Disclaimer: I do not own these characters. I'm only taking them out to play.
Warning: This story will contain kinky behavior of the watersports variety (i.e. urination play) and a lot of dirty sex. No scat. This story will definitely not be everyone's cup of tea. If this disgusts or offends you, please bypass this story. Characters are consenting adults.
The night air was cold and crisp. A slight breeze ruffled Hermione's fluffy hair as she stumbled along, bright moonlight illuminating her path. The thundering beat of loud music faded as she moved further and further away from the sound. Her ears rang from the hours of meandering aimlessly there, a place where no one considered any consequences.
She knew something about disregarding consequences. She was never one to be impulsive. She'd always meticulously thought through every one of her actions in the past, and if she ever reacted swiftly, it was always because she had no other alternative. And it was always to her benefit.
She'd had time to think about running away from Hogwarts, but she hadn't actually really thought about it. She'd had other more sensible options, but she hadn't seen them. She'd reacted in the heat of the moment and allowed her emotions to sway her. Her desperation to be done with the bitter darkness and bigotry that littered the wizard world drove her to this place. Rash decisions were made, and now all she could do was wait for the consequences to catch up to her.
She'd returned to the muggle world greeted by an unexpectedly and pitifully empty house. A brief inquiry with a neighbor confirmed her suspicions. Her parents were on a month long expedition backpacking in the mountains of the United States. Without her. Without even telling her.
She'd fought the welling resentment, sitting in her dark, dusty living room alone. She should be happy for her parents taking a fun trip, and she should be glad, having avoided a confusing explanation for her sudden appearance. But she wasn't, and she'd wanted to fall into the comforting embrace of her mother. She'd wanted her mother to stroke her hair and shush her sobs and tell her everything would be okay.
She could only tolerate wallowing in self-pity for so long before she'd lose herself. She'd dialed an old friend from elementary school that she'd barely talked to in recent years, and now here she stood tipsy and vulnerable on a deserted walkway in the wee hours of the morning.
Her vision was blurry. The world spun and her balance was tested. Her weight shifted, her knees wobbled, and her ankles ached, overcompensating with each step. Her high heels rubbed the sides of her feet raw. The skintight strapless dress she'd borrowed for the occasion rode up her thighs and threatened to expose her lacy knickers. Boys had looked at her with hungry attention, eagerly awaiting a wardrobe malfunction.
Their stares had Hermione self-consciously hugging her torso, making herself small and covering her exposed skin however she could...
But a small, shameful part of her was intrigued by it. Her classmates had never paid her any attention of that sort. She'd never been lusted after or sought out, but when she behaved boldly, others noticed. People spoke to her, leaned into her space, flashed dazzling smiles at her, hoping to entice her. They laughed at her nervous, lame remarks and took the opportunity to lay a hand lightly on her arm. They wanted to touch her, to feel her skin, to pull her closer.
She liked it. She thought she should feel dirty or used or objectified, but instead she felt wanted, and... she liked it.
A spasm in her abdomen stopped her in place, her hand resting on her extended lower belly. All that alcohol had caught up with her seemingly all at once, but she'd been holding it with ease for at least an hour. Without all of the people and sounds to distract her, she was acutely focused on her blooming need to void her bladder.
This was a problem. She was nowhere near her house, and nearly everything was closed at this time of night. She looked around anxiously taking in her surroundings. She was at the end of a neighborhood road that branched out into a well-traveled highway. There was only one streetlight near enough to give her away, and the rest of the path was dark with trees and shrubbery to hide in.
A thought occurred to her, but could she really do it? If she just went behind those bushes and made it quick...
No, no, of course she couldn't do it! To do something so private out in the open exposed for anyone to walk by and see? She wasn't brave enough, not to mention how gross it was! She couldn't believe she'd thought of it.
She shook her head and continued her slow pace toward the end of the sidewalk, determined to ignore her need. She'd made it far enough that the music from the party was a distant hum when she realized she was a bit beyond tipsy. As she walked, her thoughts became foggier and foggier. She lumbered on, carried forward mostly by momentum.
Too much momentum. She tried to lean back and steady herself, but her ankle turned and she hit the ground with a heavy thud.
"Ah..." She groaned softly, laying in the grass and debating taking a short nap right there, but the sound of passing cars had her staggering back to her feet. She didn't want the spectacle of people stopping to try and help her. Or worse. The thought had her kicking off her heels to move quicker.
She definitely moved faster unhindered by those horrible shoes, but she quickly discovered she may've been heading the wrong direction. She didn't recognize this new section of road, and she wasn't sure which direction her house was from here. Great, just great.
