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
- 4
- 5
- 6
Beta Love: fluffpanda — I hate numbers. She puts them back in.
Note: Chapter 4 was updated after it was posted, so go back to catch up on some sexy time. (Well, if you like that kind of thing *Eyedarts*)
Warning: What’s better than sex? Make-up sex. What’s better than make-up sex? Demon make-up sex… (yeah raining buckets of lemons… you have been warned.)

Chapter 5: Repercussions
The discovery of Albus’ death had ripped through her, and to know that Severus had cast the famous spell, made her bitter and resentful towards the sallow man. Not only this, but to place the care of her precious cub in his hands at this critical time made the feline Animagus within her pace with agitation.
But, Albus had entreated her to trust Severus. How could she trust Severus when she felt she couldn't even trust Albus anymore? And now he was dead, so she couldn't even have the satisfaction of tearing him a new one and slapping him upside the long-bearded face.
Minerva sighed deeply. She had to admit that Hermione was, in fact, much more stable after being in Severus’ care. Her first visit had shown Severus tutoring her on the last of her work for the school year, and he was showing the sort of patience he didn’t have for the rest of his classes. It was, perhaps, due to the fact that he wasn’t surrounded by “dunderheads” as he so fondly called them.
It was odd watching Severus work with Hermione. The young witch would stare up at him silently for direction, perhaps still a bit withdrawn from her attack, but Severus was taking the role of a Master, giving her the kind of guidance he had not seen to give anyone else. His track record of denying himself Apprentices was well known. Minerva inwardly sighed, knowing that Hermione would most likely apply for a Potions Apprentice, especially after all that had occurred.
Hermione, as expected, turned in all of her week’s worth of homework ahead of schedule, and Minerva had to smile that at least Harry Potter’s attack on her hadn’t broken her hunger for knowledge and desire to do well in class. They would be seen walking together on the grounds when it was quieter and less trafficked. Hermione would almost be smiling again, but then she’d see someone who was familiar, and she’d dive back to Severus’ sleeve like a frightened child.
Poppy’s examination of her, however, said she was physically recovered. Of that, Minerva was entirely grateful. Her mind was slowly being coaxed back into order by the one person no one suspected had a knack for such things. Hermione had even expressed forgiveness for Potter’s attack, but Severus had warned Minerva that having the boy come and try to make amends too early would likely send Hermione back to square one. Unfortunately, Minerva agreed wholeheartedly at the observation.
She had seen Harry’s eyes when he attacked her. They were wide open, blood-shot, and she saw the insanity flickering across his face. He truly believed that she was a demon. She shook her head to erase the image.
She had to admit, even if only to herself, that Hermione following the sour Potion Master around, like a baby swan who had imprinted on a dobermann pincher, was strangely endearing. Severus snapped less at Minerva when she asked him questions, kept his snide comments to a dull roar, and did not complain when she came to visit Hermione. It was the most she had seen of the Potion Master’s chambers since she had helped Albus transfigure it back when Severus had first been hired.
The pair rarely showed their faces outside the Potion Master’s room, but occasionally during the evening meal, Hermione would sit quietly beside Severus at the Head Table, and sometimes the Dark Wizard would stab some sort of food on his plate and shove it in her face to get her to eat, distracting the young witch from the turmoil in her mind. The other faculty seemed to agree that what had happened to Hermione was beyond tragic, but they couldn’t deny the relationship she was forming with the brooding Potion Master seemed to coax the girl out of her traumatised shell and temper the local dungeon bat’s sour demeanor into something almost… patient.
Gossip spread between the houses like wildfire, but strangely enough, it was more about what the Boy-Who-Lost-His-Gourd-On-His-Best-Friend rather than Hermione. Occasionally, a younger student would openly stare at Hermione, only to have their gaze cut off by the fluttering black robes of Severus Snape as he wrapped them around Hermione. The poor girl was still so afraid to be alone in the halls that she had to follow Severus everywhere. She even sat beside him during the monthly faculty meetings, quietly reading her books as Severus waved his hand and called them all nosey busybodies.
Hermione had shyly requested that she be permitted to stay in Severus’ care instead of going home for the summer. Certain words that sounded similar to “Harry” still triggered Hermione to stop like deer in headlights. Or when anyone with messy black hair came too close to her.
She explained that she was worried a breakdown would surface when her parents asked her about her friends, and as much Minerva wanted to think she would have been happier at home with her parents, Poppy had agreed that what Hermione needed right now was the stability Severus was providing her.
Minerva filled out the forms and sent a letter for permission for Hermione to stay as a summer intern, and sent it off by owl to the Grangers. The reply had back with a resounding yes and a letter asking Minerva to take good care of their daughter. They knew she would be in good hands. Glad of the trust, but also wondering if Hogwarts deserved any of it after their most recent track record. Minera decided that she was going to think more positively about the things that were going right instead of brooding over the things that had already happened.
Albus had made his choices, perhaps even regretted them in the end, but he had also come clean to her, even if he had done it in the most horrible way possible. She had seen the memories of Albus begging Severus to end his life. She had seen the look of disbelief and what must have been fear at losing his soul to having to do his part in Dumbledore’s request to keep Draco Malfoy from becoming a child murderer. She had seen the cursed blackness crawling up Albus’ hand and up his arm and remembered his tortured screams on waking to the burning and consuming agony it gave him.
Part of her, at least, had come to terms with the fact that Severus had done the old goat a pittance. Had Albus asked her to do it, she could never have done it, and that, perhaps, had been why Albus went to the one he knew, despite it all, would. Also, Minerva was not in the position to be in the Dark Lord’s graces, and that, again, left it solely on Severus’ shoulders to bear.
It still stung her. It still hurt. Her grief was still raw. She had almost throw a tea saucer at Albus’ portrait in her rage and grief. As much as she knew she had to get over it, knowing it and doing it were entirely different matters.
It was on one of the evenings after all of the classes were done for the day, that Minerva went to visit Hermione to check on her. As she came into Severus’ chambers, she saw Hermione laying in a pile of parchments, books, and what looked like a very elaborate shielding and warding diagram. Hermione had the look of a child on their first trip to Honeydukes. She was happily absorbing everything Severus allowed her to touch in his chambers with the same glee of Ronald Weasley and his chocolate frogs.
“Professor McGonagall!” Hermione said happily. She plucked a scroll up from the pile. “This is my essay you assigned me for the last week of class. It details the amount of power required to make a transfiguration permanent and survive the death of its caster in relation to moon phases and implementation with runes.”
Minerva huffed, taking the scroll. “I take it you’ve done all the other class essays as well, my dear?”
Hermione flushed. “Yes, Professor.”
“I suppose I’ll take those too,” she said, smiling as Hermione shyly gave her the others.
“It’s good to see you smiling again, Hermione,” Minerva said, switching to her name instead of the formal use of her surname.
Hermione smiled and nodded back to her. “Would you like a cup of tea? Professor Snape has allowed me to touch his teapot and kettle now that he can trust me not to ‘trip over myself in clumsy fumblings of a pre-occupied teenager’.”
McGonagall laughed. “Of course, my dear.”
Hermione returned with tea, cups, and matching saucers. “Professor Snape is teaching his last class of the day still,” she explained.
“You are doing well enough when he is not here?” McGonagall asked.
“I think it’s only because it’s here and not somewhere public, Professor,” Hermione said in reply. She tilted her head. “It’s safe here. No one dares come visit but you, and,” she said with a pause, “he takes care of me. It sounds strange to say it, but he’s much better one on one than in a class of thirty.”
Minerva smiled and nodded, sipping her tea. “He has many hidden attributes, Hermione. Some of which I have only recently discovered them.”
Hermione looked guilty. “I… he was never kind to me in Potions Class, but I’m glad to see a different side of him, even if later on, we return to him taking points off me for looking at him funny.”
Minerva snorted. “I don’t think that will ever be the case again, Hermione. “He seems devoted to aiding your recovery.”
“I am glad of it,” Hermione admitted. “Professor?”
“Yes, Hermione?”
“If I may ask, and I’m sorry if this is too forward,” Hermione said, “but are you doing okay? You’ve spent so much time worrying about us, but who worries about you?”
Minerva tried to hold back her tears. “The death of the Headmaster still weighs heavily on me, Hermione,” she confessed. “Sometimes, I think I am ever so close to being the one at St Mungo’s with a mental breakdown.” Her hands trembled, and she made a fist.
“Sometimes we have to be weak for a while to be strong again, Professor,” Hermione said with a sort of understanding that seemed to come straight from her ordeal as much as a pool of esoteric wisdom. She gently placed her hand on her professor’s hands and squeezed, her thumb rubbing against her skin with a gentle swirl.
Minerva’s eyes fluttered, and her eyelids drooped.
Hermione took one hand and licked her fingertips. Dark black chi pooled on them. She rubbed them gently into her professor’s temple, watching it soak into her forehead.
Minerva’s eyes opened, but they stared blankly forward and Hermione stared into her eyes. Blackness swirled in Hermione’s eyes, swallowing them up. She drank in the memories and feelings of Minerva’s suffering like a fine liqueur, savouring every nuance and tiny detail.
Hermione let out a soft growl, her tongue slid out from her mouth and ran over the sharpening canines as she enjoyed her first feed on human emotions.
In Hermione’s mind, Minerva McGonagall deserved every drop of respect. She had done nothing but encourage her to be her best, and for that service, Hermione fed on the pain of her Professor, someone she viewed a grandmotherly figure in the Wizarding world, devouring on the emotions that troubled her.
The part of Hermione that still considered herself as a human witch, tempered the actions of the demon; setting the boundaries. Yet, she trusted the demon to follow her request, and even more strangely the demon aspect of her nature did not argue. Minerva was an ally, and allies were to be nurtured. That was all the demon needed to know, even if it couldn’t sympathise with Minerva’s emotions. The demon could, however, recognised them and devour them just fine.
