Fic: Her Seventh Year (Part 2)
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.
Chapters 1-3 available here.
Chapter 4: Shadow Puppets
The dungeons of Hogwarts are always dark. Always. Midday and midnight look the same, and time seems to stand still because there is no sunlight to mark the passage from day into night. To one such as Severus Snape, who never truly began to feel alive until the sun went down, such an environment is akin to paradise. It was no coincidence that the animal his students compared him to most often was the bat - he luxuriated in the cover of darkness and would never have left it if the demands of his stomach did not require him to venture into the Great Hall three times a day. Given his druthers the only light he would ever have in his chambers would be firelight, and even then from only a very low fire, just enough to keep him from barking his shins on the furniture as he glided from bed to desk and back again.
Hermione, on the other hand, was a morning person. One of those perky, jump-out-of-bed-with-a-smile-ready-to-face-the-challenges-of-the-new-day type people that usually made Snape want to commit a particularly grisly murder. She hated the darkness, and her presence in his chambers always meant he was forced to endure a room filled with light, not just from the fire, but from the wall torches and dozens of candles, as well.
This morning was no exception. It was one of those rare mornings-after where she had spent the night with him, her naked warmth curled around his body, the pillow of her breasts firm against his upper arm and the moist curls between her legs pressed evocatively against his hip. She awoke to the darkness and disentangled herself from his grasping limbs slowly, shivering as the cool air rushed in to displace his body heat. Groping on the bedside table for her wand, she flicked it sleepily until bright blobs of flame appeared on candles and torches all across the room. A glance at the clock told her she had plenty of time to get back to Gryffindor Tower before the earliest risers noticed she had not spent the night in her own room.
"Severus?" she whispered.
He stirred sleepily, his mind and body still heavy with the satiation of the night before. "Mmph?" he grunted. It was only in this half-awake/half-asleep state that he was robbed of his usual eloquence.
"I need to get going."
"What?" he managed, reluctantly dragging himself upwards through the levels of sleep.
"I said I have to go."
"Then go," he rasped. "Go and let my poor, abused body get the rest it so desperately needs."
"You have to let me through the wards, remember?"
He groaned. "All right. Give me five more minutes and I'll drag my sorry bones out of bed."
She grinned and kissed the point of his chin. Five minutes would be plenty of time for her to get dressed.
She was just fastening the clasp on her robe when he stumbled past her into the bathroom, muttering under his breath. The call of nature answered, he re-appeared a few minutes later looking a great deal more alert. The hair around his forehead was damp from the water he had splashed on his face. "Come on, then," he grumped.
"Give me a second, please. I can't find my other shoe."
He sighed and crossed the room to his desk, flipping through a stack of parchment while she located the errant footwear. When she was properly shod, she stepped up behind him and wrapped her arms around his waist. "Happy birthday," she said softly, trailing her lips across his shoulder blade.
"My birthday isn’t until tomorrow."
"Happy birthday a day early, then."
"Don't remind me," he replied. "The older I get, the younger you seem."
"It never bothered you before."
"I've never been this old before."
She kissed him again, tracing patterns on his lean stomach with her fingertips. "I'm crazy about you, you know," she said.
"Mmm," he responded. His tone was noncommittal, but she chose to interpret it as his way of saying, "Me you." By way of reward she allowed her hands to move slowly down his torso, palms lazily cutting whorls through the path of hair on his abdomen. He relaxed slightly and leaned back into her embrace when her fingers curled around his flaccid cock. A few gentle strokes and it began to rise against her palm, growing warmer and stiffer as the blood rushed to fill it.
"Nothing old about you, Severus," she whispered, beginning to pump him in earnest.
He groaned, reaching behind him to clasp her arse and pull her pelvis against his naked bum. She glanced to her left and saw their shadows flickering against the wall in the torchlight, the silhouette of his body beautifully enhanced by the dark erection jutting from his midsection.
Her hand was moving faster now, her grip tighter as she made sure to tease the whole of the sensitive shaft with each stroke. Pearly drops of pre-come leaked from its apex, and they provided a tantalizing source of lubrication as she fisted them along his length. His vocalizations become louder as he abandoned himself to the pleasure.
This was what she had been waiting for. Surreptitiously, she drew her wand from her robe and pointed it at his shadow. The sound of her voice was lost to his moans of ecstasy, and he was so immersed in sensation that he did not see his shadow freeze and solidify on the wall. Another murmured charm and the shadow seemed to fold in upon itself, shrinking down until it was no larger than a matchbook. Then it peeled away from the wall entirely and floated across the room, coming to rest in the palm of her wand hand. After stuffing both it and her wand back into her pocket, she reached around his body with the now free hand and began stroking the tender patch of skin just behind his balls.
"I've a surprise for you tomorrow," she said, hand still jerking at his swollen flesh. His knees were trembling now, and she knew it wouldn't be much longer. "Something you've always wanted."
He didn't answer. He couldn't even if he wanted to, for at that moment his balls erupted and spewed their contents over her hand. She stroked him again and again, enjoying his throaty sounds of pleasure as the ropy strands of ejaculate spilled across his desk. When they released their hold on each other, he slumped forward, bracing his hands on the edge of the desk as his knees buckled beneath him.
"That's going to be a bit difficult to explain to the third years, isn't it," she grinned, gesturing toward the now ruined stack of parchments he had been examining earlier.
He turned his head and glared at her from behind a tangled mass of raven hair, his lips parted as he fought to catch his breath. "No worries. They all failed the test, anyway. My birthday present to myself." He straightened slowly, shaking each leg in turn to get the blood flowing in them again. "Well. That was an interesting way to start the day. Now let’s get you out of here so an old man can get back to his sleep."
***
"Talk to me, Severus. Tell me what you want."
He dropped to his knees behind her and pulled her hips up into position. "I want to fuck you in public," he growled, rubbing the head of his swollen prick against the slick heat of her lower lips. "I want to ravage you on the steps of the Ministry of Magic. I want to shag you senseless on the street in front of Gringotts." He slid deep and they groaned together as her tight cunt opened to accept him. "I want. To make. You scream. In the. Great Hall." Each phrase was punctuated by another balls-deep thrust. "I want. To make. You come. In front. Of the whole school…"
And then he was no longer capable of expressing his desires verbally.
***
Snape was late for dinner the following night, and Hermione was beginning to get nervous. Maybe he wouldn’t show up at all, and all of her careful planning would be for naught. She knew he hated to have any fuss made over his birthday, but true to form Dumbledore had ignored his wishes that the day pass unacknowledged. His place at the High Table was decorated with a semi-circle of lit candles, and two gaily colored balloons bobbed above the back of his chair. He’s going to go nuts when he sees that, she thought, stifling a giggle.
Sure enough, when he entered the Great Hall and saw the manner in which his place had been defiled, his mouth twisted into an ugly sneer. If Dumbledore had not jumped from his seat the moment Snape walked in and guided him to his chair with a vast smile, Hermione was sure he would have turned on his heel and stalked right back out again. The balloons above his head exploded with a particularly loud POP as he took his seat, a look of grim satisfaction on his face.
