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Strength in What Remains Behind	By : Sandiera Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Snape/Hermione Views: 13525 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

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Hermione

I was flustered for the rest of the morning after I woke up from that nightmare. I decided to take steps to avoid running into Professor Snape. I didn't know why he had influenced my dreams, but I didn't much like it. Fortunately we didn't have Potions today, so I didn't have to suffer through the class again. I just had to keep my head down in the hall and avoid looking at the teacher's table during meals. Thankfully, I had Ron and Harry to distract me. They brushed it off when I tried to apologize for the way I acted after Potions yesterday, so I guess they knew I was upset because I had received my first detention.

After all the awkwardness of the dance of apology and forgiveness was over, we settled back into our usual chatter. It was a pleasure to have some normalcy in my day, and it helped me relax. I was still determined to avoid Professor Snape, though. Why reopen a can of worms when you already know what's waiting for you inside it? Unfortunately, we didn't have all the same classes anymore, so we had to part when it was time for my Arithmancy, and their Divination. I kept my head down and my eyes on the ground as I walked through the halls alone, now that I didn't have my friends to distract me with their company. This proved to be a fatal mistake, as I somehow managed to walk right into someone. A someone who snarled as he was nearly bowled over.

"Granger." Professor Snape said my name like it was profanity. "30 points from Gryffindor and detention again. If you're late this time, you're getting another." I was startled into looking up at him at the mention of detention, and inwardly, I cringed. He looked at me as if I were a tiny insect, a speck of dirt; like something that should be binned. This upset me more than the detention did, which I recognized was because of my need for approval by my authority figures. He held my gaze for a moment, then stalked off. Had I won that time? I wasn't sure.

I continued on to class, mulling over the confrontation. Snape had never liked me, and I didn't understand why. It seemed like nothing I ever did was good enough for him. Intellectually, I understood that I had a need for approval. But why did I need it from Snape? Hadn't he proved himself unworthy? That his approval was suspect and not to be solicited? I distracted myself from this line of thinking with the beautiful logic of arithmancy. I didn't really want to think too hard on it.

After Arithmancy, I was reunited with Harry and Ron, and they helped to make me feel better about my second detention. I did eventually leave them to go up to my room, telling them I needed to get my work done so I wouldn't be up all night after detention. Once I got up there, though, I found I couldn't concentrate, so I flopped onto my bed instead. I had to clear my head or I'd never get anywhere with my schoolwork. Why did it bother me that Snape seemed to hate me? I realized that I knew the answer and I didn't want to admit it. So I just looked it square in the face.

I respected him. I maybe even identified with him in some way. Let's face facts. Professor Snape is obviously a highly intelligent man. Our temperaments were completely different, but I understood intelligence and its burdens. His natural intuition with Potions was enviable, though perhaps he might feel the same way about my way with Arithmancy, who knew? Although it was more likely that he would want Harry's gift with Defense Against the Dark Arts. He did constantly apply for the position, after all.

I frowned. Actually, apart from the duel with Gilderoy Lockhart, we had never really seen his ability with that particular type of magic. Perhaps he was equally skilled in that area. Either way, it was certainly true that he was not a very good instructor. He constantly intimidated poor Neville into ruining his potions, where a more skilled teacher would know how to encourage him in the subject. Neville was never going to be a Potions Master, but he did tolerably when the Professor wasn't around. Clearly he couldn't teach the Defense class. Nobody would be brewing potions on the battlefield, but a proper defense teacher might mean the difference between life and death. I surprised myself by feeling sympathy for him. I still didn't understand why he felt about me the way he seemed to do, but at least I understood my own feelings now.

I still had time to get some work done before I left for detention, too. I didn't move from the bed, though. Instead, I listened to the quiet in the girl's dorm while my mind wandered more. I felt a tingling between my legs and spread them slightly in anticipation. I knew what I wanted. I had been masturbating now and then for a few months now, ever since I began noticing that Harry was more than just another Gryffindor. His green eyes were so pretty, and his messy hair gave him a slightly rakish look that was appealing. The color of it set off his pale skin and his fine features, as well. I would never tell anyone, though. I knew how Ron felt about me and it would only shatter the friendship. Still, there was no denying that I was attracted to Harry.

