The Exposure

Chapter Twenty-Five

          Monday morning arrives and you slyly sneak a tiny spritz of the new elixir you purchased on your neck, wondering if it might be at all effective. You smile in excitement as you make your way downstairs to your first class of the day, hoping to blaze through all but one...

          You finally head into potions class, finding your seat next to a grinning Ben. "How was it? The dance?" "It was perfect...she was perfect," he gushes, his eyes glazed over with a faraway, dreamy look. You laugh at his captivation but then remember your own.

          A sudden banging sound interrupts the hum of students talking, signaling Professor Snape's entrance. The door slams shut, his wand commanding the shutters closed in a dramatic flourish as his steps echo down the aisle of the now dark classroom. You catch a rush of his scent as he passes you, his cape billowing magnificently behind him as he makes his way to the front of the class. He abruptly pulls down a projector shade and turns to address the students, his black tresses swishing with the movement.

          "Turn to page three-hundred and ninety-four..." his sensual voice enunciates every word elegantly.

          You admire the directness of his tone, the way he somehow commands an entire room without ever raising his voice. Everyone falls silent when he speaks. He stalks between the desks with long, fluid steps. While he begins his spiel about today's lesson, you hear his words but miss their meaning as you watch the subtle movement of his lips, his eyes scanning from left to right, maintaining the attention of his audience effortlessly. His gaze pauses momentarily on your face. You smile softly and he squeezes one hand into a fist at his side, his jaw clenching in restraint.

          He wheels a projector to the back of the class, stopping at the center of the last row of desks...your row. Switching it on he begins the lesson, the students fixated on the screen while you burn at his nearness, smelling him and wanting to reach out to him.

          "The misdosing of these potions can result in..." the slide clicks to the next image, "disfigurement, among other undesirable side-effects." Grotesque images of the victims of misdosing flash on the projector screen, met with groans of horror from some of the students. "However, this week we will be going over proper dosing techniques as well as common poisons, antiserums and curative potions," the slide switches to a list of potions and their properties.

          As he talks through the lesson, you notice him gradually moving closer to you. Your cheeks burn and you wonder if it's a coincidence. He stands directly beside your desk, at your shoulder, continuing the lesson with the switching slides. His cloak brushes your leg and your heart thumps, feeling the heat from his body. You suddenly feel the soft graze of his fingertips on the nape of your neck. Nope, not a coincidence. You try to sit as still as possible so as not to draw attention. A shiver runs down your spine and your insides surge at his slight touch and the way his shirtsleeve tickles your skin.

          "The ability to identify these poisons accurately is essential to saving the life of the victim. Improperly administered antiserums may even induce more severe side effects than the poison itself. Oftentimes even leading to death." His fingers graze lower, slipping underneath your collar and sweeping the bare skin between your shoulders. Merlin, the Allure elixir must be working...You notice the bulge forming beneath his tight trousers in the dark room, your mouth watering in response.

          "...and while the sting of a Billywig is poisonous, the dried stinger of the Billywig––" his voice hitches as the back of your hand finds his clothed shaft, pressing against it and brushing along it. He clears his throat, "...is––may...may also be used as an ingredient in an antidote to several of the listed poisons," he changes the slide on the screen and catches your hand in his, stopping your movement. He squeezes it before dropping it and moving quickly through the last points of the lesson, assigning two rolls of parchment on the most commonly used poisons, according to statistics. He dismisses the class, his hands clasped low in front of him.