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
- 29
- 30
- 31
A/N: Well, this took a lot more rewriting than I anticipated. But I think it’s finally done. (At least I hope so since I’m posting it.) The next chapter marks an important moment in the story, and it is, understandably, rather lengthy. I’m guessing it’ll take me at least twice as long as this chapter (as I have to completely rewrite it from scratch because it sucks balls).
myliewilde: Glad you enjoyed it :) Thanks for reviewing <3
LissaDream: Bahahaha! I’m tricky like that. And I’m so glad the anal scene got the hotness approval rating :) Hope you enjoy this one just as much.
Nightstar: I thought it was perfect for Lucius too :) Glad you liked it <3
DS: “bahaha, burn in absentia!”—This cracked me up. “so true . . . or a bottle stuck in one’s vagina.”—Bahahaha! True dat. I knew someone in HS who’s friend got a bottle stuck in his GF’s vagina. They had to break it at the ER to release the suction. (And that’s why I don’t ever stick bottles up my pussy.) Chapter 31 will be a game changer. I don’t know if I call it ramping up so much as shifting direction (but there’s some ramping up hidden in the direction change).
30—Dynamics
“Naughty girls need love too.”—Samantha Fox
(Severus) 
After reading the same page for the third time, Severus admitted defeat and slapped his book shut with a growl of frustration. Too wound up to concentrate, he chose, instead, to sit in his armchair and glare at the fireplace.
There was a certain Gryffindor dancing about in his brain again, and due to her imminent arrival, there was little chance of him focusing on anything else.
He was annoyingly nervous about having her over. Entertaining guests was NOT his forte. It always felt invasive to him, as if he were asking people into his head to take a poke around his private thoughts and have a cup of tea.
But Granger was different.
In so many ways. 
For one thing, she wasn’t a snoop. And even if she did stumble over something questionable, she wouldn't judge. He liked that about her. He could be himself without fear of offending any delicate sensibilities—much the same way he was with Lucius. Except Hermione’s acceptance came from compassion and empathy, whereas Lucius’s was more of a habit.
But her unflinching humanity wasn't what was tripping him up. The thing he found most confounding about the girl was the fact that she seemed to truly enjoy his company. There was an unspoken connection between them, a sense of understanding, as if she received great pleasure from his strengths as much as his weaknesses. And the feeling was definitely mutual. That was what had his mind in such turmoil.
She was too amazing for a man of his . . . temperament . . . past . . . financial means . . . appearance . . . everything.
Each week Severus expected to hear the flutter of owl wings beating against his window, the heavy whump of feathers as a hurried note of cancellation was delivered on her behalf. But the owl of doom never came. She was always waiting for him at her door, eager to get him inside and accost him with a hug and whatever book she’d been obsessing over.
Severus smiled to himself, picturing her animatedly gesticulating with her hands as she went off on some literary tangent. He’d never met a witch who could get him hard with nothing more than a book review. How did she do that? Was it simply her fiery passion for knowledge that excited him, or was there something else, something more he couldn’t—or wouldn’t—define?    
The past two months had been like a dream. A strange dream—full of wondrous anxiety. Was this what being happy felt like, brilliant yet terrifying? How did people stand it? It made his stomach knot up like a barbed ball of yarn, yet he couldn’t stop counting the minutes until their next “date,” longing to see her with every fiber of his being.
Snape was perfectly aware of what that probably meant, but the precarious nature of their relationship kept him silent on the matter. He knew what he had to offer, and he knew what Lucius and Draco had to offer. And quite honestly, he couldn't fathom how she would ever choose between them. It was easy to see her with either Malfoy, and if that was the path she chose, it would be understandable. Of course he would miss their debates and the talks that wound long into the night, but that didn't mean he'd go so far as to manipulate her affections, as if she were some prize to be won at the county fair. If she decided he was the right man for the job, then so be it. While he seriously doubted he’d wind up being the solution to her little experiment, the fantasy was a potent one, bringing on visions of a future filled with something other than regret—a possibility he hadn't considered before she came along. But whether she chose him or not, he wanted to make sure she was basing her decision on the real Severus Snape, not on some idealized delusion of who she thought he was. Despite the Prophet’s simpering articles to the contrary, he was no one’s hero, and he refused to fall into yet another role he hadn’t signed up for.
While some masochistic part of his brain kept picturing their life together, a large part of him was disturbed by the thought of actually being crowned the victor. He couldn’t imagine what that would do to Lucius and Draco. Lucius was actually starting to lighten up for the first time in decades, and Draco was so smitten with the girl, he’d probably drop dead of a broken heart if she didn’t choose him.
There was really no winning. No matter which way the winds blew, he was going to lose someone important to him, someone he’d allowed himself to care about. After all the destruction and devastation he’d worked so hard to put behind him, how could he ever come to terms with hurting his godson . . . his best friend . . . the witch who’d set his mind alight?
