Entry tags:

femslash, fic, lavender/hermione, lavender/snape, smut

Fic: Kissing Hermione Granger, Lavender/Hermione, Lavender/Snape, R/NC-17
Title: Kissing Hermione Granger
Author: foreword
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 4808
Warnings: femslash, dubcon, questionable use of Polyjuice potion (and daydream charms), student/teacher, riding crop, voyeurism, humiliation, some het... feels like there should be other warnings.
Pairing: Lavender/Hermione, Snape/Lavender, Ron/Lavender
Summary: Lavender's fantasies lead her into something completely unexpected.
A/N: Written for hpvalensmut, for iamstillthemoon. Thank you to Atra for helping me get this going. It ended up an entirely different fic than it started, and for that I am grateful. A lot of this was written using a tape recorder. I don't know if anyone will care, but I found it interesting.

---

Lavender knows that she is talking about him too much – to talk about him at all is folly, but she's never been good at keeping secrets. Especially her own.

She can tell it's driving Hermione crazy, though, whenever she happens to catch snippets of her conversations with Parvati. Hermione often rolls her eyes and arranges her books noisily before leaving the dormitory they share, but sometimes she can't. When it's late at night, and Lavender is whispering about dreams to Parvati, hoping for helpful interpretation, Hermione lies stiff in her bed beside them, and Lavender can feel her disappointment and disapproval.

The day that she is given a detention for the first time, Snape glares at her ruined potion with hatred in his eyes. Lavender bites back too-obvious joy, and gives him a sober expression as he watches her. There is something in his gaze, though, something she can't place, but it's gone a moment later. It's so quick that she's sure she imagined it.

"See me after class," he says coolly, and Lavender nods.

---

It's hard to sleep that night. There is muffled sniffling coming from across the room, and it's just loud enough to keep Hermione awake. After another few minutes of sniffling, she sighs, sliding out of bed and padding across the room to Lavender's bed. The curtains are drawn shut, and Hermione pauses just outside.

"Lavender?"

The sniffling cuts off abruptly, and Hermione can make out the muffled noises of shifting covers behind the curtains before Lavender draws one aside, peeking out at Hermione with puffy eyes.

"Are you okay?"

Lavender's lower lip wobbles in a way that makes Hermione think she'll burst into tears again at any given moment, and Hermione frowns, hoping she won't.

"Want some company?"

Lavender nods weakly and Hermione draws the curtains aside, climbing into bed beside her before pulling them shut again. Suddenly, Lavender's looping her arms around her, and Hermione finds herself awkwardly crushed up against the other girl, Lavender's head resting against her chest, sobs wracking her body in a steady rhythm against Hermione's.

Hermione places a hand awkwardly on her back, shifting it soothingly across Lavender's flimsy nightgown and waiting for the tears to subside. Finally, Hermione's pyjama top is soaked through and Lavender lifts her head, pulling slowly away to rub at her eyes with her fist.

"What happened?" Hermione asks gently, and Lavender nearly tumbles into sobbing all over again. It occurs to Hermione that she hasn't seen the other girl all afternoon, not since…

Not since Potions.

A chill sweeps through Hermione, but no, it can't be anything like that. Professor Snape is awful, but he's not a monster, no matter what Ron and Harry might think. But Lavender's eyes are red from crying, and her lips are swollen, and if it wasn't so dark in here, Hermione would swear that she could make out red marks against the pale skin on the girl's upper arms, that they weren't just a trick of the dark.

She swallows.

"Lavender, is this something… Did Professor Snape—"

Lavender winces at the name, squeezing her eyes shut and Hermione can tell that the sobbing will start again soon. Lavender doesn't seem to be able to talk, and Hermione thinks this might be the most important thing she's ever needed to say.

"Hang on," she tells her, and she's already slip-sliding across the wooden floor in her stockinged feet as she runs to fetch her wand from her bedside table. She's rushing back to Lavender's side before she looses her nerve, and there is a definite note of fear in her eyes as Hermione returns, wand in hand.

"I'm going to do a spell, okay?" Lavender swallows, looking down at the mattress as she tries to compose herself.

