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Getting Personal	By : OracleObscured Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Snape/Hermione Views: 38186 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 5
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
- 11
- 12
- 13
A/N: Editing went fine this week, but this chapter had no title until a day ago. In case you haven't noticed, all the chapter titles have been song lyrics/titles. I actually named almost all the chapters during the initial writing, and I've only felt the need to change a few. But this was the only one that didn't make me immediately think of an appropriate song. It wasn't until the early hours of Wednesday morning, when I was listening to one of my many 80's playlists, that I heard the answer being sung to me by the glorious Stevie Nicks.

Ah, thank you, Stevie. Your help is always appreciated.

Fun fact. A Tilt-A-Whirl is called a Waltzer in Europe (vice versa for you Europeans). Yes, this is pertinent to the story.

Happy reading, everyone.
Vinegar_strokes: Thank you so much for all your kind words. I hope you enjoy the rest of the coming chapters. If you're going to read my other stories, I should warn you that they're not all gold. Some are better than others. I'm still learning. Sometimes it's hit or miss. Don't read Puppy Love. It's the one I intended to re-write as soon as I'm done with GP. I don't know why I posted a story I wasn't happy with. I think I just wanted to stop thinking about it.
Desert_Sea: LOL. Yes, the volume of my work does keep me busy. That's why it takes me all week to re-write and edit. And yes I do have sleeping problems, but I can't blame that on the writing (although the writing does keep me awake longer than I'd like some nights).

I think you picked out all the main reasons I like chapter 11 too. The Christmas puns were fun. I think I was trying to get myself in the spirit. I do try to keep the descriptions fresh. Things get monotonous otherwise.

Actually, having said that, the entire first paragraph about her return to Hogwarts and Snapes chambers was excellent – perfect. Yeah, I was in the groove when I wrote that. I wish I knew what brought those moments on so I could write in that state all the time.

was it purposeful that the white ones stayed up and the other colours didn’t – I was taking quite a scientific approach to the interpretation. Hmm. Yes and no. I originally wrote that he used a package of all white lights when they took their bath. But I found that bit unnecessary for the story and edited it out. When I got to that part where she wakes up, I decided to leave what I'd written about the white lights still being on as a sort of symbolic representation of their relationship. They hit a new level of closeness in Australia, and this is kind of a new dawn for them, a fresh start where everything has changed. In art the lack of color is white. It's the the neutral blankness on which build your palette. That part about Snape wearing a white shirt in Australia wasn't by accident. It was a turning point for them. The color is a reflection of that.

There was a poignant contrast between her child-like excitement at sharing and the unspoken adult sadness that the locket represented. I really like your summary. You put better words to my intentions than I do.

I’ve also appropriated some terms from you – very excited about the word carillon! Bwhahaha! I've got a whole notebook of appropriated words. Yeah, carillon was a flash of brain power for me. I never thought I'd have the need for it in my own writing. I'm sure I wouldn't have thought of it if it had been another time of year. (There's a carillon park not too far away, and they have a big Christmas thing every year. It must have been floating around in my subconscious.)
Trelweny: The carol-coitus—that's great. I'm glad you enjoyed the big reveal. That bit with Neville was so immediately clear in my head when I started writing the chapter. It's one of my favorite parts too.

I'm always happy to inspire any "good times" no matter where they might be. (Many of my favorite memories have happened on couches.) And I love that you're reading lines of GP to your sister-in-law. Your Christmas sounds much more entertaining than mine.

Yeeees! Crooks is both friend and guardian to Hermione. I'm glad I got that across. I added some lines to make it clearer, because it's been pretty vague up until this point.

But he has been vetting Snape this whole time.

I'm relieved my scene with James was met with approval. I've never actually explained death to a child, so I just went with what I thought I'd say. Your boy sounds like he has a big heart. He must have a mother who taught him how to keep it full of love. I hope you both had a merry Christmas. Thank you for continuing to read and review.

As a side note, a couple of weeks ago I checked to see which reviewers had crossed over from TMG to GP, and you're the only one who reviewed both. (By the way, I changed those deserts to desserts and took out the extra comes. I'll probably go back one day and re-write all the parts I'm not happy with.) I appreciate your continued support.
FieryPhoneix: Oh, the craziness isn't over. But there is some lemonade to quench your thirst in this chapter. Happy reading.
Anon: Thank you so much. Glad you're enjoying it.