Bloody hell, was this the kind of emotional torture Hermione felt on a daily basis? Was she just constantly wading through what-ifs and eternal speculation? He knew she was; he could see the shadow of indecision clouding her thoughts whenever he slipped into her head.
He honestly wasn’t trying to spy on her, he just needed to know if she was leaning toward one man over another; he wanted some warning so he could cut the cord first and make it easier for her to leave. But he never saw any evidence that she was nearing a conclusion. If anything, she was getting sucked in even deeper, falling for Lucius’s charm as much as Draco’s affection. And her feelings toward himself were just as strong.
That level of impartiality was a gift. Not many people could keep three conflicting plates spinning in balance, objectively observing each one even as she steadied the others. The intellectual open-mindedness she possessed was staggering. If she ever decided to venture into the world of potion research, she’d make an outstanding partner. 
That sent his racing thoughts skidding off in another direction. The urge to confess to her about his work with the Tentacula venom had been pecking away at his brain for the past few weeks. She was a trustworthy witch, and he found her theoretical musings invaluable. Perhaps she could provide some insight he’d yet to consider. Even if she didn’t, he’d appreciate having someone to talk to about his research.
A soft knocking sounded at the door, and he wiped his hand down his face to silence his chattering brain. Finally.
Severus strode over and opened the door to find her beaming smile on the other side, veiled by a brunette wall of curls that whipped about in the wind, blinding her with its cyclone of blustering curlicues. His heart stopped for a split second and then resumed at a riotous clip. The recent rain had chilled the air, and she wore a maroon, long-sleeve tee, which she huddled into to keep out the damp breeze. At that moment beauty had no other name than Hermione Granger.
“Come in,” he said softly, stepping back and gesturing for her to enter.
She slid through the door, and he closed it against the inclement weather, sealing them in blessed solitude.
Puffing the windblown strands from her lips and smoothing her hair back into some semblance of its usual madness, Hermione straightened herself out and took stock of her surroundings. The moment she realized she was surrounded by nothing but books, she froze, her eyes going wide as they darted from shelf to shelf. An expression of rapacious hunger washed over her face, and Severus found himself excited by her awe.
“Would you like some tea?” he asked politely. That's what you did when someone came calling, wasn’t it?
“Um . . . tea? I . . .” She robotically walked over to one wall and began to finger the line of spines.
“Yes, tea. Or I have wine.”
She didn’t answer. Her head tipped to one side, and she drifted toward the corner, trailing her fingertips over the titles as she passed. He should have known she’d be enraptured by the décor.
Slipping up behind her like a shadow, he followed her hand with his own for a few seconds before catching her by the wrist. That got her attention.
“It is polite to greet the host before the stroking begins.”
She smiled and, with absolutely no warning, wrapped her arms around his waist and buried her face in his pine-green dress shirt
He was becoming accustomed to her abrupt greetings. At first he hadn’t known how to react. No one had ever hugged him like that before. But once the shock wore off, he found her embrace rather pleasant. It seemed to be an immediate declaration of her feelings. She was inviting him in, telling him there would be no hiding—for her or for him. While it left him with a peculiar sense of exposure, he didn’t discourage her manhandling. Although he never really hugged her in return, he did slide his hands over her back and up under her hair to caress her neck. She always liked that.
Looking up, she grinned broadly so her eyes crinkled at the corners. “This place is great. You didn’t tell me you lived in a library.”
“It’s a quiet existence,” he quipped. “The only thing I have to guard against is bibliophilic little bookworms who like to hump the new arrivals.”
“If you’re referring to me, I only hump the leather-bound volumes. Much softer. Less wear and tear on my clit.”
Cheeky little nympho. “I’d imagine so. Now that I have your attention, would you care for some tea?”
Her grin widened, and she nudged him with her pelvis. “I guess that depends on what you plan to do to me.”
Good lord, she was ready to jump him right then and there! Severus needed to get his bearings first. He still couldn’t believe she was in his house. “Why don’t we sit down and talk for a moment,” he said, nodding toward the chair. 
She waited for him to get comfortable and then settled into his lap the way she usually did. These “lap chats” were becoming a regular occurrence, and he’d come to crave them as much as the sex. Over the months he had become attuned to her many moods and knew by the way she sighed and leaned into him that something was on her mind. Winding his arm around her waist, he drew her to him. “How has your week been?”
She huffed through her nose. “Things are getting tense at work. Without Draco to spy on everyone, I don’t know how or when to approach the heads for more funding. We’re back to working on a shoestring budget. All the jealous secretaries Draco used to flirt with are making it clear they don’t appreciate my presence by misfiling my reports and sending me inter-office memos late so I look incompetent. Some crazy witch sent me an anonymous note, informing me I was too unattractive for a man like Draco.”
Bitches. “Did you tell Draco?”
“He knows.”
“What did he do about it?”
“What’s he supposed to do, wag his finger at them and tell them to play nicely?”
“I suppose not. How are things with Draco and Lucius? Are they playing nicely?”
