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Teaching Miss Granger	By : OracleObscured Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Snape/Hermione Views: 116943 -:- Recommendations : 5 -:- Currently Reading : 14
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
- 2
- 3
- 4
3 - Zigazig Ahhhh
The red light of dawn warmed Hermione’s window, the hazy glow of the rising sun waking her from her dream. She turned off her alarm clock before it could ring and make her head throb. Stretching on her back, she suddenly remembered what day it was. Friday. She’d made it.
Curling into a ball, she reached down the back her pajamas to feel the plug. She’d gotten used to it during the week and grown to like it more than she originally anticipated. The first morning she took it out (No bigger than my finger?! Typical Slytherin.), she spent ten minutes studying it. Thin and pointed, it was only a little wider than her thumb and had a small indentation for her sphincter to close around. It felt bigger than it looked.
Despite that revelation, putting it back in had been nothing short of an ordeal. She could manage her finger just fine, but when she tried the plug, it took her fifteen minutes of wincing and panting (and a handful of lube) to get it in; and then it felt as if she had a whole wand shoved up her backside. She dreamt he was buggering her that night.
And that was just the start of the week. It had been one long, never-ending test of her willpower. Every day he was smirking at her and looking as though he knew exactly what she’d been thinking. He kept popping up when she least expected it—in the halls, in the library, coming out of McGonagall’s office. Each sighting made her heart race and her face heat. He would catch her eye in the Great Hall, and even though his face betrayed nothing, she knew he was laughing at her.
Wednesday had been the worst. It had begun with a vivid dream involving a shirtless Snape spanking her in the middle of the Great Hall. She woke up right in the midst of a succulent slap, needing to orgasm. Her hand slipped into her knickers before she remembered his order. NO! Punching the bed in frustration, she forced herself to get up and get ready for the day. At breakfast, when Ron commented that she didn’t look so great and suggested she see Madam Pomfrey, she almost tore off his head. Harry and Ron tiptoed around her the rest of the day, unsure what might set her off next.
Unfortunately, Wednesday was also her first Potions class of the week. She had to sit through a whole hour with him. It was infuriating. He had them brewing antidotes, and he spent an inordinate amount of time standing directly behind her, quizzing her in a low voice while she worked. It was nerve-wracking. When she took her finished antidote up to him at the end of class, he surreptitiously stroked her finger and murmured, “Long night?”
Hermione wanted to punch him in the face. Smug bastard. There was no way to retaliate in the middle of class. (Well, no way that wouldn’t lose her a score of house points.) She just had to play the game, follow his rules, make it to Friday.
And she had. Friday was upon her. She’d beaten his little test. All she had to do was survive double Potions that day and she was home free.
- - - - - - - - -
Severus woke up Friday morning with a raging hard-on. Bloody hell, that’s the third one this week. Rubbing his face, he tried to erase the lingering images of his dream. It had been a similar theme every night. Although each dream featured Granger in a new role, like some kind of bookworm burlesque show, the general idea was more than clear—fuck her.
Fisting his hand over his cock, he considered her offer. He had surprisingly few reservations. She was of age; she could do as she pleased. Being her teacher posed a moral quandary, but he reasoned that he really wouldn’t be her teacher that much longer. In a few months, she would graduate, and the issue would be moot. They both preferred to maintain their privacy, so she was unlikely to reveal their arrangement.
The only thing that made him hesitate was regret. He’d known regret in his life, and he didn’t want to wind up one of hers. But on the flip side of that coin was possibility. Her response Sunday night had been better than he could have ever dreamed. There was a strong chance that they could work well together sexually.
Rolling out of bed with a groan, he headed to the shower to finish off his dream. The water started with a muffled roar, and he stood under the hot spray, letting the heat drain away the stiffness in his back.
As he stroked his cock, scenes from the past week floated through his head: the way she blushed when she met his eyes, the way she stared at his crotch in class, the growing desperation on her face as each day passed. She was a steady stream of amusement. He’d seen the excitement and raw passion in her eye during class. It was hard not to laugh when he’d brushed her finger “accidentally” and asked how her night had been. She’d looked as though she wanted to smack him. He wasn’t fooled by her anger. That was sexual frustration at its finest. When he got her alone that night, it was going to be explosive.
Snape wanted to get one last squirm out of her before she came to him for relief.
Picturing her kneeling before him with that infernal mouth of hers open and waiting, he came violently all over the wall of the shower, his grunt drowned out by the rushing water. Resting his forehead on the damp tile, he waited for his breathing to slow as he plotted the day’s entertainment.
- - - - - - - - - -
Hermione came out of the bathroom (once again grateful for the privacy afforded the Head Girl) to find an owl pecking at her window. Why didn’t he just come with all the others at breakfast? She took the scroll from his foot and recognized Snape’s angry scrawl.
Wear your plug in class today. —S P.S. And tonight.
He can’t be serious. She read the note again. When isn’t he serious? Is he just trying to humiliate me? It’s working. The thought of walking the halls with her bum stoppered made her extremely nervous. What if someone sees?
Who? Were you planning on displaying your charms for all to see this morning?
No one will know. But me.
And him.
Aaaargh, she growled in her head. If I do it, I’ll have to wear it to breakfast and Ancient Runes; I don’t have time to come back here before Potions. That made her more nervous. It was a long time to have to act normal. Is this turning me on? Why am I getting so excited? Did he know this is how I’d react? Does he want to drive me insane, or is he just trying to embarrass me? Or is it both? What if he just wants to see if I’ll do anything he says? No, wait, what if he decides not to sleep with me because I refused?
That tore it. She got the plug out of her bedside table and trudged to the bathroom with a determined growl.
- - - - - - - - - -
Severus kept one eye trained on the door of the Great Hall, anticipating her entrance. He’d know by her face if she had put it in yet. Tucking into his breakfast, he listened distractedly as Flitwick squeaked on about some article he’d read in Charms Quarterly. Snape paused with his fork halfway to his plate when he saw her bushy, brown head bustle through the door. She kept her eyes on the floor as she made her way to her usual spot with Potter and Weasley, but he could tell by the way she walked. She was wearing it already. His cock sprang to life.
She sat down hesitantly, a look of carnal heat flashing across her features as her bum hit the bench. He almost choked on his eggs. The flush in her cheeks deepened as she glanced up at him and glared. He couldn’t wait for Advanced Potions that day. It promised to be exceptional.
_____________________
Hermione dragged her feet as she headed to the dungeons. Getting there early would only give him more time to laugh at her. If she had to see that knowing smirk one more time, she was either going to hit him or lick him (either sounded equally satisfying). Every step kept the plug fresh in her thoughts. It was beyond distracting. Ancient Runes had never been such a panty-wetting experience before.
She got to class just in time, taking her usual seat at the table behind Harry and Ron. They both turned and gave her where-have-you-been looks. She waved dismissively (nowhere, don’t worry about it). The bell rang, and she steeled herself for what was to come.
Snape burst into the room, making everyone jump. Striding toward his desk in a billow of black robes, he flicked his wand at the board and snapped, “The potion you will be brewing today in on the board. Extra ingredients are in the storeroom. Get to work.”
