Ok…. So don't kill me ok? LOL I know this has taken far longer to get out than I anticipated. But hey, life happens.

It appears that what was meant to be a one shot will now be at least 4 chapters long if not 5. I have started working on the 4th and I'm hoping to wrap it up with that one, but it might carry over into an epilogue.

Anyway, as you know… standard disclaimer. All recognizable characters and Harry Potter-ish things are owned by JKRowling. I make no money off of this. In fact, I do it only to sate my own debauched desires… lmfao

Don't forget to Read and review! Let me know what you think.

The rest of the day went by as molasses over the back of a spoon. Hermione couldn't believe how the day seemed to drag on as she turned in her other assignments and made notes from the latest lectures.

Ginny had recommended a pepper up potion at lunch, but Hermione had shook her head and had poured a strong cup of black tea instead. Ginny, Harry, and Ron had looked at each other in shock when Hermione then proceeded to pour most of the tea on the table.

Shaking her clumsiness off, Hermione had given up and grabbed her bag for her hour as the Transfiguration apprentice and tutor to the lower classes. When that hour ended she wasn't entirely sure how helpful she had been and even Professor McGonagall had mentioned seeing the Hospital wing for something to help her rest.

She muscled through the last vestiges of the day and without really paying attention, found herself sitting at the Gryffindor table for dinner.

"Hermione, why don't you get a slip from Pomfrey to postpone the detention tonight? You clearly aren't going to make it." Harry nudged her side as he spoke.

"Huh? Detention? What-"

"Have you forgotten Herms? Snape was such an arse earlier. Remember? He wouldn't let you brew your potion and he gave you that detention in the store room." Ron put his fork down and stared at her, mouth agape.

"That's Professor Snape, Ron. And I…" She wanted to cry. She was so exhausted. How could she not remember?

"I'm telling you, Mione, just go to the hospital wing" Harry smiled at her. "I can help get you there."

"No, no. I should… Professor Snape wouldn't… I mean, he'd still make me come. I should at least be on time." Hermione shoveled a piece of roast beef into her mouth with a carrot and looked at the head table. Professor Snape was already getting up to leave.

"You're barmy, you are."

"Thanks, Ron. I'm off." She stood hastily and swayed as she stepped over the bench.

"Wha-" Ginny reached out, but Hermione was already dashing off, a roll in one hand and her bag in the other.

He almost wished she had forgotten about the detention. But this was the Granger girl, he knew she wasn't likely to. He groaned. He wasn't ready to see her. It had been such a long day. Three cauldron explosions, an injured first year Hufflepuff that had tripped on air and smashed his incorrectly brewed potion across his chest, and of course the fiasco in the store room with her.

Severus sighed and left dinner early in an attempt to cool his head. He wanted a drink, but he knew his day as Professor wasn't yet over. 'It could be' he thought. He could get an owl off to the bushy-haired brains of the golden trio and postpone.

As he billowed down the halls to his office he thought over it. In all his years of teaching, he hadn't allowed a shitty day to get in the way of a good and proper detention. He couldn't start now. And he could finally punish Miss Granger.

He came to his office door and paused at that thought. Somehow his mind hadn't quite made that thought seem as torturous as it should be. She had stolen from his stores in the second year, set his robes on fire in the first, and there was that terrible night in the third year. He had been wanting to get back at her for years and he finally had her in detention…He wished his heart was in it to have prepared a better and more grueling detention.

Instead, as he sat at his desk and attempted to read the first assignment in the pile to be graded. All he could think about was the flush on her cheeks earlier in the day, her rapid breathing, and that spiced vanilla smell of her arousal.

He caught himself staring at a notch on his desk thoughtlessly. He shook his head and grabbed his quill. He would make her clean the storeroom without magic and reorganize and label the ingredients. He also had some salamander intestine that needed bottling if she rushed through the task.

'Maybe, make her start with the intestine…' the thought had him smiling and he proceeded to grade the first parchment with a little more excitement.

She knocked on the hard wood of the dungeon door and heard it echo beyond.

"Enter" his scowl could be heard even through that door. She sighed and opened the door, stepping forward into the room. She dusted the lingering crumbs from the roll on her robes and walked to the uncomfortable looking chair in front of the professor's desk.

