hpkinkfest | FIC: The 38-Year-Old Slytherin [Hermione/Severus] NC-17 (Reply)

Title: The 38-Year-Old Slytherin
Author:

ladyofsd
Prompt Number: H12 submitted by

bonsaibetz
Kink Showcased: invalid/incapacitated sex
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Hermione/Severus
Warnings: Nonviolent non-con, may induce nosebleeds
Word Count: ~3400
Author's Notes: bonsaibetz, I had So Much fun writing this! *grins* It contains everything you mentioned in your prompt plus a little bonus. ;) Oodles of thanks, IrelandSpades, for the wonderful beta’ing, and also to the mods for organizing this delish event. Happy ♥ Day, everyone!

Summary: After Nagini’s bite, Hermione tends to all of Severus’s health needs, but no good deed goes unpunished.

Can also be read on AO3.

The 38-Year-Old Slytherin

Before me, I behold an endless expanse of nothing, smothering me, wanting to pull me under.

So…this is my end, my perdition… At least, I don’t—

Drab-purple light bursts into being on the right side of the horizon, and…for the briefest of moments, I feel the sensation of complete weightlessness, before darkness steals me away once again.

After an unknown period of time, my awareness returns. My surroundings still consist of only a vast void, the single change being its color, which now is a solid Gryffindor-red. Truly, this is hell.

Is…that? Pausing from my contemplations, I listen and distinctly recognize the faint but familiar sound of clinking potion bottles. Could it be that I’m not, in fact, dead? Then I hear…murmuring and the soft pad of shoes.

Excitement fills me. I feel the phantom sensation of my chest quickly expanding and contracting, warm air whooshing out through my nostrils. Did the Dark Lord elect to spare my life? Or have I simply been relocated to a different level of purgatory?

I then notice the tightness around…what would be my left arm, loosening and discern a…soft cadent voice. The sudden, light touch of warm fingers slowly sliding across my Dark Mark causes prickly gooseflesh to rise from my skin.

No, I can feel; I can hear. I must be alive, but…what if I’m currently in a coma, appearing unconscious but, in truth, am completely sentient? That would be hell on earth.

I try to move my fingers but am unable. As the buttons of my other sleeve are methodically undone, I next endeavor to move any of my other limbs. However, my supine body—wherever it may currently be—continues to resemble nothing but a useless slab of stone.

Dreading what—and whom—I may find, I concentrate on opening my eyes. My inhale freezes mid-breath when my lids do as I wish and begin to lift, revealing a brightly lit ceiling.

Directly above me, I can see a copious amount of flickering candles, all swaying gently in currents of warm air. Unable to move my head, I look down my prodigious nose and spot, beside my hip, the petite profile of a girl as she begins to undo the line of buttons on my torso. The pressure of her fingers steadily moving higher causes my cock to twitch, and I swallow hard.

She shifts on her feet, providing me a clear view of her face. Granger!

A choked sound emits from my throat, and startled, she focuses on my face, an expression of guilt quickly appearing and vanishing from her face.

“Professor, you’re awake!” Granger rushes forward a few steps, to tower over my head in rumpled Muggle clothing covered in grime and blood. Blood…Nagini.

I remember the Dark Lord hissing his order, the sickening sound of Nagini’s first strike, the fetor of iron followed by an overwhelming hopelessness. As my pupils contract, my breathing becomes shallow and too fast.

“Professor.” Granger encloses one of my hands with hers. “Professor Snape, you’re safe; Nagini and Voldemort are dead.” She squeezes my fingers. “You’re safe.”

Taking a deep shuddering breath, I center my mind, burying the memory of my attempted murder into its deep recesses and, within a few seconds, my heart calms to a strong, steady, beat.

With a pleased nod, Granger smiles and returns to unbuttoning my robes, and I manage to ignore the nauseating fact that a student is disrobing me.

“I’m undressing you so I can properly clean your wound and apply bandages. If you’re wondering, we’re in the unused operating theater next to the Hospital Wing.” Her breath hitches and lips tremble. “The infirmary is very crowded at the moment… It’s probably for the best anyway, considering your questionable loyalty.”

I huff out a sigh, knowing—and hating—that she’s correct. If I were discovered, I would likely be thrown into Azkaban, no questions asked, in the hopes that I perish in my cell. My heart also twinges, thinking back on the motionless bodies of students I had glimpsed, but I sweep away my troubled emotions to join the many others that torment me in my nightmares.

Peering intently at her fingers on my chest, in a know-it-all manner, she recounts how I came to be in my current—and exceedingly objectionable—situation.

