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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
- 10
- 11
- 12
A/N: Hey there, if you’re enjoying this story or even if you’re not let me know either way. I’m always open to constructive criticism. :)

Portia – thank you for your kind review. I appreciate that people enjoy a story that is more cerebrally oriented and plot driven. I know that many readers enjoy smart smut (like I do) and so wanted to present something a little more challenging. Thanks again.

Oracle – ‘I don't think it was the scars that blinded Hermione, it was her inability to be fully aware of anything, including herself.’ – I like how you’ve taken a pretty hard line on Hermione in this one. You expect more from her which is great, so do I. ‘Snape is a lot like a Thestral’ – Mmmm, nice connection. ‘Luna's grandmother didn't happen to take her on wine tours, did she?’ – hahahah, she’s coming over for Easter, more wine I think :) ‘"You have been in the wars." —I have never heard this phrase before.’ – he actually originally said ‘what have they done to you?’ which was more emotive but didn’t make a lot of sense. I wonder if ‘in the wars’ is more of an Australianism? ‘She's stuck in his head. Like a bushy-haired tumor.’ – OMG that was brilliant. BTW, I’ve been quite deliberate in not beautifying the language in this one too much as I think it is sometimes complex enough without the floral tributes. But, then again, I’m not sure if it is too straight, what are your thoughts? ‘It's the Weasley remedy. Cures what ails you.’ – Weasladol. ‘I think you covered a damn good range of reasons for her to find release in the act.’ – I’m having to think pretty hard about this as you know. I’m glad it works on some level. ‘Who will Shaun stalk next?’ – hahahahaha, gorgeous.

Chapter 11 – Hand to Mouth

Naked, Hermione knelt on the carpet beside him, waiting for the blood to drain back into her body. He watched her with an expression that looked a lot like concern but, she decided, was probably more academic interest, than anything else.

“How do you feel?” he asked.

She tried to speak but couldn’t. Clearing her throat, she tried again. “Like I learned my lesson . . . sir.”

He nodded and she noticed a glint within his dark orbs. It was the third time she’d caught him amused in the past hour. Placing his hands on his knees, he leaned forward ready to rise, when she touched him. “I’d like to continue . . . with the other part of our arrangement.”

Eyeing her hand, he lowered himself back onto the bed. He didn’t look completely comfortable with the proposition but she hadn’t expected him to.

“I’d like you to focus on remaining as relaxed as possible.”

Unlike his instructive approach, she felt that if she tried to talk to him throughout, she would be met by a barrage of derisive snorts and eye-rolling so she thought it best to just state her position up front and allow her actions to speak for themselves.

Taking her wand from the chair, she stood and brought it to the neck of his frock coat, releasing the buttons one by one, top to bottom. His wary eyes didn’t leave hers and she half expected him, at any moment, to pull his coat together and storm from the room. But he didn’t. And she continued to trail the wand slowly down his front until the last button was released.

“Please remove your coat,” she instructed.

She dropped the ‘sir’. It didn’t seem right with this shift in their power dynamic. He stared at her for a long moment before finally relenting, pulling his arms free and tossing the coat aside on the chair. It was then that she noticed the tenting of his trousers. Clearly he’d enjoyed the spanking more than he’d let on. That must be a good sign.

Returning the wand to his throat, she released the buttons of his shirt, allowing them to ripple open down to his navel. She might have continued in the same manner with his lower shirt buttons but, by that stage, all she really wanted to do was touch him and the wand was becoming an object of distance. Putting it aside, she slowly, carefully, climbed onto the bed, straddling his thighs, before lowering herself onto his lap.

His jaw tensed and his shoulders straightened as she placed a hand on the pale skin of his breast bone. His heart was galloping. Clearly, he wasn’t afraid of sex. This must be about control. No doubt, he normally took the lead and this was taking him way outside of his comfort zone. As she watched the tension in his brow, and the distrustful look in his eye, she suddenly had the overwhelming urge to pull him to her chest, to cradle him in her arms and let him know she wasn’t another person he would have to survive. That she desperately wanted to help him. But since the intimacy would likely be too much even for her, it would probably cause him to implode, so she settled for trailing her fingers down his abdomen, watching it ripple and clench with his quiet exhalations.

At his navel, she grasped the fabric of his shirt and slid it out from where it was tucked into his trousers. He joined in watching her small hands as she undid each remaining button until the white fabric hung open. Despite the relatively narrow window of flesh that was visible, she could already see a number of lumpy scars marring his body. There was a good chance that these added to his misgivings, so she decided not to take his shirt off completely—aware, again, of how tenuous their interaction was.

As her hands slid down to the top button of his trousers, she saw the flare of his nostrils, like a horse about to bolt. Halting in her movements, she waited until his breathing seemed to normalise before continuing. Finally pulling the buttons apart, she found a pair of black satin boxer shorts, stretched around the hard contours of his erection.

