Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Kiss The Serpent	By : indigonightowl Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Snape/Hermione Views: 32590 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 9
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 7
- 8
- 9
Author's Note: My apologies that this fic was abandoned for so long. The truth is I have written about 15 chapters but I am a bit stuck on the ending. But I think it is good enough to share, and who knows - someone might help me out with a great idea for the end.

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot...and I lost that a while back.

************

Something was not quite right with Harry.

At lunch, he had aimlessly pushed some Yorkshire pudding about on his plate, and occasionally offered a distracted grunt in response to Ron’s ceaseless diatribe on the awful conditions beleaguering International Quidditch. Hermione watched Harry slip away after the meal, and caught up with him as he made his way to the Quidditch pitch to watch the Ravenclaw team practice.

Harry flashed her a sideways grin and they walked together in silence until they reached the stands. Settling herself next to him, Hermione pinned him with a look that said very clearly that he wasn’t getting away until she had the information she was looking for.

Dark eyes fixed on the Chasers pitching the Quaffle back and forth between them, trying to ignore her piercing stare.

“Are you all right, Harry?” she asked him. “Only you seem a bit distracted lately. You’re not worried about…me, are you?”

Harry sighed. “No, Hermione, though I’m not going to tell you that I’m happy about you and—”

“Shhh!” she hissed, glancing down the stands towards a group of girls who were primping themselves, trying to draw the attention of the all-male Ravenclaw team. “No-one is supposed to know anything.”

“Right. Sorry,” he apologised blandly.

“Well, what is it then?” she pressed.

Harry sighed deeply and looked at his shoes for an endless minute. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course, Harry, anything at all,” she shrugged.

Harry looked at his friend with speculation in his gaze. “Have you…kissed him yet?”

Hermione blushed and Harry nodded slowly. “That’s OK, I get it.” He swallowed hard. “Did you like it?”

She hesitated before nodding mutely. Harry took a deep breath, struggling with the thought of her with the unknown man.

“Did you think you would like it?” he asked finally, a frown creasing his forehead, making his scar ripple a fraction.

Hermione bit her lip. She couldn’t see where this particular line of questioning was going, but alarm bells were going off in her head to be very careful how she answered, in case she broke her vow by accident.

“I wasn’t sure, Harry, perhaps I’m just reacting the way any woman responds to a man.” She shrugged her shoulders noncommittally. “Why?”

Harry fell silent again, struggling to find the words. “How did you know you…like men?” he asked hesitantly.

“I’m not sure I understand what you are asking me,” she said slowly.

“How did you know that you like men…rather than women?” He was inspecting his shoes again.

Hermione was nonplussed. “Well, I didn’t. But I’ve never had any interest in kissing women.” She watched him scrutinising the boys on brooms as they flew by in formation. Her eyes narrowed slightly. The wheels in her head were starting to turn. “Have you ever kissed a girl, Harry?”

His eyes went wide, and he nodded slowly.

“Recently?” she persisted.

He nodded again.

“And?” she prompted, not really knowing what answer she was going to hear.

“And nothing,” he mumbled, “that’s the problem.”

**********

“A’right, gather ‘roun’, then, gather ‘roun’.” Hagrid’s booming voice echoed through the clearing at the edge of the Forbidden Forest. “We’re coverin’ the bits o’ Dragons used fer potions ingredients t’day, so you have to pay extra attention. I got a fabulous surprise fer yeh, an’ we got a lot t’get through.”

It was Thursday afternoon, and the Potions N.E.W.T. class was being shepherded towards the Forbidden Forest by the Care of Magical Creatures teacher. Hagrid had turned up in their teacherless dungeon classroom, muttering something about Professor Snape being needed elsewhere and the class learning about harvesting potions ingredients from dragons. He now gestured proudly towards a small beast chained in the centre of the clearing. None of them had been particularly enthusiastic…until they saw the dragon.

“That thar is Draco trogla…troglo…”

“troglodytes.” Hermione interjected, smiling encouragingly up at the half-giant.

A snigger rippled through the class as people looked from the bulging eyes of the skinny, orange, adolescent dragon, to Draco Malfoy, who was looking like he might cheerfully murder Hagrid.

