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Playing with Slytherins	By : onecelestialbeing Category: Harry Potter > Threesomes/Moresomes Views: 69053 -:- Recommendations : 7 -:- Currently Reading : 5
Disclaimer: I own nothing of Harry Potter and it's characters, nor do I make any money from this sordid little fic :)

Chapter List
- 3
- 4
A/N: So...remember this is just a little PWP, nothing too serious, purely written to entertain you all. This one is straight Severus/Hermione, so no warnings need apply. It was supposed to be another threesome (for you, and you know who you are, sorry!)...but my mind sometimes does what it wants. Also, besides me, I have quite a few followers that either broke a limb, or have loved ones with broken limbs. So it was only fitting that a certain witch also be tortured in that aspect along with the rest of us. Either way, please enjoy, and yes, I will have a little more :D

"Tell me, Hermione, how did you break your ankle again?"

Hermione glowered up at Draco, looking as if she was two seconds from killing him and leaving Lucius Malfoy without an heir.

"Draco, you'd better leave Hermione alone before she hexes your balls off," Harry told him, chuckling.

Half-pouting and half-grimacing, Hermione folded her arms across her chest and slumped back onto the rolled arm of the sofa. She hadn't meant to fall down, for goodness' sake. And it wasn't as if it had been her fault!

Hermione woke up that Monday morning feeling as if a Troll had thumped her over the head with his club. That weekend she'd felt slightly under the weather, but hadn't experienced so much as a sniffle. But once Monday morning rolled around, it had been difficult to push the blankets away from her body, never mind getting out of bed. It had then taken her an extraordinarily long time to shower, dress, force down a bit of breakfast, and then make her way to the Apparition point to get to the Ministry.

Kingsley had been darting back and forth in a flurry of purple robes, working himself up into a tizzy about something...Hermione hadn't been bothered enough to ask what. But he did pause long enough to point out that she looked peaky, while personally fixing her a cup of tea.

Hermione only managed to drink half the cup, only because she didn't want to hurt Kingsley's feelings. What she really wanted was to go back home and crawl beneath the bed, but not before getting her filing done. She had been standing on a ladder, shoving folders into their designated compartments along the shelves lining the wall when a storm of goblins made a banging entrance into the office.

The ringleader's name could barely be pronounced by many of the workers, but there was no mistaking him whenever he came around. The goblin was quite old with tufts of white hair growing out his ears, no hair on top of his head, and he always wore a look that suggested he'd spent an entire month sucking on a lemon.

For someone that was rather small in stature, the goblin kicked up a huge fuss whenever he came around. One time he actually lunged at Kingsley, and two on-duty Aurors had carried him way, while he continued kicking and screaming.

That day, Hermione had felt a pang of dizziness while still standing high up on her perch when the fray carried in her direction. The room suddenly began spinning and she had clung to the ladder for dear life, lest she fall and break her neck. Things had become so out of focus that Hermione had been unable to withdraw her wand to send for Harry or Draco, who were on Auror duty that day.

Several things had suddenly happened at once: a large bang erupted, and many of the files Hermione had just tucked away were shot out and rained over her head. Everyone began yelling, Hermione's voice lost to the din as she toppled off the ladder and landed awkwardly on the floor, causing her ankle to bend in a way that nature never intended.

By then Harry, Draco, and two other Aurors-in-Training had burst into the office. The unruly goblin had been frog marched out by the trainees, while Draco barked that everyone who didn't belong in the room would be arrested if they didn't vacate the office in five minutes. Harry had immediately swept to his best friend's side, trying to figure out why she was ashen-faced and wincing silently.

Hermione had barely noticed the blur of burgundy Ministry-appointed robes next to her head; the only thing she'd been able to focus on was the horrible thrumming, shooting pain in her right ankle. Harry had then carefully picked her up, carrying her into her own tiny office and settling her on the small sofa pushed against the wall.

"Shit," Draco was now muttering, worriedly glancing down at her swollen ankle. "What are we supposed to do for that?"

"Some Auror you are," Hermione spat, taking deep breaths to try to keep from outright screaming. "Bloody fuck, my ankle hurts. I think some ice might help; might."