Her bladder gave another squeezing protest, begging for release and refusing to be ignored any longer. She cursed herself for drinking herself stupid. At this point, she was frustrated enough to try apparating though she hadn't mastered it, but the world was spinning enough as it was without the added world-shifting magic.
She wiggled, assessing her bladder capacity, but the move had her grabbing at her crotch trying to withhold the urge to pee. No, she definitely wasn't going to make it until she got home, and she feared she'd wet herself trying. She glanced guiltily around to be sure there were no spectators, but she was sure she was alone with not even any traffic to disturb her.
There was a nice, secluded patch of grass behind a cluster of trees calling to her, and this time, she could not deny it. No one would see. No one would know she'd lost control and demeaned herself in such a way. She'd been reduced to behaving like an animal, but the pursuit of relief was enough to override her reservations.
She was already gripping the waistband of her knickers in anticipation when she heard footsteps approaching behind her. Startled, she looked back and saw a dreadfully familiar figure, tall, dark, and imposing, narrowing in on her.
"Going somewhere, Miss Granger?" Professor Snape said, the baritone of his voice gritty with irritation.
If Hermione was sober, she would've shrieked in surprise. Then, she would've quickly recovered her senses and started on a longwinded trail of excuses and explanations to placate the angry man. But she was not sober, and her thoughts and reactions were slow. She stood hunched, wide-eyed, motionless, her hands still at her hips. She dropped them to her sides and straightened when she realized how ridiculous she looked.
He held her gaze firmly, his burning obsidian eyes refusing to allow her to look away. He paused only a moment to allow her a response, but she was speechless.
"Having yourself a big night, are you? Drinking and dancing and gallivanting about with your friends? Did you at least have a good time?" He exaggerated his tone with sarcastic bitterness. "I should hope so, because you, Miss Granger, will be spending every last bit of your free time in detention for the rest of the semester. And how quite fortunate it is for you that Dumbledore is fond of you. If the decision belonged to me, you'd stay here since this is where you so desperately long to be."
She heard the biting, hateful tone and knew that his presence here meant bad news for her, but she couldn't focus on his words. Her body had prepared for release before being halted, and the dam was breaking. She squirmed and clenched her thighs together, but the burning sensation in her urethra was too demanding.
Oh no, oh no, oh no, she couldn't hold it! She was about to wet herself in front of Snape of all people.
"Professor, I-" She squeaked between clenched teeth, but her voice only seemed to agitate him further.
"You will be silent. I don't want to hear a word from you unless you plan to explain why you so brazenly defied school rules. Or why your arrogance allows you no other perspective outside of your own."
"I-" Hermione cupped her crotch and pressed hard, no longer caring if he saw her touching herself. He either didn't notice her movement, or he chose to ignore her obvious body language. He was so angry that Hermione didn't think he cared about anything other than scolding her at the moment.
"Judging by your actions, you clearly see no value in the time of others. I had a multitude of things to complete tonight, but instead, I had to chase down an insolent, self-important girl with nothing better to do than laze about and-" His words were cut off by the sound of liquid splashing the concrete. They both looked down at the puddle forming at her feet.
Hermione gasped loudly and crouched down hugging her knees to hide from his gaze. She didn't want to spread her legs with him watching her, and it was too late anyway. She was flooding her knickers, and she was wet from the hem of her dress to her feet.
Snape backed away, grunting his disgust, but Hermione was only vaguely aware of him. The relief was too overwhelmingly good to think of much else. The warm liquid sliding through her tightly-pressed thighs, the feeling of her stream dribbling down the flesh of her arse, the wet and wonderful sensation surrounding her pussy as her knickers contained her pee, the euphoric feel of an emptying bladder.
It was enough to make her forget where she was and who she was with. Before she realized what she was doing, she threw her head back and exhaled a breathy moan. It sounded much too pleasureful, and she immediately bowed her head wishing she hadn't broadcasted to Snape how much she was enjoying her piss.
She knew she should be embarrassed, mortified, humiliated, ashamed, disgusted even, to be having a long, satisfying piss with her professor only feet away, but she felt none of it. She only felt good. This piqued Hermione's curiosity, because it seemed something she would normally agonize over. Was she simply too drunk to care?
At the risk of shattering her newfound confidence, she chanced a glance in Snape's direction to her left. He was standing stiffly, facing straight ahead, his head slightly bowed, gripping his temples with his middle finger and thumb. Hermione tilted her head and squinted at his moonlit pale skin.
Was he trying to shield his eyes with that hand? Because he wasn't doing a very good job of it if so. She had an unobstructed view of the darks of his eyes, and as she watched, she could've sworn she saw his eyes twitch, his pupils darting away from the corner of his eyes. He blinked and stared straight ahead of him, his brow furrowed. Hermione's gaze traced the rest of his figure before settling on an unmistakable bulge in the crotch of his pants.
