The Girl Can't Help It

Disclaimer: I own nothing. It all belongs to JK Rowling.

A/N Many thanks to Snarkyroxy for her time and trouble.

The Girl Can't Help It

As she had hoped, by the time Hermione got Albus settled and could return to her own bed, her husband was fast asleep. Severus was lying flat on his back, hogging the middle of the bed and snoring like a Manticore. Gingerly, she sat beside him and wriggled carefully into the small space available, trying not to wake him. She tried to find a comfortable position, which wasn't easy considering her backside felt like it was on fire, but she did not dare cast a Healing Charm without his permission – that would only incur further punishment.

When he felt generous, he would heal her before she slept, but most times he would leave it until the morning so he could admire the welts he had given her. Then, he would kiss the battered flesh tenderly before casting the charm, hold her tightly and make love to her as though she were the most precious thing in the world. Rocking back and forth achingly slowly inside her, he would kiss her passionately, whispering words of love in her ear with a voice like molten chocolate. That was her favourite part. It was worth the pain just for that.

Punishment and reward – she wasn't so stupid that she didn't see it for what it was. Gods, she loved him. She gazed with fondness at the sleeping wizard beside her. He only ever looked this relaxed when he was asleep. She loved the contours of his face, his high cheek-bones, his big nose and his thin, though soft and very kissable, lips. No one could ever describe him as handsome, though she, looking through the pink haze of love, thought he was beautiful. He reminded her of a painting she had once seen of a Renaissance prince in Italy. At the moment, however, he was not looking even remotely attractive, snoring as he was, with his mouth hanging open and saliva dribbling out of the corner. She twisted her wedding ring absentmindedly and turned her thoughts to her imminent thirtieth birthday.

An hour later, she was still wide awake. Hermione always seemed to be tired lately, and yet sleep eluded her. Consequently, she was taking far too many Dreamless Sleep potions than were good for her. It was as if something were tugging at the corners of her mind, but she couldn't quite pin it down. The more she tried to focus on the problem, the more it seemed to slip away from her. Severus had suggested an early night. Knowing that sleep was the last thing on his mind, she had nevertheless complied as usual.

She sighed. It had been a long week. What with teaching, looking after the children and seeing to Severus' needs, there never seemed to be any time left for herself. She had wanted a quiet night by the fire and a long, relaxing bath followed by a good night's sleep. Instead, as she was clearing up after the children's supper, he had put his arms around her waist from behind and whispered in her ear that he wanted her in her leather corset that night for 'something special'.

Well, she had been married long enough to him to know what that meant – the three B's, as she privately referred to it – Bondage, Beatings and Buggery, and sure enough, she hadn't been disappointed.

Thank God for Healing Charms, she thought, though not for the first time, or there would be days when I wouldn't be able to sit down.

Funny, really, how she had become used to it. She had been appalled at the idea when Severus had told her what he expected from her sexually after they were married. She had not been a virgin or a prude by any means, but her attitude towards sex had been somewhat conservative. Despite her misgivings, not to mention her low pain threshold, he had ripped away any sense of modesty or privacy she had ever had, and in time, she had come to accept his more exotic practices and enjoy them, in a weird way.

Yes, she mused, sex with Severus could never be described as boring – overwhelming, yes, unpredictable, yes; tiring, too, but never boring. Some women would kill to be in my shoes, she suppressed a laugh, so I suppose I should count my blessings.

There were times, though, when she felt the need to retreat from his advances, to curl up in a ball like a hedgehog and hide from his onslaughts on her person. But there was no escape; he was as relentless as a battering ram. Some simple intimacy would be nice once in a while, she mused wistfully, I wish he would just hold me some nights and stroke my hair until I go to sleep.

