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The Bad Potion	By : Adarsyan Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Snape/Hermione Views: 18399 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor do I own any of the characters. I am making no money from this piece.

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            The next morning, Hermione's eyes finally fluttered open. She was still loosely wrapped in her towel, but other than that, completely nude. As she sat up, her head swam a bit. She couldn't quite remember how she got there or why she was naked. She held her head in her hands and tried to think clearly about what had happened. Then, it hit her. The explosion, the shower, what happened in the shower, all of it came flooding back into her. Especially what happened in the shower. Hermione's body awoke when the memories of her lust for Snape came back in full force.

            Her exposed nipples hardened in the cool morning air and she could feel the muscles between her legs quiver with anticipation. “Not now,” Hermione thought to herself, “later, but not now.” She mustered what was left of her willpower and got out of bed and got dressed. She slipped on a conservative white bra and panties and put on her clothes. Even thought these were the clothes she wore every day, they somehow felt uncomfortable, constricting even. She brushed it off as just being a bit flustered and started her day.

            Finding her dormitory abandoned, Hermione hurried down the staircases to the dining hall. Everyone was already chatting and eating away. Her eyes scanned the room, finally landing upon Harry and Ron. Hermione smiled as she saw they had saved her a seat. She quickly went over, sat down, and began putting food onto her plate. She listened as Harry and Ron talked on about quidditch and wizard chess and other mindless topics. Hermione loved her friends dearly, but they did talk an awful lot about nothing at all.

            Barely managing to feign interest in her friends' conversation, Hermione glanced around the room. Finally, her eyes settled on one man: Professor Snape. No longer eating, he was still sitting at the table at the front of the hall. He was resting his head on his hands and intently examining the crowd. Hermione looked over his stern face, enraptured by every detail, from his dark eyes, to his flowing black hair. The voices of her friends faded into the background, as Hermione fell deeper and deeper into her trance.

            Suddenly, Snape looked directly at Hermione. They locked eyes, for just a second. But the second dragged into hours in Hermione's mind. Finally, Harry's voice broke Hermione's concentration. She snapped her head away from Snape's gaze, blushed deeply, and said “I'm sorry, what?”

            Harry began, “I was just saying to Ron how unfair your punishment was. I mean, really? Potentially unlimited detention for just a tiny mistake?”

            Hermione's ears burned as she blushed deeper. “It's nothing. I probably deserve it, you know, for almost blowing up the class,” she replied, hurriedly fumbling over her words. “Anyway,” she continued, “I've got to get going. Don't want to be late. Class on the other side of the castle and what not.” Hermione quickly excused herself from the table and fled from the room.

            “But 'Mione!” Ron called after her, his face full of food, “You barely even touched your breakfast!” He and Harry looked at each other for a second, shrugged, and went back to eating.

            Hermione, unlike her friends, was anything but calm. She hadn't gone far from the dining hall before collapsing into a crevice in one of the walls. Her heart was racing and her breathing shallow. She could feel a cold sweat break out as she tried to calm herself. Questions raced through her mind: how long had they locked eyes? What was Snape thinking? What would her friends think? Had they suspected anything? Hermione leaned her head back and closed her eyes. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly, barely reassuring herself that everything would be okay. She composed herself and tried her best to continue to go about her day.

            The rest of the day, Hermione managed to lay low, not drawing a lot of attention to herself. She kept her head low while walking between classes, barely talked to anyone, and tried to keep her nose buried in some book at all times. Finally, the class came that she had dreaded all day: Potions. Hermione solemnly walked into the room and took her seat, careful to avoid anyone's direct gaze. Fortunately, Malfoy was missing that day, leaving her sitting by herself.

            When class began, the tall dark professor Snape walked to the front of the class. “Good afternoon, class,” Snape started, coldly, “in light of yesterday's incident, I will simply be performing and narrating a demonstration at the front of the class. You are all expected to take copious amounts of detailed notes and there will be a test on this in the coming week. Hopefully, this will avoid any future accidents.” And with that, he lowered a glare at the poor, blushing Gryffindor girl at the back of the class, and began his lesson.

