Unlikely Connections

Chapter Nine - An Impromptu Series of Solos

Severus stood in the middle of the corridor, his face covered with an unconcealed horror, as she strode away, decidedly amused with herself. He fumed all the way back to his office, damning himself for allowing his composure to be shot so thoroughly by a goodie-goodie, know-it-all priss that he could barely stand, let alone like enough to be lusting after in this ridiculously sophomoric manner.

He growled crossly as he threw himself down in the large armchair behind his desk. He had to admit to himself that his loathing of Granger had decreased over the recent years. He grudgingly conceded that her bossiness had receded as her intelligence mounted. The girl ... young woman had a sharp, ready mind and was insatiable as far as knowledge went. With warming cheeks and an involuntary clearing of his throat, a voice in the back of his mind pointed out that it appeared that she was insatiable as far as many things went.

"So it would seem," he said aloud, to which the portrait of his raven-haired mother scoffed at him, gazing from heavy-lidded eyes, and regally stated, "The first sign of insanity, young Severus, is talking to oneself and expecting an answer."

"Thank you, Mother, I'm quite within my wits. Or if not, I am as close as I ever have any hope of being, no thanks to you."

At his biting tone, she glared at him coolly and strode out of the picture.

Perhaps I am mad after all ... battling with a beautiful woman that I have serious trouble controlling.

At that reflection, his thoughts circled back to the young and (regrettably) tempting Miss Granger. He was decidedly annoyed that his expedition into dreaming about her had not served to clear his head. In fact, it had produced quite the opposite effect. Upon reflection, he was quite certain he knew the only way for him to ... er ... purge his body totally of the lust for her, but he refused to bow to that level of self-indulgent debauchery. He had spent his entire adult life hoarding self-control; he wouldn't be bested by lustful feelings towards a child, god damnit.

He tried, fitfully, to engage his thoughts elsewhere. But he found that his thoughts would not stay on the essays waiting to be graded, the potion ingredients waiting to be inventoried, the grades waiting to be recorded, or any other number of menial tasks that he attempted to do in order to tear his thoughts away from ravaging one of his students on top of the Potions worktable.

He scowled heavily as he leaned back in his chair, his concentration waning even further, and let out a frustrated howl of anger. He wouldn't ... he couldn't do it. If he thought of her, to aid him in 'purging' his body and mind of thoughts of her, she would know it. And if their connection was strong enough to transmit his visions of her, then certainly she would know ... what he was doing as he thought of her. He was certain she would know.

But he heaved another sigh and asked himself, what other choice do you have? You know you will not rest until you've had some peace.

With a sigh, Severus rose from his chair and strode purposefully into his bedchambers, disappointed in the fact that he was stooping to something he hadn't felt compelled to do in quite a long time indeed.

****

Hermione was slumping slightly in the plush chair of the common room. Her stomach quite full of a late dinner (having slipped down to the kitchens and won over the house elves), she felt the length of the day wearing on her. She chuckled warmly at the animated stories passing between Ron and Harry - amidst their frequent questioning if she was sure she was "quite all right?" - but didn't contribute. She was warm, content and sleepy and in the back of her mind was still the dull glow of her newly acquired power over someone who put forth such effort to appear wholly restrained.

I think I'll just let him stew on that for a bit before I let him off the hook, she thought happily. After all, she had no intent of really teasing him in any way, shape or form, as she was quite sure he'd have some type of ghastly punishment awaiting her should she choose to do so. But it may be profitable to simply ride it out, to see just how nervous he would get, she thought, smirking in a rather good impression of the object of her power.

She raised her head slightly as she felt her cheeks warm. True, she was sitting in front of the fire, but she had begun to warm curiously without any provocation. And it wasn't just her cheeks. Hermione crossed her legs, attempting to be unnoticed as she realized what the growing warmth was.

A vision crept slowly across the back of her eyes, as if a filmstrip was being fed in front of them. Her heart skipped as she caught just the barest glimpse of flesh ... He was thinking of her again. But it was different than last time. It was slower. She wasn't quite sure ... was he dreaming? Or maybe intentionally easing into a vision of her? Either possibility was just as curious as the next.

