Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

The Fantasy Book	By : CryingCinderella Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Snape/Hermione Views: 44517 -:- Recommendations : 3 -:- Currently Reading : 6
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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A/N: Thank you all so much for your continued reviews! Sandlapper- this one is on your suggestion. Cheers!

Morning light flitted all too soon through the windows of his hospital room. Her eyelids fluttered open and she sighed. Sleep had not come easy to her and what little she had managed to find was restless. There was tossing and turning, and a great deal of sitting up and stroking his hair. Hermione stretched her arms up over her head and yawned, her body feeling drained, her eyes groggy. It was going to be worth it when he finally woke up she reminded herself as she crawled out of the warm bed.

            She found it difficult to slide out from under the covers because she was weighed down around her midsection. Hermione turned her eyes toward the man that slumbered next to her. His arm was draped over her waist as if he had been holding her while she slept. Her fits of tossing and turning must have dislodged him from his peaceful comatose state; the mediwitch had told her she had often come into his room in the morning to find him turned on his side or rolled onto his stomach.

            His arm felt nice but she carefully crawled out from under the weight not wanting to linger. “We’ll try again after I’ve had some coffee and a proper shower,” she said and paused for a moment as if waiting for some unspoken response. With a nod, Hermione left his personal room in the hospital wing and headed for the kitchens. She was going to need something a lot stronger than coffee to help her keep up her strength if she was going to continue her therapy attempts.

            A long shower and half a pot of black coffee later found Hermione somewhat refreshed though her mind was still convinced she should be sleeping. She’d returned to the hospital wing, passing the young nurse on her way through. Poppy had said something about someone checking in on the other patients as she was away for the weekend. An exchange of polite smiles was all that passed between them as she returned to Severus Snape’s personal room and locked the door. He was resting in the bed, and he looked as he always did. She hoped on some level she was getting through. How much longer the former headmaster would keep the wizard alive was beyond her, but she hoped it was long enough for her to discover a way to rouse him from his eternal slumber.

            “Alright, let’s try a different one,” she said and started to climb into the bed. She stopped herself and removed her blouse and bra before doing so not wanting to deal with the tangle of fabric once she was situated in the bed. His body fell easily against her chest and she laid his ear over her heart, once again running her fingers through his hair. It was a gentle gesture something she had longed to do for some time, and with every stroke through his black tresses she longed more and more to be able to do it while he was conscious. She blushed, her cheeks warm, and she was thankful for once that the man remained asleep.

            With book in her hands she opened to a page and began to read.

~*~

            Bang. Bang. Bang. The knock at the door resounded. “Busy!” he growled, gripping her hips as he thrust into her from behind. She was bent over the worktable, panting silently, her knuckles going white as they gripped the edge. Again the knock sounded and he practically roared. “Don’t knock when it’s locked!”

            There was an almost inaudible squeak of apology from whatever student had been seeking entrance to his classroom. Severus pondered for a moment when he’d had the time to remember to lock the door as it had all happened so fast.

            Dumbledore was the reason; he was always the reason. Whatever harebrained scheme he’d concocted this time to make his life more miserable was playing out without episode. Hermione Granger had been assigned a research adviser and of all the professors in the castle the portrait of the doddering old fool had chosen him to oversee her project. Though he would never admit it the ideas she was working with held merit and with the right amount of perseverance and exact calculations her efforts might pay off.

            It did not, however, change the fact that he was loathe to receive her as his responsibility. She’d been plaguing his lab for nearly two weeks; making use of his personal research library, monopolizing time after hours and driving him to drink. He’d found himself in two glasses of fire-whiskey at the end of every session and he was starting to border on the need of a third.

            Thursday night found them in his classroom because he’d needed to finish grading essays and the potion she had taken to brewing was incredibly hot. His laboratory was not designed to contain two people comfortably in such heat, and despite her protests to continue brewing unsupervised whilst he completed his grading in his office, he refused to leave her alone with the volatile ingredients. They had moved her project up to the classroom and he sat at his desk, grading papers while keeping an eye on her work.

            The frustrated sigh for the fourth time that night caught his attention. A glance in her direction proved his assumption that once again the concoction had failed to yield the translucent pigment she sought. She had made the same mistake thrice over and while he would have been content to allow her to continue in her erroneous ways had it not meant a longer duration of her in his presence, his patience was wearing thin.

