Disguised Affections
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Harry Potter › Het - Male/Female › Snape/Hermione
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Adult ++
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27
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25,543
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144
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Currently Reading:
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Category:
Harry Potter › Het - Male/Female › Snape/Hermione
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
27
Views:
25,543
Reviews:
144
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
1
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 Twelve
A/N: So, here's chapter 12. Hope you guys enjoy it. Reviews are always appreciated. :) Speaking of which, I hope no one is offended, but I can't figure out how to reply to reviews on this site, or if I even can! I reply faithfully to every review I get on ffn and Ashwinder, so I feel bad that I can't here on adult-fanfiction.org. So thanks to everyone who is reviewing. :)
Wow, I know you guys are probably totally shocked by this nugget of information, but I am not JK Rowling! That lovely lady owns Harry Potter and everything that you recognize in this story. I am a lowly fanfiction writer, and make no profit on this.
Chapter Twelve
“Will you come with me?” Constantine asked Hermione. Her curly head was tilted down towards a scrap of parchment she held in her hand, and she impatiently tapped her quill on a book she’d taken from the Hogwarts’ library Potions section.
“What’s that, Con?” Her voice was misty and inattentive.
“I said that I’ve got an appointment with the headmaster after classes are done today. I’d like it if you came with me.” She looked up at him, her warm brown eyes considering. She’d bitten her lip while she was thinking, and Con’s heart thumped hard twice at its swollen appearance. He suspected she had no idea the effect she had on him. She ran her tongue over her lower lip, and he felt his cock twitch.
“Why?” she asked finally. Her voice was curious, but not at all unfriendly.
Constantine was irritated nonetheless. Wasn’t it enough that he would just prefer to have her there? He found her presence disproportionately calming, like a teaspoon of oil on wind-swept waters, and they were together now. Why shouldn’t she come with him?
“What do you mean, ‘why?’” His voice was biting. The corner of her mouth twitched, and if anything, he felt his frown grow darker and more menacing. He could actually see the bottoms of his eyebrows in his peripheral vision as he scowled at her and willed Hermione to come with him to see Dumbledore.
“I’m not sure why you are upset, Con. I simply asked you why you wanted me to come with you today.” She cast her eyes back down onto the paper in her hand. He saw her scribbling notes on each of the component ingredients of their modified wit-sharpening potion. She saw him eyeing her work and said, “I’m trying to ameliorate some of the side effects the water jenett will bring to the potion without nullifying the side effect that we actually want to occur – the memory enhancement. We need something to coat and soothe the stomach to avoid the nausea.”
“Ginger?” he asked sullenly, yet interested in spite of himself.
“Mmm. The potion has murtlap essence. Not a good combination.”
“Marsh mallow?”
She cocked her head and counted out something on her fingers. “A possibility. It follows the correct Arithmantic principles as well.” Hermione marked it on her sheet.
They were silent. She had gone back to her work, and Con had firmly settled into a nice brood. Did she not want to come with him? Her fingers flew across the parchment, drawing a complex mathematical matrix in order to more accurately calculate the probable effects of adding marsh mallow to the other ingredients. He was impressed by her facility with numbers. It was something of a turn on. She had several smudges of ink on her hand and he thought about picking up her little palm and sucking the spots off her slender fingers.
Constantine shifted uncomfortably. Perhaps he was taking up too much of her time lately. Was his plan backfiring? He’d been courting her consistently. They’d had long conversations and walks around the lake. (Con had to thank Weasley for that idea, alas.) He’d given her flowers – or rather, they’d grown flowers together – and he touched her every chance he got.
He tucked her hair behind her ear if it fell forward into her eyes. He rubbed her neck if she appeared stiff or sore. He held her hand as they walked to every class except for Transfigurations. He brought her to screaming orgasms with his long-fingered hands whenever the opportunity presented itself.
