Subtle Sciences and Exact Arts: A Severus Snape Kinkuary Collection

Size Matters

Summary:

Hermione is caught daydreaming at the most inopportune time

Notes:

Kinks: Size, Hands

Pairing: Severus Snape/Hermione Granger

She couldn't believe the Ministry allowed him to come back after the war. When the truth came out, Hermione, along with the rest of the Wizarding World, saw Professor Snape with a new perspective.

Professor Severus Snape was a dangerous man.

Oh, yes. Dangerous.

Hermione was 19 years old. She had not only survived the war, but was declared a Hero. She had decided to return to Hogwarts for a final year— Headmistress McGonagall had allowed everyone to return for an extended 8th year if anyone wished. Of course, Hermione had agreed right away, but she did have to beg the other two-thirds of the Golden Trio. That's how they found themselves sitting in Double Potions listening to the tall, lithe frame of Professor Severus Snape lecture about the use of plants for household use or daily potions, a far cry from the usual horrid things they usually had to brew.

He was dangerous.

He had walked up to his table, rolling out some sort of black leather storage bag. Hermione mused he looked like a professional chef, unrolling his knives and other tools to dissect whatever ingredients they were working on.

She focused on his hands. Oh, gods... those hands of his. They were so bloody perfect. Strong enough to pull her out of the way of a werewolf and yet dexterous enough to handle the most delicate ingredients. She watched the way he held the blade. She picked up the same one, wrapping her fingers around the handle. It felt so big in her hands and yet, in his? It was no more than a pocket knife. The way those long fingers curled around carved wood drove her to madness. All of his motions were languid and smooth. She watched as his fingers closed, first his pinky, and then a tantalizing wave of his other digits curving around until he had a firm grasp. She had never noticed before this year, the way his tendons and veins writhed beneath his pale skin, drawing even more perfection to these utterly perfect, seductive hands.

He was dangerous.

She had missed his ingredient preparation, so lost in thought, perseverating on how those hands would feel tracing over her skin. Would he use his whole hand to cascade down her side, gently squeezing her ribs and hips as he made his way south? Would he use only a single, delectable digit—preferably his middle— to trace patterns and shapes over her skin as they lie panting beside one another after a night of passionate love making? Or, oh gods... how would they feel molded around her breasts? Gently palming her milky skin, fingers pinching and pulling at her nipples until they got harder and harder... the sensation tugged at her womb until she cried out in pleasure...

Yes, yes yes.....

"Miss Granger!"

Fuck, shite, bugger.

"Would you care to demonstrate this next step, since you are so confident in your brewing abilities as to sit around, glassy eyed as you find yourself lost in reverie?"

He growled at her. Merlin... he was a dangerous man.

...And she had no idea what was going on at this particular point in the lecture.

"I... I'm sorry Professor Snape... I don't seem to—"

"Then perhaps, Miss Granger, you should keep your mind on task and not on whatever it was you found so... fascinating."

He grabbed a plant then, and slowly walked over to her desk. There were audible gasps from her classmates that, up until that moment, she had forgotten had even existed. She stared at his long legs, watching how thick his thighs looked up close, and the way his trousers seemed to showcase his manhood.

How had she never noticed him before? Everything about him screamed masculinity and virility.

He placed the plant down in front of her, and she stared at it dumbly. Her eyes slowly lifted to his and she saw him looking back with a pointed glare.

"Go on," he sneered.

"What am I to do, sir?" She started nibbling her bottom lip nervously. He rolled his eyes before sighing, cocking his head back towards the words on the blackboard behind him. It had the anatomy of the Zingiber zerumbet plant, which had a rather phallic shape. She blushed.

After  having quickly scanned the instructions, she realized she was to essentially, milk this plant, harvesting from it, a viscous liquid that could be used orally or topically. Her blush deepened as the students around her started sniggering.

She swallowed hard, pulling the cylindrical plant towards herself. Shakily, her hands raised, grasping the plant and squeezing roughly.

"Merlin, Mione," she heard Ron whisper. Some of the other boys in her class grimaced at her technique. She wasn't sure what to do so she just kept squeezing, twisting each hand in a different direction as if she was wringing out a wet flannel.

"That is quiet enough of your... inelegant technique, Miss Granger. I fear for the future of the wizarding world if that is how you choose to... harvest... in your hereafter relationships."

The Slytherins all tittered in the background, Ron and Harry looked both mortified and sympathetic, making her feel quite pitiful.

"Who here is willing to volunteer the proper technique?" Snape's voice boomed above everyone else. He waited for a few seconds, perhaps even a full minute, she couldn't concentrate. "No one? How disappointing," he deadpanned.

Professor Snape had uncrossed his arms as he turned on the spot and strided over to his desk. He had removed his teaching robes and quickly released the buttons of his frock coat, which, naturally, drew Hermione's attention right back to those amazing fingers of his.

Gods...the things he could do to her. No. The things she would beg for him to do for her.

Her final straw was when he rolled up the sleeves of his white oxford shirt. At first she searched desperately for his Dark Mark, but instead only found a pale scar that barely showed against his skin. Oh gods, the way his forearms rippled... ropey muscle contracting with his movements...

He returned to the front of her desk, grabbing the plant by the ceramic pot and pulling it towards himself. "Observe." That was the only thing he said before performing the most erotic thing she had ever witnessed. His large hands wrapped around the plant, one firmly grasping the base while the other stroked up and down, twisting lightly at the tip as he commanded it to release its juices. His hands were glistening with the liquid as he continued to pump it, faster and faster as he collected the necessary amount of materials.

Hermione moaned out loud, uncaring of who saw or heard her wanton behavior. The only thing that mattered in this moment were Professor Snape's large hands as he wanked off that plant– that damned lucky plant that got to feel his commanding grip. Release itself over those large, dominating hands. Gods. She wanted to feel them wrapping around her throat, grabbing her hair and pushing her head down, calling her a good girl as he thrust inside her mouth over and over until...

The plant had finally given all it had to offer, deflating slightly as her Professor rubbed his hands together, gathering all the sweet nectar from his person before scraping it into a dish, preserving it for later.

He was a dangerous man. Surely, if she continued on with her little daydreams, she would either fail or jump him. There is no way she would be able to focus until she was alone, behind several silencing spells, with her curtains drawn tightly around her four poster bed as she fantasized about riding her Professor's large hands to climax over and over and over again.

"Miss Granger," he purred. Hermione blinked back to awareness, looking around to see the rest of class had dismissed.

"Sir?"

"Care for a sample?" he dipped two of his fingers inside the dish, collecting a small amount of the liquid. He rubbed his fingers against his thumb, watching her as a lewd smile played across his face. He brought his fingers up, gently tracing her lips, his eyes hooded with an emotion she couldn't even consider.

"Open," he whispered. But Hermione was frozen, dumbfounded. Surely this was a dream. With a tsk tsk , he pulled away from her. She whimpered as she missed his body heat.

"Next time you fantasize in class, Miss Granger, be sure to follow through."