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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
- 16
- 17
- 18
A/N: Oracle – ‘Now that Snape has fucked some sense into her’ – Gorgeous. Such a way with words. ‘Lynch's history is great (well, not for him)’ – I shouldn’t have laughed at that but I did. Yes, each of their backstories is gradually creeping in. Now I loved all of your prognostications about Lynch. Again, it was helpful, but I can’t say what or why. Also, I’m glad you pointed out that it seems that they are in the hall when the initial interaction happens. They are actually supposed to be in her office but I didn’t give enough information so will go back and rectify. It does change things if they start engaging in the open so thanks for that. ‘They've reversed their roles from the first sexual session’ – Yessss, nice pick up. ‘Your sexual descriptions are also becoming less clinical and more sensual as they open up.’ – another nice pick up. ‘I also found her integration of his past lessons lovely’ – Yes, I thought this was a good opportunity to demonstrate that the lessons are beneficial even in the heat of the moment when she is not necessarily trying to consciously apply them. ‘Hermione finds peace in that closeness, but Snape finds freedom.’ – A wonderful summation. ‘I thought the more important breakthrough was that he told her at all.’ – I totally agree with you. It was a big deal to finally let this out. As it was for her with the secret about Bellatrix. ‘It isn't necessarily all the horrible things in his past that kept him a prisoner to their influence, it was that he kept it all to himself.’ – This made me a bit teary. There are many reasons and I think you know most of them.

MzPearlz – I’m glad you are enjoying the quickish updates. I think there are a few more chapters to go so you don’t need to let go of these two just yet ;).

Rosajean – I’m pleased that you found the chapter satisfying after a tumultuous lead up.

Night_Fairy – Will do!

Lovey_Reader – ‘Quit blowing my mind at the end of these chapters.’ – Hahah, I’m just in the habit of it now, I’m not sure I can quit. ‘Why do I feel like I need that proverbial cigarette’ – as long as it’s a proverbial one and not a real one – I don’t want to be responsible for poor health outcomes from my writing ;)

Chapter 17 – Handy Man

“I’d like you to help me, help him,” Luna said, her mottled face weary but determined.

A concerned frown furrowed Hermione’s brow. “First, I need to know how you’re faring,” she said.

“Even when I thought the fire was my fault, I didn’t blame myself. It was an accident.” Luna’s silvery eyes shimmered. “Now I know that Shaun started the fire, I can’t blame him. It was still an accident.”

“But he could have intervened.”

“Maybe he could, maybe he couldn’t. We’ll never know. Hermione, I’d rather deal with ‘what is’ rather than ‘what might have been’.”

Hermione continued to appraise her silently. Something had changed. Luna’s voice had been gradually returning thanks to a concoction of healing herbs that Snape had been brewing into tea. Now she spoke with the familiar lilt and intonation that Hermione knew to be Luna. But it wasn’t just her tone. There was something about her words, her deeply intuitive sense seemed to be returning in force. Perhaps it was a part of the healing process and her reconnection with herself as Luna. Or maybe the catalyst was the recent events with Shaun. Whatever it was, Hermione could tell that Luna was far from frail. She gave the impression, as she always had at Hogwarts, of holding wisdom beyond her years.

“We’ll be taking a number of approaches with Shaun, mainly around reducing his suicidal thinking and nurturing his coping skills,” Hermione told her. “I’ll be focusing on his emotion-regulation and distress tolerance. But, I think you’re well positioned to help with his coping skills, especially around encouraging him to reach out to social supports. Then we have to consider your unique relationship with him—that might be more difficult to navigate but there are likely to be some positive aspects.”

Hermione suddenly stood and started pacing the room. It helped her thoughts to flow.

“What you need to realise is that suicide is a closed world with its own logic. Shaun is currently in this shut off space where he sees every detail as fitting and each incident reinforcing his decision to take his life. That needs to be challenged. He needs to be encouraged to collect evidence that is incompatible with his current beliefs. For example, his beliefs around being unforgivable can be negated by your forgiveness. As the evidence accumulates, it can help him to unfreeze his beliefs about himself and others. And also about the future.”

