Indulgence

AN: Poor Hermione. Silly girl is too smart for her own good.

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Part 2


Hermione, under the cover of her invisibility cloak, made her way down the passage at the base of the Whomping Willow at precisely 8:59. She held her wand in front of her to guide her through the dimly lit passage, thankful to not be so tall as to need to stoop. It was slow to move through here, and a longer trek than she remembered. This time there was no adrenaline rushing through her veins to blame for the way her heart pounded in her chest. No, only nerves that knotted her stomach and heat of anticipation between her legs.

Step after step. One shuffling foot at a time, Hermione made her approach.

She moved the trap door out of the way and shielded her eyes against the sudden blaze of light. She extinguished her wand and made her way into the room. There were candles all around. They lined the walls along the floorboards and lit a path to the centre of the room.

“You seem to prefer the old rituals, although your research only brushed the surface of the complexities involved.” Snape’s voice resonated deeply from behind her as she stepped fully into the room.

Hermione looked around in awe. While not precisely cleaned, Snape had cleared out the old furniture that had spotted the room and exorcised the worst of the cobwebs. On the floor where the trail of candles ended was a comfortable set-up of blankets and pillows. \'Thank god,\' she thought, \'that floor is hard.\'

She felt the tightness in her gut recede, dissolving into relief and into joy at witnessing the effort he put forth for this. She spun around to smile at him and express her thanks when she was stopped by the look in his eyes.

He had shed most of his teaching robes and took a step toward her, a dark menacing look in his eye. He looked dangerous, very dangerous, and reminded her of why most feared him. Snape stood in front of her and took advantage of her astonishment to slip her wand out of her grasp.

“This will happen only as I say it will. Do you understand?” Snape gripped her chin and stared down at her. His eyes looked black and bottomless in the flicker of candlelight. “You will be silent, unless I tell you otherwise. If not, I leave here and it ends.”

Hermione could only nod as the fingers which held her smoothed over her cheek in a caress. His hand turned over to drag his knuckles along her jaw. Her lips parted, tongue darting out to moisten her lips. Gods but he knew how to touch her. She felt the heat of his body move closer, his fingers still lightly moving over her face.

“Undress,” Snape said. The one word laced with sinister intent in spite of the lightness in his voice.

Of their own accord, Hermione’s eyes darted to the windows which faced Hogsmeade. It was dark outside and the light from the candles was sure to illuminate them to anyone who might happen to pass by.

“I find it curious the possibility of being seen no longer appeals to you. Worried you shall be caught with your lover?”

Hermione hesitated a moment too long and those soft tones turned harsh.

“Take off that uniform, girl. I don’t wish to be reminded of your housemates.” Snape circled around behind her, cupping her jaw and tilting her head to the side. His lips hovered millimeters over her skin and brushed against her neck as he spoke. “Unless of course you’d rather return to your common room.”

He stepped away from her then and left her standing alone in the center of the room. Her skin felt chilled from where his hand had been.

Time to choose, Granger.

Damn the man. Damn him and his tests.

She reached up and unfastened her robe to let it slip down her shoulders to the floor. She tugged at her necktie and pulled the end free. Hermione unhooked it from her neck and held out at arm\'s length to drop it.

Snape remained silent as pieces of her uniform continued to fall away and left her standing naked and cold. Hermione clenched her hands and forced herself to stay still and wait for him to say something.

“I feel the need to be compensated for your behaviour as of late.” Snape pulled her back against his chest. She felt skin pressed to skin and trembled. “Kneel,” he hissed and she felt herself grow wet in response.

A firm hand went to her shoulder and pushed her down to her knees. He circled back in front of her, looking tall and menacing.

Hermione swallowed hard as she looked at him. His chest, pale and dotted with scars that stretched across a long, lean torso. But her eyes were pulled down to his hands which worked open his belt to free his cock. She had little time to relish the sight of him aroused before his fingers crawled into her hair and pulled her against his groin.

She nuzzled the hard flesh before laving her tongue across it. He grunted and tightened his fingers in her curls to jerk her head still impatiently. Clearly there was no more room to tease this night. She acknowledged the point, however crudely made, and took him into her mouth. She began to slide her tongue along his cock with his fingers stilled her again.

“You are here for me. And I am not feeling patient this evening.” His voice, though harsh, hitched as his hips shot forward. Those hands held her head in a firm grip as he began to thrust into her mouth.

Hermione wrapped her hands around the back of his legs and clutched the scratchy wool fabric of his trousers. She could feel the muscles bunch in his thighs as his hips pumped into her hot, waiting mouth. He groaned and thrust faster, twitching unsteadily each time her teeth caught against skin.

She sucked down as his movements grew more anxious. Snape fisted her hair, tugging painfully at her skull as he moaned and the first gush of his release flooded into her throat.

