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The Speed of Thought	By : yeiko87 Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Snape/Hermione Views: 52541 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 6
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor do I make any money from the perverse writings depicted here. It is only for my sick, sick amusement xD

Chapter List
- 8
- 9
- 10
After being edged by her Professor 40 times in-a-row, Hermione was so thoroughly exhausted by the time she returned to her dorms that night, that she couldn't have mustered up the energy to try to bring herself to an orgasm---which would have been directly against the contract she had just signed, anyway---even if she had been absolutely dead-set on doing so....but oh, if she had had the energy, she knew she would have had her hand back between her legs, furiously working, as soon as she had gotten back into her dorm and locked the door. As it was, however, she was completely worn out, and simply crawled into bed, her heart racing, butterflies still fluttering about in her stomach, and an ache between her thighs, and tried to go to sleep.

-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -

After a night of fitful sleep, filled with sexually-charged dreams,Hermione awoke at 7AM---her usual wake-up time---and looked down to see her own hand quite deliberately stuffed down her pants. She blushed and gave a little start, quickly yanking her hand out. She continued to stare down at them, however, and noticed a little damp patch where her arousal had soaked through the crotch as she'd slept. Blushing even more, she sat there dumbly for a few seconds, before she gathered her resolve and quickly jumped out of bed, determined to overcome her frustration by sheer willpower alone. Stomping over to the shower, she turned the cold water on, full blast, and forced herself to stifle the "EEP!!!" that immediately leapt forth...

After a long day of frustrated and awkward moments with friends, repeated castings of a drying spell--- to try to keep her knickers less obviously wet---and a lot of dodging while distinctly trying to avoid Ron, the clock finally hit 7:45pm. Filled with trepidation, as well as a good amount of anticipation, Hermione checked her appearance in the mirror of the Head Girl's room, and then left for the dungeons.

As could be expected from her, she arrived for her detention promptly at 8:00 that night. Standing outside the door, Hermione hesitated for a moment, smoothing down her skirt nervously. She felt the strip of fabric between her legs beginning to grow slightly damp again, and with a wave of embarrassment, she swept her wand over her pelvis quickly, uttering a drying spell. She took a deep breath to try to calm the butterflies in her stomach, swallowed, and then reached out for the doorknob to Snape's classroom...

Closing the door behind her as she entered the room timidly, she looked up at his desk, only to find that he wasn't there. She cast her gaze about the room, searching for him, before cautiously calling out to him.

"P-Professor? I...I'm here for my detention, Sir..."

He responded to her call, and directed her to come to his office; the door was open.

She entered the room and found him sitting at his desk, concentrating on furiously grading a pile of parchments before him, one-by-one. He paused to instruct her to close the door, and then take a seat in the chair situated in front of his desk.

She did so, and then sat silently as she watched him grade his papers. She winced slightly as he hissed and drew two sharp lines diagonally across 3 full paragraphs in one student's parchment.

"Disgraceful," he spat, as he scribbled down a bit of undoubtedly harsh criticism for the writer of the apparently atrocious essay to read. "WHY does no one seem to care enough about the information that they are storing in their heads enough to double-check the facts------or, perhaps, to even READ THE CHAPTERS which they have been assigned??" He quickly scratched a comment onto the sheet of parchment, and then, seeming to change his mind, waved a hand over the script, and simply vanished it from the paper. He began muttering to himself as he looked upon the atrocity on his desk.

"I would try to help to guide you in the right direction, Abel, but I am quite certain that it would not help, since you managed not only to switch the topic of this paper three times throughout the course of this essay---each time skillfully evading the actual assigned topic---but you also succeeded in burning a hole through the bottom of your parchment, directly in the center of your conclusory paragraph..."

He shook his head, clearly utterly disgusted and bewildered, and put his quill back to the paper. He then began scribbling again, muttering to himself again as he wrote. Hermione was only able to catch bits and pieces of it, but they painted a pretty clear picture of what he was trying to say.

"After such ... incredible display ... academic prowess ... magical and non-magical subjects alike, ... suggest ... consider other pursuits, such as ... or perhaps simply breaking rocks with your face. Then, at least, ... contributing ... betterment of the world."

Hermione was shocked by her Professor's brutality, but simultaneously, she couldn't stop herself from laughing a little bit. She understood his frustration---or, at least, a bit of it. She couldn't imagine having to grade the inevitably atrocious sea of parchments he received from his students every week, day in and day out. She shuddered at the thought.

She looked up from her revere to meet his gaze. He raised one eyebrow sharply at her, but held the faintest shadow of a genuinely amused smirk on his lips. She blushed at the directness of his gaze, and broke eye contact after a few moments, looking down at her lap to fiddle with the hem of her skirt nervously.

"Sorry, Sir. I meant no disrespect....I just...understand some of your frustration..."

He remained silent, continuing to stare at her with his eyebrow cocked. She continued to talk into her skirt.

"I mean, rather than asking ME to write their papers for them all of the time, why can't they just get off of their bloody BROOMSTICKS for a few minutes and read the chapters themselves??!" she said with an exasperated snort, and then froze, realizing that her behavior was probably extremely inappropriate.

