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In Their Hands Complete	By : Desert_Sea Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Snape/Hermione Views: 19649 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any other characters/things/places created by J.K. Rowling. I make no money from my fan-fiction.

Chapter List
- 9
- 10
- 11
A/N: Maral – Oh yes, I don’t mind the odd cliffie and twist, keeps people on their toes :). I’m glad you enjoyed this chapter.

Oracle – Well, as you know, I greatly appreciate your commentary. It helps a lot to hear other people’s perspectives/opinions. ‘"Nooooooo. I need more." (Which seems to be a popular phrase for me.)’ – LOL. I thought you might be able to identify with the guilty stalker. So Hermione’s logic around guilt and accountability was that people think that guilt is about accepting responsibility but that the process of guilt (the twisted perspective as you suggest) actually impedes the expression of authenticity which is what is required for true accountability – I imagine that makes less sense now? :) ‘Paddle therapy’ – not a bad idea. I liked how you were able to marry up Dennis’ phrases with Hermione’s burgeoning understanding (or at least thoughts) about what is going on with Snape. ‘Just because people maintain a safe distance doesn't mean they don't care. It usually means they care too much. (Empathy is a confounding bitch like that.)’ – yep!! ‘I think he knows very well why he does the things he does. He may not want to talk about it, but that doesn't mean he's unaware.’ – I think you might be right. ‘He's helping everybody find themselves.’ – isn’t that what he does for us? :) Your other questions are excellent around this and I think some might be answered this chapter. ‘Oooooo (I'm feeling Frankish tonight).’ – OMG, this killed me! ‘Emily is Luna. WTF?’ – and she may be other people too, an interesting Frankenstein of characters (in the nicest possible way ;)) ‘you can mould me into her as much as you like’ – didn’t even ask permission. ‘Starts compulsively masturbating and singing’ – Bahahahahah! ‘What the hell is going on?’ – more will be revealed this chapter (or maybe even I don’t know). ‘So much drama :)’ – and I know how much you love drama ;)

Chapter 10 – Dab Hand

Hermione held Luna’s hand as the tears continued to stream down both of their faces. Snape had quietly taken his leave of them and now they sat on the bed, facing one another.

Luna’s trademark blonde hair which, so far at Galladdon, had been covered by the head garment, now showed as a patchwork of short tufts. But her eyes, Hermione recognised, were the same ethereal silver-grey she had known throughout her years at Hogwarts. She wondered why she’d not noticed them until now. Had she been so concerned with avoiding Luna’s scars that she’d not allowed herself to really see the woman?

“What happened Luna?” Hermione finally found her voice.

“What can I say? I got burned,” Luna shrugged. “Turns out it was my own fault. Remember how I was always in trouble for leaving candles around the place? I guess I learned my lesson the hard way in the end. I thought I’d extinguished them all but . . . apparently not. It was the Thestrals that saved me—they woke me up, helped me through the smoke and flames.”

Hermione remembered that Luna had been able to see the rare winged horses ever since she’d witnessed her mother’s death.

“Why didn’t you tell me it was you?”

Luna shook her head. “It wasn’t personal, Hermione. This was about me trying to come to terms with what’d happened. After my mother died, I became close with my grandmother, Emily, who helped lift me out of the sadness. She was the strongest woman I’d ever known and, even though she’s gone now, I felt that if I took her name, some of her strength would also be with me. And she always pronounced my first name ‘Lenna’. So . . . I just put the two names together. Everything I had was lost in the fire so there were no records. I could have been anyone or no one after that. And, for a while, I really wished I was no one.”

Hermione gently squeezed her hand. “So you changed your identity to deal with your loss?”

“Not really.” Luna swallowed, the emotion clearly taking its toll on her damaged vocal cords. “I just wanted time to become Luna again—to reconcile the new outside with the old inside. Until I was ready to do that, I needed a caretaker, my grandmother, Emily. And she helped. But now I think I’m ready, Hermione. I think I can be Luna again.”

Hermione nodded. She was still deeply shocked, but her feelings for Emily had been so similar to her feelings for Luna that she was finding that the two seemed to merge, almost effortlessly, within her.

But then her stomach clenched. “Luna, please tell me if Snape hurt you.”

Luna shook her head and started blinking as if she were about to cry again. “Hermione. That man.” She wiped her nose on her wrist. “He’s the most compassionate soul I have ever met.”

Hermione’s head tipped back as she tried to hold in her own tears. What had she done?

