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A Series of Fortunate Events	By : Remarkable Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Snape/Hermione Views: 7470 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I own nothing pertaining to the Harry Potter fandom or its affiliates, and make no money from the publication of this work of fiction.

Chapter List
- 1-A Series of Fortunate Events
- 2-Chapter 2
- 1
- 2
Hermione and Severus find ways to shag- a lot- before finally admitting what they feel for one another but are both stubbornly refusing to divulge.

Chapter 1

“You can’t possibly be turning me down!” Ron complained, irritated his female best friend just had done the very thing he was whinging about.

“Oh, but I can, and I have, Ronald,” she spat with no small amount of venom. She was furious with him and wouldn’t look at him twice in that way anymore, not after he’d cheated on her for the umpteenth time and was shocked she had found out by his casual mention through a Floo-call to one of his Quidditch buddies.

As she practically flew from the room, nearly knocking down Harry on his way in, the redhead let his eyes drop to the floor, and then the rest of him, arms folded dejectedly.

“She turned you down, didn’t she?” Harry asked rhetorically.

“I don’t understand!” Ron whined, beating his fists on the floor twice in quick succession. “She’s not going to get a better offer from some other bloke!”

“And that’s exactly why she turned you down,” Harry replied evenly, feeling no compassion at all for his thick headed friend. Ron was his best friend, but he’d really fucked this one up.

“What are you on about?” Ron asked, quickly taking to his feet. “Don’t tell me you’re on her side!” he spat.

“You hurt her, mate. She’s not going to forgive you.”

“Sure she will! Just you watch, it’ll be like all the other times, all I need to do is follow her and-“

“You follow her and I can guarantee you won’t be spreading the Weasley genes like your Mum’s been hoping since you graduated.”

“Huh?”

“She took off her ring, you idiot, look!”

Indeed, on the corner stand by the door was the small silver and gold band he’d bought her with half of his Auror training wages for her promise to marry one day.

“Gods, she really does mean it this time, doesn’t she?”

“I’m afraid so.”

Harry turned and left, his hands shoved deep in his pockets and head down, leaving Ron to contemplate what he was going to do for the rest of his life without her.

One year out of Hogwarts after returning for their seventh year and nothing had changed between her and Ron. He was still the same clueless, thick headed prick that thought nothing for her feelings when it came to fidelity, only that she marry and breed, keeping house like a good Pureblood’s wife.

The tears fell, thick and hot as she tore through Grimmauld, ignoring Mrs. Weasley’s calls to her as she sped past the kitchen, nearly knocking over Arthur tinkering in the hall as part of their spring cleaning to help Harry keep up the big old place.

Hermione flung open the front door and threw herself through it, intent on Apparating the minute she cleared the front stair when her body was brought up short by a solid wall of fabric and spices. In her haste she was already turning, a pair of very strong hands gripping her shoulders tightly and a deep timbre filling her ears with curses as she Apparated away.

With an undignified “Thump” and a huffing sound of air being expelled from the lungs, the unlikely pair landed outside Hermione’s modest home.

Severus Snape leapt off the prone form of his former student, hastily brushing dust from his immaculate black teaching apparel. It would figure the Granger chit would be the one to interrupt his day with her own inane trivialities.

Just as he was about to lay into her with his acerbic tongue, the studious older man took note of her disheveled and non-breathing state, acting quickly and sitting her up while pounding her on the back. After a few tense moments Hermione drew in a deep, gasping breath and gulped another and another, becoming light-headed very quickly. The gasps turned into sobs, clutching at the not-so-immaculate-anymore robes at her side.

Snape was at a loss. He hated crying females, often relegating them to Prefects and such for feminine woes. When Granger clutched at him even more viciously when he tried to move away, he sighed in defeat and knelt firmly at her side.

“What do you require?” he stated plainly. His only response to the query was another disheartened wail. The wizard rolled his eyes, ignoring the grueling irony that no matter how hard he worked to stay Golden Trio-Free, he had still managed to be waylaid by the wild-haired harpy of the bunch. At least the Weasley boy and Potter weren’t prone to hysterics.

