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

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A/N: Thank you for reading! Please continue to leave reviews/feedback!

She was seated at his desk eyes burning straight ahead. How he’d managed to convince her to sit silently before him was still a miracle in his mind and Severus Snape was no miracle worker. To say that he had been caught with his trousers around his knees was a strong understatement no matter how literal it had been. He’d made himself decent and was sitting in his chair facing her waiting for her tirade of words.

            The emotions that charged through her mind crashed like a storm of thunderclouds. There was anger; she was angry with herself for having been so stupid and angry at him for too many things to pinpoint just one. Shame surged through her as well. How had she continued the embarrassing act night after night letting him watch? Nerves blended with confusion and there was a hint of intrigue. She’d caught the man masturbating; the very act she’d been performing for him for a solid week but her curiosity was not quelled. It had not been good enough to simply see him and know she had to know why.

            Her initial reaction upon storming into his office had been to scream but she’d found her voice lost as he came with a growl on his lips. He’d seen her storm in but hadn’t been able to stop himself as his orgasm spilled into his hand. The man did not blush nor did he shout but simply muttered a scourgify charm, righted his trousers and stalked over to his desk and sat down. She had followed suit taking the chair opposite him. And they sat in silence gazing intently at one another.

            She was first to speak. “What were you doing?” she asked. No other question had found its way to her lips, despite knowing exactly what the answer would be. Even as she heard the words resound she wished she’d contemplated a bit longer on how exactly to phrase things.

            “That much is obvious, Miss Granger.” He said. He did not raise his voice, and although his inflection was annoyed there was nothing guarded or defensive with his comment. His eyes remained fixed on her face awaiting her next comment. If there had been embarrassment his cheeks didn’t reflect it. If there was anger his eyes were hiding it well.

            Hermione could not contain the slight flush that washed over her face. But the slight twinge of embarrassment was quickly replaced with a deeper scarlet of anger and confusion. “But why?” Simplistic words for raw emotions was the best she could manage.

            Severus Snape closed his eyes for a brief moment, bringing his fingers together and resting his forehead against their tips. He exhaled slowly, not wishing to sound as if he were sighing. His thoughts were moving about in such a troubled pattern that he was finding it difficult to create thorough ideas with them. The quickest way to get the girl out of his office would have been to yell at her until she was a trembling puddle of miserable student, but the strength and the energy wasn’t there. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to bark insults and cruel words at her, but rather that he felt he was treading on delicate waters.

            She continued to stare at him waiting for the magic answer. “It is not a matter that is open for discussion,” he said.

            His words tripped something inside of her because suddenly she was unable to stop the words flowing from her mouth. “Not open for discussion?” she repeated, though her voice was shrill, her eyes wide. “You’ve had me on my back performing illicit acts in front of you for a week, embarrassing me and you think that this isn’t open for discussion?”

            “Given your crime, Miss Granger, I think the punishment is appropriate.” He said.

            “Yes, well I don’t suppose that Professor Dumbledore would find your methods of punishment very appropriate,” Hermione stood from her chair.

            “Sit down,” he said, though his voice had become the tiniest bit harsher. “You won’t frighten me with blackmail. You don’t have the guts to go running off and embarrass yourself in front of your respected superior,” he sneered.

            She was frozen to the spot. He’d called her bluff though when she’d jumped up she hadn’t been 100% certain that she wasn’t intending to go seek out the headmaster and explain everything. But the more she thought on the notion the more she realized he was right. She would die of embarrassment trying to explain the situation. “So that’s it then?” she shouted. “You can blackmail me into performing shameful acts of lewd conduct for your viewing pleasure and I have to just— just lay there and do as you say?”

            “It would appear that we are at an impasse, Miss Granger.” Again his tone was calm, his eyes staring up at her, waiting.

            “What?”

            “I know that you can hear perfectly fine,” he said.

            Hermione didn’t know what to say or do. It was infuriating beyond the point of frustrating and from her current stand point there didn’t seem to be much in the way of arguing the matter. She shook her head. “You’re getting some sort of sick something or other out of this.”

            “The punishment was suitable for the crime,” he said.

            “And that’s all?” She felt small and meek despite how loud she’d asked the question.

            “Should there be another reason?” he asked, deflecting the answer she was trying to bait him with.

