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Quartet	By : OracleObscured Category: Harry Potter > Threesomes/Moresomes Views: 128263 -:- Recommendations : 5 -:- Currently Reading : 11
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
- 66
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Snape’s_Princess: Yaaaas! :) It’s one of my favorite parts of the chapter (and it cracks me up thinking about Lucius and his financially fueled libido). Hope you like this chapter just as much (or more :)).
67—Aria
“Flyyyyy, flyyyyyyy, fly high against the sky.”—Bette Midler
(Severus) 
Severus lay sprawled on the chaise beneath Draco, his arm slung around the boy’s bare shoulders. Draco’s breathing had slowed to a sluggish crawl, and Severus consulted his mental medical chart to record his progress.
Respiration: returned to normal. Feverish flush: gone. Genital temperature gauge: . . . . 
Severus wasn’t sure how to categorize that. The hard prod of Draco’s erection rested heavily against his thigh, and it twitched every few seconds in an anxious tic that indicated at least part of him had yet to find peace. Though whether that was due to the effects of the magic or their current configuration remained to be seen. Snape’s own cock mirrored every twitch, so he could hardly claim to know what constituted calm in that department. But all other signs pointed to a full recovery.
Trailing his fingers up the satin smooth skin of Draco’s back, Severus mapped the rolling plains of his unexplored landscape. With Hermione between them at night, he’d never really gotten a feel for Draco’s finer assets, and he was discovering an alluring blend of both softness and strength in the languid drape of Draco’s musculature. Draco had inherited Lucius’s cat-like sensuality, but where Lucius came across as a lithe, loping tiger, Draco was more like a friendly house-cat that wanted to curl up in your lap and be petted for hours on end. Fortunately, that was a job Severus didn’t mind. Stroking Draco had to be one of the most relaxing things he’d done all week. Possibly all month.
Carding his fingers through a hank of flaxen hair, Severus scratched at the boy’s scalp, and Draco hummed low in his throat, purring for more. Certain that laughter would insult his new kitten, Severus only smiled.
Settling in for a therapeutic pet, he allowed his head fall back onto the chaise’s plush upholstered padding, but just before his eyes drifted closed, he spotted movement in the garden.
Hermione rose from the flowers like a primordial goddess, her limbs long and loose, fucked into fluidity—yet there was something decidedly fierce about her appearance. He couldn’t put his finger on what exactly made him think that. It might have been her eyes, which even while half-lidded with post-coital euphoria, seemed to radiate savage power. Or perhaps it was simply because her hair had been shagged into absolute madness. Half damp, the frizzy curls clumped in intermittent ringlets, and bits of flower petal clung to the brunette briar. Wild didn’t begin to describe the air around her; she had become nature itself.
“Get Draco back in the pool,” she said as she approached.
“Whaaaat?” Draco yawned. “I can’t go again, love. Not yet!”
“No,” she replied with a soft snort. “Lucius said something about the earth reviving him, and I thought the pool might do the same for you.”
"Oh.” He shrugged slowly, his shoulders dragging. “Okay.”
Draco heaved himself out of the chair and staggered to the steps that descended into the pool’s shallow end. Plopping down with a groan, he sprawled out, arms and legs akimbo, as if someone had petrified him mid-snow angel. “I do feel better in here.”
Hermione’s grin lit with triumph, and she nudged Snape’s hand with her knee to make sure he’d noted her cleverness. 
“Yes, yes, you’re a bloody genius,” he drawled, extending his finger to tickle her patella. “Are you ready for round three, Madame Brainiac?”
He could tell by her expression she’d seen the party in his shorts, but her husky reply left no room for doubt. “Very much so.”
Crawling up the foot of the chaise, she stalked his cock in true Gryffindor fashion, a lioness through and through. Her hands skimmed his thighs, and when she reached ground zero, she clasped his hard-on, tugging at his shorts as if she didn’t have the patience to remove them.
Not relishing the idea of boxer burn, Severus hastily pushed his waistband below his hips, and she pulled off his underwear—triumphant once more. Tossing the black cotton over her shoulder without so much as a second look, Hermione’s focus narrowed, and she eyed her prize with a zeal that might have frightened him if not for her history of phallic devotion.
