Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Your date was hot. Hot enough, at least. The Yule Ball was your chance to get a little action, as all you had been getting lately was wet over your fantasies of a certain professor. Not like he was about to take you to the ball, though.

Marvin Frotwottle, a Slytherin from your year, seventh, had seemed reasonably attractive and particularly not enthusiastic about actually attending the ball– perfect for a little fun out in the carriages.

His breath had already fogged up the windows, and his hands were moving fast. You wished he would slow down just a little– he may be a little young for your taste, but you don’t need him coming in his dress pants.

“Marv,” you whisper, “Go get us some punch.”

“What?” he breathes, glaring at you through the low light of the lanterns outside, “Now?!”

“Now,” you say, shoving him up.

“But it’s cold out there, and…”

You roll your eyes. “You wanted to show me a good time, didn’t you?”

Grumbling to himself, the tall Slytherin lets himself out of the carriage as discretely as possible and ran into the ball.

Left alone, you run a hand through your hair, and assess things. Your body, despite you wishing for a slower pace, was ready for a thorough go, judging by your soaked panties and aching breasts… you only wish someone else would take your date’s place.

You bite your lip a little, and think of Marvin’s head of house. Professor Snape looked extremely dashing tonight, in a form-fitting black suit and his hair a little more styled than usual. The picture in your mind of him was unbuttoning that suit over top of you now, reaching down under your dress to feel how incredibly wet you are…

“Professor,” you breathe, surprised to find your fingers dancing around your heat, barely dipping inside as your dress slides further down your shoulder and piles up around your waist. Were you that desperate for his cock?

You had seen him skulking around the back of ball earlier in the evening, but you haven’t seen him for a while. You wonder where he–

“It’s happening again, like before.”

You duck your head, hoping the fog from the windows will conceal you. That voice sounds familiar, but you can’t immediately place it. They grow closer, and another joins it.

“I see no reason to discuss it.”

It’s Snape. 

You tease your lip further into your mouth, trying not to sigh.

“Lumos!” his deep, velvet voice sounded closer now, and you hear the slam of a carriage door. “Ten points from Hufflepuff. Same from Ravenclaw.”

You cover your mouth. He was searching for students fraternizing out here… he would surely deduce from the foggy windows–

“You are scared!”

“I have nothing to be scared of, Igor. Can you say the same?”

You keep your hand over your mouth, and listen to the sound of footsteps going the other way. It was either Karkaroff, Snape, or both leaving. You let out a breath, wondering what they were talking about. Just as you reach up your skirt to adjust your now-uncomfortable panties, the door swings open.

“Took you long enough, Ma…” you falter as you see Professor Snape staring down at you, arms crossed with one eyebrow raised.

“P-Professor,” you gasp, wishing your arousal would give it a rest for a minute. You tighten your thighs to rub together, and realize your hand is still stuck up there. Snape’s eyes flicker down to where you’ve got your fingers between your legs, and you think you see the tug of a wry smile on the potion master’s face.

“Frotwottle not performing his best, Miss (y/l/n)?” he deadpans, and you swallow.

“I-It’s not what it looks like. Sir.”

“No?” he sets his jaw. “Then why, may I ask, have I discovered you occupying a carriage alone with fogged up windows and a hand up your skirts?”

You let out a shaky breath, finally removing your hand to fix your falling strap. His eyes fall to your collarbone where your fingers brush, gaze trained on the exposed skin there.

“I can explain.”

“Good. Out of the carriage.”

“Wait,” you breathe, and he pauses, frowning a little. A shot of courage runs through you, and you find yourself letting your legs fall back open, letting the strap go as well. Snape’s frown alleviates into something of conflicted intrigue, and you dare to look him in the eye. “I was hoping you could assist me Professor.”

Just at the doors, Marvin comes walking out with two drinks, muttering to himself still, but quickly sees Snape standing at the door to your carriage. Backing away slowly, he turns tail and runs back in– date or no, he’ll let you take the heat from Snape.

The professor looks down at you in incredulity at your confidence.

“You’ve got a lot of nerve,” he says slowly, and you part your legs even more.

“Sir… you were right. Marvin can’t possibly satisfy me. I need a man.”

“Silence,” he snaps, “You will stop making a fool of yourself this instant and get out of the carriage. Do it, or I will have you expelled before you can say accio vibrator.”

You balk at his words, and he gives a sardonic little purse of his lips. You sigh, and tug up your skirt some more, making one last ditch effort.

“You’ve got to understand… I’ve wanted you since fifth year. I need somebody to keep me in line. Nobody would know, sir… nobody has to.”

Snape narrows his eyes, and looks at you in calculation, obviously weighing what he should do with you. On one hand, he had every reason to take these comments of yours and give you to Dumbledore for expulsion. Then again, they’re hardly believable… Of course, he could simply remove you himself from the carriage, and force you back inside the castle, where he could take fifty points from your house… or he could really teach you a lesson.

“Sir?” you moan, stroking your quivering thighs. He glares down at you, and whips out his wand, stalling your hands temporarily.

“You’re making a spectacle of yourself. Sit up–”

“But Professor!”

“And take the other strap down.”

You stop, and quickly obey. Snape looks around furtively, gets into the carriage, and shuts the door. You waste no time in disrobing him, his buttons going one by one until you’ve got his chest at your fingertips. He takes his precious time with you, tentatively placing a hand on your breast and squeezing. Once he’s sure you’re comfortable and ready, he grips your hair, keeping your head back as he brings two fingers down to enter you.

“Soaking,” he observes with a hum, “Not surprising. Given your whorish behaviour.”

You moan, and he grips your jaw. “Such behaviour warrants serious reprimandation, do I make myself quite clear?” You nod nervously. “As it is… this will have to do.”

He begins to rub your clit, and you arch against him, clutching his shoulders.

“Professor!”

“Keep it down, I’m supposed to be finding hormonal students, not helping them.” He seems to only just realize that’s exactly what he’s doing, and his eyes shut in exasperation.

Your pussy clenches, and Snape notices this, running his fingers down to slowly insert one… two… three.

“Ahh,” you bite on your fist. He knows exactly where to reach for. “You know… everyone thinks you’re a… oh, a virgin… mmmf…”

Snape snorts. “Of course they do.”

