Inky Fingers
folder
Harry Potter › General
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
11
Views:
39,909
Reviews:
39
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
1
Category:
Harry Potter › General
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
11
Views:
39,909
Reviews:
39
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.
Schooldaze
The usual disclaimers apply. J.K. Rowling created the Harry Potter universe and everything you recognise is hers. Except the perversions, of course. Those you can blame me for.
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Squirmy's tentacles were supporting both of them in the water. It was almost icy, adding a frisson to the heated flesh as they writhed together in mutual pleasure. Severus plunged into her, over and over, his ears echoing with her cries. He flung his head back as the orgasm took him, his seed spurting into her. As his heart calmed, his breathing slowed, he looked at her face - but it was blurred, indistinct. He looked closer, wanting to know more about this Goddess who had blessed him tonight.
He opened his eyes. The room was dim and cool, but not as dark and cold as it had been a few moments ago in Squirmy's lake, even if that lake had been only in his dreams. His sheets bore mute evidence of just how real that dream had been to him. The room reeked of the odours of ejaculate - apparently it hadn't been a one-time-only thing last night.
He sat up, cursing. Somehow, dreaming of his 'ideal woman' made his loneliness worse. He knew what had triggered things, of course. The visit to Squirmy last night. Seeing those lush female curves twisting in the tentacles of the squid was obviously the catalyst for all his dreams.
Ah well. His chances of meeting her tonight were good. Albus Dumbledore liked to hold a teachers-only Feast on the last night of the holidays. Partly, it was to allow the staff to mingle privately one last time - hopefully to allow any long-standing feuds to be settled. Partly it was to enable the long-standing staff members to meet any new colleagues. Mostly it was so that Dumbledore could be absolutely certain everyone was present and accounted for and not getting themselves rip-roaring drunk at The Three Broomsticks in Hogsmeade. Hangovers were not the best way to start a new school year.
Since she was almost certainly a new staff member at Hogwarts, she would be there. New staff virtually never missed their *first* last-night party, even if they never attended one again. There wouldn't be so many new staff that he would miss that figure even if it was fully-clothed.
No doubt, once he'd seen her face or spoken to her, the fascination would die (as it always had in the past) and he would be able to get a good night's sleep again. He didn't hold out any hope that there would be anything more to it than that. His life was not meant to be completed. Definitely not meant to be anything more than spending his days teaching other peoples spoilt little darlings.
**********
He was ready. As ready as he'd ever be. One last look in the mirror to check that all was in place, all those jet buttons fastened (what a disaster it would be if those were left open!), one last pass of the comb though his locks (damn - greasy again and he'd only washed it that morning) and he was done. A quick gulp of the remains of the Firewhiskey in his glass (Dutch courage and all that) and he was out the door and striding towards the Great Hall.
He walked through the doorway and stopped. There she was. Her back was to him, but he'd recognise those delightful curves anywhere. Her hair was a lighter colour than it had appeared last night, now that it was dry and he could see it by a brighter light. Rather thick, gathered back into a thick french braid but tendrils were already escaping. He'd warrant that it didn't like to be confined. She wasn't terribly tall, either. She would tuck neatly under his arm, which was a nice thought.
She was talking with Minerva McGonagall, chatting animatedly as if they were old friends. Well, that might be so. Seeing she was one of Squirmy's playmates the chances were she was an old Hogwarts student returned to the fold. Possibly even a former student of his, although he couldn't place her from a rear view ('or last night's more intimate one' sniggered a little voice at the back of his mind). As that inner voice spoke to him, he felt a tightening in his groin. Better move quickly before it became apparent to others - movement would help the soft folds of his robes fall more loosely.
He walked forward, as if to help himself to a glass of sherry from the table across the room. "Ladies" he muttered as he passed them, nodding briefly.
"There you are, Severus" said Dumbledore, sweeping down on him from Merlin-knew-where. "I'm glad to see you've joined us at last. Dinner will be served soon. In the mean time, have you met our new Librarian? Hermione Granger will be with us for at least a year while Madam Pince has a well-earned break.
"You'll remember Hermione, of course - her NEWTs results were the best we've had here at Hogwarts for a very long time."
