Chapter Text
When she returned to Grimmauld Place on Sunday evening, she found Ron and Harry standing at the kitchen table in silence, staring at something in Harry's hand.
"Where's Lavender?" Hermione asked.
"Wedding stuff," Ron replied distractedly. "Look."
Harry handed Hermione a card with an ornate monogram on the front. She opened it to find a simple, 'Happy birthday, Harry. Yours, Draco.'
"Sorry, I don't follow," Hermione said. "Your birthday's not for another week - " but then she stopped and closed the card again. Harry's smile grew, and Hermione ran her fingers over the embossed silver DLM on the linen stationery.
"I can't believe it," she whispered. "Is it all like this? I mean, did he - "
Harry was grinning like a fiend, and blushing rather brilliantly. "Probably not; it's Draco, after all. But for him, this is - like he said before, everyone who needs to know will understand what he's saying."
"Well, he can't change the Malfoy history, of course," Hermione said. "And you wouldn't want him to cut off his whole family or anything."
"Why not? Good riddance to bad rubbish," Ron muttered, but there was no venom in it.
"But to give up using the crest and the motto," Hermione whispered. "All that prestige…"
"Reckon it means he likes you, mate," Ron piped up.
Hermione worried that Harry's face might crack.
"This came, too," Ron said, handing Hermione a scroll with a thick Ministry of Magic seal on it. "They've finally caught on that you're the real trouble-maker."
Hermione cracked the seal.
Ms Granger,
In light of your superior Nastily Exhausting Wizarding Test marks, I would like to extend an invitation to explore your opportunities for a future with the Ministry of Magic.
Please reply by owl for further information.
Regards,
Pandora Christie
Ministry of Magic
Floor Nine
Ron and Harry were both over her shoulders, reading. "Never heard of her," said Ron. "Want me to ask Dad?"
"It's the ninth floor, so I'm not sure he'd be able to help," Hermione said, wonderingly.
"Oh?" Harry said. "Oh! Right!"
"Blimey, that's something," Ron added. "You could tell us all about what they actually do in the Department of Mysteries, and find out what those bloody awful brains-in-a-tank are for!"
"No, Ronald, I couldn't, even if I did find out. 'Unspeakable,' remember?"
"Well, but just us, though," Ron argued.
Hermione looked to Harry for support. He shrugged.
"I don't even know what they're offering. They could have an open position for a tea lady, for all I know," Hermione said.
"Yes, that'll be it," Harry said blandly. "Ministry only accepts tea ladies with six or more N.E.W.T.s. Everyone knows that."
Inside Hermione, smouldering curiosity burst into flame. Things that no one else knew. Information that she could never find out any other way. She began drafting her reply.
Hermione finally ran out of excuses to go up to the castle or to Hogsmeade, and the staff had now mostly returned from holiday. She knew that her modus operandi would have to change when Professor Sprout stopped her in the corridor and asked if Hermione would pick up a Root-Grabbing Trowel she'd ordered in Diagon Alley and "bring it with you when you come up to see him next week-end."
Hermione felt her face go cold, and she must've expressed some discomfort, because Professor Sprout said, "Or if you can't get to it, then I'll ask for it to be posted, not to worry."
"Oh, er, no, I've got to stop in at Potage's anyway, it's no trouble. I -"
Professor Sprout lowered her voice. "It's alright, I don't think anyone else knows why you're here. I only know because Severus seems happier at the week-ends. Well, less irritated at least. Hufflepuffs have a sixth sense for these sorts of things."
Hermione rushed for denials. "No - I was just visiting Professor McGonagall this week-end, and the last one I needed the library; I - I've no reason to - It's only been a few week-ends that I - a coincidence, I - "
Hermione needn't have worried. Professor Sprout continued with a smile. "There's nothing wrong in what you're doing, and don't let anyone tell you otherwise. There isn't enough love in this world as it is."
Love? Hermione thought about this word, and found that it wasn't inapplicable.
"I'm sorry, I've embarrassed you," Professor Sprout was saying. "I can keep a secret. Anyway, it's got Severus to unbend a bit, and that's certainly to the good."
Hermione wondered what Professor Sprout would say if she knew how long Hermione had been unbending Severus.
She let herself into her lover's office, remembering the way this had all begun. A dropped bottle and a mad experiment trying to attract his attention. Months of persistence. Now she knew the password for his private rooms. So very unlikely.
She wondered what they would be described to be, now. They were hardly dating, as they'd never been out together, but they had established exclusivity. And she stayed overnight every week-end.
Hermione found him conducting the washing up in the kitchen area. After a kiss on his cheek (during which he flinched but covered it admirably), she said, "I think I may've been contacted by the Department of Mysteries."
His mouth curled unpleasantly. "The mere fact that you suspect it leads me to doubt their nomenclature. Waste of brains."
"The tank in the Department?"
"No, you. If you went to work there," he said, flicking his wand to stop the dishes. "But good for your resumé, one must acknowledge."
"But I could learn what they're doing! I could look at their research on time, and - and other things they're studying. They may've done some trials on whether the prophecies at the Ministry are self-fulfilling, or why some spells are in one language and not another, or - "
Severus glanced at her, starting the dishes to dry themselves. "I see that you favour the idea," he said. "But what if some unscrupulous wizard were to…" he stepped behind her and wrapped an arm around her neck, "capture you and interrogate you for information?"
