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and i yearn and i hunt
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The monastery was a pleasant surprise. No sooner had the door opened to admit her than Hermione was embraced, kissed, and welcomed with joy that their silence could not mask. She submitted to this affection, strange as it seemed, with only the slightest initial hesitation, and allowed herself to be ushered to the kitchen to warm herself in front of the fragrant bread oven, and then to the abbot's cell.
The abbot perused the letters of introduction without speaking, then asked in accented but fluent English, "You studied bookbinding under Brother Mark, did you not?"
Hermione nodded.
"Good," he said, nodding. "Brother Aloysius, our resident bookbinder, is largely self-taught, and he will greatly benefit from your teaching during your stay with us. I only wish you could stay longer than a week. Out of curiosity, do you sing?"
Hermione shook her head, slightly bewildered by the change of subject.
The abbot sighed. "Ah well, I suppose it would be too much to ask that one person fill all of our community's needs. I suppose I might recruit Brother James to the choir, but Brother Pieter is adamant that he stay in the brewery. You knew our Brother James at St. Bernard's, yes?"
Hermione nodded.
The abbot's face grew stern. "You knew him before he was Brother James?"
Hermione, surprised by the question, hesitated only a moment before nodding.
The abbot's eyes closed for a moment. "Thank you for telling the truth. I am happy to know this. Brother James has been alone in his cell since Brother Mathieu left. You are welcome to share his cell for as long as you wish."
Hermione's eyes must have shown some of her disquiet, for the abbot chuckled. "If Brother James does not like this, tell him to speak with me. It will do him good to have company who does not fear him."
Hermione had to smile at this, and the abbot returned her amusement with an avuncular twinkle that reminded her unaccountably of Albus Dumbledore, for all that the abbot, with his gaunt body, hairless skull, and long fingers, much more closely resembled Voldemort.
"Tomorrow, Brother James will introduce you to the monastery and its residents," he said. "However, as we are in particular need of your skills, you will join Brother Aloysius in the library."
Hermione nodded eagerly, and the abbot rose, smiling. "This way, Brother Herman."
He led Hermione down a cool hallway lit by north-facing windows, through which the afternoon sun was pouring. "You should have time to settle in before Vespers," he said. "I'll send Brother José with your linens. Do you have any other needs?"
Hermione shook her head and smiled gratefully at the abbot.
"God be with you, Brother."
Hermione nodded in what she hoped was an "and also with you" sort of way. It must have been adequate, since the abbot left, closing the door behind him.
Hermione pulled her wand from her sleeve and reflexively cast a complement of privacy wards. That settled, she set about to examining the room. It was small, but not cramped, austere, but not Spartan, with white plaster walls, heavy wooden beams across the ceiling and simple wooden furniture dark with age. The beds lay against opposite walls, and there were two small desks, a bookshelf, and a narrow wardrobe. There was a large, east-facing window on the wall above the desk that Severus had claimed with a small stack of books and some writing accoutrements.
A quick glance informed her that these were not the volumes she was so anxious to see, and she opened the wardrobe. Unsurprisingly, it contained three identical white robes, a spare surplice that was a deep chocolate brown instead of black, and a pair of shoes and heavy cloak for winter. Half of the wardrobe was empty, presumably for her to fill with her belongings. She nearly missed the upper shelf of the wardrobe, which, she soon discovered, was because Severus had cast a spell on it to discourage notice.
Eureka!
She had to stand on a chair to reach the books, which were stacked against the very back of the wardrobe, but she was hit by the unmistakable scent of ancient papyrus. There were two enormous volumes, passably hand-bound in plain morocco leather with cream manila signatures, but the sheer number of papyrus fragments took her breath away. There had to be hundreds, far exceeding what was known, even by those who specialised in the seventh century BC. Severus Snape had a treasure trove of antiquities stowed in his wardrobe.
She was suddenly very anxious for Severus's return. She had to know in what condition he'd found them, how he'd decided to arrange them the way he had, and, she smiled wryly, rubbing her chest where her breasts had been, how much of Sappho's collected magic was complete enough to work. She placed the heavy volumes on her bed, unpacked her few belongings, taking care to hide all of her old clothes beneath a Concealment Charm. There was a soft crackle from the area of the door, which was one of her wards telling her that someone was approaching. Wishing she'd had the foresight to conjure a peephole visible only to wizards, she hastily dismantled her spells just in time for her to hear a soft knock at the door.
She girded her loins, which only had the effect of reminding her that she hadn't actually used the toilet at the café. The realisation that she neither knew where the toilet was nor how to use it was an unpleasant one. However, that would have to wait.
She opened the door to reveal a short, podgy monk who smelled pleasantly of soap and hot metal and carried an armfull of sheets, towels, and a blanket. Hermione gave a little bow of thanks as she took the pile of fresh linen, and as she put her face close to smell the thin but scrupulously clean sheets, she had an idea.
She quickly deposited the clean linen on the desk, seized the wash flannel on the top of the pile, and held it out to him, hoping that the questioning and slightly pained look on her face would be sufficient to communicate to him what she needed.
After a moment's bewildered hesitation, the skin around his eyes crinkled in mirth, and he gestured for her to follow him. The lavatory was a long, narrow room with a row of sinks down one side, several private stalls, whose presence made Hermione sigh in relief, and an open row of showers that made her even more nervous than she had been. Given that she was currently the only person in the toilet, she turned to face the trough urinal that hung from the wall next to the toilets. She set her jaw. If little boys could learn to write their names in the snow, surely she could figure out how her new equipment worked. She hiked up her habit, pulled down her pants and gingerly grasped her newest addendum.
She focused on relaxing her bladder, something she hadn't done while standing since getting lost whilst exploring in a field by her gran's house, and was delighted when she managed to release a trickle, which then became a torrent. She was getting the hang of aiming- the trough urinal was laterally forgiving, when she heard an amused snort behind her.
She jumped, which would have made a horrendous mess had her panic response not closed off the stream. When she realised that this was as far as her humiliation would go, she yanked her habit back into place and spun around to scowl at Severus Snape, who was leaning against a stall and regarding her with good humour.
