100 Moments
folder
Harry Potter › General
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
100
Views:
10,642
Reviews:
52
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Harry Potter › General
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
100
Views:
10,642
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.
Play
Title: Play
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, PWP
Warnings: Insinuations…
Summary: #50 – Play. She liked to play with him…
Word Count: 975 words.
Author's Notes: Drabble: a slice of fic in less than 1500 words. Oh, I could have written so much more smut with this one…alas.
Prompt 50 – Play
Her red cloak flapped in the wind blowing through the trees, and with a gloved hand, she swiped a few curls from her amber eyes, walking on along the faint path…to the cottage she needed to reach. The sun barely penetrated the canopy of trees, and the wind was strong…but she continued on toward her destination, basket in hand.
However, the path began to dissipate, and she found herself lost.
Perhaps she had somehow veered onto an animal path, perhaps the dim light and the wind had disoriented her. However, as she rounded about a low rock face, the sunlight a bit brighter ahead, she realized that leaning against the rocks in silhouette was a man.
“Are you lost, little Red?” he asked in a drawl.
She knew never to speak to strangers, especially ones in the Forbidden Forest, but she was lost…and the food in her basket was nearly cold.
“Little Red?” she asked, not bothering to stop as she passed the man.
“Your cloak…” he answered.
She studied him out of the corner of her eye. He was older, long silvery blond hair, piercing silver eyes, roguishly handsome in dark, form fitting clothes under billowing black robes… As the wind blew his robes, she saw a silver mask upon a string blowing along with the robe…a wolfish mask.
“Where are you going, little Red?”
She shivered at the timbre of his voice as he walked in step with her.
“To a cottage deep in the wood,” she answered, hesitantly.
“Ah, well then, you’re going the wrong way, my little one.”
She stopped abruptly, causing the basket in her hand to swing painfully into her left hip. “Then which way do I need to go?” she asked, unable to contain her anxiety.
The pale man smirked. “Ahead there is a fork, take the left hand path and it will take you directly to the cottage…”
With a warm smile, she said her goodbyes as she hurried away.
The pale man grinned…and donning his mask, disappeared into the wind. He knew that if he took the right hand path; he would reach the cottage in half the time as his quarry.
Within a few minutes, ‘Little Red’ had found the cottage…the cottage of her old Professor, and mentor, Minerva McGonagall.
Hermione Granger knocked upon the cottage door, her brow furrowing.
She felt strange, staring at the wood grain of the worn oak door. The basket was heavy in her left hand, her bright red cloak warm against her back…but somehow something felt wrong.
“Come in!” called a voice from inside the small cottage…and Hermione entered.
Inside the small cottage, rested a large bed, the four posters swathed in red velvet, the walls papered with red…and besides a large fireplace against the far wall, the cottage was filled with not much else. How odd, Hermione thought, closing the door behind her.
“Come closer!”
Hermione felt warning flash through her body, but she moved at any rate, and soon she was standing at the bedside, only a blanketed lump resting in the bed…the face obscured.
“I brought you some food, Professor…” she said softly, and her face shifted into a smile, one that felt uncomfortable on her face.
“Food? How wonderful!”
The voice was muffled, and Hermione could not see the face.
“Your voice…it sounds as if you have a cold…”
The words came out automatically, and Hermione moved to place the basket on the floor, doffing her cloak carelessly… She realized, quite embarrassedly, that she wore nothing underneath…
Slowly, the figure in the bed turned…and Hermione was face to face with a silver mask, shaped like an animal’s, but not distinct enough to determine what sort of animal she was staring at. However, behind the mask, she could see a pair of gleaming silver eyes…and long silver blond hair streamed from the head.
“My, what bright eyes you have, Professor,” Hermione whispered, pulling off her gloves, finger by finger.
“The better to see you with, my love.”
It was a man’s voice, and the mask, she realized, was the one she had seen under than strange woodsman’s cloak.
“My, what large hands have…”
His long fingered, pale hands had moved from under the red velvet comforter, pushing it away to reveal the naked flesh of a man. The large hands grasped her wrists, pulling her onto the bed with a mighty wrench.
His body was nude, long, pale, and lean. She landed upon him as if floating, her knees on either side of his hips…her mound resting just at the base of his long, thick erection. He held her wrists fast, eyes staring up at her from behind the silver mask.
“My, what sharp teeth you have…”
Hermione’s eyes traced along the incised teeth on the face of the mask, and she felt a grin curving her lips.
“The better to eat you with…my love…” he purred.
Hermione had begun rocking against him, without realizing it, the underside of his cock brushing against her nubbin…his hands crushing her wrists, trying to deter her from moving.
“Shall I eat you, my love?”
Even muffled, she could hear the wanton need in his voice.
Hermione nodded.
Slipping her wrists from his large hands, Hermione leaned over him, crawling up his body, laughing as his hands traced her hips and thighs. Sliding his mask to his forehead, Hermione kissed him, tongue curling about his, tasting his wickedness… In the fairytale, the ‘Big Bad Wolf’ had eaten the ‘Grandmother,’ and so she tasted blood on his tongue…
Patented Daydream Charms…it was the only way Lucius Malfoy would be ‘eating’ Hermione Granger…on red velvet, a Death Eater’s mask resting halfway on his head like a Halloween mask…devious grin, wicked tongue inside her body, calling her ‘Little Red.’
