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At the Headmaster’s Discretion Complete	By : Desert_Sea Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Snape/Hermione Views: 80085 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 10
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
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A/N:
Omniken31 – Thank you! More delivered :)
OO – I love your naughty laugh. And this is definitely a debauched Snape. I’m not sure if he is more dark or dirty – maybe you could tell me as I can’t really tell. ‘I'm going to be completely distracted until she comes all over him’ – hahah, it might not be quite as you imagine :D x
Mistress – Excellent. Hang on!
Book_Addict_89 – LOL, here’s the bit you were waiting for ;)
Kvarta – ‘"When is the next one coming?"’ – LOL. I always plan to take a break but I just can’t – not at the moment. There is too much crap going on that I need to run away from. I love your reviews but I don’t want you to eat into your scarce spare time. Never feel compelled. ‘I adore this Severus <3 I really do’ – I wonder if you will change your mind about him. I’ll be interested in your thoughts as things progress (even though I just told you not to bother reviewing ;)). ‘This Hermione sounds like she is adrenaline junkie, she needs the thrill of rule breaking.’ – this is an interesting insight, very well done, and it might be just enough to save her. ‘Let's see how far she is willing to go, how far he can push her. She run in that trap all on her own :)’ – and that’s the challenge she’s going to have to deal with. How much is his and how much is hers ;) xx
Nightstar – Okay, you’ve asked for it ;)
Shellnet – I must say that I struggled with some of the books too. I probably didn’t dislike them for the same reasons. I’m just a bit impatient and found some parts sluggish. I’m glad you are enjoying this :)
Marionne25 – Lovely to hear from you. Congratulations on your graduation also! I’ll keep giving you something to read ;)
LissaDream – It’s always the way. Late work nights always get me too J Lovely to hear from you xx

Chapter 2 – Taskmaster
Snape’s long fingers interlaced before his chin, his steepled index fingers a target that he levelled at her before delivering his instructions.
“Take off your top and knickers. Your skirt and shirt can remain on . . . Then come to me.”
Hermione eyed him warily. Those words—so exceedingly improper to pass between a Headmaster and student—rolled off his tongue too easily. How often had he said them before? What exactly had he done to people in his past? As a Death Eater?
As he sat there, elbows balanced elegantly on the arms of his chair, Hermione considered the black frame of his arms, buttoned to the hilt, hiding everything beneath including the Dark Mark. It felt like a metaphor for his entire existence. The concealment of his true identity as a spy, his shady past under Voldemort’s tutelage, his closed off, obstructive demeanour. Why had he even returned to Hogwarts after everything that had happened?
Hermione realised that she was as angry with him as she was afraid. The severity of his punishment did not fit her transgression whatsoever. But she had been stupid enough to invite his wrath—twice. And it was also she who had approached him about redeeming the massive point deficit. She didn’t seem to have a lot of choice over how the penalty would be meted out, but what she could choose was the manner in which she responded—the level of fear that she showed him. And she was determined to show none. He got off on it. She knew that. And he would be looking to get off on a lot more judging by the intensity of his hard, black gaze that continued to bore into her from across the room.
She had been through a lot in recent years. She’d been forced to Obliviate her own parents for fuck’s sake. What was the worst he could do? Hermione chose not to contemplate the answer as she suspected that her own frame of reference for such things was not even in the same ballpark as his.
With quick, efficient movements, she did as instructed. Her eyes strayed away from his, sitting up to his right. He’d removed the portraits. In fact, apart from the books, the entire room was depressingly bare, far moreso than when Dumbledore had occupied the space. Less personality. Less warmth. Less . . . soul.
After removing her knickers, she tossed them on top of her cloak and jumper—nonchalantly she hoped—then approached him, standing before the desk, hands clasped behind her back in a manner that belied the thunderous beating of her heart.
“I want you on the desk. Standing.”
Her eyes widened in alarm.
“You will climb up from this side.”
His hands unclasped and one sank down to grasp the arm of his chair. The thumb and ring finger of the other hand delicately touched together in what looked like anticipation.
Hermione couldn’t help closing her eyes momentarily, an attempt to reframe what was going on, to reaffirm her confidence in being able to deal with the situation. Her stomach was roiling, and it wasn’t just fear, she was starving, the stale cauldron cakes were all she’d managed to consume. She knew she couldn’t face entering the Great Hall without having restored at least some of the deficit and earned back a fraction of her housemates’ trust. So for the sake of eating . . . and tolerating the remainder of her time at Hogwarts, she would do it. She had to.
Opening her eyes and keeping them carefully trained on him as though he were a snake liable to strike, she rounded the desk until she was standing directly beside him. His gaze lingered on her for a moment before he waved a hand, relocating the parchment, quill and ink to a neat pile to the side, before nodding for her to proceed.
