㊗[转帖]有喜欢哈利波特的吗？这是一篇Snape/Hermione的sp文 || 83字

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作者：Mikki Rosie

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DISCLAIMER: Harry Potter and all the characters therein belong to J.K. Rowling and all her affiliates and such. i’m not making any money off this, and neither can you.

This story is a work of fiction and is not for children and all that stuff. so if you’re not of age to read this (18 in most places) go away now!!

there. now you’ve been warned.

ok, just so you know, i’m a spanking fetishist, and that’s what this is.

Summary: Hermione finds out what happens when you resort to dishonest means in Snape’s class.

A Private Lesson

…

�An exam? But� but we never have an exam on Wednesdays�� Hermione said, her flat tone betrayed by the tremble in her voice.

�You should have learned by now, Miss Granger, never to take anything for granted in this class.� Professor Snape turned a cool eye on the wild-haired girl, his steely expression causing her to shrink in her chair a bit. He knew from this time-honored reaction that she had NOT done her lessons the previous night. Following his announcement most of the rest of the class had groaned, but Hermione Granger�s reaction was one of outrage. He suspected her reaction was due to the seventh year students� proclivities toward more frequent outings during the last few weeks of their time at Hogwarts.

Her eyes glinted with a bit of fire, and she frowned. �But, it isn’t FAIR!� she almost shouted, as she stood up, her stool falling to the floor behind her. She hadn�t done the lessons at all, and for once, it was on a topic in which she did not have a smidgen of previous knowledge. A failure on this exam would ruin her perfect record at Hogwarts.

With unchanged expression, black eyes flashing, Snape descended on the furious girl with near silence, his cape flowing as he came to rest behind her, speaking softly, his deep voice carrying throughout the room, even though he had lowered it almost a whisper. �Miss Granger, you will control yourself, or we will have some extremely unpleasant matters to discuss. I suggest you take your seat, or what is left of it after that disgraceful display, and endure the remainder of this class in silence.� The words slid off his tongue with a steely edge, making her shrink against the edge of the table. �I hope I have not been unclear?�

�No, Professor,� she said, the defiance in her boiling like acid. �You have not been unclear.� Hermione retrieved her stool and sat down, hard, her face settled in a very unhappy scowl.

He turned to eye her, brows coming together slightly in a very displeased scowl. �I also suggest, Miss Granger, that you take a care to keep your attitude in check. Ten points from Gryffindor.�

Flushing bright, she whipped her head around to face him, her mouth opening in what would have been a very impressive string of curses, had Snape not tilted his head just so and snapped his finger to his lips. He quickly leaned down, his face very close to hers, and spoke, actually whispering this time. �I have not had reason to take a student to my personal study for some time now. I think, in light of the unpleasantness that occurs there, that you will not want to be the first.�

She closed her mouth with a small sound, almost a gasp, and turned to face the table once again. Her fury burned in her, kept down only by the curiosity, and even fear of precisely what he meant by that last statement. She was certain that no one else had heard him. She was made aware of his departure only by the very slight rustle of his cloak as he turned and strode back to the front of the class.

�Now then, please put away all your books, and take out your scrolls. You will find the questions for the exam here�� Snape gestured at the blackboard, a fluid movement, effortless, as all his movements seemed tobe, and the words appeared. �If you have done the lesson, this should be relatively simple. You will have until class is finished. Begin.�

He turned to his own books, and appeared to get lost in them, doing his own personal study. Hermione sat still, stiff, having no clue at all about the questions. They gave no hints of the answers at all. She would not only fail, it was possible she would receive a null mark entirely! This would simply not do.

Hermione watched Snape for a bit, and when he hadn�t looked up once in an entire ten minute span, she slowly inched her book onto the table� she slid the pages over one another until she reached the topic covered, and scanned the page, just enough to give her an idea, then she slid the book back onto the floor, never once making a sound. Ron was eyeing her, looking completely astounded. She cast him a perfectly evil glare, and taking quill in hand, began writing. She would probably not make a very good mark, but at least it would not be a failing one.

