Becoming Familiar with a Man of Misery

Chapter 84 ~ Backed Against a Wall

Severus had Hermione’s writhing, slippery body backed against the shower wall, water streaming down his back, his wet, pale fingers between her thighs, rubbing and manipulating the witch’s clit as she moaned and sighed into his mouth, her hands reflexively caressing and pushing at his chest and belly while he stimulated her. Hermione’s small hands slipped down and grasped his swollen cock and began to massage it, slipping over the silken skin until he grabbed her and set her down on the shower seat, thrusting his cock into her mouth, both hands pressed to the tile arching over the witch, one hand still clutching a bar of soap. He wasn’t gentle at all, love, lust and a need for vindication driving the groaning wizard as his sex-starved wife submitted, treating his cock like one large lollipop, her hands pulling at his buttocks as she licked, sucked and swallowed hungrily.

“Shit, Hermione,” he breathed as he watched her go at him, her warm mouth feeling like a wet bit of heaven slurping over him. She was like a witch possessed, and Severus gripped the back of her head with one hand and guided her motions, twisting and turning her head, hissing and cursing as he thrust between her soft lips. He felt Hermione drawing him to the edge and pulled back from her, but she followed him. He tried to grasp her slippery shoulders as she yanked at him, trying to pull him back to a position where she could slip her mouth over his cock again.

“Damn witch…wait!” he gasped as she managed to suckle the head of his cock. His mouth dropped open as she sucked him powerfully, but after a moment he managed to wrest away. He didn’t want any pauses in the action.

“I’m tired of waiting,” Hermione panted up at him.

“You are, are you?” he growled, “So am I witch. So am I.”

Severus managed to get a grip on her and pulled her back into the spray, turning her around and soaping up her back and buttocks with the bar of soap. He slipped the bar between her cheeks, and she pressed back against him.

“Yes, you know what time it is,” he hissed in her ear as he soaped his cock.

No need for salve in here.

“Hold on to the wall,” he groaned, bending the witch as he stood close behind her, positioning his lathered organ against her ass and wrapping an arm around her slick waist. He thrust forward, shoving the head of his cock into her tight sphincter. Hermione howled.

“Relax woman,” he breathed as he pressed deeper, stretching the witch around his cock, “You can take this.”

Hermione continued crying out as she felt the pressure and ache of his huge cock burying itself in her ass. Severus’ eyelids fluttered with pleasure as her tightness pulsed around him, his face contorted with lust as he watched his cock slide deeper and deeper into the petite witch’s orifice. Finally he was immersed inside her, and bent over her back, his mouth against her ear, the water rushing over him, rivulets pouring over her body. He gripped Hermione’s soapy breasts and made a chuckling, noise in her ear. He hadn’t started moving yet.

“Remember that sound, wife?” he asked her, and made the chuckling noise again, before pulling back and thrusting into her ass, hissing at her tightness.

Hermione jerked, crying out his out his name.

“That’s not what I asked you,” Severus breathed, adjusting his grip on her wet body.

The Potions Master thrust into his wife several more times, with long deep strokes, making the chuckling noise as she bucked under him But he held the witch securely, despite how slippery she was. She was relaxing around his cock…he didn’t hurt so much now as he fucked her slow and hard, pressing rhythmically against her buttocks as he penetrated her, biting his lip in pleasure.

“A hyena…Hermione, you turned me into a fucking hyena. I had to shit in the backyard,” he growled, suddenly tightening his hold on her and fucking her faster and harder. Hermione was crying out, her voice shuddering beneath her husband’s strokes as his possession took her over.

You…didn’t…even….say….you…were…sorry!” he gasped at her, punctuating each word with his cock, and hitting her hard at the end so she shrieked.

“Apology accepted,” he breathed…but he dug his fingers into her hips and sped up again anyway, grunting lustfully as he buried himself deep inside the witch.

He was far from finished with her.

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Remus Lupin watched the story of Isadora Snape’s life unfold before him. A slim, pale, black-haired girl of about fifteen hid in a niche, her wand in her hand. She was wearing a Slytherin uniform, slightly different than the one the werewolf remembered that house wearing at Hogwarts. A group of Gryffindors approached, chatting among themselves. Remus watched as the girl whispered a spell and behind the approaching students a large puddle appeared, stretching across the corridor. Then the witch whispered another spell and flicked her wand toward the upper hall. Suddenly, a snarling manticora appeared and charged the students, roaring and salivating, his huge jaws opened, revealing long sharp fangs.

The startled students ran screaming straight into the puddle behind them and started slipping and falling all over the place, covered head to toe in what appeared to be black, slippery oil. The manticora leaped, claws extended, hurtling toward the struggling, terrified Gryffindors…then faded away. Laughing hysterically, the girl stepped out of the niche, bent over with mirth and holding her stomach as the oily Gryffindors struggled to stand up. They were all completely black.

“Slytherin Rules, Gryffindor Drools!” she shouted at the cursing group of students as she backed down the corridor, still laughing.

The irate students shook their fists at her. A couple tried to run at her, only to fall back down in the greasy mess.

