Disguised Affections
folder
Harry Potter › Het - Male/Female › Snape/Hermione
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
27
Views:
25,544
Reviews:
144
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
1
Category:
Harry Potter › Het - Male/Female › Snape/Hermione
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
27
Views:
25,544
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 Thirteen
A/N: SMUT AHEAD!!!
BTW, I've had several people ask me how long this story will be, and as it stands currently, it's plotted up to 27 chapters plus an epilogue. So we should be all done in about two weeks. ;P
Harry Potter and everything contained herein is the exclusive property of JK Rowling. I just like to write stories where they do dirty things to each other. I make no profit.
Chapter Thirteen
The jenett blossom was encased in a glass box filled with water, and it floated serene in its aquatic environment there on the shelf in the Potions storeroom. Hermione picked it up, careful not to jostle it, and started walking towards Con. The glass box in which the flower was contained was made from sand from a “magical dead spot” in the Serengeti, perfect for blocking out stray spells and magical auras.
They’d discovered, much to their chagrin, that jenett blossoms are ridiculously delicate. After having killed three during the harvesting process, they’d learned that the flower cannot touch open air for even a moment or it will die, their petals falling off like autumn leaves, brown and shriveled before they even touched the ground. When they started dying in the Potions storeroom, it had taken the tragic deaths of five jenett blossoms before they realized that the magic from the surrounding ingredients had poisoned them.
Out of twenty-four seedlings, they’d managed to get eighteen to germinate, and they’d brought fifteen up to full maturity. There were only seven left now, including the one in Hermione’s hands and she held it as carefully as she would have a newborn child.
Constantine opened the lid with exquisite precision so as not to expose the bloom. With a delicate silver athame, he dissected the plant while it was still underwater, carefully peeling back the petals and exposing the tender heart. Hermione was mesmerized by his clean, precise movements. His technique was superb, and the girl could honestly say it was rivaled only by Professor Snape’s.
“Con,” she murmured thoughtfully. “Did you get the impression that Headmaster Dumbledore was being less than truthful about you being related to Professor Snape?”
“Yes, he was definitely hiding something.”
“You know, I’ve been thinking quite a bit lately and you remind me so much of him. The way you look, your voice, even your ingredients preparation is just like his.” She cocked her head and looked at him. “Maybe you’re his son.”
Constantine put down the knife he’d been using to cube the heart of the jenett and turned to face the girl. “You didn’t mention whether or not Professor Snape was good-looking. If we are so similar, he must truly be a mighty figure of a man.”
Hermione’s mouth curled up. She was amused at his blatant request for flattery. “Oh, yes. He’s the pinnacle of rugged good looks – skinny, greasy-haired, worn-out, with a beaky nose. You really do look just like him.” Reaching up, she tugged on his nose. Con jerked back, and looked affronted. Stiffly, he turned back to the water jenett.
“I’m sorry if my looks offend. Stand back, I’m going to move the heart to the potion.” He went to step forward, but Hermione caught his arm between her hands and turned him back to face her. She looked into his dear face, beaky nose and all, and felt a suspicious warmth burn in her chest.
“Constantine.”
He looked away, scowling.
“Constantine, I love the way you look. You have very striking features. But more than that, I really like who you are. You are funny and kind and very loyal.”
He looked at her from the corner of his eyes. “Yes, but… you think I’m handsome?”
“Very much so. I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings.” Hermione’s voice was sweet.
“I’m very sensitive about my nose.”
“I can see that. I should have never teased you.” She leaned forward and brought her lips to his ear. “Actually, I just adore your nose. I think it makes you look distinguished and very manly.”
Constantine stood up straight, and Hermione could see his chest puff up a bit. Boys were so easy. She rubbed his shoulder and smiled at him, and she saw his hard black eyes soften. He ran his lips over her eyebrow.
He turned from her, and picked up the diced jenett heart. “All right. Now to ease this into the potion. How much water is acceptable to add to the base?”
