The Burning Pen

A New Beginning
by Ruth Solomon

The story content is adult in nature and can contain graphic sex and violence.  Those under the age of 18 are asked to leave this site immediately.  You are not welcome here.  The author is not responsible for those under-aged who view these works.

CHAPTER 68

Disclaimer: All recognizable characters belong to JKR. All situations are mine. No $$$ is being made from this fanfic.
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Chapter 68 ~ Slow and Easy

If Hermione had been taken by the Potions master’s kisses before, it was nothing compared to the wash of fire and sweetness pouring over her now as he hungrily possessed her mouth, his kiss probing, his pale hands locking themselves in her hair, lifting it, drawing her closer, giving her the sensation of being consumed, of being swallowed down, of being completed enfolded in his desire, in his need, in his own dark fire.

She gasped as his lips moved from her mouth along her jaw line to her throat, the wizard tasting her skin, suckling, licking, his breathing becoming labored as his hands slid around her waist, easing under her sweater, touching her flesh so gently, warm roughened hands moving lightly over her skin, his palms and fingers like flame and like salvation. Hermione’s eyes closed with pleasure. His touch was incredible, moving, compelling . . . Circe, she wanted more

“Gods, it’s been so long . . .so long since I’ve felt like this . . .”

Hermione heard her own gasped words as if from far away. Snape breathed in the scent of her hair, the scent of her skin, drinking in her warmth, her life,

”I’ve never felt like this, “ Snape murmured, his voice muffled as his mouth moved over her throat, his soft lips ardent as they pressed against her flesh, “Merlin how I want you, Hermione.”

Hermione shuddered at his words, at his hunger as the wizard once again kissed her, and more than kissed her, his mouth moving over her exposed skin as he tasted her, leaving trails of fire branded into her skin. He gathered her closer, his breathing harsh.

”I can’t wait . . .I’m sorry . . .

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Suddenly, Snape lifted Hermione in his arms and strode through the house, kissing her all the while as he carried the witch into his bedroom, kicking the door closed behind him with his foot. He set her down and once again claimed her mouth, pulling her body into his, his hands moving over her. His touch was tender but electrifying

“I’ve never had this opportunity. I’ve never had a woman in my arms that meant more than the means to momentary pleasure,” he hissed against her ear. “You are so much more, Hermione Weasley. So much more.”

Hermione was on the edge of everything. Snape’s ardor and passion was sweeping her to the edge, her own loneliness and need for connection boiling over her, her own appreciation and desire for the wizard taking over every possible aspect of reason. His mouth, his hunger was all she knew.

“Severus,” she breathed, “Oh gods . . . I . . . I . . .”

”Shhhh,” he breathed, “There is no need for words, witch. You will be mine now. It’s time to unveil you. Lift your arms, Hermione.”

As if under the Imperio curse, Hermione lifted her arms and Severus stopped his ardent exploration of her flesh, pulling her sweater over her head, exposing her upper body, her bra encased breasts. She wore a simple white cotton bra and it was amply filled. The wizard paused to look at her, his dark eyes smoldering as they swept over her chest, his face slightly contorted with desire and strong emotion. Hermione faltered as he stared at her, feeling a bit of apprehension about her body. She was no nubile young witch and knew it. He slid his hands around her waist, letting them drop to the top of her jeans.

“Severus, wait,” Hermione said, her voice quavering.

He hesitated for a moment, then pulled her forward a bit by her belt loops.

”I can’t wait witch. I’ve hungered for you. I need you,” he breathed.

”Lower the lights then,” Hermione said.

”Why? I want to see you,” the wizard said, his hands falling to the clasp of her jeans. “I’ve longed to see you.”

Hermione caught his hands.

“Severus, I’m not . . . not so exciting. I’m no shapely young thing,” she said to him. “My body . . .I have stretch marks”

Severus looked down at her, at her exposed body, feeling she didn’t understand how he felt about her. It was far more than physical, but the physical was more than adequate. She was soft, rounded, and feminine. Any marks she bore from childbirth were beautiful to him. After all, he had his own scars. Scars meant nothing. And her marks were created from love, from the giving of life. There was nothing ugly about that. Nothing ugly at all.