After allowing her to continue soaking (and subsequently, ruining the cleanliness of) his robes, the sobs finally stuttered to a halt. Gently peeling her away from the death grip threatening to strangle him from bunching so much material in her fists, he pushed her to arm’s length, keeping hold of her shoulders and leveling her with what he hoped was a firm but questioning glare.

“Professor S-snape, I-I’m so so-sorry for running into you … please forgive me… I’m not myself right now.. I’ll just be g-going …”

Hermione struggled to rise on her own, her limbs a bit wobbly from her bout of adrenaline that had faded with her tears, and lungs still recovering from having a much taller and heavier person land on top of her after Apparating.

Severus helped her up by the elbow, assuming she was in front of her home as he led her in a seeming daze up the short steps, a light wash of wards as she flicked her fingers at the general direction of the door and in they went.

Snape told himself, “I am only going to see her in and settled, and then I shall go, after all, I cannot conscionably leave Minerva’s former pet in distress, now can I? The old harpy would have my head!”

Inside the front room, the dazed witch chucked off her trainers and sat where he placed her on the sensible couch, in the sensible living room, in her sensible house. It was all very…. sensible.

Snape cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable in the Gryffindor’s home territory with no idea as to how to proceed. This was not his –forte’- as they say.

He roughly cleared his throat again before intoning smoothly, “May I be of further service to you, Miss Granger?”

“Huh?” Hermione looked up at Snape as if seeing him for the first time. She looked so lost, so broken, her deep brown eyes reflecting a thousand sadness’s culminated into an instant.

It reminded Snape of someone he knew very well; himself.

“Well, then, I bid you good day, I’ll just let Molly and Arthur know you are alright?”

Snape turned to step away, a brief tightening in his chest for abandoning the girl in her hour of need but completely off base as to what else he could do. Surely, Miss Granger would be better off with her own circle of friends, no matter how imbecilic, to pander her fraught emotions?

As his tall form stooped so as not to knock his head on the lowered ceiling of her doorway, her frail and desperate voice called out to him, freezing him in his tracks as a small bird in oncoming broom traffic.

“Professor, please don’t go!”

So slowly one might have mistook his form as being hit with a time-slowing spell, he turned and gazed back at the witch. Hermione had turned on the couch, crouched on her knees with hands clamped over the back, her eyes imploring him for –what?- was not clear.

His indecision cost him. Later, he would reflect that everything happens for a reason, as maudlin as Dumbledore, but nevertheless true.

The witch swung a surprisingly long leg over the back of the couch. The creamy skin of her upper thigh appeared and disappeared beneath the fabric of her skirt causing an unexpected jump to a lower part of his anatomy.

“Don’t go!” she cried again, swinging the other over and thus exposing him to the same expanse of creamy thigh.

He was definitely hard now, yearning to reach inside his voluminous teaching robe to adjust the erection straining painfully against the elastic of his briefs. Today was definitely not the day to have worn them, but he thought he’d give them a chance. It was definitely back to black silk boxers after this experience!

His brief and annoying lapse of attention cost him that small window of time he could have escaped. The young witch was running her hands inside of his robes and pressing herself into his chest. He could feel every inch of her primed and succulent young body, every curve, every- ‘oh SHIT are those her nipples?!’- bit of femininity she offered.

There was no way she couldn’t feel his erection pressing into her. Her stomach was tight up against his well-endowed trouser snake, and there was no hiding his reaction when she lifted her head and smiled shyly.

“Please hold me?”

And she asked so sweetly, without guile or gall, that he couldn’t resist and allowed his arms to wrap around her as that head fell back against his chest and she sighed with bliss.

The tears had all dried and by now he was very uncomfortable with the head of his cock being strangled two different ways and his teaching robes uncomfortably hot in her very sensible but small, living room.

“Professor, I need you, please,” she murmured into his chest, her small hands boldly lowering to tease at the top of his buttocks.

Severus made to place his hands on her shoulders to shove her away but she ducked down, anticipating the move and wrapped her arms around his legs instead.

“Don’t go, don’t go – I’ve no one else that understands this kind of pain, this kind of rejection – I need someone who knows. Only you, Professor, only you.”