"P-Please, pardon my language, Sir....I chose my words poorly...I just...get...frustrated sometimes..." she trailed off and swallowed, before simply resuming her nervous fiddling with her skirt. She silently stared down at her hands pointedly, blushing brightly.

"Perfectly understandable, Miss Granger," Snape began, after letting her squirm for a few more seconds. "Your frustration is excused..." He paused momentarily, returning his gaze to his desk, to pick up the paper he'd just finished writing on, and place it atop the pile of graded papers to his right.

Hermione let out a small breath of relief she hadn't realized she was holding.

"But, of course, your use of foul language will have to be addressed," he finished, as he waved his wand over his desk. Each of the two stacks of paper, along with his quill and inkwell, and any other articles on his desk, rose up and slowly slid further apart, all the way to the edges of his desk, before gently coming back down to rest upon his desk once more---thus leaving a large, completely cleared space between them on his desk.

"Sit" he ordered, gesturing to the newly-cleared space on the desk in front of him.

Hermione balked, hesitating to move from her chair.

"....Sir??"

He gave a frustrated look, and gestured again, speaking slowly and pointedly patting the spot on his desk, as though he thought she were stupid.

"Sit...Miss Granger...Here."

She blushed again and rose from her seat. She awkwardly stepped closer to his desk, a bit unsure of how to go about climbing atop it. Deciding that it was best to get up on her side, rather than walking around and getting up on his side, she raised up her right knee and placed her right foot on the desk, unintentionally flashing him her white cotton panties from under her skirt, before she pushed herself up with her right leg, and then lifted her left to join it up on the desk. She crouched there hesitantly for a moment, a bit apprehensive of the goal of his directive to sit directly in front of him, before she forced herself to scoot closer to him.

She scooted towards him until she reached the place on his desk where he had gestured, and nervously knelt down. She bent her knees, tucking her feet under herself, and sat on them. Her breathing slightly accelerated, she tried to force it to slow, and breathed through her nose, while purposefully looking forward and down, avoiding his gaze. She quickly began fidgeting with her socks as she stared at the buttons going down his torso.

He cleared his throat to get her attention, and she looked up to meet his gaze, her heart racing.

"I didn't say to kneel, Miss Granger; I said... to *sit*."

As he said the last two words he raised up his right hand, fingers together, hand straight and vertical, palm held forward towards her. He tipped his hand forward, as though pushing an invisible button down, and Hermione felt her own body mimic his hand's movements. Her whole body tilted back like it was on a hinge attached to his desk. As she tilted back, Snape twisted his hand 180 degrees vertically, palm now facing up, and simultaneously took his ring and pinky fingers, and bent them in one fluid movement, curling them about to point parallel to his wrist, with the tips facing him.

As he whipped his ring and pinky fingers down and away from her, towards himself, her legs shot out from under her, causing her torso to fall back against the desk below her. Her feet remained in the air, pointed towards him, her knees bent at a 90 degree angle.

"Then again, he mused, partially just to himself, as he curled his ring and pinky fingers further, to stop a mere instant away from pressing the tips against his palm, "this position could work quite nicely too..." As he brought the two fingertips to hover just barely off of his palm, her heels came down to rest a few inches above the surface of his desk, leaving her bent knees sticking up and slightly back, and her back flat against the desk. He whispered some incantation, and then brought up his left hand beside and in front of his right, palm flat and facing away from him.

He rotated his left hand 180 degrees, bent all of the fingers 90 degrees, and then pulled the whole hand towards himself. Hermione gave a little 'eep!' as she felt her whole body, save for her feet, scoot forward, closer to the edge of the desk. As she was magically pushed into that position, her flower spread beneath her cotton panties, and she felt a rush of moisture begin to soak into the cloth again. A pink blush rose up across her entire face, as she thought about the fact that, with this position, if he didn't let her put her legs down soon, her professor would inevitably notice her arousal again. She started to try to push her legs down over the edge of his desk, only to be startled when she received a sharp strike to each thigh with his wand.

"Did I tell you that you could move??" He said reproachfully. Heart racing even faster, Hermione shook her head 'no', and stopped trying to move her legs. More moisture gathered between her legs, immediately being absorbed by the dampening cotton fabric. She began breathing a bit more quickly, growing ever-more nervous, but simultaneously excited.

Using the tip of his wand, he flipped her skirt up completely, revealing her white cotton panties underneath. She pressed her knees together, trying in vain to cover up the slowly developing little darkened patch in her panties where her arousal had just started to completely soak through the fabric for the third time that day.

He tutted at her, and waved his hands absently, magically forcing her knees to fall to either side, fully exposing her cotton-covered core, and the small wet patch that was becoming slightly more visible every minute. He frowned and stared silently for a few seconds, before reaching down and softly playing along the edges of her panties, to either side of her pussy. He ran his fingertips along the elastic edges, lifting them up very slightly just to continue to toy just under the border, but not within her panties, for what felt like an eternity.