Hermione pulled her hand away from the Animgus’ temple and gently released her hand from the Animagus’. She gently positioned Minerva against the back of the couch to sleep off the effects of being fed on by a demon. Hermione rocked gently on her heels, looking up at the door that held the private chambers she and Severus had been residing in for over a week.
Severus asked her to stay out of the school’s sight for a week, stating that the “PTSD” that she suffered had to be believable. He explained to her that while the sun was out, his control over Severus Snape’s mind slipped, meaning he would not be able to protect his mate if they left. They changed their daily rituals for that week. Throughout the day, they would rest in her chambers, waking only briefly to feed before slipping back into the arms of the Sandman. They attended a dinner, to show the school that Hermione was “recovering” from her altercation and the mandatory monthly faculty meeting.
The nights were Hermione’s new favorite thing to wake up to. Her evenings use to be spent in the library, bent over the towering stacks of books, writing scrolls of essays, aiming to absorb all the knowledge her books presented her. Now her evenings were spent in various states of Change, with Severus coaxing them from her one by one. She expressed her frustration at her inability to achieve the final stage, the wings, and the pile of tattered curtains was evidence of how she expressed it to Severus.
Her mate was patient with her. Coaxing her to hold various parts of her Change for lengthy times. She had been able to form her muzzle, tongue and talons with her own concentration, but her skin shift and tail was only appeared when Severus was with her. His skillful hands danced over her skin as his eyes glowed in the darkened room. His tongue would lather her body with ichor, coaxing the dark skin to surface with each flicker of his tongue. Her tail would push its way out of her sacral region and he rewarded her greatly when she was took on her full demon form for almost an hour. When exhaustion took over, he whispered words of encouragement, stating the wings would come when the time was right. But until then, they were to be hidden in his rooms.
Minerva’s visit was not unanticipated. Severus had asked her to come pick up Hermione’s homework for the week and he had prepared Hermione to learn the mechanisms of feeding. The right amount of chi needed to draw out the meal, the length of time needed to hold the gaze to draw the meal in. The door opened slightly, and she saw her mate’s eyes stare at her, silently inquiring about the feed. She beamed at him, nodding, before coyly sending a mist of pheromones at him, silently promising to reward him for being a wonderful teacher.
When Minerva came to, she found herself staring into the fireplace with Hermione fussing over a pile of scrolls and books. She was paying one scroll in particular great attention, and Minerva recognised Severus’ distinctive hand on its surface. She shifted her weight and stretched.
She felt amazing. It was like all the weight on her shoulders was gone, and she felt much more ready to take on the responsibilities of Hogwarts. When she tried to remember what was bothering her earlier, it was like her mind refused to allow her to dwell on it. For the first time since Albus’ death, she felt okay with it and accepting. She felt like she could move on.
“I didn’t want to wake you,” Hermione said gently. “You seemed to be taking a very nice nap.”
“No,” Minerva answered, “thank you, dear. I think I really needed it.”
Hermione nodded.
“Well, I must make my appearance at the Head Table for dinner,” she said, standing up. “I am glad you are doing better, Hermione.”
Hermione walked her to the exit and nodded shyly. “Thank you, Professor McGonagall.”
“Minerva, Hermione,” the Animagus said. “When we are alone or in closed company, you may call my Minerva.”
Hermione’s eyes gleamed with pride. “Thank you, Minerva.”
McGonagall took her hand and clasped it, then let it drop. She walked out of the exit portal and disappeared down the hall.
Ally. Protect.
Hermione smiled, her sharpening teeth exposed as her blackening tongue slithered out to lick her fangs absently. Indeed, she would.
-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-
What Severus Tobias Snape hated more than James Potter, was the unknown. When there was the element of unknown, he could not fully prepare himself. As such, when he woke this morning, in his Apprentice Chambers rather than his own rooms, he knew it wouldn’t be a good day.
Where the fuck am I? he thought blearily. As he tried to get his eyes to adjust to the darkness of the room, unable to find his wand to light the candles, he noticed there was a wondrous warmth nestled close to him. The scent of parchment, ink, cinnamon, and the library covered the subtle undercurrent of light grapefruit. It was beyond heavenly. Where was it coming from?
Where were his clothes!
That scent… He leaned towards it in the darkness.
A soft warm hand slid across his bare chest, a soft murmur in the dark, and someone snuggled up against him, clinging to his body like a leech. As if to accentuate the feeling, he felt teeth nibbling on his skin and the slow draw of a warm tongue against his skin.
Severus stiffened, mentally cursing as he felt the flow of blood shift southwards to regions he did not want to think about. He began to recite potion recipes in hopes that it would cool his loins, but the friction of the woman’s skin against his led to further tightening in his groin. Whenever he let the demon take control, the resulting morning was always cold and chilly. Never had he felt warmth, heat. The gentle rise and fall of the woman’s body beside him caused the stiff peaks of her breast to rub against his nipples, and he struggled to contain the groans. He Changed during his teenage years, the brief wave of pleasure, covered by embarrassment and humiliation. But it never ranked against the pain he felt.
Pain, he could clearly recall. Each jolt, each stab, and each shock. Hundreds of times under the Dark Lord’s Cruciatus, the death of Lily, begging to Dumbledore, and the agony of Dumbledore’s failure to save her… the one, the only person that had ever mattered to him in his worthless, tormented life.
In all the years he pined after Lily, never once had she touched him like this. The silkiness of skin moving over his, heat radiating off the body beside him. No one in all the years, despite the Dark Lord’s parties or Lucius’ balls, had anyone touched Severus Snape. He was the pariah. He was the Death Eater that loved a Mudblood.
At some of the Dark Lord’s gatherings, women were brought in for “entertainment”, but Severus had never taken them up on it. Intimacy was a gift to be given to someone special, and his special person had married Potter. Potter!
“Mmm, Severus,” a soft voice purred into his skin, and the sound of this mysterious witch’s voice caused his heart to pound in his chest. His arms instinctively moved to embrace the women beside him— to hear her whisper his name again.
His body seemed to have a mind of its own. His hands seeking the warmth and drawing the heat of another human being towards him. The moment his hands touched the moist skin, his felt himself tense up, flexing as if preparing for action. What was this?
Had the demon left him with some random floozy in his bed? His nose flared as the scent of sex wafted across the bed and he raised his hands to rub his temples. This was bad. Never had the demon left him in a location unfamiliar.
If it was some random floozy, why did she smell so divine? Why did he desire to bask in the warmth of her body?
“Mmmm,” the witch purred softly, snuggling into his neck. His arms were around her again, this time his eyes rolled in the back of his head as her scent smelled stronger. Merlin, what was this feeling?
She was nibbling at his chin, her warm tongue lapping under his jaw like a pup would lick for its parent to feed them. He felt a strange sensation building in his body. There was powerful need to—
Disgusting! Why would he even think that?
He pulled his head away with a jerk, both ashamed and appalled.
Feed our mate. She’s hungry.
Severus groaned. No! What he wanted to do was completely made his skin crawl at the very thought of it. The Change had kept him alive, and he was a survivor, but did he have to deal with such nauseating compulsions as well? Never had he had the desire to do— THAT— to anyone. No one in their right mind would want THAT done to them either!
Don’t be a fool. She’s your mate. She’s hungry. It’s your privilege to feed her. It is natural for her to desire it from you.
She could use a bloody fork and a plate like a normal person! Severus snapped back in his head.
She needs this.
It’s disgusting!
It’s natural.
She was lapping at the bottom of his jaw again, this time her hands were tenderly stroking the side of his face and scalp. She pressed herself closer to him, molding herself to his chest. A creamy leg wrapped around his waist as she gently kissed her way up his jaw, over his mouth and to his nose. Severus could hardly ignore the blood coursing through his cock. He was undeniably physically attracted to her by the way his cock was standing at attention as he fought the instinctive urge to tilt his hips and slide between her heated core.
She made a soft humming sound of entreaty that seemed to spark something primal within Severus. He felt his subconscious push through, as the need to press his mouth to hers became overwhelming.
She moaned softly in appreciation as she slipped her tongue into his mouth, sliding it against his as his body somehow generated a massive amount of fluid to give her. She swallowed it down as fast as he provided, but the inside of Severus was crawling with nausea. She purred her approval, tongue probing his mouth curiously, seeking his, but he went utterly still, pulling it back in a strange instinctive need to hold onto his humanity and self control.
The witch had pulled closer to him, gently running her hands over his body and scars. She purred against him, and his hips began to turn automatically in response. Desire flowed through his veins, and it shook him to the core. He had thought he knew what desire was. He had thought he knew need, but something about how her tender strokes of her hands on his skin and how she voluntarily attached herself to his face made his legs weak, his hands tremble, and his eyes roll straight to the back of his head. He let out a strangled moan of pleasure.
He panted, digging his nails into his palms to focus his attention. He pulled his tongue back from her warm, seeking, perfectly inviting tongue. He had to stop. He had to focus. No one touched Severus Snape with affection, only unwelcome pity.
The witch was seeking his kiss, probing deeper into his mouth, and he wanted nothing more than to close his mouth over hers and deepen the kiss on his own, desperate terms. The thick feeling in his mouth was filling it again, and his tongue slid against it. Revulsion filled him at the unnatural feel of it. It was like nothing he could but a name to, and he wanted to seal his mouth of hers and let it pour into her mouth.
No!
He shoved her away with a yell and threw himself off the bed, panting and drawing one of the sheets across his mouth to sop up the nasty, black, ichor that was still within. He slammed down the shields he had not had to use until that very moment— a personal variation of Occlumency meant to shove the demon’s presence into the back of his mind so he could regain control over his thoughts.
The demon was howling, clawing, and throwing itself against the barrier he had erected in his head, but it was daytime, and it was the hour when the human could win against the demon.
“Severus?” the voice was confused, hurt. “What’s wrong? Why can’t I feel you?”
Severus stumbled around the room in the dark, found his clothes and threw them without differentiating between front and back, and found his wand. He waved it, igniting the candles floating about in the room.