The time ticked away, and Snape finally looked up, announcing, amid many more groans, that time was up. �You may hand in your scrolls as you leave. And do pay attention. Don�t go knocking things about.� He stood by the door, perfectly still, hands clasped behind his back, the silver clasp of his cloak shining brightly in the dim light of the dungeon.

Hermione rolled her scroll, and picking up her books, started to follow her classmates out. She laid her scroll on the desk. Snape turned, watching her, and gave an almost imperceptible movement. None of the students noticed the tiny motion, but Hermione�s scroll fell off the edge of the desk and rolled back towards the tables.

�Oh, drat,� she mumbled, putting down her books and scurrying to retrieve it. By the time she�d gotten it and made her way back to the desk, the rest of the class was gone. Snape stood by the door, again, perfectly still, fixing the small girl with a glare of pure distaste. She stopped still.

Snape moved a hand, closing the door with a soft �click�. His eyes never moved; his voice was deep, and even, and stony. It filled the empty room when he spoke. �A word, Miss Granger.�

Hermione froze, eyes wide. Snape moved easily toward her, the air about him barely moving, he stopped in front of her, taking the scroll from her trembling hand.

“Miss Granger, i am always fully aware of everything that occurs in my classroom. Is it possible that you did not realize i was observing your disgraceful display of dishonesty?” She was silent, and had turned her eyes to the floor.

“I would have thought a girl of your intelligence would be able to weigh the consequences of such a thing. Your friends may think me evil, Miss Granger, but I do not allow my students to cheat.” He reached into his pocket and removed a pinch of glittering dust, sprinkling it over the scroll, which promptly crumbled into dust itself. “This school has a very long, very rich history, and I cannot allow it to be sullied by thoughtless acts of this nature. DO look at me when I speak to you.”

Hermione’s head snapped up, and her heart sank. She looked ito the black eyes of the Potions-Master and swallowed. She was guilty. She’d gotten caught. and now… and what now? She stood still, her breath quick and waited for her sentence.

Snape gave her a single once over with his icy gaze. “You will report to the dungeons tonight at 8, and you need not bring anything but yourself. That is all, Miss Granger.” He turned to his desk and spoke no more. Hermione quickly scurried out the door.

She spoke litle the rest of the day, lost in her own thought. She’d heard Fred and George laughing quietly about another student being sent to the private study, a few years before. They were quietly snickering, and the phrases she’d heard were few, but there was mention of problems sitting. She shook her head to clear it. Surely not.

She picked uneasily at her food when dinnertime came, and Harry tried in vain to speak with her. “Here, Hermione, what’s eating you?” Hermione was staring intently at the teacher’s table. Snape did not seem to be disturbed by the possible goings on this evening. Ron had obviously spoken with Fred and George himself.

He dug his elbow into Harry’s ribs, shaking his head “no” and pressing a finger to his lips. Harry looked at him quizzically, but kept silent. Hermione didn’t even look up from the floor as she left.

Back in her rooms, Hermione straightened herself and prepared as best she could. She smoothed her skirt and brushed out her hair. She left her books and her robes on her bed. He’d said to only bring herself, and she had no desire to further anger him. She stood for a moment at her door before pushing it open and starting out.

2

Hermione walked down the stairs to the dungeons, the shivering not caused by the chill here this time. She paused, taking a shaky breath before she raised her hand to knock on the door to Professor Snape’s office. Only one knock fell heavily on the doorframe before Snape’s deep voice penetrated the doorway.

“Enter.”

Hermione stopped still midway through the second knock, reaching down to turn the knob. She felt more like a slytherin as she slunk into the room, her back almost pressed into the wall beside the door.

“Close the door, Miss Granger, and follow me please.”

