Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

Warning: Explicit content.

I'm no ninny - I've seen a few cocks in my years.


Cock number one.

Colossal cock.

Viktor Krum. After the Yule Ball, when I'd snuck back down after Ron had nearly ruined my night, I met Viktor outside the front doors. He was red-cheeked and a little sloppy - the punch had been spiked. No sooner than I'd kissed him, the trouser snake was out. It poked me in the stomach, leaving a little wet smear on my peach dress. I looked down. Horrified. Curious. Horrified again. It was a monster - thick veins and dark brown and weeping like he'd already come.

I ran. I was fifteen, and the prominent Bulgarian Seeker's cock was prodding me like a third arm. Yes. I ran.

Snape, because he shows up recurrently during my sexual journey by some perverse fate, met me inside the castle. I was out of my mind with panic about the precum on my dress.

"Miss Granger, detention for breaking curfew." I didn't give a niffler's shit. Quiet Snape. There's dick-juice on me.

"Ewwww!" I squealed.

"Ew?" he said in clipped tones. Disdainful eyebrow raised.

"There is," I said, holding my dress off my skin like it was that flesh-eating acid from space aliens, "a cock outside."

Dirty words in front of my professor - never before in front of anyone but my diary and the experimental privacy of my bed.

"A…" Both eyebrows raised - what perfectly elegant brows.

"Elephantine. Droopy." Sensible phrases abandoned me. I vaguely remember my hands flourishing rude charades. "Leaking!"

He looked at the spot on my dress. How mortifying.

And then Snape was gone, outside, and I was left alone pondering precum's staining power.

Snape came back with a faintly sickened expression.

"I told you," I said to him. Then, having my fill of cock and embarrassment for the night, I retreated up the stairs.

Tried to sleep and every time I closed my eyes, there it was. Viktor Krum's heavy, menacing tool nodding at me. Like saying "Hello, Hermione Granger!"

Needed a distraction.

Pictured Snape's cock instead and found it quite agreeable.


Cock number two.

Surprise cock.

I walked in on Harry while he showered at Grimmauld's Place. Completely unintentional, of course.

He had his fist around it. Pumping. Oh, Merlin. He was facing the water, pulling his cock nearly straight up. If he came then, it'd probably be sprayed back onto his chest... I laughed.

And then realized it was Harry. Ew. Why is it always ew?

I screamed. He screamed - sounded suspiciously like my scream.

My face burned when I ran downstairs and plowed directly into a black wool chest. It didn't budge, but I did. Those stairs really hurt my arse.

Snape, damn him and his unfailing presence in my embarrassment.

"I believe that was Potter's feminine squeal I heard," he drawled.

I nodded. My face, his crotch, were level. Was that a bulge? Suddenly he was David Bowie in Labyrinth - spandex pants, borderline boner and all.

Oh dear goblin nobblies.

I stared too long, straight ahead, at Snape's crotch. It was mesmerizing, like all O's on the NEWTs. Stop staring. Look away from Snape's balls. Away, girl, away!

He left me, disappearing into the kitchen.

He laughed at me.

Damn David Bowie's junk.


Cock number three.

Is-it-in cock.

Ronald Weasley.

Dear Ronald.

Dear rather pink, rather small Ronald.

Of course, he was preferable to Viktor's whale-tool. Good for starters. Perfect for me - I'd never done it before. That statistic didn't seem fair according to the number of cocks I'd seen. Hmm.

Took matters into my own hands, quite literally, on my Prefect night rounds. The intention of doing it on the Potion master's desk was completely premeditated. Snape's knowing laughter had hacked into my heart and carved a grudge, I believe.

"Hermione, are you sure-"

"Shut up, Ron."

I waited.

He grunted.

I tilted my head, my mouth falling open in concentration, and eyes rolling around the ceiling in wonderment.

He thrust.

I said, "Huh." Like someone would say, "Look at that, an antique bathtub!"

"Huh?" Ron panted.

"Is it in?"



I made the awful mistake of leaning my head back over the other side of the desk, pondering just how small Ron was, and there it was. I would know that crotch anywhere.

Infernal Severus Snape and his goblin balls.

"Get off my desk."

He was pissed. Enraged. Whomping-Willow-irate.

Ron scrambled out and left me behind.

"That bastard left me!"

"Merlin's bollocks, witch, fix yourself!"

I straightened my robes and turned. It is the most vivid memory I have of Snape - the turn, the spin of my heels, the shadows on the wall, the blackness in his eyes.

The angry curl of his lip.

The meanness.

Pale ice skin. Tall, dark, terrifying.

Black hair I could grab in sweaty handfuls… pulling… pushing…

I had detention for three months cleaning Magical Creature's pens.

But that was the first time I craved Severus Snape's body in mine.


Cock number four.

Tyrannosaurus cock.

Cormac McLaggen, after Slughorn's party, running at me full speed with his trousers around his knees and his unnaturally large-headed, erect cock swinging in the air.

"Holy shit!" I screamed.

McLaggen was also screaming, quite drunk, and he was a big guy. So his scream sounded like an hungry T-rex, and all I could see was a big-headed cock with long legs beneath it. Hence Tyrannosaurus cock.

"Hermione!" T-rex cock screamed. "You are so hot! Please, Hermione, I need you now!"

"Ahhhhhh!" Admittedly, I was also a bit drunk, so I ran screaming down the hallway. I saw Snape (tall, dark, deliciously terrifying) and threw myself behind him. I fisted the back of his robes and fought to keep him in front of me.

"Miss Granger-"

"It's coming!" I squeaked. Ducked to avoid his grabbing hands. Duck. Dodge.

"What is?" he snarled.

"Tyrannosaurus cock!"