12 — You Can Talk To Me
January blustered by, cold and icy; but Hermione and Severus did their best to keep each other warm. Every weekend was a tangle of lips and limbs, a sweaty quest to see who could make the other moan more.
Hermione “opened Pandora’s box” (sometimes with two fingers) and discovered the real way to a man’s heart was through his prostate. Anytime she wanted to get him hard, all she had to do was put her lips to his ear and whisper what she had in store for his arse.
Not to be outdone, Severus found that pinning her wrists to the bed made her come faster than a flash of lightning. He also found her collection of erotica hidden in her closet. After some crafty cajoling, she admitted which stories were her favorite; and he’d been analyzing them to discover what made her tick. She was much dirtier than he’d ever imagined.
They went back to Moonglow’s, and he picked out a few more toys he thought she might like: some anal beads (which he convinced her to wear to the market), a riding crop (which had her dripping in five minutes flat), and a wooden paddle (which she engraved with the words “Property of the Half-Blood Prince” after he left Monday morning).
They went to some posh lingerie shops, and Snape picked out what he wanted to see her wear. He mostly liked her in Slytherin green and Gryffindor scarlet. The one black piece he bought her was a lace teddy. It was gorgeous, the legs cut all the way up to her waist. She wore it with her charmed Stay-up Stockings that had the little black bows at the back. He must have fancied the look as much as she did, because he insisted on pulling out and coming all over her whenever she wore it. Hermione didn’t mind the cleanup. Pearls went well with black lace.
Her favorite piece, though, was a diaphanous creamy white nighty with a Grecian drape to the top. She looked like a vestal virgin when she wore it. She put it on even when he wasn’t there, walking around the flat like a empress and offering up her pussy to the phallic deity in her nightstand. When Snape was there, she’d put it on and entice him into performing a clit worshiping ceremony. He’d prostrate himself before her pussy and lap up her ambrosia like a voracious devotee. They’d switch places afterward, and she’d bow down before the pillar of his sex, blessing his virtues with the grace of her lips and tongue. Pandora could always resurrect him if he came in her mouth. They both liked to complete the ritual by having his cock sanctify her temple with his seed. Elysium was their favorite destination, and bliss was most easily found in the merging of their bodies.
Peace, however, was most easily found in stillness. Holding each other offered a contentment they could find nowhere else. They could stay locked at the lips for days, arms and legs entwined like Devil’s Snare.
When they weren’t busy snogging, they’d read together, her head in his lap, or his in hers. They talked for hours on end—about forgiveness and regret, recovery and change, life and death. They debated articles in the most recent potions publications. They critiqued the books they were reading. They pondered the philosophers and their theories.
The only thing they didn’t talk about was the nature of their relationship. It remained the one taboo subject between them. If they questioned the the status quo, something might be set out of balance. Neither of them wanted to risk it.
They both had too much to lose.
__ __ __ __ __ __ __
It was Thursday evening, and Hermione and Ginny were at Luna's flat, having a girl's night out. Harry was taking care of James, and Ginny had already downed over half a bottle of wine in celebration. Luna kept making strawberry daiquiris, and Hermione had already had two, the fruity sweetness disguising the wretchedness of the alcohol. They had been catching up all night while Luna practiced hair-styling charms on Hermione and Ginny. She claimed everyone needed a new look every once in a while, and Luna’s “looks” tended to be of the avant-garde variety. Ginny was sporting several explosive ponytails, and Hermione’s hair was in the middle of a braiding bonanza.
Ginny leaned back into the couch and smiled blissfully at the ceiling. "The last time I left Harry alone with James, he Flooed my mum six times for help."
Hermione giggled into her glass. "Harry's great with James."
"Yes, he is," Ginny agreed. "But he's always worried he's doing something wrong."
"Is he?" Luna asked.
Ginny laughed. "Not really. But he forgets little things that kids care about. He gives him the wrong sippy cup, or doesn't kiss his boo boos when he puts on a murtlap plaster. Every time James cries, Harry says, 'What did I do wrong?' He tries so hard, he just slips up."
"At least he tries," Hermione told her.
Raising her bottle in a sloshy salute, Ginny toasted him in a slurry voice, "To my adorable husband, savior of the wizarding world—" Ginny paused for another swig of wine—"who couldn’t remember the words to Goodnight Sleepy Hippogriff if his life depended on it."
Luna smiled. "Is that a requirement?"
Ginny nodded. "Sometimes I wake up singing it in my sleep." She started to hum softly under her breath.
Luna used her wand to separate Hermione's hair into sections. "What about you and Snape?"
Hermione shook her head. "He never asks me to sing Goodnight Sleepy Hippogriff. And I extend him the same courtesy."
Luna grinned. "I meant, how's it going?"
Ginny looked over, her head wobbling slightly. "Yes, how's it going? Tell us all about the secret life of Severus."
Hermione smiled. "I don't think there is a secret life of Severus . . . except me. Although I guess I'm not a secret anymore."
"I'm surprised it hasn't been in The Daily Prophet yet," Ginny said with a smirk. "What's he like? We're dying to hear everything."
"Woof," Luna concurred.
Hermione snorted into her drink. "He's really much sweeter than I expected."
"Are you saying he's not spanking you anymore?" Ginny waved her bottle in concern.
Hermione blushed. "No, he's still spanking me.”
"Is he good at it?" Luna asked.
Hermione nodded. "Very. I'm surprised my flat's not flooded every weekend."
Ginny burst into a gales of laughter. "What's the sex like? Does he fuck you like a Slytherin?"
"Like a Slytherin? What's that mean?"
"You know . . . Hufflepuffs work the hardest, Ravenclaws know the most, Gryffindors like to try new things."
Hermione had never heard any of that before. "And Slytherins?"
Ginny grinned. "They're perverts."
Hermione grinned back. "Maybe I was sorted into the wrong house then."
Ginny's guffaw almost spilled her wine. "Nope, you like to try new things. You're one of us."
"I guess he's a little bit of all of those."
"A renaissance man. I like that," Ginny sighed, sinking back onto the couch. "But he is perverted, isn't he?" she said knowingly.
“He doesn't seem to have too many sexual boundaries. Or I haven’t found them yet."
"You look much happier now," Luna said softly.
"I am. We have a lot in common. It's nice to talk about things no one else wants to talk about."
Ginny couldn't stop giggling. "He looks happier too. And I saw they way he had his arm around you at Christmas . . . and the way you looked at him."
"How did I look at him?"
"Like you were addicted to him—like you wanted to marry him and have a thousand of his babies. I thought you two were just shagging for fun."
Luna unbraided a section of Hermione’s hair and charmed it into a spiky spiral. "Is it more than shagging?" she asked, studying the corkscrew.
Hermione nodded. "He's my friend. We've gotten very close."
Luna glanced at Ginny. They could both tell it was more than that. Luna made another corkscrew and casually asked, "Do you love him?"
Hermione knew she did, but she didn't know how to deal with it yet. "Yes. But I'm not sure if that's right or not. We made it clear in the beginning what this was going to be. We basically agreed he'd be a dominant with benefits."
"But now it's more?" Luna asked.
"It is for me," Hermione sighed. "I know he loves to be with me and I know he cares, but I'm afraid to say anything. Maybe it's only working because there's no pressure. If I tell him that I want to date him for real and drop the whole arrangement pretense, I'm worried it'll scare him off and I'll ruin this one thing I have that keeps me sane."
"What if he feels the same way?" Luna suggested.
Hermione nodded. "I think he does, but that doesn't mean he wants to take it to another level. He's changed, but I know he still doesn't totally trust life to not shit all over him."
Luna nodded sagely. "Maybe if he knew you loved him, he'd trust life a little more."
She wasn't so sure he was ready for that. Or if she was ready to ask. "I'm fine with things the way they are."
Ginny raised her bottle to her. "Then don't tell him. You haven't been seeing each other for very long. Give him some more time. Snape doesn't seem like the kind of man who'd be comfortable with declarations of love."
Luna shook her head. "I disagree. I think a declaration of love is exactly what Snape needs."
"I'll think about it," she assured them both. "Maybe there’s some other way to find out how he feels without saying anything."

