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H.G.'s Guide to Workplace Harassment	By : dezzu Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Snape/Hermione Views: 8404 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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H.G.’s Guide to Workplace Harassment
On-Premise Execution: Common Mistakes & Blunders
If an experiment cannot be conducted in a remote fashion, meaning that you must perform the task of installing equipment or gathering information within the personal space of your subject yourself, heed the following carefully.
It is highly likely that you will be caught in the course of the act.
It is highly likely that you will leave behind evidence that will mark you as the perpetrator, intruder, or some such assigned role in whatever outcome results from your intrusion.
It is highly likely that once confronted with your subject's professional or personal belongings, you will not stick solely to your objectives.
You will be tempted to spend more time within their space than is necessary. You will be tempted to take something belonging to the subject with you, for whatever reasons or purposes your mind will seek to justify them with. For example, you will convince yourself that you absolutely must take your subject's possession because seeing it inspired an idea for a new experiment.
Never underestimate the human instinct to attempt to gather everything of value around us—especially items that we can gather freely, in the moment.
There is nothing that you can take from your subject that will be useful in any way for your experiments. In stealing from your subject, you will, without a doubt, most certainly increase the likelihood that you will be exposed.
Lastly, items that you take from your subject will create a heavy emotional weight for you as a researcher. You will feel guilt, and that guilt will only draw those objects that you stole closer to you. They will become impossible to part with.
If you cannot procure the materials necessary to implement your plans, or cannot introduce experiments into the subject's environment through indirect means, then you should not conduct those experiments.

***

Upon returning to his quarters, he'd immediately put them into a box in one of his desk drawers...but less than twenty minutes later, and after much impatient fidgeting, they were all out on display, spread over the desk's surface like some kind of weird menagerie.
The variety in shapes and sizes, and the sheer number of them, seemed to invoke an inordinate amount of curiosity in him, and he couldn't stop touching them, studying them.
If he lined them up end-to-end, they created a kind of cock yardstick across his desk.
The smallest one, tapered at one end and shaped like a squat, thick kind of wand, had a button on the bottom that triggered different types of vibrations depending on the number of times you pressed it.
The others were relatively similar; smooth surfaces, but with varying thicknesses, lengths, and means of triggering their functions. One was curved slightly, while the others were completely straight. When they were all turned on at once, they jiggled and sputtered around the desktop, like a horde of half-drowned hornets.
He had no clue what to do with even one of them, let alone the whole lot. But he didn't regret taking them.
And a huge reason why is because he knew where they'd been. What they'd seen.
Until he had the pleasure of dealing with whatever she had planned next, they would provide his imagination with hours of stimulation—imagining scenarios in which she'd pick a particular one, or use several at once. Of course, he'd be assisting in all of these scenarios.
It was unfortunate that he couldn't just leave them out. He'd learned a long time ago that emergencies can happen, and people can drop by at any time. His little collection would have to stay hidden, though he could at least keep one of them in his pocket while he was in his quarters. And, perhaps, it could remain there as he made his nightly rounds.
With that happy thought, he delivered the smallest of the six into a pocket of his frock coat, patting it softly. It felt good there, like he was carrying some tiny part of her with him.
The invisibility cloak, though...
The scent emanating from the fabric was nothing short of intoxicating. Every time he brought a fistful of the delicate material to his nose, the notes had shifted, mutated into something more complex, or seemingly reduced to a much simpler base, though he couldn't name it to save his life. Its fluid nature confused and intrigued what he considered to be the best of his senses.
When he eventually did slip into his bed, the cloak remained near, in the highly likely event he needed to examine it again.