A wan smile graced her lips before she glanced away.
“What was that? Why do you look so worried?”
She made a growly noise of indecision and looked around the room, idly toying with a lock of his limp hair as she avoided his eye. Swatting away her hand, Snape turned her face back to his.
“Is there something you need to tell me?” he prodded.
“I don’t know. I think I need to see you all together again so we can talk . . . and . . . other stuff.”
“I see. What do we need to talk about?”
“I . . . I thought by now I would've come to some conclusion about the three of you, but . . . I’m just getting more confused. What would you do if you were me?”
Severus remained silent. I’d tell the Potions master that I wanted to stay at his house and read his books and ride his cock and make potions with him in his cellar. He would never say that out loud no matter how much he wished it were true. This was her decision. “I’d be honest—with myself and everyone else.”
Hermione nodded and rested her head on his shoulder. “Are you going to see Lucius tomorrow?”
“Yes.”
“Will you tell him I want to meet?”
“Of course. When would you like to come over?”
“I hadn’t thought about it.”
“Are you seeing Draco tomorrow?” 
“Yes.”
“Then come over after you two have dinner.”
“Are you sure Lucius will be okay with that?”
Of course Lucius would be okay with it. Was she so blind that she didn’t see what she did to him? “It’ll be fine.”
She didn’t say anything for a minute, and Severus stayed still, wondering what she was thinking. When she began to kiss a soft path from his jaw to his mouth, his warning bells went off, and he drew back. “What are you doing?”
Her sigh was sad, as if depressed by his question. “I just missed you.”
Severus knew she was disappointed by his avoidance of all things snogging, but he didn’t know if he should invite such intimacy into their arrangement when she hadn’t made a choice yet. Maybe if their group date went well, he would reconsider it. Things had lasted longer than he’d expected, but he needed to make sure the rug wasn’t going to be pulled out from under him as soon as he dropped his defenses.
But he had to give her something, or she’d think he didn’t want that side of her at all. Shit. “I know. I . . . missed you as well.”
Her smile was small but full of hope. “Really?”
“Don’t make me say it again.”
Hermione broke into a huge grin and kissed his cheek. “I won’t.”
His skin felt tingly warm where she’d pecked him, and he had to fight the urge to touch his face like a lovesick schoolboy. Time for a distraction. “I got the new issue of Potion-Maker’s Monthly yesterday. Have you read it yet?”
“No. Is it good?”
“It was interesting. There’s an article I want you to read.” It was his.
Looking playful, Hermione touched the center of his lower lip, as if kissing him with her fingertip. “Why don’t you read it to me?”
Severus arched a brow. “Read it to you?”
“Yes, sir.” She leaned in and nuzzled his ear. “Pleeeease?”
He knew exactly why she wanted him to read it to her, but it was too much fun to pretend otherwise. “Why on earth would I read it to you when you are perfectly capable?”
“Because I like to hear you. Your voice is foreplay.”
He allowed himself a quick smile before straightening his face and affecting his most seductive purr. “I see.” Since she was so keen, it seemed like an excellent opportunity to “expand her horizons.” “You know only little girls need to have things read to them.”
She hid her face in the crook his neck, but he could feel her smiling against his skin.
“Are you ready to be my naughty little girl?”
Nodding quickly, she wriggled closer, pressing her chest to his.
“Did you wear the knickers I asked you to wear?”
“Yes, sir,” she whispered to his shoulder.
"Then let's go upstairs. I’ll get you ready.”
“Ready? For reading?”
The corner of his mouth curled with the hint of a leer. “You can’t be my little girl dressed like that.”
She seemed baffled by his reply, looking down at her clothes with critical curiosity. “Oh?”
“Come along.” He patted her bum to get her moving.
Flicking his wand at the wall, Severus revealed the hidden staircase. Standing without crippling his manhood took a bit of talent, but he managed a sly adjustment as he turned to lead the way. She followed him up the stairs, her hand slipping into his when they reached the landing, and Severus led her to his room, feeling as if he’d just ascended the earthly plane.
As soon as she saw the annexed library lining his walls, her eyes went dark with lust, no doubt excited by the prospect of being surrounded by books while he banged her on his old brass bed. He was rather looking forward to that himself.
He urged her to hop up, and she sat on the edge of the mattress, bouncing up and down a bit so the springs squeaked—which deepened the blush creeping along her cheeks. Snickering to himself, Severus began the preparations by removing her shoes. The socks would remain in place. Warmth wouldn’t be an issue, but he wanted to leave her feeling slightly off kilter. She was used to him stripping her bare and pushing her to her limits. But he had a much more diabolical plan in store for that evening. This wasn’t about sex—well . . . not just about sex—this was all about her, about what she wanted, about fulfilling her hidden longings. 
“Lie back.”