And then, telltale of Jurassic Park, the torches flickered under the impact of heavy footsteps. Snape squinted down the hallway. Raised his wand. I peered under his arm.

"Hermioneeee!" T-rex cock roared. "Pleeease have sex with me!"

"Holy shit!"

My sentiments exactly, Snape.

There was Cormac McLaggen, in full view, still running at full speed with his junk torpedoing through the cold dungeon air.

Snape did quick wrist work (Mm, quick-fingered. Tempting.), and McLaggen's trousers were up again. He walked blank-faced away from us.

"Why," Snape said, "are you always… do you always… What is with you?"

"I!" Just one loud, deliberate word. I stumbled a bit.

"You are drunk." But he was smirking, which is in theory a smile. Snape smiled at me!

I flew over the moon on a broomstick.

Metaphorically. I hate flying.

"Good day, sir." I curtsied - bent my knees even and swept out my robes. Excellent curtsy.



Graduation day - surprisingly boring due to the abundance of chamber choir numbers. Writing on back of ceremony program to pass the time.

Final count:

Number of cocks seen: 4

Number of cocks fucked: 1

(after Ron left me spread-legged on Snape's desk, that'd been the end)

Hm. So the total count adds up to less numbers than the years I've been at Hogwarts. Sad.


If one adds:

Number of minutes spent fantasizing about Snape's cock: Thousands.

Well, that tips the scales immensely.

Someone sits down beside me and straightens his robes - the teachers are taking their seats at the ends of the rows. I hurriedly flip the program and look up to find Snape looking at my lap. My cheeks burn as he reaches over, easy and silent, and takes the program from my hands.

Fuck fuck fuckity fuck!

I steel my gaze toward the platform, where several Ministry officiates are ready to make speeches. Usually I'd pay rapt attention but…

Snape folds the program, slides it into his pocket, and tips his black orbs down at me again.

Then his cream-colored, cool hand slides over mine. His elegant fingers encircle my wrist and he guides my hand to his lap, inside his robes, and into the coarse pubic hair at the bottom of his belly.

Holy frick! I hope my hand isn't too cold or sweaty or-

He senses my nervousness and his fingers help me. He pulls my hand onto his hardening cock and his digits manipulate mine around his width. I gulp - he fills my entire palm and I can't get my fingertips to touch around him.

And then - slowly and increasingly more confidently - I discover him. I can feel this: a few thick veins along his length, the heated blood pumping beneath, an appropriately sized head on which sat a few beads of precum, and the marble texture - hard and smooth.

He grunts quietly as I begin to pump him. I look to his face, to see if there's any reaction, but he doesn't give anything away.

"Look straight," he only says. I squeeze a little harder, letting him know I don't like orders, but he likes this. His cock twitches. I jerk him harder, exploring what pleases him, what makes him grunt.

My hand wanders down, curious now about Snape's other bits. He sits straighter when I cup his balls and finger the stretch of skin between them and his anus. Snape hisses out a breath, but I remain looking resolutely at the platform, where Hornby Jerkins is giving his speech. My forearm is beginning to get tired now.

I swirl his damp head in my palm, massage my thumb down the underside of his cock, and pull back up in one firm pump.

Snape's hand grips my arm - it hurts - and I look over to see him grimace and lips part. I made him come. I made Professor Snape come. I grin madly and pull my sticky hand back into my lap, cleansing it fast with a charm.

Just then, Dumbledore dismisses the ceremony.

"Punctual as usual, Miss Granger," Snape mutters. He is not smiling, smirking, or twitching his lips in any sort of pleasing manner. Without another word, Snape billows away from me.

Fuck all, I've gone and done it wrong. Stupid me. Stupid, ridiculous me.

I may actually cry.

Before I do, without collecting my diploma, I run back to the castle in all of its glory of safe haven. Someone jerks me roughly behind a hedge.


"Rape!" Summer self-defense classes kick in.

"Shut it, witch," Snape hisses.

"Oh. It's you."

"Are you crying?"

"You are very nosey," I say. "Kindly fuck off."

"Indeed. You're upset with me."

"I will break your goblin balls if you touch me again."

"What?" he says - his eyebrows go different directions. "As I remember, you fantasized about my cock, Miss Granger, not me."

Never mind, perhaps I will get my diploma first. I turn, take a step, and-

"I fantasize about you, Miss Granger," he says. His words are gravelly. I stop. "For several years, I've thought about your unruly hair, your comical behavior, your dirty little mouth, your expressive eyes… your quim."

His confessions shake my core. Snape steps so close, I can feel his breath going in, coming out of his chest.

"And I fantasize about what you want, Miss Granger. I see you in sweaty sheets, writhing and coming on my hand. I see you bound spread-legged on a wooden table, striped red under my paddling. I see you bouncing on my cock, your delicious lips screaming your dirtiness and clutching handfuls of my hair… What do you want, witch?"

Is this real? The ground spins beneath me, and my panties are drenched.

"I offer you it all," Snape murmurs into my hair. My chest heaves a searing breath.

"I want a man," I say. "I want everything you can give me. I want you more than my diploma, Severus Snape."

These words, this confession, feels more wonderful and warmer than any Christmas Eve - any friendship - anything at all.

"Your family is expecting you," Snape says. His hands are rubbing and exploring my sides. He bites my earlobe gently. "And then I expect you."

I turn to him, and I know my face is all smiles and nervousness. How do I leave him for now?

Whatever you do, Hermione Granger, don't curtsy again.

"Do you understand my meaning, Hermione?" Snape purrs. He's staring at my mouth.

I curtsy.

Damn it.

Just a fun one-shot idea I had. I hope you enjoyed it and I really hope you'll review, please. :)

Thanks for reading!