Severus watched with bated breath as she lowered her head and hovered a half inch above his gleaming knob, breathing on him as if she planned to polish his helmet to a glorious shine.
But then she didn’t do a damn thing.
She just sat there.
Grinning. 
“Don’t test me, baby girl. Now is not the time for teasing.”
Her grin widened. “I’m just waiting for your dick to get all sparkly, Daddy. See how it’s glittering for me?”
A chuckle slipped past his impatience. “I do. Why don’t you find out if it tastes as sparkly as it looks.”
Gold flashed through the burnished heat of her stare, and she nodded, her pink tongue making its first appearance.
Finally.
But instead of taking his manhood in her mouth, she dipped down and tapped at the base, fannying about with his foreskin before licking a wet trail up the underside. When she reached his plumbed crown, she paused for several seconds, her eyes finding his, and then—ever so slowly—she swirled through his pre-cum as if he were made of ice cream.
Severus grunted and thrust toward her mouth, but she’d already set off on a different route. Blast! Foiled again! 
Returning to the foot of her path, she puckered up and blew a soft stream of air over his damp skin. Back and forth. Round in circles. Lick and blow. His grip on the chair tightened.
Hermione nuzzled his shaft and peeked up at him through her lashes. “Do you like that, Daddy?”
Merlin’s knitted nut sac! She’d somehow combined all the coyness and submission of Little Hermione with the smoldering burn of Filthy Fireball Hermione. Nudging at his cock with the ball of her nose, she playfully bumped it, and when it bounced back, she gave it a whisper soft kiss. 
Snape’s abdomen clenched, and he reached down to guide her up to his glans. “More, baby. Get Daddy as hard as you can.”
Her eyes fluttered in ecstasy, as if his words had skittered over her clit and fingered her cum-soaked cunny. She pressed her mouth to his flesh, blessing his erection with a benevolent kiss, and then proceeded to snog it to a slobbery mess. In a rush of mindless desperation, Snape’s hips bounded off the seat, and the uncontrolled momentum inadvertently propelled his prick down the back of her throat. He expected a sharp reprimand—or at least some glares and coughing—but when her gaze flew to his, he saw no censure.
Her eyes blazed—full to the brim with aureate fire. Panting hard, she lifted her head, and her voice seethed over his skin, hot as dragon’s breath, “I need you, Daddy. Inside me. NOW.”
“Yesssssss,” he hissed, his pulse pounding in time with her metallic irises. “Get up here, little girl. Show me how you ride.”
She rose to all fours and approached with the grace of a prowling feline, but as soon as her pussy drew level with his cock, she unexpectedly dropped, dragging her slick cunt along the ridge of his raphe. Her back arched, and without warning, she tipped him into her sheath and engulfed half his length with a possessive snarl. 
Severus lurched, overwhelmed by the pleasure, but he locked his jaw and grabbed hold of her hips to help seat her on her new throne. “Are you ready?” he growled through his teeth. “If you are, then hold on tight.”
Leaning forward, Hermione snaked her arms around his neck, and a shudder of excitement rushed through her body. She was ready. 
But was he?
Severus closed his eyes and focused on the sensation of weightlessness. As if buoyed by the wings of his erection, they levitated off the chair, and Snape gestured toward the candles, calling the tapers to rise around them in a carousel of revolving flames.
“Don’t drop me, Daddy.”
“Never,” he whispered.
“Lucius says to be careful when you come—that it’s really hard to concentrate.”
“I appreciate the warning, but I assure you, we’re quite safe.”
"Can we go higher?”
He smirked. “I thought you didn’t like flying.”
“That’s on a broom. This is totally different. I want to feel the wind around us when I come all over you.”
She certainly made an enticing argument. Severus floated them, and the candles, about ten feet off the ground. “How’s that?”
She looked down and muttered, “Sorta scary,” but then, breaking into a wide smile, added, “and exciting. Make me come in the air, Daddy. I’m just about there.”