She knew him well enough to suspect something was up. Her eyes narrowed as she lowered herself to the bedspread. Severus gave no indication of any ulterior motive as he unfastened her jeans. She lifted her hips to help him peel them off, and he wiggled them down, leaving her lounging in what were most assuredly an unexpected choice when it came to knickers. They were simple white bikinis covered in red and pink hearts. He’d specifically asked her to wear her cutest underwear. Not sexy. Cute. Cotton was preferable. She’d followed his instructions to the letter.
“Sit up so I can get your shirt.”
Instead of completely undressing her, Severus only freed her arms. She gave him a funny look, but he ignored it and removed her bra. After casting the frothy pink scrap of lace aside, he returned her shirt to its original place, threading her arms through the sleeves and tugging the hem back down to her hips.
“Little girls don’t wear bras,” he informed her. 
Relishing the sudden liberation, her nipples sprang up against the thin fabric. They demanded his attention, and he was all too happy to oblige, eyeing them with blatant amusement.
Snape grazed the outline of one stiff bud and reveled in her intoxicated reaction. “Did you bring the elastics as I requested?”
She looked baffled by his question, her expression wavering between dazed and bewildered. “They’re in the pocket of my jeans.”
He retrieved the hair ties from her rumpled trousers and with a dip of his chin, motioned for her to face the opposite wall. “All right, stay sitting and turn your back to me.”
There was a long pause as she studied him for clues, but when she got no explanation, she gave in and did as he asked.
Severus carded his fingers through the roots of her hair and massaged the tension from her scalp, bidding her to relax with a firm thumb to the curve of her cranium. She breathed out a soft sigh and went limp. Much better. When he cupped her crown, she leaned into his hand, pushing up into his palms like a cat. She’d done the same thing the week before when he’d brushed her hair. Interesting. Snape filed away her response for future reference. 
After parting her hair down the middle, Severus gathered it into two low bunches and secured each side—just as he’d seen it in her fantasies. “There now, you're all set. Are you ready for your story?”
Hermione raised her hand and felt her head to see what he’d been up to. “Uuuuh . . . yes, sir?”
At her word, Severus kicked off his shoes and went around to the far side of the bed, where he took up his usual reading position. Leaning back against the pillows, he plucked the magazine from his bedside table and opened it to the earmarked article. Immediately, he began to read, and she stared at him blankly for a few seconds, obviously expecting something more perverse than pigtails and half-naked story time. When she realized he was really going to read the whole article to her, she crawled over and curled up next to him.
Severus spent the next fifteen minutes smoothly gliding over each word, alternating between rumbled hums and staccato skips, popping each sound past his lips and tongue like an oral acrobat. He knew exactly what she wanted to hear. Every word was auditory sex that slithered between her legs to tickle her clit with consonants and vibrate her vulva with vowels. Potion-Maker’s Monthly had never been read so lasciviously. 
As he progressed, she wiggled closer and rested her head on his chest. His heart did that odd fluttering again, indicative of myocardial infarction. When it calmed, Severus draped his arm around her and petted some more sighs from her pliant body. Those small sounds of contentment shot straight to his cock, and he shifted his hips to ease some of the ache coiling in his groin. While this particular scenario may have originated in her mind, he wanted it just as much—if not more so. It was time to take “kinky” in a new direction, one he never dared attempt with another witch. His preliminary investigations had been going well, and he was fairly confident now was the right time to initiate Operation Bedtime Story.  Over the past couple of months, he’d been sneaking in more and more “care” to see how she reacted, and his test runs had been met with nothing but enthusiastic approval. Usually multiple squirting approvals.
When he reached the end of the article, he set the magazine aside and pulled her closer. “So what did you think?”
“I think from now on whenever I hear the word Tentacula, I’m going to soak my knickers.”
“Good to know,” he chuckled. “How about the article?”
“Was that by the same person as last time? It seemed to be a continuation—but better.”
“Yes, it was.”
“It was bloody brilliant,” she said, running her fingers over the buttons on his shirt as she traced the ropy musculature of his chest. “I wish I could see those experiments in action. If the targeting didn’t work, maybe some kind of buffer would.”
"What kind of buffer?” He’d been trying, but success remained elusive.
“Well I don’t know off the top of my head. I’d have to see the effects under a microscope. How much time is there before the damage is too great for recovery?”
Not much. “I could show you the experiments later if you like.”
She lifted her head and peered up at him. “What? Where?”
Severus ran a single finger down her velvet cheek and looked into her eyes, taking note of the intellectual fire that seared the brown to burnt umber. “In my lab in the cellar. Those articles are mine.”
“What!”
“It’s my work. If you’d like to see for yourself, I’ll take you down and show you everything once we’ve finished here.”
“This is incredible, Severus! I can’t believe you didn’t tell me before. Let’s go right now!” she said, clambering to her knees.
“I don’t think so,” he corrected her in a warning tone. “We have many things to do here first. Perhaps we can go down tomorrow morning.”
