“Knock, knock,” (Y/n) calls as she swings open the door to Professor Snape’s office.
“I do not recall granting you permission to enter my office at your leisure,” Professor Snape drawls without looking up from his marking. “And yet, I cannot remember the last time you properly knocked upon my door, Miss Blackwood.”
“It’s Tuesday,” (Y/n) grins as she plops into one of the armchairs in front of his desk. “Besides, I assumed that your wards recognizing me was permission enough.”
For nearly a year and a half, (Y/n) has regularly helped Professor Snape brew potions for the infirmary, which soon led to her spending more of her time in the evenings holed up in his office. She would often read while he marked papers and occasionally help with his personal potions experiments when he allowed it. Her witty quips at his grumblings helped pass the time as he graded, and he definitely didn’t mind brewing with someone who was actually capable for a change.
“Pesky castle,” he mutters.
(Y/n) rolls her eyes, knowing full-well that the professor has his own wards up that he must have altered to recognize her but decides to hold her tongue.
“Do not roll those eyes at me, Miss Blackwood,” he says in a warning tone without moving his eyes from the parchment in front of him.
“How—“
He finally looks up to meet her surprised gaze and smirks. “I know you much too well, little witch.”
(Y/n) looks away with a scoff, suppressing a grin as her cheeks warm.
“Well am I brewing or reading tonight?” She asks after a moment, meeting his dark eyes again with an arched brow.
“Just a burn paste that needs finishing,” he says, nodding his head toward a table behind her.
(Y/n) hops up and quickly sets to work at the simmering cauldron. The sound of his quill scratching across parchment resumes behind her as she chops away at various ingredients.
“Are you going to the Headmaster’s Samhain Gala?” Professor Snape asks, breaking the comfortable silence after a while.
“Yes. Are you?” (Y/n) asks.
“Unfortunately, yes.”
(Y/n) pauses her chopping as she laughs. “I bet you a galleon Professor Sprout is blitzed by the first half hour.”
“No bet. That’s a given.”
“Fair.” (Y/n) chuckles as she stirs in the sliced newts.
Professor Snape pauses before finally asking, “Are you bringing anyone?”
“Nope.” She chirps, continuing her chopping.
“Here,” He murmurs next to her ear. (Y/n) jumps at his unexpected proximity, stumbling back against his firm chest just as his hand covers hers holding the knife. His warm breath ghosts down her neck as he huffs a low chuckle, chasing goosebumps across her skin. He steadies her with his other hand on her upper arm. “Holding the knife higher at an angle helps with making thinner slices,” he explains, guiding her hand in his.
“Thank you,” she says, puzzled by the sudden flush of heat spreading through her.
He removes his hand from hers but keeps his other on her arm as he watches her technique. She wills herself to keep her hand steady as she continues to work, telling herself that she’s only flustered because he surprised her. His familiar scent of sandalwood and pine fills her nose as she keeps her eyes trained downward— a scent that she typically finds quite soothing, yet now she worries her lip as her heart continues to leap around in her chest.
“Miss Blackwood,” he drawls quietly in his deep voice, his broad form still pressed closely to her back. “You could have anyone at this infernal school on your arm. Surely there is someone you could tolerate for a mere evening.”
“Not really,” she murmurs, cringing internally at her breathlessness.
“Perhaps if you didn’t spend so much time here with me,” he says, the barest hint of a smile in his tone. “You should really get out more, Miss.”
(Y/n) sets down her knife and turns to face him. “Are you bringing someone?” She asks, raising a challenging brow as she looks up at him.
Professor Snape smirks at her indignant expression, his dark eyes glittering with amusement. “Do I ever?”
“Well it seems like I’m not the only one who needs to get out more, Sir.” (Y/n) can’t help but grin as he chuckles and quickly whirls back around to finish the last step for the burn paste. “Now let me work in peace.” she scolds playfully.
(Y/n’s) eyelids flutter as she feels him lean in close to her ear again. “As you wish, little witch,” he rumbles before she feels his heat disappear at her back. She mindlessly worries her lip again as an odd sense of disappointment falls heavy in her chest.