The nice thing about seventh-years was they didn’t need you to explain everything in minute detail. Not a single one asked a question; they just got out their cauldrons and set to work. He wished all his classes were that easy.
Hermione read the board. It was a complicated potion that would take all class to finish. Thank Merlin. The busier she was, the less she would think about seeing him that night. She got out her cauldron and starting preparing her ingredients. Great. Stupid Lacewing Flies. Why didn’t I get more last week? She would have to walk right past him while he stood guard outside the storeroom. Messing about with her supplies only bought her a few minutes reprieve. Harry and Ron were already chopping Shrivelfigs and throwing her concerned glances.
Summoning her courage, Hermione went to the end of the queue. She stared at the floor, avoiding any accidental eye contact with him. The plug felt bigger than ever.
Snape watched her slink behind Draco, trying to blend in. She kept smoothing her hands over her robes, double-checking that she was covered. Nice try, Miss Granger, but I already know what you’re hiding. Not enough could be said about the magnificent concealing power of robes; his erection seemed intent on ripping through his zipper, but that was his not-so-little secret.
It was a small class, and she was the last in line. Everyone else was busy lighting fires under their cauldrons and chopping ingredients. As she slipped past him into the storeroom, he followed her in, blocking the door with his body.
“Show me,” he whispered.
Her head whipped around, and her eyes went comically wide. “What? I can’t.”
“No one can see you in here. Show me.”
Hermione peeked over his shoulder, searching for witnesses. He was right, no one could possibly see her. Although she could feel the heat of her blood pounding in her face, she felt lightheaded, as if she might pass out. Before she could lose her nerve, she spun around and pulled her robes and skirt out of the way, yanking the back of her knickers to one side as she bent over. Peering nervously over her shoulder, Hermione saw Snape staring at her bum as if it were a Christmas feast.
“Good God, girl,” he muttered.
Hermione smiled as she pulled her panties back into place and smoothed down her skirt. Picking up a box of Lacewing Flies, she started back to her seat, grazing his bulge with her arm as she edged past him.
His eyes darkened. You’ll pay for that, witch. Let’s see if you’re still so brave tonight.
___________________
Hermione shifted from foot to foot outside his office. It was 9:28. Just a little longer. Don’t let on how much you want this. She’d already been out there for ten minutes. His door mocked her impatience just as it had mocked her cowardice five days earlier. She rapped her knuckles on the smooth wood before she realized what she was doing.
“Enter,” he barked.
She found him behind his desk again, watching her with blank indifference. His ability to appear unaffected was unnerving. How can he look so cool while I’m struggling not to get in his lap and ride him like a broom? Without a word, he stood and motioned for her to follow him. When he went through the door to his private quarters, Hermione had to fight a fit of gleeful giggles. Going to his room seemed like a good sign.
That glee was short-lived.
Once inside, he rounded on her, backing her into the closed door. His hands slammed down on either side of her head, pinning her in place. He glowered down at her, inches from her face. Unprepared for his anger, Hermione cringed away. Hot breath ghosted over her ear as he spoke.

“I take it from your presence here tonight that you successfully avoided climaxing since our last visit.”
All she could manage was a nod. When she heard the danger in his voice, her stomach dropped and rolled like a stunt flyer.
“No wet dreams?”
She swallowed hard. “They were wet but . . . nothing happened.”
“Is there a plug in you backside?”
Her voice was barely a whisper, “Yes, sir.”
“Then your punishment will be short tonight.”
“Punishment?" she squeaked. "Did I do something wrong, Professor?”
“Don’t play innocent with me, girl,” he hissed. “I know you did that on purpose today in class. You’re lucky I didn’t cane your impertinent little bottom right there in front of everyone.”
Although she knew he couldn’t, the threat made her wetter than ever. A small trickle tickled past her labia. This is NOT good. Sharp fingers sank into her upper arm, and he dragged her over to the nearest of two high-backed leather armchairs flanking the fireplace. It was all so fast she didn’t have time to take in her surroundings. A blur of bookcases and dark furniture were all she caught.
“Hands on the seat. Don’t move or you’ll get more,” he snarled.
As fast as she could, she pressed her hands to the seat cushion. Her heart and stomach seemed to be competing to see which could squeeze out of her esophagus first. She tried to swallow them both back down, but her mouth was bone dry. Snape was right behind her, tucking the back of her skirt into her waistband and pulling down her knickers without ceremony or comment. They were green with black trim, and she’d charmed them that way just for him. He didn’t even seem to notice. Tears pricked the backs of her eyes, and she blinked rapidly to keep them contained.
His finger tapped at the plug. “Push it out.”
Face flaming, she obeyed. He removed it, and she felt oddly empty. His footsteps echoed across the room, and the adrenaline surged through her bloodstream, leaving her shaky and tingling. The clipped sound of his shoes on the stones returned.
“I’m sure you’ve never experienced the pleasure of the cane before. This should be memorable for you. I hope you learn this lesson the first time. While it may leave your knickers wet, I DO NOT get off on public teasing or humiliation. If you EVER touch me inappropriately during class again, I will cane you so hard you won’t sit for a week. Is. That. Clear?”
The biting hiss of his words stabbed at her gut. He was furious. Her own voice wobbled with unshed tears, “Yes, sir. I apologize.”
“Count each stroke,” was all he said in return.
Hermione felt the cool touch of the wood lining up over her bum. The sound of her heartbeat in her ears was deafening. He tapped the cane against her cheeks a couple times, marking where he wanted the stroke to land. A soft whoosh cut through the air, and she heard and felt the crack of impact in the same instant. It took another second, but then the pain bloomed across her cheeks in a hot line. “Ow. One.”
Tapping again. She gritted her teeth and pressed her palms harder against the leather. The sting was still growing.
Swish-crack.
“Ow! Two.”
Tap. Tap. Tap. Swish-crack.
Her right knee buckled. A thousand bees were stinging lines across her backside. “Three!” she gasped, stamping her foot to loosen the pain.
Tap. Tap. Tap. Pause. Tap. Swish-crack.
She couldn’t breathe. Tears streamed down her face as the pain surfaced. “Four!”
“Keep your legs straight,” he ordered.
Each blow made her knees bend deeper; she was practically squatting. Reluctantly, Hermione straightened her legs, praying that he’d finished. The tapping resumed, and she started crying harder, convinced it would never end.
Swish-crack.
A shout of pain tore from her lips. “Five!”
Snape marked a spot lower, just under her bum where her thighs started. “Brace yourself.”
No tapping, just the whoosh of the cane cutting the air and then unbearable stinging heat. She knelt to the floor in fresh tears, bawling against the seat.
“Back into position, Miss Granger,” he said in a cold, detached drawl.
With painful slowness, certain she must be bleeding, she stood back up, struggling to catch her breath.
“We’ll have to repeat that one since you didn’t count.”
Hermione sobbed harder, devastated by the news.
“What a pity. It would have been the last.”
She closed her eyes. Just one more Hermione, you can do it.
“Arch your back.”
