Warning, Hermione Granger gets spanked.
I haven't uploaded anything, so I thought I'd share this.
Two short stories for the price of one.
I can't seem to upload the old files I used to, so here it is:
Six of the Best Instructors for Hermione Granger
“Prof. Quirrell, may I borrow Wood for a moment?” asked Prof. McGonagall.
Wood? What was Wood? Was Wood a cane Prof. McGonagall was going to use on Hermione?
“Ms. Granger, going after that mountain troll was an extremely foolish thing, indeed. You could have been killed. I must impress upon you the seriousness of what you have done. You must be spanked.”
Terrified, Hermione hid her hands behind her back, shielding her backside, pleading for mercy, “Please! I won’t do it again! Please don’t spank me, Professor!”
“In fact, you should be spanked immediately, so that you’ll remember it clearly!” McGonagall led Hermione over to one of the few toilets the troll had not wrecked. McGonagall seated herself down on the toilet, and forcefully ordered Hermione to bend over her lap.
Ron and Harry turned to leave, but McGonagall stopped them. “No, you two stay and watch. I want you to see this. That will be your punishment.”
McGonagall produced her wand from her robe. “Now, Ms. Granger, I cannot believe that you, of all the students, would be the first one I would have to chastise this year. I am going to use my wand to punish you. If you struggle and kick, you may damage my wand, and I will have to use other methods to get my point across. If you fight me, the spanking will be much harsher for you, making this more difficult for both of us. I want you to lie quietly across my knee and stay as still as you are able. Will you do that?”
“I w-will t-try P-Professor,” bawled Hermione, tears already staining her eyes.
“Thank you, Miss Granger. It takes maturity to accept your punishment. Do your best not to struggle, and I will go easier on you. Now, assume the position.”
Trembling, Hermione obediently climbed onto McGonagall’s lap. With a wave of her wand, Prof. McGonagall lifted Hermione’s robe and whisked off her skirt. Harry and Ron blushed at the sight of Hermione’s pink, frilly bloomers.
Prof. McGonagall’s wand hovered in the air, waving as if the Prof. was conducting a complex incantation. Harry did not know what kind of wood it was made of, but it looked just as painful as any birch switch. “Five strokes, Miss Granger.”
Colorful sparks shot out of the end of wand, the Professor’s hand shot down, and with a noise like a fire cracker, the same sparks flashed on the end of Hermione. It sounded like a sound blow, but Harry realized that the Professor’s wand had not even touched Hermione’s hiney. Apparently, it was some sort of stinging hex! The colorful stars danced and flickered away, with a snap, crackle, pop! Hermione was still wincing, but she wasn’t going to break down that easily.
McGonagall raised her wand again, but this time she actually brought it squarely down on Hermione’s fanny. The stroke would have smarted quite a bit all by itself, though Prof. McGonnagal continued applying the stinging hex which each motion of her arm. The Professor began paddling Hermione in earnest, now. With a swish and a flick, the wood smacked against the first-year’s rear end.
Hermione couldn’t help squirming a little. Each lick of the wand felt like a good spanking all by itself. She was lucky her parents were Muggles, and couldn’t use magic to give her a thoroughly uncomfortable seat. With a yelp, Hermione kicked slightly when she felt the fifth and final spank.
McGonagall, deciding that this counted as struggling, caught Hermione by surprise with a sixth stinging smack. Hermione wailed and held her bottom, in a futile effort to rub the sting from her derričre.
“That was just a warm-up, Miss Granger. Once Prof. Quirrell fetches Wood for me, I am taking you to my office for a proper caning.”
“Prof. Please, give Hermione a break,” pleaded Ron.
“Careful Mr. Weasley. Perhaps awarding five points to Gryphindor wasn’t so wise after all!” McGonagall lifted the wailing girl from her lap and spoke to her face-to-face. “Miss Granger, you and I are going to sit down and write an Owl straight to your parents.”
Sniffing, Hermione whimpered, “Are – are you going to expel me?”
“We will discuss that later, Miss Granger. You put your own life in danger today due to your misbehavior. Your parents should be informed immediately as to what has happened. They may want you back at home after this incident.”
“Please don’t send me away! I want to be a witch more than anything in the world! Spank me instead. Here!” Hermione practically dived across Prof. McGonagall’s lap.
“Hold it Miss Granger. You’re nor going to be expelled. But I am going to send word to your parents.”
“In that case, you can spank me Professor. So long as I can stay here, you can spank me just as hard as you like. I know I deserve it.”
“Prof. McGonagall,” said Quirrell. “I have left Wood in your private office.”
