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I want to Snape you like an animal complete	By : Desert_Sea Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Snape/Hermione Views: 16931 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any other characters/things/places created by J.K. Rowling. I make no money from my fan-fiction.

Chapter List
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- 4
A/N: And a little more fun. DSxx
Thank you to the lovely babsmd for the chapter title.
And I must also direct you to another of MyWitch’s wonderful pics.
‘Watcher in the Woods’ inspired by ‘In Their Hands’ – more delicious naughtiness from the queen of smutty artworks.
http://archiveofourown.org/works/13740288
OO – Staggering into furniture is still a good visual :) ‘I’m curious what’s really going on with Severus (and wondering if he’ll find out what Hermione did to Neville’s boggart.)’ – hmm, I wonder if he would approve :) ‘Maybe it was a tension giggle’ – this made me snort. ‘Is there a reason you didn’t capitalize your title?’ – I really don’t know. I think I wanted the ‘Snape’ to stand out. Do you think I should?
Whitecabbit – LOL. I hope your husband enjoyed it too ;) x

Chapter 3 – For Snape’s Sake
“Okay . . . yes . . . okay,” Hermione murmured, her lips moving against her damp palms as she attempted to compose herself.
“Hermione?”
She surfaced with a breathy gush, skimming her hair back from her face as she blinked at Neville’s reclining form. “Yes?”
He gestured to the cupboard with his wand. “We don’t have to do this tonight . . . Not if you don’t want to.”
“No, it’s just . . .” She shook her head. “It’s fine. I’m just a bit tired after . . . today.”
Shrugging, Neville pushed himself out of his chair, taking a few strides away from her. “Well . . . no point waiting any longer then.”
Hermione’s hand rose to her neck as she eyed the cupboard, her fingertips grazing back and forth as she thought about what had happened that morning. Snape had taken her potion at the end of the class. Only hers. He had leaned in close, his fingertips brushing against the back of her hand as he’d slipped under her, taking the weight of the glass vial. She’d felt it then. A frisson. A spark. The shivery whisper of skin on skin. Just like this. Her chin strained upward as her own fingers slid down, playing briefly across the hollow at her throat before trickling down to nestle in the warm valley of her cleavage.
“So . . . you ready?” Neville swung around.
Hermione snatched her hand away. “It’s you who needs to be ready,” she responded tersely, crossing her arms over her chest. Blinking away the odd wistfulness, she tried to ignore the hard nubs of her nipples grinding insistently through her clothes. “Have you actually planned what you’re going to do this time?”
Neville threw a nervous grin over his shoulder. “’Course I have.”
“It better be an improvement on last time,” she muttered under her breath, annoyed at her own irritation but unable to temper it. She was confused. And aroused. She really should have said no to Neville’s request—turned in for an early night. In fact, at this moment she really needed to be alone. In bed. Making herself come.
“Let him out, then.” Neville nodded at the cupboard.
Hermione swallowed down her aching frustration and raised her wand.
“Alohamora.”
He emerged from the cupboard instantly this time. Without hesitation. But it wasn’t the brisk, commanding approach of the previous Snape. It was the Snape from that morning, relaxed, insouciant, arms swinging in slow, deliberate arcs as he sauntered towards them. She was struck again by his unique poise, by the distinctly feline grace with which he moved. As he approached, he seemed to take on an even more provocative prowl. But it was far from amusing. Leading with his crotch, the lazy roll of his hips somehow managed to make him even more intimidating.
“Oh, Gods,” she whispered.
“Okay . . . c’mon . . .” She heard Neville’s determined growl despite the fact that he was hastily shuffling backwards.
“Neville, don’t wait too long,” she cautioned as the dark wizard closed in. “Neville?” He didn’t seem to be listening. “Neville, do something . . . now!”
Planting his feet, Neville suddenly snapped his wand arm forward. “Riddikulus!”
Snape stopped mid-stride.
