Serpent's Bite

Serpent's Bite
-Forgotten_Sheikah
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Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. All characters, settings etc... are respectfully owned by J.K Rowling.

Warning: Some N/C, intense sexual descriptions/violence and gore. Those of who whom have a mental maturity of a young person underneath the age of 18; leave. _________________________________________________________________

Hello everyone. I am your Authoress; Forgotten_Sheikah. I would like to welcome you to my second Harry Potter fanfiction. I am currently writing a Blaise/Hermione/Draco fanfiction, Three's a Crowd, and am now dedicating myself to this project. I mainly write Legend of Zelda and InuYasha fanfictions but after seeing the Harry Potter movies and reading the books, I have moved onto Harry Potter. Please forgive me for any spelling/grammar mistakes, incorrect information or out-of-date concepts; I am infact new at this.

English is my third language [my priors are Japanese/Chinese] so I am infact a forgeiner to the British language. I am studying it in a book I have purchased. I must admit, British language is much more complicated then the American-style. Anyway, enjoy this first chapter. There might be rape in this story [yet sinfully delicious rape]. I do not know as of now. I do, however, know Miss Granger will be enjoying her sexual escapades with Professor Snape.

Read, Rate and Review;

F_S

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Chapter One

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'Mmm. This is quite lovely. Infact, this is much better then sleeping on a book. Much better indeed...'

Snap.

The sound of something hard meeting another object made the closed eyes of the sleeping person crack open in fear, the honey brown depths darkening as the irises widened with heightened fright. Looking around in shock, the girl froze as she slowly began to recongise her surroundings.

"Miss Granger!" a deep silky voice snarled thus catching her attention.

A young woman of eighteen years shot up off the wooden table she had been currently using as a makeshift bed, her brown eyes large with disbelief. Shaking, she looked to her side to see a long, thin black rod ontop of the table on her right. Gulping, the witch turned to the right to see the owner of that rod.

"Yes Professor Snape?" she stammered.

Cold, hard onyx eyes bore down into her, their usually unfeeling depths flaring with a well-controlled fury. Hermione blushed at the giggles and whispers her fellow peers said to eachother of her. Everyone was as shocked as Hermione to find that she had been sleeping. And the best part of the entire ruckus was the fact it was in the worst class one could possibly even decide to close their eyes; Professor Severus Snape's.

Wincing when he leaned forward, bending down slightly to level with her, Hermione was faced with the full impact of his icy glare.

"And what were you doing sleeping in my classroom, Miss Granger? Are you perhaps bored with Advance Potions?" he demanded softly, the almost gentle caress to his voice a mask for his incoming snarkiness.

Hermione gulped. "N-No sir...It isn't anything like that...it's just I have been quite busy and over run lately. I assure you its not because I find your class boring." The witch inwardly groaned. Why? Why Snape's class of all classes?

Snape rose slowly, his pale lips pulled into a sneer. "Perhaps, Miss Granger, you would be better off resting then gallavanting with Mr. Weasely and Mr. Potter after bedtime hours." Watching the girl flinch, Snape's face returned to its stoic indifference. "Twenty points from Gryffindor for your lack of respect, Miss Granger. You will also serve detention with me for a week to make up for the class time you have missed due to your nap."

Hermione felt her heated blood rising in her face as the Slytherin students behind her laughed outright at this, some going as far to comment on the situation with their rather crude remarks. Her knees trembling, her eyes wide and the once long harvested desire to sleep now utterly crushed, Hermione gathered her books and walked beside a quite Ron and Harry. Turning to them, she sighed.

"Say something atleast!"

Harry turned his jade green eyes to her's, his handsome face pulled into a sympathetic frown. "I can't really think of anything to say to you, Hermione. You shouldn't have been sleeping in Snape's class. That was foolish and suicidal." The boy who lived said.

Ron snorted. "Bloody Hell, Hermione. You'll be of no use to the Order if you go and kill yourself."

Hermione glared at the red head. "Come off it Ron. He is not going to kill me." Seeing the two skeptical looks her friends cast to her, the witch scowled. "It is highly unethical for him to do so and also against the law. I have read in Hogwarts: A History, that the punishment of death was abolished by the Head Master of Hogwart's, Arguatus Memdorius in 1478 ce. Furthermore-"

"Hermione we didn't actually mean it. Blimey you're boring sometimes." Ron sighed, already yawning at the prospect of a mini-lesson from Hogwart's bookworm.

