Disclaimer: All recognizable characters belong to JKR. All situations are mine. No $$$ is being made from this fanfic.
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Chapter 18 ~ A Long Night
The wolves quickly followed Hermione’s trail to the campsite, and stealthily approached the tent, sniffing around it with interest. The something they wanted was in there. One wolf tested the tent with its paw…it was soft and moved. He affixed his teeth on the corner and pulled.
Inside the tent, Hermione was dimly aware of a disturbance, but merely shifted in her sleep. It was only when the tent jerked and ripped that she fully woke and saw the hole. She scrambled out of the sleeping bag just as Raucous sounded the alarm. She fished her flashlight out of her pack, and unzipped the flap, crawling out of the tent and standing up. The wolves had dropped back when the flap opened and now stood in a line, several meters away, measuring their prey. Hermione shined the light on five pairs of luminous eyes. The wolves began to growl. Whatever kind of animal this was, they were confident they could take it down.
Raucous dove at the wolves, attempting to scatter them. They did flinch, but didn’t leave. One tried to snap the raven out of the air on his next dive and almost got him. He flew to Hermione’s shoulder, raising hell at the wolves.
“Shit,” Hermione thought as she carefully bent and picked up her sturdy wood staff that was lying next to the tent. She gripped it like a cricket bat and starting yelling at the wolves approaching them and swinging the staff back and forth in a broad arc. This was a mistake. She should have retreated towards the trees to protect her back. All she managed to do was get trapped in a circle as the wolves surrounded her just out of staff reach. She spun in a circle swinging the staff, trying to keep the starved animals off her, but desperation made the wolves courageous, and each would try to get closer when she spun with her back to it.
The ring began to warm on her finger. Hermione felt it but couldn’t take the time to examine it. One wolf had rushed in and grabbed her trouser leg and she kicked at it. It held on a moment shaking it before releasing her. The others dipped in closer. Raucous still clung to her shoulder, screeching furiously at the wolves. It looked bad for both raven and witch. One wolf leaped for Hermione’s face. She screamed and closed her eyes waiting for the fangs to rip into her. She heard a yelp, opened her eyes and saw the wolf writhing on the ground as if struck. The other wolves looked at it, but were so hungry they didn’t back off. Another leaped at Hermione’s back, knocking the witch to the ground, but again there was a yelp and the weight of the animal suddenly disappeared, and Hermione quickly scrambled to her feet.
That wolf was also writhing horribly, its teeth pulled back from its gums. The other three wolves were moving uncertainly now, shifting from paw to paw and whining as they looked at their companions. They didn’t understand what was happening. The creature hadn’t struck or bitten either of the fallen wolves, but they were down and apparently suffering greatly. Hermione, seeing the animals’ indecision, rushed yelling at the other three wolves, swinging her staff and actually striking one. The wolf yelped in pain and fled. The other two wolves, on seeing their fleeing companion followed suit and raced off into the darkness, leaving their fallen comrades behind.
Hermione shined her flashlight on the writhing animals, and was horrified to see how thin they were. Even though the wolves had been trying to kill her, she could see that hunger was the driving force behind them. She felt sorry for the animals, and if she had her wand, she would have put them out of their misery. She had no idea what had happened to them.
“You poor things,” she said, “I wish you weren’t suffering so.”
The moment the witch uttered that sentiment, both wolves stopped convulsing and jumped to their feet, their ears flattened and snarling at Hermione. Then they ran off after their fellow pack members, leaving the creature behind. It was too strong for them.
Hermione watched the wolves go with her mouth open. What had happened? She looked at the ring. The “S” was glowing slightly with a pulsing blue light. It slowly faded. The ring had protected her.
Snape watched Hermione’s courageous attempt at battling the wolves. He couldn’t understand why the ring was not working to protect the witch. It should have struck all the animals down. It had been known to zap men immediately when they threatened to attack. He saw the wolf leap and Hermione close her eyes. The Potions Master’s stomach clenched. He was sure the animal was going to rip Hermione to pieces. Then the animal was flung back to the ground, and didn’t get up again, but lay there shuddering as if in great pain. The same thing happened to the wolf that knocked the witch down. It was flung back to the ground, convulsing violently. He watched Hermione drive off the other three wolves, admiration gleaming in his black eyes. She was a brave little witch. Also a compassionate one. She expressed sympathy for the convulsing animals. Snape scowled. If he had been attacked, he would have found a large stone and bashed their furry heads in.