"A perfectly adequate result for what I'm assuming is your first try," he said. "Though here's a hint: monks don't usually wear satin knickers."
She blushed to the roots of her hair, but she couldn't suppress a snort of amusement. "Do they wear satin knickers on feast days?"
"And holy days of obligation," he said, returning her smile. "I saw that you found the books."
Her smile was unrepentant. "I didn't think I'd see you until later."
"Brother Bernard, the abbot, said you had arrived, and Pieter, the brewmaster, gave me leave to help you settle in. Are you finished here?"
Hermione flexed the muscles around her bladder experimentally, which made her penis twitch, but also assured her that she wouldn't need to urinate again for quite a while. "I think so," she said, pacing to the sink to wash her hands.
"I doubt the communal lavatory facilities were something you considered before taking me up on my offer."
She shrugged. "I've lived in close quarters with men before."
This caught him momentarily by surprise before he gave a curt nod.
Out in the hallway, a door slammed, which made Hermione jump.
"We should continue this conversation in our cell," he said quietly, walking to the lavatory door.
Hermione followed silently behind, drying her wet hands on her surplice.
Back in their cell, Severus withdrew his wand from the concealed pocket in his robe and cast a much-practised sequence of Silencing, Anti-Eavesdropping, and One-Way Transparency spells on the door. For good measure, he even cast a reflection Illusion on the window.
Once they were secure, Severus turned to face her with barely-concealed mirth. Hermione noticed that his face was flushed, though likely that was just from having come from work. "Well? What do you think of the potion?"
"It's extraordinary," she said honestly. "How long does it last?"
"There's an antidote that works immediately. Otherwise, it wears off in about a week," he said. "And it's quite simple to prepare from ingredients that may be found in a standard garden."
"How interesting that the effects are so long-lasting, considering it was invented to serve such an immediate purpose."
"On the contrary," said Snape. "From the poetry fragment that accompanied the recipe, it seems that the potion was intended for regular consumption by those who wished to live their lives as a member of the opposite sex. The rather incendiary hormonal responses would seem to be simply a pleasant side effect."
Incendiary hormonal responses, indeed. Hermione's eyebrows rose. "Is the response equally strong when shifting from male to female?"
"Yes." His dark eyes were dancing.
"That must have been difficult," she remarked. "I mean, it's a much simpler matter to deal with male arousal."
"I was prepared," he said, allowing the corner of his mouth to lift in a distinctly Mephistophelean smile. "You have read all the fragments I gave Lucius?"
"Of course I did," she said, "I even translated the lot, since that's what Lucius employed me to do if I can prove that his copy is genuine."
"Interesting," he said. "Do the spells work in secondary translation?"
She frowned. "How on earth should I know?"
He stared at her incredulously. "Are you saying that you haven't experienced the least bit of curiosity about the spells?"
"Of course I have," she said impatiently, "but all of the fragments in Lucius's book were intended for use by males, and until today, those avenues of experimentation weren't open to me."
Severus looked perplexed for a moment, then threw his head back and laughed. "My apologies," he said, chuckling. "I'd forgotten that I had selected only the male autoerotic fragments for Lucius's second fiftieth birthday. You see, his wife had left him for Potter the year before, and I saw it as an act of mercy. It was a happy coincidence that I'd entered the monastery a month earlier."
Interesting. "So that's why Lucius thinks his fragments are the genuine article," she said. "The timing led him to believe you were renouncing your earthly possessions."
"Or at least appearing to," amended Severus. "He helped me fabricate Brother James's past and connections, after all."
Hermione sat down on her bed. "I confess, I'm having a difficult time reconciling what I know of Lucius Malfoy and what you're telling me."
"People generally think of Lucius what he wishes them to think of him," he said.
"Well, it's clear that he's trying to get me to change my mind about him."
"How so?"
"First of all, he waved fragments of Sappho's tenth volume under my nose and is paying me handsomely to work on a manuscript I'd have paid him for the privilege of viewing. He went out of his way to show that he's not trying to publicly embarrass me- my solicitor is as devious as they come, and he couldn't find anything untoward in the contract he sent me for the job. What's more, I'm all but certain he attempted to flirt with me. It was somewhat unnerving."
"I imagine it was," said Severus. "Though in his defence, you cannot blame him for reassessing his prior opinion of you and wishing you to think well of him. Your reputation with books precedes you, even to those of us in hiding. If brother Aloysius had the least idea of your talents, he would hang up his bone folder and beg you take over the monastery's bookbinding and book repair. As it is, Lucius cultivates intelligent, talented acquaintances. The fact that you've grown into a powerful woman who fits his aesthetic tastes is simply the icing on the cake."
"Don't be absurd," she protested. "I'm not willowy or aristocratic-looking."
"Precisely," said Severus smugly. "Lucius's tastes have always run toward the Rubenesque. Have you never seen school or wedding pictures of Narcissa? She went on a strict diet after producing a son, for her health, supposedly, though her adders' nest of acquaintances likely had more to do with it. And now you know why Draco Malfoy is an only child."
Hermione stared at him and suddenly felt a bit sorry for Lucius, who had stayed with a wife to whom he wasn't attracted for many years for propriety's sake, only to be thrown over for a younger, more powerful man. Of course, Lucius was still the man who stood idly by while she was tortured and had attempted to kill her and her friends, so whether or not he'd been treated shabbily by his wife was something of a moot point.
"So you're saying that there are more spells than simply for wanking?"
Severus sat on his bed and stretched his arms over his head. "Given what you know about Sappho, didn't it strike you as the least bit odd that there were only spells for males?"
"I found it completely plausible, given that her works disappeared in the early Christian era, that only the section of Sappho's work devoted to male pleasure would survive."
"What if I were to tell you that there are legible and castable examples from all eleven sections of Sappho's tenth book?"
"Then I'd be glad I'm sitting down," said Hermione, hardly daring to believe her ears. "Eleven sections?"
"It's every bit as egalitarian as one could want," he replied. "The first section features magic that can be cast by anyone, such as aphrodisiac, sensitivity, and lubrication spells, charms to turn one into a hermaphrodite, and the potion you used to create brother Herman and I used to create a rather statuesque lady by the name of Daphne."