“We’ll get you Isadora Pendelton! If it takes all year! We’ll get you!” they cried.

The girl laughed and made a very muggle gesture with her middle finger before turning and disappearing around the corner.

So that is what Isadora was like as a student in Hogwarts. Remus smirked. But his half smile didn’t last long.

He saw an older, but still young Isadora stopped by a tall, older and rather good-looking man as she walked to work. She was lovely, nubile and obviously innocent. The young witch looked mesmerized as he spoke to her. Looking a bit confused the witch walked away quickly, the man looking after her.

Remus watched as the man continued to approach the witch, and one day drew her into a building and kissed her. Remus could feel Isadora’s desire. Soon the werewolf witnessed her deflowerment, which seemed tender enough. But that soon changed and Remus watched as the man unleashed himself on the young woman. It was painful to watch…the man reminded Remus of himself in the throes of passion, but the werewolf soon realized that the witch was not trying to escape but passionately responding to the muggle’s onslaught, and reacting quite favorably to her brutal lover, looking loving and sated at the end of her ordeal. He watched enough of this to see that it was a pattern and it obviously was what the witch responded to.

Then he saw her with a rounded belly and the muggle frowning then looking fearful as she pulled out her wand and showed him she was a witch. Then there was a marriage, the birth of Severus and an argument. The man snapped the witch’s wand, hit Isadora and was thrown to the ceiling. He could make out a small figure. A house elf.

Then he saw Isadora clinging to the man as he tried to leave, and he pointed at the house elf and words were said and the house elf winked out.

Remus watched as the man abused Isadora, and then Severus. Now only did he abuse the witch physically, but verbally and sexually, beating her then fucking her so viciously it seemed tantamount to rape in most instances. He saw Isadora on more than one occasion place herself between the man and Severus and what was done to her. But she protected the boy as much as she could. He saw Severus try to fight his father and be beaten severely. He couldn’t have been more than eight years old.

The werewolf watched the horror of Isadora’s life with her husband, murder in his heart then Darius’ death came…his skeletal form lying in the bed, Isadora next to him sponging his brow with a wet cloth as he tried his best to twist his frail frame away from her. After all that she cared for him until he died. He saw her alone at a gravesite, then in her home, wrapped in a blanket, pale, frail with the house elf caring for her, feeding her and bathing her. He forwarded and she was better, working at a muggle supermarket. Then he saw Severus showing her his mark, then an older Severus sending her to Naples.

He saw her crying in a villa…then later working in an office taking care of well-dressed clients. Then she began to change, become more alive. There was a wizard…very quiet and kind. He saw them make love and the disappointment in Isadora’s eyes though she tried to hide it. The wizard saw it too. That was the last he appeared in her life. Remus saw she did go out on occasion but never was intimate. He forwarded to Fawkes, to a plane ride, to the wedding of her son to Hermione and her running toward a rather shabbily dressed wizard licking her fingers. Himself. Then he was in her flat and Severus arrived and gave conditions.

Remus saw her in her bed, tossing and turning beneath the sheets…then saw what she was dreaming and his breath caught. She was with him in that same bed, and he was fucking her in almost the same brutal manner her as her husband, and she was loving it, crying out his name. The werewolf pulled out of her mind, his sense reeling with what he had witnessed. His eyes fell on the witch, hot, yet still hesitant.

Isadora looked at him, her face slightly reddened. She saw all of what he saw from beginning to end. It was the end that made her color, but still she met his eyes.

Remus didn’t know what to say to the witch. To look at her now, he would have never imagined she had gone through such abuse and pain in her life.

“I’m so sorry, Isadora,” he said quietly, “I’ve suffered through the years because of my malady and how others shunned me, but never anything like you’ve gone through.”

The werewolf allowed himself to caress the witch’s cheek gently. Her skin was so soft and warm as she leaned into his touch, her eyes half closing with pleasure as his slightly roughened palm smoothed over her face.

“Your husband was brutal to you in more than one way,” the werewolf said in a low voice, but he couldn’t get those initial images out of his head, when Isadora was happy with the muggle, obviously loving his roughness.

She was a woman who desired a man to ravish her. From her reaction to her only other lover, not only did she desire it but needed it to be fulfilled. Remus had never met a witch with needs like this before. Perhaps Isadora could…would…

Remus forced the train of thought his mind was riding full force from his head. He was a bit ashamed of himself for thinking of her sexually when he had just learned of all her pain.

“I know why you don’t have a relationship, Remus…it isn’t all because of your transformation,” Isadora said softly. “You worry you will do harm to whoever you are intimate with”

Remus sighed.

“Did you see me, Remus? Before things went bad between my husband and I?” she asked him.

Remus swallowed.

“Yes,” he answered her hoarsely.

Isadora took a deep breath, preparing to open up to the wizard. Her dark eyes met his soberly.