She sat down silently, placing her hands in her lap. She sat with her back as straight as she could make it, trying to force herself to remain alert. The silence of the room, broken only by the scribbling sounds of his quill on parchment, was tempting her further into drowsiness. A few moments passed and she felt her eyes flutter closed for a moment.

The sound of his chair scraping the stone floor loudly brought her back. And as he stood from his position, unspeaking, she thought back to that moment in her dream where he had loomed over her and… she shivered at the reminder.

"Follow me" his voice, cold and harsh, still seemed to run like honey down her spine. She stood as he passed and as she made to follow with her bag he spoke again. "Leave your things. And remove your robes, they will only get in your way." He kept walking as she hurried to follow his request.

She folded up her robes as best she could in her hurry before depositing them on the chair. She gasped a bit at the feel of the dungeon chill along her exposed legs, but moved quickly to catch up.

"You will start with these fresh salamander intestines. As you are probably already aware, they are extremely delicate and difficult to prepare properly for use. They can become quite the fire hazard and are known to spontaneously combust with too much handling." He smirked at her slight gasp. He finally turned to look at her.

"You will cut them into pieces that are no more or less than 3cm in length and proceed to bottle each one in a jar with 2 oz of this concoction for preservation." He waved his hand briefly in the direction of the necessary tools. "Be precise and label them appropriately. See me when you are done." As she stepped forward towards her task he turned to leave.

"Sir?" Miss Granger looked around expectantly and turned back to him. She saw him stop in his progression out the door, but did not acknowledge her. "Sir, where are the dragonhide gloves?" At that, she saw his head turn back toward her and his eyes narrow.

"I would think a skilled know-it-all like yourself would know they are unnecessary if this task is done correctly." The cold bite to his voice had her stepping back as he silently appraised her from head to foot. "If you are unable to perform the task correctly, you will enjoy further detentions until you are able."

As he walked away again, she turned back to her task. She knew that any other day, this task would be easy enough, but her recent clumsiness and exhaustion… The thought evaporated in her mind as she relived her tea spilling across the table, dropping her books in almost every class, and of course the fall down the stairs in her haste to the dungeons after dinner.

She groaned. This was going to be a disaster.

She knelt down and got to work, trying to empty her mind of the onslaught of facts and figures about Salamander intestines and their many uses.

It had been over an hour since he had left her to her task. She hadn't fought him about the dragonhide gloves as he had anticipated. To be honest, he had been a little disappointed.

He had watched her from a distance as she turned and tucked her legs beneath her to work. She had taken a moment to pull her hair back with the band that was ever present on her wrist.

It had been a curious thing, watching her. It was as if that Gryffindor flame was dimmed. She looked exhausted. Her eyes were dull, and the circles under her eyes seemed heavy. Her posture was strained, as if she was struggling to even remain upright. He saw her stifle a yawn in her elbow as she kept working on her task and he had then made his retreat back to the desk.

He had waited as he graded yet another parchment with a "T" for troll, expecting her to seek him out for the next task. He looked in the direction of the storeroom. 'Surely she had finished by now?' he thought.

He stood, his mind made up. He would see to it that she was properly ridiculed for her sluggishness.

When he arrived to the storeroom though, all thoughts of reprimand left him. She had bottled allof the intestine and appeared to be in the process of labeling them when she had simply passed out.

He looked over her and was struck by how angelic she looked. She had tipped over, her legs splayed out and bent. Her skirt had caught on something and had flipped up when she had fallen. And she had fallen. The bottle that was in her hand had cracked and begun leaking as a result of the impact with the floor. And her Quill had been pressed against her shirt, the ink bleeding into the fabric across her abdomen.

He looked closer at her hands as he knelt and saw the various burn marks on them from the salamander intestine. He cringed. He knew those would burn for a few days if not treated.

As he watched her, he breathed in, slow and deep. He caught the sweet vanilla and the warmth of parchment. He knew he should be upset. Angry that she had passed out while serving detention and that her clumsiness had clearly lead to her harm and the likely unusable supply of salamander intestines that he would need to identify in their jars and dispose of.

But he simply could not find the anger and snark to spit at her. So instead, he lifted her into his arms, avoiding the little bottles littering the floor. He pressed her closely to his chest and moved back to his office. He felt his heart stutter at the sweetness of her face and the smoothness of her thighs against his hand.

