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Vexations	By : lightspeedsound Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Snape/Hermione Views: 34783 -:- Recommendations : 3 -:- Currently Reading : 19
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. I do not make any money off of this fanfic.

Chapter List
- 6
- 7
Title: Vexations
Author: Magistrix_Sirena
Rating: NC-17/Lascivious/Gratuitous amounts of sex
Warnings: light BDSM, voyeurism, exhibitionism, general sexual fluidity, and possibly really bad puns.
Genre: PWP. Absolutely. Here be le sex; ye be warned.
Setting: AU (as Severus is still alive).
Summary: An anonymous encounter at the most dubious of places leads to a tale of intrigue and smut. Starts summer before HBP; Hermione is 17 due to time turner whatsits. Events of HPB shall take place (at least selectively). And yes: My goal in writing this was to be as gratuitous as possible, while still maintaining a modicum of literary integrity. I hope you all like the result!
Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters. I merely like playing with them.
AN: Attempting to make up for lost time. Generally I don’t start writing until a week after I post the update. This time, I’m writing the DAY I POSTED the update. Feel loved, gentle readers. Feel loved.

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Chapter 7: She Was a Vixen When She Went To School

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The Gryffindor Sixth Year Girls Dormitory, Shortly After 11:00 PM

Hermione glared, disgruntled, at her bed’s canopy, covers tossed aside in a fit of sweaty pique. Her left hand crept up to feel the still-sore goose egg, just above her left temple.

What a conundrum.

The way she saw it was thus:
1. She had inadvertently had sex with Severus Snape at the Midnight Cloak
  1. During which time she had actually enacted a fantasy concerning Severus Snape
  2. And then she also had sex with Lucius Malfoy AND Severus Snape
  3. Not forgetting, of course, the time in between which involved some black silk ribbons.
2. It had been the best sex she had ever had
3. And she was willing to bet, the best sex she would ever get
4. And as a result, she was very horny
5. With the object of her lust lecturing her nearly every day
Obviously, the only way to solve the conundrum was to have sex with Snape. Again. Many times again. In many different positions, and possibly for many days at a time.

However, there were two problems:
1. Snape didn’t know who she was
2. And if he did, he would immediately resign, and/or hate her for eternity. Either way, there would be no sex.
Slightly disoriented from a rather solid knock on the head, aching with unsatisfied urges, and sweating through the thin cotton of her camisole, Hermione Granger applied her battered mind to the task at hand.

Finally, she realized that there was only one solution:

She would have to seduce Severus Snape.

Again.

Hermione gave a sigh of relief, basking in the glow of solving a complex puzzle. She turned over her pillow, and closed her eyes. As she drifted off into the sleep of the determined, a plan began to form, fueled by the glee of her finally liberated subconscious…

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The Gryffindor Sixth Year Girls Dormitory, Two Days Later.

Hermione stared critically at her reflection in the mirror. Her customary white button down shirt was tighter than usual, clinging to her skin and showing the outline of her black, lacy bra. She had forgone the customary black vest; Hogwarts was unseasonably hot for the end of September, and going without it would hardly be seen as unreasonable. She had replaced her customary tights with sheer, thigh-high black stockings, the kind that required no garter belt (after all, she didn’t want everybody to notice her change in attire). A pair of shiny, black, stiff patent leather pumps waited for her feet.

Phase One of the Plan was Thus:

Step 1: Wear disconcertingly revealing clothes to Snape’s class, but act oblivious to any reaction she might be inciting.

Step 2: Give Snape “inadvertent” flashes of skin all throughout the lecture.

Step 3: Ask Professor Snape about the detention which she was supposed to make up.

Step 4: Sashay out of the room calmly, leaving him to boil with curiosity and sexual frustration.

She tied her hair up in a loose ponytail and grabbed her schoolbag. Be calm, she told herself sternly, Be cool, and be collected. And definitely, don’t give the game away!

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Defense Against Dark Arts Class

Hermione was sweating through her clingy white shirt.