“I don’ think you would be too passionate for a witch like me. A witch with my kind of need,” she said softly. “You are a kind and gentle man, Remus. That is why I am attracted to you. I can’t imagine you striking me or cursing me, or treating me badly. I’ve had so little kindness, Remus. So little tenderness from a man. The men I meet all remind me of Darius in the beginning somehow. A certain comment, or an action…a hungry look in their eyes. And it turns me off. Shuts me down. I can see it all happening again if I end up with a man like that.”

Remus realized that Isadora, despite her apparent strength and self-confidence, still had deep-set fears. And of course she would…she had been abused for years. Even though she had moved into a world of light, there were still monsters lurking in her shadows.

“No. I would never purposely hurt or treat any woman badly, Isadora,” he said, “but I have when I allowed myself to be intimate. Sexually, my animal nature is always with me. I need no full moon to wreak havoc on a woman’s body. I am dangerous. Many women have fled my bed…and my arms,” he said sadly.

Isadora put her hand on the werewolf’s arm.

“I wouldn’t,” she said softly. “I would accept your animal nature as part of you. I find it an alluring dichotomy, Remus.”

The werewolf stared at her.

“Isadora,” he began.

Realizing that most likely the werewolf was going to try to dissuade her of her feeling, Isadora shushed him. She looked down at her plate of food.

“My dinner’s cold, Remus. I really don’t want it anymore. Could you bring me my dessert?” she asked him.

Remus stared at her, realizing he was at the mercy of a woman’s whims. Gods, how they could turn on and off. In the middle of such a tantalizing conversation, how could the witch want dessert?

Feeling slightly frustrated, Remus rose and collected up the dinner plate.

“I’ll be right back,” he said evenly.

He was still hard and held the dinner plate low to try and hide his erection. But Isadora seemed distracted.

“I’ll be here,” she said. The werewolf left.

Isadora quickly stood up, walked over to her cloak and fished her purse out of her pocket. She then cracked the door and peeked out. Remus was nowhere in sight. The witch quickly left the dining room and found Rosmerta.

“Rosmerta, do you have any policies about employees fraternizing with patrons?” she asked the innkeeper in a rushed voice.

“No, as long as it’s on their own time. If I had rules like that, I’d lose customers,” the witch replied, looking at Isadora curiously as she fished in her purse, coming up with a handful of galleons. Rosmerta liked this witch.

“I need your best room…as far away from any other occupied rooms as possible,” Isadora said, looking furtively towards the kitchen door. “One with a king-sized bed.”

By the way Isadora was looking at the kitchen door, Rosmerta didn’t have to guess who would be sharing that bed.

“I take it you are pleased with our service,” Rosmerta said slyly as she retrieved a key ring and Isadora’s change. Isadora took the key and waved off the change.

“Keep it,” Isadora said, smiling rather slyly herself at the innkeeper. “Call it your ‘discretion’ fee.”

Rosmerta understood. Isadora wanted her business with the werewolf kept quiet. The innkeeper watched the witch hurry back into the dining room. She made it just before Remus appeared out of the kitchen, carrying a bowl of chilled strawberries and chocolate sauce. By the way Isadora had completed the transaction, Rosmerta suspected the wizard had no idea of the witch’s plans for him.

Rosmerta had always liked Remus, and was sympathetic to the werewolf’s plight from the first. She had seen him lose job after job because of his malady, and he was willing to do next to anything to support himself as long as it was legal. Many werewolves fell into illicit activities to generate a decent income, becoming robbers, thieves and hit wizards. Remus was a very sweet man. She had never heard him say an unkind word to anyone. He was also a patient man not given to violence.

The innkeeper had witnessed him being verbally and physically attacked by several people who discovered he was a werewolf. He did push them away from him and pull out his wand, but he did not attack. The wizard simply walked away when they backed down. He didn’t even cast a stunner. The incident got back to his employer however, a small bookseller who worried his patronage would decrease because he had hired a known werewolf. So he fired Remus.

The wizard came to Rosmerta’s to buy some broth…that was all he had enough money for. After some coaxing from Rosmerta, who added some meat and vegetables to his broth at no charge, Remus revealed he was unemployed. Rosmerta hired him on the spot for a small salary. She wished she could pay him more, but she had an establishment to run. It was honest pay for honest work though. More than what he had.

Initially a few patrons who said they wouldn’t eat at an establishment that hired werewolves threatened Rosmerta with a boycott. Rosmerta told them they could go eat at the Hog’s Head Inn if that’s what they wanted to do. No one was going to tell her whom she could and couldn’t hire. The patrons stayed away for a little while, then grudgingly returned, though they would not allow Remus to serve them.

Rosmerta watched the werewolf enter the private dining room. She smiled.

He deserved a little happiness.

And by the look in that witch’s eyes, she would do her best to make him very, very happy.

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A/N: Still working at it ya’ll. Please review.

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The Burning Pen

Becoming Familiar with a Man of Misery
by Ruth Solomon

The story content is adult in nature and can contain graphic sex and violence. Those under the age of 18 are asked to leave this site immediately. You are not welcome here. The author is not responsible for those under-aged who view these works.

CHAPTER 85

Disclaimer: All recognizable characters belong to JKR. All situations are mine. No $$$ is being made from this fanfic.
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