What the hell is wrong with me today??
***
“Do you have a dress for the gala yet?” (Y/n’s) best friend Callie asks as they walk to Potions class the next morning.
“I’m picking it up in town Saturday. What are you wearing?” (Y/n) asks.
“I dunno yet.” Callie shrugs.
(Y/n) looks to her friend as they stop in front of the Potions classroom to wait with the other students. “I could help you look while we’re in town,” she offers, reaching to straighten Callie’s perpetually crooked tie.
“Stop that!” Callie snips, swatting at her hands. “And yes, please.”
(Y/n) rolls her eyes. “At least let me get the lipgloss off your collar,” she says, flicking her wand with a silent tergio.
“Thanks,” Callie grins. “I met Lila in the library this morning.”
Before (Y/n) can respond, a Slytherin 7th year saunters up next to them.
“Hi, (Y/n), Callie.” He smirks, leaning a hand against the wall next to (Y/n).
“Hi.” They respond in unison, both throwing him a questioning glance.
“So, (Y/n). I heard you don’t have a date to the Headmaster’s gala yet.” He says, leaning forward slightly.
(Y/n) steps away from him and his cloying cloud of body spray. “No, I—“
“We should go together.” He interrupts, flashing his unnaturally white teeth as his smirk grows.
“Oh, uhm… I wasn’t planning on going with anyone, actually. I’m sure there are others who would love to go with you, though.” She replies politely as she wracks her brain for this guy’s name.
“Well, I wasn’t invited to the gala,” he says, taking a step closer. “And I’d prefer to go with you.”
(Y/n) steps back again and turns from the wall to face him. “I’m sorry—“
“Dude, she said no.” Callie says firmly, crossing her arms as she levels a pointed glare at him.
“I think she can answer for herself,” he spits before taking a determined step forward and grasping (Y/n’s) arm. “Look, we’ll have fun, what’s your deal?"
(Y/n) rips her arm from his grasp, ready to tear into him when a deep voice sounds behind her.
“Mister Belby,” Professor Snape drawls in a silky, threatening tone. (Y/n) spins around to face her professor, freezing as his menacing gaze falls on her before he returns his attention to Belby. He slips past her, backing the young man into the wall behind him.
“Oh, fuck.” (Y/n) hears Callie whisper next to her as they watch their professor stop mere inches away from his cornered target.
“If I ever see you put your hands on her again…”
(Y/n) and Callie lean forward, straining to hear the rest of Professor Snape’s whispered threat. They hold their breath as they watch the blood drain from Belby’s face while he nods. They quickly straighten when their professor suddenly turns from him and stalks back to the classroom door.
“Inside, now!” He barks, sending everyone scampering into the classroom behind him.
“What the hell was that?” Callie whispers to (Y/n) as they take their usual seats at the back of the classroom.
“No fucking clue,” (Y/n) responds, eyeing Professor Snape’s scowling face at the front of the classroom. She quickly looks away as his piercing gaze darts to hers.
He soon flicks his wand to the blackboard, revealing the day’s lesson and (Y/n) sighs inwardly with relief.
“Amortentia,” he begins, his tone much more stern than usual.
(Y/n) keeps her head bent over her notebook as she takes notes, finally relaxing as the time ticks by. Near the end of the class, Professor Snape ends his lecture and moves behind his lab table next to his desk. He places a hand on the lid of the cauldron in front of him. “Due to the obvious dangers of allowing untrustworthy students to brew a love potion, I have prepared a batch for you to experience under my supervision. Everyone line up.”
(Y/n) and Callie take up the back of the line as everyone shuffles forward. The bell rings, however, before even half the class can make their way to the cauldron and a collection of disappointed groans and relieved sighs fills the room.
“If you do not have a class next period, you are free to stay,” Professor Snape says as the line disperses.
Callie turns to (Y/n). “I gotta get to DADA, but you have to stay and tell me what you smell later,” she says, waggling her eyebrows suggestively before walking back to their table.
