Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

The Passion of Hermione Granger	By : Dazzlious Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Snape/Hermione Views: 33200 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from J K Rowling's fantastic books or films, I'm just borrowing and playing with them for a little while and get no monetary reward for doing so.

Chapter List
- 1-Chapter 1
- 2-Chapter 2
- 1
- 2
A/N: Thank you as always to the lovely Mamacita for her betaing skills.
So this began life as a short one-shot about Hermione’s passion for a certain snarky Potions Master and, as with everything I seem to write, it grew and before I knew it there was smut . . . lots of smut. Enjoy. Dx

Hermione looked around slyly to make sure no one was watching her before she slipped out of the Library. It was vitally important that she wasn’t seen. There was no way she could explain to Ron and Harry where she had been if they found out she wasn’t studying as she had told them she was — as she had told them she had been every night for the last twelve weeks.
Moving rapidly, she arrived at the place she needed to be and looked around again, checking the corridor. It was empty. She hurriedly pressed the nose of a statue of a wizard she vaguely remembered had something to with the Goblin Wars and waited as a small panel opened up behind it. She looked around again, one final check to ensure that she was definitely alone, and then slid behind the statue and into the small tunnel.
Harry’s Marauder’s Map had turned out to be very useful. Whilst he and Ron contented themselves with watching what Malfoy and Snape were doing and checking out possible escape routes from the school, Hermione, too, had been checking out Snape’s movements . . . and the secret passages around his area of the castle.
‘Lumos,’ she whispered, and her wand gave a faint light, just enough to see by.
Hermione looked at her watch and swore softly. She needed to move or she would miss the beginning. She speeded up, not running as that would make too much noise and she didn’t want to get caught, but walking in a brisk and efficient manner. A couple of minutes later she arrived at her destination. She tapped the wall with her wand and an opening was revealed. She took a moment to inspect the room to ensure that no one was inside, and whilst doing so she checked the wards she had set on the place. None of them had been broken. It was clear the room had lain undisturbed since the last time she had visited. She stepped through the opening and glanced again at her watch. She was just about in time. She closed the panel and looked around.
Smiling to herself, she quickly Transfigured, as she had done so many times before, a rather mouldering chair that had seen better days into a comfortable, sheet-covered mattress. Once it was in position she dumped her bag on it and looked around the room. She spotted the grate in the wall and quietly whispered an enlargement spell followed by a silencing charm on the room.
A moment later a voice could be heard coming from the now enlarged grate — cold and imperious, yet rich like dark molten chocolate. A delicious shiver running up and down her spine at the sound of the voice, Hermione cast a final spell to remove her clothes. She lay down on the mattress and opened her bag. The item she needed was nestled right at the very bottom. Pulling the innocuous-looking thing from the bag, she listened to the voice as she removed the Transfiguration charm on it.
‘And therefore . . . ah! So good of you to join us, Mr Wickford. What a shame you couldn’t have been on time like the rest of your friends. You and I will be spending a few more evenings in each other’s company, as distasteful as that notion is . . . .’
Hermione ran her fingers over her nipples. They were already hard from a mixture of the chilly room and her arousal. Her heart skipped a beat at the news that Mr Wickford, whoever he was, was going to be in detention for a few more days. Her fear was always that there would be an evening with no detentions, although admittedly it was a slim chance where Snape was concerned. She gave a small moan as her fingers tweaked first her left nipple and then her right, pinching the stiffened buds hard as her other hand snaked down her body towards her wet core.
‘Talk to me,’ she whispered as her fingers slid between her soft folds, finding the wetness already there. She spread it over her already swollen lips, her finger rubbing gently at her clit.
‘Tonight you will all be cleaning cauldrons . . . without the use of gloves.’ There was a pause. ‘Needless to say, magic will not be necessary,’ the sarcastic voice continued.
Hermione sighed. Her eyes closed and she listened to the deeply sarcastic voice as it continued to give instructions to the hapless detainees. She reached beside her and found the item she had Transfigured; she rubbed it against her pussy, giving small moans of pleasure as her back arched slightly off the mattress.