“And… are you?” you ask cheekily, and he glares down at you, not impressed.

“Do I appear to be one, Miss (y/l/n)?” he asks, curving his fingers perfectly, and you groan. After a moment, you realize he must be incredibly hard in his pants… and you want to feel him finally.

“I need more,” you urge, and he sighs, undoing his belt and sliding his trousers down.

“I suppose you’ve had enough preparation.”

“Preparation? For w…” you trail off as you see how big he is. “Oh. Mhmm.”

“Take what you need,” Snape growls in your ear, “So we can get back to the ball before someone thinks we’re… up to something.”

You nod, and almost cry out as Snape flips you over and bumps you on top of him. You slowly lower down onto his thick length, moaning all the way.

“You’re so big.”

“And you… you’re so tight,” he groans, gripping your hips, “Such a tight little cunt…” He begins to rock up into you as you hold his arms and roll your hips down, grinding until his dick finds that spot deep inside of your cunt.

“So good…” he murmurs, almost lost in his own world, “So good for me…”

“Professor,” you repeat, rocking down harder. The carriage has begun to rock, but at this point, neither of you care anymore.

Leaning down, you moan his name again, and just as you’re about to declare your climax, the door clicks open with a creak.

“An then I said to him, I said ‘Weasley looks like the Grey Lady’s bastard son t'night in that bloody dress, hah!”

You gasp, and turn to see Seamus and Dean, two fourth year Gryffindors. You quickly lean down and press your lips to Snape’s, so that no one can see him– this gets you quite the bodily reaction from the potions master.

“Ohh, lookee here, Deany!” the Irish student grins, not leaving as you had hopes, “This one’s taken! It’s Fruitwattler and that pretty seventh year… what was her name again? Wait… I just saw Frittenwalten inside! Who’s this one, then? Guess he couldn’t get it up, ehhh?!”

“I am never letting you perform that rum spell again as long as you live,” Dean says tiredly, and drags his drunk boyfriend off, apologizing quickly before shutting the carriage door again.

Snape, breathing heavily, grabs you, pulling you down closer.

“Meddling students…”

“They’re gone.”

“Mmm, I’m close…”

“So am I,” your breath hitches, and you shudder, letting your hair fall down your back as you feel your orgasm wash over you.

“Ah! Severus!”

His eyes widen, and he pushes his hips up fast, groans your name and pulls out, coming on your thigh. You use a spell to clean both of you up.

“Well,” he says, managing to sit up, “This was thoroughly inappropriate.”

“That’s one way to describe it,” you say, blowing a piece of hair out of your face.

“We don’t speak of this,” he says in threat, “Ever.”

“You don’t have to tell me, Professor.” You slowly smirk. “Severus.”

He goes to snap at that, but lets it go. It feels good to hear someone saying his name with such want.

“What were you doing when I found you?” he asks softly, opening the door to the carriage after dressing. You shift, sitting up.

“I really was waiting for Marvin to come back. He went to get drinks, but took his bloody time with it.”

“Hm.” Snape does up the last button, picking up his lantern again with a dramatic sigh. “Well… what is the phrase? You snooze… you lose.” You giggle, and he grips the door. “Right yourself and get back into the dance. Ten points from (y/house).”

“But sir, that’s not fair, you just–!” you protest.

“I am still a teacher, and you were still caught with your legs open on school grounds. Do. I. Make. Myself. Clear?”

You huff, and suppress your own smile. “Quite.”

Snape nods with a secretive smirk, and whips around. He walks briskly off in the snow, leaving you to watch and smile after him.

Putting your dress back together (in any way you can so that not everyone knows you just fucked someone), your mind wanders back to why Snape had been talking to Karkaroff earlier in the first place, and what they had been discussing so secretively. Perhaps they were discussing the tournament? No, it was more serious than that.

Oh, well. That was none of your business, and not something to worry over on a night like tonight– you guess dreams really do come true on Christmas Eve.

Chapter Text

"It was a successful night," Dumbledore declares with a warm smile, thinking back to the Yule Ball that had been a couple months prior.

"It certainly was an improvement over last year's disaster," McGonagall nods, "Not one Gryffindor student stepped poorly during the dance."

"Nor did my Slytherins," Snape adds, and everyone turns their head to look at the head of house.

"Severus, where exactly were you chaperoning?" Sprout asks, and Snape frowns.

"Outside... in the courtyards."

"Ah yes," Dumbledore chuckles, "With those carriages out there, nights such as these are certainly taken advantage of by the students."

"I do not think it was the night alone that was taken advantage of," Karkaroff smirks, and Snape snaps his head up to his old acquaintance.

"And what is that supposed to mean?"

"Yes, what is it supposed to mean, Igor?" Minerva asks, placing a hand over her chest, "You can't be suggesting what I think you are." Snape implores him to go on with a glare so withering it could sour pumpkin juice.

"All I am saying, is I was walking with you one minute and then you simply vanished."

"Well perhaps I was refreshing myself with some of that delightful punch," Snape replies in sarcasm, and nearly everyone present understands it as such.

"But you just disappeared!" Igor presses on, "No tracks inside, Severus!"

"Our conversation was finished," Snape says slowly.

"Not if you ask me."

"No one is asking you, Igor," Snape growls.

"I am very much asking him, Severus!" Minerva blurts, "Though I cannot fathom what would make him say such a thing, it's quite plain to me that you would never-- ever-- do anything in the nature of what he is suggesting."

"Hmm," Igor mutters simply, and crossed his arms.

"Perhaps it is a moot point, but may I inquire," Dumbledore lifts a finger, munching on a sweet, "As to what you were conversing about in the first place that night, Mr. Karkaroff?"

Igor shuts right up at this, and Snape has to smirk right back at the retired death eater. He never could keep his mouth shut.

Sufficiently embittered after the surprise morning inquisition, Snape didn't know if he was quite in the mood to witness Potter slip through death's fingers again this afternoon, in the second thrilling Triwizard challenge. How had Igor figured that out? He was always so careful, and if anyone (of significance, that is) found out, about... that, his carefully crafted reputation was at stake. He was distracted as well by the memory of that night, as much as he did not want to be. Your eyes, staring at him as if he was the most beautiful man in the world... your hands on him, your breath on his skin, your wetness, slicking his--

No. It was once, never again. You made that clear Severus. His feelings toiled inside of him, conflicted as always. He was angry with himself, angry at you with no real reason to be, and angry at this Merlin damn Triwizard Tournament for mandating a bloody Yule Ball.

