#6 ~ A Matter of Matrimony
folder
Harry Potter › Het - Male/Female › Snape/Hermione
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
28
Views:
32,103
Reviews:
372
Recommended:
1
Currently Reading:
1
Category:
Harry Potter › Het - Male/Female › Snape/Hermione
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
28
Views:
32,103
Reviews:
372
Recommended:
1
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.
The Serpent and the Dragon
Disclaimer: All characters belong to JKR (except Marcus Delaluci). All situations are mine. No $$$ is being made from this fanfic.
*******************************
Chapter 3 ~ The Serpent and the Dragon
Hermione found herself in a forest, a huge, dark forest of close-knit black trees that wound about themselves. A forest of twisted trunks and branches, with tight spaces that she could barely squeeze through. She had to get out. There was someplace she had to be. Someplace she was needed. She scrambled over tangled roots, forced herself through close spaces, and pushed her way through gnarled, low-hanging branches.
There was a roaring in the distance and she worked her way toward the sound, the earth beginning to tremble. Limbs tangled their finger-like twigs in her hair, and bits of wood clung to her locks as the rumbling and roaring grew louder. The trees were thinning, she could move faster, easier, but the ground was shaking, slowing her down and the snarling roars were like thunder brewing all around her. She was free of the forest now, running up a rocky slope toward the terrible reverberations.
Her foot slipped and she slid back down, desperately grasping at stones and crevices to stop her descent. She regained her footing and scrambled back up the sloping terrain, panting, covered with dirt, twigs swinging in her hair. She reached the top and looked down into the clearing below where the rumbles, roars and tumultuous shudders emanated from.
Two mammoth beasts were engaged in a terrible battle. A great black serpent and a powerful bronze dragon. They clashed together, the serpent twining around the beast’s body, the dragon slashing and biting at the serpent’s flat, scaled head. They toppled and rolled together, the dragon’s roar shaking the very stars in the sky, and the serpent’s hissing deafening, like an ocean hitting the surface of the sun.
She watched them, breathlessly, helplessly, her chest tight as if surrounded by a band of stone, and then, then she was transforming, falling to her hands and knees, straining and lengthening, her body bursting from her clothing, her follicles sprouting tawny fur, her fingers and toes curling in upon themselves, the bone elongating through her flesh into powerful claws, her face bursting forth in muzzle, jowl and fang, the pupils of her amber eyes reforming, slitting, becoming luminous and feline. She stretched forth her neck and roared, the unearthly sound rebounding to the heavens.
And the beasts below her stopped their battle, looking up at the Lioness staring down at them. They uncoiled their great bodies and separated, their eyes expectant. And down she went, bounding from stone to stone, feeling her power as she raced down the steep embankment, into the clearing and stopped, panting before the great dragon and enormous serpent.
There was a deep silence as the dragon’s violet eyes and the serpent’s black gaze focused intently on the feline before them. A silent question was posed by each. The Lioness recoiled, her ears flattening, and she clung to the earth, snarling, claws digging into the soil.
Then slowly, ponderously, each great beast lowered its head to the ground in an unmistakable bow, the serpent, with the crest of Slytherin inscribed on the top of its great wedged head, and the dragon, with a strange symbol of a figure eight emblazoned brightly on the glittering scales of its brow. They lay there, prostrate before the Lioness, as if waiting for her response.
The Lioness roared once more, then fled.
*********************************
Hermione lurched up from her bed, gasping. She was soaked in sweat. The room seemed to spin as she regained her bearings. She held a trembling hand to her breast, feeling the pounding of her heart. She hadn’t dreamed of the Lioness in years, not since before becoming Severus’ lover, the dream when the serpent transformed her into a woman. She knew from interpreting the dream that the Lioness represented her primal, animalistic urges. That dream was a message that the Serpent would make her a woman, that much she had understood. But this dream, she was a woman, trapped in a confusing maze of forest, fighting through it to reach a dragon and a serpent embroiled in battle. She then became a Lioness, reverting to her primal urges, seemingly worshiped by both great beasts, who both wanted something from her animal form and it frightened her enough to flee them both.
“What a strange dream,” she said to herself, laying back down in the bed, staring up at the ceiling, and hugging herself tightly. The serpent, she knew represented Severus, and he had indeed made her a woman. She had dreamed about the serpent several times over the past years. It was always coiled about her naked body in those dreams, holding her possessively. But what was the dragon? Some danger that was approaching? If so, the serpent had been battling it. A danger to Severus? But it seemed linked to her, since the dragon ceased fighting and bowed to her. And the strange symbol? The figure eight. She knew that represented eternity, infinity, ever-flowing cycles constantly repeating themselves.
Both beasts had asked a question, but she had no idea what the question was. Whatever it was, it was horrifying enough to make the Lioness balk and flee. She might never find out the answer to that riddle.
Hermione felt her eyes getting heavy and relaxed. She would figure out the dream over time. She let sleep come.
*****************************
In his bed, a sleeping Marcus snuffled, let out a loud, grating snore and rolled over on his stomach, turning his face to the other side and snuggling down into the pillow. The silk sheets caught beneath him, dragging down his nude body and stopping at his hips, exposing his muscled arms and back. And the clear image of the birthmark fixed on his right shoulder, shaped like a figure eight.
