A Different Kind of Magic--UNDERGOING EDIT

I am going to post one chapter a day until I get through chapter 68 which is where I am stuck.... I am hoping for my muse to strike up the band soon so I can get on with the story. I have edited through the end since I love you guys so much and know what it feels like to chomp at the bit for updates. What can I say I'm a sucker for reviews. As the title implies, here is a bit of lovin' for ya.




Chapter 56- Simply Smut

Severus lay sprawled out across the sofa, a book on the properties of ingredients from northern climes propped on his chest. His mind drifted to the potions lab he had explored when he and Hermione had returned from the meeting. He hadn’t even seen it upon their arrival as it had been disillusioned until Minerva had deemed fit to reveal it to him, and she had been very generous indeed.

He gave a wry smirk. It was almost Slytherin of her. As much as he hated Rabastan there was no doubt the man had had a hand in designing and building the addition. There would be no need for him to return to Hogwarts for ingredients any time soon. It was irritating that he had to do everything by hand. He would enlist Hermione’s help with things that needed to be put into stasis or the special touch of a wand, but he was grateful to have a small bit of his former passion at hand to occupy his time. It didn’t hurt that he had a beautiful woman to spend the time with either, if he could keep his sharp tongue in check. He had alienated her once. He did not intend to do so again.

Hermione stomped down the stairs, sighing loudly.

“That bad?” he asked, head half-cocked in her direction.

“He misses his father,” she replied, dropping to the floor next to him. “Teddy doesn’t understand why he can’t live at the castle with his father. Even though you and Minerva have talked to him about the magic he displayed at the Manor, he is still a young boy that doesn’t grasp his importance in the world. He just wants his parents, toys and a safe place to live.”

“That’s all I ever wanted,” Severus murmured under his breath.

“What did you say?” she asked, distracted.

“Nothing.”

“Oh.”

He pretended to read the book, but was having a tough time concentrating. The maddening hint of jasmine and patchouli tickled his nostrils again. If memory served, he had smelled it on her before. It was very seductive. He imagined only a select few would be able to distinguish it from the light musk of her arousal it masked and blended with. A telltale bulge grew inside his trousers. Oh Merlin.

It had been a week or so since the Order meeting and Hermione had given him no indication anything in her behavior was amiss. She had quietly accepted his need for rest and peace, allowing him ample time to himself while tending to the boy. Oh gods how he missed her delectable lips and hips, soft skin and limbs wrapped around him…..

Hermione’s hand toyed with the hair behind his ear, her head resting against his shoulder. It had been a long day and she was very tired. Her eyes drifted shut, the soft breath of the man next to her creating a pattern of waves across her subconscious, lulling her deeper into rest.

Severus took her hand as it fell limp from his hair to the sofa. Looking closely at her nails, he discovered she had gone to great lengths to restore their beauty. Buffed and polished lightly, the nail bed shone on each fingertip in the dim light. He could make out the callous on the side of her fingers where she rested the quill when she wrote. It begged to be touched.

He nipped lightly at the skin, barely scraping his teeth along the side of her index finger. His tongue tip took the journey back up, slowing to lave the pad print at the top. He became mesmerized with the intricate swirls there, squinting intently as if trying to commit the design to memory. Each time the flexible muscle touched her skin she jumped imperceptibly in reaction. Snape felt his loins tighten. It was such a turn on to simply focus on such a tiny, seemingly innocuous part of her body. She was completely unaware of what he was doing but still responded on a primal level.

Watching her face the best he could from his position, the fingertip was inserted delicately into his mouth to the first knuckle. Sallow, smooth lips closed in an O around the digit, tongue suckling her like a kitten on its mothers’ teat. He closed his eyes and imagined it was her nipple in his mouth. Each gentle caress was applied with utmost care, his concentration refined to focus on bringing her pleasure. He fantasized that his hand reaching into his boxers was hers, shyly taking his aching cock into her delicate palm.

Hermione moaned in her sleep, shifting uncomfortably against his shoulder. Her head lolled to the side, half resting on his chest now. Severus began to apply slightly more pressure to her finger, taking it more deeply into his mouth, moving it in and out as one would savor a rare treat. The woman by his side made an incoherent mewl, her hips bucking slightly as she shifted again.

The scent of her arousal was overpowering. Even in her sleep she was soaking her knickers. Snape took a deep breath and applied more pressure to his cock. The uncircumcised skin was plied expertly in short staccato strokes. The slow familiar burn began moving down in his chest and lowering to his belly, then to his groin. Her entire finger was in his mouth, her ragged breathing urging him on explicitly, unknowingly.

