Fic: Yes, Professor (Hermione/McGonagall, NC-17) for the community Author:_geektanic Recipient: The community Title: Yes, Professor Rating: R Pairing(s): Hermione/McGonagall Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters herein are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No copyright infringement is intended. All characters engaging in sexual activity are 16 years or older. Summary: PWP. Minerva and Hermione spend time in the Room of Requirement. Warnings: Cross-gen, slight age play. Word Count: 1347 Author's Notes: This is my first thing remotely like this...hope you like it!
Hermione entered the classroom, the heels of her Mary Janes making little tapping sounds as she entered. The Mary Janes were for Minerva, as she could not remember a time she had voluntarily worn them, especially during her school years. Her skirt brushed modestly against her knees – Minerva appreciated the realism; it made the play all the more fun. As such, her tie was properly straightened, and she wore her actual old Gryffindor jumper over a cream blouse, the cuff of which were buttoned and the collar of which was neat and standing.
"Miss Granger," Minerva began reprovingly, in a manner she had grown accustomed to over the years, "You are late. I don't suppose it is too much to ask that you show up to class on time, is it?" She saw Hermione's eyes widen innocently, and her lips opened, signaling she was going to protest, as she usually did. "No excuses, Miss Granger. Ten points from Gryffindor, and I will see you after class for detention."
"Yes, Professor," Hermione replied, biting the corner of her lush, mauve lower lip as she lowered herself into her seat. The Room of Requirement had proven to be perfect for their little games; sometimes, dating a professor had its perks. She was only three years out of Hogwarts, anyway, and the fantasies she had about her Transfiguration teacher were still fresh in her mind. Minerva wrote on the board, intoning about the mechanics of Animagic, the art of becoming an Animagus. It was a lesson she recalled easily from her seventh year, when she had actually studied to be an Animagus. She scribbled notes anyway. As mentioned previously, they did love their realism. She underlined a few choice words, looking up.
"Would anyone like to tell me the most common Animagus forms?" Minerva looked down over her glasses at the imaginary crowd of students, before turning to the eager girl before her, whose hand was raised wildly, as if to exclaim, "Pick me!" She smiled ever so faintly. "Miss Granger," she called, taking a few steps in her direction, the chalk on the chalkboard continuing to make concise, bulleted points.
"The most common forms are the rabbit, the sheep, the owl and the domesticated cat and dog." Hermione let one of her long, wild, honey brown curls wrap between her forefinger and thumb idly. "The most uncommon," she added helpfully, looking for signs of disapproval in Professor McGonagall's eyes, "are the phoenix, given its magical nature, the Komodo dragon, and the tarantula."
"Thank you, Miss Granger, though if I want additional information, I shall ask." Minerva's fingers grazed Hermione's, as she hovered near her desk. Hermione could feel a deep buzzing feeling in her chest; it was a building excitement. Minerva, however, left it at that and returned to her position between her own desk and the chalkboard. The moments passed by in a haze for both of them: Hermione using all of her willpower not to write in her desk, and Minerva practically trembling with anticipation as she continues the lesson by rote. Finally, mercifully, Minerva raised her wand and the end of class bell sounded.
Hermione started to rise to her feet, grabbing her books, before Minerva stopped her. "Miss Granger" – she sounded as though she were savouring the taste of the words – "I believe you have an appointment with me." Faltering, Hermione collapsed back into her seat. "Today, I think, you shall write me an essay on the importance of promptness." Minerva considered this punishment. "Yes, I think that will do. Three feet of parchment."
"But, Professor," Hermione protested, her full lips formed into a pout, "That's not fair! It will take me at least two hours to write that, and I've already got hours of homework from my other classes, and besides, it's just busy work! It's not even for a grade!" At the last part, she looked as though she knew she might've gone just a tiny bit too far. Minerva's surprised expression turned to anger and frustration pretty quickly.
"Do you think you are above the rules, Miss Granger? I'm quite certain you've wasted at least two hours of class time this year with your tardiness, and I won't have any more disrespect. Come here, now." Hermione looked stricken. "Now." Without another moment's pause, she rose from her seat and stepped over to her teacher's desk. "I don't like to punish you, you know," Minerva informed her, shaking her head, "but you certainly do not make it easy for me to teach you." Hermione nodded apologetically, still looking a bit frightened in the wake of her teacher's aggression. "Now, Hermione," she said, using the mentoring tone she had used so many times over the years, when she occasionally dropped the formality of surnames, "It's come to this, corporal punishment. You will lie across my lap and take your punishment and then you will return to your dormitory and be a good little girl, won't you?"
Hermione nodded fervently. "I'll be a good little girl, Professor, oh, please don't spank me!" She could feel all the blood rushing from her head to her nether regions at the thought, her legs weakening at the look of authority on her girlfriend's face.
"Lie down now, Hermione; this is for your own good." Minerva's heart was racing, her nipples growing hard under her robes. This would be her favourite part. She had not yet tried this with Hermione, but it was growing more satisfying than anything else they had roleplayed to date. The young girl lowered herself onto her teacher's lap, her soft breasts pressed against the side of one leg and her thighs pressed against the other. Minerva lifted her skirt, taking note of the white cotton panties that lie beneath. She raised her hand, steadied herself, and smacked her girlfriend hard across the bum, three times in succession. To this Hermione whimpered, and Minerva soothed, whispering, "You may sit up now."
Hermione sat, straddled across her lap, looking up at her with wide eyes. Minerva smiled, and the two simultaneously broke character as she leaned forward, brushing her lips against Hermione's neck. "I love you," she whispered, nuzzling her neck unexpectedly. She slid one hand to graze the soft, peachy skin of Hermione's cheek, tilting the girl's chin downward as she captured her lips with her own.
"I love you, too," Hermione returned, breathing into Minerva's lips, as she started to unbutton her blouse. Watching the younger girl undress for her, she felt her pulse start to race, the lump in her throat thicken. She lowered thin lips to a soft, mauve-pink nipple, which already stood proudly erect for her. As her lips closed around it, and her tongue flicked the tip with some familiarity, Hermione did not bother suppress her gasp. Instead, she tossed her head back, arching her back and offering herself to the other woman.
Minerva stroked the cotton fabric between Hermione's legs teasingly, letting Hermione's little gasps draw out, until she started to return the favour, flicking her tongue against the curve of Minerva's earlobe, breathing into her neck. Minerva promptly grabbed Hermione's panties and started sliding them down her legs, reaching back to grab her wand. She whispered spells Hermione had never even heard of, pink light flowing from her wand as strange, electrical feelings coursed through her nether-regions. Her hips jerked involuntarily, her thighs tensing as she started to moan. They were short, loud moans that described a pleasure so intense it borderlined pain.
"Miss Granger," Minerva told her, voice heavy, "Would you like to finish?"
"Yes, Professor," Hermione begged earnestly.
"You know what you have to do," Minerva replied, a sly smile on her face.
"Yes, Professor," Hermione responded, small fingers sliding under Minerva's skirt, sliding down onto her knees.