He was dumbstruck at her words, well aware she knew of his past and annoyingly stung she assumed he’d want any part of this very Gryffindor commiseration. What he didn’t count on was his traitorous cock responding to her touches and breathy confession. The damned thing was ready to bust free of its cloth and elastic prison with or without consent.

“Please get up, Miss Granger,” he barked stiffly, not as much bite in the few words as he’d intended to push through. “Enough of this pathetic display. Damn witches and their hysterics, I’ll play no part in your sick little games.”

Hermione stood and stepped back from him, her mouth opened in an O of surprise, tears again stinging the edges of her quickly blurring vision.

“It’s not like that! I’d never treat you like that, don’t you see? I’m not like them! I’m not like her!”

Severus saw red: Pure, unadulterated rage burned through him at yet another sycophantic, irritating third of the Golden Trio assuming his wounded soul was the answer to all plaguing their pathetic little lives.

When he opened his eyes she was still standing in front of him, chewing her bottom lip with fat tears sliding down her apple-tinged cheeks.

“You wish to prove to me you’re not like Lily? What makes you think I’ve held any stock in Potter’s bitch of a mother after all these years! All you’ve proven is your continued assumptions and inanity living up to one thing; foolishness idiocy! Do NOT presume to patronize ME!”

He had thundered his way across the short expanse once more, nearly spitting with vehement articulation until his great beak of a nose was a scant half inch from her petite, freckled one.

Breath blowing in and out like a wounded racehorse, Severus did the only thing his instincts dictated other than knocking her flat with a nasty hex; he brought his hands up to grip either side of her head, hard, losing the long digits in her masses of curls while surging forward and kissing her violently.

Contrary to the struggle he expected, Hermione melted into the kiss and allowed him to abuse her plump mouth. The longer he kissed her, the more ardent her own response, hesitantly fisting the front of his robes in her small hands and then wrapping her arms around his long torso, as far as his grip on her head allowed.

Snape came up for air, his libido screaming and rage still pulsing, palpable, demanding immediate release. Liquid desire overrode the despair in the young woman’s eyes before him. She was no longer an irritating student, former Gryffindor princess and Know-It-All. No indeed, she was a succulent, young bit of trim begging him silently to ravish her senseless.

Obliging the unspoken need, those talented hands slithered down to grasp her ripe bottom, a distant groan that proved to be his own drowning out her low moan. The thin cotton material left little to the imagination and he brought her round to the front of her couch, lowering her upon it. Angling sideways, one strong thigh situated itself between her legs, the other splayed awkwardly off the side. Snape was way too tall to keep up this position for long, but for the time being, it sufficed to get closer to the intoxicating, infuriating witch.

His fingers kneaded her backside, lips devouring, tongue probing into her hot mouth. Their oral muscles entwined, dipping, diving, caressing, and cavorting within each other. He dominated her by far but delighted that she was far from submissive in her quest to go for her own and take as much as he was taking from her.

Hermione’s privates ground against his thigh, unabashedly humping against his layers while the inner fabric of her own grew soaked with growing arousal. She gasped into his mouth as he bit her lower lip gently, lowering to her neck and leaving a bright blossom of possession there. It was not his norm to mark a woman but he was so aroused the dark wizard felt territorial, going with the flow and sucking at her fair skin until a bruise was prominent against the backdrop of creaminess.

Pushing against her as she tried to rise, Hermione settled back against the lone cushion. Snape locked eyes with her, crawling backwards off the couch while shedding the teaching robes getting in the way. He drew his wand and rid himself of his frock coat as well, now down to his stiff black waistcoat and crispy, starched linen shirt.

He held her gaze, lust blazing between them, magic evident in the crackle of sparks off his wand that was lay on her end table whence he place it there. Pushing up his sleeves, Severus reverently lifted her skirt, that tight surge again annoying him to hell and back with the constriction against his cock from those damned briefs.

Hermione closed her eyes and wiggled her bottom a little, bringing out the beast in him that swiftly pulled off her knickers and lowered his face to her pink, inviting and delicious pussy.