The witch frowned, her brows furrowing. "Well I am very sorry, Ronald, if I am boring you with my droning discussion over a subject that is going to be on our History test within a few minutes!" she snapped. Flicking her hair behind her small shoulder, her head raised, Hermione began to stomp away from the boy.

Blinking in shock, Ron began running after her. "Wait! Hermione! I didn't mean it like that!" he shouted.

Her loose brown, golden-tinted waves bouncing with her stride, the beautiful young girl ignored the boy and continued to stride haughtily down the hall, suddenly deaf to his calls. Harry came up beside Ron. Raising a black brow at him, he clasped his friend's slumped shoulders.

"You have to be more careful of what you say to Hermione, Ron. You know she is sensitive." He explained.

Ron frowned. "Blimey I'll never understand her. She makes me get a headache even thinking about trying to understand her." Shaking his head, Ron slumped away, a frowning Harry following him.

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Heat. Boiling, consuming heat within him; spreading throughout his body and now focusing on one place. The most disastrous place of all.

Sweat trickled down his forehead, his long black hair clinging to his wet neck. Panting, he grunted at the uncomfortable tightness in his pants due to his rising lust. Gritting his teeth together, Severus Tobus Snape leaned in his chair, his black eyes alight with a furious passion.

It hurt. The want to touch smooth flesh and to taste the sweetness of a woman. The urge to thrust himself into the parted thighs of a luscious creature was becoming too hard to bare. Severus Snape had been faced with these longings since he had first faced puberty. His mother had warned him of such, concerning the fact she had been in the same position.

He was no ordinary wizard. Severus Snape was indeed a half-blood; half wizard and half Southern Veela. The Southern Veela of the magic world were a mysterious, seductive race of mythological creatures. While the most popular of the Veela race, the Northern Veela, were known for their pale blond hair and stunning beauty, the Souterhn Veela were the opposite.

The Southern Veela were dark, mysterious creatures that lived for the art of seduction. Severus Snape was only half Southern Veela yet that half pint of his blood was enough to influence him. He had been of age for mating since he was a lad of fourteen. And since then, Snape had used many women with an ease and expertise many men would give their left arm to possess.

While his dark beauty was enough to entrance a woman, Snape held the power to cloud her mind and take her soul. He could heighten the smell of his scent, his eyes fixate her mind and could plant enticing images in her mind. And now, Severus Snape was being urged to do so.

For an entire year, he had remained dry and lacking the sexual gratification his 'people' experienced daily. He had simply been over-worked with his duties as a Death Eater, Professor, protector of Malfoy and the spy for Albus Dumbledore.

And worst yet, this lust was not one of a certain rutting. No. This was the dangerous lust of a Veela wanting a mate. Hissing, Severus slowly brought himself to his backroom potion's lab, his onyx eyes narrowing as he searched for the potion he had made for this situation.

His shaking hand stretched out, he grasped the purple vial and opened it, draining the tiny glass tube greedily of the potion. Gasping, he exhaled as the moment of animalistic lust died down, only leaving a painful erection in its wake. Scowling, he glanced around the room, assuring himself no viewers were present.

Undoing his black pants and pushing aside his black robes, the sight of a massive, pale cock with slightly purple veins met his eyes. His sweating hand grabbed the thick, long shaft and began to pump it mercilessly, the need for gratification making him mad in his masturbation. Gliding the rough surface of his callused palm, he tightened his left hand around his thick cock, groaning softly at the intense pleasure. Clenching his eyes closed, his bit into his pale, sensous bottom lip, hard enough to draw a small drop of blood. Keeping his pace of pumping his aching phallus, he lowered his right hand and lightly grasped his testicles, the sac twitching and tightening in pleasure of recieving the wanton attention it craved like its long counterpart.

He needed this; he had wanted this for a long time.

Closing his eyes and growling, he tried to invision a girl. He loved to watch a woman's face when she came because of him. It was erotic and arousing to know he had forced a woman beyond her limits, extracting the sensual animal within her and forcing the withdrawn, appropiate woman to the back of her mind. Yes. A beautiful young girl underneath him, screaming his name. He could just imagine watching a pair of breasts, large and round, bouncing ontop of a small frame as he pounded into her roughly. He could even imagine the feeling of a soaking wet cunt clenching his staff painfully to the point he felt it was going to break off.

Feeling his body shake and his cock ready to ejaculate, Snape stiffened when the sight of Hermione Granger underneath him came to mind. The surprise and the sudden invisioned look of completion on the Gryffindor girl's face, his cock released its load, the thick white substance splattering to the floor and over his hand.

