Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

The Story of H	By : AnyaToile Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Snape/Hermione Views: 62388 -:- Recommendations : 4 -:- Currently Reading : 11
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, or any of the characters associated with it; I am not making any sort of money or compensation for this work.

Chapter List
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             Snape took a step back from the raised platform Hermione was on, his eyes brows raised slightly revealing how her declaration had caught him off guard.

               “Indeed,” was the only word which he uttered as he stared into her face with his scorching analytical stare.

                He turned away from her and grabbed the jar he had used to lubricate the enema nozzle.

                 Hermione pulled her robe tighter around her figure as she made to step down.

                "Did I tell you to move?” Snape stood with two gloved fingers gleaming wetly.

                “I’m sorry, sir,” Hermione said, her voice betraying her trepidation, “You didn’t seem comfortable with…What I mean to say is that it didn’t appear that you…you didn’t seem to want…I didn’t think…”

                “Of course I don’t want to be in this situation,” Snape hissed before his voice took on a rather cold tone, “But I was directed, by the headmistress no less, to take on the duties of our resident mediwizard – as if I don’t provide enough service to the school through my demanding responsibilities. As such, Miss Granger, I am charged with treating your negligence though it pains me greatly because if it were up to me, I would have already sent you shuffling back to your rooms to moan in pain until the mediwitch returned.”

                Hermione placed her feet on the floor and straightened herself to her full, though unimpressive height.

                “As it seems to be such an inconvenience to you, I believe you’d agree with me that it’s best that Professor McGonagall administered it to me, sir.”

                Snape’s hollow laugh echoed off the walls of the bathroom.

                “Professor McGonagall is a pureblood, Miss Granger. She perhaps heard of enemas in passing during her muggle studies class when she was a seventh year, but she wouldn’t be able to safely administer”— “Some other female teacher than”—“and do so in an effective manner nor would she recognize your discomfort from true pain of injury should there be too much water flow too fast. And as for another female teacher, would you rather have some myopic lunatic gazing at you as you struggle to take and hold the treatment or the resident lesbian, both of which are also purebloods and so would have as much chance in knowing what an enema is.”

                Hermione fell to her knees and gasped as another sharp pain radiated outward from the left side of her stomach. She vaguely registered the sensation of moving upward from the ground and being placed on something just as equally as hard but with a more pleasant texture than the stone floor—the towel, she realized.

                “Do you want to entrust your safety to their incompetency in this situation, Miss Granger?”

                She shook her head, her eyes still shut tight against the pain.

                “When we begin, you will have to do exactly as I say; is that understood?”

                She nodded, slightly pleading for him to shut up and begin.

                “If you should try to do anything differently, I will be forced to…ensure your compliance; understand?”

                Hermione nodded again, prompting Snape to impatiently sigh, “While I relish any moment in which the know-it-all Granger is silent, I need a verbal acknowledgment from you.”

                “Yes, sir,” the words came out like gravel, “Yes, sir, I..I understand, sir. Please, sir.”

                She felt her robe slip off her body and despite the pain, Hermione panicked and shot up.

                “I am warning you, Miss Granger, I will restrain you if you don’t hold still,” Snape said exasperatedly, “I’m sure even you can deduce that this process has a tendency to get messy and I was merely saving you the trouble of walking back through the hallways reeking because your precious modestly insisted on draping this robe right in my way.”

                Hermione bit her lip and laid her head back down on the towel.

                “On your knees.”

                She complied without a word and only whimpered when she felt something cold and slick rub roughly over the place even she hadn’t touched other than for basic hygiene purposes.

                “I’m simply preparing you for the nozzle. You’re going to feel pressure. Bare down as if you are trying to have a bowel movement.”

                Hermione’s eyes shot open and she consciously did just the opposite, tensing her muscles in her hips, buttocks, and pelvic floor.

                “This will only hurt more if you do not relax, Miss Granger,” Snapes voice, though level and firm, had a softer quality that Hermione was positive she was imagining.

                While she debated why Snape would show compassion at her most vulnerable moment, the potions master spread her rounded buttocks with one hand, using his thumb and forefinger to push each globe out of the way while his he used the middle finger of his other hand to lube the outer ring of muscle, drawing it in circles and occasionally applying the slightest pressure to that forbidden hole.

                Hermione found that her breath was picking up speed involuntarily and she prayed that her body wasn’t beginning to betray her in ways completely unconnected to the potion.

                “I want you to count to five, Miss Granger, and on five take a deep breath.”

                “One…” Hermione expelled all the air from her lungs at each number and slowly drew it back in to keep from hyperventilating, “Two…Three…”

                Before she could let out her forth breath, she could feel intense pressure on her anus and the feeling of something cold sliding past the outer ring of muscle.