Hermione grimaced, knowing it would expose her sex more and bring it closer to the sting of the cane. Sticking out her bum, she felt him marking where the next lick would land. Directly below the last. The cane sliced through the air, sharply connecting with her upper thighs. She wailed, ”Six!” before dissolving into tears.
Severus put his fingers to her striped cheek, checking the marks. No skin had broken. He drew his fingertips over the sizzling tram lines, and she recoiled. I don’t blame you, he sympathized. This will be a delicate transition. For the first time that night, he spoke softly. “Stand up, Miss Granger. Your punishment is over.”
She stood carefully, her bum throbbing and burning. Looking at him was out of the question. She was angry and hurt, confused and (frighteningly) still turned on.
It was even more confusing when he sat in the chair and pulled her down to straddle his lap. Her bum rested between his spread knees, and he caressed her neck until she laid her head on his shoulder. His hand stroked her back, urging her to calm down. Hermione was lost. How could he go from fury to comfort in the blink of an eye? Her bum felt lacerated; it consumed every ounce of her attention. Sobbing into his neck, she tried to process the conflicting sensations battling in her body.
Severus rubbed her back, soothing her. She was new to such things. He wasn’t completely heartless. (Well, not with a witch who had proven to be an interesting distraction from his life and whom he intended to bed later.) She’d taken the cane well for her first encounter. If he wanted her to keep coming back for more, he had to dial back the venom.
“It’s all right,” he murmured in her ear. “It’s over now. You did very well.” One hand went to her bum, and he drew his fingertips over the fiery lines. “So beautiful,” he whispered.
Unsure whether he meant the marks or her, and not really caring, Hermione let out a ragged sigh along with the remaining tension in her body. The pain continued to grow, but it was changing. She felt different somehow. Cleansed. It was pleasant but disconcerting. One minute she’d been scared to death, in intense agony; and the next, she was drinking up his rumbled praises like wine. The pain had transformed her. Trial by fire.
Her body melted into him, and he placed his lips beside her temple. “Are you all right?”
“I think so, sir,” she said with a sniffle.
Now that the crying had stopped, her voice was deep and peaceful, almost lethargic. A testament to her house, she’d taken the pain heroically.
“Your backside looks lovely. Would you like to see?”
Her head lifted, and she looked at him, her brow pinched in confusion. Severus summoned his antique full-length mirror and angled it behind her. He nodded toward the mirror. "Look at yourself."
Turning her head, Hermione gasped at the picture they presented. Her skirt was still tucked in her waistband, so she could see the dark red lines crisscrossing her skin. It was lovely—her arse transformed into a work of art. Reaching back, she watched herself trace over the tracks he’d made, marking her as his.
Snape met her dazed gaze in the mirror. “Tell me how you did this week,” he murmured, starting to unbutton her top. “Any interesting dreams?”
Hermione reluctantly turned away from the image of herself straddling her professor. So bloody sexy. “What? Oh, yes. Torturous actually. You kept telling me to wake up before I finished.”
Severus snickered. “And what were we doing that got you so close?” Pushing her blouse down her arms, he pulled it from her and tossed it aside.
Her heart was racing. The dungeon was drafty, and her nipples tightened behind her bra, straining the material. “Um . . . different things.”
His fingers lightly trailed down the center of her chest. “What left you the wettest?”
Oh God! Her skin felt oversensitive, almost unreal. She blushed as she tried to answer him. “You were . . . um . . . taking me from behind and . . . your fingers were um . . . in my . . . other hole, and you were . . . saying things.”
His smirk grew to an obscene grin as she spoke. Broadening her vocabulary would be next on the agenda. He wanted to hear filthy words purring from those twitching lips. “Saying what kinds of things?”
Hermione shrugged, looking perplexed. “I can’t remember.” For all she knew he’d been reciting a grocery list; the outcome was the same. He gave her a dubious look, and she stared him defiantly in the eye. “Honest.”
He could see she was telling the truth. Thumbs lazily circling her nipples, he continued the questioning, “Does it embarrass you to say cock, Hermione?”
It did not escape her notice that he’d used her name. “Sort of,” she admitted. “I’m just not used to it.”
“We’ll work on that.” He pinched her pebbled peaks through her bra.
Her nipples seemed to have a direct line to her sex, and her hips jerked closer.
Reaching behind her, he unhooked her bra then leaned back, watching it fall down her arms, baring her breasts. Pulling it off and tossing it over with her shirt, he caught her arms and held them to her side so she couldn’t cover herself.
She saw his warning look and relaxed, not fighting the exposure.
Nodding in satisfaction, he slid his hands under the rounded flesh, running his fingers along the line left by her bra, reveling in her soft warmth. When he went back to her nipples, she hummed a quiet note of relief and arched into his hands. Pinching and pulling at the tips, he slowly worked her into a panting frenzy, not stopping until she was grinding fitfully in his lap. “Would you like to come now?”
She met his eyes and nodded. “Yes, sir.”
Pinching her nipples hard, he shook his head. “No. Try again. Beg me for it and use the word pussy.”
Her face burned, but hearing him say it first made things easier. She just had to say it back. Determined to prove her bravery, Hermione closed her eyes and whispered, “My pussy’s so wet, sir. Please make me come.”
“Excellent,” he purred.
Snape reached between their bodies and opened his trousers. Once his cock was free, he sank his fingers into her hips and pulled her forward. Her slit was drenched; there was no resistance or drag as she slid along the underside of his prick. The blistering heat of her body scorched him.
Hermione’s swollen nub throbbed joyfully as she rode against him. She arched her back to keep her clit pressed against his unyielding length. Rocking her hips faster, she felt the tension of five long days straining to break free. Her body was primed to take off, and the rigid heat of him slipping between her thighs was sublime.
She was a woman possessed. Snape’s fingers tightened, trying to keep her movements under control. The restraint only added to her fervor. If he hadn’t just indulged in a preemptive wank before her arrival, he would have lost it. Her frantic whispers of “please” were maddening. He knew there was only one way to end that particular torture. (And the sooner the better.) Touching his lips to her ear, he growled, “I want to watch you come all over my cock.”
The feel of his words vibrating through her was the final piece of the puzzle. Her breathy chants of “please” turned to “yes." She gasped, riding him past the finish line, her clit euphoric in its celebration. Gradually, her movements slowed, and she slumped against his shoulder.
His fingers ached as he released her hips. Merlin’s bloody balls! That’s going to leave a bruise. He massaged the red marks left by his death grip. Determined wasn’t a strong enough word to describe the breathless witch in his lap. Unrelenting, perhaps. Or maybe ruthless.
“Better?” he asked, a bit amused now that he was out of danger.
“For now,” she panted.
An appreciative grunt slipped past his defenses, but he quickly muffled it by planting his lips against her neck. When he nipped her, she shivered.
“Stand,” he ordered in her ear.
Hermione obediently climbed off his lap and stood before him, awaiting instruction.
“Hands on your head.”
She obliged.
“Keep them there until I say otherwise.”
“Yes, sir.”
He found the zipper on her skirt and, unfastening it, let the fabric drop to the ground. “Step out.”
