Entry tags:

challenge, hermione, parody, snape

Challenge Fic: ~The Power of a Good Woman's Love~ NC-17
This story was written in answer to Potter Place's Ho!Mione Challenge.

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Rules:

Here are the rules and plot (er...well, if there is one) for the challenge:

Plot: Hermione isn't that little shy bookworm any longer. She's had a makeover, and she is hot! And, she has all the correct equipment to become the new improved makeover Ho!Mione. And who does she turn to learn "the ways of the flesh" now that she's a true ho? Why, our favorite SexGod!Slytherin Potions master, of course!

Rules:

1) It can be as long as you want as long as it's at least 1,000 words.

2) Must be labeled as parody and A/U and be submitted under the proper challenge category at Ashwinder. They are making a special folder for us, so please submit them there.

3) All intentional errors and things that do not follow Sycophant Hex's submission standards (such as misspelled words and A/N's in the text) must be noted in an A/N as being intentional and part of the parody.

4) All other Sycophant Hex standards still apply, so it's probably a good idea to have a beta look over it. Okay, the fun stuff!

5) Hermione is a self-absorbed ho and Severus is a pimp daddy sex god!

6) We are trying to poke fun of fandom cliches, so make fun of as many as possible! The more, the better! :-D

7) Hermione's lurv interest should be Severus, but if you want to have someone else *cough* Draco *cough* join in the fun, that's okay, too. ;-)

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Can the love of a good woman turn a man’s path? It can if the woman is Ho!Mione!



A/N This story contains egregious misuse of the English language, numerous oblique references that will probably go unnoticed, dizzyingly fast changes in POV, and unforgivable lapses in good taste. This is a parody. Please don’t shoot me.

Hang on, it's going be a bumpy ride!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~~The Power of a Good Woman’s Love~~

Hermione missed the train from Platform 9 3/4, having lost her ticket when she changed her clothes in the dressing room of the large, but moderately priced department store at which she was shopping just before returning to school, but having gotten her Apparation license last year she could, and did, Apparate straight to the clearing outside the Hogwarts gates that was used for Apparation. Having shrunk her trunk to fit conveniently into her pocket, she strode up the steps and into the great hall like a conquering hero, which was, indeed, what she felt like. She hadn’t been just reading all summer, oh no, she hadn’t! At least, not just all those boring textbooks. No, sir! Hermione had been reading fashion magazines, and to very great effect. She was tired of being overlooked. She wanted the same attention she had gotten from Victor Krum the year that Drumstrang had been there for the Tri-Wizard Tournament. She wanted to be lusted after, and she was ready to party!

Her hair, treated with copious amounts of Sleekeasy’s hair potion, and severely punished with a hot curling iron, lay sleek and smooth on her head. Her robes fluttered open like the wings of a butterfly as she sauntered up the aisle to find her seat between those two morons she called friends. Her skirt, that dowdy, pleated, thing that the school required, had been shortened until the hem of her knickers – had she been wearing any – would have shown behind when she took a deep breath. Her school jumper had been washed in hot water until it was very tight, showing off, to great advantage, her increasingly voluminous breasts with their pert, stand-up nipples. Her eyes were cleverly and subtly made up, with just a hint of blue shadow and mascara.

She insinuated herself between Ron and Harry, enjoying their shy, blushing looks. Well, Harry looked shy; Ron looked like a beached fish.

“Her – Hermione!” Ron choked out her name, spraying bits of potato on her shoulder, which she wiped off with disgust.

“Ronald, would you please stop masticating before you speak.”

“Huh?” Ron dropped his hands to his crotch and went a bright red.

“You missed the train,” Harry observed, trying to change the subject.

“No ticket.” Hermione popped her gum and looked around.

