Dust bounced from the carpet as Róisín paced back and forth. The room guarded by Merlin's statue was empty except for a fireplace in the corner. Was she sure this was the right place? How would Snape know she was there? Would he be angry she wasn't able to handle the stasis charm? Was the first class period over yet? What if he had a double-

Green tendrils sprouted from the grate and danced into the shape of a cloaked figure.

"Sir, I'm... I'm sorry, I-" Róisín gushed.

Flame-Snape beckoned her with a long-fingered hand and flickered away. Róisín hurried into the flames.

And out into the Potion Master's office. Snape was sat at his desk.

"Wait in my chambers until lunch," he said without looking up from the essay he was correcting. "I have double first years and then I will meet you there."

"Does it take long to remove the stasis?" Róisín asked.

"No."

Snape put the essay aside and began another. Róisín strained to reach an itchy spot on her back.

"Then, em can you not remove it now?"

"Yes, I will shortly."

"And you still need to meet me at lunch time?"

Snape stopped writing and looked up. His eyes were the darkest part of the dim dungeon room.

"Yes," he replied.

"Oh…" Róisín's heart fluttered. "We won't wait until tonight?"

"You do know it's possible at any time of day?" Snape replied as he went back to scanning the essay in front of him.

Róisín opened her mouth to reply but shut it as she bent to scratch her legs, which felt like insects were crawling all over them.

"Opressi habitus saah," Snape hissed.

Róisín looked up to see his wand pointed at her. She almost moaned as her skin cooled like she had slipped naked between freshly washed sheets.

Snape gathered the essays and said,

"You're exhausted, get some sleep." He left in his usual flurry of black robes. Róisín tiptoed towards his desk and tilted her head to read the papers scattered on it. With a creak, the entrance to his chambers opened. She hurried down the tunnel, squinting as she stepped into the cavern.

She'd never been in his chambers during the day. Warm green light poured from the lake in undulating colonnades, making her feel like an insect in a meadow. A grindylow swam by chasing a fish.

The chairs McGonagall had transfigured had disappeared.

Did Snape mean for her to sleep in his bed?

Her school robes weren't very comfortable, but Róisín had gone to so many impromptu sleepovers she'd gotten good at transfiguring her clothes into pyjamas. She'd even made up her own spell.

"Mo chompard," she whispered. Normally the incantation softened and loosened whatever she was wearing, instead, all of her clothes disappeared.

She squealed and dived under the covers on Snape's bed.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!"

Could I take something of Snape's to wear? No, that'd be too weird. I just need to transfigure something else into clothes, or… or conjure something, anything to wear. Before he comes back.

She ripped a pillowcase off a pillow and muttered,

"Vestifors!"

The white fabric stayed exactly the same. She tried her own spell again, "Mo chompard!" and the pillowcase vanished."UGH!" Róisín punched the mattress. She was so tired! Her whole body flushed at the thought of Snape coming back to find her naked. He'd think she was desperate for him.

Which I'm not, she reminded herself.

She felt intensely vulnerable. The same man she'd watched shove Potter against the wall and roar at him last night would soon find her naked in his bed and have sex with her. Her breathing quickened.

In a vain attempt to calm herself, she recited the list of Egyptian runes she had memorised for her next Runes exam, but she couldn't stop thinking about the last time, the strange tightness, the sharp pain, the heat… She went on to the Indus and Phoenician runes she knew. When she finally got to the ten principle rope binding logograms, her heart was pounding with anticipation, the twisted symbols inspiring provocative images in her head.

"Feral?" Snape asked. Her eyes flung open and she pulled the duvet off her face, her hands clutching the edge of the sheet to her chin. Snape stood at the end of the bed, his black teaching robes covering every inch of him except his hands and face. "You didn't sleep"

He stepped closer. Róisín edged away and blurted,

"I'm naked."

Snape hesitated, frowning. "Ok…"

"Could you conjure some clothes onto me?"

"What happened to the clothes you were wearing?"

"A spell went wrong. I also vanished one of your pillowcases. Sorry."

His lips twitched. "Which spell?" he asked.

"One I made up," she admitted. His eyebrows raised.

"May I hear it?"

"Em… it's just normally the spell transfigures the clothes I'm wearing into pyjamas, but today it keeps vanishing everything." Snape turned to face the opposite direction.

"Now may I hear it?"

"Mo chompard," Róisín said quietly. The duvet vanished. She gasped and moved to cover herself with her hands. Snape pointed his wand over his shoulder and muttered,

"Vestisortia" and a pair of striped pyjamas popped onto her. He turned around. "Your spell is Irish. What does it mean?"

"Something like, "my comfort"," Róisín replied as she sat up on the duvet-less bed, relieved by the feeling of the soft cotton on her skin. "Normally it works quite well."