__ __ __ __ __ __ __
Hermione spent the entire weekend with him debating whether or not she should say anything. She was driving herself batty. She kept analyzing his actions, trying to figure out if he wanted more or if he just wanted things to continue as they were. He seemed happy, but that didn’t give her any conclusive answers.
It was Sunday evening, and they were both reading on the sofa, except Hermione couldn’t concentrate on her book. She kept peeking up at Snape and thinking about how to broach the subject with him. He was engrossed in his own book, so her furtive looks went unnoticed. Her mind was starting to race with possible scenarios. Some good, some bad. She’d almost gnawed her lower lip to a pulp. Come on, Hermione. Aren’t you supposed to be brave? Just say something.
Her feet were in his lap, and she wiggled her toes to get his attention. “Severus?”
“Hm?”
“Um . . . I need to talk to you about something.”
Snape glanced over at her. She looked worried. The whole weekend had been a bit odd. She seemed to be more lost in her thoughts than usual. Maybe she was finally ready to tell him what was on her mind. He marked his place and set aside his book. “I'm all ears.”
His hand wrapped around her foot, and his thumb ran along her sole like a steamroller. She hadn’t realized how tense she’d become. “Uh . . .” This was a lot harder with him staring at her. She wished he hadn’t put down his book. “I need to ask you something.”
She’d already said that. Why was she acting so strangely? “Yes?”
Her heart was suddenly pounding like an out of control bass drum. She was going to be sick. “Um,” she wiped her face. “It’s hard for me to say.”
I got that impression. "You know you can tell me anything.”
It wasn’t telling him that scared her, it was the aftermath. If he just wanted to be good friends who fuck, she might be destroying everything they’d built. “I know . . . it’s just . . .”
Severus studied her. Was something wrong? Was what she had to say so bad she couldn’t find the words? He’d never seen her so tongue-tied.
She couldn’t do it. Not yet. She needed to think of a better way to ask. She couldn’t just wing it. Bollocks. Now he was expecting some huge confession, and she didn’t know what to say.
“Do you need something, pet?”
Need something? “Yes.” That was it. She’d just confess something embarrassing. He’d know if it was a lie, so she had to be honest. There were plenty of things she hadn’t asked him for yet, embarrassing things she hadn’t known how to suggest. She just had to pick a fantasy. “Uh . . . you know how you said all I had to do was ask for a spanking and you’d give it to me?”
“Yes.” He’d just spanked her the night before. Was she ready for more?
“What about other stuff?”
“Other stuff? Do you mean sexually?”
“Yes. Will you give me anything I ask for?”
“You know I would. Tell me what you’ve been thinking about, pet.”
“Ummm, okay. I . . . I want you to be a bit rougher.”
“Why didn’t you just say that while I was fucking you?”
“I don’t want you to be rougher all the time, I just want to . . . try something.”
“I think you’re going to have to be a little more explicit. I need to know exactly what you want.”
“I want you to tie me up.”
Snape nodded. “To the bed? To the ceiling? To the chair?”
“Uh . . . the bed’s fine. I just want to try it out.”
“With rope . . . magic . . . handcuffs?”
“I guess magic.”
“Is that what you were so worried about? Asking me to tie you up?” She wasn’t lying to him, but she was still holding something back.
“There’s more.”
“Well, so far you haven’t said anything remotely embarrassing. I think I can handle whatever it is.”
“I . . .” she took a deep breath. “How do you feel about role-playing?”
He shrugged. “Depends on the role.”
“I want you to be Professor Snape.”
Severus smiled. “That’s a role I know well.”
“And I want to be the Head Girl.”
"You were made for the part, love.”
Hermione smiled back. “I want you to punish me.”
“For . . . ?”
“Fun.”
He nodded, unable to keep a straight face. “Do you want it to hurt?”
“Yes . . . but not too much.”
Snape chuckled and ran his hand up her calf. “Do you want me to treat you like a naughty schoolgirl?”
“If you punish naughty schoolgirls by tying them to the bed.”
He laughed. “They usually get the cane, but I think you’re a special case.” Sliding his hand up her thigh, he motioned for her to come closer. “Come over here, love. I need to talk to you too.”
Hermione crawled over and climbed in his lap, hiding her face in his neck. He hugged her tightly, and she felt him place a soft kiss to her hair.
He wouldn’t let her hide. Tipping up her chin with one hand, he made her look into his eyes. “From now on I want to hear all your fantasies. You don’t need to be embarrassed. I told you I was here to help you. And that means sexual things too, not just hugs and red bums. Okay?”
She nodded. “There are some things I think about that I don’t know if I really want to try.”
He smirked. “Well, you can tell me those things too. We’ll figure it out together.” He’d seen the way she was eyeing the ball gags during their last shopping trip. There was plenty more she had to tell him.
“Is there anything you want to do with me?” she asked, hoping he wanted to shove his cock in her mouth and fuck her face.
He had to weigh that answer carefully. There were things he wanted to try with her, but timing was everything when it came to broadening sexual horizons. “I’ll have to consider that, pet. My thoughts are too preoccupied by my upcoming meeting with the Head Girl to think about it now.”
She grinned. “Do you want to do it now?”
“Whenever you’re ready.”
“Hold on,” she said, climbing out of his lap. “I have to change first.”
“Change?" He looked at his white dress shirt. "Should I change too?”
She bent down to kiss his forehead. “No, you look good—like Professor Snape after school.”
His heart jolted as her breath breezed over his brow. “Then I’ll be right here . . . waiting for you to show up for detention.”
Hermione grinned. “You know that three-part story I showed you with the professor who rhapsodized about the different kinds of knickers while he spanked that line of girls?”
He chuckled and nodded. “Yes, I do. And I already guessed that was the kind of punishment you wanted. I know what you like, pet.”
Oh good. She didn’t have to explain. “Thank you, sir. I promise I’ll be on time for detention.”
Severus smiled, watching her bum as she dashed away. He was looking forward to turning that arse red. Yet he couldn’t shake the feeling that she hadn’t told him the complete truth. Maybe he was just being paranoid, but it seemed she was keeping something from him.

