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The Quickening	By : Desert_Sea Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Snape/Hermione Views: 32428 -:- Recommendations : 4 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any other characters/things/places created by J.K. Rowling. I make no money from my fan-fiction.

Chapter List
- 12
- 13
- 14
A/N: And now a juicy chapter to reward those of you who have persisted patiently with the plot so far. Enjoy!
Thank you Night_Fairy, Niclaire, FieryPhoenix, Vaila, BellaPrincipessa, DinaTheCat and Puddingboo for your encouragement and keeping me on track with the plot and HP details. Your words are hugely important to me.
OracleObscured: what a thrill to receive your review. Hopefully you have seen my response in ‘Getting Personal’.
Chapter 13
Severus was immeasurably tired but there was no chance of him sleeping. His entire body sagged like a limp rag, all except the rigid boner in his shorts which had been begging for release for so long without relief, that it was threatening to become a permanent fixture. Every time he moved, the impossibly smooth fabric of his borrowed pyjamas rubbed like burnished silk against his sensitive skin. It was bliss compared with the standard issue sandpaper gown provided, but it also applied a fuzzy warmth, reminiscent of her soft, supple hands. Coupled with her distinct and heady aroma, which had suffused the material completely, neither his mind nor his body could shake the sense that she was there, touching him all over. It was the most exquisite torture he had ever endured and even if his eager cock was never attended to, he would still be immensely grateful to her. But would he ever tell her as much? Not likely.
He was discombobulated. That was a word he wouldn’t mind throwing at Mr Harris, the stupid prick. He was in a more vulnerable predicament now than he had ever been before but he found himself longing for her return. It wasn’t like him at all. Perhaps his dilemma could be solved through the simple action practised by said girl at annoyingly frequent intervals. He took his lower lip between his teeth. Nothing changed. He still felt conflicted. Perhaps his thin lips and yellowed teeth didn’t quite capture the full effect—the image of her neat, pearly teeth, digging into her plump, rouged lips gave his erection another stir.
“Fuck!” he cried out, cursing the forsaken binds and rattling them in frustration.
Despite his sedation, he knew that the quickening hadn’t particularly abated. It was still simmering away, surging with passing thoughts and feelings. The quickening—he hadn’t quite managed to make the semantic conversion to Galvanismus, it didn’t sound right and he’d known it as the quickening for far longer. And what of the Galvanismus curse? Dumbledore’s gift to him when he died. As he died. Snape shook his head as he stared at nothing. It was too raw. Too big a wound to turn an ascerbic mind to at this point in time. Maybe he would process it later. Maybe she could help him. What the fuck was he talking about? He slammed his head back into his pillow. His insomnia was sending his thoughts to all sorts of places they shouldn’t go. He needed a diversion.
If only the binds didn’t interfere with his wandless magic he would roll up one of those towels in the pile over there, put a squirt of something slippery inside, perhaps she had left a bottle of one of her products behind? And remotely position it over his cock. Then he would gently lower it down, thrusting his erection into the slippery folds. Dragging the bundle up and down over his rock hard dick, he would imagine he was thrusting into her creamy heat. Into her body . . . into her . . . his eyes fluttered closed and finally he slept.
***
Hermione spent the rest of the day and most of the evening in the library, forgetting to eat and poring over a mound of text books. She had met with Professor McGonagall and alerted her to the problems with the care plan for Professor Snape. Professor McGonagall was as unhappy as she had been, and Hermione was now confident that he would be getting his meals on time and would be assisted to the bathroom when needed. However, she had also ensured that she could continue to see him every morning to deliver the other aspects of his care.
Exhausted, she fell into bed at midnight, her mind a blur of words and images. She had so much to learn in so little time. Falling into a restless sleep, she was visited some hours later, by a lucid dream.
She was standing by the side of his bed wearing only her satin camisole and a pair of cotton knickers. He was speaking to her in that familiar rumbling baritone—rich and viscous like hot caramel. He was instructing her. Ordering her. And she was following his commands. He had complete control over her and she felt powerless to oppose him. Although his wrists were still bound, his dark eyes bored into her, she felt them physically penetrating her and pulling her toward him.
“You will climb on top of me now.” His gravelly tone set her nether regions aquiver.
And then she was drawn, bodily, over the bar and onto the bed. Only by his mind. His will. She straddled his naked torso with her thighs, his downy skin tickling her down there. The soft warmth of him between her taut muscles reminded her of the bare back horse riding she enjoyed in her hols. Now she was enjoying another feeling in her holes.