“Oi, Hermione, you’re looking a bit red. Are you alright?”

Hermione looked up to see Ron’s face gazing at her quizzically. “I’m fine,” she spat out, between gritted teeth. She slumped further down into her seat, legs slightly apart, eyes trained on the chalkboard, arms crossed against her chest.

“Are you sure, because…whoa.” Ron’s eyes flew down to the hem of her skirt, which had worked itself up, revealing the lacy tops of Hermione’s thigh high pantyhose. “Are you…are those…um…”

Hermione glared at Ron. “Are you staring at my thighs, Ron?”

Ron turned bright red. “Um, I…er…”

“Ron, stop it!” Hermione hissed. “You’re embarrassing me—“

At that moment, Snape glided into the classroom. “Twenty points from Gryffindor for unseemly whispering, Miss Granger,” he murmured. “And see me after class, to discuss your ongoing Detention.”

“Twenty points!” whispered Ron incredulously. “What the hell—“

“It will be an additional fifteen if you don’t keep quiet, Mr. Weasley,” Snape said from the head of the class. “As such, I would advise you to shut your rather annoying mouth and turn to page 758. And Mr. Potter,” he added, eyeing the trio as Harry attempted to smack Ron into silence. “I daresay your attempts at silencing Mr. Weasley are anything but disruptive. An additional ten from Gryffindor for your attempt at distracting the class from the lesson.”

Snape turned to the chalkboard, and flicked his wand. The chalk lifted and began to write. Suddenly, Snape whipped his head back to face the class. “Miss Granger, unless you are attempting to be eaten by your chair, I suggest you sit up, immediately. Class is in session.” Inadvertently, Snape’s eyes flicked towards Miss Granger’s crotch. A flash of red peeked out from a nest of short, black skirt. What on Earth? What possessed the girl to wear such skimpy…No. Your eyes shouldn’t go be looking there, fool! Mind on the class! Snape cleared his throat and turned back to the chalkboard, but he couldn’t help but think of the last time he had the pleasure of seeing underwear like that…

Hermione smirked and sat up, crossing her legs daintily. Everything was going according to plan…

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Two hours later, class had ended. Hermione set down her quill, and massaged her right hand. She had been taking notes feverishly for the entire class period, but not without occasionally reaching up to play with her hair, and once, to unbutton another button on her (sweaty) shirt.

At least I might be getting something out of this heat wave, she thought, as she packed up her bags and walked to the front of the classroom. She stopped right in front of Snape’s desk, waiting expectantly. As usual, he made her wait, as he scribbled something down on a scroll of parchment.

Snape looked up to find Miss Granger, standing casually in front of him. She looked rather more…disheveled…than usual, with tendrils of hair falling out of her normally impeccable ponytail, and her shirt in a similar state of messiness. He eyed her un-tucked shirttail with distaste, as well as the rather high hemline of her skirt. He mentally raised his eyebrow at her change from stockings to pantyhose, however and…high-heeled pumps? Shaking his head slightly to rein in his thoughts, he put down his quill and cleared his throat. “Miss Granger, your attitude before class today leaves much to be desired, as does your rather cavalier attitude towards dress requirements. Do please tuck in your shirt and pull down your skirt.”

Hermione nodded obediently, though not contritely, as she shrugged her bag to the floor. Calmly, she slipped a hand down, over her white-cotton clad stomach and into the hemline of her skirt. Smoothing the material out, underneath the black fabric, she looked into Professor Snape’s eyes. Still maintaining eye contact, she slipped her hands out of the skirt, and slid them under the hem. She reached underneath and gave a quick tug on the shirt to smooth it, “inadvertently” flashing the tops of her pantyhose. That ought to teach him to eye my clothes, she thought, smugly aware of the fact that her shirt now clung even tighter to her breasts. “My Detention, Professor?” she asked guilelessly.