                Her entire body clenched involuntarily this time as Snape’s finger slowly entered her a full inch and then begin to slide back out.

                “Relax, Miss Granger.”

                Snape slipped the finger back in just slightly further than the first time, wiggling it slightly. He repeated methodically pulling his finger out and pushing it back in fractions deeper each time. As it became clear he wasn’t going to stop until the entire digit was inside her, Hermione tried to think of other things but could only focus on how long his fingers were. She had always admired his skill, the way he manipulated the knife while cutting potions ingredients or made short work of tearing leaves on the rare occasions he had demonstrated a brewing technique in class; but being in this position made her realize that his actual fingers mimicked his handwriting she had always envied: long…spindly…strong…sensuous.

                Sometime during the course of Snape’s attention to her bottom, the invasion of her intimate zone had gone from being painful and paralyzing to…delectable.

                Hermione, who hadn’t realized she had allowed her eyes to close, blinked them open and felt her face grow hot. She had unconsciously been moving her hips back to meet his finger. From her position, she could see the two of them in the mirror and it appeared Snape was as shocked by her wanton behavior: Hermione’s upper half lay on the table while her back arched so that her bare bottom was in the air; her usually pale body was slightly flushed whereas her face was nearly Gryffindor red; Snape stood behind her, his woolen black robes contrasting sharply against the marbled surroundings; he had taken off the outer coat some time ago and his sleeves where rolled to the middle of his upper arm and from this angle she could make out the faded dark mark; his finger seemed to be as deep as possible in her bottom. Hermione couldn’t see his face because of the curtain of hair shielding it, but from his rigid posture and the fact that he was standing completely motionless lead her to think he was stunned by her actions. Hermione quickly stilled her hips when she realized that she had been rocking them the entire time and then buried her face in her arms to avoid watching the train wreck any further.

                Snape cleared his throat in a manner uncustomary to him before sliding his finger out and back in. He continued this slow process three more times while Hermione fought the urge to buck back against his hand. The fourth time, Snape slid his finger all the way in and began to slowly withdraw it when a moan escaped Hermione and she simultaneously clenched her muscles as tight as she could to keep his digit in her while pushing back against his retreating hand.

                Snape’s free hand pushed her hips away from him and took a step back.

                “I’m sorry,” Hermione’s muffled voice cracked with embarrassed sobs as she tried to bury her face deeper in the crook of her elbow, “I couldn’t help it, sir.”

                “The nozzle should go in with less discomfort now,” the potions master said as he grabbed the nozzle and lubricated it once again.

                Hermione raised her head to watch him over her shoulder in disbelief. He was completely ignoring the incident – his voice didn’t even betray how he interpreted what she had done. If he was mortified, disgusted, or appalled, he didn’t show it. The lack of reaction unnerved Hermione even more so than if he had yelled at her and demanded she behave, leave, something.

                She didn’t have time to dwell on that however. She shivered slightly as Snape spread more cold lubrication over her anus. Without warning, he slipped nozzle in. It slid inside her without resistance, but Hermione quickly realized that it was far longer than Snape’s finger as it felt like he pushed further and further in her bottom without reaching the base.

                “Stand up,” the command was clinical and detached.

                Hermione stood up and felt a new sensation as pressure from the nozzle that tried to slide out. She found she did not altogether dislike the sensation.

                “Squat,” Snape said in the same distracted voice as before.

                She followed his command and felt the nozzle slide completely out of her.

                “I’ve used too generous an amount of lube and spent a great deal of time attempting to relax the muscles to let the nozzle pass. If you can’t even hold it in without the added pressure of the water and subsequent cramping, you’ll be even less able to do so with those factors,” Snape explained this as he walked back to the black bag, “If we increase the size of the nozzle, it’s less likely to go anywhere.”

                At these last words, he turned around holding a silver nozzle with a bullet shaped head three times the size of the nozzle currently attached to the bag. Hermione paled and shook her head furiously.

                “Please, sir,” Hermione rasped out, “I’ll be able to hold this one just fine. It’s not as if I’ll be squatting. Please, that one is too big. It’ll never fit.”

                Snape quirked one eyebrow as he said, “One would think, Miss Granger, after certain displays tonight, you might relish the idea of more anal stimulation.”

                Before Hermione could reply in outrage he set the nozzle back in the bag and walked towards her with purpose.