Hermione felt another hand slip around her waist. "Oh, I would bravely resist the temptation to give in to the pain," she said.
"Would you, I wonder," he crooned into her ear. The hand at her waist rose steadily, tickling her flank. "And what if this man did not use pain?" he asked, grazing her nipple through her clothing. "How long could you withstand the needs of your own flesh?"
Not long, if this were an example, she thought, but he wasn't going to get a concession from her that quickly.
"What if your treacherous assailant were to - " here, he bit the cartilage at the top of her ear, "use a torment of pleasure mixed with pain?" He brushed gentle touches down her neck to tickle her collarbone. "Would he find you amenable to his methods?"
Hermione didn't bother to stifle the groan when he began kissing her neck. Would she react like this to anything he said?
"I can imagine you, captive, wrapped in nothing but a few strips of cloth, overwrought and tired, desperate for the touch of another human," he began. "I would wait until you were half-asleep, and I would gently, tenderly stroke your skin, sensitising you," Snape said.
Hermione shifted on her feet, but couldn't get him to touch her more firmly.
"You would welcome it, and when my fingers eased over the edge of propriety, you would rationalise…"
"That it was an accident, that I needed it, that I couldn't stop you anyway..." She spun the fantasy with him, and could feel him smile against her ear.
"So that when I found you wet and brought you off, you would be flooded with shame, and yet you'd welcome me back, day after day…"
Hermione twisted out of his arms. "What if I didn't want to, this weekend?" she asked suddenly.
Severus's demeanour changed instantly, his back straightening and his hands slipping behind him, as she had seen him lecture so many times.
"Are you asking me if I would force myself on you?" he asked impassively. If she hadn't known him so well, she wouldn't have noticed the hurt behind the passionless eyes.
"No!" she ejaculated. "God, no, I meant - I was asking …" she looked past his shoulder so that she could finish her question. "Could I - would it be okay if I stayed anyway? With you, I mean. Or do you only want me here if we - and I understand if you do, that's what we - that's how this started."
His chin rose, and now Hermione noticed that he was looking past her, too. "Your presence is not contingent on sex acts, no. I don't find you tiresome, and you occasionally bring to my attention a piece of new information when we talk over meals."
"Likewise, I'm sure," she answered sparingly. "I - I do want to have sex, but I was just wondering. If I didn't want to, should I write and say I wasn't coming, or should I come ahead anyway." Hermione watched carefully.
"Suit yourself," he said, in the closest thing to a tentative voice that Hermione had ever heard from him. He pivoted and started into the lounge.
"Wait!" she snapped. He turned to face her.
He needed so much careful handling. "I don't want to only suit myself, Severus," she stated softly. "I want to suit both of us, if I can."
Snape's hands dropped to his sides, and his brow loosened. "You are not unwelcome here, then," he said.
"Thank you," she said, and followed him into the lounge.
"I want to try it … rough," she began the next morning.
"You don't like pain, Hermione," he answered, going back to his paper. "And I fear that you are no natural submissive."
She thought about how to put this to him. "No. But I want to try - I want you to make me."
Severus closed his paper.
Hermione held his gaze, hoping he'd see her sincerity. "I want you to be cruel to me, like - like you're - like I'm under your power, sort of. Will you?"
His eyebrow rose. "You have been under my control before," he argued, standing. He placed his hands on her shoulders and slid them up to wrap her neck. "Is that all you want?"
Her eyes flicked to his left forearm, then back to his face. It would be rude to ask.
His eyelids lowered a few millimetres and a corner of his mouth twisted. "I see." For a moment, he let his hands tighten on her neck, and the thrill increased.
"In the past, though, you haven't really used force," Hermione pointed out. "That's what I want."
"You understand that once such aggression is called forth, the resultant engagement might be … unpleasant for you," he stated.
"You'd stop if I asked, though."
"Yes, even at my worst, I have not taken pleasure in an unwilling body." He dragged one hand down to her bicep and gripped it hard, hard enough to hurt. "But I have taken pleasure in causing pain. Rough sex would almost certainly leave marks, bruises, and they would be intentional. Not a red bum that would fade in a few hours. You must understand," he said, squeezing her arm enough to pinch her skin where his thumb and finger met. It did hurt.
"I understand."
"I will not, under any circumstances, wear the mask."
"Oh, God, no," Hermione replied, taken aback.
"You wouldn't be the first witch to want that," he said.
Hermione frowned at him. "No, thanks ever so," she said dryly. "I wouldn't mind a bit of language from you, though," she said.
Severus rolled his eyes. "I know. You are the most verbal witch I've ever known."
"You could spank me."
"Yes," he said. "I could."
Hermione saw that he had no intention to elaborate.
"As soon as you tell me to stop," he continued, "I will stop. If you do not say that word, I will assume that all cries are … encouragement." He watched her tense, and Hermione would swear that he flashed teeth at her.
She nodded. Severus released her arm, and she could see a mark beginning to blossom where he'd pinched her.
"If you are certain, then go. Prepare. When I return - it will be different."
