Fic: Her Seventh Year (Part 1)
Title: Her Seventh Year
Author: GMTH
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Snape/Hermione
Summary: A series of smutty vignettes showcasing Snape's and Hermione's sexual imaginations. Sex and magic are an unbeatable combination. Pure smut with no redeeming social value whatsoever.
Disclaimer: Everything here belongs to other people, and I'm playing with it without their permission.
Chapter 1: The Waiting Is the Hardest Part
What is she planning? he wondered, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. His dinner sat untouched on the table before him as he pondered what the future might hold. He was long overdue for one of her trademark surprise attacks, and the anticipation both thrilled and unnerved him. A patient man only where the brewing of potions was concerned, Severus Snape was not inclined to be quite so patient when it came to the satisfaction of his physical needs. And as it had been more than two weeks since the last time his most pressing need had been met, he was even further disinclined to wait.
I know she's up to something, he thought, as he gazed around the crowd of students assembled in the Great Hall that night. But what? His eye surreptitiously sought out one student in particular, and he gazed at her longingly from behind the curtain of unruly black hair covering most of his face.
With the passing of her 17th birthday that past September, Hermione Granger had reached the age of majority in the wizarding world, and she and Severus had finally been free to consummate the relationship they had at first tried to deny - and then to hide - since her 5th year. Though an innocent before she met Snape, she had quickly proven herself to be surprisingly inventive in all matters sexual, initiating situations and maneuvering them into positions which made for the most mind-blowing sex Snape had ever had. She was far more aggressive sexually than he would have thought possible, given her straight laced, bookish demeanor in all other aspects of her life. They couldn't get enough of each another, and their sessions were often long and steamy, reducing them both to little more than buzzing, sweating heaps sated to their very cores.
She had been especially busy with schoolwork the past few weeks, and Snape hoped now that the academic pressures which had disrupted their exciting games had passed, they would soon be re-establishing their relationship. At least, that had been her promise the last night they had been together. Pressed up against him in the Restricted Section of the library, she had unbuttoned his shirt to the waist, cupping his balls with one hand while stroking his broad chest with the other. "This will have to be it for a while," she sighed, nipping at his earlobe. "Lots of work coming up, you know."
He nodded wordlessly as her hand contracted over his stiff cock, and she registered the quickening rise and fall of his chest beneath her palm with satisfaction. Pushing her robe aside, he allowed his hand to glide over her breast, focusing his attention on the generous nipple riding high atop it. "I want to fuck you right here," he growled, fantasizing about pushing her against the dusty stacks of books and hiking one of her legs in the air, plunging into her while she wrapped her arms around his neck and held on for the ride.
She laughed huskily. "Didn't you get enough last night?" she asked, chills prickling down her spine as he trailed his lips along her jawline.
"Never," he replied, nuzzling the notch at the base of her neck. "Come back to my chambers with me. Now."
"I can't," she insisted. "I have to go." But she made no move to leave as he pulled her forward by the hips and ground the proof of his need against her. She allowed him to kiss her deeply one last time before pulling back. It took all the self-control she possessed to resist him standing there like that, so delectably sensual with his bare chest covered with a thin film of perspiration, his long hair tousled where her fingers had run through it. His lips looked bruised and swollen from their frantic kisses, and she could only imagine what she must look like herself. "I'll make it up to you," she whispered. "I promise."
And for two weeks, he had not seen her except in the classroom and at meal times. Having her in his dungeon classroom - so close by and yet so far from his reach that she might as well have been in a neighboring galaxy - had been an unbearable stress on him. To her credit, she did nothing overt to tease him during class. She was far too conscientious a student for that, and recognized that distracting him could result in someone getting hurt - or worse. But even without any conscious effort on her part, he found himself unable to concentrate on the tasks at hand, keenly aware of her every move instead. Each time she stirred in her chair, crossing or uncrossing her legs under the table, he imagined he could catch a tantalizing whiff of her musky fragrance. The hard-ons she had induced had forced him to spend most classes ensconced behind his desk rather than prowling around the room as usual, and his frustration at not being able to have her resulted in a veritable avalanche of lost house points.
"Man, what is up with that stupid git lately?" Harry had demanded of Ron and Hermione as they exited class after a particularly vicious display.
Ron's face was flushed bright pink. He had been the unfortunate soul who had suffered the brunt of Snape's anger that afternoon. "Wanker," he muttered. "I wish he would just get himself laid and leave us the fuck alone."
Hermione burst out laughing, unable to stop or explain herself to her friends all the way back up to Gryffindor tower.
****
Hermione had not been in the Great Hall for lunch that afternoon, Snape noticed. Probably in the library again, he thought as he made his way down to the dungeons for his combined Gryffindor/Slytherin class. As was his custom, he waited until all students had taken their seats before slamming the door open and stalking to the front of the room. When he turned to face the class, two things became immediately evident. First, the only students meeting his eye were Slytherins, which was par for the course. All of the Gryffindors were either looking down at their desks or studying points on the wall above his head.
Second, Hermione's seat was empty.
"Where is Miss Granger?" he asked coldly.
No one answered.
"Potter!" he barked. Harry's head snapped up in response. "I asked you a question, and I expect an answer. Where is Miss Granger?"
"In the hospital wing, sir," Harry replied, shifting nervously in his seat. "She's been there since this morning."
"I see," Snape said, sniffing disdainfully, but on the inside he was concerned. I hope she's all right, he thought fervently. It was getting difficult to maintain his façade of contempt for the girl, but he knew he had no other choice. "Open your books to chapter nine and read the information on memory potions, paying particular attention to the section on Jobberknoll feathers," he instructed. There, that ought to take a good half an hour, he mused as the classroom filled with the sound of shuffling pages. He settled down behind his desk and picked up his quill, a stack of year essays in front of him waiting to be marked.
He was halfway through correcting the third of these essays when his mind began to wander, wondering again when he would get another chance to feel Hermione's legs wrapped around his waist. Something brushed against his inner thigh, and he swiped at it absentmindedly, chewing the tip of his quill. A moment later, he felt another, more insistent touch, almost as though someone were kneading the sinew high up on his leg.
Frowning, he reached into his lap. His hand bumped up against something solid, but when he took a quick glance under his desk he saw nothing. He groped the object situated just beyond his knees, his frown deepening into a scowl as he failed to identify it. What the hell is going on? he thought, scooting back his chair a bit to get a closer look at exactly what was under his desk.
He reached forward again, and this time caught hold of something which felt like a piece of cloth, though he still could see nothing. He tugged at it a bit and was surprised when it tugged back. Somebody was there. And then it dawned on him what was happening: someone had secreted themselves under his desk using Potter's Invisibility Cloak. To his knowledge, only three students in the entire school were aware of the Cloak's existence, and two of them were sitting in his class at this very moment, relieved at how peacefully class had progressed thus far. That left only one possibility as to who had set up this pleasant ambush.
He pulled his chair back under his desk, pulse accelerating. Bending his head over the now forgotten essays, he spread his legs apart as far as he could given the confines of the space under his desk. Immediately, he was rewarded with the ghostly feel of her hands working their way up the insides of both thighs. Inexorably, she teased her way toward his tightening crotch, squeezing and pinching the taut muscles as she went. Hot bursts of moist air dancing along the top of his right thigh led him to know she was kissing her way up, as well.
Soon she had reached the sensitive juncture where his legs met and nuzzled it with her face, nipping delicately at the fabric of his trousers. He stiffened in his seat as she jerked the buttons of his fly open. It was extraordinarily erotic to be caressed in this manner by an invisible lover, especially in so forbidden a location. He was thankful his desk completely blocked the class's view of him from about mid-abdomen down as she worked his erection loose and wrapped her small hand around it.
It was getting more and more difficult to maintain his air of academic concentration as she held his thick shaft in one hand and stroked the silky head with the other, running the length of her hand over it from the tips of her fingers to the base of her palm and then back again. Shivering with delight, he sat back in the chair a bit, opening his legs yet wider to her. Surreptitiously, he coiled his hand around Hermione's invisible fingers, silently urging her to pump him in the manner he liked best. It was a delicious feeling, and his breathing became shallow as he struggled to preserve the appearance of a hardworking - if somewhat bored - teacher of young minds.
"Professor?" came a voice from the room in front of him.
Snape's head snapped up at the sound and he scowled angrily in the direction of the speaker. "What is it?" he snarled, his voice rough-edged with lust.
The color drained from Pansy Parkinson's face at his tone, and she swallowed hard before speaking again. "I - I have a question about Veritaserum, sir," she said timidly.
"Quickly, girl," Snape replied. Pansy took the hint and launched into a long, meandering question, speaking rapidly as if trying to finish before she lost her nerve.
Snape did not hear even a single word of her question, however, because Hermione had also taken the hint, and as Pansy began speaking she took his aching erection into her mouth. He gasped as the warm softness moved across his flesh, thick tongue caressing the large vein on the underside. Recovering quickly, he transformed the gasp into a series of loud coughs, unnerving Pansy so badly she stuttered a few times and trailed off in mid-sentence. Snape bowed his head quickly and pinched the bridge of his nose as though incredibly annoyed that she had dared ask such a ridiculous question.
"Can anyone answer Miss Parkinson's question?" he asked irritably, not looking up.
"I can, sir," Draco Malfoy piped, and Snape waved vaguely in his direction, casually dropping one hand into his lap to guide Hermione's movements. The changing pressures, angles and suction she employed astounded him. As Malfoy droned on in his typical haughty manner, Hermione drew her head back until only the sensitive apex of Snape's cock was standing on her tongue. She suckled the tip for a moment, then plunged all the way down the shaft again until her nose was pressed firmly into Snape's abdomen. She repeated the pattern over and over again, bobbing up and down like a well-oiled piston.
