Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Standing Up Only Leads to Trouble	By : Kaleidoscopeeyes Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Snape/Hermione Views: 18059 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter nor any of the characters from the stories. I make no money from writing this.

Chapter List
- 3
- 4
At first she had been relieved. Detention with Filch meant no more detention with Snape. No more detention with Snape meant no more unnerving stares, no more heated arguments between teacher and student, and (hopefully) no more mood swings. Granted, she still had to see him in potions class but, strangely enough, ever since the flobberworm incident (as she had been calling it) he seemed to be ignoring her almost completely; and, having fully repressed the small piece of her that wanted further investigation of these recent feelings, that was just fine with Hermione.
As sour and surly as Filch was, his detentions were a cake walk compared to Snape’s. For one thing, his eyes weren’t constantly trained on her, and for another he wasn’t exactly what one would call “quick witted”. Half the time she could manage some quick magic to speed up the process (charming the cleaning tools or what not), and the other half Ron and Harry would create some sort of commotion nearby that would have Filch out the door with a cry of “You can leave as soon as you’ve finished that, but not a moment sooner!” At this point, Hermione would wait until she was sure he was gone, use magic to finish up, and be out the door as well. Her detentions started at 8:00 and it was unusual for them to run past 9:00. Still… it was thirty minutes to an hour a night that she had to spend with Filch, and this made her very frustrated.
So it was no surprise that after only a couple weeks of this, Hermione found her anxiety and fear of the Professor dissolve into little more than a vague memory. She could hardly remember what had made her so upset about his actions. He was an ass, to be sure, but it was nothing to cry and fret over. In the end, she chalked it up to having been on her period that week. She always got emotional during that time of the month. She made a mental note to see Madam Pomfrey about some sort of hormone imbalance remedy. She certainly didn’t want anything like that to ever happen again.
Her fear may have subsided, but her anger and indignity at being treated so unfairly had not. She was still furious with Snape for giving her indefinite detentions and somehow convincing Professor Dumbledore that she deserved them. She did not, however, let this anger affect her the way one might expect. Rather than rant and rage over the injustice of it all, she treated her anger with a hefty dose of self-righteousness and a bit of martyrdom.
She decided that since Snape did so much hard work for the Order, it made sense that he would have misplaced anger. Unfortunate as it was that he placed his frustrations on her, it was the only explanation for his behavior. She’d simply have to bear it. Hermione quietly congratulated herself on her understanding nature, and each time she felt aggravation boiling up within her she took a breath thought “I am helping him bear his burden, but I will not lash out. I am better than him.” She would repeat this like a mantra, smile in a self-satisfied sort of way, and calmly continue with whatever task Filch had forced her to do.
The only thing that Hermione lamented was the fact that she could not inform Snape of her honorable suffering. The way he ignored her (even to the extent of refusing to look at her during class) made that impossible. Though she told herself that she wanted him to know for any number of good and noble reasons, it was actually because she wanted to hurt his pride. Certainly, if anything could hurt Severus Snape’s pride, it was someone believing that they were suffering for him (especially in such a pretentious and ridiculous way as she).
At the beginning of her fourth week of detention, she got her chance. She was quietly eating breakfast when an owl dropped a letter into her scrambled eggs.
Miss Granger,
You will not be serving detention with Filch this evening. Instead, be at my office sharply at 7:15.
Professor Severus Snape
Hermione frowned at the letter and looked at her watch. She wouldn’t have very much time to do her homework this evening. If she hurried, she could probably complete a couple assignments before transfiguration. She hurriedly scooped the rest of her eggs into her mouth and stood up to leave. She happened to glance at the head table, and was disturbed to find Professor Snape staring at her from across the room. She fought off a shiver, shook her head, and sped out of the great hall.

******
At 7:25 Hermione arrived at Professor Snape’s office door, panting. She raised her hand and knocked. She had barely dropped it down again before the door flew open, and a very irritated Snape accosted her.
“Miss Granger,” he growled. “I cannot believe, after what happened at your last detention, you would have the audacity to show up late for this one.” He scowled at her darkly. “I hope that you enjoyed that ten minutes of freedom, because I fully intend to keep you here all night, if necessary, to ensure that you have been properly punished.
A flare of anger ignited in her chest. She hadn’t meant to be late! She’d been trying to finish her schoolwork and she’d lost track of time. But rather than letting it out as an argument, she simply sighed morosely and said softly, as if to a dying person, “Yes Professor, you’re completely right. I shouldn’t have been late. I accept any punishment that you think is required.” Then she sighed again and gave him a sympathetic look.
Snape looked bewildered for a moment and then narrowed his eyes at her suspiciously. “Indeed?”
