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The Musings of a Libidinous Witch	By : soldiersgirl0709 Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Snape/Hermione Views: 17581 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 1
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- 1-The Musings of a Libidinous Witch
- 1
                                  The Musings of a Libidinous Witch

                                                By: Snapes_Goddess

            I know we don’t know each other well, but I have to get this off my chest. It’s literally weighing on me so heavily that I can barely breathe. I need to vent. I need to tell someone, anyone, the truth about me. I hope that you won’t judge me too harshly for what I am about to confess, but I really cannot hold it in any longer! I need to get it out or I’m going to explode! You see, I am not who you think I am. I know what you think of me, what everyone thinks of me, but it’s not all true. I am not who you think I am, I am more than that. No one, not even those who love me most in this world know all that I am. But you…you seem a trustworthy sort and to be honest, even if you are not, it doesn’t matter; I need to tell someone…

            It amuses me—as I sit across the table from my friends—how well they think that they know me.   They know the me that I allow the world to see but no one, save a few, know the real me. They know the brilliant witch with a mind like a steel trap, the witch who can recall every detail of a spell, memorize a textbook and manipulate her magical energy with the precision of a surgeon. They know the ‘me’ who withstood the tortures of a maniacal witch, who mustered the courage to fight against a tyrant, who protests injustice, who is fiercely loyal to her friends and wears her heart on her sleeve. To them I am a bit socially awkward. I am not graceful or witty, I am not beautiful or charming, to them I am not really a woman. I am simply Hermione, the brightest witch of my age and sidekick of Harry Potter.

            The funny thing is, I don’t really mind so much. Somehow I don’t think that they can handle the truth. They love who I am. Or at least who they think I am. I am not so certain I want to change that. I think that I prefer the pedestal on which they have placed me, at least so far as they are concerned. I don’t think they can handle the truth of who I am. The darker sides of Hermione Granger as it were. Bloody hell! There are times when I can barely understand or handle the darker sides of myself. I often wonder if the other side of my personality is something innate or a result of my rather complicated life.

            I fight the urge to smirk as Harry refills my goblet only a third of the way. Somehow in his mind I am ‘too good’ to drink too much. To him I am pristine, perfect in some ways. To Harry I am a saint, a Madonna like figure, a rare flower to be sheltered, nurtured and protected from anything that might taint my virginal petals. I don’t hold his gullibility against him. After all, Harry loves me. If he wishes to view me through rose colored glasses—probably broken ones--then so be it. Who am I to destroy his fantasy?

            Ron is stammering again, tripping over his words again. His face is flushed as he struggles to re-phrase the story he is telling so as not to offend my ‘delicate sensibilities’. I often long to interrupt with a story of my own; told in the most raw language imaginable, just to see their reactions. It would be hilarious to see their faces if I let my other side free reign in front of ‘my boys’. I never will, of course. I can’t do that to them. I don’t want to ruin the lily white image that they have of me. So I smile, sip my weak watered down wine delicately and try to pretend that it’s well-aged fire-whisky burning pleasantly in my throat and stomach.

            Ron, Harry and George are going on and on about Quidditch while their wives babble incessantly about furniture and babies in another room. Once upon a time I assumed that I too would be lost in the doldrums of marriage, reveling in the latest vacuum technology or the newest pram to hit the market. It almost happened… But something changed for me somewhere around the close of the war. I look at Ron and I can’t fight the warm smile that lifts the corners of my lips. He was my first love. He was the first person I genuinely loved in a romantic sense, the first person to stir the warmth in my lower belly and make me long to be touched, to be kissed.

Ron was good at the kissing part. His lips are so full and soft and he was always so gentle and tender, but he lacked passion. Not that it’s a bad thing, necessarily. I am sure that there are plenty of women who would prefer a man as caring and tender as Ron. Just not me. It was a shame really. Ron might be a ginger and liberally showered with freckles, but he has a beautiful body; broad shoulders, thick muscular arms and legs, a well defined torso and an arse you could bounce a galleon off of. He didn’t have a particularly large cock but it was thick and for a girl with no experience I found him just fine.