"Afternoon, Professor Snape," a couple of passing third years chime, and he resists the urge to whack them upside the head.

"Shouldn't you be in class?" he grumbles.

"No sir! We're on our way to the games!" the other one says happily, and Snape scowls.

"Then why are you talking to me?"

They hurry off, and as Snape finally resigns himself to the fact that he has to attend these silly games, he hears a noise beside him. Glancing over, he notices a door to the broom cupboard. The rats in this school were positively enormous, it was ridiculous. Snape takes out his wand, and swings the door open...

Your cheeks heat up in mortification. There you are, half naked in a broom cupboard, with none other than the man you couldn't keep your mind off of for the past two months. It had been bad enough trying to forget what happened between you two during class, which you had with him three times a bloody week. You were practically climbing the walls with lust for him, but it was clear he didn't want anything to do with you after fucking you the night of the Yule Ball.

You grimace, and expect him to sneer-- he just sighs.

"Look who I have found, once again, in a tight space with your knickers at your knees."

"I swear sir, it's for a good reason this time," you swallow, and tug your skirt up. "I-I was just changing into some lighter clothes so I could go watch the game without dirtying my school robes!"

Snape raises an eyebrow. "Were you?"

You nod, your body moving with the motion and therefore jiggling what you had on display-- your breasts in a lacy black bra.

"Any lighter than that, you would have been expelled," Snape deadpans, and you quickly grab for your robes.

"I wasn't-- I'm not--" you scoff, and he crosses his arms.

"Of course it had to be you. Why couldn't I have found Longbottom in here? At least I wouldn't hesitate to give him detention."

 As you search for words, his eyes roam up and down your body, taking it in. He has to be honest with himself-- he had missed this. Almost every night, your moans and shrieks of his name had haunted his dreams and bewitched his mind with filth before going to bed, and many a night had he been... physically compromised because of it. It didn't help, of course, that you were in his class three times a week.

"Sir?" you ask, and it comes out a little more coy than you had intended.

His gaze lingers. "What... exactly gave you the bright idea, Miss (y/l/n), to change in a broom closet?"

"My dormitory was too far," you shrug, biting your lip. You wish your legs would stop rubbing together.

"Imagine... if I had caught you completely without underclothes?" Snape enunciated, eyes unabashedly admiring your breasts.

"Mm," you nod, eyelids drooping, "Imagine..."

Snape takes a breath, and shakes his head. "Why is it that my resolve is so incredibly thin when I'm around you?" He grabs the door and slams you both in the broom closet. It's dark, and your hands are needy, tugging at his dark robes in an effort to rip them off. He stills your hands, moving them instead to his belt, and you find each other's lips.

Snape goes for his wand to mutter a Lumos, but you catch him.

"Wait... it's more fun in the dark," you giggle, "More dangerous this way."

Snape rolls his eyes, and you snake your arms around his waist. He puts his hands beneath your ass, and lifts you swiftly against the wall as you let out a breathy moan. His lips trail up your neck, and then to your ear.

"Is this what you wanted?" his deep, velvety voice groans, "All month, have you been dreaming about my hands on you like this, my hard cock inside you, pounding you like the filthy little slut that you are, finally giving you the release you need?"

"Professor," you gasp.

"I know you can do better than that."

You smirk at him, and whisper in his ear: "Severus, please."

He moans, and positions at your entrance, pushing in and burying himself deep. You let out a startled sigh as he leaves you little to no time to adjust to his size, and starts to thrust hard, rolling your breasts in his big hands.

"Look at you, falling to pieces for me," he breathes, pushing in again, "Begging for more..."

"Please, oh Merlin..." you shout, and he cups a hand over your mouth.

"Not so loud... there are wandering students down every corridor."

"Like me?" you ask playfully, and bite his lip. He holds you up higher for that, pounding in at a new angle that makes your toes curl behind his back.

"Fuck, you're amazing," you whisper, and he tuts.

"Such deplorable language from you. I should have expected nothing less though, when you sounded like a Hogsmeade barmaid bouncing on my cock Christmas Eve."

"Ohhh," you breathe, clutching his robes tightly.

"If you're going to come..." he snaps, "Do it."

"Ah!" your pussy clenches around him, and he lets out a long groan as he sets you down. You grab him, stroking him to completion in your hand, and the two of you stand there, heavy breathing, for what could have been five minutes.

"I think," you pant, pressing your forehead up to his, "We've now established... that it's impossible... to ignore one another."

"Difficult, at least," Snape protests weakly, hands laid to rest on your hips.

"So why quit?" you start to smile, and Snape's eyes meet yours.

"You are my student."

"And you are my professor, thank you so much, Sir Obvious, I hadn't run that through my thick mind," you cross your arms, and he gives a disapproving hum at your cheeky retort.

"If you think you can continue to take that tone with me, you're very wrong, (y/n). Just because I am..." he chooses his words carefully, "Enjoying your company outside of class, does not mean you will see me as anything other than a professor."

"Yes sir," you nod, licking your lips, and he purses his lips.

"Onto the tournament now, then?"

"Mm," you nod in affirmation, smoothing out his robes, "Diggory for the win!"

"I've stopped cheering any of them on, they're lucky if they escape this tournament in one piece," Snape sighs. Once you've both righted yourself with some quick magic, the tall Slytherin head of house offers a reluctant arm, and opens the broom cupboard door, looking around.

"Shall I escort you to the grounds?"

"You shall indeed," you grin, and take his arm.

Chapter Text

The soft bubbling in his classroom late at night was comforting to Severus. He found it helped him think… and grade test scores, as per what he was currently preoccupied with. The moon is full outside, shining through what little window Snape had left uncovered. He ignores the squawk of Hagrid’s distant Hippogriff (that thing takes pleasure in ensuring he never got any peace and quiet as of ten o clock at night) and gets back to the paper. He scowls.  

“What is it with these twits?” he murmurs to himself, using his wand to mark a large “fail” on Ron Weasley’s test, flopping it onto the pile of Fred and George’s equally dismal efforts. Just then, he flips to one with your neat, flowery handwriting on it, and stops.