The Cunning Potions of Edvard Hessleton lay open on her workstation desk. “No more than 0.32 liters.” There was a full liter in the container holding the heart. Using a bulb with a long nozzle, he sucked water out with painstaking care. The level dropped lower and lower until finally, the heart was just barely covered.
Hermione sucked on her teeth nervously as Con lifted the box containing the jenett and moved towards the cauldron with the rest of the base. One false move, and the water would tilt and expose the heart to air, destroying it in the process. He lowered it into the liquid in the cauldron slowly, so very slowy, and the girl felt like she was going to explode from nerves.
“Oh careful! Be careful, Con!”
He gave her a sardonic look, and then the heart was in the potion. He removed the now-empty glass box from the cauldron. The two seventh-years watched with baited breath as Con used a glass rod to stir the base ten times clockwise. It slowly turned a rich vermillion. Hermione squealed.
“We did it! Now all we have to do is substitute this for the normal armadillo bile base for the Wit-Sharpening Potion, and then…”
Hermione was quite pleased when he stopped her speech with a kiss, and smiled to herself when she felt the tip of his nose brush her cheek. It really was a magnificent appendage. She snuggled against his chest and listened to his heart beat, strong and firm like a drum at a Beltane celebration. Con’s hands came up and he lifted her hair and breathed in her scent, as if to imprint her smell upon his foundered memory. Hermione teared up, touched by the gesture.
Constantine suddenly stiffened under her hands. “No, no, no!” he wailed. “What just happened?” She whirled around to face the base, and saw with chagrin that it had turned a pestilent and sticky brown. The jenett hearts bobbed at the top of the Potions, shriveled and dead.
“Could it have been the marsh mallow? Maybe my calculations were incorrect somehow.” She rested her elbows on the library table.
“The day you make a mistake in Arithmancy is the same day I will confuse a bezoar with Seamus’s pillow.” Con shuddered. “He makes out with it, you know. I think he’s practicing.”
Hermione and Con stared at each other with horrified eyes for a moment, before looking away in discomfort. She straightened up some papers and Potions text on the library table they were sharing.
“What about the shrivelfig?” she said, clearing her throat.
“It shouldn’t react negatively with the jenett. They both share a positive seven redux. If anything, they should enhance each other’s effects, not cancel them out. We’ve run these numbers at least a dozen times. I really don’t think it’s an ingredient reaction.”
They sat in silence while they pondered the issue. They didn’t have room for error since there were now only six blossoms left, and winter was closing in – precluding them from growing more.
“It can’t be the heat,” he murmured. Any cooler, and we won’t be able to simmer the armadillo bile. Any hotter and the memory-enhancing properties will be diminished.” Con scratched the hair at the nape of his neck. “We’ve already determined the correct amount and direction of stirs from that enormous equation you solved for us.”
Hermione blushed.
“Oh!” she suddenly exclaimed. “It’s probably the cauldron material. We’re using a cauldron that’s quite porous, Con. Maybe there is a magical residue or old ingredients which have leeched into the metal causing a bad reaction with the jenetts.”
“Hermione, I think that’s it. That’s why it didn’t react right away. The pollution must be in such minute amounts, it took several minutes to affect the heart. So, we should be okay if we just seal the… no, that won’t work… The magic seal will contaminate the potion just as surely as if we left it undone. Should we get a brand new cauldron, then?”
“I think that would definitely work. It’d get expensive though. Why don’t we just use a less porous cauldron? Glass, perhaps?”
“You are so smart and sexy.”
Con shot out of his seat and grabbed her hand, pulling her away from the table. “Oh, our notes!” she said, one hand outstretched towards the piles of texts and papers.
“Leave them,” he ground out.
He pulled her into the darkest, most disused corner of the Hogwarts’ library, the area devoted to the deadly dull sixth century house elf ‘Cheese Revolt.’ Hermione’s eyes widened. Look! A precedent! House elves revolting! I could use this in my work for S.P.E.W.”