            He wasn’t a bad lover; he was very gentle, very tender, very…sweet. Every single encounter with him was a true ‘lovemaking’ experience. But it got old after a while, I wanted something more but I didn’t know quite what. Do you know that point when you are making love, when he has been moving inside you with gentle, careful thrusts and then, for those final few seconds he changes and the gentleness gives way to mindless passion as he pounds you hard and deep as he rides out his orgasm? THAT was what I wanted! But I couldn’t ask for it, not from Ron. He wouldn’t understand. He wouldn’t like it. He wants a sweet, caring witch who will dote on him incessantly and accept all of the love and tenderness that he generously bestows. He doesn’t want me. He can’t handle me.

            I broke up with Ron exactly four months after our romantic relationship began. I told him it was because I needed to focus on finishing school and furthering my education. I couldn’t bring myself to tell him that while I did, and still do, love him, I just wasn’t attracted to him any longer. He took it well; he didn’t seem too surprised at any rate. Within a year he had met Daisy and she was perfect for him.

            I, on the other hand, found myself back at Hogwarts with a hodgepodge of fellow witches and wizards who opted to return and finish out their instruction in a special class. That was when I truly began to explore myself. I read—no surprise there—every book about sexuality that I could get my hands one, magical and muggle alike. It was such a relief to learn that I was in no way abnormal, that my needs and desires were perfectly healthy and normal. I just needed to find a like-minded partner.

Of course I instantly assumed that such an individual would reside within the house of Slytherin. Not many of the boys of my class returned to school, but one in particular caught my attention. Draco Malfoy was forced to return by his parents apparently against his will. He was a grumpy little bastard! I somehow assumed that because he was a bully that he would be an aggressive lover as well. I was disappointed to learn that Draco was not the dominant, rough partner of my dreams, that instead he was quick on the trigger and cried like a baby into my breasts at the culmination of our interludes.

My disappointment was palpable…and apparently highly amusing to a rather snarky professor recovering from a near fatal snake bite. I remember it like it was yesterday in fact. I was reporting for my evening duties, grading papers for Professor Snape, when I realized that there was more to my Professor than I imagined. Of course this was becoming a running theme in my life as it pertained to Severus Snape. He did not look up when I entered, he never did, but I knew that he was aware of my presence. A stack of parchment rolls were sitting on the small table next to his desk—normally reserved for students serving detention—along with a quill and an endless pot of red ink.

I tossed my satchel onto a desk in the front row and settled into the uncomfortable wooden seat to begin my duties. As always he made certain that I had the rolls from the least intelligent students in the school. For some sadistic reason he enjoyed my appalled sounds and expressions as I read through the ridiculous drivel these students submitted for a grade. Really, is it so hard to go to the library and check a resource once in a while? At any rate, I was reading through a rather abhorrent and lengthy treatise by a third year student on golems—no doubt the little pervert thought to create one for his own private use—when I heard him speak to me.

“How old are you, Ms. Granger?” Mind you, this man never speaks to me lest it is to cut me down for one reason or another. He has made a pastime of ridiculing me over the years.

‘Mentally I am as old as time itself, physically I have just turned twenty,” I said offhandedly. As soon as the words were out of my mouth I realized how I commonly I had just spoken to a teacher and I was instantly appalled at my own behavior. And apprehensive as to what the reply of this incredibly rude and sadistic man was going to be. I added “sir” distractedly in the hopes that it might somehow curb his reaction.

“Twenty,” he said in a pondering tone, still marking the parchment in front of him. he looked up and I was surprised to see a pair of rectangular black framed reading glasses perched on his prominent beak. “It must seriously gall you to be in school at your age, surrounded by all of these children.”

“I try not to think about it, Sir,” I replied. “I simply want to finish my instruction and move on with my education.”

“Ah, I see,” he said, the corner of his mouth twitching slightly, almost as if he were going to smile. “Are you still carrying on your rather disappointing activities with young Malfoy?” My shock nearly knocked me off of my uncomfortable chair.

“Sir?” I squeaked when I said it, shocked to the core by his inquiry into my personal life.

“He is much like his mother, I am afraid,” he said, leaning back in his chair. She had never, NEVER, seen him relax and was completely set off balance by his nonchalant sprawl. He removed his reading glasses and tossed them onto his desk. “What had you hoped to gain from Draco? Money? Connections? Revenge?”

“N-nothing, Sir,” I stammered. I was unsure of myself, completely discombobulated by the oddity of my situation. I was beginning to think that I was having a horrible dream!