Well, what’s the problem? Just mark it as you would any other student. Besides, this will be nice and quick. (y/n) always gets a perfect score on my examinations.

Beginning to read though, he finds himself beginning to frown. Wrong… another one wrong… He looks up at the ceiling, and clenches his jaw. Of course. Why should he expect any less, when you’d been all over him for the past month?

—-

The next afternoon, you’re wiling away potions by watching your quill spin in its inkwell. Wandless magic, along with perfecting the art of apparition, is something you’d been trying your hand at for years, and the fruits of your labor are just starting to manifest now.

“Miss (y/l/n).”

Your attention moves up to Professor Snape, at the head of the potions room.

This your last class of the day, before a much needed weekend rest. You’re supposed to get the test grades back this afternoon, and you have to say you’re excited– you studied long and hard for it, attempting to make Snape proud of a little more than your talents of bewitchment.

“Miss (y/l/n). May I see you after class?”

You smile to yourself. “Of course, sir.” You expect he’ll reward you, calling you his good girl, telling you all about how much you deserve him tonight. Snape was rarely pleased with anything, but you’re sure he’d find exception in your astounding work.

After class had finished on the note of homework and groaning, you stay in your seat, assuring your friends you’d catch up later. Once the rest of the unassuming students had filed out, you move to get up and join him by his desk, but he strides over before you can, thwacking the test down in front of you.

“What… is this?”

You look down at it, and give him a charming smile. “The best damn exam you’ll ever grade.”

Snape makes a noise halfway between a laugh and a groan, sarcasm dripping as he says, “I insist you take a second look.”

You frown, and look down at your work, flipping through. As you do, you become more and more frustrated. “But– but I knew this one! This is… this was clearly draught of the living death…”

“Was it?” Snape asks patiently, staring at you with his arms folded, “I pray you never need to brew it, then.”

You huff, glaring up at him. “Do you know, I studied for hours for this–”

“Don’t lie to me,” he hisses, “I know what you’re doing. Fail the exam, get called up to see me when everyone else is safely in their dormitories and get the punishment of a lifetime.” He leans in, glowering. “I know how your mind works.”

You balk. “You actually think I’d sacrifice my grades in potions to have sex with you?! You have more of an ego than I thought, professor!”

Snape sputters. It does sound quite far fetched the way you put it, but…

“Perhaps your exams are a little too hard,” you raise your eyebrows, and push the test away from you.

“Perhaps. Perhaps I was mistaken as well…” He holds his frown. “I want a perfect grade next time, do you understand me?”

“Oh, perfectly. It’s just I’ve been so preoccupied with extra activities, like the frog choir, that whole tri-wizard competition– I mean the tournaments are bloody thrilling! They’ll be leaving soon, anyway, with all the visitors. Also McGonagall’s lessons…”

“There’s nothing Professor McGonagall can do that I can’t do twice as ruthlessly.”

“Yes. I know,” you smirk.

“Do not let it happen again. My class takes precedence… you should know that by now.” Snape waits, and when you don’t get up to leave, sighs. “That will be all, Miss (y/l/n).”

“Will it?”

He turns back at your teasing tone, and already feels a headache coming on. He fell right into your trap… which wasn’t even a trap in the first place. He brought this on himself, truly. Perhaps he should just forget how to feel guilty. After all, how many times had this happened?

“I’m not wearing anything beneath my robes.”

Snape gives a tight lipped smile. “I was never foolish enough to believe you were.”

“Proved it a bit difficult in class…” you begin to shrug the robes off, “Malfoy was hanging over my shoulder the whole time, it’s a bloody miracle he didn’t get an eyeful.”

"Perhaps he did,” Snape muses, “We’ll never know.” You watch him closely, parting your legs. He still looks hesitant, even after all these times.

“We don’t have to if you don’t want to,” you bite your lip, starting to undo the robe, “But Professor… I want to.”

He puts a hand on yours to stop you, and you look up in surprise. Maybe this is really where he would take a stand… you were wondering when he would.

But he smacks your hand away, giving you that look. “Don’t touch.” He turns you around, and slots himself behind you, dark hair falling against your cheek. “That’s. My. Job.”

You grin, and he slowly opens your robes, admiring how your tie falls between your breasts, perfectly centered.

“This will have to come off,” he murmurs, taking the tie with the tip of his fingers, then stops. “Unless…”

“What?” you breathe.

He hums thoughtfully, eyes narrowing. “Perhaps I ought to make sure you receive what you deserve. It was an abysmal examination score, after all…”

A thrill runs through you. “What do you mean?”

“This is the third time we’ve done this, and somehow I doubt it will be the last. You believe I’d let you get off without a punishment for your dangerous behavior?”

“I believe you’d let me get off.”

"Silence.” Though he maintains most of his stern expression, you can sense his impulse to smirk. He takes the tie off, and ties it around your wrists behind your back, laying your back on his desk. He then begins to slowly tug the robes off, and groans when he sees your breasts bare to him in full. You moan, stretching your arms, and bite your lip, blinking up at him.

“You don’t deserve what you have in mind,” he whispers, “You deserve my lips on you, teasing you, bringing you close until I deny you what you need. That is what you get when you don’t take my class seriously.”

You whimper, rubbing your thighs together. “But Professor… please, I haven’t touched myself all week.”

He narrows his eyes. “Why? Preparing for something, were we?”

You avert eye contact, blushing. “I…”

“Go on.”

“I expected a good grade. I thought you would reward me, daddy.”

Snape inhales sharply at the name, and you see his hips start to slightly shift to rub against the desk. “Well, we both saw how that turned out. Knickers, off.”

Just as you’re reaching down, you both hear someone mutter an ‘alohamora.’ The door swings open on you and Snape. There, a boy your age stands, eyes a fraction wider.

“Krum,” you breathe. He seems caught, and slowly backs away. Snape’s eyes widen slightly, and you pull your robes back on. Before you can run after the visiting student though, your professor grabs your arm, tugging you back.

“He’ll tell Karkarov,” you protest desperately.

“He will,” Snape nods, “Let him. There is little he can prove. It will just seem like dirty sportsmanship for the Durmstrang visitors to try and smear the reputation of one of Hogwarts’ best teachers.”

Still… it was unnerving.

