Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

In the Darkness in Which We Are Made	By : corvusdraconis Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Snape/Hermione Views: 24670 -:- 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
- 2
- 3
- 4
Warning: There be lemons here. Raining citrus fruit.
Beta love: fluffpanda, who has an app for that

Chapter 3: I’m Your Thrust, I Trust

“What do you mean, what will I give you in return?” Harry sputtered, covering his flaccid cock with his hands.
“Rules, Harry, rules” Hermione drawled, adapting to her ‘lecture mode’. “You do remember what those are, don’t you? Don’t go out after curfew. Don’t go into the Dark Forest. Don’t believe a vindictive house-elf that tells you your godfather isn’t there only to run off and get him killed. Oh, and don’t sacrifice your loyal friends to demons? Wait… I seem to recall you may have had some problems understanding rules.” Hermione ran one talon down his arm he was using to cover his not-quite-so-dangling bits. Black ichor seeped out from between her fangs, and she took some on her finger pad and painted it across Harry’s lips.
Harry, abandoning his pride, frantically wiped it from his mouth as Hermione watched him. Smoke rose from his skin where it burned him. Her alien black eyes stared at him with what could have been amusement if it didn’t sit on a face so bestial that it seemed like a threat. Harry stared at her as though she were trying to corrupt him with her tainted saliva.
He closed his eyes and reminded himself. You just saw Hermione die. The demon you summoned killed her. Raped her. Took her body away. This is not Hermione. This is another demon, wearing her face, her body, her voice. She is here to corrupt you— to make you make bad choices.
Her black gaze bored into him. “How rich,” she said idly. “You’re worried about being corrupted by me.”
“H… Hermione,” Harry sputtered, flushing. “Please, can we talk about this somewhere else?”
Hermione tilted her head to the side slightly, one talon of her index finger tracing the curve of her curled horns. “Again, Harry,” she repeated. “What’s in it for me? You called me. I could stand here all night.”
“Wh…what do you want?” he tried to not look her in the eyes. Her gaze stirred something deep within his groin yet made him want to flee hysterically. There was no circle of protection keeping the demon from whatever the hell she wanted, and he had apparently summoned her, which only added to the problem. He had created her. He had killed off the insecure but loving bookworm and replaced her with…
Hermione’s muzzle twisted into a bestial smile. “How about a little give and take, Harry? Equal ground for old time’s sake?” Her claws gently raked down his chest and closer to his to his exposed and rising penis. “Let’s start with something small Harry. Your virginity. It obviously means nothing to you when you shoved me into the arms of demon. The least I could do is make your first time… unforgettable.” Hermione’s expression did not change. “Give me that, and I shall le ave you to… dress more appropriately.”
Harry was acutely aware of how close Hermione’s muzzle was to his lips. Her dripping fangs exposed as her dark tongue slithered out from between her lips, and he wanted nothing more than to have it plunge into his mouth. He was horrified, nauseated, but at the same time, his cock no longer was flaccid by his thighs but rather engorged and intimately aligned against the seam of the demon’s wetness.
“What do you say, Harry?” Hermione purred, the tip of her tongue extended and slowly and sensually stroked the bottom of his lip causing a groan to escape his throat. His tongue shout out, seeking hers, unable to stop the pulsing need within him to seek that probing forbidden warmth.
Part of him was clawing at the cage inside himself, demanding he deny her. Think of Ginny! Think of Ginny! The voice screamed at him over and over. Ginny! Glorious, soft, wonderful, innocent, Ginny! Ginny’s seeking hands, her warmth, her laugh…
His erection had other ideas, and so did his tongue. He sucked her inside of his mouth, moaning in pleasure as his hips gently rocked against Hermione’s slick daemonic body, all too ready to seal the bargain.
He groaned, pushing Hermione against the shower wall, her hooved feet wrapped around his hips, pulling the tip of cock against her slick wetness. Harry groaned as the head of his cock parted her lips, heat radiating off wetness that enveloped his member.
Ginny...no!
Harry shoved himself away from Hermione’s body, hissing as his cock pulled away from the wet heat. “No! You can’t have it.”
Hermione, who stood where he had shoved her against the wall with an entirely nonplussed expression replied, “You deny my price for your command?”
“Yes! I will not. Get out of here! Get out!” Harry panted.
