Insatiable

Title: Insatiable
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: Romance, PWP
Warnings: Oral, M/F
Summary: They were noticed long before the bite mark was spotted at breakfast.
Author's Notes: This was an aborted Exchange attempt for the 2007 SS/HG Exchange. I have just tidied it up and gave it a semi-conclusion. Pardon any mistakes, as this is unbeta’d.



Insatiable




Rolanda Hooch nudged Poppy Pomfrey as Severus Snape walked into the Great Hall for breakfast. The warm rays of a summer morning did nothing to improve the pallor of Severus Snape’s face, in fact, the sunlight seemed to accentuate the fact that the now reinstated, exonerated, and decorated Potions Master was limping slightly. When he sat down at the minimized summer staff table between Aurora Sinistra and Headmistress Minerva McGonagall, Rolanda Hooch shot a pointed look to her neighbor, angling her sharp chin to a point on Severus Snape’s jaw. Poppy Pomfrey had to hold in a giggle, causing her chest to tighten painfully so no sound passed her lips. The other professors at the table were trying hard not to notice what Rolanda Hooch was snickering about, it would be better not to mention the fact that Severus Snape had a small bite mark at the juncture of his jaw and neck. Then again, most of the professors wondered why such a fastidious man like Severus Snape had not noticed it himself.

“Good morning, Severus,” Minerva McGonagall intoned softly to the dark man at her left, inclining her sharp eyes to the mark on the right side of Severus’ neck.

“…morning…” he whispered, slowly spreading strawberry jam on a piece of toast, his hand shaking slightly, the sunlight catching the silver of the butter knife and blinding Aurora Sinistra causing the witch to wince. She too was not much of a morning person after many nights stargazing.

Minerva McGonagall pursed her lips, and returned to stirring some cream into her tea. The limp had not gone unnoticed; neither did the love mark, the slight shake in the Potions Master’s hands, nor the fact that Severus had yet to utter a complete sentence. Minerva McGonagall knew, just as well as everyone around the table, what had had Severus Snape in such a disheveled state. It had been a common occurrence for the last two years since Severus’ return to Hogwarts and the appointment of the current Transfiguration Professor, Hermione Granger, whom had bounded in just at the start of breakfast, ate quickly, said a few words of greeting, and bounded out of the Great Hall again as spry as playful doe.

It was a Monday, and there were three weeks left until the start of the new term. Minerva McGonagall knew that all that there was left to do were final preparations for the return of the students, Severus Snape had been the first to submit his lesson plans for approval, followed only by a few hours by Hermione Granger’s. Minerva knew that both professors were ready for the new term, and that their ‘extra curricular’ activities in no way impacted the efficiency of Hogwarts. These ‘extra circular’ activities did impact the other professors, in varying degrees.

Only a week before, Minerva had stumbled across the Transfigurations professor and the Potions Master in the middle of a position that Minerva fondly remembered from her younger days when she were a bit more flexible, a bit more supple… However, the place in which Minerva had found the two younger professors had given her pause, and made it almost impossible for her to eat in her current position at the table. Minerva could not help but see the couple twisted together just before her at the breakfast table in her mind’s eye. She would take an early breakfast from now on in her office, her appearance at the breakfast table was perfunctory, and nothing more. Minerva wondered if the other professors had known what sort of activities were occurring on the ancient rounded table, would they too only be taking tea?

Of course, catching the Potions Master and the current Transfigurations Professor in one of the harder positions of the Anaga Ranga, was nothing new or surprising. It had been happening for two years. And for those two years, the other professors had learned to shield their eyes from what could sometimes be considered displays of depravity by the younger professors. Luckily, the student body was blissfully ignorant of the relationship between their professors.

Hogwarts did not have any rules against fraternization between professors, and Minerva knew this better than most, but it was an tacit rule that whatever relationships the professors were to have amongst themselves was to be a private matter, and not open to public viewing. The two professors had been warned, months ago, and as far as Minerva knew, she had been the only one to catch them since. However, the fact that neither professor seemed to own up to the fact they were a couple mystified the staff. It was not as if they did not know, see, or feel the sexual tension between Hermione Granger and Severus Snape. It was not a delusion spun by the overly romantic fancies of Poppy Pomfrey and Rolanda Hooch that the two spent many private moments in less primal intimacies. Severus and Hermione had openly dated, gone to operas, gone to Muggle picture shows, even taken a three day trip to Japan at the behest of a Potions colleague in Severus’ acquaintance. But Minerva was not sure it were ‘love,’ per se, between the two younger professors, but it was something other than simple lust that kept Severus Snape and Hermione Granger locked together in compromising situations and positions.

Minerva removed her spoon from her teacup and took a sip, her eyes flickering with mirth as she glanced over the rim at Severus Snape.