—

The next day, you’re far more on edge than usual. A meeting had been called, as Snape had relayed to you, and you’re both so sure it’s about… that.

You lay on your bed, flicking your wand about as a feather dances atop you. It floats up, down, with each unspoken leviosa of your wand, and finally, you let it fall against your chest. You would much rather be practicing your apparating—it was a little harder, and would take your mind off the possibility of your getting expelled.

You try and push the thoughts of Snape out of your head, and replace them with where you want to apparate. Focus… focus…

In Dumbledore’s office, Snape takes his seat alongside McGonagall, Dumbledore, Sprout, Flitwick, Karkaroff, and Maxime. Pursing his lips and narrowing his eyes, he doesn’t say a word.

“Well. Let us bring to attention why this meeting has been called,” McGonagall begins, and Dumbledore nods.

“Quite right, Minerva. There has been an incident.”

In your dorm, you concentrate hard on apparating to the library. If you could only… focus…

“A special thank you to Karkaroff, for one his boys, Victor Krum, bringing this situation to our attention,” Dumbledore goes on. “It is a matter we here at Hogwarts, take very seriously.”

Snape is about to open his mouth, when he feels something under the table, directly in front of his legs.

You glance around, confused. Where had you ended up?

“A matter, I might say, that could even have serious repercussions if not looked into further.”

“Mon Dieu,” Maxime tuts, “What has happened, Albus?”

Oh, shit. Oh, shit! Your subconscious had won out. You had been thinking of Severus too much when trying to apparate, and had apparated to the meeting.

Snape could not, for the life of him, figure out what had just materialized between his legs. Pretending to drop a vial from his sleeve, he reached down to check… and the two of you came face to face.

Snape’s eyes widen, then he narrows them into slits. The glare is threatening in every way it could be, and you cower back a little.

I didn’t mean to, you try to mouth, but he’s already sat up again. His boot comes up, and lays to rest on your stomach, keeping you far away from him, yet close enough so the others can’t feel you. If anyone else was to check under the table, it’s not like you have an invisibility cloak—you’d both be dead meat.

“What, might I inquire, would this matter be?” Severus asks, in the most level voice he can manage. He was absolutely furious that you were where you were. Had you no shame? He was about to lose his job over this! You were simply taunting fate, at this point.

“I’m very glad you asked, Severus,” Karkaroff interjected with sinister glint in his eyes, “For this matter concerns you.”

Between his legs under the table, you try to apparate back. Only… you didn’t apparate with your wand on you. Damn wandless magic! Now you couldn’t get back.

“What have I got to do with anything, pray tell, Igor?” Snape is doing a rather good job of sounding unimpressed, bored even. You start to squirm, listening to his deep voice. It still does things to you, even in a situation like this. Especially in a situation like this.

“It is a matter of something Krum saw, Severus,” Dumbledore says slowly, “Something troubling indeed.”

Under the table, desire starts to creep up on you. You had been given a very rare, very exciting opportunity here. You could get back at Snape for grading your test badly, and have a little fun along the way… two can play at that game.

“You see, we have learned that it involves one of our students here at Hogwarts,” Minerva says sternly, “Namely, Miss (y/l/n) of (y/house) house.” You hesitate, then take the chance to unlatch him.

“Miss (y/l/n)?” Snape quirks a brow, “A model student.”

“Seems like such a lovely girl. Tres jolie,” Maxime comments.

Snape begins to frown, feeling your hands on his breeches. You weren’t. You wouldn’t…

“Yes, well there’s no doubt about that,” Flitwick says, “But the news we have heard of her is nothing short of shocking! Nothing we would expect from a young lady of her stature.” You take Snape out of his pants, half hard, and close your mouth softly around his tip. He tries to swat you off, but you dodge him.

“No doubt,” Minerva agrees.

“Surely…” Snape swallows, shifting his hips, “Whatever she has done… can be forgiven?” Oh….

“Why would you be so quick to forgive her, Severus?” Minerva asks, “We haven’t even learned of the situation.”

“I only wish to reprimand students when reprimandation is wholeheartedly deserved,” Snape clenches his jaw, giving you a good whack with his knee, “Otherwise, such punishment would subsequently lose its value.”

“Well. With that I agree,” Sprout speaks up, “But this, from what we’ve been led to believe, is a very serious issue!”

“Out with it, then,” Snape annunciates in that menacing tone, “What exactly has she done, and how exactly… does it involve me?” His hand grabs you by the hair under the table, and tightens. If you’re going to play with him like this, then he will remain in control.

“Why don’t we simply ask the boy himself?” Karkaroff smirks, and with a whisk of his wand and the utterance of Dumbledore’s secret password, the doors open. Victor Krum comes in, rigid as if he had been trained for battle. He gives a swift bow, and stands before them.

“Tell us what you saw, Victor,” Minerva encourages. Krum looks to everyone, brow furrowed. Snape guides your head, gritting his teeth. He’s already close, and he can faintly hear you moaning like a whore.

“Wait for a moment,” Filius says, holding up a finger, “I hear something strange.”

Snape coughs, trying to overpower the sounds of him getting his dick sucked by a slutty little student. “Must be Hagrid’s Hippogrif,” he grumbles, “The infernal thing does not know how to quiet down.”

“Buckbeak only caws at night,” Filius frowns, “This sounds much closer.”

Snape begins to sweat. This was it. If you didn’t quiet down your sounds of pleasure from under the table, you would both be found out, and that would be that. Disgraced, humiliated, cast out–

Igor clears his throat in irritation, and attention is once again collectively returned to Krum. Snape relaxes a little bit, this being the only time he’s ever praised his old death eater friend for interrupting something.

You smirk under the table, quieting your moaning down a little as Snape slams you back into him, your lips sliding down even further over his cock with each thrust into your mouth. It feels so good to be used, especially in such a dangerous situation—you’d never been so wet in your life, and you start to rub yourself, gasping softly and gagging on his large cock.

Snape curses you out in his mind. You’re a troublemaker, more than a troublemaker, and absolutely disobedient little girl. What he wouldn’t do to slam you down over a desk right at this very moment and teach you a real lesson.

“Go on,” Minerva encourages Krum gently, “What you say will never leave this room.”

“Unless required,” Flitwick sniffs, straightening his tie.