“Thank you Professor Quirrell.” Once again, McGonagall stood Hermione up in front of her. “Miss Granger, are you worried your parents will send for you to return home if I write them? Or are you just afraid of being punished?”
“Oh, don’t worry, Prof. They will spank me. They’ll give me the spanking of my life, and they won’t spank me on the pants.”
“No need to go into detail, Miss Granger. Professor Quirrell, thank you, but I don’t think I’ll be needing Wood today.”
* * *
The three first-years walked together to the Gryffindor common room.
“Bright pink, with all six red marks clearly visible. Those won’t fade for days,” groaned Hermione.
“That evil old bat!” roared Ron. “We’ll get back at her, Hermione, don’t you worry.”
Harry suspected that Ron was trying to make up for what he had said earlier.
“No, I got exactly what I deserved. McGonagall did what she had to do, and she wasn’t cruel or mean about it.”
“But you didn’t deserve that,” said Harry.
“Well, if it wasn’t for you two, that troll would have killed me. A whipping is nothing compared to that.”
“Yeah, I guess you’re right about that,” said Ron smugly.
“Ron, if it hadn’t been for us, Hermione wouldn’t have been sitting alone in that bathroom, crying. We were that ones that McGonagall should have - ” pointed out Harry, when something caught his eye.
“Well, I forgive you both,” said Hermione. “After you two were so brave, the least I could do was take a licking for you.”
Harry saw McGonagall lingering in the shadows behind them, listening to every word. The gig was up. Hermione had willingly accepted a spanking for nothing now. But McGonagall only smiled, and disappeared.
Completely clueless, Ron and Hermione walked on ahead of him, and Harry had to catch up.
From then on, Harry, Ron and Hermione were friends.
Later next year, when Harry got his stolen letters back from Dobby the house elf, the very first letter written to him by Hermione took him by surprise:
You won’t believe what happened the first day I got back. You remember how McGonagall wrote a letter home to my parents after the incident with the troll?
Well, I had plum forgotten it, so you can imagine my surprise when, just as I’ve gotten home and am so pleased to see my mom and dad again after a whole year apart from them at Hogwarts, no sooner do they finish giving me hugs and kisses then they remind me that I had a spanking coming.
Last year, whenever I missed my parents and wanted to see them, I remembered that they had promised to spank my tail sore the minute they got their hands on me, but I had hoped after all that time they had forgotten. Well, that will teach me never to try to sneak anything past my parents (they’re both dentists, you know). Both of them took turns, and sure enough it was the spanking of my life. My tush was bright red all over, and as I’m writing this, you can bet I’m standing.
You’re probably wondering why I bother to mention this embarrassing episode. Well, it’s funny, but it reminded me of how you, Ron and I first became friends. I’ve never regretted taking that punishment for you two. Today, I had to do it again, and it’s worth it to have you as a friend. Funny that such a lasting friendship would start with a spanking!
Can’t wait til start of next term,
Harry thought back to that day. Whenever Hermione ever got on his nerves about schoolwork, or whenever she was being a bit of a know-it-all, Harry would remember her lying across McGonagall’s lap, taking the punishment he deserved.
A Trip to the Dentists’
Waving goodbye to Harry and Ron, Hermione practically ran to her parent’s arms from platform nine-and-three-quarters. “Mum! Dad!” she cried. “It’s been such a long year!” Her fourth year at Hogwarts was over. Lord Voldermort was back, and Dumbledore had warned Hermione and Ron not to put any sensitive information into any letters they wrote to Harry. But Hermione had something else to worry about now. When she flashed a smile to her muggle parents, they froze.
“Hermione,” said Mr. Granger.
“What happened to your braces?” asked Mrs. Granger.
Back at home, Hermione must have explained a dozen times.
“Draco Malfoy hit me with a hex! My front teeth kept growing! The braces had to come off!”
“But why are all your teeth perfect now?” they had asked, looking serious.
“Well, I went to the hospital wing and Madame Pomfrey put my teeth back to normal.”
“She didn’t put them back to the way they were before.”
“Well, no. She had to shrink them and I just,” Hermione searched for the right words, “let her carry on a bit.”
“When you knew full well that we had forbidden you to use magic to fix your teeth?”
“I didn’t use magic,” protested Hermione, obstinately.
“Young lady, you know how we feel about magic replacing proper dentistry. Now, do you admit you disobeyed us?”
Hermione sighed. “Yes,” she said, holding her hands on her hips hotly. She made sure her voice sounded defiant, and that her parents knew she didn’t regret a thing.
Mr. and Mrs. Granger exchanged a glance.
