Erotic/Erratic (NC-17, 4000 words)
Title: Erotic/Erratic
Rating: NC-17
Words: ~4000
Summary: When captured by Death Eaters, Hermione's interrogation takes an unlikely twist.
Notes: Written for brennadouglasmw for sshg_exchange.
* * *
They came with wands, they came with curses. The Muggles didn't stand a chance. The streets of Taunton glowed green and red that night as the Death Eaters raided, tortured, killed, and plundered.
Their target was a house on the edge of the town where two Muggles kept a small but prosperous dental practice. These Muggles had a very strange daughter, who the local villagers remembered as causing a great deal of trouble until she was sent away to boarding school, where she'd quite calmed down.
The Death Eaters could have simply Apparated into this house, stolen the girl they were after, and left, but because they were Death Eaters, they left destruction and horror in their wake. Many that night bled to death from inexplicable cuts across their sternums; others went insane from lengthy torture, though they were never touched.
Hermione Granger heard the screams in the surrounding streets and knew what was happening. She'd known for a while that the Death Eaters were after her, though she hadn't expected to be tracked all the way here, to her parents' new dental practice in the middle of nowhere.
What she expected even less was that, when the Death Eaters did reach her parents' home, they could see it.
As the Stunning Spell knocked her unconscious, Hermione's last thought was that Ron Weasley was a pathetic traitor if he couldn't Keep a Secret under torture.
* * *
"Miss Granger, how good of you to join us."
Hermione came awake with a pounding headache. There were no bright lights or loud noises to exacerbate it, however; in fact, it was quite dark and silent. And cold. She could feel stone under her feet, cold metal binding her wrists behind her back, and rope restraining her ankles. She had no idea where she was.
She recognized the voice, though: it was Lucius Malfoy.
Hermione had never been more thankful than at that moment that she wasn't a key figure in the web of Secret-Keeping the Order had taken to using. Her role in the war was that of analyst and planner, and while she knew all the plans of attack, and defensive possibilities, as she'd created them, she had no idea which were the ones Harry had chosen to use. Even if she broke and babbled, they'd be no better off than if they'd simply employed someone of their own who had brains and access to a good library.
Where was Draco these days, anyway?
A wand lit up, and the too-familiar face of Lucius Malfoy came into view. Hermione gave him the filthiest look she could, with a strong undercurrent of stubbornness her father had taught her. (Daddy, please still be alive...)
"Would you like to tell us everything now, then?" Malfoy asked, sounding too amused. "Or would you prefer to wait until we torture you to the nearest point of death? We might even be able to take you past it and back -- Severus has been working on a few lovely potions, you know."
Snape?
"Now, now, Lucius, don't be too hasty," said another voice. Another wand was lit.
"P-professor Snape?" Hermione gasped.
Snape came into the small circle of light provided by Malfoy's wand. "Miss Granger." He inclined his head graciously towards her. "How lovely to see you." His gaze swept her up and down. "So much of you."
It was only then that Hermione realized why she was so cold. She was completely naked.
She gasped and felt tears prick her eyes. There had always been rumours of sexual humiliation as part of the torture Death Eaters were using, but there had been very, very few survivors of such torture for the last three years, and so the rumours had remained unconfirmed.
As Malfoy ran one cold finger over her right breast, Hermione knew these rumours were true. She wondered if she would make it out alive to let the world know.
Malfoy pinched a nipple, hard, and Hermione, who had in fact quite enjoyed roughhousing with Ron before his own capture, found it not the least bit arousing at all. Even though her nipple hardened further -- it was already hard from the cold -- her loins and guts remained unmoved.
Rape was not enjoyable.
Snape, apparently, knew this. "Lucius, you never had any subtlety," he said.
"No," admitted Malfoy easily. He flicked his wand, and a sharp sting of pain cut across Hermione's cheek. She felt, and soon tasted, the hot coppery tang of blood.
Snape chuckled, an odd, sinister sound.
Malfoy then took a few steps closer, bringing his face right against hers. His hot, wet tongue licked the gash on her cheek, making her want to gag.
"Mudblood," he hissed, and slapped her.