Hermione was so late that dinner was almost over. The first years had gone, and the upper classmen and staff were starting to drift from the room. Hermione checked out the talent. Not much to look at. Her eyes drifted to the staff table, where Professor Snape was just rising to leave. She wrinkled her nose. Greasy git. Bat of the dungeons. She watched him walk across the dais and down the side of the hall, and was struck for the first time in almost seven years by how graceful he was. His swinging stride caused his cloak to billow and toss around him like stormy midnight seas, and his eyes, black and piercing, were like the eyes of an eagle as they missed nothing on his march to his underground aerie.

~~~~~~~~ 16 hours and 22 minutes later ~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hermione was squirming in her seat in potions class. It was so booooring! The boys were all much uglier than she remembered, and most of them were younger than her now. They were already way more immature, even her own classmates. She gave a heartfelt sigh that heaved her ample bosom. It wasn’t that the boys weren’t noticing her, they were tripping over their tongues in the halls when she went past, but... She sighed again.

“Miss Granger, are you having trouble respirating?”

Hermione started. She had not noticed Professor Snape glide over to her table, moving as he did, as though he were on little wheels, or maybe ball bearings.

“What? No.” How had she never noticed how deep and rich his voice was, like velvety smooth velvet, covered in warm, hot fudge sauce, when he spoke?

He scowled down at her with his depthless, onyx orbs. “Well you look dyspeptic. It’s not like you to not pay attention. Usually you’re totally insufferable, with your hand waving in the air, and your tits bouncing as you jump up and down in your seat, trying vainly to get my attention, but today you seem a bit off. I don’t know if this has to do with your new, tarted-up appearance, but I won’t have any of it in my class. Is that understood?”

“Y-yes, Professor.” Hermione whispered the words to her notebook, crimson with embarrassment.

The professor moved silently away just as the bell rang.

Hermione bolted from class, leaving Ron and Harry in the dust to wonder what was wrong with her.

“Hermione!” They ran to catch up with her, then walked one on each side.

“I sure hope you were paying attention,” Ron tried to distract her with a rueful smile. “I didn’t take notes.”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake, Ron. It’s about time you learned to matriculate by yourself!” Hermione lost her temper and ran on in anger.

Ron stopped dead, his face flushed. “I always do that myself!” He looked beseechingly at Harry, who commiserated, rubbing the small of his back in little circles.

“The whole f*cking world’s against us, dude. I swear to God.” (Oh, God! If he could only tell Ron, his closest friend, how he really felt about him.)

~~~~~~~~~ several hours or so later in the common room ~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hermione just couldn’t concentrate. Her ignominious humiliation at Snape’s hands in class had her truly rattled. It wasn’t like her to incur his wrath in such a fashion. The only thing was to apologize. Making up her mind to do just that, she changed into snug-fitting jeans – it was allowed as it was after hours – a really tight, light green, fuzzy, v-necked jumper, new striped trainers, and these totally cute earrings she had found on sale, and left the common room.

Harry looked at Ron, a worry frown furrowing his brow. “This will all end in tears, I just know it,” Harry philosophied sadly.

Skipping down the stairs to the Snape’s dungeon office, she realized her heart was pounding in a manner that had nothing to do with fear. Wow! What could this be about?

Wiping her sweaty palms on her butt, she knocked on his office door.

“Enter.” The deep voice bid her entrance in a manner that he surely couldn’t use for just anyone.

Cautiously, she hesitantly entered the room. Snape stood at his work table, stirring a gently steaming cauldron with one hand and holding an old, leather-bound book with the other.

“Um, Professor Snape?”

“That’s who usually occupies this office; what do you want?”

How come she had never noticed that cute little crease between his eyes when he scowled before?

“I came to apologize, sir, for not paying attention in class today.”

He studied her for a long moment, wondering what was on her mind, and she felt her bones go weak.

“Excepted. Now beat it, kid, you bother me.”

Hermione swallowed on a suddenly dry throat. She had always thought Snape cranky before, but now she realized he was...masterful.

She sidled around the table and came to stand timidly, but resolutely, beside him. She noticed that his hair wasn’t really greasy, it just looked that way, and his nose wasn’t really that big, just kind of hooked, and his teeth were yellow, but his breath wasn’t too bad.

“What are you doing?”

“What I am doing is absolutely none of your business. I thought I told you to get out?”

“You did. But I know that you’re really just lonely, and crave the attentions of beautiful woman.”

