SeverusSnapeGal, aka CRMediaGal (pename), since August 2011. Proudly Shipping Snamione (OTP!) and Snucius, and occasional Snarry. Don't like? Ye be warned. Proudly plugging SS fan art and videos.
Warning: This blog contains occasional smut and slash material that is NSFW.
Sidebar artwork by Lilyhbp / Background by Marianna
“Lie still,” came a humming purr close to her ear.
The curly-haired witch instantly felt a warm, tingling sensation between her legs and bit down on her lower lip. She was, at the same time, running hot and cold - heated from that low, deep rumble of a voice she loved, so close that if she turned her head her lips would capture his, and yet, cold at being so openly exposed for the first time to him; or to anyone.
She had never known the man to be an artist. Then again, she was finding him more of a puzzle with each passing day. This was certainly about the most creative - spontaneous - thing Hermione Granger had ever done in her life!
Not only was she fully nude and splayed out before the dark wizard in question, but she was also covered in clay, all at the man’s request that she serve as his model for his latest sculpture. It was an unusual request to the rather priggish Hermione, and she knew it. She had never been asked to model for anyone, except perhaps to serve as a studious academic to the wizarding school that had once been her life.
In all those years, her mind had been revered and sought after aplenty, but her body?
And yet, that was exactly what her former professor, Severus Snape, now close friend - or whatever this strange, intimate entanglement they now found themselves in - had solicited her for.
She knew she was falling for the professor, and that that was why she had agreed to such exposure at all. The “creative” experience it had started out as was turning into something much more enticing…
Hermione’s breathing hitched at the soft strands of black hair that now tickled her neck, at the warm, even breaths that sighed against her skin, and the feel of those calloused, yet exceedingly gentle, hands that skimmed over her entire upper body like the artist that he was, capturing her abdomen, ribs, and breasts between long, bony fingers.
His massaging felt remarkably thoughtful, if she dared to believe it. Was he like this with every witch who posed for him? Were there many, for that matter? Surely, she couldn’t be the first…
“You’re what I want, Hermione,” he unexpectedly whispered into her ear, the tip of his large nose pressing lightly against her cheek.
Hermione’s breathing stalled, her heart lodging tightly in her throat. She couldn’t move. Was he toying with her? He had to be speaking in the simplest of terms, yes? That she was the correct model for his latest sculpture and that was all?
But then, as if reading her mind - and doubts - the professor chuckled quietly. “You, Hermione. You are what I’ve wanted,” he confessed, surprising her with a delicate kiss to her neck. “For a very long time…”
By SeverusSnapeGal / CRMediaGal
Hermione strolled to the bed, her gaze locked on her wizard’s slumped frame. His limp, black hair was swept forward, half masking his equally dark eyes. His eyes were also directed towards the ground, his hands placed defeatedly upon his thighs, the pale palms turned upward.
“Severus?” she tentatively asked, approaching him with an outstretched hand.
He wouldn’t look up. It was as if he hadn’t heard her call - for him, in want of him.
She brushed the straggly hairs away, desperate to see his face. But he still wouldn’t meet her gaze.
His trademark black coat had been removed whilst she was in the loo freshening up. His white shirt was unbuttoned and hung open, illuminating his bare chest and the various contortions of his rather protruding anatomy. He had always been slim, though powerfully built. There were slight wrinkles and creases in the fabric, and his dragon-hide boots and socks had also been removed. His exposed feet practically glowed in there pallidness against the harsh light of the nearby crackling fireplace.
“Severus?” Hermione tried again without success.
When she received no answer, nor acknowledgement, Hermione quietly leaned forward against the bed, perching herself between his thighs, and brought her warm lips to his forehead. She sensed the man shudder under the delicate weight of her kindhearted caress and a pair of large hands wrap themselves around her waist, easing her close without a word, wanting to be near.
He always desired her touch and attention, even if he never asked for it. She knew his inner struggles all too well.
“Don’t question yourself,” she whispered, gently pecking the stressed winkles along his brow. “You’re worthy, Severus. More than worthy.”
“Am I?” came his weak reply.
Hermione drew her head back to place a hand beneath his chin, forcing the wizard to finally peer up into her face. Those black eyes - once cold and removed to all the world - were now evident of feeling, filled with trepidation and a surprising response Hermione hadn’t expected to see: fear.
