Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Night Patrol	By : CryingCinderella Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Snape/Hermione Views: 57765 -:- Recommendations : 4 -:- Currently Reading : 3
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

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A/N: Thank you for the continued reviews. The ride is about to get a whole lot bumpier. ;-)

She looked like hell. She’d been told so at least three times since breakfast and it was doing nothing to help her mood. Hermione had not found sleep after her detention with Severus Snape, and if anyone had known exactly what that detention had entailed, they would have understood why. At first she tried a shower, trying to drown the memories from her mind, but that had failed her. Tossing and turning in her bed for hours hadn’t helped. Try as she might when she closed her eyes all she could see was him gazing at her with his intense black eyes as she performed for him like a circus act.

            Potions class was worse. He’d refused to call on her to answer a single question, though she supposed that much was normal. His eyes would not focus on her, but Hermione wasn’t sure whether to be nervous or relieved. She was certain if she had managed to catch his eye that she would melt into a puddle of embarrassment or turn so red that the whole class would think she’d caught a bad case of skin discoloration. But for some reason, the notion that he refused to look at her, or even acknowledge her made her feel even worse. She wasn’t sure why she was so desperate to receive attention; it had been the most humiliating thing she’d ever had to endure.

            The day passed quickly, however, and she found herself leaving her dormitory nearly an hour before detention was to start. She wasn’t eager to arrive, if anything she was dreading it, but for fear that she might again be tardy Hermione left ample time to make her way down to the dungeons. Chilly gusts swept through the corridors as she wound her way deeper down the staircases and she arrived at the classroom door fifteen minutes early.

            Severus Snape was seated inside his classroom grading papers. He was only half consciously marking them so the more thoroughly and meticulous lash of remarks were left unwritten upon the parchment. His mind was wandering far from the draught of the living dead essays he was skimming through, and focusing on how terribly delicious she would look splayed out on one of the worktables once more.

            The minx was a temptress to him, whether she knew it or not, and his only retaliation was to humiliate her. It was pushing a line and he knew it but felt confident that he would get away with it. His eyes fell closed and already he could feel the tightening in his trousers, just thinking about how her fingers moved almost effortless into her sex made him rigid. The things he longed to do to her body made him suppress a moan.

            Severus Snape found beauty in the most unconventional ways. Her hips were fuller than most men would consider attractive but he could not understand why stick figure women were the standard mark for beauty. Her breasts were not overly large, but full enough to fit her torso, and her thighs looked as if they could fully support her weight, unlike so many of the slatterns in Knockturn Ally who tottered around on toothpicks, their ribs poking through their paling flesh.

            And she was beautiful, her cheeks even more so when they were filled with that crimson stain of blush. It took a great deal of strength to refrain from touching his erection through his trousers. He kept both hands firmly on top of his desk, trying to clear his mind. If he dwelt on the images of her long enough he would have no choice but to seek release at his own hand before she arrived.

            The knock on his classroom door was timid, almost unheard. It was almost ten o’clock and a wicked smirk crossed his lips. At last she had arrived. He schooled his emotions and rose from his desk. Severus pulled the front of his robes around him for good measure and then waved his hand at the door.

            Hermione made slow steps into the classroom. She kept her head down, but not so low as to be accused of staring at the floor. Butterflies were racing frantic in her stomach and again she felt almost nauseous. The room was cold enough to have made her shiver had her nerves not made her feel like she was melting from within.

            Another wave of his hand had the door shut, though it did not lock into place. He gazed at her, black eyes boring holes into her and Hermione flinched ever so slightly. Severus checked his smirk and settled instead for a slightly quirked brow. “Miss Granger…” he addressed her, waiting for her to meet his gaze.

            She was hesitant. Her eyes longed to look anywhere but into his. It was frightening and unsettling and so many other emotions that Hermione had trouble describing. A part of her felt anger when she met his gaze; angry that he was torturing her in a most inappropriate way but there was nothing she could do about it. There was also fear; not that he would hurt her, but that she was somehow losing control over something, though what it was she wasn’t sure. And she felt disturbed; how could he so easily demand what he had demanded of her, without so much as flinching. These thoughts skittered about inside her brain leaving her mind a shambles.

            “Eyes up here, Miss Granger.” His tone was harsh though not loud as he reprimanded her.

            Slowly she drew her gaze up to meet his. Hermione tried very hard not to tremble. What would he expect of her tonight? Hadn’t he been pleased enough to humiliate her the previous night?

            “You may place your robes on the chair.” He said crossing his arms over his chest. He stood with his back against his desk, eyes trained on her. “And repeat your wanton actions here in public, the place you deem them appropriate.

            She fought to choke back a string of protests crossed halfway between yelling at him and crying. Her lips trembled and she closed her eyes. Hermione could feel her body tensing again, and the wave of nausea swept over her. Again he was expecting her to pleasure herself in front of him.

            “And this time, you will remove all of your clothing.” He said.

