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The Quickening	By : Desert_Sea Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Snape/Hermione Views: 32428 -:- Recommendations : 4 -:- Currently Reading : 1
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
- 5
- 6
- 7
Chapter 6
Thanks for the kind and helpful feedback so far. The first time writing is pretty scary but I’m glad now that I took the plunge and decided to submit something. Just a warning that things are going to get worse before they get better, so the next chapters might not be to everyone’s taste. Hopefully you will bear with them for what is to come.
Severus Snape felt uncharacteristically cheerful. He’d almost describe himself as ‘chipper’ if it wasn’t such a ridiculous Muggle word. He’d barely slept, but that wasn’t unusual. As a spy, he would sometimes go two or three days without sleep, and certainly this particular bout of insomnia was due to circumstances far more agreeable. For him at least. His jaw ached and his stiff fingers protested as he curled them around his morning coffee but, all in all, he felt more alive than he had in years. And, most importantly, he felt back in control.
He had been woken early by the discomfort of a throbbing erection. After the night’s activities, he was surprised that his exhausted member could manage more than a twitch. But the vividness of his dreams and the bushy-haired subject matter that had been heavily encoded in his brain over the preceding days, made for an electrifying combination that caused him to come all over himself again after just a few strokes. The thought of it now caused him to stir, and this was while sitting next to Professor Flitwick whose inane chatter was the equivalent of an impotence spell.
Snape took a sip of the bitter, scalding hot brew, inhaling deeply to maximise the hit. His lidded gaze returned to the spot where she always sat for breakfast. It was still empty. His initial response upon observing her absence was to congratulate himself for ravaging her to oblivion. Now, a needling doubt crept into his thoughts. He tried to get rid of it. Why should he care where she was? She had asked for it. Hadn’t she? She’d started it in fact. It was her potion.
Even he wasn’t convinced by the direction of his own argument. He sounded like a pre-schooler. Maybe he had taken it just a fraction too far. He could have stopped before the rimming. Or maybe even before the vibrating wand that he’d transfigured to the size of a salami and managed to project deep into her person. He sat, contemplating whether the quickening had taken hold more than he cared to admit. It often felt like he was possessed by it. Unable to fight it off.
And then she was there, walking with a noticeably stiff gait and wearing a concealer that barely masked the dark shadowing under her eyes. She didn’t look at him, chatting instead with the Weasley girl. Apart from her slightly dishevelled appearance, she was doing a pretty good job of looking normal. She withdrew her breakfast from the brown paper bag she’d carried in with her. It was unusual, but not unheard of, for some students to prefer their own meals to those provided by Hogwarts. Clearly she didn’t have much of an appetite, setting out a small tub of yoghurt, grapes and a banana on the table in front of her.
The Weasley girl, seated opposite, handed her another paper bag. She took out a handful of what appeared to be thick red ribbons. The entire hall had been decorated red and gold for yet another celebration. Snape couldn’t remember which one this was - the anniversary of the first hat to be made out of a dragon’s scrotum or something. Why they persisted with celebrating every event, award, birthday, time that Neville Longbottom didn’t fuck up and Madam Hooch’s passage into menopause was beyond him. He imagined that the feeble ribbons were just another part of her duty as Head Girl - to be seen to be engaged.
As he watched, she took a ribbon, bent down and tied it to the front leg of her chair. Then she took a second and tied it to the opposite leg. She wasn’t doing a very good job. It looked nothing like the other decorations. The third ribbon she threaded through the back rungs of the chair. That looked even worse, unless she was planning on tying it into a bow. He was so busy sneering at her lack of creative flair that he didn’t react until it was too late. Both arms were yanked backwards and cinched behind him with a painfully tight bind. He tried to stand but neither of his legs would budge. He hastily muttered a wandless releasing spell but nothing happened. It was only when he looked up and she returned his gaze, fully and defiantly, that it finally dawned upon him. They weren’t decorations, they were those fucking bondage ties sold in the Weasley twins’ store. He should have caught on earlier, he’d confiscated enough from students (and staff) experimenting in the alcoves around the school. Even if he could reach the wand in his pocket, he would have trouble undoing them. His large shoulder muscles started to seize up with the strain. Fuck!
