Hermione Granger was bloody bored.
Fire burn and cauldron bubble. Anything. Please. She was sick of twindling her thumbs behind her giant cherry wood desk while her minions rushed around and completed her orders for her. One order, actually, and they still couldn't do it. She hated when her subjects acted like dunderheads.
She'd once been told the most difficult part of being the Minister of Magic was making hard decisions.
False.
It was actually not making them. She'd take a fourth wizarding war over this any day.
Finally, an uncertain knock on her office door roused her awake from her daydreams. Good riddance.
"Come in," she ordered.
It was Susan Bones, her secretary. "Minister, we found someone."
"Who?"
"You knooow," she drawled, "Him."
"You should have said that from the start," Hermione said with a snap. "I don't like when you mumble Miss Bones. Remember, after every second a minute passes. Point me."
The two women went through the corridors and through many doors until they reached the holding cells deep inside the Auror Department.
That's where she saw him. Severus Snape. Spy for the Dark Lord. Wizarding England's most wanted. They never found his body after the end of the last war, and they never found out how he could have escaped.
Hermione looked inside the cell, her lips growing moist. It was him alright. That mess of black hair, those striking features and those dark robes, now all torn up and bloodied. The Aurors in question did a good job on him alright.
"Who brought him in?"
"Auror Jenkins and Burke-"
"-have them docked privilege points and prevented from any other future seeking missions, at least for the next month," Hermione gritted through her teeth. "I specifically said, that he should be unharmed."
Susan swallowed. "Yes Minister."
"And what about Captive Number 50987789?" asked the Auror at the front desk.
"Bring him up out to the Thestral Carriages for transportation." She tapped her foot. "Make haste, Miss Bones, lock up my office and cancel any appointments for the weekend. Or did I not make myself clear?"
"Y-yes Minister," both the Auror and Miss Bones said simultaneously and got to work. This was more like it.
Hermione stepped aside as the Auror called for backup. Three more Aurors came into the room to give him backup and Severus Snape was magically hoisted up and led out of the cell. All the while, he kept his head down as such that his black long hair flowed over his entire face. There was a beard too, an unkempt and scraggly one, like an old horse's tail. Hermione gave him a good look over. He would do.
He was led to the carriages and sat inside and Hermione climbed in after him.
She told the driver her address and sat back.
"Are you sure Minister? He is a criminal," said the driver.
"Very well. Out," she commanded and excused him from his duties. The state didn't pay him to ask stupid questions. She was the Minister for Cauldron's sake.
Hermione waved the reins of the carriage and had them drive out of the Ministry and into the sky.
-x-x-x-
This was a witch not to be meddled with. Even Severus knew that much.
He had spent five years in Azkaban. After that, he made his quick escape and successfully hid in the Forest of Dean for two years. How he survived, was too gruesome to reveal in a short period of time. Besides, this story isn't about that.
Even in the pitch darkness, it was clear the Minister of Magic meant business.
Severus was not a fan of people in power.
You know what they say: power corrupts, and absolutely power corrupts absolutely.
Who should not have been given such power was Hermione Granger, little Miss Sets her Professor's robes on fire. Whatever, he wasn't here to ponder the results on the lastest elections. He had a few ideas of what a single woman in power might want to do with him in her private residence. Nothing he couldn't handle.
He'd put up a good fuss of course, but eventally, she'd have her way.
When the carriage finally came to a halt, Hermione opened the door and before him spread out a marvelous garden. The Minister's private residence. Green carpets of grass. Tropical imported plants. Even a fountain with pissing cherubs. It was the whole shebang.
"Come inside," she said, stepping out of the carriage.
She was dressed to the nines of course, with her glittering silver boots and her matching silver Minister ensemble complete with that tight office skirt. But he was not entirely in the mood to comply, therefore, ignored the boots completely.
Until he couldn't, because one of them was squeezing his head unceremoniously into the soil. He was, quite literally, between the rock and a hard place.
"You need to listen the first time," she said cruelly.
The next step was that Severus found himself dragged by the nape of his robes into the house and dumped onto the marble floor. It was a very nice floor. Hermione was not.
"Gods you smell disgusting," she said. "Filthy. You need a bath."
He scoffed. "Hardly."
"Ah, so you do speak?" she said, a lift in her brow. "Very well, will we do this the easy way or the hard way?" She leaned down, giving him a sniff.
"I won't be telling you anything," he snarled.
"You don't have to for what I'm about to do with you."
-x-x-x-
She was getting tired of all this useless chit-chat. Snape was beginning to wear her out. And he did smell disgusting. She'd have to suck it up to show him a lesson.