“After your attack, Voldemort declared a one-hour armistice. During that time, Harry went on to watch your memories, Ron left to check on his family”— a tear drips down her cheek, and I sadly deduce, at least one of the Weasleys, didn’t survive— “so I tasked myself with tending to you.

“The zootoxins from Nagini’s venom caused you to go into cardiac arrest, but I was able to defibrillate your heart with a few shocks of my wand.

“Since it was discovered with Mr. Weasley that the Muggle antivenin used for mambas and cobras was an effective cure, I made sure to…procure some to include in my first-aid supplies. It proved very useful—considering you’re still alive.”

I roll my eyes. Joy, I think snidely, taking into account my current state of affairs and how far from satisfactory it is.

“Besides the intravenous dose of antivenin, I’ve also given you Blood-Replenishing Potion and Elixir of Anodyne for the pain. Your next dose for both potions will be in—,” she glances up while childishly biting her lower lip, “—eleven minutes.”

I can feel the heat from Granger’s hands as she unfastens the topmost button of my robes. Our gazes unpleasantly lock for a moment before her eyes dart away, and she starts on the buttons of my white shirt.

“Once I was able to get you stabilized, I needed to find Harry and Ron… I was present when Harry killed Voldemort, which occurred but a few minutes ago.” She rapidly blinks her eyes, trying to stave off more tears, and delicately clears her throat.

Spreading apart my linen shirt, her fingers seem to linger as they glide across the dark hair on my chest. As uncomfortable as I am, the little chit’s touch causes my body to react.

She proceeds to smoothly remove my arms from my garments and, to my horror, starts working on my belt.

The large bulge in my trousers must be obvious, and I shut my eyes in mortification.

“There’s no need to be embarrassed, Professor,” she says as the button of my trousers slides through its buttonhole. “It’s perfectly normal and a good sign.

“Along with your heart, the venom affected your spinal cord. That’s why you’re experiencing paralysis at the moment.” Her dainty fingers pull down my zip, and the erection behind the black silken material of my pants springs forth. “It looks like”—She has the audacity to blush—“your magic is already starting to repair the damage.”

Damn my sodding virginal body. I have mastery over my mind, can infiltrate others, but I can’t control the lowest common denominator of my anatomy.

Being an awkward adolescent and an untrusting spy for the entirety of my adult life, I never managed to rid myself of the vestal trait. My dark billowy robes have always provided more than just a mode of intimidation but, now, they’re being stolen away—one button at a time—stealing, not just my modesty, but also my dignity.

Mercifully, the irritating girl strides from view.

A few moments later, I feel a tug and, soon after, cool air on my right foot. A fingernail lightly scratches the length of my sole, and I would have jumped if not for the fact I was paralyzed.

“Professor, were you able to feel that?” I grunt in answer and, subsequently, hear the smile in her voice when she says, “That’s wonderful news, Sir.”

After pulling off my other shoe and sock, Granger goes on to unfasten the small rows of buttons near the bottom of each trouser leg, tingles shooting from my sensitive ankles to my groin.

“Sir, I’m going to levitate you so don’t be alarmed.”

Stiff as a broom handle—in more ways than one—my body begins to rise from the table, my shoulder-length hair dangling under me. While I’m suspended in midair, she slips off, not just my trousers, but also my pants, leaving me in the raw.

I hear nothing for a few beats of my heart, Granger likely ogling me as if I were a specimen in a jar.

Finally, my body is covered with a thin sheet, and then the light tread of her trainers grows distant. I hear a squeak, rushing water, and the clattering of metal.

With the accompaniment of sloshing, Granger hurriedly returns to my side. “Professor, I’m going to now remove your previous dressings.” She nudges my body, until I’m listing on one side, and inspects my neck. “I had to apply them in haste, so they don’t look the neatest, but they seem to have done their job.”

Warm water trickles down the sides of my neck as she saturates the material for easier removal. Rotating my body from side to side as if I’m a roast on a spit, Granger gingerly frees me from the bandages soaked through with old blood, and now water, promptly vanishing the soiled rags once they were off.

The pungent odor of Murtlap Essence assails me as cloth dipped in the healing liquid is dabbed onto my wound. Besides the nagging dizziness from being spun to and fro, I feel a sharp sting like a paper cut that slowly begins to intensify and make a curt utterance, encouraging her to get on with things.

“I know your painkiller’s starting to lapse; it’ll just be a moment more.” After she has finished securing my bandages, with a proud smile, she annoyingly declares, “There, much better.”