Both wizards knew it had to be serious for Hermione to use four letter words to emphasize how she was feeling. Once a crude ice pack had been conjured and gingerly placed on her ankle, a discussion about how they would get her to St. Mungo's ensued.

"Oh, Merlin, this is such an inconvenience," Hermione ground out between clenched teeth. "I don't have time to sit round at St. Mungo's all day. I have a ton of reports that need finished, and Kingsley—"

"You aren't finishing anything today, not with that ankle," said Draco, gesturing towards her slightly elevated leg.

"Yeah, but she can't go home on her own, either," Harry pointed out. "Hermione, you can't go home," he continued when she hissed at him. "You can't even stand up on your own!"

"What if we bring her home with us?" Draco asked, ignoring Hermione's fierce glower and looking over at Harry.

"That's not much help if we're here working all week," Harry answered, idly scratching his chin. "And didn't you say your parents were away for the week?"

"Yeah, they're on another honeymoon or holiday, I wasn't paying attention," Draco replied. "What about Weaslebee's mum?"

"NO!" Hermione yelled emphatically, red-faced at the two dolts talking about her as if she wasn't sitting between them. "I want to home to my own house and sleep in my ownbed! But I can't do that without seeing a Healer first, you idiots!"

"But you just said you didn't feel like going to St. Mungo's!" Harry exclaimed.

Hermione jerked too sharply when she moved to reach out and slap Harry in frustratoin, and she screamed as the tiny shattered bones in her ankle made themselves freshly known.

"Get Severus! Just call Severus!" she yelled, "before I hex both of you so badly that if there's a chance in hell you two can procreate with one another, you won't bleedin' be able to!"

Green and grey eyes widened equally as if to say 'mad witch alert!' However, Draco strode out of the room to make the Floo call, and promptly returned with the headmaster of Hogwarts in tow. Severus, looking extremely ill-tempered and foreboding in his black teaching robes, promptly shoved both young men out of his way and rounded on Hermione.

"That is one nasty break, Miss Granger," he remarked after slowly pulling her robes up to her knee to examine the injury. "Why haven't you two dolts taken her to St. Mungo's?"

Severus' question was posed to Draco and Harry with his back turned. Both wizards looked at one another as if they had just blundered in Potions class and were eager to get out of dodge.

"Well, we tried!" Draco spluttered, "but Miss Granger here got all 'I don't want to go to St. Mungo's!'"

His sentence was finished in a high falsetto, and Harry tried his best not to laugh, although a hint of a smirk was on his lips. Hermione was completely agitated by then and began lustily swearing, uncaring who might be overhearing her, while furtively looking around for her wand.

"Enough of that," Severus interjected in the middle of Hermione's tirade. He bent down and slid his arms beneath her body, carefully scooping her up and keeping her crushed to his chest. "Potter, get Miss Granger's belongings. Draco, tell Kingsley he will have to do without his assistant for the week. Miss Granger, be quiet."

Severus fired off directions so rapidly that no one thought to argue, except for Hermione. She had just opened her mouth to protest, and balked when she was promptly told to shush. Still, she slipped both arms around Severus' neck as he carried her out the office and into the corridor, all the while glaring at Draco and Harry from over his shoulder as if they had been the cause of her broken ankle.

Because they were traveling by Floo, it didn't take long to return to Hogwarts. Severus stepped out in the hearth of the headmaster's tower office, ignoring the inquisitive portraits that called to him when they saw the well-known witch in his arms.

"Are they always that nosy?" Hermione asked, the sounds of the portrait's mingled voices growing dimmer the further away Severus walked.

"All the fucking time," he grumbled dispassionately. "Sometimes I forget my given name because all I hear is 'Headmaster, Headmaster, Headmaster'. Sometimes I have to leave the office just to get a moment's peace. One day I told them I quit and that Minerva in charge. They harassed her all day and when I returned...let's just say you never heard that Scottish brogue so thickly."

Hermione laughed in between grimaces as Severus carried her throughout the blessedly nearly empty corridors, as everyone was in class, and up to the hospital wing. Madam Pomfrey had been happy to see Hermione, and fussed over her as if she were a first-year student.

