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Debaucery Complete	By : Desert_Sea Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Snape/Hermione Views: 26267 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 2
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
- 15
- 16
- 17
A/N: OO – ‘This bounty of cliffies is maddening’ – but also the perfect place to end when I don’t know what’s going to happen next! I know you’re not that hot on snakes, so apologies for that. ‘8P` ` ` <----Rabidly drooling Debaucery face.’ – Bahahahah. You have way too many unrealised talents. X
LR – ‘His little side-job came back to bite him on the ass’ – LOL. Big time – isn’t that always the way? ‘O Purveyor of Perversion, Perplexity & Provocation!’ – This is too good. Let me know if you come up with anything I can use for chapter titles :)
Kvarta – ‘All his careful planning he still underestimated Snape as well as Hermione’ – you may well be right! 'She is lioness, in pack females are the hunters that provide food’ – I like that characterization of her. Yes, Parsons seems to have dismissed her outright. He comes across as a bit of a chauvinistic dickhead. ‘Luckily wizarding world never heard of Lassie’ – hahahah! ‘Please, tell me it is not what I think it is?’ – Ummm, I think it might be. ‘Back to chewing fingers and clawing the walls’ – hopefully this chapter will help!
Ali – ‘Is it somehow Hermione's lust potion?’ – All will be revealed in this chapter! ‘How did Parsons know what happened between them in the Den?’ – he has spies everywhere :) ‘So please let's resume normal order . . . get back them back to safety and the....ahem....smut’ – okay, we’ll dispense with the plotty stuff soon enough . . . I promise that normal service will resume by next chapter ;).

Chapter 16 - Nefairytales
Hermione drew a shaky breath as she watched Parsons toss the empty bottle aside with a nonchalant flick of his paw. She’d done it. The potion swap had gone seemingly unnoticed. Belittling Severus had been a risky diversion, but Parsons seemed to enjoy nothing better than demeaning him as a man, rubbing his nose in his past exploits.
But it had hurt to hurt the man shackled opposite her. He seemed so terribly shaken already and her words had only wounded him further—each accusation landing like a solid punch, leaving him hunched and pale.
If only she’d been able to warn him, to explain herself. But the idea had flared quickly. A faint spark. A small glimmer of hope—slim and admittedly dangerous—but still an opportunity to shove a spanner in the works and hopefully up Parsons’ gargantuan arse. But unfortunately it was Severus who would now have to deal with the consequences.
Hermione tried to catch his attention but his eyes were downcast. He might, like her, be feverishly churning through ideas on how to escape. Or he may have simply given up. This wasn’t what he had planned. She knew that. In reality, it was the last thing he would ever want—to be transported back to the horror of the Shrieking Shack, facing a lifetime as Parsons’ werewolf slave. She doubted now that he’d ever been attached to the nobility of sacrifice, rather it was the finality, the release, and he would no longer be getting that.
She watched with concern as blood trickled steadily down his pale wrist. Werewolf wounds could only be healed with powdered silver and dittany so he would continue to bleed heavily. Eventually he’d weaken and then all resistance would be lost. If he hadn’t already given up, his body would ultimately give up for him.
In reality, she was no better off. Her head felt like a bowling ball, and her neck a limp noodle trying to hold it up. She’d also lost a significant amount of blood through several free-flowing gashes inflicted by the werewolf who’d snatched her. And then there was the intense pain that radiated from every battered and bruised part of her body.
But, surprisingly, what dwarfed all of this was the emotional ache—knowing that Severus had cried for her. It shouldn’t matter so much but it did. Nobody had ever cried for her. Even after everything that had happened—the Obliviation of her parents, the loss of so many friends. Everyone was in mourning, struggling to survive themselves.
She’d pretended that she’d come through it all—that she’d coped, her disapproving, and admittedly sometimes brittle, demeanour hiding a world of hurt. But the more controlling and demanding she became, the more she drove people away. Ron had tired of it quickly, as had her other relationships. She’d convinced herself that people couldn’t cope with her ‘high standards’ but the truth was that her interference and bossiness was now only tolerated by her closest friends—those who understood her past and granted her that leeway.
That’s why, despite their constant wrangling, she and Ginny were inseparable. Ginny knew the worst of her traits and still loved her. But Hermione never thought that a man would. And so she preferred not to go there, not to engage—being untouchable was far preferable to being rejected.
And yet there was a man standing opposite her, one who had seen her at her most controlling and disapproving, but who didn’t seem to hate her for it. Not anymore anyway. And certainly these past days she’d felt those traits diminishing—as though she didn’t need to manage absolutely everything. She had enough confidence in his abilities to follow him, to respect his decisions. And certainly their sexual encounter was like nothing she’d ever experienced. To give herself so freely was completely unlike her, but it had been one of the most liberating encounters of her life. He was ridiculously sexually confident. But it wasn’t just that. She sensed that he wouldn’t judge her—her true, fragile self. And he hadn’t.