Hermione stopped and turned to Luna.

“Our overall aim will be to transform his sense of hopelessness into hopefulness. He needs to see a future for himself and develop a plan for engaging with it. This is going to be a long and difficult road for him but we have a chance in this intensive environment to support him to get there.”

Luna nodded. “I know I can help. At least I can’t make things worse for him. And I was in that space, myself, when I arrived here, fantasising about floating away. Just to escape the pain.”

Hermione marvelled, again, at the astoundingly composed and compassionate woman before her. Luna had managed to deal with the shock of discovering who was responsible for her permanent disfigurement and had already not only forgiven him, but was seeking to help him through his anguish.

“Do you want me to come with you when you first see him?” Hermione asked.

“I’ve already seen him,” said Luna, rising from her seat. “I had to take him my sunflower.”

“Sunflower?”

“Yes, the one my father sent. It delivers sunlight therapy—for emotional healing. I thought Shaun needed it more at this point in time than I do.”

Hermione’s thoughts went to the sunflower that Snape had placed in her bathroom, suddenly aware of its significance. He was trying to heal her emotionally without her even being aware of it.

***

“We need to decide who’s going to be staying with Shaun over the next few days.” Lynch leaned against the bench in the staff room, muscular arms crossed over his water bottle.

“Could we just take it in shifts?” asked Hermione.

Lynch nodded. “Snape has agreed to cover the night shift since he’ll continue to share their room, so it’s just a matter of covering the time during the day.”

“I’m happy to do more shifts.” Ellory’s voice was unusually quiet and Hermione noticed that her toast sat uneaten on her plate.

Lynch looked hard at her. “We’ll split the time evenly,” he said finally. “Does that suit you George?”

George was also unusually reserved. “Yes, but I’d just like to ensure that Shaun’s needs don’t supersede the needs of the other patients. We can’t lose site how much of a shock it’s been for everyone else, especially Luna.”

“No one is suggesting that,” Lynch replied with a stern frown. “Of course the other patients won’t be forgotten. And we all know that you have Luna’s best interests at heart.”

George recoiled. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Lynch shook his head with a sigh. “I’m just saying that it’s clear that the two of you are close.”

“Close?” George stood, shoving his seat back. “Close is a pretty relative term wouldn’t you say?” He held Lynch’s gaze before turning and striding out the door.

“Fuck,” Lynch muttered, throwing his empty bottle into the sink with a loud clatter and following him out.

Ellory looked on dully, as if she hadn’t fully comprehended what was going on.

Watching the older woman over the rim of her tea cup, Hermione chewed her lip. She was so used to her being haughty and combative, she wasn’t quite sure of what to make of her distinctly subdued demeanour. Then she thought back to something that Snape had said.

“Perhaps you could give Shaun some massage therapy?” she said, taking a sip of tea in an effort to appear casual.

Ellory peered at her over her glasses and Hermione could feel her scanning her face for signs of mockery or derision.

“Professor Snape said you were very good,” she added.

Ellory frowned and finally sighed. “Yes, I might do that,” she said quietly before standing and putting a hand on Hermione’s shoulder on her way out the door.

Hermione continued to feel the weight of her hand, long after she’d gone. It was the first time she could remember Ellory touching her in the past two and a half years.

***

Snape sat in his usual seat by the window, a steaming bowl of soup on the table and an open book in his hand.

“Do you mind if I join you, Professor?” Hermione slid into the seat beside him.

Glancing up from his book, he allowed his eyes to rest on her for so long that she started to feel the uncomfortable prickle of self-consciousness.

“I can leave?”

He gave a gentle snort and placed the book down before leaning towards her. “And where would you go?”

Her breathing instantly accelerated with his closeness. She was going to have to delve into some serious control techniques if she was going to withstand his presence over the remaining weeks.

“I’m sure there are others who would appreciate my company,” she murmured.

“Do you need me to appreciate you?” His voice was barely a whisper.

He knew what she wanted.

“I’d like to continue with my teachings,” she responded quietly.

His gaze rolled over her. “Are you sure you’re ready?”

“Positive.”

