HP Dual Masters and I had a blast in Hogwarts.

Chapter 317 Sweet Encounters with Severus

I took his wand by the way, my fingertips tracing the cold, hard lines of the wand upwards until I touched his slightly trembling wrist: "Professor's punishment is as hypocritical as the way he stole glances at me in the Great Hall during the day."

Severus's Adam's apple bobbed, and he suddenly slammed me against the cold desk.

The parchment scrolls on the table were knocked over and fluttered to the ground, while some potion bottles swayed gently on the table.

“Ayers,” his breath tickled my ear, his voice hoarse and strained, “you’re playing with fire…”

When his lips touched mine again, I tasted an even stronger mint flavor than before.

His hand ran through my hair, as if he wanted to melt all his suppressed emotions into this kiss.

The flames in the fireplace suddenly leaped up, casting our overlapping shadows onto the wall, turning them into tangled silhouettes.

“Severus…” I called his name breathlessly, only to be met with an even fiercer response.

"Still dare to make a sound?" He bit my earlobe lightly as punishment, and the wand slipped to the ground with a dull thud.

I wrapped my arms around his neck, my fingertips tracing the protruding knuckles at the back of his neck, feeling his muscles tense instantly.

The flickering firelight in the fireplace cast a sickly blush on his pale cheeks, and the surging desire in his dark eyes almost drowned me.

"I just want to call out... especially your name..." I deliberately pecked him on the lips, which earned me a low curse and a tighter embrace.

His hot breath sprayed onto my collarbone, and his fingers almost pinched the flesh on my waist.

The desk creaked under the weight, and the overturned ink bottle meandered into a black stream on the parchment, mixing with the rolling moonstone powder and spreading out strange patterns on the ground.

"You ignorant fool." He loosened the silver snake tie around his neck, his Adam's apple bobbing violently beneath his pale skin.

When I deliberately arched my back and pressed myself against his chest, he suddenly pulled me into his arms, his teeth brushing against my throbbing pulse. "It's not too late to beg for mercy now."

I hooked his tie behind my back and pulled him down, flipping him over and pinning him to his chair before he could react.

Severus's black pupils suddenly contracted, his pale fingers, stained with ink, gripped the velvet cushion tightly, and his hair, disheveled and scattered on the dark green fabric, outlined a dangerous yet alluring curve.

“Sever,” I bit his trembling lower lip, my fingertips tracing his taut abs, “you should never let your guard down with anyone, especially someone like me.”

He was about to retort when I choked him by sucking on his Adam's apple, causing him to groan.

“It seems the professor needs to review properly…” I switched to biting his reddened earlobe, my fingertips slowly moving down his sweaty abs. “How to deal with a situation where things get out of control…” Severus suddenly struggled violently, his Adam’s apple bobbing rapidly in my palm, but he completely crumbled when I whispered in his ear, “Punish disobedient students.”

The embers in the fireplace suddenly burst into sparks, illuminating his reddened eyes and his unconsciously tilted neck.

Sparks occasionally flew from the fireplace, accompanied by intertwined breathing and the soft rustling of tearing fabric, all echoing in the potion-scented lounge.

As Severus's hand finally slipped limply from my hair, the firelight in the fireplace gradually dimmed, gently enveloping our entwined bodies.

The candlelight in the cellar flickered gently in the evening breeze. Severus, wrapped in a dark green velvet blanket, curled up in the corner of the sofa. His pale face was unusually relaxed, and his eyelashes cast shadows like raven wings under his eyes.

I tucked the blanket back in, and my fingertips touched the teeth marks on his collarbone that hadn't faded yet, causing my breath to catch in my throat slightly.

He took out his school uniform from his backpack and put it on piece by piece. While changing, he accidentally knocked over a crucible rack, which made a soft sound. I hurriedly turned around—he just murmured unconsciously, his slender fingers grasping at the pillow, as if chasing some fading dream.

The wand twirled gracefully in the palm of the hand, and the scattered parchment automatically folded into a neat pile, while the spilled moonstone powder reassembled into a small silver mountain.

As I sat down at the carved oak table, candle wax happened to fall onto the uncorrected homework.

The quill, dipped in ink, hovered under the title "Slytherin Seventh Year Potions Paper".

The moment the ink spread, I suddenly understood the tenderness hidden in those red comments—always next to the steps most prone to error, small crucible marks were drawn with silver ink, like lanterns lit for lost children in the dark.