Oh thank Merlin! He was ready to blow, and he assumed Draco and Lucius’s abbreviated stamina weren’t simply a coincidence. The elements were most definitely having an affect, just not in the way they had assumed.
Fortifying himself with an inhalation of clear night air, Severus braced Hermione in his arms, and ever so carefully thrust up into her, inch by inch, cutting his usual pace in half just to be safe.
But his precautions were for naught; as soon as he moved, his balls shifted into launch mode, and a telltale rush of endorphins foretold his doom. Shit!
“Oh gods,” she moaned. “I feel really weird.”
He couldn’t tell whether she was turned on or airsick. “Should I set us down?”
“No, it’s a good weird. Like my head is full of butterflies.”
A fluttering suffused Snape’s head as well, though he thought it was more akin to bird wings. It left him feeling strangely high, but the sensation brought no anxiety. Far from it.
It felt right. 
Perfect.
"I'm so close!” she gasped, her nails sinking into his back.
Thank fuck! “Come for me, baby.”
“I love you, Severus.”
He pressed his lips to her neck. “I love you too.”
“Oh gods, this is . . . It feels like your cock is breaking me open.”
“I hope you mean in a good way.”
“Mm-hm. So good. Will you touch my arse so I come extra hard, Daddy? I feel empty without your in there.”
He was already lubing his middle finger in his mouth. No time to waste. “That’s my good girl . . . begging to be filled.” Reaching around, Severus used his thumb and pinky to spread her cheeks then he tapped the slickened digit against her backdoor  “Just one finger right now.” He slipped past the first tight ring with little effort, and as he sank inside, she bucked forward, urging him deeper and riding him even faster.
“Later we’ll see what else you need in here,” he murmured. “That’s what you had in mind, wasn’t it?”
“Uuuuuuunh!”
“I thought so.” He worked his way deeper, all the way to the knuckle. “Good girls need a thick, hard cock stretching their bottom holes every day. Tell Daddy how much you want it.”
“Mmmmmmmm!” Her riding became more of a delirious bounce. “I love it!”
“I know.” He kissed her temple and mentally forced his bollocks to hold steady. Almost there, lads. This should do the trick. “I know everything. I know how you want me to bend you over and fuck your arse till you scream . . . how you want me to take charge of your body and wring every last drop of pleasure from it. Tell me it isn’t true, little girl. Tell me you’re not imagining yourself falling apart in my arms as I take you to one climax after another . . . after another . . . after another.”
She shouted once, a solitary note of release, and just as her channel began to throb, her body went into total meltdown, jittering and thrashing atop him so violently he saw stars. 
Severus closed his eyes and disappeared into the cosmos. His overburdened testicles heaved, and he grunted as they ejected their load in a painfully rough blast.
“Fuck!” His mind swirled, the orgasm blustering through him, whipping his brain into a flurry of disorientation. Merlin, Circe, and Salazar! He didn’t even know which way was up! They were still floating, weren’t they?
He cracked open one eye to be sure. The candles whirled around him, but despite their disconcerting orbit, he saw the shadowed tree line just where he left it.
“Severus!” Hermione threw back her head and howled at the moon—temporarily more canine than cat, “Uuuuunnnhhhaaaaaoooohh!”
Snape watched her, utterly fascinated but too dazed to respond. The needle on his petrol tank had plunged to empty, and the urge to sleep overtook his body like a somnambulance curse. Usually he had a good ten or twenty minutes before his body demanded rest; ten seconds seemed a bit extreme given the short duration of their coupling.
Detecting defeat, her vagina declared itself the victor and released him from its iron grip. The arm he had around Hermione’s back automatically tightened, and with a weak moan, she slumped against him.
Severus stroked her hair, slumping with her, his body falling prey to the lull of his dwindling pulse. “That’s it, just rest now, love. I’ve got you.” He wiggled his finger in her bum, but her walls stubbornly clung to him. “Bear down for me, baby. Spit isn’t lube, and I don’t want to hurt you.”
When she didn’t respond, Snape joggled her with his shoulder. “You all right?”
Still no answer.
“Did you pass out again?”
Her head flopped to the side. 
She was out.