            Hermione dumped the ruined contents of her cauldron into a drain near the worktable and blasted the pewter with a quick cleansing charm. She set off to work gathering the ingredients once again and began adding them to the mixture. Severus watched her closely, waiting as the potion began to simmer. As she wiped the tip of the glass stirring rod on the grease cloth and drew it toward the cauldron he stood from his chair and walked toward her.

            “Stop.” He said.

            The stirring rod clattered against the table. Hermione froze as if she were a deer caught in the headlights of a car. He moved to stand behind her; long elegant fingers reaching over her arm to pick up the fallen rod. He placed the slender utensil in her hand. “You have made the same mistake thrice and obviously you will not correct it on your own, and I do not have all the time in the world to sit here and babysit your blunders.”

            Her lips were about to form a protest but the words died in her throat as his palm enclosed around her hand. His hand was warm, and much larger than her own. She hardly noticed that he had guided her hand into the cauldron, letting the stirring rod touch the bottom at the center of the pewter.

            “If you intend for this potion to turn the proper shade your stirring technique needs work,” his words slid from his tongue like liquid velvet. He hadn’t meant to whisper but being in close proximity left no reason to be so loud. Severus leaned over her shoulder to peer into the cauldron’s bubbling contents and he found his chest pressed against her back.

            Hermione tensed. He was touching her. His hand on her hand, his chest against her back. She couldn’t breathe. Struggling to exhale without starting to hyperventilate, she allowed him to slowly move her hand in an anti-clockwise motion.

            “Slow…” he said as he guided the rod through the concoction. “Leave the tip touching the bottom, spin the rod around slowly…”

            His words were like honey coating her ear and his breath tickled her neck as he spoke. Hermione was flushing, the heat rising from the cauldron doing little to ease the situation. Her heart raced in her chest and she was certain he could hear its thundering beat.

            Severus molded his fingers over hers, completely enclosing her hand. “You must tilt the rod toward the rim of the cauldron…” he said as he continued to lean over her shoulder, pressing his chest against her further. “Then straighten your hand…” he guided her hand with the rod through the concoction and noted that it was turning clear. “Withdraw the rod slowly…” he whispered, being sure that the rod was lined up vertically in the center before he pulled it out, still clutching her hand.

            Her potion was complete. The colour it should have been but she hardly noticed. He had not released her hand and her head was spinning. A dizzy sensation washed over her and in that moment she swore that his nose had brushed her hair, inhaling her scent. She stood trembling, her knees weak, and her left hand gripped the edge of the table.

            He took notice and smirked. His lips once more were lowered to her ear. “Not the only technique you need a lesson in…”

            Hermione shivered as a chill ran down her spine. Every hair on the back of her neck was on end. “S—sir?”

            With a silent wave of his free hand, the flame beneath the cauldron was extinguished and an empty vial floated up from the table. The contents of the cauldron ladled itself into the vial and then the cauldron itself disappeared from the worktable.

            “You should learn how to better hide your current state…” his lips were brushing against the back of her ear. “…of arousal…”

            Hermione shuddered as she exhaled. It was then that he pressed forward against her and she could feel his state of arousal pressing against her backside. Her fingers gripped the edge of the table and she closed her eyes. The hand that had guided her stirring rod was creeping slowly up her arm. “’Tis pity…” he whispered, letting his lips linger for a moment against her flushed skin. “Not something I can easily teach…”

            His hand rested against her stomach and she struggled not to collapse back into him. His palm slid under the fabric of her shirt and rested against the skin of her belly for but a moment before slowly sliding up to cup her breast. Severus released her arm from his hold and brought his other hand up beneath her shirt, cupping both her breasts he gave them a gentle squeeze.

            Her breath hitched in her throat and suddenly Hermione was very aware of the wetness in her knickers. His thumb circled slowly over the satiny fabric of her bra, the stiffening peaks of her nipples straining to meet his touch. “Slowly…” he muttered, moving his thumbs so slowly it was almost torturous.

            Soft lips pressed against her neck and a tiny squeak escaped her lips as he kissed her skin, languidly rolling his tongue over and over the same sensitive spot. She shivered, her knees trembling so fiercely that her grip on the table was the only thing keeping her standing. His breath was hot against her flesh and it took all she had not to cry out.

            Severus found her taste to be appeasing; her skin was slightly sweet and very feminine. One hand slowly slid down her torso and around the curve of her hip. His trousers had become painfully tight and he desired release. Fingers worked their way beneath her skirt and she nearly fell back against him as his hand cupped her arse. And then he cupped her sex, feeling the dampness through her knickers.