Hermione’s hooves clicked against the shower tile with a strangely soothing sound. “As you wish, Harry Potter,” the demon replied, and a piercing, burning fire lit across Harry’s palm where the dark symbols writhed under the skin. Dark fluid oozed off a mark, scalding his skin where it touched. He hissed, throwing it under the cooling shower water. He shot his head up to glare at Hermione with renewed anger, but the demon was gone. There was nothing to even hint she had been there at all. His hand was flawless and unmarked. There were no black, caustic pith marks on the shower floor. No daemonic hoofprints on the tile—
Had she even been there?
Harry moaned, sinking to the floor of the shower as guilt, shame, desire, and horror mixed together.
It was just a hallucination. It was just a nightmare…
His hands grasped the base of his cock, pulling upwards to graze the head, repeating the soothing motion, repeating until his eyes rolled back and bliss erupted across his mindscape.
-o-o-o-o-o-o-
Harry took the longest possible route back to the Gryffindor Common Room he could possible find. He wandered the halls, trying to make sense of what had happened. He knew he had cast the ritual and lured Hermione into it to be sacrificed. Yet there were so many missing bits and pieces to his actions tonight that made it highly probable that he was losing his own mental capacity.
Nightmares, hallucinations, murdering his best friend, and a chronic raging erection were all on the list. Nightmares he was used to. Hallucinations of a daemonic version of his murdered best friend were not quite so normal. While arousal wasn’t exactly abnormal for a boy of his age, what was going through his mind when it happened was definitely not normal. The only release he had was vivid image of Hermione’s naked body pressed up intimately against the black demon he believe he had summoned that evening. In the abandoned classroom, he saw the evidence of Hermione’s virginity, splashed on her skin, the demon’s twisted smile as he pulled his cock out of her.
Harry groaned, rubbing his head. He muttered the password to the Fat Lady, stepped through the entrance. Ron looked up from the chess game he was playing again Seamus and waved at him absent mindedly as Seamus let out a huge groan, watching his knight fall.
“Was wondering when you’d return back to the living mate,” Ron said. “I was starting to run out of excuses to tell Professor McGonagall as to why you weren’t around.”
Harry gave a sheepish smile. “Thanks, Ron.”
“No problem,” Ron said with a shrug. “We’re all here for you. You know that.”
Harry nodded. “Thanks, I just needed time to myself to, you know, sort things through.”
Ron and Seamus looked at Harry with sympathy.
“Hermione was really worried about you,” Seamus said as he moved the chess piece.
“Yeah, she’s been fretting over you ever since,” Neville started to say from his chair by the fire, “well, since Dumbledore’s funeral.”
Harry tried to suppress his instinctive flinch but failed. Thankfully, his friends seemed to think it was the mention of the old Headmaster that had caused the flinch and not the fact he had just killed his best friend for power over a demon. The demon had taken Hermione’s body with him, so hopefully that meant there wouldn’t be a body to be found. People could assume she had been taken by Death Eaters or left the school due to the pressure. It would be safe to assume the stress of having the Headmaster die would make Hermione’s parents pull her from the school. No one would question it. Since she was Muggle, no one would even try to contact Mr and Mrs Granger to confirm.
“Ginny was worried too,” Ron said, rubbing his hand across his nose. “She and Hermione have been really close this year, ya know? I think they kind feed off each other’s emotions. Girl thing.” Ron made a shrug as if to say he didn’t understand and had stopped trying to.
Ginny.
Harry felt a lump form in this throat and a stone settle in his stomach. He hadn’t even thought of what Hermione’s death would do to Ginny. Hell, even though Ron was technically attached at the face with Lavender, he tended to be both indifferent and protective of Hermione. He kept repeating in his head that it was for the greater good. The end of Voldemort was more important than one life, even if that one life was—
Harry swallowed hard. Regret had become a familiar companion. Guilt was a fast runner up. It was bad enough he was hallucinating a daemonic Hermione visiting him in the bloody shower. At least Ginny was safe. All of them would be safe once Voldemort was dead. He had to keep thinking of that.
Ginny’s laugh floated down the staircase and Harry felt a flutter in his stomach. The flutter turned into a sickening twist when he realised that had it been Ginny who burst in on him in that abandoned classroom, he wouldn’t have been able to go through with the ritual. He actually… loved Ginny. Why, then, did he still feel so dreadful?
“You’re just jealous that Harry has gorgeous eyes, and I get to stare into them anytime I want,” Ginny’s voice laughed.
