Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Quartet	By : OracleObscured Category: Harry Potter > Threesomes/Moresomes Views: 128263 -:- Recommendations : 5 -:- Currently Reading : 11
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
- 17
- 18
- 19
A/N: I hope my Sevmione fans are a patient lot :)
LissaDream: I feel your pain. :) I've lost many an hours work to computer malfunction (or my own stupidity). I'm glad you're coming to terms with finding Lucius acceptable; I know it's difficult for some (and I'm glad you found his backstory believable). She is guarded yet hopeful around him; I like that you’re experiencing it with her :) Hope you enjoy the next chapter too.
DS: :D Yes, Draco’s keeness could be partly jealousy, and it’s difficult to know which is inspiring him more. It will be resolved as the story goes on (but not anytime soon—although it’s not a spoiler to assure everyone that his feelings for her are genuine.)
Hahaha! You remembering the pervy wanker line from TMG is no surprise. You’ve read that chapter more than any of the others.
18—Ayre
"Am I just fooling myself, that she’ll stop the pain?"—Patrick Swayze
(Severus)
Snape went still, the creak of weathered floorboards alerting him to her presence. It was a wonder he’d heard anything at all over the high-pitched howl blustering between the slats. Thankfully his cloak was thick, and he’d chosen the warmest corner of the shack for their confab. A dense layer of dust powdered everything in sight, but a simple spell had one of the chairs acceptable for sitting. Rays of afternoon sunlight filtered through the ill-joined walls, causing the floating dust motes to glitter in midair like snowflakes. The setting was eerily peaceful, but also a touch forsaken.
It suited him.
The Shrieking Shack was not an unfamiliar haunt for the sullen Potions master. He visited often. No one knew where he disappeared to for hours at a time; they’d probably consider it odd—or, more likely, disturbing. Not only was the hovel unfit for human habitation, it was the scene of a grisly murder.
His own.
Within those four walls he’d danced with death.
Fortunately, it had been a short number.
It turned out that two phials of Temporariam Mortem actually could put a stopper in death. He had crossed over . . . just not for long. Apparently there really was no rest for the wicked—no eternal rest anyway. At least not in his case.
Waking up in a pool of his own blood had been rather unsettling, but Severus had sacrificed too much to leave the fate of the wizarding world in the hands of a teenage boy who had all the discipline of an untrained puppy. What if, after deciding that martyrdom wasn’t his cup of tea, the boy came to his senses and ran? What if whatever plan Dumbledore had set in motion didn’t work? What if that noseless ghoul survived? The burden of killing the Dark Lord would fall to Snape if Potter was unsuccessful.
He had no idea how long he’d lain there before waking up and regaining his strength, but by the time he’d stumbled back to the castle, Potter had already met with destiny and fulfilled the prophecy.
Just like that.
In the blink of an eye, the world as he knew it was no more.
Narcissa had found him dazed and weak, slumped at the edge of the Forbidden Forest. She’d taken him to Poppy, who had reluctantly treated his wounds—until Saint Potter showed up and made a fuss, explaining that Severus had been helping him all along and prattling on about how he’d thought Snape was dead.
He didn’t want the boy’s help, but like most things in his life, Severus got a lot of what he didn’t want. Harry had been the star witness at his trial, and the Potter fame had not only secured Snape’s freedom, it had earned him an Order of Merlin First Class. The pomp and spectacle of that “honor” disgusted him—but he had to admit the official seal of approval did make his daily life less torturous. No one shrank from him in terror or cursed him in the streets. No hate mail exploded in his face at the breakfast table. He could go about his day unencumbered by the public’s enmity, which meant that Potter might have been good for something after all.
When he was offered his job again, he had agreed to return only if Minerva would take over as Headmistress. Resuming his post as Potions master was a step down on the food chain, but he cared even less about the farce of school hierarchy than he did about pointless Ministry awards. He longed for the quiet subterranean seclusion of Hogwarts, wanting nothing more than a touch point of familiarity after so much upheaval.
The first thing he’d done after setting up his room in the dungeon was visit the Shrieking Shack. He knew how morbid his colleagues would find his little visits, so he kept the field trips to himself. Although the floorboards were still stained with his blood, he found it tranquil rather than macabre. Where others might see defeat, he saw resurrection. His old life had ended there, but his new life had been birthed on its dirty floor. He had come back from the dead into a different world, one where he was beholden to neither Voldemort nor Albus, one where he was master of his own fate. The novelty of living, with all its choices and possibilities, had yet to sink in, and Severus was still getting used to the idea that his future was, in fact, his.