"Daphne?"
"Even in female form, I am more than uncommonly tall," said Severus.
The dismay in his voice was irresistible, and Hermione giggled. It dawned on her that perhaps Severus was trying to change her mind about him as well. Given the positive change in his looks and demeanour, his efforts were hardly necessary, though he didn't need to know that yet. She cleared her throat and attempted to drag her thoughts back to Sappho. "What about the other ten sections?"
"Simple mathematical expansion. One section each for male and female autoerotica, three for the different configurations of two-person pairings, and four for each configuration of ménage e trois. The final chapter contains specialty spells."
"What about ménages of more than trois?"
"The rationale is that all of those are comprised of groups of two or three, though the final chapter includes spells that enable one person to satisfy more than two partners comfortably."
"Like making a woman's legs bend to accommodate a man in front as well as in back?" asked Hermione, her curiosity aroused and her new bits not far behind.
"That's one," said Severus. "Another increases the elasticity of existing orifices to accommodate numerous or large objects. There are also spells to render physiologically unsuitable parts of the body capable of accepting sexual penetration. There are even spells that are specifically for assisting a human or humans to couple safely with beasts who are capable of giving consent."
"How many of these spells have you tried?" she asked, startling herself with her own boldness.
He met her frank look with one of his own. "As many as I was able, though experimentation has not been my priority since arriving here. Contrary to the Catholic Church's current reputation, relatively few couplings occur behind monastery doors."
"Do tell," she surprised herself by saying.
"Daphne never kisses and tells," he responded in a demure voice that made her laugh. "However," he continued, "let us just say that one who recently departed our fellowship has had a number of keen insights on the superficial construct that is gender."
"You mean that Brother Mathieu is now Sister Madeleine?"
Severus looked both surprised and gratified that Hermione knew his name. "One hopes that he will one day get around to seeing the gift I gave him as a miracle rather than temptation from Satan. But even if he never does, Tiresias had nothing on him for knowing how to please himself as a woman."
Hermione had little doubt that Severus's instruction had been exceedingly thorough, and the thought of it was giving her an enormous erection. Her fingers itched to touch it, but she ignored the impulse and instead threaded her fingers together and placed them on her lap to shield her arousal from Severus's view.
"You know, that potion alone could make you millions."
"I see no point. There are numerous other ways of accomplishing the same thing, and they are sufficiently complex and difficult so as to prevent them from being used as pranks."
She acceded to his argument with a careless gesture. "Still, if one were motivated by such things, one could make enormous sums publishing a translation. The novelty of reading Sappho's Big Book of Sex Magic alone would break records, let alone the long-term royalties once people discover that the book is good for more than wanking and making teenagers giggle."
"I know," he said, affecting boredom. "But think of the potential for lawsuits. This material is far safer in private hands."
"Is that what you intend to do with these fragments? Keep them in private hands?"
"Until I have tested all of the spells, yes," said Severus. "And even then, the notoriety of publication holds no interest for me. While polite society is far more permissive than it was a century ago, the book transcends numerous taboos and discusses them without more genteel euphemisms." He looked at her curiously. "But I don't get the impression that you're interested in publishing, either."
She shrugged. "I have worked very hard to make a reputation for myself as a serious academic and craftsperson. I have no desire to go down in history as the witch who brought sex magic to the masses. I just don't understand why you have any compunction in doing so, especially given-" Here she cut off, uncertain of how much he knew about how he was perceived back at home.
Unfortunately, Severus's ability to detect prevarication was undiminished. "You will finish that sentence," he said in a calm tone that still brooked no refusal.
"Given your reputation as a romantic hero," she finished lamely.
He narrowed his eyes at her suspiciously. "What on earth are you talking about?"
Hermione was seized with the irrational urge to giggle. "Harry took it upon himself to posthumously clear your name, and in doing so related some of the details of your relationship with his mum, and some publications felt like spicing it up a bit."
Severus's eyebrows had nearly merged with his hairline. "Spicing it up?" he echoed incredulously.
"If you're at all familiar with Muggle literature, your reputation as a romantic lies somewhere between Heathcliff from Wuthering Heights and Mr. Rochester from Jane Eyre."
"Do you seriously expect me to believe that all of this could have happened since I entered the monastery?" he sneered. "Surely Lucius would-" he paused. "Lucius would find it terribly amusing," he finished, looking sour.
"The worst of it started about five years ago when someone writing under a pseudonym published a thinly veiled fictional account of your allegedly doomed love."
Severus had apparently given up on his attempt to change the status quo through scowling and began massaging his temples as if to stave off a headache.
"The main characters were named Lillith and Severo," she couldn't resist adding. "As absurd as it may seem to those of us who actually knew you, Severus Snape has been inspiring the sighs of teenagers and more than a few adults ever since."
"Including you?" he asked, his ill humour reminding her unaccountably of her school years.
"I had no romantic interest in you whatsoever," Hermione hedged.
He raised his gaze to her face, then gave a small nod, as if admitting something to himself. "Small mercies," he said, though she wasn't quite sure whether he was referring to her disinterest in his romantic reputation or her developing attraction to him. "In any event," he continued briskly, "I would be happy to recommend something for dealing with that rather impressive bulge of yours," he said, gesturing at her lap.
Hermione felt her face getting hot. She had forgotten how quickly he could turn the tables. "I'm sure I'll manage," she said when she had found her voice.
"I'm sure you could," he said, "but a simple wank is hardly conducive to the spirit of academic inquiry."
"As if there's a wanking spell in this collection you haven't already tried," she grumbled. And then it dawned on her what he had meant. "Hang on," she said, "are you saying suggesting that we experiment? Together?"
He looked her in the eye. "Hermione, in the course of this conversation, I have concluded that you are a confident, intelligent woman with a sense of humour and admirable sexual curiosity. In light of this, I have every confidence that if there is anything I can do to make you more comfortable, you will not hesitate to ask. I also trust that if I do anything that makes you uncomfortable, you will tell me so."