Locking her eyes on his, letting him see her intentions as clearly as possible, she gently grasped the shaft of his cock through its tight satin skin. As it twitched beneath her hand, a fleeting grimace flickered across his lips. Sliding her fingers up to the damp patch at his bulging head, she felt his breath hitch and waited, again, for the rhythm to return, knowing that if he became too uncomfortable he would simply leave.

“I’m going to take these down now,” she murmured.

He didn’t respond. Taking his silence as acquiescence, she climbed back off the bed before grasping his trousers and boxers and tugging them down. He assisted by lifting himself fractionally off the bed until his cock sprang free, tapping against his abdomen, once, twice, like a pendulum. Not one to ever particularly think about the quality of men’s cocks she was, again, surprised to find herself so entranced by his. Of course she knew the anatomy of male and female genitalia inside out but she didn’t find herself regarding his with the sort of clinical detachment she might have hoped. Instead, she discovered that she suddenly desired its teachings in as many different ways as possible. And if he’d been wondering what her plans for it were, she felt she might have given them away the moment she knelt between his legs.

As her hands slithered up his bare thighs, he swallowed audibly before releasing a tight grunt as she closed around his silken shaft. Keeping one hand on his thigh, she gradually slid the other over the taut skin of his cock, causing his fingers to curl into the bedcovers.

She suspected he was itching to grab her. To wrestle back control. To make this about her. But she continued to stroke him gently until his cock was fully engorged and straining toward him like a fleshy arrowhead, pointing to its owner. His chin was tilted forward and he regarded her with an, almost pained, expression. She could tell he was agonising over whether to adhere to their agreed conditions or to reassert himself, defusing the tension.

She watched him carefully, aware that if she spoke he would dissect her in a flash. There were no words that could make him alright. Watching him swallow again, she took her chance. Pulling his cock slightly toward her she lowered her head and licked the soft warmth of his shaft, not wanting to overwhelm him by targeting his sensitive glans first.

His thigh felt rock-hard beneath her palm. Clearly, the ‘I want you to be as relaxed as possible’ instruction hadn’t quite filtered through. Running her lips up the side of his column, she lapped at it with her tongue and heard a soft groan escape him. His anxiety had rendered him so hyper-tuned to her actions and his own sensations, she didn’t expect for him to last long.

This was in stark contrast to when he was in the driving seat. When he took her against the tree, he demonstrated both the stamina and impulse control that indicated he could likely sustain sex for whatever duration he intended. Now, his cock was twitching and leaking, betraying a desire to be fulfilled which was, no doubt, killing him.

When she reached the ridge of his corona, she gently licked around the underside before venturing forth onto the silky helmet, trailing her tongue through the trickle of sticky juice pooled at the tip.

“Merlin!” he hissed through gritted teeth.

Slowly pumping him with her hand, she ventured a glance up and saw that he continued to watch her. She’d expected his eyes to be closed, either for the purposes of sensory enhancement or avoidance. He must be either enjoying the show or he still didn’t trust her.

This time, when she lowered her face back down, she took his entire head in the warm confines of her mouth.

“Uuhhhh,” he groaned, his hips flexing into her.

As she swirled her tongue over and around him, flicking into the slit with each pass, she grasped the base and squeezed more urgently.

And then she felt it, his hand on the back of her head. Only lightly, but there. His fingers gently curled into her locks as she pressed herself down over him, pushing his slick heat against the walls of her mouth and throat with her tongue before sucking back. Sliding her hand off his thigh, she scooped her fingers under his balls and attempted to massage them, but they were already so tight, wound up ready for release that she simply rubbed them between her fingers, priming them for ejection.

His breathing had become audible, each breath coming in a hissing moan as she flexed her hand up and down his shaft and bobbed her mouth rhythmically over his pulsing head. Then she began twisting around as she sucked on him and it was the torsional force that finally proved his undoing.

“Fuuuuucccck!” he grunted in a long heaving vocalisation that echoed off the walls of her small room.

As he clutched at her hair with both hands, she half-expected him to pull her away. But he didn’t. Instead he held her in place as he jerked and spasmed into her, his balls contracting as they squirted stream after stream of come against the walls of her mouth and throat. The groans from deep in his chest continued with each ejection, until his straining shaft had emptied its last pulse into her.

Letting his wilting cock pop free, she held his come in her mouth until her head was raised and she was looking him in the heavily-lidded black eyes. Then she swallowed. If he didn’t get that symbology then she would give up once and for all.

“Do you wish to continue?” she asked, her lips full and numb from their bruising journey up and down his cock.

Mouth propped open, he sucked in deep breaths as he stared at her. “Dr Granger, I believe your sex therapist title to be well founded.”

She couldn’t help the pleased smirk that twitched across her lips. Even if her practical experience was limited, it seemed that those years of anatomy study had paid off.

