Hermione found it strange to be moved away from Voldermort’s throne room. She wondered dimly if the restraints were less about preventing escape but more about frustrating her desire to continue to frig herself. A small part of her mourned the loss of her usual proximity to her master. Her chaperone; Dennis Creavy; seemed far more adept at his job transporting her now that he was free of Umbridge’s supervision, it didn’t cross her mind to make an escape attempt, even as she was inexorably lead towards the barn. A sharp turn once they entered the building brought them to a twisted tack room. Lucius Malfoy and Severus Snape loomed large in Hermione’s returning vision, distracting her from the shelves of various tools and implements that would no doubt make her current session unbearable. One Dennis removed the strapping anchoring her to the handcart, Hermione prostrated herself on her knees. The familiar jabbing pain on her g-spot, shook her from her cum-crazed day-dreaming. She had long learned to expect this welcome from Snape she didn’t understand his power over her g-spot, but she could see that any actions performed on his pinky ring would be mirrored in her intimate bundle of nerves. His fingers alternated between strokes and pinches that kept her attention rapt.