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In Their Hands Complete	By : Desert_Sea Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Snape/Hermione Views: 19649 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 2
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
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A/N: Oracle – ‘Something is going to happen, and I'm dying to know what’ – hahah, you know me too well. This chapter is the beginning. Ahhh and all of your excellent questions – we still don’t have answers to most of them. ‘And stop modeling characters after me :D I don't flirt. I'm missing that gene.’ – hahah, when I was writing that part I actually thought that. ‘When will she admit to herself that her visceral reaction to his person is sexual attraction?’ – she does seem to be in denial. I’m glad you liked the joke. I heard it a long time ago and it still makes me laugh. ‘What's your diag-nonsense, Dr Granger? Promiscuous? Looking for a care taker? Escaping reality with literary men? Guilty :)’ – bahahahaha! ‘I know it would be unethical to screw a patient, but I want them both to have some fun.’ – I have a feeling that ethics may go by the wayside sometime soon ;) As always, thanks for your thinking.

Lovey_Reader – ‘you also do pain well too’ – I appreciate that. You’re right, this is a very different story and the emotional and psychological foregrounding, making people care about the characters, is hopefully going to up the intensity when the heat is finally turned on. I like that you picked out the breadth of emotional depictions so far. And also that you enjoyed the vase joke – it’s one of my favourites :)

Chapter 4 – All in Hand

Hermione was prepared when he entered her office this time, already positioning herself in one of the corner chairs.

“Please take a seat, Professor,” she said, gesturing to the chair opposite.

“I’d prefer to stand,” he responded, making his way over to the tall window beside her and looking out over the sea of trees, arms crossed.

Hermione had primed herself, expecting him to be difficult. She had rehearsed a series of mental exercises that allowed her to let go of any assumptions or expectations about his behaviour. Hopefully it would allow her to stay in the moment and not get distracted.

“How are you finding your time at the Retreat?” she asked.

He snorted softly, giving a small shake of his head as he addressed the window. “’The Retreat’. Most appropriate don’t you think?” She could hear the derision in his voice. “To regress or acquiesce? Which is it? Which do you want from me?”

“We don’t want either.”

“You know why I’m here don’t you?” He threw a brief glance over his shoulder before returning to stare at the window.

“I understand that the Hogwarts board insisted upon a complete psychiatric assessment before you were allowed to return.”

“Allowed to return.” He shook his head again and simply stared.

Hermione remained quiet, looking up at him in side profile. She could see the window reflected in his eyes. They were absolutely still. Black marbles. He wasn’t seeing. He was thinking. Or perhaps remembering.

“Do you want to return?”

Snape sighed and turned toward her. “What are you doing for Mollison?”

Despite her preparation, Hermione was already thrown.

“Shaun Mollison?”

“Yes.”

“Mr Lynch has a physical therapy program planned for him.”

“Is that all?”

“Until we know more.”

“You should know more,” he replied angrily.

Hermione was finding it difficult to talk to him while he was looming over her but she couldn’t stand up now without appearing combative. She wished she’d chosen the desk seats from the start.

“What should we know?” She kept her voice even, non-accusatory.

“Anyone worth their salt would be aware that the Cruciatus wants to leave the body. It doesn’t stay of its own accord. Mollison is holding on to it.”

Hermione stared at him blankly. “Why?”

“Why do you think?” His voice rose. “To punish himself.”

Hermione had seen a handful of chronic Cruciatus cases and none had ever been satisfactorily treated. For some reason she’d never thought of it being purposefully retained. None of them had.

“Do you know why he’s punishing himself?” she ventured.

“No. That would be your job.”

Hermione jotted down some notes on her paper.

“What did you say to Lynch yesterday at breakfast?” She twisted in her seat so that she was facing him, her knees almost touching his leg.

Severus lifted his chin as he looked out the window but didn’t respond.

She waited for him, but it was clear that he could wait just as long.

“You seem to be developing some friendships,” she commented. “I noticed you having a conversation with Katherine Calder.”

“You ‘noticed’ did you?”

Her neck was starting to ache from craning to look up at him.

