Disclaimer: This is a work of fan fiction using characters from the Harry Potter world, which is trademarked by J. K. Rowling. This story is purely for entertainment purposes, no money is being made from.

A/N: I got the idea for Moments in time (80's hits) series while reading Doing it for the Order by Desert_Sea (Yeah Desert - you are the one to blame for this ;*) and listening to the 80's hits. This is imagined as part of series of short stories, each describing Snape's or Hermione's POV.

12.08.2018.

The story has a beta now, so it will be updated with beta-read and edited chapters.

And huge thank you to my betas inviteme and FawkesyLady (Tarma)

She's Like The Wind

(The inspiration for this story was the song "She's Like The Wind")

Severus resisted stirring uncomfortably wondering what he was doing here, in this minuscule office, deep in the bowels of the Ministry research department with his former student. Of course, it had to be her - Hermione Granger - the waving of her eager hand in class, her constant need to prove her worth, annoying him to no end. Though no longer his student, she was still seeking his approval and demanded his guidance at her workplace.

The Ministry opened a new and highly demanding department that occasionally required his expertise and consultation as Potion Master – and, of course, it had to be her.

Disgruntled with his misfortune to survive yet another end of the war, appalled by the title of hero, he returned to teach at Hogwarts, shutting himself from the world. Two years ago, Minerva literally had twisted his arm, forcing him to accept Granger as an apprentice.

Who else but the Gryffindor Princess, Hermione Granger, would choose an obscure research branch that demanded she apprentice with more than one Master over the course of five years. And who else than "know-it-all" to finish her task in little over two and a half years instead of five.

He stifled a sigh at the memory of signing the contract, his agreement authored by his own sense of obligation to the student he had failed during her formal schooling. That forced Mastering was his demise - worse than service to Voldemort and Dumbledore put together, worse than a dull life as a teacher worse than anything he'd endured in his forty-four years of life.

She apprenticed under him for eight months, two more than was expected. For the first six months he could not wait for the moment he could be rid of her presence. But then, when the date of freedom finally approached, much to his own surprise, he offered her two additional months to teach her more advanced techniques. She eagerly accepted and he passed his particular knowledge to her. Knowledge that was considered almost sacred and would be passed only at the end of a Master's life.

Severus could not explain his decision nor his actions, attempting to justify his altered behaviour with the potential he saw in her. She had a brilliant mind and determination to change the world into a better place. He wanted to participate, to be the part of shaping her greatness, a mind that he'd finally recognized as kindred to his own.

After eight months of her invasion, his classroom laboratory and his private laboratory felt darker without the shine of her bright eyes, too silent without her relentless well of questions. His evenings were dull without her persistent debating of one theory or another. It took him months to get his life back into a shapeless routine of solitude.

Then, the letter arrived, a polite invitation that held an underlined "no refusal" demand to assist on her new project. For the first time since his trial, he was forced back to the Ministry.

As a result, he was here now, in this tiny office, watching her flawless elegant movements. The office was hot as a furnace, barely big enough to accommodate one, let alone two people.

He was tortured by her presence once more. What was different was that she was oblivious to him, unaffected by his foul mood and rigid expectations.

She moved around the limited space, and it seemed as if wherever he moved he was in her way. Severus wondered how many times he failed to avoid physical contact with her today.

Heat wrapped around him. It was a heat that engulfed him from within as much as from outside. He tugged the corners of his robe tighter, knowing that he truly looked like a bat wrapped in its wings. But that was all he could do. Something needed to be done before he imploded.

"Miss Granger, where might I find…" he cleared his throat uncomfortably "…the lavatory?"

"Two doors down, across the hall." She replied to him, not raising her eyes from the simmering cauldron.

Hastily, he rushed to the seemingly empty lavatory. Occupying one of the empty booths, he cast Muffliato out of habit. Severus sighed in satisfaction as he pulled off his robes, placing them on the hook at the booth's door. With a murmured spell, he shed his frock-coat as well, placing it on the other hook. He uncuffed the sleeves of his pristine white shirt, cuffs that bit his skin like shackles. He groaned at the newly gained freedom of his wrists.

Leaning one shoulder and his head on the thin wall of the booth, he tried to regain control over his body and mind. For someone who was used to absolute control over every thought, every syllable, every bodily function and reaction this, situation was…unacceptable.

With an annoyed growl, Severus straightened himself and lowered his gaze to the seams of his trousers were the groin area appeared strained to the point of splitting. With a frown, he fumbled with the zipper, pulling the trousers and the white cotton boxer-shorts down to the knees. Allowing the garments to slide and wrinkle around his ankles.

He groaned again, half in annoyance half in satisfaction, when his member bobbed free from the uncomfortable pressure of its tight, cottony prison. Lowering himself on the toilet seat, jabbing sharp bones of elbows in soft muscles above knees, he buried his face in his palms. This situation, all of this, it was completely inappropriate. He growled, feeling his swollen cock tapping lightly on his thigh. Seeking a solution to his problem, he started to list all the ingredients in the school storage, but the involuntary image of her body perched on the steep ladders while he plunging into her appeared in his mind. A painful moan escaped his lips. He sat up straight and shook his head. This was the ultimate betrayal. His body refused to cooperate, suddenly rebelling against him. He needed to deal with the situation immediately, before it becomes too…apparent.