Snape leaned down and pushed off her socks and shoes, shoving the pile of clothes away as she stepped out. Just inches from her small triangle of curls, the sweet smell of her sex made his mouth water. Soon. Just a little longer, then we’ll stop for a bite. Snaking one hand around her back, he encircled her waist and pulled her closer. His lips found her nipple, and he sucked her deep into his mouth. The gathered tip grew hard against his tongue.
Her brain was turning to mush right along with her knees. He switched to her other breast, and her body melted into him, the tongue that ridiculed her in class doing wicked things to her body.
“Please,” she whimpered.
“Yeeees?” he asked, feigning innocence.
She knew what he wanted. Why is it so hard to say? “Please touch my pussy.”
He smirked. Such a fast learner. Snape trailed one long finger down the center of her torso, letting his fingertip graze her swollen clit. She bucked and moaned when he tickled the start of her slit. “Tell me how wet your cunt is.”
Her responding blush was beautiful. It crept down her chest, tingeing the tops of her breasts like bleeding ink.
Hermione licked her lips. “My cunt is dripping for you, sir.” She felt as if she were speaking a foreign language.
Loving the breathy way she spoke the unfamiliar words, he slid his finger over her nub again. “Tell me what you need. Make it good.”
Make it good? She could barely think with him touching her like that. Make it good. She had to draw on things she’d read and overheard comments from horny classmates. Okay, here it goes. “I want you to . . . finger me while you eat my pussy. Then I want to . . . ride your cock until I pass out.”
Severus looked up at her in thinly veiled shock. A very fast learner, he amended, chuckling inwardly. Wiping his face, he hid his smile. “Very well. Go lie down on the bed,” he said, nodding in that direction.
Hermione didn’t need to be told twice. It felt like a dream as she walked to the bed, climbed in, and rolled onto her side. She didn’t want to lose sight of him—she might miss something good. He rose from the chair and approached the bed with a silky grace that reminded her of prowling carnivores.
“Spread your legs. Touch yourself for me,” he rumbled and started to unbutton his shirt.
Her body obeyed. She wasn’t even thinking anymore. He could have told her to stand on her head and she wouldn’t have hesitated. As his chest was revealed, Hermione couldn’t blink. Seeing him naked was finally becoming a reality.
Severus removed his shirt while he watched her fingers graze her glistening folds. Her eyes raked over his upper body.
“Fuck yes,” she whispered. (Seven years in the same house as Seamus had left an impression.)
He almost snorted. I’ve created a monster. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
Kicking off his shoes and socks, he dropped his trousers. Her eyes scanned his pale body as if memorizing him for a test. Smirking, Snape crawled to her. You haven't seen anything yet. He pushed her thighs open further then rested his shoulders between her splayed legs, his face hovering over her mound.
Both her hands wrenched the bedspread. Hermione couldn’t look away as he bowed his head lower, his hair tickling her thighs; then she felt the soft caress of his tongue part her folds. “Yes,” she whispered.
His lips and tongue nipped and licked her in the sweetest torment she’d ever experienced. The room was spinning, and she was going to fly off into space. She never wanted it to end, but he was pushing her into an abyss. The ache in her core was the only thing tethering her to the earth. His mouth latched onto her clit, and she was gone. No thoughts. She was just floating, soaring above everything on the throbbing pulse of release. From far away, she could hear her own ragged cries echoing through the room.
Watching her loss of control was breathtaking. He wanted to see it again. Licking her though some violent aftershocks, Severus waited for her breathing to slow. When she was calm, he used his middle finger to impale her tight opening.
“Once more,” he ordered.
She didn’t dare object after last time.
Adding another finger, he stroked the spot that make her quiver. He wanted to see her juices flowing all over his bed—a nice reminder of their time together, proof of her desire for him. “Soak my bed, pet."
The rumble of his voice sent shock waves through her. His tongue began building a slick ball of tension in her clit. She could hear how wet she was. His fingers pulled a liquid symphony from her depths. The internal pressure returned with a vengeance.
Severus pumped his fingers slowly, not wanting to overstimulate her. Her taste was a heady mixture of salty and sweet musk that he’d willing feast on for eternity. He licked all around her swollen nub: along the sides, swirling over it, straight up the center. The sounds she made were songs of praise. He considered a plan of action as he worked. Breaking her hymen might prevent her from climaxing again. Pain could be distracting. He’d feel like less of a pervy wanker if she came multiple times beforehand. It wouldn’t hurt his ego any either. She was certainly vocal with the commendations. He sucked lightly on her clit and smiled at her strangled “Unh!"
Hermione combed her fingers through his hair. She didn’t try to direct him, she just needed to affirm the reality of the situation. My professor has his face between my thighs. This is too surreal.
He knew they all called him a greasy git, but she seemed oblivious, rubbing her fingers into his scalp. He’d given up on solving the problem years ago; besides, it kept people at a distance (an added bonus). As long as she didn’t try to suffocate him, he didn’t mind. A ballooning pressure was growing behind her satin wall. Teasing it with firm strokes, he flattened his tongue over her clitoris. Any second now.
Comforter fisted in either hand, Hermione felt a deep quivering radiating from the center of her body. When she tried to relax, the feeling increased. She was so close; her pussy was just waiting for her to give in. The magnitude of the trembling grew and blended with her orgasm, the muscles in her back involuntarily arching her off the bed. She didn’t want him to think he was hurting her, but she couldn’t stop the tortured keening pouring from her lips. A stream of fluid hit his chin and trickled down the crack of her arse. As she ran out of air, her cries faded to a sighing whimper.
Severus gazed up the length of her body, watching the sharp rise and fall of her rib cage. The ferocity of her orgasm left him in awe. She’d been shaking harder than one of the rickety, old school brooms, and it seemed to have gone on for ages. He crawled up her body, taking in the sight of her flushed chest and closed eyes. The studious creasing of her brow had relaxed, and her lips softly parted for more air. Chestnut curls fell in a riotous tangle over his sheets. My wanton little nymph.
Her eyelids cracked open, surprised to find him observing her.
“Would you like some water?”
A nod was all she could manage. Her throat was raspy raw, and her body felt as though it had been deboned. She watched his lean form slink to the side of the bed and rummage around at the bedside table. His muscles flexed and stretched under his pale skin, and she eyed his bum appreciatively. The overwhelming urge to take a bite blotted out all other thoughts for a few seconds. He turned back to her, and she settled for biting back a grin.
A water glass and a hunk of chocolate were in his hand. Rolling onto her stomach so she could drink, she accepted the proffered glass. A few gulps later, the water was gone; and Hermione flopped face-first onto the bed.
“Eat this. You’ll need your strength,” he said, pressing the chocolate into her limp hand.
That sounds ominous. Turning her head to the side, she bit off a mouthful. He talked as she chewed.
“Did you read the books I gave you?”
She gave him a withering look. To whom do you think you’re speaking?
His lip twitched with the hint of a smile. “What did you think of Yardley’s Compendium of Sex Magic?”
Hermione gave a small nod and shrug. “Interesting. It mostly seemed to be about the energies created during sex and ways to use that energy for magic.”