(Y/n) pauses, debating on whether or not she wants to stay. She does have a free period but she’s honestly not sure what she could possibly smell in the Amortentia— and part of her doesn’t want to know. She waves at Callie as she leaves and is just about to head to her table and do the same when her professor’s voice halts her.
“Am I correct that you have a free period after this class, Miss Blackwood?” He calls from behind her.
(Y/n) closes her eyes briefly before swiveling back around. “That’s right, sir.”
She joins the handful of students that stayed behind and watches as they each take their turn. She picks at the hem of her skirt as her time nears.
“What do you smell, Professor?” One of the boys asks as he steps away from the table.
He pauses, staring blankly at the student as he weighs whether or not to answer. “Lavender,” he finally says in a clipped tone, his gaze flitting to (Y/n’s) wide-eyed expression for a split second before darting back down to the cauldron.
Lavender? Who the fuck could that be?
An unpleasant feeling suddenly pools in the pit of her stomach as she contemplates his answer— and why she feels this way at all.
Then, it’s her turn. And all the others are headed out the door. Leaving her and her dark eyed professor alone as her stomach roils with an unnamable storm of feelings.
Fantastic.
“Come closer, Miss Blackwood,” Professor Snape orders, beckoning her to the other side of the table with a sharp tap of his finger against the table next to him.
A strange sense of foreboding falls upon her as she slowly moves to his side. She can feel his dark gaze burning in her periphery as she keeps her eyes trained on the cauldron before her. She holds her breath as he removes the lid.
“Closer,” he practically whispers.
(Y/n) leans forward and takes the faintest sniff she can possibly manage, but it does nothing to stop the intoxicating scent from filling her lungs and overwhelming her senses in an instant. Heady tendrils of sandalwood and pine caress her skin, laced with faint notes of parchment and burning candles, drawing her in deeper and deeper, closer and closer as her eyelids flutter shut—
“What do you smell?” His deep, silken voice breathes close to her ear, sending a deep shiver chasing down her spine.
Oh, I am so. Fucking. Fucked.
Her eyes pop open and she rips herself away from the cauldron, backing away as her wide eyes meet his.
“Nothing,” she blurts, smoothing her hands over her skirt nervously. “I mean— just— I have to go.”
She quickly turns from him and hurries to her table to pack her things. Her hands shake as she struggles to stuff her belongings into her bag.
Lavender. He smelled lavender, her mind repeats, stabbing at her over and over again. And I smelled—
A quiet gasp escapes her as his large hand splays across her textbook before she can grab it. She can feel his body heat against her side as he steps closer.
“Miss Blackwood…”
Her head jerks up to meet his dark gaze, feeling his silent demand for her answer.
Lavender, lavender, lavender— Fuck, fuck, fuck!
“Lavender,” she unwittingly whispers under her breath, feeling as if she’s suddenly drowning in the black depths of his irises.
“I’m sorry?” He asks with a puzzled look as he leans even closer.
Something in her snaps suddenly and she jolts back. “What? Nothing. I smelled— it was just flowers— from my home, probably,” she rambles, slinging her bag over one shoulder without her textbook. “I should go, see you later, bye!” She slips past him and bolts out the door without a backward glance.
***
(Y/n) didn’t go to Professor Snape’s office that night, nor the next. When Callie asked what she smelled in the Amortentia, she gave her the same half-assed lie she gave her professor.
She had taken to hiding in the library, avoiding everyone as she grappled with her tumultuous thoughts. She already missed spending time in his office, but couldn’t make herself face him with the new knowledge she had just recently unlocked within herself. How could she? Surely she would give herself away under his piercing, much-too-astute gaze and swiftly ruin everything. He would balk at the realization that she had a stupid, silly crush on her dark, brooding professor— or worse, laugh at her— or even more horribly, throw her out on her ass with one of his infamous sneers. Not that avoiding him is much better… but maybe after some time has passed, things can go back to normal.
Yes. Time. I just need time.
Besides, she reminds herself as she scans the shelves late Friday night, his interest clearly lies elsewhere.
Who would have thought a fucking plant could haunt someone so ceaselessly?
