Gonna Find Out Who's Naughty and Nice
A/N: I changed my mind. I previously had this chapter as a one-shot, but it had not met much interest. Therefore, I will include it this story, where it belongs. As this is a bit racier than T, I'm going to change the rating of the story accordingly.
Please note that there will be no other chapters for the Christmas Story until end of this year. I do have the last chapter ready, but up to this point, it's only a short one to bring the story to a decent close. I'd like to keep my options open in case I have an inspired idea of anything I still might like to add.
If you want this in chronological order, you could always read 'The Truth Behind it All' after the one-shot. It's about Harry's and Severus' visit to Godric's Hollow which is to come right the upcoming day.
Thank you all for reading and reviewing!
A Naughty Detention
Hermione stood in front of the Potion Master's office door, feeling the thrill of anticipation and a touch of nervousness. She wasn't sure about how he would react... was this too forward? Too indecent? Would he take her up on her offer, as she really hoped he would?
When she heard his invitation to enter, she opened the door and stepped inside. She heard his sharp intake of breath when he saw her, and felt herself blush. Still, she wouldn't let her nerves get the better of her now. She wanted this. If she was honest, she had wanted this for longer than it was decent.
"Professor Snape..." she said demurely, lowering her gaze to the floor. "I'm here for my detention..."
He didn't say anything for a moment, just stared at her, and Hermione felt her heart sink. Was he angry? She knew how strongly he felt about his integrity as a teacher, so her attempt at seduction might be a bit insensitive. But her libido had never particularly cared for her concerns – and neither for his – and this scenario had fuelled her fantasies for a long time.
"Miss Granger," her favourite Professor finally hissed, putting an emphasis on her last name that sent thrills through her body and made her hopes soar. "Would you care to explain your attire?"
"What's wrong with it, Sir?" she asked with pretended innocence. "It's my school uniform..."
"Yes, I can see that. However, it seems that it has shrunk considerably in size since I last saw you in it." Yes, it undeniably had. But it still fit, although it was a bit of a stretch – literally.
He let his gaze wander over her, his expression unreadable, but so intense that she felt it like a physical touch, raising goose bumps on her flesh.
"I might have used a drying spell on it accidentally..." Hermione said sheepishly, and looked at him from beneath lowered lashes. "Do... do you want me to go and change, Sir?" she asked, hoping he wouldn't send her away.
Again, he didn't say anything for a moment. Then she saw him tighten his jaw and put on a stern expression. "I think not," he said, the tone of his voice making her think of silk covering steel. "You are already inexcusably late. It seems I have to teach you more than one lesson tonight."
Yes! She suppressed an elated smile, and her heart picked up a beat. "About what, Sir?"
"About respect, Miss Granger! You're showing up late for your detention, wearing a blouse and a cardigan that are far too small and too tight and a skirt that is too short by at least 6 inches..." Truth be told, the hem of her skirt was riding up at least 8 inches too high on her thigh, but he probably didn't want to sound pedantic. "And then there is still the issue with you daydreaming where you shouldn't be, which landed you in detention in the first place. All that shows me that you obviously hold no respect for rules and no respect for me as your professor."
"On the contrary, Sir," Hermione assured. "I have the utmost respect for both."
"If that were the case, you wouldn't have dared to come here, dressed as indecently as you are! Let me make sure that you fully understand the purpose of certain school rules... Tell me, Miss Granger: Why do you think students are required to wear uniforms?"
"Because they put us on equal footing and prevent peer pressure?" she ventured, not sure where he was going with this line of questioning.
"That's the obvious answer. Go on. Surely you can do better than that."
"Uniforms show we are part of an organisation," Hermione mused. "Wearing it gives us a sense of belonging – not only to Hogwarts, but to our respective houses, and it creates an identity for both. Wearing a uniform is a badge of pride."
"Have you read this somewhere? That sounds suspiciously like a quote from a book. Think for yourself, girl, and think of it in a context of respect, which you are obviously lacking."
"It's to symbolize our status as students..."
"Better. To what purpose?"
"To distinguish us from our teachers and remind us that we aren't officially adults yet..." Hermione said ruefully. Yes, she had totally gotten this point. But it didn't prevent her from falling hard for her teacher.