“I’m not going to even pretend I know what you are talking about right now.” Con wrapped his arms around her and nibbled on her ear. “You are the most intelligent witch, I’ve ever met. Gods, I want you.” Like a dam bursting, his mouth crashed down on hers.
The fact that his desire for her was triggered by his appreciation for her intelligence only fueled her arousal to burn brighter. Hermione didn’t doubt that he wanted her body, too. The evidence of it was pressing into her belly, but no boy other than Victor had been willing to overlook her bookishness, and here was a man who wanted her because of it. It made her feel as if he really saw her and not just what she could do for him mentally or sexually.
Hermione moaned, excited by how passionate he was. She parted her lips and allowed him to slide his tongue into her mouth. The soft pebbled slide of his tongue on hers was intoxicating, and she felt greedy for more touches and kisses and quiet cries of yes, yes, more, there. She fisted her hands in his black hair and tugged him closer roughly.
Constantine picked her up and gently laid her on the floor, before coming down to rest on top of her. His face was buried in her neck, the moist heat of his breath tickling the baby hairs at her nape. His tongue was busy tracing hot, erotic patterns on her jugular and Hermione cried out, a soft jagged noise that sounded as if it was ripped from her belly. Her muscles went weak and her knees parted, and then she was cradling his hips with thighs.
He slid his arm under her neck, and tenderly kissed her mouth. “Oh, Hermione,” he breathed quietly. The girl felt as if she was drowning in his magpie eyes which saw something and wanted it, and reached out to take it. And because there was no such thing as right or wrong between the two of them, when Constantine reached out to her with yearning arms and his selfish mouth, and she allowed him to take what he pleased.
He flexed his hips, pressing his erection directly against her core. They both paused for a moment, groaning at the sensation. He rocked his hips again, and the tip of his cock pressed against her clit. Hermione cried out loudly against his mouth, an “Oh” of surprise that broke in the middle, and Con laughed quietly.
“No screaming, love. We’ll get caught if you don’t stay quiet.”
Hermione nodded, panting, but when he rocked up against that sweet spot again, her voice broke from her mouth like a bird, soaring out over the library. She clapped her hand over her lips and giggled.
He smiled at the girlish noise and slid down her body, laving hot kisses on her collarbone while his hands unbuttoned her robe until it flapped open at her sides, exposing her school shirt and skirt. Con’s lips traveled over the exposed vee of her clavicles and supra-sternal notch, tracking farther and farther down as his naughty fingers undid her shirt a button at a time, until it too was open, exposing her slender form to his hungry eyes.
Her black bra was simple, but fitted perfectly to her curves. Con reached out and touched a tiny bow that graced a strap. “You are so beautiful.” He buried his face between her breasts, and she groaned when she felt his tongue slide wetly up her sternum. His teeth nipped over the tight buds of her nipples through the fabric. Hermione arched happily against his mouth. He licked the swells of her breasts, and allowed his hand to slide between their bodies and up her skirt. The fabric was slick between her legs when he coasted his fingers over her soft, matching panties.
Con freed one of her breasts, pulling it out over the cup of her bra. His tongue traced tight circles around her nipple while his finger taunted her by playing at the edge of the scrap of fabric covering her center. He pushed it aside and slid his finger into her quim just as he sucked her nipple into his mouth. Hermione’s eyes rolled back and her heels drummed the floor as he slid his index finger in and out of her tight, needy cunny. He slid a second finger into her, and the girl nearly bit through her tongue trying to prevent the cries that wanted to burst from her throat. The wet, sucking noise of his fingers inside of her was an erotic counterpoint to her shuddering breaths.
“Hermione, let me eat you. Please. I want to bury my face between your thighs. Oh gods, I want to lick you until you scream.” His voice was ragged, and he stared at her with his intense black eyes.
“You are so bloody dirty, Constantine.” She pulled his face to hers and kissed him deeply, before shoving him off her completely. He rolled onto his back and raised himself up on his elbows to see what she was going to do.