“Oh, Merlin,” Snape grunts, crumpling forward a little. He’s on the edge, he’s about to come… Everyone turns to him, their stares burning.

“Something to say, Severus?” Karkaroff jabs, sneering.

Snape’s eyelids flutter, and he white knuckles the table as his orgasm hits him. You moan under the table, feeling it on your tongue, and you come as well, biting back a whine. Fuck, you’re hit little whore… oh, yeah…

“Severus?” Minerva prods, frowning. Snape clenches his jaw, regaining his foothold on the conversation.

“Only a reminder that I am very busy and do not have all day. Consider this an encouragement, Mr. Krum, to spit it out,” he growls, then his lips tug up ever so slightly. “Though not everyone present in this room must take that advice.”

You hold back a giggle, and swallow dutifully.

Through the confused stares of the heads of houses, Krum finally speaks. Snape holds his breath, and you listen carefully, nerves buzzing. At least you went out with a bang.

“I was walking past Professor Snape’s classroom,” Krum begins, staring at the dark Slytherin head of house, “And…” Everyone seems to lean forward. “And spotted (y/n)…”

“Yes?” Sprout murmurs. Snape worries the inside of his lip. This was it. Perhaps he could apparate as smoothly as you had, out of this room. Though he could never match your impeccable timing, surely.

“—I spotted (y/n) stealing lacewing flies from Professor Snape’s personal storage.”

Snape nearly drops his jaw. Everyone at the table looks terribly scandalized, and he counts his blessings that it is not for the reason they should.

“Allow me… to explain,” he says, fixing himself discreetly under the table. “I had given (y/n) an assignment outside of class protocol, brewing a specially modified batch of polyjuice potion for extra credit. I have been tutoring her as somewhat of an apprentice.” He looks up at Krum with a curious sort of respect. “I… appreciate your diligence in reporting what would typically be an unforgivable offense against my private collection of ingredients, Mr. Krum. However, in this particular case… no further action is required, at the bidding, of course, of Headmaster Dumbledore.”

Dumbledore opens his hands. “Your explanation is quite sufficient, Severus. I see no further need to pursue any consequence toward Miss (y/l/n), if her intentions were warranted and academic.”

You sigh in relief under the table, and Snape smirks. Karkaroff is fuming, thinking the matter would absolutely ruin him. The potions master lifts his chin.

“Will that be all, then?”

“Yes.”

“Good,” he growls, and rises. He gets out a small vial, and hands it to you under the table, as the others talk amongst themselves.

“Drink,” he mutters, and you do. Before your eyes, you begin to turn invisible. His potion-brewing abilities never fail to astound you. Flitwick and Sprout spot the slight elevation in the tablecloth as you get out and follow Snape. They frown at one another, and check for an open window anywhere in the office.

You follow Snape to his classroom, and this time, he locks the door.

“You are lucky he said what he did, you little harlot.”

You smirk, the small vial already wearing off. “He knows Hermione. Hermione knows me. It’s only natural he’d cover for me.”

“And what you did back under the table?!” he continues, cape billowing as he paces. You grimace a little, waiting for that. He just sighs, glancing at you. “Will be the reason for my nightly shut-ins.”

You saunter over, kissing his cheek. “I knew you’d thank me.” He doesn’t look up.

“Hardly. Detention for the remainder of the school year.”

“But sir!” You slowly start to realize what that means. “Ah. Yes, sir.”

He can’t help but smile to himself as you leave for your dormitory, admiring your uniform on the way out. Perhaps he hadn’t taken such leave of his senses when he had found you that night at the Yule Ball, as he had so forced himself to believe. Perhaps, instead, he had come to them.

Chapter Text

It had been 4 days since the incident under the table. Snape still hadn’t fully forgiven you, but you knew he’d come around. Angry Professor Snape wasn’t much different than regular Professor Snape, so in your books, things were tolerable.

End of year examinations are coming up, which means you only have two months left of your time at Hogwarts. It’s a bittersweet feeling, but the excitement for your future outweighs the sadness of leaving it all behind. Everything you’ve learned here has culminated into this, and you’re top of your class in nearly everything. Potions is the only class your grade is less than satisfactory... despite fucking the potions professor, you suppose his morals decided to check in only when grading your cauldrons. Typical.

You sift through the books in your arms, organizing them as you walk. Today is the day some of the parents of Wizarding families visited Hogwarts to discuss their child’s progress with the professors. It was mostly purebloods that showed up for these things, which was to be expected. Muggle families would get lost for years in the school you had come to call home.

Since you’re a model student, it had been suggested by your head of house that you help out with the professors this year in getting family files together for the conferences. The morning had been full of work for you, especially since Malfoy’s father had treated you like his own personal house elf.

It was a curious thing; Lucius had kept his gaze on you most of the time while you stood behind the professors. He seemed to be boring a hole straight through you—you don’t understand why he would have such contempt for you. You’d never been rude to his beloved son, god forbid, let alone even spoken to him more than five times. You hadn’t hated the attention. There was something strangely striking about the man that drew you in for the fraction of a moment. No matter. Lucius was on his way back to his grand manor now, never to see you again.

As you’re walking, you don’t notice a foot come out. You trip, books sprawling out, and you catch yourself on the one person who caused the mess. You look up in the arms of the potions professor himself, to his face leering down at you.

“What a mess,” he tuts, raising an eyebrow. “Clumsy girl.” You scoff.

“No way. Professor or not, you can’t—”

“Hush,” he mutters, tugging you by the wrist down the lonely corridor. It’s lit by one single torch, burning dim. “You never quite know how to keep your voice down, do you?”

“I’d say I did a good job last week,” you retort. His lips turn up ever so slightly, and you try to turn back to clean up the books.

“Leave them,” he says sharply. “I pulled you aside for a reason.”

“Tripped me.”

“If someone were to be watching, they would see you trip, not follow my voice down a corridor,” he replied, “Something like this has to look natural, as I’m sure you thought to ensure with your head between my legs last week.”

You giggle. “I didn’t need to look natural. You saved me with that invisibility potion.”

“Hm. The things I do for affection.”

“Self preservation, more like,” you tease.