Finally he could take it no more. "Enough, Mr. Malfoy!" he shouted, startling everyone in the room. "You have obviously not been paying attention at all in this class," he continued, with utter disregard for the fact that he had not heard a word of Draco's explanation. "I am sick and tired of wasting my time with this class, and I have no desire to continue doing so. Go, all of you. And I want you to prepare an eighteen-inch essay on the various uses of Jobberknoll feathers in memory potions for next class. Now get out."
Somberly, the students got to their feet and shuffled out of the room, the braver ones muttering under their breath. Snape was thrilled to be able to combine his two favorite activities by deducting five points from a Gryffindor student for insolence.
When the last of the students had filed out, he used a locking charm to secure the door behind them. Hermione scrambled out from under the desk, throwing the Invisibility Cloak off her shoulders. She wore only a camisole trimmed in white lace, and Snape was amazed at her daring for walking through the castle like that, Invisibility Cloak or no.
"Did I surprise you?" she asked impishly as the cloak fluttered to the ground around her feet.
He grunted, pulling her into his lap and devouring her mouth in response. She molded her body against his and giggled into the kiss, inordinately pleased with the results of her scheme. She dropped one leg on either side of the chair so she was sitting astride him, her slick cunt just centimeters from his straining prick.
His need for her was intense, and as quickly as his fingers could manage it, he pulled the camisole over her head and flung it away, then bent his head so his tongue could find her nipple. She moaned and arched her back toward his warm mouth, her body on fire now, aching. Squeezing his erection with her thigh muscles, she held his face firmly against her breasts. He pulled back, blowing a stream of cool air on the nipple until it hardened, then encircled it again with lips, rolling the hard flesh between them. She bore down on him harder, rocking back and forth in his lap, her gratification already beginning to build. He repeated the treatment on the other nipple, trying to slow down the pace and make it last, but the feel of her grinding into him was becoming unbearable.
Finally unable to wait any longer, his plunged one hand downward, finding her wetness, pressing harder against her. He carefully ran his index finger between her labia, following the path until it was buried inside her, the heel of his hand flexing against her clit. She leaned back slightly to allow his fingers easier access, moaning as he manipulated her expertly.
With the dual pressure of his fingers deep within her and his mouth tugging at her nipples, her orgasm wasn't long in coming. She peaked high and hard, and he continued tantalizing her in order to make the delightful sensations last as long as possible.
When her orgasm finally faded, she smiled at him and kissed him deeply. "I've missed you, Severus," she murmured.
"And I you," he replied, as she grasped his cock and pulled it upright, then rose on the balls of her feet to position it between her lips. Slowly, she settled down onto his throbbing cock, working it into her body carefully to enhance the pleasure for both of them. Snape pressed down on her hips in an attempt to enter her faster, but she knew from experience she had to go slowly. Inch by inch it disappeared until she felt his balls bouncing against her ass.
The feel of him sliding into her, opening her up, made her gasp and throw her head back. Slowly, she ground her hips against him, reveling in the contorted expression of pleasure that came across his face. She teased him mercilessly, varying the speed with which she moved, slowing down when he seemed ready to climb the peak and speeding up when he calmed a bit. He stopped moving altogether and leaned back, eyes closed to ride the waves of pleasure. After a moment, he placed the fleshy pad of his thumb on her clit and began massaging it, knowing she would not permit his release until she came again.
With a groan, he levered his head forward and caught a nipple in his mouth. He sucked on it hard, dragging his teeth along its sensitive tip. The combination of him filling her, sucking her, touching her, was too much. Her second orgasm burst upon her, filling her whole body, and she grabbed the back of his head, crying out his name. Her body wracked as spasm after spasm hit and he continued stroking and sucking her until she pushed his head and fingers away, raw and pulsating. Then she paused for only a moment before bracing her feet firmly on either side of the chair and riding him like a wild horse, seeking now to give him the release he so richly deserved.
Though she had been tight at first, her juices had spread, easing the path, and she now slid up and down on him easily. Over and over he found himself thrust in and out, the pressure building to the breaking point. He felt his orgasm approach, hot come racing up his shaft, and grabbed her hips in his hands, grinding her into him.
Eyes screwed shut, he rode through his orgasm, stamping his foot against the floor. His throat was raw from the guttural noises he made. When it was over, neither moved, but he could feel their co-mingled juices spreading across his abdomen and upper thighs, the viscous liquids pooling in the space between their bodies. She collapsed against his chest, still gripping him deep within her, and together they waited for their breathing to slow.
"I told you I would make it up to you," she whispered, nestling her head against the curve of his neck.
He enfolded her in his embrace, the pressure in his balls finally relieved. "Oh no," he panted, caressing the soft, bare skin of her shoulder. "You still owe me. One fuck does not make up for two weeks, my dear."
"I was hoping you'd say that..." she sighed.
Chapter 2: Hobson's Choice
It had been a hellish day, and Snape returned to his chambers in a foul mood. Some days there really is no point getting out of bed, he reflected somberly.
There had been not one but two serious accidents in his classroom that day, resulting in injuries requiring five students to log some time in the hospital wing. Then the weekly staff meeting had dragged out interminably while Flitwick prattled on about his research into Forgotten Charms, and on top of that, Albus had assigned Snape the odious duty of acting as temporary Head of Hufflepuff while Sprout was away at an Herbology conference. It was certain to be a dreadful week, as Snape considered most of the Hufflepuffs the worst kind of dullards imaginable. He could only hope that none of them would have the courage to approach him with a problem; if they did, they would find him considerably less willing than Sprout to listen and most definitely less inclined to help.
For the thousandth time he wondered why he bothered staying on at Hogwarts. The work was not particularly rewarding anymore, and he could certainly find success - and maybe even happiness - if he went to work brewing commercial-grade potions for sale to those having neither the time nor the inclination to do it themselves. The idea definitely merited consideration, especially after a day like today.
If only that pesky business with Voldemort wasn't an issue… he thought ruefully. Wishful thinking, Severus old boy. You're not going anywhere until that little matter is cleared up.
The door to his chambers was unwarded when he got there, and he stopped dead in his tracks, alarmed. Was it merely coincidence that he had been thinking about the Dark Lord only moments earlier and now found that his chambers were unguarded? Or had he been so distracted that morning that he had forgotten to set the wards?
It was unlikely. He had never been so careless before.
Which meant someone had been in his quarters while he was gone. Someone who knew his passwords. He frowned, silently drawing his wand, then cautiously pushed the door open.
The room was filled with lit candles, and the sweet smell of strawberries mixed with hints of vanilla assailed his nostrils. What's going on? he wondered, slipping into the room and closing the door behind him.
"Hello, Severus," a sensuous voice cooed. "I was wondering when you'd get back."
Hermione sat up in his bed, the sheet drawn around her so that only her bare shoulders were revealed. Her eyes sparkled in the reflected candlelight.
Snape exhaled in relief. He had been expecting a far less pleasant surprise.
"How did you get in here?" he asked. She had been there before, of course, but never alone like this.
She smiled slyly. "It's a secret," she replied.
"You nearly scared the life out of me," he retorted. "This wasn't a good idea. Don't do it again."
Casually, she allowed the sheet to drop a bit so that one breast was exposed. Her creamy skin glowed in the candlelight, the areola an enticing shadow in the very center. "I'm sorry," she said in a tone of voice that indicated she was not the least bit sorry. "You're right. I'll go."
He crossed the room in three strides and sat beside her on the bed. "Not necessary," he said in a deliberately offhand way. "Since you are here, you might as well stay."
"Well, thank you very much," she said, a hint of sarcasm in her words. She leaned forward to kiss him, outlining his lips with the tip of her tongue before slipping it between his teeth.
It took only moments for him to shuck off his robes and slither into the bed so they were lying belly to belly under the sheet. Her cool body felt deliciously sensual next to his warm skin, and he relaxed into her curves, draping one leg over her hip. She kissed him deeply, pushing her pelvis forward ever so slightly to tantalize the hardened flesh captured between them.
A deep sound of appreciation rumbled through his chest. "This is exactly the type of therapy I need right now," he said, tweaking one of her stiff nipples.
"Had a rough day, did you?" she asked, stroking his upper arm. He nodded, rolling the sensitive bud between his thumb and forefinger. "Then let me help you relax," she said, pushing on his shoulder until he was lying flat on his back.
He settled back into the pillows with a contented sigh as she began kissing her way down the trail of hair on his abdomen. He was soon lost in sensation: the teasing strokes of her fingertips on his inner thigh, the release of gravity's hold on his balls as she cupped them in her palm, the gentle fluttering of her tongue across his glans. Her hair was spread across his chest like a soft blanket, and he unconsciously grabbed a handful of silky strands in each fist, stroking his skin with it as she leaned forward and engulfed him with her mouth.
"Ahhhh, yes…" Snape moaned, pressing his head further into his pillows.
She moved at slowly at first, her mouth closed over him just enough for him to feel its damp heat but not its pressure. Long, languid movements designed to mollify rather than entice. Then she began working her tongue, bathing his shaft from base to tip with wet caresses. He was soon passing the point where her actions went from the merely pleasurable to the seriously arousing, and he arched his pelvis upward in a quest to drive himself into the back of her throat. Usually when he moved thus she responded exactly as he desired, gliding her lips down the length of his erection until he was firmly planted in her mouth. But tonight, she surprised him by releasing him entirely and raising her head, instead.
"Did you remember to set the silencing charm on the door?" she asked.
"What?" he demanded incredulously, craning his head from its cradle of pillows. His breath was coming in short bursts.
"Just checking," she pouted. "I didn't think you'd want anyone to be able to hear us, that's all."
"Yes, I set the damn charm," he said, pressing her back toward his bobbing erection. "Nobody ever comes down here after hours anyway, you know that."