Meanwhile, Severus Snape was ignoring the surreptitious glances imposed by his fellow staff members. He reminded himself that he should be used to it by now, but it was perhaps the way his body thumped with ache that very morning that made even the slightest gaze upon his person feel like a physical blow. If he had the strength, he would curse under his breath, but all his concentration was fixed upon chewing his toast without wincing.

Damnable woman, he thought of the only missing professor at the breakfast table. She had surely come to breakfast and departed before he had even managed to finish dressing. She was smiling smugly somewhere, most likely the library, shivering with the memory of the night before. Severus, by the by, was sure that he would have to actually speak to Poppy to obtain some sort of muscle relaxant since his own stores were woefully empty. Two nights ago he had set aside time to brew extra medicinal potions for his own stores, but two nights ago he found himself a bit too busy.

Somehow, Severus managed to eat enough to suit him, stand, and address Poppy without making himself appear he was in slight distress. When Poppy took hold of his elbow and walked with him out of the Great Hall, the other professors glanced at each other, smiles stretching their aged faces.

“She has broken him this time,” Rolanda Hooch commented to Pomona Sprout who was trying not to giggle maniacally.

“Miss Granger? Ah, well, turn about is fair play. She looked about the same way a month ago,” Pomona reminded her colleague.

Minerva pursed her lips, and said nothing when her staff turned their eyes to her. Ever the leader, Minerva was, unfortunately, at a loss of what to say. It was clear that something needed to be said, but what? Instead, Minerva turned her thoughts to perhaps meeting with the two professors and make it a bit more clearer that their ‘play’ was getting too rough, and far too noticeable. Quickly, the Headmistress squashed the feeling that she was somehow prying too deeply into personal matters—it simply would not do for the students to notice that something was going on between the Potions Master and the Transfigurations Professor.





Ambush, a tactic that still put the former spy on the defensive, always had a way of turning his body into a stiff, sensitive, mass of muscle and bone. He had not heard her, seen her, or smelled her as he made his way down into the bowels of the castle for the night. He had only just returned from a pleasant evening sipping cognac and playing a few hands of Trentino Scopone with Professors Flitwick, Sprout and Slughorn. He had been teamed with Pomona Sprout and had soundly lost to the other team, but it had been a pleasant evening and more than anything, a normal evening. With the warmth of the cognac buzzing in his veins, Severus retired, and slowly made his way down the breezy halls, enjoying the warmth of the summer air ruffling between his shirtsleeves and unbuttoned coat.

Rounding the corner to begin down a corridor that terminated in a steep incline down into the dungeons, Severus found himself being propelled sideways, his breath catching in his throat, his hands unable to locate his wand fast enough. He was pulled behind a tapestry, into a niche he knew was infamous for student trysts, and was bewitched so that he could not move his arms to defend himself. Severus found himself wedged between the walls of the niche and a warm body, ripping his shirt open, pushing the cloth, along with his jacket down his arms, effectively trapping any sort of movement lest he break through the enchantment. It was too dark behind the tapestry to see his attacker, and when he felt a hard bite pierce his skin just below his collar, he winced and opened his mouth to speak, curse, growl, anything, to warn the attacker off his person. But as the bite softened into a kiss and his nostrils flared to take in a deep breath, he realized his attacker was no attacker at all.

He felt a fringe of curly hair brush against his left nipple and he managed to clench his fists. His wand was in the sleeve of his jacket, inaccessible at that moment, and any wandless spell he knew would most likely harm the woman who was now unbuttoning his trousers, lowering to kneel before his boots. He closed his eyes as the air caressed his flesh, replaced by a hot mouth moulding over him. His body reacted naturally, his cock stiffening quickly under her ministrations.

She hummed deep in her throat, making no effort to be discreet, her mouth slurping slightly as her head bobbed against him. Severus bit the inside of his cheek to keep from making a sound at the heavenly feeling of her tongue wrapping around him. He reserved sounds of his approval, or disapproval, for trysts in the bedroom, but it had been weeks since the last time he had taken her in the privacy of a bedroom. It pained him. It was just not the release of his seed that sated him, but his voice, his soul—and he would not do that here in the niche behind a tapestry of a goblin’s battle in the corridor above the dungeons, and not on her terms.

A shimmer of magic flitted over his skin, and Severus found he could move. His hands grasped her shoulders, pushing her away. He could not help the fact that he was breathing hard and shallowly, and he could not help but feel his cock twitch just able to make out in the dark a string of his pre-come stretching between his erect member and her lips. With a shrug, Severus straightened his shirt and jacket, not bothering to button the front, checking his wand in his sleeve. He pulled his trousers up and quickly buttoned the fly.