Harry felt his face flushing as all eyes of the Common Room slid over to stare at him. Ginny was never very good at keeping a secret. He wondered if anyone knew that they had snuck out to find an empty classroom together. They hadn’t managed to get past more than a bit of heavy petting, but he was sure they would show their love for each other in a more physical manner before the term was over.
Anyone could see his face glow with happiness as Ginny came around the corner. She ran up to him, and Harry hugged her tightly, relishing her familiar warmth even as a flash of what he had almost done in his bathroom hallucination flashed into his mind. As Ginny pulled away from him, he drank in the person before him, memorizing her freckles, hair and even the dimple on her left cheek. She was safe. Ginny was safe, and when Lord Voldemort was but a bad memory, she would understand everything he did to make the world better for her!
“Harry!” a painfully familiar voice greeted. “You’re back!”
A mass of brown curls obscured his vision. That scent. The smell of Hogwart’s library, parchment, ink, mixed in with a hint of cinnamon assaulted his olfactory system, overloading his emotions.
Impossible! It couldn’t be!
“We’ve been so worried for you, Harry,” Ginny said. “Hermione’s been worried sick for a week now. I finally got her to agree to come down and—”
Red haze clouded his vision. This was not Hermione. It was the demon in disguise. Hermione was...dead!
Harry fisted the curls closest to his hands, yanking the demon out the still open Portrait hole, slamming it into the stone wall. His hands closed in on the slim throat, “I know who you are, demon!” he snarled at her.
Hermione’s brown eyes were wide with terror, her hands wrapped around his wrists, trying to pry them from her throat. She made a choking sound as she dangled in his grip, eyes bulging, and face turning red.
“Harry, what the hell?” Ron was yelling.
Neville, Seamus, Ron, and a few others from the Common Room were slamming into him, trying to get his hands off of Hermione’s neck. Ginny was screaming at him.
Somehow Harry managed to draw his wand as he dragged Hermione from the wall only to send her tumbling down the tower stairs. Screams were coming from all over, but Harry had eyes only for the imposter wearing Hermione’s face. He pointed his wand and hissed, “Sectumsempra!”
Yet nothing happened.
Harry looked up to see Professor Snape glowering down at him as he was surrounded in a gaggle of First Year Slytherin on their way to some place unknown. The young Slytherin were whispering to themselves, pointing. Harry looked around him and saw various Gryffindor drawn to the commotion. There were Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff… Professor McGonagall was staring at him with a look of absolute disbelief and horror.
“Expelliarmus!” she cried, snatching Harry’s wand out from the air. “Severus, please take Miss Granger to the infirmary! Mr. Potter, to my office. Now! All of the rest of you, back to your dormitories this instant!”
Harry stared at the wide and terrified brown eyes of Hermione Granger as she frantically clung to the bottom of Snape’s robes like a child of five afraid to get lost without their parents. The moment Harry looked at her, she made a silent scream, her voice lost to the attack on her throat.
Snape pulled her to him, blocking her sight of him. He glowered at Harry, and suddenly Harry remembered Dumbledore falling from the Astronomy Tower at Snape’s hands.
“Murderer!” Harry yelled, breaking free from McGonagall’s side to fling himself at the black-clad wizard. “You killed Dumbledore, you son of bitch!”
The First-Year Slytherins screamed, people moved in every direction, and Harry felt the force of over 5 stunners hit him squarely in the chest and back before everything went completely and utterly black.
-o-o-o-o-o-o-
“Severus, what is this school coming to?” the Scottish witch asked, her head in her hands. She watched with painful sympathy as Hermione Granger, the once strong and brilliantly independent witch of her class, clung to Severus’ robes like a child so much younger.
No student, Slytherin or otherwise, reached out to Severus Snape, and watching the witch shiver against the imposing Dark Wizard was almost too much to bear. Hermione watched the door with frantic, panicked eyes, and seemed to have chosen her protector to be none other than the tall and brooding Potion Master. Whatever had happened had shaken Hermione Granger to the core.
Hundreds of rumours and miscellaneous reports of what had happened came from students, prefects, the Head Boy and Girl, and even the portraits. All accounts claimed that Harry Potter had gone from placid to homicidal in a matter of seconds, screaming that Hermione Granger was an imposter… a demon.