***

“I’ve finally succumbed to everyone’s demands for balloon games,” announced George. “I’ve been trying to hold off but it was becoming embarrassing trying to deter you all, so here they are as requested!”

Hermione grinned, he obviously knew it was going to be a hard sell and was going on the attack early.

The entire group stood in ‘the bath’, hands in coat pockets, looking like they would rather be inside by the log fire.

“One for you Mr Creevey.” George inserted his wand inside the end of the balloon and rapidly inflated it before tying it with a flick.

“I can see you’re particularly excited by this, Professor.” He nodded to Snape as he handed him a black balloon.

Snape peered down his nose, his lip twitching with what Hermione now interpreted, after multiple observations, as suppressed amusement.

George worked his way around the group, handing each a balloon before clapping his hands to silence the murmurs that had bubbled up.

“Now, I’m going to put you into pairs,” he said, pulling Dennis and Sarah into a space facing one another. He then dragged Pomona and Shaun to another spot. Hermione was paired with Lynch, Snape with Ellory, and the last person left for George to pair with was Emily, whom everyone now knew as Luna.

“This first game is called ‘press the flesh.’ Actually, it’s not called anything. I just made that up. But the aim is for you and your partner to pop the balloon using only your bodies. No pinching or biting. And that includes of the balloon. This is a race. The first couple to pop both their balloons will win a prize. Something . . . really . . . “ He shoved his hand in his front jeans pockets, then checked the back ones. “Anyway, it’s something that is just so utterly amazing, you should really try hard to win. Any questions?”

Luna raised her hand.

“Ms Lovegood?”

“What if you have severe burns all over your body and it’s painful to be touched pretty well everywhere?”

“Good question! Can everyone here with severe burns all over their body please raise their hands?”

Dennis raised his.

“Sarah please be careful with him will you?”

Sarah nodded dutifully.

George leaned towards Luna. “Is it really painful everywhere?”

“There’s actually one spot that isn’t painful,” she said quietly, “yet.”

George puffed out his cheeks and blinked. “Really . . . I might just have to . . . check on that . . . later,” he murmured.

Luna gave Hermione a sly wink before turning back to him.

“We’ll work something out,” he said loudly, before addressing the rest of the group. “So now you know what you need to do. Let’s get started. Ready . . . set . . . go!”

Hermione turned to Lynch who gave her a shy nod. “I guess stomachs is probably easiest,” he said.

“Worth a try,” she agreed.

Inserting the balloon between their bodies, he put his arms around her and pulled her towards him. The balloon bulged but didn’t break. Hermione began to wonder if George had given them some of his trick balloons but then saw Snape insert his between his body and Ellory’s and give her a quick thrust that left her pop-eyed and her mouth hanging agape, the remnants of the balloon dropping to the ground between them. Why wasn’t she surprised that he had a technique even for that.

“We’re going to have to do it a bit harder,” Lynch said, bracing his arms around her and pulling her to him. Her breasts squashed against his chest but it still wouldn’t work. Fucking George, she thought. He paired them on purpose. And, looking around, she saw that he’d also paired everyone else quite deliberately.

Dennis and Sarah were laughing uncontrollably. They had clearly given up on the frontal squash method and he was now pushing the balloon against her back, looking very much like he was humping her.

“Give it to me, Shaun! Push it!” Pomona was shrieking as Shaun Mollison rammed his pelvis, unproductively, into hers. He exploded with laughter—the first Hermione had seen from him.

George was bent so far over Luna that it was hard to see what was going on with them. Hermione had absolutely no doubt that their particular engagement was one of George’s main reasons for choosing this particular ‘game’.

Ellory’s normally perfectly styled hair was now hanging in ragged locks around her face as she rammed herself against Snape. Hermione bit her lip trying not to laugh as Snape intently watched the tortured balloon, his mouth a grim line. She would give anything to know what he was thinking.

“You’re going to have to try harder than that.” Lynch shook his head.

She glanced at Snape before responding. “You mustn’t be clenching hard enough.”

“What do you mean, not clenching?” His lilting accent had always amused her. “This is as clenched as it gets,” he said, gritting his teeth.

“You’re clearly getting a bit soft in your old age.” She reached out and touched his abdomen. It was like a rock. “Okay, maybe not.”

“Perhaps you’re the one getting a bit soft, Dr Granger.” His voice was a little quieter as his hand slid down her stomach. Her breath caught as she saw Snape watching them from the corner of her eye.

“I think it might simply be a matter of technique,” Hermione muttered, before grasping him by the hips and pumping into him, busting the balloon with a quick bang.

Lynch stared at her. “Dr Granger.” He took the balloon from her fingers and placed it between them. “I think you might be right.”

“Bang!”
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In Their Hands *Complete*

In Their Hands Complete