Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

The Massage	By : CryingCinderella Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Snape/Hermione Views: 52203 -:- Recommendations : 3 -:- Currently Reading : 5
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter nor do I make any money from writing these stories.

Chapter List
- 9
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- 11
A/N: You've got me on a hot streak! Another chapter, huzzah! Thank you for your continued reviews, I love your commentary! Please keep them up!

Reading the book before attempting to fall asleep had not perhaps been the best of ideas. Aside from the fact that she was often the sort to get so engrossed in a subject that she would read straight through to morning; the particular subject matter of Tantric Thereputia had left her mind reeling. She’d managed to read the book cover to cover in a little over two hours and should probably not have done so naked. But it was her habit as of late; after thinking of him as she had, sleeping in her bed naked had just come naturally.

            But what was suggested between the pages of that book had left her stunned. And a bit more than hot and bothered. She had cast the book aside to her nightstand, refusing to look at it; the images burned into her head already hurting the backs of her eyelids. Being a magical book the images were a bit more than animated and despite the graphic nature of the moving illustrations she had not been able to tear her eyes from page after page of ‘suggestive healing.’

            Some of the things in the book she would simply not be doing and there would be no further mental discussion about it. There was no way she would perform Fellative Acupuncture upon him; the notion made her roil with nausea. Sucking a man’s cock was one thing, and in her life she had succumbed to the guilt pleasure a time or two, but using her tongue and teeth to strategically place pressurized enchanted needles during various states of arousal; it simply wasn’t happening.

            She wasn’t entirely sure how she would even approach him on the matter, when last she’d left him he’d shamed her more than she cared to admit and she had promised him another healer. And she was not going to be able to make good on that promise, which would only further prove his claim of incompetence against her. She sighed in frustration gazing up at the ceiling of her canopy, nearly dawn and she had still yet to sleep.

            Sitting up she sighed and reluctantly reached over to her nightstand, picking up the book as well as the roll of parchment, pot of ink and quill that she kept in the nightstand drawer. With another heavy sigh she opened the book once more to the beginning and began to make notes. Dawn came and went and it was nearly half nine before she finally pulled herself from the books with several feet of parchment marked heavily. With a pinch of floo powder, donning a robe before tossing it into the hearth, she poked her head into Malkins’ office.

            “I’m sorry to intrude so early, sir,” she said.

            “Granger, you look like hell- up all night with patients?” he asked, not bothering to move from his desk.

            “No, sir, but up researching for them,” she said. “I believe I may have to go outside of conventional approaches to cure an ailing patient, sir.”

            At this he stood. “Granger, it’s a school, there are limits to what we can and cannot—”

            “The patient in question is faculty, sir,” she said, quietly waiting for the onslaught of questions she knew was coming.

            “Long term care?”

            “Yes, and the treatment as prescribed by the previous attending Mediwitch is no longer functioning.”

            Malkins sighed. “Debilitating?” he asked.

            “Crippling,” she said. “And during our floo conference the…unconventional approach was suggested.”

            Malkins tilted his head to the side looking a bit like a parrot as he did. “And did Pomphrey say that this approach would work or that she’d used it before? Does the patient have a history of this particular treatment? Has the patient consented to unconventional methods?”

            Hermione kept her mouth shut for a moment, phrasing her words carefully in her head. Don’t suppose fucking the doctor count as consent, does it? She thought and then rerouted her mind before addressing her supervisor. There was only so much she absolutely had to tell him; doctor patient confidentiality would protect his identity if nothing else. “The patient in question suffers from debilitating lingering effects of a curse performed repetitively over the years.” It was the most anonymous way to say Severus Snape has tremors so bad he can hardly walk thanks to years of the Cruciatus at Voldemort’s hand.

            “And what Pomphrey has prescribed up to this point?”

            “Critical intensive care massage with the appropriate ointments and creams to the affected areas,” she said and proceeded before he could ask what she knew would be his next question. “At first the treatment appeared to work, but that was only immediate superficial response, what was witnessed after the initial administration. Upon follow-up visits the condition had returned as if the treatment had done little to nothing and the patient confirmed that shortly after the treatment, symptoms returned.”

            “And what did Pomphrey refer for unconventional treatment?”

            “A tome in her medical library that is on the records of registered and legal magical medicinal practices,” she shifted uncomfortably on her knees, grateful that he could only see her head in his fireplace. She really hoped he wouldn’t pry for specifics as she had no intentions of having to tell him the title of the book.

