Author's Note: This story is loosely inspired by the 2002 film, 'Secretary', otherwise known as the film '50 Shades of Grey' wanted to be. Though I don't really need to say it, the story is AU, taking place during the sixth year when Hermione becomes of legal age, but will probably mirror the events within the original story further down the line.
As with all my fics, there will be no regular update schedule because I'm a lazy bastard who works off of random energy spikes and I believe that the best writing comes naturally in its own time. However, I am really excited about this project and am eager to see where it goes, and hope that you will too.
Enjoy!
~jj
Warning: Strong adult themes, offensive language, student/teacher relationship, underage, possible violence.
Disclaimer: I own nothing except my own imagination. And a couple cats...
This story is not intended to showcase the BDSM community as a whole, rather display the interesting and specific dynamic between two characters who naturally fit the role of Dominant and Submissive and their interaction with each other.
She had done it. She had passed everything with flying colours. Nine 'Outstandings' and only one 'Exceeded Expectations' in Defence Against the Dark Arts. She was free to choose any subject she wanted for her sixth year and explore any path she could imagine. The future was at her fingertips, just waiting to be grasped.
So why did she feel so bland?
Hermione lay awake in bed revisiting her O.W.L. exam results for the umpteenth time with the same thoughts raced around her head.
There was no true euphoria, no rush of relief—nothing but the same concern she always had over success. It was like nothing had really changed. After all the work, all the endless hours of study, the blood, sweat, and tears this was supposed to be the moment it all became worth it, the saving grace. But it wasn't. The fear, the worry, the threatening panic failure all remained. She had done well, incredibly well, but it didn't feel like anything had changed for her mind was still plagued of the past mistakes she had made. She felt like everything she achieved hadn't meant anything.
"What is going on with me?" Hermione whispered quietly to herself.
The fifth-year Hogwarts examinations had taken place nearly six weeks ago. Hermione had never let a day go by without recounting her exact errors and minor miscalculations, convincing herself that she would fall short of everyone's grand expectations. Every time she was alone her thoughts consumed her, burying her underneath the weight of possible failure and the disappointed gazes from her professors, her friends, her parents, herself. But she didn't fail, far from it, she had done better than everyone else in her year. Maybe it was because she still had her N.E.W.T classes and exams to focus on, a much more intensive ordeal, and her body didn't want her to slip and slack off from studying.
Regardless, the same bizarre sensation followed her from the moment she read the letter, to now—the first day of classes, over a full week later. She had never seemed to figure out how to shake the feeling.
"I just don't get it..." she said to herself, turning on to her side and peering through the long red curtains of her four-poster bed.
The dorm was dark with only small slivers of sunlight peaking through the covered windows, indicating it was early morning. Knowing she wasn't getting any more sleep, Hermione slipped out of bed and dressed in her school robes, tiptoeing around Lavender's bed as she left.
Exiting the Gryffindor common room, Hermione took comfort in the completely deserted corridors. She took her time descending the stone stairs, footsteps echoing lightly off the walls, as she made her way to the Great Hall. Again the area was void of people, though as Hermione took a seat at one of the long wooden tables a sudden platter of food appeared in front of her. She silently thanked the House Elves below for preparing her meal before grabbing two slices of toast, a spoonful of scrambled eggs and a small glass of pumpkin juice. Her stomach rumbled as she picked up her fork, however, it soon dropped as a formal voice called from behind.
"Miss Granger."
Hermione swivelled around in her seat, her vision filled by a long stretch of black fabric standing directly in front of her to the point where she had to lean back in order to see the stern and sallow face of Professor Snape.
"Good morning, professor," she greeted politely.
Snape did not respond, nor did he take a step back. He simply stared down at her with his customary stony expression, eyes dark and mysterious as Hermione tried to figure out his intent.
"Ah," she said, fidgeting slightly. "H-How are you, professor?"
"Very well, Miss Granger," Snape responded smoothly, still gazing at her with a calculating look.
Hermione had never seen Snape act so... Openly. He was absent of his seemingly permanent sneer and judgemental eyes, trading them for a curiously different personality entirely. Those less familiar with Snape's usual impression would call it friendly, but she knew better. It was unnerving, unsettling. What had caused him to be in such a good mood? Whatever it was, Hermione had a bad feeling about it.