There was a ladder which leaned up against the bookshelf at a forty-five degree angle so that library patrons could reach the top shelf. Hermione seated herself on the third step from the bottom and grabbed a rung several steps above her. “If I let you do this, you have to let me watch you. I can’t see anything if I’m flat on my back.”
Her legs fell open and Con crashed to his knees in front of her. “Yessss,” he hissed. Pushing her skirt to her waist, he bent forward and kissed the crotch of her panties. His tongue swiped a broad stroke through the fabric, travelling from slit to clit. He smirked and Vanished the scrap of black that covered her.
“Oh!” she cried out. “I really liked those!”
“I’ll buy you another pair.”
His fingers pressed into the soft skin of her thighs, urging her to spread her legs wider so that his shoulders would fit more comfortably, and he’d have a better view of her pink, wet flesh. His thumbs slid her lips apart and she opened to him like a ripe fruit, tender fuzz on the outside and sweet, moist skin on the inside.
“Hermione,” he said to get her attention. His dark, secretive eyes met hers, and she had to bite her lip as she watched his raven’s-wing head descend to her dripping slit.
His gaze never left hers as he explored her with his lips and tongue with an exquisite gentleness that had her wanting to scream harder, gods, harder. He suckled on her lips, and blew on the tufts of hair that covered her mons, and she moaned and squirmed trying to compel him to give her the contact that she so desperately needed. He lowered his lids, and dragged his tongue from her entrance to the bundle of nerves at the top allowing her to feel every blessed inch of it. His lips wrapped lightly around her clit, and he suckled gently, letting the tip of his tongue trace circles around it.
She watched him greedily. His pink tongue looked so wet as it flicked her femininity, and seeing the look of pleasure on his face rocketed her arousal to new limits. He enjoyed doing this to her. Hermione saw him slide the index and forefinger of his right hand into her canal. Constantine pumped her slowly, his lips and tongue continuing to toy with her clit, and his eyes never leaving hers. Once, twice, three times, and Hermione came convulsively, her toes curled tightly and her eyes rolled back into her head. Unable to scream because of their location, she choked and keened her pleasure softly.
Panting, she jerked in aftershocks as Con tenderly lapped at her center several more times, being careful not to over-stimulate her. “You, my dear, are divine,” he murmured, pulling her skirt back down and helping her to sit up.
Hermione didn’t feel capable of rational speech. “You… that was, I mean. Con, your mouth is so dirty. That was the most arousing thing I’ve ever seen.” She leaned forward and brushed her mouth on his, sharing in her flavor. As her hand slipped to his buckle to free his massively bulging erection, they heard someone approaching through the aisles.
They were on their feet instantly, smoothing their clothing and buttoning their robes. Hermione spared a brief moment to be thankful that loose robes hid a variety of sins from the casual observer, and by the time Madame Pince arrived, they were arguing over the ‘Cheese Revolt’ in a lively manner.
When the librarian left, Con whispered in Hermione’s ear. “Every time you are in the library, I want you to remember the feeling of my mouth on you. I want this branded in your memory so that you’ll never forget.”
The girl looked at him with wide eyes, and stroked her fingers through his hair.
As they returned to their table, they noticed Draco and Ron sitting at a table together. Their books were spread out in front of them, but they appeared to be engaged deeply in a conversation. They watched as Ron clapped a friendly hand on Draco’s shoulder. The blond Slytherin smiled slightly and rolled his eyes.
“What do you think of that?” Hermione asked Con. He shrugged.
“It’s probably a very good thing. They both needed someone to talk to. Why shouldn’t they find that in each other?”
“Do you think Draco’s safe?”
Constantine cocked his head, considering her question.
“Yes. I should think so.”
A/N: Holy smokes. That was fun to write. Hope you all enjoyed it.
I have a bit of sad news for all of you (although I, of course am ecstatic). I cannot promise to have a chapter posted tomorrow. It is my fourth wedding anniversary and the hubster is taking me out on the town in the afternoon and evening, and I have to go to the stable in the AM to vetwrap a leg, and ride my mare.