Hermione nodded gravely. “Oh yes, Professor. You have every right to be angry with me.”
He let out a derisive snort. “You will not get out of here any sooner by trying to ‘butter me up’, Miss Granger; especially not in such an obvious manner. Now, shut the door and follow me.” He pivoted – his dark robes sweeping around gracefully – and walked back through his office.
There were three doors in Snape’s office. One lead to the hallway, another to the adjacent potions classroom, and a third lead to the large closet which housed Snape’s private potion stores (which she had raided in her second year in order to make polyjuice potion). Hermione found it curious, as she closed the hall door, that he entered the third.
“Professor, what are we…?” She started to ask as she followed him, but stopped short when she realized that it wasn’t closet that they entered, but a hallway. The walls were lined with shelves of potions and ingredients, but there was a door on the other side that Hermione hadn’t noticed before.
“You will assist me in potion brewing this evening.” Snape explained as he led her through the hallway. “Madame Pomfrey needs a renewed store of her face purifying potion. It seems your pockmarked pubescent faces are particularly bad this year.”
She snorted at his unexpected use of consonance.
Snape stopped and turned to face her. “Did I say something humorous, Miss Granger?”’
“No sir.” She shook her head slowly.
“I thought not.” He walked through the next door. “I am in no mood for jokes this evening.”
He was walking quickly but Hermione had to hesitate in the next room because, to her surprise, they had just entered Snape’s private quarters. She’d always wondered what the Professors’ chambers were like, but she’d never had the chance to enter one. Her first impressions of Snape’s were that... well, they were fairly nice.
He didn’t have any windows, as they were underground (Snape might have had some enchanted windows possibly, but Hermione supposed that he probably didn’t care much for them above ground), but it was well lit with several lanterns and a large, roaring, fireplace. There were some chairs, several bookshelves, and something that looked like a small dining area. She didn’t take in much more than that because he had opened another door and said “Don’t dawdle, Miss Granger”, but she found that the overall effect seemed surprisingly comfortable.
The next room was clearly Snape’s private lab. It was a little small, but as far as Hermione could tell it had everything a person could want in order to produce potions. Its walls were covered in mysterious vials and instruments that she could not even begin to guess the purpose of. There was one shelf that was completely full of caldrons of all different sizes, shapes, and materials including: a couple that seemed to be made out of solid gold, one that might have been wooden, and one that was so black that it seemed to suck the light right out the air, and so large that two people could sit within it comfortably.
“As soon as you’ve finished gawking, you may begin cutting the tubers in that jar.” Snape sneered at her as he picked a large, normal looking caldron off shelf. “Boards are hanging up over there, and you can find knives in that drawer.” He gestured. “Use a silver one.”
Hermione got the board, a sturdy knife, and the jar, but as soon as she opened it she slammed the cap back down, coughing. “What are these roots in? Skunk urine?” she gagged.
“Manticore urine, actually. I will need those in exactly seven minutes. I suggest you hurry.”
She felt a burst of anger, but she took a calming breath and buried it down. She was the bigger person here. Let him give her the vilest tasks. She could beat him.
It was already very warm in the potions lab and it was likely only to get warmer, so Hermione removed her robes, leaving her in her blouse and skirt. Snape frowned at this but didn’t comment, so she draped them over a chair and set to work.
The roots were horrible. They were tough and stringy, and with each cut another wave of foul odor would wash of her, causing her to wretch several times. Professor Snape wasn’t helping the situation.
“Cut the tubers thinner, you stupid girl! Or did you want to spend all night redoing them?”
Hermione bristled, but rather than taking his bait, she said, without the slightest hint of sarcasm, “Oh no sir. You’re absolutely right. I was being very stupid. I apologize.”
He scowled at her. “Miss Granger, I already told you, no amount of compliancy will get you out of this detention early.”
“I heard you the first time, Professor,” she said, without looking up from her task.
“Yes, well…” He tapered off, eyeing her mistrustfully.
The tasks did not get any better, and nor did Snape’s demeanor. After she was finished with the roots, he made her de-tooth leeches, unclot dragon blood, and several other unpleasant tasks. Who knew that a face purifying potion would have so many acrid substances in it?
Though Hermione thought she was doing very well, he never missed the chance to insult her. It almost seemed like he was testing her; trying to make her crack, but she would have none of it and, in reality, it seemed as though Snape was the one nearing the edge.
The more acidic his comments became, the more self-depreciating her replies became which, in turn, seemed to make him more furious, which heightened Hermione’s sense of complacency and control. It was a vicious cycle, and she had the upper hand.
