100 Moments
folder
Harry Potter › General
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
100
Views:
10,641
Reviews:
52
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Harry Potter › General
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
100
Views:
10,641
Reviews:
52
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
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.
Hide
Title: Hide
Author: ianthe_waiting
Rating: MA
Disclaimer: The Harry Potter books and their characters are the property of JK Rowling. This is a work of fan-fiction. No infringement is intended, and no money is being made from this story. I am just borrowing the puppets, but this is my stage.
Genre: Drabble, Romance.
Warnings: Naked!Snape, DH Spoilers.
Summary: #49 – Hide. She was hiding something from me.
Word Count: 810 words.
Author's Notes: Drabble: a slice of fic in less than 1500 words. I love SS/HG! This drabble makes the plot bunnies appear en masse! Suggested by Jessie!
Prompt 49 – Hide
I had died, and was in heaven. There was no other way to explain it…’it’ being that I had somehow been transported from the floor of the Shrieking Shack to a soft bed, warm light falling upon my nude body, and a tender hand giving me a spicy scented sponge bath.
I had died, bleeding from a snakebite to the neck…seeing Potter’s face, and cursing that he had not been my son. My son? With whom?
And I realized that there was something missing in my brain, a large chunk of memories…something to do with why Potter should have been my son.
Damn.
As it was, I was stretched out on clean white cotton sheets, gold rays of light warming my skin from a high window set into a stonewall. The gentle splashing of water told me that the sponge was being wrung out, and slowly I turned my black eyes to the source of the noise.
“You should know, you will not able to talk, Severus, and you should not try to move just yet, the poison is still present in your body.”
I felt my brow furrow on its own…not from surprise or confusion, but because the figure standing by the bed seemed to glow too brightly in the sunlight. It was a girl who had become a woman, and her skin glowed gold. Her small hand grasped the sponge, and she proceeded to wipe warm, scented trails over my chest, down to my belly.
Gods. She was beautiful…a riot of caramel waves, small, pink china-doll lips, long dark lashes against a faintly freckled cheek…and honey coloured eyes that traced the muscles of my belly, and the dark hair trailing from my chest to my navel…to my erection.
I gritted my teeth, and tried to move, but all voluntary movement was non-responsive to my will. Everything was involuntary, including the hard-on twitching against my course pubic hair.
The worst part of all was the fact that I knew the woman who was wiping away my dried sweat and body odor.
Hermione Granger.
I was in hell…
“To answer the obvious questions…you are not dead. You are in the basement of Grimmauld Place, Voldemort is dead, and you have been unconscious for two months since that night in the Shrieking Shack. No one from the outside knows you are here. Minerva and I have been tending to you.
Your muscles have not atrophied, but you are weak from your injuries. Your name has been cleared since everyone believes you dead, and as soon as you are well, you should begin to think of leaving Britain.”
Her voice was warm, but her words cut at me. I was alive, the Dark Lord was dead, but my name…my life…was over. Severus Snape was dead, but I remained.
Why had I been saved?
“Aberforth brought you to me, and even to this day I do not know how he had known to do that,” she said, anticipating my mental question as she could see into my mind.
Her sponge moved to my thighs and, involuntarily, I moaned. She paused to gaze into my eyes, and smiled. My heart skipped a beat.
Moving to set her sponge in the basin on the bedside table, Hermione Granger wiped her hands into her apron, which I had not noticed before…an apron covering a floral patterned dress…an apron that hid a tale-tell bulge in her belly. The girl was pregnant…by Weasley, no doubt.
“It isn’t Ron’s,” she whispered, sitting on the edge of the bed, her hands descending toward my face, brushing at long, clean strands of black hair.
Her fingers caressed my shaven jaw, and I realized that if I had been incapacitated since the Shrieking Shack, Hermione Granger had been the one to wash my lank hair, and shave my severe face.
Leaning down, I could feel her full breasts upon my chest…and my erection bobbed. She smelled like earth and flowers, a wonderful mixture of fertility. I could even feel the bulge of her womb against my ribs. And as she kissed my forehead, I could feel her happiness wash over me, and in turn, I felt happiness.
The only lingering concern was the missing bits of my memory…but as her lips met mine, I realized I was missing a large chunk of memory…and it had to do with the woman whose fingers tangled in my hair.
“I’m glad you are awake, Severus,” she whispered, her breath smelling of an herbal infusion of tea…a mint and vanilla.
When she moved away, the sunlight bathing her supple body in golden light, I wondered why she had hidden me away, why she had saved me, and most of all, why she was smiling at me with her right hand moving to the bulge under her apron.
