Thank you so much for the reviews last time! This chapter includes the reasons why Hermione is like she is as well. I hope you like them. My brain continuously blows itself at the level of disturbing-ness this story has reached. Now this chapter is FAR WORSE than the last, and SERIOUSLY NOT SUITED FOR MINORS. If you are going to anyway, enjoy, and please let me know what you think!

Bent over the table, glaring at the students like a ferocious beast protecting its food, his long, greasy hair hanging lowly into his soup and his giant beak of a nose almost on eye level with the bowl, Severus Snape's figure was an insult to the naked eye. Whenever the spoon approached his mouth, he would part his thin, broken lips and reveal ugly, crooked teeth that were just as disturbing to the vision as the whole of his form.

Hermione Granger did not respond the gaze of the empty, black eyes that were fixed on her as if the man was in a trance. Deliberately, she avoided even a glimpse of the skinny, bat-like form and the distractingly ugly face.

She felt very strongly about this man, her former potions, now Defense against the Dark Arts teacher. Repulsed, revolted, disgusted by his very being. Whenever he opened his mouth to speak, his menacing voice slowly piercing into her eardrums, pure hatred took over her mind. She knew him, of his unacceptable weakness that he dared not show anyone but herself.

The whole week after their first, curious, little incident had happened in his classroom, he had attempted to ignore her. Only, Hermione knew better. She knew he could not, and more often than not had he gazed at her longingly, unconsciously extended a hand or opened his mouth, perhaps in an attempt to hold her after the bell had already rung.

Hermione remembered vividly how he had stood there, looking like a fish on the dry, his mouth opening and closing again, too scared to beg her to look at him. In those unspoken words, designed to make her at least recognize his existence, she had found it yet again. Severus Snape was a pathetic excuse for a man. She could not bear this repulsing, irritating weakness of his mind that had made him beg and plea with her for her contact. That needing tone of his usually cold voice, it made Hermione's anger rise into sheer immeasurable heights, leaving nothing but blind hatred for its owner.

„What's the fuck is he staring at?" an angry voice said beside her. Hermione felt a gentle nudge of an elbow into her ribs. She had no time for gentle. She would not give either of the men that were now focused on her the pleasure of her looking at them. Instead, she kept fixed her eyes on a book titled Slytherin Snakes- A detailed history of the most noble of the houses and its most promising students.

She had played with the thought of being adopted by her Muggle parents for a while... she was incapable of believing that a witch of Muggle descent should be as smart and skilled as she was. She had begung to cross reference the names of the listed Slytherin students from the last three decades with birth and death tables. If only she could find a connection between herself and either of those prized students.

Ron seemed not to notice, or foolhardy as he was simply choose to ignore her lack of interest in whatever he had to say.

„Look at Snape eating." said he with a jerk of his head. „Like a wild animal."

„Primitive, really." Harry piped in.

Hermione clenched the cover of her book tighter. Of course she had found Severus Snape in there as well, being a genius in potions and the Dark Arts. Naturally, it had made her laugh, because if he had ever been a genius, he wasn't with her.

"He should be taken points for being the most ugly person in the school." said Ron stupidly.

"The whole world." muttered Harry.

The book provided no distraction as images began to fill Hermione's head, clear enough to make out the red rope burns on Snape's thin wrists. He was on his knees in front of her, his legs bound together, bucking his hips into her retreating hands, and then grinding into the leg of a nearby chair, mad with the need for friction, when she retracted them fully. Through the curtain of greasy black hair she could see his parted lips and the pained moans escaping as the wood scraped over his tender skin.

The thought was sickening, but she could not help shifting her legs as she felt her libido stir. She had no time for this now, but she would see after their Defense Against the Dark Arts class. Impatiently, she dragged her eyes back to her Slytherin book and listened to Harry and Ron with one ear. They had come to a halt, evidently waiting for her to take part in the conversation.

„Oh I don't know, maybe he's just had a bad class and needs to loosen up a bit." she said, fully aware of the effect her words would have.

„He's Death Eater, Hermione." Harry looked flabbergasted. „If he gets any looser, he'll probably start using the Cruciatus on us!"

„He's still staring at you, Hermione. As if he's about to spit giant slime-balls from his nose."

"And then devour you" said Harry.

Harry and Ron snickered at the cleverness of their inventing a slime spitting dragon, which Hermione failed to see.