Hermione nudged the door closed and began a stammered sentence as Professor Snape rose from behind the desk and moved fluidly to the far side of the room, removing a single key from the depths of his robes. “Professor, I just… I wanted to say…”

“Miss Granger,” Snape said coolly, inserting the key and turning it with an ominous CLICK, “I doubt that there is anything you can say. In fact, I believe you have said quite enough. There is no more conversation necessary.” He pulled on the door, and it swung slowly open, not even creaking, even though the hinges looked ancient, as did everything here. “When I wish to hear your voice, you will be well aware of that fact.” He stood just outside the darkness beyond the door, holding heavy wooden door open. “Inside, Miss Granger. I don’t have all night.”

Hermione almost scurried into the room, ducking her head in shame as she passed Snape. Once inside, the simple wall sconces flared to life, illuminating the small room. It was not dim, but certainly not bright, and Hermione looked hastily about, noticing immediately that the room was impeccably clean. Everything was wood, and polished, and all shone will a dull gleam.

She also noticed that it was spartan, almost bare. The walls were covered by the obligatory bookshelves, though the shelves themselves were not full. The books seemed almost arranged, but artistically so, the spaces and lines of their placement drawing her eye around the room.

As if of their own accord, her eyes moved round the room to a small shelf that held a strange looking plant. Its knobby center was the shape and size of a man’s fist, and many stems scarcely the circumference of a pencil protruded from the knotted ball, each not more than an inch or two long.

Her gaze left the odd plant to fasten on the single piece of furniture in the room. It was a simple desk, the wood dark with age and oil, the top gently sloped, and smooth as glass from polishing. The chair for the desk was small, almost a stool, and it had clearly not had as much use as the desk itself. There was a drawer in the desk, and she idly wondered what he would keep there.

She had noticed that the inkpot and quill present in every room were NOT on the desk. They were, in fact, on a shelf about waist height, next to a sheaf of papers. And next to that was a heavy length of black… ribbon? Why would Snape have ribbon? He had never tied his hair back, even the semester her sixth year when he had kept it longer than usual. She was unsure if his hair would even stay tied, if it was as stubborn as he. Her mind raced around the room, her eyes darting here and there now, looking for signs of what the Weasley boys had whispered about…

“I can’t enter the room if you persist in standing in my way.” His voice jerked her out of her brief respite from dread and she turned to look at him, her head still having to tip up significantly to look him in the eye. She stopped still as he fixed her with one of his famously hard stares. She had grown over the past few years. Why did he STILL seem so very tall?

Her mouth fell open and she closed it before she made the mistake of speaking.

“Well?” he thundered, staring at her as though she had a second head.

“I… I… Sir?” she stammered, totally lost. Snape rolled his eyes in a particularly disgusted look. “Step back, Miss Granger! I was under the impression that you had the best academic record in Hogwarts this year. One would think your intelligence would include how to work your feet.” He pushed brusquely past her, closing the door as he did so. Her body involuntarily turned to follow him.

“Now then, I’m sure you’ve heard a bit about what occurs in this room. I though it best not to allow rumors and such to last past a few seconds upon your entering.” He gestured at the plant with one hand, reaching for the clasp of his cloak with the other. “Go, and beside it you will find a packet. Empty the powder onto the plant.”

This was not an instruction. It was a command. And she followed those commands, dusting the powder over the weird plant, watching Snape out of the corner of her eye. He removed his cloak, hanging it on a hook that must have been invisible before. With an easy turn of his wrist, the stool of the little desk almost spun away, coming to rest in the corner of the room.

He gestured off-handedly at the stool. “Sit. And keep still.”

Hermione did so, watching with anticipation and almost horror as the twigs of the plant began to grow. She watched as Snape eyed the plant, reaching to efficiently snap off each stem as it reached arm-length. When he had gathered a handful of the thin rods (she had counted at least fifteen, but probably more), he dusted the plant again with a different powder, and the stems on the knob stopped growing, allowing the plant to regain it’s porcupine-like appearance.

