AN: Shoutout to reader ExcessivelyPerky for the idea of how Tilly would get Snape to eat as well. :). I am sorry for the cliffhanger at the end, if it helps at all I promise the next chapter will be up very soon.
Hermione woke the next morning, finding herself in her pajamas once again and having little recollection of how she got into bed. Then, when the events from the evening before flooded back to her, she found her face reddening and also a deep level of satisfaction coming too. The professor was right – she did understand so much more now that she had experienced it at least once. She knew now how much this was for her part of her sexuality, and how desperately she wanted to learn and experience more. There was no way in hell he was sending her to New Zealand today, she decided.
"Breakfast?" Tilly chirped, bringing in a tray.
"Thank you, Tilly," she replied, sitting up in bed. She felt twinges from last night's experiences on her backside and smirked with pleasure. She would spend a lot of time remembering and unpacking those memories.
"Professor Snapes asks if Miss Hermiones needs a healings balm," she asked, her tone friendly but concerned. "Is Miss Hermiones wells?"
"I am well," Hermione blushed. "I do not need anything, thank you," she told the elf firmly.
Nodding in satisfaction that her guest seemed well, Tilly blinked out.
"Lasts nights I coulds no reaches you," Mixie told her, her voice soft. "The wards weres up. Tilly tolds me yous were fine . . ."
"I was fine," Hermione reassured the nervous house elf. "Professor Snape and I were . . . having some time together."
"Yous seducings him?" she asked eagerly. "The books works? Mixie helps?"
"Mixie helps, but I'm still working on it," Hermione admitted. "The book was certainly a big help, and I think last night was a step in the right direction. Don't worry if I'm alone with him in that room, nothing bad will happen to me in there with him."
Though she said the words to reassure the elf, she realized with chagrin that the feeling was entirely authentic. Though this was the man who had mercilessly mocked her teeth while she was a young girl in school, and had generally made her nearly hate potions class. She even remembered with a smirk how she had set his robes on fire because she thought he had been jinxing Harry's broom! But now . . . well . . . things were very different. She realized that she he had felt completely safe with him, safer than she had felt in a very long time.
As she ate her breakfast, the pleasure of the night before also gave way to the reality that she was living. She had asked for one night and one encounter, which Professor Snape had obliged. Now she was no closer to getting him to agree to come back in time to fix things with her, and she had no backup plan. She had to convince him, and to do that, she had to learn more. She had a place to start – not only was last night mind-blowing, but she also learned some critical information about Professor Snape. He enjoyed spanking her; he said so himself. That was information she could use. Chewing on her toast, she retrieved the book from under her mattress and began to study it in earnest. Though this book had been a revelation to her, it didn't take to long for her to realize its limitations. It seemed to be a book of artistic photos, moving photos as wizards had, but with very little practical advice. It was beautiful, but she needed to know more.
"Mixie," she said, after some thought and perusing the book. "I need you to fetch me another of the books Professor Snape keeps in his room."
"Yes, Misses," she chirped, disappearing and reappearing soon after, carrying another book with her.
"Let's see what this one has to say," Hermione opened the cover.
Professor Snape was in a quandary of his own. His breakfast went largely untouched, he could barely bring himself to sip his tea. The events of the night before had weighed heavily on his conscience, especially after he led Miss Granger to her room, transfigured the nearly incoherent girl into some pajamas, and tucked her into bed. Yes, he had tucked the chit into bed! As she had nestled down into her pillow, asleep nearly instantly from the exertion and relaxation coming from the release she had experienced, he had even patted her head affectionately. What was he thinking? She was not a partner to him, she was a former student! And one that he had accepted, incredibly ill-advisedly, over his knee. What had he been thinking? He wasn't sure if it was the wine he had had with dinner, or just the sheer hunger and loneliness he had felt after so many years of living with so little company . . .
But that is over, he shook himself. He needed to send her somewhere she could be safe, and somewhere where she could find someone of an appropriate age to make these kinds of explorations with. She clearly was a young girl with some learning to do, and he couldn't help but envy the man who would help her learn those things. She had been so responsive under his hand – and so willing to trust him with abandon. Imagine where they could go . . .
No, he told himself. He couldn't dwell on such thoughts; he couldn't dwell on thinking about how she would like different implements or positions. It wouldn't do for him to think of the small sounds she made as his hand was making impact with her backside . . . hopeless, he was completely hopeless, he told himself. Although he had never been that good when women were concerned. From Lily onwards, he had never been able to apply his keen logic and unfailing discipline to relationships with women. He felt tempted to have a shot of firewhiskey before the inevitable conversation with Miss Granger, but knew better than to do anything that might reduce his inhibitions. And even he couldn't justify having whisky at nine in the morning. It was taking the firmest of occlumency not to dwell on the feelings from last night. Having her firm, young body over his lap had just felt so good . . .
"Professor Snape," he heard the voice of that young girl greet him.
"Miss Granger," he choked.
"I hope you don't mind me finding you so early," she smiled at him. "I have finished my breakfast and thought we should have a chat. Is that alright?"
"Of course, Miss Granger," he smoothly replied, getting over his shock. "We do have some time today. We should make our departure after dinner, and that should get you there in the morning in New Zealand. The countries are eleven hours apart. My contact is expecting us."
"About that," she smiled sweetly. "Is that what we really want to do?"
"Of course, Miss Granger," he replied. "My only wish is to get you somewhere safe, surely you would understand that."
"I haven't been somewhere safe since Hogwarts," she told him, sitting on the chair she had sat upon last night. He appreciated that this morning she wore normal clothes – a knee-length wool skirt, cotton blouse, and a cardigan – which was far less tempting. Although he found himself wondering at the slight glimpse of thigh he could see as she crossed her legs. Forcing himself to concentrate, he turned towards his tea.
