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Kiss The Serpent	By : indigonightowl Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Snape/Hermione Views: 32591 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 9
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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Disclaimer: I don’t own the characters. That pleasure is JKR’s. I only own the plot…and since I lost the plot a while back, I’m not sure I own even that.

A/N: Thanks to my Beta’s – Chartreuse and Wartcap (from 6 years ago) and to MoodySavage (from now). Their advice is, as always, invaluable. Also, this fic is clearly AU. I can't live in a world without Dumbledore, and besides, I wrote this pre-HBP. Thanks for bearing with me.

WARNING: LEMONS ABOUND. In fact that is pretty much all this chapter is.

Sunday Night

In the Great hall, dinner had just begun. When Harry arrived, he found a seat next to Ron and let his gaze travel over the student tables. Both of them were trying to forget the reason why Hermione wasn’t at dinner with them.

Malfoy was holding court with Pansy at his side, as usual. Harper was several seats along from them, acting as though he were invisible. It struck Harry as odd, considering how chummy they’d been just a short time before.

Harry was fascinated at the thought that Malfoy might be gay, or even bi. It was still awkward acknowledging his own newly discovered preference, but to see signs of it in Malfoy, who prided himself on his reputation with the girls, was unbelievable to say the least.

Am I just seeing these things because I want them to be true? He wondered.

He looked over at the blonde Slytherin again. No, Malfoy IS a nasty little prick. He may be pretty, but I hate everything he stands for. I despise his father and all his pureblood bigotry, he thought. Even if Malfoy tied himself up with a ribbon and offered himself to me for my birthday, I still wouldn’t want him, no matter how physically attracted I might be. Harry swallowed hard at the thought. No matter how I might wish it were different, HE isn’t different. He is still a prat, and I hate him for everything he has ever done to us. Arrogant little bastard.

Harry poked morosely at his bread pudding. He suddenly understood what it meant to both love and hate something at the same time. Not that it was really an issue, anyway, since it was all speculation about Malfoy’s orientation.

“I’ll see you upstairs Ron.” He pushed away from the table.

Ron was on his third helping of dessert, and simply grunted and waved in reply. Harry often wondered why Ron wasn’t the size of a house.

He made his way out of the Great Hall, lost in his thoughts, and bumped into someone in the doorway.

“Watch it, Potter,” a voice snapped.

Harry sighed. It was Malfoy. If he’d been paying more attention, he could have waited just one more minute and avoided this altogether.

With his new theory in his head, Harry found himself looking at Malfoy in a whole new light. The boy would be amazing to look at, if he didn’t always stare at Harry as though he had just crawled out from under a rock. He was very handsome, with his pale skin and fair hair. Harry’s reaction was purely visceral.

Unfortunately he had stared for just a fraction too long.

Malfoy grinned, a malevolent, knowing grin.

“Like what you see, Potter?” he hissed, his voice low. “Too bad you picked the wrong side, or you wouldn’t be finding the grass greener on this one.”

Harry wasn’t sure if Malfoy was talking about his sexuality or joining Voldemort.

Malfoy didn’t wait for a response. He strolled off towards the dungeons without a backward glance.

********

While she washed her face and cleaned her teeth, Hermione tried not to think too hard about what this night might bring. It was one thing to talk about sleeping with a man, but now she had to actually do it. And she wasn’t exactly certain what this would entail. Books on the subject tended to talk in flowery euphemisms that invoked a lot of emotion but didn’t really explain the act itself. He hasn’t done this before either, she reminded herself. I can only hope he has some idea of what he’s doing.

Returning to the bedroom, Hermione found Severus sitting on one side of the bed dressed in a gray nightshirt, covered with a deep green robe. He scowled up at her as she approached.

Feeling vulnerable and a little exposed in the thin fabric of her nightwear, Hermione hastily slipped into the other side of the bed, and drew the blanket up to her chin, trying to appear calm and unruffled.

Severus stood and went to extinguish the lights.

“I don’t mind leaving them on,” she told him tentatively, sounding braver than she felt.

“This will save you using your wedding present.”

Hermione stared at him, confused. “I didn’t get a wedding present.”

“Your lovely little gift from the Weasley brats?”

Hermione had to think hard for a moment. Then she remembered. Oh dear.