            Of course, Hermione was embarrassed, but that wasn't the only reason why she was blushing. A moment or two after Snape had started speaking, a strange feeling had washed over Hermione. Her pupils had dilated and her breathing suddenly became heavy. Her eyes clamped shut as she bit her lip in an attempt to suppress a small moan. Once it passed, Hermione's eyes grew wide in realization and then fear. It didn’t have to be his body; even Professor Snape’s voice could arouse her. And Snape would be talking, non-stop, during the entire class. Hermione hadn't worked out why it only worked with Snape, she only knew that this class was going to be difficult.

            Hermione quickly got out a quill and parchment and began taking notes. She tried to steel her mind, focusing only on the words and not on their sound nor the person saying them. She hunched over her parchment, crossed her legs, and hoped she could last. Wave after wave of Snape's luxurious voice crashed against the wall of Hermione's mind, but with each one, it grew weaker and weaker. As Snape described the effects of the potion, Hermione's hand quivered. Saying the name of the potion made her squirm in her seat. Hermione tried her hardest to keep her mind off of it, but the more she tried, the more impossible it became. Finally, Hermione threw down her quill and grabbed the edge of the table with all the strength she could muster, in a last ditch attempt to withstand the urges Snape's voice was filling her with.

            And in one glorious moment, Hermione was able to perfectly block all of the urges. But as that moment slipped away, so did her control. She was now listening to Professor Snape's instructions with a new level of engrossment. Hermione was now watching Snape, letting his beautiful form and sonorous voice fill her mind, letting herself grow blind and ignorant of everything else around her. Even through her conservative bra and thick sweater, she could tell her hardened nipples were visibly creating small dents on her torso. A familiar warmth flooded her crotch as she uncrossed her legs and spread them ever so slightly, exposing her increasingly wet snatch.

            What Snape was saying wasn't important anymore. The only thing that mattered was that his silken voice was filling the room. Hermione, eyes intently set on the professor, subconsciously snaked her hand down between her legs, pulled the hem of her gold and scarlet skirt, and moved the light panties aside. She could feel that they were already damp with her own pussy juices. She bit her lips and her eyes fluttered for just a second as she began toying with the outer lips. As her hand worked away, she focused her attention on the tall, dark, handsome figure at the front of the classroom.

            The more Hermione watched Snape, the more his clothing seemed to fade away. His black cloak dissolved, revealing a slim, but muscular body underneath. He was thin and a bit wiry, but very fit. With every movement he made, she 'watched' his muscles flex and relax. Then, she focused herself a bit. Hermione started at his strong neck and traced her eyes downward, between his tough pecs, down across his abs, defined but not overpowering, finally landing at her professor's crotch.

            Hermione's hand picked up the pace as her eyes imagined what lay between the professor's legs. In the young girl's mind, Snape was well hung. For a horse. The tool that hung between his legs was easily six inches, completely limp. It swung suggestively as Snape moved about. Hermione lightly licked her lips as she imagined Snape's impressive cock. Then, suddenly, her imagination took a turn. Hermione watched as slowly, but surely the member pulsed and throbbed, growing steadily harder.

            Hermione's arousal was reaching new levels. The rational part of her brain had given up on resisting the feelings and was now focused on trying to hide it from everyone else in the class. But as the level of extreme arousal grew, she grew more and more helpless to hide it. As the mental image of Snape's snake grew to its full length, Hermione slipped two of her fingers into her dripping slit. She worked them in an out, faster and faster, as her mind invented all the ways she could pleasure the cock in front of her and herself.

            Her breathing grew heavier and she bit her lip as she thought about licking up and down the long shaft. Her fingers moved faster and she clamped her eyes solidly shut as she thought about bending over and being penetrated by the horse-like log. She inhaled sharply as she was about to go over the edge.

            “Ms. Granger!”

