"His hands passed over her body, generating electricity wherever they
passed, until they reached her feminine core. She was writhing beneath him.
Her breaths were coming fast and heavy; she was panting with desire. His
cock was hard and throbbing, wanting nothing more than to sink into the
nest of hair between her thighs."
"Good God," said Minerva, "where do these people get their silly ideas?"
Hermione looked up in some amusement from the book she had been reading aloud. "I don't know. I do wonder why they are always writhing. What is writhing anyway? I mean, we all know it involves wriggling around but at what point does a wriggle become a writhe? Or is it the way that you wriggle? It sounds to me like she is having some sort of epileptic fit. And asthma. She needs a Medi-witch, not a third rate shag."
"As good as that?"
"And what is a feminine core?"
"Goodness only knows. The more pressing question, if you'll pardon the pun, is what on earth is the silly man doing pushing his hard, throbbing cock into her pubic hair anyway? Has he got lost?"
"Minerva, he's a man, of course he got lost. I expect he thinks a clitoris is a climbing plant."
They both giggled together.
Hermione had never imagined when she was a student that Professor McGonagall had a sense of humour at all, let alone one quite so earthy. Whether it was a change in her perspective or because the pressures of the war had passed, she had discovered that Minerva could be relied upon for a caustic assessment of her colleague's personalities, the failings of the Ministry for Magic or a character assassination of their charges. They would often be found chatting together in the staff room, and the other professors had learned to give them with a wide berth.
It was a free period for both of them and they had the staff room to themselves. Hermione was treating Minerva to a recitation from a particularly racy book she had confiscated during Charms earlier that morning. Hermione approved of reading in general, but not pap like this and certainly not in one of her lessons.
"Not that there's anything wrong with a bit of Romance," sighed Minerva, "done properly of course. Something with a bit of style and flair, not this heaving bosoms and throbbing bits. A bit of excitement like that in your life would do you the world of good. You're too young to be trapped in a castle with old farts."
"Minerva!" Hermione replied in horror, "You sound just like my mother. Anyway, you're not an old fart."
"I wasn't thinking of me, I was thinking of Albus and Flitwick."
"Of course." They both smiled.
Minerva paused for a moment, pondering how best to raise the subject, before charging on, "I always thought that you and Severus would be well suited, you know. He always struck me as a man who knew what was what, and where to find a clematis. You know all those rumours about Slytherins being sexy? Maybe they are true, although I have never found anything particularly attractive about Crabbe and Goyle whether senior or junior. Still, why don't you pounce on him one evening, drag him back to the dungeons and shag the living daylights out of him? Show him what a Gryffindor can do!"
"Minerva!" Hermione was even more horrified.
"Oh, come on. You can't tell me you haven't thought about it."
"Well," she said reluctantly, quickly scanning the staff room to make sure they were alone. "It has crossed my mind."
Minerva sat bolt upright. "I knew it," she said triumphantly. "I knew it. I saw those sultry looks you were giving him at the last staff meeting. And? And? Tell Aunty Minerva everything."
"You may have seen them. He didn't. Either that or, more likely, he isn't interested."
"Good god girl, how can he fail to be interested?"
"Well, there is that small problem ."
"Being muggle born, don't be silly, Severus wouldn't give a damn about that. He got that particular insanity out of his system a long time ago."
"NO. I meant being a Gryffindor."
"Oh, well, I can see that would be a problem. There he is: being seduced by an attractive, intelligent witch; he's just getting ready to surrender to the intoxicating rapture and then he thinks, no, I mustn't, she's a Gryffindor. Don't be silly. It's much more likely he spent the staff meeting wondering what he had spilled down the front of his robes. He's not very good at picking up those sorts of cues, bless him.
"I remember after the War, when we all had to go to those silly parties at the Ministry, he was surrounded by Witches wanting to get to know him a lot better, if only on a short-term basis but he never noticed. Sometimes, I despair of ever seeing that young man settled. If you take my advice, if you really want to get his attention you will have to do something drastic."
"Like what; turn up in his rooms with no clothes on?" Hermione asked sarcastically.
"If necessary," Minerva said robustly.
"I can see that going well. I could crawl along the floor naked begging him to take me, take me, and all he would say is 'I don't know quite where you want me to take you Miss Granger, but you certainly don't appear to be dressed for travelling'. Then he would try and take points off Gryffindor, for being improperly dressed."
Minerva cackled. "You're right, of course. It's such a shame. I'm sure you would get on well together, and not just in bed."
"I've tried talking to him at dinner - nothing. I've tried talking to him in the staff room - he just scuttled back to his dungeons. I've even suggested going out for a drink to Hogsmeade, but he just sneered and said he was busy. No one can say I haven't tried. He just isn't interested, Minerva."
"I'm sure you're wrong dear, he's just shy."
Hermione snorted, but whatever she was going to say in reply was interrupted by the sound of a bell in the distance.
"Oops, time for the next class," said Minerva and the pair of them hurried off in a swirl of skirts and robes. In their haste, the book was left behind.
A few minutes later, Professor Snape emerged from the wing back chair he had been sitting in, hidden from view from the rest of the common room, and where he had been listening to the conversation with some interest.