Snape sighed and set down his book. “Even if that were the case, which it is not, you are nothing but a girl – though you look rather like a frog in that sweater. Your hair isn’t bad, though. At least it no longer looks as though you’ve been dragged backward through a shrubbery.”

Hermione’s big brown eyes filled with tears that glistened like diamonds on her lashes at his harsh words. How the man must be hurting to speak to her so cruelly! If only she could find a way to break through that brave reserve!

“What are you reading? And what is it you’re making?” She leaned over the cauldron to sniff, and show off her cleavage. “It smells wonderful.”

Snape sighed even more deeply yet again. “I’m reading Shakespeare and I’m making chocolate body paint.”

“Chocolate body paint? Shakespeare?”

“Not for Shakespeare, you idiot. He’s dead. It’s for Lupin.”

“Lupin?”

“Yes. What, have you suddenly become brain dead? Why are you repeating everything I say?”

“Oh, Professor!” Hermione cried, clutching his arm. “I’ve so fallen in love with you! You must be my lover and teach me the ways of the flesh. I’ll make you happy, I swear I will!”

“Get outta here!” Snape snatched his arm away. “Are you mad? Did I not just tell you this chocolate body paint is for Lupin? We’ve been shagging each other senseless for years!”

“Oh, no, sir! No!” Huge tears overflowed Hermione’s eyes and flowed freely down her cheeks like spring run-off from the mountains. “You just haven’t met the right woman! Let me show you! Let me be your love slave!”

“Oh, all right.” Snape tossed the stirrer over his shoulder. “I have been secretly lusting after your lush, budding, young body for years now, pedophile that I am. Although, I would much rather have Malfoy with his Quidditch-toned muscles and cute little arse.”

He gave a haphazard wave of his wand, and all their clothes plus the coat stand by the door vanished. He pounced on her, wrapping his sinewy arms around her soft body, and whispering in her ear.

“Listen, Alice...”

“Hermione.”

“Hermione. ‘ My dear, your eyes are nothing like the sun;
Coral is far more red than your lips' red;
If snow be white, why then your breasts are dun.’”

“What?”

“My dear, you are so sweet, so soft. Why have I never known such exquisite delights before? Bend over.”

Snape pulled Hermione to the table, turned her and pushed her face down on the surface, squashing her cheek into the musty smelling volume of Shakespeare sonnets. He moved behind her, staring open-mouthed at her magnificent behind. “Girl, you’ve got entirely too many brains to have an arse like this.” He kneaded her pale orbs like bread dough. “Oh, my God, I'm like a compass near north,” he cried as his huge, purple member grew to huge size.

He ran his long, elegant, warm, callused, tender fingers down her back and hesitantly between her thighs. A look of disgust crossed his face momentarily as he looked at his hand, soaked with her love juices. “Why can't a woman be more like a man?” he muttered under his breath.

He positioned the tip of his throbbing, ready member at the entrance of her dripping, pulsing hole. “Heeeere's Johnny!” Snape drove forward, sinking his enormous shaft into her tender love nest.

She screamed and writhed in pain, her arms flapping uselessly on the desk as he held her firmly down with a hand between her shoulder blades.

“Don’t worry,” Snape puffed as he thrust, piston-like in and out the very center of her being. “The pain will fade quickly and be replaced by the most awesome feeling that will send electric shocks to the tips of your fingers and toes.” He pumped a few more times. “Is the incredible pressure beginning to build yet?”

“Oh, yes! Oh, Severus! Oh, gods! You are my true deity! I am your slave!”

“Oh, Hermione! I love you! I want to marry you, and we will have lots of children and live in a house with a white picket fence in the country! Or, if you prefer, the incredible, moldering, gothic splendor of Snape Manor, which is full of rare books and old masters. ”

“Oh, Severus!”

“Oh, Hermione!”

“Oh, sh*t!”

”Lupin!!” They chorused in perfect harmony.

They froze; a tableau carved of pale marble, the candle light glistening on their sweaty, naked, alabaster skin like moonlight on the lake. Lupin stood in the doorway, his shaggy mane of hair mussed, his eyes blazing, the muscles of his jaw clenched as tight as his fists.