“Did you really think that a wet behind the ears mummy’s boy like Malfoy was going to scratch your itch?” He smirked and I gasped, my face flaming as if it were on fire. “Come now, Ms. Granger, we are both adults here and I am not your teacher any longer.”

“I-I-I…” What was I supposed to say? I was flabbergasted by the knowing grin on his lips and that dark, heated look in his eye. I was disturbed by the answering heat now growing between my legs, the pulsing throb of my clit and the scalding wash of my cream wetting my knickers.

“Never expect a boy to do a man’s job, Ms. Granger. It is an elementary lesson I had expected that you would have learned after your rather tragic experiences with Weasly,” he said. He moved like a panther, graceful and sensual as he rose from his chair and came towards me. I couldn’t look at him, I couldn’t believe the way that my nipples were tingling and the way that my pussy clenched as I became aroused. I jumped when his hands braced on my little table as he leaned down behind me. I nearly came when I felt his hot breath breeze across my neck as he bent closer. “I’ve seen the books you carry around in that hideous satchel of yours, I’ve seen the look on your face when you get lost in your head after reading them, you need a man, don’t you?”

“Oh,” I half moaned, half sighed the barely articulated fragment of speech. I was shaking by that point, my knickers soaked thru and no doubt dampening the back of my skirt.

“Just as I thought,” he chuckled as he stood up straight. “Come with me, Ms. Granger.’

            That night I followed him to his chamber and for the first time I was fulfilled. He was a surprise in every way possible. He was not handsome or well built, quite the opposite in fact. He was thin, scarred and pale. But his cock was a thing of beauty. Long, smooth and curved upwards towards his navel from a nest of surprisingly soft curls. The bell shaped tip, when exposed from the shroud of his foreskin, was shiny, soft and flushed a deep shade of reddish purple. Even now the thought of that cock has me squirming in my seat.



            Severus might have been a bastard with all of the social skills of someone with borderline aspergers syndrome, but the man fucked like a beast! My gods if you only knew the things he did to my body! The intensity of my orgasms was such that at times it actually made me nauseous! He was relentless, brutal at times in his quest to make me come and come and come. My legs would be like jelly and I would plead with him, “No more!” but he would just push me harder, higher until my hold on consciousness and sanity was no more.

            His long fingers would search out and stroke every inch of my pussy while his thumb twiddled my clit with ruthless precision. He would insist that I watch him, that my eyes remain locked with his the entire time. He loved to watch my face when I came for him, reveled in the sounds that burbled forth from my lips as he ravished me. He especially loved the sound of my voice when it became hoarse after hours of orgasm after orgasm. He thrilled me, humiliated me and built my confidence in a way that I am sure neither you nor anyone else will ever truly understand.

            I could refuse him nothing. I gave him everything he wanted and he made damn certain that I did not regret it. Can you imagine how it feels to be on all fours atop his desk, his big hands cupping your ass, spreading you open while his tongue ravishes your pussy? Oh, his tongue rivals his cock in splendor! Long, pointed and rough it reaches all the places you want it to and even the places you never dreamed you would want a tongue to venture. And let me just say, that appalling nose of his…well, it becomes a thing of beauty once you realize how good it feels tickling your clit while he fucks you with his tongue, or tickles your backside depending on the position. A surprising fact about Snape…he liked for me to sit on his face. Not just hover above his mouth while he tickled my slit with his tongue, but for me to take a full on ride. He doesn’t just lick pussy, he devours it. Lips, teeth, tongue and nose he immerses himself in the act with such relish and dedication that you would think it was a matter of life and death. And he was brilliant at it; my GOD there is nothing like it! He doesn’t stop until he has rendered you completely incoherent, until he has drunk his fill of your release.

            I’m afraid to admit that I became addicted to him and his glorious cock. I loved sucking him off. Oh my, the salty flavor of him is forever imprinted on my tongue. If I close my eyes I can taste him still. He was—oh my—he was not an easy man to suck. He liked to hold my head still and thrust his cock deep into my throat, especially if he could make me gag. He liked the feeling of my throat constricting around him as I struggled to control it. I spent five years as his apprentice after I completed school, five years fucking him in every way possible way and some ways that I imagined to be impossible. We spent hours in his bed, fucking until the sun rose and set, rose and set again. I think we christened every corner of that bloody castle with our escapades. He has had me in every way in every position; I have been marked by this man more thoroughly than you can possible fathom. And then he had to leave. He called it a quest, one I could not accompany him on, though he promised to return someday.