Hermione was wavering between thrill and fear, and thrill at the fear.
She wasn't sure what to expect, and what if he said something she couldn't forget? What if he told her how he really felt about her, and it was awful? What if he truly wounded her? But she'd considered this, and - well, this was ex-Death-Eater Severus Snape. He would have experience of exactly how much the human body could take.
She undressed down to the new green matching underwear set she'd bought, then sat on the edge of the bed, waiting.
When Severus appeared in the door, Hermione couldn't control her staring.
He was wearing a black fitted dragonhide jerkin in place of his usual coat. It fell to his knees and crossed over to button on one side. She'd never seen it before. Why would - dragonhide was protective for volatile ingredients, but this seemed a bit of overkill.
And as she thought the word 'overkill,' it became clear. Leather was also used for butchers' aprons, after all. Her breath caught. Was he intending to hurt her that badly? No, but he had known the psychological effect it would produce.
"What are you doing?" he began, striding to her and grabbing a fistful of hair. "I don't want you in my bed; I sleep there, for Merlin's sake," he said disdainfully.
He hauled on her hair painfully, and she stood, heart racing. He looked into her eyes. "No need for Legilimency to see what kind of a witch you are," he sneered. "Too stupid to stay away."
Hermione opened her mouth for a retort, but Snape tugged her head to the side, jerking her neck and cutting her off. He grabbed her opposite shoulder and turned her under his arm to face away.
"Go on," he said, giving her a hard shove to her lower back. Hermione stumbled through the door to the lounge, then shivered. She turned to look to Snape for direction.
He surveyed her, now, dismissively glancing over her green lace. "Oh, no," he snickered. "Don't tell me that you wore this to … what, to impress me? To seduce? Pitiful."
"I thought - " she began. He slapped her, enough to shock her into silence.
And she felt, along with the sting, rising anger and lust. She glared at him.
Severus grabbed her hips and turned her again, then tried to give her another shove. This time, she was ready for it and sidestepped, so that his palm only glanced off her flank. She gave him a defiant grin.
Snape grimaced at her, then grabbed one arm and the opposing hip and pushed her down over the small dining table, holding her arm folded back to her spine in implicit threat. He easily overpowered her, and it was thrilling. When her forehead hit the table, she wondered if it would leave a mark.
He bent over, bringing his face close to hers and stared for a moment, searching. Then he straightened.
"Let us have a look, now," he intoned, scraping short fingernails down her back and tugging her knickers down to her thighs. He massaged one cheek, then gave it a poke. "Bouncy and plush. Are you a smart-arse, too?" he asked, rubbing her bum harder.
In response, she spoke up. "My Potions master always thought so." He released her bent arm, placed one hand on the small of her back to hold her, and spanked her. Hard.
It stung badly, and Hermione considered calling it off. This bit wasn't pleasant.
But when he'd shoved her, bent her over, when he talked to her like that … if she stopped it now, he'd never do these things again.
Instead, she let out a cooling breath through pursed lips, and the pain faded quickly. He struck her other cheek, and a squeak left her. She tried to control her movement, but her knees kept bending and straightening of their own accord, trying to escape.
Snape put a hand on the back of her head and pushed, rubbing her nose on the table. "Is this what you asked for?" he hissed.
"Mmp hmm, yes," she sniffed. For whatever reason, it was heating her blood. She could feel the cool leather of his jerkin against her legs.
"You like books, don't you?"
Hermione turned her head to look at him, but he grabbed her hair and jerked her head to face down, thumping her forehead mildly on the table.
"Yes, sir," she mumbled into the table.
THWACK!
"Aaah!" she yelped in pain. He'd hit her with a hard object of some kind and the heat was suffusing her bum, but she didn't have time to recover before the implement came back against her other cheek.
"Still like books?" he asked idly.
Hermione breathed deeply, controlling her heart rate. Something about this intensity was compelling.
He slammed the object down on the table next to her head, making her jump. She could see the title out of the corner of her eye: he'd spanked her with a hardback copy of Wuthering Heights. She almost laughed.
The slap from the book had already faded; it was different to the one from his hand, and even that didn't really hurt anymore. She should remember that. Either he was holding back (almost certainly), or lasting pain would come from a different source.
"Answer, girl."
She turned her face to the side, enjoying the cool wood against her face. "Yes, I still like books."
"You call me 'sir', or you do not speak," he instructed.
"Yes, sir," she agreed.
Hermione could now see some movement, and she heard the rustling of something behind her. A serpent cufflink dropped onto the table next to the book. A finger and thumb placed the second one with its mate, lingering over the metal, and Hermione could smell his now-exposed skin. The cuff was folded back, and she breathed heavily - the faded, forbidden skull-and-serpent tattoo on his forearm.
The blood rushed to her heart so quickly that she felt her toes chill. Fear as aphrodisiac.
Without warning, two blunt fingers shoved between her labia and plunged several inches inside her. Dry as his hand was, the motion was rough and uncomfortable. Instead of working his way into her body, he surprised her with a single action.
"You are not ready, which can only mean that you are being obstinate." He hauled her knickers the rest of the way down her legs to rest on her bare feet. "Are you going to be trouble?"
"No, sir!" she answered.
"You dare contradict me?" he asked, warning in his voice.