The Professor’s power came from his ability to frighten or upset his students. She was robbing him of this power by contentedly agreeing with whatever he said to her. It was satisfying… and the best part was that he couldn’t call her on it, because she wasn’t being overtly sarcastic.
Or so she thought.
"Imbecile! Are you trying to kill us?” He slammed his hand down on the counter nearby, startling her out of her silent reverie. “Add the Fluxweed and the Belladonna at intervals or the potion could explode!”
“Oh yes, thank you Professor. Go ahead and yell at me, if it makes you feel better.” Acting on pure impulse, she reached out and patted the back of his hand.
Snape pulled back his hand as if she had burnt him. He stared at her for a few moments, his nostrils flaring in anger, before saying, “What do you think you’re doing?”
She looked at him innocently. “I don’t know what you mean, Sir. I’m helping you with your potion.”
“Cut the act, Granger.” He said slowly, his voice full of warning. “I want to know what, exactly, you think you are doing.”
She shrugged and pulled a lock of hair out of her eyes. She might as well go for broke. “I decided that if you insist on ranting a raging at me, then I should let you. In fact, I decided to encourage it.”
He paused, seemingly unsure how to respond for a moment, then quietly said: “And may I ask what brought on this change of character?”
“Well, due to all these detentions, I’ve had a lot of time to think.” She smiled sweetly. “At first, I was angry with you… but after a while, I realized that you must have a reason for being a complete ass.”
Snape’s eyes widened furiously, but he stayed silent so Hermione continued on.
“You’re obviously a very angry person, Professor. But, you know what? I don’t really think it’s your fault. You’re work for the Order must be unbelievably stressful. It makes sense that you might try to take it out on your students. After all, not very many people could handle that sort of stress and keep their self-control.”
She gave him another condescending smile. “But don’t worry Professor… I’m here for you. You can take it out on me.”
Snape stared at her incredulously for a moment before finally sputtering out, “How dare you presume to speak to me this way! How dare you mention my work for the Order of the Phoenix?” His voice lowered to a savage hiss. “You know nothing about my work. Nothing!
“That’s right, Professor.” Her smile grew wickeder. “Give it to me. Really tell me off.” She was robbing him of his power and his pride. It felt good… like revenge.
Snape’s wand hand twitched and a vein ticked on his forehead. “Your detention is over; get out. I want you out of my sight.” He closed his eyes and rubbed one temple as if relieving a headache.
There was no way she was going to leave. Not now that she was so close to making him really lose his head. “Don’t worry Professor.” He voice was sickeningly sweet. “I can take it. Give me your worst.”
Snape’s eyes snapped open, and with a couple quick steps, he closed the gap between them. “This is my last warning, Granger. Do. Not. Push. Me.”
“Push you?” she looked up at him serenely. “Oh… you mean like this?”
And with that, she used all her might to shove him away from her.
He let out a bellow of surprise and anger as he reeled backwards, grabbing at the counter for support, but getting the caldron instead. The nearly finished potion hit the ground and spattered bright pink everywhere… including all over her Professor.
Hermione’s head was light from adrenaline and potions-fumes, and she suddenly felt giddy. One look at Snape’s newly dyed robes and she burst out laughing.
He, on the other hand, was not laughing. He rose up from the ground, sweeping his pink-spattered cloak behind him. “Idiot, twit!” he roared as he lifted her by the shoulders and pushed her roughly against the wall.
She stopped mid-giggle.
Snape dug his fingers into her arms. “Look at what you have done!”
Hermione was terrified. It hadn’t occurred to her that he might become so furious as to attack her. With a sickening dread, she realized she had gone too far. She could only stand frozen as his eyes moved wildly back forth between her own.
His eyes came to rest, not on her face, but on the bit of shoulder that was revealed during his rough handling. He’d stopped squeezing her, but his breath still came out in long, angry snarls. He stared at her collarbone for a moment before his left hand released her arm. He slowly picked a lock of hair off her throat, placed it behind her shoulder, and hesitated a moment before sliding his index finger across the beads of sweat forming on her chest.
The air was thick from heat and potion fumes, and Hermione’s mind was clouded. What was going on here? She couldn’t quite grasp hold of the situation. He wasn’t hurting her now, he was... what was he doing? Each time she came close, understanding would flit away like a spot in the corner of her eye.
Suddenly, his large hand palmed her breast, and her head cleared.
The same fear and unease that had occupied her mind weeks ago returned, but increased ten fold; threatening to overcome her entirely.
He squeezed, but with more curiousness than violence.
“Professor, stop!” Hermione cried, slapping his hand away.
“Stop?” He hissed angrily, leaning in so that his mouth was next to her ear. “I warned you again and again not to test me. I gave you your chance to leave, but you insisted. You told me to give you my worst. You said you could take it.”
