You are Herman Granger, aged 18, fresh out of school, and considering your options for Universities. Your parents, both dentists, are quite proud of you.
Initially, when you were young, you were picked on quite a bit, and honestly, you understood why.
You looked exactly like the type of person who would get pushed around at that age. However, puberty had done you a great many favors, with you shedding both your braces and your glasses (you still wore contacts), and spending some time running on the football team at your father's suggestion had let you fill in rather nicely.
Her little heartbreaker was what your mom called you.
That wasn't to say you had given up on hitting the books. Not in the slightest, even as you grew older and more popular, your love of a good paperback never faded; instead, it only intensified. You read everything you could get your hands on and more.
Dad had threatened that if you kept on storing books in the parlor, he was going to start selling them. It wasn't your fault, your room was full!
Regardless, you had kept up in your intellectual pursuits, and it showed. Across the coffee table rested dozens of letters from various colleges and universities, not just in the country but also from outside of it, all offering you positions in the school. There were some very tempting options on that table.
But then, as you talked with your mom and dad, even as your father waved an offer from a particularly sporty school in the air, while mum glared at him playfully, there came a keen, loud knock on the door.
Letting your family continue to discuss, your mom raising a more intellectually inclined option, you went to the door. It was a bit early for the mail, and you didn't think that the books you ordered could be here yet.
As you reached the door, the knocking stopped, almost as if the individual on the other side knew that you were there. Odd, but it didn't bother you much.
Reaching down, you turned the handle and let the door swing open, only to be met with a sight that you didn't expect.
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An older, severe-looking woman stood there. She was either younger than she looked, with the grey hair, or she had aged spectacularly gracefully, her features still quite beautiful, and her body curving in all the right ways.
You didn't have much time or mental processing power to appreciate it, though, given that her outfit was much more pressing. The quite serious-looking woman was wearing a quite well-made witch costume. Complete with a large, floppy witch hat.
…
Larping maybe?
You looked left and right, trying to find whatever group she might have come with, when the other spoke.
"Herman Granger?" She asked.
You looked up.
"That's me Ma'am. Can I help you, Ms…?"
The other nodded.
"Minerva McGonagall. May we go inside to discuss? I can't imagine you want to hold an extended conversation through the doorway." She responded, raising a questioning eyebrow, as if already judging your manners.
You considered it for a moment before giving a mental shrug.
If this were a slasher killer or something, you were sure you could take her.
You stepped back, out of the way, and turned towards the parlor.
"Mum, Da, we've got a visitor."
There was a general commotion from the other room, as the two swiftly got up to begin cleaning the parlor to make it presentable for company.
"Entertain them for a bit, Herman, we'll get some snacks ready!" Your mother called back excitedly. Your folks always loved company, and you smiled at the familiar action of frantically preparing for a guest they hadn't even seen yet.
There was a quiet hum, and it pulled your gaze back to the old, witchy-looking woman. She was studying the inside of your house with an intense gaze before turning the exact same look onto you.
It felt like she was studying you, in a not-quite-appropriate way, and the silence swiftly began to grow awkward. For the sake of filling the silence, you considered for a moment before hitting her with one of your world-famous Herman conversation starters.
You leaned up against the banister, feeling your neurons fire up as you studied the other. Whatever type of Halloween costume this was, it was an authentic-looking one. That cloak, dyed a rather brilliant green, was quite well made, the stitching near imperceptible.
The belt she wore as well looked to be made of real leather, as did that tall hat on her head. Whoever this was, she was obviously wealthy to be able to afford this level of quality on a costume.
Still, what really stuck out to you was…
"Pretty muggy weather to wear something like that, eh? We've got a coat rack if you don't want to wear it inside." You offered to the woman.
The severe look on her face didn't twitch, even as she shifted slightly on her feet.
"I appreciate the offer, Mr. Granger, but I am perfectly comfortable as I am. I assure you, the cloak has excellent air flow."
Her voice was entirely level as she spoke, but you swore you could make out the slightest of twitches at the corners of her lips.
"Suit yourself, let me know if you need anything anyways, Ms. McGonagall."
She nodded simply, seemingly content to wait in silence as you and your parents bustled around the kitchen. Thankfully, you weren't forced to stay there long, your foot already tapping in impatience, when your mother, with a wide smile and a small bit of what looked like flour smudged on her shirt.
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"Sorry about the wait, Ma'am. We just had to get a few things ready. If you'd like, you could follow me into the parlor for some tea and snacks?" Your mum offered in her standard sugar-sweet voice that she used with all her guests and patients. You barely caught the imperceptible twitch of her eyes when she caught sight of your guest's attire, but admirably, she didn't let it stop her.
McGonagall nodded, and you stepped aside politely to let the women pass by, before following behind them, into the parlor. Your mum would have given you an earful if you had done anything less. Still, at least it gave you a good view as you walked behind the two.
Not that you were looking at your mom, you wouldn't do that to Dad. But McGonagall was a treat enough.
Entering the parlor, you saw your father, sitting in one of the chairs, doing his best to look casual.
He stood up quickly and shoved a hand out in front of him.
"Nice to meet you, miss. I'm William Granger, please call me Will." He said with a wide smile on his face.
The older woman took his hand gingerly, shaking it twice before letting go.
"The pleasure is mine. I am Professor McGonagall, from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I'm here to discuss your son's potential admission to our fine establishment."
You could have heard a record scratch, with how fast your parents froze.
Your mother kept up the polite smile, nodding along as the other spoke, but your father, with stealth befitting a dentist, showed you an incredulous look.
"WTF?" His eyes seemed to whisper.
Rolling your own, your shot back;
"How am I supposed to know?"
This silent conversation would have gone on longer, but a quiet cough from your mother caught everyone's attention.
"Ah, I see. That's… nice. Do you visit all your potential students in person?"
The other woman nodded.
"We find that just sending letters is usually met with… skepticism, from many. So a decision was made long ago that personal visits were required."
"I wonder why." Your dad responded cheerfully, his smile now a slight bit more strained.
McGonagall looked between the three of you, all facing her from across the coffee table, before she reached down and took a sip of her tea.
"I think I may be sensing some skepticism here as well. Would I be correct?"
-x-X-x-
Among the three Grangers in the room, it was you who spoke up first.
"I will admit to, perhaps, some academic curiosity, Ms. McGonagall. You must understand that the nature of the claims you are making requires a bit of elaboration." Your statement ended sounding more like a question, but the woman across the table nodded nonetheless.
"It's perfectly understandable, if I may present a practical demonstration?" The older woman gestured towards the coffee table, and after sharing a glance with your parents, you gave her a hesitant nod.
McGonagall, reaching into her sleeve, withdrew a long, wooden stick, a wand, you realized, with a dramatic flourish. You leaned forward, studying the other intently. The trick with magic tricks was to find where they hid the batteries, metaphorically.
Whatever card trick or sleight of hand the woman might pull, it would likely rely on your attention being elsewhere.
McGonagall brought her wand up and slowly began waving it. There was a muttered word, and you waited for whatever bouquet or handkerchief would come out of her sleeve.
Then your coffee table turned into a pig. And began shuffling around the room.
Your mother stiffened immediately, and your father screamed, pulling his legs up like the pig was about to bite him.
You, on the other hand, were frozen, mind racing, trying to understand just how she managed a live pig in your living room.
Could she have prepared it beforehand?
Then, where was your coffee table, and where did she store it?
Was it some sort of optical illusion?
You reached out with a foot, nudging the animal.
It grunted, turning and sniffing at your shoe, before looking away, brushing against you, and knocking a glass off the side table.
Before the glass hit the ground, it too froze.
"I think that should be enough." A voice said, and suddenly, your coffee table was back, and the glass floated over to land on it.
You blinked, feeling slightly lightheaded. Perhaps she drugged you. That must be it.
