Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Quartet	By : OracleObscured Category: Harry Potter > Threesomes/Moresomes Views: 128263 -:- Recommendations : 5 -:- Currently Reading : 11
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
- 22
- 23
- 24
A/N: I apologize for the protracted wait. To all of you who aren't friends with me on FB, I finally cracked under the strain of a series of physical and mental stressors. To say I'd lost my writing mojo would have been a vast understatement. I was dreading every new chapter. My already rampant anxiety was pushed to new heights by the added pressure of getting my chapters out on time. I had to take a step back and ask myself if meeting my self-imposed deadline was worth all the panic and turmoil.
I decided it wasn't. I love writing, but chaining myself to a constant, never-ending deadline sucked the life out of me.
After a four day break, I finally got back to a place where I looked forward to writing every day. (And I had my work cut out for me, because this chapter was a monster.) For the sake of my own sanity, I no longer intend to follow any set schedule for releasing these chapters. That's not say I won't get them up quickly (speed is largely dependent on word count and how much rewriting is required). I just can't say for sure when they'll be done anymore. For all I know this could make me faster (but don't hold me to that). If I think a chapter is going to take me more than four or five days, I'll try to give you a heads up in the notes. (Assuming I check ahead to see what's coming.)
Okay, I'll stop rambling now, and let you read. I just wanted to keep everyone abreast of my tentative plans.
So, without further ado, something for the Snamione fans . . .
Lissa Dream: Merlin's balls, girl, I'm surprised you had time to review me at all! I'm always grateful to all the people who take the time out of their busy schedule to write reviews (especially reviews as nice as yours). :) Here's the Snape you ordered. (Oh! And thank you for the correction :))
DS: Lissa beat you to the read-y correction :) (But I was too lazy to fix it before you read it. Shame, shame, I know my name.) But you got me with the dissented/distended. How do I miss these things? I doubt that was autocorrect; it was probably just me typing faster than my brain could comprehend.
Severus is probably the most extreme, and parts of him will challenge her for sure. Nothing's ever easy with that man. (I know, he made me add about 3000 words to this chapter. Slave driver.)
RosePotter01: Sorry, I didn't post sooner. I know the wait is always torturous. Thank you for the review though. And I hope the length of this chapter makes up for the wait :)
23—Conductor
“What are you waiting for? It must be me—to take you over my knee and spank you mercilessly. I can do that. Oh, you’ll see.”—Matt Sweeney and Bonnie “Prince” Billy.
(Severus)
Severus did a quick survey of the neighborhood before rapping his knuckles against her front door. No one had followed him and there were no Muggles around to question his eccentric wardrobe. He could have forgone the frock coat, but the last time he’d seen her, he’d noticed how her gaze lingered over the line of buttons marching down his body. It would be wise to take advantage of even the smallest proclivity; he suspected Draco and Lucius had both been wooing her since they’d last met, and he’d need a whole deck of aces up his sleeve if he wanted to compete with those two.
Although . . . their last “date” had been conspicuously free from any refinement or fanfare, and since she’d contacted him for another rendezvous, she clearly didn't mind a less conventional approach. 
Her owl had accosted him with a letter as he navigated the bowels of  Saturday’s seventh-circle of hell (i.e. chaperoning in Hogsmeade). She insisted she missed talking to him, and made it known that she had the newest issue of Potion-Maker’s Monthly if he wanted to come over and discuss it. 
Despite her allusion to the aforementioned periodical, he suspected that she actually wanted to talk about the book he’d given her. She was an honest and fairly blunt witch, but she was also polite and likely still embarrassed about the sex. There were several legitimate reasons she might have been reluctant to just come right out and declare her true intentions.
Whether she’d invited him over for a talk or a test drive, Severus had come prepared. If her motives were as academic as advertised, he was ready to converse; but he'd also taken a shower and put on his best frock coat and trousers in the event that her innocent invitation turned out to be a booty call.
While he despised that plebeian phrase, he wasn’t against the underlying concept. It had been a trying week, and he’d yet to let loose with Lucius. He usually abstained until their “get togethers,” but abstention was completely out of the question with a naked Granger frolicking about in his brain.
It didn’t help that ever since the Shrieking Shack, that frolicking now included phials of Tentacula venom and mountains of research papers. Imaginary Hermione flitted about his lab while he brewed, sticking her nose into every available beaker and bouncing about with her hand in the air, asking question after jiggly question. The scientific method had never been so scintillating.
Just as he was picturing her bending over his desk to study his notes, the object of his renewed lust opened the door and flashed him a welcoming smile. Severus glanced over his shoulder to see if someone else had arrived behind him.
“Professor! You’re here. Right on time; I just made tea.” She waved him in. “Come in and shut the door; the wind’s screaming like a banshee out there.”
He stepped inside and followed her to the kitchen, ogling her bum as she bounded ahead in her impossibly tight jeans. Was this how she always dressed on the weekend, or was she trying to drive him mad? The body-hugging top she’d chosen for the evening left little to the imagination. Her light blue bra peeked out from behind the lavender spaghetti straps of her camisole.
Snape was annoyed that he knew what the hell spaghetti straps were; that information was taking up valuable real estate in his brain. Spending day in and day out surrounded by squealing teenage girls had left him with an abundant knowledge of all things asinine. Any man who was aroused by underage witches had never had to listen to their prattle for more than five minutes. Nubile bodies were far less tempting when one had to endure the moronic drivel spewing from their empty heads. Merciful Merlin! What a relief to be in the presence of another human being who knew the twelve uses of dragon’s blood and who could say stirring rod without giggling. 
This was a woman. A woman with a real mind hiding underneath all that bushy hair. A woman who loved books and brain teasers.
A woman with nipple nibblets poking through her thin top, exposing acres of bare skin for his pervy pleasure.
Stop it, Severus! You’re getting distracted again.
Damn spaghetti straps.
He sat down at her small kitchen table and waited quietly for her to bring the tea. She carried over two teensy cups and set one before him. Snape looked down at his and derisively cocked one eyebrow. “What the hell is this?”
“Tea,” she said defensively.
He picked up the cup by the delicate looping handle. “I’ve had shot glasses bigger than this.”
“It’s the only tea set I have. My grandmother gave it to me.”
“When you were five?”
She smiled and shook her head. “No, Mr. Comedy, she left it to me in her will.”
He sipped it. Earl Grey. Excellent choice. “Honey?”
Hermione did a double take, her expression pale with shock. “I beg your pardon?”
“Do . . . you have . . . any honey?” he explained slowly.
She blushed and looked away. “Oh. Um . . . yes, of course.”
Severus almost burst into laughter when he realized what she thought he’d meant. But he was somewhat reassured by her flustered response; she was nervous about having him over, which meant he probably wasn’t the only one who’d been reliving their last shag every morning in the shower.