No doubt he expected her to kneel awkwardly on the desk, her bare arse in his face, before rising to her feet. But Hermione ran every morning—she’d devised a course of obstacles that she climbed or leaped over on her track by the lake. So she simply placed a hand on the desk and vaulted up, exposing nothing.
Turning, she looked down expecting to see the familiar grim fury on his pale face. Instead his lips twitched with rare amusement. She doubted, however, that he had anything particularly humorous in store for her.
“I’m going to blindfold you.”
Fuck!
“Why?” She could hear the shivery fear in her voice.
“It is required. It will enable you to concentrate.”
“What if I fall?”
“I’ll be here.”
What did that mean? She would fall on him? He would watch and laugh?
It happened so quickly that she had no time to react. One moment she could see, the next she couldn’t.
The sensation of being up high and now blind was extremely disorientating. She already felt as though she was falling. Her arms flung out from her sides to steady herself.
“Just breathe. Take a moment to adjust.”
His words came from below her. Again, delivered with such instructional authority that she couldn’t help suspecting that she wasn’t the first. She shivered.
His chair creaked. Silence. It creaked again.
What was he doing?
“Move forward. Slowly. I’ll tell you when to stop.”
Her entire body tensed. He was ordering her to trust him—instructing her to act against every single instinct that was currently blaring its dire warning through her psyche. She didn’t trust him. And she was beginning to suspect that the mental torment that she felt was quite intentional.
“Don’t be afraid.”
His voice had softened. Had that been his special role? Was it he who had gained their trust? Weaving his hypnotic spell with words alone? With that voice? Lulling them to submission before the torture, before the end?
“Closer.”
She held her breath. Her toes edged forward a fraction. She shuffled one foot toward him and then the other. It felt too far. Too close.
An iron hand clamped around her ankle and she cried out.
“Enough.” The word was whisper quiet.
His hand instantly vacated, but the skin on her leg was left prickling with gooseflesh.
She was breathing through her mouth. Oxygen was in short supply.
“Tuck up your skirt,” he instructed. “Into your waistband.”
He could probably see up her skirt already—he was directly below her after all. She suspected he’d also shifted his chair further into the desk recess beneath her. She imagined his breath on her thighs.
Reluctantly she lifted the front of her skirt again, feeling the cool air creep over her exposed skin, even chilling her generously-covered mons as she tucked the material into her waistband.
“Pull your shirt down . . . tight.”
Slipping her hand down the front of her skirt, Hermione yanked the fabric of her shirt down.
“Tighter.”
Biting her lip she repeated the gesture with a jerk of irritation.
She definitely felt it that time. The tickle of breath. Against the inside of her knee.
“Spread your legs.”
She shook her head faintly. Twenty-five fucking points. She should have bargained for more—much more. Shit. Hissing out an exasperated breath, she finally slid one foot sideways, and then the other.
“Keep . . . going.”
It was excruciating—every moment of that slow, exposing reveal brought his face closer and closer to her frighteningly open apex. But she did it.
“Well done.”
She released the breath she’d been holding. Somehow the gentle praise brought her a soothing sense of accomplishment.
“Do you ejaculate?”
His words shattered her relief like a gong.
“What?”
“When you come—do you squirt?
A word like ‘squirt’ didn’t belong in Snape’s vernacular under any circumstances. And in this context it was so vulgar, so dirty, that it shocked her.
“No, of course not,” she muttered, her face burning with humiliation.
“When you orgasm, it’s not possible that I will . . . taste it?”
She opened her mouth but only a rasping wheeze emerged.
“Pity.” The word faded, as though he were turning away.
There was further creaking from his chair.
“Show me how you pleasure yourself, Miss Granger.” His voice had dropped impossibly low, drifting up from below her like smoke, curling into her so that her abdomen squirmed. “Thrill me.”
She hesitated. She could kick him in the face instead. But where would that get her? Expelled? He hadn’t forced her there. He wasn’t keeping her there. This was her choice. So why did she feel trapped?
Because he knew that she was too stubbourn, too desperate, and too . . . Gryffindor to back down.
Clamping her teeth firmly together, she slowly lifted her right hand and brought it around to her front. The curls of her bush trembled beneath her fingertips but she proceeded downward, sliding her index finger into her slit and locating her clitoris. Feeling like her joints had been welded together, she began to rub.
After a few strokes, she heard him inhale deeply. “You’re very restrained.”
What the fuck did he expect? And if he thought that pointing it out would help, he was mistaken.
Suddenly she felt his fingers on her wrist. “This is too tight.”
He pressed into both sides and it hurt but she felt something release. “Better.”
