Chapter Two—Snape
Dear Diary,
Yesterday was tres amusant and splendid. Harry enjoyed it also, and Ron was oblivious, as always.
It was a very…interesting day for me. However, I plan to start today off with a bang. Literally.
I'm not quite sure who I will do today. I guess whoever comes along first…oh! Neville just walked into the common room!
Luv luv, Hermione
"Hello Neville!" Hermione smiled at the bumbling boy as he tripped into the common room. "How are you on this gorgeously sunny Saturday morning at 8:39 AM, to be exact?"
Neville sadly looked at his Birkenstocks. "Not well, Hermione," he said as he slumped into a chair. "Snape assigned me a 548,000 foot long parchment to write on the art of Potions. He says I spill everything so much and I don't appreciate his art. I don't even know how to spell potions, let alone appreciate it as an art form!" Neville sobbed.
"Oh, Neville…" Hermione got up and sat on Neville's lap, nicely stroking his thigh, planting loving kisses on his forehead, and getting a little too comfortable.
"Do ya think you can help me write it, Hermione?" Neville looked into her eyes hopefully.
"No, Neville…I'll do something even more helpful!" Hermione said energetically.
Neville glanced at her chest hopefully and said, in a voice shaking with RISING excitement, "Really? Wh….what will you do, H-Hermione?"
"Oh, Neville, it will be terrific!" Hermione squeezed his knee stroked his lips with her pinky. Neville perked up with excitement….literally. "I will go and talk to Snape for you!"
Neville's hope deflated like when a balloon meets a fork. "Oh….gee, thanks, Hermione!"
"Anytime, Neville! Really, anytime." Hermione spat out emphasis on "really" and "anytime," her eyebrows raised.
With a final squeeze of Neville's knee, Hermione jumped up and grabbed her bag. "Well, no time to lose! I'm off to…eh, negotiate with Professor Snape about your essay. Tootaloo!"
As Hermione skipped out of the common room, Neville watched her jiggle with deep longing. Then he went to eat some eggs.
As Hermione walked along the corridor to the dungeon, she thought about removing her bra. Instead, though, she just magicked her bra tighter, seeing how Snape, as an adult as well as a professor would enjoy a challenge.
"Professor Snape?" Hermione called out, tapping the doorframe as she reached Professor Snape's private quarters. "Helllloooooo? Anybody hoooome?"
Hermione quickly glanced down the corridor, and, seeing that everybody else was at breakfast, opened the door to Snape's room (it was a known fact throughout Hogwarts that professors' doors were always open to needy students).
"Perfect," she purred, when she saw it was also deserted. Quickly, she used her wand to change her knee-length skirt and white blouse into a black corset with lace edges, with tiny black leather boyshorts, black fishnets, black high-heeled Mary Janes, and black suspenders. Then, she turned her hair into long, straight black hair, and put some black eyeliner, black lipstick, and red mascara onto her face. Finally, she hand-cuffed herself to Snape's bedposts (after using her wand to clean the sheets, because who knows when Snape last showered?). Now all she had to do was wait and mentally prep for the incoming hurricane. With her legs spread, facing the door.
A few minutes later, just as Hermione had finished planning her course of action, the door handle turn and Snape walked into the room. With a sigh, he immediately turned and locked his door. Then he turned around and noticed Hermione, watching him coyly from the bed, her hands chained and her legs spread.
"Ms. Granger! What are you doing in my private chambers!" Snape exploded with rage. "This is completely unacceptable!" Hermione puffed out her chest with pride as she noticed that, although he was mad at her, Snape's eyes kept wandering over her body, glinting with desire.
"Well, I was hoping it would be you," Hermione said, crossing her legs, "but that's up to you."
"Ms.Granger, I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I don't what to say. What are YOU saying? I don't know," Snape mumbled. "I'm a teacher," he said, "and one of Voldemort's followers," he muttered his breath. "And what are you doing in here, you dirty mudblood?"
Hermione grinned at him and uncrossed her legs. She laughed as she noticed that Snape's eyes drifted down when she did that. "Just so you know, it's always been the older, more mature, men of an evil nature that have turned me on. And you are right about one thing—I'm definitely dirty," she purred.
"Um…well, this really isn't suitable at all!" Snape yelled, flustered, as he took off his cloak and took a bottle of wine from a cabinet. "I mean, honestly, I'm a professor, and you are a sixteen-year-old…sixteen-year-old…a bloody sixteen-year-old who looks like my steamy sex slave…a sixteen-year-old…with a fantastic body…a sixteen-year-old, a sixteen-year-old virgin, a sixteen-year—DAMMIT, GIRL, TAKE OFF YOUR CLOTHES!" Snape hurriedly whipped off his clothes, and Hermione tried not to wince. But he was on the List, after all.
"I can't," she giggled, "that's your job, because I'm your kinky angel of darkness who is chained to this bed for all your using pleasure! Oh, and you think I'm a virgin? Well, you have another think coming." She arched her back in the air and shoved her shorts in his face. "Now take them off!"
Snape was able to get off her pants, fishnets and suspenders (he didn't have to worry about underwear because Hermione never wore anymore these days), but had difficulty with her corset. "DAMN THESE TIES! ONLY A GENIUS COULD FIGURE OUT HOW TO GET THIS OFF! IT'S NOT A CORSET, IN FACT—IT'S AN ANTI-PENETRATION VEST OF DOOM!" Snape growled in frustration.
Hermione sighed. "The laces are just for show, Severus (or should I say Sexyus?), it's Velcro.
"Enh….right…." Snape blushed and ripped off the corset.
"Ahh, I've got you blushing now, have I?" Hermione laughed and, with her wand between her teeth, zapped away her handcuffs. "Great, now I can move!" Hermione's nails dug into Snape's back and pulled her closer.
"DAMN YOUR SIXTEEN-YEAR-OLD FOXYNESS!" He collapsed his body onto hers, and the game began.
2.309 hours later, the two were lying in bed; Snape looked close to death and Hermione's cheeks were flushed.
"Well…Ms. Granger…" Snape said, between taking gulps of air.
"Well, Professor," Hermione said sarcastically.
"What was that again that you wanted to see me for?"
Hermione flipped onto her side and propped her head on her hand. "I'll agree never to tell anyone about this if you tell Neville he doesn't have to do that reallllly looong essay you assigned him. OR any other extra work."
Snape looked disgusted for a moment, and then said, "Fine," he pouted.
Hermione smiled triumphantly, and the two got up and got dressed.
As Hermione unlocked the door and took a step out, she turned back to Snape. "Thank you for the extra help, Professor," she said in a posh voice.
"Yes, well, Ms. Granger, I hope to see you again next month? If not sooner?" Snape said, clutching her arm hopefully.
"No."
"Are you sure? I really think you need extra help."
"No."
"But I'll pay you!"
"No."
"But—"
"No, Professor, this was a one time thing. Which we will never speak of again. So, thank you for the help, and I'll see you in class on Monday." Hermione turned her back on a scowling Snape, and headed back to the room.
"To-Do" List:
Harry–Check. Good sex, though he did call me Myrtle at one point. 8/10
Snape—Check. A bit much—yelled a lot, and was a bit on the wrinkly and unclean side. 2.3 /10