__ __ __ __ __ __ __
Severus looked up as she entered the room. Bloody hell. He had to cover his smile with one hand so she wouldn't think he was laughing at her. He really wasn’t. He just wasn’t expecting the full regalia. That wasn’t her old Hogwarts uniform; she must have bought it in the last couple of years. The skirt was red plaid and the shirt was too form-fitting to be regulation. It clung to her like a second skin. The top three buttons were undone, giving him a glimpse of her cleavage. White knee socks and penny loafers completed the ensemble. She looked sweetly sexy, and he wanted to flip her over his knee and find out what kind of knickers she had on. She self-consciously twirled a curl around her finger as she squirmed under his gaze. She’d pulled her hair into bunches—as any self-respecting naughty schoolgirl would—and he had the urge to grab one in each hand and hold her reins while he rode her face. Maybe later. “You’re just on time, Miss Granger. Come in.”
Hermione mashed her lips together so she wouldn’t start giggling. She felt slightly silly, but her pussy didn’t seem to have any reservations. The gusset of her knickers was already blotted with excitement.
“Do you know why I’ve asked you to come and see me this evening?” He kept his voice dark and low, reserving the purr that made her so creamy for later.
“No, sir. Am I in trouble?”
She was wringing her fingers together, just as she had the first night he’d spanked her. She really was nervous. He couldn’t blame her. Exposing one’s secret fantasies could be terrifying.
“Trouble is a relative term,” he replied enigmatically. Sitting back, he used his years of experience to intimidate her with his body language, spreading his arms along the couch back and making himself appear larger. “You’ve been defacing school property.”
Hermione stared at him. “I have?” Where was he going with this?
“Yes. Every day when you leave my class, your chair is mysteriously damp. Would you care to explain?”
She bit her lip so she wouldn’t smile. “Uh . . . I really fancy your lectures?”
The corners of his mouth twitched, but he pursed his lips to hide it. “I see. Come closer, Miss Granger.” When she was standing before him, he nodded at her hem. “Lift your skirt.”
Hermione crossed her hands in front of her. “Why?”
“Because I want to see if you’re telling the truth.”
“I wouldn’t lie to you, sir.”
“Lift your skirt, young lady, or I’ll turn you over my knee and lift it for you.”
Hermione was happy either way. She curled her fingers around the hem and lifted her skirt to her waist.
Leaning forward to observe, Severus smirked at the tiny wet spot already forming on the white cotton. White cotton. Such a good girl. “What’s this?” he asked, lightly touching the transparent circle. “I haven’t been lecturing.”
That one tiny touch hadn’t been enough; her pearl was trying to swell its way out of her shell. “I was excited about seeing you alone, sir.”
He sat back again, giving her a cool arch of one eyebrow. “Were you? You’re not one of those girls who sits through class daydreaming about being bent over the teacher’s desk, are you?”
Guilty. “Is that wrong, sir?”
“It depends on what you intend to do about it. Being teacher’s pet in my classroom isn’t a position for the faint of heart. I like to see a red bottom at all times.”
She nodded eagerly. “Yes, sir.”
“And I like a witch who can take the cane without complaint. A witch who enjoys it is even more pleasing.”
The cane. That just made her knickers wetter. “I can please you, sir. Please give me a chance to prove myself to you. I’ll work harder than any other Head Girl you’ve ever had.”
“I had no idea you were so accommodating. If you can take everything I deal out tonight, I might be persuaded to show you the perks of being teacher’s pet.”
“Yes, sir. I’m ready.”
“Go bend over the table in the other room. I’ll be there in a minute.”
“Yes, sir.”
Severus waited until she was quiet in the kitchen then went to the bedroom for his supplies: the cane, the big leather paddle, a piece of parchment, and a self-inking quill. As he was sorting through the implements, he noticed the engraving she’d done on their most recent purchase. Picking it up, he flipped it over and studied it. Property of the Half-Blood Prince. He smirked. That cheeky little devil. If that was the game she wanted to play, he’d play it. Leaving the wooden paddle in the middle of the bed, he gathered up everything else and headed for the kitchen. She was waiting for him just as requested: bent over, hands and elbows flat on the table. He laid everything out where she could see it. “Do you know what the penalty is for leaving your bodily fluids all over one of my chairs?”
Well, I’m guessing it’s not pussy-licking, she thought, looking over his haul. “No, sir.”
“We’ll start with lines. When you’ve convinced me you’ve learned your lesson, I’ll give you six licks with the paddle. Remember, Head Girls need to set an example. Your punishment will have to be more severe as a warning to the others.”
“Yes, sir. What should I write?”
“I think we’ll start with . . . I will not hump the classroom chairs.” He pushed the parchment in front of her and held out the quill. “Fifty times. I suggest you write quickly.”
Hermione’s face was flaming. He was really good at this game. She hadn’t been prepared for him to be so intense. He was playing it straight, acting like a real professor . . . who conducted the most inappropriate detentions ever. His voice growled through her guts, making her stomach tremble. He’d never really been super strict with her. His spankings were always a fine balance of smacks and strokes. And so far, all her adventures with the cane had been the same: sensual and stingy.
She wanted the naughtiness, but she wanted the rush of discipline too. That was why she had mentioned the story. That professor was a good mix of painful punishment and sweet sex. She wanted the fucking a little rougher than that, but she still wanted him to take care of her. That was hard to explain. It might sound contradictory to anyone else, but she knew Snape understood. She took the quill from his hand and set to work on her lines.
Severus stood behind her for minute, taking a mental picture of her bent over so temptingly, her bum and pussy just out of sight beneath the red plaid. He would expose her exactly the way she wanted, embarrass her with her own desires. If she thought her knickers were wet now, she didn’t know what was coming. That arse was his. He'd tag it with his finest graffiti.
Flipping up her skirt, he smirked at her little cotton knickers. She’d gone for innocent over naughty. He never knew which Hermione was going to come out to play. Some days she’d be begging to be his good girl, wearing her hair in bunches and squirming around like an embarrassed virgin; other days, she’d be sprawled out in her bed like a princess, a wicked smirk curling her pink lips as she turned over to show him her naked arse being bisected by the black lace of her teddy. That Hermione got on top of him a rode him like a undulating goddess. Passionate Hermione, on the other hand, rode him like a Brahman Bull. She’d show up out of the blue, ambushing him like a panther springing from the underbrush. He usually had scratch marks or bruises the next day to commemorate the attack. He found himself absently fingering each injury when he was lost in thought. He wasn’t averse to pain when it reminded him of such pleasures.
But most weekends were dominated by Naughty Schoolgirl Hermione, who liked to stick her well-spanked arse in the air and wiggle it around until he entered her from behind and pounded against her like rolling thunder. All those Hermiones kept him on his toes, and he adored each one.
The only one he didn’t have name for was the one who liked the fucking deep and slow while she stared into his eyes like a mesmerist on morphine. She would stroke his face and kiss him like an angel as he rocked inside her. Maybe that was the natural Hermione. She made what they were doing seem less like sex and more like a melding of their souls. No other witch had ever made him feel like that. He fucking loved that Hermione.
He wasn’t totally sure which Hermione he was dealing with tonight, but he suspected it wasn't really Naughty Schoolgirl Hermione. Perhaps a close cousin. The one thing all her sexual personalities had in common was a penchant for spanking. This one seemed to be of the same mould.
Smack! Hermione jumped as his hand slapped her right cheek. It left behind a warm handprint that faded where it met with the border of her knickers. Smack! Her quill left a scribbled scratch in its wake. Shit. Now her lines weren’t neat. Smack! She sucked in her breath. Smack! Did he seriously expect her to write while he was doing that?