The ghost of a smile twitched the corner of his lips. “Piano therapy?”

“Not . . . this time.”

“Really?” His hand slid onto her thigh, just below the level of the table where it couldn’t be seen and his elegant fingers tapped a rhythm on her leg that she knew without even looking.

“We could make a few more keys . . . stick,” he breathed.

“I scourgified it,” Hermione murmured, glancing around the room to ensure no one was watching them.

“That’s a shame.” The soft, rhythmic movements on her leg were gradually edging toward her crotch. “I was hoping to smell your . . . enjoyment . . . the next time I played.”

Feeling suddenly hot, Hermione squirmed to relieve the throbbing tension that was already building in her core.

Suddenly he stopped and slid his hand back onto his book, picking it up and resuming his reading. “I actually had something lighter in mind, considering recent events,” he said, focusing on the pages. “I’ll come by this afternoon. Bring my wand.”

Hermione nodded briefly. “I’ll be there . . . ready.”

***

“Do you have any sex toys?” Snape asked, abrupt and business-like, as soon as he’d closed the door to her office.

Hermione wasn’t sure what she’d expected after the closeness of their last encounter, but she was quickly discovering that he was still very much the same Snape. And it came as a relief. She didn’t want him different. She just wanted to understand him.

“Actually I do.” She felt a sudden jolt of pride at being able to demonstrate that she wasn’t as sexless as he’d assumed.

With a distinct swagger, she walked into her bedroom, fossicking around in her bedside drawer before pulling out an object and presenting it to him.

“That’s a toy is it?” He held the small black cylinder disdainfully between his thumb and index finger.

“Well . . . it’s a . . . modest approximation.” Hermione replied somewhat indignantly.

“It would appear to be the antithesis of a toy—about as fun as a bout of boils.” He continued to regard the device with contempt.

Hermione remembered that she’d received it as a free give-away at a sex therapist conference years before. It was unlikely to be top of the range. Actually, it probably wouldn’t even make ‘the range’ in any reputable sex shop.

“So is this just a further attempt to demonstrate my sexual inexperience and inadequacy or is there another point you’re trying to make?” She crossed her arms.

Snape stared at her. “On the bed.” His lips hung apart after the last word and Hermione felt a shiver trickle down her spine.

Before she could move, he gave a single downward flourish of his hand, dragging every piece of her clothing into a pool at her feet. Wrapping her arms protectively around her erect nipples, she gasped as he stepped closer, hovering only millimetres from her naked, prickling flesh.

“I said . . . on . . . the . . . bed.”

After a moment, she dropped her arms obediently to her sides and responded, “Yes, sir.”

He raised his chin in acknowledgement, allowing her to release the breath she’d been holding.

Stepping back, he continued to fix her with his gaze. “Where’s my wand?”

“On the shelf, sir.” She pointed as she backed onto the bed.

Retrieving it, Snape held the wand easily between his fingertips. Hermione noted it was more like a musical instrument in his hands than anything else.

“Lie on your back and open your legs.”

Despite their past encounters, his blunt, lascivious instructions still had the capacity to make her flush with humiliation but the simultaneous surge of electrified tension that jabbed at her core felt deeply erotic. Such paradoxical physicality felt central to her developing an understanding of the dissonance of arousal.

Spreading her legs wide, she placed her palms flat against the bedcovers, wondering if the comfort of it came from the mental image of it covering her, now gaping, genitals.

“Hold your lips apart.” The word ‘lips’ tripping off his lips sent another jolt through her.

Her movements felt laboured, like her limbs were coated in thick molasses. She was having to force herself to comply. But the battle, itself, was adding to the tension that coiled within her.

Sliding her fingers down to her labia, she spread them apart, feeling the cool, impersonal air sliding over her latest reveal.

“Wider.” He tilted his head as he watched her.

She sighed inwardly. It seemed that no mental hurdle would ever be enough. There would always be another. He’d seen it all before so why did it feel like the first time? Was that the nature of the Dominant-submissive relationship? That the power play could redraw the lines, anew, each time?