He stood staring into the middle distance for some time, then thoughtfully pocketed the book and headed off to his class.
"Good God," said Minerva, "where do these people get their silly ideas?"
Hermione looked up in some amusement from the book she had been reading aloud. "I don't know. I do wonder why they are always writhing. What is writhing anyway? I mean, we all know it involves wriggling around but at what point does a wriggle become a writhe? Or is it the way that you wriggle? It sounds to me like she is having some sort of epileptic fit. And asthma. She needs a Medi-witch, not a third rate shag."
"As good as that?"
"And what is a feminine core?"
"Goodness only knows. The more pressing question, if you'll pardon the pun, is what on earth is the silly man doing pushing his hard, throbbing cock into her pubic hair anyway? Has he got lost?"
"Minerva, he's a man, of course he got lost. I expect he thinks a clitoris is a climbing plant."
They both giggled together.
Hermione had never imagined when she was a student that Professor McGonagall had a sense of humour at all, let alone one quite so earthy. Whether it was a change in her perspective or because the pressures of the war had passed, she had discovered that Minerva could be relied upon for a caustic assessment of her colleague's personalities, the failings of the Ministry for Magic or a character assassination of their charges. They would often be found chatting together in the staff room, and the other professors had learned to give them with a wide berth.
It was a free period for both of them and they had the staff room to themselves. Hermione was treating Minerva to a recitation from a particularly racy book she had confiscated during Charms earlier that morning. Hermione approved of reading in general, but not pap like this and certainly not in one of her lessons.
"Not that there's anything wrong with a bit of Romance," sighed Minerva, "done properly of course. Something with a bit of style and flair, not this heaving bosoms and throbbing bits. A bit of excitement like that in your life would do you the world of good. You're too young to be trapped in a castle with old farts."
"Minerva!" Hermione replied in horror, "You sound just like my mother. Anyway, you're not an old fart."
"I wasn't thinking of me, I was thinking of Albus and Flitwick."
"Of course." They both smiled.
Minerva paused for a moment, pondering how best to raise the subject, before charging on, "I always thought that you and Severus would be well suited, you know. He always struck me as a man who knew what was what, and where to find a clematis. You know all those rumours about Slytherins being sexy? Maybe they are true, although I have never found anything particularly attractive about Crabbe and Goyle whether senior or junior. Still, why don't you pounce on him one evening, drag him back to the dungeons and shag the living daylights out of him? Show him what a Gryffindor can do!"
"Minerva!" Hermione was even more horrified.
"Oh, come on. You can't tell me you haven't thought about it."
"Well," she said reluctantly, quickly scanning the staff room to make sure they were alone. "It has crossed my mind."
Minerva sat bolt upright. "I knew it," she said triumphantly. "I knew it. I saw those sultry looks you were giving him at the last staff meeting. And? And? Tell Aunty Minerva everything."
"You may have seen them. He didn't. Either that or, more likely, he isn't interested."
"Good god girl, how can he fail to be interested?"
"Well, there is that small problem ."
"Being muggle born, don't be silly, Severus wouldn't give a damn about that. He got that particular insanity out of his system a long time ago."
"NO. I meant being a Gryffindor."
"Oh, well, I can see that would be a problem. There he is: being seduced by an attractive, intelligent witch; he's just getting ready to surrender to the intoxicating rapture and then he thinks, no, I mustn't, she's a Gryffindor. Don't be silly. It's much more likely he spent the staff meeting wondering what he had spilled down the front of his robes. He's not very good at picking up those sorts of cues, bless him.
"I remember after the War, when we all had to go to those silly parties at the Ministry, he was surrounded by Witches wanting to get to know him a lot better, if only on a short-term basis but he never noticed. Sometimes, I despair of ever seeing that young man settled. If you take my advice, if you really want to get his attention you will have to do something drastic."
"Like what; turn up in his rooms with no clothes on?" Hermione asked sarcastically.
"If necessary," Minerva said robustly.
"I can see that going well. I could crawl along the floor naked begging him to take me, take me, and all he would say is 'I don't know quite where you want me to take you Miss Granger, but you certainly don't appear to be dressed for travelling'. Then he would try and take points off Gryffindor, for being improperly dressed."
Minerva cackled. "You're right, of course. It's such a shame. I'm sure you would get on well together, and not just in bed."
"I've tried talking to him at dinner - nothing. I've tried talking to him in the staff room - he just scuttled back to his dungeons. I've even suggested going out for a drink to Hogsmeade, but he just sneered and said he was busy. No one can say I haven't tried. He just isn't interested, Minerva."
"I'm sure you're wrong dear, he's just shy."
Hermione snorted, but whatever she was going to say in reply was interrupted by the sound of a bell in the distance.
"Oops, time for the next class," said Minerva and the pair of them hurried off in a swirl of skirts and robes. In their haste, the book was left behind.
A few minutes later, Professor Snape emerged from the wing back chair he had been sitting in, hidden from view from the rest of the common room, and where he had been listening to the conversation with some interest.
He stood staring into the middle distance for some time, then thoughtfully pocketed the book and headed off to his class.