"So you don't just mean experimenting," she said. "I must say, that's uncommonly direct for a Slytherin."
He gave her a sardonic smile. "Apparently my effort to become fluent in Gryffindor has been reasonably successful."
Hermione was seized with the urge to immediately take him up on his offer, which she blamed on the new bits of her anatomy that were quietly clamouring to promise him anything, provided he was willing to take the edge off. If she was to do this, it would be on her terms. The trouble was that she suspected her terms were similar enough to his own that it took a great deal of fun out of calling the shots. Still, there were a few things that came to mind. "I don't want to call you James."
"Will 'Severus' suit your purposes?" he asked dryly.
"Well, it's better than 'sir.'"
"I think we'll save 'master' and 'sir' for later," he said with a wicked smirk that made Hermione's heart beat a bit faster.
"I'll want my own copy of our work when we're done, in addition to the copy we make for Lucius."
"I expected as much."
"And I want you to be completely honest with me about the spells you've tried and their effects."
"Is that all?"
"Well, I'd also like forty percent of the royalties if we ever publish and your assurance that I will be allowed access to our notes and drafts."
"You drive a hard bargain, Hermione."
She smiled sweetly. "Not nearly as hard a bargain as I expect you to drive once we've reached an agreement."
He didn't choke in surprise- not exactly, but his shoulders hitched infinitesimally, and he had to clear his throat before promising on all counts.
She smiled and shook her head, wondering what kind of alternative universe she'd stepped into where she was negotiating having magically-enhanced sex with Severus Snape in the name of research. Still, she felt some satisfaction that she'd managed to negotiate in spite of her body's best attempts to distract her. "Good. Now teach me something."
He looked down his nose at her. "Has anybody ever told you that you're very bossy?"
She smirked. "Only everyone."
Severus sat down next to her and seized the first volume of Sappho, flipping gently through the fragments.
"You said you found dealing with male arousal much simpler than female arousal, correct?" he asked.
"It's fairly simple machinery."
"In theory," he said, closing the book. "But there's more to it than you see there," he said, gesturing toward her groin.
"There's the prostate," she said, and was satisfied to see him nod.
"Precisely. This spell generates erogenous zones along the passage leading to the prostate, thus making it far easier to climax without stimulating the external sex organs."
Hermione marvelled at the way he was able to keep his tone dry and detached. She was practically panting with anticipation.
He held the manuscript out to her and pointed to a fragment accompanied by an illustration that she didn't understand at first, until she realised that it was a picture of a finger touching an anus.
"So that's all I have to do?" she asked doubtfully.
"Well, you'll have to find a way to stimulate yourself. A Vibratatus Charm on one's wand is traditional."
"Wouldn't it work better with a partner?"
He gave her a measuring look. "I thought every witch was skilled with the Vibratatus."
"Most of us are," she said. "But that experience isn't exactly applicable to my present state."
He crossed his arms. "Surely you're clear on the theory."
Hermione's arousal pulsed even as she scowled at him. "Theory yes, practice no. Given my experience with broomsticks and tennis, I can assure you that I learn best from thorough one-on-one instruction."
"From being coddled, you mean," grumbled Severus.
Hermione fancied she saw a glint of humour in his eye. "I would feel much better to have someone experienced here in case anything goes wrong."
"It's masturbation, Hermione, not brewing Veritaserum," he said in a testy voice that reminded her of long-ago Potions classes. Finally he sighed, as if she had asked him to find a Knut in a pile of dragon dung. "Very well," he acceded in a glum voice that she instinctively knew was affected.
"Cheer up, Severus," she said, shifting to make room for him next to her on the narrow mattress. "The sooner we deal with this, the sooner we'll be able to do something about your bulge as well."
He harrumphed without annoyance. "Has anybody told you that you are impertinent?"
"Only everyone," she replied with a cheeky smile.
"I'm gratified to hear it," he sneered. "Now pull up your robe and discard those ridiculous knickers."
Hermione paused. She had never really enjoyed being looked at by a new lover- she had always been concerned that her breasts sagged too much or that her bottom was too dimpled. But following Severus's command felt entirely different because this time she was looking forward to seeing herself.
Even as she stood naked before him, she didn't bother to suppress a smile as she looked down at her cock jutting proudly from between her legs, with its smooth, ivory shaft, and its rosy tip. It was a very pretty thing, and as strange as it was to have it, she enjoyed having Severus look at it. She also discovered that having an exposed erection was rather like having a flag to wave in front of a bull so that it would pay attention to the flag and not the person behind it.
"Yes, very nice," said Severus, rolling his eyes. He handed her the book and lay lengthwise on the bed against the wall, which left plenty of room for Hermione to lie next to him. "Now, lie down, place your finger upon your fundament, and read the spell."
She positioned the volume next to her elbow and propped one leg up so that her knees were at right angles. Her wand she laid next to the book, in case it was needed for the Vibratatus. She stuck her arm behind her hip and insinuated her hand between her legs and up past her peritoneum and read the poem.
behind the satyr's curls and fluting music
the nymph places the lyre where it won't be found
She removed her finger and waited. "How will I know if it worked?"
"By keeping your finger where it was until you feel something distinctive," he said, his voice soft and warm. "Think about the words, Hermione," he whispered. "That's where the magic is."
Hermione closed her eyes and did as she was instructed. At first there was only darkness and the sound of their breathing- his controlled and measured, and hers soft and irregular. The tight, puckered opening next to her finger felt as tight and resistant as it always had. But then there was music: a thin, reedy pipe called out a bright snippet of melody. In response, a string instrument twanged back, which was followed by several notes on a mellow whistle.
The pipe called and the other two responded in turn, each instrument adding a different colour to the darkness until Hermione found herself standing in a sunlit meadow. She was hiding behind the trunk of a tree that stood next to a small brook, naked and holding what appeared to be a wooden whistle. The pipe called once more, and Hermione raised the whistle to her lips and played. Wading in the reeds by the opposite bank was a satyr with a lyre, who plucked several strings in response to the pipe. Given the rather bestial looking erection he sported, Hermione suspected the game in which they were engaged was more than a game of musical Marco Polo. The idea was surprisingly arousing.