Rubbing his chin, Con thought about the last item. Granted, it had only been a week since the morning they’d been intimate in the greenhouse, so he hadn’t had too much opportunity yet to feel her shatter in his arms. He’d slid his hand up her skirt twice in the greenhouse, twice in the Potions laboratory, once in the niche by St. Belvidere of the Lazy Eye, and twice in the Head Girl’s bedroom. He was quite glad she had her own room. Seven times in seven days wasn’t too shabby, was it? Con knew he could do better. He wanted to string the peaks of her pleasure together like pearls on a necklace, but it was so hard to find places to be alone with her. …All in the name of binding her to him, of course. Con did so much want an intelligent helpmeet. The fact that he enjoyed her and her company so much was secondary to his future plans.
Maybe he was trying too hard? Taking up too much of her time?
Between her classes, Head Girl duties, the damnable Potions project for Slughorn, their independent research, and homework she didn’t have much spare time. Perhaps he was monopolizing her. Con cleared his throat.
“If you are too busy, Hermione, of course I’d understand if you can’t come with me. I find your company to be soothing in difficult situations, but I can search you out afterwards if you prefer.” He tried to make his voice understanding.
Her head tilted up, and Con was surprised to see an immensely delighted expression on her face. Her cheeks were flushed with pleasure, and Hermione’s eyes were glowing. “Oh!” she said, her voice intimate. “That’s lovely. Of course I’ll accompany you.”
The black-haired boy reached out and ran his fingers over her knuckles, and filed the exchange away for future reference. She smiled at him and pulled her chair closer.
Professor Slughorn was seated in front of Dumbledore’s desk when the two seventh-year students arrived for their meeting with the Headmaster. Con looked enquiringly at the two men seated before him.
“Mr. Prince, Ms. Granger, you are spectacularly on time. Please, please, take a seat.” He pointed at two more chairs arranged by his desk. “I’ve invited Professor Slughorn here to sit in for the first part of our meeting. I hope you don’t mind.”
“Although Professor Slughorn is an unobjectionable teacher, Headmaster, I had hoped to speak to you alone. There’s a matter which concerns me and is confidential.”
Dumbledore’s white brows lifted slightly. “Ah, of course. However, I’m afraid your confidential matter is not really as private as you might wish it to be. I am, of course, speaking of your memory problems.”
Con breathed in deeply in an effort to maintain control of his temper. Hermione reached over and ran her hand over the back of his, and he turned his palm over and interlocked their fingers. “It would have been more appropriate to have disclosed this information to me in private, sir.”
“Of course you are right. I’m afraid I’m too used to arranging things as I see fit. You have my apologies, my dear boy.” Dumbledore ran his knobby-jointed hand over his long beard. “However, it was absolutely imperative that Professor Slughorn be apprised of your issue, for without him we would have had no hope of ever restoring that which was stolen from you.”
“Stolen from me?”
“You were infected with a potion that...”
“A potion?” Constantine interrupted.“You allowed me to think that I’d lost my memories due to trauma from the war. All this time I’ve been sitting around, waiting for an inkling of who I was to bleed into me, just an inkling of what it meant to be Constantine Prince and getting nothing, nothing… and it was caused by a bloody potion?” Con could feel the fury boiling his insides, churning like acid in his stomach. “We’ve had a Potions lab at our disposal! Hermione and I could have been doing research to try and reverse the damage.” He looked to Hermione for support and was gratified to see her turning an unyielding, poisonous stare upon the Headmaster.
“I understand your anger, Mr. Prince. However, it is misplaced. There was no need for research. We knew the potion, and its antidote. We were just waiting for Professor Slughorn to complete it.” He turned to face the Potions professor. “Did you bring it, Horace?”
Con turned to face his professor. Slughorn was staring in sick fascination at where Constantine’s and Hermione’s hands were linked. His eyes bulged slightly when he saw her hand clasp his tighter in a supportive squeeze. “Are you two dating?” he squeaked.
“I’m not sure how that has any bearing on the business at hand,” Hermione grated out. Con disengaged his hand gently from the curly haired girl’s.
