Disclaimer: All characters borrowed from J.K. Rowling.

My first submission...please let me know what you think!

Hermione rolled over in her bed, and then rolled over again, becoming thoroughly entangled in the sheets. Sighing with frustration, she kicked her coverings to the foot of the bed and lay still on her back. She listed to the even breathing of her sleeping roommates and wished she could do the same.

Why can't I sleep? Hermione wondered. It had been a long day, and she was tired, that much was certain. Double Transfiguration, followed by Double Potions, and finally Astronomy made for a full, difficult day. With so few students in Transfiguration at the NEWT level, Professor McGonagall was able to focus her attention more fully upon each student individually, and accordingly, she assigned a greater amount of work. Astronomy was as demanding as ever, and, as it came at the end of such a long day, it left her exhausted by the time she left the tower at 2 a.m. each week.

And then there was Potions. Turning again onto her stomach, Hermione ruminated over her feelings about the class. She hadn't been thrilled about the idea of taking NEWT-level Potions, initially. It was one of the most challenging courses offered to seventh-years, after all.

But it had been more than just the complexity of the course work that had made her hesitate. When had she ever been stopped by the thought of difficult school work? No, Hermione wasn't afraid of mountains of homework or elaborate, time-consuming potions. It was Professor Snape that gave her pause.

Hermione's stomach lurched as his image floated to the forefront of her mind. Of course, nearly all the students at Hogwarts, Slytherins included, were afraid of Snape. And for good reason – he was intimidating and ruthless, ceaselessly criticizing students' work, doling out abysmal grades, and assigning cruel punishments for the most banal infractions.

And then there was the not-so-small fact that he was, at one time, a Death Eater. While everyone knew, Hermione more than anyone, that Snape had converted to the right side, and acted as a spy for the Order, the fact that he was able to fool Voldemort for so long and not betray his true allegiance spoke volumes about his nature. Why anyone would want to spend time in the company of such a man, even as a student, remained a mystery.

And yet, Hermione thought to herself, there's something…else... She recalled a day during her sixth year, a day that had awoken something inside of her, causing her both to consider not taking NEWT-level Potions, and to look forward to the class more than any other at the same time.

She had been leaving the library one afternoon, her bag overstuffed, her arms filled with books. She wanted to drop some of the books off in the Gryffindor common room before class but didn't want to be late. As she rushed out the door and into the drafty corridor, she slammed into someone moving in the opposite direction. Hermione lost her balance and the books tumbled from her arms. But just before she hit the floor, she felt strong arms catch her around her waist and put her back on her feet.

Steadying herself, Hermione began apologizing profusely for being so distracted. But as she lifted her eyes, she found herself looking into the face of Professor Snape, and she stopped mid-sentence, her mouth hanging open.

Snape was looking back at her, his dark eyes boring into her own. It was then that she realized Snape's hand was still resting on her waist, and his long body was still pressed against her side.

Snape looked at Hermione for a moment longer, then took a step back and removed his hand from her waist. The entire side of her body felt as though she had been branded and her palms had become sweaty. Her breathing had become shallow and she was finding it difficult to think clearly as Snape looked at her. What was happening?

Hermione continued to meet Snape's gaze, unable to look away. After what felt like an eternity, at last, he spoke.

"Perhaps you should look where you are going, Miss Granger," he said murmured silkily, and Hermione felt as though she had been punched in the stomach. He was still looking at her, now taking all of her in – her face, her hair, her body. She suddenly felt as though she was completely naked in front of him and it took her breath away. She watched as his eyes traveled up and down her robe-clad body and felt a thrill of fear run up her spine.

Recovering, Hermione finally replied in a near-whisper, "Yes, Professor."

At Hermione's words, Snape's eyes snapped back to hers for an instant, his expression inscrutable; then he turned on his heel and strode down the hall, his robes billowing behind him. Hermione stood, rooted to the spot, until he had turned the corner. When he was at last out of sight, Hermione finally came back to herself, realizing that she was standing in the hallway with a dozen books strewn about her.

