The Burning Pen

TWICE BITTEN
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 39

Disclaimer: All recognizable characters belong to JKR. All situations are mine. No $$$ is being made from this fanfic.
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Chapter 39 ~ Some Slytherins have Nothing on Some Gryffindors

Snape’s eyes snapped open as he heard what Hermione said to him and felt her turn in his arms.

”What did you say?” he asked the witch in a low voice.

”I’m not wearing any knickers,” Hermione said again, feeling a naughty pulse in her belly as she repeated it.

”I see,” Snape said, his voice sounding a bit strained. “Thank you for that bit of information. Now turn over and go to sleep like a good witch.”

Hermione shifted so she was tightly pressed against Snape’s body. She felt a small pulse against her pelvis where she met him. Snape didn’t move however. His dark eyes rested on her soberly.

”I can’t sleep. I’m . . . afraid, and I feel so alone,” she breathed, hoping this might work. She didn’t know anything about seducing a wizard really, but always saw other witches acting helpless seemed to attract them like lacewing flies. Hopefully this worked across the board.

”You’re not alone,” Snape replied. “I’m with you. Now go to sleep and stop being a little tart. No knickers indeed.”

The dark wizard made a good effort at making an unaffected snorting noise, but it didn’t come out quite right. It didn’t help that he was swelling against Hermione and she could clearly feel it, a sweet ache starting to fan out through her body. She hoped they did do something nice, because Snape was going to kill her later, if the demon didn’t. She decided to put on the pressure and rubbed against him a little.

”Stop it!” Snape hissed, helplessly growing harder.

”You want to do it,” Hermione said to him softly. “You were hard for me this morning, when I showered. You watched me, and you wanted me. You want me now too.”

Snape muttered something that sounded like “Bloody Lolita.”

Hermione decided to pull out all the stops, her belly turning over as she continued the pressure.

”I want to feel you inside me, Severus. It’s been a long time and it was so good. You were good. No one has ever made me feel that way, and I want to feel it again,” she breathed, kissing him.

Snape pulled away from Hermione’s mouth with an effort, but licked his lips as if the taste of her still lingered there.

”We are supposed to be focused on your survival, Hermione,” he said to her, now sporting a full-blown erection that was pressing into the witch.

In response, Hermione shifted back from the wizard, reached under her pillow, pulled out her wand and pressed it to her stomach, breathing a contraceptive spell. Then she put her wand back and closed the distance between them.

“This is about survival. If you don’t shag me, Severus, I’m going to die,” she whispered, kissing him again but this time wrapping her arms around his neck so he couldn’t pull away. She began to rub herself against his swollen organ, the wizard letting out a despairing groan as Hermione moved against him, truly feeling lust flaring through her body and starting to tremble with need.

The witch did want this. She tried to push her tongue between the wizard’s lips. Snape resisted at first as the last bastion of his resolve crumbled, Hermione’s soft, sensual motions against him having the power of a velvet battering ram. Finally, he opened his mouth and let her in, tightening his arms around the young witch, completely and utterly seduced.

Snape kissed her deeply, reveling in her sweetness and her ardor. This was no vampire-inspired tryst, but a true attraction. He could feel it as he claimed Hermione’s mouth and felt her small hands moving over his back so urgently. He began to smooth his hands over her as well, slowly down the curve of her back and over the swell of her buttocks, soft and pliant under his hands. He let out another low growl and pulled her against him harder, grinding his organ against the witch so she gasped into his mouth.

Yes, he liked that response. He broke the kiss, his eyes glittering as Hermione panted against him, their bodies separated only by the thin nightclothes they wore.

”Very well, Hermione, since you insist on playing the temptress, I will indulge you. But do not expect the same treatment I provided you with when I was under the curse. I believe that my nature protected you from the brunt of the violence with which I took you and I am loathe to experiment with how much you can take, at least for tonight. So witch . . .” he breathed, hiking up her nightgown to her waist, and lifting his nightshirt, “You’re going to get the ‘slow and easy’ treatment, suitable for a young woman of your limited experience and one that will assure me that you will be able to walk tomorrow morning.”

Slow and easy? What the hell was that? Hermione gave the wizard a look that made his lip curl with amusement. The lusty little wench. She didn’t want that . . . at least she thought she didn’t. He’d soon fix that.

“You look disappointed,” he said to the witch softly as he adjusted her, lifting one thigh and edging downward a bit. He was going to shag her facing him.

”No . . . I’m not. I just thought that . . .” Hermione said softly, looking at him, still panting softly as he manipulated her body.

“Now is not the time to think,” Snape breathed, positioning himself at her entrance. “You should have thought before you brought me to this point, Hermione. Hindsight . . .”

”Oh gods,” Hermione hissed, her eyes closing as she felt his heat and hardness pressing against her, thick and pulsing. She writhed helplessly, wanting his intrusion, his penetration . . . his connection.

” . . . is twenty-twenty,” Snape groaned, lifting her thigh and sliding his girth into Hermione’s exquisite warmth.

Hermione moaned as the wizard parted and filled her body with a satisfying thrust and check as he rested deep inside her. Snape’s eyes were locked to the witch’s face, seeing the pleasure there.

”You do desire me,” he said in a low voice, drawing back and gently thrusting into Hermione again, his eyelids fluttering as her tight sleeve flexed around him. “Such a wanton little Gryffindor . . . seducing me. For shame, witch. For shame.”