"Your sióg magic might be interpreting your incantation differently than you intend," Snape said. "You should try the spell again afterwards." Afterwards… The word echoed in Róisín's head. He magicked a duvet back on top of her. "Why couldn't you sleep?"

"I was too nervous."

Snape didn't reply, instead he stepped towards the nightstand by the bed, took out a vial and handed it to her. Róisín recognised the lilac potion as a sleeping draught.

"Drink it," he ordered. "Sleep deprivation will only exasperate your symptoms." The thick syrup tasted like lavender cake. "Your teachers have been told you're unwell and will not attend class today. I will return after I finish teaching." He turned to leave.

Róisín fell asleep before he had left his chambers.

"Feral"

Róisín opened her eyes. It felt like no time had passed, but now the room was lit by candles. Snape stood by his closet, unbuttoning his outer layers. Her stomach lurched.

"Em… what time is it?" she mumbled.

"After supper."

Róisín sat up.

"May I use your shower before- It's just I didn't realise I wouldn't be going back to my dormitory in the meantime and-"

"That won't be necessary. It's fine." He hung up his jacket and untucked his shirt. Róisín had showered that morning but she wanted to wash again before anything happened. Her mouth tasted stale with sleep.

"Or I could go to my dormitory and shower there, if-"

"Stop stalling, Feral." Snape turned around, unbuckling his belt. "If you'd prefer we didn't go ahead with this then say so. We can make other arrangements."

"No I-"

"If you have to leave the castle I'll convince the headmaster to provide a tutor, but right now you cannot perform magic without revealing you have lost control. That puts you in danger."

"Honestly, sir. It's just important to me to be clean."

Snape raised an eyebrow.

"Not, em," Róisín rushed to say, "I'm not trying to imply it's not important to… other people, it's just I'm not used to-"

"Feral, you know where the bathroom is."

"Thank you, sir," Róisín hopped out of the bed.

Róisín remembered the bathroom from when she'd locked herself in there last time. She cringed and pushed the memory away. There was a large bath sunk into the ground like a rock pool, adorned with tall silver taps and knobs. Róisín used the toilet, wriggled out of her clothes and climbed down into the bath, experimenting with the taps until she found one that ran clear water. She cleaned herself with urgency, scraping her tongue, rubbing at her teeth and gargling water to try and freshen her breath. Afterwards she put on the striped pyjamas, took a deep breath and stepped into the bedroom.

Snape was sitting on the edge of the bed reading a scroll.

"Ready?" he asked. Róisín nodded. He stood and banished the parchment to his study. "This time you should be the one on top."

"Sir, I don't, I mean- I'm not sure I can."

"It's not rocket science." The muggle expression sounded bizarre In the dungeons of Hogwarts. Róisín hesitated.

"Do I have to?" she asked.

Snape exhaled through his nose.

"No, of course not." Róisín felt a twinge in her chest at his strained tone. "Do you need anything?" he asked.

"No, sir."

Snape's jaw twitched. His hands were on his narrow hips, from which his trousers hung low, an unironed shirt hanging over them.

"Nothing to eat or drink? You haven't eaten all day."

Róisín shook her head, she was too nervous to eat. Snape rubbed his temple and gestured towards the bed. Róisín told her feet to move, but it felt like they were stuck to the floor.

"This is ludicrous," Snape barked, "I'm taking you to the headmaster. The Order can watch over you." He turned to leave.

It felt like a punch in the stomach. "Or someone else with less on their plate can search for a suitable partner," he muttered.

"No please," Róisín mumbled, her eyes watering. "I'm sorry, we can do it the way you suggested. I don't mind. Don't give up on me."

He turned back to face her.

"Pardon?"

"I love it at Hogwarts. I love being a witch. After you... after last time when I cast a spell the next morning and it worked flawlessly I was so happy."

"Miss Feral. I can't…" Snape's adam's apple bobbed. "I can't guarantee I actually helped."

Róisín stomach sank. "What do you mean?"

"The theories about sióga were written by wizards with archaic ideas about how women worked who saw sióga as commodities to be used at best and as as malign seductresses at worst."

What was he saying? Did he not believe the theory of sióga needing a mature wizard?

"It worked last time," Róisín stated.

"It may have been a strong placebo effect."

"So?"

Snape's brow knitted together and his eyes searched hers. Róisín looked away.

He began to unbuttoned his trousers and, taking that as a signal, Róisín hurried towards the bed and climbed under the covers. He slipped in beside her, his weight sloping the mattress towards him.