Snape panted, his body hunched over, his brow dotted with sweat. Placing his flacid cock into his pants, he growled a cleaning spell, riding of his cum from the floor, his hand and his clothes. Fixing his robes, he calmly strode out of the lab and into the school hall, ignoring the cringes and looks of hate mixed with fear directed towards him from the students in the hall. The students dove out of his way, seeing the scowl and dark aura around their professor. They would instead face a dragon then this dark wizard and seemingly ex-Death Eater.

Ignoring the fear he installed within the young people around him, Snape continued to make his way elegantly down the hall, an entirely black figure in the middle of the brightly colored students. Why? Why had he thought of that girl; of all people? He would have preferred imagining McGonagall other then that bushy-haired Gryffindor miscreant! Scowling, Snape stopped when he saw Albus Dumbledore smiling at him knowingly, the old man's light blue eyes twinkling. Seeing the pillar of blue robes stride beside him, Snape waited for the Head Master to speak.

"Good evening, Severus." The old wizard greeted him cheerfully.

Snape's scowl intensified. "Good evening, Head Master." He responded coolly. His dark face becoming calm, he stared at the elder in a bored fashion. "What may I help you with?"

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "I am merely curious as to your, ah, situation of wanting, Severus. Have you found her?" Dumbledore inquired lightly.

Severus frowned. "No. I haven't." He bit out frostily.

Dumbledore nodded. "Most grievious of circumstances for you, my friend. I can only hope that those who come to your mind might be likely female companions that you would persue." Ignoring the scowl on Snape's face, Dumbledore smiled innocently and took out a pair of lemon tarts. "Would you care to try one? They are quite enjoyable. I am still trying to get the house elves to learn how to make them. Sadly, it seems only muggles really know the secret to making these delightful pastries." Dumbledore sighed, frowning a bit.

Snape glared at the yellow pastry offered to him, a sneer appearing on his pale lips. "No thank you. I have other important matters on hand, Head Master."

Nodding, Dumbledore took a bite of the one he had offered, chewing the delicious pastry with a look of pleasantry on his worn face. "Of course." He then turned on his heel, walking casually down the hall and smiling at his students, occasionally speaking with some.

Snape watched the wise man speak with a student he had come by, the two making their way to the Great Hall. Frowning, Snape hurried down the stone stairs to his personal domain and locked the door. Fisting his left hand, he punched the wall and snarled. Damn that chit! How dare she intrude his thoughts! And Dumbledore, that old fool! What did he mean to imply by 'those who come to mind'?

Scowling, Snape glared at the fire in the fireplace. The old coot knew. How? He did not know. Yet he should have known. Nothing passed Dumbledore; not even sexual fantasies. Snape stiffened. That was not a fantasy; it was a nightmare. To even imagine Hermione Granger of all people...

Walking to the chair before the fire place, he sat in it, staring into the flickering orange flames. It was a simple lust-hindered image. He had merely been thinking of the chit and her detention later tonight and mixed her into his thoughts during his relief. Yes. That would explain the uncomfortable matter quite well.

Tapping his spindly white fingers against each other, his dark face set stoically, Snape sneered. And to think he would have to suffer with the girl's annoying presence for a week. Perhaps he would just pass her off after tonight to Filch. Yes. That would be more beneficial to him. The idea of listening to her smart, arrogant remarks and seeing her frowns were enough to make him forego the Head girl's punishment.

Almost.

Severus Snape had never relieved a student of a punishment; much less a Gryffindor one. He would rather boil in tar then see a miscreant walk free from him. Hearing the chime of his clock, Snape noticed it was time for dinner in the Great Hall. Rising, he exited his domain in the dungeons, making his way to the large auditorium of students and teachers.

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Hermione walked into the hall, followed by Ron and Harry. Ron, despite his pleadings and rather feverent tries to regain Hermione's forgiveness, slumped behind the Head girl, frowning at the growing impossibility to gain her friendship back. Harry gave a sympathetic look to his friend and shook his head, pitying the fool for his bad luck.

Making their way to the Gryffindor table, the golden trio, as they had been properly named by the school, sat together.

"What's with that pathetic look on your face?" A boy with red hair and looking alike to Ron demanded.

Ron glared in return. "Make off, Fred. I'm not in the mood for you." he snapped.

Fred smiled and nudged his twin. "Hear that? Ronnie isn't in the 'mood' for us, mate! Blimey that hurts to hear, little brother. Are you sure?" he inquired charmingly.

Ron responded with another scowl and this time, mixed in a glare. Fred smiled in return. "I take that you are positive."