Minerva had no personal experience with demons. Their summonings were the kind of magic no witch, wizard, or magical creature who valued their soul dabbled in. It was considered more taboo than the Unforgivables and beyond the darkness of necromancy, and no one she knew had ever spoken of it let alone knew its intricacies. Even Aurors, who were greatly trained in the detection of Dark Arts magic, shut their doors at the mention of demons. Demons were in a class all their own. If they were given a rating for danger from the Department of Regulation of Magical Creatures, there wouldn’t be enough X’s to fit on the line defining the amount of danger involved.
Minerva knew the basics, as what most witches and wizards that weren’t completely oblivious knew. The first being that demons always worked for a price, and the price was often worse than the problem being solved. The second was summoning one was only part of the equation, and it required acts that were often so heinous that thinking about them brought a shiver to Minerva’s body. The third thing she knew was from the rare story passed down from her mother: when a magical creature made contact with a demon, it was far easier to screw up and accidently set a demon free than to get one to serve for a long period of time. Rumour had it that once a demon was freed, the first to suffer its wrath was the one who summoned it. Why even risk such a thing?
“The portraits said Mr. Potter thought she was a demon,” Minerva said with a concerned huff.
Severus’ black eyes looked towards her with a look she knew all too well. “Does she look like a demon do you, Minerva? Not that I am claiming you have expertise in such matters—”
Minerva shook her head. “No, Severus. She’s just a terrified young witch.”
“Terrified enough to find me less terrifying,” the Potion Master said, inclining his head.
The cat Animagus sighed. “I know your dislike of my cubs, Severus, but... if it wouldn’t be too much—”
“I will care for her,” Severus said flatly. There was no change in his expression.
“Poppy says this sort of things happens after a major trauma. The attachment, I mean,” Minerva looked at Hermione, and the young witch was curled up in a ball on the infirmary bed, but a hand clutched Severus’ outer robe with a death grip.
Severus let out a resigned sigh. “I will clear my spare room in my chambers for her things. She will be… safe there, until the end of term. Hopefully by then, she will have recovered enough to be reintroduced into Gryffindor Tower again. I never took an Apprentice, but the room still has its own bath and private areas. She will be close enough to feel… safe.”
McGonagall nodded and touched Severus on the shoulder. “This has been a rough year for us all, Severus. You most of all. Thank you for doing this.”
Severus wrinkled his nose but nodded.
“I must go tend to the students,” Minerva said. “Someone is bound to owl the Aurors’ Office after Potter’s outburst in front of those students. Poppy also wants to transfer Mr Potter to see a mind healer at St. Mungos. There is the possibility that the death of his godfather and Albus broke something in him.”
“Do what you must, Minerva,” Severus said with a nod. “I will insure that she is… protected from Potter.”
Minerva nodded, pulled the privacy curtain closed, and left her traumatised lion cub under Snape’s protection. Had she turned back at the last moment to glance at her cub once more, she would have seen the black tipped tongue sneak out between Severus’ lips.
-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-
“Really, Severus,” Remus wrinkled his forehead, slightly unnerved by the sight of Hermione’s tight grip on Severus’ sleeve and interlocked hands. He observed Hermione’s shift in body posture every time Harry’s name was mentioned. Even words that started with the sound “hair” was enough to have Hermione tensing up. “Must you be so protective of the girl?”
“It’s not my fault, Lupin,” Severus droned flatly, “that certain wizards don’t know how to keep their hands to themselves.”
Tonks placed a hand on Lupin’s shoulder and shook her head. “She’s been through an ordeal, love. Give her time. It was a big misunderstanding, but it still happened. You have to let her find her safe place again and for Hermione to approach him on her own.”
Lupin sighed, patting her hand with his. “You’re right. You’re right.”
“Training to become an Auror, now, Lupin?” Severus said, raising a brow at the crimson red robes draping over Tonks. Tonks blushed, her hair turning a bright daffodil yellow.
Remus flushed. “We came to check on Harry,” he explained, “but Hermione—”
“Hermione is a friend too,” Tonks said, squeezing Remus on the shoulder.
Hermione stared at them, slightly less agitated, but silent. The mention of Harry’s name had caused her to clench onto Severus’ sleeve again, and Remus seemed to realise what he had done. His face twisted into an apologetic frown.
Remus noticed that Hermione hadn’t let her grip loosen on Severus’ sleeve while they were visiting, almost as if she expected Harry to step out from behind them. It looked as though as long as anyone was nearby, she was going to remain on guard.