"Yes, Miss Granger. And that's especially important with seventh year students, who might be of age and no longer look like children. You surely don't. Was it your intention to be explicit and flaunt the obvious in my face?"
"Yes," she confessed. "I haven't felt like a child for a long time, and I don't appreciate being treated as such. Especially not by you."
"And why, pray, is that? What made you feel this urge to make me aware of your ... maturity? A crush?"
"I wouldn't call it a mere crush, Sir. I'm afraid I'm in much deeper..." Hermione slowly approached the desk, her eyes fixed on his. She lowered her voice a bit, hoping it would sound seductive, but not too obviously so. "The truth is: Everything about you draws me in... your aloofness, your attire, your wit... the buttons on your frock coat and your sensual voice. I can't sleep without thinking of you, without reaching for you... I miss you when I don't see you, even if it's only for a day. You have bewitched my mind and ensnared my senses, I'm mesmerised when I see your hands in action or when I hear your voice..."
A frown appeared on his forehead – and a small vertical line, right between his eyebrows. She had always found it fascinating.
"Is that your pitiful excuse for the inattentiveness you showed in my lessons?" he asked, not appearing impressed by her confession at all. "Then perhaps I shall have to teach you not to let yourself get distracted so easily. But first, we shall address the matter of your inappropriate attire... Take out a parchment and quill, please, and write down the school specifications for student uniforms so you remember them next time."
"I didn't bring anything to write with..." Hermione confessed. "I thought you'd make me brew or scrub cauldrons."
Disapprovingly, he shook his head. "You came unprepared. Tut-tut! I'm afraid we'll have to add that to the list of your wrongdoings." He gave her a piece of parchment from his own stack and a quill. When she made a move to sit down in the comfortable chair in front of his desk, he stopped her. "No, Miss Granger. This chair is reserved for a very special student – I'm afraid you can't use it. Come over here..." He waved her over to his side of the desk and made her stand next to him. "You can write your lines standing. I'll have to determine the extend of your infraction of regulations so I can put it down in your school record."
He wanted her to write while standing right next to him – bending over his desk? Hermione felt a delicious tightening in her stomach. This promised to be good!
"What are you waiting for, girl? If you don't get started now, you'll never get back to your quarters tonight. We still have much to do."
Obediently, Hermione hastened to follow his instructions. Dipping her quill into the ink, she leaned down over her parchment, pushing out her bottom in the process. She felt the hem of the skirt ride up even higher. There were other things happening, too, and there was no way he wouldn't notice, sitting this close to her.
Her heart was beating furiously in her chest now – really, there should be absolutely no reason for her to get jittery about this! – Hermione tried to focus on her task. She had barely finished the first paragraph of the Hogwarts Dress Code, when she suddenly felt his hand touching her leg somewhere below her knee. She drew in a sharp breath.
"What would you say is the officially required length for a uniform skirt, Miss Granger?" her Professor asked, almost conversationally. "Shouldn't it at least come down to here?" He ran his fingers over her skin for emphasis, indicating what he thought might be the appropriate length for a skirt. She stood rock still.
"No, Sir." Hermione carefully shook her head. "Definitely higher than that."
She felt his hand slowly move up a little, gliding over the sensitive area of skin on the back of her knee. "Up to here, then?" he asked, resting them just above her knee now.
"The regulation allows for a little leeway..."
"I see. Well, then let's find the point where it breaches them. Say stop when you think I've reached it..."
Torturously slow, his hands moved up higher, caressing her thighs. His fingers were warm, even hot on her skin and sent delicious tingles to other parts of her body. It was a divine feeling. Hermione closed her eyes in bliss and barely managed to suppress a moan. Higher and higher climbed his hand, until it disappeared under the hem of her skirt and reached the junction of her thighs. Hermione felt his thumbs slightly brush against the satin crotch of her knickers, and this time, she couldn't prevent a small whimper from escaping her breathlessly parted lips.
"Really, Miss Granger?" Her professor asked, his voice calm and even. Damn the man. He had the self-control of a monk. "I believe I have long since passed the point of decency. You're supposed to tell me 'stop'. We'll have to try that again. Focus this time."