            There was a pause and then Malkins slowly returned to his desk. “If the previous attending has made the recommendation and the patient consents, and it is within your experience bounds and perimeters to do so…” he gestured his hand and then nodded.

            With a quick thank you Hermione closed the floo connection and sighed. It was a double-edged sword both a victory and a tragedy. It would have been better if Malkins had said no, but then she’d be at a loss as to how to further treat her patient with improvement in the results. But as he’d said yes she was now at a crossroads. Not only would she have to go and seek him out, which was bound to be uncomfortable in and of itself, but she was going to have to convince him to sign a consent form for her to practice the illicitly graphic therapies that were described in the book. And that was a conversation that she was not looking forward to in the least.

            The day drew on for her and of all days it had to rain. It only ever seemed to rain whenever the various house teams had a huge match for the weekend; it had seemed that way even when she had been a student. And of course stubborn team captains would hold practice anyway and there was always a slew of injuries to the hospital wing for practicing and running intense drills in said rain. Not having slept at all the night before and with the subject that she was going to have to broach with her patient weighing heavily on her mind she was far more short with the students admitted in her care than she would have liked to have owned up to being.

            It wasn’t until nearly nine o’clock that she realized several things. The first being that she was absolutely famished and that dinner had concluded sometime ago. The second being that she’d spent more than 24 waking hours on her feet and was so filled with fatigue and utter exhaustion that she wasn’t sure how she was standing. And it occurred to her while she was processing the first two thoughts that she had not seen hide nor hair of Severus Snape.

            She honestly hadn’t expected to; but she knew that without a treatment soon his tremors would take up again; more seriously until they began to severely cripple his movements as they had before. This made her even more irritated. She was in no condition to seek him out for his old type of treatment, even if what had happened between them hadn’t happened it would be physical and mentally exhausting and she was already past the point of dead on her feet. Not to mention approaching a new treatment.

            However very unprofessional the decision was, she made the choice that his situation would have to wait until morning. He’d forced himself to go days before when he was being stubborn and trying to prove a point. One night wasn’t going to kill him. With that in mind she made a rapid sweep through the patients admitted to the wing, and then returned to her chambers, not even bothering to change out of her robes as she slipped into her bed, collapsed and within minutes was sound asleep.

His hands were on her, tangling in her hair, squeezing her breasts, parting her slick folds, they were everywhere. It seemed impossible to feel as much pleasure as she felt then, his lips mimicking his hands, tracing every move they made. The soft knocking seemed to make his hands still. “No, no, no, don’t stop…they’ll go away…” and his hands began to move once more, two fingers slipping between her folds, but again there was the knocking and his movements paused. Louder this time, and heavier; the knocking and then there was darkness.

            Her eyes could not see in the total darkness but the knocking remained and she realized that someone was beckoning at her chamber door that led out into the office of the Medical Wing. “Bullocks,” she hissed and pulled herself out from under the tangle of sheets. A glance at her time piece told her it was a little after two in the morning. She’d met her bed at just after nine. But five hours of sleep had been better than none.

            “Yes?” she snapped somewhat groggily as she tossed her robe on over her clothes, not realizing she was still in her day clothes as she came to the door and pulled it open. The last person she had expected to see looming in the doorway was standing just a few heads higher than she, glaring down at her.

            He brushed past her and swept into her chamber, moving to stand near the unlit fireplace, the candles on the mantle providing enough light to the room. Hermione thumped her head against the wooden doorframe, “By all means,” she muttered. “Come right in.” Closing the door that lead into the office she turned around and moved toward him. “What on earth could you possibly need that my incompetent person could provide you with that could not wait until actual daylight morning?” she asked.

            He was characteristically quiet, but she noticed that he was leaning forward and it wasn’t until she rubbed her eyes that she noticed he was tilted slightly forward his weight leaning slightly frontward balanced under his hand on his cane. Hermione groaned; she was still too tired to mind her vocal responses. “Honestly,” she said and then marched back out through the door into the office, moved out into the medical wing and into the exam room. A moment later she had returned with her arms full; one carrying a wooden stool the other three pots of salve, a plastic case that looked like some sort of medical kit, and a large roll of gauze. Kicking the door shut behind her she moved through her small sitting room down the corridor and into the bathroom. She slammed the stool down in front of the full length mirror and huffed as she sat everything else down on the sink counter.