The gabbling of voices quieted as Dumbledore tapped his water goblet with the side of his spoon. "Ladies and gentlemen, I give you Severus Snape." He stood and lifted his goblet, and the entire assembly rose to its feet as one, mimicking his actions. "Many happy returns of the day, Severus. Cheers."
"Cheers," came the half-hearted response from the students, and everyone drank in Snape’s honor.
"One year closer to death," Ron said gleefully, gulping his drink.
Hermione watched her lover carefully, and as he disdainfully raised his goblet in response to their well wishes, she drank at the same moment he did. She could only hope that Dobby had spiked the right goblet with the potion she had brewed that morning. The same potion in her own glass made the pumpkin juice taste especially sweet, and she downed it in a single swallow. At the High Table, Severus was licking his lips appreciatively - apparently he liked the taste of it, as well. Bless you Dobby, she thought happily. Sometimes it paid to have friends in low places.
Vast platters of food appeared, and conversation resumed as everybody began to tuck in. When Hermione determined that no one was paying attention to the High Table any longer, she bowed her head and whispered into her plate.
"Severus. Can you hear me?"
Snape stiffened in his seat and stopped in mid-chew. "Who is it?" he responded, his voice low and tense.
"It’s me," she replied, glancing up at him. His eyes raked the crowd of students before coming to rest on hers. "Are you ready for your birthday present?"
"Hermione. What have you done? What’s going on?"
"Relax, Severus. I’ve brewed a sensory enhancement potion for us. Only you and I will be able to see and hear what’s going to happen, so long as you keep your voice down."
He cocked one eyebrow at her before casually picking up his fork and continuing to eat. "I see," he said. "And precisely what is going to happen?"
"Watch and you’ll see."
Under the table, she reached into the pocket of her robe and withdrew two small black objects and her wand. Tossing the objects onto the floor, she quietly cast a spell.
Ghostly forms streamed out from under the table, unfurling themselves as they moved. They shimmered darkly as they floated by, growing larger until they revealed themselves to be two shadows. One was the shadow of Snape she had acquired the previous morning, the dark hard-on still evident between its legs. The other shadow was her own. She had captured it that afternoon after spending a good long time getting herself worked up into a fevered state of sexual excitement. Its nipples were tight and engorged, just as hers had been, and Snape’s eyes widened when he saw it.
"Oh God," he murmured.
The two dark forms halted in front of his place at the High Table and immediately melted into each other’s arms. The spell she cast over them meant both she and Snape could feel exactly what their shadows were doing, as though they were together and performing the act themselves. She felt Snape’s arms encircling her waist as his shadow embraced hers, felt his lips attack her neck as his shadow mouthed her silhouette in the same fashion. And she knew he could also feel it. One quick glance around the room told her this spectacle went unnoticed by everyone else around them, and she smiled triumphantly. It was working!
"Your wish is my command," she whispered.
The two figures wasted little time with foreplay - after all, they had both been captured at a time when their corporeal counterparts were already nearing climax. A few hurried kisses and shadow Snape turned shadow Hermione around, bending her over at the waist so she could grab her ankles. In one rough movement, he stabbed his hips forward and the dark prick was suddenly engulfed in her nebulous form.
Hermione twitched in her seat and stifled a gasp as she felt the penetration. It was the most incredible thing she had ever felt, this mysterious act of being fucked in front of the whole school. For his part, Snape had stopped eating and was watching the two figures intently, sweat breaking out on his brow. His shadow humped Hermione furiously with long deliberate strokes that sizzled through his own crotch like lightning. Dear God, he was going to come in record time if this kept up.
The forms stopped moving only long enough to switch positions. Shadow Hermione pulled away and turned around, then jumped into Shadow Snape’s arms and wrapped her legs around his waist. With her arms around his neck, she slipped back down onto his prick and took it to the hilt. Shadow Snape then carried her around the room, walking past tables of students gaily engaged in their usual dinnertime conversations. The real life Hermione and Snape were in a bad way throughout this little jaunt, each one desperately close to orgasm, yet trying to keep the fact from those around them.
The two figures eventually tired of their walk and decided to retire to the High Table. Shadow Snape reclined on his back, his long body stretched out directly in front of Professors McGonagall, Sprout and Dumbledore. Shadow Hermione scrambled up on top of him and once again sank down on that unflagging erection, and the real life Hermione thought she would die from the pleasure of it. Her silhouette ground her hips against Snape at precisely the right angle to bring her clit into agonizing contact with his cock, and in no time at all an orgasm roared through her like the Hogwarts Express. No longer able to control herself, she threw her head back and groaned with abandon, a loud, low purr of pleasure that turned every head at the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff tables.
"Hermione!" Harry cried, alarmed. "Are you all right?"
The girl could not answer him for a moment, and Ron, believing she was choking, began to pound on her back. "Hermione! What is it?"
Slowly she came back to herself and swallowed hard, fighting to catch her breath. "I’m fine, I’m fine. I…. er… this chicken is just… really good…" she mumbled, gesturing toward her plate. She could feel the flush of her orgasm staining her cheeks and wondered if her friends could see her straining nipples through her Gryffindor sweater.
"Wow," she heard Lavender Brown remark to her neighbor. "I want some of what she’s having."
"Oh God," she heard Snape gasp. She looked up in time to see him drop his head to his chest, but not before his face contorted in an intense climax of his own. "Stop them, stop them," he moaned. "I can’t take anymore."
The shadows evaporated.
Hermione was immensely pleased with the results of her birthday surprise. "Did you enjoy it?" she whispered.
"Ohhh yes," came his quiet response. "I haven’t enjoyed my birthday so much in years. Thank you, my…. love."
It was the first time he had ever said it, and her heart took a sudden leap at this declaration. Giving in to the flood of happiness that suddenly swept through her chest, she beamed.
"What are you so happy about?" Ron asked suspiciously, noting her Cheshire cat-like expression.
"Nothing," she replied through her smile. "Nothing at all."
A/N: The line "I want some of what she’s having" is a variation of the famous "I’ll have what she’s having" line from the film When Harry Met Sally.
My thanks to Tegan for suggesting it might be nice for these two characters to have real feelings for each other in this piece. As you can tell, I agree!
Chapter 5: Guest Appearances
"Severus, how many women have you been with?"
Snape had been gleefully preparing to slash red ink through a large section of Dennis Creevey’s essay on mandrake restorative draught when Hermione spoke. The question stilled his quill in mid-swoop. She sat in an armchair near the fireplace, feet curled up beneath her and a textbook balanced on her knees, a look of eager curiosity mixed with melancholy expectation on her face. He groaned inwardly at her expression, fervently hoping this wasn’t the start of one of the "where-is-this-relationship-going" discussions he had heard so many of his contemporaries complaining about.