            Her mouth opened, words ready, but then she thought better of it. What if the two incidents were unrelated? Perhaps she had returned to the classroom to find him in the middle of a nightly routine that he kept in practice long before she’d landed herself in detention. The thought made her frown, though she wasn’t quite sure why. She didn’t want them to have a correlation, or at least she was pretty sure she didn’t. Because if his masturbation that she had inadvertently witnessed were a result or party to her masturbation as supposed punishment for her crime; the thought caused Hermione to flush a bright shade of crimson.

            Severus quirked a brow up on his forehead. “Why are you flushing like you’ve just embarrassed yourself?” he asked.

            This only caused her to look away, her face darkening in colour. She closed her eyes. “Because you—” her breath was unsteady as she exhaled and then quickly drew in air. “Because you were pleasuring yourself after watching me pleasure myself and that must mean that you enjoy watching me.” Her words were blurted out so fast she wasn’t certain that everything she’d thought she’d said was actually spoken aloud.

            He leaned back against his chair and for a moment just contemplated the girl. “An astute observation, Granger,” he said with little difference to his tone of voice. “But as I stated before, we are at an impasse.”

            “But why are—” her eyes widened and she cupped her hand to her mouth. It hadn’t really sunk in when he’d said it the first time, but her brain seemed to be chugging in high gear. Surely he couldn’t mean to want to physically involve himself with her, let alone find her attractive. Her face was so red she was practically purple. Hermione threw both hands over her face and leaned into her lap, doing her best to disappear from the chair in which she sat.

            “Dismissed, Granger,” he said and waved his hand in her general direction though she didn’t see.

            Her head was spinning; buzzing with thoughts and he’d spoken, she’d heard words but what he’d said didn’t register. She was too busy trying to assign logic to the situation that was unfolding. She’d always depended heavily on reason to make things clear to her, but this situation seemed to have none. It was moments that felt like hours before she slowly lifted her head from her lap.

            He watched her carefully as she gazed down into her lap. It was another few moments before she rose to her feet and he almost exhaled an audible sigh of relief. But when she did not turn for the door he tensed. Hermione took tiny steps to the side of the desk and then stood next to him, eyes blinking rapidly as she tried to force herself to meet his gaze.

            “What if we did?”

            “Did what?” he asked. He was not playing dumb, he knew exactly what she had meant but what had prompted the shamed girl to do so he couldn’t fathom. But it was out of the question. He’d gone too far as it was and was not about to press his luck.

            “You’ve watched me, and it— it effects you…” her words were shaky and timid but she swallowed hard and found her voice. “What if you— I— what if you were to…” her voice trailed off. It was physically impossible for the girl to turn any brighter and the heat radiating from her cheeks alone was enough to start a fire.

            “If I were to what, Miss Granger, have my way with you? Touch you? Is that what you’re asking for?” he asked. But before the girl could stutter over a response he shook his head ever so slightly. “And then what, hmm? Have you run off to Dumbledore and have me sacked? Have you blackmail me for Merlin knows how long with it, hmm?” His lips curled into a cruel sneer. “I think not.”

            Hermione was quick to shake her head. “No,” she bit her lower lip. “It wouldn’t be anything like that.” Where the surge in her confidence had come from she wasn’t sure. It frightened her terribly, the prospect of him, Severus Snape the man she trusted as a teacher, the man who was entrusted by the school to watch over and protect the students, that man and the notion that he would touch her sent shivers of several varieties down her spine.

            “And what would it be like?” he asked. His face was passive, impossible to read, and his eyes just as dark and guarded. Severus crossed his arms over his chest. If she was baiting him he would not fall for it.

            I don’t know,” she said. “Sir,” she quickly added. Her studious brain caught up with the rest of her thoughts, reminding her that she was still in the presence of one of her elder mentors. “I imagine it would be a bit like detention has been, only different. Embarrassing and fairly awkward…but different…”

            Her budding curiosity being phrased in such an uncertain way was tempting him. It wasn’t as if he didn’t long to stroke his fingers over her body, to feel how slick she was between her legs, to experience with all his senses exactly how she writhed and arched her body. He contemplated her for a moment, staring at her as if trying to determine whether or not it was evolving into a situation that would quickly escape his control.

            “And if I agreed…what would you have me do?” he asked. His words were soft, not tender, but lacking their usual harshness that defined him as the surly potions master of the dungeons.