"How were your results, Miss Granger?" Snape asked.
"What?" Hermione replied, struck dumb by the question.
Never in a million years would Hermione ever think Snape would strike up a normal— God forbid a pleasant conversation with her. There had to be a sinister explanation for this odd behaviour, she knew there had to be.
"Your exam results," Snape repeated with uncharacteristic patience. "How did you go, Miss Granger?"
"Oh!" she squeaked in realisation.
This was it. He wanted to gloat about her failure at achieving a perfect ten 'Outstandings'. He was here to mock her, she could tell, he already knew and just wanted her to be forced to say it. Say that she couldn't live up to the expectations of those around her, how she let down Professor McGonagall, the Headmaster, her friends. Say that she wasn't as good as she pretended to be.
Swallowing her frustration she answered stiffly, "Fine, professor."
"Just..." He paused with purpose. "Fine, Miss Granger?"
"Yes," she said quickly, desperately hoping he wouldn't push it any further as she wasn't prepared to deal with this level of aggravation this early on in the day.
"I heard otherwise, Miss Granger." Snape loomed over her, black hair falling forward and framing his features.
'Don't do it, don't do it, don't do it,' Hermione chanted inside her head as Snape's face came closer, halting when he was nearly directly over her head.
"I heard," he continued slowly, deliberately. "That you managed nine 'Outstandings' in your exams. Would you truly consider that as just 'fine', Miss Granger?"
"No," she said, her tone nothing but a breath of air.
"No what?" Snape questioned with a raised eyebrow expectantly.
"No, professor," Hermione corrected, deathly still and desperate to not to lose her temper.
"Very good," Snape murmured, lips barely moving. "Now I just wanted to—"
"If you're just going to make fun of me, go on and get it over with!" Hermione exploded, throwing her arms up aggressively. "No point in dragging it out any further! I know what you're trying to do, so just do it already!"
Snape moved faster than Hermione's eyes could follow and grabbed a firm hold of her wrists, saying nothing as she gasped in shock. Her gut churned as she forced herself to look back into the endless black pools staring back at her but was beyond confused to find nothing more than the same cool composure within them. The pair stayed in the strange stance for longer than Hermione would've liked, however, was determined to make Snape move first, for pride if nothing else. Soon her arms began to ache from the lack of blood-flow and she was forced to admit defeat. Wriggling her arms in his solid grip, she was relieved to find that he let them go immediately with no further motion.
"I-I'm sorry, professor," Hermione apologised, dipping her head so that the professor could not see the blush forming on her face. "I must still be a tad stressed out."
"I was going to congratulate your success, Miss Granger," Snape said after a moment.
Hermione's head whipped back up. "Excuse me?"
"Nine 'Outstandings' is a very impressive accomplishment, Miss Granger," Snape explained simply. "You should be proud."
"I'm so... This doesn't... What?" she stuttered helplessly.
"Have a good day, Miss Granger." Snape bowed and stepped away.
Hermione's mind was spinning. What the hell had just happened? She lifted her hands to her face and tried to comprehend the scenario she just experienced, coming up empty-handed at any reasonable and rational reason it had occurred in the first place.
"And Miss Granger?"
Hermione dropped her hands and looked towards the doors.
Snape looked at her with an expression she had never seen on him before. "Do not lie to me again."
"When did I...?" Hermione started but trailed off as Snape's robes fluttered around the corner and out of sight.
Snape wanted to congratulate her after all this time? No, that couldn't be. He was Snape, after all, he had no concept of congratulating someone, of being nice, of being a decent human being. No, no, no. Hermione was dreaming, it's the only way this could have come about—the only logical conclusion. Regardless of the ridiculousness of the idea, she decided to pinch herself to make sure she was indeed dreaming resulting in a sharp pain flaring from her left hand and the evidence that this was real.
"What the hell?" She slipped down and let her head bang against the table next to her abandoned plate.
Hermione stayed that way for a while, her mind blank and worn-thin until the distant sounds of sleepy steps steadily grew louder and louder forcing her to pretend everything was normal. She had to wait for Harry and Ron, tell them everything and work together to figure out what was making Snape act so crazy.