I will try my best though! Please don’t send me hate mail. I try to be an accommodating author. ;p
BTW, I've had several people ask me how long this story will be, and as it stands currently, it's plotted up to 27 chapters plus an epilogue. So we should be all done in about two weeks. ;P
Harry Potter and everything contained herein is the exclusive property of JK Rowling. I just like to write stories where they do dirty things to each other. I make no profit.
Chapter Thirteen
The jenett blossom was encased in a glass box filled with water, and it floated serene in its aquatic environment there on the shelf in the Potions storeroom. Hermione picked it up, careful not to jostle it, and started walking towards Con. The glass box in which the flower was contained was made from sand from a “magical dead spot” in the Serengeti, perfect for blocking out stray spells and magical auras.
They’d discovered, much to their chagrin, that jenett blossoms are ridiculously delicate. After having killed three during the harvesting process, they’d learned that the flower cannot touch open air for even a moment or it will die, their petals falling off like autumn leaves, brown and shriveled before they even touched the ground. When they started dying in the Potions storeroom, it had taken the tragic deaths of five jenett blossoms before they realized that the magic from the surrounding ingredients had poisoned them.
Out of twenty-four seedlings, they’d managed to get eighteen to germinate, and they’d brought fifteen up to full maturity. There were only seven left now, including the one in Hermione’s hands and she held it as carefully as she would have a newborn child.
Constantine opened the lid with exquisite precision so as not to expose the bloom. With a delicate silver athame, he dissected the plant while it was still underwater, carefully peeling back the petals and exposing the tender heart. Hermione was mesmerized by his clean, precise movements. His technique was superb, and the girl could honestly say it was rivaled only by Professor Snape’s.
“Con,” she murmured thoughtfully. “Did you get the impression that Headmaster Dumbledore was being less than truthful about you being related to Professor Snape?”
“Yes, he was definitely hiding something.”
“You know, I’ve been thinking quite a bit lately and you remind me so much of him. The way you look, your voice, even your ingredients preparation is just like his.” She cocked her head and looked at him. “Maybe you’re his son.”
Constantine put down the knife he’d been using to cube the heart of the jenett and turned to face the girl. “You didn’t mention whether or not Professor Snape was good-looking. If we are so similar, he must truly be a mighty figure of a man.”
Hermione’s mouth curled up. She was amused at his blatant request for flattery. “Oh, yes. He’s the pinnacle of rugged good looks – skinny, greasy-haired, worn-out, with a beaky nose. You really do look just like him.” Reaching up, she tugged on his nose. Con jerked back, and looked affronted. Stiffly, he turned back to the water jenett.
“I’m sorry if my looks offend. Stand back, I’m going to move the heart to the potion.” He went to step forward, but Hermione caught his arm between her hands and turned him back to face her. She looked into his dear face, beaky nose and all, and felt a suspicious warmth burn in her chest.
“Constantine.”
He looked away, scowling.
“Constantine, I love the way you look. You have very striking features. But more than that, I really like who you are. You are funny and kind and very loyal.”
He looked at her from the corner of his eyes. “Yes, but… you think I’m handsome?”
“Very much so. I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings.” Hermione’s voice was sweet.
“I’m very sensitive about my nose.”
“I can see that. I should have never teased you.” She leaned forward and brought her lips to his ear. “Actually, I just adore your nose. I think it makes you look distinguished and very manly.”
Constantine stood up straight, and Hermione could see his chest puff up a bit. Boys were so easy. She rubbed his shoulder and smiled at him, and she saw his hard black eyes soften. He ran his lips over her eyebrow.
He turned from her, and picked up the diced jenett heart. “All right. Now to ease this into the potion. How much water is acceptable to add to the base?”
The Cunning Potions of Edvard Hessleton lay open on her workstation desk. “No more than 0.32 liters.” There was a full liter in the container holding the heart. Using a bulb with a long nozzle, he sucked water out with painstaking care. The level dropped lower and lower until finally, the heart was just barely covered.