He thought about the ring’s reaction to the animals. It could have been that the ring did not kill them outright because they were animals, starving animals, not men intent on killing. It only attacked the wolves that actually were going to do her bodily harm, disabling them by giving them great pain. The ring divined Hermione’s desire that the animals not suffer, and released them. It was certainly an interesting magical item.
Snape watched as Hermione built a large fire and brought her sleeping bag out from the ruined tent, and stretched it out on the ground a short distance from the blaze. She laid the staff beside the sleeping bag and crawled back into it. Raucous had returned to the tree branch, but did not tuck his head for sleep. He remained silent, but watchful…his beady black eyes staring into the darkness, watchful for any motion. Snape could see Hermione doing the same thing, her amber eyes shifting as she looked into the darkness beyond the campfire. After about an hour, the witch fell asleep. Snape watched as the mist once again appeared, and spread through the image to surround him. She was dreaming again, and soon he would be in her presence. He felt the mist coalesce under his feet, giving him traction, and the feeling of space surround him. He began to walk, seeking Hermione out when the mist changed forming her campsite. She was there asleep in her bag.
The Professor walked over to her and knelt, studying her face in the firelight. She looked peaceful. Lovely. He wouldn’t mind waking to that sleeping face and gently, but insistently urging her to consciousness in an unmistakable manner. He looked at her again, feeling a stirring. Maybe not so gently. He always knew Hermione was a determined witch, but he had not dreamed she would be so strong. Fighting off wolves. Most witches would have dissolved into weeping piles of terror, especially if they were wandless. Not her. She charged into the fray just the way she charged into her spell making, full throttle and never admitting defeat. His eyes softened a bit as she sighed and shifted. Suddenly, her amber eyes slowly opened, and looked up at him.
“Professor?” she said sleepily.
“Yes, Hermione. I am here,” he said.
Hermione worked her way out of the bag, and the Professor helped her to her feet. She looked around, then back at him sharply.
“How is it you’re at my campsite, Professor? Are you a ghost?” she asked him.
“This is a dream version of your campsite, Hermione. You are still asleep,” Snape replied. He hadn’t released her hand yet, reveling in its warmth and softness. “As to my being a ghost, I suppose I am close to it. But not too close. I was refused entrance to the land of light and love.”
Hermione smirked at him.
“Now, why does that not surprise me?” she asked. Severus Snape in the land of light and love? The image of his dark visage scowling among dancing cherubs, rainbows and flowing cloudbanks almost made her dissolve into conniptions.
Snape frowned at her.
“I take it you don’t think I qualified to enter such a realm,” he said rather stiffly. “I assure you, Hermione that at this point in time I am definitely heaven material. It seems I pulled a ‘save’ by killing Voldemort. Removing his evil negated my own ample stores. I was refused entrance, Hermione because…”
Here he hesitated. Hermione frowned at him.
“Because what, Professor? Tell me,” Hermione urged.
Snape looked at her.
“According to the powers that be, I’m not ‘properly’ dead yet,” Snape replied.
Hermione’s eyes widened. The Professor not dead?
“What does that mean?” she asked him, “If you’re not dead, what are you?”
Snape smirked. “I imagine I am hanging in the balance, as it were,” he replied, “Hopefully not for too much longer. You see, Hermione. I gave up my life to kill Voldemort, but only temporarily, at least that was my hope. Your purpose in going to my ancestral tomb is to revive me. To bring me back to the corporeal world.”
Hermione stared at the Professor, her mouth wide open. After a few moments she managed to close it.
“You sent me on this journey to resurrect you, Professor?” she asked him.
“Yes,” he said silkily.
Immediately, Hermione began to blush, thinking about her forward behavior in the first dream. The things she had admitted to him, the things they had done. She had only acted in that manner because she was sure the Professor was gone forever. If he came back…
“Oh my gods,” Hermione breathed, buckling as if she were about to pass out. Her knees began to give. The Professor caught her, pulling her against his body. His black eyes looked down at her.