Finally spotting the book she’s been looking for, (Y/n) pauses her lamentations to stretch upward on her toes to reach it. She huffs as her fingers barely graze its spine when an all-too-familiar black-clad arm reaches over her and plucks the book from the shelf with ease.
(Y/n) spins around to face Professor Snape looming over her, stumbling against the shelf behind her as she loses her footing. She grimaces as her head smacks against the wood directly behind her skull.
“Uhm… Good evening, Professor.” (Y/n) says awkwardly, pressing herself against the stacks behind her.
“Miss Blackwood,” he drawls, drawing closer to her and effectively blocking the path of escape she had been eyeing. “You’ve been avoiding me.”
(Y/n’s) eyes widen as she snaps her head up to meet his scrutinizing gaze. “I— No, I haven’t.”
He places a hand on the shelf at her side. “If I’ve… upset you somehow, I sincerely—“
“No, not at all!” She implores, placing her hands on his chest before yanking them back. “I’ve… really, I’ve just been busy.”
“I thought perhaps… the Amortentia…”
(Y/n) drops her gaze, turning her head from him. “Please, don’t. It was nothing.”
Her pulse spikes as she feels his hand gently grasp her chin and tip her face back up to his. Her breath catches in her throat as she meets his gaze, the most vulnerable she’s ever seen them as he levels her with an imploring look.
“Miss Blackwood… (Y/n). Please… you can tell me anything.” He says quietly.
She can’t stop the small gasp that escapes her as her name rolls off his tongue, feeling a heated thrill spread through her veins in an instant. (Y/n’s) eyes dart from his eyes to his mouth as they draw closer, whether from her leaning forward or him, she couldn’t say. “I—“
Their heady spell is broken by a shrill bell chiming, signaling the last few minutes before the library closes for the night.
“I should go,” she says quietly, almost regretful.
He straightens, taking a step back and giving a curt nod as she steps to the side.
“Goodnight, sir,” she says with a tentative smile before making her way down the aisle.
“Goodnight… (Y/n),” he whispers as she turns the corner.
***
The next evening, (Y/n) slips into her dress and checks her reflection before turning to Callie.
“How does it look?” (Y/n) asks, holding her hands out.
Callie dramatically ogles her with wide eyes. “Hot.”
“You’re sure?” (Y/n) asks, turning to her reflection again. The dark green silk slips over her curves as she moved, just loose enough in some areas while being perfectly snug in others. “My tits aren’t showing too much?” She asks, adjusting the deep v between her breasts.
“No! You look perfect. Really.” Callie reassures her. “Why are you so nervous?”
“I’m not,” (Y/n) responds defensively as she swipes a subtle pink shade over her lips and pulls a few tendrils from her French twist.
“Right.” Callie says with pursed lips, her eyes narrowed suspiciously.
“Are you ready?” (Y/n) asks, already moving to the door.
(Y/n) half listens to Callie’s chatter as they make their way through the dark halls. She’s thankful when they meet up with Lila halfway so that she can at least attempt to reign in her spinning thoughts before they reach the gala. Her heart lurches in her chest at the thought of seeing her professor again, especially after their little moment in the library last evening. It pained her to think that she had hurt him by avoiding him, but she truly had no clue what else to do until she could look at him without her stomach dropping to the floor.
Her nerves are only worse once they reach the door. “You two go ahead,” she tells Callie and Lila. “I’m right behind you.”
(Y/n) straightens her shoulders and attempts to draw one last steadying breath before she strides into the ornately decorated room. As if sensing his presence, her eyes immediately fall onto her dark professor on the far side of the room, instantly locking eyes with him. Her pulse spikes again and she quickly reaches for a drink from a nearby waiter to busy herself. She ambles along the edges of the room as she pretends to be absolutely fascinated by the shimmering gold curtains draped along the ceiling and sides of the room.
“Ah, Miss Blackwood!” Headmaster Dumbledore greets as he rushes toward her. “I’m so glad you could join us. Where’s your date?”
“Oh, I just came on my own,” She smiles politely.
“Well, perhaps someone here might catch your eye,” he winks before sashaying away.
