Isn't He Lovely-Professor Snape

Year 6 Pt 10

"I agree, Professor," I whispered, meeting his scrutinizing gaze. He observed me intently, as if attempting to decipher the contents of a book. The strain from using crutches began to wear on me, beads of sweat forming on my forehead.

"Professor, I want to apologize for my actions last night, I-" I started, but he interrupted me with a firm assertion, "You don't have to apologize, Miss. Donnelly. I am the one to apologize."

I glanced up at him, my eyes welling with emotion. The significance of last night lingered in my mind – a moment where I felt important and true to myself. The kiss I had shared with him had been unlike any other, and I wasn't ready to let go. My gaze fell to the floor, only for him to gently cup my chin with his hand, redirecting my attention back to him.

"I'm talking to you; look at me," he growled with a commanding edge.

"I-I'm sorry, sir," I stuttered nervously. He maintained his intense gaze, refusing to release his grip on my chin. Suddenly, he leaned down, capturing my lips with an assertive kiss. Electricity surged between us as our lips met. His free hand ventured across my back, exploring until it reached my lower back. In the moment, I found myself leaning into him, nearly dropping my crutches.

With careful precision, he lifted me, placing me on top of a desk so my leg could hang off, granting it some reprieve. The heated exchange continued, his lips tracing down my jawline and neck, eliciting moans that I whispered into his ear. The intensity of the moment enveloped us, creating an atmosphere that felt both exhilarating and forbidden.

I grab his hand that used to be on my chin holding it in my lap before bringing it up to my chest so he can grab my breast. He starts to squeeze my breast and pinch my nipple which makes me gasp.

Don't stop

"We should s-stop, Professor," I moaned into his ear. My left hand found its place behind his head, fingers tangling in his dark, silky hair, while my other hand rested firmly on his chest.

He halted, both of us left breathless, faces flushed. We locked eyes, panting, the charged atmosphere hanging between us. Before I could fully comprehend the moment, he pressed his lips to mine once more. Abruptly, he grabbed my paper and headed to his office, as if erasing the passionate interlude from existence.

I gasped, the abrupt end leaving me in disbelief. Hastily, I fixed my hair and gathered my crutches, making my way out of his room. With a few minutes left until the end of class, I positioned myself near Hermione's class, eager to surprise her, attempting to shake off the whirlwind of emotions that lingered in the air.

As Hermione walked out, her surprise at seeing me evident, she wasted no time delving into questions.

"How is your leg? And how was Snape?" she inquired, her scrutiny indicating she was searching for more than just surface-level answers. But I was well-versed in the art of deception.

"My leg is doing much better. I just need to adjust how I sleep. Class was the usual—boring with a side of yelling. Nothing too special," I replied, sighing to emphasize the mundanity.

She seemed to buy my explanation, and we proceeded to the common room, ready to unwind for the rest of the day. Despite the facade, a complex mix of emotions lingered beneath the surface, hidden from Hermione's discerning gaze as we sought solace in the comfort of the common room.

             𓍊𓋼𓍊𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧𓋼𓍊𓋼

Lying on the couch with my Defense Against the Dark Arts book in hand, I attempted to delve into the world of magical creatures and curses. However, concentration proved elusive. The events of the day played like a reel in my mind – I had now kissed my professor three times, and each encounter left a lingering impression.

Conflicting emotions swirled within me. There was a certain allure to Professor Snape; his enigmatic charm had not gone unnoticed. A part of me found him undeniably attractive, but the rational side grappled with the complexity of the situation. Daydreams featuring him infiltrated my thoughts, a distracting concoction of longing and uncertainty.

As the words on the pages blurred, I contemplated the uncharted territory that unfolded with each kiss. The allure of the forbidden mingled with the genuine intrigue I felt. Lost in my own musings, the common room buzzed with activity around me, yet my mind remained entangled in the enigma of Professor Snape.

As I navigated the labyrinth of my thoughts, Dean's approach served as a welcome anchor, pulling me back to the present. He settled down beside me, concern etched on his face as he inquired about my well-being.

"How are you holding up?" he asked, genuine concern coloring his voice.

"I'm good," I replied, offering a faint smile.

Dean expressed his worries, revealing the depth of his concern. "I was really worried about you, you know? I'm so glad to see you doing better," he admitted, his sincerity evident.

Grateful for his kindness, I thanked him, "Dean, you've always been so kind to me. I appreciate your concern, and I'm really glad we're friends."

He nodded in agreement, and the conversation evolved into a lighthearted exchange. Laughter filled the air as we delved into jokes and shared anecdotes, momentarily pushing aside the complexities that lingered in my thoughts. In that moment, the camaraderie with Dean became a comforting respite, grounding me amidst the swirling emotions and uncertainties that enveloped my day.