He pulled his hand back from where it rested and put it back beneath her knee. "Higher..." she breathed. He obliged, moved upward a few inches and stilled again. "A little more..." she said. Or was it begging already? "There..." she finally said, not really wanting him to stop, but not wanting to go against his clear instructions.
"Very well. Then let me mark this for you." One hand still resting on her thigh, he reached for his own quill and dipped it into his red ink pot. "Continue writing, Miss Granger. You're supposed to copy down the rules." Hermione set her quill on the parchment again, and felt the tip of his own quill come down on her skin. What the heck? She turned her head.
"What are you doing, Professor?"
"Marking the minimum length your skirt is required to have, which shall help you dress properly next time," he responded, and slowly moved his quill across her skin, drawing a horizontal line on the back of her thigh. It tickled. Even more so when the feather accidentally brushed against her other leg when he moved his hand inwards. Hermione shuddered, but it was a really pleasant sort of shuddering. Who would have guessed that having your body painted would feel this nice?
"Stand still, Miss Granger," Professor Snape admonished, "or I'll have to do this all over again. And please spread you legs a little so I can reach around to the front."
Sweet Merlin! There she stood, bent over his desk, her skirt shorter than decent with her legs apart while he was meticulously painting lines on her skin! It was deliciously naughty. Hermione briefly wondered if he was embellishing the edging with adornments, given that it seemed to take forever. And while her body was having all sorts of reactions to his diligent artwork, he still behaved like he was doing nothing out of the ordinary.
She somehow managed to keep writing, although due to the slight trembling of her hand, the result wasn't as neat as usual. She had almost finished the text by the time he was done with her second leg. But then he had to bend down and gently blow on the ink to make it dry faster. Hermione's insides clenched almost painfully, her hand jerked, and the tip of the quill broke, leaving a big blot of ink on her parchment.
"Oh my," said her Professor, noting the mess. "You broke my quill. One would think you'd be more careful with other people's belongings! I'm afraid I can't let that pass..." He reached for the ruler that lay on the desk before her. Hermione's eyes widened in concern. Surely, he wouldn't... ? She was into all kinds of kink, but being spanked didn't really count among them. She also hadn't thought him capable of raising a hand against her – he had never been into corporal punishment.
Having noticed her sharp intake of breath and the stiffening of her spine, he immediately pulled back, a peculiar look on his face. Hermione silently cursed herself. She knew that he wasn't going to hurt even a hair on her body, but now he would doubtlessly wonder if she did. Hermione was abashed. "I'm sorry, Sir. I was just startled for a moment... I know you wouldn't ever cause me pain." Though it certainly wouldn't count as hurting if she was into it, and who knew if he thought she was? He certainly couldn't be blamed for suspecting it, given her inclination and the fact that she was most seriously crushing for a teacher. She threw him an apologetic look, hoping that she hadn't ruined it now. His face was set in a frown, but he relaxed when she reached out and touched the hand that still held the ruler in a gesture of apology, pleading with her eyes to forgive her.
"Very well," he said. "You can make up for this added insult to my person later. Now take a new quill and start over. And be careful, this time!"
When she started writing down the requirements for Hogwarts school robes on a clean piece of parchment, she felt something touch her leg once more. Not his fingers, sadly, but something else... the ruler. He was putting the length of it against her thigh, measuring the distance between the line he had drawn on her leg and the hem of her skirt.
"You're short by eight inches, Miss Granger," he said, sounding disapproving.
"But Sir... Hermione protested weakly. It was the ruler that was about half an inch too short! It ended just below where she wanted it to reach... She wriggled her bottom. There! Better... "I think you're being unfair. The hem would come lower if you hadn't made me bend over your desk right now."
"Are you implying that it's somehow my fault that your uniform doesn't conform with the requirements?" he asked, sounding incredulous. "Are you accusing me of being unfair? What's next – will you also blame me for the fact that you cannot seem to focus on the task you've been given?"
"Yes! No... I mean... I can't help it, Sir. Your hands... they are distracting. They are even distracting when they're not actually touching me, because then I can't stop thinking how they feel when they do..."