He just knew her panties were soaked. Hermione writhed again, bringing her legs together with frustration. Severus felt the inevitable tide building within as he stroked himself with determined pressure and rhythm. He didn’t mean to, but suddenly the orgasm was right there and he bit her finger, crying out her name around the flesh as he spilled himself into his trousers and over his hand.

Hermione sat up with a shriek, yanking her hand away from his face. Her finger throbbed, a huge bite mark at the base, dripping with saliva. She felt hot and ready, remembering the erotic dream she had been having of her and Severus. Severus.

She turned around to seek him out. Snape’s guilty eyes met with her own. One hand was still buried in his trousers and he tried to nonchalantly run his fingers through his hair.

“Have a good nap?” he smirked evilly.

“What were you doing? Wanking?”

He arched a brow, the curl still at his lip.

“Oh my god. I don’t believe you! Why didn’t you wake me up? That is just so selfish of you!”

Then she was on him, pressing her lips firmly into his own. Merlin I love her!

Her hands were enmeshed in the blue-black hair on either side of his head. The lava in between her thighs was throbbing, insistent. She was furious he had taken care of himself without her, leaving her wanting. Their lips parted to intercept one another midway, giving and taking in even measure. It was a kiss that started out as a snowball on a mountaintop. It slowly tumbled down the rocky slope, gathering speed and mass along the way.

Severus found his palm under her shirt and over the bra, a large handful of goodness being treated to his dexterous touch. The hand covered in semen slipped down the front of her slacks. No wonder he had been able to smell her. Her cunt was soaked. He gripped her mound tightly as she ground herself in a most unladylike way against him.

Deft thrums along her folds, thumb stroking her clit made her go wild over him. The kiss had descended into an avalanche of desire. Her tongue was so deeply shoved into his mouth he thought he could swallow her whole or drown in her touch.

Hermione shamelessly humped his hand, breaking the intoxicating kiss to sit up straight and ride the three fingers he was shoving into her. As she came down on his fingers, the chanting started.

“Severus. Severus. Severus. Severus. Severus.” The mantra went on and on as she was now wantonly fucking him to the point of threatening to sprain his wrist.

Her hand shot down into her pants to help finish herself off. Snape’s eyes sparked at her wild abandon, a fierce possessiveness gripping his emotions at the sight of her pleasuring herself on something as simple as his hand.

He could see the flutter of movement as she worked her clit with accomplished flair. The chanting had become a continuous sound that started low and grew louder with each passing moment. Her eyes flew open and her head fell back as her hips ground down violently into the throes of her orgasm.

Dirty moans of “Oh fuck yes Severus you fucking sex god fist me you fucking Death Eater love me you cunt licking sonofabitch.”

She had quite the dirty little mouth. She also had quite the tight, dirty little cunt. Severus wondered if he would be able to brew potions the next day as she had surely dislocated at least one of the fingers.

At last, the fierce grip of orgasm faded and she gently pulled his soaked, hurting hand from her slacks.

She looked embarrassed while he looked from his abused flesh to her satisfied smile.

“You owe me one.”

“That was payback for biting me and wanking while I was sleeping.”

“Touche’.”

--So this next bit is Rabastan and he is a bit rough with his woman so.... just a small warning for that.

Severus and Hermione weren’t the only ones getting their rocks off.

Rabastan was furiously hard for Hermione. He had barely been able to stand in the same room as her without getting an erection the day of the Order meeting and he hadn’t seen her since. Only the thought of McGonagall’s sagging tits under him kept his pole from standing at attention. His long strides ate up the ground to Hogsmeade. Some unlucky bitch was going to get a rough fucking tonight.

The little witch had gotten under his skin. He hated himself for being weak for the Mudblood. No, she was not a Mudblood whore, she was something special. He hated Severus for capturing her heart first. There had never been any interest on Rabastan’s part in monogamy or a serious relationship. Sex was purely physical for him, both the giving and receiving. Many a wench had been broken hearted when they had tried to capture him with their cunts, only to have him spurn their attentions afterward. Most witches were pedestrian in bed. Spending his seed was a chore at times, finding a worthy partner had been difficult.

Hermione had been one of the very few that had captured his attention. She was the only one that had snagged his heart. It was infuriating to know she was probably spreading her legs for that greasy bastard right that moment. The brief time he had bedded her was the best fucking sex of his entire life. It wasn’t just that she was young and had a tight pussy, although that was a bonus. It was the intensity with which she had desired him. There was no pretense to the lovemaking. She had accepted his terms and given all of herself to him. Her pleasure had seemed unselfish, unrequited. The passion in her eyes had burned into his soul. When he mounted her there was no doubt he was the only person in her mind at that moment. He shrugged off the uncomfortable thought that any of her passion for him had to do with that damned curse. Surely she had wanted him as he had wanted-nay- needed her.

