Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

In the Darkness in Which We Are Made	By : corvusdraconis Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Snape/Hermione Views: 24666 -:- Recommendations : 3 -:- Currently Reading : 8
Disclaimer: HP world still not mine. HP characters not mine. Alas. I still play in JKR’s sandbox. Rita Skeeter is still a daft cow. I'm not making money off of this.

Chapter List
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- 2
- 3
A/N: There is this obnoxious robin singing his heart away outside my window… at 0344… It makes me want to do horrible, horrible things. Puts me in the perfect mindset for this story. LOL.
In case you missed this in the previous chapter, this story is undeniably AU. Due to some obvious plot twists, characters are going to be OOC to canon. Though, the moment you see Dark!Harry in the Author Notes, that should be given. This is a very Dark what-if story.
Beta love: fluffpanda, the Mistress of Ricotta and Connoisseur of Pasta
Helper of Naughty Bits: Story Please
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Chapter 2: Entirely New Species
The pain had been excruciating after being trapped in the sacrificial circle. However, it was only physical; her body would soon learn to forget that pain. The pain of being betrayed by her best friend, Harry Potter, however, ripped through her soul on a different plane. Betrayal seemed like too kind of a word to describe what Harry Potter had done to her. He had, technically, murdered her and sacrificed her up to a demon for a promise of power.
She had fully expected to die there within the ritual, but the very daemonic magic that had stopped her heart had also filled it with one last bit of revenge that she hadn’t even asked for: life. It had been just enough life to sustain her walk into the arms of the demon that Harry had summoned to grant him power over Voldemort.
The demon’s voice echoed within her brain, asking her if she wanted to live. Of course she wanted to live. Who would desire to die in a forgotten room, unknown and unmourned?
From the moment the demon’s heated breath filled her lungs, she felt more at peace and accepting of her fate. She found herself looking deep into the demon’s pitch black eyes and saw something moving within them. They were foreign, out of the world even. They were the furthest from Earthly she had ever seen. She felt him exploring her mind, filtering through her memories, focusing on the most painful and the most embarrassing.
At first it was humiliating, but the demon drank in the pain and the embarrassment, leaving her with the fuzzy sense of Obliviation and knowing there was something she once felt horrible about but couldn’t quite remember what it was.
Part of her mind could not help but compare it to the Dementors and their hunger for emotional pain, but she heard the demon scoff in her mind. Dementors were nubile, crude, and hungry like babies. Dementors did not savour. Dementors had no inclination or power to give something back in return for a glorious feed. The demon drank in her awkwardness, her feelings of social inadequacy, her sense of feeling used for her ability to get things done so others could go out and play, and deeply hidden feelings of being a failure. He left her with a pleasant warmth of nothingness, but, coupled with that moment and the strangely pleasurable feel of his hand roaming down the length of her body, she felt the stirring of passion that she never knew existed within her body.
Never had a simple caress caused her to reevaluate every reality she had known until that point. The feel of his warm, unnatural, yet talented tongue caressed the inside of her mouth as it transferred even more of the dark black ichor from his mouth to hers. She whimpered as he withdrew, taking time to move his claws to lift her clothes and make lazy circles over her breasts. She instinctively arched into them, gasping as his talons gently grazed the swell of her breast. The demon’s tongue lapped the side of her throat, coating her skin slick with his saliva. Her skin tingled as the black saliva slithered over her, absorbing into her skin, sending waves of pleasure rippling down her spine and up into her brain.
The demon purred into her ear, his tongue tracing the sensitive area around her lobe and then plunging into it. Hermione cried out, breathing heavily as her hips ground out on a quest for something she couldn’t quite fathom. His warm hands guided her seeking fingers over his body, encouraging her to explore the landscape of his slick skin.
“Will you accept me, to be my lover? he whispered. His voice was like molten caramel. “Do you want this?”
He pulled away just enough to place his talons against her cheeks, his dark, alien eyes boring into her, waiting for her consent.
“We shall be one for eternity,” he purred. “Bound as the world falls to ruin. We will feast on the turmoil of humanity, rejoice in their selfish paths to damnation, and build our court around their misguided ideals.”
Hermione’s eyes fluttered. “How? I’m not— “
The demon’s tongue slid across his teeth, and the very sight of it made her weak in the knees. “Through me, you shall be reborn,” he answered. “All that is required… is a willing participant.”
“Ooooh,” she breathed as his muzzle parted, allowing thick ichor to slowly escape from between his multitude of fangs. It seemed to defy gravity, pausing in its fall to move towards her like the legs of a hungry spider.
