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“That’s it. We have to talk to Minerva about adding Sex Education to the curriculum."
Hermione Granger, brightest witch of her age and designated charms professor sighed deeply whilst tossing another parchment onto the growing pile of confiscated fanfiction. The stack was teetering dangerously on the edge of her desk, a testament to the students' insatiable appetite for the absurd. She glanced across the room where Severus Snape sat, his long fingers flipping through particularly lurid depictions of himself - complete with ridiculously oversized appendages.
Snape looked up, a bored expression on his face, but a glint in his dark eyes betrayed his amusement. "Definitely." he drawled, holding up one of the drawings. "This particular artist seems to believe I’m hung like a centaur. Can you imagine how much blood replenisher I’d have to take just to stay conscious?"
"Good grief," she muttered while scanning the picture with its candid description, " ‘Her dark lord awaights‘ - the grammar alone makes me want to gauge out my eyes. Who even reads this tripe?”
Snape shrugged and lowered his gaze back onto the pile of smut. "It would appear your extracurricular activities with me have captured the imaginations of Hogwarts’ finest minds. Truly, a literary and visual triumph."
"Our activities? We chaperone, we teach, and we read. We did nothing to support this! And Severus, these are no normal sexual interactions, this is insane!" Hermione gestured at the parchments, her voice exasperated. "'She could barely fit both of her hands around it'? Really? Utterly impractical! No sensible witch wants a cock of that size. And look at this one - apparently, you have a serpent-like appendage that can coil around me like a python. What do they think a regular penis looks like?”
She paused, her eyes narrowing as she picked up another parchment and scanned it with a tilted head, her tongue clicking disapprovingly. "But no matter how large and thick, somehow, it always fits into my various orifices.”
Snape smirked. “Ah yes. What’s it like, living with a permanently bruised liver?”
Hermione shot him a withering look, tossing the parchment back onto the pile with a huff. "Why thank you, I wouldn’t know! But this isn’t funny, Severus. These students are supposed to be focusing on their studies, not concocting ludicrous fantasies about us. And do you see this one?" She held up another sheet, her finger jabbing at the offending passage. "'He pinned her against the wall with the force of a Bludger, his voice a low growl that sent shivers down her spine, rendering her into a boneless heap of willing flesh.' A Bludger, Severus. Are they seriously suggesting you’re capable of bludgeoning someone into submission with your voice?"
Snape raised an eyebrow, his expression unreadable. "I suppose I should take that as a compliment. Though I must admit," he added, his voice dropping into that low, velvety timbre that always made her shiver despite herself, "I do find it curious that they seem to have developed such an… obsession with my voice."
There was a moment of silence. Then, in a barely audible whisper, Hermione muttered “Actually, I do get that one.”
Snape arched an eyebrow. Again.
Hermione rolled her eyes, though she couldn’t quite suppress the tiny shiver that rippled through her at the sight. "Oh, don’t flatter yourself. You know exactly what your voice does to people… Anyhow. How come you get off way better than me in most of these stories? There is no nuance. I’m either a whore or a star struck student in most of these. And then there’s this ridiculous trope where I’m somehow both a blushing virgin and a master of oral gratification the very first time I try it. As if I could just ‘suck the chrome off his rod’ and ‘swallow all of his 9 inches’" - her voice dripped with sarcasm - "without so much as a single awkward moment. Here it says I cast an undetectable expansion charm onto my throat. Do they have an idea how quickly that would kill me? Actually, I might have to address that one in class. This is a safety hazard…"
“Add casting Engorgio onto various genitalia, while you are at it,” Snape huffed, then gave her a withering look. “Also, I come out looking good? Meanwhile, I'm the depraved death eather in the worst ones and a pathetic simp in the rest of them. Apparently, I invented Levicorpus with the sole intent of stuffing your know-it-all-mouth.”
Hermione cleared her throat awkwardly. "Uhm yes… I never really thought about that… was it always this bad? Before I joined the staff, I mean."