“Severus?” she asked from his feet, her voice thick with concern.

Severus moved slowly, stepping around her and pushing the tapestry aside, the pale moonlight from the arcade windows illuminating her face as he glanced back at her. Her lips were swollen and her eyes seemed to shimmer a mellow gold. He said nothing, but inclined his head in a gesture for her to follow him. A subtle change crossed her face, and he realized that she had believed she was being rejected. A flush of anger filled him and he bent to snatch his lover’s small wrist and held it tightly in his folded, and much larger, hand. She opened her mouth to speak, but said nothing, noting that Severus had pressed a long digit to his thin lips for silence, his eyes sparkling.

Hermione Granger, a bit uncomfortable from the dampness in her knickers buried under her long summer skirt, said nothing, and let Severus pull her along, unaware that in his strength he was wrenching her arm painfully. She felt her breath quicken as Severus pulled her toward the dungeons. Stubbornly she dug her heels into the cobbled stone floor, her light summer sandals whispering against the stones as she slid.

Severus turned, his dark brow furrowed, his mouth quirked unpleasantly. He did not say a word, but Hermione read his expression well. He was a bit perturbed that she was not going to let him take her to his rooms and make her finish what she had started. When he tugged on her bare arm again, her tank top and bra strap slid off her shoulder, and she growled. With a quick reversal, it was Hermione who had a tight grasp on Severus’ wrist. Her fingers, small and dainty, could not quite fit the circumference of Severus’ wrist, but what she lacked in proper hold she made up with sheer will and strength.

The moon was not quite full, and the torches were not lit, but Hermione deftly made her way through the dark. It was not midnight although his evening with Pomona, Horace, and Filius had run late, and the night was becoming cooler by only a few degrees. The further along the shadowy corridors they moved as silent as ghosts, the more fragrant the air became. Severus’ keen nose caught the scent of hothouse orchids, soil, rosemary, and the greenhouses. Through a hidden door used primarily by Pomona as a quick route to her domain, Hermione led him into the greenhouses. Past rows of worktables in green house three, through a storage room and into the back, Severus realized where Hermione was taking him.

Greenhouse Four was reserved for the staff and maintained by Pomona as a haven of sorts, a botanical garden with the rarest of flowers and herbs. Severus generally avoided the greenhouse, finding it too hot and too sunny. However, in the moonlight, Severus barely recognized the veritable garden of ‘earthly delights.’ In the middle of said garden, was a stone bench, and that was where it began again…

Severus could barely keep up with where Hermione’s hands went, or where his clothing went for that matter. All he knew was that his bare arse was cold against the stone bench; despite the climate control Charms in the greenhouse. Hermione’s skin was like warm gold in the moonlight, while his was cool silver.

Sitting on the wide bench, Severus grasped Hermione’s hips, allowing her to sink down on his cock with slow precision. He kept his lips firmly together, ever wanting to let loose a sigh of satisfaction or a whimper at exquisite pleasure at the feel of her around his cock. At bottom, she stilled, and licked her lips.

Madness, it was some sort of madness, he thought. No matter that he was tired, his limbs aching, his arse cold, Severus could not deny her magnetism. He bucked upwards, eliciting a cry, and knew that he would regret this coupling in the morning.






Headmistress Minerva McGonagall could not find the Potions or Transfigurations professors later in the day after the Potions professor appeared to breakfast with a ‘love mark’ on his neck. She had gone to their rooms, classrooms, and the staff lounge, and did not find them. Of course, Minerva really did not want to find them in some compromising position, again, but if their ‘extracurricular activities’ were going to leave one or both professors in some sort of physical duress, she would have to say something.

She found them shortly before dinner, near the Whomping Willow, standing close to one another, speaking heatedly. Minerva paused, and stepped behind a pine, listening. She knew it was wrong to eavesdrop, but she really did not want to have to confront the professors—it made her feel uncomfortable. Minerva knew she was procrastinating, a rare thing for her…

“…must stop!”

It was Severus speaking.

“Why, because everyone knows?”

Hermione Granger…

Minerva heard Severus sigh, and she imagined his shoulders slouching. “There is a level of professionalism…”

“Damn ‘professionalism,’ Severus. There are no students here, not yet, and the staff…”

“But it has to stop at the start of term.”

Silence, and then finally… “I can barely have you to myself as it is, Severus…”

“So you have decided to have it all at once?”

A stifled laugh, and Minerva could not tell who had made the sound.

“I am jealous, I suppose…” Hermione said softly, in almost an indistinct whisper. “I do not want to share you, now that I know…”

“You are insatiable.”

Minerva straightened, as the sound of clothing sliding against skin alit the air. With a small smirk, the Headmistress trekked back up to the castle.



END!