“She seemed to be quite taken with you. Perhaps you didn’t notice.”

“Dr Granger, that is most unbecoming of you.” He peered down his nose at her. “Such transparent jealousy. What would Mr Lynch say?”

Hermione caught the retaliation in her throat. Breathe. Breathe.

“I’d like to try an approach with you called Voice Dialogue.”

Snape turned back to the window.

“It’s about exploring the multiple selves. Allowing them to speak. Understanding how they see the world and control your behaviour.”

“Trying to find ‘Starfish Boy’ are you?” He stared out the window. She noticed that his trademark smirks and sneers were virtually absent. Muted affect. The voice dialogue therapy might help tap into that.

“I’m trying to understand you and I want to help you to understand yourself. But you are going to have to be more open with me.”

“And tell you if I want to fuck Katherine Calder?” He turned to her.

“Is that what you want?”

“You’re going to have to be more open with me,” he responded, ignoring her question. “Tell me.” He ran his fingertips over his chin. “Have you deliberately chosen to deny your sexuality for the purposes of treating the likes of Master Oedipus?”

“Master Oedipus?”

“Creevey.”

Hermione knew she was being drawn into a Snape trap. But, equally, she was aware that he was testing her. Working out if he could trust her.

“Dennis has elements of what would be called the Oedipus Complex if you were a Freudian. I like to believe we can consider people’s motivations and behaviours as being a more complex amalgamation of childhood and adult experiences.”

“You haven’t answered my question.”

She blinked resignedly. He was determined to make this difficult. “Clients will sometimes develop dependencies—attachments to their therapists. They will also project. Someone like Dennis may view me as someone to nurture him because it’s my job to care about him. With his current sexual proclivities, there is a chance that he may project his sexual fantasies onto me. The answer is ‘yes’. It is easier for everyone if I dress like this.”

Snape had been watching her with interest throughout. He continued to appraise her well beyond the end of her speech.

“In the spirit of sharing.” He arched a dark eyebrow. “I’ll inform you that I haven’t yet decided whether I’ll fuck Calder.”

“It’s against the rules.”

Snape tipped his head to the side. “Please don’t pretend that the rules matter. Lynch demonstrated that this morning.”

“Tell me what you said to him?”

“You’ll have to ask him.”

“Why?”

“Because it was about you.”

***

“I’m taking them to the lookout this morning,” Lynch announced at their breakfast meeting two days later.

“Are they all going?” asked George as he wet a sponge to wipe a stream of spilt coffee from his shirt.

“There are a few exceptions but I’ve approved those.”

Lynch had been unusually terse the past few days and they were all trying to engage with him as little as possible. Normally they would have asked for a list of the exemptions but his current demeanour meant that they would simply wait and see.

When Hermione had asked him the day before about his altercation with Snape, he’d replied that Snape had suggested his own exercise routine for the duration of his stay. It was a blatant lie but, again, she was unwilling to push him.

“Do we have any developments to discuss?” Lynch scanned the group.

“Creevey is learning to read music,” said George. “He’s picking it up quickly and he seems to be enjoying it. ‘Mione has been helping.”

“Good,” Lynch said abruptly. “Anything else?”

“I didn’t get anywhere with Sarah at my last session. Not a word.” Simone Ellory was dissecting a piece of toast with her fingers and popping small pieces into her mouth. “But I think that Snape would benefit from some massage therapy.”

Hermione frowned. “Shouldn’t Lynch be deciding upon which clients he’s going to administer physical therapy to?”

“With . . . me,” Ellory corrected, glaring over her glasses.

“And since when were you a massage therapist?” demanded Hermione.

“I am, actually, a qualified massage therapist, I just choose to only use it on the cases that I believe are in genuine need. And I think, with the tension that Snape carries in his shoulders and hips, I would like to try it with him.”

Of course you would.

Lynch looked conflicted. He was normally so decisive. Now he sat and looked between the two of them.

“Not at the moment,” he said finally. “There’s something else that needs to be sorted out first.”

Ellory pulled a face as if she had just popped a piece of buttered turd into her mouth.