Snape swallowed convulsively, momentarily non-plussed by Miss Granger’s seemingly unconscious show. Perhaps he should refrain from commenting on the state of his female pupils’ clothing. People would think he was…up to something. He cleared his throat again. “Yes. Rather. You, Miss Granger, will continue your Detention here, tonight, cleaning the floor where my Third Years were experimenting with the Bat Bogey Hex.” He gestured to a corner in the back of the room, where the stones were covered in a rather disgusting, viscous, green slime. “You will be cleaning the Muggle way, so I suggest you learn how to properly tie your hair up.” He raised a disapproving eyebrow at her sloppy up-do. “Furthermore, you shall present me with a seven-inch essay on proper etiquette during class.”

“And when would you like your seven inches in by, Professor?” Hermione asked, in a faux-innocent tone of voice. Subconscious double-entendres Professor? Oooh, how naughty.

Snape frowned to himself. Did Miss Granger just make a sexual…? NO. He had to be imagining things. There was no way…She’s probably just in the throes of some grand, passionate affair with Mr. Weasley. “Obviously, Miss Granger, I would like it by the time your Detention rolls around, at 8 o’clock this evening. You are dismissed.”

Hermione nodded again, before bending over to grasp her schoolbag (her neckline sufficiently low enough to let her bra peek through), and walked away. As her heels clattered against the stone floor of the DADA classroom, she smirked to herself. Come into my parlor, said the spider to the fly, she thought. Only, who is the spider, and who is the fly?

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The Sixth Year Gryffindor Girl’s Dormitory, 7:40 PM

Hermione put the final period on her Detention essay for Professor Snape, and blew the ink dry. Her heart beat rapidly in her chest, as she surveyed her work. Filled with double entendre, and rather exquisite detail concerning posture, she was taken aback by her own daring. Surely, this may be going too far, too soon? She thought, rolling the scroll into a tight cylinder and tying it shut. Seduction should be taken in stages, right?

But Hermione Granger was a Gryffindor; and Gryffindors did not flinch at jumping blindly into any fray.

She set her jaw into firm resolve and picked up a pair of soft, pink, terrycloth shorty shorts, which she generally wore only to work out and to bed. She hesitated. Having second thoughts, Hermione? She thought to herself, annoyed at her own lack of gumption. You can go up to a man in a club wearing a mask, but you can’t wear a pair of shorts in front of him? What’s WRONG with you?

Hermione growled in frustration and slid on to the floor, the shorts in her hands. Those nights at the Cloak had changed something in her, awoken a need that she couldn’t quite put into words. Snape’s constant presence, combined with the continual stream of memories from their encounters, formed an insanity-inducing duet of sexual frustration. Her Plan, thus far, had slaked some of her lust, if only by dint of providing an outlet for all her excess energy.

But tonight was Phase Two, and she risked either looking absolutely ridiculous and being completely belittled, or Snape…Snape giving her what she wanted.

Either way, she was scared shitless.

Hermione thought back to the month and a half of tossing and turning in bed, the sudden, blinding rages brought on by continual restraint, the inability to even masturbate without the risk of a dorm mate walking in on her. Grimly, she slipped on the shorts. Reaching for a bright pink, satin bra, she slipped it on, before grabbing a tight, white wife beater tank top. Taking a deep breath, she shoved a spare uniform skirt, a pair of thigh high stockings, and white button-down into her schoolbag, before grabbing her parchment and going off to Snape’s classroom, barefoot.

Let the Games begin…

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The Defense Against Dark Arts Classroom, 8:00 PM, on the dot

Three, resounding knocks sounded against the door to the Defense Against Dark Arts Classroom. “Enter!” called Snape, not deigning to look up from his grading. Obviously, Miss Granger had finally come to her senses and resumed her usual promptness. “Miss Granger,” he growled, making yet another red X on Neville Longbottom’s latest disaster, “Your attitude in class today was—“ Snape looked up, his words withering in his throat as he surveyed the scantily clad student in front of him. “was—was—Miss Granger, what on earth are you wearing?”