Fear of rejection, of her refusal.
“Yes, Severus,” Hermione answered, giving him a soft smile she hoped would resonate with the man who had known nothing but loneliness all his life. “You are worthy, whether you believe it or not.” She paused, her understanding smile extending as she leaned down to capture his lips. “And I intend to make you believe it.”
It wasn’t until they both drew back for air - once the initial exploration of one another’s lips had been acquiesced - that Severus finally projected a faint smile for her, one that always managed, both in its rarity and its unnatural beauty, to leave Hermione bereft of air.
Perhaps he believed her after all…
By SeverusSnapeGal / CRMediaGal
‘Fuck me, sir, fuck me now,’ said the usually articulate Hermione.
Severus’s dark eyes flickered unnaturally. Miss Granger never spoke so out of turn, and with such vulgarity. It was both unhinging and…strangely attractive.
Noticing the severe blush trickling across her cheeks, he inched his eyes lower and surveyed her up and down candidly before arching an eyebrow. He suspected the feisty Gryffindor thought she was in trouble for such an outburst, and he intended to make the most of it.
“That is quite a command, Miss Granger,” he purred as dangerously as ever. He leaned in close to Hermione’s face and shot her a devilish smile, causing her to rear back and swallow. “But in this dungeon, only I can make the demands…”
-SeverusSnapeGal / CRMediaGal
Hermione walked to the edge of the gazebo and looked across the vast woods that lay beyond her parents’ estate. Things had unraveled so quickly in just a short span of time. She was half tempted to pinch herself, just to be sure that this was real, or that she might need to somehow awaken herself from this most incredible dream; one that she never thought would come, but it had…
“Please tell me what you’re thinking?” she heard him purr, somewhere closeby, though at a respectful distant.
A soft smile drew across Hermione’s mouth. She didn’t look at him, but she didn’t necessarily need to. His magic was all around her. It warmed her, brought her serenity, even permeated her very soul.
“Do you really want to know?” she returned his with a question of her own.
“Of course I do, Hermione.” There was a bit of frustration in his response, but it was hardly as aggressive as it had once been.
Merlin, he’s changed, she reflected with a wider grin. And all for me…
Hermione finally turned to face the unconventionally handsome man, and was stunned to see a sadness that had crept across his face. It caused her to panic in the midst of this small moment of harmony. He had interpreted her silence very differently.
He thinks I’m going to reject him…
Hermione stepped forward and promptly touched his cheek. The dark wizard leaned into her palm, and tilted his head to tenderly kiss the inside of her hand.
“I am thinking,” she whispered, “that I am dreaming. That this is possibly all too good to be true.”
She caught the flicker of surprise in those obsidian eyes of his, followed by relief, which made his entire face gentler in the moonlight. “What is your answer?” he pressed so low it was almost inaudible.
Hermione extended her smile - for him alone - and brushed herself up against him. In a instant, she glided her arms around his torso and drew up on her tip toes to meet his mouth with a kiss; one that was long and deep and sealed her fate. And what a wonderful fate it was…
When Hermione brought her lips away from his, she gazed directly into his eyes, now open and reflective and at a complete loss. She heard his breath hitch in his throat, as if he had intuitively already read her mind before she spoke.
“My answer is yes.”
Severus laced his arms across his chest and challenged her with his eyes across the room, leaning back against the wall for support. The enticing contours of her silhouette were decipherable, but her face and the particulars of her body were engulfed in shadow.
“Come closer, Professor,” her voice beckoned, slow and seductive in its trance.
Severus’s dark eyes danced. In a rare display of compliance, the wizard did as the lady wished. He glided across the room effortlessly, and was more than halfway there when she commanded softly, “That’s close enough.”
Severus stopped, then angled his head, waiting. “Sit down,” she instructed in an irresistible whisper that made his spine tingle. Even in the darkness, he could see the outline of her curly head nod towards the floor. Severus sat down on the cold, hard ground Indian style and waited for her next command.
“And?” he additionally bated in his deep, silk-like purr, doing his best to stay reserved.
The young beauty finally emerged from the shadowy spot from whence she was hidden, and Severus’s eyes flickered with arousal at the jaw-dropping sight of her naked flesh, creamy and smooth and…
Oh, how he wanted to touch it. Touch her. So badly.
The only items she still wore were her black, fishnet stockings and a pair of high heels. And she had never looked sexier, or more naughty.
