2. Hermione's Theory

Chapter 2: Hermione's Theory

The following morning held a brand new sort of torture for Hermione. Taking a glance backward in the mirror at her bum, she found she was sporting a clearly defined, bright-red handprint on each cheek. The not-so-subtle reminder of those long fingers and what they had done to her the night before, albeit in a dream, made something in her chest clench and shoot fingers of desire straight into her belly, making her damp with desire. Her breath hitched in her throat, and she closed her eyes as her body throbbed involuntarily with the memory. She was on the edge this morning, feeling very singular-minded, and she wondered how she was going to make it through her classes today when all she wanted to do was be beneath the powerful hand of her Potions master once again.

She froze. It wasn't the thought of being shagged by her normally ill-tempered professor that shocked her...she had always fallen for bad boys, so that didn't bother her much...but the realization that her first class this morning happened to be Double Potions. Staring at her reflection, she smiled evilly. If that wasn't a dream last night, she knew exactly how to test her theory.

Rummaging around her wardrobe, she dragged her trunk out and dug through the contents at the bottom. Finally, she found a very wrinkled uniform from last year that she had outgrown. A couple of charms later, it was both clean and pressed. She hummed softly to herself as she put on the skirt, which hit precisely mid-thigh, and buttoned up the shirt. Her chest had grown a whole cup size since the previous year, so she had to lean forward, shifting her breasts slightly, in order to fasten the button that drew that fine line between decent and indecent.

Standing up, she turned to assess her new look. Oh, yes, that was perfect. She practiced a few poses to see how high the skirt traveled...she wasn't going to give everyone a show, after all...and she decided for sure that Awake-Hermione better damn well wear her knickers.

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Breakfast was another matter all together. Sitting between Ron and Harry was probably a mistake. Well, maybe it wasn't a mistake as far as she was concerned, but it was definitely a mistake as far as mercilessly trying two teenage boys' hormones. Actually, she found the whole situation quite flattering, as by the end of breakfast, both boys, who had gotten more than an eyeful of her décolletage as they leaned across to talk to each other, were rearranging what looked like rather painful erections before they stood up to go to class.

Hermione smirked as she eyed their discomfort out of the corner of her eye, betting that they were quite glad to be wearing robes. As her eyes passed casually over the Head Table, she noticed Professor Snape whirl off the dais and exit through a side door. The sight of him triggered another spasm as she remembered her dream-professor thrusting into her, smacking her behind, and filling her so thoroughly that...but she had to stop herself. Double Potions was already going to be difficult enough to get through.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Her hand absentmindedly massaged her sore behind as she entered the classroom and sat gingerly on the stool. She took mercy on the boys and sat on the end so their conversation would be unimpeded by her straining shirt buttons. She loosened the fastenings on her robes, making them hang open and drape over the back of the stool. Ron let out a whimper beside her.

"Oh, grow up, Ron," she muttered under her breath. "Haven't you ever seen breasts before?"

"Well, yeah, but not yours, Hermione," he whinged. "Bloody hell. I never even noticed that you had any."

Hermione had to slap away his hand, which was reaching out toward her subconsciously...it better damn well have been subconsciously...looking suspiciously like he was out to cop a feel. Harry and Hermione elbowed Ron simultaneously as Professor Snape strode into the classroom. Reaching the front of the room, the professor spun around and glared at the entire class, splaying his hands...she throbbed once again at the sight of those hands...on the desk in front of him.

"The recipe for the Quiesco Potion is on the board," he began in a dangerously low voice that bode ill for anyone who would dare to interrupt. "All of you should have finished reading Chapter Fifteen, so all of you should fully understand how this potion is similar to the Dreamless Sleep Potion. Since this potion can be brewed fairly quickly, you will be spending the second half of this double period writing an essay on the similarities and differences between the two, exam conditions." His eyes scanned the class. "Any questions?" he bit out, implying that there had better not be any.

Not even Hermione, impatient though she was for him to notice her, wanted to tempt Snape's temper that morning. The room remained silent. "Well?" he growled. "Get on with it!"

"Ouch," Harry whispered. "Snape's in a bit of a snit this morning."

"Ah, what's new, Mate? At least he's predictable." Ron tilted his head suggestively in Hermione's direction. Harry sniggered behind his hand, but his eyes seemed to have gravitated once more, along with Ron's, to the spectacle of the straining shirt.

"You boys certainly could never be accused of being subtle," Hermione said as she stood up to gather the ingredients from the storeroom. Happily, she noticed that she had to walk right past Professor Snape's desk twice, roundtrip.