"You're right, of course," she replied, leaning forward to take him in her mouth again. This cut his irritated sigh off in mid-stream, replacing it with a relieved groan.
Using her thumb and forefinger to create a tight ring around the base of his stiff cock, she jerked upwards at the same time that her mouth descended. When her lips and fingers met, she reversed their movements, stimulating his entire length almost simultaneously. It was a glorious combination and he gritted his teeth together as the pressure began building in his balls once more. Damn! Where had she learned to do this?
The prickling began at the base of his spine and was soon spreading through his body like wildfire. He was getting close, so close…. just a few more nods of her head and he would get there…
And then, inexplicably, she pulled back from him a second time. "You know, Harry said the funniest thing at breakfast this morning," she said.
Severus roared his frustration at having the rug snatched out from under him in such an abrupt fashion - again. "For the love of the gods, Hermione!" he raged. "What is the matter with you tonight? Why did you come down here if you can't concentrate on what you're doing?"
She slid her way up his body, each hard nipple tracing a separate path on his chest. Then, curling her fingers into the matted locks at the nape of his neck, she smiled coyly. "I know exactly what I'm doing," she murmured, flicking her tongue against his sensitive earlobe. "I want to hear you beg." She kissed him, nibbling on his lower lip while she worried the smooth head of his cock with her palm.
He allowed the kiss and the teasing. For a moment. Then he pushed her back on the bed and smiled down at her coldly.
"I never beg," he said smoothly. "But it might be interesting to hear you do so."
Grabbing his wand from the bedside table, he pointed it at her and muttered a binding spell. A set of magical ropes shot from the end of the wand, tying Hermione's wrists together tightly and securing them over her head to the metal cross rail. He repeated the spell and two more ropes appeared, cinching her ankles to the posters at the foot of the bed.
"Yes, very interesting indeed…" he mused.
Her self-satisfied expression faded as the ropes stretched her legs apart. "Severus, what are you doing?" she asked nervously as he stood and drew an armchair up beside the bed.
"I think you should call me 'Professor,' Miss Granger," he replied, settling into the chair, "as I am about to teach you a lesson." He extended his wand once again. "Voluptas preoccupo!"
She had only a moment to crank over the meaning of the unfamiliar Latin words in her mind before a pleasant tingling began between her legs. He was not touching her, but the sensations continued, as though Something were gently rolling her clit between Its fingers, experimenting with it to see what brought her pleasure. She closed her eyes and enjoyed the feeling, thinking that if this was his way of teaching her a lesson it wasn't half bad. The feeling built slowly for a while, then faded away.
Moments later it was back, and the pressure built to a slightly higher peak. She moaned and arched her hips upward, seeking out the source of the friction, wanting to grind against it but finding nothing there to press against. Waves of pleasure washed over her, then ebbed once more.
"What did you do to me?" she gasped as the sensations hit her again, harder still. Her nipples were prickling now, too, sending even more shockwaves racing toward her clit.
"An ancient spell, designed to enhance the female sexual response," he replied in his best professorial tone. "Used primarily in the Medieval period, when it was considered shameful for women to enjoy sex and wizards wanted to… loosen them up. Some say it was also used as a form of torture in those days, though how such pleasure could be considered such is a mystery to me."
"I can understand tha - oh!" she cried, as the waves burst upon her once more, forcing a guttural cry from the back of her throat. She writhed against her bonds as the spell pushed her yet higher. It was the most incredible feeling she'd ever had in her life, this total loss of control over her own responses. Yet at the same time it was incredibly frustrating, as it dawned on her that her arousal would continue to build with each wave but she would be unallowed to climax.
Like Sisyphus, the Greek king condemned by Zeus to spend eternity rolling a stone up a hill only to have it roll back down when he reached the top, she was repeatedly lifted to the very precipice of ultimate pleasure and then denied. The waves crashed over her again and again, driving her higher with each reiteration, then dumping her to the ground only long enough for the tingles to fade before beginning anew. Soon, the world was spinning around her, the only fixed point her screaming clit while the rest of her body twitched and contracted around it.
Snape watched in fascination as she bucked and twisted on the bed. There's nothing more erotic than watching a beautiful woman battling to reach release, he thought. The spell would not allow it, of course, and he could keep her in this suspended state for as long as he chose. It was an enticing thought. His cock was hard as a diamond but he refrained from touching it.
"Severus, please…" she panted, her arched back nearly forming an inverted U as yet another spasm of pleasure burst over her, "I…. I won't tease you like that again, I promise!" The wave retreated, leaving her trembling. "Please, make it stop! I'll go mad!"
"How can I be sure you'll keep that promise?" he asked, eyeing the heaving girl with undisguised lust.
"I swear it!" she wailed. "Please, I'm begging you!"
He sighed in mock irritation. "Very well, I supposed you've learned your lesson." He waved his wand carelessly in her direction, saying, "Voluptas compleo!"
And finally, finally she got her reward as a prolonged, intensely powerful orgasm ripped through her. It felt as if every muscle in her body was contracting simultaneously, and she flailed helplessly in its possession. It seemed to last a very long time and her throat was raw from the animalistic sounds she made by the time it finally passed. She fell back into the mattress, slick with sweat and gasping at the relief of being freed from her torture.
But no, what was this? Her eyes flew open as another cascade of pressure built between her legs, pushing her forward over the edge of yet another mind-blowing orgasm. And no sooner had that climax finished than another one began filling her. "No, no," she pleaded as the third one hit, her body twisting in its bonds to escape the invisible force that drove her clit into overdrive. She couldn't decide which was worse, the denial of pleasure or this enforcement of it.
Finally, Snape could stand no more. He approached the screaming girl on the bed and released the binding spell from her legs, leaving her arms tied above her head. "Don't touch me," she implored, "I couldn't bear it now." But he ignored her pleading and, hiking her legs in the air so that her ankles were balanced on his shoulders, he slid his aching erection between her swollen lips. She was so slippery and congested with the juices of desire that he had to push against her with all his might in order to keep her from ejecting him.
The sensation of her muscles contracting in orgasm around his hard shaft were delightful, and he found he didn't even have to move to become highly aroused. Instead, he plowed in to the hilt and let her body do all the work. "Again!" he cried as another of her orgasms clenched around him, squeezing his prick from head to base like a tightly coiled, highly lubricated hand. "Again! Again!"
Her inner muscles finally reached the point where they were overburdened from the constant contractions and could no longer release their grip. Only then did he begin moving his hips, fucking her deliciously tight slit with short, urgent strokes. His groans soon matched hers in intensity and volume as his own climax roared through him, speeding up the length of his cock until he was emptying his juices deep into her body. He closed his eyes and threw his head back, mouth open in ecstasy as she continued pulsing around him, milking him until the last drop of his seed was spilled. He stayed arched against her, grasping her ankles tightly in his fists until the very last of his spasms had passed.
Then grabbing up his wand, he panted, "Voluptas subsisto!"
Hermione was nearly unconscious by then, and only dimly became aware of the fact that the waves of torturous pleasure had finally subsided. Her head lolled against the pillows as Snape eased his cock out of her and released her wrists from their bonds.
He would let her stay for a while to sleep it off, he decided, flopping down on the bed next to her. She was in no condition to walk back to Gryffindor tower now, anyway. And as for him, well, he was finally relaxed. Even the thought of dealing with the Hufflepuffs had lost its sting now that the air was thick with the fragrance of their combined juices. He drew her limp hand to his chest and clasped his fingers between hers, squeezing them tightly.
"Severus…?" she whispered, turning her head slightly in his direction.
"Yes?"
"You're an awful show off, you know that?."
He laughed softly, drawing her hand to his lips for a final kiss.
They slept.
Chapter 3: Between a Rock and Hard Place
Hermione was scraping the last remnants of porridge from the bottom of her bowl when the morning post arrived. As usual, the noise level in the Great Hall increased exponentially when the owls swooped in from overhead, excited voices calling out to one another as care packages from home were ripped open and copies of The Daily Prophet eagerly unrolled to divulge the results of the previous day's professional Quidditch matches. Even the High Table became more animated as the professors hurriedly finished eating in order to enjoy a few moments with their correspondence before the chaos of school day officially began.
A small brown owl clutching an envelope in his beak skidded gracelessly to a stop on the table before Hermione, his outstretched talons sending her empty bowl flying. Folding his wings with a soft ruffle of feathers, he dropped his burden into her outstretched palm, looking very proud of himself. "All right, you," she said, grinning at the little bird as she offered him a bit of toast. "You've only just delivered a letter, don't act as though you defeated You-Know-Who single handedly."
She turned the envelope over as the owl flew off, and recognizing the handwriting, turned in her seat a bit to hide it from Ron and Harry. Not that they would notice anyway, she thought, tuning out her two friends' usual good-natured argument about some Quidditch nonsense or other. Still, if Ron were to catch a glimpse of his own untidy scrawl across the face of the parchment she held in her hand it would be hard to explain.
The note was brief:
Meet me in the sculpture garden at dusk. Don't do anything foolish before I get there.
RW
She glanced up quickly at the High Table and saw Snape looking back at her. Dark eyes glittering, he nodded almost imperceptibly before turning to say something to Professor Sprout. It had been his idea to disguise his infrequent letters to her using a charm that allowed him to write in Ron's handwriting. This simple precaution was designed to save them both a lot of grief should one of his letters be intercepted - no one would think twice about a seemingly innocent letter from one friend to another. She had owled him only once in return, a searingly erotic missive written in Professor McGonagall's looping penmanship and signed "MM." Their session the following evening had been punctuated by Hermione's giggles as Severus insisted on calling her "Minerva" even as he fucked her from behind.
