Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/6718336.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Rape/Non-Con, Underage
  Category:
      F/M
  Fandom:
      Harry_Potter_-_J._K._Rowling
  Relationship:
      Severus_Snape/Romilda_Vane
  Character:
      Severus_Snape, Romilda_Vane
  Additional Tags:
      Community:_firewhiskeyfic, Teacher-Student_Relationship, Spanking, non-
      con_due_to_being_drugged, Underage_-_Freeform
  Stats:
      Published: 2014-03-06 Words: 1589
****** A Dose of Her Own Medicine ******
by sdk
Summary
     Romilda gets a dose of her own medicine. Or two.
Notes
     Written while consuming a bottle of wine during Firewhiskey Fic March
     2014. Edited for typos, but otherwise untouched. (I AM SORRY. I AM
     SORRY. I am depraved apparently. )
"Do you know why you've been sent to me?" Professor Snape said to Romilda. He
gave her a thin wicked smile and she shivered. But she was a Gryffindor,
through and through. No greasy-haired nasty hooked-nose professor would scare
her. Not with just a smile, anyway. She shivered because it was cold in the
dungeons and he'd already made her take off her robes and her shoes and socks,
and she sat in a hard wooden chair in just a short skirt and a too-thin button-
up. She'd spelled them both that way, hopeful to get a certain boy's attention.
Of course she'd only gotten her greasy old professor's attention.
"Are you incapable of speech, Ms Vane?" he said nastily.
"No," Romilda said, frowning.
"This is the second time you've been caught attempting to dose a fellow student
with your...special chocolates. Your Head of House doesn't feel she can come up
with a suitable punishment to motivate you to cease your activities. Therefore,
she sent you to me."
Snape smiled again, showing his crooked yellow teeth. He was awfully damned
pleased with himself, Romilda thought, but it wasn't exactly a surprise that
Snape took pleasure in punishing students. This was her very first detention
with him, but what could she make him do? Scrub cauldrons or organize icky
ingredients? He wasn't the Potions professor any longer, but as he'd brought
her to his office in the dungeons, she couldn't think of anything else.
He moved to the side of the desk, revealing a golden rectangular box that sat
at the center. Opening the lid, he offered ti to her.
"Would you like a chocolate before we began?"
Romilda gave him a horrified look.
"Oh do not worry, Ms Vane. These aren't your unique creations. I made these
especially for you."
Still, Romilda shook her head.
"No? Perhaps with something to wash them down with?" He disappeared behind his
desk for a moment and returned with a goblet filled with what looked like milk.
It smelled heavenly. Like a warm summer breeze and freshly cut crash and
cigarette smoke. She was tempted, but she stuck her hands beneath her bottom
and shook her head again.
"You will have one of these, child," Snape said, voice cold. "The milk is dosed
with Veritaserum. You drink it and then you will tell me all of your schemes to
deflower the chosen one." He sneered, but there was a flash of something else
behind his eyes that Romilda couldn't identify. She just knew it wasn't
anything good. "Or take your chances with the chocolate."
"Professor McGonagall will never let you get away with this," Romilda said
bravely—more brave than she actually felt. A slithery laugh emitted from
Snape's lips.
"Why do you think she sent you to me, Ms Vane?" He bent over and ran the tip of
one long finger over her chin. His voice dropped to a shivery whisper. "Time
for a dose of your own medicine, is it not?"
"I'll take the milk!" she said desperately. She stood so fast, she knocked her
chair over, and she darted around him and grabbed the goblet with both hands.
It wasn't ideal, but babbling about spying on the boys shower rooms and
watching Harry wank was better than being dosed with Amortentia-laced
chocolates, likely designed to make her swoon at her nasty professor. Anything
was better than that.
"Drink it all," Snape said. He still sounded pleased with himself even though
she had not chosen the chocolates but there was no time to think about why as
she was gulping the milk down in one long swallow then licking her lips to
catch the last few drops that dribbled free.
Instantly she felt relaxed. She dropped the goblet as her arms fell to her
sides. A warm heat bloomed across her chest and down to her centre. Content,
warm and almost giddy. Professor Snape came into her field of vision and
instantly she snapped to attention. Her whole body tingled.
"How do you feel, Ms Vane?" He voice, silky smooth, slithered down her spine. A
desperate longing suddenly filled her and she clenched her thighs together and
trembled . She couldn't speak. She would terribly embarrass herself if she did.
