Precarious (Severus Snape x Reader)

Chapter 3: Oh?

"For fuck's sake, control yourself."

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He sat down in the chair, infinitely closer to you than he had ever been, even as students. You found yourself looking at every detail of him, up close. His eyes were indeed nearly black, pupils hardly visible between rings of dark iris. Thick lashes framed his eyes above and below, his brows full, but not unkempt, made of the same silk that adorned his head. His cheekbones were sharp, chiseled, matching the defined angles of his nose and jaw. His skin was porcelain and clear, with a few light, scattered scars. A hardly-discernable gray haze covered his jaw, chin, and upper lip, seemingly freshly shaven. His lips were soft pink in color, bordering on thin, but noticeable nonetheless. His hair, glossy and neat, fell carefully around his face, a few strands sneaking around his eyes, ghosting the sides of his neck, framing a prominent Adam's apple and taut musculature.

He cleared his throat and quickly brought you back from the enchantment you found yourself under. When you regained awareness, you had chewed the inside of your bottom lip raw, mouth watering, and a pleasant heat stirring in your pelvis.

This was the feeling of arousal, and it was absolutely, completely inappropriate.

You wished, hoped, prayed that he didn't listen to your thoughts. You shudder in embarrassment, but mistake it for arousal, causing a tightening within a location that should not be even minutely awake at this moment.

"Do I have your attention?" he asks, his voice low but unmistakably clear.

God, his voice.

"Y-yes," you stammer, absolutely mortified.

Hell yes, you have my attention. You could feel your face burning with blush, giving away your emotional state. You quickly speak Occlumens in your mind, shielding yourself from further embarrassment. You were great at Legilimency, but not so much Occlumency.

"I was attempting to tell you about the lessons I have planned, but you seem to have gotten...sidetracked," he said, and you took note of a hint of a blush on his cheeks.

You shake your head in an attempt to clear it.

"I'm sorry sir," you whispered, unable to fathom any other words.

"My plan is to teach you to brew advanced potions. To learn how to apply certain ingredients. To troubleshoot your mistakes. Seeing as you've already completed semesters of theory, I don't find it necessary to throw you to the books. I want as much of our time as possible spent on brewing."

You nodded, and felt some of your arousal thankfully replaced by excitement for the coming weeks of learning.

"Also, because you've already spent years teaching, I had planned for you to assist in the instruction of my upper classes. Does that sound agreeable to you?" he asked.

You smiled brightly.

"Yes, that's perfect! My goal is to teach advanced potions anyway," you said.

"Good," he replied. "I'll lend you the books that I require, as well as the ones that my students will use when their semester starts."

He stood and started toward one of the smaller bookshelves in the classroom. Although a sweet gesture, you figured that you already had any of the books he'd suggested.

"Oh, sir, I'm sure I have the ones you request. I think I've bought almost every book one can find on potions," you said with a small laugh.

"Oh?" he asked, raising his eyebrows. "What about this?"

He strode to you as you rose from your chair. He extended his arm, handing you a small, well-worn book with blue binding. You recognized the cover instantly.

"Yes, Advanced Potion Making by Libatius Borage, fifth edition," you said, looking over the cover art fondly. "I have every edition."

He smiled, just a slight upturn of the right corner of his lips. It nearly made you swoon.

"I can assure you that this book is unlike any you have in your possession. Do not misplace it. There is no other copy in existence like this one," he said, quite possessively.

Curiosity overtaking you, you carefully opened the book and flipped through the pages to find that almost every one has been annotated, both with words and drawings. Some of the print had been scratched out and replaced by fine handwriting. Reaching the back cover, you saw what appeared to be a short sentence in the lower corner. You squinted at the black letters, then were able to discern the handwriting.

This book is the property of the Half-Blood Prince.

"Where did you find this?" you asked, awed.

He shrugged. "No matter where I found it. This should be especially helpful for you in the coming months. Like I said. Don't. Lose. It."

You closed the book and looked up at him.

"I won't, sir. Thank you for lending it to me. I'll probably have it read before I see you again," you said, laughing.

He smiled, genuinely, with his eyes, and reached out toward you, brushing a few strands of hair from your face. Your heart galloped in your chest at the contact of his cold fingers to your flushed temple, albeit fleeting. The stirring warmth returned, and you found yourself blushing unrestrained.

For fuck's sake, control yourself. It's not like you haven't been laid within the last four years, you thought, trying to justify smothering your attraction.

You laughed internally, recalling how long it had been since you'd last had sex. Likely about four years. Your internal monologue ceased when he cleared his throat once more, and looked toward you sternly.

"You may go now," he spoke harshly.

You were affronted with emotions. You feared that you had done or said something wrong, but remembered that he was a Legilimens, and that you weren't good at Occlumency, and he probably heard everything. Your feet were frozen to the floor until you heard his order.

"Go. Now," he nearly shouted.

You mumbled, "yes, sir," then, with the book in tow, you dashed out of the room.