It wasn't that they were particularly worried about how the Hogwarts Powers-That-Be would react to the… nature… of their relationship. After all, she was of age now, and it certainly wasn't the first time a professor had become involved with one of the older students - in fact, Dumbledore himself was the product of a union born of just such a student/teacher relationship. Still, in these uncertain times it was more than usually true that discretion was the better part of valor. Voldemort would certainly not be pleased to learn that one of his Death Eaters was involved with a Muggle-born witch, especially when the Death Eater in question was already near the bottom of his "People I Trust" list.
Don't do anything foolish before I get there. I wonder what that's supposed to mean, she mused. Ah well, it's not important. What was important was the fact that what had originally promised to be just another boring Friday evening with her textbooks was now shaping up into something a great deal more interesting. Already tingling in expectation, she shoved the note into the bottom of her book bag.
"Let's go," she said, nudging Harry. There was a husky undertone to her voice. "Time for class."
*****
The dying sun painted the sky with streaks of red and orange as Hermione slipped out the front doors of the castle and ran lightly across the grass toward the sculpture garden. It was set in a cove at the very edge of the Forbidden Forest, sheltered behind a grove of tall evergreens that effectively blocked it from the view of anyone looking out the castle's eastern windows. Whether the planting of this copse of trees was intentional or not had been the topic of hilarious debate among Hogwarts students for decades, as their strategic placement made the sculpture garden the perfect spot for romantic trysts such as the one Severus had planned for the evening.
It was a Hogwarts legend that more House points - not to mention virginities - had been lost in the two centuries of the sculpture garden's existence than any other location in the school, though in recent years some cynically said that Snape's dungeon classroom was gaining the upper hand as far as lost House points were concerned. (George Weasley had once declared that Snape's classroom was the setting for more lost innocence, as well, wryly commenting that "Snape screws everybody over at one time or another.") Despite the popularity of the garden as a meeting ground, she was unconcerned that they would be interrupted. Witches and wizards do not have to be alone in order to have privacy - a few well-placed charms and they could shag like rabbits in the middle of Piccadilly Circus if they so desired, with passersby none the wiser.
Snape was nowhere in evidence when she arrived, so she decided to wander among the statues to pass the time until he showed up. She followed the white gravel path past the likenesses of dozens of prominent Hogwarts students. The House system ruled even here, with the statues segregated into four sections according to the House affiliation of the person immortalized in stone. She expected he would want to meet her in the Slytherin section, and she headed off down the path in that direction.
An unfamiliar sculpture caught her eye as she wandered past the plaque marking the beginning of the Slytherin icons. Most of the statues in the garden depicted wizened old figures, standing upright with wands pointed skyward, rigid robes falling to their feet in stiff waves. But this statue was altogether different. It was the figure of a young-ish looking man molded from gray stone, reclining on an elegantly carved chaise longue which was raised at the head so his upper body was elevated. His long legs were stretched out in front of him, his hands tucked behind his head with his elbows akimbo and his face turned upwards toward the sky. His features were strong and handsome, the eyes closed and the lips curved in a contented smile. He looked for all the world like a sunbather visiting the beach to catch a few precious rays of the Scottish sun. A sunbather on a nude beach, she amended internally, as this unusual statue was also most definitely unclothed, his genitals modestly covered with a large stone oak leaf.
I wonder who he is, she thought, circling the statue to examine it from all sides. There was no identifying marker on the pedestal, which was also odd. Oh well. Perhaps Severus would know.
And speaking of Severus… where is he? The sun had nearly set by now, and it was unlike him to be late. On impulse, she scrambled up onto the pedestal and sat on the statue's lap, swinging her body around and lying back on the figure's chest to wait and watch the stars come out. The stone beneath her back was still warm from the spring sunshine it had absorbed during the daylight hours.
A cool breeze played over her body, ruffling the hem of her cotton dress. It felt like dozens of invisible little fingers stroking her skin, and her nipples tightened in response. Or was it the thrill of wondering what Severus had in mind that was doing it? They'd never had sex alfresco before, and she knew from experience that when he suggested something new she was in for a wild ride. The mere thought of it caused a rush of wetness between her legs and she wiggled a bit in the statue's lap, fingers moving to brush against her nipples through the thin fabric. She fought the urge to bunch the dress up around her hips and slip her hand past the elastic waistband of her panties, wanting Severus's touch to be the first she felt there this night.
She closed her eyes and thought back over some of their recent escapades as tiny bolts of electric current ran from her breasts to her groin and back again. "God, I hope he gets here soon," she whispered to the night air, clenching her thighs together and pressing her bum against the statue's midsection. Languorously, she reached up over her head and caressed the figure's face, imagining all the while that it was Severus's body she was sprawled upon. She felt her way along the neck to the broad muscular chest, coming to rest on the figure's pebble-sized nipples, teasing them in the way she knew Snape liked best. She could almost hear his hoarse growl as she traced circles around the rocky points with her fingernails.
Suddenly, the monolith beneath her began to move, and she started in surprise. An earthquake! she thought, panic-stricken, trying to sit up. But strong, cold hands caught hold of her wrists, halting her movements and slowly pulling her arms back up over her head. She twisted her head around to see what was going on, who was holding her captive - but there was no one there.
With sudden clarity, she realized two things simultaneously. The first was that the statue's hands were no longer tucked behind its head. Instead, incredibly, the fingers were now wrapped inexorably around her wrists. The fists were not curled tightly enough to hurt, but she knew she would not be able to escape them. It was as though her hands were embedded in two concrete slabs.
And the second thing was that something was rising from between the statue's legs.
The fig leaf that had covered the figure's genitals had disappeared, and she watched in horrified fascination as a granite erection rose in its place. It unfurled slowly, a stone snake making its way toward the moist patch at the juncture of her thighs. Inch by inch it crept toward her, growing impossibly long as it sought its target.
She clamped her legs shut as it advanced, whimpering in the back of her throat. The rocky organ continued to stretch and elongate, forcing its way between her thighs, stopping only when it reached the thin nylon barrier of her knickers. She made a sound of relief somewhere between a gasp and sob when it became clear that it would go no further.
"My, my, my," said a velvety voice. "What have we here?"
"Severus!" she cried as Snape appeared near at her feet. "Thank God you're here! Help me get away from this thing!"
"Now why on earth would I want to do that?" he replied, running his hand up the length of her leg as he came around to her side. "I did warn you not to do anything foolish before I got here," he continued when her mouth dropped open in surprise at his response.
"I had no idea what you meant!" she spluttered. "I certainly never expected anything like this to happen!"
He clucked his tongue. "My dear Miss Granger, you have been attending school here for seven years. Haven't you realized by now that… anything can happen at Hogwarts?" His eyes fell to her chest where the outlines of her straining nipples were clearly visible in the fading light. "And I think that, protests not withstanding, you are enjoying this a great deal."
With that, he bent his head and drew one cloth-covered peak into his mouth, pinching it lightly between his front teeth. She inhaled with a sharp hiss as he suckled, arching upwards to feed more of the sensitive flesh into his mouth, then pressing down again as the long fingers of his left hand worked their way into the crotch of her knickers. "Mmmmm, yes," he murmured against her breast, feeling the damp heat beneath his fingertips. "A great deal indeed."
She could only moan in response as he abruptly slid two fingers into her aching cunt and returned his attention to the swollen bud of nerves he stretched between his lips. A few quick strokes and her hips were wiggling of their own volition.
"Ahh, but we're forgetting our friend here," Snape purred, angling his hand upwards and withdrawing his fingers in a slow, tortuous movement that drew their length along her singing clit. "This poor fellow has been waiting almost a century for an opportunity like this."
With that, he murmured a charm that caused the clothes to melt from both of their bodies. He climbed up onto the statue and straddled its legs. Hooking one arm under each of Hermione's thighs, he drew them apart and raised them up slightly. The stone cock was now in perfect position. Another soft incantation and it began to grow again, lengthening and thickening as it crept forward. Hermione squealed as the cold stone slid home.
Snape growled deep in his throat as she twitched and gasped at the icy touch, unable to tear his eyes away from the sight of her cunt being stretched and fed by the magical appendage. When the statue's cock was seated securely, he bowed his head and began tickling her bloated clit with the tip of his tongue. The taste of her arousal was both sweet and salty, its aroma both subtle and overpowering, and he lapped at her with abandon, her thighs quivering around his ears as he worked. Long minutes passed as he nudged and kissed, flicked and fluttered at the very center of her, sweet torture indeed. She keened when he finally clamped his lips around her aching clit, pinching the oversensitive hood just above his lips between thumb and forefinger.
Unable to contain himself any longer Snape reared back, shouting the charm that would release Hermione from the statue's grip. The statue's hands and cock withdrew immediately and he fell atop her, sliding into fast and hard. Burying his head between her neck and shoulder, he flailed his hips against her, slicing into her balls deep with every thrust. She wrapped her legs around his waist, her arms around his back and held on for dear life, wailing his name as he drove. His orgasm came high and sharp and he threw his head back, eyes closed and teeth bared as he spent himself within her.
She traced the outline of his neck lovingly with her palms, feeling the vibrations of his groans beneath her fingers. His pulse throbbed against her hand as his erection throbbed between her legs, the pace of both slowing as he came down. Then, lowering his head, he captured her mouth with his own, kissing her gently as his chest heaved with his labored breaths. They luxuriated in the afterglow, holding each other and making lover's small talk until they were calm enough to disentangle themselves and get dressed.
He held her hand as they retraced their steps toward the castle, the uncharacteristically affectionate gesture surprising her almost more than anything else that had passed between them that night. The moon was high in the sky by the time they reached the front door. They slipped inside, and after quickly determining that the coast was clear, kissed lightly one last time before Hermione turned to go.
"Thanks for the lovely evening, Ron," she whispered, pressing her lips against one sensitive earlobe.
"Next time heed my advice, Minerva," he replied, "and stay out of trouble. Ten points from Gryffindor for being out after curfew."