Hermione let out a quiet sigh of relief. And then wondered why.

***

Hermione spent the rest of the morning in her office reading books and articles on the Cruciatus curse. She was now confident that Snape’s suggestion that Mollison was deliberately holding onto it was founded but she also felt, from her reading, that there might be another element to it. Stretching back in her chair, she decided to check if either Snape or Mollison had remained behind. She could question Snape more about his observations or make a time to meet with Mollison to discuss potential therapeutic approaches.

The dining room was empty as she strode through on the way to their room. About to knock on the closed door, she heard a strange sound that made her hand freeze. There were unusual rhythmic squeaking and grunting noises coming from behind the door. Oh Shit!

Putting her fingers over her lips, she glanced around, wondering what to do. She couldn’t leave. She needed to know what was going on. Pulling her wand, she decided to cast a transparency spell that, in the vicinity of her wand tip, allowed her to view a small one-way window into the room.

Peering through the aperture, Hermione saw that it was completely dark inside apart from two lanterns hanging on one wall. But it wasn’t just the poor lighting that confused her. The people inside, and what they were doing, was almost incomprehensible. The squeaking sound seemed to be coming from a complicated series of pulleys rigged up around the walls and ceiling with ropes trailing through them. The ropes were being used to suspend someone, a woman, from the ceiling. She was completely naked and her ankles and wrists were bound, maximally spreading her open. And standing before her, naked except for a mask, was a man. He held the other ends of the ropes wrapped around his forearms, and each time he pulled on them, the woman’s legs and arms were wrenched further apart as she slammed down onto his erect cock. Her groans were muffled by the ball-gag stretching her mouth. Down her cheeks ran rivulets of saliva, dripping onto the ground with each thrust.

The man, whom she now realised wore a Dementor mask, was grunting each time he yanked the ropes and pounded into her.

Despite her contorted face and tortured body, Hermione could tell that the woman was Katherine Calder. And, despite the mask, she knew that the man who was pulling the ropes faster and faster as he geared up to come would be . . .

“Alohomora!” Hermione threw open the door and flew in. The man instantly released the ropes, allowing the woman to fall from his cock onto the ground. Struggling in the tangle of ropes, the woman pulled frantically at the ball gag, trying to remove it.

“Ms Calder,” Hermione snarled. “I see that you’ve found a way to boost your self-esteem?”

“And you.” She turned to the man. “Clearly you’ve finally worked out what you really want.”

He stood, looking at her, glistening cock rapidly wilting under her withering gaze.

“Take it off,” Hermione hissed through gritted teeth.

Slowly he reached up and pulled off the mask.

“Mr Jaeger!”

***

“They both need to go.” Hermione paced the staffroom in short, angry strides, arms folded across her chest.

“I thought you said you were making progress with Jaeger,” replied Lynch, his fingers combing through his hair as he tried to think.

“Clearly not,” Hermione replied.

“Calder’s your domain isn’t she?” Ellory pointed out. “Sexual dysfunction? One for the ‘too hard’ basket is she?”

Hermione whirled around. “The woman didn’t come here for treatment, she came looking for someone to degrade her. And she found it.”

“Degrade?” Ellory blinked. “Perhaps you should ask her if she found it degrading or erotic before you apply your own judgements.”

Hermione didn’t need a lesson on sexuality from the likes of Ellory.

“If they don’t go. Then I’m going,” she said suddenly.

George stood up. “Perhaps we should head out for some fresh air?”

“I don’t need fresh air,” she snapped. “It’s pretty simple.”

Lynch sighed, shaking his head. “I’ll tell them to pack their bags.”

“That’s it is it?” sneered Ellory. “Little Miss ‘I’m a sex therapist but can’t accept anyone’s fetishes if they are alternative to mine’, which probably includes everything, has a tantrum and everyone bends over backwards to appease her?”

“Simone, don’t start,” Lynch warned her.

“What if I threatened to leave?” Ellory called after Lynch as he strode from the room.

“Don’t let me stop you.” Hermione muttered, before heading after him.
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In Their Hands *Complete*

In Their Hands Complete