Granger dashed to the cupboard and came back with a small amber jar. Setting it on the table, she handed him a spoon.
“So how has your week been?” she asked as she sat across from him.
That caught him off guard. He couldn’t remember the last time anyone had asked. “Tedious.”
Hermione grinned. “I guess that’s an improvement over torturous.”
He carefully stirred his toy tea. “Barely. Although I suppose any week with no explosions should be considered successful.”
“Explosions keep you on your toes. I think you’d be bored out of your mind if there wasn’t a little excitement to liven up your days.”
“If I never see another explosion again, it will be too soon. I prefer my excitement not come from scorched scarabs and melting metal.”
“What do you do for fun then?”
“Fun? I don’t do fun.”
“Really? You haven’t had any fun with me?”
His lips twitched. “I don’t know if I’d call that fun.”
“What would you call it then?”
He sipped his tea, thinking. “Delightful distraction.”
Hermione smiled. “I hate to break it to you, but that’s fun.”
“What about you?” he countered. “What kind of trouble have you been getting into this week?”
She blushed and looked down at her saucer.
Oh, that’s not suspicious at all.
Lifting her cup, she hid her smile with a sip. “Not much.”
“Don’t give me that. If Lucius hasn’t invited you over for another dinner, I’ll swallow this teacup.”
“I saw him Tuesday night.”
Well, Lucius certainly wasn’t wasting any time. “And did he wine and dine you?”
Her face flamed brighter. “Yes.”
“Why are you turning so many colors? What on earth did he do to you?”
“Nothing rude. He was . . . hmmm. He’s very different when he’s alone.”
Severus nodded. “Yes, he is. Might I bother you for another thimbleful of tea? Mine seems to have evaporated.”
Hermione laughed and got the teapot. “There’s plenty,” she said, pouring him more.
“So Lucius let down his guard a little. You must have made quite an impression.”
“I’m really not sure what brought it on, but I can see why you like to be with him. He’s interesting. And complicated.”
Snape smirked. “Lucius is interesting, but he isn’t complicated. What did he serve you this time, caviar? Smoked salmon? Or did he just cut to the chase and dip you in a giant vat of honey?”
Hermione smiled softly and traced the edge of her saucer with one finger. “He took me to Paris.”
Severus blinked. “He took you to Paris? On a Tuesday night?”
“Yes.”
And he didn’t tell me. Something had happened, something Lucius wanted to keep to himself. “How was it?”
“Beautiful.”
“Where did he take you?”
“The wizarding district—to L’Hôtel de la Lumière.”
Lucius, you sneaky devil. “Did he take you to his room there?”
She nodded.
“Did you stay the night?”
Hermione nodded again and sipped her tea to disguise her embarrassment.
Lucius had jumped in with both feet. He really meant to keep her around for a while. Severus had mixed feelings about that. He was happy Lucius was finally seeking out the gentle influence of a woman, just as he himself was happy to have the same opportunity; but the situation just screamed conflict and misunderstanding. There were too many people involved for a relaxed liaison. One person in particular might take offense with her leniency. “What about Draco? Have you seen him?”
Her face reddened to a deep shade of crimson. “He came over last weekend.”
So she hadn’t left Draco for Lucius; she was keeping things open. Severus had been deliberating over the Draco situation all week. Part of him worried he was stealing the attention of his godson’s favored witch, but his less altruistic side argued that it should be Hermione’s decision. He knew that was just his brain and balls having their say; they didn’t want to give up the mental and physical pleasure of her company. But Severus was prepared to step down if Draco specifically asked him. It would be a depressing loss, but disappointment was an old friend. He’d adjust when the time came. “Does he know you went out with his father?”
She looked down. “No. I don’t think so.”
“Did you sleep with Draco too?”
Remaining silent, her eyes studied the chipped edge of the Formica table.
“I’m not implying anything,” he explained smoothly. “I’m hardly one to judge. It’s not as if I haven’t been a willing passenger on the Malfoy Express all these years. I’m just curious how you plan to juggle them both.”
She sighed deeply, and when she met his eyes, he could see the internal struggle reflected in her troubled gaze. “I have no idea what I’m doing,” she said, almost whispering. “I’ve never been in a situation like this before. At first I thought I was just catching up on all the sex I’d missed out on over the years. I thought Mr. Malfoy was just . . . a fling, but now . . .”
“Now . . . ?”
“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but . . . I actually like him. We have a lot in common, and I honestly don’t know which one of you I like spending time with most.”
Which one of you. He wasn’t out of the running. She considered him a serious contender. “I can see how all this could be difficult for you. But no one’s asking you to decide anything right now.” Unsure if that was true, he studied her expression. “Are they?”
She shook her head.
“Well then, if you’re enjoying yourself, perhaps that should suffice. For the time being.”
“You don’t think I’m being a massive whore who’s just using the three of you?”
Biting his cheek to keep from snorting, Severus shook his head. “Hardly. You’re just . . . curious. And I dare say with your work schedule, you could use the extra . . . tension relief.”
“What do you know about my work schedule?” she asked, squinting at him accusingly, as if he’d been spying on her.
He waved off her suspicions. “Draco told me how you race around the Ministry day after day. He said you’re possessed, sometimes slaving over paperwork all through lunch.”
She gave him a guilty look that confirmed Draco hadn’t been elaborating.
“Mm-hm,” Severus hummed knowingly. “Still pushing yourself to the breaking point, just as you did at school.”
Hermione chewed on her lower lip, apparently thinking over his assessment.
“So what did you do with Draco?” Severus asked nonchalantly. “I take it he didn’t whisk you off to Paris?”
Her face glowed, flaming with discomfort. “Uh . . . I’d rather not say.”
“Ah. So the book came in handy?” he surmised with a smirk.
“It’s been . . . inspirational. My fantasy life has spiraled in a new direction.”
Severus snickered into his teacup. “Have you picked your favorite parts then?”
"I think I've memorized them.”
He was glad he hadn’t been drinking just then; the table would have been sprayed with Earl Grey. “Which chapter is getting the most attention?”
She glanced up, gnawing on her lip for courage. “Domination and Submission.”
He could have guessed that. “Do you have any questions?” It looked as if she wanted to talk about it.
“How much of the stuff in that book have you done?”
Snape shrugged. “Most of it.”
“FemDom?”
Bloody hell, she was going straight for the jugular, wasn't she? “It’s been a long time, but I’ve tried it. I’m not really the submissive type.”
“How about plushies?”
Severus laughed softly. “You got me there. I’ve never been turned on by the idea enough to go to the trouble.”
“What about the stuff in the S&M section, how much of that have you done?”