Professor Snape petted her hair and she leaned into his touch. She'd dreamed of
a certain boy touching her, but how could she have been so foolish? It was
clear she needed a man, if just a simple stroking of her hair and her cheek
made her tremble so.
"You can trust me," Snape said, and she nodded, blinking back the tears that
had suddenly formed in her eyes. What had she been so afraid of? Those nasty
things she had thought about her Professor. She was so ashamed.
"I'm sorry," she stammered. His thumb grazed over the corner of her mouth and
her lips parted seeking his touch, but he withdrew. She whined in frustration.
"Do you wish for me to touch you, Ms Vane?"
"Please, " she said. There was nothing she wanted more.
"Please, what?" he hissed and Romilda shivered everywhere.
"Please, Sir. Please touch me."
He immediately grabbed her breast, thumb seeking out her stiffening nipple
underneath her cotton shirt. She moaned, eyes rolling back in her head. She had
never felt such pleasure. Had never felt a man's hands on her. Certainly
boys—there were a few she'd let feel her up, but it was nothing like Professor
Snape's touch. His caress, she felt it everywhere. She clenched her thighs
together again, desperate for friction.
"Now why did you say you were sorry?" He rolled her nipple between his thumb
and forefinger, the stiff cotton making her skin ache. She wanted to rip off
her shirt so he could touch her everywhere, but she couldn't bring herself to
move. Not unless he told her to.
"Look at me, Romilda," he said, voice suddenly stern. Her eyes snapped to his
and she was lost in those black inky depths. "Tell me your sins."
He withdrew his hand and she cried out feeling suddenly empty. His mouth formed
a stern line and she wanted to cry, to get on her knees and beg for
forgiveness.
"I thought horrible things about you," she whispered. Whimpering. "I didn't
mean them! I must have been hexed to think such awful things."
He frowned and she thought she might die there, right on the spot.
"And were you also hexed to lust after the boy hero?"
"Who?" Romilda blinked. She shook her head. Tears ran down her face anew. "I
never lusted after anyone else. No one but you, sir. Please forgive me."
A slick smile came to his lips and his eyes glittered calming her heaving
breaths.
"I forgive you," he said, and she nearly ran into his arms in happiness, but he
stopped her with a hard grip on her arm. "I think you should be punished, then,
don't you?"
"Yes," she nodded eagerly. She wiped the tears from her eyes. "Anything, sir. I
deserve it."
"Very well," Snape sighed, resigned. He smacked the font of the desk. "Bend
over."
Romilda sniffed and took her position in front of the desk, leaning her weight
on her elbows and arching her back.
"Like this, sir?" she said, looking over her shoulder. She knew he didn't want
to punish her—that he was doing this for her own good, but his crooked smile
soothed her. She'd pleased him!
"Very good. Perhaps you can learn," he said, pushing up her skirt to her waist.
She tucked her face back between her hands and smiled into the desk. That was
until the first harsh smack of her bottom came out of nowhere. The sting jolted
her whole body into the desk and she whimpered loudly.
He pressed his hands against her buttocks, finger dipping beneath the elastic
leg of her knickers for a brief trembling moment, the touch soothing her, but
it was gone in a flash and he smacked her again. And again, and again. They
came more quickly the longer he continued, and the harsh sting of the slap of
his palm never faded. She tried to stifle her cries. She knew she deserved
this, knew her professor gained no pleasure from hurting her, but it had to be
done. So she'd never forget how ungrateful she'd been.
But as the burn intensified with each smack, her skin red and sore, the ache
between her legs flared, the pain giving her desire a sharp edge, and her pure
need only grew.
Suddenly he stopped. She could hear him panting behind her.
"Have you learned you lesson, Ms Vane?" he said. His voice was raw and jagged,
but it still soothed her in a way she couldn't quantify. She nodded between her
hands, sniffing back her tears.
"Yes, sir," she said.
"Very well. You may go."
"Sir?" She straightened quickly and whirled around, not bothering to pull down
her skirt or right her clothes. She knew she likely was a mess, cheeks blotchy
and eyes swollen from her tears. She would be embarrassed, but she'd do
anything to not be sent away, even if it meant she received another spanking.
"Unless...would you like a chocolate now, Romilda?"
"Oh yes, please, Professor." She sighed happily and her professor gave her a
twisted smile when she popped the first delicious chocolate into her mouth.
When he approached her, petting her hair again, fingers grazing her cheek, she
knew: she was the luckiest witch of them all.
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