Snape was in full flow now, clearly delighting in the students’ misery as they prepared to do his bidding. With a moan of pleasure Hermione slid the large vibrator deep inside her tight pussy, enjoying the feeling of being filled. Her mind was rampant with images as she slid the toy in and out.
‘Please talk,’ she moaned again as she writhed on the toy. She turned the vibrator on and it buzzed into life inside her. She let out a small whimper.
‘There will be no need for you to talk. If I have to remind you of that, please let me assure you that you will be joining Mr Wickford in his week of detentions,’ Snape’s voice said, sounding somewhat smug.
Hermione plunged the vibrator inside her again and again, moaning with pleasure as it brought her closer and closer to orgasm.
‘What do you think you are doing?’ Snape’s voice, cold and dark now, suddenly asked loudly.
Hermione squealed and bucked against the toy buried deep inside her; she was cumming.
‘I don’t care what you think, Mr Nevis. I told you: NO gloves.’
Hermione’s cries, stifled by the silencing charm she had placed on the room, were long and loud as she came hard. She pulled the toy from her, noting the opalescent liquid that now coated it and the small trickle of fluid from her pussy.
'You, too, will be seeing me tomorrow, Mr Nevis,’ Snape’s voice continued triumphantly. Hermione could imagine the cold, glittering eyes of the Potions Master as he condemned the hapless boy to yet another evening of torture.
‘Thank you,’ Hermione whispered sincerely.
She used her wand to clean herself and her toy, re-Transfigured the vibrator back into a hairbrush, and placed it back into her bag. A few minutes later she was dressed and had returned the room to its original state. She picked up her bag and looked once more at the grate.
‘For those of you I will be seeing tomorrow night, don’t be late!’ Snape’s dark voice reminded coldly.
‘I won’t,’ Hermione promised as she reduced the size of the grille. Then she tapped the painting that covered the door to the passageway.

‘Are you all right, Hermione?’ Ron asked, looking anxious.
Hermione shrugged. Her friends had bombarded her with attention as soon as she walked through the portrait door to the common room.
‘Of course, why wouldn’t I be?’
‘Where have you been?’ Harry asked. He, too, looked worried.
‘In the Library. I told you where I was going earlier.’ Hermione’s voice was a little prickly at the interrogation.
‘No, you weren’t,’ Ron said accusingly. ‘We looked for you in there and couldn’t find you anywhere.’
Hermione thought quickly, surprised that her friends had come looking for her. She looked imperiously at the two boys.
‘Did you check the Restricted section?’ she asked, praying that they hadn’t managed to get in there.
Harry shook his head.
‘What would you have been doing in the Restricted section?’ Ron asked suspiciously.
‘I’ve been doing extra Potions work,’ Hermione said, as if it was obvious. ‘I’ve been going over the theory of those potions in that book we found the Polyjuice potion recipe in, ‘Ye Most Potente Potions’ — but you know I can’t get it out of the Library, Snape would never give me permission in a million years, so I was reading it in the Restricted section. It’s a really fascinating book actually, although I will admit it’s pretty gross in some places. I can’t believe some of those potions are for real. I’m sorry, I must have been so engrossed that I missed you when you came in, and I wasn’t looking out for you as I didn’t expect you to come looking for me.’ She looked contrite.
Ron rolled his eyes. ‘Bloody typical! I should have known you were buried in a book!’
‘Am I forgiven?’ Hermione asked.
The boys nodded, unable to stay annoyed with her for long.
‘What did you want me for, anyway?’ Hermione asked curiously. Normally they didn’t bother to look for her if she was going to the Library. If they weren’t practising or talking about Quidditch, they usually played chess.
'Oh, nothing much,’ Harry said with a slight sigh. ‘We finished our game pretty quickly and were a bit bored and thought we’d go to see Hagrid and try to avoid one of his rock cakes.’ They all grinned at the thought of Hagrid’s dreadful cooking skills. ‘We thought we’d see if you wanted to go with us. After all, you’ve been in that Library every night for months and haven’t seen Hagrid for ages.’
‘He misses you, Hermione,’ Ron added.