'How sad is it that being polite is a sign of Snape being crazy?' She snickered to herself and picked lightly at her stone cold food.
A full hour passed before the bleary-eyed and messy heads of the two boys stumbled down next to her. Neither of them spoke, focused on either shovelling as much food as possible into their mouth or watching the Slytherin table like a hunting hawk.
"Well good morning to you too," Hermione said sarcastically, rolling her eyes as Ron choked on a sausage.
"Mo'ing, 'Mione," Ron replied, spitting food all over himself.
Hermione stared at him for a moment in minor disgust, then moving on to the second boy at the table. "Good morning, Harry."
Harry didn't even blink as she addressed him.
"Harry," Hermione said more firmly, shaking him lightly on the arm.
"What!" Harry gasped, shaking his head slightly. "Oh, sorry, Hermione."
"Don't tell me you're still fixated on Malfoy?" she asked, folding her arms.
"You can't tell me it isn't suspicious!" he countered hotly.
"Give him a break, Hermione," Ron muttered mindlessly, scooping up a mountain of eggs on to his now empty plate.
Hermione waved dismissively and shook her head, desperate to share her news. "I really need to tell you both about the most insane thing that just—"
"He's not here!" Harry huffed. "Why isn't he here? Where is he going? What is he doing?"
"Are you going to listen to me?" Hermione snapped angrily.
"Sorry, Hermione." Harry rubbed his eyes behind his glasses. "Really, I am. I'm just certain that Malfoy is a—"
"Shh!" Hermione slapped her hand over Harry's mouth. "Don't go spreading that around, Harry. It's incredibly dangerous and, not to mention, without any substantial evidence!"
"Hermione, you saw it!" Harry argued.
"I don't know what I saw," she admitted sharply. "It could have been anything."
"But it wasn't," he cried. "It wasn't just anything, Hermione please stop being in denial about this."
"Ron!" She turned and smacked the red-headed boy on the back. "Help me please!"
Ron coughed and swallowed deeply. "Right, uh, I have to agree with Hermione, mate."
Harry threw his head back in annoyance. "Oh, come on!"
"Thank you, Ron." Hermione smiled sweetly at the boy, making him turn pink.
"Y-Yeah," Ron continued. "You're blowing this a little out of whack here, Harry. I mean, it's only Malfoy. How much trouble could that weedy little bastard cause, anyway?"
Harry seethed and took a bite out of toast, refusing to meet either of his friend's gazes.
"Now can I finally tell my story?" Hermione asked with a note of impatience.
"Go ahead," Harry mumbled, drinking a large gulp from his goblet.
Hermione described the encounter with Snape with riveting spirit, though her heart deflated as the boys looked unimpressed by the end of it.
"So Snape's a manipulative cock?" Harry shrugged. "What's new there?"
"But..." Hermione's voice faded.
"Look, Mione," Ron said, placing his hand over hers. "Snape's just trying to fuck with you. He is and will always be a complete cunt. Don't kid yourself by thinking otherwise."
"You're right," she said in a small voice of embarrassment. "Of course you're right, I don't know what I was thinking..."
"What a twat move though," Ron carried on, squeezing her hand a bit too tightly. "Targeting you before classes even start! Absolute dickhead."
"Yeah..." she finished weakly.
Hermione couldn't help but notice the difference between Ron's and Snape's grip, the boy's hand currently hot and sweaty while the professor's were cool and dry—not as unpleasant as she would've once thought. Her hand was now starting to tingle to the point of numbness, and her mind went back previously to when her arms were held in a much more comfortable manner despite the awkward angle.
'He couldn't hurt me, I'm a student,' she rationalised to herself. 'Of course, he wouldn't risk the possibility of bruises or any physical harm, just mental and emotional damage... As usual.'
She flexed her fingers and tugged her hand from Ron's, hiding it under the table on her lap as she soothed it with her other hand. Her mind wandered as her fingers rubbed circles on her skin, zoning out of Harry's revived obsessive rambling and Ron resumed to stuff face like a wild animal.
