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Debaucery Complete	By : Desert_Sea Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Snape/Hermione Views: 26266 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any other characters/things/places created by J.K. Rowling. I make no money from my fan-fiction.

Chapter List
- 5
- 6
- 7
A/N: OO – ‘Dirty dirty goodness’ – LOL. That’s what this story is all about it seems. :) Thanks for the corrections, the ‘black’ was intended as standalone but I could see how it looked like an omission so all fixed. The cliffhangers always come up when I don’t know what’s going to happen next!
Ali – ‘I almost blew my cover in front of the hubby while reading this chapter’ – hahah! Well, believe it or not writing HP is my secret guilty pleasure that I have to keep from my husband. ‘Ooo err missus’ cracked me up – I haven’t heard that in ages. I also haven’t heard ‘dreich’ for such a long time – awesome. Your three day heatwave sounds like here – as they say, if you don’t like the weather, just wait a few hours!

Chapter 6 – Profligentious
A muffled shriek and frantic scrabbling sounded outside the door before hurried footsteps thudded away.
“Did you actually mean for her to join us?” The girl in his arms leaned back, tilting her head to look up at him.
He pinched her nipple hard and she cried out. She was there to be fucked and that was all. His intentions were his own. She’d do well to remember that.
“I thought she was a friend of yours,” he muttered, continuing to slide his digit down between her pussy lips.
“Mmmm,” the redhead moaned. “She is. I should . . . I should go and see her.”
He halted his movements.
“When we’ve finished here,” she continued before placing her hand over his, grinding it into her pussy as she thrust against him.
She was extremely insistent, almost desperate. Not at all what he’d imagined. He wondered how Potter had managed to fuck things up so much. She was up for just about anything as far as he could tell. Potter would only need to let her have her own way now and again—let her explore her fantasies and fetishes without judgement. Clearly being the ‘chosen one’ didn’t extend to the bedroom.
“Will you fuck me now?” she asked, her voice reduced to a breathy whine.
She was absolutely cock focused. He could let her have what she wanted—what she’d clearly come here for. Or he could expand her horizons. Once she was exposed to such things, it would increase her dissatisfaction with Potter even further—she’d unlikely go back for more of his ‘missionary magic.’
He cared little for their relationship but he suddenly found himself feeling inexplicably drained. His body hadn’t fully recovered from the injuries it had incurred—although he had managed to keep up his steady regime of sex throughout his recovery. One particular nurse at St Mungo’s had proven to be superbly skilled at ‘oral therapy.’ And then there was Miss Bell whose impressive thighs had ridden him to completion in his office chair almost on a daily basis.
So it wasn’t that he was off sex. It’s just that his enthusiasm had waned with the departure of their less-than-adept, Peeping Tom. He’d seen right through Granger’s disillusionment from the outset and had enjoyed indulging in a little show for her benefit. He now wished he hadn’t called her out. The thought of her watching him fuck the Weasley girl made him hard. She was so disapproving and yet so desperately wanting—whether she was aware of it or not.
Still, if he hadn’t been so convinced that she was in denial, he could easily believe that she hated him. The deep scowl that greeted him each morning would be enough to wither a lesser man. However, he’d met with enough disapproval in his lifetime to be all but immune. And it certainly wasn’t as though he was in need of attention. He received plenty. Whenever he wanted it.
But he was still struggling with the redhead who had twisted in his arms and was now looking up at him, perplexed. He’d never considered her as anything more than the youngest of the intolerable Weasley clan, or the girl with the unenviable job of stroking Potter’s ego for the rest of his life. But she’d pursued him aggressively enough for him to be interested. She was certainly his play-type—responsive, pliable—young enough to have the stamina to endure what he had to offer. And open to anything.
But right now there was only one thing he wanted to do to her.
“Turn around,” he ordered.
She had the Gryffindor defiance—that rebellious glint in her brown eyes that a certain other Gryffindor possessed in spades. Granger’s was pathological. This one’s was only self-serving. She’d do as she was told.
“I find you sexy. I’d like to be able to watch you,” she murmured huskily, her hands reaching out to trail down his abdomen.
“I said . . . turn . . . around.”
With a sigh, she turned. Reaching out, he grasped the straps of her dress and pulled them down roughly before flicking off her bra and throwing it aside. She was too self-assured. She’d be far more responsive with a little fear pumping through her veins.
“Knickers off. On the bed. All fours.” He dealt each command with classroom authority. She’d already revealed those fantasies to him; his words alone would be making her wet.
She slithered her knickers down before assuming her position on the bed. He stood over her, taking in the view of her slim, pale body and red hair. That’s what he wanted right now. Not her face. It wouldn’t work if he saw her face.