Her mouth opened wide then snapped shut, her words stalling before a sound could be made. She chewed the inside of her cheek for a few seconds then touched his hand. “You want me to stay with you all night?”
“Don’t we always spend the night together when we meet?”
“Yes, but this is your house. Your bed.”
 “True,” he confirmed sarcastically. “And I want you sleeping in my bed. Besides, I very much doubt you’ll be able to return home after I’m through with you.”
A battle between exhilaration and caution raged across her features. “What’re you going to do to me?”
He kept his own expression controlled, revealing nothing. “Exactly what you want.”
“What I want?”
He nodded. “Lift your shirt for me. Those little nipples just won’t calm down, will they?”
She blushed as if abashed, but nevertheless, smiled and raised the front of her shirt for a thorough flashing.
“Very nice,” he commented, lightly brushing one crinkled tip.
Sucking in a tight gasp, she arched into his touch.
Snape dropped his hand to her lap and skimmed his fingers up her thigh. “Are these knickers wet for me yet?”
Her hips ticked and jumped, as if seeking out his clitoral assistance. “I don’t know, sir.”
“Let’s check, shall we?” Sliding his hand between her thighs, he ran an inquisitive finger along her cotton gusset, following the hidden track of her slit. “Dry as a bone. Good girls have wet knickers. What do you think we should do about this?”
“Uh . . .  I guess . . . get them wet?”
“And what gets you wettest?”
She gnawed on her lip for a moment before answering. “Spanking.”
“Well, there’s a conundrum. I can’t take off your knickers until they’re wet, and you know very well that I only give bare bottom spankings.”
“Can’t you just pull them up real high like you’ve done before? I’ll still be wearing them, but my cheeks will be bare.”
“That would be cheating,” he said with a false innocence that spoke of nothing but lechery. “And you know very well that’s a reward for being my good girl. I think, until you’re wet, you need a punishment.”
“I don’t know how else to get my panties wet, sir.”
He couldn’t help smirking. “You don’t? How did you get wet before you started seeing me?”
Her lips twitched in a sheepish smile, and she glanced away as if she couldn’t look at him when she said, “The usual ways.”
“Which were?”
“Touching myself, sir.”
Severus grazed her other nipple, and it perked to a jaunty point. “That also sounds like a reward. Perhaps if you were to stimulate yourself in a way that you found embarrassing, that would be an acceptable compromise.”
“What do you want me to do?” She was wary, knowing his deal sounded too good to be true. Smart girl.
Severus tweaked her nipple between his thumb and two middle fingers just to watch her squirm. “I want you to befriend a new implement.”
“Huh?”
"I made you something, something I intend to use on your bare bottom later. I think you should get to know it before it makes its first impression.”
Although her eyes went round with apprehension, he could see her pupils expanding with desire.
“What is it?” she asked quietly.
“Why don’t I just show you.”
Snape rolled out of bed and went to the wardrobe, where he pulled his present from its hiding place. When he spun around, presenting it with a quick flip in his fingers, the wooden paddle was met with a stare of bleak stupefaction.
Severus rotated it to display the reverse, where he’d etched a rampant lion into the wood. Beneath its back paws were the words “Where dwell the brave at heart.” Gryffindors were so easy to goad. She’d find some perverse accomplishment in meeting that silent dare.
“You made that?” she asked, her voice hollow.
He nodded and got back in the bed with her. Stretching out on his side, he set the paddle between them. “Just for you.”
She appeared torn by both terror and sentimentality. “How did you make it?”
“The way one makes any paddle. I bought the wood and then I cut it to shape and did the carving on the back. Then I sanded it down and lacquered it.”
“It’s beautiful.”
He liked a witch who appreciated fine craftsmanship when she saw it.
“And horrifying,” she added. “Thank you though. I really mean it. I love it even though it scares the piss out of me.”
Snape chuckled under his breath. “I guess we’ll get those knickers wet one way or another. Lift up for me.”
After only a moment’s pause, Hermione rose up on her knees, and he turned the paddle on its side, sliding it against her slit so the beveled edge split her lips. Her respiration accelerated to a frantic pant, and she watched his positioning with rapt attention.
“Now,” he said darkly, “give your new friend a good buffing, and I think you’ll be wet in no time.”
Her face turned the most lovely shade of maroon to match her shirt. What an intriguing witch. How many times had she humped his hand or his leg with no hesitation? Yet asking her to ride an inanimate object had her blushing like a virgin. Legilimency would be unnecessary in this instance; any imbecile could read that expression. She was aroused and humiliated—and humiliated by her arousal.
Severus nodded at her chest. “Keep that shirt up. I like the way your tits bounce when you get going.”
If her face burned any brighter it was going to incinerate her eyebrows.
As she cautiously worked out the mechanics of paddle frottage, Severus encouraged her with some choice phrases. “Spread your legs wide. Ride it hard—I want to be able to see every inch of your sweet little cunt through those panties when you’re finished.”
Her eyelids drooped, her mouth falling open in a wanton gasp of submission.