Most of the broken bones in her ankle were mended by a bit of wandwork and a nasty tasting green potion, yet a fierce, lingering ache remained. After Madam Pomfrey securely wrapped Hermione's ankle and gave explicit directions for the witch to stay off her feet for the rest of the week, Severus carried her back to his rooms.

"What am I supposed to do for an entire week?" Hermione asked as Severus walked into his chambers.

"What am I supposed to wear?"

Severus was quiet as helped Hermione pull off her work robes, camisole and bra (she was grateful that she'd worn robes instead of her usual suit, as it would have been harder to remove while keeping her leg still). He then pulled out one of his own silky pyjama tops which nearly swallowed her entire body. Once Hermione was settled on the right side of his bed, he adjusted pillows beneath her foot and behind her back.

"Have a lie-in; let the house-elves bring you breakfast in bed," Severus finally answered. "Read?"

At his last comment Severus reached over to his nightstand and picked up a book that he knew would pique Hermione's interest.

"I hate the idea of house-elves bringing me things," Hermione grumbled, although she gratefully accepted the proffered book.

"Yes, but Pomfrey threatened to personally make you remain in the hospital wing if you were to walk on that foot," Severus pointed out, chuckling when Hermione grimaced at him.

The Mediwitch had told Hermione in no uncertain terms that the potion she'd taken did not give instantaneous results, and that she had better take it easy or else. Pomfrey had also forced some PepperUp Potion down Hermione's throat when she sneezed a few times. The elderly witch even went far as to shoot the headmaster a reproving look, although she most likely assumed that he was going to Floo Hermione back to her home instead of taking her to his personal chambers.

"I know, I know," Hermione muttered under her breath, setting the book down at her side and curiously eyeing Severus. "I hope I won't be inconveniencing you?"

"Pfft. As if returning to my room each evening to have a beautiful, brilliant witch waiting for me is an inconvenience." Knowingly smirking at Hermione and enjoying the pleased flush that rose to her cheeks, Severus moved to the side of the bed and bent down to give her a soft kiss. "Unfortunately I must leave you for a bit; these little bastards will blow up the school if given the chance. It's lunchtime, did you want to eat now or...?"

"I can wait," Hermione answered. "A cup of tea would be nice, though. I never finished the one Kingsley gave me."

"Well, if you're going to be this easy to please..."

Once Severus had disappeared with his black teaching robes billowing behind him, Hermione lounged on his oversized and sinfully plush bed, drinking tea, eating biscuits and reading her book.

For reasons only known to himself, Severus remained in the headmaster's tower office. The bedroom alone was lavish; the dark mahogany canopied bed was in the center of the room on a dais. Some of the windows looked old and were made of stained glass, but the bit that drew Hermione's attention was the small recess that had been lined with dark velvet cushions and pillows. There was even a small throw neatly folded and resting on one end. Plenty of natural light poured into the area from large double windows that could be pushed open, and the area was big enough for her to completely stretch out in if she wanted.

Books... there had to be books. Severus was like her in that sense, and Hermione knew that an overflowing bookshelf had to be nearby. Oh, there it is, she told herself, looking across the room to find a wall-to-wall bookshelf. It was so big Hermione didn't know how she'd missed it.

There were still many remaining things that Hermione didn't know about the once reclusive wizard. The first shocking thing had been to find that the man was in possession of such a voracious sexual appetite. But she supposed it made sense about him being a passionate and skilled lover in the bedroom. He had always been and still was an ardent educator that took his job seriously; perhaps his enthusiasm also translated into more private areas of his life. It was funny; once upon a time she would have thought of Severus Snape as an asexual being. But that couldn't be farther from the truth: the man was clearly a closet sensualist. Even the material of his pyjama top sliding across her bare skin felt delicious.

The bedding beneath her was another matter. It had to be outrageously expensive. While it was not all that ornate, the duvet and sheets were a deep, rich midnight blue, and so soft that it most likely had a thread count of ten thousand. Typically Hermione thought that men weren't fussed over things such as proper bed sheets; Ron proved this theory often as he had never minded shagging on a bare mattress if its cover was in the wash, a thought alone which made Hermione feel itchy.

