Disclaimer: Obviously, none of these characters are mine. The Harry Potter universe (inclusive of Hogwarts School, all recognizable characters mentioned, and all institutions, situations, events and happenings) is copyrighted by J.K. Rowling and her corporate affiliates. The following work is fan fiction and is considered by the author to be a respectful parody of Ms. Rowling's work while acknowledging its derivative status. No commercial use of this work is intended nor is any revenue being made from it or any website on which it may be archived.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Hermione stood outside of the Potion room for a full minute, quietly struggling to control her emotions. At 17, and mere weeks from graduation, she was riddled with anxiety over upcoming final N.E.W.T. exams and the thought of a future without daily contact with her friends. Add to that the recent, untimely loss of her parents (whose deaths just eighteen months ago at the hands of Voldemort had thrown her into a depressed state her friends and teachers feared she'd never rise from). The ensuing drop in her academics average had prompted Dumbledore, in his concern, to offer her additional tutoring.
The myriad of worries coupled with the beginnings of a vicious headache at the thought of the upcoming hours locked in a cold room with Professor Snape (or "that bastard" as he was more readily known) were almost more than she could manage. Taking a deep, fortifying breath, she raised a hand and knocked firmly on the door.
"Enter," Snape murmured. His voice, deep with rough, velvet undertones, washed over Hermione evoking a familiar shiver of fear.
Shake it off, you nit, she told herself as she turned the knob and - glowering - entered the room. Crossing over to a school desk, she tossed her books in a neighboring chair and plopped down in an annoyed slump.
Sighing deeply and thinking of the things he'd trade to live a full day without encountering some form of teenage angst, Snape spoke caustically, "My time, Miss Granger, is valuable. Punctuality is not an option."
Raising her eyes to the clock on the wall, she was shocked to see it was ten minutes passed the hour. Meeting his dark gaze, she felt her response die on her lips. She'd be damned if she'd apologize.
Raising his brows, he continued in sepulchral tones, "Perhaps you'd rather repeat your last year than make use of our time?"
An angry blush crept up her face, as she said forcibly, "No! Sir!"
Taking a step towards her and leaning over, he slapped his hand on her desk and spoke curtly. "Then sit up and pay attention!"
Startled, she sat up quickly and felt her eyes fill. Dismayed, she stared dumbly at him.
"Cease your sniveling, child." He snapped. Faintly horrified by her tears, Snape turned and stalked quickly to his desk. Choosing a textbook, he opened it and spoke harshly. "If you think you can manage, Miss Granger, open your Potions textbook to Chapter 13."
Fueled by stress and emotional overload, Hermione snapped,"I'd manage far better without your constant caustic remarks!" Pressing two fingers to the bridge of her nose, she muttered, "I'd rather take a beating than have to put up with your bloody sarcasm."
Severous Snape slowly lowered the textbook and took a long moment to study her. Gone was the gangly, wild-haired girl. In her place, a lean, compact, young woman with delicate features and large, amber eyes. Giving her a thoughtful look, and once more picking up the textbook, he softly said, "As you wish."
"Please open your textbook to Chapter thirteen."
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
The next few hours were decidedly the most peculiar Hermione had ever spent in the seven years she'd worked with the Potions' Master. True to his word, he taught, lectured, and demonstrated complex potions in a calm, encouraging manner that left her astounded. Even her mistakes - few as they might be - failed to elicit the usual sharp criticism.
He really was a marvelous teacher when he wasn't being a cold, surly brute. Hermione felt a stab of real regret as the end of their lesson approached. If only he would show this side of himself during class. How many more would pass with a little gentleness, rather than failing miserably and crawling away to lick their wounds.
At his glance to the clock, Hermione reached down to gather up her notebook and purse.
"Have you been excused?" Snape's silky voice flowed over Hermione.
"Sir? It's nearly 11:00 pm."
Under Snape's steady gaze, she slowly lowered her books. "May I ask, Miss Granger, if you found me short with you in the last few hours?"
Feeling her heart settle somewhere in the vicinity of her stomach, Hermione answered, "No, sir."