The thought of her was an aphrodisiac. It drove him to an unhealthy distraction that he couldn’t afford to have around Malfoy. Now he had that irritating Fishwick chap to tag along as well. There was a lot to be pissed about tonight.
Rosmerta looked up, annoyed at the lone straggler banging in from the cool night. It was closing time.

“Sorry mate, we’re just closing shop. You’ll have to come back tomorrow.”

“Are you turning me down, Rosie?”

Recognition dawned in her eyes and she quickly dropped the rag to come around the far side of the bar.

“How much?” he growled.

“Fifty quid love.”

“Twenty.”

“Forty.”

“Thirty-five.”

“Done.”

Rosemerta flipped the door shut and warded with a flip of her wand tip. Sex was always interesting with Rabastan. She liked it rough and he was usually in a foul mood when he took her. He looked particularly out of sorts tonight.

One big hand threaded into her blouse and ripped it clean off her chest.

“Hey, that’s my good one!” she complained.

“Shut your mouth Rosie.”

She didn’t argue. Clothes were cheap. She’d transfigure new ones in the morning.

He ripped the rest of her clothing off in a similar fashion.

“Bend over the bar.”

A delicious shiver went through her as she heard the clink of metal and slide of leather on fabric. His belt. Oh god she loved the belt.

A nasty sting smarted along her arse cheek as she cried out. The second one was even more delicious, right along her thigh. The third one was painfully sinful in the small cleft above her bum. The fourth one hurt so much she bit her lip and drew blood. He usually wasn’t this rough with her but she was afraid to say anything. He was a good fuck and paid well.

Eight more blows rained down on various parts of her backside, each one increasing in intensity. The last one hurt so badly she almost cried out but bit her tongue instead, making her eyes roll back into her head.

Rabastan’s eyes grazed down the bruised body of the witch in front of him. It had felt good to abuse her. He had imagined it was Hermione who had defied him. Rabastan had lied to Hermione. He had told her he didn’t hurt women. Under his own twisted code of ethics, he considered paid whores like Rosie to be beneath the standards he set for true ladies. If he paid for it, he did what he wanted with it. If they complained, he beat them worse and didn’t pay. It irked him that Severus had been right to some extent. He wasn’t a nice man in many respects, but he played the part well.

“Suck my dick.”

He didn’t feel like getting undressed. Rabastan just wanted to get it over with so he could go to his quarters and sleep. The two-bit madam took him down her throat in one move. He cruelly fucked her face, ignoring her cries of indignation. The sound of his balls slapping against her chin was very satisfying.

He abruptly pulled out of her and picked her up like a rag doll. Her eyes held a healthy measure of fear when he pushed her behind the bar. She wasn’t enjoying this. Good. He didn’t want her to.

A large untapped barrel of Butterbeer lay ready for the next day’s customers. He shoved her over it and lowered himself behind her. He used the edge of the bar for a grip and began fucking her without preamble.

“You’re hurting me!”

“Shut the fuck up Rosie!” he snarled, punishing her with his thrusts.

He wanted to fantasize about Hermione and how he had made such sweet, tender love to her. The contrast between the soft moments and the mad, furious couplings they shared was fuel for his anger. It kept him hard and able to channel all of the emotion into his orgasm.

Thirty seconds of punishing thrusting brought him off nicely. Rabastan barely caught Hermione’s name on his lips. “Her- oh- hell, fucking hell!”

He pulled out of her and put himself away without cleaning up. Rosie regained her feet and wobbled against the bar, refusing to look at him.

“Ah shit Rosie.” Now that the fit of anger had run its course he felt bad. This had been a part of himself he had wanted to leave behind. Rosie had always been good to him. A lot of the cheap lays in Hogsmeade avoided him because of his unstable moods. Rosie was one of the few that never turned him down.

His wand came up and he incanted several healing spells over her body. Reaching into a back fold in his robes, a phial of elixir was produced. Rosie hesitantly took and drank the offering, smiling after handing the empty glass back to him. Good. She was going to be alright.

Careful not to kiss her, Rabastan took her in his arms and deftly brought her to a quick climax. “Thanks,” he muttered, throwing fifty galleons on the bar on his way out. It was the least he could do for being so brutal.

How am I ever going to make it without her?

Rabastan was in deep shite, and he knew it. He had fallen in love with the same girl his arch enemy had claimed as his own and he had taken a wand oath with McGonagall and Lupin as witness never to hurt Hermione. He didn’t know what would happen first; death by some creative torture of Lucius, a quick Avada Kadavra by his own wand or an agonizing death from violating Minerva’s oath. Yep, he was in deep shite alright.

Make that very deep shite.