Suddenly, there were hands on either side of her hips, holding her firmly as a warm body pressed up against her. She belatedly realised that while she'd been admiring the lyre player, the pipe had gone silent, and its player had crept up on her unawares. However, her surprise soon turned into something quite different as a hot, hard length insinuated itself between her buttocks. But instead of tightening herself in alarm, she felt what she could only describe as a squish. But it wasn't an unpleasant feeling- quite the contrary. She gasped, and instinctively pushed backwards, only to encounter her own fingers. It sent a wave of pleasure through her, similar to but not exactly like a gentle brush against her clitoris.
"That's it, Hermione," whispered a deep voice in her ear.
She opened her eyes to find Severus behind her on the bed, his hand resting on her hip. While she could feel the heat of his body and his quickening breath on the back of her neck, he gave her enough space to explore the magic's effects on her body. She pressed her finger against her anus in earnest, and felt the normally tight ring of muscle give and spread accommodatingly outward, spreading a warm feeling through her lower back and abdomen that felt very much like female arousal. So familiar was the feeling to her that she lifted her top leg forward to give her fingers better access, only to have her leg rub up against the very male arousal that she had nearly forgotten about. Her free hand moved to grasp its length while she pressed inward with her other hand. The sudden jolt of arousal shot straight to her backside, which made her gasp in surprise.
"What do you feel?" he asked.
"Everything," she whispered, "It's like having both sets of bits at once."
"For the solo practitioner, this is far more suitable," he said, and she could hear the smirk in his voice. "Having a penis, vagina, clitoris, and prostate leaves one with too few hands."
This made her laugh. "I'll be happy to take your word for it," she said, wriggling backwards, trying to reach further up herself toward what she knew would be a blinding revelation, but her fingers were too short. She gave a whimper of frustration.
"Severus- help me, please?"
He raised his wand and cast the Vibratatus charm on her wand, but rather than take the buzzing object, she withdrew her fingers and pressed her body hard up against his.
Beneath the coarse robe he wore, his arousal twitched violently against her, even as his body stilled.
"Do you think that's wise?" His strained voice belied his calm words.
"It's a far sight wiser than leaving me to work out the best way to get myself off using a gland I never had before," she said, palming her own erection as she squeezed her buttocks together, which had the thoroughly pleasant effect of sending a wave of pleasure up her newly sensitised rectum and giving her prostate a warm pulse. However, an unpleasant thought occurred to her. "Unless you'd rather not, of course," she said, trying to keep her voice light as some of the throbbing need waned, and her erection softened slightly. "This is the most unusual first sexual encounter I've ever had, and if you'd prefer to wait until I'm, well, female, I'm sure I'll be able to deal with this on my own."
In response, the hand that had been resting on her hip slid upward, rubbing small circles on her lower belly and finally coming to rest on her thigh, next to her genitals. She twitched hard in anticipation and he gave an impressive twitch of his own against her backside.
"The first thing studying Sappho teaches one," he said, softly nuzzling her neck just below the ear, "is that the anatomy one possesses is largely irrelevant to attraction. However, I do understand that this is the first time you've had a penis or a prostate, much less a magically enhanced one, and I don't wish you to feel unduly influenced to couple with me simply because I am here and possess convenient equipment."
Hermione couldn't decide whether to laugh or cry and settled for a snort that sounded much better in male register than it did in female. "Severus, I apologise for not having made this clearer, but you are not unattractive to me in the least. In fact, this situation, albeit in a slightly different configuration, hasn't been far from my mind since I first encountered you yesterday."
"I see," he said, nosing her ponytail aside and sending hot breath across the skin of her neck. Hermione didn't think it was possible to be more aroused, and yet she was.
"And," she said, playfully rubbing her buttocks against his erection, "while I understand that some consider it more traditional to get to know a person before jumping into bed together, the quick, rough shag also has a long and glorious tradition, one with which I have a burning desire to become better acquainted."
The soft caress on her thigh became an iron grip on her cock, and she jumped, moaning her approval.
"Has anybody ever told you that you are an intolerable vixen?" he rumbled in her ear as he roughly stroked her.
"Only you," she said, joining her hands to his as they slid up and down her shaft.
Those seemed to be the magic words, because moments later, they were both fumbling with their cassocks, kicking off their sandals, and doing everything they could to maximise the amount of skin touching the other's. Hermione nearly climaxed as their penises touched one another, but Severus realised what was happening and pulled his hips back, giving her the space to regain control.
"There are spells to delay ejaculation," he said, offhandedly stroking the skin below her navel. "But I fear that's not in line with the quick, rough shag directive."
"Perhaps another time," Hermione agreed, rolling over on her side and exposing the part of her whose throbbing was growing more and more demanding. "However, a lubrication spell would not be amiss."
"The spell you cast does provide lubrication," he said, sliding his hand between her cheeks and running a finger along the outside of her opening. Despite the fact that there were fireworks exploding on the insides of her eyelids, she was vaguely aware of the moist heat that his finger encountered. She hoped he would interpret her groan as acquiescence.
Moments later, the blunt head of his cock was trembling against her opening, and Hermione was practically vibrating from the anticipation. She seized his hand, which was still rubbing warm circles on her stomach, and squeezed. He shifted his position, rested his chin on her shoulder, and pushed himself gently against her and, meeting little resistance, pressed into her.
Hermione arched her back into him, emitting tiny moans as his shaft moved inexorably deeper. Her eyes screwed shut, trying to hold on by sheer force of will to the sensation of his tentative penetration. It was like sex as a female, only with extra places to hold on. As he eased into her, she could feel deep within her a small button of tension that was spreading with his advance, as if reaching out towards Severus's cock.
She couldn't wait any longer- she ground her buttocks against his hips, and his cock made contact with the tiny spot, sending an enormous jolt of pleasure shooting through her.
She was aware on the edges of her consciousness that she was pumping her hands up and down the shaft of her penis and that Severus was whispering wonderfully filthy things into her ear. But as he withdrew and slid into her again, he touched off another line of fire through her, this one emanating from the tiny gland and sizzling outward through every synapse and setting alight erogenous zones she never even knew she had.