He went to the Shrieking Shack to be alone and think, to rest and regroup. To remember. It was peaceful there, unsullied by the din of school activity. A poor man’s getaway. Some people liked the coast—Severus liked ramshackle dumps where his life had been threatened on multiple occasions. It put things in perspective, and he valued the insight he found within its rickety walls.
Granger would be the first person to breach his fortress.
Whether that was good or bad, Severus wasn’t sure. His fingers tightened around the book he’d brought for her, his hands seeking an outlet for his nervous energy. Admittedly, his mind had become rather fixated on the memory of her naked body, and he’d gotten a good deal of masturbatory mileage from their recent encounters, but he had other, much less carnal, plans for The Brain of Gryffindor. Sparring with her the previous Friday had reminded him how much he missed talking to someone who could make him think. Granted their dinner conversation had mostly been a cavalcade of innuendo, and later it was just prurient pillow talk; but he was hoping she could offer him something more in-depth. She’d responded well to his flower puzzle, so perhaps she was also in need of some intellectual stimulation.
Except for Narcissa and, so long ago, Lily, he didn’t talk to many women. Technically Minerva was a woman, but he didn’t want to discuss school all the live long day. He did have other interests. Besides, Minerva was more of a mentor, forever his teacher. He needed someone who wanted to converse, not inform.
But would Granger be the opposite? Would she forever be his student as he was Minerva’s? Or were there more surprises waiting to be discovered, a selection of Grangers he had yet to meet?
Hermione came through the door, shaking out her bushy tresses as the wind lost its hold on her hair. Severus sat perfectly still as her eyes adjusted to the darkness. When she spotted him amidst the shadows, a hesitant smile tugged at her lips.
“Did anyone see you sneaking in?” he asked quietly.
“Not that I noticed. Did you come through the Whomping Willow?”
Snape nodded and gestured toward the other chair. “Please have a seat.”
“I forgot how bloody windy this place is,” she muttered under her breath, flicking her wand at the other chair to clean it off. “How did Remus ever get any sleep when he stayed here?”
“I’m sure he just chased his tail until he wore himself out,” Severus shot back, not bothering to hide his disdain.
Hermione rolled her eyes as she took her seat. “Very mature, Professor.”
“I thought it might be tactless to suggest he was in here licking his balls until the break of dawn.”
Her glare could have melted marble. “Is that why you asked me here, to speak ill of the dead?”
“Not at all. I was merely responding to your query.”
“Why have you asked me here then?”
Snape tapped one finger on the arm of the chair, contemplating his answer in silence before deciding on a course of action. “I was curious if sex was all you had in your bag of tricks.”
She looked surprised, but then pulled her cloak tighter and drew her feet up sideways into the seat to keep warm, a sure sign that she was settling in to stay. “What do you mean?”
Training his gaze on her eyes—while maintaining his own idle countenance—Severus began to track her facial cues, cataloging her ticks and tells for future reference. People were always unaware of how much they revealed without saying a word. “Tell me what you do when you’re not masturbating in the Malfoy library. I know you work at the Ministry. Is that your life now?”
She stared at him blankly for a second, and he could see she was baffled by his line of questioning.
“I work in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, in the Creature Justice Division.”
“Yes, I am aware,” he drawled acerbically. “I’m asking if that’s all you do now. Do you spend every free moment forcing socks on house-elves, or do you have other interests? Not including semi-public self-pleasure.”
Her face tinged with red. “I do not force socks on house-elves. And for your information, I have many interests outside work and my pussy.”
“For instance . . . ?”
“I still study Ancient Runes and Arithmancy in my spare time. I keep up with the latest Transfiguration and Charms Journals. And despite all those years of having you for a teacher, I enjoy the Potions periodicals as well.”
Excellent. Not only was she out to prove herself, she still had a love of learning, a hunger for knowledge. Now to see if she had developed any critical thinking skills since leaving his classroom. Could she come up with an original thought, or was she still regurgitating everything she read? “What did you think about that article on universal antidotes in February’s Potion-Maker’s Monthly?”