“All of it.”
“Do you like it?”
“I’m not turned on by causing pain, but I like the domination aspect. If the witch is aroused by it, I’m aroused by it for the most part.”
“What about adult babies, have you done that?”
Snape's brow rose in interest. She’d broken eye contact when she asked, as if her flaming cheeks weren’t revealing enough. “I’ve never known anyone who wanted to try it, but I’m not against the idea.” If he was going to get her to admit what she wanted to explore, he’d better make sure she thought he was open to everything.
“I’m a bit scared by the more violent chapters, but I like all the submissive stuff.”
“Would you like to show me your favorite parts?”
She flashed him an unsure smile. “You know we’ll never get around to Potion-Maker’s Monthly if you get me started on that book.”
He nodded. “We can resume our academic interests later. There's plenty of time. Perhaps we should turn our attention to the physical sciences.
She swallowed hard and glanced toward the door. “The book is in the front room. Are you done with your tea?”
He tipped it back and swallowed the last few drops. “Yes. Return these cups to the dollhouse from whence they came.”
Hermione breathed out a nervous but relieved laugh. “I’ll get them later.”
In a hurry, Miss Granger?
Hermione popped up and led him back to the front room, where she bent over the coffee table, digging under notebooks and quills to find the book. Mesmerized, Severus stopped in his tracks to enjoy the view. Her jeans stretched over the round mounds of her rump, and he could swear the center seam was sinking into her crease. Goddammit, he wanted that arse! A flush of sexual heat rolled up his neck and baked his face. Bloody hell, he was already sweating. How could one little witch have such a drastic effect on him? With a silent incantation, Snape opened all the buttons on his frock coat and shrugged it off—but he was still boiling. Tugging at his collar, he created a vent, and a cool breeze wafted down his chest. Much better.
When she turned around and saw him in just his black dress shirt, she stopped short and stared as if she could see through his clothes.
“Shall we sit?” he said, tossing his coat into the extra chair.
“Oh,” she muttered as if he’d snapped her out of her daydream. “Yes.”
Severus took a seat on her lumpy couch, which had been patched in several places and had one odd cushion that was red velvet rather than grey corduroy. What a discombobulated choice for such a persnickety witch. But she obviously couldn’t afford more; her flat could have doubled as a cramped closet. He’d forgotten the austerity of living hand to mouth.
She sat next to him, and Severus casually rested his arm along the back of the seat. Come closer, said the spider to the fly. She put the book in her lap and opened it to the front. As she flipped through the first pages, he surreptitiously observed her expression. She was aroused but not embarrassed by the beginning. There was a longer pause on the kissing closeups. No wonder she’d been so drawn to Lucius and Draco; they were both sensual wizards, and she was sensual witch. That was probably why the rougher chapters frightened her. Pain was less about pleasure and more about the experience. The intensity. A person had to develop a craving for it.
When she got to the chapter on submission, she stopped. “Have you ever collared anyone?”
“No. I’ve never been involved with anyone on that level.”
She turned to the first pages on spanking and ran her hand over the picture. “Did you spank Narcissa?”
“Occasionally. Not usually in an over-the-knee sense, just arse slapping in the heat of the moment.”
"Have you spanked other witches?”
“A few,” he said evasively. It was probably best not to elaborate on his past or mention the myriad of perverse characters one mingled with as a Death Eater.
“What about other stuff, like riding crops and canes?”
Snape smiled to himself. “I know how to use them.”
She stopped on an illustration of a witch bound to a spanking bench. “Have you tied anyone up?”
“Yes. Many times.”
Hermione turned her head, and for a second he thought she was eyeing his crotch; but then she said, “I think I’d like to try your belt,” and he realized she was looking to see if he was wearing one.
“Right now?”
She rifled forward a few more pages. “After we get through this chapter . . . and maybe a couple others. Will you put me over your knee first?”
She’d gotten a lot quieter with that last question. Embarrassed but eager. He liked that she was so ready to play. Severus pressed his leg to hers, closing the remaining distance between them. If she wasn’t going to waste any time, he wasn’t going to either. “But of course.”
Smiling, she turned the pages, slowing down at every red bum she came to. When she got to the end, she flipped back to the chapter before. Anal play. Things were getting more interesting by the second.
“Will you . . . uh . . . touch me while you’re spanking me?”
“I know of no other way to spank a witch.”
“I mean, will you touch me the way you did in the library? Until I come.”
He reached over and skipped forward a few pages to a close up photo of a woman’s lily white backside being penetrated by two long ebony fingers. “I might. Did you have a preference as to which hole?”
Her face flushed, and she bit the nervous smile from her lips before whispering, “Both.”
That’s what I thought. Severus turned to an illustration of a man sliding a plug into his lover’s freshly-spanked backside. “Should I just use fingers?”
“I . . . I don’t have a plug.”
That would need to be remedied. “Do you have lube?”
She nodded. “Should I get it now?”
“If you like. Is there anything else you need to show me?”
Hermione paused. The pages started swishing past again, and he assumed that was a yes. When she got to the section on enemas, she slowed to a crawl, not stopping, but turning the pages slower than molasses in March. There was a long silence when she got to the picture of a witch spreading her cheeks for an enema bulb, the stem disappearing into her dark whorl.
“Um . . .” she wavered. “No. Nothing else.” Closing the book, she sprang up and practically ran out of the room. “I’ll get the lube.”
Severus watched her go, a surprised grin spreading over his face. What an unexpected revelation. It wasn’t just the spanking she was after. It was the loss of control. She wanted to be at his mercy. He should have seen that coming. Many powerful witches preferred handing over the reins in the bedroom. It was their chance to let go.
He doubted she had the equipment for any enema adventures, but he’d set up something in the future. Discovering that one fantasy shifted their interaction into a whole new realm. She wasn’t just shagging him out of desperation or horniness, she was hungry for his authority. She had been since that first night in the library.
Opening the book on the table, Severus turned to the picture of the enema-witch again. He intended to let her know he was onto her secret. But he’d let her sweat it out for a bit.
She came back with an aqua tube of lube. Handing it to him shyly, she looked as if she was about to burst with nervous excitement.
Severus set the lube on the end table and gave her his most Snape-ish eyebrow arch. “Are you ready?”
Hermione nodded.
“Then I think it’s time to take down your trousers.” He grabbed her by the hips and pulled her forward to stand between his legs. Her breathing picked up, her arousal obvious. Score one for Severus. Running a finger along the front seam of her trousers, he looked up into her eyes. “I only give spankings on the bare bottom.”