Her strokes grew even more desperate, and she could feel Severus's breathing growing more erratic, even as his thrusts remained even, gentle, and slow. Her breath was ragged as her backside contracted, and she was borne away in ecstatic delirium as the slow-building climax stoked by Severus's thrusts made bright colours swim before her as her body shuddered in sweet conclusion. His hands gripped her hips and he drove himself into her to the hilt. She could feel his bollocks pressed up against hers and the tip of his erection brushed the tiny gland that lay deep within her. Her eyes flew open at the pleasant shock, and she realised how much there was yet to come.
His hand gently but insistently pulled her hands from the hot, hard flesh she had been desperately squeezing and thrust into her again, squeezing her hands in his. She was finding it difficult to breathe, so intense were the sensations his cock roused within her. She was so completely filled with moist warmth that even without manual stimulation, the tension that had migrated from her arse to the tight sack that hung beneath the juncture of her thighs was so unbearable that she cried out, thrashing against Severus and attempting to pull her hands free.
He gave a guttural moan and one final, powerful thrust, and her entire body twanged forward like a bowstring. Her climax shot from her like a blinding arrow, spasm after spasm, until there was nothing left apart from quivering pleasure, and the tiny motions, amplified by her sensitised nerves, of the man who was still ensheathed in her and gently rubbing his hand on her chest as she returned to herself.
Hermione closed her eyes and allowed herself to enjoy his tender gestures. The unnatural resilience of her arse was already beginning to fade, though the fullness of his presence was still pleasurable. She gave an experimental squeeze, and was gratified to hear him moan softly before pressing his lips to her neck.
"Vixen," he whispered roughly.
"Debaucher," she returned, drawing his hands to where her breasts would have been and holding them tightly against her chest.
They lay there, unmoving, revelling in one another's tiniest movements. Though their arousal ebbed, their pleasure in one another's closeness was undiminished.
Never had Hermione been less pleased to hear a sound than when the bell sounded, calling them to Vespers. At least Severus's swearing in response was highly creative.
)([][][][][][][][][][][][])(
desire has shaken my mind as wind in the mountain forests roars through trees
)([][][][][][][][][][][][])(
Hermione had been living as a monk for less than five hours, and she was already chafing under the monastery's strictly regimented schedule and the need to sneak around when it came to sex. After nearly nodding off during Vespers- she was beginning to have some empathy for past paramours who nodded off immediately following lovemaking- the enforced silence of the supper was unnerving. After supper were some administrative meetings, during which discussions were had in French. Hermione surreptitiously cast a Translation Spell so she could hear what was going on only to find that everything sounded far more interesting in French than it did in English.
It wasn't until the last five minutes of the meeting that Hermione was introduced by her title as apprentice bookbinder and given her work assignment, which was to work in the library binding books with Brother Aloysius, a hulk of a man who would have looked more at home on a rugby pitch and stank of inexpertly cured leather.
Afterwards, it was more chanting at Compline, and then, Hermione thought, back to more experimentation. However, when she and Severus returned to their cell, he ignored her as she deliberately flipped through the third volume.
He raised an eyebrow at her when she cleared her throat unsubtly for his attention. "You do realise, my dear, that we will be rising at three-thirty in the morning for Vigils at quarter to four."
"Can't we tell them we have food poisoning or something?" she asked absently, distracted by the implications of a spell to make one's limbs stretch as far as one wanted.
Severus gave her a tight smile. "While I am grateful for your enthusiasm, we do need to keep up the most basic appearances while you are here in disguise."
"And by 'basic appearances,' you mean getting up at three thirty and showing up for chanting seven times a day, seven days a week?"
"That's part of it, yes," he said.
"Well, that's bollocks," she said. "If we're to get through these books before Lucius's birthday, then we're going to have to devote more time to studying them than the odd quarter or half hour of 'meditation.'"
"If history has taught us anything, it's that Lucius will always have more fiftieth birthday parties," said Severus. "There is no need to rush."
"I thought you said you wanted to present these fragments at this particular fiftieth," she countered. "Besides, I am not and have no desire to become a full-time monk. I have a business to get back to. I had two weeks to spend on this project, and I spent the first week finding you."
"Two weeks is an arbitrary deadline," he pointed out. "You could just as soon give yourself another month to deal with the additional fragments of which you were unaware before yesterday."
"My timeline is no less arbitrary than your insistence that we work on the project within these walls," she argued. "We could far more easily leave the monastery, let a flat with thick walls, and bang out translations during the day whilst banging out everything else at night. It's not as if you're planning to live a particularly monk like existence in the near future, anyway."
His face darkened. "I am not leaving."
Hermione belatedly realised that she'd crossed a line. "I'm sorry, Severus," she said. "It's just not a very convenient schedule for getting work done."
"It's not," he agreed, "but having you participate in the offices makes me feel slightly better about having you in here for purposes that the monks would consider immoral. You see, the abbey is a place where any person willing to live as a monk may find refuge and community. They don't care who you were before you arrived, merely the way you live and contribute to the community."
Hermione recalled the hurt on his face when she'd presented him with a stereotype from his past and felt slightly ashamed of herself. Of course it would be a shock to be Severus Snape, with all the baggage that came with it, again after eight years of being Brother James. And yet, she had to admit that Severus had taken to being himself once more with gusto, which made his reticence to leave seem somewhat odd, if not suspicious. What was keeping him here, if not the community or sense of penance?
And then it hit her: the work. Severus Snape had always been a nasty, horrid teacher, but his love for potions brewing was obvious. What was making ale, especially the ale that she had tasted at the cafe, if not another kind of magic? Hermione thought hard for a moment, then smiled.
"You know, there's a brewery attached to a pub very near my home."
"How nice for you," sniffed Severus, who was clearly keeping his cards close to his chest until it was clear where she was taking this.
"It's all right," she said. "Their beer isn't particularly good. I hear they're looking for a new Master Brewer."
Severus snorted. "Good luck finding anyone capable in England who's not already working for someone better."
"A desperate situation, to be sure," she replied. "The owner's a fairly good friend of mine, and she's at her wit's end."