Hagrid beamed. “Tha’s it! Five points ta Gryffindor, ‘Ermione. Never can wrap me tongue about them Latin names,” he rumbled happily. “Now, where was I? Oh yeah, Draco trog…trog…well, the other name for ‘em is th’ Knucker. I’m allowed t’ ‘ave this ‘un at th’ school fer teachin’ purposes ‘cause this particular species can’t fly, ya see, so it’s easy t’ keep. An’ it can’t breathe fire neither, makin’ it completely safe.” He looked lovingly at the small dragon, which was presently snapping at the chain which held it. “Isn’t ‘ee beau’iful?”

Hagrid’s idea of ‘completely safe’ aside, Hermione was glad that his wish for a dragon had finally come true, especially after Norbert was sent away. She shuddered at the memory. Norbert wouldn’t have been nearly as benign as this one.

“Do its wings get any bigger, Hagrid?” one Hufflepuff girl asked, noting the tiny appendages that graced the back of the scaly body.

“Nope,” he replied, “them is vesta…vesti…”

“Vestigial,” Hermione supplied eagerly, rather than suffer Hagrid murdering the English language.

“Tha’s it! That means they’re small an’ don’ grow no bigger, even though th’ adults get t’ be more’n thir’y feet long,” he explained.

The girl nodded in understanding and went back to peering at the scaly beast.

“The int’restin’ thing about these ‘ere dragons is that they look a lot more like their cousin, the sea serpent. See, they got a long body, bit more like a snake than a dragon. ‘Cause, o’course, you know that dragons and serpents are from the same family. The old books even still call dragons serpents, don’ they?” Hagrid’s love for dragons was contagious and he swept the class along with his stories.

“Don’ get too close thar!” he called out sharply to a Slytherin boy who was sidling closer to get a better look at the Knucker. “They may not breathe fire, but they got a nasty venomous bite that’ll put you in the ‘ospital wing faster than you could say ‘get me to th’ ‘ospital wing!’ Dragons are solit’ry creatures; they don’t much like company, so you’ll be wantin’ to leave ‘im alone,” he warned.

Hermione was fascinated but something was niggling at the back of her mind. Something important that she knew she should be paying attention to, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on what it was. <i>Oh well, if it’s that important, it will come back to me<i>, she decided, and turned her attention back to the lesson.

“O’ course I woulda liked to ‘ave shown yer a Basilisk. Wonderful creatures, they got the ‘ead of bird, an’ the body of a dragon, y’see. They’re also a bit serpentine, being nursed by serpents, an’ all. But bein’ an alchemical creature, they is thought t’be a bit too advanced for students.”

Not to mention the one that had been living in the Chamber of Secrets and wreaking havoc in its spare time, Hermione thought dryly.

“Now, where was I? Oh yeah…”

Hagrid started explaining how various dragon parts were harvested for potions. Of course, normally the dragon was dead, so they wouldn’t be collecting skin or teeth. Today, they had the honour of collecting samples of dragon dung. Fortunately, while they did this Hagrid continued talking about dragons and their love of treasure and word games. Perhaps this class wasn’t a complete loss after all. Hermione loved word games.

A/N: I used Dr Ernest Drakes Dragonology. The Complete Book of Dragons. Five Mile Press 2003. for the material on the Knucker. You find magical books in the darndest places! Santa brought this one. Thanks Santa!

**********

“I’ll bet she’s with…him,” mumbled Ron.

Harry and Ron entered the Gryffindor Common Room. Hermione, once again, was nowhere to be seen. Harry gave a glum nod.

“Can’t we do anything? There has to be some way of rescuing her from this, isn’t there?” Ron asked, hopefully.

Harry scanned the room, noting a few interested glances being thrown their way.

“Not here,” he insisted. “Come on.”

He led the way to their empty dormitory.

“I can’t stand it!” Ron burst out as the door closed, enclosing them in privacy. “The thought of her having to do this is making me sick. I can’t believe she’s even agreed. It’s mental!”

“I know, Ron, but short of taking out Voldemort before the Revel, I can’t see a solution. None of us could…unless YOU want to shag the bloke instead,” he joked hollowly.

But Ron was staring at Harry, his mouth slack.

“That’s it!” he announced, wide-eyed.

“What’s it? You shagging him? I was kidding!” Harry was horrified.