“He knew it was me from the very beginning,” Luna murmured. “I don’t know how. But he sat next to me on the bus and, so very quietly, whispered in my ear. “Miss Lovegood, you have been in the wars.” She sniffed loudly. “I was so low then, he just let me hold his arm for the whole trip.”

Hermione tried to swallow past the aching lump in her throat. “You said he’d been helping you?”

“Yes. He and Pomona have been out most days, looking in the forest for ingredients. He knew there were rare herbs in these parts that could be used for healing potions—particularly ones that were effective on burns. He’s been brewing them at night in the kitchen when everyone’s asleep and helping me to apply them. That’s why I can walk, Hermione. They worked so well on my feet, I feel hardly any pain there at all.”

Hermione bit her lip and nodded. She’d just realised that when she thought she’d heard Snape saying ‘love, good’, he’d been saying ‘Lovegood’, most likely, ‘Miss Lovegood.”

“You need to apologise,” Luna squeezed her hand. “But I know he’ll forgive you.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure.” A shuddering sigh captured Hermione’s chest.

“He talks about you.”

Hermione blinked in surprise. “What did he say?”

“Mostly funny things.”

“Funny?” Hermione gave a sceptical frown; she couldn’t imagine Snape being funny.

“Yes, like ‘If Dr Granger catches me brewing she’ll have my balls for paperweights’. And one time he found a particularly fuzzy herb and said, ‘Decidedly Granger-esque don’t you think?’”

Hermione couldn’t decide whether to be offended or not. “So nothing particularly nice then?”

“What did you expect? It’s Snape.”

“He was nice to you.”

“Yes, but you haven’t been spit-roasted.”

Hermione burst out laughing. “I’m sorry,” she shook her head.

“Why do you think I said it?” Luna’s scarred lips curled into a smile. “Laughter has been the best medicine of all. I always knew the Weasley twins were funny but, Merlin’s balls, Hermione, George is the most hilarious person I’ve ever met. And he is so genuinely caring. I just adore him.”

“He’s pretty adorable,” Hermione agreed. “And a bit of an ass.”

“Perfect,” Luna grinned. “I’m going to need him to help me get healthy because I’m in training.”

“Training?”

“Yes, now that my feet are getting better, I’ve challenged Shaun Mollison to race me to the top of the lookout.”

“What did he say?”

“Well, it took a while but he’s finally agreed. He’s going to be my training partner. But when it’s race day, he’s going to have to watch out.”

Hermione marvelled at her, knowing that she was doing it as much for Shaun as she was herself. “So, can I call you Luna now?”

“Yes.” Luna gave a happy sigh. “Everyone can.”

***

Hermione had originally planned to transfigure her scarf into a blanket that they could both sit on, but she now found the mood too awkward to even contemplate it. They stood together on the riverbank, hands thrust deeply into coat pockets, gazing over the restless grey waters. Hermione watched the agonisingly slow progress of the waterbirds, their desperate lunges as they attempted to paddle upstream. She felt their pain.

“I’d like to apologise,” she said quietly.

He didn’t respond, his Snapely stolid countenance as impenetrable as a wall.

“I made assumptions. They were wrong. I know I do that too often and it’s something I need to change.”

She ventured a look at him. In side profile, his frown was less visible; he appeared to be focusing on a distant object. Perhaps a memory.

“Professor, I’m going to be honest with you. I’m not proud of what I did. I’m not proud of who I am at this stage of my life, on any level. I’m not sure what’s happened, but I feel totally inept and, frankly, overwhelmed. And I wonder if anything I say now is going to make a difference or if I should just accept that, for the remainder of your stay here, it would be best if we terminate all contact on both a personal and professional level?”

After a long pause, he turned to her. His indelible frown was present but it was more confused than disapproving. “I’d like to hear your explanation before deciding upon a course of action.”

Hermione shrugged, kicking at the dewy grass around her boots. “All I can say is that I let my emotions get the better of me. On one level I thought I was protecting Emily . . . Luna. But on another I was angry at you. I wanted to punish you for ignoring me. I thought you were deliberately attempting to make me jealous. And I was jealous. I know there are so many things you can say about my behaviour. They are all true. I’m deeply flawed. I probably shouldn’t even be here.”

He turned back to the water. “You’re a woman who clearly hasn’t had sexual attention in a long time.”

Hermione nodded. “Yes, but it’s more than that. You’ve shown me something I didn’t think existed in me, something I’d given up on. And now I know it’s there, I’m desperate not to let it go. I don’t want to go back to the way I was. But, then again, at least the way I was, didn’t have me hitting innocent people around the face.”

“I’m far from innocent, Dr Granger,” his voice was a low rumble, almost lost in the sound of the rushing water.