            She was so caught off guard by his response that her face went blank. Hermione shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t know, Sir, I would have you do more than just watch…”

            “A dangerous thing to ask…” he said.

            This made her shiver. Perhaps she’d let her curiosity and intrigue get the better of her. She was beginning to think that she was playing with very explosive fire wearing little else but robes doused in petrol. Hermione bit her lower lip again and mustered up every ounce of courage she could find. She hopped up onto the edge of his desk. It took a few moments of wiggling and detangling her arms from her blouse, but she managed to strip her garments from her body and lay back on the desk.

            He said nothing. This was the line he should not cross. This was the stopping point. Detention had ended for the night but there she was, naked on his desk, legs parted, arms quaking, body flushing. His eyes followed the slow and deliberate motion of her hand as she trailed her fingers down her stomach and let them rest between her thighs. The little voice somewhere in the back of his head told him to stop her, he was practically bellowing for the girl to be reprimanded and sent away. But if he paid any attention at all to the little voice in the back of his head it was only long enough to force it into silence.

            Hermione was trembling, shaking, and she closed her eyes. She stroked two fingers over her sex, back and forth, slowly at first. Her middle finger wiggled between her folds, pushing up to nudge at her sensitive bundle of nerves. The warm palm that rested on the top of her hand startled her but she kept her fingers moving. His fingers laced with hers and together their hands stroked over her folds.

            She was slick, her curls smooth, and he did his best to suppress a groan. She whimpered, arching her hips up against her own palm, trying to move her hand to feel more of his. But he kept his fingers firmly atop hers, only allowing himself the lights of touches with her sex. Hermione lost herself, giving into the pleasurable sensations. It was different, his touch sending tingles through her skin, even if she could only feel the tips of his fingers. The weight and heat of his palm against the back of her hand was enough despite craving more.

            Her fingers moved frantically, not yet having dared to push into herself with his hand cupped and curled around hers. But she bent her fingers and as she did she felt cool air against her skin. He’d pulled his hand away. Hermione stilled her hand and opened her eyes.

            He gazed at her. “It’s inappropriate,” he said. It was his last attempt at holding off. He could feel his own arousal pressing treacherously against his trousers. If he touched her, if he truly touched her there was no guarantee he would be able to stop himself from having his way with her.

            Hermione sat up from the desk and swung her legs over the front, dangling on either side of his chair. She scooted her bum to the edge of the wood and gazed into his eyes. “No more so than watching me…” her voice was a shaky whisper at best and she could feel her face flushing. She was waiting for him to come to his snarky senses and then sure enough he would snap and throw her out of his office. “I’ve…” she swallowed hard. “I’ve never been touched there…” and she realized how incredibly stupid it sounded and hastily added, “By a man.” This only caused her to blush further.

            Severus was unable to restrain his look of pure incredulity. It wasn’t that she hadn’t been touched, if she had said she’d only ever touched herself that he would have believed without a second thought. But her subconscious had gone that extra step to point out that somewhere along the line female interactions of a sexual nature had taken place. “I see,” was all he managed before he leaned back in his chair.

            Hermione was flushing, the scarlet pigment spreading down through her body like wildfire. But embarrassed as she was it did not keep her from reaching her hand forward and taking his. She met little resistance as she pulled his hand forward and rested it on the top of her left thigh. His hand was large, long elegant fingers, thick warm palm; and it felt pleasant against her skin.

            Her hand felt tiny in comparison to his own; her skin was soft, her nails naturally glossy. He longed to force her legs further apart and drag her thighs up onto his shoulders. The scent of her arousal so close to him was driving him wild. At least in the classroom he’d kept his distance enough not to smell her so strongly.

            Hermione mirrored his motions from before. She laced her fingers into his while keeping her palm against the back of his hand and slowly she tugged their hands down the curve of her skin to the inside of her thigh. She tried to move her fingers forward but he pulled his hand back just enough to keep himself out of reach of her sex.

            “Miss Granger…” but his words seemed to fade as his eyes met hers.

            “Your hands…I want to feel your hands…” Hermione could hardly believe the words that left her mouth. And she was certain that it was all a very surreal dream because in no stage of reality would she have let her curiosity in a situation like this become ruled by her physical urges.

            He was silent for a long moment, fingers still laced together with hers, resting against the inside of her thigh. He leaned forward ever so slowly, and nodded with a slight shift of his head. ‘My hands, then.”

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