He swayed unsteadily on his feet as he uncurled his fingers from her hair.

Hermione licked her lips and sighed as he let her sink down onto the padded floor and stretch her legs. As she watched Snape slide his trousers off his hips she noticed for the first time that he had been barefoot since she entered.

Why she found his feet sexy, she didn’t know.

Hermione looked up and watched Snape crawl across the floor to where she was lying. He stared at her, pupils dilated, a sheen of sweat on his brow and began sliding his hands up her thighs.

“The original ceremony involved an unguent, the contents of which even I dread to list. You will do well to remember tomorrow that I did not make you bathe in it beforehand.”

He knelt between her legs and slid his hands up and grasped hers. He guided her hands over her chest, toying with her nipples and molding her breasts.

“Also required was an offering of some form. I dispensed with the need for livestock or barley, and thought this would do nicely instead.”

Snape left one hand at her breast to pinch and roll the nipple between her fingers while he directed the other between her legs. He dipped her fingers between her folds and slowly began them circling her clit. Satisfied that she would comply, Snape removed his hand from hers and pushed her knees farther apart.

Hermione watched as his nostrils flared once, his eyes locked on the motions of her hand. She felt her leg quiver and let her eyes drift shut in pleasure. She heard herself whimper as his fingers dug into her thighs with a pain forced her eyes open.

“I prefer your eyes remain open, Hermione.”

She bit down on her lip and fought to meet his quelling stare. Her fingers slid down and dipped back into her body, making her hips shift restlessly. She wanted him so much she could taste it. He knew it too; it was why he liked her eyes open, so he could sense just how desperate she was. He flicked his hair out of his face and smiled grimly. There was a point there hiding in his gaze, but she had no idea where it might be hiding.

Hermione moved her fingers faster and just as she was nearing her peak he seized her hand and pulled it away. She groaned and lay shaking and oh so close to orgasm. If only he would touch her once it would be enough. One touch is all it would take and she could come.

She twisted underneath him as Snape pinned her hand above her head and pressed his renewed erection against her opening. She struggled another moment before he sheathed himself in her heat. She bucked up and met his hips, crying out in pleasure.

He pulled out with exquisite slowness and plunged back in and began to chant. The words poured out of him in a ragged velvet whisper.

Anek gememek sima imi.
Anek meruek.
An awi-i ii-ek imef
Anek senehtu-ek eni
Anek ten.

The final words were little more than a harsh breath as the spell took hold and knifed through them both.

Hermione felt her throat burn, strained as it was from screaming his name. The last thing she was aware of before she blacked out was a sinking feeling of emptiness building in her gut.

---

Hermione woke to find herself safely ensconced in her own bed. Disappointed and more than a little irked that Snape absented himself after a night like that, she kept firm hold of the sheets and swung her legs off the side of the bed. Crookshanks mreowed in protest of his primary source of heat leaving him in the lurch. She pushed him back onto the bed and scratched his tummy in apology.

“I suppose I should be grateful he didn’t charm me back into my uniform,” Hermione said, a tinge of bitterness in her voice.

It was Saturday now – thank Merlin – leaving Hermione to ponder whether or not she would be missed if she took breakfast in her room. As she thought to ring for a House Elf, a note on the table caught her eye. Despite the obvious need for discretion Hermione didn’t know why he bothered with the dictoquill. She missed seeing the nearly illegible scratch from his quill when he wrote her.

I shall be waiting.

Hermione furrowed her brow in confusion. That was odd. Why would he wait for her? They almost never saw each other during the day and especially not on a Hogsmeade weekend. She flipped the paper over. Nothing there either. Not even a time. Even his veiled invitations to eat with him held more clues than this.

Well bugger him. If he wanted to be mysterious he could bloody well wait until after she had a bath.

Hermione stood and headed to her bathroom when her stomach wrenched. What was wrong with her? Her legs suddenly buckled and sent her collapsing onto the floor. Gods! An aching longing spread through her belly, sending stars shooting through her vision. She remembered the similar feeling last night before she passed out, but now it was magnified fifty-fold. She laid her head onto the cool stone floor and breathed slowly for several long moments before she managed to think and inhale simultaneously.

She needed to find Snape. Somehow she knew if she could just get to him the pain would recede, if he would just touch her once she wouldn’t feel empty. She sensed compulsion behind the desire stronger even than the physical withdrawal. Like Imperio it peeled away every bit of resistance making her want nothing more than to feel him fucking her.

Did he know this was going to happen? Nothing she had read had even touched on the extent to which she would suffer the separation. And if he did know, why would he have left her here alone to endure…

Fuck.