Carefully, he laid his quill on the pile of parchment and laced his fingers together on top of it, considering his answer. Tricky situation, this. She would probably be appalled if he told her the actual number of women he’d slept with over the years. That was the sole benefit of being a Death Eater, really - they got lots and lots (and LOTS) of sex. Voldemort had always been a kinky bastard, but he had one major flaw since his second incarnation three years ago, namely, his new body did not have the necessary… er… equipment to gratify his bizarre sexual appetites. As it turned out, the missing finger on the hand Wormtail had "donated" to complete the reincarnation potion was to have been the Dark Lord’s new cock. An unfortunate oversight on Voldemort’s part, and one which Snape believed Pettigrew was privately laughing his arse off about. He was very glad he had not been present at the Death Eater’s gathering where Voldemort made the unpleasant discovery that he was now as anatomically impaired as a Ken doll. (He still wasn’t sure how Voldemort managed to take a piss, but he tried hard not to think about it too much.)
In any case, He-Who-Could-No-Longer-Get-It-On now had to settle for watching his merry band of Death Eaters performing the acts he had once enjoyed rather than indulging in them himself. Which was still pretty much okay with him, as the Death Eaters were a horny bunch who would fuck just about anything that moved. And up until the time he and Hermione had begun to play "co-ed, full-body contact naked Quidditch" (as Potter so charmingly referred to sex), Snape had been an eager participant in Voldemort’s perverse games. In fact, he was fairly sure that was what kept the Dark Lord from killing him outright when he re-appeared on the scene after Voldemort’s rebirth. If nothing else, he could always be counted on to provide an entertaining show.
But he did not think Hermione would be interested in hearing the reasoning behind his promiscuity right now. She was far more interested in "how many" to be worried about "why."
Still, he did not want to lie to her. She deserved better than that. So after deliberating for a moment on how best to respond, he simply said, "Many."
She smiled sadly at this non-answer. "That’s what I thought."
"Are you regretting the fact that you are not out now, sowing your wild oats?" His tone did not waver, but he was decidedly uncomfortable with the turn the discussion was taking.
"A little," she admitted with a small shrug, turning her gaze back to the book in her lap.
The answer stung him more than he cared to admit, but a part of him understood. He was her first lover, and if things continued the way they were going he would likely be her last lover, as well.
Clearing his throat, he asked, "What are you studying?" He didn’t really care, but he was desperate to change the subject before one or the other of them said something they would regret.
"Advanced Transfiguration. We just finished the section on Transfiguring into another person."
"Ah. Interesting topic." He sniffed. As far as he was concerned, Polyjuice potion was the only proper way to change into someone else, but if Minerva wanted to waste her time…
"Oh, it is," she agreed, suddenly looking a great deal more animated. "Watch this." Unfolding her legs from beneath her, she pulled her wand out of her robe and pointed it at her mid-section. "Rita Skeeter!" she cried. Snape watched in fascination as the young girl slowly morphed into the older, bespectacled reporter. "How’s that?" she asked proudly.
Apparently, she had not quite perfected the spell yet, as the voice coming from Rita’s mouth was definitely Hermione’s. But all in all he could not help but be impressed. It was rather an advanced bit of magic, even for a seventh-year student. "Not bad, not bad," he said, rising to his feet and circling the desk to stand before her chair. "An interesting choice, I must say. Considering the way our dear Miss Skeeter screwed you and your friends over a few years back, I would never have thought you would choose her for a Transfiguration project."
"Rita" looked up at Snape with Hermione’s mischievous glint in her eye. How strange it was to see it on another face! "I didn’t, not really," she replied. "I just wanted to show you what I could do." She licked her lips and blinked up at him suggestively. "How would you like the opportunity to do to Rita what she did to us?"
He sank to his knees in front of the chair and kneeled between her legs, grasping her hips in his hands. "No thanks," he sneered. "I’d rather have my Hermione back, if it’s all the same to you."
She smiled down at him and changed back as he continued speaking. "But it could be an interesting way for you to satisfy your curiosity about being with another man." He leaned forward and nuzzled her neck. "Pick someone to Transfigure me into," he whispered hotly against her ear, "and let’s give it a go."
Her eyes widened at the thought as she leaned into his caresses. Was he serious? He must be - Snape had never been one to tease her, at least not verbally. How intriguing the idea was! Now she could have her way with half the men at Hogwarts if she wanted to, and all without betraying her relationship with Snape. A delicious thought, indeed.
The only problem was - where to start?
When she did not respond right away, Snape mistook her contemplation of the riches before her for hesitation. "Come on, then," he urged, sliding his hands up each of her legs until they disappeared beneath the hemline her skirt. "Surely there is someone else at this school that you have been wondering about. Mr Weasley, perhaps? Or even" - he paused, swallowing the lump of disgust that rose in his throat - "Mr Potter?"
There. If agreeing to be Transfigured into the miserable Boy Who Kept On Living Only Because Snape Kept Saving His Sorry Arse didn’t prove his feelings for her, nothing ever would.
But she grimaced at the very idea. "Eww, no," she said, shaking her head emphatically. "Harry and Ron are like my brothers. No thanks."
"Someone else, then?" His fingers were now running lightly along the juncture of her torso and upper thigh, in the deliciously warm area just on the innocent side of her bikini line. She wiggled in her chair in an attempt to bring his fingers closer to the tingling center of her, but he would not be budged.
"You’re going to think I’m weird…" she hedged.
He blinked. "Hermione. After everything we’ve done together, you need have no fear of that. I already know you’re weird."
"Point well taken. All right then," - she took a deep breath - "I guess I’ve always wondered if Dumbledore’s beard would tickle…"
He was unable to suppress his laugh. She was right - that was weird. "Very well, then," he replied, dissolving their clothing with a wave of his hand. "Let’s find out."
With a shaking hand, she leveled her wand between his eyes and said, "Albus Dumbledore."
Snape’s raven black hair and dark, smoldering eyes were instantly transformed into Dumbledore’s white shock and twinkle. He was still kneeling between her legs, so all she could see of the Headmaster’s body were his bare shoulders and part of his chest, the remainder being covered by his long hair and beard. He was about to rise to his feet and offer her his hand, intending to lead her over to the bed, when she sat bolt upright in the chair.
"Don’t stand up!" she cried, pressing down on the thin shoulders. "The last thing in the world I want to see is the Headmaster’s… er… package."
Snape glanced downward at the shriveled twig lying so forlornly atop his right thigh and instantly made a mental note to gouge his eyes out with the first sharp object he came across once he was back in his own body. "Yes, well, I’m afraid it won’t be of much use to us in any case," he replied dryly. He would never look at Dumbledore the same way again after this.
"That’s okay," she breathed, her face and chest flushing bright pink with embarrassment. "I was only interested in finding out how the beard felt, anyway."
"Well then, let’s get on with the experiment." The strange hands tugged her hips forward until her bum was teetering right on the edge of the seat cushion, then pushed her thighs apart as far as they could comfortably go.
Her eyes fluttered closed as Snape gently brushed her inner thighs with Dumbledore’s cheeks - first one side, then the other - moving slowly so she could fully experience the gentle kiss of the older man’s whiskers on her sensitive skin. She twitched with surprise as he tickled her labia with the silky moustache, smearing it with her fragrance. Albus always did have a sweet tooth he thought as he ducked the slightly-smaller-than-he-was-used-to tongue straight into the succulent center of her body.