“’Eh, too, Brutis?’ Is this how you behave the moment my back is turned?” he hissed as he stalked across the room, his eyes boring into Snape and Hermione where she lay with her face still pressed to the volume of Shakespeare.

Snape’s cock began to go limp inside of Hermione as he felt his world start to crumble – his new-found happiness flying out the window (or up the chimney, as there were no windows in his office) like the last flight south of the summer songbirds in fall.

Struggling upright, she threw her arms across Snape while he still clutched her hips, his shaft still deep inside her.

“No, Professor Lupin! He may have been yours once, but it’s over. He’s mine now!” She looked over her shoulder at her prince. “And I’m his.” She spoke in a soft whisper, her heart on her face.

“Severus, say it isn’t so!” Lupin cried, his anguish vibrating in his voice.

Snape’s face was wrought with angst. “Alas, I believe the answers that you seek lie within my companion's eyes.” He lay a hand on Hermione’s shoulder. “It’s true, Remus. It’s over. You must take the chocolate and go. We need to finish before curfew.”

“But...”

“Please,” Snape raised a hand, “your protests will only exasterbate the uncomfortableness of this unfortunate situation.”

Lupin sagged, his head hanging in utter dejection, his world an empty void.

“I can see it’s true. Your love is far too strong for the likes of me.” He straightened his shoulders bravely. “I wish you both well.” He grabbed the caldron of chocolate body paint and left, closing the door softly behind him, and going in search of Harry. The boy had always been sympathetic.

“Oh, my darling! You're mine...my own...my precious...” Snape pushed Hermione’s face into the table once again and began pumping away, his great love limb rigid once more.

“Oh, Severus! I feel it – ohmygodIthinkI’mcomingthisisthemostincredablefeelingintheworldIcan’tstandit, oh!!!!” Hermione screamed as she came over and over, her orgasms roaring like thunder in the hills.

Snape shouted a horse shout loud enough to wake everyone in Slytherin house as he emptied his seed deep within her spasming love box, then fell forward on top of Hermione.

“Ummm, Severus?” Hermione wheezed.

“Mmmft.”

“Up,” she gasped. “Get up!”

“I'm sorry, my love.”

Snape dragged himself upright, sliding from her body, allowing nearly a quart of his cum to run down her legs.

“Oh, Sevy.” Hermione cuddled close to his scrawny chest and stroked his greasy, sallow skin. “Love means never having to say you're sorry.” She stroked his manly, stubbly cheek and sighed. “You’re such a stud muffin.”

“I know, precious. And it took a woman like you to bring it out in me. I love you with every fiber of my being. Come live the rest of the term in my rooms. Dumbledore won’t mind – he’ll be so grateful I’m not shagging the werewolf anymore, he won’t care what we do.”

“But my reputation!”

“With enough courage, you can do without a reputation,” he intoned with great wisdom.

“Oh, goody! I’ve so wanted a place of my own to decorate! I have some of the cutest ideas!!”

“Whatever you want, cupcake. Whatever you want...”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ the end ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

a/n Oooooh, don’t ya just love it!! Did you catch all those clever movie references?? As soon as someone gets 13 of them, I’ll post another chapter!


************************* this is really the end *******************

A/N Intentional word mangles; respirating, philosophied, and exasterbate
Homophones; except/accept, horse/hoarse
Many other words left maimed and bleeding.

My apologies to: JK Rowling, Shakespeare, Rhett Butler, Johnny Carson, JRR Tolkien, Erich Segal, the gay community, all my Snupin-shipper friends, and everyone who reads this.

Thanks to Odd Doll for being a sport and beta'ing this atrocity.

Movie references (because I know you’re dying to know):
Road House
Gone With the Wind
Dogma (2)
Fellowship of the Ring
Monte Python and the Holy Grail (2)
Love Story
The Shining (also the Johnny Carson Show)
To Wong Foo Thanks for Everything, Julie Newmar
Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade
Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy
Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban
My Fair Lady

(There may be more, I lost track.)