Suddenly, he was imagining the creaminess of her legs leading up to full round buttocks as she bent over a desk. The desire to bring his hand down across those creamy cheeks until they were cherry red and her hips wiggling to escape the onslaught, was overwhelming. He could imagine the ripple through her body as she leaned in to him for more; a begging raspy-ness to her voice as she begged and pleaded.

'Dirty old man, what's wrong with you?' he shook his head and scolded himself as he laid her down on the newly transfigured chaise.

He froze when he stepped back and saw her turn over so her back was to him. He watched her movements and the rustle of her skirt as it revealed the cotton white panties stretched across her arse. He reminded himself to breath and grabbed the hem of her skirt before pulling it down for her modesty.

He saw the shiver across her body as he allowed his fingers to graze down her leg as he did so. He felt the shiver ripple through him and he forced himself to unfold her robes and lay them across her before stepping back.

He waved a hand in the air with a silent thought and a container burn salve came flying toward him. Glad that he hadn't yet provided the stock to the hospital wing, he moved and knelt by the girl's hands. With care he applied the salve to the marks on each hand and took time to massage the sour flesh. There were a few blisters starting to fester and he took care to avoid agitating them further.

When his work was done and his guilt had been satisfied, he stepped away and allowed her to rest. She really hadn't been right all week, today in particular. Then again, she had been odd the night before.

As she had looked in his eyes he had caught a glimpse of her thoughts. There had been something about her assignment and a cauldron tangent and then… he had caught that glimpse of himself pressed against her, the words falling from his lips before he could help himself…

"I do believe, I smell a leak." As if compelled, he had said it to her as he had in the foggy landscape of her thoughts. He had been unprepared for her reaction. Her whole body had seemed to stiffen and he had seen the slight puckering of her nipples as she stopped cold.

It hadn't been real. He had no recollection of ever having said anything of the kind to her in the past and he certainly hadn't pressed himself so intimately against her or any student.

He sat at his desk now, watching her sleep and contemplating. She wasn't conscious now, there wouldn't really be a way for him to get in and poke around… see if he could follow that thought to completion.

'What are you thinking?' that stopped him in his tracks. Was he really thinking about entering a student's mind for a glimpse of her personal thoughts? Merlin's ball sack, was this Dumbledore's influence? Or was it Voldemort's? Who would want to look into the minds of a hormonal teenage girl, anyway?

He groaned. 'It's time for that scotch'. With that, he waved a hand and the bottle and glass popped into place on his desk and he was pouring himself a generous portion.

She woke up to the feel of a draft across her legs and the rustle of fabric hitting the floor. She stretched out her hands and proceeded to roll over, where instead of meeting more soft cushy bed, she instead met solid cold stone. She had landed first with her knees and hands, hissing as the impact stung her burning hands.

Burning?

She opened her eyes, expecting to see sunlight drifting through the windows of Gryfindor tower, but was instead met with the dim lighting of the dungeon. It always seemed a little… green. She blinked her eyes, as if to test that they were working, and she looked around.

"Yup, I'm on the floor" she croaked. Her head fell into her hands as she propped herself up on elbows and felt that burning sting once again. She hissed.

"You may wish to stop using your hands a bit. They will need time to heal." She jolted at the deep baritone of a very familiar voice. In her eagerness to find him in the room, she pushed down against the floor with her hands to get up. She immediately regretted it.

"Or, you could simply abuse them and allow the blisters to fester." She heard a bit of a chuckle at that and brought her hands close to her chest as she sat up on her knees.

"Wh-where-"

"You are still in your detention, Miss Granger." She finally caught site of him at his desk, he was leaning forward and putting his quill down. "Do you plan to stay on the floor?"

"No, sir." She made to stand, and remembered not to use her hands as she did so.

"Sir, if I may ask, at what point did I fall asleep?"

He looked her over. "About an hour into your detention. It appeared you were labeling the salamander intestine that you had bottled."

She nodded. She remembered burning herself a few times, which explained her hands. But she was still confused. "Why did you let me sleep?" She looked from her blistered hands to the professor as she sat down on the still transfigured chaise.

He continued to stare at her and contemplated answering her question. He decided to be honest.

"You were obviously exhausted. From what I had heard at the head table this evening, you had been so all day. I believe Minerva even suggested you see Madame Pomfrey."