Hermione felt no shame as she flung her head back and Snape latched on to her throat, driving into her over and over, deep and strong, but not violently, like their last encounter, but he felt just as good, his deep groans of pleasure sending almost as much thrill through her as the feel of his hard cock claiming her body, his hands and lips moving over her.

Snape didn’t change positions, only angle, twisting his hips and changing his depth, listening to Hermione’s responses to learn what felt best to the witch. It all felt good to him, the way she clung to him, gasping, arching, wanting more. And there were no dark forces involved now . . . only nature that drew them together, only nature urging them on. Snape locked his mouth to Hermione’s lips and sped up, intending to bring their encounter to a quick close this time, driving deep into the witch until he felt her tighten and explode around him, and he let go allowing himself to pitch over the pinnacle as well, bliss thrumming through him as he filled the witch, clutching her to him, listening to her soft cries. Yes, Hermione was quite a pleasant distraction.

He thought he’d keep her.

The couple lay in a rather hot, sweaty embrace, their clothing soaked as they returned to earth, chest rising against breasts, Hermione wearing a wry little smile as she looked at Snape, who arched an eyebrow at her.

”This will have to hold you until we solve the demon problem. I can’t let myself get distracted,” he said to the witch, still holding her securely.

”I like when you get distracted,” Hermione said, kissing his nose.

Snape blinked at her. She had kissed his nose like he was some . . . some little boy. But as he looked at the affection in her eyes, he said nothing. There were bound to be some fluffy moments when involved with a witch so young. He reached under his pillow.

”Let me scourgify you,” he said to Hermione, half-drawing out his wand.

”No! I’ll do it,” Hermione said quickly, pulling out her own wand.

Snape put his back and looked at the witch as she pointed the wand at him. Suddenly, she looked very contrite. Something was wrong.

Snape started, but before he could react, Hermione cried, “Soma Mortis!”

Snape fell back in a deep, deep sleep. Hermione rose up on her elbow and looked down at him.

”I’m sorry Severus, but you would have only interfered,” she said to him softly. Then without scourgifying herself she rolled out of bed and stood up in the center of the room. She drew in a deep breath.

”Demon, I know you’re here,” she said to the empty room. “I know now that you have me dead to rights and I am only fighting the inevitable. I am willing to give myself over to you rather than draw this out. All I ask is that you let me do one last brewing. Then I will come to you of my own free will. Do you accept my offer?”

Hermione listened to the silence, then heard one hissed word.

”Oath.”

Hermione nodded. The demon was shrewd. It knew if Hermione took a Wizarding Oath she was bound to fulfill it.

”I solemnly swear I will present myself to the demon who lays claim to my soul after I complete one final brewing,” Hermione said.

Magic swirled around her.

“Done,” the voice hissed.

Hermione looked at the sleeping wizard, then opened his nightstand drawer, took out a pen and a piece of parchment and scribbled something down on it, leaving it on the stand to find when he awoke. She should have faced the demon by then.

Hermione walked over to the wardrobe, pulled on a robe and slipped her feet into the Professor’s black slippers. She had her own, but for some reason, wanted to wear his. She looked down on him once more, then exited the bedroom. She picked up one of the books they had been studying off of the sofa. It was the same book Snape had used to summon the demon. He had shown her the incantation he used to create the circles and call the creature, thinking she could use that information in some way.

Well, she could . . . just not in a way Snape would appreciate.

Hermione exited his study and used the corridor that led to the Potions classroom. Although he taught DADA now, he still utilized the lab, and that was where Hermione was going. She didn’t worry about the demon trying to kill her now. It knew it had her, so there was no reason to plot her death when it could simply take her life.

Hermione wasn’t sure if what she planned would work. The Professor said there were only two ways to be freed from a demon, but Hermione was almost certain there were three.

She hoped she was right.

Hermione entered the lab, warded the door behind her, put the book on the counter and quickly set up a cauldron for brewing. She then broke into the potions stores to collect a few items needed, then returned to the lab. Adding a base to the cauldron, Hermione carefully measured and added the remaining ingredients, bringing the mixture to a boil then a careful simmer.

Hermione then set a bowl on the counter, purified it, then removed her robes and nightgown, bringing the tip of her wand to her still wet thighs.

”Transferas,” she breathed, the mingled juices of her and the Professor’s act of passion transferring to the bowl.

Hermione then shuffled through the utensil draw until she found a silver knife and spoon. She purified them, then walked over to the bowl, held her left hand over it, and carved a line in her hand following her Lifeline. Blood trickled into the bowl as she grimaced. She held her hand there until the bleeding stopped of its own accord. Then she added the blood and fluid to the cauldron, stirring it seven times clockwise and seven times counterclockwise with the silver spoon, waiting seven seconds then doing another series of stirs until she had completed exactly forty-nine stirs.

Feeling a bit weak from the blood loss, Hermione called to mind the complicated incantation, whispering it with all the feeling and emotion she could muster, imbuing the essence of herself and the Professor with all the intent she was capable of. She had to keep repeating the spell until something happened . . . inside. Then she would go to the demon and summon it, hoping she had done enough.

In Snape’s bedroom, the wizard slept the Sleep of the Dead. He wouldn’t awake for at least two hours.

He wouldn’t be a happy wizard when he did.

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A/N: Uh oh. Thanks for reading.

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