Walking her fingers lower, she opened her inner lips and could feel her vagina stretching open. Closing her eyes for a moment of reprieve from his boldly probing gaze, she opened them to find him holding the black device between his fingers, touching the tip of his wand to one end. Suddenly the stunted shaft began to extend, pulling upward and outward. He kept looking back at her vagina for reference, adjusting the dimensions based upon what he was seeing.

Her former Potions Professor was customising a sex toy for her. It wasn’t something she’d ever considered would constitute part of her conscious thought processes. But here he was, methodically and precisely shaping it and, now, adding a second shorter angled appendage from the base. With small flicks of his wand, he applied a series of raised nodules to the surface of the shaft and some longer, finger-like projections to the top of the secondary appendage. The final surprise was when he turned the whole structure over and rolled the wand in a circular motion to carve out the inside of each cylinder.

With a final tap, he set the two pieces vibrating in a high-pitched whir before inserting his index finger inside the hollowed out primary phallus and thumb into the shorter one.

The penny suddenly dropped. Hermione swallowed.

“Don’t look so concerned,” he gave a wry grin. “If you could see the way your pussy has been undulating like a belly-dancer, beckoning to me this entire time, you’d realise that the mind-body continuum is a fallacy. Or perhaps I should say ‘phallusy’ in your case. Regardless, what you think you want and what your body wants are not always congruent. Believe me, I’ve not witnessed a more wanton performance by a cunt in anticipation of imminent filling and fucking in my life.”

Hermione heard herself groan with the effort of maintaining her composure.

“And now I intend to reward your unselfconscious twat for having the courage to express its true desires despite the, no doubt, incessant priggishly banal instructions of its owner.”

He knelt on the bed, fully clothed, his buttoned-up black against her tremulous pale flesh magnifying the power discrepancy.

“You will instruct me on what you wish to occur with this particular device which can, as you will now discover, legitimately be called a ‘sex toy’.”

Hermione drew in a deep breath as she appraised what looked more like a smooth black ‘fucking claw’. Her words stuck in her desert-dry throat—no doubt a result of the significant loss of moisture south.

“Be precise,” his enunciation was, as always, exquisitely precise. “This is about you learning what you want and communicating it accurately.”

Hermione’s voice, when it did finally surface, was a dry rasp.

“I want the large shaft against my clitoris.” She closed her eyes against the final word. It was painfully embarrassing to hear.

“Describe what you want to happen.” She heard the high-pitched vibration increase in volume and felt the bed shift under her. He must be close.

“I . . . I want you to rub the shaft slowly around my clitoris, then touch gently on my nub.”

“Good girl,” he rumbled and she felt something warm flood into her chest. She was mortified to think it was the same desperately desirous need for praise that she’d exhibited throughout her schooling. But it would be. Of course it was. Since when did such things simply dissipate? It was part of her make up—a need as fundamental as anything else that sustained her.

And so she had to let it be. To immerse herself in his approval. And the sense of receiving praise for the very act of seeking pleasure caused the warmth to flood even lower, to meld with the heat that was already seething with anticipation deep inside her.

Opening her eyes, she saw him withdraw the red cord from their previous encounter from his pocket. He shook it casually, causing two loops to appear, before tossing it onto her chest.

“Place the loops over your wrists, then put your hands above your head.”

Following his instructions, she felt the cord pull tight as it drew her wrists up, securing them against the bed head. His dark eyes now trawled over her body and she noticed his tongue flick briefly against his bottom lip in a predatory gesture that made her abdomen clench.

Placing a hand beside her waist, he leaned over her pelvis and drew the bumpy head of the device up her inner thigh, shuddering up the fleshy contour of one labia before delving down to flicker against her inner lips.

Hermione inhaled sharply, her shoulders arching into the bed as he painstakingly executed her bidding. Sliding the head of the shaft in gentle circles around her swollen nerve bundle with his index finger, he allowed the numbing vibrations to prime her clitoris before meeting the engorged head directly, causing her to buck like a whip cracking.

“You do know what you want, don’t you?” he murmured, continuing to tease her both physically and mentally. “What can I do for you now?”

“Um . . . “ She was still recovering from her overreaction to the stimulation of her clitoris. “My nipples. I’d like you to rub them between the two shafts . . . sir.”

