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"Woman" Series, HG/AW	By : Remarkable Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female Views: 45673 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 3
Disclaimer: I own nothing pertaining to the Harry Potter fandom and make no money from the publication of this fiction.

Chapter List
- 9
- 10
- 11
Tremendous apologies for lack of posting! I will never abandon my stories, even if there is a long wait until the next one. I had to unexpectedly three summer school classes for my degree and they are tough! Accelerated college courses are no fun let me tell you.

Plus I am writing for a couple of challenges. I am looking for a long term beta that is good with punctuation, picking out plot holes, Canon spellings and is brutally honest. Turn around time not an issue. I would like to be able to post some of my stories on Granger Enchanted and Sycophant Hex!

Without further ado, here is chapter ten. It is dark, but remember the old adage, things often get worse before they get better. Thanks for staying with me on this wild ride.

Chapter Ten: A Woman Lost

The Firewhiskey burned a trail of liquid satisfaction down her esophagus. Slamming the tumbler onto the aged wood, Hermione blearily motioned Tom for another drink. The concerned bartender waved his help to clear another table of leaving pub hoppers before running his rag down the length of the bar to the heavily inebriated witch.

“S’another Fireswishkey, Tom!” Hermione slurred a bit too loudly. A number of eyes darted her way, heads coming together with heavy speculation.

Tom glanced about and muttered under his breath as he pulled her tumbler off the bar, replacing it with an identical tumbler filled with a liquid that was Firewhiskey spelled to eliminate the alcohol content. It was one of his own brews to avoid overdosing patrons. Quite the moneymaker, although he usually tended to slip the money back into the drunk patron’s pocket before they left or after they passed out at his establishment. It also tended to avoid legal complications for those who chose to check their brooms. He could slip a diluted Sober-Up potion into their drink with a delayed effect when they left so if an Auror pulled them over, the alcohol percentage was greatly reduced below the legal limit, although they often ended up in Ministry detox.

“What’s got you drowning in the bottle, lass? I never seen ye lose yerself in the bottle.” Tome surreptitiously continued his wiping journey along the end of the bar where the young witch sat, alone with her libation and thoughts for most of the night. Hermione Granger had never gotten drunk in his establishment.

“Whishards!” she announced a bit too loudly again. More eyes glanced towards her, a few people moving closer very conspicuously.

Tom swore inwardly and invoked a nifty little charmed galleon. Putting a sticking charm on it, he put the doctored bottle of Firewhiskey in front of the girl. The invoked and hidden charm cast a Muffliato charm a few feet around her to thwart the bastard eavesdroppers. Tom didn’t make nearly as much money as he’d like for all the tricks he paid for to keep certain customers’ privacy and humility intact, even if they had no idea he did so. After all, the man had a soft heart for the downtrodden, especially war heroes.

“Wizards, eh? Yeah, we can be a bastard lot. Always breaking a young witch’s heart. You’re better off without’em, girly. Take my advice and don’t be drinkin’ yerself to death over some stupid young lad. He ain’t worth it.”

A patron signaled for him and he waved the irritated wizard away, his help smoothing intercepting the cursing snitch-to-be.

Tom leaned over the bar, well used to the putrid breath of the young witch as she gushed her sorrows.

“I’m a schmart woman, you know?” she gestured dramatically, her drink spilling over the sleeve of her robes.

Tom nodded, idly spinning a clean glass around his filthy rag.

“I’m schmart, but everyone calls me a know-, know-it-, a pershon who talks too mush.” Hermione threw back her tumbler in one go and promptly poured herself another. “And all I want is someone to love me. Who wants to love me? The woman with too mush hair an a brain bigger than her backside.”

The barkeep didn’t say anything. He just sat and listened. No one really wanted his opinion anyway, and if they asked it, he tried to keep as neutral and positive in his response as possible.