Inhaling deeply he let his hand drop down to his cock, gripping its solid contours through his trousers as he let his imagination take hold. And when he was set, he pulled his fly open, releasing the velvety warmth into his palm. Stroking it, he reflected upon the time when his hand had been the only comfort available to him. And now there was all this, young nubile women clamouring to get a piece of him. He needed to remind himself of that—of how far he had come. He didn’t flatter himself that any of them loved him. But he preferred it that way. He didn’t have to pretend to love them back.
“I am very displeased with you,” he growled, letting his words simmer between them as he watched her buttocks twitch.
“Your antics have disgusted me . . .” He felt his breathing deepen, the red haze creeping in at the edges of his vision.
“And for that you will be punished. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir,” she gasped, her head dropping down.
He knelt on the bed behind her, not bothering to take off his boots—if he remained fully clothed, he could leave as soon as he was done.
Placing his palm in the centre of her back, he pushed her down until her red hair was fanned out across the sheets, pale buttocks straining into the air. Sliding his knee between her thighs, he forced them apart before setting a hand on one of her cheeks.
“Your punishment and all that it entails will end with your safe word. Otherwise, you will take everything I give you.”
He paused before deciding upon something else. “You will apologise with each stroke. Is that understood?”
“Yes, sir,” her muffled response drifted up.
Her compliance pleased him. “Then we are agreed.”
His hand on her buttock slid down between her cheeks before he extended his index finger, slipping it easily into her pussy. She was already sopping as he knew she would be. Sliding a second digit in, he pumped her mechanically. He could speak to her but saw no purpose—this was all process, his actions would communicate anything he needed to say.
Grasping the base of his cock, he levelled the head at her entrance before recalling his fantasy. Taking in the entirety of what was before him, his mouth twisted into a mirthless sneer before he thrust into her.
Moaning, she fisted the sheets between her hands. He pumped into her again, making her entire body shudder as he bottomed out. She was pleasantly tight around his cock—either they hadn’t fucked a lot or Potter didn’t have the girth to trouble her. He suspected the latter but wasn’t particularly interested in giving any more consideration to Potter’s dick—he was more interested in getting the most out of his ex-fiancée.
With his next incursion, he slapped his palm sharply against one of her cheeks, making her cry out in surprise.
“I’m sorry, sir,” she responded after a short delay.
This was good. Better than he’d imagined. He continued to press his palm into her back as he fucked her, delivering short hard slaps to her cheeks with the other hand. She didn’t skip a beat, giving him what he’d demanded. After a while the sting forced him to change hands. This time, he sat back to admire the blooming red in her cheeks as his cock slammed between them, making them jolt like a pair of raspberry blancmanges.
The pain had turned her voice ragged and her apologies were beginning to sound meaningful, almost heartfelt. He reveled in it initially, enjoying the power, the perverse vindication, but then it started to tug somewhere uncomfortable. Gritting his teeth, he willed himself to hold on, to see out this rare opportunity.
Speeding up, he watched as it slick cock made increasingly short egressions from the depths of her pussy. He slapped her so hard that she cried out.
“I’m sorry!”
His throat tightened.
“So you fucking should be!” he choked before pulling out and grasping his cock, stroking it as he spurted his creamy release over her mottled purple cheeks.
And the satisfaction lasted for just one second before the shock and guilt poured over him like a shower of shit.
“Fuck,” he ground out, before flipping her over to see her face, blood red and shaken, on the verge of tears.
He had no words and so did the only thing he could think of. The only thing he was good at anymore.
Slipping his legs off the bed, he knelt on the ground and buried his face in her pussy. Using a combination of hands, lips, tongue and nose, something women came back for more than anything else, he worked until her shuddering breaths had turned into gasps and moans. The heaviness in his chest hadn’t abated but the sounds soothed him somewhat. And when he felt the tension mounting inside her, he curled the pads of his fingers into her G-spot and rubbed as he sucked gently on her clitoris.
A high-pitched keening rose from her and suddenly her hands were in his hair, stroking him. He closed his eyes, wishing he’d stayed at home and jacked off. Or found a complete stranger—someone separate from him and his . . . fucking . . . history.
“Uuuhhh Gods!” she cried out as she clutched him tightly, her pussy exploding in his face. She writhed under him as he continued to rub, lick and pump her, drawing out a second powerful orgasm before he sat back on his haunches, breathing heavily.
When she finally opened her eyes, blinking away the daze, she gave him a curious look.
“I don’t know who she is, but I hope you got her out of your system—for her sake.”