“Are you all right, Hermione?” he purred, holding her tightly. He knew she just realized that if he came back, things between them would be very different.
The witch looked up at him very aware of his closeness, his maleness.
“Professor…if you return, what will that mean? For us?” she asked him, her heart pounding.
His eyes blazed at her.
“Most likely it will mean that when we return to Hogwarts, and after all the excitement dies down, I will sweep you into my arms, carry you to my rooms, deflower you and become your lover,” he replied softly.
Then Snape kissed Hermione, covering her mouth with his and sucking on her lips gently before invading her mouth with his probing, hungry tongue. Hermione responded instantly, wrapping her arms around his neck, her belly flaring with heat as a soft moan rose from deep inside her.
Snape gently pulled away from her lips, his eyes searching her face slowly as she sought his mouth again. He gave her a knowing smirk.
“And from your response to my kiss, I have a feeling you will welcome my other, more pointed attentions,” he said, his voice a low growl. “There’s so much I want to do to you, Hermione. You have no idea how much pleasure I will give you.”
Hearing the passion and promise in his voice and feeling his hard, lean body pressed against hers, Hermione felt as if she could melt into a gooey, sticky lust-filled puddle.
“But first, you have to bring me back,” he said, drawing away from her with an effort.
Hermione was all fire and urge. She had been through so much in the past three days, it would be wonderful to lose herself in this dream with the Professor. She wasn’t sure she believed what the dream Professor was telling her, but his strong presence was arousing and comforting. She was so drawn to the wizard. She wanted her dream to go erotic very badly.
“Professor, I want to do something now. Anything. I’m stressed and I’m randy, and you’re here, and you want me. I don’t understand why you won’t just let go when I’m so willing to be let go on,” she said softly, looking into the wizard’s dark eyes.
Snape looked into Hermione’s desire-filled eyes. This was just what he needed. The young woman who had been the subject of his interest and lust for the past five years telling him what he always fantasized about hearing from her lips. That she wanted him to fuck her. Yep, he would be floating between life and death when his dream of Hermione being randy for him came true. That’s just the way his life seemed to work most of the time. He sighed. It would be so easy to take the lovely, courageous, and willing witch on top of her sleeping bag by firelight. Snape was sorely tempted. Yet he still wasn’t sure if deflowering Hermione in the world of her dreams would affect her virgin status in the real world. He was not a dream figment, no matter what the witch believed. He was a living, full-blooded wizard. His erection attested to that fact.
He continued to stare blankly at Hermione, who was watching him as if he were a hunk of chocolate and she had the worst sweet tooth in the world.
No. He couldn’t do it. The unicorns were still roaming the mountain and could appear again. If she weren’t a virgin, most likely Sewell would attempt kill her. The ring would protect her, but it would be better to keep the situation from happening at all.
“I can’t, Hermione,” he said to the witch, “There are circumstances that make it too risky for you.”
“I’m willing to face the risks,” Hermione said, moving into him again. He could feel the heat of her body through her clothing, and she was quaking with desire. Snape groaned. This wasn’t remotely fair. She smelled of smoke and mountain air. Like a nymph who had walked through fire. He didn’t find the scent unpleasant. It fit the setting.
“I’m not, Hermione. This is too important,” he said, but he didn’t push her away. She was molded to him and it felt good. Very good. It had been a long time since he held a woman this way. Also, he was grateful to Hermione. She had risked so much to fulfill his last request. He would love to show her his appreciation in a very physical way. Again ‘no’ popped into his head.
“Then at least kiss me again,” Hermione breathed, pursing her lips and standing on her tiptoes.
Snape sighed, knowing he shouldn’t do it, that he should try to return to the realm he occupied and let the witch return to her sleep, but he was too drawn to her, too moved by her desire for him to walk away from her. He lowered his head and kissed her again, tasting her heat and her lust, losing himself in it.
“Touch me,” Hermione hissed into his mouth demandingly. He was going to do something other than just kiss her, damn it.