Hermione felt a quick pang of guilt. Hagrid had been a good friend to her over the years. On the odd occasions when she had argued with Ron and Harry she had gone to see the hairy half-giant, who without fail had managed to cheer her up. It had been he who had convinced her that she should stay at Hogwarts rather than give up magic and return back to the Muggle world, as she had considered doing on several occasions when things seemed too difficult. Hagrid was the one who had finally made her believe she was a good witch and just as worthy of being at Hogwarts as people like Draco Malfoy. But she hadn’t been to see him for ages, not since . . . .
‘I’m sorry,’ she said, looking rueful. ‘Perhaps we can go and see him tomorrow evening?’
She was sure she could miss one evening with Snape . . . couldn’t she?
‘He’s busy tomorrow. He’s going to Diagon Alley on some business for Dumbledore,’ Harry said, shaking his head as he spoke.
Hermione tried to look disappointed, although she wasn’t sure how successful she was. She could feel her heart beating faster at the news that she wasn’t going to have to miss an evening with the snarky Potions Master.
‘Saturday afternoon,’ she announced. Harry and Ron looked at her. ‘It’s a Hogsmeade weekend. I don’t know about you, but I don’t really need to go there. We could go and spend the afternoon with Hagrid instead.’
Ron appeared to be about to say something, but Harry smiled.
‘That’s a brilliant idea Hermione. We’ll get to spend much longer with him on Saturday than we would in the evening, anyway. Saturday it is.’
‘Well, I’m tired,’ Hermione said. ‘I think I’ve got a touch of eye strain after all that reading. My eyes are sore. I’m off to have a bath and then go to bed. I’ll see you two in the morning. Sleep well.’
She turned and headed for the stairs to the girls’ dormitory, hearing her friends wish her good night behind her.

Hermione lay in bed thinking about Professor Snape.
She wasn’t exactly sure when her fascination for him had started as she had been slightly attracted to him for years, but for the last three months she had become a slave to her desires. Forsaking everything else, including homework and revision, she had spent almost every evening in the room above his classroom wanking herself stupid whilst listening to his deliciously dark yet often snide voice as he berated his detention pupils.
Hermione hadn’t meant to do it, but when she saw the secret passage and the room above his classroom on the Marauder’s map she just had to check it out. Finding that the room was unoccupied gave her a thrill. Finding the grate and realising that she could enlarge it to hear him more clearly was a bonus.
On the first few days she had slipped into the room she had used only her fingers, lying with her eyes closed and listening to her beloved Potions Master’s voice as she stroked herself to completion. But soon she needed more, and her imagination began to run riot as Snape’s words swept through her lust-soaked brain. In all honesty, she didn’t actually hear his words. The dark, rich velvetiness of his voice washed through her and her mind translated it into what she wanted to hear. He wasn’t talking to her of detentions and cauldron cleaning. To her he spoke of love and desire.
The vibrator was a godsend; soon she was using it every evening — imagining, of course, that it was snarky Snape penetrating her, not the silicone facsimile. She had bought the toy on a trip to London, ducking out of Diagon Alley for a while to take in the sights of the West End. She, Harry, and Ron had already broken school rules by going to London when they should have been in Hogsmeade, so they figured breaking this one wouldn’t do much extra damage. The boys, of course, wanted to visit Soho. Harry had told Ron about the place and Ron wanted to see it for himself. And so it was that the three of them ended up in a sex shop.
Hermione blushed wildly when they entered; the boys thought it was funny and they soon left her looking at the tawdry yet apparently sexy underwear while they went to explore, disappearing further into the cavernous, dimly lit shop as they headed towards the video section. Hermione didn’t want to go too far into the shop, especially not into the darkened room her friends had just entered.
She fingered some of the items of clothing that were on offer. They didn’t seem to be very well made and they were very expensive for the quality. Do men really like women to dress in this sort of thing? she wondered. Does Snape? She held up a pair of sheer, frilly nylon knickers that were edged with scratchy lace. They were scarlet and had a big slit in the crotch. She grimaced as she tried to imagine feeling sexy in those.
‘There’s a matching peephole bra, if you’re interested.’
She turned to look at a man with a bald head and a small goatee who was probably only a couple of years older than her. He was covered in tattoos and made no attempt to hide his perusal of her body, pointedly staring at her breasts and down between her legs. Hermione put the item back on the rack, blushing furiously.