Propping herself up on a pillow, she turned and studied the man she had loved all her adult life. Nearly fifty now, he was still in good shape, his skin still a pallid white with barely a wrinkle. The physical evidence of all the abuse he had suffered in his years as a Death Eater had faded to thin silvery scars, his muscles still well defined in that whip-thin body. Severus was in his prime by wizarding standards, although he did seem to need more sleep these days. He didn't seem to be slowing down in other areas though. His sex-drive had been off the scale to begin with, and then there was his special 'endurance' potion, which made him immediately hard again after orgasm – his 'stiffy in a jiffy' potion, as she called it. This was kept for marathon sex sessions when they fucked their way through every position in the Wizarding Kama Sutra and then some. Whilst these sessions exhausted her physically and drained her mentally, she was never able to refuse his demands.

Despite a full and loving life, Hermione could not help feeling that something was lacking and that she had not nearly accomplished enough or reached her full potential. Nothing really inspired or excited her any more. She was a wife, mother and teacher. That was the sum of her existence. She closed her eyes and tried to clear her mind in preparation for meditation. She focused on her breathing. Inhale. Hold. Exhale. The loud snoring from the wizard at her side was too distracting. She gave up after a few minutes. A Silencio charm would do the trick, she thought in desperation, but pulling a wand on one's sleeping husband simply wasn't done. Besides, his reflexes were no less sharp these days than when he was a spy. She'd be on her back with his wand at her throat before she could get the first syllable of the spell out.

Gently, she encouraged him to turn onto his side. Severus rolled over and sighed. Hermione held her breath. He snorted a few times and then let off a silent but deadly fart.

'Oh, this is pointless,' she said to herself exasperatedly. 'I may as well get up.'

Putting on a dressing gown, she left the bedroom and went to look in on the children. Albus was soundly sleeping, still holding his teddy in a death grip, whilst Katy had fallen asleep reading The Hobbit. Hermione gently uncurled her daughter's fingers from the book and placed it on the bed-side table. She returned to the living room, lit the fire and picked up her lesson plans for the first-years, wondering yet again why she had ever decided to become a teacher. Whenever Hermione pondered this, she could never quite remember. She had wanted to become a Curse Breaker after Voldemort had been defeated, but this had gone the same way as her prior ambitions to become an Auror or a Healer. After she became engaged to Severus, Professor Flitwick had approached Hermione and asked if she would consider becoming his assistant (as he intended retiring in a few years) in order to train as his replacement. Severus had pointed out that this was a much better career option for her as it was regular employment, unlike curse breaking, which was very often freelance, dangerous and usually meant a lot of travelling.

Strangely enough, those were the attributes of the job that had appealed to her, but she had taken the assistantship with Minerva's blessing and became the Charms mistress on Filius' retirement.

She looked at her notes and sighed. Hermione had never suffered fools gladly, and this year's first-years were the biggest bunch of idiots she had had the misfortune to teach. She sighed again and stretched. This wasn't going to help her sleep. Perhaps a cup of hot chocolate might do the trick.

'Winky!' she summoned the house-elf. A bleary-eyed Winky appeared with a crack!

'How may Winky serve, Mistress?' the little elf said, yawning. She had been fast asleep when Hermione summoned her.

'Would you bring me a cup of hot chocolate please, Winky?'

'Of course, Mistress.' She disappeared.

Such useful creatures, house-elves, thought Hermione, always there when you need something.

She wondered how anyone, particularly a working mother like herself, could manage without them. Although she liked cooking well enough – she thought it was important to have meals as a family for the children's sake – she hated housework with a vengeance. House-elves also made excellent nursemaids and were always on hand to babysit.

'Is that all, Mistress?' The elf reappeared with the hot drink and some biscuits.

'Yes, Winky,' said Hermione, 'that will be all.'

The house-elf looked at her sadly and vanished.

Hermione flicked through the latest copy of Harpies Bizarre for some light reading and sipped her chocolate.