***

She probably looked as bad as she felt after staying up all night writing at her tiny desk. After a very contentious battle between her pussy and fingers in the middle of her bed, she'd surprisingly been too wired to get any rest.
In particular, the response to his writing sample absolutely had to be extracted from her mind. She'd felt nearly—well, completely—manic in her need to craft a response before morning, perhaps even before she'd come up with the best possible version. Alternative responses still rattled around inside her skull, as if to taunt the original, which was spread across several sheets of parchment on her desk.
She slumped in her chair, an inversion of the hunched posture she'd maintained all night long.
The sun should be about to rise somewhere.
It was after nights like these that she truly felt the small size of her room. At times, it felt like she might as well be residing in a vault at Gringotts; without light filtering through windows, without glimpses and sounds of other human activity, she felt anything but content. She wasn't exactly thrilled that this was to be her living space moving forward, or at least for the school term.
And last night, he had been in it, touching her things. Seeing all of it.
Taking what he wanted.
She let her head fall back, eyes closed with both physical and emotional exhaustion.
First things first, Miss Granger.
She stood for far too long under her shower head, nearly falling asleep on her feet under the soothing warmth of the water. Her stomach was protesting strongly by this point, pulling her back into her room like an invisible rope. Her throat was parched, and nothing sounded better at that moment than tea, breakfast, and the quiet oblivion of sleep.
As she waited for a house elf to deliver her food, she packaged up the pages, stifling yawns every few minutes. She ate her breakfast in a daze, unable to summon any more adrenaline or brain power to sift through the tumultuous thoughts that she'd been trying to avoid by throwing herself into a manic writing-frenzy. She gratefully slid under the heavy covers of her bed, limbs feeling creaky and heavy, and extinguished the lights.

***

He woke up nearly an hour before breakfast arrived, feeling incredibly well-rested and content, and was able to get through his morning exercise routine without incident.
And breakfast itself this morning was rather intriguing. It came with an accessory—a thick, unmarked envelope. He propped it up against a glass of water, dark eyes fixed on it as he ate.
The benign-looking square of creamy parchment had certainly made its way into his quarters rather easily, and without ceremony. House elves provided a particularly simple way to move objects and information about; no sneaking around or removal of wards required.
As he finished his coffee, he tried to mentally prepare himself for what might lie within the confines of the envelope. Would it ruin what was turning out to be a decent day, or make it just as strange and intriguing as the one before it?
Last night's intrusion into her room had given him a thrill he hadn't experienced in years. His only regret was that he'd talked himself out of using her invisibility cloak to remain there and see her reaction to what he'd done.
Unlike some actions he'd undertaken in the distant past, his brief foray into her lair hadn't left him on edge, fearful of the consequences or of retribution. She had not been subtle in her initiation of this odd...thing...between them, and he selfishly took a little piece of comfort in it.
Grasping the corner of the heavy envelope with his examination tweezers, he brought it over to his desk, where he'd already assembled a small scene with some of her toys before he'd jumped into the shower. A few of them were attempting to penetrate a rather large ball of soft moss; one had been more successful than its brethren, with only a portion of the end of its bright pink shaft visible, creating a nice contrast against the dark green of the moss.
His resolve to keep them hidden seemed to have evaporated as dawn had broken over Hogwarts.
The flap of the envelope was sealed with a bit of dark red wax, stamped with a delicate H.G. in the middle. Inside were several folded sheets of good-quality parchment, covered in her distinctly elegant handwriting.