As she knelt down to pick up the books, Hermione thought to herself, What in the world just happened? She felt dazed, groggy.

For the remainder of the term, Hermione avoided Snape, ensuring that he was out of her line of sight in the Great Hall and avoiding eye contact during class. Not that it was difficult. Snape gave no indication that there had been any interaction between them in the corridor that day. Hermione had almost put the incident out of her mind when, on the last day class before the summer break, she looked up from her cauldron to find his dark eyes upon her once again.

Hermione was unable to look away. The heat of his gaze was almost unbearable and she suddenly felt an inexplicable urge to…what? Kiss him? Or something more? She was suddenly aware that she was becoming aroused and the realization made her breath quicken. Her cheeks became flushed and she felt a growing dampness between her legs.

Just as she felt that she couldn't take it any longer, that something needed to happen, something did. A cauldron on the other side of the room let out a bang and then emitted a huge cloud of yellow smoke. Laughter filled the room as several Slytherins emerged from the cloud, coughing and covered in potion. Hermione started at the loud noise and turned her head towards the disorder; by the time she returned her gaze to the front of the room, Snape's attention had shifted towards the mess.

Hermione was both grateful for and disappointed by the reprieve the accident afforded her. But then…what was she really expecting would have happened? It was ridiculous to imagine anything…but the way he was looking at her...it was bewildering.

During the summer break, Hermione deliberated over whether or not to take Potions the following year, and her decision changed almost daily. On the one hand, she wanted Snape to continue looking at her. It turned her on just to think of his smoldering eyes on her body. But on the other hand, it was wrong and she knew it. Professor Snape was her teacher and it was highly inappropriate for anything, even such glances, to take place between them. And besides, what was the point? It only served to distract her, something she could not afford. She knew nothing further could or would happen.

Toward the end of the summer, Hermione felt certain that not taking the class was the right thing to do. But she knew that such a move would have severe consequences, and would result in her being precluded from numerous careers, including Auror training. How could she give up such options? Her whole future depended on it. But taking Potions meant facing Snape again. And how could she, without thinking of everything his eyes implied?

Finally, the first morning of classes was upon her, and Hermione knew that she had to make up her mind. As Professor McGonagall approached her, Harry, and Ron at the Gryffindor table after breakfast, Hermione made her decision.

"Ah, Miss Granger" said Professor McGonagall briskly, "I assume you will be continuing with last year's NEWT schedule?" she queried, as she shuffled through the stack of parchment schedules in her hand.

"Actually," answered Hermione, quietly, "I'll be taking all but Potions, Professor." Harry and Ron looked up from their breakfasts at her words, and Professor McGonagall glanced at her sharply.

"But Miss Granger, if I am not mistaken, you achieved an 'O' in Potions during your sixth year, did you not?" Hermione nodded her affirmation. "Then I presume that you wish to carry on with your studies," said Professor McGonagall in a firm tone, as though this settled the matter.

"No, Professor, I'd like to drop Potions from my schedule," Hermione answered again, but this time with less conviction.

"Hermione, have you gone mad? Of course you're taking Potions…you want to be an Auror, don't you?" asked Harry incredulously, while Ron nodded his head in concurrence.

"Miss Granger, Mr. Potter is quite correct. A NEWT in Potions is a prerequisite for a number of magical careers, many in which you have expressed an interest to me previously. What reason could you possibly have for not continuing with Potions at this late stage?" asked the Professor, and Hermione did not miss the impatience in her tone.

Hermione looked from Professor McGonagall to Harry to Ron, and then glanced quickly up at the staff table. Snape was sitting in his usual seat, his dark eyes on her. He appeared to be watching her exchange with Professor McGonagall with interest. Hermione's pulse quickened; she hadn't seen him since the last day of class the year before.

Could she return to his class? Would she be able to concentrate and learn the necessary material, or would she be distracted all year? It occurred to her that perhaps she wanted to be distracted, but she shoved that thought to the back of her mind.