“I always thought you would look good on me.” His silky voice slid into her core, as his smouldering gaze dragged from her visibly damp knickers, clinging to the curves of her swollen lower lips, up over the sheer camisole that accentuated her straining breasts, casting them in bronze, to the shadowy hollows of her throat where her pulse was rippling under the tender skin there, to her moist, pillowy upper lips where his gaze fixed as he gave his next instruction.
“Feed me.”
“I . . . I haven’t brought any food.” Hermione’s dream voice was so much softer, lighter than her own.
“Now, that’s not quite true is it?” He tilted his head, adjusting his gaze. “I see a smorgasbord of . . . delectable morsels just waiting—asking to be devoured.” Each word rolled around deliciously on his tongue before being released. On their journey to her ears, they abraded her nipples, causing each bud to pucker and stiffen.
“Ahhh, and there they are.” His penetrating gaze dropped to her smooth aureate pebbles. “Asking for my attention. Striving for it. They remind me of a little swot I once knew. Hand held high. Straining for my gaze. Always so earnest. So desperate. And now you have it. You have me. And are seeking to tempt me. With those ripe strawberries dipped in chocolate.”
Her head swam with the intensity of his words. Her chest heaved as she tried to draw in more air.
“As much as I would enjoy sucking you out of that satin skin. I must ask you to remove it. Now.”
She did as he instructed. Unable to resist.
Peeling the sheer camisole off and casting it aside, her creamy breasts now hovered over him, his biceps straining against the binds, divulging his desire to reach out and touch her.
“I think I’ll have that finger back now.” His voice had turned a shade darker and his eyelids shuttered ever so slightly. “The one that you cut when creating that magnificent potion—Extracorporeal Projection. Did I tell you how much I appreciated the name? From the Latin, corpus or body—I wonder if you always imagined it would be used for both bodily projection and bodily invasion. I wonder. Yes. I wonder about you. And your mind. And your intentions. And your fantasies. What you try to keep hidden.” She could feel her throat closing, managing only a gasp in response. “But you know, don’t you, that your secrets won’t remain hidden with me. I’ll find them. And expose them.” He bored into her with intensity. “And when I do, I have the power to make them alright. Only then you will feel . . . complete.”
She almost collapsed under the emotional weight of his insinuations. His black eyes held her in an awful truth that she couldn’t escape.
“And now . . . that finger.”
She reached a trembling hand toward him and as she dipped down toward his mouth, his lips parted, sucking her digit into the familiar, but still frighteningly intimate, cavern of his mouth. He had the tongue of a Slytherin, serpentine as it slithered around her. When he sucked in a second digit, his tongue licked up between the two like it was snaking between the lips of her labia. She groaned in response and her neck was no longer able to hold her head up, causing it loll to one side.
After minutes of lapping and sucking, he drew his chin up and allowed her pink, glistening digits to pop free.
“I want your nipples to know what your fingers have now learnt. Show them.”
She withdrew her hand and traced her wet fingertips over one jutting nub. She smeared his saliva liberally around and over it.
“Show them,” he repeated.
And she did. Mimicking his laving, sinuous tongue, she rubbed, pulled, rolled and twisted her well lubricated nipples until she was keening with lust and her knickers were firmly stuck with creamy juices to his abdomen.
When she finally opened her eyes, he was smiling at her. “You were always a quick learner. One of the best. A mind like a steel trap. And, if I remember correctly, a cunt like a steel trap as well.”
He was clearly remembering, as his blanket had slipped down and she could feel his immense cock sliding up the back of her buttocks. The sensation of his warm member against her back, coupled with the cool air on her moist nipples, sent further convulsive shocks through her body.
“Now we’ve finished with h'orderves, it’s time for entrée.” His smile dropped away, replaced by that intense smouldering fire. “I see you’ve been preparing something else for us to share.” His gaze rested on her saturated knickers. “Perhaps, since you have gone to so much effort, you can have the first taste.”
A crimson flush rolled down her skin, all the way to her breasts. But, again, she was powerless to oppose him.
He watched her intently as her hand slid down her abdomen into her knickers. She lifted herself off him slightly but her knickers remained attached to his skin as if they were glued there. His large nostrils flared as he drank in the scent of her arousal and watched her fingers slide deeper and deeper under the fabric until they had reached her source. Her eyes fluttered closed as she slotted into her impossibly slick channel. She had never known it to feel so ripe and ready. When she felt her fingers were sufficiently coated, she slowly withdrew them and raised them to her engorged lips. Opening her eyes, she locked onto his, slipping both digits into her mouth. She could tell that it had been freshly made by her body—salty but sweet. And sucking that heady nectar felt so auto-erotic that she suddenly gushed another release into her knickers, which were now filled beyond capacity.
He swallowed as he watched her. Enjoying the vicarious indulgence. Waiting patiently for his turn. She didn’t waste a drop, clamping her lips tightly around her fingers as she withdrew them.