Looking back up, the stern-looking woman, for the first time since you saw her, was wearing a small smile on her face, and upon seeing the shocked faces of you and your parents, let out a small giggle that seemed out of place with the other.
"Apologies, I do enjoy seeing the faces for this part, just give me a moment." She looked to the side, her shoulder shaking a bit, before calming herself.
"I presume I have assuaged most of your skepticism." To the right, your father nodded, glasses having slid down to his nose.
"Fantastic, now, Mr. Granger," and she turned to you, "Have you ever caused something to happen, something that may be unexplainable? Possibly in times of extreme emotions?"
The question was vague, but her tone was certain enough that you took the time to look back in your memory, considering.
There was one time that you recalled.
You thought back. Consider your childhood. There were a number of incidents that you couldn't quite explain—that one time on the playground, or even at the mall. But what really stood out to you was many years ago, when you were just six.
Your parents had brought you to the bookstore for the first time. A mythical place they'd only ever spoken of, where they went before bringing home the gifts of new books to read.
You were so excited and had practically run off between the tall shelves the moment you entered.
There was one book, you thought, one book on a shelf so high that you had desperately wanted. But it was so far up that even climbing the first few shelves didn't let you reach.
You remembered, blinking tears away that day, a strange feeling in your chest, then watching as the book wobbled, before floating through the air, falling like a leaf in the wind, down to you, settling gently into your lap.
You had run to your mum, excitedly telling her the story. She had pat you on the head, laughed, and congratulated you. But you knew she hadn't believed. You'd also dismissed it later, as a childish fancy.
That is, until today.
You didn't say anything, but from the serious, knowing look in McGonagall's eyes, you could tell she understood.
"You, Mr. Granger, are a wizard."
She placed a letter on the table.
"As such, I am here to offer a position at Hogwarts in order to hone that ability. This is, of course, optional. But know that if you refuse, the ministry requires all registered magical children to have their magic sealed, for the sake of the statute of secrecy."
That…
"Well, that isn't much of a choice, is it?"
Your father's voice was soft, carrying the tone it did when he was serious.
McGonagall nodded solemnly.
"Indeed, it is not. I am not required to inform you that magical children are only required to register upon receiving their wands. So if you chose not to enroll, there is a path to avoiding that result."
Your mother relaxed, and you could see your father's face soften somewhat before regaining its seriousness.
"Then there is another offer. A unique one too. I think I'd like to hear more about this school before making a decision." Your mother said simply.
The other woman nodded.
"Of course, I am here to answer any questions you may have."
You grabbed a tea cup as your father immediately began probing about the available sports programs at Hogwarts, and your mother inquired about what general education options there were.
You would be talking well into the night.
Suffice to say, you said yes.
It wasn't after a litany of questions, though, and you and your parents had kept Professor McGonagall long enough that the woman had actually stayed for dinner, the questions only briefly paused to carry out polite dinner table conversation.
Afterwards, it started right back up, this time with some after-dinner tea served to help wet throats dry from speaking. But eventually, you and your parents, while not satisfied, felt that you had gotten enough out of the mature woman to let her leave.
You would go to Hogwarts, if for no other reason than that out of all the schools that had offered you a place, this was perhaps the most unique.
Just the thought of all the new books, the revealed histories, sent shivers down your spine. You couldn't wait to do some comparative analysis of real-world events, from the perspective of non-magical folk, versus witches and wizards.
The older witch, no longer did you think she was a confused cosplayer, left little behind, aside from the letter, carrying the list of supplies needed for school, and a promise of a teacher returning closer to the start of the school year.
That, of course, did not stop your own family from starting to prepare in advance. The list of required materials was… interesting.
Quill's. Just the thought sent a shudder down your spine.
You made sure to purchase in bulk, thousands of pens.
Because by god, you were not going to use a quill to write an essay on parchment.
This wasn't the Stone Age.
That, alongside calculators, paper, notebooks, and more, all filled a large box in your room in preparation for the journey. The list contained the required items, yes, but said little about what you were prohibited from bringing.
So you bought a little bit of everything.
Then, about a month later, there came a knock at the door.
Your parents were upstairs when it happened, so it was you who answered once more.
The knock was less insistent this time, sounding more like a cry for help than a demand for an answer, and when you opened the door, you saw why.
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The first thing that struck you about the woman on the other side of the door was her hair. It looked almost… greasy, as if it hadn't been washed for a very long time, or as if she spent much time working around chemicals. It was also remarkably unkept. She had bags under her eyes that looked more like mascara than anything natural, and she stood with a perpetual slouch.
"Granger?" She droned out, voice slightly nasally as she spoke, with a sharper accent than you usually heard around these parts.
You nodded hesitantly.
She sighed, like she was burdened by the fact that she had found the right place.
"I am Professor Snape. I will be taking you to Diagon Alley today. Come along." She immediately turned around, beginning to walk away.
You twitched. McGonagall had said they'd be here in the afternoon!?
Grabbing a notepad from the nearby stand, you quickly scrawled out a note.
"Mum, Da, the magic people are here! Going to buy the school supplies, gotta run!"
You left the note on the pad as you dashed out the door, catching up to the black haired woman still slouching away with long, slow steps. You briefly wondered what wizarding fashion was like exactly. McGonagall seemed to fit the classical idea of a witch, whereas this woman, with her leather pants and cape, looked more like a basement dweller trying to look cool in public.
Unlike forty-year-old overweight men, she actually made the leather pants look good. You enjoyed the sight you caught of her behind as the cape fluttered back and forth.
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There was a small hum, and you could have sworn her hips started to bounce just a bit more.
You blinked.
So distracted were you that you nearly missed when she began speaking again.
"We will be taking a portkey to Diagon Alley," she held out a small, colored stone, "please grab onto the rock, and don't let go," a spark or something entered her eyes, "unless you wish to die a particularly painful death that is."
You gulped.
"Any questions?" She finished.
Was it polite to ask…?
As you studied the woman, from the way she slouched to the bags under her eyes, you honestly had one burning question.
"When was the last time you slept, Professor Snape? I don't mean to pry b-but it looks like you've gone like, three all-nighters in a row."
The woman's deadpan stare bore into you with the force of one thousand energy drinks.
"I have."
You blinked in confusion.
"Pardon?"
The professor's face didn't even twitch as she looked you in the eyes.
"I haven't slept for the last three nights, and now, I am assigned muggle-born duty because my coworkers apparently had better things to do. And now, I'm being held up by useless questions. Do you have any relevant inquiries, Mr. Granger?"
You paused, an immediate pang of regret hitting you. You never like to upset your teachers, and to do so before the year even started felt like a bad sign. It was clear she really wasn't interested in making small talk at the moment.
But since she opened the door…
"Apologies for the insensitive question, Professor Snape. What do you teach at Hogwarts?"
She immediately opened her mouth, as if expecting to shoot down another irrelevant question, before pausing and closing it again.
"I teach Potions, Mr. Granger, and I function as the head of the Slytherin house. You will likely be seeing me for the first year Potion's class in the coming school year."
Finally, some good information!
You couldn't help yourself from going back to the first question once more.
"Is that what you've spent the last three nights working on, Professor, potions?"
Snape paused, before an odd, humorless smile spread across her face, tongue flicking out to lick her lips, and she answered.
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"Sure, Granger, potions."
That… didn't seem sincere at all, and from the way she smiled, you felt a little bit made fun of.
Snape turned around quickly.
"If that's all. "
"Wait, one more question!" You interrupted quickly. The woman turned around with a glare.
"Yes…"
You winced at her tone.
"Are there any… social faux pas I need to look out for. I, of course, recognize that I am entering into a culture entirely foreign to me, so I was just wondering if you had any tips?" Your voice got quite at the end, although as you spoke, Snape's eyebrow raised just a hair.
"Finally, a decent question. You'll learn much as you go, but for now, only refer to other students by their last name unless invited otherwise. It will go a long way."
You nodded.
"Thank you, Ma'am."
Snape just slouched further.