“That’s fairly accurate.”
She popped the last bit of chocolate in her mouth and waited for him to continue. He seemed to be building to something.
“I’d like to collect your virgin’s blood. It’s hard to come by. And from a witch with your . . . passion, it would be quite potent.”
She couldn’t hold back her smile. “You’ve decided then.”
That wasn’t the response he was expecting. “Does my request offend you?”
Hermione shook her head. “No, I understand. It would just go to waste otherwise. Are you just doing it for my blood?”
She didn’t sound accusatory, just curious. He knew she wouldn’t back out even if he said yes, but he felt no need to lie to her. “No.”
Hermione smiled shyly and looked away.
“What are you grinning about?” he asked, arching an eyebrow.
You want me too. “Can we do it now?”
“Have you recovered?”
“Yes.”
“It’s going to hurt. Are you certain?”
Hermione nodded.
Snape rolled onto his back. “Get me hard again.”
He had sunken to half-mast, but the hunger that flared in her eyes at his command made the blood in his body start returning south. Striking a lazy pose, he rested his hands behind his head and took in the view. Her shining wet lips kissed his manhood as she explored him. With unexpected fervor, she suddenly engulfed him, his tip greeting the back of her throat. Her tongue sought to make short work of him.
Inspired by a particularly wicked dream she’d had during the week (involving Snape and jar of caramel), Hermione was doing her damnedest to fit as much of him in her mouth as possible. This might be my only chance. The first attempt hadn’t gone as well as she’d planned. She’d only gotten about halfway down. His cock was rapidly swelling in her mouth. If she wanted to try again, the opportunity would soon be gone.
Snape watched her attempts with pleased amusement. Her desire to choke on his meat was bizarrely endearing. He’d only told her to get him hard. She’d chosen this particular route on her own. She could have just touched him. Hell, she could have sat in my lap and whispered dirty words in my ear. But Severus was never one to look a gift horse in the mouth. It was damned erotic watching her suck him while she tried to hump the mattress.
Her last endeavor had not been a success. She ended up with about a third, which was her usual reach. Bollocks.
“Come here,” he rumbled.
Hermione tried to rub her pussy against him as she climbed up his body.
He grabbed her chin and made her focus. “Soon. Right now I want you to turn around and sit on my face.” The look she gave him was priceless. Shock, lust, curiosity, confusion and embarrassment all flitted over her features in quick succession. Her mouth hung open, completely speechless. If I’d only known that’s all it took, he mused. Her frozen stance suggested she needed some prodding. “I’m going to get you so wet you’ll be sliding down my cock with ease. And this way, I can put your clever little mouth to good use while I do so.”
His thumb grazed her lower lip, and her tongue slid out to meet it.
“Get up here,” he ordered, pulling a pillow under his head.
Kneeling by his shoulder, Hermione hesitated, biting her lower lip. “You’ll suffocate.”
He burst out laughing. Then I’ll die happy. She was so bloody earnest. It was both charming and hilarious. “I’ll be fine. Stop stalling, Miss Granger.”
With one last steadying breath, Hermione carefully placed a knee on either side of his head. The position left her feeling vulnerable and exposed. She leaned forward right away just to make sure he really could breathe, not totally convinced by his reassurance.
The lines on her bum shrieked with renewed sorrow as his hands palmed her open. His tongue quickly came to the rescue, dulling the pain with its swirling wet anesthesia. Hermione shivered as he burrowed into her slick fissure. Maybe the position wasn’t as scary as she’d first assumed. It did provide a nice view of his dick, which gave a small twitch every time she let out a sigh or moan. She caught the tip on her tongue when it twitched again, sealing her lips around him and drawing him deeper. His grunt vibrated through her loins.
Severus had to catch his breath, abandoning her pussy for air and sanity. Now that he could no longer see what she was doing, her actions became magnified by mystery. It was like being blindfolded. Sensations were rolling through him faster than he’d anticipated. Maybe this position wasn’t such a brilliant idea. Too late to turn back now.
Snape sank two fingers into her cramped twat and twisted them. She squealed around his cock and rolled her hips in his face. Maybe if I get her close enough she’ll come once I’m inside her. Adding another finger, he worked to stretch her. His girth was going to be a challenge for her despite his efforts. A puddle of glinting honey had collected at her entrance. Now, Severus. Do it now.
“Get on your back,” he rasped.
Lifting her knee over his head, she rolled over. Great. I’m backwards. Her head was aimed toward the foot of the bed, not how she’d imagined losing her virginity; but Snape took no notice. He was on her in a second, pinning her lower body under his weight.
He wanted to watch her face as he impaled her. “Ready?”
“Yes.” Her eyes pleaded with him to make everything all right.
Don’t scare her off, Severus. This is a nice little arrangement you’ve got going here. With one hand gripping his erection, he ran it up and down through her folds, getting it slippery with her excitement. Her heart beat so hard he could feel it hammering through her entire body, pounding out a reminder of her inexperience. Pushing at her opening, he focused on entering her slowly, using just the tip to fuck her. So bloody tight. And hot. It felt as if he were dipping his dick into molten lava.
His black eyes hypnotized her, lulling her into a hazy realm of skin and sweat. The dull burn of stretching around him left her mind spinning. Each tiny forward thrust took him a little deeper, filling her in exquisite increments.
When he felt the slight resistance of her hymen, he stopped and steadied himself. Her legs had crept around his hips, and the feel of her wrapped around him in so many ways entangled his brain in a heady web of sensation. He had to stay in control. With a patience that should have qualified him for sainthood, he pressed against her barrier until he broke through.
Hermione felt the slow burn burst to a flame. The raw sting of being torn. He stilled inside her, waiting.
“Breathe,” he whispered.
The breath she’d been holding whooshed out of her lungs. After a few more gasps, the sting started to fade. Her hips knew what her brain didn’t and rocked against him, massaging away most of the soreness. As the tension in her pelvis dissolved, he began to move again. Once her body learned the magic of friction, her hips wouldn’t stay still.
Each thrust led him deeper into her wilderness. He was getting lost. Teeth gnashing in a rictus of effort, he fought to stay centered. His eyes never strayed from her face, bearing witness to every gasp and grimace. A look of dazed confusion had settled in her eyes. “All right?”
Severus watched her nod as if under an Imperius. When his glans bumped her cervix, he stopped. He had to rest and gather himself before starting again. Her inner muscles twitched and stuttered around him. Glorious. Leaning on one arm, he brought his hand to her breast. Her nipple was firm and springy between his fingers. The faraway look in her eyes disappeared as he pinched, and her pussy clenched around him in response.
“Please,” she whispered, circling her hips.
His voice caught in his throat, and he couldn’t reply. All of his concentration was focused on not tearing into her and, now, not coming as she writhed beneath him. Easing in and out of her in short, little thrusts, he stayed deep. Her hands pawed at his chest and arms. It drove him mad. My little lioness. Even if she had been perfectly still, he still would’ve been close to the breaking point. Her pussy was strangling him.