She would have to take Potions. And, she reasoned with herself, taking the class, even if distracted, was better than not taking it and learning nothing. She would just have to work hard and keep her head down.

She realized that Professor McGonagall was waiting for her answer and Hermione said briskly, "I will continue last year's schedule, Professor, including Potions. Of course." She smiled a business-like smile at Professor McGonagall, who looked back at Hermione with a confused look. Finally, Professor McGonagall shook her head slightly, as though she had given up trying to decipher Hermione's actions, handed her the new schedule, and moved on to Ron.

Hermione surveyed her schedule and remained quiet through the remainder of breakfast. Looking up at the head table again, she realized that Snape had left the hall. She was surprised to find that she was disappointed by his absence. She had hoped to find him looking at her again.

The term began and Hermione found that she had little time to think about Snape during the day. Her classes were more difficult than she had imagined they would be, and the work load was immense. Even when she was in Potions, she found that she was rarely distracted, as her work demanded her full attention. Snape appeared to be his normal self, barking orders at the class and taking house points from Gryffindor at every opportunity. He seemed barely to spare a thought for Hermione, even as a student.

During the day, Hermione was grateful for Snape's apparent lack of interest. But at night, after she had collapsed into bed, exhausted from a long day of classes and even longer evening of studying, her mind would wander back to Snape, and the way he had looked at her before. Just the mere memory of his eyes coursing down her body and the recollection of his touch on her waist, his body pressed against hers, was enough to arouse her. Lying in her four-poster bed with the red velvet curtains drawn, she would wait at night until her roommates were sleeping. Once she heard their soft breathing, she would let her imagination run wild, fantasizing about Snape, his hands on her body and his mouth on hers.

During her fantasies, Hermione would run her hands over her aching body, wishing they were Snape's. And when she would come, moaning, she would imagine he was on top of her, inside of her.

Occasionally, it would surprise her to remember that it was Snape she was fantasizing about, keeping in mind her detestation of him as a child. Even now, he angered her frequently in class, directing snide comments to students, or giving unwarranted detentions. But after a while, she came to realize that part of her attraction to Snape was his forcefulness and his dominating presence.

Snape was a disciplined Potions Master, and held his students, as well as himself, to an exacting standard. He was thorough, never taking on a task he could not complete and never jumping into anything half-heartedly. Hermione imagined that Snape wouldn't be able to help but apply his disciplined and controlled standards in the bedroom as well. Hermione felt certain that Snape would ensure she would be satisfied, and this thought, as much as any other, attracted her to her Professor.

Hermione was thoroughly aroused by her Professor's dominating presence. But more than that, she felt a need to prove herself to him. Not just through her studies. The dark looks that he trained upon her from time to time assured her that he was in control. The way in which he could take her breath away just by looking both turned her on and annoyed her. She was not weak; she could handle anything he could dish out. And the more she contemplated his behavior each night in her bed, the more she felt the need to assert some control over the situation.

One day, late in the fall, Hermione found herself the last student in her Potions classroom at the end of class, alone with Snape. She continued to clean up her work station and pack her books into her bag, however; she had done so well at not allowing herself to be distracted during the day and she wouldn't allow that to change now. She threw her bag over her shoulder and began to head towards the door. Halfway there, however, she dared a peek toward the front of the room. Snape was watching her.

Hermione's step faltered for a moment and Snape took advantage of her hesitation.

"I trust you'll have a…pleasant…evening, Miss Granger," he said smoothly, his dark eyes once again piercing her own. Hermione's heart skipped a beat. What did he mean? It was still morning. He couldn't possibly be referring to what Hermione did in bed at night…could he? It occurred to her all at once that Snape was an accomplished Legilimens. Was it possible? As Hermione returned the Professor's gaze, she was sure that Snape knew exactly what she did each night, and exactly of whom she was thinking as she did it. And the fact that he knew turned her on.