“I have already apologized to you for that awful remark,” she said quietly. “I didn’t even mean it. I had hoped you would leave it in the past, even if they won’t.”

Severus’ eyes narrowed.

Hermione rattled on nervously. “It’s never a good idea to do anything stupid in front of Fred and George. They never let you forget it. Still, I had to tolerate that one because I deserved it.”

“You were laughing.”

“It’s the only way to deal with them. If you can laugh at yourself, they don’t work it so hard. Had I been upset they would have ridden that particular horse for the next year!” She shook her head slowly. “They aren’t bad boys. They just don’t know when to quit sometimes.”

“Laugh at yourself?” The sharp edge had gone out of his voice.

“Yes. They were making fun of me after all.”

Hermione stared at him as she realised what had happened. He saw them give her a paper bag, and the three of them laughing over it. She had even said she might need a whole set of them. No wonder he was insulted. Pity he hasn’t learned anything about the type of person I am, she huffed to herself.

“Hang on; you thought I actually found it funny that Fred and George gave us a paper bag for our wedding night?”

Severus nodded.

“You are an idiot.”

He raised one eyebrow and glared at her.

“Don’t look at me like that! The whole world does not revolve around you. Besides, I’m not the one jumping to stupid conclusions and spoiling a perfectly good evening.”

“Is it a perfectly good evening, Miss Granger?”

“Oh, for goodness sake. My name is Hermione. HER–MY–OH–NEE.” She sounded out every syllable. “I’m nervous enough as it is. You calling me ‘Miss Granger’ isn’t helping, especially since it isn’t really ‘Granger’ anymore, is it?”

He raised one eyebrow at her little outburst. “It appears we are at an impasse. My calling you ‘Miss Granger’ increases your nerves, and your request that I use your first name increases mine,” he admitted.

She stared at him, and then giggled – a horrible, nervous sound. Taking a deep breath, she asked, “will you give it a try? Just once? ”

“Certainly…Hermione.” He was unable to contain the faint blush that darkened his cheeks.

“Thank you, Sir.” Her blush matched his as she realised what she had called him.

He gave her a calculating look and left the last of the candles. It wasn’t until he had shed his robe and stood hesitating at one post of the ornate bed that she realised he was equally nervous. After a moment, he spoke. “I’m not sure I can do this.”

What does that mean? Am I that awful, that he can’t bring himself to…? Or perhaps he knows less about this than I do…? Hermione’s mind was spinning.

“It shouldn’t be too difficult,” she said finally. “We just have to…” she made a vague gesture with her hands.

“Just because I haven’t done it doesn’t mean I don’t know HOW to do it! What I meant is that I am not sure I WANT to do it!!” he barked.

Hermione’ bit her lip. Perhaps I should offer HIM a paper bag, she thought miserably.

Severus sighed. “I didn’t mean it like that,” he said seeing the hurt evident on her face.

“Well, what DID you mean?” she asked, trying to keep her expression steady.

He hesitated, choosing his words carefully. “Your first time should be with someone you love, not with…me.”

Hermione suddenly understood. He was worried about her. “It’s up to me whom I gift with my virginity. I’m happy to give it to someone I respect and who will appreciate it. For me, those are better reasons than love.” She surprised herself at the sincerity in her voice.

He searched her earnest face for a moment and nodded, accepting her answer at face value.

“What about you, Severus? Would you rather wait and do this with someone you care about?” she prompted.

Severus looked at her sharply. Sitting down on the edge of the bed with his back to her, he mumbled, “Right now, I can’t think of anyone else I’d prefer.”

That was quite an admission, and probably the closest thing she’s get to him actually saying that he liked her. It warmed her all the way to her toes. He wasn’t an ogre, though he put on a good act. Underneath it all he had the same insecurities and vulnerabilities as everyone else.

Hermione scooted over on the bed, reaching out to place a gentle hand on his back. At her touch he turned his head to meet her questioning gaze.

“I did not intend to hurt your feelings just now,” he said.

“Yes, well, snapping at me is hardly going to help this to happen, is it?” she softened her words with a teasing smile. Goodness, did he just apologise?

Suddenly the task ahead didn’t appear so difficult. There were many things about him that she liked, and it was evident that he was concerned for her well-being.