Her ears vaguely heard Harry screaming her name, but it gently buzzed in her auditory canal. There was something about Harry— something she should remember… but the thought was gone soon after. What she really wanted was that kiss that seemed to be hovering in wait for her invitation.
“Please,” she begged. “Make me yours.”
The demon’s tongue slide out, teasing the button of her lip, the blackness rippled behind it in anticipation. “You accept my gift, Hermione? Of your own free will?”
Hermione trembled, her mouth opened in invitation. “Yessssss,” she moaned huskily.
The demon’s low rumble of approval rolled over her as his invaded her open mouth with his tongue, stroking her throat with his talons as he filled her mouth with the dark oily beginning of his gift to her.
It was the second time in less than a few minutes she had fully expected to die. The demon, however, had other, more intimate plans. And as the demon’s attention upon her sent a kind of pleasure through her that she had never known in her life, the pain of that circle was replaced with a new sort of hunger that had nothing to do with revenge and everything to do with enjoying her unexpected first lover’s masterful, seeking touch.
It felt so good. It felt so right that from the moment his touch left her skin, she felt an ache deep inside her. It left her panting, moaning, and gasping for more. Never had her body felt such a wonderful rapture at another’s touch. Each time she whimpered as his touch receded, she could feel the demon’s approval to her newly awakened needs. His tongue slid into her mouth, and it was oh so welcome. She felt it slither against her tongue and the delicious friction combined with the remarkable taste of the demon’s even more peculiar saliva. Its consistency seemed to change for her, becoming even more delectable.
The demon’s hand drifted lower on her body, and her hips shifted, parting her thighs in response. It was instinctive on her part, but the demon rewarded her by sliding his hand between her legs and touching her in a place that made a different kind of bliss fill her and an equally fierce need— a need she hadn’t even realised she had on parts of herself she had never deigned to explore on herself before.
Gone were the concerns of her plans for her parents before they took off on the Horcrux hunt. Gone were the concerns for Bill and Fleur’s wedding, wistful wishes that Ron would pull his head out of his ass and pay attention to her, worry about Voldemort, and even any concern she may have still harbored for the enslavement of the House-elves. None of it mattered. None of it was important as the warmth of the demon’s heated kisses, passionate touches of skin against skin, and the almost loving worship of her body by the demon’s attentive hands, mouth, and everything in between. She realised she had no idea what love really was, but if whatever he was giving her wasn’t love, she was willing to accept it as a more than adequate substitution.
Any revulsion she may have had that her lover was the furthest thing from human had been lost somewhere between the first brush of his fingers against the small of her back and the entrance of his warm, seeking tongue into her mouth. She mewled as he pulled away, hungry for more, and every little sound she made seemed to please him.
She had never lain with a boy or man nor had she tread the line of heteroflexibility as the Muggle buzzword seemed to be. Others often called her “Virgin Gryffindor” behind her back. She had shared a handful of tender kisses with Viktor before distance had put the skewer through that relationship. She knew many of the other witches of her age group and even younger had more experience than she had, but all of that seemed a moot point now. The demon sent trails of fire down her body like nothing she could have dreamed, and his hands guided hers over his body with the patience of a teacher giving remedial lessons. She absorbed the new knowledge like she had everything else in school, learning from his hands-on instruction with the same passion she had for reading a new book.
Hermione panted heatedly as the demon wrapped around her with his body, his wings undulated around her as he finally slid inside of her. Every nerve she had was racing their combined signals to her brain as her heart beat ever more frantically. His touch was everywhere, and she rewarded him by instinctively bucking against his body with moans of ecstasy growing in urgency as their bodies connected in the most intimate of places.
“That’s it, love,” the demon growled in her mind. “Cast aside those insignificant thoughts. Let them all slip away.”
The demon was, oddly enough, gentle. His ministrations were bringing her to the edge of the Abyss, but he was not rough with her. He did not force anything. Her body was responding all on its own. Her mind could barely see through the red haze of passion, lust and desire that the demon had spread across her body, and she was pretty sure fireworks danced behind her eyelids with every thrust of his body against hers. She panted after a while, snuggling into the welcoming heat of her lover’s body as the tremors worked through her body, tiny electrical shocks coursing through her nerves and spreading through every bit of her, and she wanted more.
“Hermione,” the demon whispered, the sound of her name through his muzzle of glistening fangs set off a chain of shivers from her head down to her toes. “Join your name with mine that none may use it against us.”
Hermione was groaning again, her hands curving into clawed shapes as she scratched his back with every thrust. A name? Of course… every demon had a name. Idiot. But his name? How would she have known his name?