The fury drained from her face. “Ah. Umm . . . I thought it was theoretically interesting, but not very precise. Ground bezoar powder isn’t the answer to everything. They acted as if there weren’t multiple instances where bezoars are ineffective. And I question the wisdom of breaking down the bezoar to powder. That has to lessen its potency.”
“It does. The article was hogwash. I’ve seen better logic from a third-year.”
“What about that article on Tentacula venom in healing potions? That was the best thing I’ve seen in there in years.”
Snape could scarcely keep from smiling. “I enjoyed that as well. What did you find most promising?”
Her eyes brightened with cerebral excitement. “The experiments where it killed the lizard leper virus. What else can it kill? How many seemingly incurable diseases might be destroyed with it? It is incredibly dangerous, so obviously it would be risky, but I guess if death is your only other option, you’re willing to take that risk.”
The article was his, written under a pseudonym, but he’d keep that to himself for the time being.
“What was your favorite part?” she countered.
“The section you mentioned. What do you think about using the Tentacula venom for something like dragon pox?”
She rested her chin in her hand and stared at him in thought. “Dragon pox already has a cure.”
“Not for the most aggressive strains.”
She nodded slowly. “You mean like Narcissa.”
“If there had been something more powerful and fast-acting, she wouldn’t have died.”
“Draco told me that her body was worn down by years of stress, that she was more susceptible and too weak to heal.”
“True, but that doesn’t change the fact that a more effective potion could have saved her life had it been available.”
“But if her body wasn’t healing properly, how would she have ever recovered from the Tentacula venom?”
If he had an answer for that, he wouldn't be stuck in his experimentation. “An exhaustive course of healing potions?” he suggested unhelpfully. Of course that wasn't the answer, but he wanted to keep her talking without revealing how much he knew.
“I think that would be tricky. The strength needed to kill the dragon pox would require an immediate counter-potion to stop the destruction to the rest of the body, but that might keep the venom from doing its job. If it could be targeted to only kill the virus, that would be great. Or if it somehow didn’t harm any healthy cells.”
He was working on the targeting idea in his private lab at school. It wasn’t going well.
“Did you read that article in Charm-Casters Quarterly about the little girl who had dragon pox as a baby and went blind?”
He shook his head. “I don’t frequent the Charms periodicals.”
“She developed this super-keen sense of the magic around her; she can recognize people by their spell work, and she’s begun to display impressive wandless capabilities. She’s not old enough for school yet, but I wonder how much more she’ll be able to do with a wand.”
“Mm,” he muttered absently. He was still thinking about his venom-targeting issue.
“What about you, sir? What do you do when you’re not teaching? Besides shag Mr. Malfoy and shuck oysters.”
He smirked. “I do my own experimental brewing.”
“Anything exciting?”
He nodded. “Yes, but I haven’t made any earth-shattering breakthroughs. Grading and teaching keep me busier than I’d like.”
“I’m surprised you’re still teaching at all. No offense or anything, but I never thought you enjoyed it all that much.”
“I don’t. The ignorance is insufferable.”
“Well, you don’t have to protect anyone now. Why don’t you just quit?”
“Hmm. I don’t know if that would be healthy for me from a mental perspective. If I quit, I’ll just go back to Spinner’s End and spend all my time brewing in the basement. I’d be even more anti-social than I am now. Perhaps Hogwarts is keeping me both sane and insane. And before you comment, yes, I realize how convoluted that sounded.”
She smiled and shook her head. “No, I get it. You don’t want to turn into the mad hermit of Cokeworth. It’s not strange to want other people around . . . even if they drive you batty.”
“Yes, perhaps.”
“What does Lucius say? Maybe he could come over and keep you from being alone.”
He arched an eyebrow. “I’ve never discussed it with him.”
“Oh,” she said, looking lost. “I thought you two were close.”
“We are. It’s just . . . complicated. We don’t really talk about things like that.”
“Maybe you should mention it.”
Severus shook his head. “Lucius is busy with his investments. He’s at Gringotts most days. He doesn’t have time to babysit his reclusive lover.”
“What about Draco? He likes you, and he’s smart. He might keep you company.”
Snape rolled his eyes. “Draco’s an intelligent boy, but he’s far too busy with work and his . . . busy social calendar.”
She snorted. “I don’t know if you can call what Draco does work. He mostly runs around flirting new information out of every witch on the payroll.”