But there was one thing she was certain of ... he was causing this heat.

She wasn't exactly sure what that meant until she heard his voice, a gruff mutter of indistinguishable words accompanied by a slight sound of heavy breathing, echoing just faintly in the back of her mind. It hit her just what was going on when she suddenly felt a warm stroke of arousal ignite the blood in her veins. And suddenly she knew what was happening ... because it wasn't her arousal that was warming her . . .

She excused herself gracefully from Harry and Ron's company and made her way to her room, as slowly and naturally as possible. The minute the door was closed, she let herself slump back upon it as she considered the reality of what was going on somewhere four floors below her.

She gasped aloud, her knees wobbling in nervous recognition, as her mind worded it: Snape was ... pleasuring himself ...

Severus felt her mind brush his as he lay on his bed, back against his headboard, knees bent up. So she's caught on ... the game is afoot.

Much to Severus's surprise, Hermione had a rather unexpected reaction to the knowledge that her callous Potions professor was pleasuring himself over her. She found herself inexplicably aroused.

A small squeak forced itself from her throat. She should have been shocked. She should have been horror-struck. A man older than her father, a man who was her teacher, a man who was renowned for having the warmth of a glacier, the cuddly softness of a cactus, and the endearing temperament of a man-eating shark was downstairs stroking himself and thinking of her. By all accounts, she should have been appalled. But as she made her way, shakily, to her bed, her head spun with lust. The memory of his lips on hers, his hands on her body, the feeling of his heart racing beneath her fingers that night .... It all mashed together in her mind, her curiosity racing at the thought of this man being attracted to her.

And Severus felt it. A jolt of excitement coursed through his veins, and he felt her exhilaration overwhelm him.

Hermione settled herself on her bed, back cushioned against the headboard, and propped her knees up. She stole furtive glances around the room, as if she expected to discover that she was being watched. She mumbled quick locking and silencing charms at her door and then closed her eyes and tried to relax.

Don't be ridiculous, Hermione ... nothing to be scared about ... it's nothing really ... He won't know you've never ..., she told herself. She cleared her throat loudly and mentally reassured herself. You have your own room, nobody's watching, it's not as if you're doing something wrong.

She allowed his fantasy vision to creep across her sightline again. As the Dream Hermione gazed seductively up into Dream Snape's eyes, Hermione's left hand raised and began undoing the buttons on her school blouse. Once open, she dropped her right hand to the warmth growing between her thighs. Her cheeks reddened, more from embarrassment than lust.

She reminded herself again that she was alone in her room and wasn't doing anything wrong. Her mind was ringing with the sounds of his quickened breathing. Her pulse leapt in response. Her mind was flooded with a vision of the Dream Snape slowly removing his shirt in front of her in the flickering flames lighting his office. Her body ached and she responded.

His body twitched. He had felt the tug of desire that she was now feeling as her hand moved between her legs. He felt his painfully straining body quiver in response, but decided to see if he could test her limits.

His mind thrust his vision into overdrive. Dream Hermione was now kneeling in front of Dream Snape. Dream Snape threw his head back and moaned, much like the moans that simultaneously escaped both of the impassioned mouths of the real life counterparts. Severus's fingers fisted in his hair as the vision moved on and both their bodies screamed to release.

In the back of his mind he dully heard her strangled cry as her body spasmed and quivered before lying still. He opened his eyes and glanced around the room. As his heartbeat began to slow, his mind raced with the knowledge that a young, beautiful girl now lay on her bed in a secluded room in Gryffindor Tower recovering from her first orgasm, which was brought into existence by the mere idea of being intimate with him.

Severus muttered a quick charm to clean himself up before launching himself off the bed and back to business. Before closing the door between his office and bedchambers, he looked back at his bed and smirked.

Hermione Granger becoming randy over a professor. He chuckled loudly. The world had, indeed, become a strange place.