He looked at her hard. "Hermione, are you attempting to bribe me into leaving the monastery?"
"I don't know. Would having somewhere to brew whatever you want whenever you want seem attractive to you?"
"It's certainly, as you say, incentive, but it fails to address some of my more practical concerns about returning to England, namely that as far as anyone knows, apart from you and Lucius, I am dead."
"The fact that you're dead didn't stop you from travelling the world and mucking around in archeological sites in Egypt," she said.
"That was different," he said. "The dig was looking for volunteers and my appearance was sufficiently swarthy by that time that I had no trouble being taken on as a day labourer."
"Is that all you want?" she asked, finally putting into words what was bothering her. "To go from place to place and do menial work for the rest of your life?"
He crossed his arms. "Having had a highly respected position and occupied an Important Role in Society, I find that doing 'menial' work is far more pleasurable, not to mention less life-threatening."
"Those aren't your only options," she argued.
"Ah yes, I do have a third option of becoming a celebrity lover," he sneered.
Hermione glared at him. "The point is that you could do anything you wanted back at home. Kingsley Shacklebolt is back as Minister by popular demand, and he understands better than almost anybody the depth of your sacrifice for us. You could have your own lab in the Department of Ministries. You could be head chef at the canteen if you wanted."
"I could also receive daily death threats by post like Lucius," he countered.
Hermione thought for a moment. She hadn't realised how highly Severus valued not having to constantly look over his shoulder, and she certainly hadn't considered how less enlightened members of their society might take Severus's return. Wizards were a superstitious lot, and anything that bore the least suggestion of something taboo like Necromancy would forever be the subject of suspicion.
"Kingsley could also authorise the Department of Mysteries to make you a new identity," she said. "I helped design the programme for reformed Death Eaters back when I worked for the Ministry. We used the Fidelius Charm to hide the person's true identity, which kept everyone from recognising him or her, but allowing him or her to live a normal life. The Ministry provides the necessary documents - birth certificate, Apparation license, whatever is needed."
"Hermione, it's getting late and we both need to sleep," said Severus, sounding both tired and disgruntled. "We'll discuss this later."
She wanted to press the matter but opted to let the matter sit for the time being. "All right," she acquiesced, grabbing a towel and wash flannel from the pile. "You lot take showers at night?"
"Most of us usually do upon first waking, as well as after the afternoon work period."
"When we were otherwise engaged."
A small smile lifted the corner of his mouth. "Yes."
Despite her annoyance with Severus's stubbornness, Hermione was beginning to have an interesting idea. Merlin, she really was starting to think like a male. "Then we're likely to have the showers to ourselves?"
"It's possible," said Severus, who had cottoned on to what she was suggesting. "Probable, even."
"I found a spell in the second volume that has something to do with rain. A shower would be rather similar, don't you think?"
"I believe I know the spell you mean," he said. "I feel it only fair to tell you that I have not yet tried it, neither giving nor receiving."
Hermione's tiredness evaporated as her member leapt to attention. "I've always heard that it was better to give than to receive," she said. "I so enjoyed receiving this afternoon that I'm quite keen to try giving."
Severus seized his towel and flannel, and he and Hermione strolled nonchalantly down the hallway to the bathroom. True to Severus's prediction, it was deserted.
"Start the water," he ordered. "I'll secure the door."
The tap gave a rusty squeal but managed to produce a fairly powerful spray of cold water. Hermione slid off her cassock, hung it on a hook on the opposite hall, kicked off her sandals, and released her hair from its band. She gingerly stuck her foot into the spray, waiting for it to warm. Severus joined her, and she could see the gooseflesh on the skin of lean, pale legs. At last, a rattling pipe in the wall heralded the coming of hot water, and the temperature rose so suddenly that Hermione had to increase the amount of cold to keep from being scalded. When, the temperature was finally to her liking, and she stood beneath the shower head, enjoying the hot water that soaked into her hair and ran down her tired body.
He joined her in the spray, standing a few inches in front of her, and she looked up into his face, blinking away the droplets that bounced off his skin and realised that in their furious coupling, she hadn't kissed him. However, the realisation was soon rendered moot as his lips twisted into a sardonic smile, and he lowered his mouth to hers. His lips were firm and warm, and she playfully ran her tongue along his lower lip, which encouraged him to deepen the kiss. His lips tweaked and tongue caressed the different parts of her mouth with precision that was anything but clinical. His tongue was hot in her mouth, and she found that he tasted not of spice or food but of warm, clean flesh, inimitably masculine and uniquely him.
Kissing as a man was really not that much different than kissing as a female, she decided, except for the presence of stubble and the gentle negotiations required of two males to make room for their burgeoning erections. The heads of their cocks brushed and Hermione let out a shuddering gasp, and clumsily grabbed his hips to bring his nude body into contact with hers, but he stiffened and shook his head.
"Aren't you forgetting something, Hermione?"
Her arousal-fogged brain took a moment to process this query, but she finally realised that he was referring to the spell. She wondered if it would be worth it, since the feeling of hot water running down her body was a delicious one to begin with, and the presence of a naked Severus pushed the experience into extraordinary territory. But if Sappho's previous spell was any indication, then she was in for a treat.
Recalling the diagram, Hermione slid her arms beneath Severus's and cupped her hands beneath the shower head. As the warm water pooled in her palms, she recited the words of the spell.
without the rain i have neither flow'r nor tree-
without which i have neither honey nor bee
Hermione closed her eyes, relaxed into his body, and lay her head on his shoulder, breathing in the scent of his clean skin, letting the warm water run down her skin. In her mind's eye, she stood in a field of wildflowers whose colours appeared all the brighter because of the dark grey sky overhead. A cool breeze blew her hair back from her face, and as she watched, the swirling clouds overhead gathered not in a familiar thunderhead, but into a perfectly round configuration. Hermione knew instinctively that this was not nature but the work of a god. She raised her arms to the sky in surrender, and there was a deafening crack as a shaft of lightning struck not ten feet away from her, filling the air with the smell of ozone and the receding rumble as the thunder raced away from her at the speed of sound.