Tonks and Remus stood silently and awkwardly about, trying to be supportive but having no idea what to say to Hermione.
Severus lifted his head, nostrils flaring as he looked down at Hermione. She absentmindedly gnawed on the soft part of her hand between her thumb and index finger, worrying the soft area with her teeth, her tongue lapping at her skin like a cat would groom itself. Severus felt his pants tighten just a touch as the image of Hermione lapping at cock surfaced.
Tonks and Remus fidgeted. Tonks flushed and her hand moved from Remus’ shoulder to his chest, and Severus could see Remus’ pupils dilate and a hint of amber wash over the iris.
“I.. um,” Remus stammered. “I guess we’ll come back to visit you again later, Hermione. I hope you feel better soon.”
The flustered werewolf wrapped his arm around Tonks and was shoving her out the infirmary with hurried footsteps.
Severus smirked as they left the Hospital Wing. Even in her traumatised state, far removed from her demon self, Hermione Granger had just inflicted her pheromones onto the werewolf and his mate. He looked forward to being able to teach her more.
However, he first had to heal the damage Potter inflicted on her while she was in her dormant period of her transition. That would require privacy, time, and enough of her human trust so he could get some of his saliva into her, to help her ease into the rest. Naturally, once she remembered their bond, the transition would be less painful.
“Come, Miss Granger,” he said softly, “it is time to take you someplace safe.”
-o-o-o-o-o-o-
Severus was livid, but he knew such emotions would serve no purpose at the moment. His mate was supposed to enjoy a complete moon’s cycle before he would begin to coax her into her full transformation, but she had blown all of the power he had transferred to her in order to forge their bond to subconsciously save herself from Potter’s Sectumsempra curse. The boy should never have even had that curse, but thanks to Slughorn’s casual teaching style, that was unfortunately something he had to now watch out for.
He would have to feed her his special daemonic cocktail as often as she could ingest it. That combined with physical intimacy would help her reconnect to her demon self and allow it to fully merge with Hermione Granger’s human body. He wanted the transition to be gradual, where Hermione would instinctively seek him out as her body remembered him throughout the moon cycle. Alas, Potter had pushed that method out the window with his stupidity, but all was not lost. Their new “living arrangements” would allow them enough time and privacy together to fully turn her into a fully fledged demon. By the time the summer break began, their bond would be solid and unbreakable instead of dangling by a thread as Hermione Granger’s human mind suffered through the effects of Potter’s attack— what Muggles defined as Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder.
Severus growled and he felt the thickening ichor gathering in his mouth. Damn all people named Potter. The threat to his mate fueled a different fire within him. The one bond demons kept above everything else was their love for their mate. Once the bond was forged, accepted and consummated, they could not help but hold the other in the highest regards. That bond was being threatened even now by Potter’s maniacal attack on his supposed best friend.
“This will be your room,” he said somewhat stiffly, trying to maintain the distance he knew “Snape” would in such an uncomfortable situation. If only the bond were stronger, she would remember him, and the act would be no longer needed.
“Thank you… Professor,” Hermione said in a soft whisper. She looked around at all her things, which a dutiful House-elf had seen to organising for her.
Severus paused. “I will be making tea,” his words came out short and clipped. “Would you… care for some?”
Hermione’s eyes widened slightly, perhaps in surprise that he would be civil to her given their known rocky history as student and teacher. “Yes, thank you.”
“I will be in the main room,” Severus said. He noted her look of panic at being left alone. “I will not be far. I will return with tea.”
Hermione nodded her head, sitting down on the edge of the bed looking as lost as a First Year in the Slytherin dorms on their very first night at Hogwarts.
Severus left the room, hurriedly gathering the container of tea leaves and his teapot. He fetched the water kettle off the hearth, poured it, and inhaled the gentle aroma of the black tea brewing.
He lifted the lid of the teapot and felt the rush of oily ichor gather in his mouth. He let it drip from his mouth into the teapot, closed the lid, and swished the pot around to mix the daemonic chi into the tea. Hopefully it would be enough to jump-start Hermione’s connection to the sleeping demon inside of her and allow him to start feeding her in the traditional and more pleasurable manner.
A newly turned demon usually took a month to adjust to the initial change. After that, their sire would “feed” the fledgling a constant stream of specialised chi that induced the physical change. If ingested by a non demon, it wasn’t harmful to their body but it would make them extremely susceptible to mental suggestion.