"No, sir! I mean, yes, no, I'm - not trying to be obstinate, I - "
"Good gods, shut up!" he shouted. "I can see that stronger measures are needed in your case. No rest for the wicked. Try for a quick fuck, and I end up with a mouthy neurotic."
Hermione shut up, but couldn't help the smile.
She could now see him moving away from the table, and he entered the bedroom behind her. When he returned, there was a jangling thunk, and a pile of leather straps and buckles hit the table with his cufflinks. Yes.
"This ought to render you a bit more manageable, don't you think?"
"Three bags full, sir," Hermione simpered. It earned her a hard slap on the arse, and this time, she almost relished the sting. Interesting.
Snape braced his hips against her bottom, shoving her hipbones painfully into the table edge, then gave a sharp tug on her hair. "Stand up, dozy."
She straightened, and to her surprise, her partner separated her hair into three rough sections and quickly plaited it. He reached for the mess of straps, but Hermione couldn't make out what they were or where they were meant to fit.
Cool leather slapped over her shoulder, causing a bit of a sting on the top of her breast, and Hermione looked down to see a black strap studded with eyelets. The idea of being helpless, restrained before him … she shuddered pleasantly.
He chuckled low in her ear. "I am pleased that you've begun to see reason." His hands slid around her waist, then came up to unfasten the front closure of her bra and peel it away, but he refused to touch her more than necessary. She shifted her feet in agitation.
The strap over her shoulder slithered away, and then she felt it placed around her neck, over the chain of her quill necklace. The strap was only a couple of inches wide, and he left plenty of slack in it for her to move, but she felt something draping down her back, hanging from the collar.
Severus's warm fingers slid under the collar, then traced her spine from nape to mid-back. Suddenly a sharp tug on her collar - was this a leash? She turned her head to look over her shoulder.
Snape caught her eye, and smirked at her discomfort. Grabbing one wrist, he brought it behind her back to meet her spine and she heard a buckle. He had strapped her wrist to her lower back, and she began to flail with the other arm, slapping wildly back at him.
"What valiant resistance," he said sarcastically, easily catching her forearm and strapping it just below the other one.
His tone took her back to all the times he'd ridiculed her in class, all the times she'd felt embarrassed. She turned perpendicular to him and tried to elbow him in the stomach, but as she was bound, it was barely a hit. He laughed, an ugly sound.
She tested the restraint. The position wasn't uncomfortable, and her legs were free, but pulling on her bonds only strained her collar.
"Behave, and I leave your restraint as it is." Hermione heard a buckle between her shoulder blades, and her wrists were jerked higher, putting a slight strain on her elbows and shoulders. "Make trouble, and I will adjust your position."
He dropped her wrists back to their comfortable pose, and refastened the buckle. "And now for that smart mouth. Let us see how quickly you learn your place."
Her mouth watered, and she turned her head to look at him.
He moved to an armchair by the fire and sat, opening his leather garment, then snapped his fingers and pointed to the floor. No cushion this time, it seemed. She hesitated - it felt quite vulnerable to be nude, unable to use her hands, and with him clothed and seated as though nothing unusual was happening. And how was she to suck anything if she couldn't open his clothing?
"Perhaps I missed the casting of an Impediment Jinx upon you?" he asked.
The words jolted her into action, and Hermione walked over to the chair and tried to kneel as gracefully as possible without her arms for balance.
"I am gratified to see that you have regained the power of locomotion," he sniped.
She looked into Snape's eyes, trying to ask a question without speaking. He had to know what the problem was, but he was deliberately making her misbehave.
She waited.
Maybe he had enspelled the clothing to … she moved her head forward, trying to get into position, but nothing happened. He was smiling at her, a tight, self-satisfied line of pleasure and superiority.
Hermione was never pleased when the game was rigged. She liked the rules, and she didn't mind breaking them, but the rules ought to be fair for everyone. If the task was impossible, what was the point of it?
Now angry, she scooted forward and bared her teeth. She gave him a glare, then opened her mouth and bit the flap of his belt, trying to push it through the buckle.
She could see his stomach rise and fall with his silent laughter at her plight. She rolled her eyes and let go the leather.
A palm hit the side of her head, slapping her away. "Have you left teeth-marks on my clothing, you little bitch?"
Snape reached for his trousers and adjusted himself to free the relevant anatomy. "It seems that you are unaware of the proper use for a mouth such as yours," he said, and he reached forward to grab her head. "Do allow me to instruct you."
"I w- maump - " she tried, before the spongy head of his cock was pushed past her lips.
This part, she knew, and instinctively she pulled her lips over her teeth. The smooth skin against her lips and tongue, and the way she could feel him harden further - it took away her need to retort. Instead, she glanced up at him with a promise of wickedness, and she determined to overcome him with pleasure. Snape's hips shifted, and she could tell he was enjoying this. She felt her pride swell along with her clit.
"Blissful silence," he sighed. "You're almost bearable this way."
Hermione gave him a glare (as much as possible), and he smiled on her beatifically. Then he slipped one hand under the leather of her collar, held her in place, and thrust his hips forward, hitting the back of her throat.
"Oh, Merlin, yes," he groaned, delighting in her discomfort.