“Don’t be daft,” said Ron, going slightly green at the thought. “I meant that we could go after You-Know-Who and…”

Harry blinked at him. “Are you mad? You weren’t in that graveyard, Ron. Trust me, even if we knew how to find him, and we don’t, you don’t want to go anywhere near that <i>creature</i> without a hundred Aurors in front of you…and even then they’ll only be there to scrape us off the ground afterwards.”

“Oh.” Ron’s face fell.

“Don’t worry, mate. Dumbledore will come up with something. He always does.” He patted Ron consolingly on the back. “In the meantime, Hermione is doing what she thinks is right.” He shuddered at the thought. “But she’ll need us to help pick up the pieces after....”

He couldn’t bring himself to say it.

Ron;s face went green and, scowling, he picked up his pajamas to get ready for bed.

***********

Hermione sat with Severus in his chambers that evening. Silence reigned as each sat, still slightly awkward in their chairs, gazing deliberately into the fire.

Severus had become uncomfortably conscious of her presence, and was painfully aware of her youth and the differences between them. His irritation had not subsided. Annoyed and resentful at the situation he found himself in, he was even more indignant that she appeared to be unaffected by both the circumstances and his mood. It appeared he had even lost his ability to intimidate her.

Well, holding her hand like a lovesick schoolboy will do that, you great dolt, he thought sourly.

She shifted in her seat and turned to look at him. “Is everything all right?” she asked him, tucking her feet up under herself and settling in more comfortably. “Only you missed class today and Hagrid had us collecting dragon dung samples instead.”

Something occurred to her and she turned a suspicious gaze on him. “You put him up to it, didn’t you? Hagrid would never have thought of that on his own.”

His unsurprised glance confirmed it, although he’d never admit it openly.

“I thought so,” she grinned. “So where were you?”

“My every movement is not publicly accountable, as you are well aware,” he drawled, stretching out his legs and leaning back into his chair.

Hermione rolled her eyes. “I’m only asking because I was concerned something had happened to you…like perhaps you got lucky and floo’d off to the Bahamas with Madam Rosmerta.” Her smile was almost saucy.

“And this would concern you?” His voice was carefully neutral.

“Of course! Being stood up by a Death Eater would hardly enhance my reputation.”

She surprised a rare chuckle out of him.

“So if you didn’t run off with Rosmerta and you aren’t in the hospital wing due to some first year blowing off your eyebrows, why did you have us collecting dragon dung?”

“To remove any accusation of favoritism should evidence of our relationship become public.”

“Oh.” She bit her lip.

“Oh, indeed.” She flushed under his pointed glance.

“Does this mean I have to drop Potions?”

He watched in reluctant fascination as her teeth worried at her lower lip. “Not at all,” he declared, tearing his gaze away. “You will simply have sudden things that prevent you from attending my class, and you will sit your Potions N.E.W.T. on our return to Hogwarts after the next Revel. Albus will arrange a Ministry official to attend.”

“Why wait until then? I thought I’d sit all my exams before we…?” Hermione still had trouble finishing that sentence.

“In the event that I do not survive the Revel, despite our efforts to the contrary, there will be no need for you to sit your exams early,” he shrugged as though his death would be a complete non-event.

The thought of him not returning from the meeting with Voldemort made Hermione’s stomach ache. She ignored it, preferring to think about the N.E.W.T.s instead.

“Oh. Oh! But that only gives me a few days! I’m not ready yet!” Hermione’s voice rose with panic. Although it had been her suggestion, she had only just realised exactly how soon that would be.

“Of course you are ready. We have already covered the curriculum and you are top of your class, as you are well aware.” He could have laughed at how she panicked over the N.E.W.T.s, which she was ready for, rather than their joining, for which neither of them was prepared. It reminded him again of why he was angry.

“May I have that in writing?” she asked casually.

“Whatever for?” he was scowling again.

“For Ron. He bet me one Galleon it would be a cold day in hell before you ever acknowledged me. I’d like to rub his nose in it,” she declared, putting her nose in the air.

Despite his anger, Severus was surprised by the tentative friendship that had sprung up between them. Hermione had stopped looking peaky and had started to converse much more freely with him. While he was still restraining his natural urge for sarcasm, he was learning many things about this remarkable young woman.

