The Potions Master and the Ravenclaw

Tea with Professor Snape

Author's Note: NSFW from here on out. Hope you're enjoying it!

...

Snape disarmed the enchantments locking his office. He stepped aside to allow her to enter first, then locked the door behind them.

"Exstinguere," she whispered, putting out her light.

He indicated two chairs by the fireplace and she sat in one, folding her hands in her lap. Her eyes followed him as he lit a fire in the fireplace with his wand. He sat in the other chair and snapped his fingers. A tea tray appeared on the table between them.

"Is this alright, or would you prefer something else? Hot chocolate, perhaps?" he asked.

"Oh, no, sir. This is perfect. Shall I?" she said, picking up the kettle.

He nodded and watched her as she poured their tea. Everything about her seemed refined. Her accent and her speech were rather posh. Her manners were impeccable. Her uniforms were always in perfect condition. She must come from an aristocratic family, he thought. He wondered what they were like.

She sipped from her cup and studied him carefully as he added two sugar cubes to his own tea and stirred it exactly five times.

She couldn't help but think how beautiful he was. His features were striking. His pale skin and his raven black hair were a gorgeous contrast. The black coat and trousers covering his thin frame suited him so well that she couldn't imagine him ever wearing any other color. His dark eyes glittered in the firelight and she marveled at how he could look so handsome and so sinister at the same time. It sent a warm flush to her cheeks as she wondered for the millionth time what it would be like to kiss him. They had come so close the other day in the cupboard and she hadn't been able to stop thinking about it. She longed for his mouth on hers. Longed for the taste of him. Longed for his touch. It was obvious that he regretted what happened that day, but she did not. She had wanted it. Wanted him.

Snape noticed her watching him and he met her eyes. Her hair was so black it almost looked blue in the flickering light of the fire. Her long, loose curls fell softly just below her shoulders. Her skin was flawless. Her dark eyes were warm and shining with something he couldn't quite identify. He wanted to touch her. Kiss her. He knew it was wrong, but in this moment he really couldn't think why. She was sitting so close and he breathed in her perfume. Jasmin and vanilla and white musk and mandarin.

He laid his tea cup on the tray and she placed hers next to it, following his lead. He got up from his chair and stood in front of her, staring down at her with a fiery intensity. He looked almost angry as she met his gaze. Madeline was simultaneously frightened of him and powerfully attracted to him, unsure if he intended to curse her or kiss her.  Whichever it was, she wanted - no, NEEDED - to touch him. She rose and very tentatively laid her hand upon his cheek as she looked into his face, her eyes brimming with need.

He inhaled sharply through his nose as her touch pushed him over the edge of indecision. All the angst, all the self flagellation, all the deprivation, all the denial seemed to melt away and a calmness washed over him. A peace.

He wanted her and it was all that mattered. SHE was all that mattered.

He stared at her with an inscrutable expression for the briefest time, and then he moved toward her almost imperceptibly. He slowly bent and pressed his lips to hers in the most gentle, soft kiss.