She groaned and tightened her grip on the arms of the chair, arching her back in order to thrust herself more fully against the talented mouth. He responded by nodding his head vigorously as he tongued her, dragging the Headmaster’s shaggy chin and moustache across her flesh as much as he could. The combination of sensations felt deliciously wicked against her sensitive clit, but long after she normally would have flared into orgasm she found she just couldn’t let go enough to let it happen. When her hands moved to stroke the head bobbing so diligently between her legs and she felt the rough white strands of hair instead of the familiar sleek black ones, she opened her eyes and gently pushed him back.
"No," she wheezed. "This isn’t right. It’s too different. Let’s try someone else."
He merely nodded, eyes studying her calmly over the now fogged half-moon spectacles.
She raised her wand again. "Sirius Black!"
A moment later, a large black dog stood before her, long pink tongue lolling out of the side of his mouth as he panted. She yelped in surprise as the animal pinned her to the chair with his front paws and began lapping at her face, positioning his hips in such a way that his long pink erection was just inches from her opening. "No, no, this isn’t what I expected at all!" she shouted, pushing the dog away with a strength she did not realize she possessed. He stumbled back and she scrambled up from the chair just as he leapt forward again. "Stay!" she shouted, and the dog obediently sat on the cushion, his dark eyes flashing with amusement. Once she caught her breath she couldn’t help but laugh at the look of pure Snape-like humor on the animal’s muzzle. "Well. That didn’t work out very well, did it. Let’s try… Remus Lupin!"
Ah, that was better. Wherever Remus was, he was apparently eating more regularly these days because the body before her had filled out wonderfully since the last time she saw him. He was still lean but his chest was more muscular than she imagined it would be, his arms and legs firm with ropy sinew that flexed in a most tantalizing manner when he moved. And oh, nestled between the toned thighs was the most beautiful cock Hermione had ever seen. It was not overly long but it was thick and heavily veined with a large head that seemed to beckon to her from across the room. She could not take her eyes from it as she took the few steps necessary to close the distance between them. With no preamble, she climbed into his lap and straddled his thighs, dropping down onto that delectable cock so it bottomed out in a single stroke.
"Mmmmm," she purred, licking her lips as she danced on the werewolf’s lap. Now this… this was more like it!
Snape sat watching the pleasure play itself out on Hermione's face, enjoying the uninhibited way she voiced her gratification as she rode him. But he did not move beneath her, did not respond in any way, and after a few minutes she seemed to notice that he was completely detached from what was going on.
"You realize, of course, that Lupin would not enjoy this at all," he drawled as her movements began to slow.
"Oh?" she replied in a breathy voice. "And why is that?"
"Because he is gay, my dear." Hermione’s mouth dropped open in shock and Snape had to laugh at her expression. "Didn’t you know?"
"Is he really?"
"Oh yes. As gay as the day is long. He and Black had quite the thing going when we were students here."
She stopped moving altogether. "Sirius is gay, too?"
"Well… let’s just say Black plays for both teams," he responded, his voice colored with suppressed laughter.
She paused for a moment, digesting this last bit of news. Then a sudden thought struck her. "If Remus is gay, why does his body have this bloody great hard-on?" she demanded.
"Well, it’s still me in here, isn’t it?" Snape replied. "And by God I wish I could have taken your picture when you first caught sight of it. You looked like a starving man seeing his first decent meal in a week." He reached out to pinch one of her puckered nipples. "A less self-confident man than myself would have felt quite put out by that, I must say."
She shook her head, disappointed to the marrow to learn that Lupin’s body would never respond to her the way she wanted it to. "If Remus is gay, this simply isn’t right. We’re going to have to try again." She grabbed her wand and aimed it at the middle of that gorgeous chest. "Draco Malfoy!"
The body beneath her shrank just a bit, losing some muscle tone as the graying hair dissolved into an impeccably coifed mane of snowy white. She braced her hands on Draco’s shoulders and began rocking back and forth in his lap, breathlessly anticipating the rush of pleasure that was sure to follow.
But wait. Something was wrong. She twitched against him again, but all she could feel was the pressure of his pubic bone pressing against hers. She looked down at their joined bodies but could see nothing beyond the smooth hairless chest.
"Is it in?" she said finally, looking up to see Draco’s face break into peals of delighted laughter.
"Yes," Snape gasped by way of response, convulsing with guffaws. "It certainly is."
Wow. Who knew Malfoy was hung like a Tic Tac? She was going to have to file this bit of information away for use on a rainy day.
"Small wonder he keeps pestering his father for the biggest and fastest racing brooms, eh?" Snape snickered.
She tried a few more experimental humps, hoping to feel something in her nether regions besides Draco’s thatch of coarse pubic hair tickling her inner thighs. But after a few moments she decided it wasn’t worth the effort. Sighing, she drew her wand one last time, determined to try someone she knew would be up to the task at hand.
"Rubeus Hagrid."
Well. Talk about going from the ridiculous to the sublime! Hagrid’s huge body nearly overflowed the chair in which they were seated, and she was suddenly perched so high in the air that she had to grab onto the broad shoulders to keep from toppling off. She could feel the cock within her expanding to meet the size of the new body, and for a moment she felt totally and wonderfully filled. This was more like it!
But it did not stop. It continued to swell and grow as Hagrid’s body took shape beneath her, and she was soon bursting with it. She could not stifle a sharp cry of pain as she grabbed up her wand before it could crawl up her throat and out of her mouth.
"Severus Snape! Severus Snape!" she cried.
And the familiar form coalesced in the chair below her. She collapsed against his chest as he ran his hands over her back, stroking her skin with strong fingers in a comfortably intimate manner that soothed her immeasurably. For a long while, they sat together, content, their ribcages rising and falling in concert. Then she began flexing her inner muscles around him and he squirmed in the seat, grinding their genitals together in a practiced gesture that immediately set her aflame. She sat up and lightly grasped him by the collarbone, gently easing her way up and down on his shaft as he cupped her breasts in his hands. Their movements quickened as their arousal grew, and soon each of them was shouting the other’s name as they peaked.
When they were sated and his softening prick had slipped out of her, she curled up in his lap and leaned her head back against his chest so she could both hear his heart beating and feel its throb against her cheek. "Did you enjoy your… experiment… my love?" he whispered, gently kissing the top of her head.
"Well, it was certainly…. interesting," she replied softly. "And I did learn that I’m not missing out on a thing. I have everything I need right here." She patted his chest and looked up at him with such a loving expression on her face that his heart leapt at the sight of it. "With you."
He merely smiled down at her, not trusting himself to speak.
She lowered her head and rested her cheek against his chest again. Neither said anything for a long time, and Snape was just about to drift into a light sleep when Hermione’s voice cut through his reverie.
"Severus, how many women have you loved?"
This question did not require any time to formulate an answer. Stroking her upper arm with the palm of his hand, he buried his face in her hair and took a deep, contented breath.