“I don’t hear lines being written, Miss Granger.” Smack! “You’d better finish your assignment.” Smack!
Bloody hell. She tried to keep writing. I will not hump the classro—Smack! Fuck! I will not hu—Smack! Double fuck! Every slap left a huge slash in her sentence. It looked as though a seismograph was predicting a coming earthquake. I will not—Smack! It was hard to concentrate. Smack! He was getting faster. She tried to keep up with his rhythm, writing faster to match the pace. Smack! “Mm!”
“How many lines do you have, Miss Granger?”
She started to count. Smack! It took her three tries to come up with an answer. “Twenty-four, sir.”
Smack! “If this isn’t inspiring enough for you, I can pull down your knickers and we can do this on the bare.” Smack!
“No, no, sir! I’m writing as fast as I can.” Those knickers were the only thing keeping her arse from spontaneously combusting.
“Tell me when you get to thirty, and I’ll check your work.” Smack!
Hermione felt as if she were writing lines on a Waltzer at the circus. Her pulse was racing, perhaps trying to outrun the fire spreading over her backside. Smack! Oh God! Her pussy was trying to put out the fire too. All liquid had been diverted to her sex to keep it protected from the flames. Smack! “Done, sir!”
He leaned over her, smirking when she sighed in relief. “Your handwriting is atrocious. I can barely read this. If you’re going to write like child, I’m going to have to punish you like one.”
Hermione was still reeling from the sting. She felt his fingers on her hips, and then her knickers were sliding over her arse like a sheet of heat. He left them right below her bum, exposing her cheeks. The cotton crotch was still absorbing her overflow.
“Just twenty more lines,” he said, tapping her parchment with one finger. “I want you to tell me every time you get four lines finished. Do you understand me, young lady?” He cupped her fiery buttocks in one hand and gave it squeeze.
“Yes, sir.”
He waited for her write one line just to make sure she still had her wits about her. Then he picked up the cane. Giving his hand a decent thwack, he tested the sting. Hm. The most memorable lines were the ones that traversed a penitent bottom.
Hermione froze as he began to tap the rattan against her bare bum. He wasn’t hitting her with it, but it felt as though the most impatient clock in the world was reminding her to get a move on. She sped up to keep it happy. “Okay, sir. I did four.”
He measured out his aim and slashed the first stroke deep into the crest of her buttocks. Swish-crack!
“Ow!” she hissed, reaching back to cover her arse.
Snape grabbed her wrist. “Your hands stay on the table.” He returned her hand to its proper place. “Head Girls take their lines willingly. Did you still want to be teacher’s pet?”
The sting slowly died, leaving behind a spreading band of warmth. “Yes, sir. I want to be yours.”
He smiled. This was not Schoolgirl Hermione (despite the misleading uniform); this was Submissive Hermione. He hadn’t seen her in a long time. Welcome back. “Then write your lines like a good girl and show me how brave you are.”
Hermione nodded and went back to her parchment. I will not hump the classroom chairs.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Her eyes rolled back in her head, her pussy twitching with each bump of the cane. Swallowing hard, she did the next two lines. I will not hump the classroom chairs.
Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. It was a ticking bomb, waiting to go off as reward for her obedience. I will not hump the classroom chairs. “I’m done, sir.”
Swish-crack!
“Unh!” She panted for a minute, staring at the scribbled lines swimming before her eyes. Tap. Tap. Tap. The metronome was back, reminding her the song wasn’t over yet. She looked down at her parchment in a daze. I will . . . She had to check the previous sentence. Not hump the classroom chairs. Right. No humping. She smiled at the quill. It might write the words, but it didn’t know her promise was all lies. If he sat her in a chair right now, she’d probably come all over it. “Finished, sir.”
He lined up the next lick under the first two. Her arse looked gorgeous. Every time she sat down at work the next day, she'd remember this very moment. She’d remember him. Swish-crack! Her cheeks wobbled with the impact, and a red line bloomed over both hillsides.
Hermione unlocked her jaw and let out a short huff of relief before resuming her writing. She wasn’t just wet now, she was delirious with fever. Her back was sweating and sticking to her shirt. She was glad her skirt was so breezy. “Done, sir.”
Swish-crack!
“Mmm!” She dropped her face to her hand and breathed through the sting. He was right there behind her, tapping out a friendly “I’m still here” in Morse Code. When the pain fizzled, she started her last set of lines. I will not hump the classroom chairs. She wondered if the chair at his desk counted as a classroom chair. Next time she went to Hogwarts, she was going to hump the hell out of it. “That’s fifty, sir.”
Snape marked out his last stroke and gave her a finale she wouldn’t soon forget. Swish-CRACK!
“OW!” Hermione didn’t reach back, but she dug her nails into the tabletop.
Snape nodded in approval. She’d kept her hands away and taken her caning without whining. He rubbed her bum for her, feeling the welts rising and falling like braille under his fingers. He longed to kneel down and lick away the pain for her, but they weren’t finished yet. “Now you have enough stripes to outrank your classmates. Should I have you come to the head of the class tomorrow and show everyone how much you want to be my Head Girl?”
Hermione closed her eyes as he traced each bar. He slid up and down the scale like a carnal composer. “Yes, sir.”
He smirked. She wasn’t intimidated by fake threats of exposure. “Good. Then you also wouldn’t mind spending some time in the corner in the front room…with the curtains open.”
Her eyes popped wide. “Uh…”
“But not yet,” he grinned. “You’ve still got the paddle. I think a good half dozen should leave a nice impression. Tell me again what lesson you’re learning.”
“I will not hump the classroom chairs, sir.”
“That’s right. If you start to get wet during class, I want you to raise you hand and tell me.”
Hermione smiled at the table. “In front of everybody, sir?”
“You want everyone to know how much you fancy my lectures, don’t you?”
She bit away her laugh. “Yes, sir. Please may I have the paddle. I want to prove I’m your good girl.”
Snape wiped the smile off his face and leveled out his voice. “That was a very good start. I really believe you want to please me.” He set the cane on the table and picked up the paddle. “I think you should take off your skirt. I don’t want it getting in the way.”
Hermione rose, getting her bearings after being bent over for so long. She unfastened her skirt and let it fall to the floor. Her knickers were still snug around her hips, framing the base of her bum in white.
Snape nudged her back with the paddle. “Bend over. Hands on the table. Count each one, and I want to hear a thank you after the sixth lick.”
“Yes, sir,” she said, bracing her hands on the table and preparing for the first blow.
He rubbed the leather over her heated backside, deciding how hard to hit her. Her arse must be screaming from the cane. He’d keep it medium hard. Thwack!
“Mm!” Her bum flared with heat. “One.”
Thwack!
“Two!”
He checked her cheeks, smoothing his hands over each globe to test the temperature. Her skin was roasted. Getting back in place, he measured out his swing again. Thwack!
“Ah! Three!”
Thwack!
“Four,” she panted. Her arse was throbbing now, a heartbeat of heat pulsing through her cheeks.
Thwack!
“Five!”
Thwack!
“Six! Thank you, sir!”
He tossed the paddle on the table. Palming a cheek in each hand, he rubbed away the soreness and spread her wide so she could feel the cool air caressing her crack. “That’s my girl,” he purred, giving her what she needed most—his praise. “I’m very proud of you. And your bum looks magnificent. I’ll let you rest now. Take off your shirt and bra and go open the curtains in the front room. Stand in the corner closest to the hall so I can watch you from the couch . . . and so the neighbors can see how naughty you’ve been.”
Hermione blushed, but she did just as he asked, stripping off her shirt and bra. It was a relief to get out of them; her entire body was burning up. She didn’t know what to do about her knickers. He hadn’t told her to take them off.
He saw her hesitation. “Leave those knickers right where they are. I’ll take them off when detention is over.”