“Thank you for telling us the truth, Hermione,” said Mrs. Granger.
“But we don’t appreciate that tone from you, young lady,” warned Mr. Granger. “Are you sorry for what you did?”
“I’m sorry I’ve made you angry about this,” offered Hermione bluntly.
“That’s not a real apology, Hermione,” said Mr. Granger.
“I’m afraid we’re going to have to punish you, dear,” said Mrs. Granger.
Unimpressed, Hermione nodded, waiting for the judgment.
“Go to your room,” said Mr. Granger.
“We’re going to have to spank you,” said Mrs. Granger.
“A spanking?” Hermione repeated the words to herself over and over again as she paced her room, holding her derričre in her hands.
“But I’m too old,” she had protested. The last time she had been spanked, she was eight years old, and in Muggle grade school. She had gotten an A- on an important test because she hadn’t studied at all. First, Mr. Granger took her over his knee and spanked her 10 times, hard. Then, he left the room. A few minutes later, Mrs. Granger came in and gave Hermione her second spanking with a switch cut from the tree in the back yard. 10 times, Mrs. Granger slashed the stick across Hermione’s knickers. Though she had been quite impish, Hermione had always been a well-behaved child who rarely needed to be spanked; even a couple smacks for misbehaving was rare. But on the even rarer occasions when she did something really bad, her punishment was always the same. There had been the time she had run out into the road. A car had almost hit her, but something lifted her into the air and out of harm’s way at the last moment. Hermione realized later that it was because she was a witch, but her magic didn’t do anything to save her from getting spanked by both her parents.
Sometimes, her dad went first, sometimes her mom. They would both discuss the severity of her punishment while she waited nervously in her room. Then both of them would give her the exact number of smacks. She didn’t know which was worse: Mr. Granger could hit harder than his wife, but Mrs. Granger didn’t hesitate to spank her daughter on the knickers and often would use an implement: a hairbrush, a slipper, a wooden spoon, a ping-pong paddle, or a real paddle. (One of them was named “Chagrin” and had a smiling tooth painted on each side. They had bought the novelty at a dentists’ convention, and Hermione had never told anyone that whenever she faced a boggart, it turned into Chagrin the smiling paddle.) After she had run into the road, Mrs. Granger had used a paddle, and bared her daughter’s behind before spanking her. She might do one or the other if Hermione had done something worse than usual, but that was the only time she had done both. Hermione knew she could expect her dad to spank her harder than usual as well, because the Grangers always discussed it carefully so that both spankings would be about equal. That made the whole ordeal much, much worse. Mr. Granger almost always spanked Hermione when her seat was cushioned by a skirt or jeans. That time, he had spanked Hermione on her pink knickers with her pink hairbrush, which was quite embarrassing.
They weren’t really going to spank her now, were they?
After her third year, she had come dangerously close to getting one. After seeing her dismal grade on her Defense against the Dark Arts exam, her parents had in jest threatened her with a paddling like she got when she was younger. She had protested, arguing that only Harry had done well on that exam, and that she was too old for a spanking! Still laughing, her parents agreed and let her off that time.
If she was too old for a spanking then, why wasn’t she now?
She was ten when she first got her braces. Her parents warned her that she had to be responsible and take proper care of her braces. “If you don’t sick with your braces, you get spanked, little lady.” Four years passed, without much progress from the metal gear to show for it. But as her parents explained, even though they agreed she was getting too old for this punishment, they had to hold her to the promise she had made back then and had keep the promise they had made to her.
A knock at the door! Biting her lip, Hermione clutched her bottom, knowing that the comfortable feeling of a non-spanked butt would soon disappear. Who would it be? Would her Mom spank her on the bare, or would Dad spank her on the knickers, or was she too old for that at least? Would they actually use “Chagrin,” with the smiling, cartoon teeth still painted on the sides, or would they decide her disobedience merited the birch switch, a wooden hairbrush, or a real spanking paddle, a large one with holes to cut down wind resistance?
The door handle turned. If only her parents weren’t muggles. Hermione had the power to shield her rear end, but then that would violate the laws against underage magic. It wasn’t fair, she thought. Kids in wizarding families could get away with it. Then again, if her parents were magical, they would surely recognize a shield charm. No, trying to use magic to fool her parents had gotten her into this fix in the first place. It wouldn’t get her out.
The door creaked open. With her back turned to the door, Hermione didn’t see who it was. She stood up straight, knowing she had to take her punishment like a mature young lady. She knew that whatever she got, she deserved. Her parents were very fair, never cruel or angry when punishing her. Fully prepared for her spanking, Hermione turned around to see what awaited her.