            “Get in here and sit down,” she snapped.

            It only took him a moment to enter the bathroom and she was pleased, if a little surprised that he did so without retort or remark. He leaned the cane against the sink counter and she noticed that the moment he sat on the stool his arm was already beginning to tremble. She sighed. “Here,” she said and moved to stand in front of him, drawing her wand. With a careful spell she removed his outer robes and his shirt, leaving him naked from the waist up. She thought to perhaps remove his trousers as well considering every time she’d attempted treatment it had ended with his ejaculation, but decided not to. He could deal with it when it happened.

            Hermione shrugged out of the night robe and then stepped out of the bathroom. “I need to change,” she said and made haste disappearing to her bedroom, returning in a singlet and sweatpants a moment later, the book tucked under her arm. She eyed him carefully, and noticed with a bit of uncertainty that he met her glance. “I think I’m going to try something new,” she said, placing the book on the sink counter. “Since you don’t think my current methods are working very well, and let’s face it— the tremor that’s not racing up your shoulder agrees,” she added.

            Severus said nothing, keeping his head turning to follow her as she walked behind him and stood facing the mirror. She placed both hands on his head and turned it so it faced forward, both of them now looking into the mirror. “You’re going to have to bear with me, Severus, I a competent Mediwitch, despite your claims otherwise, however I’ve only had last night to look over a new course of treatment recommended to me by Poppy,”

            Here she expected the retort. The sneer, the rolling of the eyes; something, anything other than the silent subtle nod he gave her. His tremors must have been causing him a great deal of pain. It made her almost nervous; at least with his biting wit she could respond in kind. This was highly unusual. He wasn’t broken or defeated into silence as he had been during his treatment, but rather pensive and calculating and that unnerved her even more. Turning to face the counter she picked up the book and flipped it open, eyes quickly scanning the table of contents. She flicked through the pages to number 17 and then paused a moment to read it over. “This is a treatment that they refer to as localized stimulant pressure,” she said. “But you’re going to have to work with me.”

            He said nothing and she took his silence for an ok. Reading once more she popped open the plastic kit and pulled out a bottle of cream labeled ‘stimulant.’ “This may sting,” she said. “Or it may tingle, just depending on where I put it,” she said and then uncapped the cream and paused. “I’m going to start with the base of your neck,” she said and then picked up her wand. “Don’t move,” she said.

            Hermione drew a deep breath and carefully reached in front of his face, dragging her fingers along his cheek bones to gather all of his hair together at the middle of the back of his skull. It was silky and felt almost sinful against her hands but she squashed the thought, keeping her focus. She slowly wound and twisted his hair up as she would her own occasionally in the morning, until a firm but loose knot was formed and with a gentle poke she stabbed her wand through it to hold it in place up above his neck.

            “Is that really necessary?” he asked, narrowing his eyes as he gazed at her reflection, catching her eye.

            “I don’t have a clip or a tie, and unless you’d like me to lop it off…”

            Severus rolled his eyes. “Fine,” he said and then lowered his gaze straight ahead into the mirror, staring once more at his own reflection. “But mark my words, Miss Granger, if your wand goes off inexplicably while pinned against my head, I’ll see to it that you have more than just your medical license removed,” he sneered.

            And that made her breathe a gentle breath of relief. He was sounding much more like he normally sounded and that somehow eased her mind. It made her feel comfortable. “Tilt your head forward a bit, alright?” she said and then placed her hand on either side of his neck carefully tilting it forward. “I’m going to start at the base of your neck with the cream and you need to tell me if it’s warm and tingly or if it’s hot and burning, alright?”

            He simply grunted but it was the best she supposed she was going to get. She had to admit that despite the awkward situation and her slight grogginess she found he looked rather handsome with his hair pinned up. Almost oriental in a sense and for a moment she just admired the look before turning and retrieving the cream, spreading generous portions on her fingertips as the book had instructed.

            Immediately her finger pads turned a crystal blue as if she’d somehow put little gloves just over the tips of her fingers. She flexed them, rubbed them against each other and the color did not move or fade. Shrugging her shoulders and gingerly placed her fingers on the base of his neck and like the book said applied pressure. “Hot and burning or warm and tingly?” she asked.

            He didn’t say anything for a moment until she continued to apply the pressure, standing up on her toes to add her weight into the pulse of her fingers at the base of his neck, slowly working their way up his nape. “Warm and tingling,” he said, his voice low.