“Dammit.” With a resigned sigh, Severus drew his finger from her as gently as he could then, reengaging the gravitational tether that bound him to the earth, lowered them down to the ground.
Draco and Lucius were both waiting by the chair, Draco still wet from the pool, and the candles descended around the four of them in a flickery circle.
“She’s gone again,” Severus told them.
“Fabulous,” Lucius intoned as helped Severus decouple and shift her onto the chaise.
Draco brushed his fingers over her forehead. “The fever’s back. What the hell happened up there?”
“Exactly what happened with both of you, except with me.” Struck by a wave of dizziness, Severus immediately regretted enunciating his last sentence. He tried again in his quietest rumble, “She just came and then passed out.”
“I’m sure she’ll be fine,” Lucius announced, but it sounded as if he was trying to convince himself more than anyone else. “We should be getting used to this.”
“How am I supposed to get used to seeing her unconscious and unresponsive?” Draco barked back.
Lucius thrust Draco’s trousers into his hands and gave him a hard look. “I think we all had a good idea this might happen. Just put on your clothes, and we’ll take her inside so she can rest.”
Draco huffed and pulled on his trousers, grumbling under his breath the whole time. Anyone else might have thought he was angry, but Severus saw his hands tremble when he tried to do up his flies. 
“We should get her close to a fire,” Draco said gruffly.
“That’s good thinking,” Severus replied before Lucius could say something that started an argument. “If these candles aren’t enough, we’ll take her inside to the fireplace in the kitchen.”
Unfortunately, that last string of words brought on a fit of vertigo, and Severus almost collapsed to the ground. Clasping the edge of the chair, he centered himself with a nasal blast of air. “I’d say I need to go flying to recover, but hopefully just being outside is enough.” He nodded in thanks as Lucius handed him his clothes.
“Maybe we should all touch her to see if that wakes her up,” Draco suggested.
Severus stopped. He didn’t think they’d tried that yet. At least not as far as he could remember. But then again, his mind wasn’t exactly firing on all cylinders. He looked to Lucius for confirmation, and Lucius shrugged. 
Severus finished pulling on his trousers then set his shirt on the table. He wanted both hands free—just in case.
They stood around her chair in a cautious semicircle, each of them looking at the others and waiting for someone else to make the first move. No one said a word, but their unspoken fears crackled in the air like static:
What if it made her worse?
What if they weren’t what was right for her?
What if they weren’t the cure?
It was Draco who broke the stalemate, his shaking hand extending toward her shoulder. Severus and Lucius followed suit, and they all closed in, inches from who knew what kind of result. Miracle? Disaster? Ambiguous flop? Their eyes darted from one another to Hermione. Then back. 
Draco swallowed hard, and Severus nodded at him. Ready? Draco looked to his father, and Lucius acquiesced with a dip of his head.
Taking a collective deep breath, they leaned in and, as one, laid hands on her fevered skin.
A jolt of fire shot through Snape’s palm, and Hermione’s body quaked, a series of spasms electrifying her limbs and torso. 
Then stillness.
Nothing.
Severus thought that was all they were going to get out of her, and he was about to pull away when her eyes snapped open. Gold as Galleons. Not a speck of brown in sight. She stared up at the night sky, her gaze fixed and unblinking, yet he instinctively knew she wasn’t seeing the same constellations he saw. 
“Hermione?” Draco whispered.
Her lips parted, sucking in a gasp, and the air rattled back out in a strange hollow puff. Echoing oddly.
“Draco?” she replied. 
But the voice that asked that question wasn’t Hermione’s.
It was Narcissa Malfoy’s.
Aria—musical piece for a single voice as part of a larger work
An aria is a long song accompanying a solo voice. An aria is usually in an opera. It is an Italian word of the 18th century meaning “air” (i.e. a tune).
“Wind Beneath My Wings” by Bette Midler. Written by Jeff Silbar and Larry Henley. Orginally recorded by Roger Whittaker in 1982, “Wind Beneath My Wings” has been recorded and released by many artists, but the most famous is Bette Midler’s version for the Beaches soundtrack, which won Grammys for both Record of the Year and Song of the Year in 1990.
https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=0iAzMRKFX3
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