As her body arched, trickles of sound formed into incoherent syllables, but began to change into something more. There was Power in a name. You could call a demon by its name and bind to a circle to parlay. But if that demon were to join their name and their power to another, their names would combine. It would change their essence, and break them of their bonds of fealty. They would evolve.
She realised in a strange euphoric epiphany that demons did not seek the destruction of other demons, at least, no demons of the same species. They did not use their names against each other because in order to create another demon, they didn’t just share Power. They shared their names. It was the unspoken Law. No matter what chaos they sowed amongst other species, demons did not raise hand against another demon. When the conditions were right, demons paired off when their names were shared, They joined with another permanently, increasing their power-base. I was all about influence and power outside of each demon species.
The strange knowledge swirled in her head with the demon’s request that they combine the power of their names. The part of Hermione Granger was flailing her arms frantically and telling her demons could not be trusted. They were demons! They were monsters! They were more evil than… than…
Who was she trying to remember?
There was a desperate whimpering sound, and she realised it was her.
Of course she would join her name with his. To join their names would broker their freedom from the accursed circle. They would complete each other. They would be free to leave on their own terms.
“ S….sss….” she gasped, her fingers clawing his back. They were elongating, twisting, curving, and darkening. As a multitude of moaning, pleasured sounds escaped her throat, her body shook. “S…. ssevv….rus,” she moaned. “Severus,” she repeated with a scream, but it was not a scream of pain. Her mouth was elongating, teeth jerking up from their roots as they twisted and reformed. Blood trickled from her gums, and her drool was thickening and dripping from her teeth and her open mouth in a strange, darkening liquid. She knew his name, and it was like beautiful music, calling to her like a Siren’s song. He called out her name, and at that moment, she wanted to merge her body with his. Instead, the energy and Power bound to their names, and their names blended together. Every jolt of pleasure from their combined exertions tightened the bond and wove the very fabric of the demon that was Severus to the demon Hermione was becoming.
All because of Harry Potter.
In her head, she could feel her lover’s knowledge flowing into her mind. Demon children were frightfully rare, which was a good thing for the human race. Finding mates was also complicated for demons. Demons could use humans all day long, even have sex with them, but such couplings did not provide viable offspring— only a demon to demon pairings could ever provide demon “children,” and it took many, many attempts under the “right conditions” for such couplings to come to fruition. Moon phases, kill count, places of mass death, and so many more humanly detestable things went into possibly allowing two demons to get lucky enough to fertilise a viable embryo.
One way, however, that a demon could create another demon, was when one idiot mortal used the ancient spell of summoning and called a demon to their aid to give them power. Somewhere in the magical equivalent of fine print, the demon had the option to take the sacrifice and instead of killing them— turn them by “sharing” their essence with the victim. If the victim succumbed to the change, they became a demon. The original demon had to want to for whatever reason, and the victim had to be willing for whatever reason. Consent was the binding factor.
Young Severus Snape had been lured to the Dark Lord’s service once upon a time. The Dark Lord had Marked him, treated him like he was important to the future, the threw him into a hidden sacrificial circle… just as Harry Potter had done to Hermione.
The summoned demon had taken a good feed off Severus’ multiple layers of bitterness and betrayal as well as the young man’s despair. He gave Severus Snape the offer of Power, broken and damaged Severus had accepted, and he had turned in the demon’s heated embrace just as Hermione was in his.
The knowledge that Severus’ demon had turned him and left him focused her. Was that to be her fate as well to be cast into the wind of her own mechanisations? Would she be cast away like refuse by her best friend only to be cast aside again by this demon that both was and was not the Professor Snape she thought she had known?
Demon Severus’ wings shifted around her, and his embrace surrounded her. She was pulled ever tighter against his warmth that should have been suffocating but instead was as welcome as a quilt on a wintery day. He whispered her name against her ear, and she breathed his name once more. The dark bond between them tightened. His tongue slid into her mouth, slithering against hers. He drove away the doubt and her deeper into the passion that was transforming her from within.
“Mine,” he rumbled, his teeth grasping the sensitive flesh of her neck.
“Yours,” she replied dreamily. To belong— to truly belong— wouldn’t it be marvelous?
“Forever,” the demon rumbled, sinking his fangs into her neck to leave his Mark upon her. His wings fanned outward and caused a rush of heat to explode outward.
She bucked against him, eyes rolling back in her head, and when they returned back into position, they were completely black. “Forever,” she purred and screamed as giant wings sprouted forth from her back, tearing out from the skin over her shoulder blades with a loud ripping sound. Membrane grew between the bony eruptions, covering the new bone, tendons, and muscle that seemed to slither across the growing bone.