He stared at her for a long time, his chest billowing behind his black shirt before finally dipping his head in acknowledgement. Standing, he tucked his cock back in his trousers and drew the wand from his sleeve, pointing it at her.
“What are you doing?” she frowned, sitting up.
“Don’t worry, I’m merely casting a cleansing spell.”
“Don’t worry . . . I won’t be needing it,” she replied levelly.
His black eyes searched hers before he inclined his head. “Miss Weasley.” And disappeared out the door.
***
Hermione still had the cushion over her face when the knock came at her door. She had a reasonable idea of who it was and clearly that person hadn’t been in any hurry to seek her out so they could just stay out there. She rolled over, pushing her face into the back of the couch, trying to block out the world.
“Hermione?” The knock came again.
“Go away,” Hermione called.
“Let me in. I need to talk to you.”
“I’m busy.”
“You’re lying on the couch. I can tell by your voice. Let me in. Please?”
Hermione rolled onto her back with a loud huff. What did she want? To gloat about fucking Snape or to tease her about spying on them?
She was both furious and mortified—and unsure if either or both were even warranted. Ginny had betrayed her. Hadn’t she? Or maybe she hadn’t. It wasn’t like she’d promised not to seek him out. They’d not really discussed it. Was there such thing as betrayal by omission—the fact that she hadn’t shared her plans? Or was it just sour grapes on Hermione’s part? But sour grapes about what? It wasn’t as though she wanted Snape. Was she just jealous that Ginny seemed to have so many options and she had none? Or did she feel betrayal on Harry’s behalf?
“Hermione?” Ginny was speaking through the keyhole. How ironic.
“Yessss,” Hermione hissed irritably, pushing herself off the couch and storming to the door.
Placing a haughty hand on her hip, she yanked the door open.
“What do you want?”
Ginny smirked. “What have you done to your hair?”
Hermione patted her head and realized she must look a fright. “If you must know, I’ve been rocking with embarrassment. What have you been up to?”
The smirk dropped away and Ginny sighed. “I’m sorry, Hermione. I should have come straight here.”
Hermione pursed her lips, scanning her suspiciously. It wasn’t quite what she’d expected.
“Come in,” she muttered resignedly, standing aside to allow Ginny to pass.
“Do you want a drink?” She followed her into the room.
“Yes. Something strong.”
Hermione went into the kitchenette and grabbed a half bottle of gin and two glasses from the cupboard. She slopped a good amount into both glasses before handing one to her friend who was standing, looking out the window at the blank wall of the building opposite.
“Do you want to sit?”
“No . . . I think I’ll be standing for a while.” Ginny took a large gulp.
Hermione propped herself on the arm of one of her chairs, crossing her legs at the ankles.
“So what happened? What did he do to you?”
“Nothing that I didn’t ask for.” Ginny continued to gaze out the window.
“What went wrong? You two seemed to be getting along famously the last time I saw you.”
“Hmmm,” Ginny snorted mirthlessly.
There was a long silence. Hermione was beginning to get worried. She tried the light-hearted approach.
“Let me guess—he couldn’t get it up?”
Ginny raised her eyebrows in wry acknowledgement. “Nope. That part worked fine.”
“What then?”
Ginny turned away from the window. “He’s pretty fucked up.”
“Of course he’s fucked up.” Hermione frowned. “You don’t behave as he does if you’re happy and carefree. What did he do to you?”
Ginny sighed. “It wasn’t what he did. It was his intention.” She took another gulp. “Maybe if I didn’t know him, I might have been able to go along with it all. I mean—I had a double orgasm for the first time in my life. He’s incredibly good but . . . “
“But he’s fucked up,” Hermione finished, taking a swallow.
“I just thought this was an opportunity to get away from all that emotional baggage—the stuff that Harry carries around constantly. Only to find someone worse . . . “
“You weren’t looking for a relationship with him were you?” Hermione looked taken aback.
“No, of course not. I just wanted someone experienced and open. He’s sexually open but I’m pretty sure it’s just a cover.”
“For what?”
“Intimacy . . . love . . . whatever fucked up thing he’s missing and craving.”
Hermione sighed heavily, staring into her glass.
“So the take-home message is ‘keep your distance’?”
“He’s still hot. And I’d fuck him again if he sorted his shit out,” Ginny said. “But he needs someone to sort him.” She looked at Hermione pointedly.
Hermione’s eyebrows shot up. “You want me to sort him out so you can fuck him again?”
Ginny smirked. “Isn’t that what friends are for?”
- 5
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Debaucery *Complete*

Debaucery Complete