Go to chapters 4 & 5.
Author: GMTH
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Snape/Hermione
Summary: A series of smutty vignettes showcasing Snape's and Hermione's sexual imaginations. Sex and magic are an unbeatable combination. Pure smut with no redeeming social value whatsoever.
Disclaimer: Everything here belongs to other people, and I'm playing with it without their permission.
Chapter 1: The Waiting Is the Hardest Part
What is she planning? he wondered, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. His dinner sat untouched on the table before him as he pondered what the future might hold. He was long overdue for one of her trademark surprise attacks, and the anticipation both thrilled and unnerved him. A patient man only where the brewing of potions was concerned, Severus Snape was not inclined to be quite so patient when it came to the satisfaction of his physical needs. And as it had been more than two weeks since the last time his most pressing need had been met, he was even further disinclined to wait.
I know she's up to something, he thought, as he gazed around the crowd of students assembled in the Great Hall that night. But what? His eye surreptitiously sought out one student in particular, and he gazed at her longingly from behind the curtain of unruly black hair covering most of his face.
With the passing of her 17th birthday that past September, Hermione Granger had reached the age of majority in the wizarding world, and she and Severus had finally been free to consummate the relationship they had at first tried to deny - and then to hide - since her 5th year. Though an innocent before she met Snape, she had quickly proven herself to be surprisingly inventive in all matters sexual, initiating situations and maneuvering them into positions which made for the most mind-blowing sex Snape had ever had. She was far more aggressive sexually than he would have thought possible, given her straight laced, bookish demeanor in all other aspects of her life. They couldn't get enough of each another, and their sessions were often long and steamy, reducing them both to little more than buzzing, sweating heaps sated to their very cores.
She had been especially busy with schoolwork the past few weeks, and Snape hoped now that the academic pressures which had disrupted their exciting games had passed, they would soon be re-establishing their relationship. At least, that had been her promise the last night they had been together. Pressed up against him in the Restricted Section of the library, she had unbuttoned his shirt to the waist, cupping his balls with one hand while stroking his broad chest with the other. "This will have to be it for a while," she sighed, nipping at his earlobe. "Lots of work coming up, you know."
He nodded wordlessly as her hand contracted over his stiff cock, and she registered the quickening rise and fall of his chest beneath her palm with satisfaction. Pushing her robe aside, he allowed his hand to glide over her breast, focusing his attention on the generous nipple riding high atop it. "I want to fuck you right here," he growled, fantasizing about pushing her against the dusty stacks of books and hiking one of her legs in the air, plunging into her while she wrapped her arms around his neck and held on for the ride.
She laughed huskily. "Didn't you get enough last night?" she asked, chills prickling down her spine as he trailed his lips along her jawline.
"Never," he replied, nuzzling the notch at the base of her neck. "Come back to my chambers with me. Now."
"I can't," she insisted. "I have to go." But she made no move to leave as he pulled her forward by the hips and ground the proof of his need against her. She allowed him to kiss her deeply one last time before pulling back. It took all the self-control she possessed to resist him standing there like that, so delectably sensual with his bare chest covered with a thin film of perspiration, his long hair tousled where her fingers had run through it. His lips looked bruised and swollen from their frantic kisses, and she could only imagine what she must look like herself. "I'll make it up to you," she whispered. "I promise."
And for two weeks, he had not seen her except in the classroom and at meal times. Having her in his dungeon classroom - so close by and yet so far from his reach that she might as well have been in a neighboring galaxy - had been an unbearable stress on him. To her credit, she did nothing overt to tease him during class. She was far too conscientious a student for that, and recognized that distracting him could result in someone getting hurt - or worse. But even without any conscious effort on her part, he found himself unable to concentrate on the tasks at hand, keenly aware of her every move instead. Each time she stirred in her chair, crossing or uncrossing her legs under the table, he imagined he could catch a tantalizing whiff of her musky fragrance. The hard-ons she had induced had forced him to spend most classes ensconced behind his desk rather than prowling around the room as usual, and his frustration at not being able to have her resulted in a veritable avalanche of lost house points.
"Man, what is up with that stupid git lately?" Harry had demanded of Ron and Hermione as they exited class after a particularly vicious display.
Ron's face was flushed bright pink. He had been the unfortunate soul who had suffered the brunt of Snape's anger that afternoon. "Wanker," he muttered. "I wish he would just get himself laid and leave us the fuck alone."
Hermione burst out laughing, unable to stop or explain herself to her friends all the way back up to Gryffindor tower.
****
Hermione had not been in the Great Hall for lunch that afternoon, Snape noticed. Probably in the library again, he thought as he made his way down to the dungeons for his combined Gryffindor/Slytherin class. As was his custom, he waited until all students had taken their seats before slamming the door open and stalking to the front of the room. When he turned to face the class, two things became immediately evident. First, the only students meeting his eye were Slytherins, which was par for the course. All of the Gryffindors were either looking down at their desks or studying points on the wall above his head.
Second, Hermione's seat was empty.
"Where is Miss Granger?" he asked coldly.
No one answered.
"Potter!" he barked. Harry's head snapped up in response. "I asked you a question, and I expect an answer. Where is Miss Granger?"
"In the hospital wing, sir," Harry replied, shifting nervously in his seat. "She's been there since this morning."
"I see," Snape said, sniffing disdainfully, but on the inside he was concerned. I hope she's all right, he thought fervently. It was getting difficult to maintain his façade of contempt for the girl, but he knew he had no other choice. "Open your books to chapter nine and read the information on memory potions, paying particular attention to the section on Jobberknoll feathers," he instructed. There, that ought to take a good half an hour, he mused as the classroom filled with the sound of shuffling pages. He settled down behind his desk and picked up his quill, a stack of year essays in front of him waiting to be marked.
He was halfway through correcting the third of these essays when his mind began to wander, wondering again when he would get another chance to feel Hermione's legs wrapped around his waist. Something brushed against his inner thigh, and he swiped at it absentmindedly, chewing the tip of his quill. A moment later, he felt another, more insistent touch, almost as though someone were kneading the sinew high up on his leg.
Frowning, he reached into his lap. His hand bumped up against something solid, but when he took a quick glance under his desk he saw nothing. He groped the object situated just beyond his knees, his frown deepening into a scowl as he failed to identify it. What the hell is going on? he thought, scooting back his chair a bit to get a closer look at exactly what was under his desk.
He reached forward again, and this time caught hold of something which felt like a piece of cloth, though he still could see nothing. He tugged at it a bit and was surprised when it tugged back. Somebody was there. And then it dawned on him what was happening: someone had secreted themselves under his desk using Potter's Invisibility Cloak. To his knowledge, only three students in the entire school were aware of the Cloak's existence, and two of them were sitting in his class at this very moment, relieved at how peacefully class had progressed thus far. That left only one possibility as to who had set up this pleasant ambush.
He pulled his chair back under his desk, pulse accelerating. Bending his head over the now forgotten essays, he spread his legs apart as far as he could given the confines of the space under his desk. Immediately, he was rewarded with the ghostly feel of her hands working their way up the insides of both thighs. Inexorably, she teased her way toward his tightening crotch, squeezing and pinching the taut muscles as she went. Hot bursts of moist air dancing along the top of his right thigh led him to know she was kissing her way up, as well.
Soon she had reached the sensitive juncture where his legs met and nuzzled it with her face, nipping delicately at the fabric of his trousers. He stiffened in his seat as she jerked the buttons of his fly open. It was extraordinarily erotic to be caressed in this manner by an invisible lover, especially in so forbidden a location. He was thankful his desk completely blocked the class's view of him from about mid-abdomen down as she worked his erection loose and wrapped her small hand around it.
It was getting more and more difficult to maintain his air of academic concentration as she held his thick shaft in one hand and stroked the silky head with the other, running the length of her hand over it from the tips of her fingers to the base of her palm and then back again. Shivering with delight, he sat back in the chair a bit, opening his legs yet wider to her. Surreptitiously, he coiled his hand around Hermione's invisible fingers, silently urging her to pump him in the manner he liked best. It was a delicious feeling, and his breathing became shallow as he struggled to preserve the appearance of a hardworking - if somewhat bored - teacher of young minds.
"Professor?" came a voice from the room in front of him.
Snape's head snapped up at the sound and he scowled angrily in the direction of the speaker. "What is it?" he snarled, his voice rough-edged with lust.
The color drained from Pansy Parkinson's face at his tone, and she swallowed hard before speaking again. "I - I have a question about Veritaserum, sir," she said timidly.
"Quickly, girl," Snape replied. Pansy took the hint and launched into a long, meandering question, speaking rapidly as if trying to finish before she lost her nerve.
Snape did not hear even a single word of her question, however, because Hermione had also taken the hint, and as Pansy began speaking she took his aching erection into her mouth. He gasped as the warm softness moved across his flesh, thick tongue caressing the large vein on the underside. Recovering quickly, he transformed the gasp into a series of loud coughs, unnerving Pansy so badly she stuttered a few times and trailed off in mid-sentence. Snape bowed his head quickly and pinched the bridge of his nose as though incredibly annoyed that she had dared ask such a ridiculous question.
"Can anyone answer Miss Parkinson's question?" he asked irritably, not looking up.
"I can, sir," Draco Malfoy piped, and Snape waved vaguely in his direction, casually dropping one hand into his lap to guide Hermione's movements. The changing pressures, angles and suction she employed astounded him. As Malfoy droned on in his typical haughty manner, Hermione drew her head back until only the sensitive apex of Snape's cock was standing on her tongue. She suckled the tip for a moment, then plunged all the way down the shaft again until her nose was pressed firmly into Snape's abdomen. She repeated the pattern over and over again, bobbing up and down like a well-oiled piston.