            “Ok…” Hermione released her hands and then reapplied the cream. She began just where his shoulders met his neck and slowly spread outward.

            “The right is hot and burning,” he said, a bit more stiffly than when he’d alerted her to the warm tingling in his neck.

            “The left ok?” she asked.

            “Also hot and burning but the right is worse.”

            Hermione eased her fingers from the tops his shoulders, reapplying the cream as she worked over his shoulder blades getting the same response, again hot and burning and again the right side being worse than the left. His shoulders aside as she continued to work down the areas of his back, applying pressure along his spine, slowly out along his ribs and his side, she found nothing more than warm and tingling.

            When she’d finished with the cream she referred back to the book. “Alright, I need you to sit straight up so I can apply the cream again,” she said, frowning at the diagram that showed a female masseuse dipping the slender needle points into the cream and then applying them to the patient with her teeth. What was it with the guidance in the book and the affinity with dental application? She shook her head, she was not holding a dipped needle and plunging it into his shoulders.

            Carefully Hermione followed the diagram of where to place each of the needles, five were needed for each area; he would need twenty in total. “This may pinch…possibly hurt and once I have them all in- and cast the enchantment it’s going to burn like…” she leaned over and glanced at the book. “Yes, burn like the great rays of the sun,” she read.

            Severus quirked an eyebrow at her reflection and then narrowed his eyes. “You’re not sticking me with anything my shoulders are in enough pain as it is,” he said.

            Hermione rolled her eyes. “Be lucky I’m not performing the Fellative Acupuncture,” she said smartly, unable to stop her mouth as it got ahead of her mind. “That involves popping these pinpoint needles into your testicles.” Realizing what she’d said as soon as she said it she gazed down at his back, not wanting to meet his eyes, already feeling the blush in her cheeks.

            “Let us all be thankful that you have cause to not be near my privates,” he muttered and then tipped his head forward as she pushed it down.

            Hermione had taken the marking pen in the kit and drawn the faint line that would guide her for each pinpoint spot. She was nervous but managed to keep her hand from shaking as she placed the first one at the top of his shoulder two finger widths away from his neck in the space between his scapula and his clavicle. She felt him tense as she jabbed the little needle in, like tapping a very fine pointed nail into soft pliable wood. “Just 19 more to go…” she said.

            But as she tapped each one into place, easily completing the tops of shoulders, slower as she worked around his shoulder blades she noticed that his whole frame began to sag slightly. His head, which had already been tipped forward seemed fully relaxed and as she ran a hand up his spine she could hardly feel any carried tensions there. She was rather impressed.

            Standing back to admire her handiwork Hermione smiled and then drew her wand. It was a simple enough enchantment, a roll of the wrist up and down in a cross motion over the area that she had punctured. “Innervate,” she said and a bright blue light shot forth from the tip of her wand, seeking out the blue tips of the needles which now glowed in the shallows beneath his skin.

            “Arrgh!” he growled, lurching forward, his chest flat on his knees. “Merlin’s balls, Granger, what the hell are you doing?” he growled, the sound erupting from him unlike anything she’d ever heard from him.

            She could feel her face draining of color. She’d done something wrong; it frightened her and she flipped frantically through the book, reading as fast as her eyes would allow. “It’s— I only did what it said to— it said it might hurt—”

            Severus groaned again, his body beginning to tremble and she reached forward nearly grabbing his shoulder, but stopping, placing her hand on his arm instead as she came around to stand by his side. He gripped her wrist suddenly, a desperate squeezing clenching grasp. Hermione winced, and tried not to whimper, trying to ease her hand away from him. “Severus…” she tugged at her hand and watched as he growled once more, his body breaking into a soft sweat, his muscles trembling.

            But in a moment it had gone, the moaning and groaning, the trembling and even the needles, as if absorbed by his skin. She stared blankly at his backside from where she stood for half a moment in utter confusion and then she shook her head. “Are you alright, sir?” she asked, gently shaking her hand free of his. But no sooner had she pulled her hand away was it snatched back by him, and she was pulled roughly forward. “Sir!’ she cried.

            He held her hand firmly against his crotch; the intense heat of his bulging erection throbbing through his trousers against her palm. “Let’s see if you can manage proper patient protocol this time, Miss Granger,” he sneered through shallow and ragged gasps of breath.

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The Massage