Hermione smirked, looking down at her slightly translucent tank top with satisfaction. “Well, Professor, you told me I would be cleaning the Muggle way…and I didn’t want to get my school uniform dirty. So I took the liberty of changing into something more…suitable.”

Snape raised an (slightly quivering) eyebrow. “I would hardly call that outfit suitable for anything outside of a strip club, Miss Granger. 15 more points from Gryffindor. Change into your uniform immediately.”

Hermione sighed and put her hands on her hips. “If I do that, I won’t be able to start my detention on time, and you’ll give me another detention. That’s just not fair, Professor. You didn’t tell me what I could and could not wear.”

“Your outfit is hardly regulation, Miss Granger.”

“Actually, Professor Snape, there’s nothing in the Student Handbook that says uniforms have to be worn after classroom activities have concluded.” Hermione pointedly checked the grandfather clock by the classroom door. “And class activities have been officially over since 7:30 pm.”

Snape felt Longbottom’s essay crunch under his tense fist. Little brat, he thought, what’s the point of wanting to dress like such a harlot? “Miss Granger, this is my classroom, where I make the rules. Should you wish to take your complaint to Professor McGonagall at a later time, I could not stop you. But right now, you have two choices. You may either leave and be forced to take another detention for blatant subordination towards authority, or you may change into something more appropriate.”

Hermione gave a (secretly satisfied) huff before loudly dropping her shoulder bag on the stone floor of the classroom. Turning her back towards Snape, she bent over the bag, her ass completely level with Snape’s eye line. “Fine,” she muttered, her heart racing, “I’ll change. Immediately.”

Snape swallowed, his throat suddenly dry with a curious combination of fear and lust. Merlin’s Beard! Does the Granger girl even realize how she’s displaying her body? In Circe’s name, Why?

Hermione grabbed her button-down shirt and uniform skirt and set them on the desk. Her back still facing Professor Snape, she took a deep breath and stripped her white tank top off. Goosebumps formed on her arms as she felt her nipples tighten with lust and the cool chill of the castle’s stone walls. A flirtatious layer of pink silk lay between her breasts and the drafty air. Well, now you’ve done it, Hermione, she told herself, gritting her teeth at the throbbing wetness in her panties. He’d have to be utterly daft to not realize what you’re doing. She quickly peeked over her shoulder to see what reaction she had wrought.

Snape’s mouth dropped and the loud ripping crunch of Longbottom’s essay being completely torn through echoed into the silent air. He took a deep breath, attempting to gather his wits and (thankfully voluminous) robes about him. “Miss Granger,” he hissed, “What exactly do you think you are doing?”

Hermione turned around, slowly buttoning away all but a peek of her bubblegum pink bra. “I’m following your orders, Professor,” she remarked matter-of-factly. “You told me to change, immediately.” Eyes still meeting his, she bent over, nonchalantly offering him a view down her collar as she slipped her uniform skirt over her terrycloth shorts. “I have no wish for further punishment,” she added demurely, as she calmly reached under the skirt’s hem to slide the shorts down her thighs. Casually dropping the shorts into her open bag, Hermione grabbed the rolled up stockings and hopped on to a desk.

Severus stiffened as he was greeted with a profile view of Miss Granger slowly rolling up a pair of thigh high stockings over her –admittedly, gorgeous—legs. Shaking his head to rid himself of any sort of inappropriate thoughts, he cleared his throat. “Miss Granger, I hardly meant to imply that you strip in front of me. 10 more points from Gryffindor for your impertinence.”

Hermione slid off the desk, legs fully clad in sheer black. “I hardly think literal interpretation of your instructions is impertinence, Sir,” she shot back, an eyebrow raised.