"Like… like for memory?" she asks quietly, and Hermione cringes at the hopeful note in her voice.

"Sort of," she answers, fingering her wand nervously. "I need to… you need for someone else to know—"

Lavender starts at this, reeling as she tries to push herself away from Hermione. "No, no, I don't want anyone else to know. It's so embarrassing."

Hermione nods, still not letting go of her wand. "I know, it's okay. I just thought… Maybe it would help if I knew what happened. You wouldn't have to tell me, I can just do this spell and then I'll know."

Lavender looks at her dubiously, but she's stopped edging away from her. "Just you?"

Hermione nods carefully. "Just me."

Lavender's cheeks get a bit pink at this, and Hermione decides not to comment on it, instead raising her wand and trying to remember the spell she'd read about earlier that week, the spell that allowed the transfer of memories without the use of a pensieve.

"I just need you to focus on the memory you want me to see, okay?"

Lavender nods, her expression quickly becoming one of intense concentration.

"Memoria!"

A cool feeling washes over her, and then she feels like she is being upended, twisting and turning until she's dizzy, and… she's standing in Professor Snape's classroom, watching everyone file out.

Everyone, that is, except for Lavender Brown.

Lavender is sitting at her table still, calmly gathering her things before standing and tossing her hair over her shoulder. Hermione watches with bated breath as she approaches Professor Snape's desk.

He doesn't look up from his grading for a full minute, and Hermione begins to hate him a little more with each second he makes Lavender wait. Finally, he sets down his quill and stands, still not looking at her as he crosses to the classroom door. He stands, holding the door open for a moment before glaring expectantly at Lavender.

"Coming, Miss Brown, or do you need a formal invitation?"

Hermione sets her jaw and follows Lavender as she scrambles out after him, clutching her books tightly and avoiding eye contact as he leads her into his office. Hermione barely steps in after them before the door slams shut.

"Why have you wanted detention so desperately?" Professor Snape asks snidely as he takes a seat behind his desk. Lavender seems to falter slightly in the face of her embarrassment, but recovers quickly enough, jutting her chin out and meeting his gaze.

"Who says I wanted one?"

It's a weak response, especially when she has so obviously been trying for this very thing the past few weeks of ruined cauldrons and flummoxed potions. Professor Snape watches her coolly, and his eyes seem to sparkle as he crosses his hands, still staring at her.

"I know that you want one. You fantasize that I will take you into the store room, pin you to the shelves, shove up your skirt and fuck you. You hope that I'll flip you over my desk and take you right here, right now, or maybe even while class is still in session. You're already turned on at the very thought of me fucking you in here while your classmates are just beyond that door. You've been squirming through each of my classes for the past two weeks, and I'll bet that right now, your little knickers are soaked through in anticipation."

There is a solid, weighty silence following his accusation, and Hermione is left staring, glancing back and forth between the pair nervously. Lavender's lower lip trembles, but she doesn't look away, still stubbornly meeting his eyes.

"Why don't you find out for yourself?" she says in an undertone.

Hermione's surprise is reflected in Snape's expression for a moment before he stands, shoving his chair back angrily and crossing to her. He doesn't touch her, but he's close enough to. He's probably close enough for her to feel his breath on her neck, but he still doesn't touch her. He stares down at her angrily, and Lavender sways threateningly, but doesn't step back. "Stupid girl," he hisses. "You don't know what you want."

"I do," she says firmly, and for a moment, Hermione expects him to kiss her. He leans forward until his lips are nearly brushing up against hers, Lavender's mouth falling open as she closes her eyes, and then he laughs.

Lavender jumps as if he's struck her, stepping back until there's a foot of space between them, and Snape is still watching her, a smile playing on his lips.

"Go back to your dormitory, Miss Brown. I've endured enough of your idiocy for the day."

The floor feels like it is falling out from under her as Lavender storms out of the office and then Hermione is sitting on Lavender's bed again, meeting a wild-haired, wide-eyed stare.

Hermione is at a loss for things to say, her thoughts fixated on the scene she's just witnessed. "I have to get some sleep," she blurts out, and she tries not to notice the way Lavender's expression falls as she slides off the bed, darting across the room to her own.