Oh, yes, love. I know. You’re already drenched, aren’t you? Severus pinched her left nipple and held on as she undulated like a snake on a wave. “That’s it. Fuck that wood like it’s my cock. Show me what a dirty little girl you are.”
She circled her hips, grinding against the grain until she was rolling in a haze of sexual oblivion, her eyes fluttering back so hard he lost sight of the brown.
Snape watched her for several minutes, occasionally prodding a pink nipple to help her along. She was almost there, her serpentine dance gradually becoming quick and sharp. He should stop her before she came. A paddling would hurt too much if she wasn’t high on her own desperation.
“Are your knickers wet now?” he murmured.
She blinked open her eyes as if she'd forgotten where she was. “I think so, sir.”
"If they're not, you're going to get a dozen hits. Should I check now or wait?”
“Uh . . . give me a second.” Furrowing her brow in concentration, she began to furiously polish the wood with her clit, the edge of the paddle splitting her cleft until it looked as if it was slicing her in two.
“That’s enough,” he growled. She was clearly striding for the finish line to ensure her success, and that was absolutely out of the question. “Lift up.”
Thighs quivering, she rose once more, and he drew the board from between her legs. Running his palm along the periphery, he checked for dampness. It did seem a bit moist. He glanced at her crotch and saw the cotton plastered to her folds, still dented into her crevice. Smirking, Severus caressed the gouge with the tip of his index finger.
“You’re quite the overachiever, aren’t you?” he observed dryly. “These are more than satisfactory. I think you’d better bend over and get that backside in the air. I’ll take off your wet knickers, and we’ll see if a paddling leaves you as slippery as a spanking.”
She quickly spun around on her knees and pressed her chest to the bed, waggling her hips in a nervous shimmy. She looked outstanding waving her rump around like that, and he had half a mind to tease her to climax. He wouldn’t even have to remove her panties; she'd squirt herself silly and leave a wet spot on the quilt to commemorate their first night together in his bed.
But that would ruin all his plans. He’d been working on her present for weeks and imaging exactly how the evening would play out. Best to save the panty drenching for another night.
Severus brought his damp fingers to his nose and too a deep breath. Fucking hell! How did she smell so bloody sweet? He’d have to tie her legs open later and get a mouthful of that juicy peach while it was ripe. 
“Are you excited about the paddle?” he asked with knowing lilt.
Her reply was muffled by the bed. “I’m scared, sir.”
“I’m only going to give you six.”
“That sounds like a lot.”
“Don’t I always make you love it?”
“Yes, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt.”
Snape hooked his thumbs into the sides of her knickers and teased them down her hips. “Pain is a tricky animal in sexual situations.”
“Tell me about it,” she muttered.
Snickering to himself, Severus arranged her underwear just below her bum, essentially underlining his target. “Do you have something you need to say to me, young lady?”
They did this every time. She knew what he wanted to hear. 
Hermione squirmed, pussy shine peeking from between her lips with every wiggle. “I need a spanking, sir.”
"Because?"
“I want to be your good girl.”
“Your poor little pussy is sodden. Is there something else you need?”
“Yes, sir. Please make me come.” She arched her back to show him how dire the situation was.
Severus feathered his fingers over the contours of her backside in acknowledgment of her lubricious plight. “I’ll give you your six with the paddle, and if you take them well, I’ll finger your naughty little bottom until you come. Would you like that?”
“Yes, sir!” Her smile shone through her words.
“All right. I want you on your back. Leave those knickers right where they are. I’ll take them off for you.”
Awkwardly, Hermione rolled over, looking extremely perplexed about how the paddle would be applied in that position. Had he never spanked her like this before? No, he hadn’t. He’d taken a liking to putting her over his knee, her body warm against his. But he’d have to rethink that in the future; being able to watch her face was quite a turn-on. 
Snape pushed her shirt back above her breasts and knelt at her side. “Legs to your chest.”
Hermione lifted her feet, drawing her thighs to her belly . . . and displaying her glistening cunny at the most advantageous angle.
Taking his sweet time, Severus rolled her twisted knickers over her thighs, leaving her exposed slit bare and vulnerable. He tugged off her underwear and brought them to his nose. His head spun, suddenly floating through a musky haze of meaty nectar. Am I seriously getting high off her pussy? He sniffed again and drifted into wonderland. He’d have to ask Lucius if he'd discovered the opium den between her legs yet.
"You certainly smell like a good girl,” he murmured. 
She smiled and averted her gaze to disguise her mild embarrassment. 
He couldn’t have that. “Look at me.” When she met his eyes again, he flashed her a reassuring half-smile then leaned over to arrange her knickers across her face so she looked like a masked bandit—a dastardly villain with a flair for pink hearts. “Leave those there. I want you to remember how much you want this.”
Her chest rapidly rose and fell as her panting became obscene.