George snickered. "I think I do know what Ronnie is in the mood for!" His eyes went to the frowning Hermione. "A bit of snogging with the Head girl!"

Ron and Hermione blushed. Hermione, preteending to have not heard the twins, glared at them. "And what exactly are you doing here, Mr. and Mr. Weasley? Are you not graduated?" she demanded stiffly.

The twins smiled in unison and grabbed a yorkshire each. "We are but Dumbledore invited us himself. Said he needed some fun little things from our shop for Halloween." George answered with a full mouth.

Scowling as she brushed stray piece of spat yorkshire from her robe, Hermione sighed. "And does that give you the right to sit in the Gryffindor table and make fun of a student?" the witch bit out sternly.

Fred and George glanced at Ron and nodded. "Yes concerning the fact he is family. It is Weasley rules to humiliate a sibling." Fred answered this time.

Ron glared. "Ya right! It is a Fred and George rule." he snapped.

The twins smiled. "Can't deny that!" they said in unison, laughing.

Shaking her head, Hermione froze when she looked to the left, intending to survey the room for Ginny Weasley, only to meet the sight of a black figure beside her. Yelping in surprise, she clung to Ron, causing the boy to start choking on a grape. Snape scowled and quickly used a simple spell to detach the grape, leaving a panting Ron staring at him in shock.

His eyes focused on Hermione. Remembering the image of her underneath him, Snape's frown intensified. "Miss Granger, you are to serve detention with me tonight and for the rest of the week you will be serving it with Mr. Flich. I will be expecting you at the Potion's room after dinner; am I clear?" he murmured coldly.

Hermione nodded. "Yes, Professor." Her eyes wide with fear, she watched the Slytherin House teacher turn on his black shoe heel and stride out of the hall, bringing his cool aura and negative attitude with him.

Sighing, Hermione noticed the Gryffindor table's occupants staring at her in shock. Blushing, she tried to look angry. "What?"

Fred and George began laughing gleefully. "Y-You have detention with Snape!" Fred hooted.

Hermione gave the twins a very mean glare. "Yes and your point being?"

"Enjoy!" they yelled, laughing more.

Hermione looked to see Neville shaking. "Are you okay, Neville?" she asked in concern.

Neville Longbottom, a well reknown orphaned boy due to Voldemort and at times, the largest whimp, turned his pale face to the attractive girl. His large brown eyes widening, he began to shake. "I remember the last time I had detention with Snape. It was horrible. Bloody horrible!" he stammered.

Hermione could only stare in shock.

"He tested potions on me...I-I changed into a fish, dog, a bird and a-a..." Fred and George implored him to continue. "A naked mole rat."

The twins began laughing harder at the image of Neville being a molerat. Hermione, pitying the already hard-done by boy, ordered the two Weasley's to leave. Chuckling, they walked out of the hall, snickering here and there at the images in their mind.

Hermione gulped. "S-Surely it wasn't so horrible...was it?" she squeaked.

Neville looked at her blankly. "Worse."

The chime of the clock rang in the Great Hall; telling its occupants that dinner was over. Hearing the loud ringing echoe, Hermione jumped in surprise. Almost falling out of her chair, she looked to see many of the Gryffindor's sending her sad, pitying looks. Straightening her shoulders, she raised her head and gave them a cool look.

"I will be fine." she stated tersly.

Ignoring everyone, Hermione gathered her things and began walking to the Potion's room. Seriously. Why was everying being so ridiculous? Professor Snape was rather mean, she would admit that, but he would not harm her. It was against the Hogwart's code of Conduct and Punishment; page 4875, sector 3.

Finally outside of the Potion's room, she hesitated. Perhaps she would knock and wait for him? No. Then he would go on and make fun of her. She could just hear him saying,

'Afraid, Miss Granger? Are you perhaps not as brave as your other friends, Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley?'

Flushing, Hermione scowled. She would not give Snape a chance to make her feel inferior or stupid. If anything, he would be liking her more after tonight! Grasping the handle, Hermione entered the class, surprised to see it emtpy. What the? He orders her to come after dinner and he is late?

Frowning, perturbed, Hermione readied to leave. She would be able to explain to Professor McGonagall that Professor Snape had not been present thus cancelling tonight's detention. Suddenly, a groan was heard. Gasping, Hermione noticed a small black cloth over what would be the doorway to an adjoined room. Was Professor Snape injured? Whitening at the thought, the Head girl hurried to the door and pushed the black cloth aside. Looking into the room, the girl froze at the sight that met her disbelieving gaze.

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Muggle: Non-magic person