Needs | By : CryingCinderella Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Snape/Hermione Views: 9628 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 0 |
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter nor do I make any money from writing these stories. |
A/N: This was a musing that hit me at an insomniac hour- one of those brief little plot twists that sort of leaves you going- wait- what? God I hope it makes sense. It's a one off. It will not have any further anything added to it. Thanks for reading!
“Fuck,” she hissed. “Harder,” she moaned. “Harder, harder!” she was practically being slammed against the headboard with his thrusts.
Severus Snape all but groaned. He had never felt a witch so tight; at least not a willing witch. And he’d come to discover this one by mistake. He’d be lying to himself if he’d said the thought of fucking her hadn’t crossed his mind. But to actually have her beneath him, practically demanding him to ram his length into her again and again; it was near inconceivable.
Come the morning he would regret it. He would live with the memory; and although she was wasted enough for the both of them he would obliterate her memory. So that she would wake up, drunk as she always did, a horrible throbbing in her head and inexplicable tenderness between her thighs, propped up against the chilled stone walls of the dungeons. He always regretted it. But it was hard to regret it while enjoying it.
Her walls were clenching fiercely on his throbbing cock as he slammed into her. “Severus! Uh! Uuh!’ she cried her eyes rolling back in her head. He could feel her on the verge of her climax and he slammed into her with renewed vigor, knowing his own would not be far behind. Hard fast thrusts, pumping into her as she came with his name on her lips. The precious Gryffindor Golden Girl; drunk in the headmaster’s bed. And it was that thought with her fluttering walls that brought him to his own climax.
He was always silent; letting his seed fill her; the contraceptive charm long ago in place. Though he wanted to cry out; growl and harshly spit her name, he never did. He panted, chest heaving as he leaned over her body, burying his nose in her neck. He laid that way for several moments as he always did; waiting until he was calm enough to cast the memory charm properly.
“You won’t do it tonight,” she said.
Severus’s head flew up from the crook her neck eyes wide with alarm. “What?” he asked.
“Your memory charm,” Hermione Granger said, gazing him hard in the eyes. “I wasn’t drunk, so I’ll see you reaching for your wand,” she said. “But you thought that I was…” she said coldly, pushing both hands against his chest to push him completely off her.
Severus froze; his whole body seized with panic. “But you—”
“I’d be less worried about what you thought I was and more worried about the fact that you’ve been bedding a student for weeks now,” she said vehemently. Her face was flushed red and he doubted that it was still from the passionate sex they’d had. “Did you really think I would continue to wake up morning after morning with a raging hangover and sex pains without any recollection and not attempt to investigate it?” she asked. “I think I should be insulted,” she added.
He had been pushed onto his side but had quickly sat up and now sat in his bed, buck naked as she was, gazing agog at her. She seemed completely coherent. It wasn’t the usual drunk ramblings that often followed their sexual encounters; depending on his mood some nights he entertained them other nights he moved right to the charm. But her speech was flawless.
“Cat’s got your tongue I see,” she said and then shifted so that she too was sitting up. “You may have blocked my memory but in your haste to rid me from your bed chamber, Severus Snape,” she let his name roll from her tongue like acid dripping from a knife. “You failed to rid your…essence…from my body.”
Hermione gathered the deep green sheets around her lap and drew them up to cover her breasts from view. She ran a shaking hand through her hair. “At first I was beside myself, a drunken one night stand, how on earth would I ever live with myself?” she asked. “And then to discover it had happened again…several times a week, you can’t imagine what I was going through,” she said. “The losses…the grief…and my drinking was no excuse— but to wake the next morning with no recollection— knowing the two men that would be the likely possibilities were both dead…” she let her voice trail off, breaking on the edge of nerves.
“So a few research books and a simple DNA test later…just imagine my surprise when I swabbed the delicate folds of my cunt and came up with your seed,” she practically hissed. “And at first I was appalled, mortified even— not because you weren’t handsome or that I imagined you would have been a lousy lay, but because you were meant to be a man of authority— of trust,” she continued on, eyes never leaving his. “And for Merlin’s sake I’m legal so that wasn’t the issue— but why on earth wouldn’t you have told me?” she asked.
Hermione paused to draw in a haggard breath. “Cowardice I suppose, not wanting to admit to taking advantage of the drunk girl…no matter how good a lay I turned out to be…stop me if I’m close…”
“Enough,” he growled narrowing his eyes at her. “This is absurd,” he said.
“You’re right, absurd that you would think you could keep at it and that I somehow wouldn’t find out,” she snapped. “How long has this been going on?” she asked.
Severus said nothing though he did not break his gaze from hers.
“How long?” she demanded, repeating her question once more, tightly balling the sheets in her fists.