My eyes widen when, without warning, her fingers poke into my mouth, prying open my jaw. After two consecutive pops of cork stoppers, Granger tilts my head and pours a bit of each potion into my mouth. I swallow, and she repeats the process until both phials are empty.

During all of this, I’m still sporting my unbearable hard-on, which gets even more painful, when she folds the sheet down and a warm facecloth skims across my hardened nipples. I stifle a moan as Granger’s other hand slathers around the soapy mixture, massaging my sore muscles as she goes. After carefully scrubbing my face, she sets down the towel and washes my hair, not once, but three times.

She completely removes the square of fabric providing me cover and flips me over, leaving me bare. Trepidation stirs at my mind, but I disregard it, guessing Granger will soon be rinsing me. As she continues to soothingly cleanse my back, I actually start to relax until I feel her fingers delve into the crevice of my arse. Gasping through my nose, my eyes flutter at the pleasurable sensation, and a bead of pre-ejaculate drips from my cock.

Granger carries on, washing the backs of my thighs, calves, and feet. I begin to sincerely worry once she turns me back over and her hands steadily start climbing up my body towards my leaking erection.

She reaches the junction between my legs and hops over my groin, lathering my pubic hair.

I close my eyes in relief just as I feel the first touch of her hand on my testicles. My breath catches when Granger gently palms them, testing their weight as she rubs them with her fingertips. Then it happens: her slippery hand surrounds my cock, swiftly moving up and down and around its head. Having a hand that’s not my own, stroking me, is too much, and a low moan rumbles in my chest. She needs to stop. She must stop or—

And she does.

“There,” Granger says breathily. “All your nooks and crannies are squeaky clean. Now, to rinse you.”

Warm water cascades over my body, safely away from my bandages, until no soapsuds remain. After casting a Hot-Air Charm, she lays a fresh cotton sheet over my body, returns me to the table, and brushes my hair, which I must admit, felt pleasant enough. However, I can’t stop thinking that I must look absolutely ridiculous with my hard-on still standing at full attention.

Forgetting her place, Granger unwelcomingly combs her fingers through my hair and informs me, “I need to tend to a few things but will be back within the hour. Do try to rest, Sir.”

Rest, I think with derision, staring daggers at her, thinking of my throbbing predicament.

Without another word, she strides away, and I hope, by the time she comes back, my problem will, indeed, have been put to rest.

After stirring counterclockwise twenty-six and three-quarters rotations add—

My mental exercise is interrupted by the noise of a squeaky door opening. I wait patiently as clomping rubber-soled shoes cross the room, at one point, seeming to falter.

Regarding Granger from the corner of my eye, I see she has washed and changed. Although, her new robes resemble a white, oversized bin bag.

Pretending not to be flustered, she takes a step closer, trying to ignore the unmistakable tenting above my groin area.

She softly clears her throat. “The elves did a marvelous job of protecting the kitchens during the battle so it wasn’t too har—difficult—to scrounge up some broth for you.”

Narrowing my eyes, I think, I’d rather you’d scrounged up something for my continuing blood-filled ailment.

After licking her lips, she says, “But first, let’s get your next dose out of the way.”

Still glaring, I gradually swallow the bitter potions while she idiotically grins with approval. A second later, a tray floats into view and, from it, Granger spoons out a sip of broth. As she feeds me, I catch her furtively glancing sideways.

The serene silence of the chamber is disturbed when she begins idly filling it with chatter about her perfect supportive Muggle parents, her struggles and sacrifices. It’s at this point that I regret not also having the malady of deafness.

After clearing up the tableware, Granger gnaws on the inside of her cheek.

“Professor, it’s been over an hour, and your penile tissue continues to show signs of severe vasocongestion. I’m going to have to take a look.”

She moves from view, and soon I feel cool air sweeping over my lower body. There’s a long moment of stillness, every second that passes weighted with unease.

I’m prepared for it but am still shocked when one of her hot hands encircles my engorged member. Focusing on controlling my breathing, I tolerate her touch as she strokes me, moving my foreskin over my sensitive glans. Clinically, I understand sexual release is the most effective way of relieving my discomfort, but it doesn’t lessen my troubled sentiments.

As she continues to pump my cock, I start permitting myself to enjoy the friction and the jolts of bliss. I’m maddened when Granger’s hand begins to slow and then groan with frustration when she releases her hold altogether.

Straining to see what she’s up to, I’m stunned to discover her clambering up onto the table—my gut drops. Granger giving me a wank is already beyond improper; fellatio, albeit intriguing, is one step too far. I inhale deeply, preparing to make an angry vocalization but, as I exhale, the noise sticks in my throat.