Severus picked up the paddle in one hand and pushed back her legs with the other. “Hold on to those. I don’t want you reaching back. I know that’s always the rule, but it’s imperative when I’m using the paddle; one of your fingers could get seriously injured. Good girls hold their legs for their punishments, and they thank the spanker for the discipline. Do you understand me?”
“Yes, sir,” she whispered into her knickers.
“Very good.”
Snape swiped the smooth surface lightly over her lower buttocks. He didn’t want to bruise her. He just wanted to give her a taste for the paddle’s natural power. “Ready?”
She nodded and breathed out a shaky, “Yes, sir,” before scrunching up her face in anticipation of the first hit.
Severus lined up the center of the wood against her cheeks, rubbing back and forth to sensitize her skin. Right over her sweet spot. He gave her a few warning pats, and she cringed, the same way she had the first time he’d used the riding crop . . . and the tawse . . . and the cane. She didn’t honestly think he was going to beat her black and blue, did she? Hadn't he proven his restraint with her time and time again? Where’s my brave girl tonight?
Drawing back his arm, he swiftly brought it back in with a firm whap!
Her eyes popped wide. “Thank you, sir!”
Severus let her adapt to the thumpy heat, giving her time to experience the hit’s full radiance. After several tremulous breaths, her rigid grip relaxed, and the tension in her body dissipated. Apparently the deeper impact was a sensation she found somewhat alluring—at least that was what he assumed when she pulled back her legs even further, as if inviting him to take another swing. Severus rewarded her exemplary fortitude with a soft pet for her pink sit spots.
“You’re ready for the next lick, aren’t you?”
Her nod was vigorous that time, causing her damp knickers to fall to her heaving chest.
Severus smirked and readjusted her face mask so the wet spot hooded her nose. He wanted every one of her senses awash in the moment: the sound of the mahogany meeting her tender cheeks, the heady rush of overwhelming sensation, the sight of him above her, watching over her, and topping it all off, the scent of her own passion painting the air with proof of her desire. And if she licked her lips, surely her tongue would catch a hint of that cream liberally smeared across the crotch.
The next hit should come unannounced. She needed to let go of her fears and remember why she kept coming back to him: for that moment of total release. Whap!
“Mmmmm! Thank you, sir.”
“You’re being very good so far, Miss Granger. You know how much that pleases me.”
She stared into his eyes as if searching for some secret meaning behind his words. There was no mystery. He wanted her to find strength in his praise. And she did. Every time.
With a quick visual assessment to ensure her backside was the proper shade of pink, Snape laid on another lick to deepen the rose to magenta. Whap!
“Mm!” she growled. His aggressive little lion. “Thank you, sir.”
“Halfway there,” he said as he scooped up a trickle of her pussy juice with the tip of his pinky. He couldn’t let that go to waste. Licking his finger clean, he coated his palate in her ambrosia.
Dammit! Why had he done that? He was drunk on her in an instant, his head reeling. More!
“My bum is throbbing, sir.”
Snape forced himself back into the present, leaving the visceral images of him drinking from her chalice as inspiration for later. “I bet it is. Is your pussy throbbing as well?”
“I’m too scared to think about it.”
Severus smiled and put his left hand over hers on her legs—for her forbearance as much as his own. “She’ll see the light soon.”
He popped her with another fast hit before she could start to worry. Whap!
“Fuck! Thank you, sir.”
“Language, Miss Granger. You’re only allowed to say fuck when I’m actually fucking you.” He leaned over and snatched the knickers off her face. “Open wide.” She did, and Severus stuffed her mouth with pink and red pussy-scented hearts. “Just a precaution,” he said with a secretive smile. “I don’t want you earning any extra strokes.”
The threat sparked a flicker of panic in her eyes, and she nodded vehemently, knicker elastic flying up to tap her nose.
“Two more,” he said and, after taking a mental picture of her for future wanking, brought the paddle down on her reddened cheeks. Whap!
“Mmmmm!” She inhaled roughly though her nose and released it in a ragged whoosh. 
“I still expect a thank you.”
“HaaayOooUhh,” she mumbled around the cotton.
Biting his tongue to keep from laughing, Severus nodded. “Good girl. Last one. You know what that means.”
She whimpered as if begging him not to make it any harder. He always told her the last stroke would be the hardest, but if he thought she was too close to her limits, “harder” was more attitude than strength. But this wasn’t one of those times. She need some extra sting to send her into orbit. Tapping, the wood against her bum, Snape built her up to the finale. Pat pat pat Pat PAT PAT. Whap!
“Uhhhhh! HaaayOooUh!”
Severus reached over and pulled the gag from her mouth. “Why are you thanking me.”
“Thank you for teaching me a lesson, sir.”
"Which was?”
“I have an auxiliary heartbeat in my arse.”
Snickering, he gently touched her parted labia, tracing the slick pink of inner flesh. “Did that lion paddle some bravery into you?”
“I think he bit me.”