“Since the beginning of term when I first found you wandering the corridors with a bottle of Old Ogdens,” he said. He remembered the night clearly. She had not been forced to return. It had been an option that she had foolishly chosen. The Board of School Governors had stated that all seventh year students in attendance at Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry that did not actually show presence to their seventh year school work due to the war could if they so chose receive their finishing marks without having to attend a repeat of what should have been their seventh year.
Those that had survived the war of Hermione’s year had all taken the Ministry’s generous offer. All but her. She had returned. She was granted a private room in Gryffindor Tower, given the position as Head Girl and allowed to apprentice under McGonagall; all for the sake of keeping the only surviving war hero of the Golden Trio from cracking and landing in the nuthouse. As reinstated Headmaster of the school he had agreed with the Board of Governors that it was best to placate the girl by letting her attend her final year in some attempt to give her normalcy and closure.
But from the moment she’d returned he knew it had been a poor choice; and it had all been too much for her. Term hadn’t even been in a full fortnight and he’d found her stumbling around the corridor at nearly half two in the morning with a nearly empty bottle of Old Ogden’s in her hand. Trying to reprimand her that night had only resulted in a round of tears from her; and then a verbal berating from her, and then a physical attack from her, which had led into a violent round of passionate sex.
He had obliviated that night from her memory so fast he had hardly believed that it had even happened. Until three nights later he found her again, only that night she had been pacing the corridor outside of his private chambers and by the time her physical onslaught occurred he’d coaxed her inside.
Severus pinched the bridge of his nose. “And what exactly are you going to do now, Miss Granger?” he asked.
She scoffed. “It’s Miss Granger now, is it, Severus?” she asked. “Hardly what you were just calling me,” she snapped. “And what would you have me do?” she sneered, a dark cruel look upon her lips almost as masterful as the sneer he presented to dunderhead students. “Report you to the Headmaster?” she mocked and then leaned over frantically tapping his chest. “Oh, sir! Sir! You’ve been violating a drunken student! Taking advantage of her in the night and oblivating her memories come the morning all for your own sexual benefit!”
Hermione chortled with a dark mirth. “Only you already know that, don’t you, Headmaster?” she asked narrowing her eyes at him. “What would you have me do?” she snapped again. “Report you to the board? So that they can create an elaborate cover up that ends with you getting the sack and me back at Mungos?” she shook her head. “I think not.”
Severus was beyond speechless. He remained perfectly still and perfectly silent simply holding her gaze as she continued to rant. She went on in this fashion for quite some time before she finally paused and held his gaze as intently as he had been holding hers. “My suggestion to you, Miss Granger, is if you continue to imbibe to pass your sorrows that you do so in the locked privacy of your own personal rooms,” he said his voice a soft icy hiss.
Again Hermione chortled with a dark and somewhat devious sound. “Oh, wonderful a suggestion as that is, Headmaster,” she said. “I think I have a better idea,” Hermione leaned forward and suddenly pushed him flat onto his back, moving to straddle him in his own bed.
“What the hell are you doing?” he growled, struggling to push her off him. He could have easily done so, being twice her weight and out muscling her a good deal. “Get off me!”
Hermione leaned her weight down on him. “I think not, Severus,” she said and then brought her face dangerously close to his. “You stole from me countless nights of memories; took advantage of me an in emotionally vulnerable state…and you’re not simply going to walk away without making this right,” she said.
“Fucking hell, Granger, you got a contraceptive charm and many a good shag—”
“That I don’t recall!” she shouted.
“That you wouldn’t have consented to were you sober,” he growled.
“So now you’re a rapist? Praying that in my drunken haze I wouldn’t be able to vocalize my protests?” she spat clenching her legs tighter over his lap. “Is that what you’re saying— that you’ve been raping me night after night—”
Severus reached up and slapped his palm over her mouth. “Shut up.” He said. “And listen carefully to me,” his voice was a ghostly hiss, almost murderous as he spoke. “You could have found yourself a lot worse off,” he said. “And you should be so lucky all I’ve given you is a brilliant shag. I’ve half a mind to obliterate you into total madness and have you shipped away to Mungos.”
Hermione’s nostrils flared as she breathed heavily against his hand. Pulling her head back and shaking her face to rid his hand from her lips she gazed furiously down at him. “You would not give up a willing witch in your bed so easily,” she spat and as he opened his mouth to protest she clamped her hand over his lips. “But being your student— regardless of age— you couldn’t live with the guilt and taking advantage…so if I didn’t remember— you wouldn’t be so guilty. You wouldn’t be so—“ Hermione’s eyes grew wide and she nearly shrieked. “How many times have I—”
Her voice died on her lips as he slowly pushed her hand away from his mouth revealing a cruel smirk. “You honestly think this is the first disgruntled protest of your memory loss, Granger?” he asked.
“How dare you!” she shouted and then scrambled to move off his body. But his hands were quick gripping her and tossing her flat onto her back. “Let me go!” she shouted.