“You are exciting. You are beautiful, Hermione Weasley. You are everything I desire, a complete package,” he said softly, continuing in his attempt to reveal her further.

“I don’t . . . I don’t . . .” she began.

The Potions master silenced her with a soft kiss.

”Believe me. Trust me,” he said to her, “You are the most desirable woman in the world to me. Don’t attempt to make yourself any less. You will fail.”

His dark eyes blazed into hers, clearly reflecting his need, his desire. He didn’t care about imperfections. Imperfections simply made her more, made her special. He wanted Hermione as is. No deceptions, no pretension.

Hermione said nothing else as Snape lowered himself and removed her trainers. She was aware of his hands on her jeans, opening them, revealing her, drawing her last bastion of reluctance away, down her thighs, over her calves, ankles and feet. Hermione stepped out of her clothing, dressed only in her bra and knickers, unable to look up at him, aware of the thin stretch marks that encircled her waist.

“Beautiful,” Snape breathed, tilting her face upward with one pale finger, his hand sliding to the small of her back and guiding her into him. “By the time this night is over, witch, you’ll have no doubts how beautiful I find you. I promise you that.”

He kissed her again, her semi-nude body pressing into his fully clothed frame. He could feel the witch trembling, and knew he had to take this slowly. He turned Hermione, so her back rested against him, drew her hair aside and kissed her throat softly, his hands moving over the soft skin of her belly, rocking her against him gently, almost like a child, trying to soothe her, to make her feel safe while showing her how much he desired her. Hermione sighed as Severus kissed and caressed her, reveling in the softness of her body and even more in her acceptance of him this way. Slowly, his hands slipped over her hip and down her thigh, then back up again, sweeping around the curve of her breasts and over her shoulders.

”I love touching you,” he breathed.

”Touch me more,” Hermione groaned, her eyes closed.

Severus let out a small sound at this, then slowly, carefully almost hesitatingly slid his hands back down her body, then up again, cupping both her breasts, palming their fullness, then squeezing lightly, fondling the witch. Hermione pressed back against him, rubbing her body against him, feeling the wizard hardening against her buttocks and pressing his erection against her.

“My gods,” Severus groaned in a raw voice, falling back to her throat and shoulders, kissing and suckling the witch, moving against her as he kneaded her breasts, then ran his hands over her more ardently, slipping one experimentally between her thighs for a moment, touching the warm, damp crotch of her knickers as Hermione squirmed. His long pale fingers rested there for a moment, then pressed, the witch letting out a whimper as she felt his digits touching her most intimate place through the thin fabric. Reflexively she rolled her pelvis against his hand and Snape let out a feral growl, suddenly stepping back from the witch and turning her around.

Hermione’s eyes were half-lidded, her lips parted and her face flushed as she looked up at him, noting how wide his nostrils were flared. He almost looked angry as he began to open his robes, his hands flying down the front of them as his eyes locked to hers, full of heat. He let the robes fall where he stood and he began on his shirt, then paused as he felt Hermione’s hands tugging at his buckle, pulling it open, her eyes downturned, gazing at the huge tent beneath the fabric.

She was past the point of caring how big he was now. All she knew was that she felt she would go mad if they weren’t skin to skin soon. Snape went to work on his cuffs, hissing as Hermione’s tugged down the zipper to his trousers and parted them. But she went no further, looking up at him as he removed his shirt, his pale chest exposed, abs tight, a smattering of scars apparent. He stopped undressing for a moment, and Hermione leaned in and planted a soft kiss in the center of his chest. Severus’ eyes fluttered with pleasure at the soft contact of her lips.

”More, Hermione,” he said softly, never having experienced this before. “Kiss me more witch.”

Hermione began to slide her mouth over the wizard’s torso, planting small, wet kisses breathing in the spicy scent of his skin, so pale, almost like alabaster, his muscles hard and flexing under her lips as they moved over his body. Snape’s head was flung back, his eyes closed with pleasure, his hands resting on her shoulders, then moving down her back and sweeping over her ass before returning.