He had given up pondering the words of the prophecy. Once he and Albus had agreed that losing his virginity would be the only viable option, he decided to leave it alone and concentrate on the plan. He needed to be prepared for the next Revel. It didn’t stop him from being annoyed, but it helped.

There were three days to go before the plan was set irrevocably in motion and Albus had been giving him more and more pointers on how to behave in a lover-like manner that was convincing enough for him to survive the next meeting with the Dark Lord. Now there was a conversation he didn’t particularly wish to repeat. The only thing more humiliating than having to ask Miss Gr…Hermione for advice on romance was having Albus explain it in intimate detail.

Honestly, do they think I am stupid? Just because I have never been intimate with a woman doesn’t mean I am deaf, dumb and blind as well. I know what a man is supposed to do.

Chancing a sideways glance at the pretty young woman sitting gazing peacefully into the fire, he resisted the urge to sigh.

He wasn’t fooling anyone. He didn’t have the first clue about what a young woman wanted or needed. It had never seemed particularly important before.

He was acutely aware that he was due another lesson in humiliation.

“Miss Granger,” he still refused to use her first name, except in his most private thoughts, “the Headmaster told me that I should act like we are ‘dating’.”

Hermione nodded without taking her eyes from the fire.

“If I were your age and we were –er—dating, what would you expect of me?” he persisted when she failed to hear his implied question.

Hermione examined his face for any evidence that he might be affected by some type of spell or potion. His question seemed out of character. It never occurred to her that he didn’t know how to be romantic. He always seemed to know everything.

“Well, I see the couples in my year walking about holding hands. Luna spends a fair amount of time sitting on Neville’s knee in the common room.” She shrugged one shoulder. “Couples usually want a fair amount of privacy so they spend a lot of time together, taking meals together and doing things like going to Quidditch matches or walks to Hogsmeade.” She thought about it for a minute. “If they are apart for any amount of time, like at holidays, they send letters. Um, mostly though they kiss…a lot” she finished lamely. Hermione was disturbingly aware of the fact they were sitting in complete privacy, and she had just told her professor that they should be making out. The idea was equally horrifying and exciting.

Severus digested this information. “I see.”

He didn’t really see, she realised. Romantic play was not in his nature and the Headmaster, damn his hide, had asked that she be patient and do her best to help him. She had faithfully promised that she would. The vulnerability she had subsequently found in this grim man had touched a part of her that she hadn’t even realised existed. It appeared that he had never known love in his life, and for some inexplicable reason, Hermione wanted to show him. Her mother had always said she had an enormous capacity for love.

“Is that a problem for you, Severus?” she asked him.

“For me?” He seemed surprised by the question. “No. I have no objections if…if you do not.”

This time she heard the implied question.

She resisted the urge to sigh. It had never occurred to her that she would be responsible for seducing her Professor, or that the prospect might be so tantalising. It gave her the courage to make the first move.

She got to her feet and went to stand in front of him. He looked up warily.

“May I?” She gestured at his lap.

For the first time, Hermione was treated to the sight of Severus Snape at a loss for words. Swallowing her embarrassment and ignoring his immediate tension, Hermione stepped between his legs and sat on his knee. She tucked her shoulder under his arm, leaned her back against the arm of the chair and swung her feet over his leg. Soon she was comfortably settled in the crook of his thighs and looked up into his carefully schooled face.

A series of tingles started at the base of her spine where the heat was emanating from his legs, and soon reached her fingers and toes. It was an unexpectedly pleasant experience.

Severus seemed at a loss for what to do with his hands. Raising one sculpted eyebrow, he gritted, “and what precisely is the purpose of this exercise?”

Hermione smiled up into his frowning face. “Just giving you some material to feed to You-Know-Who,” she grinned innocently, “and to demonstrate what young love is all about.”

When she made no overt move, he relaxed slightly, until she raised one hand up to gently touch his face, encouraging him to look at her. It made him tense again. She turned his head until their faces were only inches apart. Gone was the snarky Potions master of her memory. In his place was a man with eyes full of confusion and wonder. If she hadn’t known better, she might have thought it was someone impersonating the Potions master. But perhaps this WAS the real Severus Snape - the one that had existed before Voldemort, the Marauders, or the Dark Mark ever came into his life. The prospect was intriguing.