Sir. The single syllable zapped through Severus’s body, sending a zinging, electric sensation straight to his crotch. Visions of black ribbons and a ménage-a-trois flooded his brain. Get a hold of yourself, man! He thought furiously, attempting to surreptitiously adjust his now tight pants. You are her professor. She is your student. There will be none of that, you lecherous fool! Snape schooled his features into place, barely managing his default supercilious sneer. “You know exactly how impertinent your actions were, you insufferable know-it-all,” he replied. “Do you at least have the essay on proper classroom deportment I assigned you?”

Hermione smirked back and pulled a roll of parchment from her bag. Sauntering over to the desk, she unceremoniously plopped the paper down in front of the affronted professor. “Yes, Professor. Do I get to scrub the floors now?”

Snape waved a hand absently as he grabbed the scroll and unrolled it. “Carry on, Miss Granger,” he murmured. “Your cleaning materials are by the corner. If you do not finish the task adequately, you shall come back tomorrow night…and keep coming back until your work is done.”

Hermione took a deep breath and walked over to the corner Snape indicated. Splashing water on the stones, she got down on all fours, facing away from Snape. At this angle, he would be greeted by a direct view of her bright pink, lace thong. Is subtlety necessary for seduction? She wondered. How long will it take before he either kicks me out of detention, or fucks my brains out?

Severus unrolled the parchment that Miss Granger had given him, intent on thwarting his uncomfortable state of arousal with the most dull reading material he could access without standing up.

A proper student submits to the will of the Professor at all times, but particularly when in his classroom. While the student may feel “tied down” by any sort of restrictions the Professor might impose, a proper student acknowledges that such restraints are for her own good. Repercussions, while temporarily unpleasant, should be regarded with pleasure and eagerness, as such repercussions are truly a learning experience.

Severus raised an eyebrow. Was he reading an essay on proper classroom etiquette, or a guide to being a sexual submissive?

In particular, my actions today were quite impertinent. Proper Posture is necessary in class, especially because the libidinous hormones of my fellow male classmates might be incited by an inadvertent glimpse of my…(here, there were several scratch outs before…)…feminine charms. The goal of all proper classroom behavior is to ensure that class goes forward without any unseemly interruptions.

Severus’s eyebrow went even higher. How does one lecture for possibly inadvertent sexual affectation? He wondered. Miss Granger’s behavior may be quite innocent yet. Assuming a student’s sexual development will doubtless put us both in an uncomfortable position. “Miss Granger,” he snapped, looking up from the paper, “This essay is hardly—“ A gloriously unobscured view of Miss Granger’s barely clad bottom greeted him. “Miss Granger!” he hissed, “Apparently, you have learned nothing from the essay you have just submitted.”

Hermione glanced back casually, attempting to smooth down the hem of her skirt with wet and soapy hands. “Oh!” she murmured. “I suppose I forgot. I’m so used to cleaning with shorts on that—“

“I have no time for excuses,” Snape snapped. “Nor is there any time left in your detention. Mop up the mess you have made, and come back tomorrow.” Just get her out of the room, and hope she’ll come back wearing pants, Severus told himself.

Hermione nodded, stood up and reached for the mop in the corner. Before Snape knew what was happening, her left foot landed squarely on a slippery pile of soapsuds. Hermione let out a startled screech (Be convincing! She yelled to herself) before landing squarely on her bottom, her left arm knocking the still-full bucket squarely onto her chest. Her feet loudly followed a second later, slamming into the stone floor, heels first. “Fuck!” Hermione screeched loudly.

“Miss Granger?” Snape asked superciliously, “Are you quite finished?”

“No! Ow!” Hermione yelped again, “I think…I think I banged my heels and…”

“And what, Miss Granger?”

“And…I don’t think I can walk,” whispered Hermione, blushing as she looked down at her soaked, now see-through shirt. “And I’m…I seem to be quite soaked.”