Snape snorted and sank his middle finger into the snug heat of her sex. “I like how wet he made you. Hear that? It sounds like you’re an extra good girl now.”
She returned his smile and parted her legs slightly. “Where's my chocolate biscuit?”
His brow knitted in confusion. “What?”
Hermione giggled and spread her legs wider. “You’re really going to finger my bum, right?”
“I promised I would. What’s that got to do with biscuits?” He added another finger and twisted them around to hear her gasp.
“Nothing,” she whispered. “Your fingers are better than any biscuit.”
 “I should hope so.” Feeling along her front wall, he found her g-spot and dug in; it might be the one spot on her body that preferred no warmup. “If you’re going to list everything my fingers are better than, we could be here for quite some time.”
“In your bed,” she said, as if delighted by the very idea.
“If I had known the thought would turn you on so much, I would have brought you here sooner.”
She reached down and touched his wrist, a soft smile on her lips. “It’s not the bed, it’s the wizard in it.”
He’d forgotten what it was like to be struck dumb by sentimentality. Was she always so . . . gooey? Was this what had Draco humming in the halls and smiling at everyone like an over-medicated mental patient? Snape could understand that. Who wouldn’t want some sexy witch telling you how much she wanted you? Not just your cock. You.
Him.
Severus eased his fingers from her slit and slid them down to her pucker, where he traced her twitching sphincter and greased her arse in her own silky lubrication. With a needy whimper, she pulled her legs as wide as she could and opened herself to him completely.
Impaling her bum with his index and middle finger, Severus wallowed in her blistering heat and watched in fascination as her tiny opening stretched around his fingers. Lack of lube wouldn’t be an issue. He intended to go deep and stay there for a while; it wasn’t the thrusting that got her going so much as the pressure and rhythm, and he knew how to play that hot tip for the biggest payoff. Resting his other hand on her kitten-soft mound, he gently strummed her clit with the side of his thumb, deftly finding the driving bass line that would send her into screaming paroxysms like a rabid teenager at a Weird Sisters concert.
Hermione writhed, her hips searching for the summit. Her eyes went dark and glassy, and her mouth fell open in a soft O of mindless ecstasy—one of his favorite sex faces. Fingers buried in her bum, he curled them to stimulate the back of her cervix through the thin wall of her rectum, which set her lower lip to trembling.
“Uh!”
“Beg me to make you come,” he growled.
“Mmmm! Please make me come, sir. I’m so close!”
“The paddle turned you on, didn’t it?”
“Yes, sir!” Her eyes squeezed shut, and she hissed through her teeth as her muscles all flexed in a rictus of warning.
His thumb slithered down to her pussy, covering all landmarks in its wake—clit, urethra, vaginal opening, inner labia. Everything was swollen and pink and ready to blow. Now if only he had an extra hand; he usually had at least two fingers in her mouth when she came . . . occasionally three or four if he wanted to get her salivating  like a mad dog. Alas, he’d have to make do with the bare necessities.
“You may come now,” he murmured. “Show me how much you love the way I touch you. No one else makes you feel this way—do they?” He already knew the answer, but she seemed to get off on the declaration.
Too far gone to answer, Hermione grasped his forearm and pierced him with her sex claws. How did a girl with such short nails leave him scored by scratch marks every single week?
Her back suddenly crunched into a taut arch, and she cried out as her anus spasmed around his digits. 
There’s my girl.
Each throbbing contraction spilled a burst of liquid gratitude all over his sheets, and her head rolled madly against the bed as if denying how hard she was coming. 
“Severussssss.”
Gods, This was bloody spectacular. What would he give for the chance to witness this bliss every day for the rest of his life? He needed to find a way to see her more often. Maybe he should mention something to Lucius. If Draco got to see her every day at work, Severus should get to see her at least three times a week, and he was certain Lucius would demand equal visitation rights.
Hermione’s thumb mirrored his, ticking back and forth over his arm as she spastically floated down from her high. His skin buzzed with each sweet sweep, and he clutched at the momentary warmth coursing through his soul.
Okay, maybe four times a week.
Five would be better.
“Thank you, sir,” she croaked, a sated grin spreading over her glowing face. “That’s not the end of my punishment, is it? I’ve been very bad this week.”
“My sweet little Head Girl?” he teased. “What could you have possibly gotten up to since the last time we saw each other?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know, but I definitely need more fingers up my bum to make amends.”
Snorting softly, Severus nodded as if he were considering her suggestion, but his brain was busy formulating a dangerous proposal. Seven days of Hermione a week sounds much more tolerable.
Sweet Salazar, what had he gotten himself into?
Dymanics--Pertaining to the loudness or softness of a musical composition.
"Naughty Girls (Need Love Too)" by Samantha Fox. Recorded in 1986 and released in 1988. Written by Curt Bedeau, Gerry Charles, Hugh L. Clarke, Brian George, Lucien George, and Paul George (all members of Full Force, who appear in the video).
https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=pXEN57rFnIM
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