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

It had all begun innocently enough as these things often do. If anyone had asked Severus Snape when he had first really noticed Hermione Granger as a woman and not an insufferable nuisance (assuming he had not told them to mind their own business), he would have said it was the first day of the autumn term at the start of her sixth year. He had been sitting at the High Table scrutinizing the dunderheads he was condemned to teach for the foreseeable future. Severus glanced down the Gryffindor table at Potter and his two side-kicks. It had been extremely satisfying taking seventy points from Gryffindor for Potter's late arrival before even a single ruby had dropped into the hour-glass. A good start to the term indeed. He smiled to himself with malicious glee. Severus was looking forward to observing Potter's reaction to his new post.

His eyes were drawn to Hermione. There was something different about the Granger girl, he noticed. She had an air of confidence about her, a subtle grace in her movements, and her customary slouching posture, due to the enormous weight of books she normally carried around in her satchel, was absent. He was not the only male present to notice this transformation; Draco Malfoy, for instance, was ogling her, much to the annoyance of one Pansy Parkinson, who nudged him forcefully in the ribs. In fact every boy over the age of fifteen seemed to glance in her direction at one time or another. This barely noticeable difference to the untrained eye, namely a school full of adolescent boys, merely tickled the edges of the subconscious mind.

To Severus, however, she may just as well have been wearing a sign around her neck proclaiming, 'Guess who got laid during the summer holidays?'

So, he thought, I wonder which one of them managed to get into Little Miss Perfect's drawers?

Weasley seemed the most likely candidate as he was staring daggers at any boy he saw who had the temerity to look at her. She seemed to be very cosy with Potter though; they had their heads together and were laughing over something.

Pity, he thought. That girl has potential. There was raw power inside that bushy head just dying to get out. He could smell it. Shame to throw all that away on a Weasley, he pondered. What a waste.

Then a most peculiar thing happened. Hermione looked at the High Table, saw him looking down at her and smiled. A jolt of arousal shot down his spine to his groin. He looked down at his plate quickly. That did not happen. I am not attracted to Hermione Granger! He turned to listen to Dumbledore's welcome speech and tried to forget all about it.

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

As it happened, Severus was wrong on both counts. When Hermione had got off the Hogwarts Express at Kings Cross at the beginning of the summer holidays, Ginny had handed her a small package and told her not to open it until she was on her own.

Hermione's parents were taking an extended holiday in their house in France that summer. Realising that their little girl was growing up, they wanted to spend some quality time with their daughter, as this year might be their last chance to do so. They picked her up at the station and then drove straight to Portsmouth to catch the overnight ferry. It was late the next day when they eventually arrived at their destination and even later when Hermione eventually remembered the package Ginny had given her. She duly unwrapped it to find two months supply of contraceptive potion with a note that read 'Lose it or Else'.

Hermione laughed. 'Some chance here in the middle of bloody nowhere.'

The Fates, however, were kind. The following morning, the son of the neighbouring farmer arrived at the house with a welcoming basket of fresh vegetables and some Charentais melons. Stephane took one look at Hermione and decided he liked what he saw. Like most Frenchmen, young or old, he was not backward in coming forward and asked her on a date. Things progressed until one Saturday afternoon he led her by the hand into a field of sunflowers where he laid her down and, as gently as he could, took her virginity. It had seemed a romantic idea at the time but was, in reality, hot, dusty and she was eaten alive by insects. It had not been as painful as she had expected, and her young French lover was considerate in making sure she had her fair share of pleasure, but when she climaxed and she closed her eyes, a vision of her Potions master came into her mind.

Well, that was certainly unexpected, she thought in her post-orgasmic bliss. They continued with their liaison. She had been a bit sore up until the fourth or fifth time, but after that she really began to enjoy it, and all in all, she thought she was getting quite good at it. As she started to explore her newfound sexuality, Stephane began to teach her the rudiments of oral sex. She was a bit uncertain when Stephane went down on her for the first time and hesitated when he asked her to reciprocate, but she soon got the hang of it, although she gagged when he tried to push his cock down her throat. He had seemed to like her ministrations nonetheless as, following a groan and a strangled 'J'arrive,' he spilled his salty-tasting semen into her mouth. She quickly swallowed, trying not to retch as she did so. On the day before she was due to leave for her stay at the Burrow, he came to say goodbye. They both knew this was simply a holiday romance, so there were no tears or recriminations.