Her pupils expanded, hollowing out into black pools of desire; and when he slid down the zip, her hungry gasp drowned out the click of the metal teeth. Using both hands, Severus peeled the denim over her hips, and her trousers turned inside out as he drew them toward her feet. She wiggled about, helping him to work them down her legs, which was thoughtful but, ultimately, distracting. The pantsing dance made her minuscule pink knickers shimmy back and forth in a sensual samba. Caught up in the rhythm, Snape slid his hand between her thighs and grazed her damp cotton furrow with one finger.
Clucking his tongue, he looked up at her with an amused leer. “Is this wetness I feel?”
Her face went red, but she nodded without breaking eye contact.
His finger ticked back and forth, lightly brushing the apex of her slit. “Are your knickers just constantly drenched now?”
She covered her face with both hands. “No, sir.”
"Just when a Slytherin is undressing you?”
“Mostly, sir.”
He smirked and traced the top of her knicker elastic, tickling her lower belly with the edge of his nail. “How fortunate for me.”
Hooking one finger into the top of her panties, he drew down the front, revealing a slice of the brunette bush he’d been dreaming about all week. He wanted to pet her little kitty, but first . . . Leaning forward, Snape inhaled the musky scent drifting from her sex; she peeked through her fingers to see what he was up to.
“You certainly do love spankings, don’t you?” Severus teased. “I haven’t even started yet, and you’re already dripping. I think you’d better tell me what’s left you so . . . eager.”
“Ummmm”—her eyes shot to the side—”today I’ve mostly been thinking about your cock, sir.”
He’d never known honesty to be so delightfully indecent. “What about my cock?”
“I love it.”
He choked back a laugh. “I see. Any particular reason why?”
“It’s beautiful.”
No one had ever called any part of him beautiful. Lucius was beautiful. Snape was, at best, interesting. As he turned her answer over in his mind, Severus slid his fingers along her waistband, over to her hip, then used his other hand to help pull her panties to her knees. When she parted her thighs to assist, he caught sight of her dewy curls. They weren’t drenched, but the wet shine of her arousal had darkened the roots. Severus swallowed thickly, the memory of her flavor causing his mouth to water. “I’ll let you have another taste later . . . after I fuck this juicy little pussy. Step out of your clothes and get over my knee."
She quickly kicked away her discarded layers and turned to the side.
“Other way,” he said calmly. “I’m right-handed.”
Switching directions, Granger did an awkward little shuffle and lowered herself across his lap. For such a nervous witch, she was certainly keen to get into position. Severus rested his hand on her pale backside and patted her cheek. “I’ll give you a couple minutes with my hand then we’ll move on to the belt.”
“Yes, sir,” she whispered, and there was a tug at his leg as she clutched the cuff of his trousers.
Capitalizing on the element of surprise, Snape drew back his hand and brought it down with a loud smack. Her body jolted, but she quickly recovered and arched up for more. Severus smiled as his handprint rose to the surface, emblazoning her cheeks with his signature. That was his arse now. Lucius might have charmed it for one night—and Merlin only knew what Draco had done to it—but her night with Severus Snape wouldn’t soon be forgotten.
Slap! Her backside wobbled with every hit, her skin turning the most lovely shade of pink. It would go well with her blushing face. Slap! Each percussive clap was followed by a divine whimper. Gods, he loved that sound! Slap! The more tingly his hand became, the more frantic her dancing. She was kicking and grunting, almost humping his leg as she recoiled and then sprang back into position.
“Ow! Oh God! Please, sir!”
He paused to give her a rub. “Yes?”
“I just need a break.”
Snape slipped his hand between her legs and stroked the pad of his thumb along the line of her sex. “You’re drenched—even your thighs are wet. I think I should keep going and see how long it takes you to come.”
“Please, sir,” she panted. “Give me a minute.”
He smirked. “Very well. I’ll entertain myself.”
Tracking his finger along the dark heat of her fissure, he found the stiff swelling of her clit and stroked its hood until he was coated in her silk. When his teasing became sufficiently sloppy, he drew his finger through her folds, past the oil slick of her opening, over the taut skin of her perineum, and finally, across the chocolate pucker of her arse.
Her entire body arched like a bow and then quaked with a succession of shuddery tremors. “Mmmm!”
Mmmmm? That looked more like a ‘Dear God, please!’ to me. He tickled her rosebud with the tip of his finger just to see what else she could do. She was quite the contortionist.
“Did you clean this when you went to your room, or should I do it now?” 
“Aaaaah!” Her hips were briefly airborne, lifting toward his touch. “I cleaned it, sir.”
“With the spell from that book?”
“Yes, sir.”
Using both hands, he spread her cheeks wide and inspected her work. “It looks lovely. Have you been practicing with your own fingers?”
“Yes, sir,” she answered quietly.
“Have Lucius or Draco put anything in here?”
“Ummm . . . Lucius put a finger in me.”
“Did he? Was that all?”
“Yes, sir.”
Severus traced the perimeter of sienna that outlined her anus. “And how many fingers were you expecting from me this evening?”
“Just one . . . maybe two.”
He chuckled. Maybe two. “All right. Do you usually come when you finger your arse?”
“Yes, sir.”
He could tell how red her face was getting without even seeing it. “Should I get the lube now, or would you prefer the belt first?”
She debated for several seconds, the ticking of the clock filling the silence. “The belt, sir.”
Already delaying gratification. He appreciated a witch with discipline. “Then it’s time to grant your wish. I think you’re warmed up now.”
He helped her stand, steadying her when she wobbled. She covered her pussy with both hands and looked away as if she didn’t know what to do. Severus let it slide for the time being—embarrassment was something to savor. As he rose and moved to the side of the couch, she turned, keeping her bum out of sight.
Severus motioned toward the sofa with the flick of one pale finger. “Bend over the arm of the couch, legs apart, hands on the seat.”
Hermione’s gaze darted to the seat in question, and he could tell she was battling a bad case of the jitters. Her feet fumbled, full of equal parts anxiety and eagerness, but she made it safely and eased herself into place just as he’d asked. Turning to look over her shoulder, her big brown eyes searched his, as if she needed a nod of approval.
A wicked grin was all she got. With a lascivious quirk of one eyebrow, Severus dropped his hands to his belt—and her eyes rounded to the size of saucers.
“Have you ever been whipped before?” he asked as he flicked open the clasp.
“No, sir,” she answered, her voice shaking.
Snape pulled the belt free and doubled it over. “I’ll only give you six to start with. Tell me if you can’t take them all.”
“Yes, sir.”
Severus stepped closer and touched the leather to her cheeks to line up his aim. Gods, he hadn’t been in that position in what felt like eons. He refused to remind himself just how old he was by coming up with an actual number. The stance felt so natural. So right. The sight of her upturned rump made his chest ache. How he’d missed this. He drew back his arm and, with a smooth swing, snapped the belt over both buttocks. The crack was like a gunshot.