(Y/n) blinks, puzzled before reminding herself that the Headmaster has always been quite eclectic, especially at these exclusive little parties he likes to throw so much.
Wishing it had already been an appropriate amount of time for her to take her leave, (Y/n) paints on a smile and moves throughout the room to socialize. She’s chatting with Professor McGonnagall when Dumbledore begins ushering people to dance. (Y/n) goes to refresh her drink, soon spotting the repulsive Mr. Belby approaching her from nearby. She fixes him with a glare but her view is suddenly blocked by Professor Snape’s broad shoulders.
Fuuuuck.
She immediately turns to retreat only to be quickly stopped by a large hand gently grasping her elbow. She doesn’t have to turn to know who it is.
“Miss Blackwood,” his dark voice calls, sending a warm shiver down her spine. (Y/n) faces him, hoping the warmth in her face isn’t as obvious as it feels. He takes her drink from her hand and sets it on a nearby table. “Would you dance with me?”
(Y/n) blinks, shocked, before finally finding her voice again. “Oh… of course.”
Taking his offered hand, he leads her to the dance floor and pulls her closer by her waist as she places her other hand on his shoulder.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you dance, sir,” she smiles, her heart fluttering in her chest as he deftly sweeps them around the floor.
“I try not to make a habit of it,” he says, a slight smirk tugging at his mouth.
“Well I’m honored, then,” she replies with a quiet laugh.
(Y/n) suddenly gasps as someone crashes into her from behind, pressing her up against her professor. He barely falters as he sweeps them in another direction, his firm grip on her waist keeping her from moving back to a more appropriate distance. As they turn, they catch sight of an erratically swaying Professor Sprout— the likely culprit of their mishap.
Professor Snape dips closer to her ear, whispering, “I was right not to take your bet.”
(Y/n) laughs, raising her head up to meet his amused gaze. This is the most she has ever seen him almost smile in public, she muses as they continue to dance pressed closely together.
“So,” he says after a few moments, “Should I expect you in my office Tuesday or are we still playing our little game of cat and mouse?”
“Am I the mouse in this scenario?” She asks with a raised brow, grinning despite her pulse thundering in her ears.
“Well I’m certainly not,” he murmurs in a low voice, his eyes flashing with something unnamable.
“I’ll be there,” she finds herself saying without thinking.
“And will you finally tell me what’s been vexing you these past few days?” He asks.
“It’s nothing,” she says in a clipped tone as she looks away from him. “It doesn’t matter.”
She feels his hand flex against her waist. “I find that very hard to believe, little witch,” he whispers into her ear.
She closes her eyes for a moment, searching for the right words, but he continues before she can speak.
“Shall I tell you what I smelled that day?”
Her eyes snap open and she tilts her head up to meet his gaze. “I remember quite well what you said that day, sir.”
The song ends then and (Y/n) quickly removes herself from his hold, turning to stride straight to the doors before she bursts into flames from remaining in his presence any longer.
She can feel his presence stalking closer behind her back as she hurries through the darkened hallway.
Goddamn, he is persistent, she huffs internally, quickening her steps.
“I’ll see you Tuesday, Professor,” she calls over her shoulder, hoping to end his pursuit.
“Oh no, little mouse,” he mutters darkly, grasping her upper arm. She yelps in surprise as he yanks her into a nearby classroom. (Y/n) stumbles further into the room once he releases her and she spins around to face him as the door slams. Her heart pounds in her ears as she watches him slowly advance toward her, his gaze burning into hers, pushing her to retreat backwards.
“What—“
“Silence,” he cuts over her in a quiet yet commanding voice. “Now that I’ve caught you,” he continues, caging her against the table she’s now run into and lifting her chin with one hand, “You are going to listen to what I have to say.”
She peers up at him in bewilderment, a searing heat now coursing through her at his touch, his smell, his voice, invading her senses.
“Do you understand?”
(Y/n) immediately nods.
“Good,” he murmurs, moving the hand on her chin to rest on the table at her other side as he leans closer. “Now… I apologize for distressing you by lying about my Amortentia.”