"Now please, Mr. Granger, just grab the portkey."
You obliged, your hand coming to grasp the small stone in hers.
Snape looked around, as if checking your surroundings, before speaking.
"Dry Spell."
Before you could ask what she meant, there was an odd pulling feeling in your navel, and the world blurred.
The feeling was disorienting, to say the least, like someone was squeezing you through a pipe filled with pipe cleaners.
Not painful, but even as the world, now a blur of colors and lights, zoomed by, you could feel parts of your body warping and bending in ways that felt impossible. But it was happening, certainly.
Normally, you'd have been completely and utterly discombobulated, but frankly, you ran out of confusion when McGonagall turned your coffee table into a pig; this, this just felt par the course.
So, as you flew, you took care to try and orient yourself, familiarizing yourself with your body. After a minute or two, you found a strange sort of logic to this place, and you started recognizing patterns.
Another minute, and you were able to control them.
There was no third minute, as all of a sudden, in a shock of even more light and color, the world became solid again, and you found yourself tumbling towards the ground.
Thankfully, your calm within the port key tunnel came with you, and in a movement smooth enough to belong in a spy movie, you brought your legs under you and hit the ground with a smooth crouch, straightening up swiftly.
A moment later, there was just in front of you, and Snape herself appeared in a flash of dark colors.
Decidedly more off balance.
Rather than appearing upright, like you had, Snape appeared parallel to the ground, and in the most expressive look you've seen from the professor yet, yelped as she fell face-first down onto the ground, ending up in a rather compromising position, with her face hidden by the stone ground, and her ass waving in the air.
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The professor let out a groan, and you could only imagine what her face was like as she crossed her arms in front of her.
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Her sudden momentum didn't stop there, though, and her knees bent slightly, bringing her tight, leather-clad ass back.
Landing the thick derriere directly onto your crotch. The thin leather pants, as well as your thin dress pants, did little to stop the warmth of her soft flesh from covering your entire crotch.
Within seconds, you felt your erection straining your pants.
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And you were embarrassed to see it pressing directly into Professor Snape.
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You swiftly back up a few steps, hoping she hadn't noticed.
You reached out a hand, offering to help her up, which the other ignored, instead pulling herself to her feet. There was a faint blush on the other's face, and she straightened out her outfit and cleared her throat, trying to regain some of her previous composure.
"Yes, well, having an inexperienced traveler with me must have thrown me off. Do better next time, Mr. Granger. Now, let us be off."
Swiftly she turned, marching away towards a run-down looking bar, where a sign reading "The Leaky Cauldron" hung. You jogged to catch up.
Snape didn't seem to be in the mood for any more conversation, and instead brushed past the bartender, who raised a hand in greeting, and went straight into the back room.
Withdrawing what you now realized was a wand, she tapped it on the stone wall in quick succession, the wall rolling open like something out of a fantasy movie, revealing a bustling road filled with dozens of strangely dressed individuals.
…
You squinted, feeling something was odd about it.
There didn't seem to be many males out and about…
Snape cleared her throat, and you looked back at her.
"Welcome, Mr. Granger, to Diagon Alley. Do you have your list?"
You nodded, pulling out the thick piece of paper. You had added some times yourself.
The Professor let out a long sigh at the sight.
"What is the first item?" She droned.
You unfurled the length of parchment that was inside the letter, feeling as if you were handling some primary document at a museum, instead of your school shopping list. You shifted slightly, trying to adjust your pants without making it seem obvious.
The tightness had yet to go away, and your erection was positioned in such a way that it was quite uncomfortable. Still, with Snape staring you down so intently, you didn't feel comfortable trying to reach down and stealthily adjust it.
It felt like she was trying to stare a hole through the list in your hands, her gaze too low to look you in the eyes at the very least.
…
You hoped she didn't notice the bulge through your pants.
Looking back at the list, you tried to carry on, in hopes that you'd get an opportunity to readjust it soon.
"Well, first on the list I see… Uniforms, three sets of plain robes-"
"I know what the uniform requirements are." Snape interrupted.
"Have you already exchanged some of your Muggle pounds?"
You nodded, holding up a small drawstring bag your parents had bought to carry the heavy coins.
"Through the mail order slip included in the letter."
Snape nodded.
"Good, come along, we're wasting time."
With that, she swept away, cloak billowing dramatically. You followed behind, taking the opportunity to give a few tugs on your belt, sighing in relief as things settled in a more comfortable fit.
Snape wasted no time in pointing things out or acting as a tour guide; instead, she stepped out to a taller building, with thread and needle printed on the hanging sign, and stepped inside. She didn't even bother to check if you were following.
You were, but it would have been the thought that counted.
The inside of the shop was filled to the brim with mannequins of varying shapes and sizes, wearing everything from pointy witch hats to long flowing dresses. What struck you, though, was how old-fashioned everything seemed. There wasn't a single zipper in sight, and many of the outfits seemed more fitting in a reenactment than an upscale boutique.
Your observations were interrupted when you were met at the desk by a rather matronly woman.
'Madame Malkins,' she introduced herself as.
"Wait just a moment, you two. When the dressing room frees up again, we'll get you fitted right away."
It was not a second after she had said that that the door to what you presumed was the dressing room swung open.
A thin, blonde-haired girl stepped out, practically flouncing as she did. Her robes, appropriately, you assumed, looked new.
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She stopped ever so briefly at the desk to speak to the madame.
"Daddy will pay you as per usual, Madam."
The potato-shaped woman nodded, and the blonde smiled brightly, before turning to the two of you, specifically, at Snape.
"Godmother." She nodded respectfully, which Snape returned. The other's green eyes soon turned to you, looking up and down your body, and she wrinkled her nose lightly.
"Ew." That was all she said before she turned and breezed out of the shop, skirt flowing in the wind.
You blinked before turning to Snape.
"What was that about?"
She just frowned at you before shaking her head negatively. As if telling you not to get into it.
There was no time to pry, as the Madam hustled you both into the changing room.
The fitting, despite being for a magic school, that was also allegedly a castle, was pretty mundane, all things considered.
You were told to stand up on a podium, and the Madame told you, quite bluntly, to strip out of your shirt and pants so she could properly measure you.
You did so without complaint, thankful that your erection had finally calmed down before you had gotten up on the podium.
The rather rotund witch who went about her business, measuring and muttering to herself as she did. The most magical part about the whole ordeal was that occasionally, the tape measure she held would fly out of her hand, measuring the parts of you the shorter witch couldn't reach, as well as the more sensitive areas.
Once measuring was done, she went about grabbing bundles of robes, swiftly measuring and cutting portions, before she threw them on.
The first set she tried seemed to work well, but as you flexed slightly, you couldn't help but notice how it pulled tightly near the small of your back.
"How's that feel, sweetie?" The madam asked.
"It's just a bit-" you began, only to be interrupted by the sound of a bell. The madam looked up suddenly.
"Hold that thought, sweetie, I'll be right back." She bustled towards the door, opening it to reveal Snape leaning on the other side.
"Get in there and tell your student how handsome he looks, you grump." She scolded, swatting the dour woman with a rag, before heading to the front desk to greet the customer. Snape was shoved inside as she left, and the door swung shut.
An awkward silence filled the room, and you shifted uncomfortably in the barely held together robes. Madam had yet to secure the fabric, beyond a few pins, and you could occasionally feel them pressing into your skin.
"So…" You began, wondering what to talk about.
Snape stared back, entirely silent.
"Do I? Look handsome that is?" You prompted, hoping the madam's orders combined with your own conversation attempts would spark some type of response.
"Sure." She replied.
You couldn't help but sigh, and as you did, you felt the needles prick just a little bit deeper into your skin; you flinched, arms stretching forward instinctively.
This was, you quickly learnt, the wrong choice.
The robes, which were barely held together as is, quickly escaped the grasp of the needles holding them together, the fabric coming apart at your upper back, and falling down your sides quickly.