“Ow!” Hermione leapt up and vigorously rubbed her arse. “That bloody hurt!”
Snape didn’t react. He just watched. She appeared worried, as if she’d jumped into something and was suddenly realizing she might have misjudged the depth. He had hit her hard, but not his hardest. Not even close. That red line branding her bum would be unbearably hot and stingy for a minute, but then it would dissipate, and the warmth would spread. Would she talk herself out of the rest before that happened?
“Was that too hot for you?” he asked evenly.
“Yes!” Tears stood in her eyes.
Severus nodded, undeterred by her accusing glare. “Then perhaps you should take off your shirt and cool down.”
Hermione paused, her hands stilling as her forehead squinched with confusion. “You want me naked?”
“Preferably . . . and bent over the couch. Go on.”
Cautiously, she pulled her shirt over her head, eyeing him the whole time as if she expected it to be some sort of trick.
“And the bra,” he added, giving her remaining layer a pointed nod.
“I don’t want to be naked if you’re not.”
Severus closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. She seemed to have missed that all-important chapter on humiliation.
“We are not wheeling and dealing here, Miss Granger. When you submit to someone, it will naturally raise some fears and anxieties in your mind; but, just as you dealt with the embarrassment that night in the library, you can deal with it here in your sitting room. I know the first lick hurt, but I want you to focus on that burn right now. Does it sting as much as it did a minute ago?”
She absently rubbed her bum with one hand. “No, not really.”
“Is that heat spreading?”
She gave a little nod.
“Where?”
Hermione bit her lip, but then softly answered, “My pussy.”
Severus nodded knowingly. "I'll give you the rest very slowly and let you get used to each hit before moving on to the next. That is the only concession I’ll make. If you take the remaining hits without getting up, I’ll rub your bottom for you when we’re done.”
“And make me come?”
Snape couldn’t help smiling. Always negotiating. Lucius would like that. “If you’re a good girl, several times.”
Her molten eyes flared, her pupils expanding like ink blots, and without another word, she unhooked her bra and bent back over the couch. He had to admit, there was something to be said for Gryffindor bravery . . . or the magic of a well-timed “good girl.”
Severus ran his fingers over the pink stripe traversing her arse, congratulating her for the display of courage with a conciliatory touch. “Are you ready to proceed?”
She nodded, her back and arms tensing in preparation.
Snape’s fingers flexed around the leather, reveling in its cool, almost weightless strength. Such an useful implement. Just look how beautifully it had adorned her supple flesh with its unassuming power. Longing to see another hash mark light up her rump, Snape brought the belt down with a sharp whap!
“Ow!” Hermione kicked one foot against the floor and reached back to clasp her bum.
“Follow the sting,” he murmured, watching as her hand gingerly caressed the red line. She kept pulling her cheek to the side, accidentally showing him her crinkled star with every rub. “Notice how it changes and where it goes. When does it switch from stinging to throbbing? When does it go from throbbing to heat? When does it reach your pussy?”
She continued to rub for a minute, but her hand slowed as the sting faded. When she returned to her starting position without a word of complaint, Severus smiled and rested his left hand on her lower back to let her know how pleased he was with her effort. She was breathing a bit hard, but otherwise she appeared calm. It seemed she could handle the intensity of the belt as long as he gave her ample time to come to terms with its plethora of sensations.
“Ready?”
"Yes, sir."
“No rubbing this time. I’ll do it for you.”
“Okay.”
He kept his hand on her lower back, splaying his fingers across her sacrum as he whipped the leather over her cheeks again.
“Ow! Fuck!” She danced on her toes for few tense seconds then settled down.
Severus ran his palm over her flambéd bum, back and forth, easing away the sting. She calmed much more quickly that time. In less than thirty seconds, her body had  gone completely slack, like a lethargic cat relaxing into a petting. “Good girl. Are you ready for the next one?”
“Yes, sir.”
He held her down with his fingertips, applying no pressure, just letting her know he was there.
Whap!
“Unnnnnh!” She kicked the floor, bending her knees and wiggling around as if her lower half was possessed.
Snape smoothed his palm over both cheeks, slowly, methodically, studying her back for signs of stress. When she dropped her face against the seat with a deep sigh, he skimmed his left hand up the length of her spine, into the hair at the nape of her neck, and then back down again, chasing her vertebra until he returned to her razed globes. His eyes drank her in. That arse would be his masterpiece. “Just two more. On the next one, I’m not going to rub you. You’re going to follow the sting and tell me when you’re ready. But after the last one, I’ll put some lotion on your arse and rub until you’re all better. Where do you keep your lotion?”
“There’s some in my bedroom.”
“Where in your bedroom?”
“On the shelf under my nightstand.”
“I’ll go get it. Keep your hands off your bottom while I’m gone.”
“Yes, sir.” She folded her arms under her head and stared at the cushion.
Severus headed off in the direction she’d disappeared earlier and found her cramped bedroom at the end of the short hall. He spotted the tube of lotion just where she said it would be. The label read Blood Orange. He popped opened the top and took a whiff. Nice. He’d never associated spanking with any particular smell—save leather and pussy—but he was rather fond of citrus. Perhaps he could relive this moment each morning at breakfast, an olfactory stroll down memory lane to start the day off right.
When Severus returned to the front room, she was exactly as he’d left her: face buried in her arms, her naked body invitingly stretched for maximum visibility, her arse propped high like the centerpiece it was. “Are you ready to continue?”
“Yes, sir.”
Severus set the tube on the coffee table and picked up the belt. “Spread your legs for me, girl. No sense in pretending; we both know how wet you are. I can smell you from here.”
Hiding her face in the seat, Hermione slid her feet further apart—but not enough to expose the shadowy charms that lay between her legs. Silently snickering, Severus took up his place behind her and brushed his fingertips over her lower back. As he trailed along her coccyx, she lifted her bum into his touch, exhibiting her slit exactly as he’d imagined. Continuing lower, Severus grazed the cleft of her arse and rode the line all the way down to the cozy glen where her pussy disappeared between her thigh. She whimpered appropriately, and Severus nudged her legs with the sides of his fingers to get her to open up.
“Wider,” he murmured. 
Hermione anxiously rolled her hips and spread her feet a few inches further.
Snape tipped his head to the side to get a better view. “Wider.”
When her legs were lewdly spread, and her sex fully accessible, he gave her quim a gentle stroke and whispered, “Good girl.” But as soon as she tried to mash her cunt into his hand, he brought the leather up to her striped skin and tapped her in warning. He wanted her to anticipate the hit, to crave the sharp bite of the belt. And she would. It might take some time, but if he blended the pain with anticipation and pleasure, she’d grow to desire the deliverance of submission just as strongly as she desired the emancipation of orgasm.