‘No, thank you,’ she said more sharply than she had meant to, due to crippling embarrassment. ‘I’m just looking,’ she finished rather lamely.
The man nodded. ‘Well, if you want help trying them on . . . or want some suggestions . . . .’ He winked lewdly.
Hermione blushed again. ‘As I said, I’m just looking,’ she replied primly.
‘Shame,’ the man said with a smile and he turned away, returning to his place behind the counter.
Hermione did move further into the shop then, wanting to get away from his staring. Although she was embarrassed, part of her had actually felt quite aroused at the man’s words. She shook her head. Dear god, she really needed to get rid of her sexual frustration . . . but not with the shop assistant.
She hadn’t had proper sex since finishing with Viktor, and whilst she didn’t regret it ending — at the time, his physicality had been too intense for her — she couldn’t help wishing now that she still had access to him. After all, he was big and dark and brooding with a hook nose. A vision of Snape pushed Viktor away and her mind was taken up, instead, with her teacher and his cruel smile. She imagined him moving closer to her, his hand reaching out to caress her hair, the hair she was sure that in real life he would hate with a passion.
She started, suddenly realising where she was and understanding with still more embarrassment that she had come close to losing control. She had nearly disappeared into one of her erotic fantasies about Snape. That could have been really dangerous. She looked around to make sure no one had noticed; fortunately, they hadn’t. Harry and Ron were still off in some other part of the shop and the man behind the counter was busy watching a grainy porn film on a small television above the sales desk.
Hermione looked down at her hand. During her fantasy she had been handling the merchandise and she suddenly realised she was holding a vibrator. It wasn’t very large and was a strange colour. She put it back on the shelf and looked at the array of different toys on offer. There were big and small, thin and thick, in all different colours and shapes. Some looked like fruit and vegetables; there was even one in the shape of a duck. But her interest was drawn to the ones that looked real. And they really did look real. She reached out to touch one gingerly, then retracted her hand rapidly, amazed at the feel of it. It almost felt real, too.
She quickly looked around again, her cheeks burning with embarrassment. The man was still watching the film, clearly enjoying the action onscreen. Ron and Harry hadn’t returned. Hermione smiled wickedly as an idea suddenly flooded her brain. Did she dare? She looked again at the realistic-looking vibrators, then closed her eyes and ran her hands slowly over each one, imagining Professor Snape.
On and on she went until eventually she touched one that she imagined being of a similar size and girth to the Potions Master. She opened her eyes. It was a beautiful thing, and although she knew she would never truly have any idea what Snape’s tackle was like in reality, her imagination now linked this vibrator firmly to him. She thought about using it while he talked to her and a shiver of pleasure ran down her spine.
Hermione hesitated. Did she really have the guts to buy it? It would mean having to be served by the shop assistant, and he would know why she wanted it. He would be sure to comment, of that she was certain. She replaced the vibrator on the shelf and turned to walk away, but once again the image of Snape filled her brain. Before she could change her mind — or Ron and Harry came back — she grabbed the toy once more and headed off to the till. As anticipated, the man gave her a knowing look as she placed the vibrator on the counter.
‘Are you sure I can’t help you?’ he asked suggestively.
Hermione shook her head and smiled. ‘Unfortunately, I can’t take you back to my boarding school with me.’
The man laughed and winked as he said, ‘Sadly not, although I’d be happy to give you a little something to keep you going for a while.’
He put the toy in a bag and rang up the price on the till. Hermione paid the money and shoved the bag in her pocket — just in time, as Ron and Harry had returned to the room.
‘What have you bought?’ Harry asked interestedly.
Hermione shook her head. ‘Nothing much,’ she said tartly.
‘You got some of that underwear, didn’t you?’ Ron asked, his face going a little red as he spoke.
Hermione just looked at him.
‘I told her she should get the scarlet peephole bra and crotchless panties,’ the man behind the counter told the boys. ‘I think she’d look fantastic in them . . . mmmm, just think about that.’
He winked at Hermione and she smiled, blushing furiously. Ron shot the shop assistant a filthy look and grabbed Hermione’s hand.
‘Come on,’ he said angrily. ‘Let’s get out of here. This is not the sort of place for you, Hermione.’ He began to pull her towards the door.