"Yes, sir, but I- I was in detention. I wo-"

"Miss Granger, are you going to continue to question my generosity in allowing you the rest your body needed?" He rolled his eyes, he appeared to be done answering her questions as he once again picked up his quill and began scratching on the nearest parchment.

She looked at him surprised. He had been generous to allow her to sleep. And she hadn't felt quite so rested in a few days, if not longer. She watched him scratch away. She stood from her seat and walked toward the storeroom.

"Miss Granger, where are you going?" he did not lift his head, but continued to grade.

"I was going to finish labeling the intestines, sir." She stated plainly as if this were obvious.

"Miss Granger, it is several hours passed curfew. I believe you should be heading back to the dormitory-"

"WHAAT?!" She shrieked. He dropped the quill in frustration and watched as she hastily dug through her robes for her wand. She cast a tempus and saw he was correct. It was half past one in the morning.

"Miss Granger, I do not appreciate your rather obnoxious screams."

"Why-why didn't you wake me up? I have an essay to finish and this detention and lesson plans for Professor Vector…" she trailed off into a groan, she was grabbing up her things and trying to slip her robes back on.

"Miss Granger!" She stopped at the coldness of his voice and turned to see him standing over her. She took a step back, and he followed. She backed up again and stopped when she felt the resistance of the chaise. As he stepped forward, her mind flitted back to the dream of them in the library where she had similarly chastised him.

He seemed to be breathing furiously, his nostrils flaring as his eyes glared down at her. She couldn't look away.

He felt the rippling of her thoughts across the outskirts of his mind. He was trying to ignore them as he instead focused on his anger, but then he couldn't avoid them. They suddenly became heavy and Technicolor. Starting with a similar cat and mouse routine, then a kiss, the feeling of her cunt pressed against his cock, and then a textbook and the redness of her arse as she counted for him.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Feeling the arousal spread through him quicker than he could imagine. He could still feel her presence in front of him, the heat of her… and the sound of her labored breaths.

He breathed again and caught that scent. The spiced vanilla.

These had to be her thoughts. Had to be her fantasy? A dream maybe? She was thinking of them now. Or else, he was imagining that tantalizing scent.

He opened his eyes and saw that hers were slightly glazed. Yes, she had to be reliving that fantasy. He smirked.

"I do believe, I smell a leak. Don't you, Miss Granger?" He repeated the line. As if smacked, her eyes refocused and she stuttered her reply.

"Wh-What?"

"I asked, don't you think it's a good thing I have such a long nose?" Her jaw went slack as he brought his lips to her ear. "How I do prefer a verbal response, Miss Granger. Do you know what I do to naughty little witches that fall asleep in detention?"

She was stunned into silence. He could see it all over her face. Her brow was starting to crinkle as it came piecing together for her.

"H-how did you-"

"Don't make me repeat myself, Miss Granger." He savored the taste of her surprise and took a daring step forward. She tried to back away, but ended up plopping her arse on the chaise, still staring at him mouth agape. He brought his hand up and around to her hair, grabbing the messy bun and pulling her head to the side, exposing her neck. He leaned down and nipped her ear. "Miss Granger." He growled.

"I-I. I don't know, sir" she stammered. Her brain couldn't seem to register what was happening. It didn't seem real. "Am I dreaming?" her heart was pounding in her chest.

"Do you wish you were?" he traced the shell of her ear with his tongue and she shivered.

"I don't know, sir." She said a little more confidently. He laughed.

"You don't seem to know much right now, do you? I wonder what would loosen that tongue of yours and put your mind to rights?" he hummed. He trailed his nose across her jaw line and used his hand in her hair to bring her eyes back to his. "Any ideas, Miss Granger?"

She was silent again, but her eyes told him everything. He saw her thoughts flicker once again across the boundaries of his mind and he grabbed at one.

He watched as she stood in the corner of his office, panties down around her knees and her skirt tucked up and into her waistband showcasing her arse as he graded parchments.

He plucked at another and found her bound to the little uncomfortable wooden chair as he fucked her mouth until she was crying and gagging on his cock.

Another where she was naked in the classroom leaning over her workbench, writing all the uses for dragon's spore as he flogged her pretty pink arse.

And on and on he grasped at them, the thoughts of her wonton pleasures and most exhilarating desires.

And he smiled.