wippost "Pinpricks" 2/? McGonagall/Hermione
Title: "Pinpricks"
Fandom: Harry Potter
Characters: Minerva McGonagall, Hermione Granger
Do they (want to) have sex (with each other)? Eventually yes. (I hope)
Rating: Eventually NC-17
Warnings: Spanking, chan.
Disclaimer: JK Rowling and Scholastic.
Justification: I have none; really I don't.
Summary: In which the HP series is awesome, but would be so much better if McGonagall spanked Hermione more.
Note: A thematically and chronologically connected and extremely infrequently updated series of PWPs. At least, I'm hoping that the plotless porn will make an appearance any day now.
Chapter Title: "After The Leaving Feast"
Rating: PG
Words: 1102
Summary: Hermione really ought to be punished.
Previously: on "Pinpricks," McGonagall spanked Hermione, and she liked it quite a lot.
Pinpricks
Chapter 2: After The Leaving Feast"
When Filch caught Hermione and Harry atop the Astronomy Tower and sent them to McGonagall's study, Hermione started trembling, then went limp all over when she saw the look on the Professor's face. Sitting in a chair that was hardly comfortable and watching McGonagall's nostrils tighten and her face go white with anger and disappointment, Hermione was sure that whatever happened would leave her aching all summer (always assuming, of course, that she survived exams). But except for the same terse note that Harry got, McGonagall hasn't communicated with Hermione at all. She certainly hasn't suggested that she ought to be punished further for the prank she played on Malfoy.
(Only, of course, there was no prank, just as Hermione never thought she could face a troll on her own.)
And as soon as she knew Harry was safe, the night he faced He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, she thought, What will Professor McGonagall do when she finds out?
So now that exams are done and she has her marks and the Sorcerer's Stone destroyed and everything is taken care of except the packing up for summer, the only thing left for Hermione to worry about is Professor McGonagall, who worries her a great deal.
She knows she ought to be punished. When rules are broken there should be consequences, and in two months she's committed two offenses that are worth fifty points apiece, at least, but McGonagall hasn't touched her. Hermione can't help feeling a bit queasy whenever someone claps her on the back and thanks her for the points she earned for Gryffindor; those aren't the consequences she has in mind.
Besides which, McGonagall said. Not to Hermione, admittedly. Professor McGonagall hasn't spoken privately to Hermione -- not even so much as smiled at her -- for seven months, not since Halloween. All winter Hermione went hot-and-cold whenever she walked into Transfiguration, but that's worn off, and she's just irritable, jumpy. She wants the intimacy of McGonagall's personal anger, and though she can cradle "I thought you had more sense," even that's worn off. If she's really disappointed McGonagall, if McGonagall really thought she could be better than Harry or Ron, then why hasn't McGonagall done a thing to reprimand her?
Lavender and Pavarti are watching her curiously from their half of the dormitory, and Hermione realizes she's been staring at her pile of textbooks for five minutes. She tosses them in her trunk hurriedly, then, feeling guilty at once, straightens the pile.
It doesn't make her feel any less awful about sneaking about with Harry and Ron.
The punishment wouldn't even have to be -- well, it needn't be that, really. It can't be points, she supposes, not after Gryffindor's already won, but she could copy lines, or do extra homework, anything, honestly. It wouldn't have to be like Halloween. There're loads of ways McGonagall could punish her.
In fact, she'll ask her.
It's not like there's anything to lose, really, and besides she won't feel right about it till she at least asks and besides... she is in Gryffindor. If Harry or Ron -- but Harry and Ron, of course, have a quite different attitude toward rules and fairness.
McGonagall understands, though. So she tries to convince herself, hand poised to knock on the door to McGonagall's study, usually open, now locked. She takes a deep breath, lets her knuckles rap against the door.
"Yes?" She almost changes her mind, then, at the gruffness in McGonagall's voice. She'll be doing her own packing up, won't want to be disturbed... But the door opens. "Miss Granger." Her voice is ever so slightly softer, and Hermione, encouraged, follows the sweep of McGonagall's arm and enters the study.
