With A Lemon Twist

Okay, quick note here… I’m sick of all the “You know you want it, don’t tell anyone or else” rape stuff that the dark wizard’s are always pulling, and I hate how in every single god damn one, the girl always runs away feeling dirty, she scrubs herself, and then she does exactly what her attacker says.

Now, I’m not trying to rob these stories of their literary merit, because some are very good. I’m just really sick of this level of subservience. Anyway, I’m not much of an ‘erotic’ writer, or writer of any sort, so this’ll just be a quickie. An overplayed scenario with a twist. No lemons. Sorry to disappoint. Too sour for me. I have sensitive taste buds, and I really prefer the emotions behind it all anyway.

(Setup? Um… I’ll have the usual. Randy Potion’s Professor set’s his sights on the goody Gryffindor princess, with a side order of “Hell No” common sense. Spelling? Um, I’ll take the basic spell check with a light sprinkling of ‘I don’t give a fuck’… to go.)

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“Ms. Granger, stay seated.” Came the low voice (does it ALWAYS have to be silky?) of Professor Snape from the front of the class. Hermione stared, having half risen from her chair at the end of class. Harry patted her sympathetically on the shoulder while Ron muttered “Bad luck, mate.” In her ear.

What on earth had she done wrong this time? She flopped back down gracelessly, dropping her book bag at her side with a thump. She continued to stare at the Potion’s Master, however, a bad natured frown marring her face.

He looked up from the paperwork scattered across his desk, his eyes narrowing even more than usual when he noticed her expression. “I suggest you wipe that scowl of your face, Ms. Granger. You should know by now that I don’t appreciate disrespect.” He intoned.

She carefully schooled her features to remain neutral, though it was almost painful and she was still inwardly seething. Respect? What did this git know about respect? As far as she was concerned, it was a two way street. She always gave as good as she got, and Snape was a far cry from respectful himself. So she only showed him what he wanted to make him leave her alone. She doubted anyone outside of Slytherin house really respected the bastard.

She continued along this tirade for some time, not noticing the Professor’s expression getting darker and darker. Though even if she had, she wouldn’t have spared it much thought. His mood swings were none of her concern, over the years her way of dealing with them had pretty much developed into ‘Riding them out.’

It was when he stood up from behind his desk that her eyes snapped back into focus and she began processing her surroundings again. He was looking as moody as ever and was slowly stalking towards her. She quickly reigned in her thought’s and tried to think diligent things like “My Professor’s approaching, I politely wonder what he wants.”

She had a habit of being very expressive, and found that even forcing herself to think something helped her face reflect it. The only trouble was she always did have a hard time ignoring her idle thoughts…

Like for instance, what earth had she done to deserve that positively frightening look on her Potion’s Master’s face? Then again, this was Professor Snape, he didn’t need a reason to pick on a student. She had deduced long ago that he terrorized all his victims on passing whims. Except for Harry… he was always gunning for Harry.

My, but he certainly is dramatic. She thought, watching as he swept towards her, slowly, black robes billowing, dark eye’s glittering, hooked nose menacing. Her lips quirked uncontrollably at this last thought. Only he could pull this image off. She noticed her slip too late, however, and by the time she noticed she was smirking at him, his face had gone from disgruntled to downright pissed.

“Oh bugger.” Were her last thoughts, before all hell let loose.

The Potion’s Master had been waiting a long time for this moment. He’d been seeing Hermione Granger as more than a student for some time now. It had been slow progression for him, and it had started the day he’d looked into her head and seen the picture of him wanking off while sitting at his desk.

She’d finished her assignment, and had been entertaining herself by imagining the different reasons he always looked so focused and angry during class.

It was that day that he noticed her as a person, and not just a know-it-all. He wouldn’t say he liked her at the time, it just changed his perspective. Over time he amused himself more and more by sitting in on her day dreams. He found her insolence when it came to him attractive, as most students feared him.

She, however, seemed to only play along. She acted as she felt she had to, to avoid additional attention from him, but pretty much saw him as some bothersome old crank who was full of himself. If an intelligent one.

Yes, for all that Ms. Granger had a distaste for him as a person, she begrudgingly respected his intelligence.