Her tone made the wizard respond, and Snape slid his hands down her back and around her sides, then lightly over her hips. Hermione began to caress him as well, running her hands over his back, lingering at the small of it, pulling him into her harder so she could feel his arousal. His hardness made her soaking wet, and she groaned against his lips. The Professor slid his hands over her ass and down the back of her thighs. That she let him touch her this way made his breath come quicker, and he slid his hands back up, slipping them under her shirt and feeling the softness and heat of her skin. That was a mistake, because the moment he touched her flesh, he went into automatic and deepened his kiss before slipping to her throat. Hermione was purring like a kitten as his soft lips moved over her neck. She had never felt anything so sensual, so wonderful. She wanted more contact.
“Professor,” she groaned, “More, please.”
Snape moved his hands around her waist, across her belly and up to her breasts. She wore a sports bra, and his palms slid over it, feeling the hard peaks of her nipples beneath the fabric. She hissed when he touched her breasts, encouraging him to massage and fondle them. Hermione began gasping in a very passionate way, and he pulled away from her throat to look at her. The witch’s eyes were half-lidded with pleasure, her mouth parted, her lips glistening.
“Your hands feel so good,” she half-purred, pressing into them before reaching under her shirt and pulling her bra up so she could feel his hands on her skin. Snape bit his lips as he grasped two handfuls of large firm breasts. She was a well-built little witch, and his cock was threatening to bust out of his trousers. He had to taste them. He pulled up her shirt, and wrapped one arm around her waist to support her as she leaned back, giving him access. He licked, sucked and kissed first one, then the other, his lips and tongue running over the round, firm flesh, feeling her fingers sifting through his hair, caressing him as she whispered encouragement. She ground her pelvis against his wantonly, needing, wanting more.
He couldn’t fuck her. He couldn’t…but he could give her what she needed. With his other hand he undid the button of her trousers and slipped his hand inside, under her knickers and touched the moistness of her sex. Hermione buckled against his hand, her amber eyes going wide as he slipped a finger between her folds. He hissed and bit his lip at the heat and wetness of her pussy. He felt the stretch of skin that protected her entrance give a little beneath his fingertip and pulled away from it, instead rubbing her clit. Gods, she sounded beautiful as she looked. He watched her face as he manipulated her sex, holding her writhing body as her cries of pleasure increased. Gods he wanted to stick his cock in her, but continued to work her towards release. She came with a shriek, shuddering in his arms, her eyes rolling up as her orgasm hit her. The Professor groaned again, turned on almost beyond his limits as she arched against his hand, and he felt her release pour over his fingers.
“Damn,” he breathed as she whimpered, pulling herself forward and resting against him as she came back to earth. He slowly removed his hand, and brought it to his nose. Yes, gods, in the dream realm even the release was real. He tasted the witch for the first time and his nostrils flared as he cleaned his hand, then looked down at Hermione, whose face was pressed into Snape’s robes as she panted against him.
He needed to go.
“Hermione…I have to go. I can’t stay,” he said, his voice gravelly with desire. If I stay you will definitely lose your virginity to me.’
“No…don’t go. Take my virginity,” she moaned against him. Her hand moved to the huge bulge beneath his robe and began to rub him insistently. Shit!
Snape didn’t know how to get out of the dream. He desperately pictured the starry realm and himself floating, trying to ignore the delicious feel of her hand rubbing his cock through his robes. He groaned and visualized harder. He felt himself lightening. There was no more contact. He was dissolving, the scenario was dimming. He was leaving her dream.
“No!” Hermione cried as he faded. She clutched desperately at him, her arms passing through his body. His eyes were intense as he looked at her.
“Tomorrow,” he said as he faded from view, “Tomorrow you won’t have to rely on dreams, Hermione. Go to the tomb. The ring will do the rest.”
Then he was gone.
Hermione threw a small tantrum.
“Gods damn you, Professor!” she cried shaking her fist at the empty space he had occupied, and kicking at the earth. “And they say women are teases! McGonagal was right about you! Even from beyond the grave you’re a bastard!”