This was the weirdest year of her life so far. Between the empty feeling of her exam results, Snape's new level of borderline abuse, her conflicting feelings for Ron, and Harry's fanatical theories on Malfoy all piling on over the course of a week, Hermione was ready to throw in the towel even before the first lesson of the term. She just wanted to go back to bed, to curl up into a ball and let the world pass her by but her stubborn determination would never allow her to give up so easily. Exhausted and confused, she stayed stuck in her seat as both boys continued on without her in their respective tasks.
By the time she snapped back to reality, students all around were pouring out of the hall with a frantic pace.
"Oh shit, we're gonna be late." Harry rose from his seat and pulling Ron away from yet another plate of food.
"Really?" Hermione looked around and gasped in surprise. "Yes let's go—Ron, drop it! We've got to get going."
Ron gave her a sour look and dropped a handful of food back on to the table.
"Oh shut it," Hermione snapped, standing and ushering the boys out of the hall from behind.
"It's Defence, right?" Ron asked Harry once they were outside in the corridor.
Harry made a noise of agreement. "I can only imagine how Slughorn will be. Regardless, there's no way he'd be any worse than her."
Hermione's eyes flicked to Harry's left hand, tracing the thin white scars their former Defence Against the Dark Arts professor inflicted on him. She reached over and squeezed it gently making Harry jump a bit before turning and giving her a warm smile. Out of the corner of her vision, she noticed Ron's face darken and quickly released Harry. The group continued to walk to the classroom in silence, meeting up with already formed bunches of Slytherins and Gryffindors glaring hatefully at each other and pockets of blue Ravenclaws and yellow Hufflepuffs chatting quietly to one another.
Harry clutched at Hermione, dragging her closer towards him and digging his nails into her as he hissed harshly into her ear.
"There he is!"
Hermione bit down her anger as Harry jabbed over towards Malfoy standing on the other side of the hallway, flanked by a gushing Pansy Parkinson and a bored Blaise Zabini—his usual thugs, Crabbe and Goyle, nowhere to be seen. She resisted the urge to slap him on the face as Harry was nearly frothing at the mouth at the sight of the other boy. She pried his fingers off her, sighing at the marks he left and gave him a deadpan gaze. His eyes narrowed and he opened his mouth, only to be abruptly interrupted by the heavy doors of the class flying open in a way similar to the Potions classroom.
When no voice called for them to enter, Hermione's stomach dropped. This was far too similar to their normal Potions lesson and, by Harry's description, Slughorn was jovial if not a slightly arrogant man who Hermione would have expected to greet them warmly and loudly.
"Harry," she whispered. "Are you sure Slughorn is the new Defence teacher?"
Harry's face screwed with confusion. "Well, what the bloody hell else would he be teaching?"
She did not answer him. Ever since Sirius' death, she was cautious about making him upset, both out of compassion for her friend as well as fear. Hermione was deeply afraid whenever Harry got angry, and though he's been much better recently she was still wary of accidentally triggering him.
"Move it already!" Pansy Parkinson's shrill voice sliced through the sudden silence.
"Hag," Hermione heard Ron mutter under his breath and turned around to flash him a grin.
Her gaze on Ron, she did not see the look of sheer rage on Harry's face and could not understand why he swore in a dangerous rumble.
"Fuck no."
She slowly spun back and peered inside the class, her heart deflating into a pitiful puddle as her earlier suspicions came true.
"Oh, God..."
Sitting at the front of the room behind a grand black desk was Professor Snape, former Potions Master. He gazed lazily at the students filing in, no emotion flickering on his face as people either scowled or cowered in front of him while they took their seats. The Slytherins had occupied all the ones in the back and there was now a fight for the seats furthest from the front. Unfortunately, due to her shocked state, Hermione missed out on the desk next to Ron as Lavender swiftly took it with triumph on her face. There were only two seats left, both in the front row but on opposite sides of the room.
Harry looked at her, his eyes alight with pure animosity, and she nodded back solemnly. She could not let him suffer at the lone desk settled directly in front of Snape, the risk of his expulsion would be too great as would the risk of him actually attempting to kill the professor. So she took the plunge and inched down the aisle, brushing by Ron who gave her a small sympathetic shrug as she slipped down into her seat.
Snape's eyes locked with Hermione's for the briefest of moments, but it was more than enough time for her to realise that this was going to be a challenge like no other she's faced before.