Severus had missed this confluence of sexual serendipity. It was a relief to find someone who wanted exactly what he had to give. Lucius liked a variety of kinks, but the man was the antithesis of submission. He might relish a thorough fucking, but he didn’t know how to let go and give in to the experience—he was always grasping at any vestige of control, unable to fully receive. Severus knew that reluctance all too well. 
Fortunately, he also knew the joys of giving.
Whap!
“Unnnnh!” She kicked and bucked her hips but obediently kept her hands off her backside.
Severus swiped his thumb back and forth in a soothing tick tock, bouncing between the dimples perched at the apex of each cheek. It took longer that time, but with the help of some deep breaths and his murmured assurance that she’d done well, she gradually calmed and relaxed into a boneless heap.
“Sir?”
“Yes?”
“I feel weird.”
“In what way?”
“Kind of nervous, but . . . really alert. But I’m turned on . . . and scared too.”
He nodded. “You took the other five so beautifully. Do you want to stop?”
“No, but . . . I think I’m going to cry.”
“That’s all right. You’re allowed. I didn’t expect you to take it with a stiff upper lip.”
“There’s only one more, right? Then you’ll rub my bum?”
He smiled. “That’s right. Are you ready?”
She tightened her arms underneath her body, bracing for the impact. “Yes, sir.”
Snape was disappointed that they’d reached the end of this portion of their evening, but he was rather looking forward to rubbing her bum. He couldn’t remember ever longing for a lengthy round of aftercare in the past, but he couldn't deny that the urge consumed him now—his hands itched to calm her quivering cheeks and stroke her fevered brow.
Soon.
With a deep, cleansing breath, Severus centered himself and tapped the leather against the curve of her buttocks, marking where the belt would land: right at the sensitive strip where her thighs met her arse. It was time to test her resolve.
Whap!
“Fuck!” Her body jerked, but she didn’t struggle or attempt to rise. Her breath heaved in and out like a hurricane, but eventually, her muscles unclenched, and she fell limp against the arm of the couch.
“There,” he said softly. “Can you stand? Why don't you let me sit down so you can lie over my lap?”
Accepting his proffered hand, her fingers wove around his, and he could feel her trembling as if she were terrified; but when she briefly met his gaze, he saw no fear in her eyes. Just desperate hope. A mirror of the yearning in his own soul. Sitting down to disguise how startled he was, Severus ushered her over his knee, stroking her back as she draped her naked body across his thighs with a deep sigh.
Her hair tumbled over her bare shoulders in a rambunctious cascade of curls, and his fingers flexed with the urge to comb through those chestnut tresses; but when he tried to free himself from her grasp, she wouldn't let go.
"I need to open the lotion, Miss Granger.”
Her grip remained firm.
“You want me to rub your bum, don't you?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Then give me my hand.”
She made no attempt to release him.
“Miss Granger,” he said calmly. “Am I to be your prisoner all night?”
“Yes,” she said simply. “You’re talented; I think you can rub my bum with one hand.”
Well of course he could. And he supposed if that was all it took to calm her, he could cope. Flipping open the tube with his thumb, Severus squirted two large white blobs atop her glowing derrière, and with the flat of his palm, spread the lotion over her left buttock and began to massage it in, squeezing the meat of her glutes between his greased fingers. What a lovely way to spend an evening.
“How’s your arse feeling now?” he asked conversationally.
“Like a sunspot.”
Chuckling, he tested her temperature with the back of his hand. “I concur. How does your pussy feel?”
“Insanely wet. Why am I so turned on? That was . . . exciting, but . . . it didn’t make me want to come.”
“Our bodies don’t always do what our conscious mind tells them to. Sometimes our brains are turned on, but our bodies aren’t; and sometimes it’s the other way round.”
“Like when guys get hard for no reason?”
“Yes. Or when they get hard for reasons that disturb them. Or when they can’t get hard at all even though they’re aroused.”
She held his hand tighter. “My heart is still beating really hard.”
“I know. It's all right. Just try to relax.”
Hermione took a deep breath and let it out like a slow leak. Her grip never wavered. He was beginning to find it strangely natural. That was odd. He hadn’t held hands with anyone in . . . sweet Merlin's ghost . . . over thirty years? Despite his desire for touch, Lucius wasn’t really the “holding hands” type. At least not with him. The last person to hold Snape’s hand was Lily. He might have been twelve. That seemed like a lifetime ago. Maybe he should enjoy Granger’s stubborn affection while he had it.
Snape worked the cream into her other cheek, thinking about what they’d just done and what else he’d like to do to her. The possibilities were endless. If he played his cards right, he’d have a willing partner for all his dominant urges, a little fireball who’d beg for a spanking and then beg for his dick.
No one could claim Lucius wasn’t a marvelously talented lover, but Granger had a certain softness that Severus hadn’t known since Narcissa’s untimely death. It brought out something in him that he couldn’t identify. What was it? Compassion? Possibly. But there was something else, something he couldn’t put his finger on.
Adrift in his thoughts—and the heat of her pliant cheeks—it took him several seconds to realize her jagged breathing was actually crying. Snape froze mid-pet. “What’s the matter?”
“I don’t know,” she whispered in a shaky warble.
“I do. You’re just coming down from all the adrenaline. Why don’t you turn around and sit in my lap.”
Her response was delayed, as if she couldn’t understand what he’d said, but then she backed up and twisted around, pulling her legs under and over until she was perched on his thigh. She had to release his hand to manage the move, and Snape felt a twinge of regret at having lost the kiss of her palm. Looping his arm around her waist, he pulled her in close, hoping to regain that sense of connection. “Put your arm around me. It’s all right.”
Hermione looked at him, sniffled, then slipped her arm around his neck.
“That’s it. Now just rest. The sadness will pass.” He ran his thumb comfortingly over her hip. “I should have warned you you might feel this way.”
“This happens to everyone?”
“It varies in severity and timing, but yes. The more extreme your nervousness, the more extreme the drop.”
“So I just hug you till it goes away?”
He kept his face blank, but inside confusion rolled through him like an approaching storm. She wanted to hug him? No one hugged him. He was Severus bloody Snape. The word hug did not belong in any conversation that involved him—even peripherally. But she’d suggested it without a hint of irony, as if hugging him was the obvious remedy for her woes.
“If that’s what makes you feel better,” he answered carefully.
Granger put her head on his shoulder and held onto him as tightly as she could, weeping softly into his neck as if she were exhausted.
Just as Lucius once had.
“Will you rub my back?” she whispered between stuttered gasps.