Snape smirked as he watched the dream-witch curse him. Hell, he did what he could while letting her keep her virtue. And she was completely ungrateful. He was not a tease. It was Hermione who was the tease. All of that supple, willing flesh and he couldn’t touch her. Just wait until he got back into corporeal form. He was going to shove his cock so far into her sweet body that Hermione Granger wouldn’t know where he ended and she began.
He looked down at his bulging robes as he drifted lazily in the void, wondering if it would upset the scheme of things terribly if he wanked off.
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Dressed in her nightgown and robe, Shaaron approached the large, ornate doors of Vivaldi’s bedroom. Her heart was in her throat, and she had no more tears left to cry. She hoped the wizard would be gentle, though the other female servants had told her it would be unlikely. Vivaldi believed in breaking in a virgin thoroughly. The idea of being the first man to have a woman excited him, and he claimed virgins fully so no other man could be the first to do anything that he hadn’t already done.
It was impossible for her to flee the Manor due to its location, and even if she did, she had nowhere to go. The reason she came to the Manor was that her father died, and he was a poor man who left her nothing. Their home was a rental, and the landlord had let her stay several weeks before moving a new family in. She could not find work in the village, and did not want to become a prostitute. Ketri had found her on the beach, digging for clams when he told her she could go to the Manor. He was honest about what would be expected of her.
“If the Lord of the Manor wants you, Shaaron, you will be required to fuck him. It’s their way. But better one wizard a few times than a constant train of wizards day after day,” he had said to her. And he was right. It was the lesser of a number of evils. Ketri kindly offered to rid her of her virgin status, but Shaaron refused him. Now, as she stood outside the Master’s room, she wondered if she should have taken him up on his offer. Well, it was too late now. She knocked on the door.
A tired male voice answered her.
“Who is it?” Vivaldi groaned.
The wizard lay naked and exhausted, spread-eagled on the top of his sheets. He wore himself out on Venoma, who was recovering in her bedroom, aching, sore and satisfied. Vivaldi had been surprising and insatiable. He worked out seven years of lust for his half-sister in one afternoon. When his concubines came to keep him company, he turned the disappointed girls away, not even allowing them to just sleep with him. He knew the women. They might start out with good intentions, but sooner or later, the fingers would start creeping, and the lips, roaming. He had been awakened more than once with his cock halfway down Handei’s throat.
“It’s Shaaron, my Lord,” the servant girl said through the door, “I have come to you as you requested.”
Vivaldi lay in the bed, and groaned. He couldn’t handle anymore pussy today. Between the concubines last night and Venoma this afternoon, he doubted he had any come left. Plus his cock was sore.
“I release you from your duties tonight, Shaaron. Return to the servants’ quarters. I will let you know when I want you in my bed,” he called back.
“Yes, my Lord,” Shaaron said, curtseying at the door even though Vivaldi couldn’t see her. She almost slipped up and thanked him. That would have been a grave error to show she did not want him to fuck her. She hurried back to the servant’s quarters, grateful for the reprieve. Maybe he would not want her for several months. He may have locked the setting room door, but there was no silencing spell. The entire staff knew he had spent the afternoon fucking his half-sister. This new development in the relationship of the Master and Mistress might free a few servants from Vivaldi’s lustful ministrations. The newer servants were repulsed by the incestuous nature of the pair, but the ones who had been in the Manor the longest simply said it was the Snape way, and left it at that.
Vivaldi turned over on his back, threw his arms out, then scooted around in the bed trying to find a cool place on his sheets. He had to get some rest.
Tomorrow was a day of decisions.
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A/N: Hey all. Got another chapter up. Got stopped cold at the library. It seems they don’t allow any disks in their computers but those purchased and kept at the library. Didn’t have the cash to buy a disk from them, so I went to my friend’s house, and of course she wasn’t home, so I camped out and waited for her to come back. I got a nice 2-hour nap in the car. Lol. I gave ya’ll some limes with Hermione and Severus, and spared Shaaron (JW, you had something to do with that). I even let the wolves go. The poor things were starving. I like wolves. So there you have chapter eighteen. Hermione will get to the tomb next. What will Vivaldi do? We’ll see. Please review.
The Burning Pen
The Ring
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.