Punishment. He was still piqued about her insistence and quite willing to vent his frustrations on her in the most tangible way he could conceive. So much for hoping last night was the start of a more pleasant bed partner. Not that she minded his penchant for rough sex, she rather enjoyed when he held her head, but he had gone to such effort setting the scene. Almost roman….

Don’t even think it, Granger.

Down that road lay madness.

By now she had gotten the hang of ignoring the needs of her body and felt strong enough to stumble into the bathroom to perform her ablutions. If he thought that she was going to go running – crawling was more like it – down to his rooms he had another thing coming. She was going to do her best to pretend that nothing had happened, just to get his back up.

Her hands felt shaky as they twisted the taps. The question was could she make it through the weekend let alone last until double potions on Monday?

Doubtful. Her treacherous mind answered as she sank down into the hot water.

---

Hermione all too readily agreed to the boys\' plan to drag her off to Honeydukes. She was desperate to get as far away from temptation as she could. Temptation himself would never be caught dead in Honeydukes with the entire student body around. If her two friends noticed a change from her usual eagerness to avoid that shop, they failed to show it.

Once inside the boys readily abandoned her to her own devices and began competing with the rest of the mob for handfuls of chocolate frogs. Not particularly interested in joining them, Hermione wandered the store in the hopes of something to distract her. She still felt the pull, like a magnet, toward him, but was still angry enough to be able to ignore it.

This plan worked until a small jar of yellow gumballs glistened and caught her eye. Curious, she went over and took a closer look.

\"What flavour gum is that?\" Hermione asked.

\"They\'re not gumballs, miss. New honey dewdrops, they pop when you bite them. Real nice burst of honey there. How many can I get you?\"

The question passed unnoticed. Hermione had stopped listening to the man as her mind ran away from her. Honey. She always rather fancied honey, but now all she could imagine was licking lines of it off Snape\'s body. Her mouth watered with thoughts of running her tongue along his stomach and how he would twitch if she sucked the dew off his nipple.

It was now getting distinctly warm in there. She was beset with images of their chests sticking together, skin coated with the unfinished traces of tacky gold fluid. She cleared her throat awkwardly and allowed herself to be dragged unresistingly to Zonko\'s.

Sunday\'s trip to Hogsmeade proved even more taxing on Hermione\'s overwrought system. They had plans on going to the Three Broomsticks to partake in a much coveted butterbeer. The journey began as well as one witch fighting geas could expect it to. By the time the group of them reached the gates marking the end of Hogwarts Hermione noticed that her discomfort had increased since they left the castle.

Odd.

Hermione grit her teeth and doggedly continued on. It became rapidly apparent that she had not imagined it when she abruptly doubled over at the door to the Three Broomsticks. The tickle in the back of her head that urged her silently to go to him spoke up. She was too far away. Unable to take another step towards her destination she stumbled backwards. Finally she was able to straighten up again.

Harry, Ron, and Ginny all stared at her oddly. Oh dear they would notice her nearly falling over in pain; she would have to make an excuse.

\"I don\'t think I\'m feeling very well, I might be sick.\" Please, please buy it.

\"You don\'t look good, Hermione. Maybe one of use should take you to Pomfrey,\" Ron offered, a bit too quickly for her taste, and moved to take her shoulder.

She nearly screamed when he touched her.

\"No!\" She had been too loud and continued on hurriedly, \"I\'ll be fine really. You don\'t want me sick all over your shoes, do you Ron?\" Hermione forced a smile and willed a rampaging hippogriff to trample him to death merely so he would stop holding her arm.

The pain was unbearable. She had to get rid of him before she blacked out. Her eyes lost focus, clouding over in pain and forced Hermione to wrench her arm away.

She began to plan all sorts of nasty hexes to throw at Snape as soon as she was able. You were the one who wanted this. She heard his voice remind in her mind. What did that matter to her pain-fogged mind?

Logic played very little role in her reasoning anymore.

Her friends thankfully let her begin her retreat back to the castle alone. Harry and Ginny did look rather disappointed that Ron would not be accompanying her, but she had walked away before they could insist.

Once she reached the gates her breathing became less laboured. By Hagrid\'s hut her fists unclenched. She felt better than she had all weekend just from walking closer to her. Hermione caught herself using the side door near the potions corridor and with great force of will turned away and retreated to her own rooms. It was there that the tremors began anew.

---

Class on Monday was torturous. Several times her hands began shaking to the point where she nearly performed a Longbottom fete of catastrophic mayhem by dropping ingredients. A covert flick of Snape\'s wand prevented the cauldron from exploding. To his credit he did keep his distance in class, but when he did pass by Hermione’s desk it was nearly too much. The consequences of not doing so were such that indulging himself as he would. Her need pulled on them both and as the day progressed it became harder for either to shut it out. Snape hesitated at one point and nearly set his hand on her arm. He covered the near slip by taking an astronomical amount of points from another Gryffindor.