''ermionay may I 'av a souvenir?' Stephane asked.

'Of course, what would you like?'

'Your ...I forget ze English word, your slip.'

'Knickers?'

'Yes zat is ze word.'

'You want a pair of my knickers?' It seemed a strange request. 'Yes, okay, Stephane, I'll go and get a pair.'

'No, I meant ze ones you are wearing.'

She regarded him a moment. 'Oh, all right.'

She reached under her skirt, pulled them down and gave them to him.

He sniffed, 'Superbe.'

She looked at him oddly.

'Boys are such strange creatures,' she thought.

She gave him a friendly kiss goodbye and went to pack. Stephane went home and added her knickers to his growing collection.

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

Hermione was sitting aboard the Hogwarts Express with her nose in a book, unsurprisingly. Her friends knew better than to interrupt her when she was reading, although, in actual fact, she was just staring at the pages. She had read the course work for her year already and was particularly excited to be moving on to Advanced Charms, Potions and Transfiguration.

All such excellent teachers, as well, she thought. We are so fortunate.

Hermione imagined watching Professor Snape demonstrate the advanced cutting and slicing techniques needed for NEWT level Potions, those long pale fingers moving with such practiced precision over the raw ingredients and the confident way his hands moved the stirring rod in the cauldron.

- Just imagine what else he could do with those hands, - a treacherous voice in her head cajoled.

She shuddered. It was not the first time she had had such disturbing thoughts about that particular teacher since the incident in the sunflower field. He was even beginning to infiltrate her dreams. The idea that she might have a crush on the Potions master filled her with horror, and the argument inside her head started up again.

Stop it, she admonished herself. There is nothing at all attractive about Professor Snape. He is greasy haired, sallow-skinned, his nose is crooked as are his teeth ...

- But what about the hands and that voice? -

Oh, gods, yes, that voice. She shivered. There had to be more to it than that, though. You can't base an attraction just on someone's hands and voice.

- Well, he's intelligent.-

So are all of Ravenclaw. There's no one in that house I fancy.

- He's brave. - That was certainly true. - He's... noble.-

Noble? I think the jury's still out on that one. Snape. I mean, Snape? Why Snape of all people? He's nasty, sarcastic and he hates all Gryffindors.

- He's sexy as hell. -

So it's the bad boy image, then? No, Sirius was a 'bad boy' – good-looking and dangerous. But I never fancied him. Perhaps when I see Severus again, he won't look as bad as I remember.

- So, it's Severus now is it. -

Hermione gave up the argument with herself. You can really pick 'em, Granger. Go for someone attainable why don't you. She snorted exasperatedly, causing heads to turn in her direction. This is pathetic. She scolded herself, He is a teacher and far too old to pay me any attention. He'd laugh in my face if he knew. He could never be remotely interested in me. She sighed and tried to push these uncomfortable thoughts to the back of her mind.

'Not long now, Crookshanks,' she said soothingly to her half-Kneazle pet, who was trying to claw his way out of his cat-carrier. Not long and she would see him. I really need to get out more, she decided.

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

At the Welcome Feast, Hermione was oblivious to the looks she was getting from the boys. She was too busy glancing up at the High Table, wondering where Professor Snape had got to. Later, after Harry arrived, and Snape had finally taken his seat, she regarded him and thought, Nope, Granger, there's nothing wrong with your memory. He's exactly as you remember him.

Harry had leaned over then and whispered in her ear, 'Don't look now, but I think Draco fancies you.'

She had burst out laughing, saying, 'Don't be ridiculous, Harry!' and then glanced up at the High Table only to see Severus staring at her. Her stomach flipped over, and she smiled at him before she could stop herself. He had looked away quickly. Not a promising start, Hermione. Not a promising start at all.