Hermione sighed as his pace increased. The pain was mostly gone, but she felt so full. Although she knew it was physically impossible, she was pretty sure if he went any deeper he’d hit her stomach. He’d gotten her so wet that his continued re-entry was smooth and easy, but the feeling of fullness was bordering on bursting. A dull ache gripped her lower belly with each thrust. Sliding her hands down to his bum, she felt his muscles flex and move beneath her fingers. The strength that lay hidden under the surface made her mental. It was almost scary. He had the capacity to hurt her, but he didn’t. The knitted line between his brows testified to his restraint.
The feel of her soft hands squeezing his backside chipped away his resolve. A layer of control broke off and fell by the wayside. He sped up. “Put down your legs,” Snape growled through clenched teeth. “Rub your clit against me.” He couldn’t stop. She’d have to work it out on her own.
Unwinding her legs, she let them fall softly outside of his. The adjustment tipped her pelvis more, his pubic bone almost brushing her clit. Just a little more. Arching her back further, Hermione groaned as his next thrust hit home.
“Yes,“ she hissed. “More.”
Snape tried to drag his hips against her as much as he could. Her eyes closed and her head rolled back, bearing the column of her throat. Dipping his lips to her neck, he used his teeth and lips to mark her. Mine.
A terse cry flew from her when his mouth found her pulse. The burn at her jugular amplified the ache in her sex. Whenever he pulled out, she felt momentarily empty; when he re-entered, her channel sloshed to overflowing. He was like the tide washing against her.
Licking the bruises he’d left, his tongue soothed her skin. Her nails were digging small half-moons into his back, and Severus felt his pulse quicken at the pain. Abandoning her neck, he nipped her earlobe, and her nails sank deeper.
“Please talk to me,” she panted.
He wasn’t sure he could. Her tight sheath had a stranglehold on his dick and his vocal cords. Or maybe he just didn’t have enough blood left in his brain for that particular function. All that came out the first try was a breathy groan.
“Your voice makes me wet,” she whispered.
He’d suspected as much, but it was satisfying to hear.
Her whispered request whipped past the side of his face, “I want to come with your cock deep inside me.”
“Fuck,” he gasped, finding his voice. Fifty points to Gryffindor. Say something, Severus. If she keeps talking like that, you’re done for. “Your pussy feels so good, pet,” he rasped to her neck before latching on again.
The sharp sting of nails raking down his back made him grunt.
“You like having me inside you, don’t you?” It was getting easier to talk, but his thrusts unconsciously sped up. Be careful, man. “I’ve been thinking about fingering your tight little bum all week.”
She bucked against him.
He knew she’d like that. “Did you think about my finger inside you every night when you put in that plug?”
A whimpered "yes" ghosted past his ear.
“You want my fingers in your arse right now, don’t you?”
“Yes.”
“I can feel you getting wetter.” He nipped her neck again. “You’re close, aren’t you?”
There was a nod but no vocal answer. The friction of her clit against him was so violent he wouldn’t have been surprised to see smoke pouring out from between their bodies. “I know what you’ve been thinking about this week.”
He actually did. She’d all but flung the images at him, her sexual fixations burning to the forefront of her mind whenever she met his eyes. “All your twisted fantasies,” he murmured. “The ones you’re too ashamed to admit to anyone.” His tongue ran along the edge of her ear. “I know.”
Nails tore down his lower back and bit into his arse cheeks. The hot panting in his ear turned to soft hisses as her jaw locked.
Hermione’s mind spun with all the perverted thoughts she’d been thinking lately. How much of it did he know? Embarrassment flooded her face with crimson heat.
He smirked, catching the blush. “I know everything. Every last humiliating scenario you’ve imagined. I’ve seen it.”
Beneath him, her hips tried to lift off the bed. A sobbing whimper echoed behind her sealed lips.
“You’re ready to come for me, aren’t you?”
“Yes,” she forced out.
“I want to feel you all around me,“ he rumbled. “Let go. Come for me now.”
His teeth sank into her neck again, and her body spontaneously lurched over the hill she’d been climbing. Her legs relaxed. She didn’t have to work for it anymore. “Severus!” she called out as the first wave hit her. His name became a moan, and no more words would come to her.
Snape felt her walls start to constrict around him as she cried out his name. He’d never heard her say it before; she somehow made it sound like both a cheer and a plea. Lifting his face from her neck, he watched her jaw go slack, giving her a stunned look of rapture. She was a goddess. Wild. Untamed. Her cry echoed through his balls, and he stumbled past the point of no return. His hips jerked against her, spasms shooting through his groin and belly. Fucking hell. Her muscles convulsed around him, milking him until he was dry. Shuddering, he buried his face in her bushy hair, panting into her shoulder.
A rogue jolt of pleasure coursed through Hermione as she lay beneath him. He was heavy atop her, but she liked the weight. It was comforting. With a low groan, he rolled away from her. She whimpered as he withdrew, feeling empty without him. Pitted. His hair was disheveled, and he appeared utterly knackered. Despite the exhaustion, he looked about twenty years younger.
One eye cracked opened to check on her. She was grinning that ridiculous grin again. No, slightly different this time. She was thinking; something was tumbling through that overactive brain of hers. Please, no declarations of love. She can’t be that sodding stupid.
“What?” he growled, exasperated.
The grin grew. “That was brilliant.”
Snape sighed in relief.
“Can we do it again?” she asked hopefully.
A tired smile pulled at his lips. “I’m not seventeen anymore, Miss Granger. You’ll have to give me more than a minute.”
Laughing quietly, she raked her eyes over his naked body. Even soft, his prick held her attention. There was a red tint to it. “Professor, how are you going to collect my blood?”
His eyes snapped open. Damn. He looked down to where her eyes were fixed. The blood was already starting to dry. Glancing at her, he saw a small crimson smear marking her thigh. How could I be so forgetful? Groping blindly beneath his pillow, he found his wand and summoned an empty phial. As it sailed through the air, he caught it deftly in one hand; with a practiced ease, he ran his wand over himself and siphoned off the blood, depositing it in the phial.
“Spread your legs,” he ordered. The procedure was repeated on her. “This might feel . . . odd,” he warned.
With two fingers, he parted her sex; a light suctioning glided over her clit and through her folds. It was odd, but not unpleasant. The sensation entered her, and she shivered. He transferred what he’d pulled from her body into the glass tube, studying it for a few seconds before sealing it with the stopper. The blood that had started to dry on their bodies had turned brown, but the blood from inside her was bright red. It seemed like so little once it was bottled up.
“Thank you,” he said, turning to place it in the bedside drawer.
His inability to meet her eyes as he said it almost made her laugh. Then she thought about it and realized she’d never heard him thank anyone before. Well . . . sarcastically he had, but that didn’t count. It struck her that maybe no one had ever given him anything that would cause him to say it. Merlin’s balls, that’s a bit depressing. She watched him sink back into the pillows at her feet, his eyes closing.
Snape could feel her staring at him but kept his eyes shut. She was just going to have to bloody wait. It felt as though he’d just sprinted the entire length of the Quidditch pitch.
Hermione was getting antsy. Her bum was sore from the cane and raw from grinding against his bed; it was all she could think about. The heat was spreading, arousing her.