The bondage ribbon projection worked better than she had expected. He was trussed up at the head table like a greasy black-haired turkey, while the actual physical ties remained secured to her own chair. The variety of objects he had used on her the night before, told Hermione that the Extracorporeal projection potion could project more than one’s own body. While her understanding of the potion’s potential was only in its infancy, already Hermione could see uses that would transform many aspects of Wizarding life. When she finished at Hogwarts, she would publish an article about it in one of the Wizarding world’s scientific journals. Although they were obviously rather taken with magic, Wizards were not averse to understanding and appreciating scientific principles. But that would be in the distant future. Far away from here, and far away from this man.
When she’d told Ginny what Snape had done to her, they had concocted a plan and Ginny had managed to get hold of some of her brothers’ bondage ribbons to enact it. Now Snape was looking down at her from the head table. Not with his usual arrogance and derision but with something very different for Snape - fear. Hermione stared at him a few moments longer, wanting to imprint that image on her brain. Snape scared. Snape knowing that he had royally fucked up.
Despite the fact that she was tender this morning, he hadn’t actually hurt her. Not physically anyway. But it was his insatiable drive to dominate and control that had left her feeling utterly powerless and thoroughly demeaned. She might have experienced half a dozen of the most intense orgasms of her life but they were given up unwillingly, so she would thank him for nothing. And if he thought his actions would cause her to capitulate, to throw up her hands in surrender, he didn’t know her very well. At least not this Hermione. Hermione the Survivor.
She dragged her eyes away from Snape and looked across the table at Ginny, who wore a small, secretive smile. She had been absolutely furious when Hermione had told her of what had happened. She’d wanted him castrated and said she’d happily do it - using her teeth. But Hermione knew Snape’s Achilles heel. He was obviously sexually frustrated. Although, he’d also clearly had plenty of sex in his life judging by his extreme and audacious antics. But it was loss of control and humiliation that caused him the deepest angst. Hermione had learnt that, in life, it was important to face your fears, and she was ready, now, to help him learn this most valuable of lessons.
Glancing around, she was pleased to note that nothing that had happened so far had drawn so much as a raised eyebrow from the other students and staff, who continued to devour their breakfasts noisily. Snape simply appeared to be sitting with his usual erect posture, although a more observant eye would have noticed the flexion in his jawline, the fine sheen of sweat that had appeared on his pale skin and the stray lock of hair that had fallen across his face.
“It’s showtime,” Hermione breathed to Ginny. Then she swivelled in her chair so that Snape had a perfect view. Slowly, she reached out and trailed her index finger along the skin of the banana on the table. Snape’s head jerked back and, although she couldn’t hear him over the noise in the great hall, she could tell he was hissing between his clenched teeth. Hermione smirked, he revelled in manipulation, and yet was so hyper-sensitive, it was ironic. Maybe that was why he was so . . . no she wouldn’t start making excuses for him now. Not after what he had done to her.
She suddenly snatched up the banana and rubbed her small hand up and down its length, tightening her grip with each stroke. His eyes fluttered closed and his chest heaved. The spasmodic bobbing of his Adam’s apple told her that he was desperately trying to remain quiet.
“Good Luck,” she thought as she started to peel the banana.
He felt her tugging on his foreskin and then her mouth closed over the throbbing head of his erection. Fuck! His eyes sprang open to find hers locked on him, as she slowly drew the banana in and out of her mouth, sucking on the soft flesh. He tried to clear his head, to take back control. He blinked a few times and then glared at her, slowly turning his head from side to side. Trying to intimidate her. He managed to hold his gaze until he saw her pink tongue emerge and swirl around and around the slick fruit. His head fell back, defeated. He should have known she wouldn’t fall for the power play.
