Punish me, Professor, I dare you.

Chapter 8: En Garde!

A few days passed since my last conversation with Snape. He refuses to talk to me when I visit him every morning to work on growing his arm back. I tried to initiate some minor chat, but he doesn't react to anything I say or ask, he only communicates with minimal head gestures. His behavior starts to scare me a bit, maybe I went too far this time, and I truly made him angry. For the past days, he had a troubled look on his face, always deep in thought, I could practically see the cogs in his head turning. He is totally zoned out, not caring about anything going on around him, he closed himself up in his own world. I didn't dare to enter his mind again, although curiosity ate at me like termites, to know what he is thinking about. Not being able to talk with him didn't stop me from taking care of the man, I brought him his every meal, and brewed the painkiller potions, (which he used to do usually) one after the other for the dark man. I bathed him to the best of my ability, and groomed him every single day. Not that he wasn't able to do it. But he let me do them for him. He didn't protest, or send me away, he only refused to talk, that was it. It felt heartwarming to take care of my dearest teacher, and I enjoyed every second of it.

I successfully got to finish his elbow, which is a milestone for me. I estimated roughly two weeks to finish his arm, and I think I might be able to pull it off. Poppy informed me, that starting January, I will be able to return to the potion classes, since I'll no longer need to spend my time studying at the infirmary, having finished the majority of the basics of healing, and I'll be just fine if I do my daily studying in my dorm after classes. She will give me a theory and practical test each month, and with this she'll keep check on my progress. My heart filled with joy hearing this, but on the other hand, worry showed its head in my chest. Seeing the current terms I'm on with Snape, what kind of potion classes will I have with him? This atmosphere between us is too tense, too much nervous and awkward silence is present when we're alone. Even my naughty thoughts about him dissipated, once he closed up. I kind of understand his reaction, he needs to sort everything out, since he was just threatened with exposure of his secrets (even if it wasn't serious) a couple days ago.

While I work on the potioneer's arm, I find myself too nervous to concentrate, so I try to think about my side plan, somehow making connection with Vincent, and make him indebted to either me or Drax. Cruel people like him cannot be approached just like that, you need a well thought out strategy, and you have to corner the person, otherwise he will turn everything against you. I came up with the plan to make Vincent suffer an injury caused by us, and then I'll heal him, putting him in a situation where he is forced to hear us out without having a snide remark. I'm not forcing anything on him, since I don't even know what his sexuality is, I just want to give Drax a chance to confess his feelings in secret, without the whole school knowing about it the next day.

I often talk with Drax about Snape, and how his behavior concerns me, I even had a night where I broke down crying, because I might just messed everything up with him. What if he decides to ignore me from now on? Will I be just a simple insignificant student to him? I could not bear that.

~*~

The next week goes smoothly with healing the potioneer's arm, but there's one tiny detail that changes. I find my unconventional naughty thoughts returning full force, but this time, they come out exactly when I'm treating the professor. Each day I imagine ourselves in different positions devouring each other, hiding in an alcove, or in a storage somewhere, where I can feel his hands all over me, pleasuring and chasing pleasure, sloppy kisses and heated moans. The images only manage to make my job more difficult, since I always leave the potioneer's side with my knickers soaked through. However, towards the end of the week, when I'm working on his wrist, right in the middle of a hot sex session with him in my head, I open my eyes slightly to check on my progress, and I internally gasp at the sight in front of me. There he lays, on the hospital bed with closed eyes, a slight heavy breathing, and with a raging erection creating a bump on his covers. At first, I don't understand the developed situation, but the realization slowly dawns on me that he is fully able to hear my thoughts if he wishes, and concentrates enough; and for the past few days all he heard was my steamy imagination fucking him in every position known to man. Embarrassment washes over me as the deepest blush paints my cheeks, and I desperately try to clear my head of the filthy images, with too little success. Finishing up the potion master I only get a deep, meaningful look from him before I leave, and then he turns to his side, signaling his wish to sleep. Only two more days to go.