Her hands moved over his face. Gentle fingers rasped softly along his jaw and cheek. His lips were smooth under her fingers, which explored and caressed, trailing across his eyebrows and into his hair, her eyes following their path.

He was losing the startled look. His eyes had softened into liquid darkness that was drawing her in, obliterating everything else.

She tangled her fingers into his hair, exploring the fine strands and admiring the raven locks contrasted against her skin. His hair was extraordinarily fine, very unlike her own, and rather limp. His hair and skin were naturally oily, but not unpleasant, as she had expected. She wondered if he had ever used a Muggle shampoo, or if he used potions. She had never used wizarding beauty potions and made a mental note to try some out.

Touching him filled her with warmth, and she wondered what it would be like were he to reciprocate. Well, there was only one way to find out. She reached for his hand, taking his fingers and entwining them with hers, just like they had by the lake. Tracing the calluses and scars on the long, elegant fingers and graceful palm and then, lifting his hand to her face, pressed a soft kiss into his palm.

His swift intake of breath accompanied her actions. Releasing his hand that rested against her lips, she was delighted when he did not pull it away. Instead he tentatively mimicked her own movements, tracing his thumb over the curve of her lower lip and the line of her jaw before tugging on a thick curl of hair that had fallen forward onto her shoulder.

A different kind of tension filled the room. He reached for her hand, which was currently tracing the line of his collar, and she surrendered it willingly. Imitating her, he caressed her fingers before placing a brief kiss in her palm, his eyes watching her intently. Despite the fact she felt like she was under examination, it was all she could do to keep from squirming in his lap.

Their faces were still mere inches apart, his mouth still buried in her palm. His eyes blazed as they followed the small movement of her tongue as she unconsciously wet her top lip.

Tugged by invisible strings, the distance between them closed. Hermione cupped his cheek, Severus slid his hand into her hair. Slowly his mouth descended.

As kisses go, Hermione was certain she would never know another like it. His lips were warm and soft. Finally, they met as equals, exploring, lingering. Breathing raggedly, she nipped his lower lip, and tasted him with her tongue. He moaned softly into her mouth and relaxed his jaw. Tentative and caressing, their tongues met in a moist tangle as the kiss deepened. He tasted divine.

Her nostrils were filled with his unique scent, sending a wave of excitement through her. She became aware of a bulging hardness against her hip, and pleasure and terror suddenly fought for dominance within her. She fought for breath.

After several aching minutes Severus broke the contact with her mouth and pulled back to look into her flushed face. He swallowed hard at her soft, open gaze. He looked rather like a little boy in a candy store.

“What else do young lovers do?” She had never heard such warmth in his voice. His eyes were liquid pools.

Hermione pressed her face into the curve of his neck, hiding her expression from him. Without opening her eyes, she took a gentle hold of his hand where it rested against her hip and slid it over her clothes to cup her aching breast. Severus’ breath quickened as his fingers reached the warm curve and felt her quiver under his touch. He nudged her hair gently with his cheek, unwilling to relinquish his trembling hold. Hermione understood and raised her face to his again, renewing the kiss with fervour. The combined sensation was volcanic. Her breath caught as he stroked the hardening tip through her clothes, causing an unexpected rush of moisture between her legs.

His kisses and tentative caresses were rapidly driving Hermione to the point where rational thought was becoming as elusive as the Golden Snitch.

Breaking the kiss, Hermione hid her face in the curve of his neck again. Severus felt her withdrawal and instantly removed his hands from their intimate grasp.

When her breathing had returned to normal, Hermione raised her face to find that the shutters had come down over Severus’ face again, although he made no obvious move to remove her from his lap.

“You know Severus, it is really a shame that you never took the opportunity to ‘make out’ before now. You would have made some woman very happy.” Hermione’s conversational tone belied the arousal that still simmered close beneath the surface.

“No-one ever really saw me in that light,” he admitted reluctantly.

“You must have known some very stupid women.”

For a moment his mask slipped and he stared at her in surprise. Perhaps there wasn’t anything wrong with him after all. Maybe she was right and he just hadn’t known the right women. A small glimmer of hope pierced the tough covering of his heart.
- 7
- 8
- 9
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Kiss The Serpent