Slughorn turned to look at Dumbledore. The Headmaster’s blue eyes were steady as he eyed the two students in front of him. “Horace, perhaps it’s best to provide Mr. Prince with the antidote sooner rather than later.”
“Of course, Albus.” He reached into his robes and pulled out a vial full of a crystalline blue potion. “This is the antidote to the Death’s Oblivion Potion with which you were infected.”
“Death’s Oblivion? Antonio Bellacruza, correct? What a bloated popinjay he was.” Con reached out a hand and took the antidote from his professor.
“Now… Mr. Prince, don’t get your hopes up that your memories will all come flooding back immediately. According to Moste Potente Potions, this is just the key to the gates. It can take anywhere from a week to several months to regain all of what you’ve lost.”
Constantine nodded and removed the seal. Carefully, so not a single drop was spilled, he tipped the contents into his mouth and swallowed.
The vial fell from his suddenly numb fingers. He felt something snap at the base of his skull and a rush of heat flooded his mouth. This must be what a predator feels like, he mused dazedly. He covered his face until he felt the world start to settle around him, and then he turned his pitch eyes on the Headmaster. He looked different than he had just a few moments before. Dumbledore suddenly seemed frail. Had his perceptions changed? Or had something aged the old man even further? How long had he been standing here? Con couldn’t tell if it had been seconds or hours. He turned to Hermione and felt relief when she looked at him with steady, clear waters shining in her eyes. She was still the same, scarred but beautiful, gentle but iron-willed. Con sighed a shuddering breath and stumbled over to her, placing his head in her lap. His eyes closed as she stroked his hair, and he willed the other occupants in the office to cease to exist.
The red, gushing taste left his mouth, and as he came back to himself, he recollected the presence of Dumbledore and Slughorn with shame and pulled gently away from Hermione. He sat back in his own seat, and was confronted by the disgusted eyes of Horace Slughorn and the concerned face of Dumbledore. His breath hissed out through his teeth.
“If you’re done getting your jollies watching me and my witch, we have several other questions.” Con was forced to swallow the gorge rising in his throat. He still felt quite unwell.
Dumbledore nodded.
Constantine raised his left hand and pointed to the cuff on his wrist. “What is this? Why won’t it come off?”
“That is part of a project on which you and several other members of the Order of the Phoenix are collaborating. I’m afraid I can’t provide you with further details until you regain your memory. It’s quite sensitive.”
“So that is why Professor McGonagall is also wearing one? Because she’s a member of the Order of the Phoenix?” Hermione interjected.
Dumbledore indicated that she was correct.
“Will I come to any harm from wearing the cuff?” Con’s voice was grudging.
“Quite the contrary.”
Constantine considered this for a moment before nodding. “I think that’s all for now. When I start to regain my memories, may I come back and question you further on the cuff and its properties?”
“You may come back, but you will recognize the power of the cuff once you remember yourself, my dear boy.”
Constantine stood up and held his hand out for Hermione. She slipped her fingers into his, and he pulled her to her feet. As they neared the door, the boy suddenly remembered Draco Malfoy and his warning.
“Sir, I have to ask you. Of what relation am I to Severus Snape?”
Dumbledore paused for just a second before stating, “You are no relative of Professor Snape, Mr. Prince.”
Con blinked, hearing a ring of falsehood, but he nodded, knowing he would get nothing further from the Headmaster. The two seventh-years politely excused themselves.
Back in the Headmaster’s office, Dumbledore slumped into his straight-backed chair.
“Albus, it’s an abomination! He’s a professor and over twice her age! Why didn’t you tell him? He’s going to realize it in a matter of weeks anyway! He’ll hate you for letting him continue with Ms. Granger unknowing.”
“Horace, I’m afraid you are correct.” The old man removed his half-moon spectacles and rubbed his watering blue eyes. “Once Severus knows the truth, he’ll be a loaded gun meant for Lucius Malfoy. I need to make sure he’s pointed in the correct direction before he discovers the truth.”