Hermione fought the urge to move closer to Snape. Had he been within arm's reach, she knew she wouldn't have been able to resist him. But she began to move towards the door again, answering him with a small smile, "Oh, no doubt, Professor Snape, it will be a very pleasurable evening." Snape's eyes widened and his mouth opened a little, apparently shocked at Hermione's response. Clearly, he had not expected her to acknowledge the not-so-hidden meaning in his remark.

And so Hermione found herself unable to sleep that evening, twisting and turning in bed. Most evenings, simply touching herself was enough. As she would run her hands over her hard nipples, and rub her swollen clit, she would imagine herself with Snape, imagine his hands and his cock. And when she finally came, she would feel peaceful and tired, able to sleep.

Tonight was different. She had come that night, twice, imagining Snape, and it wasn't enough. She wanted more. Her brief conversation earlier that day was an invitation, a challenge to do more than merely imagine him, more than merely picture his body on hers. She wanted more. And suddenly, she knew what she had to do.

Opening her curtains, Hermione silently slipped out of bed and padded across the cold floor to the dormitory door. Slipping it open, she ran quietly down the steps to the common room and crossed to the boys' dormitory stairs. Hermione stole quickly up the steps until she reached the top and stood before the door bearing a sign that read Seventh Years.

Hermione grasped the door handle and pushed the door open hesitantly. Standing on the threshold, she listened carefully, trying to discern if everyone was sleeping. From where she stood, she could hear the obvious snores of Ron, along with the quieter breathing of several other boys. Not wasting any time, she crossed the room until she stood before Harry's bed. His curtains, along with those of Ron, Neville, Seamus, and Dean, were closed.

Hermione knelt down quietly before Harry's trunk at the foot of his bed. Opening the lid as quietly as she could, she began to sift through its contents, trying desperately not to make any noise. She wasn't sure she could explain to Harry what she was doing if he awoke. Finally, her hand closed on the parchment she was seeking. Withdrawing her hand from the chest, she looked down and instantly recognized the blank Marauders' Map. Hermione placed the map on the floor and thrust her hand into the trunk once more. Sorting through Harry's clothes without the benefit of sight, she at long last felt the silky, slithery fabric of the Invisibility Cloak.

With the cloak and map in hand, Hermione closed Harry's trunk with a silent sigh of relief and stood to exit the room. Just as she turned to head toward the door, however, she heard a noise that made her stop. Straining her ears to listen, Hermione stood stock still. The noise sounded again, like a little gasp…then the rustle of fabric. It was coming from Harry's bed. Hermione was intrigued. Was someone else having the kind of night she was, she wondered?

Slipping closer to the corner of his bed, Hermione threw the Invisibility Cloak over herself, just in case. Taking the side of one bed hanging in her hand, she moved it aside a fraction of an inch and looked inside.

Harry lay on his back with his eyes closed. He wore a t-shirt that was drenched in sweat. His black hair was plastered to his forehead and his glasses were off. His blankets were shoved to the bottom of the bed and his underwear was pushed low around his hips. Harry's left hand gripped the bottom sheet on the bed, while his right hand was wrapped around his large, hard cock. Hermione watched, fascinated, as he pumped his cock repeatedly, and his breathing became more labored. He rolled his head back and forth on the pillow and began to moan slightly as the pace of his stroking became more intense. Finally, Harry emitted a low groan, and shot his load onto his hand and leg.

Hermione was so turned on, she could hardly stand it. Without realizing it, while she observed Harry she had begun to idly stroke her breasts. Not that she was particularly attracted to Harry; he was her friend. But watching him come made her think of the reason she had stolen into his room in the first place and she became more focused on the task at hand. Leaving the cloak in place, Hermione returned to the common room, where she pulled out the map. Tapping it with her wand, she whispered, "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good." Smirking at the truth of the statement, she watched as the layout of the castle was revealed before her. Eagerly, she pulled the map closer to her face in the dimness of the common room and searched for her goal. Finally, she located him: Severus Snape was in the teacher's lounge.

