He stared through his curtain of hair, from his corner in the staff room as Professor Granger and Lupin talked animatedly.

He watched as Lupin casually ran his hand from her shoulder to her elbow, as she blushed and looked at the ground. Then tipped her head back up to give him a huge, beaming smile.

He fiddled with his wand in his pocket. He could kill them both. He'd rather see her dead than in the hands of that werewolf. He'd rather see that werewolf dead than touching his Hermione.

Sure, it wasn't official. She didn't know. No one knew. But she was HIS. And only his. And every man that touched her signed his death warrant. With every caress, he ticked off a body part to remove.

A kiss – removal of their manhood.

A stroke on the arm – loss of a limb. Probably the same arm they were touching, or the hand which touched his goddess's skin.

Even a lingering gaze was enough for him to desire to remove their eyeballs.

Yes, it was probably sick possessiveness. But he couldn't help it. He had his eyes on her for so long. He'd never wanted any woman like this before.

He took his hands out of his pocket and cracked his knuckles, which caused a few of the teachers nearby to cringe.

Snape, an angry man by nature, was almost emanating pure violent hatred towards the area of the room where Hermione and Remus sat side by side, his hand casually on her knee, her head tilting to his shoulder as she laughed at his jokes.

He was hers. He had to have her for himself. No sharing, no one else touching her.

If he had to, he'd tie her to his bed in his rooms and never let her leave.

He shifted his robes as that particular thought sent shivers to his groin.

He growled under his breath and stalked out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

Not noticing the wide brown eyes following him.