Hermione sucked on her teeth nervously as Con lifted the box containing the jenett and moved towards the cauldron with the rest of the base. One false move, and the water would tilt and expose the heart to air, destroying it in the process. He lowered it into the liquid in the cauldron slowly, so very slowy, and the girl felt like she was going to explode from nerves.
“Oh careful! Be careful, Con!”
He gave her a sardonic look, and then the heart was in the potion. He removed the now-empty glass box from the cauldron. The two seventh-years watched with baited breath as Con used a glass rod to stir the base ten times clockwise. It slowly turned a rich vermillion. Hermione squealed.
“We did it! Now all we have to do is substitute this for the normal armadillo bile base for the Wit-Sharpening Potion, and then…”
Hermione was quite pleased when he stopped her speech with a kiss, and smiled to herself when she felt the tip of his nose brush her cheek. It really was a magnificent appendage. She snuggled against his chest and listened to his heart beat, strong and firm like a drum at a Beltane celebration. Con’s hands came up and he lifted her hair and breathed in her scent, as if to imprint her smell upon his foundered memory. Hermione teared up, touched by the gesture.
Constantine suddenly stiffened under her hands. “No, no, no!” he wailed. “What just happened?” She whirled around to face the base, and saw with chagrin that it had turned a pestilent and sticky brown. The jenett hearts bobbed at the top of the Potions, shriveled and dead.
“Could it have been the marsh mallow? Maybe my calculations were incorrect somehow.” She rested her elbows on the library table.
“The day you make a mistake in Arithmancy is the same day I will confuse a bezoar with Seamus’s pillow.” Con shuddered. “He makes out with it, you know. I think he’s practicing.”
Hermione and Con stared at each other with horrified eyes for a moment, before looking away in discomfort. She straightened up some papers and Potions text on the library table they were sharing.
“What about the shrivelfig?” she said, clearing her throat.
“It shouldn’t react negatively with the jenett. They both share a positive seven redux. If anything, they should enhance each other’s effects, not cancel them out. We’ve run these numbers at least a dozen times. I really don’t think it’s an ingredient reaction.”
They sat in silence while they pondered the issue. They didn’t have room for error since there were now only six blossoms left, and winter was closing in – precluding them from growing more.
“It can’t be the heat,” he murmured. Any cooler, and we won’t be able to simmer the armadillo bile. Any hotter and the memory-enhancing properties will be diminished.” Con scratched the hair at the nape of his neck. “We’ve already determined the correct amount and direction of stirs from that enormous equation you solved for us.”
Hermione blushed.
“Oh!” she suddenly exclaimed. “It’s probably the cauldron material. We’re using a cauldron that’s quite porous, Con. Maybe there is a magical residue or old ingredients which have leeched into the metal causing a bad reaction with the jenetts.”
“Hermione, I think that’s it. That’s why it didn’t react right away. The pollution must be in such minute amounts, it took several minutes to affect the heart. So, we should be okay if we just seal the… no, that won’t work… The magic seal will contaminate the potion just as surely as if we left it undone. Should we get a brand new cauldron, then?”
“I think that would definitely work. It’d get expensive though. Why don’t we just use a less porous cauldron? Glass, perhaps?”
“You are so smart and sexy.”
Con shot out of his seat and grabbed her hand, pulling her away from the table. “Oh, our notes!” she said, one hand outstretched towards the piles of texts and papers.
“Leave them,” he ground out.
He pulled her into the darkest, most disused corner of the Hogwarts’ library, the area devoted to the deadly dull sixth century house elf ‘Cheese Revolt.’ Hermione’s eyes widened. Look! A precedent! House elves revolting! I could use this in my work for S.P.E.W.”
“I’m not going to even pretend I know what you are talking about right now.” Con wrapped his arms around her and nibbled on her ear. “You are the most intelligent witch, I’ve ever met. Gods, I want you.” Like a dam bursting, his mouth crashed down on hers.
