urge to let her know he desired her. He gave her the ring, hoping that it would work for her based on his will. Then he kissed her. When she responded to him and his admission of wanting more didn’t make her draw away, he knew there was a good chance that she was the one. He had written her into his will four years ago, since he had no one else he cared for who would benefit from his wealth. Albus and Minerva were both well off, and well up in years. Hermione was going to lead a promising life. His money would help her do that, even if he wasn’t there to see the results.
He had left a large amount of money in trust for himself as well, in case he should manage to return. He didn’t feel the least bit diminished by what he had given her, especially in lieu of what she was about to give him in a few hours. That alone was worth his entire fortune. What an amazing young woman she was. She walked into the unknown and risked everything for him, simply because he asked. But then again, she was a Gryffindor. When he made his plans to destroy Voldemort, he took her nature into account when he made his daring plan and drew up the instructions for the solicitor. Hermione had already proven she was up to adventure, her association with the dim-witted Potter and his idiot sidekick Weasley had shown that years ago. Her compassion would move her to grant a dead wizard’s last wish, particularly if he had no one else to do it. Her love of a challenge sealed the deal.
Snape wasn’t sure how much the ring would work for her. He knew it would transport her and protect her, though he didn’t know if the Guardian would manifest for her. When it did, he knew she was destined for him. His instinct to give her the ring and the quest had been correct. That reminded him…
The Professor looked down at the ring and concentrated. The last several acts it committed were revealed to him. He watched as the Guardian manifested outside Hermione’s tent under deep cover of darkness, and how it grabbed Grog’s club in its mouth so the ogre couldn’t bring it down on the tent and the sleeping witch within. He also saw how the Guardian pursued the ogre, cornered him in his cave and devoured him. Grog would have been a standing threat to Hermione her entire time on the mountain, intent on eating her. So the ring removed him.
Snape would share this information with Hermione over dinner tonight. He would have something light prepared. He hoped to make her relax. As ready for him as she appeared to be, there would still be nerves. He wanted her to feel safe with him, to trust him completely. Her trust was important.
After all, Snape wanted nothing more than to love her.
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A/N: Snape has his job back. He has his rooms back. He has his BED back. Lol. We are officially entering the orchards now, my friends. Please review.
The Burning Pen
The Ring
by Ruth Solomon
The story content is adult in nature and can contain graphic sex and violence. Those under the age of 18 are asked to leave this site immediately. You are not welcome here. The author is not responsible for those under-aged who view these works.