            She was numb. Too frozen to protest at this. It seemed unnecessary, even harsher and more cruel than the previous night. But there seemed little to be done for the situation. Hermione’s fingers were shaking as she undid her robes and she tried hard not to gaze at him. Her eyes focused on the clasp of her robe, blinking back tears as she did.

            His eyes watched her every movement. The way she fumbled with the buttons on her blouse, each one painstakingly slow as it came undone from the fabric loop that held it closed. Her skin was warm with a slightly pink flush, embarrassment seeping through her like a virus. The bra she wore was simple, not the same white one from the previous night, but black. There was lacework around the edge of the cup and the underwire rim; and Severus found himself suppressing the urge to comment.

            It was a risky game he was playing. There was to be no enjoyment, not to her knowledge; he could afford to do little else than silently appreciate her choice in undergarments. He longed to touch the material, feel her nipples stiffening against his thumb with that layer of black satin between them. But he held his gaze, kept his face passive, and watched as she slid the straps from her shoulders.

            Hermione remained standing, refusing to look at him, as she reached around behind her and flicked the clasp of her bra open. The room was freezing and without her blouse or robes she could feel the crisp air stinging against her nipples and they hardened as she pulled the garment from her body. She turned around, her back facing the front of the room and she braced herself against the work table in front of her.

            White knuckles gripped the table hard enough to break off chips of wood. It was all that was keeping her from collapsing. Her breaths were so shallow she wasn’t sure she was even breathing anymore, but the burning sensation in her nose reminded her that she was alive. It was the sting of cold air against her nostrils, and the fear rising up from her stomach churning inside her nose. She exhaled slowly, trying to focus on her task. There would be no getting out of it, so the sooner she could complete it, the sooner she could run from the nightmare.

            A violent fit of shakes seized her hands as she grabbed the sides of her skirt. With a gentle tug she pulled the material of her school uniform down over her thighs and let it fall free at her knees. It hit the ground without a sound and she stepped out of it, one foot at a time. Hermione, now only covered by her knickers, kept her back to him. She calculated the angles in her head, wondering if there were a way to step out of her knickers while turning around to sit on the table so that he would see neither her bum nor the front of her sex.

            His eyes traced over each line of her body; the delicious swell of her curvy bottom made his erection throb inside his boxers. It was intense. He’d encountered many women who had never bothered to match their bras to their knickers and was surprised that Hermione’s knickers were in fact comprised of the same black satin as the bra had been. Though these seemed somehow simpler, without the lacework around the edges.

            He watched as her fingers looped into the elastic and tugged the knickers down, exposing her bare bottom and he could not hold back his feral grin. Thankfully she was facing away from him. Severus was struggling not to groan, so intense was his erection raging. It became much more difficult to keep his face neutral as she turned around and struggled to pull herself up onto the table.

            Her body was perfect. And he could finally see it in its entirety. Severus had to stop himself from stepping forward and drawing his hands over her body. Every inch of her flesh exposed to his eyes; a terrible torment for his hands which longed to feel her skin, longed to feel the mound of thick brown curls that covered her sex, longed to feel the slickness that would radiate from between her legs.

            Hermione bit her lower lip, her body trembling. It was cold but she could hardly blame her shaking on the temperature alone. Severus Snape, her teacher, was gazing at her naked body and about to watch her pleasure herself. She wasn’t sure she could go through with it, again. She could feel his eyes on her even if she refused to look. It made her feel dirty.

            How long she had been standing there trembling she wasn’t sure, but his voice frightened her. “Miss Granger, need I remind you that you are serving detention.”

            His tone was even though he struggled to keep it so. She was a sight to behold and the notion to just lunge forward and ravish her was almost too much for him to contain. His erection was straining painfully against the fabric of his boxers, tenting his trousers. Thankfully his robes hid his reaction, though he longed to show her just how she affected him.

            Hermione backed up against the work table and braced her hands on it. She hopped up and sat her butt on the edge. With a little wiggling she moved herself back on the table and then slowly laid back, letting her head hit the wood. She breathed in and out, slowly, rhythmically. He was watching her, and humiliating her. Her cheeks burned so red they stung.

            Just get it over with, her mind repeated. Hermione’s hand rested on her stomach as she tried to close her eyes and imagine herself anywhere but in the potion’s classroom under the scrutiny of her professor. Her body did not seem as willing to be tricked tonight, her fingers stroked through the curls on her mound, tiptoeing closer to her entrance. Her legs were angled out to the side, parted enough so she could move her hand easily between her thighs.

            It was a different angle from the night before but in a way he could almost see more without her knees obscuring his view. Severus gripped the edge of his desk. His feet taunted him, nearly stepping forward to bring him close to her. He would fall on his knees, drag her hips to the edge of the table and bury his tongue in her sweet folds. But he held completely still, eyes roving over her sex, waiting for her fingers to begin their work.