The fact that his desire for her was triggered by his appreciation for her intelligence only fueled her arousal to burn brighter. Hermione didn’t doubt that he wanted her body, too. The evidence of it was pressing into her belly, but no boy other than Victor had been willing to overlook her bookishness, and here was a man who wanted her because of it. It made her feel as if he really saw her and not just what she could do for him mentally or sexually.
Hermione moaned, excited by how passionate he was. She parted her lips and allowed him to slide his tongue into her mouth. The soft pebbled slide of his tongue on hers was intoxicating, and she felt greedy for more touches and kisses and quiet cries of yes, yes, more, there. She fisted her hands in his black hair and tugged him closer roughly.
Constantine picked her up and gently laid her on the floor, before coming down to rest on top of her. His face was buried in her neck, the moist heat of his breath tickling the baby hairs at her nape. His tongue was busy tracing hot, erotic patterns on her jugular and Hermione cried out, a soft jagged noise that sounded as if it was ripped from her belly. Her muscles went weak and her knees parted, and then she was cradling his hips with thighs.
He slid his arm under her neck, and tenderly kissed her mouth. “Oh, Hermione,” he breathed quietly. The girl felt as if she was drowning in his magpie eyes which saw something and wanted it, and reached out to take it. And because there was no such thing as right or wrong between the two of them, when Constantine reached out to her with yearning arms and his selfish mouth, and she allowed him to take what he pleased.
He flexed his hips, pressing his erection directly against her core. They both paused for a moment, groaning at the sensation. He rocked his hips again, and the tip of his cock pressed against her clit. Hermione cried out loudly against his mouth, an “Oh” of surprise that broke in the middle, and Con laughed quietly.
“No screaming, love. We’ll get caught if you don’t stay quiet.”
Hermione nodded, panting, but when he rocked up against that sweet spot again, her voice broke from her mouth like a bird, soaring out over the library. She clapped her hand over her lips and giggled.
He smiled at the girlish noise and slid down her body, laving hot kisses on her collarbone while his hands unbuttoned her robe until it flapped open at her sides, exposing her school shirt and skirt. Con’s lips traveled over the exposed vee of her clavicles and supra-sternal notch, tracking farther and farther down as his naughty fingers undid her shirt a button at a time, until it too was open, exposing her slender form to his hungry eyes.
Her black bra was simple, but fitted perfectly to her curves. Con reached out and touched a tiny bow that graced a strap. “You are so beautiful.” He buried his face between her breasts, and she groaned when she felt his tongue slide wetly up her sternum. His teeth nipped over the tight buds of her nipples through the fabric. Hermione arched happily against his mouth. He licked the swells of her breasts, and allowed his hand to slide between their bodies and up her skirt. The fabric was slick between her legs when he coasted his fingers over her soft, matching panties.
Con freed one of her breasts, pulling it out over the cup of her bra. His tongue traced tight circles around her nipple while his finger taunted her by playing at the edge of the scrap of fabric covering her center. He pushed it aside and slid his finger into her quim just as he sucked her nipple into his mouth. Hermione’s eyes rolled back and her heels drummed the floor as he slid his index finger in and out of her tight, needy cunny. He slid a second finger into her, and the girl nearly bit through her tongue trying to prevent the cries that wanted to burst from her throat. The wet, sucking noise of his fingers inside of her was an erotic counterpoint to her shuddering breaths.
“Hermione, let me eat you. Please. I want to bury my face between your thighs. Oh gods, I want to lick you until you scream.” His voice was ragged, and he stared at her with his intense black eyes.
“You are so bloody dirty, Constantine.” She pulled his face to hers and kissed him deeply, before shoving him off her completely. He rolled onto his back and raised himself up on his elbows to see what she was going to do.
There was a ladder which leaned up against the bookshelf at a forty-five degree angle so that library patrons could reach the top shelf. Hermione seated herself on the third step from the bottom and grabbed a rung several steps above her. “If I let you do this, you have to let me watch you. I can’t see anything if I’m flat on my back.”