“I didn’t wish for you to get caught either.” The flame of the torch lit the side of his face, casting his left cheek in the shadow of his prominent nose. He lifts his chin. “As we have determined this isn’t going away anytime soon, I have a proposition.” You glance down to his robes, already desperate to get them off. He quirks that eyebrow again. “In a rush?”

“I’ve learned to be,” you whisper, licking your bottom lip. He gives a disapproving hum, but his eyes betray the sentiment. They’re roaming over you too.

“Get this silly robe off. Bear yourself to me.”

“I’m not getting naked in the halls.”

“You did in a closet.”

“I was getting changed!”

“Have you forgotten who you’re speaking to?” Snape asks. You swallow.

“I was getting changed, professor.”

“Hm,” he strokes your hair out of your eye. “Then get changed, Miss (y/l/n).” Your hesitance surprises him. “Worried someone will come along and hear us? Find us here?” He huffs. “I have significantly more at stake than you do, and yet...” His lips form a tight line, eyes fond at the same time, “...Here I am, encouraging all this.”

Smirking, you start to strip your clothes off. As you’re sliding your robes off, Snape watches closely, dark eyes scrutinizing every move you make. Your uniform shirt had been unbuttoned under the robes and tie loosened from the heat of the classroom, and you silently thank yourself for it.

“Unbutton them all,” he instructs. His chin lifts as his eyes drift down. You do as he says, unbuttoning the shirt all the way down to expose the bra you have on underneath. Snape reaches out to cup your breasts, eyes darkening.

“Fuck me?” you whisper.

He lifts your skirt, dragging his thumb along your upper thigh. You shiver, chewing on your bottom lip. Snape pulls you into his arms, cloak draped around you. You reach forward to unzip him, and snake a hand inside his pants. You can feel that he’s already half hard. He groans as you lick your palm with your other hand, and take him out, starting to stroke him slowly.

“You want me between your legs again?” You nod hurriedly, desperately. “Then spread them for me,” he groans. You grip his shoulders, and Snape takes one of your legs up, sinking carefully inside you. Your head falls back as he stretches you open, inch by inch. Anyone could happen upon you two at any time, find Snape deep inside you. You’d lasted this long for the year without getting caught—you stifle a breath of his name, determined to keep it that way.

Lucius Malfoy walks down the corridor, footsteps echoing along with his cane hit the ground harder than necessary. Dumbledore was still as biased toward his Gryffindors as always, and it never failed to get under his skin how that was one advantage he could never give his son. If only someone more inclined to the darker side of things was headmaster. Someone like...

The deatheater scowls as he walked. Severus.

Severus wasn’t horrible. Lucius had known him back in school, and though he was quiet even now, the man seemed committed to the dark arts. If he was Headmaster, maybe Draco could reach his full potential, and make his family proud.

That got him thinking about the rest of the students at this infernal school. Harry Potter, the meddler, was a pinpoint for most of his stress, but one face more in particular caught the web of his mind.

Miss (y/l/n).That’s what he had heard you called in the room. A seventh year, just about to graduate from Hogwarts. He couldn’t keep his eyes off of her the entire time he was speaking to the professors of his son’s abysmal education. She was everything he admired. Classic looks, manners, something mysterious behind the eyes. Lucius felt intoxicated thinking about her.

But, she likely had some boyfriend her own age here, a blithering fool who would leave her once they graduated. He sniffed, trying to get this out of his mind. She would do well to look for someone like himself, someone with status who kept up appearances. Appearance was everything.

As he’s walking, he hears the unmistakeable noise of someone hiding down the dimly lit corridor. Not one for announcing his presence quite so belligerently, Lucius pauses with grace, leaning against the wall to listen. He isn’t about to turn down free secrets. As he continues to listen however, he notices that the noises sound like moans. His lips part, brow furrowing. Two students? About to walk off with a disinterested sneer, he stops as he hears your voice.

It’s her.

Listening closer, Lucius' hand moves of its own accord down to his pants, where he grips himself. He’s already filling them out, from the sounds of your moans alone. Just knowing it’s you... but who are you with? The boyfriend he had imagined?

Lucius palms himself harder, as visions of making you moan like that fill his head.

"Yeah," you whisper to Snape, too quiet a sound for anyone else to hear. "Please..."

"No begging. I am in control of this,” Snape growls, trailing his hand down your body. “I shouldn’t let you come for what you did. What if I didn’t?”

"I'd tell you that I have two months of school left and you won't be my Professor for much longer."

"That doesn't mean this cunt isn’t mine," Snape says, his finger trailing down between your legs to help you along. Your breath hitches as he starts to rub your clit gently in circles.

“Professor,” you gasp.

“What happened to little miss graduate?” he murmured, pursing his lips. “I’m only your professor for two more months.” You stifle your moan, trying to think of a witty comeback. All you can do is grind down on him. Snape hisses as you reciprocate, picking up his pace. He’s stretching you as he goes deeper with each thrust, rocking you up to your toes.

“Hold me when you make me come?” you breathe. Snape looks curiously down into your eyes, and gives the slightest of nods. Your lips part as he gives a powerful thrust, and you can’t hold the moan back this time.

“Say my name,” Snape whispers, a sobered hesitance in his voice. “I like it when you do.” You bite your lip, looping your hands around his neck. He reaches down to pick you up, and hold you up against the wall as he rocks his hips into you.

“Severus,” you breathe, pressing your forehead against his. Your legs tighten around his back, and his eyes slide closed, revelling in the feeling of sinking into you and chasing your pleasure. From his position listening, a shock runs through Lucius. Severus? That pretty young thing was fucking Severus Snape, her professor? His cock twitches in his pants, and he stifles a groan. Somehow that made it so much more arousing. Unable to deny himself the relief any longer, the head of the Malfoy family reaches into his pants, taking his cock out in one stroke. He’s fully hard now, a drop of precum leaking down the shaft and mixing with what had been smeared by keeping it tucked away. He gives one stroke, then loses all self control as his hand speeds up.

“Severus,” you repeat his name in another moan, softer this time. You press a kiss to the corner of his mouth, and drag your bottom lip against his. You ghost your lips over his again, teasing them against his. Snape’s eyebrows knit, and his fists clench as he braces one against the wall, holding you up. “Severus,” you say one last time, “I never want you to let me go.” He takes the back of your head, guiding you in for a searing kiss. You feel his teeth drag along your lip, and you let his tongue enter your mouth. You’d lose the battle for dominance anyway.