Fledgling demons relied on these intimate feedings to train their original bodies to merge with their daemonic forms. Once this was complete, the new demon would be able to produce their own chi instead of relying on their sire to provide it. The fledgling would be free to go about whatever affairs it wished, which was often serving the one who was instrumental in creating it— at least until that master fucked up and accidently freed the demon from service. Oddly enough, this occurred a lot faster than anyone would have ever expected. In most cases most people who summoned demons were imbeciles. All it took was three denials of terms or reneging on an agreement of terms after the service was done. As much as books loved to write about “what not to do” with demons, people were drawn to the “demons grant your desires” sections. It was no wonder that demons had no pity for their summoners.
Severus grabbed two teacups in his free hand and carried them with him back to the Apprentice chambers. Hermione was carefully unpacking her books into the shelves and turned to look at him as he entered. He sat down on the edge of the bed and poured the laced tea into the cup. The tea he brewed was naturally dark, and the room was dim, lit only by floating candles in advantageous locations. Thankfully the chances of her noticing the slightly tinted daemonic chi swirling around in her teacup was small.
He poured himself a cup and drank it in front of her, realising that his doing so would placate the young witch. He snorted to himself as he remembered that age was not applicable to either of them anymore. Soon she would be ageless as he, separated from time just as they were separated from humanity.
She sipped the tea and closed her eyes. “Thank you,” she said after a while, sighing softly. “I’m sorry… to troubling you.”
“It is of no consequence,” he replied, watching her down the entire thing in a few gulps. “More?” he asked hopefully.
“Please,” she said, extending her cup out.
He filled it again, and she drank it in, seeming to enjoy the flavour more the second time, and that filled Severus with hope that his daemonic chi was doing its job.
Severus watched carefully as her eyes slowly glazed over, watching her pupils dilate and unfocus, her grip on the cup loosening. Severus grabbed it before it went crashing down to the floor and hastily set aside the teapot and the cups on the nearby table.
He felt the ghosting of her presence in the back of his mind. ‘Please,’ he pleaded to himself. ‘Remember us’. He stared on as her skin took on a pale sheen, and he saw the gentle streaking of black behind the skin.
It’s starting.
He gently lay her back against the pillows and waited. She stared up into his face. Slowly, something flickered across her face, and her hand came up to touch his cheek, slowly drawing across his jawline. Her fingers, touched his lips, tracing them in a slow, exploratory motion.
Severus closed his eyes, leaning his cheek into her hand. No one desired to touch Severus Snape without his pheromones inducing the addictive euphoric high, and yet here she was, by her own will, exploring his face with tender, curious touches.
“Hermione,” he whispered, calling on the combined song of their joined names. She was Hermione, but she was also him.
“S...sev..rus?” she said dreamily.
Severus felt a stab of pain within his chest, his daemonic chi collecting in his mouth. He swallowed hard. He was ready to feed his mate yet he dared not move too fast lest she not be quite ready. “I’m here,” he replied.
“You’re so far away,” she whimpered.
“I’m here,” he replied. “I’m close.”
“I need you,” she said, her hands moving through his hair.
Severus felt himself cave in at her words. He lowered his mouth to hers, his tongue sliding over her lips and then plunging into her mouth.
Hermione moaned lowly, her tongue meeting his with a sluggish response, but his daemonic chi was making its way into her mouth. He felt her swallow once, twice, and again. She moaned a little louder, her arms wove around his torso, grasping his back, pulling him down upon herself. Her tongue met his more eagerly now, sliding against his as though she was polishing a candlestick, and it was his turn to groan in pleasure.
Severus growled lowly, feeling his body responding to her warmth and her heat. He propped himself up on one elbow and frantically undid his hundred and some buttons with one hand in a few seconds, silently thanking decades of ardent practice. Her hands slid over his bare skin, and he felt his hips buck in instinctive response.
“Severus,” she moaned, her voice stronger now. Her desire roll off of her body in flames, and he saw the blackness beginning to fill her eyes. At last, her demon was merging with her human body. With each kiss, each thrust of their tongue, his chi continued to fill her mouth. She swallowed as they parted each time, only to tug him down again to meet her lips.
He reached between them to unbutton her shirt, thankful the she had removed the sweater early on. Parting with her lips was not something he wanted to do as chi continued to follow between them. His hands roamed her naked flesh, tracing the path the ingested chi was following. From her throat, down the valley between her breast, eventually propping his left hand on the side of her body to allow himself further dexterity. He felt Hermione part her thighs, tilting her hips in response to his exploration. He parted from her lips, watching small streams of chi linger in the air between them.