"Just one, Hermione. Just one."
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.
Chapters 1-3 available here.
Chapter 4: Shadow Puppets
The dungeons of Hogwarts are always dark. Always. Midday and midnight look the same, and time seems to stand still because there is no sunlight to mark the passage from day into night. To one such as Severus Snape, who never truly began to feel alive until the sun went down, such an environment is akin to paradise. It was no coincidence that the animal his students compared him to most often was the bat - he luxuriated in the cover of darkness and would never have left it if the demands of his stomach did not require him to venture into the Great Hall three times a day. Given his druthers the only light he would ever have in his chambers would be firelight, and even then from only a very low fire, just enough to keep him from barking his shins on the furniture as he glided from bed to desk and back again.
Hermione, on the other hand, was a morning person. One of those perky, jump-out-of-bed-with-a-smile-ready-to-face-the-challenges-of-the-new-day type people that usually made Snape want to commit a particularly grisly murder. She hated the darkness, and her presence in his chambers always meant he was forced to endure a room filled with light, not just from the fire, but from the wall torches and dozens of candles, as well.
This morning was no exception. It was one of those rare mornings-after where she had spent the night with him, her naked warmth curled around his body, the pillow of her breasts firm against his upper arm and the moist curls between her legs pressed evocatively against his hip. She awoke to the darkness and disentangled herself from his grasping limbs slowly, shivering as the cool air rushed in to displace his body heat. Groping on the bedside table for her wand, she flicked it sleepily until bright blobs of flame appeared on candles and torches all across the room. A glance at the clock told her she had plenty of time to get back to Gryffindor Tower before the earliest risers noticed she had not spent the night in her own room.
"Severus?" she whispered.
He stirred sleepily, his mind and body still heavy with the satiation of the night before. "Mmph?" he grunted. It was only in this half-awake/half-asleep state that he was robbed of his usual eloquence.
"I need to get going."
"What?" he managed, reluctantly dragging himself upwards through the levels of sleep.
"I said I have to go."
"Then go," he rasped. "Go and let my poor, abused body get the rest it so desperately needs."
"You have to let me through the wards, remember?"
He groaned. "All right. Give me five more minutes and I'll drag my sorry bones out of bed."
She grinned and kissed the point of his chin. Five minutes would be plenty of time for her to get dressed.
She was just fastening the clasp on her robe when he stumbled past her into the bathroom, muttering under his breath. The call of nature answered, he re-appeared a few minutes later looking a great deal more alert. The hair around his forehead was damp from the water he had splashed on his face. "Come on, then," he grumped.
"Give me a second, please. I can't find my other shoe."
He sighed and crossed the room to his desk, flipping through a stack of parchment while she located the errant footwear. When she was properly shod, she stepped up behind him and wrapped her arms around his waist. "Happy birthday," she said softly, trailing her lips across his shoulder blade.
"My birthday isn’t until tomorrow."
"Happy birthday a day early, then."
"Don't remind me," he replied. "The older I get, the younger you seem."
"It never bothered you before."
"I've never been this old before."
She kissed him again, tracing patterns on his lean stomach with her fingertips. "I'm crazy about you, you know," she said.
"Mmm," he responded. His tone was noncommittal, but she chose to interpret it as his way of saying, "Me you." By way of reward she allowed her hands to move slowly down his torso, palms lazily cutting whorls through the path of hair on his abdomen. He relaxed slightly and leaned back into her embrace when her fingers curled around his flaccid cock. A few gentle strokes and it began to rise against her palm, growing warmer and stiffer as the blood rushed to fill it.
"Nothing old about you, Severus," she whispered, beginning to pump him in earnest.
He groaned, reaching behind him to clasp her arse and pull her pelvis against his naked bum. She glanced to her left and saw their shadows flickering against the wall in the torchlight, the silhouette of his body beautifully enhanced by the dark erection jutting from his midsection.
Her hand was moving faster now, her grip tighter as she made sure to tease the whole of the sensitive shaft with each stroke. Pearly drops of pre-come leaked from its apex, and they provided a tantalizing source of lubrication as she fisted them along his length. His vocalizations become louder as he abandoned himself to the pleasure.
This was what she had been waiting for. Surreptitiously, she drew her wand from her robe and pointed it at his shadow. The sound of her voice was lost to his moans of ecstasy, and he was so immersed in sensation that he did not see his shadow freeze and solidify on the wall. Another murmured charm and the shadow seemed to fold in upon itself, shrinking down until it was no larger than a matchbook. Then it peeled away from the wall entirely and floated across the room, coming to rest in the palm of her wand hand. After stuffing both it and her wand back into her pocket, she reached around his body with the now free hand and began stroking the tender patch of skin just behind his balls.
"I've a surprise for you tomorrow," she said, hand still jerking at his swollen flesh. His knees were trembling now, and she knew it wouldn't be much longer. "Something you've always wanted."
He didn't answer. He couldn't even if he wanted to, for at that moment his balls erupted and spewed their contents over her hand. She stroked him again and again, enjoying his throaty sounds of pleasure as the ropy strands of ejaculate spilled across his desk. When they released their hold on each other, he slumped forward, bracing his hands on the edge of the desk as his knees buckled beneath him.
"That's going to be a bit difficult to explain to the third years, isn't it," she grinned, gesturing toward the now ruined stack of parchments he had been examining earlier.
He turned his head and glared at her from behind a tangled mass of raven hair, his lips parted as he fought to catch his breath. "No worries. They all failed the test, anyway. My birthday present to myself." He straightened slowly, shaking each leg in turn to get the blood flowing in them again. "Well. That was an interesting way to start the day. Now let’s get you out of here so an old man can get back to his sleep."
***
"Talk to me, Severus. Tell me what you want."
He dropped to his knees behind her and pulled her hips up into position. "I want to fuck you in public," he growled, rubbing the head of his swollen prick against the slick heat of her lower lips. "I want to ravage you on the steps of the Ministry of Magic. I want to shag you senseless on the street in front of Gringotts." He slid deep and they groaned together as her tight cunt opened to accept him. "I want. To make. You scream. In the. Great Hall." Each phrase was punctuated by another balls-deep thrust. "I want. To make. You come. In front. Of the whole school…"
And then he was no longer capable of expressing his desires verbally.
***
Snape was late for dinner the following night, and Hermione was beginning to get nervous. Maybe he wouldn’t show up at all, and all of her careful planning would be for naught. She knew he hated to have any fuss made over his birthday, but true to form Dumbledore had ignored his wishes that the day pass unacknowledged. His place at the High Table was decorated with a semi-circle of lit candles, and two gaily colored balloons bobbed above the back of his chair. He’s going to go nuts when he sees that, she thought, stifling a giggle.
Sure enough, when he entered the Great Hall and saw the manner in which his place had been defiled, his mouth twisted into an ugly sneer. If Dumbledore had not jumped from his seat the moment Snape walked in and guided him to his chair with a vast smile, Hermione was sure he would have turned on his heel and stalked right back out again. The balloons above his head exploded with a particularly loud POP as he took his seat, a look of grim satisfaction on his face.