“No.” Hermione whispered, her eyes wide. “I didn’t mean…”
“You didn’t mean what?” He cut her off. “You Gryffindors are all the same. Turning yourselves into half-assed martyrs; never willing to go the whole mile. You make me sick. You thought you’d ‘help’ me did you? Help me vent my frustrations?”
She didn’t reply.
“It didn’t occur to you that I might have my own methods of dealing with ‘frustration’ did it?” There was a long pause, and Snape lowered his voice even further. “It didn’t occur to you that I might just need a good fuck… and that I might want to fuck you.”
His words, his body, the heat, the fumes. It was all too much. Everything went hazy, Hermione’s eyes rolled upwards, and her body started to slump, but Snape would have none of it. He shook her roughly and grabbed her chin, forcing her to look at him. “You aren’t getting out of this by fainting.” He pulled his wand out from within his robes. “Ennervate.”
The fog cleared, and Snape’s face came into focus. His eyes were cold and clear - they seemed to dig straight into her brain.
His look made her remember that day in class when she first began to be afraid of him. Hermione suddenly realized that this is what she had been afraid of all along. The way that he had looked at her during her detentions had been the way that a man looks at a woman, but she had disregarded it. She had ignored and repressed the part of her that was willing to accept it because it had been the same part that had been excited by the prospect. Those nights where her fingers had twiddled in her crotch had not only been to sooth her anxious mind, but to dampen the heat caused by dark, hidden thoughts about a cruel and horrible man.
His breath was hot and damp against her face and all sound was drowned out by the roaring of blood in Hermione’s ears. He was so close. Hardly thinking, she pushed her head forward and met his mouth with hers.
Snape pulled back immediately, a look of complete shock plastered across his face. “You little bitch” he snarled, and for a moment he looked very unsure. The moment passed however, and after shaking his head angrily he pressed his body into hers and assaulted her mouth with a powerful kiss.
Of course Hermione had kissed before. Victor Krum during her fourth year, and once - after the twins had procured some firewisky - a very sloppy make-out session with Neville Longbottom; but she had never experienced anything like this. Snape wasted no time thrusting his tongue into her mouth, and she had no choice but to succumb to him.
He was molesting her tongue with his, ravishing every crevice of her cavity. His mouth tasted minty, and a little bitter – like anise. She was so overcome that she hardly noticed when he let her hands fall to her sides. The kiss made her to lose track of what was really happening. All she could seem to focus on was the hungry writhing of his tongue, the pressure of his body, and the ball of heat that seemed to be bubbling up in her abdomen. She brought her hands up to rest behind his neck.
Snape leaned back slightly. “You said you could take my worst” he repeated.
Hermione was flushed and her body was burning with arousal. All the tension, fear and anxiety she had felt during the past weeks was now releasing in the form of sexual desire for her ugly, cruel potions professor.
“Yes” she whispered.
That was all the encouragement Snape needed. His mouth twisted into a sneer and he grasped a handful of her blouse with white knuckles.
“Then take it.”
He ripped open her shirt with one violent snatch; sending buttons tinkling about the room.
Hermione let out a terrific shriek and attempted to cover herself.
“Don’t” he commanded, grabbing her wrists. He took a deep breath and seemed to calm somewhat. “Exquisite…” He murmured staring at her exposed torso.
This single word sent a thrill through her body, making her genitals throb and pulse.
Snape pointed his wand at her chest and said “Diffindo!” neatly cutting her bra in half. After replacing his wand he immediately began to abuse her small, firm breasts with his mouth.
Almost no one had ever touched her breasts, much less used a mouth on them. She closed her eyes and moaned from the sensation of his tongue lapping at her nipples; his warm breath making the skin fill with blood and harden. Her hands curled and release in her pleasure.
She inhaled sharply, as something like pain, but more like pleasure, shot through her body. However, the sensation cleared her mind somewhat, and she began to feel, even as good as this felt, she needed to stop this.
“You liked that, did you?” Snape asked from somewhere between her breasts. “Shall I do it again?”
“Profeseugh,” An involuntary moan escaped from her lips as Snape lightly bit her other nipple. He laughed wickedly and Hermione cursed herself for letting that slip.
He straightened and used his body to press her so forcefully against the wall that she could hardly breathe. “Enjoying yourself yet?” he said huskily, only inches from her face.
Her stomach flipped with nervousness and excitement when she felt a definite bulge pushing up against her belly. She stared at him with wide eyes.
As if sensing her growing hesitancy, Snape took his mouth to her sensitive neck and she melted in his arms. But when his hands slid down her back to squeeze her buttocks painfully, she let out a yelp and pushed him away. She shook her head, trying to shake away this power he had over her. “Professor, we can’t. You have to stop.”