"So you're hoping to satisfy your perpetual curiosity with the indecent behaviour you're demonstrating right now, practically pushing your bottom into them and exposing your knickers to me? It's almost like you're begging me to touch you, Miss Granger..."
"Oh, Merlin, yes, please do!"
He didn't, but moved the ruler away instead. "I think not. I certainly won't reward you when you're not even making an effort to stay focused."
"I will! I promise! Please..."
He seemed to ponder her request. "Well, maybe I should try a more tactile approach with my teaching... You really must learn to tune out distracting sensory input when given a task."
"Maybe I just need some practice?" Hermione ventured, sounding hopeful.
"Possibly. Follow me then, Miss Granger. You'll do some brewing."
"What?" That was not the kind of hands-on approach she had had in mind. He got up and gestured her to enter his private lab. "Let's see... I don't want to put you in mortal peril, Miss Granger, so I'll give you a non-explosive potion to brew. A Wit-Sharpening Potion will do nicely, I think. The preparation of ingredients doesn't require a knife, just good concentration on your stirring." He took a couple of jars from the shelves and put them in front of her, then gave her a copper cauldron and a stirring rod. "The deal is this: If you manage to brew this potion correctly, you will be rewarded – I might even let you drink it. If you don't, you will have to drink it."
"I'll have to drink it if I didn't brew it right?" Hermione asked, wondering if she understood him correctly.
"As you have brewed, so you must drink... Don't worry, Miss Granger. Nothing in the potion can seriously harm you. Depending in which stage you mess up, you'll either grow a tail, sprout a nice set of antlers or end up babbling incoherently for the rest of the evening." He grinned evilly. "Here are the brewing instructions. They're quite simple..." He opened a potions's cookbook and put it in front of her.
Heat water in a cauldron.
Mix in Ginger Root until lime green.
Mix in Armadillo Bile until blue.
Mix in ground Scarab Beetles until red.
Remix in Armadillo Bile until liquid is yellow. (Not dark green!)
Mix in more ginger roots until brew is lime green.
Mix Armadillo Bile until the potion is purple.
Allow potion to simmer for 10 minutes.
Add more Ginger Root until the potion is dark orange
"The difficulty lies – as you probably know – in the stirring... It has to be smooth and steady so the ingredients will combine properly."
"Why should I mess it up?" Hermione asked, already directing a heating charm at the potion to get the water going. "That's a second year's potion."
"Oh, you shouldn't mess it up," her Professor replied, leaning closer and whispering with a mean smirk: "Unless you're having trouble staying focused on your task again..." He moved out of her line of sight, but only to position himself somewhere behind her. She could feel his eyes on the back of her head and heard a rustling of fabric. Had he taken off his teaching robe? Not knowing exactly where he was or what he was doing sent another thrill of excitement through her. Still, she instinctively made a motion to turn her head.
"Already having trouble following simple instructions? You're supposed to keep eyes on the book and on your potion. You may begin, Miss Granger. Don't mind me."
Okay, so that was the game he was playing... Suddenly, Hermione understood how Neville felt. Or maybe not. Unless he wet himself in fear – which she didn't think he ever did – his underwear would remain dry. With slightly shaking hands, Hermione opened the jar with the dried ginger and added the required amount into the cauldron. Picking up the rod, she started stirring smoothly.
Although she hadn't heard him move, she could suddenly feel the heat of his body right behind her. "Very good..." Professor Snape said, leaning over her shoulder and peeking into her cauldron. Unless he was looking somewhere else entirely. Her cardigan and the blouse beneath it were buttoned rather casually... Her face grew warm.
"I believe I have spotted yet another transgression of dress code, Miss Granger..." she heard him say, as he leaned even closer. His mouth was close to her ear now. "Is it possible that you forgot to put on a particular piece of clothing?"
The potion turned lime green in colour. The delicate skin of her collarbone turned a light shade of pink.
"The dress code does not stipulate anything about wearing a bra, Professor," Hermione replied, reaching for the jar with the Armadillo bile, which allowed him an even better look into her cleavage. The tight blouse hadn't left enough room for a bra. The tiny buttons were struggling to keep her goodies contained as it was.
"I was, of course, referring to your missing tie, Miss Granger," he corrected her assumption.