Lucius bites his fist, trying to stroke himself as quietly as possible. He can hear his own pants rustle as he brings his fist down, and it doesn’t help that he’s still wearing his gloves, but that’s better than leaving the evidence on his hands. He could toss them to one of the house elves, and make sure they disposed of them promptly. His hands, he would have to wash thoroughly, and he wasn’t about to use a filthy Hogwarts bathroom to do so. 

“No matter where you go,” Snape growls out, pounding into you harder now, “No matter what you do... you will always belong to me. Do you hear me?”

“I know,” you breathe, brain clouded with arousal and the desperation to cum. “I’m yours.”

“Tell me again,” he enunciates, lips curling up into a snarl. “Remind me.”

“I’m yours, Severus,” you gasp. “I’m so close, I’m so close, cum inside of me, please—”

“You’re lucky I’m feeling forgiving. Do you need to come? I can feel that you do.” Your moan rings out unbridled through the corridor, pleasure evident as Snape’s low grunts add to the myriad of echoes. “I shouldn’t be rewarding you after nearly getting me dishonourably tossed from this school.” Even while getting fucked, you have the nerve to respond sharply.

“I think you should be rewarding me for how well I apparate.”

“Do I look like the Charms professor to you?” Snape grumbled.

“Well, I’m not about to fuck Professor Flitwick.” Jealously floods Snape as he unfortunately pictures this. You notice the shift in his disposition. “Would you like that?” you whisper, trailing your lips up his jaw. “Watching someone else fuck me? Make me come? Just watching, as someone else enjoys this pussy?” Your mouth falls open as you feel him fall victim to your bait. “How about Lucius Malfoy fucking me, taking me from behind and spanking me with that cane of his?”

Lucius bites his fist as he squeezes the tip of his cock, mouth dropping agape. He comes into his hand, letting out the faintest trace of an airy moan as he imagines just what you had described. Him behind you, stroking your back, watching you fuck back onto his cock and beg for it. His cane on your ass, teaching you a lesson. I can fuck you better than Severus can. He beats a fist against the wall, another rope shooting into his hand.

The feeling of Snape pounding you once more sends you over the edge, and you feel him fill you at the same time. You gasp, hanging onto his back. He presses his lips to your neck, rocking you against the wall until you can’t take any more of him. “I only want you, Professor,” you whisper into his ear, and he lets out a breath, the last of his orgasm waning. He sets you down, and catches you again as your knees knock together—you can feel his seed begin to drip down your thigh. He narrows his eyes at you, straightening his clothes.

“How is it, that this always ends with me between your legs?”

“It ended a little different today,” you pant, leaning into his arms. “With you dripping out of me.” You wiggle your hips, Snape gives that twitch of a smile again, but jerks his chin up suddenly. He whips out his wand, tucks himself up quickly, and moves you behind him protectively.

“Lumos,” he whispers, and blue lights up the hallway.

“What is it?”

“Show yourself,” Snape mutters into the dark, and your heartbeat picks up. Had someone been watching. What if it was another professor?  Lucius listens, eyes widening. He quickly rights himself, lifts his chin. He’d have more dignity if he revealed himself first... and he wasn’t about to let Snivellus get the best of him.

“Severus,” he says tightly, managing a polite albeit pompous smile. “And... Miss (y/l/n), what have we here?”

“It is none of your business, Malfoy,” Snape enunciates. “Now, I suggest you—”

“What a predicament I’m in, Snape,” Lucius continues. His eyes dart down your body, and your face heats up in a blush. You pull your robe closed slightly in embarrassment, as the blonde man admires the sight quite blatantly. “You see, now that I have this information on you and your little pet, I can see to it that Draco is treated fairly from this day forward.”

“Pardon me?” Snape deadpans. You have to hold back a laugh at the utter disbelief in his eyes. “Mr. Malfoy, do I look like Professor Dumbledore to you?” Lucius’ jaw clenches.

“You are answerable to him—”

“Rarely does he meddle in my methods of teaching, one of those being the priority I give to those in my own house,” Snape says slowly, and hides you further behind him. “With some exceptions. I may give Mr. Potter a challenge, but your son, if anything, has quite the advantage... thanks to you.”

“That’s not what Draco tells me,” Lucius drawls. “Need I remind you, Snape, my family is one of the oldest pure bloodlines in the Wizarding World. You know the power I hold.” Surprising both you and Mr. Malfoy, Snape steps right into the other man’s face, glowering.

“You don’t know what power I hold myself, Lucius. I suggest for your sake, you never find out.”

“Is that a threat?” Lucius scoffs. Snape takes out his wand, and twists it against the blonde’s chin.

“The wand at your chin would suggest it is.” Lucius glares over his shoulder at you, then back at Severus. He brings his arms up to knock the wand out of his face. He raises his own wand in threat, and Severus simply looks at him with an expression of pity, getting even closer so you can’t hear. “Do remember, Malfoy. The Dark Lord is coming. And when he does, he’ll come to me first.” Instantly, you notice Lucius’ body language shift. He shrinks a couple of inches, and swallows nervously. You wonder what Snape could have said to the man with the insufferable superiority complex—a complex that ran in the family.

“A pleasure, Miss (y/l/n),” Lucius bows his head to you, pursing his lips bitterly. “Though not one I would have preferred.” He snatches his cane back up, and whirls around, leaving. You take Snape’s arm, and he places a hand over yours on it.

“What did you say to him?”

“Nothing of your concern.”

You’re reminded in an instant of that day Snape had found you at the Yule Ball, what he had been talking about with Karkaroff. You decide to let it slip. “I’m going to miss this, Professor.”

“What, torrid affairs in romantically lit hallways?” Snape asks, rolling his eyes. You huff a laugh, getting closer to him.

“Us. I’m going to miss you.”

Snape looks at you through the hair that’s fallen into his eyes. “You know you’ll always be welcome in my classroom.”

“Mm.” A smile develops on your face. “You know, I’m also going to miss your classes.”

Snape looks down at you, raising an eyebrow. He squeezes your hand. “Do you know, in all my years of teaching at Hogwarts... no one has ever said that to me.” He kisses the top of your head. “Remember what I said, my love. No matter where you go, or what you do. You’re mine.”