Hermione nodded and whispered, “Yes, sir,” as she half-waddled into the front room. It was dark out, and she was worried everyone would be able to see her in the lamplight. Peeking around the curtain, she didn’t see anyone out in the streets. Maybe no one would look her way. She went to the corner and curled into it. Facing the wall like a petulant child was embarrassing, but it also gave her a chance to rest.
Snape followed her in and sat on the couch, casting a silent blackout spell over the window. He didn’t really want anyone to see her. This was his favorite show, and he preferred to be an audience of one.
He’d retained her quill from the kitchen, and he absently drew it over his jaw as he watched her. Her arse was bloody gorgeous. He wanted to lay her down in the bed and bury his face between those crimson cheeks. He’d have to save that for another night. She wanted to be tied up . . . and he wanted to tie her up. He wouldn’t mind getting her some ropes if she was interested in making this a regular thing. He’d like to see her wrists bound in red nylon. Maybe some silk scarves. Black leather cuffs definitely. But she didn’t have any posts on her bed. They’d have to use magic unless they went out and got some under-the-bed restraints.
He waited five minutes then rose from the couch and went to stand behind her. Her naked back was calling to him. Slowly running his finger from the nape of her neck to the split of her cheeks, he followed her spine like a treasure map. “Now that you’ve passed the screening process, I think we should move into the bedroom. Do you know how I reward little girls who take the cane so well?”
She smiled and rested her forehead on the wall. “No, sir. How?”
“With this,” he purred, pressing the thick ridge of his erection to her scarlet skin.
Hermione moaned as his wool trousers grated her bum like sandpaper.
Severus leaned down and ran his nose along the back of her ear. “I think it’s time to take off your knickers now.” His fingertips skimmed the sides of her hips. “Did you get these all nice and wet for me?”
Hermione nodded, clutching the wall for support.
He slid his hand around to her belly, gliding down to the top of her muff and teasing through her curls. “I could smell this cooking in the kitchen,” he said, taking a deep breath. “Mmmmm, sweet.” Snape eased her knickers lower, kissing the back of her neck and then slowly trailing his nose down her spine as he knelt to pull her panties to the floor.
Hermione jerked with pleasure as his hot breath puffed over each vertebra. When he got to her lower back, he kissed his way toward her tailbone, his tongue creeping out to mark the tip top of her crevice. Her skin went prickly with gooseflesh, and she arched her bum toward him for more.
Snape chuckled and licked the salt from her skin. “Let’s get you out of these wet things,” he whispered. Drawing her knickers down her legs, he tickled the back of her knee and smiled at her socks. Her knickers pooled around her ankles, and he tapped her foot so she'd step out of them. “That’s it. These are mine now, pet.”
Lifting her knickers to his nose, he inhaled her lust. Sweet Circe. His cock was about to destroy his zipper. Her knickers were so wet they were sticking to his face. The oasis in her gusset washed over his tongue like musky-sweet nectar. Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Tossing her panties over his shoulder, he shoved her against the wall and buried his nose in her arse. Breathing deeply, he immersed himself in the glorious mixture sex and sweat which damped the dark heat of her hollow. Dammit! Fuck the bedroom. He’d tie her to the wall.
Hermione’s knees almost gave way as he breathed into her arse like an oxygen mask. There was nothing to hold her up but his face. It turned out she didn’t have to worry about staying vertical, because he slid right back up her body, pinning her hands above her head and wandlessly binding them in place. She looked up, but there was nothing to see. It felt as though silk cords were pulling her toward the ceiling.
Snape spun her around and grinned at her dilated pupils. She was even more far gone than he was. Yanking open his trousers, he pulled himself free and saw her eyes lock on his cock.
Hermione could almost taste him; that glint of dew clinging to his knob drew her like a hummingbird to sugar-water. Her pussy was leaking all over her thighs, leaving them soft and slick as silk. He pulled open his shirt, and her mouth watered at the sight of his pale chest. The dark hair smattering his pecs like a fuzzy shadow was the only contrast in a sea of white. His toffee nipples were just out of sight behind his shirt.
Severus left his trousers round his hips and pulled her flush against him. Her body was sweltering. He slid his hands to the base of her baked bum and lifted her up. Her eyes went wide with surprise and discomfort, but she instinctively wrapped her legs around his hips to steady herself. The residual soreness would make the position a rough one for her, but he knew how to help her see past the pain. “Feel that heat, pet. Nothing takes the chill out of a winter night like a warmed backside.” Reaching between them, he aligned his cock with her dripping entrance. “You look so fucking gorgeous like that. Are you enjoying your restraints?”
She nodded. Her voice seemed to have disappeared.
“Is this what you want?” he teased, tapping his glans into her waterlogged labia. “That sounds like yes to me, but I need to be sure. Tell me what you want, pet.”
Her mouth opened and closed, but no sound came out. She felt like a badly-dubbed movie.
Snape’s lips twitched to a smile. “Just one word. Can you say yes?”
She nodded.
“Say yes if you want my cock. You’ll have to shout so I can hear you over all this pussy.”
“Yes,” she breathed, her larynx finally loosening.
“Good girl,” he whispered, sinking into her with one slow, slick thrust.
Her eyes rolled back, and she banged her head on the wall. “Unh!”
“Fuck!” Merlin’s bloody balls he needed that. Planting his face at the base of her throat, he sucked her thumping pulse between his teeth.
“Unnn-n-n-n-n-nh!”
He could feel her ragged cries echoing past his lips. Thrusting up into her, he tapped her depths. She must have fancied having his knob butt her cervix like an angry billy goat, because she dry-sobbed at the ceiling as if she were losing her mind. Leaving her throat, he went to her arm. It was offered up so invitingly. Licking his way to the shadowed hollow of her armpit, he breathed in the stark scent of her body. Bloody hell, yes. He wanted to devour her. She shivered against him when he lapped at the most sensitive spot.
He must have found some magic erogenous zone, because Hermione swore she could feel his tongue burrowing all the way through to her nipples. “Please, sir.”
“What, pet?” he muttered into her skin.
“Please don’t stop,” she whispered. “I’m so close.”
He grinned and fucked her a little harder, burying his face in her fragrant cove.
“Oh God!” Her core started to contract, and Hermione arched into him, convulsing in time with her pussy.
Severus grunted as she squeezed around him. He wanted to come with her. Getting a firm grip on her bum, he drove himself over the edge, staying right on her tail.
“Fuck!” Hermione cried. Her fingers clasped at nothing, searching for something to hold onto. The ache in her arse sent her orgasm in a wonderful new direction.
Severus hissed her name as he came, panting against her armpit as his balls spilled their load. He was glad she was safely bound to the ceiling in case he lost consciousness. He didn't know his body could produce such a massive quantity of semen.
They both unwound into a stupor of post-coital bliss, jerking with aftershocks as they came back to reality.
Hermione peeled her head from the wall and searched for his face behind the veil of his mussed, black hair. “My hands are going numb, sir.”
He looked up and cast a silent Finite Incantatem. He held her aloft with both hands and kept her propped against the wall so he didn’t have to pull out.
Hermione wrapped her arms around his neck and held onto him as tightly as she could. Her arms felt like rubber. “Thank you, Severus.”
He raised one eyebrow. “You’re being rather familiar for a girl of your rank.”
She smiled. “We’re not done?”
“Oh no, pet. There’s a surprise for you in the bedroom. It seems chairs aren’t all you’ve been defacing.”
"What?"
“If you’re going to carve up my presents, I’m going to have to show you that, in this land, the Prince has the final say in all matters of justice.”
She suddenly caught on. “I love the paddle. I wanted to personalize it for us.”
“And the Prince wishes to do the same. Let’s go back to your room, and I’ll personalize your arse to match.”
“Yes, sir.” She had no idea what he had planned, but she was ready for more if he was. “Make me yours.”
He smiled, glancing at the quill he'd left on the couch. “I shall.”