Hermione was amused. Ron was jealous that the shop assistant had chatted her up. Funny how he hadn’t cared that it wasn’t the sort of place for her for the last half hour whilst he and Harry had been busy perving at the dirty videos in the back of the store.
‘Take care, Hermione,’ the man said, having heard Ron use her name. He smiled once more. ‘Don’t worry about your boyfriend. He’ll calm down eventually.’
Ron shot him another filthy look.
‘He’s not my boyfriend,’ Hermione stated. ‘They’re both just friends.’
The man nodded. ‘That would explain it, then.’ He smiled mysteriously.
Harry opened the door and Ron pulled Hermione harder toward it.
‘Nice to meet you,’ she told the man, and she winked at him as she left the shop.

Hermione sighed. She had considered Ron after she had split up with Viktor. After all, she had fancied him since probably the first time she had ever set eyes on him; but unfortunately he had never seemed to see her as anything other than a sister, a know-it-all pain-in-the-arse who he tolerated rather than loved. It was that rejection that had led her to Viktor in the first place, a young and inexperienced child who had been far too naïve to fully understand what a relationship with the much older Bulgarian Quidditch ace would entail.
It hadn’t taken long for her to realise that Viktor was physical, incredibly physical, and he had the strength of an ox. The first time he pinned her to the floor she laughed, thinking he was mucking around and that even as strong as he was, he would release her as soon as he realised she wasn’t enjoying it much. She was wrong. Viktor wanted her and he had no intention of letting her go. Her pleas that she wasn’t ready for a physical relationship had been largely ignored, although he hadn’t taken her on that occasion, finally realising that she was absolutely terrified of what he was doing to her.
But a few scant weeks later he made love to her, although she still felt no nearer to being ready for the experience. It had been painful for a short while, when he first penetrated her with his large, thick cock. He wasn’t a particularly gentle lover, even knowing she was a virgin, but over the few months she had spent with him Hermione had learned many things, one of which was that she enjoyed sex very much, especially rough sex.
After Viktor left she wondered if Ron might finally ask her out. He had been furious about her relationship and she hoped that meant jealousy — that would mean he cared for her after all. But instead, he took up with Lavender Brown, although part of Hermione was sure he had only done it to make her jealous.
The disgusting spectacle of Ron (or ‘Won Won’, as Lavender used to call him) in love was enough to turn her stomach and make her change her mind about her old flame completely. His behaviour, by turns cloying, romantic, and sickly, had quickly made her realise that he would never be a replacement for Viktor and she could never be happy in that sort of relationship. When he and Lavender had split and it was clear that he was finally interested in going out with her, Hermione considered it once more — after all, he was tall, well built, and sporty — but finally came to the conclusion that he really wasn’t what she wanted . . . or needed.
But who was?
Not Harry. Strangely, never once during all their years as friends had Hermione ever considered Harry as anything more than he was, her best friend. Obviously, she had been so in love with Ron she had never noticed Harry before, but even now when she was considering him she knew without even having to think it through that he wasn’t her type.
For a very short while she considered Draco Malfoy, mainly because he was such a mean bastard and was bound to like it rough, and he was quite a handsome boy. But with his attitude and beliefs, not to mention their mutual dislike of each other, there was no way they were ever going to get it on, even if he was the best fuck in the school — a rumour she had heard from several quarters over the years. It was for the same reason that she discarded the even briefer thoughts about Malfoy’s bodyguards, both of whom fitted the bill physically even though they were complete thugs and probably the stupidest people she had ever met in her life.
And then, one day, with a swish of black robes in a darkened dungeon classroom it finally dawned on her: Professor Snape was her ideal man.
It was probably the fact that he was completely unavailable that made the irascible Potions Master so attractive to her, at least in the beginning. He couldn’t be considered handsome by any stretch of the imagination, but that wasn’t really a consideration. Viktor hadn’t been all that handsome and yet he had been a magnificent lover. Snarky Snape had a voice to die for and that alone was enough to get her arousal going; once she considered his dark and brooding features and the fact that he probably wasn’t in any way into the schmaltzy romance that made her feel so queasy, his desirability increased tenfold.