She was too surprised to relax her throat, and instead felt her gag reflex. Tears filled her eyes and she instinctively pulled back, finding that he'd let go her collar. She swallowed, trying to regain her equilibrium.
Snape was watching her, expressionless. Once she'd sniffled and cleared her throat, she leaned forward again to take him in, and his face relaxed into approval. He rested a hand on the crown of her head.
He let her lick and then suck his shaft back into her mouth, cleaning the trail of saliva that had been left when he rammed down her throat, then he pushed her forehead away harshly. Hermione fell from her knees onto one hip and backwards, now sprawled on the floor. She thought he was doing his best to keep her off-balance, keep her mind whirling. The uncertainty gave her a thrill, and she wasn't sure if she wanted this part to continue, or if she wanted to get straight to the inevitable conclusion.
Severus rose from his chair and stepped around her, towering, waiting for her to rise. She could use her elbows to push, but not much more, so she rolled onto her side and then struggled to get one knee under herself. Snape watched her passionlessly.
Once she had both knees under her, just as she was able to stand, he bent down to pull up on the leather strap at her back. It gave him a handle for her, and the stiff leather dug into her neck and pulled her wrists upwards, forcing her to stand.
"Had enough?" he asked, a challenge in his voice.
"Not nearly," she spat.
Snape hauled her backwards across the room to the oak door, where he slung her against the cool wood. Her arm and shoulder took most of the hit, but the side of her head contacted the door, too. He'd been controlled, throwing her with no more force than necessary, but without her hands to stop the inertia, Hermione knew she'd have the marks he promised. Feeling his strength played out over her limbs was vivifying.
She put her back to the door, her bound hands forcing a strong arch, and she watched him.
The man's eyes glittered with avarice as he put his hands on her waist and glided up to her breasts. She was shifting her weight, pressing her thighs together in search of friction, and he began to tease her areolae and nipples.
"Let us see whether you have decided to cooperate," he said, running a hand down her stomach.
Hermione's thighs opened immediately, and he huffed a laugh at her, then plunged two fingers into her vulva. This time, their passage was easy and slick, her body ready. She squirmed against his hand.
"That's enough," he murmured, bringing his wet fingers back to her breast. He took a nipple in each hand and pinched gently.
But then, he kept pinching. Snape was slowly increasing the pressure on them, and watching her minutely. He'd said this would be painful. Oooh, but how much more…? He was enjoying her discomfort, and increasing it. She bit her lip to keep quiet. She could take it -
"OUCH!" she yelped, finally unable to bear more. The pressure vanished, and he smirked. He had won, she'd stopped him. The blood rushed back.
She glanced down to his hips - he'd done up one button of his trousers, but it was obvious that he was ready for her. Hermione wondered if this kind of play was more or less arousing to him.
Severus lowered his head to her breasts and kissed one, then held it to his mouth and bit. It wasn't painful as compared to the pinching, but when he pulled away, the distinct outlines of his crooked teeth were visible in red.
Again, he took hold of her opposite shoulder and whirled her around, shoving her into the door. His hand pressed between her shoulder blades, forcing her to turn her head to the side and squashing her breasts to the oak. Snape stepped closer, and she could feel his jerkin against her shoulders.
"Enjoying our dalliance with the dark side?" he hissed against her ear.
"Yes, sir."
He stepped back and, keeping his hand between her shoulder blades, he slapped her hip. "I never tire of spanking a ripe arse like yours. Well, you know why you're here; bend over and let's get on with it."
She stepped away from the door and looked around the room for a surface.
"No, you lazy slut, I won't have you lying around after I've done all the work to soften you up," he derided. "Here, against the door, and be grateful I'm not putting you up against the stone wall."
Hermione looked at the door, then back at him. As much as she wanted the sensation of sex, she was rather sad that the foreplay had finished. How to…?
"Oh, I understand, sir," she said patronisingly. "You must be tired, a man of your age trying to keep up with a younger witch. Whatever you like, sir."
His lips curved wickedly, and he grabbed her chin, his long fingers wrapping from one ear to the other. "You are a sick little thing, aren't you? You actually enjoy being treated like a stray bitch." The spittle of his diction hit her lip, and with a defiant leer, she let her tongue slip out to lick it off.
Snape looked as though he were fighting a battle, and then without warning, he hauled her chin forward and smashed his mouth over hers.
"Mmm! Mmmmmaa!" Hermione realised that she was screaming through the attack on her mouth. It could hardly be called a kiss, but it was just as satisfying. Her core muscles clenched, and her mate freed her mouth, searching her eyes.
Hermione threw herself at him, no hands to help her hold him, but she tried to suck him in. She managed to get his lip and she bit lightly.
Snape dragged her chin away from his own, breaking the kiss, and covered her mouth with his hand. "I warned you not to make trouble, did I not?"
Her eyes widened over his hand, and she tried to speak. "Mmmss, suhm! MMo!"
"I see your enunciation does not improve once the dick is out of your mouth," he said. "And," he said, "there is the matter of your assault upon my person."
He dabbed a handkerchief at his lip with his free hand, making a show of examining it for signs of blood. Hermione rolled her eyes - she'd barely nipped him!