At dinner her fingers nearly bled from the force with which she clutched at the table. He had no restrictions from tormenting without the fear of accidents looming overhead and spent the duration of the meal staring intently at her.

She could feel his gaze on her even with her back to him. The few times she did succumb to temptation and look at him she deeply regretted it. Their eyes locked and she felt a circuit close between them. Her breath came in shorter gasps and she realized with horror how close she was to coming in the middle of the Great Hall. And he knew it too, even before she began to blush.

He smirked. The insufferable wizard actually smirked at her.

And oh by the gods did it turn her on.

She had to get out of here. She excused herself, claiming womanly problems, and with two identical looks of embarrassment and horror ensured herself a few minutes free from interference from Potter and Weasley. Sometime teenage boys had their uses.

Hermione looked around, the force of reaction made her limbs quiver as she looked for somewhere, anywhere, to escape to. Gryffindor tower was too far away. Desperation spun her mind frantically as she sought the closest ladies room. It turned out to be blissfully empty.

She stepped into the first stall and slammed the door shut. She scrambled to pull her skirts up. Why oh bloody why did the uniform have to many fucking layers! She dug her hand into her panties and coated her fingers with her juices, trying to bring herself to a quick, bright release and get on with her day. She groaned and propped her foot on the toilet and fondled herself roughly. With her eyes shut she could imagine Snape burying those long sensuous fingers deep in her cunt.

Hermione groaned again, pinching her clit but still unable to get her body to just let go and come. She kept rubbing, hoping that even without orgasm she’d take the edge off this frenetic lust that smoldered through her veins. It was useless though, whatever made up that spell made her unable to get herself off. She let out a loud groan of frustration and slammed her head back against the door of the stall.

Damn, damn, damn, damn, damn!

She slammed her hand against the wall and winced as the stinging seared her palm. She gave up and washed her hands and left the bathroom. She felt no better – distracted and agitated and half torn between wanting to strangle Snape or to maul him right there on the High Table. She splashed some water on her face and tried to remember what she needed to do.

Great, Ancient Runes. Where the hell did I leave my bag?.

The next night and day passed no better. Refusing to answer the siren’s call, she avoided the Great Hall at meals and thanked Hecate that potions only met three times a week. She was growing progressively less able to function with this unanswered yearning. Could you die from lust? She wasn’t sure, but if this lasted much longer her grades were going to suffer. She laughed to herself at the thought.

And which concern are you more worried about Hermione, my girl – Death or Grades?

At the end of the day of classes Hermione stumbled into her rooms and collapsed on the bed shaking. She felt feverish, filled with a terrible need that demanded attention. But the pain and desire was nothing compared to the realization that she didn’t want to fight.

It was freeing in a way to have your body desire to be with another without your mind holding you back. It was if what she shared with Severus was magnified a hundred fold and untempered by the fear of him tiring of her. Or … well if she were honest with herself, her tiring with him. His moods were like quicksilver and equally poisonous, but if he were any easier it would be like, well like dating one of the boys.

Yawn.

Rationalizing the situation failed to relieve her of this duress. And no matter what insights she gained into her own feelings, they wouldn\'t do her a damn bit of good if she kept herself locked in her room. It was then that Hermione realized she couldn’t stop her body from shaking. She gripped her hands into fist and convulsed helplessly on the bed. Desperation drove her out of bed and quickly through the common room, hoping not to be seen by anyone. How would she explain it? ‘Don’t worry Ginny, it’s not a seizure. I just need to fuck Professor Snape senseless before I lose my mind.’

Sheer force of will kept her legs from giving out from under her as she scrambled down the unwieldy staircases.

Not much further.

That thought drove her on as she stumbled down the corridor and found herself face to face with Snape’s door. She was here. She didn\'t need to hold back anymore. Thought became action and Hermione collapsed against the wood frame. Slowly she raised her hand and knocked weakly.

Please be there…

The door answered her prayer and swung open.

\"Quickly, before you\'re seen.\"

FIN

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I’m a tad rusty and can’t find my dictionary, but it’s Good Enough for smutfic.

Heka-n-Seneh is crap grammatically, roughly meaning \'the magic of binding\'.

Egyptian transliteration: (am too lazy to draw the hieroglyphs in PhotoShop)
Jnk gmm=k sjmA jm=j
Jnk mrw=k
Jn awj=j jj=k jm=f
Jnk snH.tw=k n=j
Jnk tn

English translation:

I am the one in which you will find pleasure.
I am the one you shall love.
It is to my arms you shall come.
I am the one to whom you are bound.
You are mine.