What was I not remembering? What was she hiding?
Author: ianthe_waiting
Rating: MA
Disclaimer: The Harry Potter books and their characters are the property of JK Rowling. This is a work of fan-fiction. No infringement is intended, and no money is being made from this story. I am just borrowing the puppets, but this is my stage.
Genre: Drabble, Romance.
Warnings: Naked!Snape, DH Spoilers.
Summary: #49 – Hide. She was hiding something from me.
Word Count: 810 words.
Author's Notes: Drabble: a slice of fic in less than 1500 words. I love SS/HG! This drabble makes the plot bunnies appear en masse! Suggested by Jessie!
Prompt 49 – Hide
I had died, and was in heaven. There was no other way to explain it…’it’ being that I had somehow been transported from the floor of the Shrieking Shack to a soft bed, warm light falling upon my nude body, and a tender hand giving me a spicy scented sponge bath.
I had died, bleeding from a snakebite to the neck…seeing Potter’s face, and cursing that he had not been my son. My son? With whom?
And I realized that there was something missing in my brain, a large chunk of memories…something to do with why Potter should have been my son.
Damn.
As it was, I was stretched out on clean white cotton sheets, gold rays of light warming my skin from a high window set into a stonewall. The gentle splashing of water told me that the sponge was being wrung out, and slowly I turned my black eyes to the source of the noise.
“You should know, you will not able to talk, Severus, and you should not try to move just yet, the poison is still present in your body.”
I felt my brow furrow on its own…not from surprise or confusion, but because the figure standing by the bed seemed to glow too brightly in the sunlight. It was a girl who had become a woman, and her skin glowed gold. Her small hand grasped the sponge, and she proceeded to wipe warm, scented trails over my chest, down to my belly.
Gods. She was beautiful…a riot of caramel waves, small, pink china-doll lips, long dark lashes against a faintly freckled cheek…and honey coloured eyes that traced the muscles of my belly, and the dark hair trailing from my chest to my navel…to my erection.
I gritted my teeth, and tried to move, but all voluntary movement was non-responsive to my will. Everything was involuntary, including the hard-on twitching against my course pubic hair.
The worst part of all was the fact that I knew the woman who was wiping away my dried sweat and body odor.
Hermione Granger.
I was in hell…
“To answer the obvious questions…you are not dead. You are in the basement of Grimmauld Place, Voldemort is dead, and you have been unconscious for two months since that night in the Shrieking Shack. No one from the outside knows you are here. Minerva and I have been tending to you.
Your muscles have not atrophied, but you are weak from your injuries. Your name has been cleared since everyone believes you dead, and as soon as you are well, you should begin to think of leaving Britain.”
Her voice was warm, but her words cut at me. I was alive, the Dark Lord was dead, but my name…my life…was over. Severus Snape was dead, but I remained.
Why had I been saved?
“Aberforth brought you to me, and even to this day I do not know how he had known to do that,” she said, anticipating my mental question as she could see into my mind.
Her sponge moved to my thighs and, involuntarily, I moaned. She paused to gaze into my eyes, and smiled. My heart skipped a beat.
Moving to set her sponge in the basin on the bedside table, Hermione Granger wiped her hands into her apron, which I had not noticed before…an apron covering a floral patterned dress…an apron that hid a tale-tell bulge in her belly. The girl was pregnant…by Weasley, no doubt.
“It isn’t Ron’s,” she whispered, sitting on the edge of the bed, her hands descending toward my face, brushing at long, clean strands of black hair.
Her fingers caressed my shaven jaw, and I realized that if I had been incapacitated since the Shrieking Shack, Hermione Granger had been the one to wash my lank hair, and shave my severe face.
Leaning down, I could feel her full breasts upon my chest…and my erection bobbed. She smelled like earth and flowers, a wonderful mixture of fertility. I could even feel the bulge of her womb against my ribs. And as she kissed my forehead, I could feel her happiness wash over me, and in turn, I felt happiness.
The only lingering concern was the missing bits of my memory…but as her lips met mine, I realized I was missing a large chunk of memory…and it had to do with the woman whose fingers tangled in my hair.
“I’m glad you are awake, Severus,” she whispered, her breath smelling of an herbal infusion of tea…a mint and vanilla.
When she moved away, the sunlight bathing her supple body in golden light, I wondered why she had hidden me away, why she had saved me, and most of all, why she was smiling at me with her right hand moving to the bulge under her apron.
What was I not remembering? What was she hiding?