Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

x Please forgive me for my absence. I've been in the hospital and haven't really been doing much other than sleeping and having blood drawn every 6 hours for the past few weeks.

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Chapter 9.

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Severus was mortified by the time he left the Great Hall. The perverse imaginings of that... girl.

How dare she think such thoughts about him?

Him, of all people!

He growled in disgust at the image of her hungry eyes as she stared up into his, her soft and inviting lips parted and her face flushed. His hands intertwined in her thick and fiery locks... every curve obscenely pressed against him as he ran his hands through her hair.

Against his wishes heat flooded his body at the thought. It wasn't as if he had actually felt it, but he could swear he could feel her in that moment. The warmth of her body so soothing and captivating, hair like ropes of fire burning him into oblivion as he stroked it... he'd dropped the link as soon as it had registered, but still...

It had been a very long time since he'd had any sort of pleasurable physical contact with another person... sexual or otherwise, and unfortunately for him he remembered all too well the way she felt cradled against him in the storage room. Even though she'd been unconscious, it awakened the part of him that longed for the touch of another.

She felt so small and fragile- delicate in a way that made him hate Lucius all the more for what he'd been doing to her. The odd protectiveness he felt bothered him almost as much as her scent. An oddly pleasurable mixture of cinnamon and burnt amber that lingered on his robes and shirt front for hours afterwards.

He stopped to lift the black fabric to his nose and inhaled. The faintest trace of her still clung to it and he dropped it abruptly, a strange sense of shame filling him.

Severus ran a frusterated hand through his slick black hair and set to pacing around his office. His dour mood surging forward like a black cloud that enveloped him in aggitation. That was nothing new. There always seemed to be a black cloud over him.

Was he some kind of lecher now?

It disturbed him to think that he could be aroused so easily by thoughts. Even more so that he had become aroused by a student, one who had already been subjected to the lust and perversion of an older man. She was half his age, for one, and despite her school girl fantasies it was against his morals to persue a student. Not to mention, it was perverted and illegal... but he'd never touch her the way Lucius did... and would most likely do again if Severus didn't figure out a way to prevent it.

He felt a resurgence of shame.

Sure, they weren't his thoughts or fantasies but he'd been privvy to the beginnings of a fantasy that appeared to be on the way to an erotic encounter between himself and a student. A student that he'd become intangled with, whether he wanted it or not. He couldn't abandon her now. He truly wasn't such a bastard that he would be able to ignore or pretend that he didn't know of the horrors that awaited her.

Katja wasn't so much of a mistery. He could easily use ligilemens... but to use it to the extent he had last night was repulsive. It was a mental equivalent of rape in his opinion, and it could be nearly as violent and damaging to the victum. She was an absolute open book just ready for him to read at any moment, a young and naturally gifted ligilemens that had no idea that she walked around completely ungaurded, her thoughts a muggle television broadcast for any other ligilemens to pick up without even trying. It definately didn't help that she also subconsciously projected thoughts and images into his mind at random... ones that erred on the side of erotic.

To protect himself- and her- he supposed the best thing that he could do in this situation would be to teach her how to use occulemency to sheild her thoughts from others. As a natural ligilemens, it wouldn't prove to be too hard of a task.

Katja would take well to it. She was a good student. Although he was loathe to give up his limited free time... this school year would be infinitely easier if he didn't become so scatteted in the young witch's presence.

Resigning himself to evenings spent teaching Katja how to sheild herself with occulemency, Severus left his office with determined steps toward the Head Master's office. He would have to obtain permission from Dumbledore before he could teach her. He just hoped that the man didn't ask Severus to explain why he was volunteering to tutor her.

Almost before he realized it, he reached the stone Gryffin that gaurded the entrence to the Head Master's office. He regarded the statue for a moment, filling with discontent.

Would it be wise to be in such close and prolonged proximity to her? To dive into her over and over and unviel and unravel every thought, every fantasy, every memory that she gave up until she finally learned to block his intrusion?

He took a step back, hesitating to speak the password before he turned, the heels of his dragon hide boots clicking against the stones as he made his troubled way back to his classroom in the dungeons to prepair for his class, all the while reminding himself that he was in control.

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Katja settled into her seat next to a blonde Hufflepuff named Nora Farlow, ignoring Draco completely as he tried to get her attention. She didn't hate Draco... but he looked so much like his father that it made her sick to her stomach to be near him. Not only that, but he was a complete prat most of the time.

She chewed nervously on the skin of her bottom lip, trying not to think of the shocked and disgusted look on Snape's face when he had seen that thought.

Katja still wasn't sure if Professor Snape would say anything about what happened in the great hall and she was dreading it.

As if called back to the dungeons by the meer thought of himself, the glaring Professor waltzed into the class room with his trademark black robes billowing. The effect was immediate.

A tense hush swept over her classmates, all eyes turned to watch Professor Snape who stood in front of the class with one eyebrow raised and a sneer poised on his lips.

Katja had to resist the urge to snort. The dear Professor must be laying it on thick today.

"As it would seem that none of you are remotely competent of showing even the slightest inclination or hope of comprehension you will deliver 6 rolls of parchment on the Draught of Living Death- the potion you lackwits attempted to brew yesterday by tomorrow..." he paused in his fuming to glare in her direction, "and you will be rebrewing it today."

No one dared to protest but a deep collective sigh of disappointment echoed through the room. Katja narrowed her eyes at the Professor who continued to glare at her. With challenge in her eyes and a smirk twitching on her lips she sent him a silent message, knowing that he could hear.

You may try as hard as you like, but I'm pretty sure you aren't half the jerk you pretend to be. So save it. It doesn't bother me.

He didn't react at all. There was no caressing feeling of his mind touching hers... no probing fingers against her scalp. He simply raised a brow and turned to the cauldron he was standing by and commanded the class to give him their undivided attention.

katja frowned, pulling her long red braid over her shoulder and tightening the elastic that held it in place.