Hermione’s head slumped forward exaggeratedly. This time she picked up the entire bottle and took a liberal chug. Tom flicked his fingers to disillusion the charmed galleon underneath it. Had to be quick on his feet at times!

She waved the bottle around dangerously, nearly tipping it as it clanked against the bar in her clumsiness. “Dish you know how harsh ish is ta be a woman? Men like ta hold sexsh ofer your head. I mean, ish like pushy is more important than brainsh.”

Her slurring was getting worse. Tom flicked his fingers again to activate the latent, diluted Sober-Up in the bottle. This little chickie needed to Floo home and sleep it off. Knowing most customers, she probably thought she’d be fit to Apparate as well. Exactly why Tom was ahead of the game and kept designated Floo attendants honor bound to return inebriated customers to their destinations. Good help was tough to find, but in this economy he had no trouble employing wizards and witches down on their luck, even if he did have to extract varying degrees of strict confidentiality contracts from them first.

“I thinksh my pushy ishn’t anything speck- speck- great. But all shorts of wishards want a piesh of it.”

Oh good Lord, time to get her home.

“Ah, Miss Granger? Its closing time. Miss Delish here can escort you through the Floo to your home.”

Hermione narrowed her eyes at Tom at his imposition but then sighed and nodded. The Sober-Up was having an effect, enough for her to realize that she was very drunk and needed to get home safely. The thinly disguised prostitute smiled warmly at the war hero and discreetly patted her on the back while Hermione continued to complain to her all the way through the Floo. Ensuring the witch was safely back at her domicile, the witch disappeared in the middle of another of Hermione’s drunken monologues and back to the Leaky.

After several minutes, Hermione seemed to realize she was talking to herself and stumbled into bed fully clothed. Her sleep was dreamless, heavy and exhausted.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Hermione awoke to more owls tapping at her window. There were five vying for position of first entry. She’d removed the perch from outside to discourage them from hanging about since the newspaper article about her escapade with Snape, but she couldn’t remove the ledge, so it was often crowded and sported mountains of owl shit that she had to Scourgify daily. With a huge sigh she cast a Tempus, relieved to see she hadn’t overslept her alarm. The pounding in her head was enough to put her off Firewhiskey for some time. With a start, she realized she’d been rambling to Tom at great length the night before and flushed scarlet. Gods only knew what she’d gone on about, but he had seemed to be understanding of her plight as she slowly realized he’d somehow sobered her up a touch before she’d been escorted home. Shit. Another witch had had to bring her home.

The brightest witch of her age knew she had to sort through this tangle of lies and deceit before it got any worse than already was. She ignored the desperately flapping owls. Three of them held Howlers in their beaks. Uncaring to their plight, she hopped into the shower and scrubbed herself raw, unable to wash the feel of Lucius Malfoy from her person. Gods, he had felt so good and made her hate herself even more for the deceptive games she was playing! As if there was any choice at this point, if she wanted Snape off her back.

The only way to continue to keep her affair with Arthur a secret was to play the game. She had morning field training with her coworkers, then a group meeting with new trainees before she could stop by Hogwarts to visit Snape. She felt it best to stop by announced and catch him off guard, if it was even possible. Not having a plan of action wasn’t too smart, but she wanted Lucius off her back as soon as possible as well.

With a flourish she finished showering, dressed and took the Floo to work. Hermione didn’t get much opportunity to see Arthur during the day, which was just as well considering the heated tryst she’d been forced to share with Lucius only the day before. Her belly grew heated when she thought of the thorough plowing she’d received from the imposing wizard and was immediately chastised by her conscience. It was terrible, all of this sexual blackmail and seduction going on but she was intensely and shamefully turned on by it as well.

Her actions were almost automatic, going through the motions with the trainees and field training with two new types of magical creatures they were overseeing, plus one new endangered magical being the Ministry was supporting rehabilitation of, including their habitat and population crisis. Her job was old hat; her mind was on her forthcoming meeting with Snape.