"Oh... of course..." Hermione stirred in the Armadillo bile to dissolve in the liquid. "Silly me. I'm afraid I lost it."
"Yes, your attitude is certainly proof of that."
"No – the tie, I mean... I couldn't find it."
"That's most unfortunate. Ten points from Gryffindor."
Hermione made another move to turn around, scandalized. "But you can't..." she started, when he put his hands on her shoulders and held her in place. The simple touch made her swoon. It was warm and firm. She felt safe in his hands.
"Your potion, Miss Granger. Unless you'd like to wear a tail for twenty-four hours or babble incoherently, I suggest you turn your attention back to it."
The potion had just turned blue, and Hermione hastened to add the ground Scarab Beetles. "But you can't deduct points for this!" Hermione protested, trying to focus on her potion. She really didn't want to wear a tail all evening. That was taking 'kinky' a bit too far.
He smirked. "Oh, I can, and I just did. You should know that your actions have consequences."
Hermione scowled, and put in more of the Armadillo bile. It was a binding agent that considerably thickened the potion, making it more difficult to stir smoothly. She grabbed the rod with both hands, stirring vigorously now. It made her boobs jiggle. He couldn't have foreseen that happening when choosing the potion, could he?
"Talking of conspicuously absent pieces of clothing..." her teacher purred, and the rumbling of his silky baritone so close to her ear sent a tingling all the way to her core. "Shouldn't you have put on a bra even if the dress code doesn't specifically demand it? This looks mighty uncomfortable..."
"Well, yes, it is... but I hadn't foreseen that I'd end up brewing something that requires handling a stirring rod in such manner..." Truth to tell, she had hoped to end up handling a different kind of rod altogether...
"Again, clearly your own fault, Miss Granger. However, I'm inclined to offer a hand..."
And that he did – two hands, to be precise. Hermione drew in a sharp breath and almost stopped stirring.
"Professor..."
"Focus, Miss Granger!" he admonished. Oh, but she did. She felt every finger. Most exquisitely his thumbs, which were brushing over her nipples ever so slightly, sending jolts of pleasure along whatever nerve connected them to the lower parts of her body. It was only thanks to the fact that her hands had unconsciously picked up the rhythm of his circling digits that her potion wasn't ruined completely at this stage.
With a trembling hand, Hermione reached out and added another handful of ginger roots to the mix and resumed stirring. Hermione let herself sink against his chest. Her legs were a bit unsteady. Instead of backing away, as he was prone to do, he pressed against her, and Hermione clearly felt the proof that he wasn't as unruffled and unimpressed by their antics as he pretended to be against her backside.
"I know it's hard, Miss Granger..." he whispered suggestively, his breath hot against the sensitive skin below her ear, "...to keep stirring smoothly once the Armadillo Bile starts thickening your potion. You'll just have to make an effort. After all, the point of this exercise is to stay focused."
His hands slipped lower, down her sides. She let out a breath, not quite sure if it was one of relief or frustration. The potion slowly began to change colour again. Hermione, previously hot and bothered, was slightly sweaty by now. His hands were gone. Briefly. Then they reappeared at the hem of her skirt, moving beneath it and gliding up her thighs. Her legs started to tremble when he moved them over the curve of her bottom, from where they were heading towards the lower part of her stomach. 'Just a little bit further', she silently prayed, but sadly, his one hand stilled and remained motionless on the border of her knickers. His right came up and closed over her own hand on the copper rod, which was jerking rather than moving in circles right now.
"Keep stirring, girl," he murmured into her ear. "Otherwise this evening is going to end in frustration for you..."
Assisted by his guiding hand, Hermione renewed her efforts. Her skin tingled where his hands had touched, her insides clenched in anticipation at where they might wander next. Mechanically, she reached out for the jar again, adding more Armadillo Bile. The potion condensed a bit more. She was grateful for his assisting hand. She was in double trouble as soon as he removed it. Straining the muscles of her arms and using the leverage of her body, Hermione was determined to stir the potion into submission. Her blouse wasn't up to the task, however. The button that had been straining most to keep the material together, popped – opening a beckoning window of opportunity, which her teacher immediately took advantage of. Hermione couldn't suppress a gasp this time when his hand dived into the gaping hole, cupping her breast again. There was no mistaking her moan for one of embarrassment or lament over her mishap.