He planted gentle kisses along her collarbone, tracing the earlier path his fingertips had travelled. He stopped at her breasts and gently nipped at flesh, ghosting a gentle breath over each one, watching them tighten. He raised his gaze to Hermione’s, glad to see that her eyes were filling with the inky blackness that matched his.
His tongue flicked out over a nipple, circling it, coating it, and watched as the chi seeped through the skin, mapping out the gentle capillaries underneath. Her hips rose off the bed, bumping into his hand, as if telling him where she wanted to be touched. He was never one to deny his mate of her desire.
He slipped his hand beneath her skirt, skimming the flesh of her inner thigh. She parted them further, gasping as his fingertips brushed against the cotton that covered her heated core. He looked up from the breast he was worshipping, only to hear a soft growl and her hand join his underneath her skirt, removing both in a swift yank.
He smirked against her skin, knowing that the demon was rising to the surface. Demons were creatures of the night, holding their form the best when no sunlight touched the earth. He had been a demon for decades, learning to hold his demon mind while in the human body of Severus Snape. While the human body did not aid in blackmail or instilling fear in others, it made couplings with other humans easier when they weren’t screaming at the sight of his muzzle.
He grazed the top of her mound, dipping around her engorged clit, smearing her wetness over her centre. he slipped a finger in and groaned, vibrating the breast that this mouth was still attached to. Just as he remembered earlier that evening, it was warm, moist and velvety. Abandoning the breast, he slid further down her body and slipped his tongue into her core.
Hermione mewled, bucking, and he both suckled more fervently and slid his thumb over her swollen knub, working his fingers into her moist passage. She bucked again, seemingly sucking in his fingers with her eagerness, and Severus growled lowly. His muzzle was already forming, and he bared his teeth as he rose up and positioned himself over her, pressing his erection to her mound as he panted, growled, and lowered his muzzle to her mouth.
His tongue slid out and into her mouth, and she pulled his head down upon her, smashing his muzzle into her face and not caring in the slightest as her tongue wrestled with his in passion. Her hands caressed his hair, moved over his growing horns, down the velvet curves of his lips as they pulled back from his stiletto fangs.
His hips ground forward, and he slid into her welcoming moist heat. His eyes practically rolled back into his head, and the black filled his eyes as his personal transformation was accelerating. She drank in his chi all the more eagerly as he thrust into her, her mewling cries disappearing into his mouth. He tuned into his movement, the strong thrust, the grip from her walls around his cock. She lifted her hips as he pulled out and drove down as he thrust upwards, learning the primal coupling dance.
Hermione pulled her mouth from his as her climax hit her, hands clawing at his back, legs locking around his hips to keep him from leaving her. He felt his wings shift between his shoulder blades, bursting from his back.
His wings flapped, sending a heated wind through the room, and he curled them around her, wrapping her in a cocoon of his body heat. The pulsating grip of Hermione’s climax as he felt her muscles tighten around the length of his plunging cock, coupled with the release of his wings sent his hips snapping into her. They merged together in their passion, holding him firmly as he spasmed and released his come in a gush of heat.
He roared as Hermione’s answering scream of pleasure echoed it. They lay there, vibrating together on the bed, his wings undulating around her heated body. His muzzle parted from her mouth, but his tongue slowly lapped her face in affectionate, long licks. His growl mixed in with Hermione moans and whimpers filled the room, sending both into post-orgasmic shudders.
It may have been minutes or hours when Severus allowed his wings to unfold around his mate’s slick body. He lay on his side, cradling her against his chest with a low crooning purr. He continued to lick her skin, spreading more of his black saliva across every pore of her neck and face.
Hermione murmured against him, pulling back with a lazy yawn. She opened her eyes, blackness reflected candlelight across the entire surface of her once human optics.
“My love,” she purred, a long black tongue slithered out from her mouth and licked her lips.
Severus growled lowly in his chest, his lips parted from his glistening, dripping, black fangs. “My love.”

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

A/n: Severus feeding Hermione is based off how birds just love to hork up half-digested meals for their babies. Parrots just love to bring such offerings to their love interests too. See? This is real life! (And real life is sometimes far more disgusting than anything I could come up with by myself, see?)
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In the Darkness in Which We Are Made