But then again, with a best friend like Lucius Malfoy, it was no wonder that Severus had such decadent bedding. If the pompous blond personal spent time with his raven-haired mate, then he would undoubtedly demand that his flaxen head rest upon the finest that Galleons could buy.

Now Hermione was reaping the benefits.

This is relaxing, she admitted to herself as she shifted the pillow to a more comfortable position beneath her head.

Severus' bedroom was quiet, peaceful even. While the front office no longer contained many of the whirring gizmos and gadgets that had always been seen lying about with the former headmaster, a large, old wooden clock remained, and its ticking carried into the room. The even, rhythmic sound was soothing and lulled Hermione into an almost hypnotic state. Eventually her eyes grew heavy, and she fell into a long nap, going well past lunch and nearly into dinnertime.

Still in the throes of a deep sleep, Hermione began dreaming that something invisible was tickling her nose. No matter how much she swatted at it, the tickling continued. Finally realizing that something really was brushing against her nose, she opened her eyes and found Severus half-reclining next to her, tracing the tip of a large feather along her chin.

"Well, it's about time," he said. "I was beginning to think that you would never awaken."

Grinning broadly, Hermione yawned and stretched before sitting up.

"Your bed is entirely too comfortable. I think I could live in it."

"Believe me, I've been sorely tempted to not move from it on many a morning," Severus replied, settling on the bed in a more comfortable position. He had undressed for the evening and was in white shirtsleeves and black trousers. Hermione scooted into the slim curve of his body and pressed her lips into the exposed patch of skin above his partially unbuttoned shirt.

"Your bed smells like you," she informed, slyly bringing one hand between them to undo the rest of Severus' buttons. "You came this close to being chased down earlier."

"Is that right?" he asked bemusedly, craning his neck to watch as Hermione finished the last button and pushed his shirt open to expose his chest.

"Yes," Hermione murmured, leaning forward to drag her lips across his pale skin. "How was your day?"

"It was..." Severus paused, having slight difficulty with speaking when Hermione's lips grazed one nipple. "It was rather uneventful. Except for one child accidentally upturning an entire container of crickets and sending all his classmates shrieking and running into the corridors. You don't know how strong first-years are until a group of them runs into you and nearly sends you on your arse."

Giggling at the image of a bunch of tiny first-years nearly knocking over the tall, stern-faced headmaster, Hermione reached one arm across his slim form and began rubbing his bum, all the while giving him a cheeky grin.

"Poor bum," she crooned, reaching further to get the other narrow wool-covered cheek. "How dare those naughty children nearly send my Severus on his arse!"

"You are as wicked as those little brats," Severus growled into Hermione's hair, grasping her arm and forcing her to lie flat. He unbuttoned her pjyama top and began running one hand over her bare torso.

Hermione melted into the bed and nearly purred like a kitten having behind their ears scratched. Severus had also likened the witch to a feline being petted in his mind, but it didn't matter to him. It was just as much pleasurable for him to run his fingers over her satiny skin. Whenever he spent the night at Hermione's house, Severus usually ended up rubbing her back until she fell asleep. Of course, they most likely had been going at it for an hour or so, and the idea of staying awake was laughable at best.

"I know not of what you speak," Hermione announced in a mock pompous tone. "I never set loose any crickets when I was a student."

"No; you merely made me into a human pyre...concussed me...shall I go on?" Severus words were muffled as his lips were nipping along the curve of her right hip.

"No!" Hermione shrieked in partial embarrassment as Severus moved to the left. The feel of his lips and hair brushing tantalizingly against her skin was the only thing she wanted to focus on at the moment, not the transgressions of her childhood. "You win, just don't stop kissing me."

Somewhere along the way, Hermione managed to have the older wizard completely wrapped around her little finger. While no promises or declarations had been made, it was clear that the two enjoyed spending time with one another, even in a non-sexual capacity. Lucius sometimes joined in, but it was mostly Hermione and Severus who spent time together.