            The suddenness broke Hermione out of her trance. Her eyes shot open only to see Snape was staring right at her from the front of the class. She frantically removed her hand from its incrimination position and held it by her side, praying no one had seen anything.

            “Ms. Granger,” began Snape sarcastically, “it seems as though you are above taking notes in my class as well as finding it suitable to doze off. Can you even tell me the name of the potion we went over today?”

            Hermione looked down at her parchment only to find it blank. She desperately wracked her brain for anything, but it all came up blank. She had absolutely no idea what had just transpired during class. What scared her more, though, was that she just realized that she had been masturbating in public during all of class. Hermione hung her head in shame.

            “That's what I thought,” started Snape, solemnly, “There will be a short exam on this next class. Everything will be from the notes. Class dismissed. Except you, Ms. Granger. Please have a word with me after class.”

            And with that, the rest of the class gathered their belongings and filed out of the classroom. Hermione sat at her desk, hanging her head and trying to ignore the looks and occasional snickers from her classmates. Once the room had emptied, Hermione slowly stood up and made her way to the front of the classroom. The tension from her near-orgasm was still inside her, and she could feel that the insides of her thighs were still a bit wet from her earlier playtime. She approached the stern Professor.

            “You wanted to speak to me, sir?” Hermione began meekly, never taking her eyes off the floor.

            “Yes, please sit down.” said Snape, gesturing to a chair at the front of the class. “Ms. Granger, this strange behavior of yours is striking to say the least. Even though I dislike you and your friends, it does concern me. I do hope there is a quick return to normalcy.”

            “Yes, professor,” Hermione mumbled. She quickly stood, walked as fast as she could to her belongings, and began gathering them. She was mere steps away from the door when Snape's voice rang out across the room.

            “Don't forget: detention. Here. 9 o'clock. Do not be late.”

            Hermione nodded slightly and shuffled out of the room. She ran back to her dorm as fast as she possibly could. She ran up to the bathroom, stripped down to her underwear and stood in front of the mirror. Hermione's white panties were now soaked through, enabling her to see her bright pink and engorged pussy. Her breasts seemed larger than normal, the tops of the sensitive mounds ever so slightly pushing over the top of her bra. Two very clear bumps could be seen where her nipples were hard underneath.

            Hermione hoked her thumbs around the edge of her panties and pulled them down. A thin string of her love juices stretched between them as she pulled them away. She looked at her pussy in the mirror. The juices coating her pussy shone in the light of the room, making it obvious just how horny she still was. She tenderly reached down and touched it, ever so gingerly. A shock coursed through her body. Hermione's knees buckled and her head flew back as her imagining of Snape's dick resurfaced. She slumped down to the floor, breathing hard. She looked back at herself in the mirror. Her face was bright red and her entire body seemed flush. She needed to get off. And she needed it now.

            She dashed across the room and threw herself down onto her bed. She sat up and unhooked her bra. She looked at the offending garment and threw it to the floor. She settled in and reached one hand down to her wet pussy. Without hesitation, she stuck two fingers inside. She was already so worked up, no foreplay was necessary. Her body was writhed with pleasure as her fingers flew in and out of her wet pussy. Her mind replayed what she saw during class. She worked herself, faster and faster, her other hand taking liberties with her pert breasts. In the throes of passion, her eyes shot open and caught a glimpse of the clock on the wall. It read 8:47pm.

            “Shit!” Hermione thought, as she scrambled to redress. She had been frustrated twice now and she didn't know how much more she could take. Then, a mischievous smile crept across Hermione's face. It dawned on her that, should she play her cards right during her detention, she wouldn't have to worry about being frustrated much longer.

            Hermione walked slowly into the dimly lit room. Snape was sitting at the front of the room, writing something on some parchment. She sat for a moment, and when Snape did nothing, she slowly backed out of the room.

            “Trying to cut out on your detention, are you?”