You tried desperately to grab a piece of it, but it fell too fast, and soon, you were standing in front of your potions teacher, in nothing but your white underwear, which was, embarrassingly enough, quickly tightening once more.
-x-X-x-
SNAPE POV PART 1/2
You are Sylvia Snape, and you are many things at the current moment.
Frustrated, Minerva decided today was the day that she would run the safety check of the castle wards.
Tired, after three days of absolutely no sleep.
But most of all, you were horny.
Desperately, drastically, horny.
You bit your lips as you waited outside of the dressing room at Malkin's shop, rubbing your thighs together and shivering at the feeling of the thin leather against your most sensitive of areas, and at the slippery, wet sensation that followed.
There was a reason you had been wearing leather more than usual, after all. It did wonders at preventing any unfortunate wet spots, and it allowed you to avoid soiling any more of your good panties than you did already by just opting not to wear them.
You glanced around briefly, checking your surroundings, before biting your lip and slipping a hand down the waistband of your pants, past your shaved mound, and sinking a finger deep into your sopping quim.
A pleasured shiver ran up your spine, and you dared to let out a long moan.
It had been three long nights of doing nothing but pounding away at your needy fucking cunt in every single way you had, but it was never enough. Every time you came down from a high, you'd just end up even more horny. Barely able to talk, just a twitching, cumming body.
It was horrible, in a way. You couldn't sleep, you could barely talk to any of the other professors, and worst of all…
You kept thinking about them…
Every time you came, your mind inevitably went back to those two, to Lily and James.
Unwittingly, unknowingly, your hand sped up, adding a finger as you began masturbating right in the middle of Malkin's shop.
You thought back to that night, when you had followed Lily off to that abandoned classroom, and you had knelt in front of the door, watching as your best friend was taken by that utter jackass, James Potter, and his massive cock.
How she had moaned, and his thick pillar had utterly decimated her defenseless body.
Biting your lips, you brought a hand up and began roughly groping a breast.
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You had finally thought you had a hold on it when you went to pick up that first year. He seemed just like any regular student at first, a snot-nosed little Muggle-born, more meat for the slaughter.
But then the portkey happened, and the little brat had pressed his obscene bulge into your ass, right against your cunt.
You shivered, and you felt your core clench at the memory.
The boy… cock… had felt heavenly.
Even with a barrier in between your cunt and his dick, it had felt right in a way that masturbating hadn't.
You added a third finger, but it wasn't enough.
Ever since then, your womb had been throbbing, and your pants were practically flooded with your juices. You'd been forced to cast a silent vanishing charm when he wasn't looking, just so it didn't start leaking out your pant leg. It was like your body was trying to tell you something.
At this point, your legs struggled not to collapse beneath you comepletly, and you had to bite your finger to keep from moaning. Here you were, fingerblasting yourself in the middle of a public shop, and you thought of one of your students and his huge dick.
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What it would feel like if, while you were walking down Diagon, you moved just so that the boy pressed it against your ass once more. What if there were no barrier between the two, and he just slid right in…
Your fingers sped up, and you felt a high approaching.
Unfortunately, good things don't last, and you sensed, rather than heard, the door open.
With a growl of frustration, you pulled your hand out of your pants, wiping it on your jacket, before vanishing the rest.
A rather ugly-looking witch walked in, ringing the bell at the front desk. Madam came bustling out, and you pasted on your best stoic face, despite desperately rubbing your thighs together, trying to get the high you'd just missed through friction alone.
"Get in there and tell your student how handsome he looks, you grump." The other said, swatting at you with a rag.
With an annoyed, frustrated sigh, you stepped into the changing room.
-x-X-x-
SNAPE POV PART 2/2
The boy was standing up on the podium, just like dozens of other students had been. It wouldn't be the first time you would have had to threaten some sniveling child, too scared of needles to execute common sense, to stand still…
Although, as you paced into the room, stopping just inside as the door shut behind you, the boy wore it rather well. Typically, when a student was fitted, they were squirming and whining the entire time, or, in the case of some of your Snakes, petrified by the thought of being in a state of undress around strangers.
In contrast, the Granger boy seemed, at least to some degree, relatively confident, if uncomfortable.
It seemed as though the Madam had yet to finish his fitting, so the young man was locked in a rather uncomfortable-looking position, fidgeting slightly as he stared back.
Well, at least you enjoy the view, you figured, as you leaned back against the wall, admiring the boy behind a mask of stoicism. The heat at your core was, as ever, still burning, and
Looking, as Lily often said during your and her teenage years, was free. And a great act of feminism too! If men could gawk at women, she argued, the same right should be applied to them.
…
At least that was the justification she used before the two of them poked a hole in the boys' Quidditch locker room and spied on them for almost half the year before and after games, before Dumbledore caught you.
You felt your vague enjoyment wither as the memories, thinking of her, brought back other, less joyful nostalgia. You brought to the forefront your Occlumency barriers, pushing away the feelings, leaving only your lust remaining, as you continued staring down the increasingly nervous boy.
He shifted slightly, wincing as he did, stupid boy. It did shift the fabric in such a way to reveal a bit of his torso, though. The boy was built, and you unconsciously licked your lips, wetting them.
"So…" He began, and you couldn't help but feel irritated. Eye candy wasn't supposed to talk.
"Do I? Look handsome that is?" He asked, shifting slightly.
"Sure." Hopefully, he would go back to being quiet now. You wished you had a camera; this could make decent material for later tonight.
The boy sighed, a bit put-out by your less-than-conversational answer. When he did, however, a stronger flinch happened, and suddenly, his robes were falling apart.
You paused, staring, shocked, at the suddenly half-naked boy in front of you. You were vaguely aware that your jaw had fallen open. You had gotten a taste before, but now, with only his underwear on, you had the full course meal.
Well-built, but not to a grotesque amount, clean, and, if the bulge growing in his underwear was correct, well-hung.
Granger blushed, bringing a hand up to the back of his head, stretching slightly, and pulling the thin materials of his briefs taut around the boy's second wand.
"S-sorry, Professor, I don't know what happened."
You became aware of a line of drool running out of your mouth and hurriedly wiped it away. You did your best to use your prodigious experience in mind magics to save the image before responding.
"Apologies are useless, Granger. Stand there and wait, so you don't ruin anything else. You will have to explain to the Madam just why you ruined her hard work."
He reared back slightly, good. You wanted him to fear you… Maybe during class, you could keep him back for a few detentions. Have him scrub the deeper cauldrons, the ones where he would need to bend over to reach the bottom.
"Sorry!" He yelped, reaching down to collect that fabric.
"Did I say move Granger, leave it be!"
He snapped back up, standing ramrod straight, and returned your view unobstructed.
You leaned back again, feeling your core moisten again. You couldn't jill yourself quite yet, but you could enjoy the view.
That's all you could ever do anyway, so it wasn't much different.
-x-X-x-
HERMAN POV
You were still blushing by the time the fitting ended. It was just your rotten luck, it was. Practically naked with a stiffy in front of a professor, the first day you meet them. It sounded like one of the jokes that your friends would tell in the locker room. But instead of a joke that you would pretend to laugh at, it was real.
Thankfully, Professor Snape seemed to be of the most professional sort, and didn't take personal offence to it, beyond understandable irritation at the inconvenience you caused the Madam.
The second half of the fitting seemed to be a bit more… invasive than the first. The older woman, taking the time to do the measurements personally, rather than through the magic tape measure, was the culprit there.
When she had walked in and saw you shirtless, she had paused for a long moment, not saying anything, before giving a long sigh, and getting back to work, this time double-checking all her measurements.
In most cases like this, you might have felt slightly uncomfortable, but thankfully, Professor Snape had decided to keep a close eye on the process. She stood in the same spot throughout the fitting, laser-focused on the two of you. You honestly felt grateful you had such an attentive and safety-focused Professor at the school, despite your rocky start.