            Did I love him? I don’t know, I suppose I did. Did he love me? Yes. He loved me I think. He loved me enough to know that I could not be happy alone while he was away. That was how Lucius Malfoy came into my life. Severus gave him to me. It’s rather funny when I think about it now. Severus arranged for an elaborate dinner for the two of us at a mountain inn, a final night together before our indefinite separation.   I came out the bedroom in the new peignoir set he had purchased for me and was more than a little shocked to find Lucius sitting beside him on the sofa.

            Lucius was in a…difficult…and complicated place in his life. His wife, Narcissa, was mentally unsound. In fact she suffered from late onset schizophrenia. She had no idea who Lucius and Draco were and resided in the Heavenly Acres Sanitarium until her eventual passing a few years ago. Lucius was terribly lonely and didn’t dare engage in an affair with anyone publicly lest the reputation he had barely managed to salvage be once more damaged, this time irrevocably. Severus, who had been his friend for decades, decided that we could help one another. I was nervous, after all I had slept with his son and it had been a decidedly unsatisfying experience.

            I shouldn’t have worried. I should have not doubted Severus’s judgment.   It was awkward at first, having Severus begin touching me and undressing me in front of a virtual stranger. But it was also exciting. I found myself lost in his silver-blue eyes as my body was assaulted by the pleasure of Severus’s touch. He watched, I could see the admiration in his eyes as Severus stripped me bare, could see his arousal tenting his well-tailored trousers. He wanted me and I was stunned to find that I wanted him in return. I wanted both of them and that night I had them. I was filled to capacity, a wizard in my mouth and one in my hand, one in my pussy and one in my ass. At any given moment I was utterly possessed by the two of them. Not an inch of me went un-worshipped by these two glorious creatures until finally, in the wee hours of the dawn I fell into the blackness of slumber. When I awoke Severus was gone and Lucius was sleeping beside me.



            I hear a bell tinkling from across the room indicating that someone new has entered the establishment. The boys immediately stiffen and I turn my head to see who has them so riled up. I instantly go hot all over, my spine prickling as heat settles between my legs. Damn. I whisper it under my breath, I can’t help it. Every time I see him, every time I am near him I soak my knickers in an instant. HE can handle me. HE doesn’t place me on a pristine white pedestal or treat me like fine china. No, HE straps me to his bed and fucks me as if the hounds of hell are nipping at his buttocks.

            Lucius is a wonder of a man. Tall and powerfully built with the lean body of a long distance swimmer, every inch of him is chorded with muscle beneath his fine expensive cloths. I loathe his clothing. I prefer the sight of him naked. Creamy smooth skin, not a single hair on his body outside of the neatly trimmed patch of hair that crowns his groin, I’ve never been brave enough to ask if he shaves. He has a long, thick cock that stands straight and proud when he is erect. I love to ride that beautiful staff, to feel it stretch and burn the tight walls of my pussy. He loves to fuck me from behind, his fingers buried in my backside, stroking his cock through the thin membrane separating them. Lucius is a kinky bastard. He likes the games, the toys, and especially the costumes. I have dressed up as a thousand different beings for his pleasure. And thankfully, he is just as generous with the orgasms as Severus so I don’t mind so much.

            His favorite thing is to spank me. He likes to see his handprint redden my ass, to feel the warmth of the blood rushing to the surface against his belly while he fucks me. He often restrains me, always with leather straps, to his bed. He will then take his sweet time torturing me with the silky strands of his hair. He tickles my nipples, twirling the ends around and around the engorged tips until I am screaming in frustration. Then he will settle in between my legs, use his fingers to part the puffy lips of my aroused pussy and torture my clit with his platinum strands. It’s every woman’s fantasy to have those beautiful blond locks dragged between her thighs and I feel honored to have had the pleasure countless times.

            Lucius is a true switch. He loves to top and he loves to be topped equally. He really likes it when I make him wear his death eater mask and punish him for being a bad boy. As a reward for being a good listener I let him suck on my clit until I come. Lucius craves praise. He longs for approval and for compliments so he is always eager to please. He is truly a vain creature but he has been good to me over the years.