"Was I insulting? Snide? Sarcastic." The last word was drawn out long and melodiously.
Feeling a flush crawl to her face, Hermione stammered, "N-no, sir."
"Good." Black eyes fixed steadily on hers, as he raised a leg to sit on the edge of his desk. "Come here, please."
Unconsciously drawn to her feet, she walked slowly towards him.
"You can't seriously mean to beat me?" she asked in wide-eyed disbelief.
With a derisive snort, he closed long fingers around her upper arm and pulled her closer to him. Gazing over her features, he noted that the annoying know-it-all child was growing into a lovely young woman. "In a very mild sense of the word, yes."
Hermione eyed him warily, uncertain of his intentions but certain they would not be pleasant. Staring up into his eyes, she was amazed to note they were deep, chocolaty brown (had she really thought they were black?). Meeting his dark gaze with Gryffindor courage, she lifted her chin. Then immediately felt the color drain from her face, as his eyes narrowed and he quietly murmured, "Just remember. You asked for this."
Grasping her around the waist, he easily lifted and tossed her face down across his thigh. Pressing one hand down firmly on the small of her back, he lifted her black robes and threw them above her waistline. He hesitated briefly before lifting the back of her pleated skirt and raising his flattened hand high.
Dazed at the speed at which she found herself in such an unpromising position, Hermione could only sputter when at first her robes then her skirt were lifted.
"What the …" Hermione's protest died on her lips as a sharp crack sounded accompanied by an even sharper pain across her behind. She took in a quick short breath, incredulous that he would dare strike her. This thought followed quickly by another stinging swat and then another before self-preservation had her wiggling and twisting to get free.
Strengthening his grip on her, Snape held her firmly and continued smacking her – harder now – trying not to notice the attractive scrap of lace or the lovely flesh it barely covered. He kept up his assault until he was certain every inch of her bottom reflected the pink imprint of his hand.
Pulling her garments into place, he lifted her to a standing position. As soon as Hermiones feet touched the floor, she came round with a vicious open handed swing aimed at his face. Blocking her hand before impact, swifter than she could imagine possible, he caught both wrists and twisted them behind her, securing both in one large hand before pulling her angrily struggling form flush against his own.
Watching the play of emotions warring with each other on her face; shock, pain, humiliation, fury, he felt a small smile tug at the corner of his mouth. Seeing it, Hermione spat out, "You Bastard!"
With remarkable drollness, he chided her, "You do realize, had your hand made contact, I would have had to spank you, all-over-again.!"
Gasping in indignation, she tried twisting her wrists free and soon gave up to glare mutinously at him. Head tilted she considered their position as an idea sparked. A short lift of her knee should be about right. Honing in on her intent just prior to execution, Snape shifted his weight and pressed his thigh forward to push the lower half of her body – most specifically, her knee – out of harms' way.
As his leg pressed intimately against her, Hermione felt a sharp shock of pleasure. Feeling her knees begin to weaken, she fought a totally unexpected rush of desire.
Feeling her initial jolt, Snape watched with keen interest as her pupils dilated and her eyes fell to his mouth. Noting the increasing rise and fall of her chest, he tugged her body closer, keeping her hands contained, his thigh pressed firmly to her center, nearly causing her to straddle him. Her beautiful eyes flew up to meet his in shocked awareness and heat.
Stunned by the lush invitation he saw in them, he felt a responding physical surge rush through him and froze.
Slowly releasing her wrists, he reached down and cupped her round bottom with both hands and pulled her up the length of his thigh to press her body fully against his once more. The feel of his hands branding her already burning flesh mingled with an intense gathering of sensations that left Hermione helplessly clutching his shoulders.
Swooping down, Snape placed his warm lips on the nape of her neck and felt her stiffen. He clasped her rocking body to his own and listened in mute amazement to her passionate cries.
Minutes passed before Hermione came to complete awareness in the arms of her Professor. Mortification had her pressing her forehead down to his shoulder.
Long fingers gently gripped her chin, and lifted. Snape studied her flushed face for a long moment with dark, fathomless eyes, before uttering in a deep voice, "My. My. You are full of surprises."