Hermione placed a steadying hand on the table behind her as she cocked her head to one side. “What did you . . . ?”
“Shit.” Neville’s wand hand dropped limply against his thigh.
She leaned forward for a better look. “What’s that supposed to be?”
Snape was looking around with an air of mild perplexity. Had he felt the change?
“Hooch,” Neville grunted.
It took a moment for Hermione to realise that it wasn’t just some aberrant noise.
“Hooch?” she repeated.
“It’s . . .” Neville raised both hands before allowing them to drop in dejection. “I thought putting Hooch’s hair on Snape would be funny,” he said weakly. “But maybe I should have chosen Ron’s . . . or Ginny’s. It’s not funny is it?” He turned to Hermione.
“Well I don’t see you laughing,” Hermione retorted, her annoyance returning.
“I know. It’s just that . . . it sort of . . . suits him.”
Hermione crossed her arms again. “Is that really the best you can do?”
Neville shrugged. “I thought it’d be funnier.”
Tapping her fingers against her bicep, Hermione stared at the silver-haired Snape. It was true. It did suit him. With a decisive huff, she began rolling up her sleeves. “Get his clothes off.”
Neville looked around in alarm. “What?”
“You heard,” she snapped. “Despite what you may think, I actually have better things to do than to doss around all night with you and your Boggart.”
Neville’s face pinched in consternation as he considered Snape.
“But it’s not going to be funny this time, is it? It’s not a surprise.”
“It doesn’t have to be a surprise to be funny,” Hermione countered, heading for the far side of the room.
“But it’s like already knowing the punch-line before hearing a joke,” Neville complained. “It’s not funny anymore. You need to be taken by surprise.”
“If I gave you a surprise hex to the bollocks, would that be funny?” Hermione asked fiercely as she continued to make her way around behind Snape.
“Fuck’s sake,” Neville muttered under his breath before raising his wand. He paused a moment, shaking his head in resignation before drawing his brows into a deep furrow. Taking a few steadying breaths, he stabbed the wand at Snape’s chest. “Riddikulus!”
“Unnhhh.” A soft sigh instantly slipped between Hermione's lips at the sight of naked Snape. And she could only see the back of him. The lean taper . . . firm buttocks . . . strong, shapely thighs and calves.
She swallowed. It was inexplicable but her fingers were actually tingling with the need to touch him again. In fact, making Neville laugh suddenly seemed like a secondary consideration . . . a very . . . distant . . . second.
She moved up behind him. Close. Feeling the warmth radiating from his torso before she even ventured a hand there. A small shiver flitted between her shoulder blades. It was wrong on so many levels to be caressing him, the Snape-Boggart, slithering her hands over swathes of smooth, ivory skin, gliding down to cup his buttocks, squeezing them, jiggling them.
“You right?”
Hermione bowed her head, trying to ignore Neville.
Stepping in even closer so that her entire body was pressing gently against his, his fuzzy warmth grazing her cheek, she reached around his hip again for his cock, relieved to find that it hadn’t diminished whatsoever since her previous fondling.
Gripping his shaft firmly, she marvelled at the solid weight of it, the potent magical energy pulsing against her palm. The cocks she’d handled in the past had had a limp squishiness that she’d always found rather comedic. But this was entirely different. This wasn’t the cock of some teenager. Or some green initiate. He was a powerful wizard in his prime. Commanding. Virile. And he happened to have a consummately compelling cock to match.
She began moving her hand slowly over him, dragging her damp fingers back and forth, squeezing gently.
“Oi, what are you doing?” Neville protested.
“Just . . . wait . . .” She spoke into Snape’s back, her lips brushing the dip of his spine.
“For what?”
It was a good question. She didn’t really have an answer. But it turned out she didn’t need one . . . not immediately.
“Now, what the fuck is he doing?” Neville squawked.
Long slender fingers suddenly curled around her own, his large hand cradling hers, helping her, encouraging her.