Severus peeked out through slitted lids. The casual pose she’d fallen into after shagging no longer looked lazy. Her muscles were starting to jump in agitation. No rest for the wicked.
“Turn over,” he said, glaring at her.
She rolled over and looked back at him, eager for whatever he had planned.
Severus smirked to himself. She was so bloody obvious. No undercover spy work in your future, pet. They’d all know what you’re thinking in an instant. Turning his neck and feeling a satisfying crack, his head cleared a bit, and he forced himself to move. He’d torture her until he was ready again. “Get on your hands and knees.”
She complied. Snape shifted into the middle of the bed and slid his legs beneath her. Grabbing her hips, he hauled her back so she was straddling him. She let out a small squeak of surprise, and her round cheeks clenched in nervous excitement. Collapsing back onto the pillows, he pulled her further backward. It was the same way he read in bed, but he had to admit, the current subject matter was much more entertaining.
Her face was between his knees, and when she turned her head, her breath breezed up his thigh. Severus palmed the bouncy flesh of her arse and kneaded the welts he’d left earlier. Fumbling around the sheets, he found his wand again and flicked it toward the bathroom. A jar of lube flew over and settled next to him on the bed.
Holding her open with the thumb and forefinger of his left hand, he smeared the slickness over her puckered hole. Her body flinched at the cold. One patient fingertip massaged her opening. Her bum twitched and flexed under his hand. Pushing in just a fraction of an inch, he smirked as she tried to impale herself on his finger. When he pulled away, she growled in frustration.
“Keep still or I’ll stop,” he warned.
Thighs tightening around him, she tensed to stay still.
Parting her again, he teased her virgin opening. He took his time, feeling her flanks squeeze hard to keep herself in check. Sliding the tip of his finger back inside, he heard her muffled whine ringing through the bedspread. Snape rewarded her continued restraint by twisting his finger deeper.
“Please!” Her broken shout was absorbed by the bed.
“Please?”
You bloody bastard! The mocking laughter in that single word almost snapped her resolve. She wanted to turn around and smack him. He knew exactly what he was doing. She had no recourse. If she acted on her desperation, he’d deny her further. Bugger! Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath and swallowed the anger.
“I need more,” she said calmly over the shaking in her limbs.
Both her need and control were impressive. Severus ignored his own desires for the time being. The quivering of her muscles belied her actual state. “Use your words,” he admonished.
Hermione held back an irritated growl. “Please shove your finger up my arse!”
He smiled. “Good girl.”
His finger disappeared inside her, and she adjusted quickly, welcoming the invasion. The tightness was still overwhelming; he couldn’t help imagining his cock pushing past that constrictive ring of muscle. With a languid patience, he fucked her bum with one long finger.
When he pulled out to add more lube, she whimpered as if ready to cry. Is she close again? A sharp slap made her backside tense. As she relaxed, he pushed in two fingers. She hissed and clenched, halting his movements; he waited while she stretched. When the tension left her back, and her cheeks stopped squeezing, he went in a little further. They continued back and forth until his fingers were buried to the hilt.
“Very good, Miss Granger,” he purred, stroking the weals on her backside with his free hand. “Two fingers. Not bad. How many did you manage when you imagined me fucking your arse?”
Her eyes went wide. Damn. That wasn’t a bluff earlier. He really does know. Denial seemed pointless. “Just one.”
He smacked her bum. “I suggest that when someone has you in such precarious position, you address them with the proper respect.”
“I’m sorry, sir.”
You will be. “Did you really think that one finger was sufficient for such a fantasy?"
She shook her head, her hair tickling his legs. “It was all I could handle at the time, sir.”
Wriggling his fingers inside her, he heard her sharp inhale. “Would you like me to fuck you while I do this?”
“Yes, sir,” she moaned.
“Crawl into the middle of the bed,” he breathed.
He was ready, rock hard from her squirming, and eager to be inside her once more. She scrambled into the middle of the bed and presented her round backside to him. He was right behind her, pushing her head lower and running his hand up her inner thigh. More lube got spread over her bum before he tossed the jar across the bed out of their way. Splitting her folds, his cock easily found her pussy, and she accepted his entry with far more ease than before. After teasing her bum for a few minutes, he sank his finger back in and probed her depths, feeling his cock move through the thin wall.
The new position felt even fuller, and Hermione was certain he was going to puncture something inside her. She looked back on her previous feelings of fullness with fond amusement. I feel like a stuffed turkey. It didn’t hurt as much as the first time, but his fingers were blazing a path of fire, adding a new element to the mix. Balling her hands into fists, she waited for the heat to build itself to a roaring flame.
She was so insanely wet he could hear the slick squish as he drove into her; his pelvis was glinting with her glory. Severus never wanted it to stop. Fucking her until the end of time sounded like the best damn idea he’d ever had (he’d work out the logistics later). For the time being, he just wanted to bask in her incredible restrictive heat, burrow into every last inch of her molten snatch, make her beg for more.
The only drawback of that position was that he couldn’t see her face. Don’t be thick, Severus. Are you a wizard or not? He paused, digging around the sheets and pillows for his wand. Finding it, he flicked it toward the mirror, which flew over and settled at the foot of the bed. She had emitted a hoarse sound of frustration when he’d stilled, but the look on her face when she saw their reflection was delicious. Her eyes meet his in the mirror, and when he started moving again, she seemed mesmerized by the image.
Hermione was mildly horrified when she saw her reflection. It looked as if she’d been gang-banged by the entire Quidditch team. Her hair was a fright and there were deep discolored blotches on her neck and collarbone where he’d marked her skin.
The top edge of her bum (all she could see) was dark red, and his hand was just barely visible as his fingers sank into her. Bloody hell. She was awestruck as he resumed movement. Her body was blocking his lower half from view, but what she could see was spellbinding: the heat in his eyes, the way his muscles moved under his pale skin, the sway of his body as he entered her over and over. She couldn’t look away.
Her pussy was starting to twitch. Slithering his hand around her hip, Snape flattened his fingers against her clit. “Come for me,” he whispered.
Each jolt of impact drew another whimper from her. Her head fell forward to rest on the bed.
“Don’t hide your face.”
In the mirror, she looked up at him through her hair, panting.
“Good girl. Now come for me.”
Somehow her body obeyed, as if it had been waiting to hear him say the words. Or maybe he’s just really good at knowing when to say it, she thought. Her muscles clenched around him, pulsating and seizing as she let out a raspy wail. The fingers in her arse curled and shook, prolonging her release.
Severus watched her face contort into a look of pain as she climaxed, her pussy clamping around him so tightly he could barely move. He ground his teeth together, fighting his own pleasure.
When she slumped in exhaustion, he pulled out his fingers and grasped her hips, not wanting to hold back any longer. Animalistic grunts spilled from his lips as he slammed his cock into her. Her face was buried in the mattress, and all he could make out was a muffled “unh." He sped up, riding her like a demon. Sweat trickled down the side of his face, and he gripped her soft flesh, not wanting her to slip away.