“Oh no, Granger, you don’t get to play this game and that game too,” he sneered and pushed her thighs apart as he moved to lay between them, one hand stroking her slickness. “I always have a second shag on nights when you play drunk,” he smirked and then lined his throbbing cock against her slit.
“This is rape,” she hissed, trying to close her legs, despite the tingling heated wetness between them.
“You always say that,” he smirked and then leaned down to capture her lips in a brutal crushing kiss. His tongue delved into her mouth as he thrust his cock forward into her slick heat. He groaned into the kiss hearing her pleasured whimper as she immediately drew her legs up around him, desperate to pull him further into her. “Damnit,” he hissed as she bit his lower lip.
“Don’t do this to me,” she spat.
“You’re loving it,” he growled beginning to slam himself in and out of her.
“No,” she said gazing hard up at him, both hands coming to firmly grasp his cheeks. “Don’t take my memory of this,” she cried, her eyes were blazing hot, a fury burning within accompanied by tears that were prickling at the corner of her eyes. Her body was desperate for him; her eyes pleading to be able to remember it all.
He slammed into her hard, moving one hand roughly between them to tweak and pinch her clit. Hermione was crying out almost immediately her body still sensitive from the brutal shag just prior. And within moments her walls were squeezing tightly against his throbbing erection; pulsating against him as she cried out his name over and over again; weeping into her climax.
Hearing his name always triggered a sensation within him that shot through him like hot sparks from a live wire. And he too came tumbling over the edge once more spilling himself within her. He panted against her neck for several moments, feeling his heart thundering wildly in his chest, her soft breath against his ear.
“Severus…” she whispered. “I could give you this…you make me forget them…” her voice was soft and tiny like a tinkling of a distant bell. “You don’t need to keep taking this from me…my discretion would be the utmost…” she slowly unclenched her legs from around his hips, blinking several times as he drew his face up slowly to gaze down at her. “Severus,” she said.
He said nothing, simply looking down at her face, watching the way the soft tendrils of her hair curled around her cheeks, the way her honey eyes sparkled in the near darkness of his room. He stroked his thumb absently across her lower lip, gingerly cupping her cheek. “Sleep, Hermione, you’re tired,” he said after a long silent moment.
“Promise me,” she said, shaking somewhat as she blinked up at him, her body exhausted.
He slowly nodded his head. “I promise,” he said and then brushed his lips against each of her eyelids, watching as she closed them and gave in to her body’s fatigue.
Hermione awoke with a dreadful pain in her back. She blinked several times and shifted her head, hissing and cursing as she smacked it back against the cold brick wall of the dungeon. She squeezed her eyes shut tight and then opened them to gaze around the room. “Fuck,” she hissed. Once again, perhaps for the third time that week she’d found herself waking in an abandoned classroom with a hangover headache the size of Surrey and a dreadful tingling between her legs. “How the hell does this keep happening?” she asked.
“That,” his voice floated like silk on air. “Is a very good question, Miss Granger,” he said.
Her eyes grew wide and she nearly fell over as she turned her head to the voice. “P-professor!” she cried and hurried to her feet, frantically trying to smooth over her uniform. “I— I’m sorry,” she said. “I don’t know what’s happening to me,” she blushed furiously. “I think I’m having trouble sleeping, perhaps even sleep walking through the castle…I keep ending up here with a terrible headache,” she said, omitting the bit about it being reminiscent of a hangover and the strange sensations between her legs.
Severus sneered at her. “Indeed,” he said and then approached her quickly from where he stood. “I believe, Miss Granger,” he said standing but a breath apart from her. “That you will find your sleep far more restful if you simply try lying down and avoid the bottle,” he added.
Hermione turned a brilliant shade of red and this caused him to smirk. “I-I—” she stammered.
Severus shook his head. “We’ve all had our share of time spent in the bottle, Miss Granger, and we all have our regrets from this war…” he paused for a brief moment, letting something flicker across his face before letting his neutral expression rule his emotions once more. “It would be a terrible shame for an unsavory character to come across you during one of your little night wanderings, Miss Granger.”
Hermione did her best not to retort with the first thing that came to mind. The only unsavory creature that might come across me at night is you, sir. Even in her mind she was polite. She nodded. “Yes, sir,” she said and then looked at the door to the classroom. “I suppose I should go,” she said.
“I suppose you should,” he said and waited for the girl to take to the hallway.
Hermione moved outside of the abandoned classroom, halfway up the corridor and ducked into an alcove with a heavy sigh. That had been perhaps the most awkward moment of the school year, perhaps even more so than waking as she had the last few nights. With trembling hands she reached down into her skirt, slipping two fingers into her damp panties. She shuddered and shivered to feel a drying stickiness between her legs. For the third time that week she had slept with a random boy in her drunken haze. With a heavy sigh she used her wand to clean her hand and headed off to the medical wing; she needed to run an exam on herself, to check for pregnancy, infections, and to get a sample to test her mystery man’s DNA.
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