Severus grimaced. I can’t levitate her through the halls in this state, and her heels are already turning red and swollen. Unceremoniously, he slid out from behind his desk and walked towards her. Acting mildly disgusted, Severus scooped Miss Granger into his arms, and stalked towards the enormous fireplace every Hogwarts classroom was required to have. Grimacing down at the soap suds now smeared across the front of his frock coat (though being careful to avoid direct eye contact with Miss Granger’s rather visible cleavage), he hastily grabbed his wand from the desk, muttered “Incendio,” and grabbed a handful of Floo powder from the jar on the mantle. “Madame Pomfrey’s Infirmary,” he growled, stepping into the green flames.

Hermione, hardly believing her luck (she was in his arms! How Jane Austen!), wriggled a little, adjusting herself more securely in Professor Snape’s grasp. Well…that was a success.

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He was sitting at his desk, grading papers, the Sixth Year Gryffindors taking a written exam in front of him. He frowned. Somebody was missing from their desk. Inexcusable conduct, really, during an exam.

The soft popping sound of buttons being undone came from under his desk. Stiffening suddenly, Severus tried to roll his chair away from the tabletop. A small, warm hand grabbed the chair, holding it in place. Another hand reached in to his pants, grabbing his inexplicably hard cock.

“Don’t move.” The words fell like a hot wisp of wind against his manhood. “I shall do the moving now.”

Snape struggled not to moan aloud from the sensation of a warm, wet, velvety tongue swirling around his cock. Suddenly, his entire length was enveloped in the mystery woman’s mouth, her lips sliding up and down his shaft, her hands lightly grasping his balls. Dear Merlin, he silently groaned, desperately reaching for his wand, I have to get out of this room…I have to…

Instantly, the classroom faded away and was replaced by the walls of his private chambers. He lay on top of the black, rough silk duvet of his bed, his mysterious paramour still bent over his rock hard member. Her wild brown curtain of hair shrouded her features as her head bobbed up and down the length of his shaft. Roughly, he grasped her curls, forcing them aside, tilting her head up.

He was greeted by the sight of a familiar white Carnivale mask. She resisted his tugs, slowly, worshipfully, sliding her lips up from the base of his shaft, her fist gliding up in her mouth’s wake. “Did I displease you, Sir?” she murmured calmly.

Severus pulled her up to his torso, forcing her hands to let go of his cock. Relishing the rosy blush his manhandling gave her, he crushed her lips with his, exploring the hot cavern of her mouth with his tongue. Growling into her neck, he tore her white lace thong aside, and shoved his cock into her dripping wet pussy. Losing himself in her moans of pleasure, he captured her breast with his lips. Sucking the nipple into his mouth, he lightly bit down, swirling the taut peak with his tongue.

She whimpered above him, riding his cock in earnest now, grinding her cunt up and down his length. Releasing her nipple, he grabbed her by the hair, forcing her to look in to his eyes. His other hand forced her hands behind her back, gripping them by the wrist. “Do you like that, my little slut?”

“Oh, Merlin, God, yes!” she hissed.

“You like the feel of my hard cock in your cunt?”

“Fuck yes!” she moaned, her hips rolling up and down his length.

“Do you want to cum?”

“Yes! Yes please!” She whispered, “Please, Professor Snape, I want to cum.”

“Then cum, my little whore. Cum like the slut you are.”

“Shrieking, she spasmed around him, Her entire body contracting with the force of her orgasm. He held her hips in place, pumping his cock in and out of her dripping pussy, shouting as he came deep inside of her…

He awoke abruptly, the piercing ringing from his old fashioned alarm clock pounding into his skull. Severus rubbed his face with his hands, groggy from sleep. Shutting off the alarm, he became aware of a familiar, uncomfortable sticky sensation coming from his sheets. A vague feeling of guilt flooded his body. He had just fantasized about fucking a student. Then again...did it count if the young woman was simply a memory of a role play?. The mysterious "Alice" had asked for that scenario and...

“Shit,” he growled, tossing his soiled bedclothes aside. “I haven't got time for a bloody existential crisis in the morning.…”

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A/N: Sorry for the long hiatus. It's been far too long, I know! But enjoy the update! We'll see if I'll be writing more this semester...
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Vexations