Hermione cursed at her bad luck. If he was in the teacher's lounge at this late hour, then he was on hall duty for the evening. She felt a crushing disappointment at the turn of events. Hermione sighed and resigned herself to returning to her bed and the remainder of her sleepless night. She slipped back up the girls' dormitory steps and entered her room. Lavender and Parvati were still sleeping, never having become aware that she had left. She quickly whispered, "Mischief managed," as she tapped the map and slipped it and the cloak into her trunk.

Hermione climbed back into bed and pulled her curtains once again. Lying back on her pillow, she sighed, imagining what she was planning to do. Her hands slipped down her sides and she pulled the hem of her nightgown up and over her head. She ran her fingers over her stomach and up over her breasts, feeling her nipples harden. Rubbing them lightly, she thought of Harry stroking his cock. What did Snape's look like, she wondered?

Imagining his cock turned her on and she felt herself growing hot and wet. While her left hand continued playing with her nipple, her right slid back down her body to her thighs and over to her mound. Spreading her legs, she slipped her fingers into her pussy and rubbed her wetness over her clit. She imagined sliding her lips over Snape's cock, imagined his cock sliding into her tight pussy.

Hermione rubbed her clit harder and moaned quietly. She slipped two fingers into herself and began to pump them in and out. She pushed her index finger in as far as she could, seeking that patch, that ultra-sensitive spot. Finding it, she gasped as her hips bucked against her hand. She quickly grabbed her nightgown and shoved it into her mouth to stifle her moans as she got closer and closer to the edge. Finally, as she imagined Snape coming in her, she came herself, hard, her pussy soaking her hand. Feeling exhausted, but somewhat lonely, she finally fell asleep.

The next day, Hermione was unfocused and distracted the entire day. She zoned out of her classes and barely said two words to Harry and Ron during their meals. Her mind was almost entirely on what she had planned for that evening. At dinner, she looked at the staff table to find Snape's eyes on her once again. She looked back openly until he looked away.

In the common room that evening, Hermione surrounded herself by a pile of books and attempted to do some work, ignoring everyone else. She was disappointed in her concentration that day and was determined to make up for it. For hours, she worked steadily, until the common room was nearly empty. Finally, the last straggler went up to bed and Hermione was left alone.

She cleaned up her books and returned to her dormitory quietly. As she had hoped, her roommates had gone to bed. Hermione pulled the map and cloak from her trunk and returned to the common room. As she had suspected, Harry had not missed them. She activated the map once again and searched for the name. There he was, in his dungeon classroom. Just as she had hoped. Suddenly, Hermione's heart was racing and her head felt light. But she ignored the butterflies in her stomach and stepped through the portrait hole.

The Fat Lady was not amused to be roused from her sleep and snapped angrily to Hermione, "And just where do you think you're going at this hour, missy?" Hermione didn't stop walking but turned her head back and replied, "To get some."

The Fat Lady appeared to be stunned into silence for once, and Hermione congratulated herself on such a feat. But then, as she reached the end of the hall, she heard the Fat Lady call out, "I want all the sordid details later!" Hermione rolled her eyes.

As she stepped around the corner, Hermione threw the cloak over her head and pulled out the map once again. Her path to the dungeons appeared to be clear. Walking quickly, she descended staircase after staircase. Her heart seemed to beat faster with every step. Periodically, she checked the map for Peeves or professors on hall duty, and sooner than she anticipated, she had arrived at the door to Snape's classroom.

She knew from the map that he was alone inside. She stood before his door and knew that this was her last chance to turn back. But then she called to mind her Gryffindor bravery, opened the door, and stepped inside.

Snape sat at his desk at the front of the room, grading essays. He looked as he never did during the day: slightly unkempt and relaxed, with his robe open. His face was serious with concentration, but as he heard the door open and no one appeared to enter, he became tense and, in an instant, he was on his feet with his wand pointed at the door.