One evening when Hermione wasn't around, Lucius cheekily suggested to Severus that he ought to lay more of a claim to the witch, before someone tried to steal her. The blond had then nearly choked on his own laughter when he saw the pinched look on Severus' face, but it was undeniable: Severus had grown quite found of the young woman. Lucius went far enough to call his best friend mopey when he hadn't seen Hermione for a week, purely because she had gotten tied up with work, and then went away to her parents' for the weekend.

Severus had said nothing but brandished his wand at Lucius, sending a harmless jinx that made the haughty blond give a loud yelp. But now that the curly-haired witch was in his bed, her body becoming limp beneath his hands, he grudgingly admitted that his pain-in-the-arse longtime friend had a point.

He felt terrible about Hermione being injured, but some selfish part of his brain was pleased that he would have her all to himself for a week.

"This is so stupid," Hermione suddenly grumbled, her words coming out in a half-moan when Severus trailed his tongue beneath one breast. "I have to lie on my back and let you do all the work because I can't move."

"Do you see me complaining?" he asked, dragging his tongue across the tip of a well-peaked nipple.

"No," Hermione giggled, sighing when Severus' warm mouth engulfed more of her breast. His hand cupped and massaged the other while his thumb did delightful things to its erect tip. "But I enjoy giving as well as receiving; you know that."

"Then be quiet and enjoy being the receiver," he murmured against her skin.

It wasn't a terrible thing to completely subject herself to Severus' caresses; he was spending an inordinate amount of time with stimulating the top half of her body. If his lips were at the side of her neck, then his hands were skimming either the curve of her hip or the soft expanse of her stomach.

"Oh, you are horrid," Hermione groaned when Severus ghosted his open mouth past the apex of her thighs, allowing his hot breath to wash over her skin. Typically he never outright rushed into things, but now he was moving slower than usual.

"I don't think so, Miss Granger," he chided when she grabbed onto his hair and tried to push him lower. "Remember what I promised would happen if you misbehaved?"

"Oh, goodness. What are you going to do, punish me?" Hermione asked challengingly, peering up at Severus with mirth coloring her eyes.

Severus didn't give Hermione another chance to speak. Within a few seconds, he had her arms above her head, wrists bound with a silken cord and fastened to the headboard. Her legs were left unfettered, although it didn't matter, as Severus' hand was strong enough to keep the uninjured one pinned into place.

"You were saying?" he drawled, straddling Hermione's thighs and hovering over her.

"I can't believe you actually tied me up," Hermione mused, wriggling her hands against her bonds.

"If you play with fire..."

"I think you mean snakes!"

Severus tipped his head forward and stared down his hooked nose at Hermione, although it was clear that he was more amused than anything.

"Is there really a big difference?" he asked salaciously. "You'll either get bitten or burned.

With that, Severus lowered his head until his nose was touching Hermione's, and caught her bottom lip between his teeth. Hermione hadn't been expecting that and gasped softly, causing Severus to chuckle. He then let go of her lip and engaged her in a deep yet frustratingly brief kiss, and Hermione huffed in annoyance when he pulled back.

"I'll bite you once my hands are free," Hermione threatened, lifting her leg to nudge Severus with her foot until remembering her injury.

"Be a good little girl, Hermione," Severus chided when she hissed in pain. "There are other ways of restraining you that don't involve cording. And in case you've forgotten, I'm supposed to be looking after you, not sending you back home in worse shape than you've already managed."

"Alright, alright," Hermione grumbled. "I'll behave; I'll remain perfectly still. How's that?"

"If you can remain perfectly still whilst I do this..." he trailed off, delicately parting her thighs and moving between them. Accio'ing a pillow and carefully sliding it beneath her bad ankleto keep it out of reach, he lifted her other leg onto his shoulder and lowered his face.

"Severus!" Hermione yelped at the first delicate swipe of his tongue. "How the bloody hell do you know to do that so perfectly?"

Grinning up at the witch from between her legs and looking like a cat that ate the canary, Severus kissed Hermione's inner thigh before repeating the movement with his tongue, enjoying the way her hips bucked against his mouth.

"Have I ever told you that you ask entirely too many questions?" he queried, gliding the tip of his tongue up Hermione's outer labia, purposely avoiding her clitoris.