Hermione’s hands slipped to his back, hesitating, then lingering over his scars, her fingertips tracing the raised lines, the criss-crossing pattern of old sufferings forever etched in his tissue, a reminder of all that he’d gone through . . . because of guilt and an unrequited love. What a complicated man he was. Hermione kissed his chest tenderly as they caressed each other, the wizard shuddering slightly under her ministrations.

“Yessss. Yessss, Hermione,” he purred, his silken voice dragging over her like an audible caress. He always had a beautiful voice, but now, now there were no words to describe how wonderful it was, how compelling, how erotic his rich tones became when colored with pleasure. Severus Snape had the voice of a lover.

Hermione slipped lower, feeling the wizard’s ribbed belly jerk in reaction, Snape gasping as she moved over his abdomen, sinking lower, tonguing his navel, her hands slipping lower, resting on his waist just above his open trousers. Circe, he tasted, sounded and felt so good.

Hermione began to sink even lower, but suddenly was pulled upward by the wizard, then lifted against his body, her breasts resting against his chest, her legs wrapping around his waist as he hungrily claimed her mouth, the huge bulge in his pants pressing hard between her legs, throbbing slightly, one arm looped around her waist, one hand buried in her hair, guiding her motions as he plundered her mouth.

It was like a dream, a very erotic, sensual dream, her body burning up with need, the contact between them only fanning the flames higher as the wizard moved against her, using his body to further ignite her, the witch beginning to perspire, her body heating up beneath his hands. Carefully he unsnapped her bra with one hand, slowly drawing the straps down her shoulders one at a time.

”Let me take it off,” he said softly, pulling away from her mouth.

Hermione could only accommodate him, pulling out first one arm, then the other, revealing her breasts to the wizard. They were full, natural, the tips dark and hardened with pleasure. Snape dropped the bra to the floor then wrapped both his arms around her lower back, leaning her back over them and began kissing licking and suckling her breasts, taking them into his warm mouth and teasing her nipples with his tongue until the witch was moaning, rubbing herself against his hardness hungrily, a sweet ache between her thighs as she slid her hands into his lank hair. It was soft, fine under her fingers.


Snape kissed his way back up her throat and found her mouth again, carrying the now writhing witch to the bedside of his four-poster, then falling into it, landing on top of Hermione, pulling away from her mouth, his black eyes blazing down at her. He was nestled between her thighs, his hair a curtain around his pale face and he moved against her sensually, urgently but not roughly, teasing her core through her knickers, staring at her face as she gasped under him, loving the lust and need he saw there. Yes, she truly was ready. He had waited all his life for a moment like this. For a witch like her. For intimacy with meaning, with a purpose beyond mere sexual release. He wanted to be part of Hermione, and for Hermione to be part of him. Snape knew this connection would be the sweetest of his life, and he savored every moment of it.

”I want to learn every part of you, Hermione Weasley, memorize your body like a map, read every curve and indentation with my fingertips like Braille. I want to know what your every sigh means, the message hidden in every sharp intake of breath. I want to know where to put my hands, my mouth, my tongue to make you lose yourself to me,” he breathed, “I want to possess you until you know nothing else but me, witch.”

Hermione couldn’t find her voice, not with the wizard moving as he was and speaking as he was. She had never experienced anything like this. There was desire with Ron, a comfortable, sweet longing for closeness when they engaged, tempered by their love for each other and it had been nice, good, satisfying.

But with Severus, she felt as if the entire world had fallen away, leaving only the two of them and a terrible, powerful urgency. It felt almost as if she were torn in two and the wizard on top of her, the other half needed to make her whole. She longed him to fit himself to her, slip inside her and close that gap that seemed so endless. She arched against him in response, her knickers soaked by her readiness.

Up to this point, Snape had willing witches, yes. The prostitutes were accommodating, but not full of desire for him. They were ready to be used for a price, their lust for galleons rather than the wizard who supplied them. Hermione would be his first true lover, the first woman who longed for him, who wanted him, and this knowledge made the wizard burn, his insides feeling as if they would boil over.