In her mind, Hermione liked to ‘play’ with Lucius Malfoy…and play she did, frequently.
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, PWP
Warnings: Insinuations…
Summary: #50 – Play. She liked to play with him…
Word Count: 975 words.
Author's Notes: Drabble: a slice of fic in less than 1500 words. Oh, I could have written so much more smut with this one…alas.
Prompt 50 – Play
Her red cloak flapped in the wind blowing through the trees, and with a gloved hand, she swiped a few curls from her amber eyes, walking on along the faint path…to the cottage she needed to reach. The sun barely penetrated the canopy of trees, and the wind was strong…but she continued on toward her destination, basket in hand.
However, the path began to dissipate, and she found herself lost.
Perhaps she had somehow veered onto an animal path, perhaps the dim light and the wind had disoriented her. However, as she rounded about a low rock face, the sunlight a bit brighter ahead, she realized that leaning against the rocks in silhouette was a man.
“Are you lost, little Red?” he asked in a drawl.
She knew never to speak to strangers, especially ones in the Forbidden Forest, but she was lost…and the food in her basket was nearly cold.
“Little Red?” she asked, not bothering to stop as she passed the man.
“Your cloak…” he answered.
She studied him out of the corner of her eye. He was older, long silvery blond hair, piercing silver eyes, roguishly handsome in dark, form fitting clothes under billowing black robes… As the wind blew his robes, she saw a silver mask upon a string blowing along with the robe…a wolfish mask.
“Where are you going, little Red?”
She shivered at the timbre of his voice as he walked in step with her.
“To a cottage deep in the wood,” she answered, hesitantly.
“Ah, well then, you’re going the wrong way, my little one.”
She stopped abruptly, causing the basket in her hand to swing painfully into her left hip. “Then which way do I need to go?” she asked, unable to contain her anxiety.
The pale man smirked. “Ahead there is a fork, take the left hand path and it will take you directly to the cottage…”
With a warm smile, she said her goodbyes as she hurried away.
The pale man grinned…and donning his mask, disappeared into the wind. He knew that if he took the right hand path; he would reach the cottage in half the time as his quarry.
Within a few minutes, ‘Little Red’ had found the cottage…the cottage of her old Professor, and mentor, Minerva McGonagall.
Hermione Granger knocked upon the cottage door, her brow furrowing.
She felt strange, staring at the wood grain of the worn oak door. The basket was heavy in her left hand, her bright red cloak warm against her back…but somehow something felt wrong.
“Come in!” called a voice from inside the small cottage…and Hermione entered.
Inside the small cottage, rested a large bed, the four posters swathed in red velvet, the walls papered with red…and besides a large fireplace against the far wall, the cottage was filled with not much else. How odd, Hermione thought, closing the door behind her.
“Come closer!”
Hermione felt warning flash through her body, but she moved at any rate, and soon she was standing at the bedside, only a blanketed lump resting in the bed…the face obscured.
“I brought you some food, Professor…” she said softly, and her face shifted into a smile, one that felt uncomfortable on her face.
“Food? How wonderful!”
The voice was muffled, and Hermione could not see the face.
“Your voice…it sounds as if you have a cold…”
The words came out automatically, and Hermione moved to place the basket on the floor, doffing her cloak carelessly… She realized, quite embarrassedly, that she wore nothing underneath…
Slowly, the figure in the bed turned…and Hermione was face to face with a silver mask, shaped like an animal’s, but not distinct enough to determine what sort of animal she was staring at. However, behind the mask, she could see a pair of gleaming silver eyes…and long silver blond hair streamed from the head.
“My, what bright eyes you have, Professor,” Hermione whispered, pulling off her gloves, finger by finger.
“The better to see you with, my love.”
It was a man’s voice, and the mask, she realized, was the one she had seen under than strange woodsman’s cloak.
“My, what large hands have…”
His long fingered, pale hands had moved from under the red velvet comforter, pushing it away to reveal the naked flesh of a man. The large hands grasped her wrists, pulling her onto the bed with a mighty wrench.
His body was nude, long, pale, and lean. She landed upon him as if floating, her knees on either side of his hips…her mound resting just at the base of his long, thick erection. He held her wrists fast, eyes staring up at her from behind the silver mask.
“My, what sharp teeth you have…”
Hermione’s eyes traced along the incised teeth on the face of the mask, and she felt a grin curving her lips.
“The better to eat you with…my love…” he purred.
Hermione had begun rocking against him, without realizing it, the underside of his cock brushing against her nubbin…his hands crushing her wrists, trying to deter her from moving.
“Shall I eat you, my love?”
Even muffled, she could hear the wanton need in his voice.
Hermione nodded.
Slipping her wrists from his large hands, Hermione leaned over him, crawling up his body, laughing as his hands traced her hips and thighs. Sliding his mask to his forehead, Hermione kissed him, tongue curling about his, tasting his wickedness… In the fairytale, the ‘Big Bad Wolf’ had eaten the ‘Grandmother,’ and so she tasted blood on his tongue…
Patented Daydream Charms…it was the only way Lucius Malfoy would be ‘eating’ Hermione Granger…on red velvet, a Death Eater’s mask resting halfway on his head like a Halloween mask…devious grin, wicked tongue inside her body, calling her ‘Little Red.’
In her mind, Hermione liked to ‘play’ with Lucius Malfoy…and play she did, frequently.