Severus arched an eyebrow, eying her over expressionlessly, but she knew better. Oh, yes, she did. Her smirk said it all.
She strutted towards him, her shoes reverberating along the floor as she walked. She towered over him with one arm hidden behind her back, that sultry smile never leaving her lips as she stared down at him, fully exposed, and without shame.
Severus leered back. The lady could see his normally unwavering control faltering bit by bit. And that excited her, to witness the effect and power she now held sway over the mighty wizard. His normally pallid cheeks now radiated with heat, his eyes hungry and very much in need as they beckoned her to him without a word.
Her arm reached round from behind to exhibit a ripe, unspoiled apple in her hand. Severus’s raised eyebrow inclined further as the young lady’s teeth clamped down on it, her warm eyes never leaving his as she chomped on it rather loudly. Her full, supple lips moved and contorted, her tongue licking at her upper lip once she had consumed the large bite of fruit. The view of her tongue lazily stroking her upper lip caused Severus to hitch a breath - a sound that his witch picked up on.
“Forbidden fruit,” she whispered with a flirtatious fluttering of her eyelids. When Severus said nothing, only stared up at her with absolute lust, her caramel eyes narrowed. “You have a problem with that, Professor?”
Her acid tone of voice surprised him, and only aroused him further. “No…” he answered tentatively - waiting, wanting.
She held out the apple in her palm, and drew her other hand onto her hip. “Then take it,” she provoked with a sashay of her head. “If you can.”
The elusive, handsome wizard sitting on the floor drew back a little, studying her quietly, but then his lips curled into a tempting smirk of his own. Her grin broadened at the sight of her lover’s playfulness, knowing the aggressive sport she had just instigated.
The game was on.
Their lips massaged one another’s as Severus moved Hermione carefully towards the four-poster bed.
As he laid her down upon the white linen sheets, Hermione felt the warm compress of Severus’s body, now straddled over top of her. She let out a faint moan into his mouth as he ran his hand slowly over her arse and thigh, his fingers rubbing gently along her soft skin. Just how she liked it.
Severus’s large hands had proved quite magical in and of themselves this evening, and Hermione’s breathing grew more excited the deeper their passion delved. She shuddered at the low exaltation her lover uttered against her swollen lips. It made her spine tingle, and willed her one hand to slide itself from Severus’s back to his chest. Her arm then squeezed itself between their heated, crushed bodies to touch his erection, now begging for release from his trousers.
Severus paused, drawing his mouth away from hers to gaze - hungrily - into Hermione’s eyes as she unzipped his pants and glided her hand inside. He was burning - so warm to the touch - and Hermione quivered again at watching her lover raise his head back and his eyes roll back in ecstasy. A rumbling groan drew out of him, long and deep, and then, after a moment or two, he bent down to kiss Hermione again.
There was nothing else in mind from either party but to seduce and ravish and pleasure the other, the beauty with the wild, unyielding curls and the pale man with a striking nose and very dark eyes kissing fervently, and moving in perfect unison without a care or concern in the world.
Tonight was their night; the rest of the wizarding world could wait until morning.
By SeverusSnapeGal / Source: Photobucket.com
SSHG for the Bride of the Potions Professor fanfic. If you know the scene, you know this illustration is even more perverted than it looks on the surface. >_<
“Have you been a naughty girl, Miss Granger?”
Hermione eyed him tentatively, her cheeks flushing as she bit her lower lip. “Yes, Professor.”
A devilish sort of smirk curled across the dark wizard’s lips. “Then I shall reprimand you accordingly…”
Severus eyed the young lady from behind as she strolled casually about, her silk gown treading gracefully along the floor. She peered out over the vast estate - this secluded location that brought her and Severus so much needed solitude from what they had endured - and breathed a deep sigh of content.
“It’s lovely here,” she lulled, almost like a song.
The scent of autumn was in the air, the trees now turning vibrant shades of orange, red, and golden brown.
“Indeed, it is,” Severus purred, never removing his eyes from her.
“It’ll be a shame to leave it behind…”
Severus tried not to frown. Hermione was far too beautiful to be swept up in despair. “We have to return to our world eventually, my dear. We cannot avoid it forever.”