Her legs fell open and Con crashed to his knees in front of her. “Yessss,” he hissed. Pushing her skirt to her waist, he bent forward and kissed the crotch of her panties. His tongue swiped a broad stroke through the fabric, travelling from slit to clit. He smirked and Vanished the scrap of black that covered her.
“Oh!” she cried out. “I really liked those!”
“I’ll buy you another pair.”
His fingers pressed into the soft skin of her thighs, urging her to spread her legs wider so that his shoulders would fit more comfortably, and he’d have a better view of her pink, wet flesh. His thumbs slid her lips apart and she opened to him like a ripe fruit, tender fuzz on the outside and sweet, moist skin on the inside.
“Hermione,” he said to get her attention. His dark, secretive eyes met hers, and she had to bite her lip as she watched his raven’s-wing head descend to her dripping slit.
His gaze never left hers as he explored her with his lips and tongue with an exquisite gentleness that had her wanting to scream harder, gods, harder. He suckled on her lips, and blew on the tufts of hair that covered her mons, and she moaned and squirmed trying to compel him to give her the contact that she so desperately needed. He lowered his lids, and dragged his tongue from her entrance to the bundle of nerves at the top allowing her to feel every blessed inch of it. His lips wrapped lightly around her clit, and he suckled gently, letting the tip of his tongue trace circles around it.
She watched him greedily. His pink tongue looked so wet as it flicked her femininity, and seeing the look of pleasure on his face rocketed her arousal to new limits. He enjoyed doing this to her. Hermione saw him slide the index and forefinger of his right hand into her canal. Constantine pumped her slowly, his lips and tongue continuing to toy with her clit, and his eyes never leaving hers. Once, twice, three times, and Hermione came convulsively, her toes curled tightly and her eyes rolled back into her head. Unable to scream because of their location, she choked and keened her pleasure softly.
Panting, she jerked in aftershocks as Con tenderly lapped at her center several more times, being careful not to over-stimulate her. “You, my dear, are divine,” he murmured, pulling her skirt back down and helping her to sit up.
Hermione didn’t feel capable of rational speech. “You… that was, I mean. Con, your mouth is so dirty. That was the most arousing thing I’ve ever seen.” She leaned forward and brushed her mouth on his, sharing in her flavor. As her hand slipped to his buckle to free his massively bulging erection, they heard someone approaching through the aisles.
They were on their feet instantly, smoothing their clothing and buttoning their robes. Hermione spared a brief moment to be thankful that loose robes hid a variety of sins from the casual observer, and by the time Madame Pince arrived, they were arguing over the ‘Cheese Revolt’ in a lively manner.
When the librarian left, Con whispered in Hermione’s ear. “Every time you are in the library, I want you to remember the feeling of my mouth on you. I want this branded in your memory so that you’ll never forget.”
The girl looked at him with wide eyes, and stroked her fingers through his hair.
As they returned to their table, they noticed Draco and Ron sitting at a table together. Their books were spread out in front of them, but they appeared to be engaged deeply in a conversation. They watched as Ron clapped a friendly hand on Draco’s shoulder. The blond Slytherin smiled slightly and rolled his eyes.
“What do you think of that?” Hermione asked Con. He shrugged.
“It’s probably a very good thing. They both needed someone to talk to. Why shouldn’t they find that in each other?”
“Do you think Draco’s safe?”
Constantine cocked his head, considering her question.
“Yes. I should think so.”
A/N: Holy smokes. That was fun to write. Hope you all enjoyed it.
I have a bit of sad news for all of you (although I, of course am ecstatic). I cannot promise to have a chapter posted tomorrow. It is my fourth wedding anniversary and the hubster is taking me out on the town in the afternoon and evening, and I have to go to the stable in the AM to vetwrap a leg, and ride my mare.
I will try my best though! Please don’t send me hate mail. I try to be an accommodating author. ;p