She lies awake for hours afterwards, her eyes shut tight and her fingers invariably drawn to her knickers as she imagines the scenarios that Snape suggested -- Lavender shoved up against the shelves of a store room, Lavender pinned to a desk, helpless and squirming...

Only she's not imagining her with Professor Snape; Hermione is picturing Lavender with her.

---

If there is anything that can make an embarrassing memory worse, it's sharing it with another person. Worse than that, Lavender discovers, is having that person studiously avoid you afterwards.

It has been two weeks since Hermione witnessed her most embarrassing memory, and she hasn't spoken to Lavender once.

Lavender has tried. Each night she tries, but Hermione always pretends to be asleep as soon as she's snuck in (late) from the library. Every day in class she tries to slip her notes, but Hermione won't take them. McGonagall will, though, and Lavender is repeatedly grateful for the charm she puts on her Secret Notes Ink.

She finally corners Hermione in the third floor loo one afternoon, and before Hermione can rush out past her, Lavender catches her wrist. Hermione freezes like she has been hexed, and there is a long silence filled with dripping sinks before anyone speaks.

"Why are you avoiding me?" Lavender hears herself ask, though she'd never intended to sound so pathetic.

"I... I'm not," Hermione answers weakly. She's still facing the door, and Lavender hasn't let go of her wrist.

"Yeah, you are. I didn't think it was so bad. Do you think I'm some kind of horrible person now? Do you believe him?"

She can hear her voice getting hysterical, echoing off of the walls of the bathroom, and Hermione finally turns towards her. Her expression is full of surprise and she shakes her head slowly, her mouth forming entire silent sentences before she manages to speak.

"No, that's not it at all. I just... It was... strange, that's all."

Lavender's face must reflect how little this admission helps, because Hermione plunges on --

"It's not like that at all! It's just that I... well, I think about it a lot. What he said. I don't... It's difficult to... I'm not sure that I should..."

And that's when Hermione Granger kisses her, full-on the mouth.

Lavender has never kissed a girl, except for the few times she practised with Parvati, and it was nothing like this.

Hermione's kisses are careful, like there's a right way to kiss and she's trying to learn it, and Lavender can't help but giggle at how different it all is from everyone else she's ever snogged. When she does, Hermione breaks it, stumbling backwards, her eyes full of terror. Lavender means to say something -- anything -- to comfort her, but Hermione is already shoving the door open and rushing away.

Lavender stays for a full minute where Hermione left her, touching her lips curiously with her fingers and trying to understand why she liked kissing Hermione Granger.

---

It was idiotic. Idiotic of her to do something so rash, knowing what the consequences would be -- or at least suspecting what the consequences would be. She supposed it would at least be easier to avoid Lavender now. She didn't think the other girl would come looking for her, and maybe now, finally, Hermione could put to rest the fantasies she'd been imagining since that horrible memory spell.

At the moment, though, she never wanted to leave the safety of the library again.

She has to eventually, though, and Hermione sneaks up to her dorm just after curfew tonight, earning her a reprimanding glare from The Fat Lady. She tiptoes into her dormitory, squinting through the darkness and not daring to try a Lumos until she's reached the safety of her own bed.

When she does, she nearly screams.

Lavender is sitting quietly on Hermione's bed, propped up against her pillows and watching her expectantly, as if Hermione should know what to do next.

"What are you doing here?" Hermione finally whispers, her heart thumping madly in her chest. She's trying not to let on how surprised she is, but her whisper sounds like more of a gasp.

"You kissed me."

"I – what – you-"

"You kissed me, Hermione. In the bathroom… don't you remember?" Lavender's expression is a mixture of confusion and intense focus, like she's still trying to understand what she's doing in Hermione's bed.

"Yes, Lavender, I remember."

"I liked it."

"You… you did?" Hermione can't hide the surprise in her voice, and her heart feels like it has jumped into her throat, all of a sudden.

"Yeah… I thought we could try it again."

The confusion has left her expression now, and the look of concentration is melting into one of Lavender's more flirtatious smiles. Hermione certainly never expected one of them to be directed towards her.