Her breath catches in her throat as he tilts his head to the side of her face, his nose skimming down her temple to stop near her ear.
“The truth is that I smell what I do every time you visit my office… the faint scent of wild roses and amber that lingers even after you’ve left me…”
The tightness in (Y/n’s) chest unfurls at his words, goosebumps tingling across her flesh as his warm breath fans against her ear and down her neck. She stands frozen as his words seep into her skin before reaching forward and gently pulling him flush against her, silently urging him to continue. A deep thrill runs through her veins at the tiny gasp that escapes his mouth.
“Your scent, (Y/n)… “ he continues, ghosting his lips down her neck, “That terrorizes my mind with all sorts of forbidden thoughts.”
“Such as?” She breathes, just slightly arching her neck to allow him access. An aching heat begins to spread down her abdomen as he chuckles darkly, every muscle taught with anticipation for his next words.
“Like what that gorgeous mind of yours might know of pleasure… or what your eyes might look like in the throes of ecstasy.”
A desperate whimper escapes her as he finally presses his lips to her neck while one hand slides a thin strap of her dress down one shoulder. He then lifts his head, eyes grazing over her barely covered breast before meeting her eyes with a sinfully darkened gaze.
“It might kill me, little witch,” he says gruffly, grazing a fingertip down the side of her jaw. “But one word from you and I’ll let you go.”
A mere second of silence passes before (Y/n) thrusts upward on her toes and captures his lips with her own. A deep groan rumbles through his chest as he wraps his arms around her and he crushes her against him, claiming her willing mouth with his tongue as he steps forward to press her back against the table behind her. His hand slips into the slit of her dress, sliding down her thigh before hitching her leg over his hip to press into her more firmly. (Y/n) moans into his mouth, feeling his cock swelling against her and she grinds against him, desperate to soothe the growing ache in her core.
“Please,” she whimpers against his lips, releasing a surprised yelp as he immediately grips her waist with a growl and lifts her to set her on the table before yanking down her other strap, baring her chest to him, while his other hand threads into her hair and pulls her lips against his in a bruising kiss, laving his tongue deep into her mouth. She begins tugging his buttons free, arching into his touch as his hand gently caresses her breast. The hand in her hair suddenly tightens and and she gasps as her head is jerked back.
“What do you want, witch?” He growls before attacking the sensitive flesh of her neck with his lips and teeth.
“Touch me,” she begs, rolling her hips against him.
“Here?” He asks. A wanton moan escapes her mouth as he roughly pinches the stiff peak of her nipple, blazing a searing path straight to her now painfully throbbing pussy.
“Fuck, yes,” she whimpers.
“You like it when I’m rough, don’t you?” He asks, dipping his head lower to suck her other nipple into his hot mouth, caressing her with his tongue before giving it a sharp nip.
“Yes, more, please!” She begs, threading her fingers through his silky hair as her other hand clutches at his shoulder for support.
“Stunning…” he breathes, nuzzling her other breast as his hand trails down her abdomen, pushing her dress down further. They groan in unison as his hand slips into her underwear, grazing her swollen clit before his fingertips dip into the wetness seeping from her core. “So wet,” he rasps, thrusting two fingers into her cunt.
(Y/n) sucks in a ragged breath, clenching around his fingers and tugs open his trousers with frantic fingers before wrapping her hand around his pulsing cock and tugging his boxer briefs down with her other hand.
He lifts his head, grabbing her wrist of the hand wrapped around his cock and pinning her with a lustful gaze. “(Y/n),” he murmurs, his warning tone laced with need.
“I want you inside me,” she says firmly despite her breathlessness. “Now, Severus.”
An utterly primal glint ignites his eyes as he immediately releases her wrist and yanks her underwear to the side. Grasping her hip in a possessive grip, he thrusts into her tight, dripping cunt without warning, wrenching a loud moan from her chest as she feels herself stretch around him.
He stills for a moment and rests his forehead against hers, attempting to gain some semblance of composure before he’s completely undone. “You have no idea what you do to me, (Y/n),” he murmurs huskily, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of her hips.