He may not have heard her, for all the comprehension he showed. “Tell me what you’re feeling now.”
“I… I don’t…” Hermione shook her head.
“Tell me.”
“I’m afraid.”
“You’re lying.” He hissed. “You’re lying to me, and lying to yourself. There may be fear there, but there’s so much more.” His hands roamed her body – across her stomach, sides, and every so often her breasts – sending chills through her body as his fingers grazed over her skin. “I am an extremely accomplished Legilimens, Miss Granger. Even thoughts that you refuse to acknowledge are perfectly clear to me. I have never cast the spell on you, but even so, your mind is like an open book. Even when I intimidate you,” he hesitated here, “especially when I intimidate you, images flash through your mind; forbidden images – brief but clear.”
No… he couldn’t… not when she’d tried so hard to hide them even from herself.
“…Images of a tall, dark man, pressing a young woman against a dungeon wall.” His eyes gleamed with triumph as he leaned close. “Kissing her… touching her…” His tongue ran over the sensitive conch of her ear, causing her to shiver violently. “…much like this.”
“It…” Hermione said in a quivering whisper. “It doesn’t matter. You know it’s wrong. You can’t.”
“Can’t?” he laughed derisively. “And what’s to stop me?”
Without waiting for her response, he claimed her mouth with another kiss. Her mind was still screaming “Stop!” but her tongue seemed to acquire a mind of its own, and rose to meet her Professors. His body seemed to be everywhere. His hands were on her buttocks again, kneading them and pulling her into him. Her breasts were mashed up against his chest, and the rough wool of his robes was sending jolts of electricity through her body as it scraped across her nipples. She felt a strange tightening sensation in her nether-regions as the heat in her abdomen increased.
He broke this kiss, breathing hard and looking at her in a satisfied way. His eyes were vindictive and knowing.
A shudder passed through Hermione’s body at this look and she felt a gush of liquid between her thighs. Good gods, what was happening? Why couldn’t she control herself?
“Your body betrays you. You respond to my kiss and your skin is like fire under my hands.” He kept his eyes on hers, but began to fondle her breasts again, tweaking the nipples between his fingers and causing her to gasp. “I can smell your arousal, Miss Granger. It’s permeating the entire room.” He took a deep breath through his nose, as if to demonstrate. “Admit it. Yes, I frighten you… but I also excite you. You want this. You want me.”
“No…” She said automatically, but the word felt hollow.
He didn’t seem surprised. “Very well then, I will find out for myself.” His left hand remained in her breasts, while his right slipped quickly down across her stomach into her panties, his thumb finding the sensitive nub between her lips and pressing down... hard.
A rush of pleasure flowed through her body and she gasped in shock. She had occasionally touched herself there before and Viktor had attempted to “finger” her a couple of times but those had generally been unfulfilling - nothing like this. Her body was hyper-sensitive from the Professor’s kisses and petting and even the slightest touch sent her reeling.
He removed his hand and she found herself very disappointed. Surely this was wrong. But still, his touch had held so much… promise.
“It looks like you have been enjoying this after all.” He ran his tongue over his palm, causing Hermione to be at once, utterly confused and completely disgusted. “You’re absolutely sopping, you’re soaked through.”
He must have noticed her expression, because then he said, “Don’t look so sickened, Miss Granger… I plan to do many, much more disgusting things to you.” He paused for a moment before adding, “You do know what this means, don’t you?” He glanced meaningfully at his hand.
“Of course I know!” she blushed hotly. “but... there’s just so much.”
“So… there is something that the know-it-all Gryffindor is ignorant about.” He let out a low, cruel laugh. “Are you telling me that, in your endless quest for knowledge, you were unable to learn sex from a book?”
Hermione looked at the ground. She understood the basic mechanics of sex: Erectile tissue, hormones, self lubrication, insertion, ejaculation. She knew that her period meant that she was fertile, and she understood how a women became pregnant but when it came to the actual business of sex - especially for recreation - Hermione was woefully uniformed.
Her mother was somewhat overbearing and she had instilled in Hermione a certain fear of one’s own sexual feelings. “It’s nothing you need to know now” she’d say every time Hermione asked about sex. Eventually, she gave up completely, with the understanding that sex belonged in marriage and reading or thinking about it too much was unhealthy. Sure she heard things that the other girls in her dormitory whispered late at night, but she chose to ignore them. She buried her nose in books instead, thinking that she would deal with it when the time came.
And she certainly hadn’t expected that time to come during a detention with Professor Snape.