"Only ever since knowing me," she answered in a strained voice. Unable to contain the shrill cry that erupted when Severus dragged his tongue up the other side of her intimate area, Hermione clutched at the cording binding her wrists while futilely trying to make him properly touch her. "Did you tie me up just to torture me?"

"There you go again: more questions. Perhaps I should get up and leave you here?" Severus suggested.

To Hermione's intense horror, the recalcitrant wizard actually slid back and off the bed, looking as if he was headed for the door.

"Severus Snape! Don't you dare leave me tied up like this!" Hermione shouted, staring at his back. "I'll...I'll...!"

"You'll what, exactly?" Severus asked, pausing by an armchair and turning to look at Hermione. His lips were quirked in amusement, and Hermione was ready to swear at him until she saw his hands beginning to unfasten the buttons on his shirt. His trousers and underwear soon followed, and Hermione was mollified when a completely starkers Severus crossed the room and rejoined her on the bed.

"You were saying?" he purred tauntingly, supporting himself on bent elbows that were placed on either side of her shoulders and pressing the length of his naked body into hers. A devilish smirk was on his face and even though Hermione was tempted to bite him, she soon forgot about her irritation at being teased when Severus' mouth firmly captured hers.

His erection was pressed against her throbbing core and Severus thrust against Hermione as if he were really inside her. When the tip of his cock nudged the underside of her clit, it sent a fierce tremor throughout her.

"Do you want to come?" he whispered into her ear, gently capturing its lobe between his teeth. Severus' question was emphasized by another swirl of his narrow hips, and Hermione had to choke back a scream.

"Yes," she answered, feeling as if her mouth were full of marbles.

"You can come on one condition. Would you like to know what that is?"

"Yes."

"You cannot make any noise. One sound and I stop. Is that understood?"

Whatever little game Severus wanted to play, Hermione vowed to go along with, so long as it ended with her being rendered half-unconscious from pleasure. Trust wasn't an issue; she trusted Severus long before sleeping with him, else they would have never become intimate. That trust strengthened afterwards, as Hermione knew that he would never do anything to hurt her.

Nodding her head in agreement to his terms, Hermione closed her eyes as she felt Severus bowing his head to litter hot kisses across her stomach. The ends of his hair tickled her skin, and she wished her hands were loose so she could dig her fingers into the soft tresses.

When he was between her splayed thighs again, Hermione fought to keep her hips still when long fingers curved over her pussy lips. Parting her folds as if they were petals of a flower, Severus began tracing his fingertips over her moist flesh, sometimes avoiding her clitoris. Her walls were beginning to throb, and she was having the hardest time with keeping her body motionless.

"I said I didn't want you to make a sound," she heard Severus tell her. "I still want to see you writhing beneath my touch, lovely girl. I like knowing that I make you this excited."

In no position to argue, Hermione unclenched her fingers, silently marveling to herself because she hadn't remembered making a fist in the first place. She still had to bite down on her bottom lip to keep from crying out, especially when those skilled fingertips began brushing feather-light strokes over other areas of her increasingly sensitive body.

Sweet agony, or heavenly torment was an apt description for what Hermione was undergoing. She had never experienced being tied up before, and even though it was just her hands that she could not move, it was enough to remind Hermione that she was completely at Severus' mercy. That thought alone made her heady with delight, and she was eager for whatever it was he planned on bestowing upon her.

Hermione's thoughts were soon interrupted by something else touching her skin. The object was light, and much too soft for it to be Severus' hands. After a second of reflection, she realized that the wizard was now holding a feather—most likely the one he'd tickled her awake with—and running it across her body. Her clitoris felt as if it had its own heartbeat, the dampness between her legs was most likely forming a spot on the duvet, and her nipples were so hard that they were beginning to hurt. Of course, it was only fitting for Severus to avoid each of those areas; he ran the feather atop Hermione's breasts, in between them and finally beneath each swell. Its tip was traced down the line of her sternum, and along the creases of where her pelvis and thigh met.

While Hermione was becoming lost to the palliative strokes, Severus was paying rapt attention to her face. Her eyes were squeezed shut, and the witch looked as if she was going to bite clear through her bottom lip. Her hands were clenched to the point that each of her knuckles had gone white, but her bonds was secure and she would only be released by his allowance.