"And what do you wish to do, Minister?" he said, an unimpressed smile forming on his face.
"You'll see."
"Perhaps not," he said with a short laugh. It was a mistake on his end because he found himself suspended in the air upside down. "That is not very nice Granger," he retorted, laughing through the rush of blood pounding against his ear drums.
"I didn't get to where I am by being nice," she replied lazily. "You've chosen the hard way. Off we go."
The entire house was starting to smell like him. Like layers of dirt and grime and sweat and piss. Hermione knew that smell all too well, having spent her fair share hiding out in the Forest of Dean during the dark days.
She had opened the door and drawn a bath. Then she took scissors out of her dressing table and cut off his clothing. That would go into the bins. She contemplated cutting the hair too, but decided against it. It was turning her on, with it all shaggy that way.
And then, she submerged him into the water. It was ice cold, and his wince said as much.
"I'll see you in the hall when you're done."
With that, she shut the door and let the swarm of sponges and plugs and soaps and brushes do their business on the wizard. He howled mercilessly of course. Hermione couldn't imagine what crevices the dirt could have gone into, or rather she did.
Finally, she found him standing in her dressing room, dripping wet from head to toe and looking worse for wear.
No obvious signs of disease or infection it seemed. He had probably kept himself as clean as he could out there.
"That's much better," she said, walking around to take a closer look at his lanky body.
"Fuck you," he spat.
"I will," she spat back, and directed him to a chair.
Then, Summoning a bottle of oil, applied some to her hands. He was manacled, therefore could not do much to resist.
She rubbed her hands together and ran them down between the protruding palates on either side of his boney spine. Already, his skin was given a bit of luster and looking healthier. Pale, very pale, but better.
He had muscles at some point, but not his skin was stretched so tight along his bones, it was a wonder he was still standing. Still, she rubbed the oil into the little hairs along his neck, down his arm and even over his hands.
Then she moved onto his front, kneeling down, she put a pump of oil and slicked it between her fingertips. His legs were covered in hairs and she massaged them in a upwards move, right towards his core. His breathing was steady and slow, like he was trying to control it.
It was doing things to her she couldn't put into words, but she could feel her own heartbeat racing. Slowly, she massaged him that way: first the left leg and then the right.
When that was done, she eyed the one item she neglected to pay attention to. And it was definately begging for something. He was hard, and very noticably so. His hands were covering the area, but only slightly. He likely didn't want her to see his embarassment.
She drew in a breath and warmed the oil beneath her fingertips. Then, in one swift move, wrapped them around the base of his cock. They both groaned at the same time, equally quickly. She squished him. Hard. And then she met his eyes. They were black and glaring right back at her. And she couldn't rip herself from them. Or from his cock, which was twitching slightly between her fingers and making delightful slurping sounds.
And then, he flinched and her hair was fisted between her fingers.
She screamed, grabbed his hands and cast a quick burning spell which had him scream in return.
She was free. And he was laughing wickedly. And his hands were peeling and pink. Yet still he laughed.
She got up and smacked him across the mouth.
"Fuck you," she snarled.
"Serves you right. Bloody psychopath," he said, spitting out blood, his voice hoarse.
"That's what you think of me?"
There was no stopping her now. She stood up and pulled her belt out of her buckle. It was a rawhide belt, made out of Erumpant hide. She't got it second hand of course, because she wasn't the kind of person who purchased animal made products, but she also wasn't the kind to toss old ones into the landfill.
She came over to him and smacked the belt straight across his thighs. She knocked him to the floor and did the same to his bare arse. He cried out in pain, and doubled over.
She did it until the spot became bright red and he was struggling to make any sound at all.
She was breathing hard herself, but her veins suddenly surged with a raw hint of adrenaline. Finally, something pleasant after such numbing corporate boredom.
"You're so ill behaved," she said slowly, letting the belt drag up his left leg, between his buttocks and onto his back. "But I'll train you to obey me."
She rolled him over. His cock was still hard.
"You like that." It was a comment on her end, not a question. She could see it in his eyes.
"There'll be more of that later. If I'm in the mood."
-x-x-x-
She dressed him in a clean shirt and trousers. He hadn't much to say in the matter. And he sat him down on the chair again, which bloody hurt. There was something clearly wrong with Granger. I mean, no shit right? She had him whipped like an ass on a farm. Not to say he wasn't stimulated by any of it. it had been monthes since anything to nice touched his member. But he didn't want more of it for now.
She was brushing his hair now, like he was her pet. And she scooped it back with a small tie at the back.
"You will be fed," she commanded.