But all this was in the past. It had been a long time since he began lusting after the young spitfire. And today, all his patience was going to pay off. She’d turned 18 over the weekend…

He planed to punish her thoroughly for all her teasing now.

“What, if I may ask, Ms. Granger, do you find so funny?” he asked slowly. His lip lifting in distaste.

“Nothing, sir.” She said, her voice quivering a bit. In all honesty, the prospect of loosing house points wasn’t all that terrifying, but she knew he liked it when the students trembled in his presence. She really didn’t want to make him think he had to prove anything.

“Obviously it was something, or else you wouldn’t have been… smiling.” He drawled. He made it sound as if whatever face she’d made had been repulsive, making it clear in the way he said it that ‘smiling’ was hardly the right word to describe it.

“I was just thinking of something Ron said the other day.” She said. She stared him right in the eye. Something was off here, that wasn’t his usual ‘I-hate-you-dunderheaded-students’ look. In fact, she didn’t think she’d ever seen this expression before, there was something else there…

“Correct, Ms. Granger. There is something else there. I’m glad you catch on quickly.” He said, his face curving into a grin.

Her eyes widened in shock, and for the first time, true fear. That grin was alone more terrifying than anything else he’d ever done or said. Only because it was so… unexpected. She was out of her element now. A snarling Professor, she could handle, but a smirking one? She’d never had to deal with it before. That smile could only mean bad things, and not the usual bad things either.

Wait a minute… she hadn’t noticed his expression out loud…

Her face changed quickly from fear to anger. “Your reading my thoughts!” She hissed at him.

He leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest as he did so, and eyebrow raised along with the quirk in his lips. “Indeed.” He agreed. He didn’t even bother trying to deny it.

“Wha- but you- you can’t do that!” She spluttered indignantly. “Get out of my head!”

Suddenly, his arms were on either side of her where she sat, and he bent over, pushing his face in close to hers. “No.” He said simply, before crushing his mouth to hers.

All thought stopped for a moment, for Hermione. Her eyes crossed as she continued to stare at the Professor. This had been completely unexpected. He was working his lips furiously over her own. She idly noted he was being rough when his hands moved, one to cup the back of her head and push there mouths together even more, the other to her back, as he forced her to stand.

She blinked once, as he lifted her into his arms, and twice, as he broke the kiss to carry her quickly over to his desk. He put her down, keeping a tight grip on her arm, while he swept another over his desk, pushing all his belongings to the floor.

“Ah!” She yelled shortly, as she realized what was happening. Her brain kicked into gear again, her surprise finally wearing off, as she began trying to wrench her arm from his hand. His fingers tightened and he looked up at her, his dark eyes alight with passion.

“EW!” She screamed, finally recognizing what that ‘other thing’ in his expression had been. He wrapped his hands around her waist and hefted her effortlessly onto the desk. Now that she knew what was happening, however, she didn’t make it very easy for him.

He placed his hands on her shoulders, pushing her down as she struggled and kicked. “Damn you!” He growled out. “Stay still!”

“No!” She called back at him, angrily. Her struggles changed quickly into concentrated defense, and she kicked him soundly in the gut, a bit shy of where she’d been aiming.

“Ur!” He grunted, doubling over, arms wrapping around his bruised stomach instead of her.

She took her opportunity and rolled off the desk, hitting the floor on her knees. She got up quickly however, and made to run. One of the Professors hands shot out however, grabbing a handful of her hair.

She stumbled for a moment, before regaining her footing and trying to move forward again. The Professor was still huffing and doubled over, but his hand was firmly planted in her hair. He tried to yank her back, but she just pulled, trying to push her head far enough away that he was forced to let go.

She didn’t cry out once as he tugged violently on her hair. She’d grown up used to it, her hair being the way it was. Untangling it had always been a trial, and from all the yanking she’d done on it herself over the years, she doubted she had any nerves left in her scalp.

The Professor was recovering quickly however, and though her kick had been very solid, he himself was used to rough treatment, and was overcoming the pain. It was turning into more of a dull ache anyway, he was sure it would bruise.

He was surprised at how she was pulling her hair away from his hand, that had to hurt, yet she was throwing all of her weight into it.