By the end, you walked out with a pile of clothing and an offer from the Madam to come back any time and receive a discount if you just "helped her with some minor plumbing issues" she had.
You tried to explain that you weren't a plumber of any sort, but she just giggled, giving Snape a long look, before walking away.
If you had a dirtier mind, you would have thought she was purposefully using innuendo, but there was no way someone would do that in the presence of an educator.
"Next, Granger?" Snape's voice broke you from your thoughts, and you hurriedly pulled your list out of your pocket.
"Well… I was thinking I could get a wand next?" You said, excitement creeping into your voice.
In all honesty, the wand was the item you were looking forward to the second most.
Snape nodded.
"Very well, follow me, please."
With that, the professor swept away, cloak flaring dramatically as she moved. You followed behind, careful not to jostle any of the passerbys as you did. Even with that care, you still received a few dirty looks, although you couldn't quite pinpoint why.
A quick once-over revealed that there were no stains or rips in your jeans or lettermen jacket, and your hair felt like it was still in its original 'do.
You didn't get a chance to ask Snape, as the woman soon swept up to another shop. Frost glass on the storefront read "Ollivander's".
"Is this the place?" You asked.
Snape grunted, more of a sigh, actually.
"Obviously…" She droned, before opening the door, gesturing you inside first.
Entering the store, you were struck, at first, by the smell of must. It was similar to a bookshop, something you were quite familiar with, but something seemed… off.
It reminded you more of your grandmother's house than a bookstore, the type of mustiness that came with the aging of everything, rather than just old pages.
The second thing you were struck by was another person, and you stumbled back slightly, as something small and soft bumped into your chest, letting out a small oof.
You stumbled back slightly, only to impact something soft on your other side as well, as your head connected directly with Snape's bust, and the other woman let out a weird noise at the contact, before pushing you away.
Blinking, you murmured a quiet apology back to the person you bumped into, before turning to the person you bumped into.
.
-------------->
.
The short-haired boy in front of you was blushing slightly, shifting from one leg to another as if nervous, and he refused to meet your eyes, even when you looked at him.
"Sorry for bumping into you, sir…" He said quietly, voice sounding like he was trying to make it deeper than it actually was, and afterwards, he cleared his throat.
You gave your best friendly smile. It wouldn't be the first time you had to deal with a very shy individual, and you reached a hand out in front of you.
"It's not a problem, I should have watched where I was going." Then, figuring this was one of your future classmates, you continued.
"You set for Hogwarts as well?"
At the word Hogwarts, the other seemed to light up, gazing, snapping to you, and a bright smile appeared on his face.
"Yeah! I just learned about magic from Hagrid earlier. It's amazing!" He said, eyes squinting behind half-moon glasses in happiness. In the jubilation, the other boy seemed to forget about whatever voice they were trying to do, and a more natural, much higher-pitched voice came out.
Smiling, you nodded back, even as you considered the other.
You thought they were male initially, but looking a bit closer, you weren't entirely sure anymore.
Well, only one way to test the waters.
"Sorry, I should probably introduce myself. I'm Herman Granger. Could I have the pleasure of having yours, Ms…?"
Something you said seemed to knock the other girl back into her nerves, and she clammed up again, except this time, a furious blush appeared alongside it, and she spoke frantically, tugging at her shirt and looking away.
.
-------------->
.
"A-Actually, I'm a boy. Sorry, it's an easy mistake to make. I'm Harry, Harry Potter." He(?) said quickly.
You squinted at the other, leaning forward somewhat, to inspect the other.
The biology classes you had taken weren't exactly expansive, but from what you could remember of the bone structure of Homo Sapiens, the person in front of you didn't look male…
Also, the hips really didn't lie.
You were resolute after a quick glance at those.
There was no way a boy was rocking hips and thighs like that.
"H-hey, aren't you a little close?" Stuttered the other.
.
--------------->
.
Blinking, you realized that you had gotten nearly face-to-face with the other, who you were now certain was a girl. She seemed to be blushing furiously, and nervous sweat ran down her forehead.
"Sorry." You said, backing off a few steps.
Before you could say anything else, Snape, who had been oddly silent the whole interaction, spoke up, but not at either of you.
"Hagrid, shouldn't you and Mr. Potter be at Gringotts by this point?"
There was a loud boisterous laugh, and a woman so large that you were unsure how you didn't see her when you first walked in spoke up.
.
-------------->
.
"Oh, there's no harm in letting some of the students get to know each other early, yeah?" The other chuckled, her voice deep and rich. She was tall, so much so that she towered over everyone in the room, and even was eye-to-eye with the top shelves beside her.
The giant(ess) turned to you.
"Wotcher, lad, I'm Ruby Hagrid, you can just call me Hagrid. I'll be the groundskeeper at Hogwarts. Little 'Aryy here is going to be a first year just the same." She slapped a colossal hand down on the black haired girl's shoulder, large enough to cover her entire chest, and send the other stumbling.
You smiled up at the other, and if there was a slight nervous edge to interacting with the woman so large that she could quite literally throw you, then no one would notice.
"It's nice to meet you as well, Ms. Hagrid, what-"
"I would appreciate it if you all linger in my shop, that you buy a wand."
Your attention was pulled, as was everyone else's, to the thin old man who had gone forgotten at the front desk. He had wiry white hair and milky blue eyes, and seemed to be giving the lot of you a slightly irritated look.
"I much agree, Mr. Granger, you have already wasted enough time with idle chit chat. Please speak to Mr. Ollivander so we may move along." Snape ground out, although when you glanced back at her, her ire seemed more focused on the black haired girl from earlier than you.
"Yes, Professor." You said quickly and stepped up to the only other male in the room. You could figure out more about your crossdressing classmate later. As you did, you heard Hagrid begin speaking with Snape, much to the others' dismay.
As Hagrid and Snape talked in the background, and Harry stood by, you approached the counter at the front of the shop. The old man, who seemed less irritated now that you were actually participating in his business, rather than just clogging the shop, met you with a cordial look.
"Here to get a wand then, young man?" He asked, putting a box away under the counter as you approached. You nodded, unsure about the procedure. You felt almost disappointed, honestly, when another magical tape measure, just like the one from Madam's, floated out of a drawer and began measuring you.
"What is your name?" The old man asked, even as he began scooting around the room, collecting different boxes from different shelves, still sat in his rolling chair. It was rather comical, the way he used his legs to push off of shelves, in the same way you used to do in the library, when you were twelve.
"Herman Granger, sir." You responded politely.
"And what do you seek, Herman?"
Normally, you take time to make choices.
It was a source of consternation among those who knew you, just how indecisive you could be.
But in this instance, you didn't hesitate.
"Knowledge."
If anything, your genuine answer seemed to cause the old man to wilt.
"You and everyone else, young man. Surely there is something deeper than discovering the wonders of magic and sharing it with the world. Something more that drives you?" He pressed, you raised an eyebrow at him, and he sighed, turning away.
As he did, you felt compelled to open your mouth.
"Sir, may I offer an addendum, for clarity's sake?" There was an affirmative hum, even as Ollivander continued collecting boxes.
"I seek knowledge, yet. But to help spread it…" You paused, considering how you felt about that.
"If anyone else wants to know what I've learnt, they can go figure it out themselves."
Something was growling in your chest now. And for a second, you were sure a specific section of boxes, denoted by the large D labeling the shelves, rattled.
"I want knowledge for the sake of knowledge. Once I have it all…" You thought for a moment before offering your kindest smile, one hiding a sharp grin. Silk over steel, "Then, maybe I'll consider giving some away. Maybe."
Ollivander had turned around during your little speech, giving you a slightly more interested look.
"And if someone tries to take it from you?" He prompted.
You thought for a moment. Considered.
Way back when you were but a wee braces-wearing afro child, there was a girl. She was bigger than you, and popular, and she liked to tug on your hair while laughing.