His eyes fell on a young bushy-haired witch that was sitting up in the middle of his bed. She had a pained, hurt expression on her face. She looked at him with a combination of concern and adoration.
“Severus?” she said with voice that sounded utterly desolate. “I’m frightened. Please, touch me. Let me feel your thoughts.”
Severus slammed down even more shields. There was a young girl in his bed. Someone that may have appealed to his younger and more stupid self, but she was young enough to be his— was she his student?
Severus heaved, black fluid and dark green bile spattered on the floor. He fled the room and out of the chambers completely, not even noticing the slam of a hundred different wards that automatically fell into place the moment he left.
Back in the room, Hermione pulled the sheet up close to her chest as tears streaked down her eyes. “Severus?”
He was gone.
-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-
Alone.
She was alone.
Hermione trembled as she curled up in a fetal position in the middle of her bed. It had been a place of comfort and contentment every night since the ritual that had started it all. Something had happened. Something had turned her mate against her. He had turned his head away when she implored him for food, and when he had finally given in to her insistent licks, when she had tried to initiate a tender kiss between them he had violently pushed her away and then left her side.
She couldn’t sense him anymore. The warm, accepting, devoted presence that had been there every evening, to patiently encourage her Change, was gone.
“Severus!” she called, pulling on the music of their combined name.
Nothing. Not even the tremble in her mind replied.
Hermione whimpered. Had she done something wrong? Had she not Changed fast enough? Why wouldn’t he speak to her? Touch her?
The part of her that Hermione Granger was retreating inward, convinced that she had not been interesting enough after all. The part of her that was the demon was frantically sending out distress signals on every available frequency.
Hermione felt a strange pain inside of her as emptiness was spreading through her chest. Her demon was clawing at her, dragging her away from the pits of despair, and she barely resisted.
Together. Must be together!
Hermione felt the familiar warmth of the demon trying to keep her warm when the world seemed so much colder. She was alone. She clutched the pillow near her, olfactory nerves firing at every inhale of his familiar leather and bergamot with a hint of sandalwood—
She pulled the pillow to her like a life vest. The black of her eyes drained away revealing the honey brown until it glossed over into a dull grey.
Her breathing slowed, taking in less and less oxygen. Her skin began to lighten, first to a more human hue and then to a sickly yellow, ash and blue. The black flow of Severus’ chi faded from her system, her veins greyed and seemed to retreat under her skin to places deep within. The beautiful horns that sat proudly on her temples shrivelled, turning to dust as the body shook with silent tears. Her fingers spasmed as they shrank, dulled and fragile human nails taking the place of her beautiful obsidian claws.
Hermione! Hermione! Together! Hermione!
Her demon was slamming into her, attempting to get her to move, to breath, to fight, but for once, Hermione had no fight left within her. With the loss of her mate, her only anchor to the world was fading, and so was her bond to her personal demon.
There was nothing tying her to the world, and her body was dying.
From outside the bedroom, whimpers of a wounded animal could be heard.
Her dull, grey eyes took in the last view of the dimly lit room before shutting to the world.
-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-
Hermione! Must return! Hermione!
His demon was clawing at the shields he had erected, and Severus was determined to block him out. For years, he had been forced to wake up in odd situations, not knowing where he was in the morning or what he had done, and Severus finally had enough.
That witch in his bed must have been a student. The demon was sleeping with students! How many of his students had he taken advantage of before he finally woke up one being in bed with him? How many had been Oblivated, not knowing they had lost their innocence, nonetheless to a Professor? It was disgusting!
Mate! She’s our mate! She’s dying! She needs us!
Severus clutched his head, fleeing past the anti-Apparition wards and letting his Disapparate take him far away.
No!
The demon frantically clawed at his mind, but the hour was during the day, and the sun was bright and powerful, driving the demon’s natural affinity to the dark and its power over Severus into a weakened corner of his mind.
Severus staggered through the tall grasses on the edge of the park, barely recognizing it as his childhood park. He coughed up more bile mixed in with the odd black oil that had coated his mouth and throat. He staggered over to a tree and slid down it, propping his back to the trunk as he caught his breath.
Pain coursed through his body, spreading through his nerves, a hundred times worse than when he had found out Lily was dead. Even the memory of him cradling Lily’s body was nothing to the despair that was tearing through him now. Despair, loneliness, need, and hunger warred within him.
The demon was slamming into the mental shield he had put up, and every so often the shield would crack before the energy would fall back into place. Each time it did, the demon threw memories at him— memories of the bushy haired witch with her body tucked against his, the feel of his arms around her warm, accepting body. The song of her name woven tightly with his own left him gasping, but he struggled against it, determined to withstand the onslaught of images that couldn’t possibly be true.
No one loved Severus Snape, not his mother love him enough to leave his abusive father, not Lily, and definitely not some random doe-eyed student that he shouldn’t have been sleeping with to begin with!
Severus?
It was a pitiful whisper. It was a plea, an entreaty, a heartfelt prayer that sang to his depths of his soul, and he turned away from it, forcing the shield down harder.
She’ll die without us!
You lie!
You’ll die without her! We are one.
You lie!
She’s making the Change for US!
No one would undergo the Change for Severus Snape!
In the depths of Snape’s lonely heart, he had accepted that he would live and die alone. He had inscribed it into his atrophied and abused heart and then encased it in ice. No, no one would give up their humanity to bind themselves to him. Whatever the demon did to charm the idiot girl could just wear off and the girl would be safe from the demon’s wiles.
The demon howled inside him, throwing itself against the shield again. Again. Again. Hole-like fractures appeared on the shield, memories seeping through each one.
"Know that I cherish you now, and I will until Oblivion. My heart beats in time with yours. I long for you, I need you, and the very thought of you having not survived the transition tears at me. I could not bear it. I would pine for you until the end of all things. I would destroy much trying to regain what slipped through my talons. When Potter cast that curse on you, I wanted to tear him to shreds. I wanted to cast aside my human guise and eat his heart for hurting you."
Potter? Potter was still alive?
James Potter was clutching the girl by the neck, strangling her. He could hear her mental scream. She was terrified. She was choking. Potter? No. The eyes were wrong, but it was unmistakable. It was a Potter!
“Sectumsempra!” the boy yelled, pointing his wand a the girl.
The image of the demon holding the body of the girl against him as the same Potter boy demanded his service.
Impossible. Inconceivable. It was a trick!
The girls hand in his, refusing to leave his side.
“Mine!” the demon roared, grasping her neck between his fangs, marking her. “Forever.”
“Yours,” she said dreamily.
Her newborn fangs sank into his throat. “Forever,” she purred.
The radiant grin of a young witch, half in the throes of the Change as she lay her head against his chest and stared up at him. “Oh, Severus! I want to do that again!”
“I need you,” she said, her hands moving through his hair.
“I love you,” the memory whispered into his ear, as a tender lick every so gently touched his jaw.
Severus Snape let out a sob as his shield came crashing down and his heart cried out for release.
Please, let it be true.
“I love you,” she whispered, the echo of her voice seeped into his mind and travelled direction into his heart.
Open yourself to me, and we can save her!
Severus trembled. He didn’t know how.
Let go. Think of her. Think of Hermione.
Hermione Granger. He envisioned her face with her adoring gaze, the divine smell of her, the warmth of her body nestled against his in the early morning.
Severus Snape let himself go.
-o-o-o-o-o-o-
Severus Snape, the human, needed two legs and an Apparate to reach any destination, but the demon Severus cared not for such things.
The huge demon vaporized into the dark of the room, his great wings spanning the entire length of the room before fanning and folding along his back. He let out a low, thundering growl as his eyes scanned the room.
Hermione was curled in a ball in the middle of his bed, her eyes closed, as if she were sleep. But her chest did not rise or fall, or if it was, there was barely enough movement to fill her lungs with air. Her skin was utterly pale, but unlike during the transition, there were not rivulets of his daemonic chi flowing through her.
“Hermione,” he crooned, singing their combined name to her as he rushed towards her. He cradled her in his arms and wings as her head hung back over his arm in a dead weight. His wings trembled as they curled around her, supporting her.
“My mate,” he called to her, his talons brushing against the side of her face. “My love.” He trembled, a low keening noise escaping his throat.
No. Nononono. No!
He stroked her hair, massaged her scalp, stroked down the side of her arms. His muzzle pressed against her mouth, drizzling his daemonic chi into her mouth, his talons working across her throat in a stroking motion. “Hermione?”
He licked under her lips, imploring her to accept his offering, to move, to breathe, to touch him again. He lapped at her face, letting his ichor spread across her skin, but it didn’t soak in. He continued, refusing to believe he was too late. “Hermione, please. I’m here. I’m here.”
The demon keened, a low moaning sound that filled the room with his despair.
Trickles of clear moisture gathered in his eyes and dripped down on Hermione’s face. Tears.
Demons did not cry. It was entirely a human physiological response, yet tears streaked down his muzzle and dripped down onto the fragile-looking witch cradled in his wings and arms.
His human was grieving with him, sharing in his pain. For the first time, both minds of human and demon were in full agreement and fine silken fibres of acceptance allowed them to merge for the first time in shared mutually powerful emotion.
He nuzzled his mate, rubbing his face against her cheek as his tongue tenderly lapped her face, neck, and ears.
A tingle of awareness, weak and barely felt, brushed against his mind.
“Hermione,” he sang to her in the power of her name.
Severus? Strands of what looked like broken rope gently floated across his mindscape.
Her chest rose and fell. Her heart beat. His heart lurched in response.
The demon wrapped her in the warmth of his wings and arms, watching in relief as the mixture of demon ichor and human tears absorb through her skin and disappeared. Proof of his love, remorse, and pain mixed together as Hermione took one large, ragged breath one after another.
Slowly, agonisingly slowly, Hermione’s eyes opened, her fingers twitched and ever so gently curled around the edge of one of his wings. He groomed her, painstakingly cleaning her face and neck as Hermione weakly returned to consciousness.
