The Exposure

Chapter Six

           You make your way to potions class, now fully accepting of the fact that you are infatuated with your professor and there's no fighting it. You take your seat next to Ben, now as exuberant about the Harvest Ball as the rest of the school seems to be. You feel a pang of anxiety about going, but your thoughts are interrupted by Snape's entrance. Your eyes follow him, catching the flow of his silky hair and his long strides. He stands at the front of the class, the mid-afternoon's sun casting its light through the windows of the castle. He paces back and forth while teaching, his deep voice luring you deeper into your fantasies. You begin imagining being scolded by him again and serving detention. You don't typically act out, but there's something about Snape that makes you want to do just about anything to feel his unveiling gaze on you again.

           You pull out your journal to seem as though you're taking notes. You begin writing your thoughts that are now flowing unrestricted onto the page. You try to act as natural as one can while writing, "I want him to touch my face with his hands...to tie me up and do whatever he wants with me. I want to be at his mercy. I think I want to be punished." You look up from your writing to look at him again, but his eyes catch yours just as you were imagining him opening your mouth with his thumb and putting his–you look away, trying to look normal. He continues his lecture after a brief pause, and you look down his form. The sun was setting at just an angle that you thought you could see the protruding shape of his member...were you imagining things? His hands clasp in front of it, blocking your view, but you're just as happy seeing those hands.

           The weeks go by and in every afternoon potions class, you write more and more of what you imagine doing with Snape. No one else knows what you're writing, and it seems like everyone else is taking notes too. What's the harm? Although you've been so distracted by these fantasies that you've failed to take actual notes for potions. You have a paper on poisonous herbs that are commonly mistaken for household herbs and the dangers of "herbal ignorance," as Snape called it. You begin writing but can't seem to focus. Not to mention that you haven't been paying attention in class so you don't have much information to go off of. You decide to take a walk to the outskirts of the Forbidden Forest, because one thing you do remember from class is that many of these poisonous herbs can be found in it.

           It's dark out, though not quite past student curfew. The full moon casts its luminescent glow on your skin as you breathe in the chilly October air. You begin observing what few herbs you can find, but much to your misfortune, most have died with the frost. You walk a bit deeper into the forest, pushing through branches and holly bushes that scratch at your skin. After nearly an hour of searching and only finding a few herbs, you decide you probably won't find answers in this eerie forest. You make your way to the boat house, looking over the Black Lake at the dancing reflection of the moon on the water. Something about the ripples of the lake bring a peace you can't find inside the castle. You sit on the dock's edge, swinging your feet over the water. You gaze into the deep abyss, a part of you wanting to dive in but remembering the absolutely terrifying mermaid things that could drag you to the bottom of the lake and drown you. You shudder.

           "Thinking of going for a swim?" a deep voice behind you asks, and you jump up in surprise. "Professor! I–sorry, I didn't know anyone was here." Snape sits relaxed on a bench hidden beneath the awning of the boat house facing the lake. Somehow in the darkness with only the moon's light to illuminate, you can still see his eyes watching you. "I'm just. Trying to clear my head."

           "Indeed. You've got a lot going on in that busy mind of yours, haven't you?" You squirm under his penetrative gaze, but can't seem to look away.

           "What are you doing out here, Professor?" His gaze darkens as he responds, "Same as you. The ripples of the lake provide a peace that can't be found within the walls of the castle." You pause at the exactness of his statement. Hadn't you just thought that a moment ago while staring into the inky water? "I agree, Professor." Snape watches you for a moment then stands to his intimidating full height and you feel the sudden urge to throw your arms around him and rest your head on his chest. You restrain yourself and a look of amusement crosses his face.

           He slowly steps toward you, closing the space between you. You're positive he can hear your heart beating in your chest as he towers over you, so close that you smell that wonderful rich scent you've come to love. He holds your gaze. You stand frozen in place as he reaches up his hand and touches your hair. You nearly faint, focusing all your strength on steadying yourself. He slowly pulls a briar from your hair, bringing it between the small space between your bodies and asks, "Been galavanting in the Forbidden Forest, have we?"

           His eyes continue their captivating study of your wide-eyed gaze. "Oh. I–" "You know, there's a reason it's called 'forbidden.'" He looks down at you disapprovingly. "I think this qualifies you for detention. Although, you'll be pleased to find that detention offers a rare exception for students to enter the forest." Your face lights up in a curious way and Professor Snape doesn't seem to know what to make of your response to his threat. "Good night, Miss Y/n." And with that, he disappears into the night.

           You eagerly make your way back to your dorm, a silly smile plastered across your face as you climb into bed. You begin picturing detention with Snape and wonder what tasks he'll assign you this time. You imagine being forced onto your knees and looking up at him standing over you with that look in his eye...that specific look he gave you when the swelling potion to boiled over and he scolded you. Your mind recalls the image of his eyes casting downward to your mouth as he waited for you to speak. You're too worked up to sleep now, so you pull out your journal and write down your fantasies, creating stories about all the things you want to do in his dungeon.