Hermione could tell by the sounds he made that he was close. It was so rare to see him in a moment of complete abandon. The pressure in her was starting to build again, but she was too tired to fight for it. It felt as if he were attempting to beat another orgasm out of her. She peeked through her hair at their reflection. Sweet Circe!
The look of concentration on his face was beautiful. His arms strained with effort as his hips snapped into her. He looked like a vengeful spirit. His balls slapped against her, and she felt her muscles go stiff. So, so close. Despite the exhaustion weighting her limbs, she wanted it. Just one more time.
Severus wondered if he was hurting her too much. She’d stopped making noises. In the mirror, she appeared to be fine, just a slack mound of limbs, a tumbleweed of brown curls hiding her face. He’d check on her in a minute, fix anything that needed it. He went back to watching the endless loop of his cock disappearing into her pussy. Exquisite.
When she heard his muttered “fuck," she realized he was closer than she’d thought. Damn. Reaching a hand between her legs, she stroked her clit. It was sensitive but didn’t hurt like she thought it might. Tilting back her head, she watched him fuck her like a madman. Right there.
Snape felt his balls start to tingle and slammed into her, riding out his release, jerking as bolts of pleasure shot through his spine and radiated from his cock. Her name accidentally came out in a whisper as he spilled himself inside her.
Hermione stayed still as he spasmed behind her; she heard him whisper her name. There. Liquid heat seeped from her snatch.
Pulling out, Severus watched, dazzled, as her hand skimmed over her clit and clear liquid ran over her fingers and down her arm, dripping onto the comforter. More trickled out—some flicking onto his leg. Bloody fucking hell. He ran his hand over the wet spot below her.
She broke her silence by sinking down flat against the bed and gasping for air.
Crawling next to her, Snape ran his fingertips down her sweaty back. “You certainly know how to put a flourish on the end of a performance.”
Too tired to reply, her eyes fell closed. His voice sounded echo-y and far away.
Dizzy and groggy, she opened her eyes to find herself on her back, staring at the curtains framing the top of his bed. What? ”Did I fall asleep?” Her words sounded garbled and too loud for her ears.
“No,” he said from somewhere behind her head. “You fainted.”
A tiny piece of chocolate was placed on her tongue, and she murmured appreciatively.
“It didn’t help that you were trying to breathe with your face shoved into the bed.”
He had obviously rolled her over so she could breathe properly. Hermione sucked on the chocolate, starting to feel better, grateful that the room had stopped spinning. Turning her head, she looked around for him. He was standing by the bed with his back to her. Grinning at his naked bum, she tried to speak, but her mouth felt like the Sahara. He turned back to her with a glass of something that looked like pumpkin juice.
“Can you sit?” he asked.
Hermione nodded and limply rolled to her side before pushing herself up on wobbling arms. Rising shakily, she rested on her hip, not wanting to put any weight on her damaged bum. Handing her the glass, he watched her suspiciously, as if she couldn’t be trusted to drink alone. Hermione’s hand trembled, the orange liquid sloshing dangerously back and forth, almost spilling. Blimey, maybe I can’t be trusted. The cold juice soothed her throat, and her tongue began to feel less like a bathmat. She gulped it down without pause.
Snape took the glass and studied her, trying to ascertain if she was really all right. She slid down on her side, resting her head on her arm and let her eyes fall shut again.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
“For what, Miss Granger?”
She smiled softly. “Everything.” There was no reply, just the soft sound of his feet padding across the floor. Hermione peeked through her lashes and saw him entering another room. Must be the bathroom. Speaking of which . . .
She didn’t have the strength to walk just yet, but her bladder wasn’t bursting or anything. She could wait. The soft sound of his return was followed by a blessedly cool cloth covering her forehead. He wiped her face and neck then moved down to her chest. Forcing her eyes open, she watched him swipe a flannel down her arms, wiping away the stickiness.
“You can’t walk back to your room reeking of come and sweat. Flitch’s cat will smell you in a second.”
Hermione smiled. “I can’t walk at all. If I could, I’d be in the loo right now.”
Smirking, he got her some more chocolate. “Better build up your strength, you’re coming back here Sunday.”
“What about tomorrow night? Or is it today? I have no idea what time it is.”
The side of his mouth tilted up. “While I applaud your continued enthusiasm, I suspect you’ll need at least one day of rest.”
“Oh. Okay.” She smiled and nibbled the chocolate as he resumed his cleaning.
Using the cloth to wipe her thighs, he removed the evidence of the past couple of hours. Her pubic hair was stiffening with their combined fluids. Snape looked down at his own thatch and realized his entire pelvis was coated with her nectar. Re-wetting the cloth with his wand, he wiped his skin before rolling her over to get whatever had run down her arse. He rinsed away the remaining lube and the stream of come that had seeped out of her while she lay on her back.
Hermione sighed as he worked. It was totally bizarre having him do something kind. He kept catching her off guard. She knew better than to think it would last.
“Try to stand,” he said after he’d finished.
With a creaky groan, she rolled to the edge of the bed and carefully slid to the floor. If he hadn’t been standing right next to her, she would have just continued straight down until she was in a pile at his feet. Luckily, his hand shot around her waist and caught her when her knees gave way. He helped her straighten up, and she watched in disbelief as her legs wobbled and shook as if she’d just run a marathon. After five small, shaky steps, he just held her arm; and when he was certain she wasn’t going to collapse, he let her walk on her own.
Severus pointed toward the door to the bathroom. “Can you manage?”
Hermione blushed and nodded as she limp-hobbled toward the door. Falling back against the wall once she was inside, she rested for a few seconds before stumbling toward the toilet and emptying her bladder. When she staggered back into the bedroom, he was picking up her clothes and smoothing out the wrinkles.
“Sit,” he ordered, pointing to one of the chairs.
Easing into the wingback she’d bent over earlier, Hermione sat as he began to re-dress her. Her eyelids seemed weighted. So tired. The feel of her knickers on her blistered bum made her groan. When he got on all her clothes, he looked at her as if he wanted to say something.
“It’s too risky for you to sleep here,” he said finally.
Snape didn’t want to admit to her (or himself) that he wanted her to stay. It would be nice to have a warm body in his bed for a change. He’d enjoy pressing his chest into her back as he drifted off, cock nestled between her abused cheeks, one hand on her soft breast, idly teasing her nipple until he fell asleep. He could rest for a while then fuck her again when he woke.
Hermione smiled and nodded once. “I know. I don’t want to impose. You deserve your privacy.”
He sighed. Maybe it was best that she thought he didn’t want her to stick around. It could become complicated very quickly. After putting on his robe and slippers, he walked her back through to his office, pausing when they reached the door to the hall. “Be careful. If you’re caught, don’t mention my name.”
Hermione rolled her eyes. Obviously.
Smirking, he slapped her backside through her skirt. “Don’t you roll your eye at me, girl. Be back here at ten on Sunday. Assuming you can walk by then.”
A chagrined smile pulled at her mouth as she opened the door and crept into the dark dungeon. Her legs wobbled, and she had to place a steadying hand on the wall. Wild Hippogriffs couldn’t stop me, she thought then started her long, bowlegged trek back to her room.
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Teaching Miss Granger