"I was..." The familiarity of the office's sensations -- the fire that's burning even in June, the barest hints of heather, the glaze that comes from heat and books and silence -- makes Hermione a touch incoherent. It's very different being here alone than it was with Harry fretting beside her and Neville standing, goggle-eyed and fearful, at Professor McGonagall's side. She can absorb the room now, breathe in the scent of magic, of McGonagall, and take her time before saying, "I wondered when you were going -- if you were going to -- "
McGonagall takes her seat and waits. Her patience is a tangible quality in the room, unruffled and unruffle-able. Hermione's glad of it now, though later in her dormitory she'll wonder with a blush what it would take for her to make McGonagall lose her cool.
"To punish me for that -- those -- nights," she finishes in a rush.
McGonagall raises an eyebrow and considers. "I thought Professor Dumbledore made clear he was more than pleased with your cleverness."
"Yes but... but he's not you, Professor."
"No."
"Did you - did you think he was wrong?"
"He did exactly what I expected him to do."
"Oh." Hermione's voice is tiny in her mouth, and she can't make it larger without accidentally saying everything that's welling in her throat.
"Was there something you wanted?"
"I told you..."
"You told me you wondered."
"Ah. Well, what I meant was... I thought you ought to."
"Ought to?"
"I... I should to be punished for that night."
"Do you want it?"
"I... I deserve it." She truly thinks she does. Not because it will make her better behaved next year, nor even because of the look it will put in McGonagall's eyes, but because when you misbehave you ought to bear your lashes bravely.
"That's true," McGonagall says, and picks up a quill. Hermione can see that she's a large stack of parchment, probably writing end-of-term letters to parents whose children committed worse sins this year than sneaking about after dark. She waits for a dismissal, but apparently the cessation of speech and the commencement of writing are the only signals Professor McGonagall will give. It's clear enough; Hermione stands a moment longer, watching, until she feels McGonagall's patience thin. The room is suddenly colder; she walks backwards to the door and slips out, awkward.
When she reaches the safety of Gryffindor Tower she allows herself to feel disappointment, and when she reaches her own room, shame, but it's not till she's tucked into bed for the last night of her first year at Hogwarts that she realizes that her unmarked arse and the memory of McGonagall's quill scratching dismissively at creamy pockmarked parchment are punishments sharp enough to last a whole summer at home.
Fandom: Harry Potter
Characters: Minerva McGonagall, Hermione Granger
Do they (want to) have sex (with each other)? Eventually yes. (I hope)
Rating: Eventually NC-17
Warnings: Spanking, chan.
Disclaimer: JK Rowling and Scholastic.
Justification: I have none; really I don't.
Summary: In which the HP series is awesome, but would be so much better if McGonagall spanked Hermione more.
Note: A thematically and chronologically connected and extremely infrequently updated series of PWPs. At least, I'm hoping that the plotless porn will make an appearance any day now.
Chapter Title: "After The Leaving Feast"
Rating: PG
Words: 1102
Summary: Hermione really ought to be punished.
Previously: on "Pinpricks," McGonagall spanked Hermione, and she liked it quite a lot.
Pinpricks
Chapter 2: After The Leaving Feast"
When Filch caught Hermione and Harry atop the Astronomy Tower and sent them to McGonagall's study, Hermione started trembling, then went limp all over when she saw the look on the Professor's face. Sitting in a chair that was hardly comfortable and watching McGonagall's nostrils tighten and her face go white with anger and disappointment, Hermione was sure that whatever happened would leave her aching all summer (always assuming, of course, that she survived exams). But except for the same terse note that Harry got, McGonagall hasn't communicated with Hermione at all. She certainly hasn't suggested that she ought to be punished further for the prank she played on Malfoy.
(Only, of course, there was no prank, just as Hermione never thought she could face a troll on her own.)
And as soon as she knew Harry was safe, the night he faced He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, she thought, What will Professor McGonagall do when she finds out?
So now that exams are done and she has her marks and the Sorcerer's Stone destroyed and everything is taken care of except the packing up for summer, the only thing left for Hermione to worry about is Professor McGonagall, who worries her a great deal.
She knows she ought to be punished. When rules are broken there should be consequences, and in two months she's committed two offenses that are worth fifty points apiece, at least, but McGonagall hasn't touched her. Hermione can't help feeling a bit queasy whenever someone claps her on the back and thanks her for the points she earned for Gryffindor; those aren't the consequences she has in mind.