A/N: Aww, man. For once, I thought Dumbledore was moved to help Snape because Snape DESERVES it. I mean, hasn't the man been through enough? Now - I'm sure a big part of Dumbledore wants Severus to have a better life, but I think Dumbledore is just trying to take out a loan wolf. Sigh Come, let me cuddle you in my ample bosom, Severus.
So, new chappie will go up tomorrow. Hope you guys enjoyed it.
Like it, love it, hate it, review it!
Wow, I know you guys are probably totally shocked by this nugget of information, but I am not JK Rowling! That lovely lady owns Harry Potter and everything that you recognize in this story. I am a lowly fanfiction writer, and make no profit on this.
Chapter Twelve
“Will you come with me?” Constantine asked Hermione. Her curly head was tilted down towards a scrap of parchment she held in her hand, and she impatiently tapped her quill on a book she’d taken from the Hogwarts’ library Potions section.
“What’s that, Con?” Her voice was misty and inattentive.
“I said that I’ve got an appointment with the headmaster after classes are done today. I’d like it if you came with me.” She looked up at him, her warm brown eyes considering. She’d bitten her lip while she was thinking, and Con’s heart thumped hard twice at its swollen appearance. He suspected she had no idea the effect she had on him. She ran her tongue over her lower lip, and he felt his cock twitch.
“Why?” she asked finally. Her voice was curious, but not at all unfriendly.
Constantine was irritated nonetheless. Wasn’t it enough that he would just prefer to have her there? He found her presence disproportionately calming, like a teaspoon of oil on wind-swept waters, and they were together now. Why shouldn’t she come with him?
“What do you mean, ‘why?’” His voice was biting. The corner of her mouth twitched, and if anything, he felt his frown grow darker and more menacing. He could actually see the bottoms of his eyebrows in his peripheral vision as he scowled at her and willed Hermione to come with him to see Dumbledore.
“I’m not sure why you are upset, Con. I simply asked you why you wanted me to come with you today.” She cast her eyes back down onto the paper in her hand. He saw her scribbling notes on each of the component ingredients of their modified wit-sharpening potion. She saw him eyeing her work and said, “I’m trying to ameliorate some of the side effects the water jenett will bring to the potion without nullifying the side effect that we actually want to occur – the memory enhancement. We need something to coat and soothe the stomach to avoid the nausea.”
“Ginger?” he asked sullenly, yet interested in spite of himself.
“Mmm. The potion has murtlap essence. Not a good combination.”
“Marsh mallow?”
She cocked her head and counted out something on her fingers. “A possibility. It follows the correct Arithmantic principles as well.” Hermione marked it on her sheet.
They were silent. She had gone back to her work, and Con had firmly settled into a nice brood. Did she not want to come with him? Her fingers flew across the parchment, drawing a complex mathematical matrix in order to more accurately calculate the probable effects of adding marsh mallow to the other ingredients. He was impressed by her facility with numbers. It was something of a turn on. She had several smudges of ink on her hand and he thought about picking up her little palm and sucking the spots off her slender fingers.
Constantine shifted uncomfortably. Perhaps he was taking up too much of her time lately. Was his plan backfiring? He’d been courting her consistently. They’d had long conversations and walks around the lake. (Con had to thank Weasley for that idea, alas.) He’d given her flowers – or rather, they’d grown flowers together – and he touched her every chance he got.
He tucked her hair behind her ear if it fell forward into her eyes. He rubbed her neck if she appeared stiff or sore. He held her hand as they walked to every class except for Transfigurations. He brought her to screaming orgasms with his long-fingered hands whenever the opportunity presented itself.
Rubbing his chin, Con thought about the last item. Granted, it had only been a week since the morning they’d been intimate in the greenhouse, so he hadn’t had too much opportunity yet to feel her shatter in his arms. He’d slid his hand up her skirt twice in the greenhouse, twice in the Potions laboratory, once in the niche by St. Belvidere of the Lazy Eye, and twice in the Head Girl’s bedroom. He was quite glad she had her own room. Seven times in seven days wasn’t too shabby, was it? Con knew he could do better. He wanted to string the peaks of her pleasure together like pearls on a necklace, but it was so hard to find places to be alone with her. …All in the name of binding her to him, of course. Con did so much want an intelligent helpmeet. The fact that he enjoyed her and her company so much was secondary to his future plans.