When he didn’t respond, Hermione realised she was going to have to make the first move. Stubborn male pride was a difficult thing.

“We probably have to get a bit closer for this to work,” she said quietly, inching closer to him. Severus nodded and moved further onto the bed, turning to face her. She could feel the warmth of his body and smell the soap on his skin. She found it strangely tantalizing. He was looking at her with that odd expression on his face again.

“Hermione?” he said, his voice cracking slightly.

“Yes, Severus?”

“May I kiss you now?” His eyes darkened impossibly.

She felt suddenly breathless. “Yes, Severus.”

He reached for her, and drew her into his chest. She raised her chin, and he didn’t hesitate to claim her mouth. He drew gently on her lower lip, encouraging her to open to him. She was thrilled and surprised to discover that she was not in any way disgusted. Somewhere along the way, she had stopped being afraid. The sensation was generating pooling warmth in the pit of her stomach. It made her press closer to him until she was draped across his lap.

Sitting up, while their mouths met again and again, began to add to her frustration. Even with his strong arms holding her, she couldn’t quite get close enough to satisfy the deep need that his kisses were building in her.

He seemed to reach the same conclusion.

As she became boneless in his embrace, she allowed her body to slide gently to the bed until they were lying face to face on their sides, their mouths still fused together.

Hermione was breathless. He hadn’t even touched her and yet she was already awash with need. It occurred to her that this was a very good sign.

With long and lingering kisses, he worshiped her mouth, as though he could never kiss her deeply enough or often enough to satisfy him. Every heated minute was adding to the fire in Hermione’s stomach. But still, he did not touch her.

Pressing her breasts more firmly into his chest, she reveled in the breathless sensation it aroused. His hands clenched convulsively, pulling her tighter into him, but his hands did not move from her back. The need to feel his skin on hers was becoming urgent and she decided that perhaps he just needed a little encouragement.

She was going to lose her virginity tonight, one way or the other, so she wasn’t planning on being shy about it. She only had one shot at this. She fought not to smile as she imagined Severus saying, in his dry voice, ‘how very Gryffindor, Miss Granger…’

Hermione broke the kiss, moving to kneel up on the bed. Severus immediately released his grip and rolled onto his back. She held his gaze unwaveringly, noticing that his eyes had become shuttered once more. I hope we don’t go through this every time, she thought. Her smile became almost wicked.

Reaching down, she grasped the hem of her nightdress and drew it slowly upwards. His eyes followed the trail of the hem as her smooth legs, soft hips, flat belly, and full breasts came into view. The shuttered look dissolved instantly, becoming liquid and aroused as his black eyes roamed her naked body for the first time. The intense heat in his gaze dispelled any possible fears that he might find her unattractive. His arousal filled her with a sense of power.

Sitting back on her heels, she crooked one finger in front of her face and beckoned. As he sat up to take her in his arms again, she waggled her finger in warning. He hesitated as she eyed his nightshirt pointedly and beckoned again. This time he understood. Evidently he needed courage to get out of his clothing. He went to speak, but changed his mind.

Sighing, he grasped the neck of his nightshirt and dragged it over his head.

He was slim and muscular, almost wiry, with a broad back and shoulders. His skin was pale in the candlelight, a by-product of too much time in the dungeons...and his buttoned up clothing, she suspected. A few old scars marred his relatively smooth body but on the whole he was an attractive package. Who would have suspected the uptight Potions master was hiding such a treasure from the world? This just gets better and better, she thought.

Her eyes wandered freely over his chest and stomach. Despite her curiosity, she couldn’t quite bring herself to look lower…yet.

Wondering if his skin felt as smooth as it looked, she reached out and slid her hand over his shoulder, wanting the sensation of his warmth under her fingers. When he flinched, she looked at him in surprise.

Caught up in her appreciative inspection of his body, Hermione hadn’t noticed the tension in his face or the strange way he held his left arm. The Dark Mark.

His uncertainty was palpable. It hadn’t occurred to her that a grown man might feel self-conscious about being naked, and the realisation touched her heart. She had forgotten that until a week ago they had been virtual strangers to each other, just as she had forgotten their age difference. He didn’t strike her as the insecure type, but there were times in every person’s life when they needed encouragement. This was apparently one of those moments.