He did so without comment. No one had ever asked him for comfort. Ever. He’d offered it freely to Lily, but he wasn’t particularly knowledgeable about such things as a child. He’d forced it on Lucius, who had responded favorably for the most part. But having someone—anyone—request his aid was nothing short of bizarre. He knew what to do, whether instinctually or from observing those around him; but it was a bit like doing the foxtrot for the first time: you went through the movements even though they felt awkward to your untrained feet.
Severus sat there in a mild stupor for the next fifteen minutes, rubbing her back like a robot who’d been set to soothe. He didn’t know what to think or how to react. That feeling that he’d had while convalescing Lucius had returned, poking up like the first buds of spring searching for sunlight. Shit. This was not what he was expecting when he came over.
It was better. 
But horrifying at the same time.
How had this happened so fast? How did Granger bring this out in him with absolutely no effort? She was comfortably snuggled into his body, as if cuddling with her snarky ex-Potions master was completely natural.
She sniffled. “Sir?”
“Yes?”
“I feel a lot better now.”
He took that to mean “let go of me,” so he relaxed his arm—but she did not. She pulled him tighter.
“Will you keep holding me while I ride your cock?”
He resumed his back rubbing. “Perhaps you should rest.”
“I am rested. But if you don’t want to . . . or you're not ready, we can wait.”
"I'm not hard enough now. You'll have to get me going again.”
She smiled against his neck. “Gladly. I’d better get you out of these clothes first.”
Wiggling over to his side, she gave him room to undo his zip and push his trousers to his knees. Before he could so much as blink, her warm hand was caressing him through the thin cotton of his black boxers. His body responded immediately, his prick snapping back into action as if she’d hit the erection alarm.
“Will you take off your shirt so I can feel you?” she whispered, her breath hot on his ear.
A shudder trickled down his spine and rumbled through his gut like thunder. “Since you asked nicely,” he quipped. “Why don’t you help me with my shoes and socks so I can—”
She had slithered down to his feet and started stripping him before he could even finish the sentence. When his feet were bare, her gaze darted to the tent in his boxers, and Severus’s body went on red alert. His stomach flipped and tumbled down through his intestines, but luckily his scrotum was concurrently on the rise, which buffered that descent with a surge of exhilaration. How . . . disconcerting . . . while at the same time perfect. Lifting his hips, he pushed his shorts down with his trousers, breathing a sigh of relief that he wasn’t actually stuck to them. She grinned and pulled off his clothes while he started on his shirt buttons.
Distracted by his task, he was caught off guard by the unexpected—and delightfully wet—envelopment of his prick. When he glanced down, she looked up at him, her lips stretching around his girth in a cautious smile, as if she wasn’t so sure she should have taken such liberties without asking.
Severus cupped the side of her face and rolled his hips toward her mouth. “That’s it. Nice and slow.” Now was not the time to start playing games of denial.
Her tongue circled his corona and trilled over his frenulum. Gods! That girl deserved an O in dick licking. By the time he’d gotten his shirt unbuttoned and cast aside, she had his hard-on gleaming like a shiny new Sickle, and it stood proud and hard in her clenched fist.
Unable to withstand another moment of teasing, Snape pulled his cock away and beckoned her back into his lap. “All right. Come up here.”
Scrambling up his body, she anchored her knees on either side of his hips and settled against him. The warmth of her naked flesh was otherworldly; the sweet friction of skin on skin set his senses ablaze. He wanted her more than he could comprehend, wanted to be inside her, wrapped in her welcoming embrace. She smashed her leaking quim against the rigid heat of his shaft and began to grind. In less than ten seconds he was slathered in her juices from root to tip. She even managed to baste his balls and lower abdomen in her lubricious enthusiasm.
Severus grabbed her hips in both hands and lifted her up before he lost his mind. “Okay,” he growled. “That’s enough. Ride me.”
Smiling, she reached down and aligned him with her entrance. Then, carefully, she sank down, taking him in inch by inch. Severus couldn’t breathe. Her sheath was so engorged it felt as if all the pressure in his cock was being squeezed up into his brain. He’d never felt anything so blissful in all his life. And the feeling must have been mutual, because her eyes were fluttering so hard it looked as if she was having a seizure.
“That’s my girl,” he muttered mindlessly. “Is your pussy nice and full?”
She flopped her head up and down in a mad mockery of agreement, but then went stock still the second he bumped her cervix. Her fingernails sank into his shoulder, and she sat there with her mouth hanging open for what felt like hours.
The circling of her hips broke the spell, and they both groaned in unison. She met his gaze, her irises scalding him like chocolate lava. Her lower lip began to tremble, and she sucked in several quick snips of air. If his cock had a facial expression, he knew it would be an exact match to hers: dazed ecstasy bordering on orgasmic panic.
“Ride me,” he repeated, this time through gritted teeth. “I want to feel that pussy clamping around my cock. If you love my dick so much, then show me.”
She nodded blankly and began to rock, slipping him in and out of her silken cove at the slowest pace imaginable. Merlin’s fucking blue balls! Rapture had never been such torture. Moving his hands to her backside, he palmed her striped cheeks, keeping a look out for signs of discomfort. He found the opposite. Her lashes drooped as her eyes rolled back, and her hips picked up speed, going from torturous to teasing. Gently, Snape spread those two hemispheres until east and west were openly divided.
“Yessssssss,” she hissed.
Severus kept his eyes on hers, watching the ecstasy steal over her features. Dazzled by sensation and arousal, she stared back, seemingly incapable of blinking. Without meaning to he caught a glimpse of her mind’s lush landscape, and he couldn’t resist peeking. It was like hearing bouncing bed springs through a closed door and being offered a two foot keyhole to spy through.
Delving into the chaos, he breezed past images of himself: fresh memories of her looking up at him as she sucked his dick, her writhing atop his lap, her checking out his bulging crotch. It was interesting to see what had caught her attention. Then he came upon her most recent sexual escapades. She was turned on by them even if they weren’t consciously on her mind. He saw Lucius fucking her before a wall of window, the lights of Paris twinkling just beyond the glass. The scene was insanely erotic. No wonder she was so taken by him.
Then he saw Draco bound in restraints. The boy struggled for relief, his dick brick red and leaking all over his stomach. Was that what she’d done with him? Tied him up? That didn’t fit with the submissive tendencies she’d exhibited thus far, but he had to admit he liked her style.
He left the images of Draco’s demise and wandered deeper. There they all were together in Lucius’s bed. And there was their first night in the library. She must have been recalling the images often to keep them so prominent.
Beneath the replays, he found the ephemeral projections of fantasies. They weren’t as solid as her memories—more like wispy ghost movies. There seemed to be a lot of spanking, a lot of fucking, and a lot of licking. He could have stayed there for ages sifting through the avalanche of carnality.