Plenty of women had sucked his cock before. Many hadn’t managed to make him come even after bobbing away for an eternity. And yet this little minx had him leaping out of his skin at the slightest touch. It was infuriating. He swallowed and thought of anything he could to diminish the sensation – Filch masturbating, Flitwick in a threesome, Madame Hooch riding out an orgasm on the tentacles of the Giant Squid – but it didn’t work, the tension continued to build inside him.
Ginny sat, slack-jawed, watching the scene play out between her best friend and Professor Snape. It was the most erotic thing she had ever seen and she felt her pale cheeks flushing when she realised just how aroused it was making her. Hermione, meanwhile, had not taken her eyes from Snape, revelling in the power she wielded over him. It was time to take it to the next level.
Setting the banana down, she picked up the small bunch of grapes, plump and purple, and lowered them towards her mouth. When the closest one brushed against her lips, she licked it and Snape responded as though he’d received an electric shock, convulsing at the sensation of her tongue sliding up his balls. He slumped forward, breathing heavily, further locks of dark hair hung in his face and his wild eyes appeared to be pleading with her.
“No mercy,” she thought, remembering his ruthless pillaging only hours before.
She watched him closely as she slowly sucked the grape into the moist cavern of her mouth. He released a strangled moan and his face contorted with anguish, as he felt one entire testicle being engulfed in her soft warmth. Her tongue slid around the twitching nugget and he grimaced into his lap. The straining mound in his trousers was soaked with precum and threatening to either break free or break in half. When she took a second grape into her mouth it all became too much. He cried out, face flooding with red as he strained against his binds.
Students were staring at him, wondering what had happened to their, typically morose, Professor. His spasmodic writhing and unearthly cries were those of a man possessed.
“Are you alright old chap,” Flitwick leant toward him, a hand on his arm.
“Fuck off!!” His mind screamed but he managed a feeble smile. “I think it might have been something I ate. I’ll be fine.”
He needed to pull himself together. He was a master of Occlumency for fuck’s sake. He had practised discipline for decades and he needed to call upon it now before . . . before . . . Oh Merlin’s Balls!
His mouth dropped open and his eyes bulged as Hermione dipped a finger into her tub of yoghurt. She continued to push it in and out of the creamy filling as Snape sat, paralyzed, feeling the sensation of her finger plunging in and out of his rectum. The feeling was so visceral that he shuddered, as if he were about to be sick.
“I think he’s had enough.” Ginny’s hand was on Hermione’s arm, halting the finger that was dipping rhythmically into the tub. Hermione looked at her in surprise, as if only just remembering she was there. She had been so entranced by what she was doing, it felt like she and Snape were the only two in the hall. Breathing heavily, Ginny gave a small shake of her head. Hermione returned her gaze to Snape who looked broken, hanging forward on his binds, sweaty strands of hair clinging to his ashen face.
Hermione frowned as she turned back to her.
“He doesn’t understand tenderness. Or kindness. Or mercy. He only understands control and power. That’s why I need to finish this. Finish him.”
Ginny sat back, dumbfounded by this side of Hermione she had never seen. Her best friend had always been Gryffindor through and through – kind, generous, caring, loyal, brave. But this? This was Slytherinesque. She could only watch as Hermione set her jaw to conquer the final frontier.
Snape felt a moment of reprise. Her finger was still inside him but no longer moving. He dearly hoped, having made her point, she was ready to release him, let him take his leave of this forsaken place. But when he looked up, her eyes told a whole different story, flashing with deep-seated anger and hurt. With painstakingly controlled movements, she sucked the two grapes back into her mouth and picked up what was left of the banana, pushing it in with the others and rolling them around together with her tongue. Then she began pumping two fingers into the contents of the tub, all the time staring at him, into him.
He came with a guttural cry, knees smashing against the table and eyes rolling back in his head. All hell broke loose as people rushed from all directions. “He’s having a seizure,” cried Professor McGonagall. Call Poppy down immediately.
As figures swam past his hooded vision, he saw Hermione hurl the tub of yoghurt down onto the table, before tearing the ribbons from the chair and storming out of the hall.

Acknowledgement to CryingCinderella for the bondage ribbons from one of my favourite fics – Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes
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The Quickening