The male demon growled softly, pressing his mouth to hers and nuzzling gently to encourage her to take his offering. A slow trickle of his daemonic chi moved across her lips. Unlike before, Hermione did not respond immediately. He gently licked her lips to encourage her, but her eyelids were already drifting closed. His heartfelt offering lay untaken upon her mouth.
The bond is fractured! Damaged! Those strands are evidence.
He crooned, nudging her gently with his muzzle. Her eyes fluttered, but she was weak— too weak, perhaps to even realise he was there.
It was, perhaps, in this very moment, that the human aspect of Severus Snape realised the extent of his demon’s devotion to his mate and what he, in his ignorance, had done to her. Severus had always been a master of guilt and self-loathing, and it seemed he had yet another reason to berate himself for his failures.
He knew he could have stayed longer that morning— assessed the situation before fleeing out the door and imprisoning the demon from his mind before he could even explain. He hadn’t asked. He hadn’t listened, and now this witch who had relied on him to provide and protect was suffering because of him. It made the human imprint of Severus all the more painfully aware of every sin he had ever committed, and for once the act of calling Lily a Mudblood in a fit of shame, pain, and anger seemed to pale in comparison to what he had done to the witch in his arms.
Help me. Help her.
The demon beseeched him, begging him to help his, no, their mate. Recognizing his desire to prove his desperation and his worth, the demon’s body receded, allowing Severus the comfort of the limbs he was far more comfortable in. The demon’s presence retreated to a gentle presence in the back of his mind, giving him the reins even as he implored him to help their mate.
Severus cradled Hermione in his arms, acutely aware of what her warm, seeking touch had done to him simply with her seeking the comfort of his embrace. She had wanted him; she had trusted him.
She looked so fragile in his arms— so breakable. Her seeking warmth from the morning was replaced with an unnatural cold that even the demon’s warm embrace had not been able to change.
Severus lifted her from the bed, pulling her to him. He carried her out of his Apprentice Chambers towards the master bath and what he hoped was the key to repairing the damage he had done.
Hermione was still as he lay her in the tub. The over-sized tub was more like a small pool, and it had been Severus’ refuge from many torture sessions at the end of the Dark Lord’s whimsy. Being Changed hadn’t saved him from that.
He drew the water for the bath, happy that the charm on the bath faucets never allowed the water to start off cold. He reached for a few of the bottles on the edge, sniffing them, and pouring the oils into the bathwater. Bergamot, chamomile, and eucalyptus mixed together to form a calming blend that would hopefully work on her as it had for him so many times before.
As he held her to keep her from falling under the rising water, he realised he was weighed down by the heavy material in the scented bathwater. Part of him wanted nothing more than to be near her and cradle her even in the bath, but he balked at the idea of sharing a bath with someone—
She is our mate. She already knows our body.
Severus felt like a fumbling teenager, removing his clothes in front a girl for the first time. The demon may have already known the pleasures of physical intimacy, but Severus had not. When he was Turned, the demon that had patiently guided him had only made him feel more despicable. He had wanted to be close to Lily. He had desired to share something special with her, and losing his virginity to the female demon, no matter how pleasurable it had been, felt like he was betraying Lily all over again.
Lily never cared for you like Hermione. She turned her back on you.
I deserved it! I called her—
A name. It wasn’t even her Name. It was spoken in anger and pain.
Severus flinched. Names for demons were such complicated affairs that he never bothered to understand. The only names that mattered were the Names they called each other. Everything else was strangely insignificant. Mudblood and other derogatory words meant little to demons other than knowing how to use them to rile up a victim. At the same time, they were only words.
Logically, Severus knew he could have done far worse than having the demon’s experienced guidance of his fumbling body in the dark. She had given him pleasure, and taught him many things while guiding him through his Change. Still, he had compartmentalised it all, separating himself from the acts and from the demon inside him like they were two opposing sides of coin— together but forever separate. It make it less tangible that way and less real. Evidence of that lack of tangibility was Severus’ separation between his mind and the demon’s. They were not one. They had never been. While Severus had willingly accepted the Change in order to survive, he had never opened himself to the demon’s mind. They had always passed each other like roommates on opposing work schedules. He had been lucky, of sorts. Many that began the Change and had second thoughts did not survive it. Most of them went insane. At that point, Death seemed like it was a better and more appealing choice.
The memories that the demon was sharing with him now, however, made him realise that Hermione was someone special. She had truly embraced the Change and her bond to him. The forceful separation of the bond had caused her comatose state. Now, she was teetering on the edge, but unlike the last time where the demon had been there to offer her succor, she was walking the edge alone because of him.
His fault! Guilt tore through him again as incessant as James Potter and his ruthless taunting.
Help her! Find her! She must feed soon, or she will die! We will be alone! Alone! Pining for our own death! Dying! Dying!
Severus made a decision. He propped her up against the side of the bath long enough to shed his half soaked robes and the remains of his modesty. He stepped into the bath and lowered himself in, feeling the heated and scented water flow over him. Then, when he was sure he wasn’t going to slip under and bump his head on the side of the bath, he pulled Hermione to him, allowing the warm water and his embrace to surround her.
He grabbed the soap from the tray nearby running it over her skin, creating the lather with his hands, running them across her body, both exploring the feel of her and cleaning her skin. He poured shampoo into his hands and worked it into her hair. He rubbed his fingers into her scalp as he worked the lather into her wet curls. He gently tilted her head back into the water to work the suds out, feeling an ache inside himself as he looked at her face framed in the drifting curls.
Hermione took in a sudden breath, deep and strong, and the sound of her caused Severus to hold his. Her eyes fluttered open, sleepily, drowsily. “Mmm,” she murmured. “Now you let me take a bath Severus?” There was amusement there, genuine and clear.
Severus pulled her head out of the water, tenderly stroking her hair as he lay her against his chest. Her hand weakly touched his hair near his ear, and she tugged his head closer her. Ever so tenderly, her tongue slid against his jaw in the action that had started Severus’ first chain of sins against her.
Severus shuddered, his breathing came in pants, and thick black ichor began to pool in his mouth, but this time he wanted it. He lowered his mouth to hers, opening his jaws to allow the life-giving chi to flow into her, and she swallowed, accepting his bond at last. And as Severus felt the gentle suckle of her mouth against his, joined in an act so simple but intimate, he let himself open to the tendrils of the demon’s mind, allowing them to share in the moment.
Severus closed his eyes, panting as Hermione pulled away at last as her hunger was sated. When he opened them, dark streaks of oily black were spreading across his eyes as he and his demon were becoming one at last.
-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-
Somehow, they had managed to make it back to the bed, and Severus tolerated Hermione’s snuffling his hair and pressing into it to rub her face against it. He had never in his life had anyone snuffle his hair, but Hermione seemed almost sensually fixated upon it.
To add to the awkwardness, Hermione had found the bergamot oil bottle, dumped it into his shampoo, and then lathered him with it, using it like shampoo and body soap. She still looked so incredible pale, and her hands still shook a little with weakness, but her eyes were no longer grey with sickness. Black had already started streak towards the honey brown irises, and the demon seemed happy to see such a sign. He had already fed her a number of times, now that she was accepting it, and each time it did so, he felt parts of his heart beat stronger, as if she was healing them, one by one.
He got up to get another towel, and Hermione grasped his wrist with her fingers, her eyes filled with a desperate panic.
“I will return, I promise,” he promised, meaning it more than anything he had ever promised in his life.
She let go of his wrist, and he had to fight a surge of desire to reestablish contact in order to fetch the towel from the bath. He hurried off, hung his robes to dry, and snatched a dry towel from the rack. As he came back into the room and the raw relief in her eyes was thick enough to cut with a knife.
“Shh, Shh, I’m here,” he said, gathering her up and he rubbed the towel over her to dry her hair and skin. A spell would have, perhaps, been faster, but something told him the contact was far more important. He had to repair the trust he had broken. A soft growl came from his throat, and to his surprise, she relaxed into him with the sound, allowing him to work her over into dryness and lay her down against the soft pillow.
Setting the towel aside, he lay beside her, and she snuggled into him pressing her face into his chest with a sigh. She licked the edge of his chin once more, and this time, Severus didn’t even have to think. His body moved, his mouth covered hers, and she fed again, making soft moans of approval that moved things lower in his body.
When she pulled away, licking her lips as if to savour the flavour, she snuggled into him once more, and Severus no longer held any doubts that she chose to be with him. He reached down and pulled the covers over them, letting them rest in the hands of sleep.
-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-
Hermione gently cracked an eye open as the feeling a wetness streaked against her jaw, chin, lips and nose. Her mouth parted and immediately, pillowy soft lips covered her own. Chi seeped in and she eagerly swallowed. Mentally, she felt her demon rouse from the back of her mind.
Our mate is back. We must feed.
“Severus?” she mumbled and felt the hands on her back tighten.
“I’m sorry my love. It was all my fault.” Apologies were whispered against her skin, hair and ears. Each followed by a gentle kiss.
“I am the one to blame. I never let myself fully Change, keeping demon and my own mental mind separate. I never saw reason to merge, and now that you are here, in my life, we have a purpose again. I love you.” A tear leaked from Hermione’s eyes at the sounds of his confession.
Her mate had been confused. He left because he was confused. Now that he knew, he was back. To love her. To cherish her. She wanted to believe him. She felt the sincerity in his voice, but she couldn’t feel him like she had before.
“Our bond...I felt it crack,” Hermione whispered into the darkness.
“Let us reform it. Let me make things right,” the bed shifted beside her as Severus raised himself. Hermione opened her eyes. Instead of the onyx black skin, muzzle and muscular tongue, the face of Severus Tobias Snape greeted her. His eyes however, streaked with black, marked the presence of the demon. They were sharing. They were merging.
Like us.
She raised a hand to stroke his skin. It was smooth, but fleshy. The demon’s skin had an undeniable hardness beneath, as though it were wearing armour beneath. Her fingertips danced across his nose, mapping out the contours that she had yet to learn.