What the bloody hell is she doing? No, stop!

Closing my eyes, a long moan of rapture and despair escapes me as Granger slowly sheathes my aching cock into her molten center, stealing away my virginity. With a low, satisfied cry, just as slowly, she raises her pelvis, her hole gripping me, seemingly reluctant to let any part of me go.

Granger never deviates from the unhurried pace she set, steadily building a slow burn of pleasure within me.

As I keep my eyes firmly shut, she torturously slides my rod in and out of her young slit. I hear the wet sounds of my pre-cum and her juices intermixing and smell our growing arousal: musky and sweet.

With every rise and fall of her hips, my grunts and groans of dismay and desire become throatier, and it takes all my power to resist succumbing.

I hear her gasp sharply, and my eyes fly open, finding her staring at me with dilated, heavy-lidded eyes.

“Mmm, Merlin...” She groans in frustration. “Oh, fuck... No… Fuck, I’m coming, Professor! I’m coming!”

Feeling her pulsing silken walls, my will shatters, and I explode with ecstasy. With a guttural growl, jets of my come flood her spasming hole. My groans become shriller and breathing harsher as Granger continues to slowly ride me to my absolute completion.

Exhausted, I blurrily watch as Granger separates our bodies, not caring that my penis was at last softening.

Panting, she incants a cleaning charm, and the cool stickiness covering my groin region disappears.

Granger unsteadily walks to my side. Smiling weakly, she bends and kisses my unresponsive lips. Pulling back, she gazes into my shadowed eyes and then with sadness whispers, “Obliviate.”

Besides a few bottles of local Australian wine, Mum wanted strawberries, bananas, blueberries, and—

Strong arms and the buzzing sensation of a Disillusionment Charm engulf me as I’m pushed forwards and away from the shopping trolley, which holds my handbag and, inside that, my wand.

With an “umph,” I land hard on a display table, knocking oranges to the floor, filling the air with their strong, acidic perfume. Looking up past my fringe, I glimpse curious Muggles, who try to approach the scattered fruit that seems to have fallen over by themselves but are instead repelled away.

When a large, warm hand reaches underneath my sundress and crawls up the inside of one thigh, I gasp and try to wriggle free—until I hear and, along my spine, feel the low vibrations of a bass voice.

“Ms. Granger.”

I instantly become wet.

Professor Snape rubs his fingers against the fabric of my knickers as they dampen with my arousal. Abruptly, he removes his hand, lifts me to stand, and twirls me around. His tall form looms over me and, menacingly, he backs me up against a wall of shelves.

Both of his hands shoot out and yank down the thin straps of my dress, exposing my small, pert breasts. As his hot mouth descends onto one of my erect nipples, he hoists me up, slams me against the shelving and, shoving aside my knickers, plunges his cock into my eager cunt.

Groaning, I scramble to leverage my weight with my hands, causing cans to strew and clunk down below.

He stares at me, his eyes burning with lust while he thrusts into me deep, hard, and punishingly. Although I know I don’t deserve it, I’m in heaven: the sensation of his masculine arms holding me up, his long cock pumping into me ruthlessly, his hungry gaze.

“Mmm, Profes—“

With a growl, he covers my lips with his. I moan when his tongue forces its way into my mouth, tasting black tea and spices. As he violently kisses me, Severus carries me, setting me down on a ledge. Breathless, he breaks our kiss, placing my calves over his shoulders.

I cry out in bliss when his next thrust rams into me even deeper.

“For weeks, you’ve haunted me,” he grits out, pounding into me mercilessly, “in my dreams, in my fantasies, driving me mad.

“And then I recalled how you Obliviated your parents and delved deeper into my own mind… You stole something from me, Ms. Granger. Until you, I had never been with another.”

Tears form in my eyes. “I-I’m s-so sorry.” But knowing I had shared something so significant with him, knowing he searched me out to do it again, I scream in release.

His grip on my body immediately tightens. “Ah, fuck, Hermione, you do this to me.” Tilting his head back, exposing his faintly scarred neck, Severus shouts as he comes.

My spasming center overflows with liquid warmth and, as he moans above me, I love being able to again watch his face amidst his pleasure, relishing every involuntary grimace and twitch.

Completely spent, Severus collapses next to me, toppling over a few more pieces of fruit.

“I presume you’ll be returning to Hogwarts to take your N.E.W.T.s.” Severus’s eyes glitter knowingly.

With a lopsided smile, I nod my head, foreseeing many well-deserved detentions in my future.

The End