The tears began to fall, then, and Hermione looked at Snape, whose face was rendered harsh by the shadows of his wandlight. His expression was severe, almost disapproving, though whether this was at the crassness of Malfoy's actions or the very existence of them, she could not tell.
"Leave her alone," Snape said idly, with a sigh. "She's my prisoner, remember?"
"My apologies," said Malfoy smoothly, and stepped back, though not without gouging his fingernails into Hermione's shoulders. "Still -- such a pretty little lass. Wouldn't want her to get too bloody, too quickly."
"That is a failing of yours," remarked Snape. "You can stay and watch, if you prefer," he said, as he began to unbutton his robes.
What?
Hermione wasn't sure where her words came from, but came they did, ragged with tears: "If you're going to rape me, Professor, I'd rather we were alone."
Both Death Eaters laughed.
"You don't get any rathers in this, Mudblood," said Lucius. "You should be very, very grateful that it's Severus and not me in charge of your interrogation."
"Why?" Hermione spat.
Snape said nothing, but instead reached out a hand and stroked her jawline. Hermione shuddered with the startling tenderness of it.
"Because, child, I prefer pleasure to pain."
* * *
And Snape began. First, he finished removing his robes, while Malfoy lit the lamps to reveal a dank stone dungeon remarkably like the one in which Hermione had attended Nearly Headless Nick's Deathday party so many years ago. Perhaps it was the same one, she thought wildly. Hogwarts had fallen last month.
Now naked, Snape stood before her, his eyes sweeping her figure. Hermione felt more exposed than before, and wanted nothing more than to cover her breasts. Her weeping had subsided now to a dull and steady throb of despair, but at Snape's cool gaze of appraisal, she wished she could still cry. But her tears seemed gone.
"You might as well just kill me now," she said. "No matter what you learn from me, it's not going to help. It's nothing you couldn't figure out on your own."
"What makes you think we want information from you?" said Malfoy, who had taken a seat in a very out-of-place wing-backed chair, his legs crossed casually.
"But--but you said--"
"I lie constantly," Malfoy drawled.
Snape was still eyeing her figure. "Miss Granger," he breathed, "you hid yourself very well at Hogwarts. Those school robes cover far too much."
"Severus requested you be brought to him," Lucius continued. "The original plan was to just kill you outright -- as you say, you can tell us nothing new -- but without you, the Order will have no one to think for them."
Hermione's mouth fell open slightly, and she closed it again. The smallest shred of hope had formed, but she didn't dare allow herself to nurse it.
Snape at that moment let out a long held breath, and Hermione was mortified to see that he had an erection. His penis was nothing for her to be surprised at -- fairly normal size and shape, circumsized, with a patch of dark hair above it -- but the fact that it was Professor Snape's penis made her so uncomfortable she felt sick. He was, or had been, her teacher, and now he was touching her as if to comfort her from the very act he was about to perpetrate!
He stroked her jawline again, and she closed her eyes. Hermione gritted her teeth and forced herself not to lean into his touch. She would endure his ministrations stonily.
A wandtip touched her cheek; the pain of Malfoy's cut vanished, the taste of blood disappeared. Her cheek was healed. Snape's fingers stroked where the cut had been. "You'll have a scar, I'm afraid," he said. He put his mouth next to her ear and murmured, "Trust me."
Hermione whipped her head around and looked at him, startled.
"Yes," he continued, with his face mere inches away, "a scar. Though, as you'll not likely leave this room again, no one but us will see it."
But his black eyes were boring into hers, and Hermione's shred of hope took root despite her best efforts.
Now he kissed her. At first, it was a light, fleeting touch of lips on lips, and Hermione kept hers shut and unmoving. Then, Snape put a hand behind her head and another just below her jaw, gently stroking from behind her ear to under her chin.
Hermione, mortified beyond belief, felt her vagina begin to moisten slightly. She heard a breathy grunt and realized it had been her own voice. Purely physiological, she told herself. You are not enjoying this, it's just your body.
"That particular point on the ear tends to do that," Snape said conversationally as he released her lips. "Come, Miss Granger," he said. "You may as well enjoy it."