            Hermione cringed a little, but slowly came back into the room. Snape had not looked up form his parchment, but gestured her to approach the desk. She nervously tugged at the hem of her skirt and approached the desk. Snape still didn't look up when he said “For the first part of your detention punishments, I need you to scrub that cauldron.” He gestured with his quill to a cauldron near his desk, with a bright pink film coating the brim. “Remember this cauldron?” asked Snape without a hint of emotion in his voice, “It's the one you failed in. I need you to scrub it clean. Tonight. And no magic.”

            At first, Hermione's face fell, but the smirk returned when she realized how to use it to her advantage. She muttered a simple “Yes, professor” and set to her work. She grabbed a nearby sponge, st by Snape for this purpose, and tried to clean the inside of the cauldron. But, unfortunately, Hermione couldn't quite reach the area right at the bottom of the cauldron. She leaned it over on its side and found it was just big enough for her to crawl inside.. After a minute or two of silence, she looked over her shoulder and innocently asked “like this, professor?”

            Snape rolled his eyes and looked toward the girl. And then they nearly fell out of his head. When he looked over, he saw the Gryffindor girl looking back at him, but her skirt had been adjusted by her position, revealing her complete lack of underwear. Her pussy was completely on display.

            Snape cleared his throat, “I'm sorry, what?”

            Hermione mentally smiled. Her plan was working. “Is this how you want me to scrub?” she repeated, just as innocently.

            “Sure, whatever,” began Snape nervously. “Just get it clean.” He stared for just a second longer at the young, still slightly wet, pussy then returned to his writing. Hermione quietly went back to work, scrubbing, satisfied with the knowledge that her plan was unfolding perfectly. The stuff came off pretty easily, and she was most of the way through less than 10 minutes later. After several more minutes of agonizing waiting, Hermione decided it was time for the rest of the plan to move forward. She contorted her face, let out a cry of frustration, and turned toward the professor.

            “Professor Snape,” she pleaded, “There's one spot I just cannot get. Can you please help me? I simply cannot seem to get it clean no matter how hard I scrub.” Snape peeled himself away from the parchment and looked at the poor girl. He sighed and decided to take pity on her. “Alright, fine. Show me where the spot is,” he growled angrily. Hermione turned herself beck on her knees and that's when it dawned on Snape. In order to see the spot, he'd have to crawl in over Hermione. He shut his eyes in frustration, sighed, and gave up. And so, he crawled in over top the girl inside the cauldron.

            “Now, where's the spot?” Snape asked, defeated. Hermione pointed to an area of the cauldron that was almost completely dark. “Where? I don't see?” Hermione then put the sponge in Snape's hand and guided it over to the spot. Hermione would've said something, but she was afraid opening her mouth at all would have released a deep moan. It was too much for her. She could feel his heat. She could hear his voice echoing around inside the cauldron. She was so aroused she could hardly stand it.

            Snape scrubbed hard at the spot until it felt smooth. “Alright, anywhere else?” he asked, instantly regretting it. She slowly nodded her head. “Well, where?” he asked in annoyance. She grabbed the sponge and took it out of his hand. She then grabbed his wrist and slowly led it up to her chest. “What are you-” Snape began, but was silenced as the flesh of the young girl's breast filled his strong hand. She was clearly not wearing a bra either, as her nipples pushed against his palms He tried to pull away, but she somehow managed to hold him there. In fact, his movements rather transformed from trying to pull away to almost massaging them.

            Hermione was in the throes of ecstasy. It was too late to stop now. It was all or nothing. She held his hand there until she was sure it would stay. Then she took his other hand and placed it on her exposed crotch. Now, she was supporting his entire weight, which she found surprisingly easy in her given state. Snape's hand didn't hesitate when it reached her wet, warm, slit. At this point, Snape's mind was on autopilot. All logic and rationality was out to lunch. He immediately began stroking and rubbing, even playing with the clit. He could feel his own member begin to fill with blood and expand outward. It pushed out, tenting his hanging robes. Before long, Hermione could feel the long, throbbing member begin to poke into her rear.