She was not listening. Instead, she focused on the list of nasty transformation spells that had been invented by Slytherin Prefects throughout the decades. Most of them included transfiguration, a subject she was most established in. But then, she was established in every subject, except that she would much rather inquire into the Dark Arts themselves than their Defense. Perhaps that was the reason why Harry had out-shined her in their third year final exam. She had been too focused on trying to capture the very essence of the Boggart's ability to make people fear him.

She had faith that she could transform Snape into the most handsome Prince, if she so desired. With a single wave of her wand, she could fix everything from his hooked nose to his repulsing teeth, but whenever she considered it, she did not want to help him, she only wanted to humiliate him further. Yet again, she found it irritating why the Sorting Hat had put her into Gryffindor. She went as far as suspecting Dumbledore, in an attempt to prevent a Dark Lady. He couldn't twart her, she would make use of her power either way.


Except for the longing glances, that Snape only threw at her when he was sure no one else would see, nothing had changed in their Defense Against the Dark Arts classes. Hermione continued to ignore him, and he continued to torture Harry and sometimes Ron. She didn't mind, because after all, they had it coming whenever they opened their mouths in his presence. There had been a time when she would have tried to defend her friends, but they were just as capable themselves, and any sort of speaking up for them would mean that she acknowledged Snape, which she wouldn't. It was worth it, observing him out of the corner of her eyes when he cringed and stared pleadingly at her back as she moved to her place beside Neville.

This lesson was just as normal as any other. They had only just handed in their essays, Hermione's was perfect in both length and content. She would not give Snape any reason to speak to her at all, be it because of a matter of success or failure. She was planning to wait until he broke entirely. Until he was so desperate to converse with her that he would drop the pretense and beg for her attention in front of the whole class. This form of humiliation seemed adequate, and lately, daydreaming about how best to torture Snape had become her most favorite past time.

Hermione knew exactly when she had become hateful like this. After years of suffering Draco Malfoy's taunt and torture, something inside of her had finally snapped. She set herself a task to find out why he, as a pure-blood, seemed to think that he was superior to everyone else. Deeper and deeper she had researched first into ancient families and their blood, traced down every last hint of Slytherin ancestory, and finally came to a halt before the Dark Arts themselves.

She couldn't let this stop her. It would not only confirm Malfoy's accusations that Mudbloods were nothing but weak thieves of magic, but it would also mean that her knowledge was limited. She could not bear either thought. She had hesitated, and the hesitation had angered her even further. Hermione Granger, the smartest witch of her age was not afraid of the Dark Arts.

At last, she had begun with the books on the subject which were available at the library, and worked her way through every last ancient article and dust covered essay she could find. Finally, she had delved deeper into the Dark Arts than the Dark Lord himself. Over the course of three years, she had accumulated knowledge that was far beyond every other student's dreams, and perhaps even further than most adult witches and wizards.

There was so much to keep her brilliant mind busy and test her limits. On contrary to the pure, white magic they learned at Hogwarts, the secrets she had unraveled in her research were pitch black in their very essence. It had been a challenge at first, and Hermione had started with something simple. Too simple, she thought now, but she had only been testing the waters that time.

The Imperius curse, used on an unsuspecting first year in the Gryffindor common room in her fourth year. It was essential, that this first break of the rule should be one of the noble house that was her home at Hogwarts. A way to show Dumbledore how wrong he had been, but she only realized this later.

She had even felt remorse for the poor first year, forced to strip bare in one of the broom closets. At that point, Hermione had only been testing if she had the power to really work this magic. She had been shocked at first. Astonished by what she had done, what she had accomplished, and taken aback by how crude this sort of magic was. And then, a great rush of adrenaline had overtaken her. She had wanted to go further.

Hermione had felt the first year struggling against the curse. His mind was surprisingly strong, but that only edged her on further. No one was stronger than her, no one could outsmart her. She had forced her will onto him, making him do whatever she wanted to see. Several times over, until his mind was broken and he cried miserably for her to stop. She wasn't stupid. She had made him forget, and removed herself from the pitiful scene, more enticed than ever by her skill and expertise.

„Detention, Miss Granger." a sharp voice cut through the air.

Hermione looked up into two cold, black eyes. She had been lost in thought, and Snape must have noticed. Fury immediately began to boil in her stomach at the thought that he had dared to address her. He would pay for forcing her into his life in such a manner, no doubt.