As my pen scratched across the paper, a passage titled "Precautions for Preparing Wolfsbane Potion" made me chuckle.

Beside the neat handwriting, Severus annotated in red pen: 'The description of dosage on line 13 contradicts page 27 of the textbook. I suggest consulting *The Thousand Potions Explained* again. Also: be careful not to burn your left hand while brewing—we observed in the last experiment that you are left-handed.'

Suddenly, the shadows of some creatures flashed past the window, and I looked up at the sofa.

Severus had rolled over at some point, revealing a blue Qilin mark on the back of his neck, which gleamed eerily blue in the moonlight.

The quill pen left a dot of ink on the parchment, and memories suddenly flooded back—he said that the mark appeared when I gave him that ring, and that in a moment of losing control, I was allowed to kiss that spot, and it was as if I had touched some sensitive spot on his body, and he immediately crumbled.

After he said that, it was as if some evil factor had been developed within me, and I suddenly felt a strong urge to touch that mark.

By the time I finished grading the last assignment, the first light of dawn was breaking. I placed the graded paper under his usual red agate paperweight, and as I turned around, I caught a glimpse of his dark, jade-colored eyes open on the sofa.

Severus propped himself up on his elbows, leaning against the sofa. The velvet blanket slid down to his waist, revealing faint, interlocking teeth marks on his collarbone. He raised a hand to smooth the wrinkles on his forehead, his hoarse voice carrying the languor of early morning: "Looks like my little teaching assistant is more suited to be a professor than I am."

The morning light pierced through the gaps in the curtains, casting a faint golden edge on the corners of his eyes, softening even his usually sharp, eagle-like gaze.

I waved my wand, and the wick instantly retracted into the wax body, the leaping flame turning into specks of silver dust that dissipated into the air: "Professor, now it's your turn to teach me how to... concoct a sleeping potion for those who can't sleep..." My fingertips traced the faint blue shadows beneath his eyes, "...to make a sleeping potion."

I was just teasing Severus, and I didn't have enough time left to take another nap, so I decided to just go wash up.

As I hurriedly washed up, the cold water splashed on my face, and my reflection in the mirror still carried the blush of last night.

After using a magic spell to dry her damp hair, the moment she pushed open the bathroom door, a scent of buttered toast and lavender tea wafted towards her.

Severus had changed into a crisp, starched robe, his ebony hair neatly combed, except for a few stray red marks on his collar—the marks of my entanglement last night.

The way he pushed the fried egg in front of me was so natural, as if he had done it a thousand times. His well-defined fingers gleamed like mother-of-pearl under the light.

"Potions class homework..." I started to say, but he cut me off with a piece of bread covered in jam.

“No business during breakfast,” he said, stirring his black tea with his eyes lowered, the rising steam moistening his deep black eyes.

The sounds of students laughing and playing could be heard from outside the door from time to time. I took a bite of the still warm bread and suddenly remembered the annotation in the pile of parchment—it turned out that he even remembered which hand each student was dominant with.

He turned the pages of the newspaper, the Black Magic Mark faintly visible in the shadows, but he unconsciously grasped it with his hand resting under the table, as if to brew this stolen moment of tranquility into an indelible potion.

The light reflected off the jam jar, creating dappled patterns of light, and the soft clatter of the silver knife against the porcelain plate gradually faded away.

I folded the napkin neatly, and the chair legs traced a semi-circle on the stone floor.

Just as I was about to get up, I noticed that his knuckles were white as he held the bone china teacup—those hands that always wrote sharp annotations on the blackboard were now unconsciously stroking the rim of the cup, as if still savoring the warmth of the lavender tea.

My robe brushed against the hem of his black robe that reached his knees, and I suddenly turned back. The moment Severus looked up, his misty black eyes still held a lingering sense of bewilderment, and the steam from the teacup enveloped the two of them in a hazy amber glow.

My fingertips hooked around the cool strands of hair on the back of his neck. As I leaned down, I heard him gasp for breath, like the brief silence before a potion boils.

A fleeting kiss landed on his trembling lips, tasting the lingering aroma of tea and a faint bitterness.

He instinctively reached out to grab it, but the hand froze in mid-air, forming an arc that was suspended but not yet falling.

"Severus, good morning kiss." I chuckled softly against his burning earlobe, and as I turned, I caught a glimpse of the ripples spreading in the teacup, like a pool of disturbed dark starlight.

As you walk through the winding corridors, the hem of your robe brushes against the cool stone steps.