She nodded and raised her head briefly, imploring him to kiss her, feed her, and love her. He obliged and grasped her hands in his, subtle scars from potion accidents and knife cuts marked the difference from the talons she had come to know so intimately.
He drew himself over her body, effectively caging her beneath him. He pressed feather light kisses along her brow, murmuring his regret and love. Each kiss was followed by a gentle lick of ichor, filled with vows of fidelity, fertility and eternity. When he finally reached her lips, chi filled his mouth, as he allowed it to flow gently into her mouth. She swallowed each drop, raising her forehead to touch his, responding to each vow and promise.
Hermione felt his chi flow down her throat and settle into parts of her veins. Ichor filled her mouth and she tilted her head, imploring Severus to kiss her again. The gentle swirling and mixing of ichor fueled their desires, wetness lubricating her nether lips and his cock swelling with blood.
As her hips tilted, he pressed down, trapping them. Her eyes filled with unspoken questions, but he granted her his answer by dropping ardent kisses along every inch of skin that was exposed to him.
He reached out to her mind, silently letting her know of his inexperience. His first sexual encounter was his Change and it was humiliating. The Demon had grasped him and within seconds, he had come over her hands, and she had bitten him. The Demon had been patient, but she had found his reactions too amusing. Her alien thought patterns saw no reason to hold back her reaction. She was being honest, after all.
The mix of pain and pleasure had carried him into his Change. His embarrassment was marked by the chuckles of the demon. The combination had cemented his feelings of self loathing and humiliation, seemingly imprinting each upon the other. Ever since then, lust and passion did not plague him the same way it would for others. Until now. Until the gentle kisses of his mate, the brushes of skin on skin, exploring hands and passionate whispers in his ear. His veins filled with the lust and ardour for her.
His eyes bled further black, as the Demon stood besides him in his mind. Together they would reclaim the bond with their mate. Together they would prove they were a worthy provider. Together.
Ichor laced his open kisses at Hermione’s skin, he watched in awe when it absorbed into her skin, gentle black streaks filling the capillaries and colour slowly returned to her skin tone. Knowledge was shared between the demon’s experiences and Severus, but together they would bring their mate to rapture.
Hermione clutched at the Acromantula silk sheets beneath her. Her body was heated, veins lit on fire as Severus continued to kiss and lick at the inches of skin. As her skin heated, she pressed back against the sheets. “Acromantula silk sheet… stay cool in heat and warm in the cold,” Hermione breathed out, her brain working to keep her from falling over the cliffs of passion.
“They do. This is a 500 thread count sheet. You will get to know it very intimately. It will cool your skin as the rest of your body burns. It will keep you warm when I am away from the bed. But best of all, it will not tear when your talons dig into it as you… come.” Severus chuckled into her ear, promising what he intended to do to her.
“Mmmm,” Hermione groaned, bucking slightly as the feel of the smooth silk slide against her skin, Severus’ kisses, and the sound of his rumbling voice lecturing her about thread count pushed every button in the proper sequence between her mind and her body. “Severus,” she purred like a cat, “I need to…”
Her sentence was silence by his mouth, capturing hers again. Chi flowed between them. His cock was pressed tightly against her inner thighs. She parted her legs and he nestled himself between them. She heard him moan into her mouth. She continued to drink the chi that flowed from him, feeling it strengthen her from the inside out, the demon rolling on its back like a cat basking in sunshine.
Feeling the chi ebb from the source, she let her own blend of ichor coat her tongue, wrapping it around his, tugging him into a gentle duel with her mouth. Severus, having never ingested ichor as a merged demon, felt the effects of the aphrodisiac hit his system. He groaned into her mouth, lapping at the ichor that had pooled along the sides of her buccal cavity as he rocked himself against her thigh.
Her hands dragged across his chest, scraping across his nipples, and his hips jerked involuntarily as he came across her legs. He groaned as the orgasm washed across his body, but felt his cheeks flush at his lack of control. He pulled himself away from Hermione, about to apologise for his actions, only to find her reaching down to her legs. Her fingers swiped at the semen that splattered there before depositing it into her mouth, eyes watching Severus swallow hard.
“Women, you will be the death of me,” Severus groaned.
“I aim to please,” Hermione cheekily answered. With strength returning to her limbs, she pulled Severus close to her. “I’m sorry I scared you. When you left, it was like a part of me was torn away. Please don’t ever leave me again.”
Severus closed his eyes and nuzzled her hair. She smelled like a mix of parchment, ink, cinnamon, the hint of the bergamot and chamomile oil from the bath, and the gentle hint of grapefruit.
“Never. Never again,” he promised. He felt her hands tug him onto the sheets beside her, rolling herself over him. Hermione leaned down, pressing her lips against his. “Never again.”
She kissed her way down his throat, pausing at his sternum, feeling his heart beat against her lips. Snaking her tongue out, she traced the runic pattern for love over it. Severus felt the pattern, etching its way across his heart. He clenched his eyes shut and tears blurred his vision.
Hermione looked up at him, feeling his emotions radiate from him. Her hands reached up to cup his cheeks, resting her forehead against his. “I love you. Forever. My one and only Mate.”
Severus let out a quiet sob, arms wrapping around her body, whispering back his confessions of love and honour. The two stayed wrapped in each other’s arms, feeling their emotions linger within their bond, feeling it strengthen the broken strands, re-bind and mend— only this time it seemed more solid and more substantial. The silken golden fibres were weaving with each other, overlapping, twisting, and tightening until only one solid cord remained.
Hermione tugged away from him gently, sliding herself down his body. Severus felt his groin tighten as he realized her destination was further south than where she had stopped the first time. Now that he merged with the demon, memories of the prior week and even the past decade, the sounds, smells and tastes, were becoming fully integrated and he felt the effects of ingesting ichor.
Severus’ eyes rolled back. Thank Circe it was the weekend, and he didn’t have to get up to teach class in the morning. He had a sneaking suspicion that he was not going to leave the bed anytime soon… or even the next day. Depending on how much ichor Hermione deposited on his— Severus made a soft whimpering sound. Scratch that whole weekend. They would not be appearing on Monday.
His erection twitched as Hermione blew over the tip. She smiled up at him from between his legs as she planted firm kisses along his inner thighs, over his scrotum, and gently cupped his balls in her mouth, bathing them with her ichor. His hips lifted off the bed at the sensation, and a whine escaped his mouth. His eyes darkened as Hermione looked up at him, a black-tipped tongue slithering out between her lips.
Hermione felt her tongue shift to her daemonic form as she rested between her mate’s thighs. She knew that Severus had left her for the first time in confusion, but now that he had merged and fully embraced the Change, she would prove her love for him, prove that she could provide for him and be his equal in all ways.
Her tongue flicked the tip of his cock, gently coating it with ichor. She felt his hand fist her hair, helping her hold it back and she bathed him gently with her tongue. He hissed as her mouth enveloped him fully and he allowed himself to fully relish in the sensations. Every suck, lick and swirl of her tongue brought him closer to that edge. Her hand cupped his balls, swirling them in her palms as she relaxed her throat over him, humming as she swirled her tongue around his base.
His hands released her hair, pulling her body flush against his, rolling to reverse their positions. Lips crushed against each other as ichor swapped between the mouths. He gasped into her mouth as his fingers found the wet passage between her legs. Hermione arched up against him as his finger stroked her, passing over the bundle of nerves and circling her core. A whimper escaped her as fingers delved gently between her folds, passing over that magical spot on her walls. Her inner muscles rolled, tugging at the fingers to go deeper. She cried out softly as the fingers pulled out and bucked her hips to silently ask for more. Severus chuckled against her mouth, pulling away. She frowned and opened her eyes, ready to ask but stalled when Severus lapped at the juices that coated his fingers. She breathed out as his eyes darkened further and a rush of sandalwood hit her in the nostrils. She arched and pressed her head further into the pillows as a furry appendage stroked her inner thighs, nudging them further apart.
Her hands reached over his back and down his spine, tracing the gentle curve before settling on the tail that appeared. Gently stroking the underside like she did before, she whispered her request to Severus, “I ask you for a courting gift, my mate. I wish to give you sprogs. Unfortunately, this gift requires the active participation of two demons. Two demons who are mated with each other, bonded to one another. Will you grant me this wish?”
Severus puffed his chest, growling his approval. Onyx skin covered his body and his jaw cracked and reshaped itself. Wings burst from his back, “Yes my mate. For you, I will provide you anything.” He promised her, tipping her mouth open, allowing the chi to collect before transferring it to her.
Her back arched off the bed, as a gentle wave of pleasure passed through her body. Her skin no longer retained a waxy hue of sickness, but rather a glossy onyx black. Her fingers reformed and twisted itself into talons, and a tail released from behind her.
Together, forever. My mate.
Silent words drifted between them, pheromones grazed the senses. Severus grasped the headboard and he slid into Hermione’s wetness. Her legs wrapped around his waist and he moved within her slick heat. Talons raked down his back, mouth open, gasping for air.
Severus grunted as his cock pistoned in and out of Hermione. He locked his gaze on her face, watching it contort with pleasure. He felt his balls tighten as they prepared for his release. Their tails entwined with one another, rubbing the soft underside along hers. Her velvet walls trembled, signalling her impending orgasm. He unlocked her legs from his waist, shifting so they rested on his shoulders.
His tongue flicked out along his muzzle, tracing ichor along her legs, watching it absorb through the skin. Hermione gasped at the change in angle, feeling his scrotum slap against her buttcheeks. A drop of ichor landed on her clit and she moaned as it absorbed into the nerve ending, sending a mini orgasm through her body. Her talons fisted the sheets as she pressed more firmly down against Severus’ body. her mouth twisted, forming her muzzle as she let out a small scream as her orgasms rolled through her body.