__ __ __ __ __ __ __
“Severus what are you doing?” she giggled. “That tickles.”
“Stop squirming—you’re smudging my work.”
“You’re not using permanent ink, are you?”
“It’s just regular ink. I want this to last for at least a few days. Don’t scrub it off.”
“I won’t. What are you writing?”
“I’m signing my name on the dotted line.”
“You’re signing my bum?”
“I said stop squirming. I’m almost done.”
Hermione smiled into the bedspread. “How’s it look?”
He blew on the ink to dry it. “Outstanding. But stay still. I want to make sure it’s set.”
“Can I sign you next?”
“Most certainly not. I am not the property of the Gryffindor Princess.”
Her face dropped. He didn’t want to be hers. Maybe he’d just answered her real question.
“But if you’re nice, I’ll let you put your initials someplace inconspicuous.”
She smiled. “Your bum?”
He smirked. “I can’t see it there. Try again.”
“Your chest?”
He nodded. “That sounds fine.”
She would write her initials across his heart. Maybe they’d sink in and stay there forever.
__ __ __ __ __ __ __
Severus lay in bed with her that night. Thinking. Although he couldn’t currently see it, Property of the Half-Blood Prince had been scrawled across her arse in black ink. And just below it, his name branded her backside. He’d claimed her as his. In writing. The HJG she’d inked on his left pectoral was also impossible to see in this light, but he could still feel the press of the quill, somehow carving out his heart with a tickle. Her name was already embedded in every ventricle and chamber; she didn’t need to put it in print. But he fancied it nonetheless.
He knew she still had something else to tell him, but he wouldn’t press her about it. She didn’t like keeping secrets; she would confess soon. He was slightly concerned about what she might be withholding. Something that hard to say was bound to be bad news.
He would have gone looking in her mind for the reasons behind her strange behavior, but he was terrified of finding an answer he didn't want. If she didn't love him back, he didn't want to know yet.
He wanted to live in denial a little longer.