Hello . . . what was that? Detention with Professor Snape? Naughty girl. Anal plugs? I knew it. Caning. Paddling. Strapping. He was sensing a theme. Droves of discipline. And control. So she did want what he had to offer. Some of her fantasies were variations of the pictures from the book, except with her as the star. Nipple clamps. Chastity belts. Double-ended dildos. Sweet Circe! When good girls go bad.
And bloody hell, she had a whole corridor of enema fantasies. He’d better get on that as soon as possible.
Just beyond the enema ward, he stumbled into the shadows of her darkest desires. The ones that scared her. The kinks she thought were too taboo. He poked around and smiled at what he found. Oh no, little girl, you haven’t even begun to scratch the surface of taboo. Allow me to escort you into the depths of real depravity.
What a revealing glimpse into the real Hermione Granger. The insight made him see her from a new angle, and in a burst of comprehension, Severus saw her in a whole new light. Hermione Granger was a very sexual witch, more so than anyone understood. She wanted both domination and submission, lust and love, class and crass. Her interest in spanking wasn’t about pain—it was about her brain. While she found it exciting to tie Draco to the bed and drive him mad, she needed the psychological abandon that came from handing over her power to another person. Particularly a man. But she had some very specific requirements from that man. Severus didn’t know if he could fulfill them all, but . . . her wants meshed so well with his own; he’d be a fool not to try.
Severus pulled out of her mind, pausing for a moment to reconcile the inner-Hermione with the witch she presented to the world. “I know what you want, little girl.”
She blinked stupidly as if she’d just woken up. “Huh?”
“If you wanted to be my dirty little schoolgirl, you should have just said so.”
Her eyes went wide.
“I can just picture you tied open on my desk, your wet pussy spread for everyone to see, your arse full of my fingers. We’re going to spend a nice night together making sure that bottom gets everything it needs.”
She stopped moving. “What do you mean?”
Reaching up, he grabbed her chin so she couldn’t look away. “You know exactly what I mean. And that enema you’ve been dreaming about, I can do that for you . . . to you. Just the way you want it. But not tonight. Tonight I’m going to get my fingers so deep inside your arse you’re going to think you died and went to anal heaven. So you’d better start riding, little girl, because I don’t intend to stop fucking you until this pussy screams for mercy.”
She stared at him as if he’d gone mad.
Snape put his hands on either side of her face and tipped her forehead down to touch his. “I am not joking, young lady. If you don’t start riding me this instant, I’m going to put you right back over my knee and light your bum on fire . . . and I don’t think you want that while you're still so sore. I suggest you get moving.”
Her hips began to rock. Just a little.
“That’s it,” he said with a soft smirk. “Isn’t that better?”
Warily, she nodded.
“Do you still love my cock as much as you did earlier?”
The corners of her mouth twittered into a curious smile and her hips took on a more confident pace. “Yes.”
“Do you know why you like it so much?”
“Because it . . . feels good?” she ventured.
Severus grinned. “Mmmmmm, yes. But I think it appeals to you for other, more personal, reasons. Does it make you feel . . . dominated? Surrendered, perhaps?”
She blinked several times as if processing the possibility.
“You feel . . . safe when I’m inside you. Am I wrong?”
Hermione looked absolutely lost, but after a dazed pause she finally shook her head no.
“I think you need to be being taken care of—in the most sexual way possible.”
She nodded blankly.
“I know,” he murmured. “We’ll see just how much care you want in the future, but for now, this cock takes care of your pussy. Do you understand?”
Hermione nodded again.
“There’s a naughty little girl in you dying to play, and I’m going to fuck her out into the open. I intend to put you over my knee every single time we meet. You’re going to have the reddest backside in the Ministry . . . and you’re going to beg me for more.”
She rode him faster, her respiration revving to a steady pant that steamed his lips.
“I’m going to fill you up with so much cream you’ll be choking on it. All over you arse, all over your face, deep inside this slippery little pussy.”
Her eyes went dark as charcoal. “All over me?”
Sweet Circe, yes. This witch was a bloody marvel. “All over you. You’re mine, little girl. Tell me how much you want it.”
“I want it, sir. You’ll really spank me every time you see me?”
A rich chuckle rumbled from his chest. “You’d better not hesitate when I tell you to bend over. I’ll pull down your knickers and spank you in front of everyone if you’re slow to move.”
Her bucking became frantic, the wet slurp of her cunny attesting to her zeal. “I want that, sir.”
“I know. And I want to give it to you.” The tight barrel of muscles cinching his shaft fluttered off and on in a flickering stranglehold. Severus hissed at the constriction and grabbed a handful of her arse to spur her on. “Come for me, Hermione. Say my name.”
“Mm-m-m-m,” she whimpered. “Yes . . . Severus. Oh gods!”
Her muscles twitched and then clamped down. Snape grunted through his teeth, holding himself in check as she trembled in his arms. He wasn’t anywhere close to being through with her, and he didn’t want to take time out to recharge. He’d come later. All over her. As promised.
Choked cries of satisfaction slipped from her lips as the orgasm demolished her restraint. The pleasure wracking her core jerked her body to and fro, but Severus just held her tighter. That climax was half his, and he wanted to share in every shudder.
When the trembling subsided, she sighed his name and dropped her head against his shoulder. He knew what she needed and rubbed her back without being asked.
“Good girl,” he murmured.
He felt her smiling against his neck, and a ripple of prickly chills skittered down his spine until it reached the base of his balls, where it melted into a pool of bubbling magma. She pecked his throat, just next to his concealed scar, which left behind a spot that refused to stop tingling.
With a contented sigh, she curled into him and propped one hand against his racing heart. Snape brushed his cheek against her hair and closed his eyes, savoring the buzzy warmth of her body. Despite his aching balls, he found a measure of peace in her embrace.
I could get used to this.  
When he saw Lucius the next day, he’d bring up the logistics of their involvement. Lucius was a fan of reason; Severus just needed to find a way to explain what was at stake. For all of them.
He needed to talk to Draco too, but that would be a much more delicate negotiation. He’d need time to consider his approach.
Severus glanced down as Hermione stirred, her hand trailing over his chest in a stroke of enticement. His cock twitched inside her. Shit. He’d come up with a plan later.
There was a witch in need of his assistance.
And that tight little sphincter wasn't going to stretch itself.
Conductor—One who directs a group of performers. The conductor indicates the tempo, phrasing, dynamics, and style by gestures and facial expressions.
"What Are You?" by Matt Sweeney and Bonnie "Prince" Billy. Written by Will Oldham (Bonnie "Prince" Billy (lyrics), and Matt Sweeney (music) and released on the 2005 album Superwolf.
https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=TzBPFL_CG0Q
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