One day, during recess, you were reading a book that your father had bought you while in Saudi Arabia, a big, leatherbound copy of some old story.
You had loved it, from the feel of the book, to the words inside, to the way your mother would indulge you by reading the book aloud each night.
Then that girl had come over and had poured juice in your hair.
You hadn't much cared about that.
What had caused you to nearly break into tears was the way the purple artificial grape-flavored liquid ran in rivulets down onto the old pages.
That had made you angry.
So you had tackled the girl.
Unfortunately, she was much bigger than you, a grade up, and with a group of friends. But you had tackled her, yelling and crying and biting. You had done your best to demonstrate your anger in the strongest way your child form could muster. It hadn't amounted to much then, beyond a few scratches, and the immediate result was that you had just gotten sent home for the day.
But the next day, the girl and none of her friends bothered you anymore, and until you left that school, they looked at you with caution that hadn't been there before.
You brought yourself out of that memory; you had a question to answer.
"Let them try!" You answered brightly.
Ollivander raised a brow.
"Oh?"
"If you are that desperate to learn, then they deserve it. I'm just there to make sure they put in the effort. Like a teacher!"
Ollivander stared for only a moment more before breaking eye contact.
"Maybe this will be interesting."
Finally done with his selection, he placed the pile of wands on the table.
Ollivander had about six wands laid out in front of him. He handed you the first one, a gnarled, stump of a wand, with an oddly sharp point.
"Give this a wave." He ordered.
You did as instructed, feeling something sluggish move, before there was a dramatic noise, not dissimilar from an elephant, and a shelf rocked back and forth.
The old man frowned before snatching the wand from your grasp and giving you the second.
"This one."
Another wave. This time punctuated by the crash of something in the backroom. Ollivander practically growled.
"Next!"
The next two seemed to do nothing, but with each wave, you couldn't help but notice the way the wind picked up.
The fifth wand felt different than the others, and when you picked it up, the wand crafter paused.
"Maybe…"
You gave the smooth, pale wooden rod a flick. At first, nothing seemed to happen, but only a moment later, a flash of light came from the stick, blinding everyone in the shop temporarily. There was a noise, not unlike something dragging, and when you opened your eyes again, blinking away spots, you couldn't figure out what had happened.
Ollivander seemed much the same, looking around as if trying to find out what had fallen over. Upon finding nothing, he sighed.
"Let's try this next one, before I grab another batch."
He gestured for you to pick up the next wand. You looked down, trying to understand what was niggling you about the situation. The final wand seemed different. You could have sworn that it had been a regular wand, an off white collar with a thick handle.
The one you picked up was an odd, rose pinkish color, heavily flared at the base, and sharp at the tip. It curved slightly and was much lighter than the others. Frankly, it felt more like the horn of some animal than a wooden wand.
As you raised it to give it a wave, Ollivander's eyes finally locked onto the wand that was in your hand, and he opened his mouth, hand raised in a motion to stop.
"Wait, that's-" Before he could finish, though, you had given the wand a flick, and there was an odd feeling in your chest, running from your center to your extremities, making your fingers, toes, and, oddly enough, hair feel warm. There was a pink light shining through the shop, softer this time, and you blinked as rose petals began falling down.
Then, as quickly as it came, it stopped, a single, feminine-sounding giggle sounding, before someone, Harry, let out a loud "EEP".
Everyone turned to the black haired girl, who was fidgeting where she stood, pulling her shirt down slightly.
.
------------------->
.
"What's wrong, 'Arry?" Hargrid asked, leaning towards the smaller girl, who took a measured, careful step back, and tugged her shirt down further.
"Nothing!" She squeaked, blush intensifying, practically stretching her shirt at this point.
"You sure? You look pretty red?" The taller woman pressed.
Harry nodded fervently, not once taking her hands off her shirt. Each of her steps was small, and she didn't raise her legs at all.
Feeling somewhat curious yourself, you stepped forward.
You took a few long steps, crossing the distance between you and the other quickly. The wand, which still rested in your hand comfortably, was vibrating with each step.
It reminded you, in a way, of laughter.
Harry backed up a few steps as you approached, but you didn't let that stop you from stepping up and laying the back of your hand against her red face. She stiffened considerably, but her hands never let go of the hem of her shirt as you checked her temperature.
"Hmm, you feel a bit warm, Harry." You said, removing your hand to properly look her in the eyes.
.
---------------->
.
Ah.
You blinked again, before blushing yourself, and looking away from the clear evidence that the other was, in fact, a girl.
Mind beginning to whirl, you looked down, causing the girl to stiffen, and for her to pull the black shirt down even further.
"Did…" You began out loud, before being hit by common sense, "did your shorts disappear?" You asked.
Harry stiffened before giving a single, stiff nod. Face entirely red.
"Underwear as well." She nodded again.
"Ah."
You looked down at the wand in your hands, only interrupted when the creaky voice of Ollivander spoke up.
"That damn wand…"
You looked over at the old man, who was glaring hatefully at the focus in your hand.
"I never thought I would get a use for that damned thing. Take it, free of charge, but please, never bring it back into my shop again once you leave."
You looked at the soft pink length. At first, you thought it was wood, but upon closer inspection, it might be more similar to ivory.
"Why?" You asked the most standard question.
Ollivander grunted, then spat disdainfully onto the floor, in a frankly kind of gross gesture of disgust.
"I made that wand in my younger days, when I still dared to experiment with items outside of the big three. Horn of Succubi, freely given, the fertilized egg of an Acromantula, frozen in amber, for the core, ten inches, curved."
The wand, almost like it knew it was being mentioned, warmed.
"Ever since I made that blasted wand, it's caused nothing but trouble for me and my relationships. Take it with you when you leave. I'm glad it finally found a home." Ollivander, in a move that seemed at odds with the persona he wore at first, threw his hands up and stalked into the backroom, apparently done with today.
You glanced at your new wand, and that same sense of laughter was heard. You looked back at Harry, who was still squirming in the corner, looking petrified.
You considered, for a moment.
If one wave had taken it away, perhaps another would bring it back.
Without properly considering the possible consequences, you brought the wand back up again and gave it a wave.
The giggling grew louder, and there was another flash of pinkish light, this time punctuated by Hagrid and Snape squeaking alongside Harry.
Your first sight was Harry, who had her shorts, but she still seemed to be blushing, and a bit confused by something…
.
----------------->
.
There seemed to be some… other effects. Not that Harry seemed to notice, at least at first, as after patting herself down to make sure she still had her shorts on, she let out a sigh of relief.
You turned towards the two adults in the room, only to find them in a slightly more difficult predicament.
.
------------------>
.
Namely, that all the buttons on her shirt had vanished.
"Darn things, this always happens…"
Hagrid, whose shirt was now mysteriously lacking buttons entirely, was muttering to herself with a good deal of frustration, but was working at her shirt with a familiarity that told you that this had happened before.
As she struggled to squeeze her massive breasts back into their confines and keep them there, as she fished around in a cloak pocket with her other hand, you couldn't help but wonder if the woman had even been wearing a bra to start with.
Snape on the other hand…
.
------------------->
.
The pale woman stood there, looking entirely calm. Your gaze didn't go unnoticed, however, and she turned to you, hands still up and barely covering her breasts. She stood there, stock still for a moment, as you stared. The professor didn't make a single move to turn away or hide herself further than the hands over her breasts, barely covering her nipples.
What you also noticed, from the free look at your professor's upper body, was just how low her leather pants rode.
And how she was almost certainly not wearing any panties.
Your own face flushed even more, but something in the professor's eyes told you looking away would result in something terrible.
A minute passed before a slow smile spread across her face.
"Granger."
You gulped.
"Yes, Professor."
"Detention, for peeping on a staff member."
Your eyes widened, and the moment was broken as you realized that you had just gotten a detention.
"But Professor!-"
"Would you like a full week of it?" She questioned, a mean smile now on her face.
You stiffened.