He didn't want more of the whipping, so he followed her into the kitchen. He half-expected there to be elves, but ah! Old habits died hard. No way Granger would employ elves. She removed tomatoes from her counter, and sliced them in four pieces and arranged them on a plate. She crushed basil leaves on top and added a drizzle of olive oil.
Immaculate preperation, of course. A Potions Master must give credit where credit is due.
She heated up a cast iron skillet, and set a half-pound of potatoes to boil in a nearby pot. She retrieved three juicy steaks from her fridge and unwrapped them, oiled them up with the same care as his cock and seasoned them.
Licking her fingers, all the meat was tossed on the sizzling pan. Butter and rosemary was added next and the steaks were drenched with the hot fragrent liquid.
MMM. Delightful.
His ass nearly forgot about the whipping.
She assembled him a plate with the steak and the salad and the potatoes. Then, the manacles snapped off.
"You don't expect me to spoon feed you," she said.
It earned her a laugh from his end. He picked up his fork and dug it. It was bloody delicious, best thing he'd eaten in monthes, so naturally, he scarfed the whole thing down, well aware she was watching him like a hawk.
She gave him a second helping, and he scarfed that down as well.
"How do you like that?" she asked.
"Acceptable," he said.
"Ron was right. You were always a sod of a grader."
It earned her anouther laugh. He could very well enjoy this game, if she continued to feed him as such.
-x-x-x-
Now that he was cleaned and fed, it was time to move on to the next step of her plan. He was led to the sitting room, where a large fire was lit.
She offered him a glass of water, and poured one for herself.
"Wait here," she instructed, as if he had anywhere to go.
She went into the bathroom and removed her skirt and her jacket. She slid her heels and tights off. She Summoned her night dress from her rooms and slipped into. It was of a silken green fabric and shaped her body nicely enough. She removed her hair from its braid behind her back and slid into some slippers.
Then, she had joined him again.
There was a flash of lust in his eyes as she looked at her. No matter what he said, there was an attraction there.
She settled into the cushions beside him and poured them both anouther glass. They sat in silence, staring at the flames flickering in the distance, and sometimes, they stared at each other.
Finally, she leaned back into the sofa and rested her head on his shoulder, letting her hair fall down his chest.
Snape's voice was low. "You are a beautiful woman." It was genuine, she felt that much was true. He didn't dare to flinch a muscle as she placed a hand on his heart.
"Why must you be like this?" he chided. His free hand reached over and traced her cheek.
Her lids were dropping now, lulled by the stroking and the voice and the sparkling flames, and the chriping of crickets through the opened window.
"You could have anyone."
"I don't want anyone," she said and hummed. "I want whomever I want."
He continued stroking her like that. She was beginning to fall into a hazy trance and her body grew soft like a cat's.
"Only you know what it's like to be me," she purred. "Always saving everyone. Guiding them. Everyone thinks they know what is best. But it's a lie. Only I do."
He simply made a grunt in return. That did not please her. She didn't like when others didn't agree with her.
"Enough talking," she stated pulling herself upright.
She lay him across the sofa, his hands pinned up behind him, like he was going for an evening swim.
He made a sound, akin to a hiss as she settled onto his lap.
Slowly inching down the trousers, she gave him a quick rub before straddling his thighs. She rubbed herself over his cock, moaning as she did so. And finally, when she felt herself prepared and ready, she held him and slowly let him enter her.
He rolled his eyes backwards as she settled down on him.
"Oh Gods," she said. It had been a hot minute since she'd fucked anyone, and this wasn't just anyone. And it was bloody good. "Grab my ass."
And he did.
I mean, it's not like he had any commitments that night. She'd keep him for as long as she wanted to. And she rode him out for a good while before she finally slid of, tired of all the motion. She was too tired to get off tonight anyways.
He was breathing heavily, eyes closed. He wasn't really enjoying himself either.
Nevermind that, she'd train him to do that as well.
"I'm going to bed," she informed him and tossed him a sofa throw and ascended the stairs.
-x-x-x-
Alright. Severus lay there for some time until his heartbeat slowed.
Not the worst night of his life.
He'd been fed, bathed, clothed and fucked. And now, left alone to sleep. Actually that was more than most women had done for him.
Sure Granger had issues with her head. But again, nothing he hadn't been through before. He was just out of practise.
It occured to him that he was all alone in her house. Granted, he had no magic on him. Revoked in Azkaban indefinately.
What was he going to do?
He could go to sleep. He could climb out the window and try and climb the fence and risk getting caught by the Aurors. He could go into her bedroom and choak her.
That last one seemed far too much work though. Maybe tomorrow he would attempt something more creative. Right now, all he wanted to do was to close his eyes and get some rest.
And so he did.
So all in all, not a bad day for a criminal.