Her head tilted back as her muzzle thrust outward even further, her half-formed fangs jerking outward and upward into long stiletto daggers. Dark caustic drool dripped from her lips as they pulled back from her teeth. She struck like a viper, sinking her newly formed fangs into her lover’s neck, claiming him as he had claimed her.
Severus roared, his arms pinning her to his body, his hand pinning her head to his neck to encourage the mutual acceptance of their connection.
As she pulled away, black ichor dripping from her mouth, Severus rumbled his approval at the hastening of her change. “Show me how beautiful you are, my mate,” he crooned, descending upon her muzzle for a kiss. “Allow me to adore you.”
And she did.
If it wasn’t love, it was a damn good start.
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Harry had a few problems. One, he could barely feel his legs, and two, his pants were far too tight against his swollen cock. There was a three hanging around somewhere, if he could just keep his mind off the fact that even after stroking his cock to completion, it was still painfully hard.
His mind was slowly coming out of the lust-induced haze, and the air was thick with the musky scent of sex. He recognised it from the few times he stumbled over Ron hitting multiple bases with Lavender Brown in the broom closet. Harry had actually been looking for a sweeping broom each time, so the embarrassment had been quite epic.
He shook his head with a groan and pulled himself off the floor with a combination of shame, embarrassment, and exhaustion. The most he could hope for, now that his dastardly deed of sacrificing his best friend to a demon, was that he managed to wrangle the demon into serving him long enough to defeat Voldemort. That had been the intention all along. He had planned on sacrificing his broom to the demon, seeing as it was the only thing he truly believed he loved, but Hermione’s arrival at the wrong time had been perfect timing to be Harry’s bargaining chip.
Everything he had read told him that demons, in exchange for being freed from the circle that trapped them, would be bound to the summoner for given amount of time. What he had no idea was how long that time was, but he was convinced that with the power of a demon, going against Voldemort would be significantly easier much faster.
Harry saw the large shadow move in the circle. Cruel teeth glistened in a bared grimace. One large wing unfolded. Nestled against his body was the unmoving body of Hermione. The demon had killed her after all.
“What is it you want, Harry Potter?” the demon rumbled. his talons cradling Hermione’s body to him like a lover.
“I want you to help me defeat Voldemort,” Harry said.
“I’m a little busy,” the demon replied. He nuzzled into Hermione’s neck, his tongue sliding across her skin like a lion would groom another lion.
Harry flinched. He watched as the demon shifted Hermione in his wing, revealing the blood stained inner thighs, cock still hard and cradled within Hermione. The damn demon not only killed Hermione, but violated her in ways unspoken.
“I will let you out of the circle if you agree to help me!” Harry snapped.
“We can only set about specific tasks,” the demon rumbled, continuing to groom Hermione’s skin. “And only those tasks to which a price has been agreed and no other demon is involved.”
“Fine,” Harry agreed.
The demon paused his grooming of Hermione’s neck.
The demon’s dark eyes bored into him, his lips pulling back from his dripping fangs. “One year’s time hence, starting on the new moon nearest, when summoned, we shall answer. If the price is paid, we shall serve. One year’s time this agreement make, lest you deny us thrice.”
The demon’s lips curled further back, black caustic drool dripped down from his fangs and sizzled against the floor. “Use it wisely.”
“Agreed,” Harry said.
The demon stood to his full height, cradling Hermione’s body in his arms. His huge wings unfurled and flapped, sending heated wind in small cyclones around the room. He stared into Harry, a low growl rumbling through the room.
The demon traced some sort of mark on Hermione’s palm with his caustic drool and it sank into her skin.
Harry clutched his hand in pain. A glowing fire brand pulsed on his palm, glowing with unnatural fire that both burned and froze at the same time.
“The covenant has been agreed,” the demon rumbled. “Release us from this circle.”
Harry hissed in pain, his hand still burning. He staggered over to the circle and brushed his hand over the markings, breaking the magical lines.
At first, nothing happened. The demon just stared into Harry with his unnerving soulless eyes. Suddenly the demon was laughing. There was a crashing of thunder and the demon disappeared into a swirl of acrid black smoke. “See you soon, Harry Potter.”
Harry stared into the empty circle with relief. It was done. Soon he would be able to defeat Voldemort.
His thoughts came to a halt as he remembered the demon said he would have to summon him and he had forgotten to ask him how.
“Fuck,” Harry yelled into the darkened room. He turned within the room, kicking knocking over the various items he had used in his ritual, finally looking at his Firebolt, and what he had used to sacrifice his Hermione to that demon.
Hermione. For the greater good.