Snape lowered his gaze again, his tone suddenly evading. "There have been some stories or drawings over the years. Mostly unflattering ones. The odd one about me and Sybill or Aurora. But never like this, not to this extent."
“I’m sorry, Severus. Truly.”
“It’s not your fault.”
“I know. Still, I’m sorry they have singled you out like this.”
He harrumphed. “I shall endure. In the grand scheme of things, this is nothing.”
A short, awkward silence ensued, and desperate to break it, she raised her voice in false cheer. "At least they seem to think you are some kind of sex good. I always have multiple orgasms. Apparently, I’m capable of climaxing six times in a single encounter. Six, Severus. Who even has the stamina for that?"
"That," he said, leaning forward slightly, his voice dropping to that dangerously silky tone, "would depend entirely on the partner. Though I imagine you’d find the experience… relaxing."
Hermione froze for a heartbeat, her breath catching at the implication. For a moment, she considered brushing it off with a sarcastic remark, but something in his gaze stopped her. Instead, she felt a strange, daring impulse rise within her. "You know," she muttered with averted eyes, "I wouldn’t mind finding out. It might do wonders for my stress levels."
Another harrumph. A long, dexterous finger tapping his lip in contemplation.
"Might help out where your rather lax yoga-routine is concerned," Snape countered, leaning back in his chair with a languid grace that was entirely too distracting, "they have no trouble imagining you in the most… unconventional positions. Tell me, Hermione, do you really think you could contort yourself into the shape of a pretzel while simultaneously reciting the periodic table? Or is that one also impossible?"
Hermione glared at him, though there was a spark of amusement lurking in her eyes. "You’re enjoying this far too much."
“Guilty as charged.”
Hermione snorted, slumping into her chair. "It’s not just that. Have you seen some of these positions? There’s no way anyone could actually-"
"Which one?" Snape interrupted, his tone dry. "The one where you’re folded over while I - how did they phrase it? ‘Thrust with the force of a Hungarian Horntail’? Or perhaps the one where both of your legs are locked behind you head and I-“
"Enough," Hermione cut him off, her face flushing despite herself. "The point is most of these are physically impossible. And don’t even get me started on the practical improbabilities of some of these… positions."
Snape raised an eyebrow, setting down the parchment. "Are you suggesting these budding authors lack scientific rigor? Or are you merely challenging the limits of human flexibility?"
"I’m saying," Hermione said, leaning forward, her voice lowering to a husky whisper, "some of these… positions… might require a bit more research… on their part."
There was a beat of silence as their eyes met. The air between them crackled with something unspoken, the tension thickening like a potion left to simmer too long. Snape’s gaze flickered to her lips, then back up to her eyes. "Are you offering to conduct said research, Professor Granger?"
"Humour me," she replied, her voice steady despite the heat pooling low in her stomach. "If only to prove that some of these… acrobatics… are entirely unrealistic."
Snape leaned back in his chair, his expression unreadable. "By all means," he said, gesturing to the empty space between them. "Demonstrate."
Hermione stood, her heart pounding as she stepped around the desk. She snatched up one of the parchments, scanning it quickly before tossing it aside. "This one," she said, pointing to a particularly intricate illustration. "They claim I can bend like this and put both of my legs over your shoulders while you-"
"Yes, I see," Snape interrupted, his voice low and dangerous. "And you believe it’s impossible?"
"I know it’s impossible, my calves would cramp within the minute," Hermione shot back. "But if you’d like to prove me wrong…"
Snape rose from his chair in one fluid motion, closing the distance between them in two strides. His hands settled on her waist, his touch sending a jolt of electricity through her. "You’re forgetting one crucial detail," he murmured, his breath hot against her ear. "Magic."
Before she could respond, he muttered a familiar incantation under his breath. Hermione felt the familiar tug of Levioso, her body lifting effortlessly into the air. She gasped as he adjusted her position, pulling her flush against his lower body, her legs spreading as he guided her into the very pose depicted in the parchment.
