Detention

Disclaimer: Is not mine, is J.K. Rowlings, etc, etc.
(Rape and HBP spoilers within. I warned you.)


Detention

“It’s ridiculous and you know it,” Hermione muttered to the air, wishing she was still talking to Ron. He would have lamented about Snape’s policies with her and she wouldn’t have felt guilty about venting to him. It felt wrong somehow to discuss any of her problems with Harry. As much as she appreciated his friendship, he just had so much to deal with that she *couldn’t* burden him with more. “And nothing as trivial as an unfair punishment, for that matter,” she finished telling the air.

The sixth year girl’s tower was empty, but for her and the air and Hermione was glad. She really didn’t think she could stand to see Lavender right now. The desire to throttle that twittering, ditzy… Hermione stopped herself. She was being harsh, “and jealous,” she whispered dejectedly.

“Well. Hop to it then, ridiculous or not, you have detention.” Hermione pulled her robes over her jeans and sweater and gathered up her books. Honestly, though, getting a detention because she had been the first to master wordless magic was a bit much. As usual, Snape was simply irritated at her success.

Slinging her books over her shoulder and using a lightening charm to make her backpack possible to carry, she headed to the DADA classroom. She didn’t encounter anyone in the common room, and was glad not to see anyone but Colin Creevey in the hallway. Colin was in a hurry and seemed preoccupied so she didn’t even bother to greet him. Though, she thought hurriedly, as a prefect I should probably show some interest in his problem.

“Later,” she muttered at the hallway air. Detention with Snape was going to put her behind in her homework. Though, since she wasn’t on speaking terms with Ron she didn’t have to worry about helping him or Harry with *their* work. Sooner than she liked she approached the door of the classroom.

“Miss Granger.”

Snape’s emotionless voice startled her out of her thoughts and she looked up. “Professor?”

“You are late.”

Hermione took a deep breath and crossed her arms. She was not late. She was in fact two minutes early. Knowing the futility of arguing with the Slytherin Head of House she opened her mouth. “It’s two minutes until four, sir.”

“Funny, by my clock it’s two minutes after, Miss Granger.”

Hermione rolled her eyes and resisted the urge to argue more. “Sorry, Professor.”

“You realize, Miss Granger, that every moment you stand in the hallway you are causing yourself to be more tardy?”

Angrily Hermione stepped into the classroom, tossing her heavy bag onto the table with a satisfying thud.

“Honestly, Miss Granger, this is the kind of behavior I expect from those insolent friends of yours. Not you.”

Hermione closed her eyes. Controlling her anger was going to be more of a trial than she had previously imagined. This detention was already unfair. And now Snape was deliberately goading her.

Snape walked towards Granger. He had been having a particularly trying week. Between teaching ungrateful prats how to counter curses and recognize various magical creatures, spying for the Order and spying for Voldemort, and having to endure the incompetence of Malfoy’s eldest son’s, Snape felt ready to snap.

Granger had caught his eye during his last class session. She had been casting jinxes wordlessly with impunity. And when she had laughed at Weasely’s misfortune to be caught by one of her jinxes, he had been intrigued. So he had singled her out for detention. He couldn’t even remember the technicality he had used. That worried him; he couldn’t afford to have slippages in memory.

Her defiant glare was causing him some excitement to go along with his earlier curiosity. Along with the swell of her breasts, the curve of her hips, even her bushy hair seemed barely frizzy. It kind of framed her face in a somewhat attractive way.

Her snappy, “well?” decided it for him and he sneered happily as he closed the door and locked it a flick of his wand.

Hermione crossed her arms again as she sat down.

“No, Miss Granger, I would prefer you to stand.”

Resigned, Hermione stood. She wondered what Snape had in mind for her detention. Likely some type of physically exhausting manually labor, just to rub it in that he could give her detention and make it as unpleasant as possible.

“And I would prefer it if you were naked.”

“Excuse me?” Hermione stared at her Professor. Had he just said…

“Surely a young woman who is hailed for her mental prowess can understand simple English?”

“This is ridiculous. I’ve been warned about men like you. And I certainly had never though you were one of them. I don’t have to stay here, I’m leaving.”

“Are you?” Snape smirked and waved his wand, freezing Hermione to her spot on the floor.

His cock was being stirred by her defiance and he knew it wouldn’t be long until he was ready. He watched, with seeming disinterest as she struggled with her invisible bonds and sensed as she tried to use wordless magic to counter the spell. She probably could have done it, had she known the counter-spell. As it was… well, his cock twitched at the prospect of taking her.

He descended upon her quickly, removing her clothing with care. As much as he wished to rush, much as he wished to view her naked flesh, he couldn’t risk needing to explain rips or tears. Perhaps another time, when he’d had a chance to contrive a likely scenario.

Hermione was completely naked and blushing like crazy when she figured out the counter spell. She didn’t waste time to yell, scream or otherwise protest, but ran for the door the instant she found it. She would worry about explaining herself after she got out of the situation.

“Who will you tell, Miss Granger? Who will believe you?”

Hermione stopped at the doorknob. And ignored Snape. She turned it and knew it was locked. But she still had her wand in her…

“Expelliarmus!”

Snape smiled at Hermione’s round, inviting ass. He had given her time to find the counter spell and she had. Now, though, now his prick had hardened and was demanding to be thrust into her wet, hairless pussy. He had been surprised at her lack of pubic hair. He hadn’t expected such an eccentricity from such a mundane girl. But the discovery had excited him.

“Now, Miss Granger, you will save yourself a bit of grief by walking over here. I do believe you are smart enough to know when you have been, defeated?”

Hermione continued to ignore Snape and tried the door handle again. And again. She ignored him as he came up behind her and caressed her breasts with his rough, calloused hands. She ignored the sensation that he was providing. She ignored the tears of anger and shame forming in her eyes. And then she turned around and threw herself at her former potions professor, fists flying, screaming.

Snape recoiled from Granger’s unexpected attack. Quickly and forcefully he grabbed her hands and pinned her against the door. This screaming would never do, so he quieted her protests by clamping his mouth against hers.

His kiss was demanding, intrusive and a thousand times more interesting than any of Viktor Krum’s had ever been. Hermione flushed with shame at that thought. And tried not to react as Snape’s tongue explored her mouth. When he finally pulled away she gasped for breath and felt her previously unshed tears streak down her cheeks.

The tears were too much for Snape. He lifted his robes and slowly began to insert his engorged penis into Hermione’s tight and surprisingly wet pussy. Sensation flooded through him as he began to pound into her earnest, taking excitement from her screams, protests and tears.

Hermione screamed and struggled as Snape entered her. She tried to claw at him, tried to hit him, tried to do anything to make it stop. As he finally pulled out of her, an eternity later she fell to the floor. She had been unable to stop him. She had been raped. By Snape. Shock caused her to tremble and finally, thankfully she passed out.

Hermione woke, dizzy, cramped and sore. Her head ached, her body ached and she was *cold*. And then she remembered. Snape had raped her. Tears formed in her eyes again and she forced herself to rise. She was still lying against the door in the classroom. Her clothes were in a neat pile next to her. A note, written a precise hand lay on top of them.

Feel free to explain your situation to the Headmaster, Miss Granger. Even if he believes you, it won’t matter.

Emptily, she stared at the note. Wondering what it could mean she pulled on her clothes and started back towards Gryffindor Tower.