The day drew to a close and Hermione hurriedly changed into her after-work robes, rushing past Arthur’s office while he was still engaged with shift change reports and completely missing the knowing gaze of Lucius Malfoy as the young witch reached the main Floo system and disappeared into the green flames with, “Great Hall, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry!”

Hermione had a standing invitation to come or go at the school’s main Floo entrance or whichever professor she happened to be visiting. A few surprised students looked up when she appeared but quickly went back to their studies. There was still a good hour until supper in the Great Hall, and those gathered happened to have a free period at the end of the school day.

Hoping to avoid any staff on her way to the dungeons, Hermione scowled briefly and then plastered a smile to her face when she was accosted by Professor Flitwick.

“Hermione! Is that you? Well bless me, fancy seeing you here! What brings you back to the school? What a pleasant surprise!”

Thus, Hermione was held up over thirty minutes with the diminutive Charms professor as he went on about several new variations of charms he was working on, and would she like to have a look at them, a bit crestfallen when she declined but perking up again when she promised to return at a later date to give him her opinion on his research.

Finally able to continue about her business, the relieved witch managed to slip into the Potions classroom just as the last students were gratefully exiting for the day. The fourth year Hufflepuff/Ravenclaw class chattered excitedly as they rushed past her. Instead of allowing the door to fall shut, she held it open for the last exiting student after the thundering baritone of the resident Potions master finished his tongue lashing on the dismal efforts presented by the boy’s efforts. Flashing the red-faced child a sympathetic look, she firmly shut the door behind her before turning to face the reason for her visit.

A stone-faced Severus Snape stood imperiously behind his desk, arms crossed and scowl firmly planted. The irritation in his stance was plain. When Hermione didn’t advance further into the classroom, Snape took the initiative and unfolded his arms, descending from his perch to stalk heatedly, robes billowing, to stand uncomfortably close to the close-mouthed witch.

Now that she was there, Hermione had no idea what she was going to say to the pale, imposing wizard. All that came into her head was him forcing her in the forest, thrusting between her legs and the wrenching, mind blowing orgasms from her soaked cunt. Maybe she really was addicted to sex? Whatever the cause of her reaction, her heart was thudding loudly against her ribcage when the scent of herbs, smoke and sandalwood infiltrated her senses. Her knickers were creamed instantly.

A slow smirk slid across the Potion master’s face as his eyes glittered, those black orbs penetrating her as surely as his cock had. Words would have paled in comparison to the meaning conveyed with the look he gave her.

In an instant he was upon her, wandlessly warding and silencing the classroom. Hermione opened her mouth to protest and nothing came out. He had silenced her as well. With a silent, angry shriek she pushed at him ineffectually.

Snape deftly stripped the witch, yanking hanks of fabric, popping buttons and brutally pinning her against the door to the Potions classroom. His eyes never left hers, that infuriating smirk prevalent as he slipped into her mind, allowing her to see his amusement at her outrage. With a resounding mental shout she slammed down her Occlumency shields just before he could glimpse Lucius Malfoy pummeling into her from behind.

With narrowed eyes the Professor leaned forward and whispered silkily into her ear, his voice doing divine things to her nerves, body readying itself for the inevitable intrusion.

“I can’t say I am pleased with unexpected visitors to my classroom, but considering the nature of the visitor, it isn’t unwelcome.”

Hermione continued to fight him, chastising herself for not continuing her workouts after the war. She’d grown weak and Snape was taking advantage of it.

Snape caught her knee as it came up to knock him in the groin.

“Don’t even think about it, witch!” he hissed. “You know damn well why you came to see me, so do not pretend you do not want what I gave you a piece of the other day!”

With a few deft movements his erection sprang free from his robes and he’d lifted her, impaling her onto his shaft with a sharp intake of breath.

“So tight for me, witch. I knew you would come back for more. One time I spread your whore’s legs and already you’re back. You’re a wanton little slut, aren’t you Hermione?”