She ached for more of that, for more of him. But as she gazed at his resigned form sagging against the wall, raven hair curling around his slack jawline, she became aware that she wasn’t the only one fixated upon him. Parsons’ dark, beady eyes were also roving hungrily over Severus’ body, and as his tongue slid out, flicking strings of saliva over his disgusting lips, she wondered if she may have just made a terrible mistake.
Parsons snuffled the air with his whiskery snout and licked his lips again—all the while keenly focused upon Severus who seemed to be completely unaware, contemplating the floorboards at his feet. Hermione gulped. Parsons was panting; his tongue was out and his fangs exposed. No. Not that! Hermione pleaded silently. Was he going to bite Severus now? Is that what the potion had compelled him to do? She realised then that she had no idea how a lustful werewolf would behave.
But as he approached his captive, Hermione was surprised to note that Parsons’ steps appeared hesitant, his manner almost coy.
“I’m finding it rather warm in here,” he simpered, his growly voice noticeably lighter.
Severus’ head jerked up warily. He narrowed his eyes—clearly wondering what was going on. Hermione desperately wanted to warn him, but then Parsons would be tipped off about the switch. So she just watched. And cringed.
“I thought perhaps it was just me,” Parsons murmured breathily. “But now I can see that you’re looking quite warm too. Yes . . . really quite . . . hot . . .” He stopped in front of Severus, dragging his eyes up and down his torso before allowing them to rest on his crotch.
“Maybe you would be more comfortable if I just . . .” Raising his huge arms, Parsons grasped Snape’s coat by the collar and tore the entire garment it in half, straight down the back, before shredding the sleeves with a flick of his claws and tossing the rags aside. Hermione’s breath caught in her throat, Parsons had clearly dispensed with any pretence of subtle seduction.
“Yes . . . I believe that’s an improvement.” Parsons nodded, stepping forward and placing a paw on Severus’ chest where the hard contours of his muscles were visible beneath his grey top.
“What the fuck do you want?” Severus growled, more animalistic now than Parsons.
Hermione expected the werewolf to simply flex his claws and carve down into Severus’ ribs, but he didn’t. Instead he extended a singular digit and drew the sharp nail across the rise of Severus’ left nipple, not hard enough to hurt but sufficient to make Severus flinch in revulsion.
“Now, now, Severus.” The werewolf’s voice had taken on a sickly whine. “There’s no reason that this . . . arrangement . . . shouldn’t be mutually . . . beneficial. I could certainly make things more . . . enjoyable for you.”
Severus’ lips curled into a sneer. “Kill yourself. That should do the trick.”
Hermione closed her eyes. What the fuck was he doing? She didn’t expect him to exactly encourage Parsons’ advances but surely he recognised a change in the wolf's demeanour. Maybe he could try to work out what had instigated it?
Parsons’ response, however, was even more unexpected—he chuckled, actually chortled, as he’d often done when conversing with Severus back at the Ministry.
“Oh, I couldn’t do that,” he grinned, continuing the claw down, causing Severus to arch forward in an attempt to withdraw from his touch. “Then I’d miss an opportunity to get to know you more . . . intimately.”
With that, he brought his other paw up to grasp the front of Severus’ top, tearing it from his body with one almighty rip. Hermione gaped. She hadn’t quite expected this. The sight of a naked, ‘hands-up’ Severus instantly transported her thoughts back to the waterfall, the water sluicing down his sculpted body, hugging his boxers to his impressive groin, but this Severus had rivulets of blood trickling down his side, and a look of such intense fury on his face that she saw, instead, Severus from the Den. Killer Severus. And this time it was a relief. He hadn’t given up. Not by a long shot.
Parsons gave a growly sigh as he took in Severus’ heaving torso. “Severus, my boy. If I’d known you had a body like that, I would have taken Miss Bell’s place on your desk.”
Severus seethed. And as Parsons ogled his rock-hard abs appreciatively, Hermione noticed that the werewolf suddenly changed—in fact he shrank. But he was so focused on drooling over the semi-naked form before him that he didn’t appear to notice.
Severus saw it too. She could tell by the instant change in his disposition. His eyelids shuttered and he lifted his prominent nose, peering down it as though he’d just developed a new appreciation for Parsons’ odd behaviour.
“The smell of your blood is driving me wild,” Parsons murmured, leaning over Severus. He was still at least a head taller but he’d definitely diminished. “Do you mind if I have just a tiny . . . little . . . taste?”