"Róisín, when it involves satisfying your sióg needs-" Róisín stared straight ahead, terrified he could feel the heat from her cheeks "-my preferences are entirely unimportant. I'm an adult-"

"I'm an adult! I'm nineteen, in wizarding law I've been an adult for two years already I-"

"-I'm the one with experience. I'm the one with all the power-"

"But you don't even want to do this, Dumbledore is making you!" Róisín interjected.

"If you keep interrupting me I will change my mind and throw you out." Róisín flinched. "The point I am making," Snape continued, "is that I make suggestions for your sake, not mine. If you're on top you'll feel more in control."

"I don't know if I want to be in control."

He turned to her. There was dark stubble pushing through the pale skin of his jaw.

"I'd feel more comfortable if you were more assertive."

That's rich, she thought, he's the scariest teacher in the castle, his tongue lashings beat the assertiveness out of me years ago.

Snape's jaw tensed.

Fuck could he hear that? Róisín looked away and muttered,

"I thought my preferences were what mattered."

Snape lightly snorted and said,

"Fair enough"

Róisín felt him shift and glanced over. His Adam's apple bobbed as he stretched his neck. Róisín bit her lip. For a second, she imagined how warm it'd be if she snuggled into him.

"Do you want to lie down?" he asked, his voice deeper than before. Róisín scooched lower. Snape turned onto his side, pushed his sleeve up and lowered his hand, slipping it beneath her waist band. Shivers shot from her centre up to her scalp and down to her toes. He touched her lightly. It felt so good. A big inhale through her nose left her swimming in his smell. He smelt like her first time. Like she remembered when she thought about him taking her virginity before she fell asleep at night. Masculine and heady. It made her eyelids heavy and unfocused and a strange blotch of ink on his arm swam into view. He rubbed small circles that made her bite her lip, clench her eyes shut and forget about the blotch. He lowered one finger and Róisín could tell from how it slipped between her lips that she was wet. She felt a rush of heat to her cheeks, neck and chest.

He moved his finger deeper. It was just at her opening, the part that had hurt last time. She tensed. Snape removed his hand and placed it on her thigh, still inside the loose bottoms he had conjured for her.

"Feral, I can't do this if you're anxious, not without hurting you."

"Sorry, sir."

"I don't want an apology. Look at me." Róisín opened her eyes. His face was farther than his voice felt and completely in shadow. "What are you nervous about?"

"I don't want you to read my mind," Róisín mumbled. Snape raised his eyebrows.

"Unfortunately," he drawled, "using legilimency requires a level of lucidity that I find unattainable when there's a woman in my bed."

A heat shot through Róisín. "Oh," she replied dumbly.

His hand moved down the curve of her thigh in between her legs, leaving a trail of goosebumps. He stroked her opening and slipped a finger inside, curling it slowly against her walls again and again as he asked,

"Shall I continue?" Róisín gave a tiny nod. He removed his hand and rolled away from her. She heard him open a drawer in the bedside table. A sweet aroma drifted across. "Coconut oil," he explained as he turned back around. "Non-magical so it won't interfere with our coupling."

Róisín bit her lip. He must've decided she needed lubricant after the first time was so painful for her. He shifted towards her and Róisín moved up to shimmy off her bottoms. He pulled them from her when they reached her calves. A giddiness fluttered up her legs at the feeling of his fingers.

Then she was gripped by anxiety as she realised she'd forgotten to shave her legs.

Snape climbed over her and Róisín spread her legs to accommodate him.

"Ready?" he asked. She swallowed. Then nodded. He pulled down his boxers and moved himself to her entrance. He felt hot and hard against her. Róisín closed her eyes. The memory of Snape pinning Potter to the wall cut into her thoughts and she flinched. Suddenly, she felt trapped.

Snape shifted his weight onto his knees.

"Are you sure?" His voice was so low she barely heard it, but rather felt it in her stomach. He was just a black silhouette against the candle light. She tried not to picture him in Slytherin robes, making cruel mudblood jokes at the back of the class. She nodded.

He pushed an inch inside her. Róisín clenched her teeth.

"Is it painful?" He asked stiffly. Róisín shook her head. It stung a little but she didn't want to complain.

"No, sir." she answered between breaths. "It's ok. You don't have to stop."

He lowered his body and pushed inside her again, deeper than before. All Róisín could see was the canopy of the four-poster bed framed by his shoulder, his body was so close, his breath warm against the skin of her neck. He thrust slowly in. Then out. Her hands needed to hold on to something so they found the sides of her bum and squeezed as she tried to wrap her mind around the feeling. Each time he went in felt slightly different, as if her body were learning how to react. He thrust faster. Each thrust pressing her into the mattress. They were both breathing heavier now, their breaths mingling together. Her hands were numb they were squeezing her sides so hard but all she could feel was the heat and tightness inside her.