She began to pant very softly, and lifted her hips to him subtly now and again, with increasing frequency as he absently played along her panty lines, trying to persuade him to push on further, past the elastic bands, and under her panties, onto the pink skin beneath...But, try as she may, he simply continued to toy, only occasionally ghosting his fingertips across the further dampening cloth, and over the growing bump of her clitoris as it began to gently swell.

"P...Professor?------" she began, but was cut off by him asking her something about spells...

"I'm sorry Sir?" she said, distinctly distracted.

"I said," he repeated, dragging the question out, as he began to very lightly trace ghosting little circles across the slowly growing nub raising up in her knickers as it swelled, and began to get full of blood.

"..have you been using..."

She breathed faster, taking shallow breaths as he teased her mercilessly, effortlessly avoiding increasing his pressure no matter how enthusiastically she tried to dry hump up towards his hands.

"...any drying charms or drying spells lately?"

He continued to tease her clit, not stopping as he repeated the question, and she felt a deep ache beginning to grow within it. She tried to reach up and force his hand down against her clit, but before she could get either hand more than 3 inches above the tabletop, he had already quickly flourished his own wrists and conjured up restraints about each of her limbs.

Suddenly, she registered what it was that he was asking, and even in her aroused haze, she blushed a bright pink.

"Oh, I, um-----ooooh" she gave a little whimper as he once again skirted his fingernails across the fabric covering her softly aching clit. "I, uh, I mean, yes. Yes, I used a drying spell twice today."

"Hm. Did you use it on these?" he said, and slowly dragged the pads of his fingers down the middle panel of fabric on her panties, spreading his fingers to go around her clit, instead of touching it, and bringing them back together again directly below it..against her entrance, and at the center of the wet patch in her panties.

Hermione blushed yet again, but was starting to not care as much about her embarrassment. More and more, her focus was shifting to the maddening way in which he was touching her---or, rather, the maddening way in which he would NoT touch her enough. He pressed two fingertips firmly against the fabric covering her entrance, and she gave another, slightly louder, breathy whimper. He took the fingertips of his free hand and worked them just barely under the fabric to either side of her clit. Once he had situated the placement of his fingertips, he spread her outer labia from under her underwear.

She whimpered again, wordlessly begging him to please touch her, and rolled her hips up fruitlessly several times. He laughed softly, and held his fingers there while he reached under his desk with his other hand. He brought his hand back up just a moment later, now holding a small jar of some potion Hermione did not know. He placed the jar on top of the desk beside her, and gestured over it, magically opening it, before he reached into the jar and dipped four fingers into the substance. He held the fingers static, waiting for her answer.

"Well?" he said expectantly, staring at her.

She blushed, embarrassed again, and confirmed that she'd used the drying spells on her knickers.

He laughed softly again, tutting, and then lifted up the hand with the potion on it. He applied the potion on his ring and pinky fingers to her knickers, completely covering the crotch. It felt, for just the briefest moment, like the fabric of her underwear was vibrating, and she tipped her head back and gasped at the sensation of it against her clit. He then took the two fingers that had been holding her outer labia spread, and used them to lift up the fabric of her kickers, away from her skin. He slipped his other hand below the fabric then, and slathered the potion remaining on his index and middle finger, all over her clit. He waited for a moment or two for it to soak into her skin, and then he released the fabric of her underwear.

"You are not to use any drying spells or charms, or any other kind of anti-wetness spells or charms, for the remaining duration of your punishment.

By now, the potion had been fully absorbed by all surfaces it had been applied to, and thus the surfaces were as dry as they had been before. She went a little pale at his proclamation, and immediately tried to sit up to argue with him. She couldn't, of course, because of restraints holding each of her limbs down against the desk, and so instead of defiantly rising up and giving him a piece of her mind, she merely jerked up and fell back down with a loud grunt.

"If you so much as try to blot any moisture from your knickers with a tissue, there will be a swift and immediate reaction, caused by the potion which I just applied to you and the fabric. Every night, upon arriving for your detention, you will remove your knickers and present them to me. I will examine them, see if they are as wet as they should be, and then i will 'scourgify' them. I will also re-apply the potion to your skin and the newly-cleaned fabric, and you will have them returned to you at the conclusion of each session. Every day, you are to shower and put the same pair, which will then be clean, back on."

He gave her a few moments to take in the information, while he began ghosting his nails over the fabric covering her clit again. Her clit, by now, was completely full of blood, and thus had grow slightly firm to the touch. Still very small, it stood proudly at attention, sticking out from her mons. He felt how firm it was growing, and flicked it lightly with his nail. She gasped and writhed in her restraints.

"Am I understood?" he finished, flicking across her clit again and again with his nail. She gasped and whimpered and writhed for several moments before finally crying out, "Yes!"

"Yes? Yes, what?" he teased, placing one hand directly above her clit, and slowly pulling back her hood.

"ooOOH---Yes, Sir! Yes, Sir, I understand!" she gasped, rolling her hips up towards his hands again and again and again.

"Good girl," he said, and removed his fingers from her entirely.

She immediately began struggling in earnest, and making small noises of protest.

"Oh, don't worry." came his response, "We're not finished here. We still have another hour to go before your detention is over..."
- 8
- 9
- 10
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The Speed of Thought