Being blind and deaf meant that Hermione only realised the potion master had a confederate as she felt another pair of hands on her arse, parting her butt cheeks. The newest intrusion was a long nozzle, the insistent pressure worked this item ever deeper inside her, as the wide base kept her arsehole impressively gaped. Even though Hermione’s groans were muffled, her whimpering increased as the pushing motion to get the anal intruder fully seated in her back passage stopped with a final abrupt shove. This motion was only replaced with some further jostling as a magic hose was connected to the uncomfortably large nozzle. The first spurts of a cool liquid began rush into her tender backdoor. Snape was glad that the muscle relaxant wasn’t assuaging the discomfort of the impromptu cleaning session, only robbed the patients ability to struggle more incessantly. He adjusted the pressure of the flowing liquid, carefully judging the optimum flow by the protests coming from the listlessly writhing body beneath him, he knew as the pressure from the liquid increased that painful cramps were guaranteed to follow.