Severus took his hand off her mouth and grabbed her plait, tugging her with him. As she stumbled after him, trying to keep some slack in her hair, he lectured.
"You need constant correction, you show me nothing but defiance, and now you dare to attack me." He quick-stepped behind her and grabbed her restraint. "You are labouring under the misapprehension that you are important in this scenario. You are here exclusively for me to use, which is, of course, what all young witches are for."
Hermione's head snapped around to glare at him, but he shoved her into the bedroom, still speaking.
"I haven't the proper tools to whip you in, but I assure you, I'll do my best," he continued menacingly, tossing her toward the bed. She landed face-down on the duvet and had to struggle to turn over. When she did, he was gone.
When she'd got onto her back, she found that lying on her hands was hardly comfortable, either. On her side would trap one arm under her weight and give her pins and needles. She struggled to sit up.
During any other interaction with this man, Hermione would have made good use of this time to relax, lie back, touch herself. She was more than ready, she could probably come with just a little effort. But without her hands, and with no idea how he planned to 'correct' her, she thought it might be better to wait quietly.
Snape stepped briskly into the bedroom, one hand behind his back. He looked at her and sighed. "I suppose you were simply incapable of remaining where I put you?" he asked. "I think you'll regret that."
Hearing a warning, Hermione lay back on the bed, trying to roll back onto her stomach. Snape was enjoying watching her struggle, it seemed.
"Lie still, now," he said, and Hermione rested with her hands under her back. Should she say something?
From behind his back, quick as thought, Severus raised a black handle with several strips of soft leather attached. Before she could prepare herself, the flogger slapped onto her breasts, and she yelped.
He waited for her reaction with a smile that only showed in his eyes, and Hermione realised that - it didn't hurt. There was no pain at all, really, just a bit of sensitivity where the flexible leather tips had hit. She tried to look down at her breasts, but there were no marks. The only discomfort was in her hands, but if she tried to arch her back to keep her weight off of them, she was essentially pushing into the swing of -
Of course she was. He would always be one step ahead in this way.
Severus brought the flogger down again, harder this time, and Hermione felt the mildest of stings where the tips fell, then a tickling sensation as they trailed her skin. It certainly looked as though it should hurt, like a whip but with lots more tails, and no knots in the ends of the strips. Perhaps he wasn't really trying to -
THUSS!
This time, the angle he chose allowed the tails to whip around her side and hit her flank, and she felt it. The tails slithered across her breasts as he pulled the flogger back, and as they tipped over her nipples, Hermione let out a little moan of pleasure.
The leather was thin and light. Hermione watched the thongs slip off of her chest and then followed the line of the implement up to her former teacher.
Severus's eyes were wide and greedy. His gaze flew over her body, and she could almost hear him calculating angles of impact and reach. He stepped a few inches to the left and raised the flogger backhanded, then whipped it down over her shoulder and right breast, letting out a controlled breath.
Hermione knew that expression - he was deep in lust. She followed his eyes as they tracked her pinkening skin. A rhythm developed - thwap, sss, and then they breathed. She whimpered. He stepped around her to stand in front of her knees, then lay about himself with the flogger. Hard and light, alternating, but the drugged look only filled his eyes when he could put his back into it.
Severus Snape loved striking her. His eyes darted over her, his lips curving slightly when he saw the leather land exactly where her skin was yet-untouched.
A flush of pink now washed her chest and stomach, with little freckles of a deeper pink, but still no lasting pain. Her body was beginning to feel seriously deprived, though, and this teasing attention to her breasts was working her into a frenzy. She tried to spread her knees, but had little leverage to move while her hands were under her back.
Snape checked her expression, and she tried to plead with her eyes. His next stroke brought the flogger down into his opposite hand. "More?" he asked her.
"Yes, or - " she glanced down to his trouser fastening.
"And I suppose you think you've earned that?" Snape asked sanctimoniously.
"Then - " she began dispiritedly, looking at the flogger, "yes, more please."
He smirked, and Hermione realised that she'd committed an error. She had given him leverage, told him that he had something she wanted.
"You can have what you want," he said, "after you take the belt."
Hermione thought she could actually feel sweat forming on her face. She had never been struck with a belt before, but surely it would be painful. A glance at her partner showed her his greed for this, though. She could stop this at any moment.
"How many?" she asked.
Severus weighed her reluctance. "Five beginners," he said. "Or two of the best."
Hermione bit her lip, then nodded. She could take a hard hit. "Two, then."
Snape breathed in slowly, trying to control his enthusiasm, she thought. "Turn over."
Hermione rolled onto her stomach, noting the discomfort in her shoulders. This restraint had time limits, it seemed. She was about to ask when her lover leaned over her body, grabbed her elbows, and hauled her toward himself, letting her legs drop to the floor. A mouthful of duvet later, she felt him unstrapping her wrists, and she rolled her shoulders in relief.
The collar stayed on.
Severus was removing his belt, but instead of applying it immediately, he started gently slapping her bum.
The slaps were so gentle as to be more of a massage, really, but they grew in intensity, warming her skin. After a minute of this, Hermione thought that the slaps were approaching the rigor of her earlier spanking, but as he'd introduced the intensity so slowly this time, the pain was quite bearable. She could feel her erector spinae muscles relaxing.