Gods, he wanted her, could just take her now, but there was so much more to do first. Sex would be the culmination of the journey, but he wanted the journey. He wanted to take Hermione someplace she’d never been. He wasn’t sure that he could do it. He had no idea what it was like for Hermione and her deceased husband, but he hoped he would make his own strong impression, that he would be able to sway her heart as well as her body towards him permanently.

Once again, he fell to her mouth, his hands sweeping up and down her body as he kissed her, gently rubbing between her legs, his trousers getting damp against the witch and the scent of her arousal filling his bedroom. Hermione was moving with him, rolling under him and Snape let out a groan and began to slide down her body, his mouth covering every inch of skin, suckling and tasting as Hermione sighed and arched, responding powerfully. The wizard’s attentions were both torture and heaven as he kissed and caressed his way lower, his hair dragging on her skin, mouth moving over her belly. He slid lower, his fingers splayed over her hips for a moment, before slipping under her knickers and pulling them down, sitting back on his heels as he removed them, Hermione pulling out first one leg then the other, her lips pursed and eyes full of heat. She looked so delicious. Severus looked down on the curly chestnut hair of her sex, his nostrils once again flaring as the scent of her arousal washed over him, musky, sweet and pungent.

He leaned forward and kissed her lower belly, then ran his lips over her pubic hair, pulling at it gently. Then he stopped and Hermione lifted her head slightly, looking down at him. His eyes were hungry and he licked his lips.

”Spread your legs, Hermione. Let me drink at your fountain, witch,” he breathed up at her.

Oh gods. Hermione did as he asked and squealed as the wizard lowered his head and ran his tongue between her folds, over her clit, collecting her juices on the tip of his tongue, then sighing with pleasure at the taste of her. It was ambrosia. He lowered his entire body to the bed and wrapped his arms securely around her thighs and went to work on the witch, licking, tonguing and sucking on her core as if it were another mouth to claim, his tongue ardent in its exploration, Hermione crying out and trying to arch upward as he held her steady, thrusting his tongue inside her wet sleeve and wriggling it.

“Oh! Oh, Severus! Damn! My . . . gods! Shit!” Hermione gasped, locking her hands painfully in his hair and losing it as everything inside her seemed to coil up into a tight intense point of almost unbearable pleasure. Damn. He sure knew how to eat pussy

This only served to make the wizard go at her with even more gusto, feeling her thighs quivering on either side of his head as she yanked at his hair. Yes, it hurt, but this was worth it . . . hearing the witch gasp his name passionately, feeling her body flowing to the edge, waiting for the inevitable payout . . .

Then Hermione came with a shriek, a hot gush of fluid pouring out of her, bathing the wizard’s lower face as she released, groaning, pushing against him as he drank her down, every hot, delicious drop of her surrender, his heart pounding as he suckled at her tenderly, his tongue still pleasuring her as he consumed his fill. Yes, he had taken her to the first level, the witch writhing, muttering incoherent words as she came back to earth, Snape finally finishing, pulling himself upward and kissing Hermione, her flavor still on his lips and tongue as he delved into her mouth against, the witch’s arms wrapping around him. Her embrace felt wonderful. Real.

All of this was real and that was what endeared Hermione to him more as he continued kissing her until her quaking subsided. He pulled away from her mouth and looked down at her. She panted a bit, then gave him a small, rather embarrassed smile. He quirked his mouth at her.

”Happy Christmas,” he said to the witch softly.

“Happy Christmas,” she whispered back at him.

Snape arched an eyebrow at her, then ground against her gently, making Hermione’s breath hitch as his cloth encased cock made its presence known. Clearly known.

”I think it’s time I unwrap the real package I have for you,” he breathed, kissing her once more then rolling off the witch and standing up. He removed his boots and socks, lifting first one foot then the other, balancing perfectly as he did so.

Hermione watched him breathlessly as he slowly removed his trousers, revealing Slytherin green boxers that rose high up his thigh because of the size of his erection.

Then he removed the boxers themselves.

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A/N: Sorry for the wait all. Thanks for reading.

PLEASE REVIEW "A NEW BEGINNING." >>> NEXT CHAPTER

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