Hermione’s mouth opened, she felt her hot breath gushing through the narrow gap between them. And then she groaned.
“Hermione! You’ve got to get away from him. Now!” Neville’s voice had risen to a strangled squeak.
“No . . . it’s . . . it’s fine . . . he’s just . . .” She could hear her own detached, dreamy tone. As though she had been drugged. She closed her eyes.
“For fuck’s sake, Hermione? You’re supposed to be trying to make me laugh, remember?”
The hand around hers tightened as it pumped her small fist back and forth. She steadied her free hand on his hip but he instantly grabbed it and pulled it around to his front, resting it on the broad plane of his chest, over one nipple.
She fondled the tiny nub gently.
“Hermione, this really isn’t funny,” Neville warned.
“Are you sure?” She was definitely slurring now. “It’s a sort of visual humour, isn’t it?”
Neville snorted dismissively.
“I thought you’d like this sort of thing . . . slapstick,” she murmured, smiling against Snape’s back as the fleshy, rhythmic sound of her 'slapping his stick' continued.
Neville snorted again. It sounded more like amusement. But he still wasn’t laughing.
“I can’t, Hermione,” he said finally. “You should see his face. He’s really getting off on this.”
Her smile dropped away. She wanted to see him—to watch him as her tugging sped up, as she massaged the bold ridge of his helmet, as she was forced by the hot pocket of his palm to hump his glans. She wanted to see what she did to him . . . how the tiny tweaks and pinches of his nipple tugged at his features. At his mouth. That mouth.
He suddenly gasped. She felt the surge of air right through to his back. Then he squeezed her hand tightly against his chest, pressed it into his flesh like a branding iron as he finished with a flurry of strokes of her other fist. The deep groan that resonated against her ear sent a gush of warmth flooding through her before his buttocks began jerking wildly against her belly.
“Oh fuck, that landed on my shoe!” Neville groaned. “Fucking hell.”
Hermione could feel Snape’s cock shuddering in her hand as warm seed spattered across her knuckles, seeping between her fingers. She sighed with him.
“Well that couldn’t have been less funny,” Neville grumbled, his voice receding. He was moving away.
He couldn’t.
“Stop!” Hermione gasped. She didn’t want the Boggart to turn around. Not now.
Clearing her throat, she squeezed his wilting cock.
“Now, Mr Longbottom,” she announced in her deepest, Snape-iest voice, “that’s how you extract Bubotuber pus . . . properly.”
Neville chuckled a little through his nose.
“And this,” Hermione pushed the skin of Snape's cock forward, slipping it over the end, “is an impersonation of my late cousin . . . Nearly Headless Dick.”
“Fucking hell,” Neville spluttered before finally giving way to a full-fledged laugh. When it was surging up from his depths and Hermione felt Snape’s demeanour change—his dismissal—she let him go, ducking quickly away.
Pressing herself against the wall, she watched as the Snape-Boggart ambled back to the cupboard, head down, before disappearing inside.
Neville was still snickering. “I never realised that you were actually properly funny.” He nodded approvingly.
“Only in emergencies,” she muttered drily before pushing herself off the wall and heading for the door.
“Hermione?”
She turned back with a weary sigh.
“You’ve got his . . . you know . . .” Neville did a small tugging gesture. “His stuff . . . on your hand.”
Hermione looked down, tilting her wrist to catch the tell-tale sheen in the torchlight. “So I have.”
He inclined his head towards her. “Aren’t you going to . . . ?”
She peered at him. “What?”
Noting the intensity of her gaze, Neville shook his head. “Nothing.”
“Good.” She turned. “I’ll see you tomorrow then.”
Neville watched as she spun away from him, pulling her wand and flicking it at the door.
He frowned in puzzlement as she strode hastily from the room.
What the fuck was that all about?
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I want to Snape you like an animal *complete*

I want to Snape you like an animal complete