When the slapping stopped and she heard a creak of stiff leather, she tensed again. Think of the flogger, you wanted -
Pain exploded from her skin, almost before she heard the crack. His breathing was steady but laboured, his lust controlled.
She forced herself to relax and breathe with him, and when she said nothing, another stinging crack fell on the fleshiest curve of her backside. He'd made sure the two hits didn't overlap. Gods, it hurt.
Once she was able to pry her clenched teeth apart, Hermione felt the pain begin to recede, still present but tending toward heat and tenderness instead of sting. She felt a large hand smooth over her bottom in comfort, but she didn't care for the heat of his hand on her marks.
There was certainly something here, she thought. Her brain felt a sort of alert calm, as though she had relaxed in the hot sun and then done a cold plunge. The pain was present, but fading.
Hermione felt cool leather on her skin, and realised that Severus was bent over her. He swept the hair from her neck so that he could see her face clearly.
"Are you ready to behave?" he asked, but there was no bite in it. In truth, it sounded more like he was asking, 'Are you okay?'
Hermione breathed in and out once, then said, "Yes, sir. You said." She pushed up on her hands, trying to get her face out of the bedclothes, but she felt firm hands on her thighs.
"Stay down; it's time that I get what I've been waiting for."
This made her twist her hips combatively, for form's sake more than anything else. She wanted this deeply, so much that her stomach hurt.
He pushed her thighs apart and her feet came up behind her. He pushed down on the base of her spine to hold her still, leaning into it, and then spat into his hand. The next thing she felt was a scream of relief ripping its way out of her throat as he rammed fully into her.
It felt like a years-old itch had been finally scratched, or a pain had been lifted, or the last piece of a mystery had fallen into place. This completion was exactly what she'd wanted.
He'd moved so quickly that her labia were squished, but oh, who cared? Behind her, Severus sighed and held her hips, grinding himself as deeply as he could.
"Worth the trouble," he muttered to himself, pulling out far enough to get a good angle on her bottom. He gave her a light slap, away from the belt marks, and then slid back into her. The way was easily lubricated, and her sensitised skin wrapped around him snugly.
Hermione rose onto her elbows and looked back at her partner. He caught her eye, then tightened his grip on her hips and pulled her back hard, so that he hit her cervix and made her groan. She couldn't even tell if it was in pleasure or pain.
"Witches are all the same; put it to them proper and they'll shut up quick enough," he said in that broad gravelly voice.
Hermione twisted around at this, glaring, and got her leg between them. She pushed his thigh away with her foot and knelt up on the bed, her restraint swinging from the collar. "I'll show you 'shut up'," she said, grabbing him around the neck and pulling him down to the bed with her.
She grabbed a handful of his hair and yanked it, forcing his head to the side, and hissed into his ear: "If you want some sort of a shrinking violet, go shag a house-elf!"
Severus was now laying over her, naked from the waist down. When she released his hair, she saw a wild-eyed grin turn to her. He put one hand on her sternum to hold her in place and fumbled for her entrance.
Hermione wrapped her legs around his waist and used her momentum to roll them over, then drew her fingernails down his body, leaving pink trails on sallow skin. He took advantage of her admiration to sit up, though, and before she knew it, he was seated on the edge of the bed, bringing her back down over his penis.
"Shag an elf, should I?" he asked, bouncing her. "I think you might miss this."
"Agh, ah, uh huh," she said, beginning to finger herself. She held on with one hand and let the other encourage her arousal.
"Yes, this is who you are, Granger," he began. "Aroused by degradation. Relishing everything I give you. Who gives you pleasure?"
"Oh, God, Severus!" she cried, falling apart over him. And again. And again.
Later, as she lay on her belly and Snape massaged cool lotion into her bottom, neck, and wrists where the cuffs had rested, Hermione luxuriated in his care.
"Merlin's beard, that whippy thing - "
"The flogger," he corrected. "Don't you read?" He patted her bum to let her know he was finished, and she crawled up to the pillows, settling on her side.
"I've never - I thought it would hurt, but then…" she drank the water he handed her.
The Potions master smiled, self-satisfied pride in his lips. "The flogger allows me to exercise the … significant pleasure I get from hitting you harder, while protecting your innocent little hide from my depredations."
"Hmm…" Hermione said. She put the glass down on the bedside table.
"Merlin save us. Granger's had an idea."
"Well, I just thought, there's something for the sadist in the crowd, a whip or paddle or whatever that feels like it's hitting, only it's got a Cushioning Charm … wouldn't work, I suppose, since you'd know it wasn't causing as much pain…"
"One needn't tell one's sadist partner about the Cushioning Charm, though," Snape mused.
"Hm," she said.
"But the sadist needs the feel of the hit running up his arm..." he trailed off in thought.
Severus had taken off his leather garment and was now joining Hermione on the bed. He looked uncertain as to how he might approach her, so Hermione took the lead and cuddled up to him. He accepted it.
"The belt wasn't actually so bad as I imagined," she said.
"Ah," he said noncommittally.
She turned to look at him, and he let a lazy smile take his face.
"You didn't give me 'two of the best,' did you," she stated.
"By no means," he said, flavoured with a smirk. "Two of my best would not produce the desired result."