I thought about him and gently stroked my breast, feeling the stiff nipple through the fabric of my robes. I slowly slid the other hand down my belly to my inner thigh, rubbing it gently in anticipation, then slid it up to my crotch, causing my skirt to ride up and expose my pink panties. I debated taking them off for a moment, but I was too aroused at this point to waste time undressing. I slid my hand under the waist band and stroked my slit, feeling the wetness leaking through, then parted my lips and found my clit and began rubbing it. I moaned, and squeezed my breast as I did so, then put my hand under my robes and pushed up my shirt to find the nipple and tweak it. It felt so good, and I imagined that I was with Harry. It was his hand on my breast, working my nipple as I moaned. It was his fingers deftly rubbing my most sensitive spot, causing me to buck my hips. I imagined looking into his green eyes as he entered me, filling me as I writhed beneath him. I imagined how he would taste as he kissed me, our bodies moving in unison as we sought out our mutual pleasure. With a cry, I arched my back and came, then lay still for a moment in the afterglow of the orgasm.

It was then that I realized that I was going to be late for detention.

I scrambled out of bed and ran down the stairs and out of the Gryffindor common room, fixing my clothes as I moved. I had absolutely no time to waste. I could not afford to be late. I practically flew into the Potions lab, to find Professor Snape at his desk, watching the door in anticipation. He sneered,

"Late again, Miss Granger. And I see you've been running in the halls again despite my reprimand yesterday. 20 points for each from Gryffindor, and you'll serve another detention tomorrow." He was pleased that he had gotten a chance to punish me again, it seemed, as he practically purred this sentence. I had never noticed it before, but there were times when his voice sounded rather... erotic. I flushed at this thought, aware that I had become aroused again. The few times I had masturbated without going to sleep right away, I had found that I was still in a state of sexual preparedness afterwards and greedily wanted several more orgasms before I was willing to leave off. This was working to my detriment today. Aroused by Snape! The shame of it... though oddly that only served to arouse me further.

I tried to concentrate on the potion he has us preparing this evening, but I had never done combat with this particular distraction before. I was hyper aware of the place between my legs. To serve as a further distraction, Professor Snape was pacing the room today, even though there were only three students in the class room. Each time he passed by me, I was aware of his proximity, his maleness. My pussy was throbbing by this point, desperately needing attention. I was sure I had soaked my panties through at this point. I thought of the day of the growing teeth in an attempt to cool my ardor, but I was too far gone at that point.

Detention was pure hell that day, and I completely failed with the potion he'd assigned. I was ready to run out the door and head for the nearest lavatory when he dismissed us, but I was ordered to stay behind for a moment. I studied the floor so there would be as little to give me away as possible. My breathing was a bit heavy, but at least this way he wouldn't see my flushed face.

"Granger, your potion was a disappointment today. Did you think you could come in here and dither around for a bit and walk off as if you had actually served your punishment?" I was silent. I didn't know how he wanted me to answer this question. I hadn't deliberately screwed up the potion, but he obviously thought I had. As I tried to determine what answer would get me out of here the fastest, so I could give myself much needed release, he grew angry.

"Did you think the question was rhetorical? I demand an answer! Why is your work subpar today? Look at me when I'm talking to you, girl!" With this, he grabbed my chin and firmly (though not painfully) pulled my face up so that my eyes met his. Perhaps there was something to betray me in them, because he blinked. A look of distaste crossed his face, though it was quickly swept away and replaced with his usual scowl. I took this opportunity to blurt out the answer I had decided on.

"Please, sir, I don't feel well. May I go?" It was plausible. The flush, the labored breathing, and the inability to concentrate could be contributed to an illness just as easily as to what their true cause was. He let go of my chin and turned away from me, silent for a moment. He seemed to be brooding. I fidgeted, wanting to touch myself but knowing I would never dare to do so in front of him. After a moment, he waved a hand towards the door, never once turning to face me.

"Go," he said, and I did as speedily as I could. I ran into the first bathroom I came to and got down to business, rubbing myself furiously, images of Harry in my mind intermingling with the images of Professor Snape. I came quickly and hard, gasping in the cold stall of the girl's room. Once I had calmed down, I felt ashamed again. I took a nice long bath before I went back to my room to sleep, trying to wash away the knowledge of what I had done, and why. When I woke up the next morning, I couldn't recall my dreams, though I had wet through my panties again in the night.
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Strength in What Remains Behind