His eyebrow flickered up and he stared at her in surprise. “We might make a loose woman out of you yet.”

A small smile crept onto her lips but instantly fell away when he brought the two vibrating appendages together in a pincer grip along one of her nipples.

“Oh shit!” she grunted, her face rolling into her raised bicep. As the nodules stuttered along her taut flesh, drawing each bud out into a throbbing tip, she moaned and strained against her binds, not quite understanding how her breasts could deliver such piercing intensity.

“Uhhhh.” The shock of his hot mouth engulfing one singing point, massaging it with deep, strident strokes of his tongue made her thrust against him in an effort to gain some traction for her suddenly aching and ravenous pussy.

Placing the vibrating shafts against her pelvis to hold her down, he took the other nipple just as forcefully. All she could do was pant against her arm, riding out the clenching waves of desire that rolled through her. She knew now why he’d tied her down. There was no way she wouldn’t be clawing at him otherwise.

“Tell me what you want,” he whispered, his lips against her nipple, flicking the tip with each word.

Hermione was already delirious. If this continued for much longer, she knew that he would drive her half mad.

“Just fuck me hard with it. Please,” she murmured, her face still buried in her arm.

She heard the deep inhalation of breath through his nose. It didn’t seem that he required any further clarification.

His weight lifted off her, then she felt his hand pressing on her inner thigh, forcing her legs apart before the shuddering head of the main phallus slipped through her folds and sat at her constricted opening which twitched, desperate to grab hold of something, anything.

“As you wish.” He drew out the last word as he delved into her.

He’d transfigured a much wider column than the original and, with the added bumpy texture, it both stretched and stimulated every millimetre of her channel as he forged into her. Lost for words, she simply rocked her head, moaning unintelligibly, as his thumb, embedded inside the smaller shaft, simultaneously alighted with a frenzy of tiny shivering fingers on her clitoris.

She bucked as he thrust up deep inside her, riding the dual sensation shuddering inside and outside her pussy. Pinning one of her legs with his body, he lay down on top of her, allowing his practised fingers to work the device by feel alone. The fingers of his free hand grasped her hair and dragged her head gently back to expose her neck where he trailed his tongue along the pale column, continuing to work her channel.

The contrast between the sensuous glide of his tongue and the jackhammering into her core caused a sensory division that she couldn’t quite reconcile. Her mind didn’t know where to focus, how to gauge what was happening, and so she just gave up, allowing sensation to build relentlessly inside her, without intervention and without judgement.

“Are you going to come for me?” he rumbled as he worked his way up her neck, nipping at her earlobe.

She ghosted the word ‘yes’ but could manage no more as her clitoris felt like it was about to explode, her squeezing cunt attempting to vacuum seal the plunging shaft deep inside it.

“You’re so tight,” he breathed. “If that was my cock inside you now, the blood would be trapped inside it and it would continue to engorge. Can you feel it?”

She could. He was wandlessly expanding the shaft inside her, increasing the pressure against her walls until her pussy felt ready to burst, twitching and spasming with each thrust, trying to accommodate the size.

Then his thumb, a master of chords and runs, became the master of her clitoris, tapping, jiggling and massaging with the pulsating head until she was overwhelmed with the exquisite clash of pleasure and pain.

“Gods, Severus!” she screamed, a full-body orgasm capturing her, causing her to jerk and buck uncontrollably under him. Her breath came in convulsive gasps against his cheek as wave after wave of contractions slammed into her pussy, squeezing the huge column into her body and forcing out a stream of liquid that could no longer be contained within the pressure cooker of her pelvis.

“Unhhh, unnhhh,” she groaned as the aftershocks continued to wrack her holes. Slowly, he slipped the phallus from inside her making her feel stretched and empty, like she’d just delivered something huge.

“I thought you said you had something ‘lighter’ planned?” she panted in his ear.

“Lighter than what else I have in mind for you,” he responded, his voice rumbling against her chest.

She let out a shuddering sigh. “Fuck.”
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In Their Hands *Complete*

In Their Hands Complete