Finally he could take it no more. "Enough, Mr. Malfoy!" he shouted, startling everyone in the room. "You have obviously not been paying attention at all in this class," he continued, with utter disregard for the fact that he had not heard a word of Draco's explanation. "I am sick and tired of wasting my time with this class, and I have no desire to continue doing so. Go, all of you. And I want you to prepare an eighteen-inch essay on the various uses of Jobberknoll feathers in memory potions for next class. Now get out."
Somberly, the students got to their feet and shuffled out of the room, the braver ones muttering under their breath. Snape was thrilled to be able to combine his two favorite activities by deducting five points from a Gryffindor student for insolence.
When the last of the students had filed out, he used a locking charm to secure the door behind them. Hermione scrambled out from under the desk, throwing the Invisibility Cloak off her shoulders. She wore only a camisole trimmed in white lace, and Snape was amazed at her daring for walking through the castle like that, Invisibility Cloak or no.
"Did I surprise you?" she asked impishly as the cloak fluttered to the ground around her feet.
He grunted, pulling her into his lap and devouring her mouth in response. She molded her body against his and giggled into the kiss, inordinately pleased with the results of her scheme. She dropped one leg on either side of the chair so she was sitting astride him, her slick cunt just centimeters from his straining prick.
His need for her was intense, and as quickly as his fingers could manage it, he pulled the camisole over her head and flung it away, then bent his head so his tongue could find her nipple. She moaned and arched her back toward his warm mouth, her body on fire now, aching. Squeezing his erection with her thigh muscles, she held his face firmly against her breasts. He pulled back, blowing a stream of cool air on the nipple until it hardened, then encircled it again with lips, rolling the hard flesh between them. She bore down on him harder, rocking back and forth in his lap, her gratification already beginning to build. He repeated the treatment on the other nipple, trying to slow down the pace and make it last, but the feel of her grinding into him was becoming unbearable.
Finally unable to wait any longer, his plunged one hand downward, finding her wetness, pressing harder against her. He carefully ran his index finger between her labia, following the path until it was buried inside her, the heel of his hand flexing against her clit. She leaned back slightly to allow his fingers easier access, moaning as he manipulated her expertly.
With the dual pressure of his fingers deep within her and his mouth tugging at her nipples, her orgasm wasn't long in coming. She peaked high and hard, and he continued tantalizing her in order to make the delightful sensations last as long as possible.
When her orgasm finally faded, she smiled at him and kissed him deeply. "I've missed you, Severus," she murmured.
"And I you," he replied, as she grasped his cock and pulled it upright, then rose on the balls of her feet to position it between her lips. Slowly, she settled down onto his throbbing cock, working it into her body carefully to enhance the pleasure for both of them. Snape pressed down on her hips in an attempt to enter her faster, but she knew from experience she had to go slowly. Inch by inch it disappeared until she felt his balls bouncing against her ass.
The feel of him sliding into her, opening her up, made her gasp and throw her head back. Slowly, she ground her hips against him, reveling in the contorted expression of pleasure that came across his face. She teased him mercilessly, varying the speed with which she moved, slowing down when he seemed ready to climb the peak and speeding up when he calmed a bit. He stopped moving altogether and leaned back, eyes closed to ride the waves of pleasure. After a moment, he placed the fleshy pad of his thumb on her clit and began massaging it, knowing she would not permit his release until she came again.
With a groan, he levered his head forward and caught a nipple in his mouth. He sucked on it hard, dragging his teeth along its sensitive tip. The combination of him filling her, sucking her, touching her, was too much. Her second orgasm burst upon her, filling her whole body, and she grabbed the back of his head, crying out his name. Her body wracked as spasm after spasm hit and he continued stroking and sucking her until she pushed his head and fingers away, raw and pulsating. Then she paused for only a moment before bracing her feet firmly on either side of the chair and riding him like a wild horse, seeking now to give him the release he so richly deserved.
Though she had been tight at first, her juices had spread, easing the path, and she now slid up and down on him easily. Over and over he found himself thrust in and out, the pressure building to the breaking point. He felt his orgasm approach, hot come racing up his shaft, and grabbed her hips in his hands, grinding her into him.
Eyes screwed shut, he rode through his orgasm, stamping his foot against the floor. His throat was raw from the guttural noises he made. When it was over, neither moved, but he could feel their co-mingled juices spreading across his abdomen and upper thighs, the viscous liquids pooling in the space between their bodies. She collapsed against his chest, still gripping him deep within her, and together they waited for their breathing to slow.
"I told you I would make it up to you," she whispered, nestling her head against the curve of his neck.
He enfolded her in his embrace, the pressure in his balls finally relieved. "Oh no," he panted, caressing the soft, bare skin of her shoulder. "You still owe me. One fuck does not make up for two weeks, my dear."
"I was hoping you'd say that..." she sighed.
Chapter 2: Hobson's Choice
It had been a hellish day, and Snape returned to his chambers in a foul mood. Some days there really is no point getting out of bed, he reflected somberly.
There had been not one but two serious accidents in his classroom that day, resulting in injuries requiring five students to log some time in the hospital wing. Then the weekly staff meeting had dragged out interminably while Flitwick prattled on about his research into Forgotten Charms, and on top of that, Albus had assigned Snape the odious duty of acting as temporary Head of Hufflepuff while Sprout was away at an Herbology conference. It was certain to be a dreadful week, as Snape considered most of the Hufflepuffs the worst kind of dullards imaginable. He could only hope that none of them would have the courage to approach him with a problem; if they did, they would find him considerably less willing than Sprout to listen and most definitely less inclined to help.
For the thousandth time he wondered why he bothered staying on at Hogwarts. The work was not particularly rewarding anymore, and he could certainly find success - and maybe even happiness - if he went to work brewing commercial-grade potions for sale to those having neither the time nor the inclination to do it themselves. The idea definitely merited consideration, especially after a day like today.
If only that pesky business with Voldemort wasn't an issue… he thought ruefully. Wishful thinking, Severus old boy. You're not going anywhere until that little matter is cleared up.
The door to his chambers was unwarded when he got there, and he stopped dead in his tracks, alarmed. Was it merely coincidence that he had been thinking about the Dark Lord only moments earlier and now found that his chambers were unguarded? Or had he been so distracted that morning that he had forgotten to set the wards?
It was unlikely. He had never been so careless before.
Which meant someone had been in his quarters while he was gone. Someone who knew his passwords. He frowned, silently drawing his wand, then cautiously pushed the door open.
The room was filled with lit candles, and the sweet smell of strawberries mixed with hints of vanilla assailed his nostrils. What's going on? he wondered, slipping into the room and closing the door behind him.
"Hello, Severus," a sensuous voice cooed. "I was wondering when you'd get back."
Hermione sat up in his bed, the sheet drawn around her so that only her bare shoulders were revealed. Her eyes sparkled in the reflected candlelight.
Snape exhaled in relief. He had been expecting a far less pleasant surprise.
"How did you get in here?" he asked. She had been there before, of course, but never alone like this.
She smiled slyly. "It's a secret," she replied.
"You nearly scared the life out of me," he retorted. "This wasn't a good idea. Don't do it again."
Casually, she allowed the sheet to drop a bit so that one breast was exposed. Her creamy skin glowed in the candlelight, the areola an enticing shadow in the very center. "I'm sorry," she said in a tone of voice that indicated she was not the least bit sorry. "You're right. I'll go."
He crossed the room in three strides and sat beside her on the bed. "Not necessary," he said in a deliberately offhand way. "Since you are here, you might as well stay."
"Well, thank you very much," she said, a hint of sarcasm in her words. She leaned forward to kiss him, outlining his lips with the tip of her tongue before slipping it between his teeth.
It took only moments for him to shuck off his robes and slither into the bed so they were lying belly to belly under the sheet. Her cool body felt deliciously sensual next to his warm skin, and he relaxed into her curves, draping one leg over her hip. She kissed him deeply, pushing her pelvis forward ever so slightly to tantalize the hardened flesh captured between them.
A deep sound of appreciation rumbled through his chest. "This is exactly the type of therapy I need right now," he said, tweaking one of her stiff nipples.
"Had a rough day, did you?" she asked, stroking his upper arm. He nodded, rolling the sensitive bud between his thumb and forefinger. "Then let me help you relax," she said, pushing on his shoulder until he was lying flat on his back.
He settled back into the pillows with a contented sigh as she began kissing her way down the trail of hair on his abdomen. He was soon lost in sensation: the teasing strokes of her fingertips on his inner thigh, the release of gravity's hold on his balls as she cupped them in her palm, the gentle fluttering of her tongue across his glans. Her hair was spread across his chest like a soft blanket, and he unconsciously grabbed a handful of silky strands in each fist, stroking his skin with it as she leaned forward and engulfed him with her mouth.
"Ahhhh, yes…" Snape moaned, pressing his head further into his pillows.
She moved at slowly at first, her mouth closed over him just enough for him to feel its damp heat but not its pressure. Long, languid movements designed to mollify rather than entice. Then she began working her tongue, bathing his shaft from base to tip with wet caresses. He was soon passing the point where her actions went from the merely pleasurable to the seriously arousing, and he arched his pelvis upward in a quest to drive himself into the back of her throat. Usually when he moved thus she responded exactly as he desired, gliding her lips down the length of his erection until he was firmly planted in her mouth. But tonight, she surprised him by releasing him entirely and raising her head, instead.
"Did you remember to set the silencing charm on the door?" she asked.
"What?" he demanded incredulously, craning his head from its cradle of pillows. His breath was coming in short bursts.
"Just checking," she pouted. "I didn't think you'd want anyone to be able to hear us, that's all."
"Yes, I set the damn charm," he said, pressing her back toward his bobbing erection. "Nobody ever comes down here after hours anyway, you know that."
"You're right, of course," she replied, leaning forward to take him in her mouth again. This cut his irritated sigh off in mid-stream, replacing it with a relieved groan.