            She squeezed her eyes tight, trying to think of sexual things to help get her going. The previous night had been somewhat less difficult, though she wasn’t sure why. Hermione probed her index finger into her sex, but she was hardly wet enough for it to be pleasurable. Her hand slowly rose to meet her lips and her tiny pink tongue protruded, licking two of her fingers and she shook. It was humiliating, having to lick her fingers to wet her sex so that she could masturbate for him.

            The light shone on her fingers as they stroked her opening, spreading the moisture and slickening her sex. Severus closed his eyes for a moment, trying to hold himself together. He watched as she circled her thumb around the tiny bundle of nerves that was the pleasure center of a woman. Her legs jerked slightly and she felt the tension building between her thighs. She could have been in her bed doing this, and her fingers moved that much quicker, as they probed a bit more harshly than before.

            Hermione found a rhythm and as she concentrated on that rhythm, she felt the moisture pooling inside of her, clinging to her fingers. Her other hand touched her breast, half to hide it from view half to pinch her nipple to send that jolt of sensation through her body. It took a moment for her to work her fingers in and out, twisting them about in a manner different than she had used the previous night.

            She had crossed her middle finger over her index finger and was driving the crossed fingers in and out of her sex like a twisting screw. Her wrist flicked about and she whimpered, her thumb pressing hard against her clit as she did.

            It was too much for him. Severus bit down hard on his tongue to keep from growling out. He could feel the blood in his mouth, the pungent odor of copper filling his nose but it was no competition for the sweet musk that was wafting from the girl in front of him.

            Her chest rose and fell, her breasts heaving and with a few more harsh pumps of her fingers she was trembling, shaking her eyelids fluttering. Hermione stilled her fingers and allowed herself just a moment to catch her breath. She laid there, silent, unmoving, waiting.

            He too was silent for fear that his voice would sound sex crazed and carnal. His breathing was erratic but he hid it well with silent shallow breaths. He waited.

            She sat up, leaning over her knees to cover her sex and her breasts with her own body. “May I go, sir?” she asked, refusing to meet his eyes.

            Severus Snape gazed at her once more. “Tomorrow, ten o’clock.” He said. It was all he could manage without his voice cracking.

            Hermione didn’t even nod as she hopped down from the table, threw her blouse over her shoulders, stepped into her skirt, gathered the rest of her garments under her arm and left his classroom without looking back.

            He didn’t even wait to be sure she was gone before striding quickly into his office, the door wide open. Severus reached into his trousers, not even bothering to pull his erection fully out. A growl escaped his lips as he wrapped his hand around his weeping tip; he was soaking in pre-cum, threatening to explode against his palm.

            A few simple strokes had him coming in his trousers and he panted heavy against the wall. She was too much. Her simple ministrations would destroy him if he was not careful.

            For nights this continued. Hermione would arrive at ten, embarrassed even more than the night before, trembling and shaking, paling in her face, then flushing with her humiliation. She would strip her clothing, settle against the work table and pleasure herself until he could stand it no longer, she would flee from the room, and he would relieve himself in his office.

            It had been a week of watching her torment him, watching the humiliation that crossed her cheeks every time she stepped into the room.

            Her fingers stilled as she finished, coated in her slickness and it was too much. She was moving too slowly for him.

            “Out!” he growled, voice much louder than he’d intended.

            Hermione was so startled that she shot up from where she laid, and nearly tumbled off the top of the table.

            “Your wanton display is disgusting, get out you filthy harlot,” he snapped and glared so fiercely at her that he could almost see the tears forming behind her eyes.

            She threw on her skirt and blouse and tore out of the room without even shutting the door. But he didn’t care. She’d been arching against her hand so hard, taking longer than usual to bring herself to completion that he couldn’t wait any longer, lest he give himself away. His back was pressed up against the wall opposite the door to his office. He’d pushed the door on his way in, but it had only shut most of the way.

            His trousers were around his knees, his erection raging as he stroked himself, trying to prolong the sensation. Severus closed his eyes, remembering just how she had looked, spread eagled on the table, arching and whimpering, and he pumped himself harder in his hand.

            Hermione had let the tears tumble down her cheeks. She was trembling so fiercely that she had to lean against the wall until her legs stopped shaking. Her robes and undergarments were still on the chair in the potions classroom and she cupped her hand over her mouth, trying to contain a sob. She didn’t want to go back there, but if she left them she feared the worst. He would no doubt find some cruel and awful way to humiliate her with them.

            Her steps were light as she slipped back into the classroom, the door had been left wide open. He was nowhere to be seen. A wave of relief swept over her as she moved toward the table to pick up her things. She draped her robes over her shoulders and stuffed her undergarments into the inside pockets. It wasn’t until she turned to go that she heard the sound. It ran through her ears; a low animalistic growl, and she froze to the spot.

            His office door was slightly ajar and she knew it was best if she had turned and left just as soon as she’d gathered her things, but the sound, and her unyielding curiosity screwed her courage to the sticking place and she edged herself toward his office door. Her eyes flew open wide as she peeked through the crack. Hermione had lost control of her body as she pushed hard against the door and burst into the doorway.

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Night Patrol