“Show me,” she purrs, leaning back slightly to prop herself up with one hand and rocking her hips forward. A breathy sigh escapes her lips as she feels him move inside her.
Lacing his fingers of one hand into her hair, Severus draws her face closer to his with a firm grip, his sultry, half-lidded gaze burning into hers. “As you wish, little witch,” he growls before drawing his cock almost completely out of her throbbing pussy and slamming back in, watching her face with rapt attention as she bites her lip, stifling her exquisite sounds, before pressing his mouth to hers and guiding her down to lay on the table.
(Y/n) digs her fingernails into his shoulders as he thrusts into her again and again, a delicious heat building low in her stomach as he sets a punishing pace and drawing a litany of pleasured mewls and moans from her lips.
“Tell me what your Amortentia smelled like,” he demands, one of his hands sliding from her hip and up her side to caress her breast while his other hand wraps around her lower back, angling her pelvis to where the ridged head of his cock perfectly drags over her g-spot with every thrust.
“Oh, god,” she utters in a broken whisper, her head tilting back as the smoldering heat under her skin suddenly spikes to a roaring flame, her every nerve desperate to reach that final release.
(Y/n) gasps as Severus tugs harshly at her nipple. “Tell me, little mouse, and I’ll give you what you need.”
“Sandalwood, and… fuck! Pine, and lit candles and parchment,” She rambles, tightening her legs around his waist. She thrusts her hand down between them to touch herself but he quickly restrains her hand and pins it just above her head.
“And who is it you desire most, (Y/n),” he purrs, caressing his other hand over her breast with a teasing touch.
“You, Severus, I want you so bad it fucking hurts, please,” she pleads desperately, struggling against his grip on her wrist.
Finally, finally, she nearly weeps with relief as his calloused fingers stroke her aching clit. “Yes,” she breathes, arching against him as her wanton cunt clenches and quivers around his cock. “More, harder— God, Severus!” She cries out as every muscle tenses before she shatters violently, undulating waves of pleasure tearing through her as she writhes and trembles against him. His thrusts grow more frantic until a deep, primal groan rumbles from his chest and he jerks to a stop deep inside her, his cock pulsing against her fluttering walls as he fills her with his hot cum.
His weight presses into her as they both try to catch their breath and he rests his head on her shoulder. “And I you, (Y/n),” he says with a lingering kiss to her neck.
(Y/n) languidly runs her fingers through his hair until he raises up on his elbows before slowly pulling out of her and standing. She can feel his cum dripping from her, slicking her inner thighs as she takes his offered hand and stands before him, her dress pooling at her feet.
She jokingly gasps and quickly crosses her arms over her breasts before breaking into a grin. Severus chuckles, rights his clothes with a wave of his hand, and steps toward (Y/n), pulling her arms away from her chest with one hand while the other gently cups her face as he presses his lips to hers. He then drops to one knee at her feet and gathers her dress in one hand before looking up at her with a warm, admiring gaze.
“You truly looked magnificent tonight,” he murmurs, running his hand up her thigh and pressing a kiss to her hip.
“Before or after you tore my dress off?” She asks playfully, carding her fingers through his hair.
Severus laughs, drawing her dress up her body as he stands again. “Both, my dear,” he smiles, slipping her straps back onto her shoulders.
(Y/n’s) wand flies to into her hand as she silently calls for it and she swiftly casts a few well-pointed tergio’s to clean herself up.
“Well, Professor,” she says softly as she looks up at him, “I suppose I’ll see you Tuesday.” She raises up and places a quick kiss to his cheek before slipping past him, only to be quickly halted by his hand wrapping firmly around her wrist.
“Where do you think you’re going?” He demands, feigning a stern expression even as his eyes shine with amusement.
She’s barely able to raise a questioning brow before he tugs at her wrist and swiftly pulls her against his chest, trapping her there in his arms.
“I haven’t even come close to divulging my most forbidden thoughts that you were so curious about,” he purrs darkly into her ear, “And I have every intention of making the most of the time we have left tonight, little witch.”
***