Maybe he was trying too hard? Taking up too much of her time?
Between her classes, Head Girl duties, the damnable Potions project for Slughorn, their independent research, and homework she didn’t have much spare time. Perhaps he was monopolizing her. Con cleared his throat.
“If you are too busy, Hermione, of course I’d understand if you can’t come with me. I find your company to be soothing in difficult situations, but I can search you out afterwards if you prefer.” He tried to make his voice understanding.
Her head tilted up, and Con was surprised to see an immensely delighted expression on her face. Her cheeks were flushed with pleasure, and Hermione’s eyes were glowing. “Oh!” she said, her voice intimate. “That’s lovely. Of course I’ll accompany you.”
The black-haired boy reached out and ran his fingers over her knuckles, and filed the exchange away for future reference. She smiled at him and pulled her chair closer.
Professor Slughorn was seated in front of Dumbledore’s desk when the two seventh-year students arrived for their meeting with the Headmaster. Con looked enquiringly at the two men seated before him.
“Mr. Prince, Ms. Granger, you are spectacularly on time. Please, please, take a seat.” He pointed at two more chairs arranged by his desk. “I’ve invited Professor Slughorn here to sit in for the first part of our meeting. I hope you don’t mind.”
“Although Professor Slughorn is an unobjectionable teacher, Headmaster, I had hoped to speak to you alone. There’s a matter which concerns me and is confidential.”
Dumbledore’s white brows lifted slightly. “Ah, of course. However, I’m afraid your confidential matter is not really as private as you might wish it to be. I am, of course, speaking of your memory problems.”
Con breathed in deeply in an effort to maintain control of his temper. Hermione reached over and ran her hand over the back of his, and he turned his palm over and interlocked their fingers. “It would have been more appropriate to have disclosed this information to me in private, sir.”
“Of course you are right. I’m afraid I’m too used to arranging things as I see fit. You have my apologies, my dear boy.” Dumbledore ran his knobby-jointed hand over his long beard. “However, it was absolutely imperative that Professor Slughorn be apprised of your issue, for without him we would have had no hope of ever restoring that which was stolen from you.”
“Stolen from me?”
“You were infected with a potion that...”
“A potion?” Constantine interrupted.“You allowed me to think that I’d lost my memories due to trauma from the war. All this time I’ve been sitting around, waiting for an inkling of who I was to bleed into me, just an inkling of what it meant to be Constantine Prince and getting nothing, nothing… and it was caused by a bloody potion?” Con could feel the fury boiling his insides, churning like acid in his stomach. “We’ve had a Potions lab at our disposal! Hermione and I could have been doing research to try and reverse the damage.” He looked to Hermione for support and was gratified to see her turning an unyielding, poisonous stare upon the Headmaster.
“I understand your anger, Mr. Prince. However, it is misplaced. There was no need for research. We knew the potion, and its antidote. We were just waiting for Professor Slughorn to complete it.” He turned to face the Potions professor. “Did you bring it, Horace?”
Con turned to face his professor. Slughorn was staring in sick fascination at where Constantine’s and Hermione’s hands were linked. His eyes bulged slightly when he saw her hand clasp his tighter in a supportive squeeze. “Are you two dating?” he squeaked.
“I’m not sure how that has any bearing on the business at hand,” Hermione grated out. Con disengaged his hand gently from the curly haired girl’s.
Slughorn turned to look at Dumbledore. The Headmaster’s blue eyes were steady as he eyed the two students in front of him. “Horace, perhaps it’s best to provide Mr. Prince with the antidote sooner rather than later.”
“Of course, Albus.” He reached into his robes and pulled out a vial full of a crystalline blue potion. “This is the antidote to the Death’s Oblivion Potion with which you were infected.”