Using her thumb and forefinger to create a tight ring around the base of his stiff cock, she jerked upwards at the same time that her mouth descended. When her lips and fingers met, she reversed their movements, stimulating his entire length almost simultaneously. It was a glorious combination and he gritted his teeth together as the pressure began building in his balls once more. Damn! Where had she learned to do this?
The prickling began at the base of his spine and was soon spreading through his body like wildfire. He was getting close, so close…. just a few more nods of her head and he would get there…
And then, inexplicably, she pulled back from him a second time. "You know, Harry said the funniest thing at breakfast this morning," she said.
Severus roared his frustration at having the rug snatched out from under him in such an abrupt fashion - again. "For the love of the gods, Hermione!" he raged. "What is the matter with you tonight? Why did you come down here if you can't concentrate on what you're doing?"
She slid her way up his body, each hard nipple tracing a separate path on his chest. Then, curling her fingers into the matted locks at the nape of his neck, she smiled coyly. "I know exactly what I'm doing," she murmured, flicking her tongue against his sensitive earlobe. "I want to hear you beg." She kissed him, nibbling on his lower lip while she worried the smooth head of his cock with her palm.
He allowed the kiss and the teasing. For a moment. Then he pushed her back on the bed and smiled down at her coldly.
"I never beg," he said smoothly. "But it might be interesting to hear you do so."
Grabbing his wand from the bedside table, he pointed it at her and muttered a binding spell. A set of magical ropes shot from the end of the wand, tying Hermione's wrists together tightly and securing them over her head to the metal cross rail. He repeated the spell and two more ropes appeared, cinching her ankles to the posters at the foot of the bed.
"Yes, very interesting indeed…" he mused.
Her self-satisfied expression faded as the ropes stretched her legs apart. "Severus, what are you doing?" she asked nervously as he stood and drew an armchair up beside the bed.
"I think you should call me 'Professor,' Miss Granger," he replied, settling into the chair, "as I am about to teach you a lesson." He extended his wand once again. "Voluptas preoccupo!"
She had only a moment to crank over the meaning of the unfamiliar Latin words in her mind before a pleasant tingling began between her legs. He was not touching her, but the sensations continued, as though Something were gently rolling her clit between Its fingers, experimenting with it to see what brought her pleasure. She closed her eyes and enjoyed the feeling, thinking that if this was his way of teaching her a lesson it wasn't half bad. The feeling built slowly for a while, then faded away.
Moments later it was back, and the pressure built to a slightly higher peak. She moaned and arched her hips upward, seeking out the source of the friction, wanting to grind against it but finding nothing there to press against. Waves of pleasure washed over her, then ebbed once more.
"What did you do to me?" she gasped as the sensations hit her again, harder still. Her nipples were prickling now, too, sending even more shockwaves racing toward her clit.
"An ancient spell, designed to enhance the female sexual response," he replied in his best professorial tone. "Used primarily in the Medieval period, when it was considered shameful for women to enjoy sex and wizards wanted to… loosen them up. Some say it was also used as a form of torture in those days, though how such pleasure could be considered such is a mystery to me."
"I can understand tha - oh!" she cried, as the waves burst upon her once more, forcing a guttural cry from the back of her throat. She writhed against her bonds as the spell pushed her yet higher. It was the most incredible feeling she'd ever had in her life, this total loss of control over her own responses. Yet at the same time it was incredibly frustrating, as it dawned on her that her arousal would continue to build with each wave but she would be unallowed to climax.
Like Sisyphus, the Greek king condemned by Zeus to spend eternity rolling a stone up a hill only to have it roll back down when he reached the top, she was repeatedly lifted to the very precipice of ultimate pleasure and then denied. The waves crashed over her again and again, driving her higher with each reiteration, then dumping her to the ground only long enough for the tingles to fade before beginning anew. Soon, the world was spinning around her, the only fixed point her screaming clit while the rest of her body twitched and contracted around it.
Snape watched in fascination as she bucked and twisted on the bed. There's nothing more erotic than watching a beautiful woman battling to reach release, he thought. The spell would not allow it, of course, and he could keep her in this suspended state for as long as he chose. It was an enticing thought. His cock was hard as a diamond but he refrained from touching it.
"Severus, please…" she panted, her arched back nearly forming an inverted U as yet another spasm of pleasure burst over her, "I…. I won't tease you like that again, I promise!" The wave retreated, leaving her trembling. "Please, make it stop! I'll go mad!"
"How can I be sure you'll keep that promise?" he asked, eyeing the heaving girl with undisguised lust.
"I swear it!" she wailed. "Please, I'm begging you!"
He sighed in mock irritation. "Very well, I supposed you've learned your lesson." He waved his wand carelessly in her direction, saying, "Voluptas compleo!"
And finally, finally she got her reward as a prolonged, intensely powerful orgasm ripped through her. It felt as if every muscle in her body was contracting simultaneously, and she flailed helplessly in its possession. It seemed to last a very long time and her throat was raw from the animalistic sounds she made by the time it finally passed. She fell back into the mattress, slick with sweat and gasping at the relief of being freed from her torture.
But no, what was this? Her eyes flew open as another cascade of pressure built between her legs, pushing her forward over the edge of yet another mind-blowing orgasm. And no sooner had that climax finished than another one began filling her. "No, no," she pleaded as the third one hit, her body twisting in its bonds to escape the invisible force that drove her clit into overdrive. She couldn't decide which was worse, the denial of pleasure or this enforcement of it.
Finally, Snape could stand no more. He approached the screaming girl on the bed and released the binding spell from her legs, leaving her arms tied above her head. "Don't touch me," she implored, "I couldn't bear it now." But he ignored her pleading and, hiking her legs in the air so that her ankles were balanced on his shoulders, he slid his aching erection between her swollen lips. She was so slippery and congested with the juices of desire that he had to push against her with all his might in order to keep her from ejecting him.
The sensation of her muscles contracting in orgasm around his hard shaft were delightful, and he found he didn't even have to move to become highly aroused. Instead, he plowed in to the hilt and let her body do all the work. "Again!" he cried as another of her orgasms clenched around him, squeezing his prick from head to base like a tightly coiled, highly lubricated hand. "Again! Again!"
Her inner muscles finally reached the point where they were overburdened from the constant contractions and could no longer release their grip. Only then did he begin moving his hips, fucking her deliciously tight slit with short, urgent strokes. His groans soon matched hers in intensity and volume as his own climax roared through him, speeding up the length of his cock until he was emptying his juices deep into her body. He closed his eyes and threw his head back, mouth open in ecstasy as she continued pulsing around him, milking him until the last drop of his seed was spilled. He stayed arched against her, grasping her ankles tightly in his fists until the very last of his spasms had passed.
Then grabbing up his wand, he panted, "Voluptas subsisto!"
Hermione was nearly unconscious by then, and only dimly became aware of the fact that the waves of torturous pleasure had finally subsided. Her head lolled against the pillows as Snape eased his cock out of her and released her wrists from their bonds.
He would let her stay for a while to sleep it off, he decided, flopping down on the bed next to her. She was in no condition to walk back to Gryffindor tower now, anyway. And as for him, well, he was finally relaxed. Even the thought of dealing with the Hufflepuffs had lost its sting now that the air was thick with the fragrance of their combined juices. He drew her limp hand to his chest and clasped his fingers between hers, squeezing them tightly.
"Severus…?" she whispered, turning her head slightly in his direction.
"Yes?"
"You're an awful show off, you know that?."
He laughed softly, drawing her hand to his lips for a final kiss.
They slept.
Chapter 3: Between a Rock and Hard Place
Hermione was scraping the last remnants of porridge from the bottom of her bowl when the morning post arrived. As usual, the noise level in the Great Hall increased exponentially when the owls swooped in from overhead, excited voices calling out to one another as care packages from home were ripped open and copies of The Daily Prophet eagerly unrolled to divulge the results of the previous day's professional Quidditch matches. Even the High Table became more animated as the professors hurriedly finished eating in order to enjoy a few moments with their correspondence before the chaos of school day officially began.
A small brown owl clutching an envelope in his beak skidded gracelessly to a stop on the table before Hermione, his outstretched talons sending her empty bowl flying. Folding his wings with a soft ruffle of feathers, he dropped his burden into her outstretched palm, looking very proud of himself. "All right, you," she said, grinning at the little bird as she offered him a bit of toast. "You've only just delivered a letter, don't act as though you defeated You-Know-Who single handedly."
She turned the envelope over as the owl flew off, and recognizing the handwriting, turned in her seat a bit to hide it from Ron and Harry. Not that they would notice anyway, she thought, tuning out her two friends' usual good-natured argument about some Quidditch nonsense or other. Still, if Ron were to catch a glimpse of his own untidy scrawl across the face of the parchment she held in her hand it would be hard to explain.
The note was brief:
Meet me in the sculpture garden at dusk. Don't do anything foolish before I get there.
RW
She glanced up quickly at the High Table and saw Snape looking back at her. Dark eyes glittering, he nodded almost imperceptibly before turning to say something to Professor Sprout. It had been his idea to disguise his infrequent letters to her using a charm that allowed him to write in Ron's handwriting. This simple precaution was designed to save them both a lot of grief should one of his letters be intercepted - no one would think twice about a seemingly innocent letter from one friend to another. She had owled him only once in return, a searingly erotic missive written in Professor McGonagall's looping penmanship and signed "MM." Their session the following evening had been punctuated by Hermione's giggles as Severus insisted on calling her "Minerva" even as he fucked her from behind.