*****************************
A/N: Haven’t done a dream sequence since my first story…I enjoy playing with symbolism. So I put this in. A liitle subconscious wake-up call for our heroine. Hope you didn’t mind. Please read and review, and thanks to all those you have already reviewed.
*******************************
Chapter 3 ~ The Serpent and the Dragon
Hermione found herself in a forest, a huge, dark forest of close-knit black trees that wound about themselves. A forest of twisted trunks and branches, with tight spaces that she could barely squeeze through. She had to get out. There was someplace she had to be. Someplace she was needed. She scrambled over tangled roots, forced herself through close spaces, and pushed her way through gnarled, low-hanging branches.
There was a roaring in the distance and she worked her way toward the sound, the earth beginning to tremble. Limbs tangled their finger-like twigs in her hair, and bits of wood clung to her locks as the rumbling and roaring grew louder. The trees were thinning, she could move faster, easier, but the ground was shaking, slowing her down and the snarling roars were like thunder brewing all around her. She was free of the forest now, running up a rocky slope toward the terrible reverberations.
Her foot slipped and she slid back down, desperately grasping at stones and crevices to stop her descent. She regained her footing and scrambled back up the sloping terrain, panting, covered with dirt, twigs swinging in her hair. She reached the top and looked down into the clearing below where the rumbles, roars and tumultuous shudders emanated from.
Two mammoth beasts were engaged in a terrible battle. A great black serpent and a powerful bronze dragon. They clashed together, the serpent twining around the beast’s body, the dragon slashing and biting at the serpent’s flat, scaled head. They toppled and rolled together, the dragon’s roar shaking the very stars in the sky, and the serpent’s hissing deafening, like an ocean hitting the surface of the sun.
She watched them, breathlessly, helplessly, her chest tight as if surrounded by a band of stone, and then, then she was transforming, falling to her hands and knees, straining and lengthening, her body bursting from her clothing, her follicles sprouting tawny fur, her fingers and toes curling in upon themselves, the bone elongating through her flesh into powerful claws, her face bursting forth in muzzle, jowl and fang, the pupils of her amber eyes reforming, slitting, becoming luminous and feline. She stretched forth her neck and roared, the unearthly sound rebounding to the heavens.
And the beasts below her stopped their battle, looking up at the Lioness staring down at them. They uncoiled their great bodies and separated, their eyes expectant. And down she went, bounding from stone to stone, feeling her power as she raced down the steep embankment, into the clearing and stopped, panting before the great dragon and enormous serpent.
There was a deep silence as the dragon’s violet eyes and the serpent’s black gaze focused intently on the feline before them. A silent question was posed by each. The Lioness recoiled, her ears flattening, and she clung to the earth, snarling, claws digging into the soil.
Then slowly, ponderously, each great beast lowered its head to the ground in an unmistakable bow, the serpent, with the crest of Slytherin inscribed on the top of its great wedged head, and the dragon, with a strange symbol of a figure eight emblazoned brightly on the glittering scales of its brow. They lay there, prostrate before the Lioness, as if waiting for her response.
The Lioness roared once more, then fled.
*********************************
Hermione lurched up from her bed, gasping. She was soaked in sweat. The room seemed to spin as she regained her bearings. She held a trembling hand to her breast, feeling the pounding of her heart. She hadn’t dreamed of the Lioness in years, not since before becoming Severus’ lover, the dream when the serpent transformed her into a woman. She knew from interpreting the dream that the Lioness represented her primal, animalistic urges. That dream was a message that the Serpent would make her a woman, that much she had understood. But this dream, she was a woman, trapped in a confusing maze of forest, fighting through it to reach a dragon and a serpent embroiled in battle. She then became a Lioness, reverting to her primal urges, seemingly worshiped by both great beasts, who both wanted something from her animal form and it frightened her enough to flee them both.
“What a strange dream,” she said to herself, laying back down in the bed, staring up at the ceiling, and hugging herself tightly. The serpent, she knew represented Severus, and he had indeed made her a woman. She had dreamed about the serpent several times over the past years. It was always coiled about her naked body in those dreams, holding her possessively. But what was the dragon? Some danger that was approaching? If so, the serpent had been battling it. A danger to Severus? But it seemed linked to her, since the dragon ceased fighting and bowed to her. And the strange symbol? The figure eight. She knew that represented eternity, infinity, ever-flowing cycles constantly repeating themselves.
Both beasts had asked a question, but she had no idea what the question was. Whatever it was, it was horrifying enough to make the Lioness balk and flee. She might never find out the answer to that riddle.
Hermione felt her eyes getting heavy and relaxed. She would figure out the dream over time. She let sleep come.
*****************************
In his bed, a sleeping Marcus snuffled, let out a loud, grating snore and rolled over on his stomach, turning his face to the other side and snuggling down into the pillow. The silk sheets caught beneath him, dragging down his nude body and stopping at his hips, exposing his muscled arms and back. And the clear image of the birthmark fixed on his right shoulder, shaped like a figure eight.
*****************************
A/N: Haven’t done a dream sequence since my first story…I enjoy playing with symbolism. So I put this in. A liitle subconscious wake-up call for our heroine. Hope you didn’t mind. Please read and review, and thanks to all those you have already reviewed.