He scoffed at her silence. “Very well then, Miss Granger… Allow me to enlighten you. A wet pussy is a hungry pussy. It wants something inside of it; specifically – my cock. Sometimes, when the pussy is very hungry, it becomes very wet. This seems to be your situation.”
Hermione’s mouth dropped open, but another gush of liquid flowed between her thighs.
Snape let out another cruel laugh. “That is a very tempting offer, but I believe that this holds precedence.” He cupped her sex with his large hand.
She let out a groan at his touch and her mind nagged at her. This was wrong, but her body wanted him so fiercely.
Snape took a step back, grabbed Hermione’s hips with each of his hands, and pulled down her skirt and underpants in one swift motion, so that he was kneeling on the ground.
“Step out” he commanded.
Completely exposed, Hermione suddenly felt terribly embarrassed. She made a bolt for her robes, but she was too slow and Snape grabbed her wrist and squeezed excruciatingly. She cried out as he pulled her roughly towards him.
“Professor Snape, I...” Hermione started.
“Do stop Miss Granger, you are trying my patience.” He interrupted. Keeping a firm grasp on one of her wrists, he cleared off the counter they’d been making potions on.
“On to the table.” He ordered.
He lifted her by the waist and set her on the countertop, her bottom sliding a little on some spilled potion and her legs (still wearing her socks and trainers) dangled off the edge.
He parted her thighs slightly and went back to work with his fingers. He grabbed her clit between his forefinger and thumb and began to twirl them in the most exquisite way, flicking a finger across the very tip and causing her entire body to jerk. Every so often his fingers would teasingly dip deeper into her wet folds, if only to slick his ministrations. This went on for some time, and his black eyes never left her face.
She was shaking violently now, whimpering incoherently while her hands clutched at his robes. This was wrong; so, so wrong. He was her Professor. He had known her since she was eleven years old. He was twice her age. He shouldn’t be touching her this way. But at the same time, Hermione didn’t think that she had ever felt anything so incredible. Her whole body tingled as wave after wave of pleasure washed over her body. She knew she should stop him, but she couldn’t.
“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you Miss Granger?” He grinned wickedly. “You like my hands on your pussy.”
She clung to her last shred of decency and shook her head.
“No more lies! Tell me the truth or I stop!” He growled.
She let out a sob and nodded.
“I want to hear it!”
“Y- yes! I like it!”
“Good girl…” He murmured. “That wasn’t too hard, now was it? I think you deserve a reward.” One long finger slid into her vagina, curled, and pressed upward.
Hermione let out a strangled cry as her entire body, from her toes to her fingertips, released a throb of pleasure. She pulled at Snape’s robes, bringing him close and leaning her forehead on his shoulder. “Oh gods oh gods oh gods… please, please…”
“Again?” The smugness was evident in his voice, but she didn’t care.
“Yes.”
He repeated the action with some force this time, causing her to throw back her head and let out a shriek.
She began to feel something wonderful building up within her. “Please… again.”
He pulled out his hand and thrust in with a second finger this time, heightening the sensation even further.
“Oh Professor, gods yes!” Her eyes were closed in bliss. “Please, I… I need… more.”
“More?” The potions master’s silky voice washed over her. “You want more?”
“Yes.” She said breathlessly.
His hand pulled out, leaving her feeling empty.
“Wha…?” She opened her eyes to see his burning gaze still trained on her face.
“I can give you more, Miss Granger; so much more.” His gaze drifted downward meaningfully. “You need only to ask.”
Her eyes followed his and fell upon the large bulge in his trousers. She shivered. She wasn’t ready for that. “No Professor… please, couldn’t you just…” she blushed furiously at what she was asking. “…with you hands?”
“Selfish, selfish girl…” he berated lightly. “You want me to finish you and receive nothing on my part?”
Oh gods, what was wrong with her? Why was this happening? How had it come to this? She hid her face in her hands and tried to push back the ache between her thighs.
“Shh… shh… There’s no need to be afraid.” Snape’s voice was suddenly quiet and strangely soothing. He gently took her hands from her face. “Go ahead. Touch me.”
She swallowed down a sob and shook her head.
“It will be fine… just lay you hand on the outside.”
His voice continued to be oddly reassuring and, despite herself, Hermione set a shaking hand on the bulge. It pulsed and she pulled back her hand in surprise.
Snape grabbed her wrist and brought it back to his loins, languidly stroking himself through the fabric of his trousers with her hand. “How does your pussy feel right now, Miss Granger?”
She didn’t answer. She couldn’t. All she could do was stare transfixed as she felt his maleness move under her fingers. He released her hand, but she continued on her own.
He leaned in close so that he was only an inch or so away from her face. “You feel a horrible ache. You want to be filled. You need to be filled.” His black eyes burned into hers.