"No ma'am, sorry ma'am."
Snape nodded.
"Now you two, follow, Hagrid, come. We will go to Madam's to get this fixed."
Harry stepped forward.
"Ah, Professor. What about. You know." Harry didn't seem to know how to word it, but she gestured down towards her shorts.
"I'm suffering from the same-" Snape just gave her that same, mean smile, cutting her off.
"I don't quite know what you mean, Potter. Besides, if there is any wardrobe malfunction, it shouldn't matter to you." She swept forward.
"You are a boy after all, correct?"
Harry blushed, stammering for a moment, before nodding.
"Yes, Professor."
Hagrid, who had been fiddling with a tiny thread and needle, and what looked like several mismatched spare buttons, opened her mouth to intercede, but Snape shot her a sharp look.
"Dumbledore's order, Ruby. Now come." And she swept away, Hagrid giving Harry an apologetic look before following, the two of you moving soon after.
You glanced at Harry, who returned your look with a similar, but even more embarrassing, version. You looked down at your wand, which warmed almost as if proud, before slowly tucking it away.
Before your hand could leave it, though, a flash from your book bag caught your eye. It was a similar pink light.
You glanced over at your fellow student, but she seemed to be engaged in hunching over, trying to look as small as possible.
You opened your bookbag, slowly, only to find a pile of fabric draped over the top of your paperback of the week.
After poking at the swaddle of fabric and prodding at the fabric with two fingers, you pinched and pulled until it came free.
Only to find it to be a frankly massive bra, which you swiftly stuffed back into the book bag.
Careful examination revealed the other pieces to be the same, you having a bra, and two pairs of panties.
Logic told you where they came from, but…
You looked back towards Snape.
Where did Her's go then…
-x-X-x-
A quick trip back to Madame's proved to be the solution; the rather rotund witch waved her wand while snorting softly, buttons coming into being with small popping noises.
Hagrid and Snape appreciatively resecured their shirts, but unfortunately, according to the Madam, she didn't sell under garments, meaning that both of the older women were forced remain braless, and, presumably, from the evidence in your book bag, bottomless as well.
Harry, on the other hand, tried her best not to react as her own situation was ignored, steadfastly holding her own bag over her chest.
The four of you exited the store as one, but that was evidently not meant to stay, as the moment they made it a satisfactory distance away from the store, Snape turned towards Hagrid with a rather ugly sneer.
"I believe that you and Mr. Potter have places to be that are not stalking us." She said, looking up at the much larger woman with astounding courage, given her tone.
And it seemed her evil eye had the desired effect, as Hagrid, who had been rifling through the various pockets of her cloak and chattering to Harry about pets, blushed a bright red as she pulled out a comically small pocket watch to check the time.
"Blimey! We are running late, come on, 'Arry, we gotta get to Gringotts before they close up shop."
The large woman began taking bounding steps away, but before Harry could go to follow, you stepped up beside her.
"Hey! It was nice to meet you. Let's get along, yeah, us Muggle Borns ought to stick together." You said brightly.
"Ah!" Harry blushed, looking to the side as she rubbed her own shoulder, "It was nice to meet you as well, Herman."
You couldn't help but grin. Whatever reason Harry was hiding her gender for, she seemed to be a good sort. Shy, but nice.
Thankfully, you had the time-tested Granger family method of overcoming shyness.
Unprompted hugs, because that's never gone wrong.
You wrapped both of your arms around the smaller girl, practically lifting her off the ground as you did. She let out a soft "Eep" as you did. You could feel two warm spots, topped with a point, press into your chest as you did.
"Take care of yourself, Harry." You said, a bit softer this time. Harry stiffened at first, before relaxing. You felt her arms come around to hug you back. Slowly, almost hesitantly, she rested her head against your shoulder.
"Y-you too, Herman."
Releasing the other, you watched as she stumbled back a few steps, face completely red as she smiled shyly up at you.
.
------------------>
.
The moment was, unfortunately, ruined when Hagrid, who had evidently noticed she wasn't being followed, came back around, practically lifting Harry off the ground as she grabbed the much smaller individual.
"No time for flirtn' 'Arry, we gotta move."
Just as Harry began to stammer our negatives, she was unceremoniously yanked away. You waved as they went, an amused smile on your face.
Once they were out of sight, a hand lay on your own shoulder, and you looked up at the face of your professor.
.
--------------->
.
She didn't look happy.
"Ah, is everything alright, Professor?"
She didn't speak, instead sending a brief sneer in the direction the two went, before turning away.
"We have places to be, Granger, save your useless, childish flirting for a better time, like never."
She sounded angry.
"Did I do something wrong?"
No response came, as your professor continued walking away, forcing you to chase.
Snape didn't seem much for small talk after that, tersely demanding the next item on the list. You didn't even need to check.
You would never forget the name of a bookstore.
Snape, when faced with you looking up at her with all the excitement of a child at the entrance of a theme park, seemed to soften slightly, sighing, before leading the way towards the far end of the alley, where a tall sign stood.
It read, in clear, black lettering, Flourish and Blotts.
You had to restrain yourself from running; it was a close thing.
Normally, you had better self-restraint; it had been over seven years since your parents had to pick you up to remove you from a bookstore physically, but…
Magic books.
Books on Magic. History, culture, fiction, reference!
You had to hold back from squealing as you entered the front doors; the familiar smell of pages and covers hit you. The shop was filled to the brim with people, adults and students alike, milling about the pages, and the front counter was manned by two older witches, looking older than your grandmother, but still moving back and forth, moving books, talking to customers, and waving their wands, at frankly dizzying speeds.
The smile on your face was wide and bright, and Snape gave you an exasperated look at your excitement.
"Leave your bag with me," she nodded towards a bench at the front, "I'll wait here with it while you collect your school books. Come back when you're ready to leave." She gave you a stern look.
"Do not take more than twenty minutes. I have more important things to do than to babysit a child all day."
You nodded enthusiastically.
She sighed.
"Go."
And you were off.
The shelves were tall, and they certainly did not follow the Dewey Decimal system, but you were quite able to figure it out.
School books came first, the thick volumes quickly finding their way into a pile, you reading the first few pages of each one as you went. You couldn't just stop there, though. This was magic after all.
Next came a storybook; cultural reference points were important after all. The Tale of Beedle the Bard seemed to be interesting enough.
Following up came what looked like a history book, combined with mathematics. You recognized the Hieroglyphs printed on the front. Magical Hieroglyphs and Logograms were added to the pile.
You were reaching up to a top shelf when something nibbled lightly and latched onto your hand. It was warm, wet, and you could feel hard objects that felt like teeth brush against your fingers.
Yelping, you pulled it back, only to find the entity didn't let go. Stumbling backwards, you bumped against the other shelf.
Blinking, you looked down to see, hanging from your hand, a book.
A book with fur, teeth, a long tongue that was wrapped around your wrist, and six beady black eyes that blinked back at you.
Unsure how to feel about being attacked by a book of all things, you stood there for a moment, before, blankly, as if in shock, you grabbed the spine of the book, causing it to shiver, before releasing your now saliva-covered hand.
The Monster Book of Monsters.
…
For some reason, the thought of books being alive in the wizarding world didn't fill you with joy.
You put the book in the pile.
You were just about done when, walking by a Best Sellers rack, you spotted something oddly familiar.
Stopping suddenly, you backed up a few steps and blinked.
Break with a Banshee, by Tifa Lockhart.
Wasn't Mum reading that just last week?
Out of curiosity, you added it to the pile.
By the time you got back, Snape was at the front counter, speaking with one of the elderly witches, but your bag was still there.
Sitting down on the bench, you began sorting through the books, feeling your bag to try and identify how much space you had to store them, when you paused.
Your bag felt heavier than before.
Opening the zipper, you found, at the top of the pile, a large tome, only a bit thinner than Magical Hieroglyphs, and having a dark purple cover. The spine was decorated with a gold vine design, and flowing text across the front told you the title.