The bronze bell at the end of the corridor had just struck seven times, and the morning mist was still drifting between the towers of Hogwarts.

I hurried around the corner. The door to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom was ajar, and the faint light that leaked out traced a crooked rectangle on the stone floor.

The moment my fingertips touched the carved wooden door, I suddenly remembered the look Severus had given me this morning—he was probably frowning at the cauldron right now, his figure under his black robes swallowed by the rising vapors of the potion.

The moment the classroom door was opened, a damp, musty smell mixed with the scent of old parchment hit you.

Sunlight streamed in at an angle through the stained glass, casting dappled patterns of light and shadow on the long table.

I randomly chose a seat near the window; the dried ink in the inkstone still bore traces of the last class.

Sirius unconsciously traced the "F&G" engraved on the corner of the table with his fingertips. The twins' pranks always made him very happy.

It feels like if the three of them got together, they might even wreak havoc on Hogwarts.

As I heard dragging footsteps in the corridor, I was looking down and taking out my textbooks from my portable schoolbag to organize them.

The first thing that catches the eye is the Gryffindor red robes. Fred and George stroll into the classroom arm in arm, their noses still covered in gold dust from who-knows-where.

"Hey, Ayers's here so early today?" Fred suddenly pulled out the chair opposite me, making the quill in the ink bottle jump.

"Be careful your pranks don't turn into real black magic," I replied without looking up, glancing out of the corner of my eye as George moved toward the podium.

A flash of green light appeared at the tip of his wand, and Professor Sirius's pointer suddenly began to writhe like a snake.

The way the two of them were trying not to laugh reminded me of Severus's gloomy face when he saw the Slytherin students' prank papers while grading assignments.

"Quiet!" The classroom door was suddenly pushed open, and Sirius walked in, stepping through the dappled sunlight.

His leather boots tapped crisply on the stone steps, his black cloak billowed in the wind, and the silver wolf head brooch gleamed coldly in the morning light.

When he caught sight of the writhing pointer on the podium, a hint of amusement flashed in his amber eyes. With a light tap of his wand, the pointer obediently flew back to its original position. "Looks like someone wants to experience the Crucifixion Charm ahead of time?"

Fred clutched his chest dramatically and slumped in his chair, while George pulled out his sketchbook and began doodling.

I opened my textbook, but my gaze unconsciously drifted out the window.

Smoke was rising from the chimney of the Potions classroom in the distance, and in a daze, I seemed to see Severus standing by the window, his black robes billowing in the wind, looking just like a black raven poised to pounce.

“That Slytherin student,” Sirius suddenly pointed out my distraction, his gray eyes fixed on me with a half-smile, “you’re more interested in the chimney of the Potions room than in Defense Against the Dark Arts? Perhaps I should write to Professor Snape and ask him to lend you his assistant?”

A few scattered giggles rose in the classroom. Fred whistled, "Professor, Ayers might be brewing a love potion for Snape!" Laughter erupted instantly. I just smiled. Seeing that I was so boring and didn't respond, Sirius waved his wand, and a blackboard covered in spells slowly descended from the ceiling.

“Since everyone is so enthusiastic,” he said, drawing his wand in the air and tracing a silver path, causing the chalk to write automatically on the blackboard.

"Let's start the practical training ahead of schedule today. Weasley twins, you two go first." Fred and George exchanged a glance, their eyes gleaming with excitement, and simultaneously raised their wands: "Blazing Flames!"

A bluish-purple flame brushed past my hair, but I remained calmly seated. Fred and George were both very sensible and would certainly not harm me.

Standing on the podium, Sirius drew a perfect arc with his wand: "Clear Water Like a Spring!" The moment the two spells collided, white mist filled the classroom.

Taking advantage of the chaos, I looked out the window again—the black figure was still standing in front of the potions classroom window, his pale face like a statue under the moonlight in the misty air.

"Faint down!" George's spell suddenly flew towards me.

I raised my wand and waved it gently: "Protect me!"

As the transparent protective shield rose, Sirius strode over, his leather boots shattering the water droplets on the ground: "Ayers, what are the consequences of being distracted in Defense Against the Dark Arts class?"

His voice was deep and dangerous, yet it reminded me of Severus's hoarse breathing last night.

I calmly raised my chin: "Professor, I think I've protected myself now. Perhaps you should remind some people not to play pranks on their classmates indiscriminately."

Sirius stared at me for two seconds, then suddenly burst out laughing.