Maybe if I take off the edge… he argued to himself, slowly wrapping a hand around his shaft. He stifled a sigh of pleasure, refusing to acknowledge it. Lazily moving his hand up and down, he closed his eyes, conjuring an image of bright red hair and brilliant green eyes. He followed her light steps in his mind. Almost instantly, red hair was replaced with the fizz of brown curls, green eyes turned to soft brown, and light steps switched to bouncy ones.

Startled, his eyes snapped open and he groaned in helpless frustration. That was not it, that was not what he wanted to see. His subconscious rebelled against him, refusing to cooperate. He hardened his grip, as if he were trying to strangle it into compliance, but pain sent a shiver down his spine. Not the desired effect. He glared down at the organ, it's dark reddish colour resembled that of a mushroom head. It stood defiantly straight, unyielding to his own will.

Growling again at the stubborn, rebellious member, he narrowed his eyes at it like that could intimidate it into obedience. It was all useless, his mind, his body, they seemed to developed the will of their own. Begrudgingly accepting that he'd lost the battle, he closed his eyes again.

He focused on the honey smell of her hair and the faint fragrance of her body, she smelled like lavender mixed with her natural, fresh scent. Thinking of the sensation, his shoulder felt like burning when she leaned on him to steady herself while reaching for the book, small palm sending heat through layers of wool and cotton. Icy prickles on his chest bloomed in his memory, appearing where her soft breasts pressed on him, the tickle of warmth as her arms encircled him, one for support, other to reach jar with the necessary ingredient.

He envisioned the gentle slope of her back, his eye sliding down to admire the firm globes of her rear as she called him to look at the cauldron, to help her asses the forming hue. That moment was his undoing, it was the final straw that broke his resolve. In small space of her office, he knew he needed to look in cauldron directly above, and she had no place to move. Reluctantly, he stepped behind her, peering over her shoulder, pressing her between the table and full length of his body. The table was just the … right … height, just like the hue of her potion.

He stared at a now purplish head of his member with one bright pearl of pre-cum, as he twitched happily at the memory of her body pressed against him. Closing his eyes once again, maintaining a firm grip, he clung to the memory and resumed pumping. Brushing a thumb over the droplet, Severus moaned gutturally at the sensation. His imagination, running wild and rampant, forced unwilling image of her teeth, slightly scraping on sensitive flesh. Picturing her small mouth wrapped around him took the last ounce of self-control. His hand continued squeezing, running frantically up and down his length, hips bucking of their own primal accord. Heat pooled into his balls, who were contracted so high up that he fleetingly worried that he will need help from healers of St. Mungo's later. Low, throaty growl escaped his lips, startling him, as he watched long streams of milky white essence spurting from him like a geyser, falling on the white of the shirt, coating his hand and thighs. Panting in large, heavy gasps, his body finally stilled.

It took minutes he didn't have for his muscles to stop trembling. With a hiss, retrieved his wand and cleaned the shirt, whipping the flesh with paper. Anger, diverted to himself, surfaced once again. Severus Snape was not a vocal person, yet now, now he was extremely vocal.

What did you succumb to, old fool? Wanking off in a public toilet like a randy teenage dunderhead. He scolded himself, tucking now flaccid member back into its cotton coffin. Bringing himself into a presentable, wrapped up, appearance.

Washing his hands, he splashed his face with icy water a couple of times. Narrowing eyes at his image in the mirror, he sighed. Proximity, it was just that, physical contact. He wouldn't delude himself; he hadn't a chance.

From the mirror, his reflection starred back. Forty-four-year-old face with hooked nose and white almost translucent shallow skin.

What chance did he have of even being noticed by a young bright girl? What he had to offer? A tarnished past. Acerbic, barely tolerable disposition. He was…what he was? Lonely? Secluded? Snarky? Greasy git? Starved for affection? Randy? In love?

Violently shaking his head, Severus denied the notion. Ridiculous.

He walked the distance to her office before she had a chance to suspect anything. No, he will finish this and crawl back to his dungeon, to lick these newly gained wounds, unsure how to survive another disappointment, another shattering of his loosely taped heart? Slipping into a small, heated room he glanced at her before glueing his attention firmly to the active cauldron.

Her presence was palpable, occupying small space almost ubiquitous - he could physically sense her from the small patch of space he used.

His eye was drawn to her elegant hands, shaking slightly as she prepared to add the last ingredient. Her shuddery breath wafted against him. She must have overthought the potion, still not confident in her own skill. It would not do.

Still not raising the eyes from the cauldron, not trusting his voice, he motioned her to go slowly. She added one single drop of liquid into the cauldron and golden haze puffed from its surface. The new bane of his life extinguished the fire swiftly, sighing profoundly with a faint smile of satisfaction. Her soft, melodic voice addressed him, causing havoc behind once again firm walls in his head.

"Thank you for your assistance, Master."

Master. He was no Master of hers. She was brilliant; so talented, so young. This was an extremely difficult and experimental potion and she executed it perfectly. She was, even now, so much more than he ever hoped to achieve in his life. What could he offer her? Even if there was a speck of hope for him in her eyes, he would only be a noose, an anchor around her lovely neck. Severus Snape couldn't offer her anything beyond his broken existence.

Nodding, he mutely left the minuscule office filled with her scent, each step heavier than the last, back into the darkness that coloured his perseverance.