"I'd sooner die," Hermione growled.
"Oh, you will, eventually," Malfoy called from his armchair. "But not until Severus has had his fun."
"No, not until after I've finished," Snape agreed, and swept in for another kiss.
This time his hands were on both sides of her face, putting gentle pressure under her ears. Eventually, Hermione had to open her mouth slightly, and that was when Snape snuck his tongue in.
Hermione had never been the kind of girl to enjoy French kissing. When Ron had done it, she'd usually just gritted her metaphorical teeth and waited for him to finish. Snape's tongue, however, was darting and light, and he didn't roll it around her mouth like a slobbery whale. He swiped it gently over her teeth, then retreated back to outside her lips.
"Hermione," he breathed, as though the name were itself a goddess. "Come, kiss me back."
"No."
"But you clearly enjoy it." Snape brought his hands down to cup her breasts and rub her nipples, and then, o nightmare of nightmares, put one hand between the folds of her labia and felt the pooling moisture. "You're wet." He removed his finger.
"Is she now?" came Malfoy's eager voice. "Little slut, she likes it."
"It's just a physiological response," Hermione snarled. "It doesn't mean anything."
"Doesn't it?" Snape asked. "What a pity. Well, then, I'll have to see just how many 'physiological responses' I can get from you before we have to kill you."
Bastard, thought Hermione, then decided to say it aloud.
"No, actually, my parents were married," Snape replied. "As were Lucius'."
He replaced his hands on her breasts. "Nice," he commented. "A little smaller than I usually like them, but not yet sagging. I'd always wondered, you see. Adolescent girls really have delightful bodies, and it's quite a pity I don't get to see more of them." He squeezed them, slowly and unhurriedly.
"Pervert."
"Yes," Snape agreed, and knelt down to take her left breast into his mouth.
Hermione let out a gasp as he sucked on her nipple.
Malfoy laughed. "Come, Miss Granger, you may as well admit that you're enjoying yourself. Severus is very good at what he does."
But Hermione would never, in a million years, admit that having Professor Snape licking her breasts was the most arousing thing that had ever happened to her.
Snape inserted his finger into her vagina yet again, and Hermione had to moan. She also had to revise her estimate of the most arousing thing in the world as he found her clitoris and rubbed it, using her own juice as lubricant.
He transferred his mouth to her right breast and suckled on that one for a moment, before moving his mouth and his other hand downward, so that his lips were on her abdomen, one hand on her clitoris, and the other squeezing her right buttock.
He released her breast. "You have a great arse, Hermione," he breathed. "I watched you, I always watched you -- from behind, from the side, from the front... so beautiful, so very fuckable."
Malfoy was giggling, and Hermione felt like vomiting at the sound.
"I remember," Snape said, his voice low and hypnotic, both hands now caressing her buttocks and the backs of her thighs, his face level with her pubic hair, "in your fifth year, you came back from the Department of Mysteries badly injured--" He stroked her calves and the tops of her feet, then licked her abdomen once. "I remember coming up to give Madam Pomfrey a dose of antidote, and she was away and you were asleep, and the Hospital Wing was empty."
Hermione was staring at him, at his closed yet rapturous expression. She couldn't stop listening to him, wanting to believe him.
Snape rocked backwards on his heels, and very carefully drew her legs apart, conjuring ropes to bind her thighs to the wall. Hermione resisted as best she could, but he was much stronger than she was, and she'd seen Malfoy rise from his chair and draw his wand, looking far too eager to hurt her.
"And I remember that I couldn't resist it," said Snape; "you were just lying there, innocent and helpless... I pulled down the covers, and pulled up your nightgown--" He was now peppering kisses along the insides of her thighs, his hands meanwhile clasping her buttocks, lifting and releasing them, rolling them around his palms, parting and compressing them--"and I touched you, here..."
He pressed the flat of one hand to her pubic hair.
"And you moaned in your sleep."
He looked up at her.
"Already then you longed for my touch, Hermione."
Hermione's breath was coming in ragged, panting breaths. No one had wanted her like this, ever. If it was true... if he meant it...