“I know what you did for Luna and what you’ve done for others here. You are undoubtedly caring and compassionate. But I also know you deny your own needs and now I think it’s because you believe that you don’t deserve them to be met. I wonder if you understood Shaun Mollison and the Cruciatus because you’re punishing yourself in a similar way.”

Snape was silent for a long while before he finally sighed. “It seems to me that there are two possible courses of action. Either I tell Lynch that I refuse to engage with you further, whereupon I am subjected to his tedious exercise regimes, Weasley’s fart jokes and Ellory’s fondling which, by the way, she’s very good at but lacking in confidence because she seems to be undermined at every turn by the ‘golden girl’ who can do no wrong in Lynch’s eyes and who endlessly questions her skills.”

Hermione was quite taken aback by the insinuation and was about to respond when Snape raised a hand.

“Or, we continue with our arrangement until you demonstrate to me that you have matured sufficiently in your understanding to help me.”

Hermione considered his words.

“I’m not sure we have sufficient time. I would like to suggest an iterative approach. In the same way that I am able to indicate if I’m willing to continue after each session, you will have an equivalent opportunity. However, I want your needs to be integrated into our sessions. I believe they are integral to my own understanding and, of course, I think you will concomitantly benefit.”

His lips pouted thoughtfully and, if she were honest, utterly sexily. “A persuasive argument, Dr Granger,” he mused before releasing a long breath. “And, to be frank, I’m too fucking tired to argue. Mollison’s ticking keeps me awake half the night and brewing for Miss Lovegood has had me awake the rest of the time. I agree to your terms. I would also add that, from now on, it would be appropriate for you to approach me when you are ready for your next lesson.”

“I’ll see you this evening then,” Hermione replied, focusing intently upon the plight of the waterbirds.

He glanced at her, eyebrow raised and the ghost of a smirk on his lips. “That was one thing I always did admire about you Dr Granger, you were always so desperate to learn.”

***

“I want all of your clothes off for this.” Snape was seated on the end of her bed, hands resting on his knees.

“Are you going to tell me what we’re doing?”

“The appropriate response would be, ‘yes, sir.’”

Hermione unfolded her arms.

“Yes, sir.” She didn’t sound particularly submissive but he didn’t admonish her further.

She began removing her clothing, draping each piece over a nearby chair. She watched him watching her as she peeled off layer after layer of ‘farm hand’ until she was standing, completely naked, before him.

“It’s cold.” She suddenly shivered, folding her arms in front of her rock-hard nipples. He reached forward and grasped her wrists, pulling them back down to her sides.

“You’ll be warm soon enough,” he said, running one hand down her hip in a familiar gesture that surprised her. “Now, I want you over my lap.”

She stared at him, her eyes searching his. “I really don’t think that’s my . . . thing.”

He rolled his eyes. “Since when has the purpose of this exercise been to find your ‘thing’? This is about you being willing to adopt and understand different mindsets from your current one. And, believe me, after today, this is something you’ll benefit from. I’m willing to talk you through it but I don’t want to be constantly met by blatant refusal.”

“I’m not . . . it’s just . . . “ She looked down at the dark wool of his trouser-clad thighs and imagined her naked body draped over them. “It seems childish.”

He looked at her hard. “Need I remind you of the words you used this morning? ‘Inept’, ‘overwhelmed’, ‘flawed’, ‘jealous’ —they are just ‘adult speak’ for frightened, naughty and ‘having a temper tantrum’. Your identity is not your occupation, Dr Granger. You are a composite of emotions, many of which developed and still reside within the domain of childhood. But, most importantly for you, this is about control and relinquishing it—not in a professional power dynamic per se but where you defer to someone with greater expertise and someone you trust to know what you need.”

She still looked unsure and decidedly awkward but took a deep breath and tried to push away her professional demeanour, bending forward over his legs so her bottom was directly above his right thigh.

“Is this going to — Ow!” she cried, her head jerking up to glare at him. “That fucking hurt . . . sir.”

“Head down.” He returned her glare. “Now.”

She reluctantly let her curly mop flop back over her head.

There was another loud slap and a burning sting as his hard palm landed on her left cheek.

She bit her lip and shook her head. It hurt far more than she would have thought possible.

“What we have, Dr Granger, is a situation where you have controlled your sensory input within such narrow parameters that this sort of sensation is totally foreign to you. Your body resists it. But it shouldn’t.”

He slammed into the other cheek.

She grunted but didn’t cry out.

“This is not a matter of me hurting you. This is you requesting correction and me servicing that need. I want you to focus on that. Remember your guilt? You hitting me? Causing me pain? Connect with that memory too.”