"Oh… you… you did?"

"Yeah… but I thought you could do that spell again first."

Hermione stares in confusion. Lavender lifts a hand, pressing it to Hermione's cheek and eyeing her in the pitying way that Professor Trelawney used to sometimes use on poor Harry.

"I talked to Professor Trelawney," she says quietly, and Hermione blinks in surprise and
momentary horror. "She told me my essence was disturbed, but yours is too. Are you upset about it?"

Hermione hardly expected such strange, Seerish speak, and she stares at Lavender for a moment, at a loss for what she should say.

"No," she says hurriedly, after a beat, and Lavender smiles more genuinely at her, her palm still pressed against Hermione's cheek. She closes her eyes, and then she's brushing her lips against Hermione's. It's the softest Hermione has ever been touched and she almost can't stand it.

Lavender is already pressing against her, and her mouth is opening against Hermione's, warm and wet. They tumble backwards onto the bed, until Lavender is splayed awkwardly across Hermione as they kiss, pressing their tongues together lazily and shifting against each other ever so slightly. Lavender's fingers are creeping down her side now and Hermione worries about where this will take them.

She tries to object, means to break the kiss and ask Lavender what she's doing, but Lavender only presses down harder against her, and forces her hand inside Hermione's pyjama bottoms. She stops there, her fingers just barely brushing against Hermione's knickers, and she starts to worry that she's done something wrong.

"There's something else I want to show you," Lavender whispers against her mouth.

Oh. Hermione isn't sure she wants to see anything else, to be honest. "What… what is it?" she asks, a little breathless.

Lavender pulls away, a blush stealing its way across her face. "I want to show you," she insists, and Hermione nods slowly, dazedly.

"Okay," she says, against her better judgment.

Lavender grins, crossing her legs as she sits up and holding her arms out in a meditative position. Hermione looks at her quizzically, and Lavender laughs.

"Professor Trelawney suggested that I meditate on some of my problems," she explains. "But what do I do if it's not a problem?"

Hermione tries, but she can't possibly understand what she's referring to. "I don't know…"

After a beat, Lavender seems to realize that she's confused her, and she waves her hand, dismissing what she's only just said as if it is nothing. "Okay. Do the spell, I'm ready."

With great trepidation, Hermione lifts her wand. "Memoria," she says quietly, and for a moment she isn't sure she used enough magic to even make the spell work. But then she's twisting, tipping, turning upside down… and now she's standing in Professor Snape's office, once again.

There's a knock on the door at that precise moment, and Snape looks up from his work as Lavender steps into his office. "What can I do for you today, Miss Brown?" he asks with a sneer of contempt.

Lavender doesn't answer. Instead, she crosses to his desk, taking a seat upon it and twisting around to face him. Hermione watches confusion and surprise take hold of Snape's expression as he looks up at her.

"What's the meaning of this, Miss Brown?" he asks coldly.

"You were right," she says. "Everything you said, it was right. Can you read my mind?"

There's a heavy pause.

"Are you asking me to?" he asks quietly, the hint of a pitying smile breaking his usual ugly expression.

"That didn't seem to matter before," Lavender says without missing a beat. "Are you going to?"

There's a pause as he pushes his chair away from his desk and stands, Hermione watching anxiously.

"Miss Brown, it is entirely inappropriate that you would approach me in such a manner." He pauses, his eyes sparkling as he continues. Hermione can tell that he is enjoying himself. "Why don't you attempt to seduce Miss Granger yourself, if that's really what you have in mind?"

Hearing Professor Snape reference her instantly sets her on edge, and Hermione steps cautiously backwards, though she knows he can't see her. He can't possibly see her standing there. All the same, she feels as if he knows, somehow, that she's watching this.

"I'm not going to be your doll, Miss Brown. Polyjuice Potion is not a toy."

Hermione feels as if she's rooted to the spot, staring uncomprehendingly at the pair of them, and wondering what exactly Lavender had intended to do with Snape, polyjuiced as her. Professor Snape is still talking, but it takes her a moment to stop her thoughts from swimming and focus again.