Hermione turned her attention to him, her handsome wizard in black. He was leaning against a marble pillar with his arms laced over his chest. The elegant Muggle suit he had worn to dinner suited him well, Hermione thought, though she secretly confessed to missing those dramatic, black robes more than she imagined. It would be good see Severus wearing them again. She missed those rather theatrical entrances he always made with his billowing cloak, and those countless buttons…
The buttons. Oh, yes, she was ready to go back…
“Are you ready to go back?” she asked, not really sure what to expect.
Severus had been rather mum on how he took to being a Muggle these days. After his release from Azkaban, he and Hermione sought refuge in various places throughout Europe, and forewent the use of magic entirely for a time. But after several months of living on the outskirts, it was time to return to the wizarding world at last, to where they truly belonged, and with Severus now as a free man.
“Yes, I’m ready,” he asserted without emotion. “Are you?”
“Yes, I am.”
Severus gave a delicate smirk, one that also glimmered in his penetrable obsidian eyes. “It will be all right, Hermione,” he offered softly, trying to calm her apprehensions which were never too far from the surface. He could read her like an open book.
Hermione returned his reassurance with a warm smile. “I know, love. You…” She paused, half afraid to ask, though there was no reason to fear Severus’s reply. “You haven’t changed your mind? …About us?”
Severus surveyed his beautiful lady thoughtfully, a few strands falling whimsically into his eyes. “Of course I haven’t changed my mind, Hermione. You’re mine, and I’m yours. Nothing’s going to change that, my dear.”
Hermione’s grin spread wide across her rosy cheeks. She glided back to him and possessively wrapped her arms around his waist. He, in turn, gathered her into his arms and pressed her to his chest.
“You had better be mine,” she bated, playfully biting at his lower lip.
Severus arched an eyebrow before laying a wonderfully long kiss on her lips. “Always,” he utter quietly.
Hermione knew that that was the most sincere and honest answer she could possibly receive from the wizard she loved. Now she felt fully ready to return to their world. Together.
Artist: Alisia A. Raigagon / Source: Photobucket.com
Severus took another large swig of Firewhisky, wincing slightly as it burned the back of his throat on the way down. Tonight was one of the utmost determination: he would drink himself into a coma before the night was through, or he would take a Draft of the Living Dead and sleep for as long the effects would hold.
It was all pointless, really. He was just trying to forget her; forget the fact that she had moved on to that blasted Weasley nearly a year ago. She had found her happiness, and left him to pick up the pieces of his old tattered life.
What the hell had she ever seen in that village idiot? What did Ronald Weasley possess that would have been at all appealing to Hermione Granger? What did that wretched fool have that was charming or suave or…even intelligent?
“Fuck it,” he growled; his words were sluggish, and didn’t contain their usual bite. He took another swig of the alcohol, allowing it to fill his empty stomach.
You’ll pay for this later, Severus…
It’s not her fault, you know.
Nuh uh uh, Severus. You don’t mean that.
“Then fuck him!” he groused like a child.
Now that we can agree on.
“Whatever!” he snarled, his lips curling unpleasantly as he clasped his glass with all of his might.
What on earth would Hermione think if she saw you now?
“She’d make me sleep on the bloody couch, that’s what.”
“…She’d reprimand me for being a bore and irresponsible and a drunken louse.”
Indeed. What else?
Severus then recalled that last conversation they had had, the night before she packed up her things and exited his life for good. He remembered those piercing words she had shouted at him, and they shot straight to his heart.
“You always were a miserable bastard, and that’s how you’ll end up unless you choose to wise up, Severus Snape! Don’t end up like your father. Please, I beg you! For Merlin’s sake, find a little corner of happiness in your life! It’s obviously not something I can provide you!”
Severus stumbled to lay the Firewhiskey down on the wooden floorboards. His bloodshot eyes gazed lazily into the hypnotic flames of the hearth, and yet, he was sad. Terribly sad.
“But she did make me happy,” he mumbled, wincing as if he were experiencing physical pain. “So happy… And I fucking blew it.
“Where is that little corner of happiness now?”
Hermione pressed herself against the wall in an effort not to be seen. She caught sight of Severus’s silhoutte making its way to this very spot, though she had no idea what had compelled her to follow him.
Perhaps it was that frightened, childlike look in his eyes the day he told her all those months ago that he was a spy. Perhaps it was that incessant curiosity of hers that always seemed to get her into the worse kind of trouble. Or perhaps it was something else; something she had willed herself to ignore and buried deep within: she longed for him.