She felt another intense flash of pain across her backside and the jolt of it connecting with her need to be absolved. On some level, it suddenly felt like a relief.

The next slap seemed duller even though she knew the intensity was building. It was as if now she’d stopped resisting so much, it wasn’t causing her the same degree of pain.

“Now consider the vulnerability of your current situation. You have given yourself to me. You have exposed yourself fully and trusted me to know your needs. This is why I’m doing this for you, not to you.”

Her breath came out in a grunting sigh with the next slap. Another release. And then she felt it, a tightening in her core at the understanding that this act was ‘for her.’ Her head felt lighter even though her rump was on fire.

He gave her another and her body relaxed immediately afterward. This time his palm came down to rub her gently afterwards.

“That’s it. Do you feel that?”

She did.

“Do you need more?”

She nodded, wondering if the sensation and understanding had further to evolve within her. He gave her another and she barely responded. It was as if the pain was now accepted and harnessed within her, radiating and transforming. She could feel herself getting wet, especially from the gentle caresses that followed. It seemed to consolidate the intention. That it was an extreme form of stimulation above anything else and that it wasn’t malicious. If anything it was caring, as the level of trust was higher than she’d ever allowed before.

He administered the final one and she slumped heavily over him; even her eyelids and tongue felt like they’d been slapped. “Thank you, sir,” she murmured thickly.

“You did very well, Dr Granger.” His rich voice oozed into her creamy crevices like caramel topping. “And because you allowed me to do what was needed, I’m going to show you what that level of acceptance and trust has done to your body.

He trailed the hand that had been gliding gently over her throbbing cheeks down between them, sliding across her puckered entrance before delving two fingers into her dripping opening.

“Do you hear yourself, Dr Granger?” he murmured, thrusting rhythmically into her channel, making it squelch with each rapid insertion and slow withdrawal. “Maybe we have found your ‘thing.'”

Hermione’s face was warm and throbbing like her cheeks and the sound of him stirring her honey pot made it even moreso. His fingers slid purposefully along her walls and she felt his thumb rubbing along her perineum, the lubrication from her vagina spilling out to assist the process.

“Tell me what you want, Dr Granger.”

The use of her professional title in this setting made her insides squirm even more.

“I want you to make me come, sir.”

“And what if I don’t?”

“I’ll do it myself, sir.”

“What would you prefer? My hand or yours?” His fingers pumped into her more deeply just to emphasise the point.

“Yours,” she groaned in response.

“Why?”

“Because . . . because your hand knows what I need more than mine does.”

“Very good.” She thought she even heard the trace of a smile in his voice. “Open your legs wider, we’re going to do this here.”

She wriggled her legs apart, then felt him spread his own thighs further to give his other hand access to her hyper-sensitised clitoris, which had been abrading against his trouser leg the whole time. With two sets of digits pushing in opposite directions, he set to work stimulating her both internally and externally. Her clitoris and labia were kneaded together in a mash of swollen flesh, while three fingers delved into her slurping passage.

She clawed at the carpet for traction as her hips rocked of their own accord, riding the fingers inside her and rubbing against the ones now jiggling her clitoris with a rapid sideways action.

“Uuuhhhh,” she moaned as she felt the tension already mounting inside her.

“Tell me how you feel,” his voice was tight with the effort of his movements.

“It feels like you’re going to make me explode,” she panted. “It could get messy.”

“I hope so.” His creamy voice added to her sloshing lubrication and she almost couldn’t believe that her own body could make such a racket.

“Gods!” Her head bucked forward as she felt his thumb sliding along her slick crevice and pressing into her anus with each thrust. He was alternating between massaging her clitoris and rubbing it frantically, and when he started on the next set of rapid-fire jiggling, it pushed her over the edge.

She cried out, her head arching into the air at the same time as her legs kicked out with the onslaught of her orgasm. Her vocalisations continued with every convulsion as she jerked and writhed across his strong thighs. Somehow he managed to keep his hands on and inside her as she erupted around him, continuing to stimulate her throughout, wringing every contraction from her swollen channel, and a stream of juice from her pulsing urethra, coating his agitating fingers and spattering onto the floor.

“Unnh, unnh, unnh.” Even her breathing required effort as she tried to come down from what had felt like a demonic possession.

“Do I need to ask if you wish to continue?” Despite the deep breaths that laboured his voice, she detected a note of amusement.

“No sir,” she rasped. “I think that was quite emphatic.”
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In Their Hands *Complete*

In Their Hands Complete