"…do you have any idea what sort of preparation is necessary for Polyjuice Potion? It's not some sort of simple costume one can slip on when the mood strikes."

Unflinchingly, Lavender reaches into her a pocket of her robes and extracts a vial of familiar brown, muddy liquid. It's at this point that Hermione notices the small loop of curly brown hair twisted around her ring finger.

"Oh no," she whispers quietly.

"Here, Professor," Lavender says helpfully, and Snape makes no move to accept the vial or the hair. Instead, he turns, his robes swishing as he strides out of the office, the door slamming behind him and leaving both Hermione and Lavender staring after him, wondering what his return will bring.

He'll be back, Hermione is sure of it.

Lavender hangs awkwardly off of his desk, and Hermione notices the way her fingers sweep across the hair twisted around her finger, like some sort of sick ring. She must have pulled it from Hermione's hairbrush, and Hermione is shaken at the thought.
A moment later, Professor Snape re-enters his office, and everything begins to happen very quickly.

With a swish of his wand, his desk is clear, and he crosses the room without looking at Lavender, pausing just in front of her. He reaches past her, and Hermione thinks he's about to shove her skirt up, but his hand skips past her thigh, and she realizes he is setting down a vial similar to the one Lavender still has clutched in her hand.

"Should I even agree to participate in your little debacle of a fantasy, it would be most idiotic to trust potion brewed by a student as incapable as yourself."

Lavender's lower lip quivers, and Snape snatches the vial from her hand, pocketing it without giving it more than a passing glance. She moves to slip the hair from her fingers but Snape has already lifted the vial to his lips.

"Wait, Professor… Don't you need –"

Professor Snape has already upended the vial, and Hermione watches in horror as her Potions Professor starts to morph into her. She's terrified at the realization that he already possessed potion to become her, but she is currently more preoccupied with the scene before her.

It's entirely bewildering to watch herself, standing in front of Lavender, dressed in too-large robes with an expression that's half-hatred and half-disgust. Snape has raised his wand, and Hermione chokes in surprise as the robes are transfigured into a tight-fitting, uncomfortable-looking silk black corset. Hermione can't stop staring at the way the ribbons twist and tie down the back, the way her breasts look pushed up against the material, and how the garters look, stretched out across her thighs to cling to black silk stockings.

Hermione's gaze slips down the seams of the stockings, taking in how her legs look all dressed in black silk thigh highs, and fascinated at the way her feet look strapped into much too-high heels.

Hermione has never, ever looked like that.

Snape runs his – her – hands across the black silk that's pushing her breasts up, and that's when Lavender drops her hand, tugging her skirt up around her waist. Hermione really can't look away as she brushes her fingers up against her black lace knickers.

She's chewing on her bottom lip, and Hermione watches in fascination as her fingers continue brushing against the lace, dragging across it in an uneven rhythm until her cheeks are flushed and she's letting out little pants of excitement. She's touching herself, right there in front of Snape – in front of Hermione – and it's like nothing Hermione has ever seen.

"Turn over, Miss Brown," Snape says in her voice, and Hermione is shocked out of staring at Lavender by the sudden appearance of a riding crop in Snape's hand, tight against his – her – thigh.

Lavender obeys eagerly, and Hermione stares as she flips around, stretching herself across Professor Snape's desk and pushing her hips up, her arse poking up towards him. There's a sudden, sharp crack of leather meeting skin and Hermione stares as Snape rests the riding crop against Lavender's bared bottom, the skin blooming pink around the black leather. The back of her knickers is surprisingly skimpy, something Hermione is sure can't be comfortable, and she watches as Snape jerks on the skinny lace, pulling it tighter in the crack of Lavender's arse.

She finds herself wondering about that lace as the crop slaps up against Lavender's arse again, wondering what it would feel like to touch, wondering if it's damp, and then thinking about how nice it might feel stretched across her tongue.

The crop twists against Lavender's pink bottom until it's following the thin line of lace, dipping between her legs and pressing up against her as it slides. Lavender squirms and squeaks, and raises herself to her hands and knees as she pushes back against it.

