Human

A/N: ah…I enjoyed writing this! Sorry, not so much humour, but lots of PWP! Enjoy! - oh, and on a side note, how on earth do you write a summary for a PWP?!

Human


She is so precious, so delicate in my arms. This is undoubtedly her first time, though I doubt that she would confess that to me. I am convinced that this is simply Miss Granger ridding herself of her blatant virginal status. Being the discerning witch that she is, she must be more than painfully aware of how she is perceived; a walking, breathing textbook, exhaling and inhaling knowledge, apathetic to anything that is not intellectual. Inhuman.

Sounds astoundingly familiar.

The desire, yet slight fear in her eyes, as she lies here waiting for me to make the next move, defies her image, one she has worked so hard to acquire and maintain, now grown to despise with a passion. Passion. Miss Granger is brimming with passion. If only some of those imbeciles would stop to take note I would not have to be here, doing the sordid job that belongs to some spotty-faced inexperienced twat with the endurance of a spotty-faced inexperienced twat. It would appear the current enrolment of students is even more inept than most, even when it comes to the unleashing of the beast that is pubescent hormones.

In a way, I pity Miss Granger. It is her last night on school grounds before she goes to find her way in the world, something I don’t wish upon anyone. It will chew her up like most, and spit her out bitter and twisted, or tear her to shreds until she is a mere shell of herself. And, to top this night off, she has plunged so low as to succumb to me for solutions to her quandary. The greasy-haired git of a Potions Master whose students both fear and detest him, and whose fellow professors snigger at. Constantly. To his face.

Opportunities like this saunter my way so rarely that I can scarcely deny myself this release. A reminder to myself that I too am human.

I descend upon her, capturing her lips with mine, engulfing her in a slow, explorative kiss, drowning myself in her taste. Her own mouth parts tentatively to allow me access, her tongue sliding over mine, cautiously returning the gesture. Hermione tastes innocent. There is no other word to describe her. I can feel my stony exterior liquefying, allowing a little of my inner being to take a rare flight. My hands bury themselves within the soft curls of her hair, pulling her in for a deeper, more meaningful kiss. I feel intoxicated, yet totally in control. I can yield my power over her now in any way I so desire, yet no matter how much I know that not only she, but I, am expecting myself to make this brief, to the point and utterly dispassionate, I would rather allow myself a little indulgence. Besides, I try to convince myself, the world is going to be foul enough, why not give Miss Granger a little sanctum?

I slide my lips from Hermione’s and she lets out what almost sounds like a disappointed sigh, quickly turned to a soft moan as I redirect my attentions to the velvety skin of her neck, nuzzling at her skin, inhaling her scent, tasting her luscious naiveté once more. As she murmurs incoherently, tiny gasps and moans escaping those delicious lips occasionally, I can feel myself responding suitably. My arousal must be blazingly clear to her, as my hips drive gently into her own, allowing myself just a diminutive release from my mounting tension.

Slowly I work my way from her neck down to the opening of her shirt, grazing my way along her barely exposed collarbone. As my chin brushes against the coarse fabric of her shirt, disturbing my flow across her soft skin, I remove my hands from her hair in order to release the buttons. Each newly exposed piece of skin is given lavish attention, the slow journey to my final goal arousing me further, urging me on, yet I am stronger than my needs. This shall be all the more satisfying for the expense taken.

As I reach the last button, my tongue circling her navel, I pull her shirt open, exposing her to me. Hermione does not wear a bra, and for that I am thankful. I slide my hands up her torso, bringing each to rest upon one perfect, firm breast. My thumbs circle her nipples, grazing over them, eliciting a whimper. I can’t help but smile at what I am doing to her, turning Miss Know-it-all into a blathering puddle of lust. The power I hold over her is exhilarating. In turn, I place my mouth over each of her nipples, repeating the moves I made with my thumbs with my tongue, sliding over her overly sensitive skin, taking in each and every noise she makes in response, relishing in the way she moves against me, physically demanding more.

I consider slipping down her to taste her arousal, to slide my tongue through her slick folds, wet with excitement from what I have been doing to her. I could lick her clit, stimulating that tight little bud until she screamed as she came for me, watch her writhe on my bed by my doing, admire as she let down all her barriers completely because of me. Yet, selfishly I would rather be within her for her first orgasm; at least her first brought on by a man. I want to feel her convulsing around me, pulling me within her, and consuming my very being. Gods, how I want that.