"Show yourself," he commanded, and Hermione shivered at the forcefulness of his words. She could think of no option but to obey and she allowed the cloak to slip off her shoulders. Snape's mouth opened slightly in shock at the sight of her, but he recovered himself quickly.

"Miss Granger," he said, lowering his wand and retaking his seat at the desk. He picked up his quill as though he were going to return to his work. "What are you doing out of bed at this time of night? It is past curfew. You of all people should know that you are breaking the rules."

Hermione took a few small steps closer to his desk and said innocently, "I know Professor, I'm sorry. Are you going to punish me?"

Snape froze at Hermione's words and stared at the parchment in front of him for a moment. Hermione began again to move closer to the desk and Snape looked up at her once again. "Miss Granger, you should not be here. It is highly inappropriate. I suggest that you return to your dormitory at once."

But Hermione continued walking toward him, undaunted. The cloak slipped from her grasp and she began to unfasten her robe, her eyes on Snape's face the whole time. Snape, however, watched only her fingers working across the fabric, and did not raise his eyes to her face.

Hermione slipped her robe off and dropped it to the floor, revealing her school uniform beneath. She was now next to desk, only feet from her professor. "Miss Granger," Snape began, with exasperation in his voice, as he rose from his chair, as though to collect Hermione's robe and cover her with it. But Hermione acted quickly. Thinking, Incarcerous, she pointed her wand at him and he was suddenly bound to the chair with magical ropes. Snape was speechless; he truly looked dumbfounded by this turn of events. He struggled uselessly against his bonds; his wand was sitting on his desk, out of reach.

"Look at me, Professor." Almost unwillingly, Snape raised his eyes to meet Hermione's. His dark eyes were menacing and Hermione somewhat feared what would happen if he were to escape. But she met his gaze and felt the heat of his look sear into her. She wanted him and she knew he wanted her.

Hermione reached up and loosened her tie. As she began to unbutton her shirt, Snape found his voice and yelled at her in frustration, "Miss Granger! Let me go at once. This is wrong." But Hermione continued undoing the buttons of her shirt, replying, "Oh, I know it's wrong, Professor. I know I'm being bad. That's why I need your discipline." Her shirt was on the floor now.

Even as she said the words, she knew it wasn't what she was seeking. She didn't want his discipline, she wanted to discipline him. It was his turn to bend to the will of another.

"You know what I want, Professor. You know exactly what I do at night. I think of you and I touch myself. But it's not enough anymore, the thought of you is not enough. I need you, Professor."

Hermione undid the buttons of her skirt and it fell to the floor. She stepped out of it and moved closer to Snape. His robe was still open and she slid both hands up over his shirt, feeling his chest beneath. It was muscular and firm, and she dug her nails in slightly, liking the way it felt.

Hermione placed a knee next to Snape's thigh and climbed onto his chair, straddling him. Instantly, she could feel that he was aroused, his cock straining against the fabric of his pants. She lowered herself slightly, until the wet crotch of her panties was just touching the bulge in his pants. Snape groaned and she ground herself against him.

"You know you want this," she said breathlessly, looking in his eyes. She parted her lips and licked them, just inches from his mouth. "Professor," she said again, her lips nearly touching his, "I want to fuck you."

Hermione brought her lips to his and she instantly felt his tongue search for hers. As their kiss deepened, she continued grinding against his hard cock, rhythmically. Her hands continued their exploration of his chest, and she moaned as his lips left hers and his tongue began exploring below her ear and along her throat. Hermione had just begun to contemplate freeing her captive, wanting to feel his hands on her, when there was a knock at the classroom door.

Hermione and Snape both froze, looking at one another. And then Hermione began to move quickly. "Accio clothes! Accio Cloak!" she whispered and her clothing and the Invisibility Cloak sailed into her outstretched hand. She quickly ducked under Snape's desk. Snape whispered to her under the desk frantically, "Release me, now! Release me!" but Hermione only grinned evilly at him, as the classroom door opened.