With a sense of mounting horror, Severus turned. The body of his Goddess was topped with the face of that know-it-all, annoying Gryffindor! How could his Perfect Woman be THIS woman? Somewhere in the back of his mind, he was sure he could hear cruel, cold laughter. The fates were sniggering at him. Again.
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Squirmy's tentacles were supporting both of them in the water. It was almost icy, adding a frisson to the heated flesh as they writhed together in mutual pleasure. Severus plunged into her, over and over, his ears echoing with her cries. He flung his head back as the orgasm took him, his seed spurting into her. As his heart calmed, his breathing slowed, he looked at her face - but it was blurred, indistinct. He looked closer, wanting to know more about this Goddess who had blessed him tonight.
He opened his eyes. The room was dim and cool, but not as dark and cold as it had been a few moments ago in Squirmy's lake, even if that lake had been only in his dreams. His sheets bore mute evidence of just how real that dream had been to him. The room reeked of the odours of ejaculate - apparently it hadn't been a one-time-only thing last night.
He sat up, cursing. Somehow, dreaming of his 'ideal woman' made his loneliness worse. He knew what had triggered things, of course. The visit to Squirmy last night. Seeing those lush female curves twisting in the tentacles of the squid was obviously the catalyst for all his dreams.
Ah well. His chances of meeting her tonight were good. Albus Dumbledore liked to hold a teachers-only Feast on the last night of the holidays. Partly, it was to allow the staff to mingle privately one last time - hopefully to allow any long-standing feuds to be settled. Partly it was to enable the long-standing staff members to meet any new colleagues. Mostly it was so that Dumbledore could be absolutely certain everyone was present and accounted for and not getting themselves rip-roaring drunk at The Three Broomsticks in Hogsmeade. Hangovers were not the best way to start a new school year.
Since she was almost certainly a new staff member at Hogwarts, she would be there. New staff virtually never missed their *first* last-night party, even if they never attended one again. There wouldn't be so many new staff that he would miss that figure even if it was fully-clothed.
No doubt, once he'd seen her face or spoken to her, the fascination would die (as it always had in the past) and he would be able to get a good night's sleep again. He didn't hold out any hope that there would be anything more to it than that. His life was not meant to be completed. Definitely not meant to be anything more than spending his days teaching other peoples spoilt little darlings.
**********
He was ready. As ready as he'd ever be. One last look in the mirror to check that all was in place, all those jet buttons fastened (what a disaster it would be if those were left open!), one last pass of the comb though his locks (damn - greasy again and he'd only washed it that morning) and he was done. A quick gulp of the remains of the Firewhiskey in his glass (Dutch courage and all that) and he was out the door and striding towards the Great Hall.
He walked through the doorway and stopped. There she was. Her back was to him, but he'd recognise those delightful curves anywhere. Her hair was a lighter colour than it had appeared last night, now that it was dry and he could see it by a brighter light. Rather thick, gathered back into a thick french braid but tendrils were already escaping. He'd warrant that it didn't like to be confined. She wasn't terribly tall, either. She would tuck neatly under his arm, which was a nice thought.
She was talking with Minerva McGonagall, chatting animatedly as if they were old friends. Well, that might be so. Seeing she was one of Squirmy's playmates the chances were she was an old Hogwarts student returned to the fold. Possibly even a former student of his, although he couldn't place her from a rear view ('or last night's more intimate one' sniggered a little voice at the back of his mind). As that inner voice spoke to him, he felt a tightening in his groin. Better move quickly before it became apparent to others - movement would help the soft folds of his robes fall more loosely.
He walked forward, as if to help himself to a glass of sherry from the table across the room. "Ladies" he muttered as he passed them, nodding briefly.
"There you are, Severus" said Dumbledore, sweeping down on him from Merlin-knew-where. "I'm glad to see you've joined us at last. Dinner will be served soon. In the mean time, have you met our new Librarian? Hermione Granger will be with us for at least a year while Madam Pince has a well-earned break.
"You'll remember Hermione, of course - her NEWTs results were the best we've had here at Hogwarts for a very long time."
With a sense of mounting horror, Severus turned. The body of his Goddess was topped with the face of that know-it-all, annoying Gryffindor! How could his Perfect Woman be THIS woman? Somewhere in the back of his mind, he was sure he could hear cruel, cold laughter. The fates were sniggering at him. Again.
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