Hermione blinked as Snape strode to the shelf where the inkpot sat. As she watched, awestruck, he picked up the ribbon, weaving it among the ends of the stems. With a smart tug and a flip that could almost be labeled a flourish, he tied off the ribbon and shook out the loose ends. They rattled against one another, and whistled softly. The tidy bundle was a formidable thing, and Hermione now shrank in the chair, her stomach twisting almost to the point of nausea. At least now, she had no doubt what was to happen in this room.

Snape turned to her, wasting no time. He gave another fluid gesture, this time toward the solitary furnishing. “Now then, Miss Granger, please bend over the desk.” The words were solid, and they sank into the thick, thick tension in the room. Hermione dared not object.

At her previous school, this type of punishment was not permitted, but this was not that school. This was Hogwarts. They did things here that no other school did. And she was sure that Snape, regardless of what the other students thought, would not violate school protocols. She knew he was within his rights to punish her this way, and she thought she remembered, through a haze of shame and apprehension, a strange waiver that her parents had discussed upon her entry to Hogwarts so long ago.

She walked stiffly to the desk, leaning over it, acutely aware of the feel of it, the edge pressing against her hips. “Reach right over. Hands on the far side.” His instructions were clear and there was no way around the situation. She reached over, her hands gripping the far edge, her upper body lying flat on the sloped surface.

“This type of dishonesty is abhorrent to me, Miss Granger. There is no excuse, and there is no mercy. I expect you to take your punishment with grace.” He shifted position behind her, and reached to lift the hem of her skirt. A strangled sound escaped Hermione’s lips, and she almost turned at this invasion. Snape’s voice resonated with annoyance, and a tinge of disgust shaded the heavy tone.“Stay in position, Miss Granger. Do not make it necessary for me to repeat myself.”

Hermione remained silent as he lifted the hem of the short skirt and laid it back to rest far above her hips, exposing the sensible panties underneath. Her face flushed hot as he pressed a hand to the small of her back. She involuntarily arched in response to the touch, effectively lifting her bottom. She supposed he was positioning her exactly as he pleased. Professor Snape did everything else in such a meticulous manner. Why not this?

The cool hand disappeared, and Hermione chanced a quick peek over her shoulder. Snape had stepped back from her, and was rolling up his sleeve. He glanced up at her. “Eyes ahead,” he said off-handedly, resolutely continuing with his preparations. He shook out the birch again, and the soft tick-tick-ticking of the rods against one another was as clear and piercing to her as the whistle for the Hogwarts Express.

Hermione closed her mouth and held tighter to the edge. She closed her eyes in shame. His voice lowered, and the near-whisper burned her ears. “Twelve. Count them out. And for your sake, Miss Granger, I strongly suggest that you endeavor not to miss your count, nor to move from the position in which I have placed you.”

Hermione leaned her head forwards, her thick hair falling forward to hide her face. She had no idea how this would feel, but she knew she had no intention of missing count. She did NOT want to know what would happen if she did.

Snape shifted behind her again, and she felt the stiff twigs touch her briefly. Then there was a whistle, and a thud, a rattling, and a moment of shock before the burning pain struck her. She gasped aloud, her previous grip on the desk loosening. She caught herself just before she stood. The thing burned like fire, and what seemed like a thousand lines of streaking pain danced across her bottom.

“Count, Miss Granger.” Snape’s voice was low, but it was, as always, clear and powerful.

“One, Sir…” she stammered, taking a deep breath.

“That was your only reminder,” Snape said, and he let the second blow fall.

Hermione gasped again, and again, each count barely leaving her lips before the next stroke laid its fire on her, stinging, burning, piercing her will.

3

Snape was nothing if not efficient. Each stroke fell exactly where he wished, the thin rods splaying at the end of their downward arc to cover her almost-mature bottom, and then go beyond. He delivered them in silence, standing still after each one to wait for her, then moving like water to give the next after her count.