"Do you want to be fucked?" Hermione hears herself ask, and she lets out an involuntary moan as the crop is abruptly moved, slipping out from between Lavender's legs and leaving her twisting against nothing.

"Yes, please," Lavender whispers.

The crop lands with another sharp smack against her arse, and Lavender whimpers. Hermione bites back a moan as she watches herself slide a hand between her own legs. Snape is exploring her cunt, and all Hermione can do is watch.

Something propels her to slip her hand under her skirt all the same, some sick sense of curiosity driving her to find out exactly what Snape is feeling at that precise moment.

Snape waves the riding crop before bringing it down again, and suddenly Lavender's blouse is gone. Hermione's gasp matches Lavender's as she realizes that the crop is Snape's wand.

It's at that precise moment, when Lavender is shifting topless back against a crop that must be buzzing with magic, that Hermione's fingers first brush up against her soaking wet knickers.

"Turn around," she hears herself say, and now Lavender is twisting around on the desk, wincing at the feeling of the hard wood against her sore arse. Hermione can't stop staring at her breasts. She hasn't seen too many other girls naked, except in the showers sometimes, and then it never seems polite to stare. But here, where she is able to gape openly at Lavender's full, round breasts and rosy, hard nipples, she can't look away.

Snape is apparently just as transfixed because he raises the crop again, letting it rest gently against one of her breasts before dipping between them, softly caressing her chest in careful, steady strokes of leather against skin, and Lavender lets her head fall back, and her legs fall open.

The crop dips down over her stomach at this, until it's poking at her skirt, forcing it up but never sliding underneath it, even when Lavender is jutting her hips forward.

"Filthy girl," not-Hermione says, and the crop slaps up lightly against one of Lavender's breasts. It bounces from the contact, and Lavender cries out as it slaps up against her other breast.

Hermione's fingers are tightly curled up against her wet knickers, and she's expecting the crop to slap against Lavender's breasts again, not sure she can handle watching it happen when it does, but Snape has just waved it again, and now Lavender's woollen schoolgirl skirt is missing.

"Spread," she hears herself command, and Lavender widens her legs obediently as the crop dances over her inner thighs. Hermione is surprised that she can spread them so wide, and she can't stop staring at the way the lace looks, shining and wet and unobscured by the skirt.

She watches as she lowers herself to her knees, the heels sticking out awkwardly behind her as she leans forward, using the crop to keep Lavender's legs wide open as she presses her mouth up against the black lace.

After that, her view is obscured by thick, curly brown hair, and in a moment, the floor is falling out from under her again as Lavender comes screaming her name.

---

Ron helps to remind her what it is like to have fun with a boy. She has forgotten, in the dark depression that seems to chase her thoughts of sex following her disastrous attempt to seduce Hermione Granger.

She'd been so angry.

"You violated me."

It had never meant to be like that. Lavender still can't understand why Hermione got so angry. She'd gotten off, too. She'd come back from it dripping wet and seconds from getting off. And afterwards, after Lavender had peeled aside her knickers and shoved her tongue in Hermione's cunt, she'd just left.

Lavender always expected her to come back, to have more fantasies about what she'd witnessed, to snog her in the bathroom when cornered. But when she corners her now, Hermione always shoves her way out of it.

She would never get to explain that she'd made it up, that it was just a fantasy, that she would have never done that to Hermione. But when Hermione left her, she wondered if she would have, if that is what this whole thing was really all about. To Hermione, fantasies were just as dangerous as reality, and Lavender couldn't imagine living life like that.

But Ron is easy and fun, and when she leaves him, she feels content, not confused. She has her fantasies, and she's sure he has his, and it's okay.

He kisses her, and she loses herself in it, forgetting entire chunks of the last year, and Ron never makes her remember. He doesn't know, so he can't force her to talk about it. Instead, she lets this thing they have overwhelm her, because it's easier that way.

Sometimes, though, she'll pull away from his sloppy kisses just in time to see Hermione looking away. Lavender never tells anyone, (would never dare to tell anyone), but it hurts. She has taken the only person Hermione wants now, and it is an act of vengeance.

The only person Lavender wants is her.