Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

The Story of H	By : AnyaToile Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Snape/Hermione Views: 62388 -:- Recommendations : 4 -:- Currently Reading : 11
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, or any of the characters associated with it; I am not making any sort of money or compensation for this work.

Chapter List
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                Just as Hermione was preparing herself to relax and let the nozzle drop, she felt it being pushed back into her. Next she felt her left hand being uncuffed and massaged before the same was done to her right.

                “Are you feeling dizzy, Miss Granger?” Snape’s voice held a softened quality and Hermione turned her head to look over her shoulder at him. His face was obscured by the curtain of greasy hair so that all that appeared was the tip of his nose, but it appeared that he was thoroughly examining her wrists.

                “If I had known a simple time-out would so completely silence you, I would have employed it during your first year,” Snape snapped at her, the soft quality replaced with apparent impatience, “Perhaps Longbottom would have learned to complete his work on his own without your incessant coaching.”

                Hermione snatched her wrist back and awkwardly turned around. She was about to retort to his underhanded remarks when a cramp made her wince.

                “No, sir,” she gasped out, “I’m not dizzy.”

                “Good. Make sure not to lose the nozzle and follow me back this way.”

                The potions master snatched the enema bag off the hook above her head and began to walk back towards the platform. Hermione managed to reach behind her and grab the nozzle as she waddled quickly after him.

                When they reached the platform, Hermione looked at it, blinked, cocked her head to the side and blinked several times again.

                The platform was now angled so that one end was about four inches lower than the other. There were also four leather straps at each corner. But what was most peculiar of all were the two bars that ran over the top of the platform. She couldn’t think of a logical reason for their being there.

                Snape’s black silk voice startled her from her musings, “Now you need to finish the bag.”

                He adjusted the height of one of the bars so that it was about four feet off the table.

                “Use the stool there to get up on the table; your head towards the lower end here.”

                Hermione managed to take the small step up on to the stool he had placed next to the platform, but once on it, she was unable to decide how to proceed further. If she took her hands off of the nozzle to lift herself onto the platform, she was sure that it would wiggle lose, but the height of the table, even while on the step stool, required that she pull herself up on it. After a moment of stupidly staring at the table and idly fidgeting with the nozzle with one hand, Hermione looked towards the potions master with a pleading looking. He crossed his arms and tilted his head back so that he stared down his nose at her, a raised eyebrow expectant and a sneer displeased.

                “Sir…” Hermione begin falteringly, “I can’t get up…”

                “I find that hard to believe, Miss Granger,” Snape’s voice was quiet and unconcerned at first but rose as he neared the end of his speech, “You managed to kidnap a guard dragon by jumping onto its back, or are those fictitious reports meant to glorify your extended camping trip? Hmmm, Miss Granger? Please do enlighten me. Or are you perhaps under the impression that you should be assisted in this as you have in all endeavors since your hero play, while those who suffered during your frolicking are given none of the same attention? I will not cater to you, Miss Granger. Get. On. The. Table. Now.”

                Hermione narrowed her eyes as she vehemently replied in words that were barely above a whisper, “You may have nearly died, Professor, but you are not the only one. Harry, Ron, and I all risked our lives and put just as much on the line as you did. Harry almost died, too. And I made great sacrifices. And none of us have asked for any sort of deferential treatment. You’re lucky to be alive and I would think that would be enough for me, but even still, it’s not as if you were cast off after the war into the streets. You haven’t even made a public statement of gratitude to the person who saved you I would think…”

                Hermione didn’t get a chance to finish her sentence as Snape came forward, gripped her by the hips and roughly set her down on the table on her knees.

                “When I was talking about those who were cast off, I didn’t mean me, you stupid girl. And as for the pathetic individual who saved me, I would like to thank them with a fatal dose of one of my more painful potions. Now cease your misguided self-righteous babbling and position your hips so that they are over this bar,” Snape said as he pointed to the low bar.

                Hermione did as she told silently, contemplating what he had said.

                While she was lost in her thoughts, Snape manually cuffed her wrists and ankles to the corners of the platform so that she had to lay flat. He raised the bar under her hips so that her bottom was in the air and her hips were about a foot off the table. He then lowered the other bar so that it pressed into her back, forcing her to arch and pinning her to the table.

                “You will take the rest of this without losing a single drop, understand?”

                Hermione vaguely nodded. The cramping had almost subsided and her thoughts were so far removed from the sterile bathroom that she hardly noticed what was being said to her. Who did Snape mean when he talked of real heroes? And why would he want to kill his savior? She laid her head to the side so that she could watch him in the mirror.

                Beneath his prideful rigid posture and gliding movements, he seemed to have a heaviness to him – not quite a weariness, but something that still seemed to weigh on him. Hermione had at first attributed it to his underappreciated genius; she had read so many of his potions journals including his uses on moonstone and unconventional uses of harpy blood and Hermione could never understand why someone with so much skill and knowledge on how to stabilize violate substances so that they could be useful would work as a professor when he could have made so much more impact in wizarding society researching. The heaviness, though, didn’t seem to stem from that type of frustration. Later, she had thought it was his double agent work that had cast a cloak of blackness on his being. But that was over. Perhaps, the heaviness was a habit, a piece of Severus Snape.

                So lost in her musings, she didn’t notice the faint click of the clamp as Snape released the flow of water.

                And she probably wouldn’t have noticed the water entering her bowels.

                However, the cold air of the dungeon bathroom had cooled the water considerably and when the cold water entered her she yelped and strained against the bonds. The cramping renewed with unmatched intensity.

                “Sir!” She hissed out, “The water needs to be reheated, sir.”

                “You should have been an obedient patient, Miss Granger, and taken it all while it was still warm,” Snape’s voice was matter-of-fact and held no empathy. There was certainly no sympathy.

                “Please, sir,” she gasped, “it hurts.”

                “Indeed.”

                In that moment, Hermione desperately wished that the heaviness cloaking that heartless bastard would crush him.
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The Story of H