__ __ __ __ __ __ __
Hermione spent the entire week arguing with herself. He'd told her to be honest with him, but this was the one thing she held back. She needed to think before saying something so final. It could end badly. Or perfectly. She was so confused. If her mum had been around, she would have gone to her with something like this. She needed the advice of someone older, someone who'd seen these sorts of things play out before.
A brilliant idea suddenly occurred to her, and she slapped her palm to her head. Of course. Running to her room, she fetched a parchment and quill.

__ __ __ __ __ __ __
Severus,
Let's change things up and stay in Hogsmeade this weekend. We can build a fire and keep each other warm and cozy. Sound good? I'm getting off work early today, so I'll just come to Hogwarts. I'd like to visit Crookshanks's grave and see Hagrid and Minerva.
If you're not up for it, owl me back straight away. Otherwise, I'll pack my plug and my punishment panties and meet you after class.
See you soon,

Hermione

__ __ __ __ __ __ __
Hermione,
That sounds pleasant. My last class lets out at 3:45. I'll see you then.
—Severus

__ __ __ __ __ __ __
Dear Headmistress,
I'm coming over to meet Severus after school. I'd like to talk to you if you have time. I'm getting off work early, so I should be there soon.
Thank you,

Hermione

__ __ __ __ __ __ __
Hermione,
Of course I have time to talk to you. I'll be in my office. The password is still the same. I'll have tea ready.
Looking forward to seeing you again,

Minerva

__ __ __ __ __ __ __
Hermione sipped her tea, smiling at McGonagall gratefully over the rim of the cup. "This is lovely. Thank you for seeing me."
"I love having you," Minerva assured her.
"I wanted to talk to you about Severus."
Minerva's lips twitched into a smile. Snape's mood had vastly improved since Christmas. Ever since they'd spilled the beans about their relationship, he'd been almost pleasant. She knew a man in love when she saw one. It was slightly bizarre that that man was Snape, but she was happy for him. "What about him?"
There was a knock at the door, and Minerva glanced over. "Who can that be? I'm not expecting anyone else. Just a moment, Hermione." She opened the door to find the Head Girl panting as if she’d just sprinted to the office. "Miss Blackwell? What's the matter?"
"Peeves," the girl gasped. "He's locked a whole bunch of first-years in Filch's broom cupboard on the third floor. They're screaming and crying and no one can get them out."
Minerva rolled her eyes, "Good heavens. I'll be right there. Tell them not to fret, we'll get them out." She looked over at Hermione. "I'm sorry, Hermione. I'll be back as soon as I can."
Hermione smiled. "Go on. I'm fine."
McGonagall bustled out the door, leaving Hermione to her thoughts.
"I wouldn't mind talking to you, Miss Granger."
Hermione spun around, smiling at Albus’s portrait. Abandoning her tea, she walked over to see him. "How are you, sir?"
"I can't complain," Albus smiled. "Life as a painting is far less complex than anyone could imagine."
The other pictures were watching her with interest, and Hermione waved to Phineas; he looked away, apparently still offended by her treatment of his portrait while on the run.
"Minerva has told me all about your new boyfriend."
Hermione snorted and shook her head. "He's not my boyfriend."
"Hmm, that wasn't the impression I got when you were in here last time. Are things still going well?"
"He's wonderful. I just . . ."
"Yes?" he urged with a twinkling smile.
"That's why I came to talk to Minerva. I wanted someone else's opinion on Severus. Have you seen him lately?"
He nodded. "I have. In fact, I heard him humming in the halls the other night. You've certainly put a spring in his step."
Hermione blushed. "Then we're even."
"Was that what you wanted to know about Severus, that he's happy?"
"No. I . . . I've been thinking about . . . how he might react to how I've been feeling."
"How's that?"
"What do you think Severus would do if someone told him they loved him?"
Dumbledore's bushy white eyebrows rose toward his pointed purple hat. "What an interesting question. Would you be the person telling him this?"
"Yes."
"Ah. Then I think he will take it in stride. Severus hasn't had a lot of experience with love . . . well, not shared love. It might take a while for it to sink in, but I think things can only be improved by your being honest with him."
"You don't think it'll scare him off?"
"I think he's more likely to be in disbelief. From what I've seen, he's transformed himself greatly over the years. He wants to be loved . . . but he's cautious. He's always associated love with pain. He's going to be careful until something solidifies this new reality in his heart."
"What do you mean?"
"Something will happen, possibly something earth-shattering or something completely benign. But whatever it is, it will make him see that his life is better with you in it. The concept of limitless love will take root and replace the pain his past. You grew up in a loving home and had friends who cared for you like family. Severus hasn't had that. He doesn’t think he deserves that kind of happiness. He’s just now beginning to see that your compassion knows no bounds. One day he will understand that your abundant heart contains him too."
Tears pricked her eyes. "He thinks I'll stop caring about him?"
"Possibly. But as long as you keep showing him how much you love him, he'll find his way."
Show him she loved him. How could she show him she loved him?
"He just needs to build his strength," Albus mused. "Like a sprained ankle. He's not so damaged as he was, but he's still weak."
Hermione's mind was racing. She needed to find a way to tell Snape how she felt. Soon. The more he heard it, the faster he'd heal.
"One loving voice can drown out a sea of misery," Dumbledore said quietly, watching the wheels in her head turn.
A smile slowly spread over her face. "You're right. I have to go to the library. Please send Minerva my apologies."
She dashed out of the room, leaving most of the portraits with their mouths hanging open in bewilderment.
"What a rude girl," Phineas said with a sneer. "Imagine leaving like that in the middle of a conversation."
Dumbledore just smiled. "Nothing more needed to be said."
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