As the afterimage faded from her retinas, the first drops of rain began to fall. But they felt like no raindrops she'd ever felt. These hit her skin and sizzled, releasing a tiny arc of sizzling light that stretched outward, as if seeking something. Her skin buzzed in anticipation, and more droplets fell, tingling and cracking in a way that was delicious but also a bit scary. It felt as if the magic and arousal in her had taken the form of electricity and was trying to escape through the rainwater that was beginning to soak her skin. Then, the heavens opened, and Hermione was standing in a downpour, then encircled in the flickering light. Where she was wet, energy crackled. Her body hair felt as if it were standing on end, and she realised that her nipples were as well. A much larger bolt of light issued from one of them, and the intense pleasure that accompanied the shock made her groan in pleasure.
Her eyes flew open, and she found herself standing alone under the shower. Severus was standing several feet away watching her with a look of wonder on his face. The realisation that she had put the awestruck look on his face made her feel powerful, and she grinned, holding out her hands to him. She was completely engulfed in a shimmering aurole, like a Tesla coil, and he hesitantly put his hand in hers. It was as if a circuit had been completed- the energy that had been looking for an outlet ceased fizzing and cracking and began humming as it flowed out of her and into him, dancing across his skin, making his skin vibrate.
Newly emboldened, Hermione drew him close and pressed her lips to his. They buzzed beneath hers, and the light flickered around them both. As an experiment, she pulled away, but the energy that filled her rose to a whine and would not be denied. Hermione gave a hysterical giggle and pulled him close once more.
"Severus?" she whispered in his ear. She was amused to see the light arc from her mouth to his earlobe, and he gave a soft moan in response.
"If any of the others were to see us here, do you think they would be shocked?"
Severus leaned into her, pressing his arousal to hers and burying his face at the junction of her shoulder and neck. "Literally? It's possible. I suppose we could always tell them it was a miracle. Or St. Elmo's fire."
"What do you think it is?" she asked, smoothing his hair back from his forehead.
He pressed a lingering kiss to her lips. "I think it's time for the practical part of this experiment. There will be time for theorising later."
He took her hand and turned around, taking great care not to break their skin-to-skin contact, and pressed the length of his body against the front of hers. The hum of the energy running through her body intensified, and she couldn't stop her hands from running over Severus's flanks, and energy flowed out of her hands in infinitesimal vibrations. Almost of its own volition, Hermione's arousal had insinuated itself between Severus's cheeks, where it twitched. Severus jumped slightly.
"Too soon?"
"No," he said, his voice rich with amusement. "You produced a low-level shock."
Hermione laughed helplessly, holding him tightly. "I don't know how much of it is the magic and how much of it is simply the pleasure of holding you close and wanting nothing more than to make enthusiastic love to you, but if we don't do something soon, I suspect I'll be producing more than just low-level shocks."
He sighed, a soft, contented sound that was almost lost in the hiss of the water and the crackling energy that surrounded them. He reached his hand back and murmured a soft spell, which produced an abundance of warm, viscous liquid between his cheeks. Hermione's arousal jumped with interest, and Severus jumped again, but this time with a bone-deep growl that signalled better than the moisture that he was ready for her.
She was tempted to ask how to proceed, but between the primal need that made her body ache and the raw power within rise up and clamour to be used, she knew what to do. She placed a steadying hand on his hip and guided her erection between the cheeks that he was spreading wide for her. The opening looked so small that she had no idea if she would be able to fit, but it shone with moisture. She took a deep breath, rested the blunt end of her arousal on his opening, and doing her best to rein in the impulse to drive herself into him, slowly pushed forward. There was gentle resistance, and suddenly she was engulfed in exquisite tightness that took her breath away. For a moment, the energy in her stilled to a small tremor, and she took the opportunity to ease herself slowly into him. She was about to ask what had happened when the head of her cock brushed against something deep within Severus, and he gasped raggedly.
She thrust into him fully, and their voices joined together in guttural grunts as the energy danced across their skin, teasing and titillating, pouring out of her into him. Sparks flew from her skin and light arced across the space between their bodies. Severus's hair was standing on end as her energy poured into him through their share conduit, and he was practically mewling, pushing backwards against her to deepen her penetration, and rocking. Hermione felt as though she was riding the crest of an enormous wave that possessed the power to crush her, and yet the crackling power was hers, as well.
He was crooning her name, and the aural delight added a new dimension of infuriating need to their frenzied lovemaking. Hermione's central nervous system was being overloaded with the tingling pleasure of the energy and the physical ecstasy of fulfilling the primal need that filled her. She began to thrust helplessly into him, digging her fingers into his hips and crying his name. The light around her grew brighter and brighter until both she and Severus had to close their eyes against it. The blood was rushing in her ears, and she barely registered the sound of Severus letting out a shout. She let out a surprised gasp, realising that her climax was imminent and reached around to Severus's front only to feel the slick liquid of his own release flowing over the head of his cock and running down its shaft. The weird energy that surrounded them made the slick liquid on her fingers feel as if it were bubbling.
Severus groaned fiercely as his ejaculation continued, and the sound shot straight to Hermione's bollocks, which felt as if they were drawing up into themselves in preparation to explode. And then they did. There was a deafening crack that drowned out Hermione's shout as her climax hit her like a bolt of lightning, her body arching against Severus, as the crackling, fizzing pleasure coursed through her and out her cock. Her hand, which was still wrapped around him, was soon coated with another flood of ejaculate. Severus was whimpering, his arms braced against the ceramic tiled wall, shuddering and breathing hard.
For a minute or so, she held him; one armed wrapped around his waist and the other hand gently stroking the tip of his penis with her thumb. As Hermione gradually returned to herself, she pressed kisses against his shoulder and hummed her pleasure against his silky skin as the water flowed over them, washing away the last remnants of his climaxes. The crackling sounds and vibrations from the spell faded into a distant rumble, and Severus straightened, huffing quietly as he tightened his muscles around her, which made her squeak.
He chuckled and gently prised her fingers from his cock and raised them, pressing them to his lips.
"I'd call that experiment a success," he said drily, though he was smiling.