Do I love him? Sometimes I think that I might. Does he love me? Sometimes I think that he might. Love or not he gives me what I need. He fulfills my desires. I thought for a time that I was an addict; that I was sick. But I’m not. I am a healthy woman with a VERY healthy libido. I like sex, in fact I love sex. I love uninhibited sex, sex without boundaries. Sweaty, noisy, rough, wild, passionate sex that leaves me breathless, exhausted and aching. You can’t find that kind of sex with just anyone, you know. It takes a certain kind of wizard to fulfill you.



            What would the boys say if they knew that I fuck Lucius Malfoy on regular basis? I guess you could say that I am his mistress. I have been for nearly five years now. I’m not proud of this, mind you. I feel horrible for behaving as I have with a married man, though he isn’t married any longer, widowed for the last two by a wife who sadly had not recalled his name in years. He keeps it secret, he doesn’t flaunt our relationship and we absolutely are NOT dating.

            Oh, my! He spotted me. Look at how his eyes are narrowing and how that little smirk lifts his lips. He knows that I was watching him. He knows that I want him! Why is he coming over here? The boys will freak out!

“There you are, Hermione.” I love the way he says my name in that cool, cultured drawl, it, sends shivers racing down my spine. “I’ve been looking for you.” The boys are on edge. I am surprised they have not drawn their wands. He speaks quietly so that my friends cannot overhear and I appreciate that. I don’t want the boys knowing that he is anything to me other than a casual acquaintance.

“I’m sorry, did we have an appointment?” I am trying to sound calm and a bit confused but it’s not working. I sound like a bitch in heat ready to bend over and let this man roger me in front of everyone. The imagery and the shock it would garner definitely has merit.

“No, but I have something very special for you,” he says. I hear the bell above the door tinkle again and hear Ron swear from behind me. I peer around Lucius and catch my breath. Severus is approaching. Older now, the lines in his face a bit deeper than before, his inky black hair streaked with silver. Aged or not I tremble with arousal, with excitement, with emotion that threatens to overwhelm me.

“I told you I would return,” he says. His voice is like a caress abrading my engorged nipples and tweaking my clit.

“Severus.” I can hear the sound of my voice saying his name and I know that no one around me can possibly mistake the meaning of my tone if they heard me. I can almost feel their image of me fall away as the true me is laid bare for all and sundry. He smirks and I nearly weep.

“Thank you, Lucius, for taking good care of my belongings during my absence, including my favorite toy,” he says to his friend. “However will I repay you?”

“I find that I rather like this toy, old friend. I can’t ever recall enjoying a plaything quite so much,” Lucius says, his eyes burning into my skin. “Would you consider sharing?”

“We can probably come to an arrangement,” Severus says. I swear to you I can feel my cream running down my leg. He winked at me, the devil! Gone five years and my body reacts instantly! My gods, can you imagine the night I have ahead of me? Both of these wizards will have me. Look at their faces; do you know what they are going to do to me? I am going to be sucked, fucked, licked and fingered to within an inch of my life! Before the sun rises tomorrow I will have been filled to capacity by the two of them. They will take everything from me, piece by piece and replace it with pure sensation.

“Mione?” I hear their voices. My friends, the people who love and adore me, the me that’s perfect. But right now she is gone, stripped away by the two men who worship the other me, the real me. I can’t say anything to them that will give me away; I can’t answer their questions or worry about what they think of me right now. Right now I need to go. I need to go with these two men.

“Forgive me, boys, I forgot about an appointment that I had made with these gentleman…work related,” I can barely keep my voice under control as I grab my purse and stand. “Please, forgive me; we can get together again soon.” I don’t wait for their reply; I simply allow Severus and Lucius to lead me away, somewhere private.

Forgive me for skipping out on you after I have unloaded my licentious burden onto your shoulders. I do appreciate you listening to me cleanse my soul, so to speak. I feel a great deal better knowing that someone knows my secret. Right now, however, there are two very virile wizards who have plans to ravish me so I must away. Thank you again for listening and I pray you will keep my secret…for now.

                                                            ~Fin~

I dont normally write first person...was bored at work and thought Id give it a shot!
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The Musings of a Libidinous Witch