Retrieving my wand from inside my robes I flick away my clothes, not wanting to break the moment any more than necessary. Hermione gasps as my skin meets her’s, and it takes all my self-control not to moan agreeably. Sparks fly over every inch that her skin touches mine, clouding my mind for a moment, and when I come back to my senses I am poised outside her entrance, the very tip of my arousal teasing at her opening. I meet Hermione’s eyes, checking that this is what she wants, still wants.
“Please,” she begs the first real words she has spoken since I began. They sound like honey to my ears, sliding through my brain and turning them to syrupy mush.

Gently I push forwards, sliding into her, and now I can’t help but moan. She feels so hot, so tight and so right. This is utterly extraordinary. I have never felt such complete passion for any other woman. A flimsy barrier thwarts my slow entrance, confirming what I already knew. My eyes lock with Hermione’s and she nods ever so slightly at me. Gently I push forward, not wishing to hurt her but knowing this will. Her eyes slip closed for a moment as I break through, descending until I have filled her completely. I should be feeling quite satisfied now, but I am more concerned for Hermione. As she raises her eyelids, I see tears welled within those chocolate irises. I move one hand to her forehead, brushing back strands of hair. I nuzzle at her neck and beg my forgiveness from her skin, caressing her until Hermione places her gentle fingers within my hair and assures me that she is fine.

With as much control as I can muster, I slide gently back from her, before delving back in. The pace is excruciatingly slow, but I dare not push her any faster than necessary, for fear of causing her anymore harm. Several more identical strokes and I am beside myself trying to keep myself in check.

“Severus,” Hermione murmurs, her fingernails digging into my tensed shoulders, “more, please.”
Oh dear Merlin, she is begging me to take her harder. Letting go, my body takes over, thrusting into her, urged on her moans. Her eyes flick open and closed, trying to watch me, but unable to keep control. I am so very, very close now, just a few more delves into that velvety softness and I am going to be a done man. With an almighty effort I hold on as long as I can, until I feel her starting to quiver around me, her inner muscles pulling me in deeper as she throws her head back and lets out a long, low moan. Her hips rise from my bed, her sporadic movements starting my undoing.

“Severus!” she whimpers, and that is it. I can hold on no longer. With one last uncontrolled thrust I spill myself within her, my arms shaking under my weight as all my body’s efforts are drained by the intense feel of my orgasm and the thought that this is Hermione, a willing, needy, Hermione, that I am coming within.

I recover slowly, rolling off of her and flopping back on the bed. Hermione rolls over to gaze at me, her fingers brushing at my hair as she smiles softly.

I can’t have her doing that. Looking at me that way. I don’t deserve it and neither does she.

I pull the crass, snarling bastard out from under the layers of needy Severus, and summon up what marginally passes as a glare. “You have what you wanted, now leave.” With a flick of my wand she is fully clothed, barring her robes resting upon the back of my armchair.

Hermione stares at me, somewhat open mouthed, obviously trying to conjure up something meaningful in reply. Stupid girl.

“Save the niceties, Miss Granger. Do us both a favour and go.”

Needy Severus is trying to escape, trying to coerce me into letting her stay. Letting her in.

She continues to observe me.

“Severus, I…”

“Professor Snape!” I bellow, stalking across the room, leaving her alone and exposed on my bed.

“Professor Snape,” she says, almost sarcastically, “perhaps I could come and visit you sometime…”

“I said get out!” I sneer at her, throw her robes at her and shove open the door to my rooms. My wrath is not directed at her stupidity, it is at her daring to think my opinion of her has changed in the slightest, stinging all the more because it hasn’t one iota. I still love her with every inch of my being as I did an hour, a day, a week, and a year ago. I have no time for such nonsense. The sooner she is out of Hogwarts the better.

Finally, Hermione makes her way to my door, pausing to give me a soft kiss on my lips. “As you wish, Severus,” she whispers, and walks from my quarters. From my life. From my heart. A lump wells in my throat, tears sting at my eyes as I fight them back – a feeling I have not experienced since I was a mere child.

I pull on my clothing, doing away with magic for the moment. This buys me a little more time. Before I know it, I am fully dressed and heading for the door.

“To hell with you, Hermione Granger,” I sneer to the room, my voice resonating around the dreary place, as does the slamming of my door as I leave.






AN: Tee hee….I managed to refrain from ‘But Professor, I just came down here for a book” *snigger* Righty…you know the drill…push the review button and write something! I haven’t had dinner and a few reviews would satisfy quite nicely….