The second she noticed it, he drew his robes around himself, concealing his body from her view. Her mouth hung open at the realization. Whether or not he'd been looking at her, what she was doing made him...
Her cheeks flushed. She couldn't even think the word! Had she really seen what she thought she had? She had to have misunderstood something! With her thoughts in tangled knots, she wasn't ready to make connections, so she filed the information away for later.
Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, her stream trickled to an end. She didn't realize she was tilting back until she felt the jolting thud of the sidewalk beneath her, her thighs spread wide. She brought them together to save whatever dignity she had left, but it seemed a lost cause at this point.
She should've tried to get up, but the sky was spinning so violently that she closed her eyes and groaned. She laid there undisturbed for a long moment.
She was starting to wonder if Snape was still there when she heard the crunch of gravel under shoes and a deep sigh over her. She blinked up at him, his oily, black hair hanging down toward her. His nostrils flared either in anger or at the smell of urine, maybe both, and he grabbed her arm and yanked her to her feet roughly. She staggered at the unexpected momentum, and he sighed again when he realized she would be unable to stand on her own.
"Absolutely pathetic." His voice was a low growl in her ear. She was pressed into his side with his arm wrapped around her waist. She was uncomfortably wet, and she realized with chagrin that she'd landed back in the puddle of urine. Snape was much too close to her for her current state of mess.
"The levels to which you are capable of sinking continue to surprise me, Granger." His tone was almost smug. Was he enjoying her humiliation? It shouldn't surprise her, as horrible as he'd always been to Harry, and she'd given him quite the reason to be hostile. She did not respond. Her stomach was rolling unpleasantly, and she had to focus on not vomiting on him in addition to the urine that was surely soaking through his outer robes.
Snape wrapped both arms around Hermione and pulled her against his torso tightly, her face buried in his shirt. He smelled of potion herbs and soap, a smell that may've been pleasant if it didn't add to the overwhelming sensations making her nauseous. "Hold onto me tightly and don't move." He said, and Hermione obeyed, preparing herself for a rough apparition.
The tugging sensation was barely noticeable in her numbed state. She saw the front door of the house of her childhood, and she all but leapt out of Snape's arms for the door. She reached under the welcome mat for the spare key, and after an uncoordinated moment of awkward fumbling, the door was open, and warm air chased away the cold from outside.
She flipped on the light switch and flooded the compact little living room with warm light. "Aren't you going to invite me inside?" His voice was unexpectedly directly behind her, and she jumped despite her inhibited reflexes. She turned to face him, surprised once again to find him positively towering over her meager form. His lips were twisted into an offensive sneer as he regarded her with belittling eyes.
"You-You're already in, Sir." Hermione blinked as she said it, taking in his position by the front door. She hadn't thought about how snarky the reply was. She just said the first thing that came to her mind. He narrowed his eyes dangerously at her.
"Inebriation is no excuse for impertinence, Miss Granger. You'll want to remember to whom you speak and tread carefully." Snape bent close to her ear, and his tone slipped into a silky whisper. "That wayward mouth of yours could land you into trouble you aren't prepared to handle." His warm breath filled her ear, and she staggered away unable to hide the shivers the sensation sent down her spine.
His smug smile returned for a flash before being replaced with a stern, cold glare. "Up to bed with you. And if you have any ideas of leaving this house without my knowledge, allow me to put them to rest. You may no longer be traced by the ministry, but you've placed yourself on my radar. There isn't a place you can go where you will not be found." He held searing eye contact with her, and she felt fresh sweat dewing at her forehead and armpits.
When finally, his smoldering eyes released her, she hurried her way up the stairs clumsily only to trip and fall in a crumpled heap across the bottom few steps. She groaned in pain. She was certain she heard a dark chuckle from his direction, but when she raised her head, he had sunken into her father's recliner in the living room with his eyes closed and hands folded neatly in his lap.
She let her head fall back onto the stair with a harsh thud closing her eyes. The world hadn't stopped spinning, and he had no intention of helping her up this time. Again, she considered giving up and falling asleep right where she lay, but the cold, soiled fabric around her bottom half had already begun to chafe and the jagged edges of the stairs jutted into her internal organs uncomfortably. It was worth the effort to get up.
With slow, heavy movements, she pulled herself to her feet and took careful steps until she made it to her bedroom. She barely took the time to remove her wet clothing before she collapsed naked onto the neatly made bed not bothering to turn down the comforter. She curled into a heap in the center of the bed and slept.