Severus paused. Hermione gave a slight shake of her head. He needed to play this right—like a game of chess, he needed to take his time and choose his moves carefully.
“Be my guest,” Severus muttered drily.
Hermione could tell that it was taking every ounce of his self-control. She allowed her lips to curl into a faint smile. Good Waterfall-Severus. Just keep him interested.
But her pleasure was short-lived as Parsons suddenly grasped Severus’ forearm in his claw, pinning it against the wall before extending his long pink tongue to lap up the blood that was trickling down his bicep. The corpulent creature moaned and shuddered with ecstasy and Hermione found herself on the verge of throwing up.
Her master’s heightened arousal also seemed to pique Shika’s interest. Unwinding herself from the desk, she glided down to the floor, her forked tongue flickering in anticipation. And as she undulated towards them, Hermione felt the small spark of hope within her sputter. Was there really any chance of them leaving this forsaken place alive?
Even as her optimism waned, she noticed that Parsons was undergoing further transformations and, oddly enough, they weren’t gradual. Instead, his body jerked and popped, bits of his humanness returning in random bursts. One of his pointed ears suddenly contracted and rounded, large clumps of fur vanished, leaving pink patches all over his enormous stomach, and his clawed feet retracted back to human size so that they were completely disproportionate to the rest of his body. Even more noticeable was the fact that he’d continued to reduce in size, rapidly approaching Severus’ height.
For the first time in her life, Hermione felt herself overflowing with gratitude for Draco Malfoy. He might a disgusting little ferret but he’d done an exceptional job with this lust potion. It was so completely pervasive that even as Parsons’ stature shrivelled to the point that he was now at eye height with his captive, he still hadn’t registered that, without his lycanthropic potion, his werewolf form was well and truly on the way out. Even his tongue had transformed, such that he could no longer reach Severus’ bicep and was now swiping away at the blood running under his armpit.
It was so gross and pathetic that Hermione felt a mounting sense of sad revulsion for the man. That was, of course, until he suddenly reached out a chubby hand and grabbed Severus’ crotch. Severus tensed and inhaled sharply, making eye contact with her for the first time. Up until then, he’d been transfixed by the bizarre transformation, no doubt wondering if and when Parsons was going to bite.
With Parsons groping him gratuitously, he gave her a look that told her he knew what she’d done. She shook her head in an attempted apology, but he gave no indication that he accepted it.
Shika was completing slow circuits of the floorboards between them, keeping up her constant beady surveillance. The snake sensed that something was amiss—Hermione knew it. And in some ways it was now a greater threat than Parsons. Hermione watched the smooth ripples of its body warily, looking for any indication, any sign that she was preparing to attack. Hermione was desperate to avoid a repeat of the past. It just couldn’t happen. Not to this man—twice.
An impatient hiss suddenly rattled from the agitated serpent and this seemed to jolt Parsons from his reverie. He stopped licking and groping, and looked up at Severus, a peculiar expression on his face.
“You use people, Severus,” he said quietly, straightening his naked, hairless body, his voice now completely, and in some ways more disconcertingly, restored to that of their boss. “You’re using me right now to pleasure you.”
Severus’ face remained stony.
“I need some indication that you’re going to reciprocate if this is ever going to work out between us—that I mean something to you.”
So it was a binding potion after all! Hermione’s eyebrows shot up in alarm.
And then Severus kissed him.
A ‘Liverpool Kiss.’
Or more precisely, a Cokeworth Kiss. He’d last employed it to fracture the skull of the town bully after returning from his fourth year at Hogwarts. Now he smashed his forehead against Parsons’ face with such force that it caved in his nose, rendering him unconscious before he hit the ground with a tremendous splat.
A fraction of a second later, Shika struck.
She knew the spot—the exact location on his neck that her sister had targeted and she aimed directly for it. Unfortunately for her, Hermione was more flexible than she looked, a fact that Severus had discovered earlier in his bed. Crying out, Hermione threw herself at the snake, kicking her leg out to knock its striking body away. Shika’s fangs smashed into the stone wall only centimetres from Severus’ face.
It was all the time he needed.
“Accio!” His wand flew from the desk where Parsons had foolishly left it.
With a flick he’d released himself, and as Shika withdrew to strike again, he cast Confringo—a fiery blast shooting from the end of his wand, knocking her down. Time and again he struck her body with explosions, making her leap and writhe about like a possessed whip. Finally he lunged forward, crushing his boot against her head.
“Give my regards to your sister,” he muttered before delivering the final blow. “Avada Kedavra!”
- 15
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- 17
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Debaucery *Complete*

Debaucery Complete