Drawing her fingers down his arm, she took his left hand in hers and deliberately turned it over, unconsciously fingering his wedding ring as she did so. The mark was strangely beautiful. Like a menacing tattoo, yet not as ugly as she had expected. Under his frozen stare, she traced over it with her fingers, feeling the small pulse of magic within the skin. The shadow in the magic made her shiver. This was a part of him, yet it was not who he was.

She smiled at him, still holding his hand.

“Seems I made a good choice,” she observed, trying to reassure him.

His expression relaxed but his body was still tense.

She reached across and took his other hand, tugging him towards her. “Oh, do co-operate Professor,” she scolded him, teasing, when he resisted. “I promise not to grade your performance or deduct house points, however I cannot promise that you won’t end up in a compromising position that might seriously affect your future.”

Her silly comment surprised a chuckle out of him. The tension broke and this time when she pulled on his hand, he tugged back, catching her when she fell across his chest.

For the first time in her life, Hermione lay skin to skin with a naked man. And he was going to make love to her.

Make love? Better not go there. Therein lies the path to disappointment, she chided herself.

Still, she could enjoy what she had, and a warm, strong, aroused man was worth enjoying, particularly when his nearness set off a strange fluttering in her stomach that made her want to press herself further into him. It could have been a whole lot worse, and the reality was turning out to be far better than anticipated.

This time when he kissed her, his hands roamed her curves. Hermione almost purred with delight at the sensations the contact evoked. Allowing him to set the pace, she submitted to his touch. His hands curved for the first time over her naked breasts, tugging and rolling her nipples between his long fingers as he cupped their weight in his palms. His touch was tentative at first, and then more certain as she pressed into his hands. A shaft of sensation in her stomach blossomed into a flood of wet arousal.

His fingers tentatively moved over her smooth shoulders, and down the gentle curve of her back, before exploring the curve of her hip and bottom. Goosebumps appeared everywhere his fingers touched, a myriad of sensations along with them. His lips trailed down her neck, nipping and suckling at the tender skin. She felt weak. His nose nudged her ear, tickling her and making her exhale in a breathless laugh.

She could feel his skin, hot against hers. She opened her eyes, fascinated by the subtle contrast of her honeyed skin against his pale flesh. The light dusting of hair on his chest tormented her breasts as she pressed herself against him, and the muscular curve of his neck was irresistible, inviting her to nip at his chin and trail kisses across his shoulder.

His fingers moved lower. Her knees fell open, allowing him access to her sex. When his fingers threaded through her curls for the first time, she gasped with the intensity of the pleasure. To steady herself, she wrapped one smooth leg around his hair-roughened one. He pressed his knee firmly between her legs, bringing them into more intimate contact and claimed one of her nipples with his mouth.

Her body was on fire, achingly aware of his arousal, hot and hard between them. The pulsing need between her legs had her writhing sinuously against him.

“Severus,” she whimpered, when he continued to tease her with his fingers and lips. It was hard to think straight.

He raised his head. His cheeks were flushed with arousal, and his eyes glittered hotly. He was darkly beautiful to her in that moment.

She nodded at the silent question in his eyes. He moved his body to cover hers, resting lightly between her parted legs, and the new sensations made her tremble with need. With a rolling motion, he relaxed, pressing his arousal against her, feeling it slide easily along her eager wetness.

Hermione whimpered softly at the contact, wanting more. The gentle rubbing was spreading her wetness along the length of his shaft, stimulating both of them. She was breathless and panting with need.

He looked deeply into her eyes. They mirrored the arousal that lit his own. Reaching down, he guided the tip of his penis into place. It took a moment for him to find the right position. His breathing was becoming labored.

Hermione took a deep breath and rocked against him, knowing that this would probably hurt, but gave him her permission to proceed anyway.

Gently, and slightly awkwardly, he bore down, the newness of the experience surprising a soft moan from him. Her arousal was so great that apart from a slight stinging, she soon accommodated his size. It was not at all the rending she had half-expected.

Smiling into his face with surprise, she tilted her hips under his, startling a small hiss from him at the sensation of her tight walls stroking him. He looked like he was caught between heaven and hell.

She stroked her hands down the length of his back and gently cupped his buttocks. He began to move, slowly stroking in and out, his muscles clenching rhythmically beneath her hands.