From beneath the desk, Hermione heard Snape clear his throat and she imagined him trying to appear nonchalant. "What do you want?" he snapped to the new visitor. "I've finished my detention, Professor," came the unmistakable drawl of Draco Malfoy. Hermione imagined he must have done something pretty bad to get a detention from Professor Snape. She listened for a moment as Snape asked him questions about the research he had performed in the library all evening as punishment, but quickly became bored. She didn't come to Snape's classroom tonight to learn. Well, not about Potions, anyway.

Recognizing the moment for the opportunity that it was, Hermione turned toward Snape's body under the desk and slid her hands up his legs. She felt him stiffen, but his voice did not betray anything unusual. Reaching the bulge in his pants, she gently massaged it with her hand and then began to undo his fly. When his pants were open, she slipped her hand into the waist of his underwear and pulled out his rock-hard cock.

Snape was a fair size, and thicker than she had expected. As her fingers touched his cock, she heard him let out a strangled sigh. She ran her fingers up and down its length lightly, until she felt Snape shiver. She ran a single finger around the tip and then gripped his base loosely. Hermione brought her mouth close to his cock, until she was sure he could feel her breath on his head. She felt his squirming, thrusting his hips slightly, trying to reach her mouth.

Hermione continued to breathe lightly Snape's cock, teasing him. She could tell from what little of his conversation she was listening to that he was having more difficulty following Malfoy's responses to his questions.

Finally, when she was satisfied he had been tortured enough, Hermione wrapped her lips around Snape's swollen member and slid the length of it into her mouth. She heard Snape groan aloud and smiled to herself. Raising her head so he slid nearly all the way out of her mouth, she swiftly lowered her head again, swallowing as moved, taking his entire cock into her throat. She continued to blow him, knowing it was nearly impossible for Snape to carry on a conversation at that point.

Finally, though she didn't notice him saying goodbye, Hermione heard the door close behind Malfoy as he left the classroom. Ceasing her ministrations on his cock, Hermione climbed out from under the desk. Snape looked as though he were in agony, and there was murder in his eyes.

Hermione smiled smugly at Snape, enjoying his torture. Snape glared back at her and practically spat, "What the hell is wrong with you? Did you want to get caught?" Then a light dawned in his eyes. "You did want to get caught, didn't you?"

Hermione looked back at him, and shrugged her shoulders. "Didn't you like it?" she asked slyly. Snape continued to glare at her and gave no response. His cock, still hard and soaked in Hermione's saliva, curved against his stomach and Hermione decided this wasn't the time to talk. She quickly pulled off her bra and slipped her soaked panties to the floor. She wore only her knee highs and school shoes.

Hermione approached Snape and began to remove his clothes. "Miss Granger," he croaked, his voice hoarse, but said nothing further. Any resolve he had left was crumbling. In order to remove his pants, she had to unbind his legs, and did so, one at a time. He did nothing to move away from her or to get out of the chair, so she left them unbound. In order to remove his robes and shirt, she had the same dilemma, and again, decided to release his bindings.

Straddling the now naked Snape, Hermione felt powerful. "Miss Granger," he said again, still attempting to control his voice, "we must stop this now, before it goes further than it already has." But Hermione only smiled and said, "Touch me, Professor." He winced when she addressed him as Professor again, and she knew he felt powerless. His hands immediately went to her breasts, and Hermione moaned with pleasure. She began to kiss him again, urgently, her tongue pressing into his mouth. His hands continued to explore her breasts, pinching and rubbing her nipples. His mouth eventually began to move down her throat, until it found her left nipple. He eagerly sucked it into his mouth, rolling it around on his tongue.

Hermione's flung her head back in ecstasy, and dug her fingers into his shoulders. This was glorious. She was controlling this man, a man who had controlled her for so long, first through her schoolwork, and then merely through the heat of his eyes.