She realised her eyes were clenched shut as she felt Snape shift his weight from his elbows to his hands and move higher above her.

"You ok?" he asked in one breath. Róisín tried to say yes but his rough voice made a small high sound escape the back of her throat instead. He stopped abruptly and Róisín nodded to let him know she was ok.

She opened her eyes and watched him move on top of her. His arms held his weight on either side of her and his shirt stretched with his movement. The view made her breathe faster.

His jaw clenched and the tendons in his neck were tense with effort, like a closed fist whose owner was trying to refrain from striking. Róisín shut her eyes again, feeling the impact of each of his thrusts echo through her body.

He thrust again, faster and Róisín tensed like she were trying to push him out as she tried to control her breathing and became overly aware of it, as though if she didn't concentrate she'd suffocate while somewhere deep in her abdomen she felt so so excited... But there was a lump in her throat that it wasn't all fireworks and electricity.

It felt real and raw.

He lowered his torso and his deep thrust felt like someone had punched her guts. Róisín's hand sprung from her side to push against his chest, which was hard and unmoving beneath her palm. Snape thrust deeply again and his hand reached up and grabbed her wrist, pinning it back to the bed as he stilled. Róisín felt his penis twitch inside her as he came.

She continued to breathe heavily as he pulled out and released her wrist from his grip as though it had burnt him. From the corner of her eye she saw him lie on his back and his chest rise and fall. She turned away and curled into a ball. Her hands, stiff from gripping her sides so tightly, held herself between her legs. There was a cold film of sweat where his thighs had rubbed against hers.

"Did I hurt you?" he asked roughly. Róisín opened her mouth to speak and realised she was rubbing her wrist.

"No" A lump welled in her throat. "I'm sorry I pushed you."

"Don't be ridiculous," he snapped. She felt the bed shift as he left it.

She rubbed her eyes, pretending they weren't full of tears and reached for the bottoms he had conjured for her. She pulled them on. The sides of her bum had red welts from her own fingers and a wetness dripped onto her thighs as she sat up

She could hear him redressing behind her. "Are you in pain?" he asked. Her privates stung and inside her felt bruised but Róisín wanted him to think that she was capable of all of this. She wanted him to see her as a woman, not a girl.

"No, I'm ok." She turned to face him and he motioned for her to follow him. Luckily, he didn't see her wince as she started walking. The stone floor of the tunnel was freezing against her bare feet.

"Those clothes will disappear in a while," he said stiffly as they entered his office, "don't rely on them."

"Yes, sir."

Right, my should magic work now.

Róisín hesitated, reluctant to conjure a whole outfit in front of Snape. She took a deep breath and stated,

"Vestifors"

A hoodie and a pair of jeans wrapped neatly onto her and a pair of runners laced themselves onto her feet. Róisín sighed with relief.

"If anyone asks," Snape said, "you picked up a bout of the book-worms in the library and spent the day in the Hospital Wing's isolation room."

He looked angry.

His usual ashen face had a touch of colour, and a strand of his lank black hair was stuck to his brow. His shirt was crumpled and for some reason the way it hung loose at his narrow hips and stretched at his broad shoulders made her feel hollow inside.

She had a sudden urge to ask him something, anything that wouldn't leave her feeling so lonely. What was it like for him? Did he enjoy it? Was it different than with other women? How many other woman had he been with?

"Good night Feral," Snape said in a tone that meant "get out".

"Good night sir." Róisín slipped out of his office.

Half-way down the corridor, she heard a muffled bang and Snape's door rattle. She continued walking. It was probably nothing, a potion falling to the ground or a boggart bursting from a cupboard, nothing her professor couldn't deal with.

But if a dangerous potion fell the fumes could knock him out. Róisín stopped and looked back down the steps she was climbing. Or maybe her erratic sióg magic had done something. But she was supposed to be stable now? She bounced from foot to foot trying to decide. Finally, she went back down the steps.

Snape's door rattled again like a large animal had thrown itself against it. Róisín stopped in her tracks. The door flew open.

"Miss Feral, is there a reason you are loitering in my corridor?" Snape hissed as he stepped out of his office, still wearing only his shirt and trousers.

"I heard - I just wanted to make sure you were ok." Róisín said weakly. Clearly, it was not what Snape wanted to hear. Black sparks shot from the wand held tightly in his fist and Róisín jumped back in shock.

"Go. To. Bed," Snape spat through clenched teeth and slammed the door in her face.

Róisín, flabbergasted, rushed back to her dormitory, scanning her mind for anything she had done which would've offended him so badly.

Deep in the Black Lake, a selky glided away from the rocky foundations of the castle through beds of bladderworts. Pausing, she picked a juicy bladder-globule and popped it into her mouth, contemplating what she'd just seen in Salazar's chambers.