Suddenly, she gave a hearty yank, and even as his other arm reached out instinctively to grab her body, her hair worked itself free of his hand and she was off like a shot towards the door, book bag forgotten at her seat.

She tugged frantically at the door for a moment, before the Professor bushed his body up against her from behind. Trapping her against the door. He rubbed his erection into her bum and she squirmed.

“Your going to pay for that little kick, my sweet.” He groaned in her ear.

My sweet? Did he really just call her that? The Proffessor called her, oh gods! What was wrong with the world!

She let out a desperate cry and tried to pull on the door handle again, but the Professor grabed both her hands and pined them up above her head with his own. She rocked her body back and forth in an unsuccessful attempt to throw him off.

He chuckled in her ear, and once again, she was struck by how much scarier his joy was to his anger.

“That feel’s good, Ms. Granger. Please, don’t let the fact that it’s only use is turning me on stop you.” He whispered. His face was beside hers, and his warm breath was puffing against the side of her face.

“This is so wrong.” She muttered brokenly under him, letting her head fall forward on the wood.

“So wrong… but oh so good.” He said into her ear, he then began grinding his pelvis into her, pushing her against the door even harder.

“Do you feel that?” he grunted. “Do you feel what you do to me?”

Oh yeah, she felt it, all right. Is that your wand, Proffessor, or are you just happy to see me? His erection was long, hard, and being worked harshly into her butt through her robes.

Well, she had been meaning to cash in the ‘V’ card, and if it was going to be painful anyway…

“No!” She said loudly, to both herself and the Professor. She pushed back, arching her back against the Professor, trying to get away from the door.

“NO!” She all but screamed to the heavens, her head falling back.

“Ah… my little lion, I was hoping your spirit wouldn’t break so easily.” He said to her loudly, his voice sounding hoarse to her.

He flipped her over, slamming her back against the door, making it rattle on it’s hinges. He removed his hands from hers, and instead lifted her by her waist. He positioned himself between her legs, ripping her robes open to display the cute little school uniform she had on underneath.

He rubbed himself into her, loving the fact that the skirt gave him so much access, the only thing between them now was her panties.

“You know you want this.” He told her, panting as he worked himself furiously between her thighs. “You’ve always wanted this, wanted to be fucked by your Potion’s Master like the dirty little slut you are.”

Her eyes flashed angrily. No one called her a slut… and she DIDN’T want this! She’d said ‘No!’, was it her fault the bastard couldn’t understand fucking English?!

“Get off me!” She screamed at him, but this only made his face crack into another horrifying smile. “Yes.” He hissed at her. “Yes, that’s it! Fight me!” his head bowed, his penis rubbing against her pussy through all the clothes. He grunted as he began humping her.

“Your pathetic.” She spat at him. His hand raised and he slapped the side of her face. Her head flew to the side, and he raised his eyes to see the blossoming bruise.

“You’re my whore.” He barked at her. “You’re my fucking whore.” He hissed.

So this is what the ‘Brilliant’ Professor had been reduced to. Her eyes filled with tears despite herself. Damnit, that slap had hurt. How dare he?!

The couple were banging harshly on the door now, and it was making quite a bit of noise. Maybe someone would hear them? She thought hopefully.

“No.” Snape managed to say. “Silencing spell.” He was still pushing against her underpants without relief. “Enough of this.” He said simply, reaching down a hand and ripping off her panties. She let out a horrified shriek, which he ignored, instead working on his fly.

Finally, his penis pushed itself through the material. He exhaled shakingly as he position himself at her entrance.

No! She screamed inside, she didn’t look down, she didn’t want to see this. She looked up at the ceiling. He was really going to rape her. She tried to distance herself.

“So long.” He said. She looked at his face, and found him gazing at her in awe. She hated it. “So long, I’ve wanted you for so long…” He lowered his head, obviously intent on watching the first penetration. “It’s going to be a long night.” He told her.

She looked up quickly, closing her eyes tightly. It’s just her virginity. She couldn’t stop him now, but she’d get him later. She desperately tried to reassure herself with these thoughts. It wasn’t working. She felt him touching her. She felt his THING touching her THERE. Tears began to fall and she bit her lip in horror. Merlin, no…