“…but… it’s wrong,” she said, barely above a whisper.
“More wrong than this?” He shoved two fingers deeply within her, thrusting them in and out several times, causing Hermione to cry out and gush over his hand. “You seem to enjoy that quite a bit.”
He leaned close to her again. “Imagine that,” his voice deep and smooth, “but a hundred times better; a hundred times more satisfying. Especially when I make you climax.” His lips grazed over hers, nipping lightly.
Hermione shivered again, but this time it was not from fear. His last act had made her ache almost unbearable. She had never felt such emptiness or such need. She didn’t even completely understand it, but she wanted it so terribly.
“Will… it hurt?” She asked, her voice shaking.
“Very little,” Snape’s lips twitched in the tiniest smirk. “There will be a slight pinch at the beginning, and then nothing but fullness and satisfaction.
She was wavering – teetering at the edge of her decision.
“I want to fuck you until you beg for mercy and beg for more at the same time. How does that sound, Miss Granger?”
That did it. Hermione’s mind shut down and her urges took control. She bit her lip and nodded.
Snape stepped backwards and her body leaned forward, following him, not wanting to lose his presence.
He made for the door.
“Wait!” Hermione called after him, jumping down from the counter. “Where are you going?”
“Oh, we’re done here. I think you have learned your lesson. I very much doubt that you will attempt to “help” me in the near future, if ever again. Get dressed, and get out. You’re free to go.”
He turned again, setting his hand on the doorknob.
“No! You… you can’t leave!” She called after him, her voice high and strained.
“And why not?” Snape turned around, his eyebrows high in mock interest.
“Because… because I need…” Hermione was confused and bewildered, after all of this he was leaving? After she had finally consented?
“Sorry… you needed something?” Snape began to walk towards her again. “Tell me what you need Granger.”
“I need you… in me.”
“Which part, and for what purpose?”
“to… to…” Hermione was practically in tears again.
“You will address me properly Miss Granger. Answer the question or I’m leaving… your detention is over and I have parchment to grade.”
“Please Professor... I need your p-penis to help relieve this horrible ache!”
She turned scarlet.
“Oh?” A sneer grew on his face and he raised an eyebrow. “Get back on the table and spread your legs.”
Hermione did as he asked, her body quivering with anticipation.
He walked up to her and parted her lips, peering into her sex. He did this for a good while before stepping back and wiping his hand on his robes. “I’m sorry Miss Granger. As delectable as your pussy looks, it would simply be too inappropriate.”
“Inappropriate?” Her voice took on a slightly crazed edge. “How can you say ‘inappropriate’ after you–”
“Good night, Miss Granger.” He turned and opened the door.
“I’m begging you!” She cried.
The door closed with a click, but Snape was still in the room.
He glanced over his shoulder and spoke in a low voice. “What did you say?”
“I’m begging you. Please Professor, have mercy!”
He laughed meanly. “I told you I would have you begging for mercy and begging for more, and I wasn’t even touching you.”
He hesitated for a moment and stared at her, his expression unreadable. Then he snarled and lunged, grabbing her around the middle and slamming her against the wall. He attacked her with a searing kiss, biting at her lips and delving his tongue deeply into her mouth, all the while undoing his trousers.
Hermione’s stomach twisted. This was really happening.
Suddenly she felt him, hard and hot against her hip. He moved slightly and left a trail of wetness. She closed her eyes, too nervous to see.
He let out another cruel laugh. “So much for Gryffindor bravery. Don’t worry; I won’t force you to look. You’ll be feeling me soon enough.”
His hand was at her entrance now, guiding himself in. She felt the rounded tip press against her, and despite herself she felt a wave of excitement and shivered.
“You may be a virgin, Granger.” He whispered, a hairsbreadth from her ear. “But you are no saint. Even while you are terrified, you want me.” He thrust in hard, groaning as he tore through her maidenhead and buried himself in her damp heat.
Hermione let loose a cry and bit down on his shoulder, hard. It was lucky for him that he was still wearing his robes. It felt like he was tearing her in two with a white-hot rod of metal.
He began to slide out and the pain increased. He was ripping her apart!
“No!” She sobbed. “Don’t move! Oh gods, it hurts! I thought you said it wouldn’t hurt!”
He leaned back so that she could see his face clearly.
“I lied.”
He slid back until he was almost completely out and then thrust into her again, shoving her against the wall.
She let out another cry, and another, and another; in time with his strokes. Her knuckles were white, clutched around the fabric of his robes, and her legs buckled under her.
After a little while, the pain seemed to subside slightly. There was still a steady burn that was punctuated with each of his strokes, but the piercing pain had numbed. Her hoarse screams turned to abject whimpers.