"Would you like tea?" he offered.
"No thank you, I had mine with breakfast," she replied, and then noticed his full breakfast tray. "Are you not eating?"
"I have not been . . . in the mood this morning," he replied stiffly, banishing the food on the tray with a wave of his hand.
"I see," she answered, her eyebrows knitting together in concern. "Why banish it then and not just have Tilly take it?"
"I don't want to hear it from her," he rolled his eyes. "I will hear that my not eating will make her sad, and don't I want to eat enough to be healthy, and isn't she being a good house elf, and why am I not eating for her . . ."
With a laugh, Hermione covered her mouth. "That's how she got me to eat yesterday!" she exclaimed.
"She's very good at taking care of her people," Snape replied dryly. "House elves seem subservient, but they rule their houses with an iron fist. It's better not to do anything to incur her wrath."
"And she's not allowed into this room?" Hermione surmised.
"Only if I call," Snape told her. "She was not privy to our . . . activities yesterday. All house elves are banned; this room is my sanctuary."
"I see," Hermione nodded. "I like your sanctuary. I'm honored you let me into it."
Snape nodded, not sure how to reply to that, and sipped his tea again. "You were talking about safety?"
"I haven't felt safe since before the last battle," Hermione told him. "And to be honest, I'm not sure at all how safe Hogwarts was before that. But last night, I don't know how to say it, but I felt safe."
"I'm gratified to hear that," he nodded to her. "I . . . enjoyed our encounter as well. Perhaps we could . . . correspond if we could find a safe method. Perhaps even, several years from now when the fervor dies down, find a way to see each other again."
"I have a different proposal," she countered, perching on the edge of her chair in anxiety. "I know I agreed to go, and I still will if you insist. But I would like to ask for a week."
"A week?"
"Yes, a week," she told him, tucking a stray curl behind her ear. "You look over the information I have about our plan, and tell me, actually tell me what's so rubbish about it. Don't just dismiss it by saying it's an idealistic thought, but really study it and tell me what's wrong with the plan. Maybe you can even help me come up with an alternative if you aren't able to come back with me."
"And we would be living like a chaste Professor and student, would we?" he raised an eyebrow.
"Obviously not," she blushed, looking down. "Since we both . . . enjoyed last night, I also propose that you . . . further my education in that area as well. Mixie told me you had other . . . reading material and perhaps more . . . practical demonstrations could also be part of my learning. I will unlikely have access to a . . . teacher such as yourself, and I would like to avail myself of all possible resources."
"Merlin's sakes, Miss Granger . . ." he mumbled, utterly gobsmacked. Hearing a girl he expected to be prim and bookish talk this way was . . . arousing. He hardly knew what to do with it.
"Will I be taking time out of your hectic gardening schedule?" she asked him cheekily, her eyebrow raised. "Or perhaps you will have to cancel your dates with all of your other girlfriends? Or perhaps boyfriends?"
"Miss Granger!" he growled, halfway between a laugh and a snap.
"I know, I know, I'm entirely too cheeky and too forward," she smirked at him. "Perhaps what I need is a good spanking."
Snape had never had a woman play with him like this before, and he knew that's what she was doing. He found it arousing, and he could barely keep from engaging with her. The little minx, she knew exactly what she was doing. Two could play at that game. He narrowed his eyes at her.
"You have had a playful spanking," he told her. "Perhaps you would like to try the paddle?"
"I did say that I wanted to try new things," she told him a little warily, seeing his change in attitude. "What do I do?"
"Stand up and bend over the arm of the couch," he told her bluntly, wordlessly transfiguring a nearby book into a long, thick paddle.
Hermione's eyes grew wide at the site of the paddle, and she felt her stomach quake. The quake felt good, though, and her breathing began to quicken. "Red, yellow and green?" she asked.
"Same as yesterday," he nodded.
"Then, no, Professor, please don't paddle me too hard," she resisted as she bent over the arm of the couch. "Please, I won't ever steal a book from you again."
"Did you steal another book?" he asked incredulously.
"I had Mixie steal it this morning," she nodded. "I just had to learn more while I still had access to these books."
"I thought we had talked about this last night, Miss Granger," he scolded, his voice pitching low and dangerous. "Six with the paddle."
When the first stroke of the paddle landed, Hermione drew in her breath hard, hardly believing the strength of the sting. "OW!" she cried.
"Was it my green book?" he asked darkly.
"It was your green book," she agreed, going up onto her toes in protest.
"Very well, here's your next stroke," he told her, smacking the paddle onto her backside again.
"Ow!" she cried again, kicking a bit as the paddle made contact.
"Paddles are meant to hurt," he told her, growling, but rubbed her backside softly to help dissipate the sting. She parted her legs a bit, but he smirked. He would not be giving her an easy release today.
"Three," he counted. "Four."
"Ow!" she protested, wiggling on the couch, but then raising up to his hand as he rubbed her backside, harder this time.
"Five," he counted. And then, pulling the paddle back further and aiming for her upper thighs, he slammed it down harder than the other ones, and said with a flourish, "Six!"
Snape then seated himself on the sofa and waited.
Hermione, gathering herself after that intense experience, looked up at him.
"Aren't you going to . . ."
"No, Miss Granger, I am not," he answered smugly. "You tease me, I tease you."
Hermione narrowed her eyes at him, raising up off the sofa. Two can play at this game. She came over to the sofa, her bottom toasty and tingly sore, and her sensitive parts longing for his touch. She thought about what she had read in the new book, about men's pleasures, and smiled sweetly. He had vastly underestimated her.