The gabbling of voices quieted as Dumbledore tapped his water goblet with the side of his spoon. "Ladies and gentlemen, I give you Severus Snape." He stood and lifted his goblet, and the entire assembly rose to its feet as one, mimicking his actions. "Many happy returns of the day, Severus. Cheers."
"Cheers," came the half-hearted response from the students, and everyone drank in Snape’s honor.
"One year closer to death," Ron said gleefully, gulping his drink.
Hermione watched her lover carefully, and as he disdainfully raised his goblet in response to their well wishes, she drank at the same moment he did. She could only hope that Dobby had spiked the right goblet with the potion she had brewed that morning. The same potion in her own glass made the pumpkin juice taste especially sweet, and she downed it in a single swallow. At the High Table, Severus was licking his lips appreciatively - apparently he liked the taste of it, as well. Bless you Dobby, she thought happily. Sometimes it paid to have friends in low places.
Vast platters of food appeared, and conversation resumed as everybody began to tuck in. When Hermione determined that no one was paying attention to the High Table any longer, she bowed her head and whispered into her plate.
"Severus. Can you hear me?"
Snape stiffened in his seat and stopped in mid-chew. "Who is it?" he responded, his voice low and tense.
"It’s me," she replied, glancing up at him. His eyes raked the crowd of students before coming to rest on hers. "Are you ready for your birthday present?"
"Hermione. What have you done? What’s going on?"
"Relax, Severus. I’ve brewed a sensory enhancement potion for us. Only you and I will be able to see and hear what’s going to happen, so long as you keep your voice down."
He cocked one eyebrow at her before casually picking up his fork and continuing to eat. "I see," he said. "And precisely what is going to happen?"
"Watch and you’ll see."
Under the table, she reached into the pocket of her robe and withdrew two small black objects and her wand. Tossing the objects onto the floor, she quietly cast a spell.
Ghostly forms streamed out from under the table, unfurling themselves as they moved. They shimmered darkly as they floated by, growing larger until they revealed themselves to be two shadows. One was the shadow of Snape she had acquired the previous morning, the dark hard-on still evident between its legs. The other shadow was her own. She had captured it that afternoon after spending a good long time getting herself worked up into a fevered state of sexual excitement. Its nipples were tight and engorged, just as hers had been, and Snape’s eyes widened when he saw it.
"Oh God," he murmured.
The two dark forms halted in front of his place at the High Table and immediately melted into each other’s arms. The spell she cast over them meant both she and Snape could feel exactly what their shadows were doing, as though they were together and performing the act themselves. She felt Snape’s arms encircling her waist as his shadow embraced hers, felt his lips attack her neck as his shadow mouthed her silhouette in the same fashion. And she knew he could also feel it. One quick glance around the room told her this spectacle went unnoticed by everyone else around them, and she smiled triumphantly. It was working!
"Your wish is my command," she whispered.
The two figures wasted little time with foreplay - after all, they had both been captured at a time when their corporeal counterparts were already nearing climax. A few hurried kisses and shadow Snape turned shadow Hermione around, bending her over at the waist so she could grab her ankles. In one rough movement, he stabbed his hips forward and the dark prick was suddenly engulfed in her nebulous form.
Hermione twitched in her seat and stifled a gasp as she felt the penetration. It was the most incredible thing she had ever felt, this mysterious act of being fucked in front of the whole school. For his part, Snape had stopped eating and was watching the two figures intently, sweat breaking out on his brow. His shadow humped Hermione furiously with long deliberate strokes that sizzled through his own crotch like lightning. Dear God, he was going to come in record time if this kept up.
The forms stopped moving only long enough to switch positions. Shadow Hermione pulled away and turned around, then jumped into Shadow Snape’s arms and wrapped her legs around his waist. With her arms around his neck, she slipped back down onto his prick and took it to the hilt. Shadow Snape then carried her around the room, walking past tables of students gaily engaged in their usual dinnertime conversations. The real life Hermione and Snape were in a bad way throughout this little jaunt, each one desperately close to orgasm, yet trying to keep the fact from those around them.
The two figures eventually tired of their walk and decided to retire to the High Table. Shadow Snape reclined on his back, his long body stretched out directly in front of Professors McGonagall, Sprout and Dumbledore. Shadow Hermione scrambled up on top of him and once again sank down on that unflagging erection, and the real life Hermione thought she would die from the pleasure of it. Her silhouette ground her hips against Snape at precisely the right angle to bring her clit into agonizing contact with his cock, and in no time at all an orgasm roared through her like the Hogwarts Express. No longer able to control herself, she threw her head back and groaned with abandon, a loud, low purr of pleasure that turned every head at the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff tables.
"Hermione!" Harry cried, alarmed. "Are you all right?"
The girl could not answer him for a moment, and Ron, believing she was choking, began to pound on her back. "Hermione! What is it?"
Slowly she came back to herself and swallowed hard, fighting to catch her breath. "I’m fine, I’m fine. I…. er… this chicken is just… really good…" she mumbled, gesturing toward her plate. She could feel the flush of her orgasm staining her cheeks and wondered if her friends could see her straining nipples through her Gryffindor sweater.
"Wow," she heard Lavender Brown remark to her neighbor. "I want some of what she’s having."
"Oh God," she heard Snape gasp. She looked up in time to see him drop his head to his chest, but not before his face contorted in an intense climax of his own. "Stop them, stop them," he moaned. "I can’t take anymore."
The shadows evaporated.
Hermione was immensely pleased with the results of her birthday surprise. "Did you enjoy it?" she whispered.
"Ohhh yes," came his quiet response. "I haven’t enjoyed my birthday so much in years. Thank you, my…. love."
It was the first time he had ever said it, and her heart took a sudden leap at this declaration. Giving in to the flood of happiness that suddenly swept through her chest, she beamed.
"What are you so happy about?" Ron asked suspiciously, noting her Cheshire cat-like expression.
"Nothing," she replied through her smile. "Nothing at all."
A/N: The line "I want some of what she’s having" is a variation of the famous "I’ll have what she’s having" line from the film When Harry Met Sally.
My thanks to Tegan for suggesting it might be nice for these two characters to have real feelings for each other in this piece. As you can tell, I agree!
Chapter 5: Guest Appearances
"Severus, how many women have you been with?"
Snape had been gleefully preparing to slash red ink through a large section of Dennis Creevey’s essay on mandrake restorative draught when Hermione spoke. The question stilled his quill in mid-swoop. She sat in an armchair near the fireplace, feet curled up beneath her and a textbook balanced on her knees, a look of eager curiosity mixed with melancholy expectation on her face. He groaned inwardly at her expression, fervently hoping this wasn’t the start of one of the "where-is-this-relationship-going" discussions he had heard so many of his contemporaries complaining about.