It wasn't that they were particularly worried about how the Hogwarts Powers-That-Be would react to the… nature… of their relationship. After all, she was of age now, and it certainly wasn't the first time a professor had become involved with one of the older students - in fact, Dumbledore himself was the product of a union born of just such a student/teacher relationship. Still, in these uncertain times it was more than usually true that discretion was the better part of valor. Voldemort would certainly not be pleased to learn that one of his Death Eaters was involved with a Muggle-born witch, especially when the Death Eater in question was already near the bottom of his "People I Trust" list.
Don't do anything foolish before I get there. I wonder what that's supposed to mean, she mused. Ah well, it's not important. What was important was the fact that what had originally promised to be just another boring Friday evening with her textbooks was now shaping up into something a great deal more interesting. Already tingling in expectation, she shoved the note into the bottom of her book bag.
"Let's go," she said, nudging Harry. There was a husky undertone to her voice. "Time for class."
*****
The dying sun painted the sky with streaks of red and orange as Hermione slipped out the front doors of the castle and ran lightly across the grass toward the sculpture garden. It was set in a cove at the very edge of the Forbidden Forest, sheltered behind a grove of tall evergreens that effectively blocked it from the view of anyone looking out the castle's eastern windows. Whether the planting of this copse of trees was intentional or not had been the topic of hilarious debate among Hogwarts students for decades, as their strategic placement made the sculpture garden the perfect spot for romantic trysts such as the one Severus had planned for the evening.
It was a Hogwarts legend that more House points - not to mention virginities - had been lost in the two centuries of the sculpture garden's existence than any other location in the school, though in recent years some cynically said that Snape's dungeon classroom was gaining the upper hand as far as lost House points were concerned. (George Weasley had once declared that Snape's classroom was the setting for more lost innocence, as well, wryly commenting that "Snape screws everybody over at one time or another.") Despite the popularity of the garden as a meeting ground, she was unconcerned that they would be interrupted. Witches and wizards do not have to be alone in order to have privacy - a few well-placed charms and they could shag like rabbits in the middle of Piccadilly Circus if they so desired, with passersby none the wiser.
Snape was nowhere in evidence when she arrived, so she decided to wander among the statues to pass the time until he showed up. She followed the white gravel path past the likenesses of dozens of prominent Hogwarts students. The House system ruled even here, with the statues segregated into four sections according to the House affiliation of the person immortalized in stone. She expected he would want to meet her in the Slytherin section, and she headed off down the path in that direction.
An unfamiliar sculpture caught her eye as she wandered past the plaque marking the beginning of the Slytherin icons. Most of the statues in the garden depicted wizened old figures, standing upright with wands pointed skyward, rigid robes falling to their feet in stiff waves. But this statue was altogether different. It was the figure of a young-ish looking man molded from gray stone, reclining on an elegantly carved chaise longue which was raised at the head so his upper body was elevated. His long legs were stretched out in front of him, his hands tucked behind his head with his elbows akimbo and his face turned upwards toward the sky. His features were strong and handsome, the eyes closed and the lips curved in a contented smile. He looked for all the world like a sunbather visiting the beach to catch a few precious rays of the Scottish sun. A sunbather on a nude beach, she amended internally, as this unusual statue was also most definitely unclothed, his genitals modestly covered with a large stone oak leaf.
I wonder who he is, she thought, circling the statue to examine it from all sides. There was no identifying marker on the pedestal, which was also odd. Oh well. Perhaps Severus would know.
And speaking of Severus… where is he? The sun had nearly set by now, and it was unlike him to be late. On impulse, she scrambled up onto the pedestal and sat on the statue's lap, swinging her body around and lying back on the figure's chest to wait and watch the stars come out. The stone beneath her back was still warm from the spring sunshine it had absorbed during the daylight hours.
A cool breeze played over her body, ruffling the hem of her cotton dress. It felt like dozens of invisible little fingers stroking her skin, and her nipples tightened in response. Or was it the thrill of wondering what Severus had in mind that was doing it? They'd never had sex alfresco before, and she knew from experience that when he suggested something new she was in for a wild ride. The mere thought of it caused a rush of wetness between her legs and she wiggled a bit in the statue's lap, fingers moving to brush against her nipples through the thin fabric. She fought the urge to bunch the dress up around her hips and slip her hand past the elastic waistband of her panties, wanting Severus's touch to be the first she felt there this night.
She closed her eyes and thought back over some of their recent escapades as tiny bolts of electric current ran from her breasts to her groin and back again. "God, I hope he gets here soon," she whispered to the night air, clenching her thighs together and pressing her bum against the statue's midsection. Languorously, she reached up over her head and caressed the figure's face, imagining all the while that it was Severus's body she was sprawled upon. She felt her way along the neck to the broad muscular chest, coming to rest on the figure's pebble-sized nipples, teasing them in the way she knew Snape liked best. She could almost hear his hoarse growl as she traced circles around the rocky points with her fingernails.
Suddenly, the monolith beneath her began to move, and she started in surprise. An earthquake! she thought, panic-stricken, trying to sit up. But strong, cold hands caught hold of her wrists, halting her movements and slowly pulling her arms back up over her head. She twisted her head around to see what was going on, who was holding her captive - but there was no one there.
With sudden clarity, she realized two things simultaneously. The first was that the statue's hands were no longer tucked behind its head. Instead, incredibly, the fingers were now wrapped inexorably around her wrists. The fists were not curled tightly enough to hurt, but she knew she would not be able to escape them. It was as though her hands were embedded in two concrete slabs.
And the second thing was that something was rising from between the statue's legs.
The fig leaf that had covered the figure's genitals had disappeared, and she watched in horrified fascination as a granite erection rose in its place. It unfurled slowly, a stone snake making its way toward the moist patch at the juncture of her thighs. Inch by inch it crept toward her, growing impossibly long as it sought its target.
She clamped her legs shut as it advanced, whimpering in the back of her throat. The rocky organ continued to stretch and elongate, forcing its way between her thighs, stopping only when it reached the thin nylon barrier of her knickers. She made a sound of relief somewhere between a gasp and sob when it became clear that it would go no further.
"My, my, my," said a velvety voice. "What have we here?"
"Severus!" she cried as Snape appeared near at her feet. "Thank God you're here! Help me get away from this thing!"
"Now why on earth would I want to do that?" he replied, running his hand up the length of her leg as he came around to her side. "I did warn you not to do anything foolish before I got here," he continued when her mouth dropped open in surprise at his response.
"I had no idea what you meant!" she spluttered. "I certainly never expected anything like this to happen!"
He clucked his tongue. "My dear Miss Granger, you have been attending school here for seven years. Haven't you realized by now that… anything can happen at Hogwarts?" His eyes fell to her chest where the outlines of her straining nipples were clearly visible in the fading light. "And I think that, protests not withstanding, you are enjoying this a great deal."
With that, he bent his head and drew one cloth-covered peak into his mouth, pinching it lightly between his front teeth. She inhaled with a sharp hiss as he suckled, arching upwards to feed more of the sensitive flesh into his mouth, then pressing down again as the long fingers of his left hand worked their way into the crotch of her knickers. "Mmmmm, yes," he murmured against her breast, feeling the damp heat beneath his fingertips. "A great deal indeed."
She could only moan in response as he abruptly slid two fingers into her aching cunt and returned his attention to the swollen bud of nerves he stretched between his lips. A few quick strokes and her hips were wiggling of their own volition.
"Ahh, but we're forgetting our friend here," Snape purred, angling his hand upwards and withdrawing his fingers in a slow, tortuous movement that drew their length along her singing clit. "This poor fellow has been waiting almost a century for an opportunity like this."
With that, he murmured a charm that caused the clothes to melt from both of their bodies. He climbed up onto the statue and straddled its legs. Hooking one arm under each of Hermione's thighs, he drew them apart and raised them up slightly. The stone cock was now in perfect position. Another soft incantation and it began to grow again, lengthening and thickening as it crept forward. Hermione squealed as the cold stone slid home.
Snape growled deep in his throat as she twitched and gasped at the icy touch, unable to tear his eyes away from the sight of her cunt being stretched and fed by the magical appendage. When the statue's cock was seated securely, he bowed his head and began tickling her bloated clit with the tip of his tongue. The taste of her arousal was both sweet and salty, its aroma both subtle and overpowering, and he lapped at her with abandon, her thighs quivering around his ears as he worked. Long minutes passed as he nudged and kissed, flicked and fluttered at the very center of her, sweet torture indeed. She keened when he finally clamped his lips around her aching clit, pinching the oversensitive hood just above his lips between thumb and forefinger.
Unable to contain himself any longer Snape reared back, shouting the charm that would release Hermione from the statue's grip. The statue's hands and cock withdrew immediately and he fell atop her, sliding into fast and hard. Burying his head between her neck and shoulder, he flailed his hips against her, slicing into her balls deep with every thrust. She wrapped her legs around his waist, her arms around his back and held on for dear life, wailing his name as he drove. His orgasm came high and sharp and he threw his head back, eyes closed and teeth bared as he spent himself within her.
She traced the outline of his neck lovingly with her palms, feeling the vibrations of his groans beneath her fingers. His pulse throbbed against her hand as his erection throbbed between her legs, the pace of both slowing as he came down. Then, lowering his head, he captured her mouth with his own, kissing her gently as his chest heaved with his labored breaths. They luxuriated in the afterglow, holding each other and making lover's small talk until they were calm enough to disentangle themselves and get dressed.
He held her hand as they retraced their steps toward the castle, the uncharacteristically affectionate gesture surprising her almost more than anything else that had passed between them that night. The moon was high in the sky by the time they reached the front door. They slipped inside, and after quickly determining that the coast was clear, kissed lightly one last time before Hermione turned to go.
"Thanks for the lovely evening, Ron," she whispered, pressing her lips against one sensitive earlobe.
"Next time heed my advice, Minerva," he replied, "and stay out of trouble. Ten points from Gryffindor for being out after curfew."
Go to chapters 4 & 5.