“Death’s Oblivion? Antonio Bellacruza, correct? What a bloated popinjay he was.” Con reached out a hand and took the antidote from his professor.
“Now… Mr. Prince, don’t get your hopes up that your memories will all come flooding back immediately. According to Moste Potente Potions, this is just the key to the gates. It can take anywhere from a week to several months to regain all of what you’ve lost.”
Constantine nodded and removed the seal. Carefully, so not a single drop was spilled, he tipped the contents into his mouth and swallowed.
The vial fell from his suddenly numb fingers. He felt something snap at the base of his skull and a rush of heat flooded his mouth. This must be what a predator feels like, he mused dazedly. He covered his face until he felt the world start to settle around him, and then he turned his pitch eyes on the Headmaster. He looked different than he had just a few moments before. Dumbledore suddenly seemed frail. Had his perceptions changed? Or had something aged the old man even further? How long had he been standing here? Con couldn’t tell if it had been seconds or hours. He turned to Hermione and felt relief when she looked at him with steady, clear waters shining in her eyes. She was still the same, scarred but beautiful, gentle but iron-willed. Con sighed a shuddering breath and stumbled over to her, placing his head in her lap. His eyes closed as she stroked his hair, and he willed the other occupants in the office to cease to exist.
The red, gushing taste left his mouth, and as he came back to himself, he recollected the presence of Dumbledore and Slughorn with shame and pulled gently away from Hermione. He sat back in his own seat, and was confronted by the disgusted eyes of Horace Slughorn and the concerned face of Dumbledore. His breath hissed out through his teeth.
“If you’re done getting your jollies watching me and my witch, we have several other questions.” Con was forced to swallow the gorge rising in his throat. He still felt quite unwell.
Dumbledore nodded.
Constantine raised his left hand and pointed to the cuff on his wrist. “What is this? Why won’t it come off?”
“That is part of a project on which you and several other members of the Order of the Phoenix are collaborating. I’m afraid I can’t provide you with further details until you regain your memory. It’s quite sensitive.”
“So that is why Professor McGonagall is also wearing one? Because she’s a member of the Order of the Phoenix?” Hermione interjected.
Dumbledore indicated that she was correct.
“Will I come to any harm from wearing the cuff?” Con’s voice was grudging.
“Quite the contrary.”
Constantine considered this for a moment before nodding. “I think that’s all for now. When I start to regain my memories, may I come back and question you further on the cuff and its properties?”
“You may come back, but you will recognize the power of the cuff once you remember yourself, my dear boy.”
Constantine stood up and held his hand out for Hermione. She slipped her fingers into his, and he pulled her to her feet. As they neared the door, the boy suddenly remembered Draco Malfoy and his warning.
“Sir, I have to ask you. Of what relation am I to Severus Snape?”
Dumbledore paused for just a second before stating, “You are no relative of Professor Snape, Mr. Prince.”
Con blinked, hearing a ring of falsehood, but he nodded, knowing he would get nothing further from the Headmaster. The two seventh-years politely excused themselves.
Back in the Headmaster’s office, Dumbledore slumped into his straight-backed chair.
“Albus, it’s an abomination! He’s a professor and over twice her age! Why didn’t you tell him? He’s going to realize it in a matter of weeks anyway! He’ll hate you for letting him continue with Ms. Granger unknowing.”
“Horace, I’m afraid you are correct.” The old man removed his half-moon spectacles and rubbed his watering blue eyes. “Once Severus knows the truth, he’ll be a loaded gun meant for Lucius Malfoy. I need to make sure he’s pointed in the correct direction before he discovers the truth.”
A/N: Aww, man. For once, I thought Dumbledore was moved to help Snape because Snape DESERVES it. I mean, hasn't the man been through enough? Now - I'm sure a big part of Dumbledore wants Severus to have a better life, but I think Dumbledore is just trying to take out a loan wolf. Sigh Come, let me cuddle you in my ample bosom, Severus.
So, new chappie will go up tomorrow. Hope you guys enjoyed it.
Like it, love it, hate it, review it!