"And now I can finally take you as I have long desired."
His hands firmly holding her labia apart, Snape brought his mouth to her vagina and licked her clitoris in one single stroke.
Hermione screamed, shuddered, and came.
Lucius giggled.
Snape continued to lick her clitoris, slowly and steadily, and Hermione's heightened arousal kept peaking; although she didn't have another orgasm, she felt stretched to her limit, and thought she might cry with the emotional impact of such pleasure. Her body had never been pushed this far. She would have fallen to her knees had her thighs not been held up by the very ropes that bound them apart.
She'd closed her eyes at one point, and although Snape's treatment of her clitoris couldn't have lasted more than five minutes, she felt it had been an eternity when his tongue stopped and she heard his voice in her ear.
"I'm going to fuck you now, Hermione."
"Oh, God, yes," she heard herself say, and heard another giggle from Lucius. She opened her eyes, and saw his swimming form, still sitting in the armchair, but now naked and with one hand wrapped around his own penis, which was, Hermione noticed, quite a bit larger than Snape's.
The bindings on her wrists vanished; the ropes holding her thighs released her; and Hermione fell to her hands and knees onto the stone floor.
Snape moved her body around so that he could fit in behind her, but Hermione was far too weak from the previous experience to do anything about it. She merely rested her head on her arms and kept breathing.
She felt his hand encircle her stomach, his thighs pressing into the backs of hers, and then his penis, searching for an entrance.
Half of her being was telling her that this was her chance to get away -- she was unbound, she could rush for Snape's wand, which was lying only four feet from her right hand -- but the other half was dizzy with orgasm and wanted more, no matter how torn up her knees might get.
She adjusted her hips and rocked backwards, impaling herself on Snape.
"Oh, fuck," Snape said.
Hermione was not a virgin. She was, however, still young, and still, apparently, very tight.
Snape stayed very still for about ten seconds, and then he pulled back, just to the tip, paused, and pushed back in.
Hermione moaned.
Lucius, whose armchair was now right in front of her, continued to masturbate, slowly and steadily. He looked in her eyes and grinned.
What are you doing? asked Hermione's rational part. They're going to kill you; forget about enjoying the best sex you've ever had!
They're going to kill you, said the other half, so you might as well enjoy the best sex you've ever had.
But then she remembered Snape's whispered "Trust me" and his eyes, and the fact that Snape had specifically instructed that she wasn't to be killed immediately...
And she pushed back against his penis as he thrust forward once more.
Fuck.
If she got out of here alive, things were going to be very, very complicated.
So, she decided, she may as well enjoy it. It wouldn't complicate things any further than they already were.
"Oh, Hermione," Snape groaned.
And then it was fast, and hard, and Hermione felt her knees hurting as they scraped the stone, but it didn't matter because her vagina was being similarly scraped from the inside, scratching at that itch that no amount of clitoral stimulation could reach.
When Malfoy knelt and put his own penis in her mouth, Hermione sucked. She sucked, and told herself that it was for dear life. If Malfoy could come hard enough that he was exhausted, perhaps that would give Snape a chance to get her away... if indeed that was what he intended... but if not, then, she would enjoy being fucked by two men, which had in fact been a fantasy of hers -- only she'd rather imagined Harry and Ron, not two Death Eaters.
"She's enjoying it," Lucius remarked, and grabbed Hermione's hair to force a rhythm.
"I know," said Snape with a grunt. "I thought she might. It was always her and those two boys, at school. I imagine she must have at least thought about this at least once."
Damn him, Hermione thought, but then could think anymore, because Snape had just then put one hand on her breast and the other on her clitoris, and her brain had turned off.
Vaginal orgasms had always been difficult for her to attain, but tonight Hermione had no difficulty coming once, twice, and then a third time, and it was a testament to the experience of the men that they rode her orgasms through before coming themselves in her mouth and vagina, within a few seconds of each other.
Hermione collapsed onto the floor, sticky with sweat and dribbles of semen. Her knees were now throbbing painfully.
Lucius retreated back to his armchair, put his head back, and laughed. "That was fun," he slurred, and, to Hermione's soggy relief, began immediately to snore.