Harry knew it had to be done. Hermione would understand that. Hermione had died for a good cause, even if Harry had ultimately tricked her into it.
The demon had done something to her and him. His cock was still filled with blood, painfully reminding him what he had done to Hermione, and how he had witnessed Hermione’s body being violated by that demon. Harry punched the wall in frustration. Hermione, his best friend from the day he saved her from that giant Troll in the bathroom.
He looked down at his hands, covered in ashes, dust and black goop. He began the slow walk towards the fifth floor Prefect’s bathroom to clean up, thankful that Ron had let the monthly password slip out in one of his bragging session.
Harry slipped his body into the steaming shower, hissing as the cold water made contact with his cock. He couldn’t understand why it was still hard. He had just witnessed the death of his friend, violated by the demon and here he was sporting an erection from Hermione’s rape. The demon’s hands that had drifted over her creamy breast and between the apex of her thighs. Harry felt his cock twitch at the image of Hermione.
How could he feel this way towards her? He was in love with Ginny. Ginny was his one true love.
Images of Ginny’s red hair spread across his chest that one time they had snuck into an unused classroom and they both hesitantly explored through a gentle mist of lust. Her breasts had filled his palms as he gently rolled her nipples between his fingers.
Harry reached down to stroke his cock as Ginny had done so in that classroom just weeks ago. Her soft palms worked their way down his cock and over his scrotum. Gentle pants ghosted his chest and he abandoned one breast to venture towards her wetness.
Harry remembered the way her eyes shut as he gently slid a finger into her. He moved his hand over his cock faster, remembering how it felt to finger her wetness. He saw her eyes fly open as he tipped her over the edge, mouth opening in a gentle cry of ecstasy.
“Hermione!” Harry let the forbidden name slip from his mouth as he came against the shower wall, mortified that it was not Ginny, but rather Hermione that had taken him to this euphorical moment, a moment he had yet to share with Ginny.
He looked around frantically and closed his eyes as he tried to focus his thoughts. He let out a groan of frustration.
“Mmmm… you called?” a voice purred. It was both familiar and not. It was both terrifying and sensual. It was like the smell of broom polish and sweat during a Quidditch game.
Harry’s eyes widened, and he threw his arms around himself and covered his exposed bits with a soap bar. “Hermione?”
“Oh, don’t stop on my account, Harry,” she purred, picking up a bar of soap and running it across her arms. The fall of the shower water sent rivlets soapy trickles over her very nude skin.
Harry gaped at her.
Hermione stepped out from under the nearby shower, obsidian hooves making a strange clopping sound as she closed the space between them. Her bushy hair was distinctive, but her lips pulled back from dagger-like teeth filling a muzzle that was both monstrous and alien. A long, unnatural tongue slid out between her dripping fangs, licking across her darkened lips. Long, black wings fell across her shoulders like a cape, coming together with entwined wing spurs. Two curling ram’s horns twisted from her skull and curved both backwards and forwards.
She ran the soap bar across her breasts with a sensual motion, using one finger to trace her areolas. She licked her finger with her head tilted to the side, allowing her tongue to wrap around it very, very suggestively. “I should be mad, you know,” she said, her voice was a rumble of distant thunder--alien and threatening.
“Her—”
“Shh, Harry,” Hermione said, putting one clawed talon to her muzzle. Dark black ichor oozed from her mouth. “Don’t tell me — the greater good?”
“Voldemort has to be stopped!” Harry tried to protest.
The demon that Hermione stared at him with soulless black eyes. She licked her teeth, and Harry felt a shudder of desire shiver through him and he hated himself for it.
“You’ve been a very… naughty… best friend, Harry,” Hermione’s voice purred both velvet and venom. “Murderous even.”
“Wh...what are you doing here?” Harry stammered.
“You called me, Harry Potter,” she said matter of factly. “I do hope you have something to request. I was having the most wonderful time,” she said, pausing to smile wickedly, “getting to know myself.”
Harry Potter paled as he realised that the demon he would be forced to look in the eye every time he had a request would the best friend he had murdered for power.
“Cat got your tongue?” Hermione asked. He was right up next to him, her talons gripping the sides of his jaw as she looked into his mouth. “No? Still there?”
“Please, Hermione,” Harry stammered. “Can we talk later? Not here?”
Hermione’s bestial face twisted into a pout. “Oh? That’s your first request of me?” she neared him, her hot breath sending shivers down his spine. “What will you give me in return?”
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A/N: It’s only beginning for poor Harry. One should know better than to summon demons and not know exactly what to say or ask.
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In the Darkness in Which We Are Made