            At first, she didn't realize what it was. But as soon as she did, Hermione's arousal tripled. Not only was she horny, but she knew that she was making Snape horny and that just fueled her fire. She couldn't take it much longer. The orgasm she had been waiting what seemed like a lifetime for was finally about to come. It was then that Snape slipped his fingers into Hermione's pussy. Hermione let out a squeal as Snape quickly moved his fingers in and out of the girl. Hermione tensed her body. She was coming. And it was going to be big.

            Hermione let out a long, deep moan, as her whole body went limp. Her pussy muscles clamped around Snape's fingers as she fell to the floor. Snap barely managed to catch himself before he crushed the now thoroughly satisfied girl. His senses suddenly returning to him, Snape got out of the incriminating position and sat back at his desk as quickly as possible. His mind raced, trying to figure out what he could do. It was her idea, he reasoned, so if he said nothing, she would do nothing.

            Hermione, still a bit woozy from the mind bending orgasm, slowly returned to her kneeling position, and then slowly, carefully, returned standing. She looked to the professor. She thought for a second, doubting what she was about to do, but all of her inhibitions had left her. She pressed onward. “Well, I think I'm finished. Anything else for me to do?”

            “No. Now leave my class and return to your dormitory.”

            “But professor,” Hermione said coyly, “just look at yourself. You're still hard as a rock. I can't just leave you like that. Especially when it's all my fault. Please let me help you with it. Then I'll go.”

            Snape wanted to yell at her. He wanted to stand and shout at her about how wrong it is and how much trouble she's in and what it would mean if anyone found out about it. But he felt himself unable to do so. Something in the air, something powerful was keeping him from doing anything. He simply muttered a weak “no” and tried to focus as much attention as he could on writing. And it worked. Everything outside of himself and the paper faded into background noise.

            But then, he felt it. A tiny movement at his crotch. Almost an up and down motion. He looked down and saw a hand, placed gingerly on his stiff member. The hand was connected to the Gryffindor he had just molested. She had crawled under his desk and was now playing with his cock. He wanted to move away. He wanted to force her to leave. But he couldn't. The thing in the air, he could just barely smell it, was controlling him. He could only dumbly stare.

            “Wow, professor,” began Hermione, “it's big. Almost as big as I imagined it.” Hermione peeled away Snape's robes and the hard cock bounded out. She began stroking it, moving her dainty hand up and down the long shaft. Hermione could feel the heat emanating from the tool and she could feel it twitch and throb under her grip. She looked up at Snape with a half crazed, half mischievous smile on her face. Snape, however, was completely lost. Something about the image before his eyes had fried his brain and he was now just enjoying the feelings. Something about Hermione's presence, the way she looked, the way she smelled, made him want to do that. He didn't understand it, but understanding wasn't important. Just feeling.

            After a few moments, Hermione decided to take the plunge. She stuck the head of Snape's member into her mouth and sucked. She worked her tongue around the tool, sending shocks of pleasure through the stunned professor. Her head bobbed up and down on the long shaft, unable to take the last inch or so. Finally, Hermione shoved the whole thing inside her mouth. The entire shaft was surrounded by the warm wetness of Hermione's mouth. This was too much for the professor, and so Snape bucked his hips and shot his load straight down Hermione's throat. Hermione's eyes widened at this strange new sensation, but a primal instinct caused her to just swallow it down. It had a salty, but entirely unpleasant, taste. A small portion dribble out onto her chin. She gave a contented sigh and wiped the excess with the back of her hand.

            Hermione looked back up at Snape. He had thrown his head back and seemed to be in a slight state of shock. She smiled warmly at him, and covered him back up. She stood and gave him a gentle kiss on the cheek. She stood, straightened herself up, and made her way toward the door. She pulled the door open, and the sound seemed to start Snape. Hermione gave him one last look, before she smiled mischievously and left. “Good night, professor,” Hermione said coyly through a small crack in the door, “I can't wait to see what you've got planned for tomorrow's detention.”
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The Bad Potion