He was smiling again. “I hope there’s enough left for me.”
Without answering, she dipped her hand back into her knickers which were as hot and humid as a greenhouse and delved deep into her folds. Her fingers came out thick with her pearlescent cream which she now offered to him, her limbs moving of their own accord. This time, rather than sucking them into his mouth, he slid his tongue out, trailing it gently up each digit. She watched as her juices pooled on his succulent pink muscle, before he drew it back into his mouth and swallowed. He kept coming back for more until her fingers had been licked clean.
Closing his eyes, he sighed and leant back into his pillow. Revelling in her smell and taste.
“You may consider me a glutton. But I don’t think I can wait for main course.”
He finally opened his eyes to regard her with a look of such raw desire that her breath hitched.
“Perhaps you can cast that clever spell you used on my pyjamas. Use it to remove those sodden knickers before they stick to me completely.”
Her wand suddenly appeared in her hand and she cast the spell, sending her knickers away in the direction of her camisole.
“Now, you obviously enjoyed giving me that sponge bath. I’m looking at your lovely soft sponge now. I want you to bathe me with it. I want to see a slick, shiny trail all the way up to my mouth.”
She was utterly mortified by the suggestion but, as with everything else, she was destined to obey him. Pulse shuddering at her throat, she leaned forward, flattening her pubic hair against his skin. Then, pressing against him, she started dragging her sopping hole over his flat stomach. He groaned and closed his eyes at the sensation of her slick heat winding its way up his body.
Shuffling her knees forward, she continued to paste her juices over his hard muscles, gasping with the friction against her clitoris and labia. She made her way up over his pectoral muscles which she could tell he was clenching and squeezing on purpose to jolt against her swollen and tender lips. Finally she reached his throat. Her knees were curled around his shoulders and her pussy was flush against his larynx.
“You can stop right there,” he said. And the sensation was electrifying. His voice-box vibrated right through her core. “Let’s have a little musical interlude.” Again his long vocal chords thrummed over her entire nether region. She winced with the intensity of the sensation. And then he swallowed, his Adam’s apple tripping her clitoris.
“Unhhh,” she cried out, grasping at the bars on the sides of the bed.
Before she could regain her composure, he started. She should have known from the mellifluous sound of his speaking voice that he would be musical. But this was something else altogether. He didn’t sing but hummed, a deep reverberating tone that felt like a plucked guitar string buzzing against her most sensitive regions. As the tune rose and fell, his prominent Adam’s apple pushed, and vibrated against her clitoris. She threw her head back, her entire body clenching from the sensation. He was playing her like a musical instrument, her insides reverberating like a resonance chamber. It went on for some minutes and she could feel the arousal tricking out of her and down his neck. She had to resist the urge to grind herself into his throat which would have, no doubt, killed him if she had been able to attend to it with the intensity that she wished. He finally finished with a long low note that left her feeling oddly bereft but also almost insane with unfulfilled tension.
He chuckled as he saw the wild look in her eyes and, again, her pussy was teased mercilessly with the sensation.
“We’ve both waited long enough,” he said. “Climb onto my face and lets finish this off.”
She didn’t need a second invitation, her whole body was aching with the strain.
Shuffling herself forward, hands still braced on the bars, she gently lowered herself down. And it was bliss, to finally have her aching hole filled with his long muscular tongue. She groaned and closed her eyes as he thrust into her, his nose rubbing against her clitoris. His movements never stopped, rocking his head against the pillow, shifting angles and plunging into her. She started matching his movements with her own, rolling her hips to enhance the depth of his penetration. Then she began seeing stars as the tension mounted inside her. She could feel that this was going to be an explosion like no other. The build-up had been just too great. Panting through her mouth, she reached down and grabbed a handful of his soft hair, giving in to the need to ride her tension out to release. And he let her. Never stopping with his urgent thrusting as she ground into his face, her sheath tightening around him. Then it started, the quaking in her thighs which built to an uncontrollable shudder in her pelvis and ended with an explosion inside her muscular core. She screamed as she convulsed, continuing to ride his face like a rodeo cowgirl as her orgasmic juices gushed out of her. He didn’t stop, gulping down great mouthfuls of her release as she came over and over again.
Only when her fourth orgasm started did she wake, drenched in sweat and lying in a large puddle of her own juices. Gasping, she felt the shocking intensity of the dream and, for once, she wouldn’t need to consult her dream book to work out what it meant.
A/N: And if any of you are interested in what SS was humming. This is the song that I had in mind by Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds—ingeniously included in the Deathly Hallows (Part I) and as Snape-like as I can imagine. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_0dq6SL8WRc
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- 14
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The Quickening