She was hot and melting beneath his touch, and it was only due to sheer willpower that she managed to keep the small part of her brain that was still functioning on her potion.
"Good girl," he praised, while his teasing fingers were threatening to burn even the remaining fuses and a wash of desire flooded through her. "You only have to last for about another two minutes for the potion to turn purple. Can you do that?"
She gave a weak nod. Two minutes. Surely she'd be able to keep her focus two minutes longer.
"Then give it your best – as will I..." And with that, he let his left hand join in the action. It moved straight to the place beneath her skirt where its presence was most desired. Hermione regretted not having foregone her knickers altogether, but that had seemed a touch too indecent, even under the circumstances. It didn't really matter. The satin was thin and rather moist at this point, and certainly no hindrance to his skilful, clever fingers.
He played her like a musical instrument – plucking her strings, setting a rhythm, keeping stroke. Her breathing was ragged now, her eyes fell shut and she was sure that the sounds that were coming from her throat were music to his ears. Stubbornly, with a tinge of desperation, Hermione kept moving her hands, willing the rod into a roughly circular motion instead of moving it up and down as she instinctively wanted to. The tension in her entire body was building rapidly up to the breaking-point. She wouldn't be able to hold it much longer.
"That's it... purple..." she – finally! – heard his soft voice whisper into her ear. "You can let go now."
And with a cry of relief, she did. The rod fell from her fingers as her hand flew to his arm across her chest, clinging, clawing into his flesh as her entire body was shaking and convulsing uncontrollably with spasms of rapture.
He held her tight, letting her ride them out until the last wave subsided, preventing her from oozing to the floor in a puddle post-orgasmic bliss. When her breathing had finally returned to normal, he slowly withdrew his hands from over-sensitive areas, his touch now gentling and soothing.
"Well done, Miss Granger," he praised, nuzzling the place behind her ear. "If offered the right incentive, it seems your stubbornness even beats your propensity to get distracted. Whatever shall we do with that?"
"Take me to our bedroom, Severus," she suggested and turned around, claiming his lips in a passionate kiss before moving her mouth down his neck. With parted lips, she tasted his intoxicating scent with her tongue, gently caressing the tender scar tissue left behind by Nagini's bite. "Make love to me properly. Unless you are open to finishing this right here? I always fantasized about you shagging me senseless on the lab table..."
"I'd love to – but in about eight minutes, you still have a potion to tend to. You wouldn't want to let it go to waste after all the effort you put into it, would you?"
"I'd rather tend to you, but I'd like to have a little more time than eight minutes for that. Unless you feel capable of finishing the final step? In that case, I could begin making it up to you right here, starting by apologizing on my knees..."
He let out a growl. "Cheeky witch! I bet you'd like to do that... But what exactly will you be making up for?"
"Apart from hurting you with my involuntary reaction to the ruler earlier? For springing this on you and making you teach a wayward student even on your weekend... For getting home late again last night... and for making you suffer through dinner with Ron and Lavender the other day when I knew what she was up to. Take your pick."
"Merlin, you've really been a bad girl this week, haven't you?" he murmured, pulling the scrunchy from her hair and gently undoing her braid. He always loved to bury his fingers into her wild mane. "As to the first... you are forgiven. And you surely made up for my boring evening yesterday! For the record – if you're the one I get to teach, I'll do it anytime, gladly. As to Mr. and Mrs. Weasley... hm, I think that does indeed require some sort of redemption. Yes, I really deserve a profound apology for that..."
"Thank you, Severus..." she whispered, standing up on her toes and pulling his head down for a heartfelt and thorough kiss this time. "For playing along with my naughty detention fantasy. I wasn't sure if you would. Posing as a school girl again when you suffered so long trying not to do anything inappropriate while I was one... I was afraid it might still compromise your virtue, even it wasn't real."
"Silly witch. You're my wife – nothing's compromising between us. And there's nothing I wouldn't do for you, don't you know that by now?"
"How could I not know – after everything you did for me... after all this time..."
"Always, Hermione."