That was it.
Severus, as yet unawares of the young woman peeking round the bend, watching him intently, removed the Death Eater mask at last, glad to be rid of another pointless meeting; nothing but mindless chatter about killings and Mudbloods and taking over the whole of the wizarding world.
He was grateful to have this rare moment of quietude. It was almost peaceful. But then, of course, nothing was peaceful. Not anymore…
Severus blinked and caught sight of a pair of rich, caramel eyes staring at him just feet away. His reaction was swift; too quick for a human being. He withdrew his wand and aimed it the wall, his obsidian eyes narrowed with a dangerous gleam that set them alight.
“Show yourself,” he commanded in that assertive tone he had used so often as her professor at one time, “or I will force you to do so the hard way.”
Hermione had grabbed her own wand in the midst of getting caught, and slowly, she lowered it to her side. She took in a large gulp of air and emerged from behind the wall at last, not hesitating to meet him head on.
She had been waiting for his return. Waiting for far too long.
Hermione reached down to pry straggly strands of dark hair away from the man’s eyes, only now they were sopping wet, along with the rest of him.
“Severus!” she uttered more emphatically. The rain was pounding hard, and Severus was far too still for such a raging downpour. “Severus! For goodness’ sake, get up! I’m getting soaked, and so are you. Time to go!”
“No,” he mumbled, his low voice barely audible above the rainfall. “The rain… It… It’s nice…”
After spending over a year in Azkaban prison, Severus would gladly take the rain now that he was a free man. Oh, yes. He would gladly take it all, including her.
Hermione shook her head and reluctantly took a seat behind his drenched head. “I’ll have you know, Severus Snape, that I’m ruining this brand new outfit thanks to you.”
Her remark didn’t match her tone, which wasn’t at all stern or reproachful, but rather contented, even amused.
Perhaps she does enjoy the rain, he considered with a wry smile.
Severus lifted his head to bring it safe and snug between Hermione’s crossed legs. It was only then that Severus realized just hold cold he really was. She, on the other hand, was warm; so toasty against the frigid precipitation.
“You’re going to catch pneumonia, you know that?” Hermione scolded, leaning down to peck his dampened cheek. “Stubborn sod,” she hissed in his ear.
Severus chuckled and buried his head deeper against her. “Whatever, witch,” he growled, feeling strangely fulfilled. “You like it.”
Severus cupped the side of Hermione’s face with his hand, staring down at her intently. His eyes, the color of coal, examined thoroughly the beautiful witch’s delicate, long eyelashes that fluttered to his touch, her endearing little nose that scrunched up when she smiled, and those delightful freckles of hers that danced so exquisitely across her plump, pink cheeks.
“You are so beautiful,” he purred close to her face.
Those few, chosen words echoed with unmistakable yearning, and Hermione shuddered her desire against him.
“As are you,” she returned, bringing her arms around the professor’s back to enfold him in her caress. “And you are mine.”
It took Severus a moment to take in that firm declaration, but then his lips curled into a most delicious, contented smirk. He didn’t mind being possessed, and not in the least of which by her.
“Mine,” he repeated with an affirmative growl. He gathered his know-it-all against his chest so that she dare not escape.
Not that she would have tried...
There was a soft, calm breeze that caressed his exposed skin—the pale cheeks, the hooked nose, the long, elegant fingers that hung at his sides… It was almost like being surrounded by her, in some euphoric way.
The professor’s still presence evinced a sereneness about his surroundings and the quietude of the day and, yet, another unsettling sensation lingered in the air all around him like a hovering darkness just out of sight, beyond the high trees and overcast skies. It matched the black, billowing robes and hair that fell in curtains to disguise his emotions, just as they concealed his true nature all these years. The deep uncertainty that fell upon the air was like a troubling premonition of what was to come, what had come before, and what most likely would come again…
As Severus stared out into the abyss where all his sorrows had been safely locked away, like his heart, he grabbed hold of the isolation that had become his sanctuary, for the opportunity to speak words that no one else would overhear.
“Lily…” he uttered in a broken whisper, staring up at the Dementors that hovered just beyond, watching, waiting. “Have I done enough?”
-SeverusSnapeGal / CRMediaGal
Just a little something I wrote as I was listening to “Lily’s Theme” on the DH2 soundtrack.