Severus hadn't initially planned on using the feather. The idea came evening when he saw McGonagall bustling down the corridor, in aims of laying into a few sixth-year Slytherins that had been horsing around. Severus never liked it when another professor chastised students from his own House, doubly when it was the Head of Gryffindor. He stood nearby for a full five minutes as McGonagall berated the boys, while the large feather atop her hat quivered with each of her head's movements. If only the elderly witch had known what the headmaster was thinking as he stared at her hat.

No matter that Hermione was now adult and fully capable of making her own decisions. McGonagall would have still had a heart attack had she been privy to Severus' plans of stripping her former favorite student completely naked, tickling her most sensitive parts with a feather until she begged for mercy, followed by fucking her until she forgot her name.

Hermione definitely looked as if she wanted to beg for mercy at that moment. Even though his hands weren't directly on her, her skin was prickled and flushed from head to toe, and Severus knew she would feel furnace hot if he were to touch her. Each time he passed the feather down her glistening slit, her hips would arch up, trying to direct it onto where she needed most.

It was hard to tell who was more aroused: him or the silent yet passionate witch. His balls were beginning to ache in reminder that they needed release, and the tip of his cock made his inner thigh sticky whenever he moved.

Conceding into allowing more, Severus brushed the feather over Hermione's clitoral hood, earning a fierce jerk of her hips. One, two, three swipes, and he saw a small trickle of clear juices making its way down from her winking entrance. He wondered if he could make Hermione come that way, but preferred to use his mouth to finish her off. It was clear, however, that she was close to going over, because her pussy lips were red and engorged, and her clitoris had drawn itself into a tight nub.

Feeling as if he were now torturing himself, Severus cast the feather aside and stuck his face between Hermione's thighs. Another gush of sweet juices spilled onto his tongue when he pressed it against her opening, but when he dragged it up and over her clit, Hermione arched her back so sharply that it made an audible cracking sound.

Judging by the way her entire petite frame was shuddering uncontrollably, Severus knew she wasn't going to last long. He was able to literally count the times his tongue circled that stiff, sensitive point before Hermione's body tightened, seconds later breaking into vicious spasms that jarred him.

Hermione was still trembling and breathing hard, her chest heaving as if she had just run a race when Severus pulled away from her. He'd meant to prolong things, but they would have to wait for another time as the need to be inside her was great. Arching her back once more when Severus guided her good leg around his waist and aligned his cock with her entrance, Hermione dug her nails into her palms, willing herself not to scream when he slid into her. Every inch of him brushed against some sensitive spot, and Hermione felt as if she were burning up. He began a smooth rocking motion against her, and she just knew that her chest was going to explode from suppressing her cries.

Severus bloody fucking Snape.

If she screamed or even let out a gasp, he would stop that delicious, slow-rolling of his hips. The very thought was enough to nearly make her cry. It was bad enough that she couldn't hold onto him, seeing as her hands were bound above her head, but if he stopped now, she would die.

Several things suddenly happened at once. Severus used a nonverbal spell to free Hermione's hands and slipped his hands beneath her shoulders. Clutching her closer, he sensuously growled into her ear, "Hold onto me, and let me hear you. I want to scream when you come for me."

Each of his lascivious requests were punctuated by a slight change of pace in his thrusting, but it was enough to literally fling Hermione over the edge. Her climax was so intense that she nearly lost all her breath, and by the time she finally came back to earth, she dimly heard Severus telling her to breathe. She barely registered the twitching cock inside her, but wanted to weep when he withdrew from her body. And as Hermione came down and began drifting off to sleep, her injured ankle was completely forgotten.

"Damn," she muttered right before allowing herself to completely drop off.

"What?" Severus asked, his tone as sluggish as hers.

"I remembered that I still don't have anything to wear tomorrow."

"Honestly, woman," he grumbled, lifting an arm to place it round Hermione's shoulders when she scooted closer and tucked herself into his side. "We'll sort it in the morning. Now go to sleep."

That was all Hermione needed to hear, because soon as Severus mentioned 'sleep', she did just that.
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Playing with Slytherins