"There," he purred, his hand sliding up her thighs, gripping her hips. "Lean back and relax your abs. If your legs were to cramp, you could always slide them off my shoulders over the crook of my arms. Perfectly plausible."
Hermione swallowed heavily, her hands fisted into the front of Severus’ robes. Her gaze flickered from where they were joined at the hips over the long line of buttons up to the smirk on Snapes face.
“Alright,” she conceded, slightly breathless. “So, this one might actually have some merit.”
Her brow furrowed in mock seriousness as she shifted slightly in the air, suspended effortlessly by the Levioso. “But let’s be honest, you’d have to be a remarkably skilled witch or wizard to maintain it for a decently long… encounter. At the very least, OWL-level stamina. Possibly NEWT.”
She cast him a sidelong look, the kind that shimmered between challenge and invitation.
“Might be,” he murmured, voice thick with amusement and something else. “We could always test it. You know - for research purposes.”
Before she could answer, his hands slid from her hips, fingers curling around hers as he gently plucked them from his robes. Then, leaning in, his breath brushed her cheek, his mouth hovering close enough to ignite anticipation in her belly. Her gaze locked on his lips, poised, waiting-
“Unless,” he drawled, one brow lifting in inquiry - oh that damned eyebrow-, “you’d rather stop?”
And then he snapped his hips forward and sent her spinning away from him, the levitation charm keeping her afloat while her limbs flailed in the most undignified pirouette.
“Severus!” she yelped, indignant and appalled. “You utter bastard!”
“I know, I know” he sighed dramatically, one hand pressed to his chest as if she’d wounded his honour. “I’ve read all about it. Comprehensive literature, I assure you.”
With a lazy flick of his hand and no wand in sight, he murmured Accio. Her body responded at once, gliding back toward him as if the very air itself obeyed his will. She slapped him - lightly, pointedly - on the shoulder, the corners of her mouth twitching despite herself.
Before he could release the charm entirely, she wrapped her legs around his waist with the kind of fluid confidence that made his breath catch, locking herself to him in a single movement. Her weight shifted perfectly as his whispered Finite began to release the spell, her weight settling against him.
One hand splayed flat against his chest, steadying herself. The other slid into his hair, fingers tangling with slow, deliberate purpose.
And just like that, the teasing flickered into something sharper. Closer. Real.
For a moment, Severus Snape - master of control, cynicism, and biting wit -was entirely still.
Caught.
Her breath mingled with his. The space between them was gone.
His turn, it seemed, to fluster.
“You know,” she murmured, her voice low and laced with mischief, “there actually is one thing I am curious about…” Her breath danced across his jaw, warm and sweet, her lips so achingly close to his that even the slightest movement might have bridged the space between them. Her whisky-coloured eyes sparkled with intrigue and something far more dangerous: a challenge.
He swallowed hard, throat suddenly dry. “Go on.”
A smirk played on her lips. “I’ve always wondered about the whole ‘doing it while performing Legilimency’ thing. Fascinating concept, don’t you think?” Her fingers trailed idly down the front of his robes, featherlight, maddening. “Of course,” she added airily, “I’d need a highly accomplished wizard for that. Someone with... exceptional control. Do you happen to know one?”
His eyes darkened, and the line of his mouth twitched - not quite a smile, not quite a snarl. “Insufferable witch,” he growled.
Yes, growled. The sound rumbled from his chest like distant thunder, deep and velvety, full of restrained power. She had always wondered what that might sound like from him. Now she knew it was sinful. Delicious. It curled around her spine and settled low in her belly like a spell half-whispered.
Her lips parted on a gasp as his hands slid into her riot of curls, tugging just enough to send a jolt of heat straight through her. His mouth found the hollow of her throat, where her pulse fluttered, and descended with exquisite slowness, setting her skin aflame.
She let out a breathless laugh, airy and bright, before it was stolen by a kiss - searing, unrelenting, and utterly consuming. The kind of kiss that would have left even their most jaded students wide-eyed and speechless.