The Stars on the Staircase

Slipping

Trying not to see each other proves to be completely within our power but completely boring. Almost poisoned on Monday, Tuesday morning I had left his bed with naught but a little kissing and by Friday afternoon I was bored of trying to be professional with him.

In class we were learning about preparing ingredients for storage. What had to be dried, what had to be stored in liquid, and which ingredients could go either way depending on the way they would be used. This wasn't taught at earlier levels of school because it was thought of as a skill you would only use if you went into the trade, but I thought it was rather handy. As I charmed various herbs into dried out leaves I thought of the uses for cooking.

Cutting out newt's eyes and bottling them with oil was less compelling. As I scooped the delicate little yellow and black eyeball from its socket I felt him behind me observing. "How is my form?" I ask him in my head as I twirl the tiny spoon through the poor dead creature's mucus membranes. This was not a job I would want. I was thankful this newt came to me dead and I was not murdering a pile of newts to sell their parts. No thank you, to that occupation.

"You have an excellent form. I rather enjoy studying it with my hands." He responded. Apparently I was not the only one who was bored of trying to be good.

"I was talking about my eyeball scooping, you pervert." "Professor, is there a recommended place to start skinning this newt?" I ask, not wanting him to move away from me, delighting in the feeling of him lingering behind me.

"Yes, start at the corner of the jaw." He stepped up behind me, looming over me and standing a little too close. He took my right hand and corrected the angle of my blade.

"Get away from me or McGonagall is going to send me to Beauxbaton and I don't speak french!" I teased in my head, it's unlikely that from such a short interaction my classmates would notice anything between us. He moved on to help somewhere else but I could still talk to him in my head. I shouldn't... but I want to. Luckily he breaks the silence first.

"Imagine you were sent away for the next six months. When you came back you could whisper French in my ear while I fuck you."

"What a naughty thing to say in my head during class. Can we cut out the middle bit where I'm exiled to France?"

"You're just assuming it would be France. But the language barrier is too big. You might have to go to Ilvermorny. So very far away. You would have to write down your dirty day dreams and mail them to me."

"It's been almost a week since we've even touched and now you're lingering behind me and trying to tempt me with your closeness and your sexual thoughts. If I get sent away it will be your fault."

"Four days. That's hardly a whole week." He calls me out.

"I'm rounding up."

"I thought it would be nice to wait until Christmas break to prove to ourselves we can keep it in control. The problem is I've been making a mental list of every way I want to have you during the break and it's making me desire you in a more immediate way." He admits.

"Any examples come to mind?"

"Hmmm. Several, but one that has been playing repeatedly in my mind is the idea of sitting you on this desk and licking you until you come apart in this room you have half a school year left to try to focus in."

"You're so evil. Wanting me to make associations with this classroom."

"Is it evil to want you dripping wet for me every time you enter this room?"

"Yes, Professor Snape. I can't brew complicated potions with my body throbbing with need."

"You can. I've seen you. Now your mind is more compartmentalised you can lock up those thoughts when you need to. Whilst I'm lecturing for example, you could have your mind free to day dream and squirm in your seat."