„What for?" Ron barked. As always, he was ready for a fight. Hemione should have felt flattered, but it took all her will not to snap at him to shut up. It wasn't his battle to fight... She didn't need him to stick up for her.

„Don't." she said soothingly instead.

„Repeatedly, I have addressed the issue of plagiarism in my class, yet, from the latest of your horrendous pieces of homework, it has become quite evident that my words have no been heeded."

„So why give her detention and not me?" Ron spat. Harry nodded furiously on his side.

„To eradicate the problem, one must erase it's source." Snape hissed smoothly. „And ten points from Gryffindor for speaking out of tune. Each." he added as Harry opened his mouth.

Hermione was impatient now for the bell to ring. She spent the rest of the lesson unconsciously taking notes, her brain occupied with ideas how she could make him regret that he ever gave her detention. As soon as the lesson was over, Snape sat back down behind his desk and waited until the crowd had cleared with his fingertips put together. He was still staring at her, regardless of the students still filtering out of the room. When the last of them had left, he dropped his pretense and his arms to the sides.

„Hermione..." he croaked.

„What do you think you're doing?" she hissed in response. His eyes were trained on hers with a silent plea, but she decided to ignore it. Instead, she began pacing in front of his desk, making sure that he could see her long legs and the soft swaying of her arse when she moved.

„I could not stand it, Hermione." his voice was barely a whisper.

„Don't call me that, you dimwit." she snapped. „I can report you to Dumbledore if I want to. Sexual harassment wont go down very well with your record of being the most giant, disgusting bat that has ever set foot in the castle."

Snape didn't reply. Aghast, he continued to look at her with wide eyes. Slowly, she made her way around his desk and sat down on its edge, facing him. He swallowed thickly, his eyes fixed on her feet. Without much ado, she raised it and pushed it against his groin. The hardness that met her toes was satisfying, and she allowed a taunting smile to spread onto her lips.

He took in a sharp breath, and Hermione meant to notice him shiver, but he stayed silent. He was afraid, but that hadn't stopped her the first time either. He was so much older, so much more resistant. So much more challenging. This time though, she worked another magic. In some ways, Severus Snape was even simpler than the first year. She didn't even need an Imperius to hold him in place, to force her will onto him. He was dying to oblige without being hexed.

„I need you."

Hermione had to strain her ears to make out the words. It had been barely a whisper, and while she knew what he had said, she didn't approve of the manner of his quiet voice.

„What did you say? Speak up." she demanded.

She caressed him with her toes, until the material of his pants had reached the limit of strain they could take. It must be painful, she thought with delight as he squirmed silently. It took only so long until Snape was panting with his mouth open, revealing his ugly, crooked teeth. His thin features were distorted in agony. He met her eyes and his mouth moved, no doubt trying to form a plea for relief.

„I need you." he groaned. Her own body was responding to the pained words, blood rushing into her crotch again. She had to be careful. She wanted to feel him, but it wasn't yet time.

„Open them." she hissed, indicating the buttons of Snape's trousers with a jerk of her head.

„Hermione... It's not... I want..."

„Don't make me repeat myself." Hermione cut through his words. "I couldn't care less what you want."

His fingers were shaking so badly now that it took him several tries to open the buttons. Hermione snorted at the sight of an adult man losing his mind like that. She had been right about Severus Snape, he made a very good guinea pig. Desperate, old Snape, dying to speak with her, to be touched by her.

As soon as the fabric was out of the way, she pulled down his undergarments with her toes. She didn't waste time to take in the magnitude of his erection, but quickly laid they foot onto it. It was rock hard, pulsing at their contact. It was almost as if it was pushing her away, but Hermione pushed back. She curled her toes so that the edge of her shapely nails scratched over his skin. It immediately made him moan, but she wasn't sure if it was lust or pain this time. It hardly mattered.

In a daring moment, he stretched his fingers toward her, his eyes pleading with her to let him touch her. She kicked into his groin hard in response and, with a strangled cry, he immediately stopped reaching out. Disgusting.

„Do you remember Calvin Roads?" she asked.

The name registered immediately, and Snape's eyes went wide before they locked with hers.