They moved together, with an eager awkwardness that soon shifted into a rhythm that had them rocking together, accompanied by their soft sounds of pleasure.

The tension Hermione had been feeling earlier was building again, along with the speed of his thrusts. He penetrated deeply, filling her again and again in passionate abandon.

She reached for something buried deep inside her, but before she could grasp it, Severus buried his face in her neck with a groan. With a convulsive thrust, he came deep inside her, groaning in blissful agony. His pulsing orgasm spilled his seed deep into her womb. She wrapped her arms about his neck and hugged him as he clung to her.

After a moment, he lifted his head, his expression oddly contrite. “Hermione, you are so…I couldn’t stop…”

He was breathing hard and having difficulty completing a sentence.

“It’s OK,” she panted, tracing the contours of his face with gentle fingers, “next time.”

“Next time?” Surprise tinged his voice.

“Of course! Oh…” She bit her lip softly. ”Well, that is, unless you don’t want to. I suppose technically we have done what you need to dispel the prophecy.”

His eyes glittered hotly as he took in her flushed cheeks and swollen mouth. As he shifted his hips, she realised he was still inside her.

“Perhaps this time isn’t finished yet,” he told her huskily. He disengaged gently, gasping at the raw sensation, and then began kissing her again, his hands sliding over her heated skin.

The throb between Hermione’s legs returned instantly and more intensely as he once again aroused her body with his hands and mouth. He was getting acquainted with her shape, tracing the curves and hollows, discovering what made her gasp, what made her moan, and what made her plead for more.

At first she was content to allow him free access to her body. He gently pinned her hands above her head while he explored and aroused her, but she wanted to feel him responding to her touch as well.

“I want to touch you too,” she whispered, hoping she could make him experience even half the sensations he made her feel.

His expression was openly vulnerable. When he released her hands, she wrapped her arms around him, hugging him tight for a moment before eagerly setting about her desired task, exploring the panes and angles of his firm body with the same diligence she applied to everything.

He gasped faintly as her nails raked gently over his taut nipples. It thrilled her to provoke such responses in him. To feel his body buck under her hands pleased her. She soon discovered he was ticklish as well; when lightly raking his ribs made him growl into her neck.

She giggled and scraped his ribs again. When he threatened to return the favor, she squealed and begged him for mercy. He didn’t give it. Burying his fingers into her ribs, he wriggled them until she was breathless with laughter, and then, with a smirk, he soothed her abused ribs with his velvet tongue until she was breathless for a whole different reason.

She could feel his arousal growing again as he lay pressed against her.

Curiosity finally got the better of her and shy hands reached for his erection. Tentative fingers closed around hot, hard flesh for the first time, finding it smooth and silky to the touch. His swiftly indrawn breath told her she had done something right. Awkwardly and lightly, she began to pet it, rewarded again by his hiss of pleasure. Unsure of how to proceed, she did what she always did when confused. She asked.

He covered her smaller hand with his and guided her. After a few moments she was stroking him in a way that made his knees go weak, wringing moans of delight from him until he could not stand any additional excitement.

Rolling over, he raised himself above her, settling once more within the curve of her open legs. She wrapped them around his waist this time, clasping him tightly as he entered her. Again, Hermione was aware of a slight stinging, but it was fleeting as she welcomed him eagerly.

She raised her hand to touch his face, and he placed a kiss in her palm before moving gently inside of her.

The sensations were overwhelming.

His tenderness; the hot, slick pressure of his penetration; the sight of his face with eyes closed in passionate surrender; the knowledge that he was excited by her touch– all of this washed over Hermione, amplifying the burgeoning arousal that was flooding her limbs. The throbbing ache threatened to swamp her as emotion and arousal coalesced in a piercing pulse, deep within her chest and womb. Suddenly she found herself on the edge of an unfamiliar sensation, a deep rolling wave that lifted her for a white hot moment before plunging her into ecstasy.

It did not take him long to follow her there. The ripple of her first orgasm contracting on his already sensitive shaft was more than he could resist. He thrust wildly into her, surrendering to the blinding pleasure, and losing control.

The sound of their ragged breathing soon subsided into gentle rhythmic sounds as they fell into exhausted slumber, their bodies still entwined.

A/N: Thanks to my daughters for naming the house elf.
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Kiss The Serpent