At six she cried aloud.

Hermione jerked, her face streaked with tears as the twigs traced white-hot lines across her bottom. She shrieked as the twigs bit into her thighs, the tips pressing into the soft flesh there before bouncing away, leaving welts and a tingling sharp pain in their wake.

At ten she wailed.

By the time the last blow fell and was properly counted, she was weeping openly, and the red-blue marks could be seen even below the edge of her underclothes, lines criss-crossing each other on her bottom and upper thighs, concentrated in a band of pure searing pain across the most tender part at the base of her behind.

Hermione lay still over the desk, trembling as the sobs eventually faded into soft sniffles and quickly caught breaths. Snape stood immobile, watching her. When she seemed to be over the worst of her distress, he spoke.

“I will not have you back here, Miss Granger. Despite you regrettable house placement, you are better than most.” Hermione blinked. The tone was… different. The authority and strength was as powerful as ever, but the hard edge had left his voice. “Your intelligence is undeniable, but your wisdom seems to have failed you. It is not acceptable. I sincerely hope that this instance will be your last.”

When he finally moved, it was to lower her skirt. She had forgotten it was lifted, and she blushed at the thought, idly pushing a hand across her face, shifting the damp hair from her cheeks to settle behind her ears. She almost jumped at another touch. It was his hand on her arm, lifting her from her bent position. Snape placed the horrid bundle on the top of the desk and firmly turned her to face him. His fingers almost bit into her upper arm, and again he pierced her with his black eyes.

“There are many hours wasted on students who are not worthy. Do not inspire me to count your hours here among those.” She looked at the floor, tears falling anew. She hadn’t thought he viewed her so highly. Surely he would never let anyone know.

Snape turned to the shelf, taking the quill and one sheet of parchment. “Straighten yourself, Miss Granger,” he said, his voice returning to that of the Professor she knew. She straightened her skirt, and ran her fingers through her hair, trying to organize the mess of curls. Snape had moved the little chair back to the desk and was writing on the parchment, his hand moving quickly across the page. “This is a record of what transpired here. Sign.”

Hermione froze. This was being recorded? Her record, though never impeccable, would never be the same if this was available for her future employers. Did she have a choice? The offered quill held by Professor Snape clearly indicated that she did not. She scanned the paper, flushing with shame as she verified its correctness, then signed the parchment with a shaky hand.

She watched as Snape folded the paper neatly, running his fingernail across the crease, sharpening it. He opened the drawer of the desk. It was empty. He placed the paper in the drawer and closed it. “I keep my personal business personal, Miss Granger. It is of no concern to any of the faculty, or any one else, for that matter, how I discipline my students.” He re-opened the drawer. She took a quick breath as she saw that once again, it was empty. “No one will know of the dealings this room unless you so choose, Miss Granger.” He re-closed the small drawer smoothly. “Unlike many of the boys, I have found that the girls who visit this room are far less likely to brag about their punishments. I have no doubt you will be the same.”

He stood, and with a tug of the ribbon, the rods fell to the floor, disappearing in a wisp of greenish-blue smoke. He replaced the ribbon on the shelf with the inkpot and quill, and retrieved his cloak. He opened the door. “Now, return to your room. You will be allowed a pass for as much time as it takes you to return to your common room, but I would suggest that you move quickly. Anything past that, and you will be responsible.”

Hermione nodded, and Snape spoke again, fastening the clasp of his cloak with an almost unnecessary-looking movement. “Miss Granger, DO be prepared for your quiz tomorrow at detention.” She nodded and scurried from the room, turning briefly to watch as Snape swung the heavy door closed and locked it. So this was another chamber of secrets, it seemed.

我是楼主，关于转帖，我没意见哈。因为原文我只是转帖过来的（原作Mikki Rosie）。我想只要表明原作出处就可以了吧。

谢谢你的翻译哈，本来我自己想翻译的，但估计水平会让大家见笑，而且一直没有什么时间。