Hermione took a shuddering breath—the way she did after she had been crying for a prolonged period—but was recovering. It was a peculiar realisation.
She continued to rub, expecting it to be dry and detached but it wasn’t, the heightened awareness afforded by the blindfold, the sense of him watching her so closely seemed to automatically draw the liquid from her, like the sweat that was already gathering under her armpits. It became warm and extremely fluid quickly. Too quickly.
“You seem rather enamoured with your clitoris.”
She wished he would shut up.
“Your efforts are so very unobtrusive. So . . . superficial. Do you never venture inside? There is so much more happening in those depths, Miss Granger. So much to explore. I can see it from here.”
Her mouth sprang open again. More air was needed.
There was a strange susurration from below. Light. Like a gentle chuckle through his nose.
Something brushed her inner thigh. Fingertips? Hair? Or was it—
“This is why female arousal is so enticing.”
She felt the touch again, further up, closer to the hand that continued to jiggle at her nub—the one desperately trying to get her off, to get her out of there.
“Male arousal is so bold. So overt. There’s no mistaking the intention of a man’s cock at full mast. It seeks to dominate, to invade, to . . . plunder.”
She felt each word enacting just that . . . each deeply visceral penetration.
“And yet a female’s desire is to make it so—to encourage his violent discharge into her. Her entire body drives it.”
Hermione was desperate to disagree. She felt strangely offended by the suggestion.
“Even now, your nipples seek to betray you—so audaciously erect under that shirt.”
She tipped her head forward stupidly as though she could see.
“They anticipate and urge the rub of his chest. They seek the attention of his hands, his . . . mouth.”
The final word was delivered with so much tongue, she could almost taste it. She had never imagined Snape so lascivious . . . so loquacious. The effect was completely disorienting, both disturbing and arousing such that she felt her legs starting to shudder under the weight of it all.
“Even that clitoris that you’re troubling so relentlessly amounts to little more than a hopeful bystander—its desperate erection simply increasing its chances of being caught in the crush, of being pounded as he heaves himself into you.”
Hermione could feel herself floating dangerously.
“But it is what you would seek to hide that is most compelling—the pot of nectar that glistens before me now, ready to grease his phallus, to receive him, to usher him directly into your tight heat, the enticement so absolute that he must return, more desperately each time.”
Hermione’s hips rocked despite herself, a moan escaped her as her fingers sped up.
“The manipulation is ingeniously covert, executed deep inside.” His words came faster. “The artful grasp—the hold that you have upon him. Each flexion urges him closer, each suck and moan pulling him in until he is helplessly trapped, bound to give up his bounty, his reckless load.”
Hermione’s head pitched forward, her jaw fell open as her body prepared for her release.
“You are responsible for it.” He ground out darkly. “For making . . . him . . . come.”
Suddenly something was thrust up inside her.
Hermione was too close to stop, she cried out as she came, her pussy dissolving around what felt like a single long digit deeply embedded, moving against the tide of her stuttering pelvis. The darkness meant that her world was filled with urgent gasps—her own—her body was bucking enough to pitch her over the edge. And still his finger remained boldly rooted inside her, driving into the waves of her orgasm until she heaved to a shuddering halt. Then he withdrew and Hermione was left feeling utterly depleted, ragged breaths wracking her body, her mind swirling with a maelstrom of conflicting thoughts and emotions.
He was silent.
She didn’t want to face him. Not after that. Not after what he’d done . . . what she’d done.
But she needed to leave—to get as far away from him as possible.
Reaching up, she removed the blindfold, blinking into the lamplight.
Despite her reservations about facing him, Hermione was shocked to see Snape between her legs, head bent over the parchment, his calm, fluid quillstrokes continuing as though she weren’t there, as though she’d never been there.
She stared at his hands. One index finger glistened with her juices. He hadn’t wiped it off.
She wanted to know why. She wanted to ask what the fuck he thought he was doing. But he seemed so consumed in his task that, absurdly, she didn’t feel compelled to disturb him.
Instead, she dropped the blindfold beside his hand, turned and vaulted off the far side of his desk. Walking on stiff, unsteady legs, she crouched down and picked up her clothes before heading for the door.
“Twenty points to Gryffindor.”
She turned. “I beg your pardon?”
“Twenty points only.” He didn’t look at her, continuing to write. “You could have given . . . more.” Then the hand that was doused in her orgasm picked up the blindfold and curled into a fist, his pale knuckles releasing an audible ‘crack’.
Hermione stared. She was absolutely incensed but she was also completely overwhelmed. Feeling hot tears prickling her eyes, she turned and departed, hugging her clothes tightly to her chest.
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At the Headmaster’s Discretion *Complete*

At the Headmaster’s Discretion Complete