Severus dropped her legs from his shoulders as he fell forward onto his hands, hips moving frantically. His cock swelled as blood rushed southwards. His tail had knotted with Hermione’s, and the muscle contractions on the underside of it led to more ichor forming in his muzzle. He lapped at the side of Hermione’s jaw, requesting entrance. Their tongues met and the sensation of Hermione’s ichor mixed with his sperm flashed across his tongue. He let out a roar as he came inside her, cock spasming. Energy left his arms as his knees buckled. He panted as he felt his cock release several more spurts of come into her channel.
Hermione gasped at the sensation of her tail being stroked, and her muscles involuntarily squeezed at the hard length still inside her. Even after he came, his cock was still hard.
It’s the ichor my love.
I know.
Cheeky girl.
She responded by flexing her muscles and giggled when she felt his mirth brush over her ears.
Severus gently extracted himself from her, groaning at the loss of heat and wetness. When ingested by demons, ichor acts as an aphrodisiac. There was no telling how much passed between them through their kisses and licks. But if it made his mate happy and content, he was willing to let her bathe him in ichor every day.
Hermione rolled to her side, smiling at him, interlocking their talons together. Snuggling into his chest, she quietly murmured, “I really love your sheets. They don’t tear and they help us cool off.” Her answer only came as a gently swat to the butt cheek.
Severus leaned in closer to her face, his hot breath tickling her nose as his black tongue slithered out to stroke under her mouth. “So you just love my… sheets, hrm?”
His hand drifted down to the base of her tail and very languorously stroked it.
Hermione bucked, her entire body spasming. “Yesssssss. I. Adore. Your. Sheets.” Her teeth chattered, her fangs bared as her muzzle stretched out even further in its beautiful and monstrous glory. Her ears were plastered to the side of her head as she panted loudly.
“More testing is required on your hypothesis, my mate,” he purred, grasping her thrashing tail in his hands. “Or perhaps you wish to test whether the null hypothesis is correct, and that Acromantula sheets do not show a difference in satisfaction of one’s mate when used in combination with… highly creative acrobatics?”
Hermione cried out as his hands worked their magic on her tail, and Severus pulled her onto his lap, her legs on either side of him as he gripped her neck between his fangs, ichor dripping from each tip and absorbing into her skin.
Hermione panted, writhed, and clawed at him, her talons digging into the armored skin of his back. Her hips bucked against him, her clit rubbing along the length of his cock that was nestled in between them. With a gentle roll of her hips, her velvet walls sheathed him inside her.
He groaned against her skin, letting his talons pierce her skin gently. Ichor splattered against their necks, hot breaths causing some to vaporize before it was absorbed. With a chain of convulsions, she screamed, and her wings popped out from her shoulder blades and fanned out so completely that their tips met the edges of the room.
At the sight of her wings, Severus purred in delight, letting his orgasm wash over him. Hermione rested her forehead against his as she panted in exhaustion.
“You’ve done it, my love. Your transformation is complete.”
Severus stared down the line of her spine and smiled as mottled iridescent patches spread down her back and silver and copper lines ghosted across her skin where her wings would eventually fold and “disappear” when she willed it. Each line was like the stroke of an ancient brush painting— solid and beautiful it its subtlety.
“You’re so beautiful, my love,” he purred into her neck.
Her wings wrapped around his body as his folded around her, and the bond between them thrummed like the vibration of a harp string. It sang between them in perfect tune as they became one— body and soul.
-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-
“It’s kind of odd having to see you with a chaperone, Hermione,” Ginny said, her eyes flicking over to where Snape was busily writing away with an amazingly fluffy quill.
“It’s in case I...” Hermione paused as she tried to put words to it, “freak out, I think.”
Ginny frowned and touched Hermione’s hand with sympathy. “I am really sorry that happened to you, Hermione,” she said. “He has a clean bill of health from St Mungo’s, but they did put him on a calming draught because of the entire seeing Demons bit. They seem to think it’s his way of dealing with Dumbledore’s death.”
Hermione arched a brow. “I’d recommend a Healer over trying to strangle your best friend… ex-best friend.”
“Ex?” Ginny asked.
“I hardly think I should call him my best friend considering he tried to kill me,” Hermione said with a frown.
“Ron says he’s been awful stressed. He hasn’t had many things go right for him lately,” Ginny said. “Lavender says he just needs to get laid.”
Hermione blinked at Ginny. “Having sexual relations treats paranoid delusions?”
They aren’t delusions if demons really do exist.
Hush, demon.
You love me. We are one.
That’s not the point.
Hungry. We should feed on her.
Trying to be normal here!
You’re normally a demon. Not feeding is hardly natural. You could ask Severus for a nice feed.
In front of Ginny?
We could let her join in, if it would help.
Not helping!
I’m looking out for us. We are strong together. She is food.
She has a name!
Not a Name.
That’s… can we change the subject?
Harry did promise us her virginity.
Can we not talk about that either right now?
Hungry.
Hermione buried her face into her hands, stifling the bout of laughter that threatened to escape her.
“Have you,” Ginny started to ask, “tried to talk to him yet?”
“Does sitting down to eat in the Great Hall and having him stare at me like I’m a mutant count?”
Ginny looked flustered and hung her head.
“If you have something to say, Ginny, you might as well say it,” Hermione said, staring at Ginny through her parted fingers.
“How is it you always—”
“Your eye twitches when you really want to say something,” Hermione replied. “Might as well, before it spreads to your nose.”
“Wha— ?” Ginny clapped her hands to her face in horror.
Hermione smirked from behind the tea cup she had raised to her lips, unable to suppress her almost malicious enjoyment of Ginny’s self-consciousness. She never remembered enjoying watching people get emotional over random things before, but now it seemed like she was walking around an all-you-can-eat buffet of budding emotions. A slight nudge here, a random comment there, or even letting things happen as they did seemed to provide a host of walking meals… if only she could choose one and pursue it.
Hunger whetted, her demon merged with her, and Hermione felt her lips part. Fangs were forming inside her mouth as dark drool began to pool under her blackening tongue. The joining was always pleasurable, rewarding Hermione for her acceptance of their strengthening bond, and the more she allowed the demon to slip into her as she felt she needed to, the more wonderful it felt. Together, they were powerful, and if they could, Hermione had no doubt they would simply always exist in that joined state, but the demon seemed to realise that sometimes human perspective was required to understand other humans. Allowing the more human Hermione to surface was easier than drawing a daemonic communication circle and asking Ginny to stand in it. THAT would go well. Not.
All things being said, Hermione and her inner demon were in balance, and just as Severus and his were also. Their blissful coexistence and symbiosis only strengthened their power base as well as their bonds internally and with each other. All they were missing in life were nice healthy sprogs.
Hermione licked her fangs. Mmm… sprogs.
Hermione grasped the fleshy part of her hand between the index finger and the thumb, worrying it with her teeth. She licked her skin absently, nostrils flaring as her scent became stronger and seemed to move out in a wave.
Mate, control yourself. I can smell your arousal from my desk.
Can you now?
Either control your pheromones or escort Miss Weasley out and we will practice creating sprogs.
“I need your help, Hermione,” Ginny said, her eyes widening as she seemed to fidget uncomfortably. Her pupils were widening.
“Oh? What with?” Hermione paused in her writing to stare at the red-headed witch.
Ginny flicked her eyes over to where Severus was grading a pile of parchments for the final grades in DADA.
Hermione waved her hand at Ginny as if to tell her it didn’t matter and that he wasn’t paying attention, even though she knew he was. His protective streak had only increased after their re-bonding. Now both aspects of her mate were super protective of her and the last thing he was going to do is not pay attention to what was going around his mate. There was also the fact she had just emitted a giant cloud of pheromones out into the room, and Severus was probably all too aware of them. From the corner of her eyes, she saw Severus shift ever so slightly in his chair, and she purred in her mind, letting her mate know exactly where she’d rather be. She turned to Ginny, ready to send her back to the Gryffindor Common Room when Ginny blurted out a sentence that caught her attention.
“Ineedhelprestoringmyhymen.”
Hermione blinked very, very slowly.
“Harry thinks I’m a virgin, and well Dean and I were together for most of fifth year… I never bothered to correct him and now he thinks I’m a virgin,” Ginny wailed.
Hermione clutched her hand suddenly with a hiss as burning, searing, freezing pain jolted through her. “Ahhh! Ssssss—”
Snape was out of his chair in an instant, his robes billowing as he ran towards them.
“Ahhhhhrrrkkkkkk!” Hermione clung to Severus’ robes, her hands clawing, shaking, and spasming as she let loose a low, menacing growl.
“Get out,” Severus snapped at Ginny. “Out! Insolent girl. If you cannot keep your idiot mouth shut when you were told the rules, then you have no business here. GET. OUT!”
Ginny scrambled out of the chair and bolted out the classroom door as fast as her feet could carry her. The classroom door slammed with a resounding bang as the heat of various wards went down after it closed.
Ginny stood staring at the door, wanting to pound on it and say she didn’t do anything, but her mind stalled. She had said the one word she had been told not to say in conversation with Hermione until she was better: Harry.
-o-o-o-o-o-o-
Hermione blinked her eyes slowly and found herself wrapped in Severus’ arms in their bedchamber. Her hand was grasper tightly in his as he was slowly lickied the back of her hand where the summoning mark had bound her to Harry.
“That hurt like a bludger to the face,” Hermione moaned softly.
“It caused so much pain because you felt the effects of a broken contract,” Severus said as he paused his dutiful licking of her hand. His black tongue slid across her skin again shortly after, heat drifting across her skin, sending gentle tingles of pleasure down her spine, causing Hermione to temporarily forget the pain. Their bond was now solid, both between themselves and their demons, giving each of them a comfort and ease that was not found before. Hermione could sense where Severus was when she concentrated, and they had practiced with her in the room and him moving around on patrol. She could tell where he was in the castle and when he stopped to yell at some idiot First Year.
Their telepathy was much stronger. No matter the distance, it seemed they could speak, and while they didn’t always use it, it brought a sense of true comfort that the both of them didn’t realise they needed until they had it.
