Harry tried not to do it. He really did, but he just couldn‘t stop himself. He‘d been sitting in potions class now for almost seven years and every class was always the same. Snape would stalk him, berate him, humiliate him and glare at him and not necessarily in that order. Someday Harry’s composure would finally snap -- today was that day.
He sat trying to concentrate on the quiz in front of him, but Snape kept walking by, occasionally stopping to sneer at him. Snape’s scent was intoxicating and somehow that sneer was sexy as hell. Harry was still trying to deal with the erotic dream about his greasy professor that had woken him at dawn. Harry was becoming a master of the cleansing charm, but it was still damn embarrassing, A permanent blush graced his face these days and it was all Snape’s bloody fault!
He promised himself he would stay calm. He really did. Fuck calm!