            “You always were eager…” he whispered, leaning his lips once more against her ear. A moan slipped from her lips as he suckled her earlobe and this made his cock throb harder. A vocal witch was a pleasing witch indeed. His left hand continued to hold her breast, tugging her body back closer to his as his right hand left her body long enough to fiddle with the fastenings on his trousers.

            Severus took the fabric of her skirt in his hand and drew it slowly up over her arse, revealing inch by inch of her glorious backside to his eyes. He licked his lips and brought them to the side of her neck, kissing and licking her skin. “Such lovely skin…” his words were a whispered hiss as his hand dragged her knickers down. It was painful, he longed to rip her clothes from her body and thrust into her like a savage, but it was that much more pleasing to tease her slowly.

            Hermione was panting, unable to hide it any longer. Her face was red, her knuckles were white, her sex was dripping anticipating what she hoped was coming. With her knickers brought down around her knees she moaned, feeling his hand push her thighs apart. He pulled her back against him, his hard cock pressing against her flesh. She found herself bent over the work table, arse exposed, as his hands slid down the side of her hips.

            The tip of his erection was pressing against her opening and ever so slowly she felt him sliding his length into her. She longed to cry out. He was filling her, slowly, inch by inch, and it felt divine.

            Her whimpering caused an almost feral smirk to sneak across his features. It crossed his mind however briefly that an interruption of this particular lesson would be most unwelcomed and with a wandless wave of his hand, he heard the door to his classroom shut fully, the lock clicking in place. With nothing further to distract him, Severus pushed his length fully into her, feeling the hot slickness of her womanhood.

            It was a struggle not to pull out and thrust into her again and again, harder and harder. She was tight, enveloping him with heat and he could feel her muscles contracting around him as he slowly pulled himself almost completely out of her. His hips rocked slightly, tilting back before he pressed himself into her again.

            Hermione was going mad. The friction was hot, sending pulses of pleasure through her body, but she needed more. “Please…” she whimpered trying to arch her hips back to pull him into her faster.

            “Slowly…Miss Granger…” he teased, once again sliding his length almost completely out of her before gently pushing back in. Again he withdrew almost too slowly. He could feel her hips jerking, desperate to feel more of him faster. The torture was delicious but he could not deny her for long.

            Panting almost ragged breaths she begged. “Please, sir…” it was too exquisite. She needed to feel more.

            Though he should have humiliated her further, she was too tight to keep him moving so slowly. Leaning his body down against her, he obliged and pulled himself out slowly. With a quick thrust he was pumping into her, moving his hips hard and fast; flesh slapping against flesh as her body shook against the table. He swiveled his hips slightly, guiding her back to push deeper into her, and the desired effect was clear as she groaned.

            Severus gripped her hips tightly, thrusting harder into her, moving faster as he did. He was lost in the rhythm when the timid knock echoed against the wood the first time. He dismissed it as the wooden table legs giving way under their combined weight. But when the sound echoed again he growled. “Go away,” he shouted in the general direction of the door.

            Hermione was too caught up in the pleasure to protest that they stop and wait. Her walls were beginning to spasm and she could feel the crest of an orgasm about to sweep over her. He pumped harder, feeling her tighten and it took everything he had not to growl. She came, spasming her juices around his cock as he thrust harder into her.

            Bang. Bang. Bang. Her knuckles were white as she gripped the table riding out her orgasm, trying desperately not to cry out. “Go away!” he growled, feeling his own release nearing. Fast and furious thrusts had him careening over the edge and he spilled himself inside of her, biting his tongue to prevent from expressing himself aloud. The knock sounded again and he practically roared in frustration, the post euphoric feeling of his release interrupted. “Don’t knock when it’s locked!” The sound of the knocking ceased.

            He would deal with whatever frightened idiot had lacked the brains to leave when he’d dismissed them the first time at a later date. At present he gripped the table to keep from collapsing atop her. “Lesson learned, Miss Granger,” he whispered and pulled back from her.

            Hermione had almost given in and touched herself. Her fingers had been resting beneath the covers on top of her thighs. The book rested in her lap and she closed her eyes trying to focus. It was almost too much. Having the fantasies was one thing, and reliving them she could cope with. But experiencing them with him there against her body was pushing it over the limit of tolerance.

            She drew in a shaky breath. “You have to wake up, Severus Snape.” She whispered against his ear.
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The Fantasy Book