She shook her head furiously as he placed his arms under her own, pulling her down into his thrust, a cushioning charm against the cold dungeon wooden door as he pressed into her sharply.

“You like my cock pounding that tight cunt, don’t you, witch? Addicted to what a only a dark wizard can give you. Well, I will give you as much of this as you can handle!”

With that he attacked her with lips, tongue, teeth and cock, plunging into her tight, wet heat with wild abandon. Snape was grateful for the release as well, not hesitating to take advantage of the luscious little body wrapped around his cock. She was no match for his strength or Slytherin cunning.

Hermione’s mental processes shut down as the powerfully seductive wizard took over her body with masterfully deceptive persuasion. She was helpless against him, her brains turning to mush as she realized with a start she should have had her wand handy. In her rush to leave work she’d left it in her robes pockets.

Severus Snape worked her body with a skill and precision born of a man who’d shagged many witches throughout his lifetime. The dark wizard was no stranger to carnality in its purest form and took his pleasure from whomever he could freely do so and without remorse. A crushing abhorrence from her conscience was crushed by her own lust being sated so exquisitely.

Snape felt the change in her shift from begrudging and fruitless reticence to willful, active want from the way her body was responding to his possession of it. He loved taking her to task. What a lovely, terrible thing it was to fuck the Gryffindor princess right in the very classroom he’d taught her, all those years of that annoying hand waving incessantly in the air, her nose perked up just so as she challenged his teachings and questioned his methods.

With every ounce and fiber of his being Snape laid into her, his robes slithering deliciously around them in a black cloud of rustling fabric.

Snape only stopped long enough to wrench the witch around and lay her on the table she’d brewed at for years. Irony was never lost on him as he dropped his trousers and pants to his knees, shrugging off his black teaching robes as he continued thrusting into her, grasping her thighs now and eyes narrowing at another set of fresh handprints there. So he had competition, eh? He somehow didn’t think those were Arthur’s handprints embedded in her flesh.

As if punishing a wayward lover he actually had a right to lay claim to, Snape possessively hunched into the tightening witch and bit at her nipples, soothing them with his tongue. His pants came loudly now, stiflingly muted without the usual echoing resonance the classroom usually provided, since his wards absorbed the sound the way his lust was absorbing her oncoming orgasm.

“Fuck, witch! Come for me! Come for your Professor you fucking slut! Come on! Come on!”

The command was driven home with punctuated, staccato slaps of flesh as his tool hit bottom and Hermione felt her insides shift, screaming herself silently hoarse as her pussy clamped down and spasmed violently around Snape’s cock.

The wizard’s eyes bugged out and slammed shut, his head thrown back, dark hair hanging in greasy strings, chest straining in opposition to his meat and veg locked tight to the junction of their bodies as she creamed hot and wild around him. The soaked witch jerked and shook uncontrollably, her fists slamming down on the table as Snape felt the tightening in his loins burst, electricity shooting up and down his spine, toes curling. Great bolts of light appeared before his eyes in time with the bursts of come jetting from his body into the cavity of the witch beneath him. He bucked against her for a full minute and a half before slumping tiredly on top of her, catching his breath while their sweat mingled, emissions drying against one another in the cool of the classroom.

“Great gods, Miss Granger. If I’d known you were such a good fantastic fuck, I’d have sought you out long ago. Be on your way. I’m late for dinner in the Great Hall. Come back anytime you like.”

With that standing invitation, he slapped her on the thigh, scourgified himself and left the classroom as he belatedly removed her silencing charm just before the door closed behind him.

Hermione stared up at the ceiling, tears pooling in her eyes. Her confidence in herself sorely shaken, she gathered her torn clothing and dressed the best she was able. After waiting numbly in a crook of the dungeon for what seemed like hours, the witch hobbled to the Floo in the Great Hall after it was emptied of staff and students and went home, duly chastened and at a loss as to how to proceed.

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"Woman" Series, HG/AW