„I see you do." she remarked. She had stopped stroking him momentarily, but resumed now that he was torn between the pleasure and the curiosity about what she had to say. His eyes fluttered shut, and she dug her nails into him again until they snapped open again.

„Do you want to know what I did with him?" she smirked. She had never talked to anyone about the unfortunate first year, and although he had forgotten what had happened, he hadn't been the same ever since. Many of the teachers had tried to speak to him, even Dumbledore, but he had no memory of the events. And even if a skilled wizard such as Dumbledore could lift the memory charm, she had made sure the first year had not seen her or heard her. No one connected her to the Dark Magic used on little Calvin.

„I can show you." Hermione said to Snape and withdrew her foot entirely. He was staring at her in horror, and for the teensiest second, she wondered if he would refuse her. Torturing him was one thing, abusing the students he had sworn to protect was another.

It was moments like this that rendered her unable to stop. Moments in which everything was thrown off balance so she could test how far she could go and how long it would take to break someone. If petrified by the prospect of knowing what had changed Calvin Roads, Snape stayed completely still. Yet again, her brilliance had won this battle.

„Use your hands." she said. „I want to see you now."

He looked even more shocked at that. Then, after moments had passed, Snape's hand travelled to his groin and he wrapped it around his erection tentatively. Hermione rested her foot on his thigh, feeling the blood rush through his veins on his bare skin. Carefully, he began to stroke himself, his gaze fixed on her's as he went. Despite her best effort, the sight appealed to her more than she had wanted to allow herself. Snape's pumping became faster, his pace quickened, and now his eyes repeatedly fluttered shut and snapped open again. Just as she thought that he was going to release any second, she pressed her big toe into his tip, making him howl in pain.

"Did I say I want you to come?" she snarled. When he looked up, his gaze was glassy, his eyes hazy with lust. „Get on your knees. Use your other hand too." and when he look at her uncomprehendingly, she lifted her skirt up and slid a hand over her arse and back. As he understood her implication, he gasped and she could see his adam's apple bob as he swallowed.

Snape dropped from his chair and onto the ground. While stroking himself with one hand, he tentatively slid his other toward his backside. With another hesitant look at her, his fingers found the crack of his arse and disappeared into it slowly. Hermione watched carefully as he spread himself and slipped a finger inside tentatively.

Hermione swallowed. She had never thought he would obey this order. Her crotch was burning now with need, and wetness had long spread in her underwear. She needed to touch herself, or be touched. She watched as he dropped onto his elbow, awkwardly sprawled across the floor. One hand pumping his erection with need, the other sliding and and out of his arse. The picture was complete with loud, grunting and groaning noises.

Hermione stopped him once more, just as his breathing became hitched again, and the pulling frantic.

"You like this, don't you?" she said. He was bigger now than any she had ever seen him. Her pussy twitched longingly at the enticing sight of his swollen erection. She wanted him, wanted him filling her up and thrusting into her. She restrained herself. "Raise your hips."

It took him several seconds to fulfill her wish. Hermione drew her wand from her sleeve and casted a quick spell. She strapped the phallus-shaped device onto her hips and let the close end glide inside her. She had already become so wet that it was almost too small for her. She waved her wand until it filled her in earnest, and then at Snape, whose legs were immediately spread and bound by a piece of metal. He gasped in surprise. Hermione laid her wand aside and dropped behind Snape onto the ground.

She couldn't care less if he was prepared or not. With one forceful thrust, she pushed the strap on into him. He jerked in front of her, crying out in pain as his hips shook uncontrollably as it filled him to the hilt. The other end of the device slid even deeper into her, making her moan loudly with pleasure. She pulled out and thrust into him again and again and again.

Hermione left Snape to his own devices, focused only on her relief. It had to be like this, otherwise she might have found that she wanted him inside of her instead of the strap on. She had to restrain herself just as much as him.

Snape was now sobbing in pain. She felt only the slightest twitch of guilt, mingled with fear that she might have really hurt him. But he was still rubbing himself raw, and that had to be good enough for her. She didn't have time to care about her guinea pigs. It didn't take long until she had pushed herself over the edge, and she kept going until he had soiled the dungeon floor around him.

"Hermione... I..." he began when she had stood up again and magicked the strap on away.

"You're pathetic, Severus Snape." she hissed. "I do not wish to hear what you have to say."

And yet again, she marched out of the dungeons without paying him any more attention.