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Very Nearly Veela	By : Ms_Figg Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Snape/Hermione Views: 57474 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: This fic is a compilation of different authors. We do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. We do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 30
- 31
Chapter contributed by : Remarkable

It's been quite a while since this fic was updated, and I need a palette cleanser from my "Woman" Series. Here goes!
Hermione followed him back to his labs without a word. He had said that he needed help with the next part of the process, whatever it was he was working on.
As she entered his private domain, her jawed dropped in awe. She knew he had a lot of books. He was a bibliophile, as was she. But this - this - was incredibly wonderful and delicious and magical and just plain talented. Through a creative use of building extension charms, the illusion mirrors and decorating could provide, and probably a very large number of protective charms and wards that left her spidey senses tingling, the room before her seemed to go on forever. It was almost like being in the room of requirement, in that is seemed to go on and on, but she knew there were convenient twists and turns that doubled back so that you didn't actually run into a corner or wall.
"Severus!" she exclaimed in wonder. "This is amazing!"
He smirked, hiding his chin in his chest for just a moment. It was exactly moments like these, very rare as they were, that he reveled in his own skill. If he did admit it even to himself, it was some of his best combined, non-potions work.
"Professor Flitwick helped with some of the charm extension. They tend to become unstable after a few months."
"But you've lived here for years!" she exlaimed in wonder, twirling around with her arms outstretched, feeling like Alice in Wonderland.
"Quite. However, if one knows the right combination of spells, charms and so on and so forth...."
She sprinted up to him suddenly, her eyes alight with a fiery admiration and that breathtaking Veela aura. Severus leaned into her precariously, swaying forward, forcing her to take a step back.
"Oh, oh!" she realized, his eyes glazing over slightly as his lips parted. As she backed off a few steps, pushing his arms from her, the professor shook his head, seeming to clear his senses.
His stern look told her more than words could say, 'Don't do that!'
She shook her head ruefully. Would she never be free of this damn influence?
"Follow me. Our work takes us through this room, but we shall not be taking our leave in here today, regretfully."
With a mute sigh of disappointment, Hermione left the indoor garden-library that stretched to a faux sky and horizon, feeling bereft when they entered a fairly fortified and outfitted, but rather plain, room.
"This is my private lab. Approximately four living people have seen it. Today, you make five." He did not have to tell her what his trust in her meant. She did not take it for granted.
"Do I need to refresh your memory of the rules one observes when in a lab?" he inquired, not unkindly.
She shook her head and bit her lip. No, her memory was still as good as ever concerning her Hogwarts education.
He gestured to a long, low table with five bubbling and simmering cauldrons. "This is my private work. It is all in stasis and various stages of completion or experimentation." He moved forward a step and indicated the center of the work room. "This is where I prepare ingredients. I do not brew in this space, specifically to avoid cross contamination and because some of the ingredients are rather ... exotic..." he left for her to wonder.
'And large,' her own mind supplied. The work table nearly filled the room. She looked up and saw him quickly shut a door on the far end. Hermione glimpsed a dim hallway and what seemed to be rows and rows of ingredients before he locked and warded it securely.
"That is my supply store, and strictly off limits," he admonished firmly.
She nodded, her curls bouncing merrily. With a swish and flick, her hair was non-verbally pinned up neatly on her head, a few curls wisping down her cheeks, but no fly-aways apparent. Startled, she touched it briefly and stammered, "Th-thank you, I think."
That bloody smirk was back.
'Smug bastard,' she mused, startled when he turned from her and muttered, "I heard that."
"Then you should mind your own bloody business."
Was it her imagination, or did she hear a low chuckle come from deep within the dark wizard?
"Come."
She stepped smoothly to his right, peering into a relatively small, and simple looking concotion. It neither bubbled nor simmered, merely sat, dull and pale-yellow in a clean but battered looking number 2. Her head turned inquiringly. "It doesn't look like much, does it?"
He agreed non-comittally with a grunt. "Sometimes, it is the simplest of answers that elude us."
When the man didn't elaborate she shrugged internally, waiting for him to speak. He continued to stare at the potion with his brow furrowed deeply. After a full five minutes she huffed noisily. "I thought you needed my help?"
Severus turned an irritated scowl upon her. "I do, but I cannot tell you in what manner. Even by telling you this much, I may have compromised the solution. Now, be quiet, and concentrate."
Hermione wanted to ask, "On what, exactly?" but assumed he meant the potion. So together they stood there and stared at the potion for what seemed an interminably long time. After many minutes, her feet started feel numb and she shifted from foot to foot. Mind wandering, she began to daydream. She was back in that glittery place of the Veelas. An image of the Veela men, seemingly so handsome and magical, making her feel, oh-so-good. A slight burning began in her chest, making her nipples grow tight and achy. Licking her lips, gaze unfocused, she swayed a step toward the professor. The scene shifted and she was in her bed back at her flat, allowing herself fantasies of a dark, mysterious man. Young, inexperienced fingers rubbed and circled her sex, unaware of what she was going to accomplish, only knowing that she needed it to happen. The witch was now touching Severus' shoulder and his gaze snapped down, about to castigate her and stopping at the wild, unfocused cast to her doe-like eyes.
His insides melted like so much liquid fire. Gods-be-damned he wanted her.
Hermione touched him from the top of his shoulder, running down the crisp white linen of his shirt to his hand. She grasped it firmly, pulling it up, sans resistance, and laid it over her blouse and bra-clad breast. His breath hitched but he did nothing to stop her. Whatever happened in this room was as it was supposed to be. He had ensured they would not be disturbed, but prayed to whatever gods were listening that they did not ruin his other work in the process.
Hermione's mind supplied plenty of fodder for her growing arousal. The man's face began to take on the shape of Severus Snape. At first, she was internally a tad disgusted with herself for lusting after her former professor. Then, as her dream-world supplied her with a very-realistic feel of the fabric along his strong arm, and a willing recipient squeezing her small, but firm, breast, she began to forget their shared past and reciprocate.
A small noise emanated from the back of her throat and his grip tightened with dark arousal on her tit. The young witch abandoned pretense and pushed herself against him, the strong arms and lovely hands - oh goddess, his hands - reaching down to cup her arse through her slacks.
"Girl, you're going to be the death of me," he growled and bent to nip at the long, smooth column of her exposed throat. Smooth, nimble fingers walked down the front of his shirt, releasing buttons in an alarmingly docile fashion. Cool yet heated palms reached inside simultaneosly and perked his small, pink nipples, stimulating them and the dusky hair surrounding.
"Severus," she exhaled, ripping her throat away from his lips as she bent slightly to take one of his nipples into her mouth and lave it gently.
'Mother of all that's holy!'
Without further ado, he lifted her from under the arms and deposited her none-too-gently on the worktable behind them. He discarded his shirt hastily and began working on his trousers.
"So, you want to play with magic?" the potions master rumbled at her through clenched, crooked teeth.
"Please!" was all she could grind out, her lovely doe-eyes still hazy, but her hands were removing her clothing as quickly as he removed his own.
"As you wish."
In a move that surprised himself, he reached behind him and hoisted the small cauldron from it's resting place and gently set it on the worktable next to the now-naked witch.
"Let us begin."
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- 31
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Very Nearly Veela