Kama Sutra, Magical Edition, Unabridged.
No author.
You'd read many books in your life, and you rarely forgot one completely, but the title of this seemed to ring a bell, but you couldn't quite place it.
You flipped the book open.
…
You closed the book.
Your face felt hot, and you looked around to see if anyone had seen the book you were holding. None were looking in your direction, so you slammed the book closed and shoved it back in your bag.
How had this gotten here?
Your gaze drifted towards Snape, and you wondered if you should ask if she had seen whoever had snuck the book in.
A NOTE
Textbooks matter when I start allowing you to take Study actions, as they can improve stats, give skills, and so on.
The Kama Sutra immediately gives you 2 unique skills, but further study can be done to gain more/improve them.
-x-X-x-
Teenage hormones warred with common sense, and you stood stock still as you considered your options.
This was clearly an illicit book that was not meant to be on the premises of this fine, family-friendly area. This was the type of book that, when your mother spotted it at a bookstore, anywhere near the reach of the younger children there, she would speak with the manager and demand they move it to a higher shelf.
But at the same time…
You remembered when your father had the talk with you, and handed you fifty dollars and a magazine, with a whispered plea not to tell your mother.
You wavered, just a bit.
If you just kept the book, it could provide valuable insight into the wizarding world. Psychology, culture, all contained within. There was absolutely no reason why you wanted to keep it.
But…
Your mother would be disappointed in you if you didn't at least check with the adult nearby. These books might have been illegal or something.
You bit your lip, deep in thought, before letting out a sigh.
There was really only one choice.
Taking slow steps, you approached Snape, who had just about finished her conversation with the other witch. Just as your professor was turning around, she spotted you, raising an eyebrow.
"Done already, Granger?" She asked.
"Yes, Professor, I just had a question." You said, dutifully, not stuttering your words.
Made an 'on with it' gesture.
Glancing from left to right, and determining that there wasn't anyone new enough to see, you covertly opened your bag, gesturing to the inside content.
"I found… this… in my bag when I got back. Did you see anyone near it before you left?" You asked, even as your professor leaned forward to see the book. This, unintentionally, let you see that she had, in fact, not buttoned her shirt up completely.
.
------------------->
.
She took a moment, studying the cover, before doing something you hadn't expected.
She reached into the bag, pulled out the book, and opened it.
Right there! In the middle of the store.
Snape flipped through the pages of the magical sex manual as if she were reading a newspaper, eyes never twitching, not a speck of color coming to her pale visage as she steadily flipped through, until the last page, upon which she snapped the book closed.
"What seems to be the problem, Granger?" She asked, slipping the book back into your bag as you gaped at her.
"I-uh, Professor! Did you see the contents of the book?"
Snape stared back evenly.
"I hold no interest in your perversions, Granger; the book already has the tag removed, so it is evident you've already paid for it. Do take care not to remove such material in the presence of children again."
You gaped at her more, but as Snape's gaze only sharpened, you snapped your jaw shut.
It was evident you weren't winning this battle.
The professor, seeing your acquiescence, nodded.
"Now, retrieve your books; your time is up."
Numbly, your book bag feeling one thousand times heavier, you went to the counter.
Your professor thought you were a pervert!?
Nearly on the verge of tears, you clamped down on your feelings. It didn't matter; this could be recovered, you just had to assure her of the mistake… Later, though.
You blushed whenever you thought about taking that book out in public again.
Instead, you pay for your books before leaving the store. Snape gave you an expectant look, and you checked the list; only a few options were left.
One of the last official items on your list was simply hardware. A catch-all term you had put down for everything from Cauldrons to telescopes. Unlike the other items on the list, you weren't entirely sure they would sell all of them at the same shop.
Did wizards group telescopes and cauldrons together? Something to ask a professor later.
Snape, when hearing about the next item on your list, seemed moderately less irritated than usual.
"Finally, we get to something moderately interesting. Come along, Granger, we'll pick up your trunk and telescope first.
And you did. The trunk, you ended up buying at a rather large shop filled with things. The shopkeeper had accosted you the second you entered, with offers of expanding rooms and indoor plumbing, but Snape had cut the man off with a single glare.
You ended up leaving the building with a dark colored trunk, larger than you, and apparently able to fit over three times what it should in its compartments. This was quite a relief to you, as you were able to dump your now very heavy book bag into the thing before Snape floated the entire container up in the air, having it follow behind the two of you at a decent pace.
The next shop you would visit would be the astronomy shop, which, while very interesting, nearly caused you to pass out with how intense the smell of incense and alcohol was. You were also similarly accosted in this shop, but this time by a rather pretty witch, offering to read your future if you were to just "stay a bit and let me read your lines."
Snape pulled you out of that shop rather fast as well, this time with a nice-looking bronze telescope floating behind you.
Finally, it came time for the last items on the list. A cauldron, with some specifications, and a set of dragon-hide gloves.
In rare circumstances, you thought you saw a smile form on the professor's face as she pulled you into the chemical-smelling shop, filled with cauldrons of various sizes, including a solid gold one in the window, the professor scoffed at, alongside a wall full of jars and shelves, holding dozens of different things you didn't recognize.
"Potions, you will find, Granger, can be far more effective than any spell. Only those with a keen mind may master this art." She lectured at you as she checked cauldrons' prices.
You nodded dutifully, a small notebook out as you jotted down her words.
"And choosing the right cauldron is half the challenge." She said, picking one out of the lot. She lifted it before placing it down in front of the two of you. It was actually relatively small, for what you expected from a cauldron, more of a crockpot than anything.
But Snape seemed to find it satisfactory, nodding as she moved it forward.
She turned to you.
"What makes a good cauldron, Granger, is its reactivity, or rather, its lack of. A cauldron should not be affected by the ambient magic, except in very specific cases. A good test is to try a simple levitation charm on it, to see how difficult it is to lift. Go on, give it a try."
You were halfway through pulling out your wand before you froze, the orientation pamphlet coming to mind.
"Ah, Professor, won't I get in trouble. For using magic outside of school, that it?"
Snape waved her hand dismissively.
"Not in the alley, you won't. It's only in the Muggle world that the trace is active. Now, repeat after me. Wingardium Leviosa."
You clutched your rose pink wand before taking a deep breath.
As you withdrew your wand, you couldn't help but feel nervous. You trust Professor Snape, to be honest, you trusted all Professor. But this was the first spell you would ever cast as a real wizard.
"Wingardium Leviosa?" You confirmed.
Snape nodded.
"Swish and flick." She answered.
You nodded back and took a deep breath.
Wingardium Leviosa. Switch and Flick.
Easy enough.
Lifting your wand, you couldn't help but notice how it felt… warm, in your hand. That faint, ever-so-distant sound of laughter was back, but you ignored it.
"Wingardium Leviosa!" you spoke, enunciating the word clearly and loudly. You did the subsequent wand movements, replicating the professors as best you could.
There was an old pulling sensation, as if water was draining out of you from your chest, and then, your wand emanated a soft pink fog.
After a moment, the cauldron shuddered, scraping along the floor this way and that, and you felt only a faint resistance before the entire thing lifted up and into the air.
It floated, unsteadily, only a foot off the ground, before a strange fatigue caused you to drop your arm, letting the entire thing clang noisily down. You didn't notice that, despite the spell ending, that strange pink fog persisted, instead floating off and drifting to the side.
You also didn't notice the sharp intake from your side, or that Snape straightened up.
"Did… Did you see that professor?" You panted out, out of breath more from excitement than exhaustion.
You turned to look at your professor, only to be struck by just how fidgety she seemed.
.
------------------>
.
Only to find Professor Snape, panting, looking completely out of sorts. Her chest was still visible, much to your embarrassed pleasure, but she seemed in total more… flushed. She stood stock still, staring you down.
Occasionally, she would rub her thighs together. When you met her slightly clouded eyes, she licked her lips.