Carefully, he laid his quill on the pile of parchment and laced his fingers together on top of it, considering his answer. Tricky situation, this. She would probably be appalled if he told her the actual number of women he’d slept with over the years. That was the sole benefit of being a Death Eater, really - they got lots and lots (and LOTS) of sex. Voldemort had always been a kinky bastard, but he had one major flaw since his second incarnation three years ago, namely, his new body did not have the necessary… er… equipment to gratify his bizarre sexual appetites. As it turned out, the missing finger on the hand Wormtail had "donated" to complete the reincarnation potion was to have been the Dark Lord’s new cock. An unfortunate oversight on Voldemort’s part, and one which Snape believed Pettigrew was privately laughing his arse off about. He was very glad he had not been present at the Death Eater’s gathering where Voldemort made the unpleasant discovery that he was now as anatomically impaired as a Ken doll. (He still wasn’t sure how Voldemort managed to take a piss, but he tried hard not to think about it too much.)
In any case, He-Who-Could-No-Longer-Get-It-On now had to settle for watching his merry band of Death Eaters performing the acts he had once enjoyed rather than indulging in them himself. Which was still pretty much okay with him, as the Death Eaters were a horny bunch who would fuck just about anything that moved. And up until the time he and Hermione had begun to play "co-ed, full-body contact naked Quidditch" (as Potter so charmingly referred to sex), Snape had been an eager participant in Voldemort’s perverse games. In fact, he was fairly sure that was what kept the Dark Lord from killing him outright when he re-appeared on the scene after Voldemort’s rebirth. If nothing else, he could always be counted on to provide an entertaining show.
But he did not think Hermione would be interested in hearing the reasoning behind his promiscuity right now. She was far more interested in "how many" to be worried about "why."
Still, he did not want to lie to her. She deserved better than that. So after deliberating for a moment on how best to respond, he simply said, "Many."
She smiled sadly at this non-answer. "That’s what I thought."
"Are you regretting the fact that you are not out now, sowing your wild oats?" His tone did not waver, but he was decidedly uncomfortable with the turn the discussion was taking.
"A little," she admitted with a small shrug, turning her gaze back to the book in her lap.
The answer stung him more than he cared to admit, but a part of him understood. He was her first lover, and if things continued the way they were going he would likely be her last lover, as well.
Clearing his throat, he asked, "What are you studying?" He didn’t really care, but he was desperate to change the subject before one or the other of them said something they would regret.
"Advanced Transfiguration. We just finished the section on Transfiguring into another person."
"Ah. Interesting topic." He sniffed. As far as he was concerned, Polyjuice potion was the only proper way to change into someone else, but if Minerva wanted to waste her time…
"Oh, it is," she agreed, suddenly looking a great deal more animated. "Watch this." Unfolding her legs from beneath her, she pulled her wand out of her robe and pointed it at her mid-section. "Rita Skeeter!" she cried. Snape watched in fascination as the young girl slowly morphed into the older, bespectacled reporter. "How’s that?" she asked proudly.
Apparently, she had not quite perfected the spell yet, as the voice coming from Rita’s mouth was definitely Hermione’s. But all in all he could not help but be impressed. It was rather an advanced bit of magic, even for a seventh-year student. "Not bad, not bad," he said, rising to his feet and circling the desk to stand before her chair. "An interesting choice, I must say. Considering the way our dear Miss Skeeter screwed you and your friends over a few years back, I would never have thought you would choose her for a Transfiguration project."
"Rita" looked up at Snape with Hermione’s mischievous glint in her eye. How strange it was to see it on another face! "I didn’t, not really," she replied. "I just wanted to show you what I could do." She licked her lips and blinked up at him suggestively. "How would you like the opportunity to do to Rita what she did to us?"
He sank to his knees in front of the chair and kneeled between her legs, grasping her hips in his hands. "No thanks," he sneered. "I’d rather have my Hermione back, if it’s all the same to you."
She smiled down at him and changed back as he continued speaking. "But it could be an interesting way for you to satisfy your curiosity about being with another man." He leaned forward and nuzzled her neck. "Pick someone to Transfigure me into," he whispered hotly against her ear, "and let’s give it a go."
Her eyes widened at the thought as she leaned into his caresses. Was he serious? He must be - Snape had never been one to tease her, at least not verbally. How intriguing the idea was! Now she could have her way with half the men at Hogwarts if she wanted to, and all without betraying her relationship with Snape. A delicious thought, indeed.
The only problem was - where to start?
When she did not respond right away, Snape mistook her contemplation of the riches before her for hesitation. "Come on, then," he urged, sliding his hands up each of her legs until they disappeared beneath the hemline her skirt. "Surely there is someone else at this school that you have been wondering about. Mr Weasley, perhaps? Or even" - he paused, swallowing the lump of disgust that rose in his throat - "Mr Potter?"
There. If agreeing to be Transfigured into the miserable Boy Who Kept On Living Only Because Snape Kept Saving His Sorry Arse didn’t prove his feelings for her, nothing ever would.
But she grimaced at the very idea. "Eww, no," she said, shaking her head emphatically. "Harry and Ron are like my brothers. No thanks."
"Someone else, then?" His fingers were now running lightly along the juncture of her torso and upper thigh, in the deliciously warm area just on the innocent side of her bikini line. She wiggled in her chair in an attempt to bring his fingers closer to the tingling center of her, but he would not be budged.
"You’re going to think I’m weird…" she hedged.
He blinked. "Hermione. After everything we’ve done together, you need have no fear of that. I already know you’re weird."
"Point well taken. All right then," - she took a deep breath - "I guess I’ve always wondered if Dumbledore’s beard would tickle…"
He was unable to suppress his laugh. She was right - that was weird. "Very well, then," he replied, dissolving their clothing with a wave of his hand. "Let’s find out."
With a shaking hand, she leveled her wand between his eyes and said, "Albus Dumbledore."
Snape’s raven black hair and dark, smoldering eyes were instantly transformed into Dumbledore’s white shock and twinkle. He was still kneeling between her legs, so all she could see of the Headmaster’s body were his bare shoulders and part of his chest, the remainder being covered by his long hair and beard. He was about to rise to his feet and offer her his hand, intending to lead her over to the bed, when she sat bolt upright in the chair.
"Don’t stand up!" she cried, pressing down on the thin shoulders. "The last thing in the world I want to see is the Headmaster’s… er… package."
Snape glanced downward at the shriveled twig lying so forlornly atop his right thigh and instantly made a mental note to gouge his eyes out with the first sharp object he came across once he was back in his own body. "Yes, well, I’m afraid it won’t be of much use to us in any case," he replied dryly. He would never look at Dumbledore the same way again after this.
"That’s okay," she breathed, her face and chest flushing bright pink with embarrassment. "I was only interested in finding out how the beard felt, anyway."
"Well then, let’s get on with the experiment." The strange hands tugged her hips forward until her bum was teetering right on the edge of the seat cushion, then pushed her thighs apart as far as they could comfortably go.
Her eyes fluttered closed as Snape gently brushed her inner thighs with Dumbledore’s cheeks - first one side, then the other - moving slowly so she could fully experience the gentle kiss of the older man’s whiskers on her sensitive skin. She twitched with surprise as he tickled her labia with the silky moustache, smearing it with her fragrance. Albus always did have a sweet tooth he thought as he ducked the slightly-smaller-than-he-was-used-to tongue straight into the succulent center of her body.