                “You may attempt to take the enema with the smaller nozzle – I will allow that. However, Miss Granger,” he was standing directly in front of her, glaring down his nose as his voice dropped without losing a single iota of violence and authority, “if you fail to hold the nozzle in or you leak a single drop, not only will you have to clean the mess up the muggle way, but you will take a larger nozzle and a larger nozzle until we find one that will stay put. You will be required to retain the entire enema you have received plus start over on a fresh bag. Punishment for failing will be…severe. ”

                His face had inched closer and closer to hers which caused Hermione to scoot backwards until she found herself loosing balance and falling over the edge of the platform.

                Snape reached out with a speed and snatched Hermione by the front of her shirt so quickly that it made Hermione wonder how he would be a seeker. He pulled her upright and towards him so that his hooked nose was mere centimeters from her slightly upturned one.

                “Do I make myself clear?”

                Hermione managed to squeak, “Perfectly, sir.”

                Snape let go of her shirt and roughly pushed down to all fours and then shoved her head down so that her bottom stuck in the air again. In the mirror, Hermione could see him pick the nozzle up and wipe it off. He once again spread her cheeks apart with the fingers of his left hand and lined the nozzle up with her opening.

                “Sir,” Hermione began weakly, “You’re not really going to put that into me without lubrication, are you?”

                “You have more than enough residual lubrication from the first insertion to ease your discomfort,” came his indifferent answer.

                “But…”

Hermione wasn’t able to finish her thought as the head of the nozzle slipped quickly past the tight outer ring of muscle. Instead, the beginning of what should have been a statement of protest morphed into an uninhibited moan accompanied by a slight arching of her back.

“Butt, indeed, Miss Granger,” Snape said in a light tone.

“Did you…” Hermione stuttered in disbelief, “Did you just make a joke, sir?”

Hermione stared at his reflection in the mirror and his reflection stared back, one eyebrow raised and his face void of any expression, save for a sparkle in his eyes that she hadn’t witnessed before.

Hermione pushed herself up on her hands and looked at him in the flesh over her shoulder.

Her tone was scolding and seemed to get higher in pitch as she went on, “You did! That is completely inappropriate given the situation, sir. You should…”

Hermione was cut off mid-rant as Snape roughly forced her head back down on the table. Without easing the pressure of his hand on the back of her neck at all, Snape began his own rant, “What is inappropriate is that fact that you have to be in this situation in the first place. Any dunderheaded second year would have recognized how dangerous it would be leave an overdose of anti-diarrheal potion untreated. But you seem to have failed to recognize your fault, an oversight I’ll gladly correct tonight. Consider this a combination of detention and treatment.”

Hermione didn’t say anything as she stared up into his onyx eyes which shone with a ferocity that at any other time would have been inspiring. At this current moment, that same ferocity just intimidated her and sent her stomach doing flips which were not altogether unpleasant.

“Keep your backside in the air as high as possible while you leave your head lowered,” Snape said as he lifted his hand from her person and walked to where the bag was hanging.

Hermione watched as he released the clamp on the hose with one hand and squeezed the bag slightly. Suddenly, Hermione felt a pleasant, unexpected warmth in her bottom and she arched into it. Her eyes fluttered shut and a small smile spread on her face.

She forgot where she was for a moment and let out a contented sigh, following which she could hear her potions master snort. She opened her eyes and saw him sitting in a straight backed chair facing her side four feet away. He sat with his arms crossed and had a bored expression. She took the moment to unabashedly examine his face; even from this distance she could see a prominent shadow of stubble on his jaw which gave him a rugged look. With his yellowed, crooked teeth hidden behind his lips, the day-old beard and indifferent expression made him look rather aristocratically handsome. Well, and if his hair had been freshly washed and trimmed. It wouldn’t have been a Victor Krum or Sirius Black handsome – they were a charming handsome. Snape in this moment was coldly beautiful, vampire-like even. You wanted to fawn and mother Krum and Sirius; you wanted to fall to Snape’s feet.

Hermione dropped her gaze quickly and buried her head in her arms as she realized where her thoughts were going. It was at this moment that she felt a slight coolness on the top portion of her inner thigh. She raised her head slightly and looked straight in front of her into empty space with a frightened doe expression – she was wet and she was fairly certain from the aching in her quim that the hose had not sprung a leak. She laid her head down with a slight groan; if she was so wet that she was dripping onto her thighs now, then she had probably been visibly slick when Professor Snape had been preparing her.

Hermione would have continued her internal commiserating had a sharp cramp – not a pain of constipation – not rippled through her bowels. She winced and then lifted her head to look at her professor before looking away again, cheeks aflame.

“Uh, sir,” Hermione began waveringly.

“Yes, Miss Granger?” Snape’s voice was unnervingly conversational for the situation, at least as conversational as he ever was with any student.

“I need to go to the bathroom now.”
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The Story of H