Hermione considered this. "Then you - you want me to like this kind of thing."
"Rather I want you to continue to expand your horizons," he answered, the words rumbling through Hermione. She let her eyes drift, but couldn't stop her thoughts.
"What do you really think about the Department of Mysteries job?" she asked.
"Does it matter?" he asked. "You'll do as you choose." The man seemed to be wrestling with his words, trying to keep them in. "Apparition is one of the most useful magical skills we possess, I think."
He was telling her that it wouldn't be a problem for her to work in London, she thought. Maybe.
As they rested, Hermione decided that she might as well go for it. The worst he could say was 'no.' Or rather, 'no, and how dare you ask?'
"I was wondering if you'd be willing to try something we've not done before," she said.
His eyebrow rose contentedly toward her.
"We've never even discussed it, and I understand if you don't want to. It … deviates quite substantially from what we've tried," she added. Come on, bite.
"Deviant, you say," he repeated, stretching his arm behind his head.
"Abnormal for us, certainly." Hermione waited. He was interested.
"Let's have it, then," Snape replied. "What fantasy has my pretty degenerate been harbouring? You've already said you didn't want me to change your 'Teacher's Pet' title; is it more of that? Tell me everything, Miss Granger." He stroked the side of her breast, and she wished she could purr.
"Severus, I was hoping…" she hesitated, then forged on, "you'd go for dinner with me. Out."
Severus looked at her for a minute, a smile growing, and then his neck arched and he let out a loud report of laughter.
When he looked back at her anxious face, though, he stopped laughing. "You mendacious tease. Very well, I'll take you out."
"Oh, no, it's my treat. I asked," she answered with relief.
"Rubbish," he responded. "I won't have my dinner paid for by a witch when I'm planning on putting it to her after."
Hermione laughed. "How romantic."
Severus's face twitched unreadably, and he took her chin in his hand. He leaned up over her, and let the tension grow.
Hermione examined his face, then closed her eyes as he neared, and he slowly, gently kissed her lips.
Under his kiss, Hermione smiled.
As he brought Hermione home after dinner, Severus Snape noticed that he had begun to think of one of the cloak hooks in the wardrobe as hers. He'd seen her female accoutrements in the bathroom, of course, and they stayed there all week, which was only sensible, but now he found that she had made serious inroads on his living situation.
Was he … in a relationship?
He watched her hips sway as she made her way confidently into the bedroom. She looked over her shoulder at him and smiled. He felt his lips twitch upward without his conscious control. "Weren't you planning on putting it to me?" she asked.
Severus thought about the way he'd told her, months ago, not to confuse sex with intimacy, and then he answered her.
"Plans change, Miss Granger."
A/N:
This story was inspired by two things:
1.I had to get the smut out of my brain in order to keep Honi Soit sweet.
2.I'd been thinking about the other things our couple craves.
Sex is a motivator for most humans, but there are other desires wrapped up in sex. Most of us wouldn't find much fulfillment in skipping straight to the orgasm, and I wanted to see what else these two were interested in.
Hermione craves knowledge and accomplishment, and that's available from any number of sources. But I imagine that once she gets involved with a partner, she would want to know why her partner acts the way he does, and for her, this would be the true challenge and joy of Snape. Our favourite professor has a fertile imagination, and his motivations are almost never apparent. This could be explored through kink and fantasy, with Hermione meeting Snape's eccentricities and giving him lots of leeway so that she can observe him in different situations - and learn about herself in the process.
Snape craves acceptance, from a person who could know him deeply, and he would have to reveal himself in order to get it. But due to his own pathology and history, he will test her first to determine how trustworthy she is (sorry, all; the counselling psychologist can't resist this kind of thing).
How far could he push Hermione and still be her chosen partner? Snape's ambition and strict pride would value the clever, powerful, famous Hermione, and if he could gain her acceptance, it might override the years of contempt from the wizarding world.
I debated on tagging this story as BDSM, because it's not traditional BDSM. The erotic power exchange is the main theme, and there are certainly D/s roleplays, but Hermione isn't a submissive and isn't trying to be one, nor is Snape taking on the dominant's responsibilities. In the end, I included the tag because of the elements of kink, and to warn anyone who wasn't interested in reading about exhibitionism and humiliation.
This didn't start as a love story, and maybe it isn't one. The two started to pull together at some point, and they ended in a different place than I expected, but I couldn't espalier them after they'd already started growing. I suppose that I shouldn't have expected them to stay so detached after they'd dug around in each other's hearts and minds, but the plan was to have a torrid affair and a bittersweet but amicable split at the end of the year.
As you see, they turned 'round and gave this idea the two-finger salute. I've never been more proud.
I have no idea if it'll work out between these two crazy kids, so if you like an Acid Pop ending, then you can feel free to assume that they burned bright, then burned out. If you like a Cauldron Cake ending, then you can project their continued growth, both personally and as a couple.
A final note on Hermione in this story: this Hermione achieves orgasm quite easily, as many women do in erotic fiction. Statistically, most women are not like this. Each body is different, and it takes time to work out what you like before you can work with a partner. Don't give up on a joyful sex life or multiple orgasms just because your experience isn't like what you've seen or read - you are worth the time and effort to sort it out.