She groaned and tightened her grip on the arms of the chair, arching her back in order to thrust herself more fully against the talented mouth. He responded by nodding his head vigorously as he tongued her, dragging the Headmaster’s shaggy chin and moustache across her flesh as much as he could. The combination of sensations felt deliciously wicked against her sensitive clit, but long after she normally would have flared into orgasm she found she just couldn’t let go enough to let it happen. When her hands moved to stroke the head bobbing so diligently between her legs and she felt the rough white strands of hair instead of the familiar sleek black ones, she opened her eyes and gently pushed him back.
"No," she wheezed. "This isn’t right. It’s too different. Let’s try someone else."
He merely nodded, eyes studying her calmly over the now fogged half-moon spectacles.
She raised her wand again. "Sirius Black!"
A moment later, a large black dog stood before her, long pink tongue lolling out of the side of his mouth as he panted. She yelped in surprise as the animal pinned her to the chair with his front paws and began lapping at her face, positioning his hips in such a way that his long pink erection was just inches from her opening. "No, no, this isn’t what I expected at all!" she shouted, pushing the dog away with a strength she did not realize she possessed. He stumbled back and she scrambled up from the chair just as he leapt forward again. "Stay!" she shouted, and the dog obediently sat on the cushion, his dark eyes flashing with amusement. Once she caught her breath she couldn’t help but laugh at the look of pure Snape-like humor on the animal’s muzzle. "Well. That didn’t work out very well, did it. Let’s try… Remus Lupin!"
Ah, that was better. Wherever Remus was, he was apparently eating more regularly these days because the body before her had filled out wonderfully since the last time she saw him. He was still lean but his chest was more muscular than she imagined it would be, his arms and legs firm with ropy sinew that flexed in a most tantalizing manner when he moved. And oh, nestled between the toned thighs was the most beautiful cock Hermione had ever seen. It was not overly long but it was thick and heavily veined with a large head that seemed to beckon to her from across the room. She could not take her eyes from it as she took the few steps necessary to close the distance between them. With no preamble, she climbed into his lap and straddled his thighs, dropping down onto that delectable cock so it bottomed out in a single stroke.
"Mmmmm," she purred, licking her lips as she danced on the werewolf’s lap. Now this… this was more like it!
Snape sat watching the pleasure play itself out on Hermione's face, enjoying the uninhibited way she voiced her gratification as she rode him. But he did not move beneath her, did not respond in any way, and after a few minutes she seemed to notice that he was completely detached from what was going on.
"You realize, of course, that Lupin would not enjoy this at all," he drawled as her movements began to slow.
"Oh?" she replied in a breathy voice. "And why is that?"
"Because he is gay, my dear." Hermione’s mouth dropped open in shock and Snape had to laugh at her expression. "Didn’t you know?"
"Is he really?"
"Oh yes. As gay as the day is long. He and Black had quite the thing going when we were students here."
She stopped moving altogether. "Sirius is gay, too?"
"Well… let’s just say Black plays for both teams," he responded, his voice colored with suppressed laughter.
She paused for a moment, digesting this last bit of news. Then a sudden thought struck her. "If Remus is gay, why does his body have this bloody great hard-on?" she demanded.
"Well, it’s still me in here, isn’t it?" Snape replied. "And by God I wish I could have taken your picture when you first caught sight of it. You looked like a starving man seeing his first decent meal in a week." He reached out to pinch one of her puckered nipples. "A less self-confident man than myself would have felt quite put out by that, I must say."
She shook her head, disappointed to the marrow to learn that Lupin’s body would never respond to her the way she wanted it to. "If Remus is gay, this simply isn’t right. We’re going to have to try again." She grabbed her wand and aimed it at the middle of that gorgeous chest. "Draco Malfoy!"
The body beneath her shrank just a bit, losing some muscle tone as the graying hair dissolved into an impeccably coifed mane of snowy white. She braced her hands on Draco’s shoulders and began rocking back and forth in his lap, breathlessly anticipating the rush of pleasure that was sure to follow.
But wait. Something was wrong. She twitched against him again, but all she could feel was the pressure of his pubic bone pressing against hers. She looked down at their joined bodies but could see nothing beyond the smooth hairless chest.
"Is it in?" she said finally, looking up to see Draco’s face break into peals of delighted laughter.
"Yes," Snape gasped by way of response, convulsing with guffaws. "It certainly is."
Wow. Who knew Malfoy was hung like a Tic Tac? She was going to have to file this bit of information away for use on a rainy day.
"Small wonder he keeps pestering his father for the biggest and fastest racing brooms, eh?" Snape snickered.
She tried a few more experimental humps, hoping to feel something in her nether regions besides Draco’s thatch of coarse pubic hair tickling her inner thighs. But after a few moments she decided it wasn’t worth the effort. Sighing, she drew her wand one last time, determined to try someone she knew would be up to the task at hand.
"Rubeus Hagrid."
Well. Talk about going from the ridiculous to the sublime! Hagrid’s huge body nearly overflowed the chair in which they were seated, and she was suddenly perched so high in the air that she had to grab onto the broad shoulders to keep from toppling off. She could feel the cock within her expanding to meet the size of the new body, and for a moment she felt totally and wonderfully filled. This was more like it!
But it did not stop. It continued to swell and grow as Hagrid’s body took shape beneath her, and she was soon bursting with it. She could not stifle a sharp cry of pain as she grabbed up her wand before it could crawl up her throat and out of her mouth.
"Severus Snape! Severus Snape!" she cried.
And the familiar form coalesced in the chair below her. She collapsed against his chest as he ran his hands over her back, stroking her skin with strong fingers in a comfortably intimate manner that soothed her immeasurably. For a long while, they sat together, content, their ribcages rising and falling in concert. Then she began flexing her inner muscles around him and he squirmed in the seat, grinding their genitals together in a practiced gesture that immediately set her aflame. She sat up and lightly grasped him by the collarbone, gently easing her way up and down on his shaft as he cupped her breasts in his hands. Their movements quickened as their arousal grew, and soon each of them was shouting the other’s name as they peaked.
When they were sated and his softening prick had slipped out of her, she curled up in his lap and leaned her head back against his chest so she could both hear his heart beating and feel its throb against her cheek. "Did you enjoy your… experiment… my love?" he whispered, gently kissing the top of her head.
"Well, it was certainly…. interesting," she replied softly. "And I did learn that I’m not missing out on a thing. I have everything I need right here." She patted his chest and looked up at him with such a loving expression on her face that his heart leapt at the sight of it. "With you."
He merely smiled down at her, not trusting himself to speak.
She lowered her head and rested her cheek against his chest again. Neither said anything for a long time, and Snape was just about to drift into a light sleep when Hermione’s voice cut through his reverie.
"Severus, how many women have you loved?"
This question did not require any time to formulate an answer. Stroking her upper arm with the palm of his hand, he buried his face in her hair and took a deep, contented breath.
"Just one, Hermione. Just one."