Hermione's lifted her head back up and looked at Snape. He met her gaze as her hand began to travel down between them. As she grasped his cock in her hand and positioned the head at the entrance to her pussy, she looked deep into his, feeling victorious. Just as she was about to move her hips down to impale herself on Snape's rigid member, his eyes flashed and were filled with the same intense heat that took her breath away. His body tensed and his arms tightened around her. Hermione was dimly aware for a moment that she had somehow lost control.

Then, instantly, Snape was on his feet, slamming Hermione's body into the desk in front of them and turning her around roughly. With one hand in her hair and the other on her waist, Snape bent her body over the desk, her bare breasts and aching nipples pushed against the surface of the desk. In one fluid motion, he kicked her legs apart and thrust his cock into her swollen pussy. Hermione cried out in pain and pleasure as she felt his cock fill her up, withdraw and then slam into her body once more. She moaned as the tip of his cock met her g-spot with each thrust.

Snape tangled his fingers further into Hermione's hair and pulled her head back. He reached his left arm around and grasped her breast, squeezing her nipple. Pulling her head close to his, she felt his hot breath in her ear. "Do not question my authority, Miss Granger," he commanded, his voice silky. "You have been a bad girl and I will punish you." His thrusts into her became more regular. With each thrust, she felt his balls slap against her ass, and Hermione ground her ass against him, seeking even deeper penetration.

Hermione was lost to the rhythmic drive of Snape's cock deep inside her. His all-consuming presence absorbed her and she wanted nothing more than to be dominated by him.

Hermione felt Snape release his hold on her hair and he gripped her hips with both hands. As he steadily pounded her, she began to cry out in time to the force of his cock. "Oh, God, don't stop, Professor, fuck me, don't stop!" she cried. She had completely lost control and didn't care. It was as she had imagined in her fantasy – he would persevere until she was completely satisfied.

As Snape began to build closer to his release, he began to groan with each thrust. Then, smacking her on the ass as he did so, he grunted, "You're a bad girl, Miss Granger." Hermione howled at the smack, on the verge of coming. He smacked her again, "I have to punish you, you deserve it."

Hermione was nearly there; she felt as though she were about to tip over a waterfall. Grinding herself into him more, she shouted, "Yes, Professor, yes! Punish me!" Snape smacked her ass a final time and thrust deep into her, pushing Hermione over the edge. Her orgasm came hard, sending spasm after spasm of agonizing pleasure through her body. Hermione tightened the walls of pussy as she came, gripping Snape's cock within her.

Snape groaned at the added tightness, feeling his release nearing. Then Hermione reached between her legs until she found Snape's cock buried deep within her. She slipped her fingers around his balls and began to massage them lightly. The tight hold on his cock and the added pressure on his balls was too much; Snape came, shooting thick streams of come deep into Hermione.

Snape groaned as he emptied himself and Hermione moaned, feeling the hot jets within her. She bucked her hips back against Snape again, taking his entire load. As he withdrew from her, she felt it begin to dribble down her legs, there was so much.

Hermione could feel Snape's hands shaking as he stepped back from her and collapsed in his chair. She lifted her chest from the desk and turned to face him. Then, with her eyes locked on his, she slid her hand between her legs and then brought her fingers to her mouth. Snape groaned again as he watched her lick and suck her fingers clean.

Hermione again walked over to Snape and straddled him in the chair. She leaned down and kissed him, sliding her tongue into his mouth and pressing her body against him. As she withdrew, she whispered, "Thank you, Professor." She gathered up her clothes, pulling on her skirt and shirt. Snape was watching her again, saying nothing. She picked up the Invisibility Cloak but didn't put it on. She met Snape's gaze once again, trying to read his expression. It was impossible. She threw the cloak on and began to move toward the door. As she reached for the handle, she heard him call out to her, "Miss Granger." She turned, allowing the cloak to slip to her shoulders so he could see her. She waited a moment, but when he said nothing further, she pulled the cloak up again. "Goodnight, Professor."

P.S. I have a thought with regard to who Harry was thinking of...I may address that in a future story.