It seemed that Harry and Ron were not alone in noticing her change in attire that morning. As she stood, Malfoy catcalled from across the room, causing the Slytherin half of the classroom to erupt in laughter. Snape glanced up from his grading to glare at Malfoy and then shifted his gaze to see what the Slytherins found so amusing. In doing so, his eyes fell directly on Hermione as she walked past his desk. He would have made eye contact if only his eyes had gone up that far. As his attention froze upon Hermione's cleavage, his forgotten quill bled red ink all over the parchment he was correcting.

Hermione continued past, pleased at his reaction, and noticed his eyes following her, though the rest of him seemed to be under a form of Petrificus Totalus. She smirked as she turned to the cabinet and let all subtlety go out the window as her hand massaged the sore spot beneath her skirt. She distinctly heard a hiss from Snape's direction as she stood on her tiptoes and reached up to get a jar off the top shelf. Quite satisfied with herself and her little experiment, she returned to her seat, her arms full of potion ingredients.

Harry and Ron gaped at her with twin expressions of glazed incredulity as she leaned forward to tip the collected jars onto the table. Half the classroom was still twittering at Malfoy's supposed brilliance while the other half glared back, unaware and unconcerned at the cause of the commotion.

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Professor Snape finally was able to tear his eyes from the sight of Hermione bursting out of her uniform and swallowed with difficulty. His undoing, however, was when he realized her hand wasn't smoothing her skirt, but massaging her bum as though soothing a burn. He hardened instantly as Dream-Hermione's reddened bum flashed before his eyes. The extra bonus of milky white thigh when her skirt rose as she reached for the top shelf only served to make his pants feel that much tighter. He nearly forgot where he was and just barely held back a groan. It took all his willpower to look away. Somewhere in the back of his mind, a voice was screaming, "Fuck me, Professor!" repeatedly.

Then, it dawned on him. She knew. She had to. It was the only explanation for this little display, obviously meant only for him.

He watched her surreptitiously as she chopped and grated the ingredients for her potion. He imagined her splayed over the desk with her skirt gathered around her waist. He imagined ripping open her blouse, buttons popping off and scattering across the dungeon floor. He imagined her small hands grabbing his thick erection and rubbing it in between those two wonderfully swollen breasts, snaking out her tongue to swirl the tip every time it reached her mouth. He imagined binding her hands above her head and hooking her knees over his shoulders while he buried himself deep inside of her, pushing harder and deeper each time as she cried out in pain and ecstasy. He imagined consuming her rosy nipples, marking them as his and no one else's while she screamed, "Fuck me, Professor," and he fucked her faster and shoved into her harder and, damn, she was so tight and hot and wet and just for him and it felt just too damn good and oh, my gods, how he wanted to fuck her until he exploded....

His eyes squeezed shut tight as he came, valiantly remaining silent as his relief pulsed inside of his trousers. Blast that girl, anyway, he thought as he muttered a cleansing spell under his breath. Oh, sod it! He was definitely out of control.

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Professor Snape's glazed look, combined with the fact that he hadn't spoken a single word for the rest of the double period, was answer enough for Hermione. He even blushed at one point...the stoic Potions master actually blushed!...and if his hands hadn't been squarely on top of the desk, she would have sworn he had just climaxed. She fastened her robes as she left the classroom and went up to the dormitory to change before lunch. That shirt was so damn tight she could barely breathe, much less eat a meal.

She didn't need this costume any longer, anyhow; she had her answer. Now, it was time for a little fun and perhaps a little retribution. As she sat down to eat lunch, the two boys on either side of her pouted inconsolably. They looked so silly with their bottom lips hanging out like that. She looked back and forth between the two and couldn't help but take pity on them.

"Come to Mama Hermione." She giggled as she pulled the boys in for a hug, their heads both finding a convenient resting place that seemed to comfort them.

Kissing the tops of their heads, she said, "I am so sorry to have given you boys such a shock this morning. Really. I mean, who would have guessed that I would turn out to be a girl after seven years of hanging out with you two?"

She chuckled, released them, and started dishing up some lunch. Harry and Ron's faces grew red, and they stammered the usual excuses and denials.

"Besides," she added, "I like it better when you look me in the face."

Their blushes deepened to a color that would have made Godric Gryffindor proud. She really did feel bad for playing with their hormones, but all the Galleons in the world would not make her feel bad for playing with Snape's.

~End Chapter Two~