Snape went over and picked up his wand. Silently he shot a spell at Malfoy. Hermione looked up at him, puzzled, hopeful.
"Muffliato," he explained, his voice now soft and intense. "I believe Potter found it in my Potions book as well."
"Yes," Hermione said blankly. "Er, Professor?" she asked.
"What?" he snapped.
"Um..." Are you rescuing me? Is Malfoy really going to kill me? "What happens now?"
"What do you think?" he hissed. He hauled her roughly to her feet, twitched his wand, and clothed her in an overly long black robe with a hood. "Keep your face averted from anyone we pass." And then he picked her up, cradled her against his chest, and walked straight out of the dungeon.
* * *
They were indeed at Hogwarts; Hermione realized this the moment they entered the corridor, despite the looming presence of black-robed Death Eaters everywhere. She only glimpsed the first few before she pressed her face into Snape's chest, wishing she knew what to think.
One moment, she'd been about to die. The next, she'd been on her hands and knees, being wonderfully fucked by Severus Snape. Severus Snape and Lucius Malfoy. And enjoying it. And now --
Snape walked quickly, grunting monosyllabic responses to anyone who approached him, and soon they had gained the fresh air of Hogwarts' front lawn. He was then silent all the way down to the gates.
When they reached the gates, they were stopped by a guard, and Snape had to put Hermione down.
"Where are you taking her?" asked the guard. To Hermione's horror, it was the voice of Pansy Parkinson.
She was sure, then, that it was all over: Pansy would recognize her, an alarm would be set off, and both she and Snape would be tortured and killed, properly this time.
"Miss Granger," said Snape with a sneer, "is going to serve as an example."
Hermione looked up at him in horror. Had she been imagining her rescue? Was she now to be taken to some wizarding area, killed horribly, and her body exhibited for all to see?
Pansy snickered. "Did you fuck her first? I bet she liked it."
"She did indeed," Snape replied.
Pansy stepped forward and spat on Hermione's face. "Filthy Mudblood slut," she jeered. "I wish I could have watched." She turned to Snape. "Very well, take her out."
Snape inclined his head, and prodded Hermione forward. "Walk," he ordered.
Hermione walked.
As the gates clanged shut behind them, Hermione heard Pansy call to Snape, "You realize that if you ever need to torture someone, I claim first in line!"
Snape laughed once, a harsh sound.
And then he pulled Hermione close to him and Apparated.
* * *
When the constriction had faded, Hermione found herself staring at a door that looked remarkably familiar.
It had a brass knocker in the form of a serpent.
Snape tapped the door several times with his wand, and it opened.
Immediately there was a scream: "Hermione!" and Hermione was enveloped in a hug so tight and fleshy that it could only be Molly Weasley.
"Mrs Weasley?" she croaked.
"Oh, Hermione dear," said Mrs Weasley, "we were so worried Severus wouldn't be able to get you out of there." She released Hermione and went to Snape. "Oh, Severus, we owe you so much. I can't imagine how you did it."
"My pleasure," said Snape thinly, and turned around to leave.
"But -- Professor --" began Hermione. She wanted to say something, to ask him if he'd really been lusting after her all these years, and whether there was any chance they might, perhaps, when the war was over, go for coffee sometime, and maybe get to know each other and, if he wanted to, he could go down on her again, or even just fuck her, she wouldn't really mind --
"Miss Granger," said Snape flatly, "I did what I had to do to assist the Order. That was all."
He gave her a cold nod, and vanished through the front door.
Hermione stared after him.
"Oh, Hermione," said Mrs Weasley kindly, "it must have been awful. But you don't look too worse the wear for it. Did Snape heal your injuries? Are you sore anywhere? Come into the kitchen, have some tea. Or maybe you'd rather just go up to bed and sleep? Harry's here, too, but he's completely knackered. They found and destroyed a Horcrux yesterday, actually, I expect you'll want to hear about how well that went. All your doing, of course, you know..."
Hermione let Mrs Weasley bustle her off to the kitchen, somehow feeling worse now than when she had been locked in the dungeon.
~fin~