“Broken contract?” Hermione asked fuzzily. Her mind was concentrating a bit too much on the feel of his wonderful tongue sliding across her skin.
Severus chuckled, his laugh like thunder rumbling across the foothills. “Having problems focusing, mate?”
“Mmm?” Hermione murmured.
A tail had snuck under her skirt and massaged her thigh mischieviously, causing Hermione’s eyes to gaze off into the distance. Suddenly the tail retreated and Hermione snapped out of it.
“Did he promise you something for your service during his last summon?” Severus asked, focusing on the cause of her pain.
Hermione nodded. “Ginny’s virginity.”
“He really is an imbecile,” Severus snorted. “Especially in this school.” He stood up, extending his hand to help her to her feet.
Hermione narrowed her eyes at her mate.
Severus touched her cheek gently. “You know all too well the proclivities of various teenagers in this school, Hermione. But, not to derail, Potter promised you something, you did your part, yes?”
“I saved him from the Aurors,” Hermione replied.
“Your part was done,” Severus explained. “You found out, just recently, that the very thing you bargained for cannot be obtained. Your realisation that you could not receive payment broke the contract between you and him. You are no longer bound to answer his calls or listen to his woes, but you may wish to anyway, for now.”
“Oh? You just tell me that I have my freedom, but then tell me I shouldn’t enjoy it?” Hermione asked, pouting. “Tease.”
Severus gave a cruel smile, his fangs showing even in his more human state. “There will come a time when he thinks you are still safely bound to him in service. It will be a time he is counting on it, and you will have the choice to come or go, and you will have the choice to watch the realisation sink in that you were never his to call. Until then, you can enjoy his discomfort in whatever prices you require. Pretend it does not matter that he denies you your price and just asks another question. Let him think he is safe in his cocoon of stupidity.”
“You are quite the Machiavelli,” Hermione noted.
Severus licked his teeth. “Thank you.”
Hermione rubbed her hand. “I was hoping to give you her as courting gift,” she sighed. “I suppose I must think of something less impossible to obtain.”
“There may yet be… something salvageable out of this,” Severus said, tapping his finger to his chin.
“Oh?” Hermione’s curiosity perked so hard, her ears popped out from her hair, flicking forward like a tracking hounds.
Severus chuckled. “Let’s play a game,” he purred, “called How Bad Do You Want Your Virginity Back, shall we? We can see what great leaps and bounds, and perhaps… thrusts, a certain Miss Weasley is willing to undergo in her quest to regain her chastity for Mr Potter, shall we?”
Hermione’s lips pulled back from her teeth as she smiled. She pulled her mate closer and licked under his chin lovingly. Severus’ eyes went completely black in a matter of seconds and his mouth closed over hers in a deep and passionate kiss.
When Hermione pulled back, she licked her lips of the daemonic chi left upon her mouth. A gentle breeze of grapefruit laced with sandalwood wafted through the room. “Let’s,” she said in a sing-song voice.
-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-
Ginny crept into the storeroom using the unlocking spell that Hermione had taught her. Hermione had told her that there was a rare tome stashed on the high shelves of the storage room Snape had for potion ingredients. Hermione had seen a collection of books there when she had… acquired certain potion ingredients during her second year.
Hermione had said that Snape warded his private storage closet now that it had been broken into, but she had heard him casting the ward while she was following him around on his errands. She was sure that the tome would help her, but Ginny was ready to take the risk to find out.
Ginny hoped that Hermione would do what she promised and keep Snape busy for the evening so she could accomplish her task. She was glad that Hermione seemed stable enough after her earlier breakdown to help her, even though she was also technically helping Harry get what he wanted as well. A part of Ginny felt selfish asking Hermione to use her influence on Snape so Ginny could keep her promise to Harry, but if no one knew and it hurt no one, what harm could come from this?
She cast the anti-warding spell and felt a strange vibration. Trusting that the spell worked, she slipped into the closet and found it much larger than she had expected. Shelf after shelf of potion ingredients lined the walls, and all of them were meticulously labeled. Unfortunately, they were labeled in some language she didn’t know, and decorated in even stranger squiggles and symbols.
She counted the shelves. “Thirteen high, five back, behind the flobberworm mucus.” She moved the nearby ladder over and set it by what she hoped was the right shelf.
She looked at all the labels and sighed in frustration. She couldn’t even read the labels. They were all in, hell, she couldn’t even figure out what language it was.
There was a creak as the door opened, and Ginny froze on the ladder. Terror rippled through her body as she concluded that Hermione had failed to keep Snape busy for the rest of the evening.
A messy head of dirty blond hair shuffled in. He wore a neutral sweater and no house colours, and was mumbling something under his breath. Perhaps a list of stuff he was looking to steal too, Ginny silently thought to herself, grasping the ladder a little tighter. He looked around nervously, but did not look up. He closed the door behind him and lit his wand. He seemed to be searching for something amongst the lower shelves, but Ginny couldn’t tell what. She held still, hoping he would find what he wanted on a low shelf and leave.
The boy was slightly older, probably a sixth or seventh year and had a sharply cut face. There was nothing overly remarkable about him, and she didn’t recognise him from any of the large events or even the meals, but that didn’t really mean anything considering how many people were at Hogwarts. The boy shifted a few bottles, reading the labels, and shaking his head. He was obviously looking for something specific. He went right by her ladder, causing Ginny to hold her breath, but again didn’t look up. She breathed out carefully as he passed by. Please let him just find his stuff and leave, she thought.
“Hey, red-head,” the boy’s voice broke the silence and practically sent Ginny squealing off the ladder. “Can you hand me the flobberworm mucus? It’s by your face.”
Ginny, stifled her embarrassment and panic. She turned around and plucked a jar off the shelf.
“Flobberworm mucus, whoever you are,” the boy said impatiently. “Can’t you read?”
Ginny flushed and put the jar back and picked up another. All the jars were very dark and their contents all looked the same. She picked up another jar and handed it down.
The boy sniffed and shook the jar. “Thanks. I know why I’m here, but why are you here? I didn’t expect to see anyone else raiding the storage for potion ingredients.”
“Looking for a book,” Ginny said sheepishly.
“Have you tried the library?” the boy asked her. He stared up at her with a startlingly familiar pair of green eyes that reminded her of Harry’s.
“This isn’t the normal kind of book,” Ginny said.
“Like… restricted section kind of book?”
Ginny was silent.
“I see,” the boy said. He sighed to himself, shrinking the jars down and tucking them into his robes. “Well, since you helped me, I’ll see if I can help you find it. Any idea where to start looking?”
“Actually, it’s around here, somewhere,” Ginny said. She turned around and lit her wand to look. “It might be here, but I can’t reach it. Maybe I can Acci—”
“Do you know the name of the tome exactly?”
“Well no…”
“What if there are other mysterious tomes hanging out in this storage closet and they all come raining down on your head?” The boy stared at her like she was an idiot.
“Oh, right,” Ginny said, feeling stupid. “No good, can’t reach it, I’m going to have to ri—”
“Let me up there, I’ll get it for you,” the boy said. “If you break anything in here, Professor Snape will find a way to have us expelled.”
“Do you think he could trace it back to us?”
“It’s Snape, if anyone could find a way to track broken jars in his private storage it would be him. Taking ingredients is one thing, breaking his containers is what will get you killed.”
Ginny gulped and hopped off the ladder.
The boy jumped onto it and shimmied up, pointing his wand into the dark crevice and reached for it. His fingers extended out, tapped the spine of the book, and finally managed to reach it. He pulled the dusty book out and brushed it off. His eyes widened.
“Virginity : the Ancient Restorative Magic?”
Ginny blushed really hard. “Could you just, hand it to me?”
The boy made an odd face and handed it to her.
Ginny frowned as she stared at the book. It was written with strange squiggles and symbols. “You read this?”
The boy looked at her with a tilted head. “Obviously.”
“Shit,” Ginny moaned. “How am I supposed to know what I need if I can’t even read the book?”
The boy was staring at her again.
“What?” Ginny sighed.
“I can read it. What are you looking for exactly?”
Ginny blushed furiously.
“You obviously want something to do with virginity,” the boy huffed with exasperation. “You don’t have to be all embarrassed that I know. Just tell me what you want.”
“I need my virginity back,” Ginny said in a rush.
“Odd,” the boy said with a shrug. “Most people are in a rush to lose it, not put it back. At least then you aren’t at risk for being sacrificed in some Dark ritual for power.”
“I have my reasons,” Ginny sputtered, clutching the book like a lifeline.
The boy looked at her and shook his head. “Give it here then. I suppose I don’t have to go through the entire ‘I never helped you,’ ‘You never saw me here,’ and ‘if you tell anyone I helped you, I will destroy you,’ right?”
Ginny shook her head dumbly, handing him the book.
The boy sighed, running his hand through his hair. He flipped open the book and paged through it.
“Each one of these things has a price, you understand?” the boy said as he flipped through the pages. He wrinkled his nose as the dust flew up from the pages. “Like this one. Power to seduce any lover for the sacrificed loss of sensation.”
Ginny frowned. “I don’t want that anyway.”
The boy tsked. “All things come with a price.
“Why are you helping me?”
“Perhaps, I’m paying mine.”
Ginny stared at the boy and then turned her face away.
“Perfect ankles for the price of large feet,” the boy read.
“No.”
“Irresistible scent for night flatulence,” the boy read.
“No!”
Perfect teeth in exchange for bigger ears.”
“Circe! No!”
“Silky hair on the head for hairy legs.”
“No!”
“Blemish free skin for a roaming itch.”
“Are you serious?”
“Perfect child-bearing hips for kyphosis when you’re older.”
“Erm. No.”
“Minty fresh breath for irritable bowel.”
“Ugh! No! How does all of this pertain to virginity?”
The boy arched a brow. “They are all things that those throughout history have wanted in order to find the perfect mate.”