At first he had simply been a means to an end; a rather enjoyable one to be sure, but a means all the same and not someone she seriously considered having real physical contact with. Just listening to his voice while she wanked was enough for her. But once she added the vibrator to the masturbation sessions, she remembered how much she enjoyed the feel of someone else inside her and began to consider seriously whether anything physical could ever happen between them. It was highly unlikely, she had finally concluded after several free periods when instead of doing her missed homework she sat in the Library thinking about the ill-tempered Potions Master and debating whether his moral compass was likely to slip, given the opportunity.
The problem was that Hermione was unwilling — or unable, she wasn’t entirely sure which — to proposition the teacher outright, and she knew she was no good at subtle flirting so would be unable to attract his attention that way, either. She very briefly considered detention as a way to get closer to the object of her desire, but that, too, was discarded without much serious thought. Apart from the fact that Snape’s detentions were far too well attended, due to the number of miscreants he punished on a daily basis, for her to be able to spend any time alone with him, being the type of man she knew him to be she honestly couldn’t see him choosing to forgo one of his usual unpleasant punishments in favour of hot and heavy sexual activity with her, however much she might fantasise about it. And then she would just be frustrated, knowing she could have been having a more useful session with the vibrator instead.
But even knowing she was never going to actually rub bodies with Snape didn’t stop the desire, nor did it stop the fantasies she had about him; those dark and delicious moments when she was able to allow the Potions Master to have an interest in all sorts of things she might not ever consider doing in real life but could happily imagine in the secrecy of that deserted classroom. As her mind drifted slowly back into one of those fantasies she snuggled down under the covers and soon drifted off into blissful sleep.

Hermione hadn’t been to the room above Snape’s classroom for almost two weeks as Harry and Ron had annoyingly, albeit unwittingly, begun to dog her every move. Part of it was because their homework was building up as much as hers was and they were hoping she would help them — which actually gave her a chance to catch up as well — but also because Harry was spending so much time looking at the Map these days that Hermione feared she would be caught.
She didn’t want to have to try to explain what she was doing alone in a dusty, disused classroom at the same time every evening when she was supposed to be in the Library. Not being able to spend time listening to Snape was making her incredibly sexually frustrated, as masturbation was a difficult proposition in a room shared with four other girls. It was just about possible but was a pretty unfulfilling experience — at least it was if she didn’t want to get caught and gossiped about. She missed both the Potions Master’s dark, velvety voice and the feeling of the vibrator inside her. That was something that definitely couldn’t be used in a crowded dorm room.
As her frustration continued to grow, Hermione became more and more desperate for proper release. Eventually, this led to her coming up with a plan that was dangerous yet somewhat exciting. She couldn’t get away from her friends during the evening, so she would have to wait until after curfew. This would mean she risked the possibility of capture by a teacher, which was somewhat problematical, but after due consideration she felt it was worth the risk of punishment to relieve the tension that was steadily building up inside her.
There was no point in going to the classroom as the whole reason for being there — Snape’s perfect voice — wouldn’t be available at that time of night unless she got caught by him (and she had found herself having several rather lewd fantasies along those lines). So she looked for a new venue where she was less likely to be discovered and decided on a rather nice little area out on the roof, which was just perfect in the current beautiful summer weather.
Hermione was well aware that her complete sexual satisfaction came from mixing both elements of her need; and that whilst the vibrator would sate her craving for that physical feeling of fullness, she needed Snape’s voice, even if he was only talking of dirty cauldrons or potions ingredients, to really give her the climax she so desired. So she spent another few days using a tricky little spell she had discovered in the Library to surreptitiously collect snippets of Snape’s voice in every possible situation she could.
Once she was happy with her collection she left Harry and Ron in the Gryffindor common room with copies of her Astronomy and Herbology homework to copy, knowing these would keep them occupied for a while, and went to have a nice long bath in the Prefect’s bathroom, happy in the knowledge that this would give her the privacy she needed just as long as Moaning Myrtle didn’t decide to pay a visit.
Just over an hour later Hermione, now smelling of almonds, left the bathroom with a magically modified mp3 player in her bathrobe pocket which now contained the snarky Potion Master’s voice rather than music.
She was all set for the perfect night. Now all she had to do was wait for everyone to go to sleep and put her plan into action.
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The Passion of Hermione Granger