Even as she thrust eagerly towards him, the large flats of his palms pressed her hips and pussy down into the couch. Nostrils flared, inhaling her clean, slightly musky scent. The ambrosia was the ultimate turn on for him. Snape had a real weakness for eating pussy and hadn’t indulged much in his long, torturous adult life. Too many of the Death Eater’s wives had been passed around, and the whores of Knockturn Alley turned his stomach into knots. Living at a boarding school in the Highlands of Scotland had done nothing for the availability of females that were unattached or not his students. That left his cunnilingus experiences to the chance encounters of Potions symposiums and the rare occasions he’d left on Order business to populated areas or Potions exchanges for the Dark Lord.

Rubbing the bridge of his nose along her pink slit, Hermione let out a weak cry of impatience which made him chuckle into her folds. When his tongue first licked out to taste her he could feel the quivering vibration in her hips as she tried to shift, thwarted by his powerful grip.

“Professor, please!” she begged already, lovely legs wrapping around his upper shoulders.

“Patience, girl, or I will leave you here to squirm, unfulfilled,” he warned, not meaning a word of it. The effect of his tone made Hermione bite her lower lip as he again dipped his tongue into her pussy and laved upwards and over her clit.

The effect was instantaneous; Hermione seemed to draw in on herself and keened, so primed already for release he brought her to the edge with one, simple lick.

The young woman panted under him, back stiff with expected and coiled excitement. He couldn’t, would not – deny her. With great relish he leaned in and took her primed clit into his mouth and gave a gentle suck and flick, just enough to send her shattering into an intense cascade of pleasure.

‘Fuck! She tastes so fucking good! Oh god, god gods Merlin Fuck! I need to be inside her!’

The litany of thought bombarded Snape, his tongue automatically licking and sucking her sweet, young juices into his mouth and drinking her down. Such a man starved of this treasure for so long was instantly addicted. The heady pleasure of tasting her at last registered the end of his patience towards his cock’s confinement.

Spindly, strong and sure fingers flew to the catch at his waist and flew down the short row of buttons. Jerking the fabric and hated briefs to his knees, Snape flicked his fingers toward the floor, cushioning it for his conquest before dragging her down upon it.

Hermione’s eyes glazed with flushed, intense satisfaction, still aroused and alight toward him.

“Fuck me, Professor,” she breathed into his ear just as his cock lined up with her tight hole.

He was intensely pleased she suggested the very thing he intended on performing, as he had no recourse but to do that very thing whether she welcomed him or not.

“Need you, witch,” he muttered into her ear, drinking in the soft jasmine scent of her curls while wetting the tip of his dick in her soaked cunt lips.

“Oh Merlin, I can feel you there, just there, oh yes –oh yes- that’s it, I’m so ready for you! Do it now, now! I need you now!”

Allowing the damn to burst, gripping her hips, he thrust home into her sweet, pulsing sleeve. Severus felt his balls fall against her soft inner skin, buried to the hilt and nearly at the edge of losing control of himself. He stilled for a good minute, choosing to ravish instead that pretty little mouth that instantly welcomed him to tangle with her again.

Hermione showed no resistance to tasting herself on him, to the contrary she moaned into his mouth and renewed her interest with a fervor that nearly matched his own. The witch was incredibly responsive and he felt himself harden further, if that were possible.

Thankfully, she didn’t try to spur him on and when his infamous control slowly slid back into place he began to move along her, the vise grip of her tightness around his thickness like a chokehold of the best kind.

The little witch was vocal, forgetting her original sadness, whatever that had been, and reveled in pouring out her little Gryffindor fantasies to his hungry ears.

“Professor, love you filling my cunt- so good – so fucking good – fuck! – wanted you for years, so good I love how you stretch and fill me, fuck me, -oh fuck yes!- so fucking hot!”

The prim, rule-obsessed woman had such a dirty mouth with a dick inside of her and Snape was surprised to realize through the haze of lust that he rather enjoyed taking her to this level of debauchery. Now, if he could fuck her senseless, his male ego would swell with pride just like his cock before the finale.

Severus abandoned his hands on her hips and rose to her blouse, rising up from her chest slightly mid-screw to rip down the front. Peeling her bra and lifting her sweet tits to pool on top of the fabric, he moaned and greeted the first rosy tip with renewed enthusiasm, allowing the witch to grasp one hand and suck on his fingers while he reached under and strummed her little bud with the other.