“I’ll just keep teaching,” he said with a sigh. “It’s not all bad. Occasionally there’s actually someone bright enough to distract me from the drudgery.”
Hermione’s lips curled into a knowing smile. “You miss me, don’t you?”
Severus kept his expression passive despite his amusement. “My classroom seems lifeless without your hand forever waving about in the air. How I survive the day without you reciting the textbook back to me like a pedantic parrot is a mystery I’ve somehow learned to live with.”
Her grin spread wide. “I haven’t recited anything in years, nor have I raised my hand.”
“Just your skirt?”
She shook her head but couldn’t keep from laughing. “I haven’t raised my skirt once. I leave that to the professionals.”
“A wise decision. That reminds me, I brought you something.” He slipped the book from its hiding place and held it up for her to see. “I know this is probably foreplay for you, but please try to control yourself.”
With a chagrined smile, she leaned forward and accepted the gift then settled back and opened the blank cover, searching for a title page. Her face went red when she found it, but she didn’t hesitate to begin a thorough investigation of its juicier chapters.
“I want you to look through that during the coming week. I’m sure Lucius would be more than willing to reenact anything you take a liking to the next time we get together.”
She stopped at a picture of a nude witch bound spread eagle to a bed. “How long can I keep this?”
Severus chuckled at her blatant arousal. “As long as you like. I know where you live if I want it back.”
When she glanced up, her brow was lopsided with confusion. “You know where I live?”
“Of course I do. Draco told me years ago.”
Nodding, she went back to her skimming. “So you just want me to pick out my favorite parts?”
“I want you to read the whole book and decide if you’d like to try anything. We can discuss it the next time I see you.”
“The next time you see me? You don’t want to do anything now?”
He smirked but managed not to laugh. “Your libido must be more resilient than mine, Miss Granger. This drafty old shack does little to get my blood pumping, and I have absolutely no desire to lose any of my extremities to the cold.”
“You really just asked me here to talk?”
Severus studied her for a moment before answering. “If I had wanted sex, I would have said so in my letter. I see no reason to beat around the bush . . . so to speak.”
Too enthralled by the book to look up, she nodded agreeably. “I like a man who’s honest about what he wants.”
“Then we should get along just fine. Perhaps we can continue our talk next weekend.”
Hermione’s eyes shot to him as he rose from the chair, her forehead knitting into a concerned line. “Are you leaving?”
“I’m cold, and I have things I need to finish in my classroom. I’m sure you’re eager to get that book home and . . . study. I’ll leave you to your own devices.”
Severus inclined his head politely and headed for the passageway.
“Thank you for the book, Professor,” she called after him. “And it was nice talking to you.”
He stopped and looked back. “Yes. I look forward to next time. Good afternoon, Miss Granger.”
He wanted to go back to his room and think—about brewing and venom, about Malfoys and teaching, about frizzy-haired bookworms and shifting perceptions. His head was full, and he needed to sort out his thoughts.
Granger had given him a lot to think about.
A worthy witch indeed.
Ayre—Song-like vocal or instrumental compositions.
"Generally, ayres are graceful, elegant, polished, often strophic songs (i.e., songs having the same music for each stanza), typically dealing with amorous subjects. But many are lively and animated, full of rhythmic subtleties, while others are deeply emotional works that gain much of their effect from bold, expressive harmonies and striking melodic lines."--Britannica
"She's Like the Wind" by Patrick Swayze. 1986. Written by Patrick Swayze and Stacy Widelitz in 1984. Wendy Fraser is the female vocalist for the track.
"It was originally intended for the soundtrack of Grandview, U.S.A. and was meant to be about Jamie Lee Curtis' character in the film. However, the song was not used in that film. During production of Dirty Dancing in 1987, Swayze played the demo for producer Linda Gottlieb and director Emile Ardolino. They loved it and passed it on to Jimmy Ienner and Bob Feiden, the soundtrack's executive producers. It was recorded for the soundtrack in November 1986, with Michael Lloyd producing. The song, like the film in which it was featured, was a success, reaching number three on the Billboard Hot 100 and number one on Adult Contemporary, and was a hit around the world. It is still in circulation on radio. The soundtrack album was number one for 19 weeks."--Wikipedia
https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=0Gbz-Lau5tc
Temporariam Mortem=Temporary Death
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