Besides which, McGonagall said. Not to Hermione, admittedly. Professor McGonagall hasn't spoken privately to Hermione -- not even so much as smiled at her -- for seven months, not since Halloween. All winter Hermione went hot-and-cold whenever she walked into Transfiguration, but that's worn off, and she's just irritable, jumpy. She wants the intimacy of McGonagall's personal anger, and though she can cradle "I thought you had more sense," even that's worn off. If she's really disappointed McGonagall, if McGonagall really thought she could be better than Harry or Ron, then why hasn't McGonagall done a thing to reprimand her?
Lavender and Pavarti are watching her curiously from their half of the dormitory, and Hermione realizes she's been staring at her pile of textbooks for five minutes. She tosses them in her trunk hurriedly, then, feeling guilty at once, straightens the pile.
It doesn't make her feel any less awful about sneaking about with Harry and Ron.
The punishment wouldn't even have to be -- well, it needn't be that, really. It can't be points, she supposes, not after Gryffindor's already won, but she could copy lines, or do extra homework, anything, honestly. It wouldn't have to be like Halloween. There're loads of ways McGonagall could punish her.
In fact, she'll ask her.
It's not like there's anything to lose, really, and besides she won't feel right about it till she at least asks and besides... she is in Gryffindor. If Harry or Ron -- but Harry and Ron, of course, have a quite different attitude toward rules and fairness.
McGonagall understands, though. So she tries to convince herself, hand poised to knock on the door to McGonagall's study, usually open, now locked. She takes a deep breath, lets her knuckles rap against the door.
"Yes?" She almost changes her mind, then, at the gruffness in McGonagall's voice. She'll be doing her own packing up, won't want to be disturbed... But the door opens. "Miss Granger." Her voice is ever so slightly softer, and Hermione, encouraged, follows the sweep of McGonagall's arm and enters the study.
"I was..." The familiarity of the office's sensations -- the fire that's burning even in June, the barest hints of heather, the glaze that comes from heat and books and silence -- makes Hermione a touch incoherent. It's very different being here alone than it was with Harry fretting beside her and Neville standing, goggle-eyed and fearful, at Professor McGonagall's side. She can absorb the room now, breathe in the scent of magic, of McGonagall, and take her time before saying, "I wondered when you were going -- if you were going to -- "
McGonagall takes her seat and waits. Her patience is a tangible quality in the room, unruffled and unruffle-able. Hermione's glad of it now, though later in her dormitory she'll wonder with a blush what it would take for her to make McGonagall lose her cool.
"To punish me for that -- those -- nights," she finishes in a rush.
McGonagall raises an eyebrow and considers. "I thought Professor Dumbledore made clear he was more than pleased with your cleverness."
"Yes but... but he's not you, Professor."
"No."
"Did you - did you think he was wrong?"
"He did exactly what I expected him to do."
"Oh." Hermione's voice is tiny in her mouth, and she can't make it larger without accidentally saying everything that's welling in her throat.
"Was there something you wanted?"
"I told you..."
"You told me you wondered."
"Ah. Well, what I meant was... I thought you ought to."
"Ought to?"
"I... I should to be punished for that night."
"Do you want it?"
"I... I deserve it." She truly thinks she does. Not because it will make her better behaved next year, nor even because of the look it will put in McGonagall's eyes, but because when you misbehave you ought to bear your lashes bravely.
"That's true," McGonagall says, and picks up a quill. Hermione can see that she's a large stack of parchment, probably writing end-of-term letters to parents whose children committed worse sins this year than sneaking about after dark. She waits for a dismissal, but apparently the cessation of speech and the commencement of writing are the only signals Professor McGonagall will give. It's clear enough; Hermione stands a moment longer, watching, until she feels McGonagall's patience thin. The room is suddenly colder; she walks backwards to the door and slips out, awkward.
When she reaches the safety of Gryffindor Tower she allows herself to feel disappointment, and when she reaches her own room, shame, but it's not till she's tucked into bed for the last night of her first year at Hogwarts that she realizes that her unmarked arse and the memory of McGonagall's quill scratching dismissively at creamy pockmarked parchment are punishments sharp enough to last a whole summer at home.