***

She'd turned her head to gaze back at him over her shoulder, hands and arms obediently braced against the thick trunk of the tree. Her hips were swaying slightly in barely-contained excitement, her creamy backside pale and trembling before him.
A kind of growl erupted from his throat as his fingers jammed between the buttons of the front placket of his trousers, gripping and tearing it open. She moaned as his magnificent cock was finally freed; thick, pale and rigid in the moonlight as his fist closed around it.
"Please....please." Her huskily-whispered plea drew his wild eyes to her face, taking in her hooded gaze and parted lips. He grinned at her then, and gave his cock a firm stroke.
His woman wanted him, and he would deny her no longer. His need to fuck her was raw, and every nerve ending and drop of blood within every vein in his body felt active, stinging and pulsing him into acting on his most base instincts.
The potion they'd brewed for their clients carried strict precautions for how it was to be administered. When administered properly, sexual gratification could be easily, and repeatedly, achieved over the course of a few hours, with no loss of self-control.
Administered during exposure to moonlight, and in a large enough dose, it could lead to uncontrollable sexual brutality.
The few drops that she'd dribbled down his collar were enough to revert him to a nearly feral, animalistic state—he'd be rough and insatiable in his taking of her.
She moaned loudly as he pressed the hot head of his cock to her slit, jostling her tender flesh as he roughly probed her, seeking out her entrance. Warm, slick wetness daubed his tightly-drawn skin as he finally reached his goal. With a deep grunt, he embedded himself to the hilt in a single, sharp stroke, her cheeks jiggling nicely within his hands as he held her in place.
The air seemed to escape her lungs in a high, keening rush as he seated himself within her, and then his name spilt in a needy cry from her lips. It was like a whip cracking behind him, driving him to thrust again, and again—like he could somehow cause their bodies to fuse with enough friction between his rigid cock and her silky walls.
With steadily increasing speed, he offered up his shaft to her deep, clutching heat, dipping his hips down and lifting her ass slightly with his hands so that she was nearly bouncing on his dick. Her muscles gripped and pulled him like a wet, velvet-covered fist, soft cries continuously erupting from her lips and further fueling his zealous thrusts.
Their bodies meeting wrought a symphony of sounds from flesh, and from throats. He was grunting with effort and extreme pleasure in taking the woman before him; her strangled cries, from the thrusts that were so expertly hitting every corner and crevice of her clutching channel, were being forced through clenched teeth. Within minutes, she had his cock in a stranglehold, her body shuddering and jerking as she came around him with a harsh shout.
As she bucked wildly in his hands, he felt his own release coming on swiftly to meet with hers, his balls drawn up tight. Despite her tight channel trying to milk him, tempting him to remain embedded as deeply as possible while he emptied his load, he gripped her hips as he swiftly extracted his cock. The contrast from her intense heat and the slight chill of the night air made his hips jerk, and he quickly released one of her hips to grip his shaft in his fist.
Aligning himself just over the cleft in her cheeks, he pumped his turgid length so hard that he rocked on his heels and nearly fell into her. Seeing stars just before his vision went completely white, he grunted as he shot stream after stream of thick, white cum over her exposed flesh.
Panting harshly, and anything but spent, he gazed down with satisfaction at the marks he'd made on her with his release. The blush that had taken over her sensitive flesh from slapping against his own, and the bruising grip of his fingers, causing lines of red to bloom across her cheeks, were exquisite.
He had no intention of stopping until her entire body was covered in evidence of his ownership over her.

***

He broke his eyes away from the page, swallowing hard. The obvious evidence of his enjoyment at her description of the characters' rather rigorous coupling tore him in one direction, while his mind was reeling at how easily—how seamlessly—she'd managed to grab ahold of his idea, and run with it.
He needed a break.
With a deep sigh, and a passing over of now-tired eyes with a sweating palm, he stood, resolving to ignore the very awake serpent in his pants. Denying himself release now would probably make whatever he did later that much more prolonged and intense, anyway.
With a huff, he shuffled the pages away into his desk drawer, along with the vast majority of her toys.
He'd scheduled time before lunch to do a final check over the stores within the potions supply closet, ensuring that he had enough ingredients for the first few weeks of the new term. Whatever he was lacking, he'd have plenty of time to get within the remaining days before the students arrived.
Ensuring that he had everything he needed in his coat pockets, and that he appeared suitably flat around the groin area, he exited his lair, and made for the supply closet a few corridors away.

***

She awoke when lunch arrived, the tray being set with a soft thunk on her desk by a different house elf than the one that had brought her breakfast that morning.
"Umm...Miss."
The elf looked nervous, casting his ears and eyes down at the swirling, vague pattern of the rug between her bed and the rest of the room.
"P-Professor...P-Professor S-S-Snape be wanting you to come to the p-p-potions supply room, Miss," he stammered, and her eyebrows flew upward in surprise.
"Thank you kindly, and don't worry." She smiled softly, hoping to diffuse whatever shyness or terror the small creature might have been feeling. But, he hadn't looked up to see her smile. With a blink, he was gone.
She sat on her bed for a few moments, worrying her lip between her teeth.
Apparently, he'd found the mess she'd left him.

A/N: Thank you for reading this far! Hope you're enjoying the story so far.
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H.G.'s Guide to Workplace Harassment