“Please… please, just finish. It hurts.” She rasped. “If you have any humanity within you, you’ll finish.”
He hesitated for a moment, staring at her. “I don’t. Put your legs around my waist.”
“No, please just-”
He didn’t wait for her to finish. He grabbed her legs and lifted them up, wrapping them around his hips and supporting her with the wall. He pulled back and thrust, once again, forcefully into her.
Hermione gasped, fireworks going off in the corners of her eyes. The different angle and changed something. There was still the burn of his thrust, but there was also an intense rush of pleasure: starting from impossibly deep within her and spreading out into the rest of her body.
She stared at her Professor with wide eyes, her vision winking in and out of focus.
“I won’t finish quickly, but I will see you come.” He growled through deep breaths.
He rolled his pelvis and thrust into her again, hitting the same area and causing a second rush of pleasure to flow through her body.
Hermione let loose a sob of pleasure. Yes, it hurt, but this new feeling; it was somehow above and more powerful than the pain. It was the same feeling as when his fingers had been inside her, but deeper now… more fulfilling.
He slammed into her, harder this time. Letting loose a groan.
“Yes… oh gods… Professor.” Her voice was shaking almost to the point of incoherency. He wasn’t taking the away the pain; he was piling pleasure on top of it. The combination of the two was too much. She felt as though her body was going to crumble apart.
“That feels good, doesn’t it?” He hissed, drawing himself out with agonizing slowness.
“Yes...” She whispered.
“And this?” He twisted his hips to the side and drove into her twice in quick succession.
She let loose shriek of pleasure, curling her toes and throwing back her head.
He began to thrust into her quickly again, changing his angle with each plunge and staring at her intensely as she cried out with pleasure. He was relentless, shoving her again and again against the dungeon wall as if trying to take down Hogwarts from its base.
Hermione was completely lost. She had no knowledge of anything except Snape’s flexing body, both inside and out of her. Something was building inside of her – something violent and powerful. Her hips began to buck forward, meeting his.
Snape let out a quiet curse as she did this. His hands gripped her thighs painfully and he began to attack her neck with his mouth, biting at her collarbone and traveling up her throat with violent kisses.
“Why, you little slut…” he growled, when he reached her ear. “You’re loving this aren’t you? Your cruel, ugly, potions professor is fucking your pretty little brains out, and you love it. I’m tearing you apart, but you still want more.”
His words were horrible, but Hermione was beyond the point of humiliation. Her body was on fire and she was shuddering violently. Incomprehensible whimpers were falling from her lips. A little further… only a little more…
Suddenly, he stopped, still imbedded deep within her.
Oh, not now! Not now!
“You want to finish, don’t you Miss Granger?”
She let loose a sob, shaking and nodding her head at the same time. It was if someone had completely stolen her mind. She could barely make sense of his words.
“Do you want me to continue?”
“Yes… yes… yes…”
“Like this?” He began to use short slow strokes that gave her very little but pain.
“No!”
“Tell me what you want.”
“Harder… please,” she whimpered.
He gave her a little more depth, but no more force.
“Louder!” he demanded. “Tell me what you want!”
He was teasing her now, and she was completely under his control. She was teetering over the edge, her body ablaze. She needed to get over!
“Please… please…” She cried, her voice broken and raw.
“Tell me what you need!”
“Professor, please! Harder!”
He must have been pleased with this, because he once again began to pound into her with wild abandon, and within a few more strokes, Hermione tipped over the edge.
The feeling was both terrible and beautiful. The sensation was so forceful that she felt as though she was exquisitely dying; as though her very life was being drawn from under her skin. Her mouth was open in a silent scream and every muscle fiber in her body was taut. She was only vaguely aware of Snape pulsing and exploding within her as she clutched and flowed around him.
He continued to slowly thrust as both their orgasms receded, until finally, he pulled away from her, allowing her to fall to the ground when she could not support herself.
She stared up at him with glazed, unfocused, eyes. He was redoing the front of his trousers, which were absolutely soaked. She felt dazed and cold.
He pulled out his wand and Hermione grimly realized that he was going to obliviate her. Though, to whether this was good or bad, she could not manage to wonder. To her surprise however, he did not aim his wand at her head. Rather, he aimed it at her quivering stomach and muttered a quiet incantation.
“You’ll be pleased to know,” he began in a cold, professional, tone, “that you are exempt from the rest of your detentions. Please return to your common room, Miss Granger. It is quite late.”
Without a second look, Snape left the potions chamber, leaving Hermione naked, dirty, and completely alone.
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Standing Up Only Leads to Trouble