The squeak of surprise that turned into a series of high pitched, erotic staccato sounds were pure music to the Potion master’s ears. He sucked and worried, kneaded and tread on her luscious breast with increasing fervor as well. Her clit seemed to ripen and stiffen beneath his soaked fingers, cock plunging in and out of her cunt just beneath the juncture.

Hermoine wrapped her legs around the lower part of his still trouser-clad ones, rhythmically pulling up to urge on their frantic coupling. The way his cock shifted deliciously when he thrust extra hard brought the sweet, rising bubble inside the witch to a peak. She rode the wave to the brink and shouted to Snape, “Oh fuck, Professor I’m gonna come!”

It sounded a bit trite but neither party cared when he rose up, pushing off on his knuckles to the cushioned floor, lean body slick with sweat so the linen shirt and waistcoat was dark with his body’s exertions.

Nearly black, fathomless orbs burning a hole into her, Hermione came with a wild shout and a long wail as he pile-drove into her, the wet slapping punctuated by grunts flavored with his deep baritone.

Seeing Hermione’s back arched beneath him, her sweet tits thrust up in offering, he bent to the other he’d yet to sample and drew the sweet little nipple into his mouth causing a further burst of sound from her throat.

He continued pumping into her rapidly, joining and releasing with her cunt like a well-oiled machine. He fit perfectly inside of her despite his well-endowed size and girth. Snape could tell she’d not many lovers before him not only by how she responded, but by how she didn’t respond to as well. There was a nearly blank slate before him that he could train, mold to his will, teach the ways of the flesh too….

Then her trembling body shuddered back to the floor and she sighed, losing steam with the ebb of her pleasure.

“On your knees, witch!” he gruffly barked, flipping her effortlessly and shoving her skirt up over her back. In another motion he was buried inside her again, going for the gold and he plunged into that treasure trove of fiery pleasure.

Snape was still irritated by the constriction of clothing but did not want to linger when he was through, which wouldn’t be long by the tell-tale tightening in his balls. Despite his yearnings he was sure the witch would come to her senses and castigate herself for allowing him to shag her on the living room floor.

He cried out, pulling her roughly onto his dick over and over, her body like a rag doll that acquiesced to his power and lust. The wizard’s hips had a mind of their own, powered by instinct and emotion so deep the outlet proved but a small fraction of the release it needed, but knew it would have to do and so was forcing every bit of energy into that brief span of time allowed.

“Oh fucking Merlin!” he cried, bending over her back, fucking like a madman and pulling her waist up into him. That magical hand found her sensitive bundle of nerves and rubbed in time to their fucking, circling around and back, up and down hard over it and back again.

Snape heard her crying out weakly, breathy gasps of, “Professor, Professor! Yes! Yes!” and then, “Merlin, fuck, I’m coming again!” and he was there, grunting and jerking helplessly against her as his cock exploded with long, hot bursts of come inside her waiting cocoon.

The way her cunt felt, gushing over his balls and inner thighs was a type of Nirvana Snape never thought he’d feel in this lifetime. He almost cried for the wonder of bliss that seared through his chest, groin and inexplicably, his cold and hardened heart.

His hips never seemed to quit jerking but finally did quiet, coming to a rest against her slick bum cheeks.

Just as soon as his thundering heart had quieted and breath came a little less than a pair of bellows, Snape pulled out of her and stood, righting his clothing following a swift cleansing charm on his person.

This was the part Severus was no good at. In his mind the witch came to her senses and stood, screaming like a harpy at what a horrible man he was and how she despised him for raping her in her own home. The more his imagined Hermione screamed the greater his fear of rejection became. Instead of allowing her to get a leg up on him, Severus Snape did the only thing he knew how to do following coital bliss with a woman; he left swiftly and silently while her back was still to him.

And that was the image Hermione Granger turned to when she finally flopped onto her back with a stupid grin on her face; an empty room with no trace of the great, dark hero who had just given her the most fabulous shag of her short life.
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A Series of Fortunate Events