Ginny shuddered.
“Restore maidenhood for fertility.”
Ginny froze. “What?”
“I do not believe you are deaf,” the boy commented, tapping the page in the book. “It’s what you wanted right? Your virginity restored?
“Maidenhood?”
The boy stared blankly at her. “You know, your… because of your parts, girl.”
“There’s no other? Just… fertility?” Ginny squeaked. Ginny had always assumed she would many children. After all, she did share her parent’s genetics. Everyone presumed that since she was a Weasley, she would have at least a few children, if not a swarm.
“That is the price, girl,” the boy huffed, closing the book and thrusting it back at her. “If you were just going to balk at it when I finally found it, you could have saved me the trouble reading all of that. I’m going to have to use a cauldron full of brain bleach as it is.”
Ginny trembled. If Harry found out she was lying to him, he could assume she was lying about other things too. He’d leave her. He’d hate her. People would talk. People would look at her— stare at her when she passed by and talk behind her back. Maybe they would think her pitiful or some floosy who would spread her legs for anyone. No!
“I’ll do it!” Ginny blurted, pushing the book back into the boy’s arms. “What do I need to do?”
“Here,” the boy said after a minute of staring at Ginny with an almost predatory evaluation. “Copy this diagram on the floor large enough for you to lay in it. Preferably larger in case you flail around.”
“What?” Ginny squeaked.
“Do you want your maidenhood back or not?” the boy snapped.
Ginny gulped. “Okay.”
The boy held out a piece of chalk. “Here and don’t mess it up.”
Ginny took the chalk with trepidation, sucked in her breath, and knelt down on her knees to start drawing the diagram on the floor.
The messy blond-haired boy’s eyes went from vivid green to black as he watched her back, his lips twisted into a half snarl, and then it was gone. The boy started to pull ingredients off the shelves and hauled a small cauldron out from the storage spaces and began to work.
-o-o-o-o-o-
You owe me for this, my mate. She can’t even draw a straight line because she’s trembling like a leaf.
You’re having her lay in a demon circle?
How else to restore her request? A formal exchange must be made for such things. There is always a price. Especially… body modification.
Hermione’s mental voice paused as she pondered before continuing. She must really want it back.
Severus curled his lips, resisting the instinctive need to bare his teeth and let his muzzle form. Concentration was already spotty holding his young anonymous boy disguise due to the odour of the vial of mixed ichor in his pocket. The bottle reminded him of his mate. The girl in front of him was of the barest of interest. Only her price paid would be useful for helping him and his mate achieve sprogs, and that was the only thing keeping him from driving the hapless, ignorant chit from his storeroom. As long as he would not have to touch her in any way other way than for the purpose of the exchange, he would be able to hold himself together and not shift, mentally destroy the Weasley girl, and then have to Obliviate her.
It hardly helped that the human aspect of Severus was as highly disgusted by the idea of even entertaining physical contact with the girl, as the demon was just sharing a room with her. The bond had insured that they were intensely loyal to their mate, but Severus’ human side had been the type to hold onto loyalty to an ideal long before he had merged with a demon. The difference was, instead of pining for a relationship doomed to failure, his loyalty was transferred to a far more deserving mate— not that his first choice in fixations could have out would have Changed for him.
Severus stirred the cauldron as he brewed the special potion for Ginny. It wasn’t anything specific to the ritual, but it would give him an excuse to get their combined ichor into her and knock her out so he could do the rest without her feeling the actual effects of the daemonic laced potion. The last thing either aspect of Severus wanted was a horny fifteen year old girl pawing at him and begging to be satisfied.
No and NO!
She could wake up later and deal with herself when he was safely gone. He could only pray that she didn’t stumble over something and get fifteen jars of rare potion ingredients all over herself and somehow mutate herself into a large, overgrown, and exceedingly aroused weasel.
She had been spending time walking with Longbottom in the halls since Potter got himself sent to the Infirmary. Integration with his demon had allowed all of the experiences to merge between them. Unfortunately, that meant that human Severus remembered Harry Potter and Neville Longbottom all too well. Both demon and human seemed to agree that neither were good company.
Neville is a perfectly sweet human, Hermione’s mental voice chided him.
A menace, he replied. I’ve seen the memories.
Memories of me being an insufferable know-it-all as well.
You were human. Humans are born insufferable.
Horrible logic, love.
Truth.
We both started fully human.
You can see how well that ended for us.
Ended with me having you as a mate.
… touché.
Hermione’s mental presence chuckled, brushing against his mind with the equivalent of mind-ichor just before she pulled away, leaving him with the image of her long and supple tail curled in an inviting loop.
Minx.
Severus finished mixing the potion and mixed it with the combined daemonic ichor. He fitted the cork and shook it to agitate it properly.
He cleaned the cauldron and sent it back to its storage place. He turned and watched Ginny Weasley finish the final touches on the circle on the ground. Rolling his eyes, he took a piece of chalk and fixed some of the lines while her back was turned.
“I’m done, I think,” Ginny said, looking from the book to the circle a few times.
Severus held out the potion. “Here, drink this and lay back in the circle.”
“What else do I have to do?” Ginny asked nervously.
“Nothing,” Severus said, eyes narrowing. “I must do the rest.”
“Oh, um,” Ginny fidgeted “Will it hurt?”
“Do you want it to?”
“What!”
“Simple question,” Severus said. “Do you want it to hurt? Will that make it more real for you?”
“Real?”
“You are giving up your fertility for a piece of skin,” Severus said. “You will never have the growth of life within your womb and feel the suckle of tiny lips upon your tit. You will never know true release because that little piece if the puzzle will always be out of your reach. Is that real enough for you?”
Ginny turned her head away and seemed to be struggling with something internally. “It’s for Harry.”
“I hope he really loves you, girl,” Severus said, snatching the book from her and flipping through it. “This is not something you get to do over.”
“It’s worth it,” Ginny insisted, drinking the potion down in a couple seconds.
Severus’ eyebrows raised.
Ginny dropped the bottle and looked at him dreamily. “You’re hot.”
Severus scowled at her. “Lay back.”
Ginny was panting slightly, her pupils had blow wide. Her eyes fluttered, and she passed out.
“Insufferable girl,” Severus growled exposing his teeth. He relaxed at last, letting his hands twisting into talons as his skin turned into its normal jet black. He moaned softly as his muzzle formed, and his sharp, dagger-like teeth filled in. “Humans,” he muttered, his tongue slithering out to lick his teeth absently. “So eager to lose the greatest gifts given to them.”
Severus licked his talons and traced a symbol over Ginny’s skin and laid his hand over her belly. Regeneration of such an insignificant piece of skin in exchange for a lifetime’s worth of fertility seemed so utterly wasteful. It was a good thing that demons were very good at utilising what others were oh so willing to throw away. The circle around her flashed as it sealed the covenant between the girl and demon.
“Enjoy your brief regained innocence, girl,” Severus growled. “I hope it was worth it.”
Purple glow covered his eyes and flashed brightly, and the demon snarled, black ichor dripping from his exposed teeth and into the floor where it sizzled and smoked. He closed his eyes, taking his payment from the unconscious witch.
“What is this?” Severus opened his eyes. His talons passed over Ginny’s head. “Soul magic. Traces. Clinging to you. You smell like him.” Severus growled, suddenly more interested than before. “He clings to your mind like a parasite, praying that none will notice its influence on your mind. How long have you carried this taint, girl? How long has Tom Riddle’s memory been leeching off your own soul’s energy?”
Severus’ muzzle twisted in a malicious grin, his palm resting on Ginny’s forehead. “Time to pay the piper, Tom, and for you, girl… this, I do for free. Consider it my payment for making fun of your hair when you burnt it in potions."
Severus pressed his muzzle to to Ginny’s forehead and breathed in the soul magic clinging to her mind as the scream of a the younger Tom Riddle cried out in denial and rage. Severus’ eyes glowed in the dark of the room as he laid Ginny back in the circle.
A bestial smile spread across his muzzle. Things were looking even better for sprogs.
Very good, indeed.
-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-
To say that Severus was very eager to come and share the great “news” with his mate would have been an understatement. To say that Hermione was glad to see him would have been like using the word breeze to describe a category five hurricane.
Severus roared out in triumph as his wings flared outward and he buried his fangs into his mate’s exposed throat. His ichor poured into the wound as their wings intertwined and tails twisted together, the bases of their tails vibrated as they seemed to fuse together.
Hermione’s scream of exaltation echoed in the chambers, and their wings wrapped around each other as their bodies shuddered together in shared ecstasy.
As they lay tangled together in a mess of wings, tails, and entwined limbs, each panting against the other as the aftershocks worked through them, Severus felt the harvested fertility settle between them and built the base of welcome for future sprogs that would come from both his mate’s womb and his gonads. As soon as the bed was formed, the eaten soul magic he had cleaned off of one Ginerva Weasley was transformed into the first layer of fertility between them both.
While sprogs were still a long ways off, it was the first step of a reality he planned to give his mate— a dream of fertility and sprogs. Once they had collected enough soul magic and transformed into true fertility, all they would have to do is find the right place at the right time. The rest they were more than practiced at doing. That part would be easy and oh so rewarding.
Hermione panted against his chest as they cuddled under the blanket of their combined wings. she lapped at his jaw, and he opened his mouth over hers, pouring his chi into her with all of his heart. He licked her face as she settled against him, their bodies joined in the process of converting the magic and power inside themselves.
Severus closed his eyes as his soft pants of completeness filled him.
Perhaps he owed James Potter an apology. His son wasn’t a complete waste of space after all. Harry Potter had given him the greatest gift of all: his mate. Tom Riddle, on the other hand, had given the mated pair a change of every demon’s dream: sprogs.
They would find his Horcruxes and drain them dry of their their soul magic and let their sprogs dance upon his corpse.
The world was beautiful, and it was going to be even more so very, very soon.
-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-
A/N: Mmmm… sprogs.
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In the Darkness in Which We Are Made